#(The idea that her trust might have been misplaced terrifies her)

[hephaestuscrew]

One of the many Wolf 359 script directions that is Important To Me is this bit from Ep15 What's Up, Doc?, which comes after Hilbert has been threatening to tell Minkowski how Eiffel ended up on the Hephaestus:

[searchingwardrobes]

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns​, my beta @demisexualemmaswan​, and my artist @cocohook38​. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part  is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @xhookswenchx​ @let-it-raines​ @bethacaciakay​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​ @stahlop​ @scientificapricot​ @spartanguard​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @carpedzem​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @hollyethecurious​ @vvbooklady1256​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @lassluna​ @distant-rose​ @courtorderedcake​ @winterbythesea​ @thesschesthair​ @killian-whump​ @thisonesatellite​ @batana54​ @it-meant-something​ @xsajx​ @therooksshiningknight​ @gingerchangeling​​

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded. 

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours. 

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. 

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath. 

*************************************************

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped. 

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him. 

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake. 

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car. 

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat. 

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside. 

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

*******************************************************

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward. 

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break. 

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now. 

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won. 

************************************************************

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on. 

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home. 

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps. 

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind. 

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep. 

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb. 

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position. 

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek. 

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual. 

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.” 

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

[soultek]

Sanctuary: A Concept

--- [Playlist] ---

Light... it blisters Your light Coming down so bright Transformation Turn it up, give me some room to grow Turn it up, give me the sense to know I have been cold, I have been blind You were sent to change my mind I can put my faith in you From something ordinary It's so extraordinary I trust, I put my faith in you

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

It was quiet when he returned to his residence. Although not completely unusual, he’d grown used to the sound of her voice greeting him. At first shy and tentative, and then the longer she stayed, the more joyful it became – almost as if her greatest happiness was him coming back.

He wouldn’t quite say she never wanted him to leave; she respected his place here and the duties he had to perform because of it. She wasn’t yet ready to integrate into the community. That, he understood – she was the only woman here. That’d caused issues when she washed up on the beach… logically the only option was to have her stay with him, so he could keep an eye on her, and give her plenty of space.

So, the quiet was disconcerting. She was definitely here… where else would she go? When she didn’t respond to him calling her name, he wondered if she was playing, or if he ought to be on his guard. If she hadn’t left then she hadn’t gone far. She had a maximum of three open plan levels to play with, and there wasn’t exactly the luxury of hiding places in here. He listened for a minute – maybe he’d hear the floorboards creaking somewhere above, glimpse the shadow of movement. He made his way upstairs carefully, deciding being on his guard was the best option. “C’mon, Sy. Why’re you hiding?” He waited to figure out the direction her voice would come from and was pleasantly surprised when she replied, “You told me to trust you, that you wouldn’t let your men hurt me. But I’ve also been hearing that the last thing you did before you got here was kill a woman. So, I’m sure you can understand my sudden wariness.” He did a 180 to the back of the room, but her hiding place wasn’t obvious. Now who in the hell had gone and told her that? Else been talking about it, loud enough for her to hear. He considered that condemning them for this would not be the best course of action – it would only help prove her point. He took a step forward, eyes darting from plausible object to object that could conceal her. Keeping his voice calm and level in answer: “Actually if we’re being technical, the last thing I did was stand trial. And it was a jury that decided what I did… or, didn’t do.” There was hesitation he could feel, before she responded, “…They all think you’re innocent.” There was a slight edge to her voice that he read like a book; she had her suspicions that he could kill someone, no matter what he was like with her or who he was to this village. He paused, allowing himself to smile, smart girl. “You must have your doubts. If you’re hiding.” “I haven’t known you as long as they have. Far as I know you’re only nice to gain my trust. Then you’ll strike.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “You think if I’d wanted that, or would let them lay a hand on you, I would have done it already.” There was another pause, and this time it was accompanied by a shuffling from the left-hand side of the room. He turned towards it, narrowing his eyes, there were only two places she could be, and he had a pretty good idea of which she’d chose to hide behind.

Syren remained silent only to consider that he might be right. She hadn’t been awake for that debate, but she did know that when she regained consciousness, he’d told her this building was the safest place for her. She trusted him now, that was for certain, and she didn’t think she’d misplaced it. It would be terrifying for her to find out she had. He was moving closer, to the point where she knew there was no flight option left. It was fight or simply surrender. She considered again that he had the potential to be a killer. He hadn’t denied it, after all. “There’s no weapons you’ll find in here.” She was sure she wouldn’t be that bad at hand-to-hand combat and he wasn’t exactly of the same physique as some of the men she’d seen here – shooting back: “Who says I need a weapon?” Like she wasn’t holding the only thing she could find as weapon potential. He took another step forward and, now level with her, she sprang at him. He was ready for that. His strikes precise, hitting just below her elbow and wrist. Syren cried out against a type of pain she’d never felt before shooting up her arm, dropping the blunt object. And before she could think beyond that, he had her pinned against the wall; her feet off the floor as he placed his thigh between hers. Her arm pulsed as he held it just above her head, and he was a little too close for her liking – and… not exactly proving her wrong. “See? You think if I wanted to kill you, I would have. You were unconscious, they brought you to me. You’d be long dead or WORSE if I’d wanted that.” Syren swallowed hard, “You’re very deceptive.” He breathed a laugh, “I was a surgeon, honey, be a little alarming if I didn’t know exactly what I was aiming for.” He moved a thumb over the pressure point on her wrist, squeezing it just enough to make her wince again, “And, you’re not exactly from around here.” She scowled at him, but it was fairly unconvincing. Internally Syren was fighting battles too, feeling his breath on her skin, she knew her heart wasn’t beating like this and she wasn’t just perspiring due to struggling with him.

His blue eyes studied her slowly, more out of scientific curiosity than anything. She wasn’t sure if she liked that or not, but when his gaze reached her face again, he was leaning in pretty close. Closer than before. His eyes lowered to her lips and he pressed his own together in thought. And then she knew he was moving closer, they were barely even millimetres apart and when he pulled away, Syren couldn’t help but follow him, held back as his forearm jammed into her shoulder. She was denied the kiss. But her reaction almost made him smirk. Like he knew something now - for certain. There was something going on between them. She found herself hiked a few inches further up the wall, and tried desperately hard not to let the whine she felt brewing escape at the feel of him between her thighs. And this time he did smirk; convinced now that she was looking for a kiss. And that intense look in his eyes made her flare; that wasn’t fair – all she wanted to do was wipe it off his face.

For a moment her eyes flickered; the unnatural colour and shape of her pupils didn’t unnerve him in the slightest. He knew what she was - Syren was more than capable of dragging him mercilessly to the depths of the ocean floor if she wanted to. The look on his face stayed intense but that deep voice of his lowered to a growl; she had to know her place here. She couldn’t get away with flashing those eyes at him like that.  “Don’t act so innocent. Don’t think I don’t know the stories. What you are – what you could do – to all of us. Why are you here? Had you been watching the island? You’re smarter and more calculating than you let on.” Despite what he was saying, and his glare, his fingers twined with hers sporadically – she wasn’t sure it was as absentminded as he made it feel.

He dropped her, feet finding the floor she gasped out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Syren was disappointed as he backed away – but still kept his gaze on her; more calculating now. “That’s why I like you. You can play that quiet, innocent, wonderstruck look with everyone else. But I see through you…” Then he smiled, and the look on his face softened – more synonymous with his place here. The Father they all made him out to be, and she knew they weren’t wrong about that. But who he was now was still struggling with the person he had been. “You know your secret is safe with me, Sy. And now you know what I’m capable of… I’d say we’re even…” He turned, walking slowly back to the stairs. She didn’t follow, instead trying to rub the pain away from her wrist. She should have known better. As he descended his eyes caught hers again, and this time she felt her hairs stand on end, the shake wending its way up her spine.

It wasn’t a look she’d forget in a hurry.

---

“Ironic isn’t it. The one person who can freely choose to leave the island, is the one person who actually wants to stay.”

Syren - so named by the screams of sailors she’s pulled overboard, or lured to their deaths with sweet melodies - finds herself washed up on the shore of an island inhabited by the inmates of a maximum-security prison. Being the only woman on the island – and the first many have seen in years – puts her in a vulnerable position; despite the truth of her identity.

Drawn to the astute leader of the island’s community – dubbed by the others as simply ‘The Father’ – Syren confides the truth of what she is in him. Hiding secrets and fighting a past of his own, he entrusts his own truths with her.

But she holds the key to another dream: a way off the island, to get the truth of this place to the world. Even to freedom.

She’s never had a reason to stay within a human settlement before, but it feels like the place she belongs. Could she give that up, even to help the people she dearly loves?

With no guarantee of their freedom if she does as he asks – would she risk never seeing him again?

With a war looming between the community and the outsiders, she could also hold the means to their long-term survival.

Pulled into the affairs of humans for the first time in her life, Syren has so many questions… and nowhere near enough answers.   

[olivinesea]

Off Souls, pt. 3

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: We’re back. Things are still serious but maybe not as rough? Let’s call it soft-anxiety. This part and the next were supposed to be one but it got out of hand. So stick with me for a few more feelings and I promise there will be a little action soon. ~3.7k

Some problem solving.

There was no miraculous recovery to their friendship. Things remained tense between the two of them. Emily was on edge for obvious reasons and he still wasn’t sure where he stood with her. The split had shaken his trust more than he wanted to admit. Still, he knew he needed to be there for her. Despite her best efforts he saw how delicate she was right now. He saw her tensing in crowds, grinding her teeth whenever someone brushed past her, hanging back ever so slightly as they entered buildings. He was familiar with all these little grasps at safety. He could have made a list without a second thought. They were all things he had seen his mother do, things he had felt himself doing. Emily was scared and she wasn’t sure when that danger would reappear.

He did what he could, staying close and being mindful about the spaces they went to. He first realized he needed to be more cautious after they tried to go to the dining hall during the midday rush hours. Emily didn’t eat anything. She spent her whole time stiff, searching the faces of the other diners. She had been worried about running into him ever since the first time he had appeared unexpectedly. Now she had to worry about Hotch, too. She distinctly did not want Hotch to know his identity. He was unable to mask his fury whenever the topic surfaced. She knew nothing good would come of their meeting. She appreciated that he wanted to fight for her but what she really wanted was for this to never have happened. Hotch getting involved, bringing some sort of vigilante justice to him, made it much harder to pretend.

Plus she didn’t want him getting in trouble over her. She knew how hard he worked to keep his clean record, his scholarship contingent on high grades and good behavior. In a less concrete way she also knew what it would mean for Hotch’s relationship with his parents if he were to find himself in trouble. He was evasive but had slipped up enough for her to have a rough picture of the Hotchner household. It wasn’t all so so different from her own, she thought. Opposite sides of the same coin perhaps—love that didn’t exist within normal boundaries, too present or too distant. The lonely place in her heart hollowed by frosty absence, his carved out with a heated knife. She didn’t want to be the catalyst for any conflict there.

That first day he found her she had been unable to discuss options. Far too overwhelmed by her current reality, she waved him off when he tried to bring it up and curled into herself in a way that made him kick himself for asking. A couple of days later while they were walking back to the dorms he tried to tactfully broach the subject again only to be surprised by her short reply.

“I’m going in Friday.”

“Oh, ok. Good. That’s good?”

She looked at him, squinting slightly. “Yes? Are you surprised?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, of course not.”

“What? Did you think I wasn’t going to get an abortion? That I was going to have a fucking baby?” She stopped and rounded on him, growing angrier with each word.

He stopped also, but carefully backed up to the side of the path, pulling her gently with him. He dropped his hand when she snatched her arm away. “No. You just didn’t seem like you knew what you wanted to do before. I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it before you decided.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He rubbed his face with his hand, not sure how he had offended her. He spoke through his fingers.“I know, Emily. I just want to be there for you. For whatever you need.”

He looked up and she was glaring at him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offered.

She wanted to stay mad. The anger felt good even though she knew it was a little misplaced. She remembered how she had imagined he would look at her once he knew. She hadn’t let herself hope for understanding. She didn’t want to admit it to herself but having him back in her life had been a huge relief. She didn’t have the words to properly express to him what it meant to her that he was there. That he hadn’t hesitated to hold her close, hadn’t questioned or abandoned her.

Now she was acting ungrateful, lashing out at him when he was only trying to help. She had worried he might second guess her decision, have some moral hang up bred of his conservative upbringing. She hadn’t wanted to involve him in this step, didn’t want to need help. She was afraid to discover a limit to the grace he’d given her. She hugged her arms around herself and nodded, feeling too awkward to look at him directly.

“Please.”

“Then I’ll be there,” he said simply and started walking again. She followed a half step behind.

The time between that conversation and Thursday dilated uncomfortably. Every moment she was aware of what was happening inside her: cells collecting and dividing, a slow, sinister act of creation. She knew she couldn’t literally feel what was happening but her skin crawled with the knowledge. If she let herself think about it, it would consume her. Frozen by the thought it felt like hours before she she could move again, only to find just moments had passed. She could only keep track of the passing time by the different foods that were available in the dining hall. Waffles, it must be morning; stir fry, evening again. She followed Hotch around and he led her to class, to eat, back home again.

She looked up from her plate, still filled with untouched potatoes and greens. He was looking at her and she knew he’d asked her a question but she didn't know what it was. She thought she remembered him asking if she wanted more water, though that could have been during a different meal or a dream.

“Yes,” she said, faking confidence.

He stared at her blankly.

“Sounds good.” She hoped she wasn't agreeing to anything serious.

His stare became somewhat anxious.

“I have no idea what you said,” she admitted reluctantly as she looked at her full water glass.

He exhaled sharply, everything still too bleak to laugh. “What time do we need to be at the clinic tomorrow?”

Was it tomorrow already? For her it had been weeks since yesterday and yet only this morning that had been the Tuesday before last.

He waited for her to answer, watching the wheels turning slowly, gears mismatched and stuttering. She pressed her thumb hard against the sharp end of her fork, trying to pull up the relevant information.

“Noon. The appointment is at noon.”

He reached out and touched her hand gently. “Okay.”

They left early to walk to the clinic. Rather than use the campus health center and risk detection by her mother, she found a local clinic about a twenty minute walk from campus. Their walk was quiet, both attempting to appear more stable than they felt. She was eager to be done with this whole experience. He was not sure what to expect, everything about it still a mystery to him. Too uncomfortable to ask questions, he hoped his presence would be enough. As they approached the low cement building, she slipped her hand into his. Only slightly surprised, he squeezed her fingers softly.

They went inside and were struck by the quiet. There were people sitting in about half the chairs, mostly young women. Everyone looked similarly focused, no one spoke unnecessarily. Emily walked up to the counter and gave her name and appointment information. The receptionist was kind, smiling patiently as she stumbled over her words. Once checked-in she was given a clipboard of forms to fill out. She turned to find Hotch still standing awkwardly by the door. She eyed a couple empty chairs between them and nodded to them with her chin. They met at the corner seats and she dropped her bag onto the floor beside the chair as she sat down. He sat a little more reluctantly, still scanning the waiting room.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She was focused on filling in birthday and address and didn’t register what he said.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you wanted me to go up there with you or…” he trailed off. He hated that he was so nervous. He had waited in dozens of rooms like this before, many far more chaotic than this. It was tense in here but it was also hopeful. He stopped looking around and dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap. He traced a nail with his thumb, feeling all the bumps and edges.

She looked over at him, saw the apprehension shadowing his eyes. “I’m going to be ok,” she promised. She was not yet convinced of this but it felt good to say.

He nodded. “I know that. It’s just—“ he swallowed. This was no time to be bringing out his own problems. Regardless of what he wanted though, he could feel his stomach tightening, a conditioned response to the danger presented by medical offices. He hated doctors with their cold gloved fingers pressing into fresh wounds, only to act surprised when he shrank away from the pain. It was always harder to lie when they confused him like that, the sensations blocking out thought. His well-practiced story would seem to slip out of his mind and his mother would look at him, terrified, as he grasped at the correct details. Waiting rooms were not his favorite place to be by a long shot.

She was too involved with her paperwork to notice how he’d retreated into himself. After skipping the section on insurance (it’d be much easier to hide a couple hundred dollars pulled out of her checking account than a claim for abortion on the statements her mother received), she’d come to a form asking more specific questions about her body. She was trying to count back weeks in her mind but kept getting tripped up. She pulled out her phone to look at the calendar and her heart sank when she confirmed the number she had been hoping was a mistake. Had it really been two months? She’d lost so much time.

She finished filling out what she could of the forms and leaned back into the vinyl chair. She did feel more calm now that she was here. The anticipation had been difficult but now all the pieces were in place. She’d gotten herself here, now she could just follow along with the rest of the ride. She leaned her head onto Hotch’s shoulder. Absently he turned his face towards her and kissed the top of her head. His only reflexive act of affection, he had done that to soothe Sean more times than he could count. He had never done it to Emily, however. She closed her eyes and smiled, again thanking the universe that she had somehow earned a friend like him. They waited for her name to be called.

Though she was expecting it, hearing her name still made her jump a little. They both stood up and turned towards the nurse.

“That’s me,” her voice sounded squeaky, unable to get enough air into her lungs.

The woman smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid your friend will have to wait out here. We can bring him into the recovery room as soon as your done though. Is that going to be ok?”

Emily and Hotch looked at each other, exchanging silent messages. They had known this was probably how it would happen. She didn’t really want him to see her like that anyway. But still, it was hard to let go when she had been spending the past week relying on him to keep herself standing. He knew she would be taken care of but he still didn’t want to let her disappear into the back hallways and exam rooms of the clinic. In his mind the building stretched out infinitely, hallways becoming mazes, folding and twisting into inescapable loops. Once she was beyond that door he wouldn’t be able to get to her quickly; once she was out of his sight, he couldn’t make sure she was safe. What if she needed him and he wasn’t there again?

She settled on a quick hug. “I’ll see you on the other side.” She was trying to be light but it came out sounding grave.

He nodded. “I’ll see you soon, Em.”

She followed the nurse through the door and he returned to one of the stiff chairs, this time deliberately choosing one with a view of both doors. He looked at his watch. It had already been more than an hour. He wasn’t sure how long it was going to be but he figured he could safely assume it wouldn’t be quick. He’d brought a book because the thought of flipping through waiting room magazines made him uneasy. He opened to the scrap of paper he’d been using as a bookmark and stared at the page. His mind refused to focus as he read and reread the same three paragraphs.

Eventually he gave up and leaned his head back against the wall behind him, narrowing his eyes but never fully closing them. No one paid attention to him, everyone there was too tangled in their own personal dramas. He started making lists in his head: adjectives starting with each letter of the alphabet, working backwards from Z, animals that migrated, the different license plates he had memorized. The last one had begun as a way to drown out the fighting as his family traveled to and from his grandparents’ house several hours out of town. He would try to remember each license plate that passed, whispering them to himself in a long string of letters and numbers, an incantation to prevent disaster. It was never clear whether it was ineffective or if his definition of disaster was too small.

Emily was led to an exam room. The nurse checked over her forms, following up on some pieces of information she hadn’t properly addressed. The nurse explained how the procedure was going to work, how the anesthesia was likely to make her feel and what she could expect in the following days. Emily nodded when she was supposed to, affirming that her decision was hers alone. She made fists with her hands to stop from picking at her nails, determined to appear calm and in control. The nurse gently patted her shoulder before she left, promising that the doctor would be in as soon as possible.

As soon as possible wasn’t all that soon it turned out. After sitting nervously at attention for twenty minutes, Emily laid down on her side on the exam table. The white paper crinkled beneath her as she tried to find a good position. She kept an eye on the door, alert to any sound or movement coming from its direction. She didn’t want to be caught sleeping, already feeling far too vulnerable in this place. She stared at the white paint of the door for so long that she started to see shapes floating on its surface. They grew and melted and she was mesmerized by it until suddenly the door swung towards her. She sat up quickly, trying to look as if she had been upright the whole time, but the creased paper gave her away.

This time there were several people that entered. She got more considerate smiles as she was introduced to the doctor, the anesthesiologist, the nurse from before. Again she stayed quiet, just nodding when it was appropriate and wondering what Hotch was doing out in the waiting room. There was more explanation of what was about to happen and she shifted uncomfortably, partly wishing that she didn’t need to know quite so much detail.

Finally things got started. It was not a pleasant position to be in and she second guessed her decision not to choose the at home option. Her dorm room just hadn’t seemed like the best place to try to go through something like this. The promise of a quick procedure, in, out and on with her life had landed her here. In a cold white room, outnumbered by people in white coats and sterile gloves. She felt her heart rate picking up, panic threatening to overpower her. She felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned her head to see the nurse smiling at her.

“You’re doing great.”

Emily closed her eyes. The anesthesia started to work and she felt herself begin to drift. When she opened her eyes the nurse was still there, still smiling at her. She had said something but Emily hadn’t registered it.

“All done,” she repeated.

“Oh,” was all Emily could say. She thought she had only blinked a little long. But sure enough she saw the doctor straightening up the different medical detritus on the counter. The anesthesiologist was busily wrapping up some tubing.

“Let’s get you dressed and over to the recovery room.”

“Is Hotch there?” Emily felt a sudden pang of worry. What if he had left, had decided she was too much trouble after all?

The nurse looked confused for a moment then realized what she was asking. “If you have someone waiting for you we can bring them back once you’re settled.”

Frowning, Emily accepted that answer. If she had someone waiting. Did she? The drugs were making her mind hazy. She remembered coming in with Hotch but she also remembered him being upset. Had he been upset with her? It was hard to be sure when it felt like all her recent memories had been shuffled like a deck of cards.

She let the nurse guide her to another room down the hallway. This room was softer, lacking the metallic equipment and raised exam table. Instead there were a couple arm chairs and one particularly soft looking couch. A side table held individually wrapped snacks and tea bags. Without invitation, Emily dropped onto the couch, leaning heavily against the arm and enjoying the pressure of the cushions behind her.

The nurse asked her if she wanted something to drink but Emily only looked at her with glazed eyes.

“Where’s Hotch?” She did her best not to sound desperate but there was a tremble in her voice she couldn’t contain.

“Ok, I’ll go get him. But think about having something to eat and drink. It’ll help.”

Emily nodded to show she would obey and the nurse left her, closing the door quietly. Emily leaned further into the couch, she was feeling a little nauseous and the colors around her appeared upsettingly bright. She closed her eyes and tucked her face into her arm. She completely forgot about eating or drinking anything.

As the nurse walked Hotch to the recovery room, she listed advice on how to take care of Emily. “She’s going to be tired and probably a little confused for the next couple hours. It’s best to just relax, watch a movie, nothing too strenuous. Make sure she eats and drinks plenty of water. We’re sending home some painkillers if she needs them.”

They reached the door. “Take as long as you need but she will probably be ready to go in half an hour.” She open the door. “Emily?”

Emily turned her face up from where she’d pressed it into the couch. Her vision was momentarily clouded by black spots that scattered in the sudden change of lighting.

“I’ve brought your friend, Mr. Hotchner. He’s going to sit with you until you’re ready to go. I’ll come back and check on you in a little bit.”

Emily nodded vacantly.

Hotch thanked the nurse as she left and crossed the room to Emily, who was still looking dazed. He crouched down in front of her, one hand on the arm of the couch. He looked closely into her face and she stared back at him with her wide brown eyes. She blinked.

“You’re very pretty Mr. Hotchner.”

He snorted, ducking his head, hair falling across his forehead. She reached out to push it back, running her fingers through it.

“So, so pretty.”

“Alright you,” he said, standing up, trying to hide a smile. “Let’s get something in that drug-addled brain so we can get out of here. What sounds good?”

She sat up and shrugged one shoulder. It didn't matter to her, she was just glad he was here. He grabbed a peppermint teabag from the basket and put together some tea for her. She watched him from her spot on the couch as he considered the snack options. He sat down next to her, pressing the paper cup into her hand and tearing open the package of dark chocolate cookies. She yelped when the boiling water burned her tongue.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, looking genuinely apologetic, as if he had intentionally overheated the water. She just shook her head and tilted her face down into the steam coming from the cup. The smell was soothing even if she couldn't drink it yet. She heard crunching next to her and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Those are supposed to be for me.”

“There’s more,” he defended himself, mouth half full.

She laughed and he felt himself relax. He had been painfully on edge for days, probably weeks. She had been so distressed and he hadn’t known what to do to fix it. He hadn’t been sure how this experience might complicate things further. Too familiar with disappointment, he had prepared to find her still broken, still consumed by grief. But here she was, laughing at him again. It was the thing he loved and had missed most about her. He allowed himself to hope a little. Maybe this was going to work out. Maybe they could get past this and everything would be okay again.

~Part 4~

[ootori-sibs]

The Ootori princess

Chapter ten: Big brother's support

Tw: internalised transphobia, misplaced support

Sitting down at the dinner table, Kyoya felt the weight that had been lifted from her shoulders settle back down. Yuuichi didn't know- and Kyoya had only just accepted it herself… herself… it felt good to think about herself in such a way. The epiphany had happened just that evening, a little while after returning from the park. Kyoya had been considering the fact for a while, but she finally ran out of excuses and distractions, she had to face the fact that there was a bigger reason she wasn't like her brothers… why she was so much more like Fiyumi, although they were different too- it came with the territory, Kyoya figured.

"Kyoya? Are you alright? You haven't touched your food," Yuuichi interrupted her train of thought, a kind smile that only Dr to remind Kyoya of the horror that she'd have to tell him at some point.

"I… yes, apologies, I had something on my mind." She admitted, looking down at her food; they were having sushi today, sashimi mostly. That was good, Kyoya enjoyed sashimi.

A sigh from her older brother, and Kyoya looked up to see his eyes were filled with concern, "there's been a lot on your mind lately, is there something wrong? Anything I should know?" Oh god, Kyoya instantly froze, her entire body locking up as she desperately thought to find an escape.

She swallowed, not looking her brother in the eyes, "I suppose there has been, but it's nothing you're… not aware of," she lied, but only to protect herself. She loved and trusted her brother of course, but this was an entire can of worms she definitely wasn't willing to open right now.

Yuuichi sighed, “Kyoya… you know I can tell when you’re lying to me, right?”

"Lying to you..?" She knew there was no way to lie for a second time, so she could only hope to escape, "I don't think… it was anything bigger than a white lie. Nothing harmful, but still, I apologize." Kyoya hung her head, hoping that Yuuichi would just drop it.

He didn't, Yuuichi was a good, caring older brother, "please tell me, I want to help you…" he then sighs, "you don't have to though, I'm just… I want to help you, I can't help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” Kyoya bristled at that, not liking how her brother was prying into her business like that. She sighed and gripped the tablecloth tightly trying not to panic.

“Yuuichi, I’m sorry but I cannot tell you what I’m thinking about right now, I’m just not prepared for that discussion at the moment.” She bit the inside of her lip, hoping that would be enough for Yuuichi.

"Alright, I understand," he glanced back down at the plate, "I apologize if I crossed a line."

That night, Kyoya couldn't sleep. She was still reeling from figuring it out and then from telling Haruhi. She had eventually gotten out of bed and just sat at the computer, she didn't have anything she had to do, but maybe a game of solitaire would relax her. Unfortunately the more she played, the more frustrated she got, although at least now it wasn't due to gender.

She wasn't sure how she got there, but she was online shopping after a while, looking at dresses and skirts. Kyoya knew she wouldn't be able to wear them outside but still… it was a wonderful idea to simply wear them. She found some purple pringle-pattern socks, in both normal and knee-high variety. Pleased to have something to wear in public, she bought it, quickly following the purchase up with a more pointed version of her regular school shoes, nothing wrong with looking just a little more feminine. It's not like anyone would notice, just her.

Kyoya also thought about names, Haruhi had asked if she'd like to change her name- to find one more suited to a lady.

When Kyoya woke up in the morning, she got dressed, slowly dragging herself downstairs to get coffee. Madeline was there when he got into the kitchen, making some oatmeal. She glanced over when Kyoya entered the room, "mornin'! How're ya feeling?"

She just let out a low groan, almost a growl, grabbing the coffee pot. Usually that was enough to make maids stop talking to Kyoya, but for some reason those two weren't scared of him, Madeline even chuckled.

"Well someone ain't a morning person, sit down baby, I'll get you your coffee." She took the pot from Kyoya's hands, ushering her to sit down. The woman started making the coffee with one hand, using the other to stir the pot of oatmeal, Kyoya had to admit that it was quite impressive. "Are you alright though? The master seems quite worried about you."

"My brother can worry all he likes," Kyoya sighed, she did truly feel bad, but she still wasn't ready to tell him, she would when she was ready though, "it will not change a thing."

"Oh?" Madeline set the coffee down in front of Kyoya, along with a bowl of oatmeal with syrup, coffee granules and cherry blossoms to decorate, "is there something you're not telling him?"

Kyoya just sighed, trying a mouthful of the oatmeal- oh that was good, a hum of approval left her lips, causing Madeline to smile. "I'm not at liberty to tell you about any of that, you are just a maid after all."

She nodded, serving out two more bowls of the oatmeal- Yuuichi must have gone to work already, "I get that, but you have to know that I'm here for you. I'm not gonna tell your brother, or anyone else. You need someone you can talk to, and you don't know me that well, I'm 'no one of consequence' as you would put it. I'm not pressuring you, but if you feel like it, I'm always an open ear."

"Alright, I'll consider it." Kyoya sighed, she ate her oatmeal quietly, pondering the offer given. She supposed she would need someone to talk to, she couldn't just burden Haruhi with everything. Maybe she would talk to Madeline about it, not now though. Right now, Kyoya was thinking about her big brother, had he gone to work already? He’d promised Kyoya that he’d spend the day with her, that he just had one meeting in the morning. So naturally, Kyoya was excited, she idolised her big brother, the fact that she’d get to spend the entire day with him made her very happy. She wondered where he was, probably at that meeting already, but she might ask just to be sure, "where is my brother? Has he gone to work?"

"Oh? Not at all," Madeline chuckled, "he's actually still asleep, the meeting doesn't start for an hour." Oh wow, Kyoya had woken up before her brother for once, she felt a strange sense of pride at that. Funny.

Speak of the devil, Yuuichi came waltzing in not that much later, grabbing the coffee, "mmm, coffee always smells better in the morning, doesn't it Kyo?"

Kyoya smiled up at her brother, feeling a little happier to hear Yuuichi acknowledge her in that informal way he so often did. "Good morning, good luck at your meeting today."

Yuuichi glanced back at him, smiling softly, "you're coming with me, you can get dressed after breakfast, I'll help you pick out an outfit if you want?"

Oh! She was coming with? Kyoya smiled up at him, "why? Where are we going after that?" If Yuuichi wanted to help her pick out an outfit, then he must have something specific in mind.

"Well I figured we could go to the beach and have a little picnic, then we could go shopping," he sips his coffee slowly, looking over some papers as he speaks, "how does that sound? We can do something else if you'd rather."

"The beach sounds nice, one of our private ones I assume?"

"No actually, I found a nice public one, it's never used much though, and there's a nice hidden area we can use." Interesting, Kyoya had very little experience with public beaches, she assumed it would be quite crowded on a day like this but Yuuichi seemed to know how to avoid people, so she was happy. She nodded, imitating Yuuichi with the way she held her coffee cup, taking a sip.

"That sounds wonderful, I think I might enjoy that."

After breakfast, they went up to Kyoya's bedroom, to decide on her outfit for the day. "Do you have any shorts?" Yuuichi asked, pulling open the door to the walk-in-wardrobe and stepping in.

"A few, yes." Kyoya felt her heart hammering in her chest as she realised she also kept the skirt she'd taken from Haruhi in the drawer with the shorts, "although it might rain later today so is that really a good idea?"

"Nonsense!" Yuuichi chuckled at that, "have you seen how bright it is out there? There's no way it'll rain!" Kyoya winced as she saw him open the drawer, a look of mild surprise appearing on his face for just a second before Yuuichi frowns. "You have so many khakis, they don't look good Kyoya! Get better shorts!" He tossed a pair of knee length jean shorts at Kyoya, huffing, "this is why we need to go shopping."

"What's wrong with my shorts?" Kyoya frowned, picking up the shorts she was given. She definitely didn't like the shorts, but they were the straightest thing she could think of- and father had hated it when Kyoya 'dressed gay'. Although he had said being gay was fine as long as she didn't act on it… hey, does that make her straight now? Because she's only interested in boys, but also she's definitely a girl now… so she's straight? Well, guess that would make father happy… obviously not but it was an amusing thought.

"Hmm… oh this is new!" Yuuichi took the little black dress out, looking at it, "this is a long top, almost a dress," he chuckles, "it's cute though, you should wear it."

Kyoya swallowed, a bubble in her throat appearing at the idea of wearing a dress in public. Sure, Yuuichi clearly didn't think it was a dress, but it definitely was just me, and Kyoya was terrified of the idea of being seen like that. "Isn't it a little too long?"

"I don't think so? Your shorts are knee length so it's fine-"

"But! But… it wouldn't go with the jean shorts, it would look bad," Kyoya was full on panicking at this point, thrown into thoughts of people seeing her in a dress like that… it was horrifying.

"Alright, alright," Yuuichi glanced at her with a strange look in his eyes before nodding and putting the dress back, "you've got this white turtleneck? That's cute?"

She sighed, sitting down on her bed, "I suppose I do," she was tired already, of course she was looking forward to the picnic and spending time with her brother. It was just… the panic just then took a surprising amount of energy out of her.

Yuuichi stepped out of the wardrobe, frowning, "are you alright?" Kyoya looks up at him, trying to hide the sudden fear still in her face, it evidently fails as Yuuichi looks heartbroken. He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in, "I'm sorry, I figured it was a dress, I was just trying to be supportive…" Kyoya pauses at that, supportive? It seemed Yuuichi wasn't done, however, as he began to stroke her hair, "I noticed you'd been experimenting with women's clothing, so I figured I'd be encouraging. I'm sorry Kyoya, I didn't mean to scare you like that."

Huh… Yuuichi had noticed, of course he had, Kyoya hadn't been all too subtle. The frilly apron, the instant approval of the hairclips, the talking to Haruhi in private. How hadn't Kyoya noticed his support before? God, her big brother was so sweet and… and he didn't care about Kyoya wearing dresses, so maybe he wouldn't care about her being a girl…

She stared at Yuuichi's face, it was ok, there was nothing but trust and love in those eyes, Kyoya was safe. Kyoya could speak, she was willing herself to tell him, to be free to be herself at least here. Once he knew, she could buy more dresses. It was safe to tell him, of course it was,

but Kyoya couldn't bring herself to say it.

Instead, she just burst into tears, quiet, almost inaudible sobbing as she leaned her head into Yuuichi's chest. Poor Yuui was surprised but instantly comforted her, continuing to stroke her hair gently, "hey… hey, it's ok Kyo, I've got you. Your big brother is here, everything's going to be fine." He sighed, and began huming something soft, a song that Kyoya reconised as a stupid 50s song, the kind mother would always listen to, but of course, Yuuichi had changed the melody… it was a lullaby now.

"...big brother…"

[datawyrms]

‘Helping’

Dannymay2020 day 11: Doctor There was a small upside to being absolutely terrified of hospitals, and that was being too stubborn to be seriously ill. Accidents could always happen, but being aware of every reasonable way to fend off a doctor managed to keep Tucker from having to set foot in any sort of medical facility for years.

Which is why when he spotted Danny trying to patch up a gash without even disinfecting it first he nearly had a fit. Did he want to get an infection? To have an oozing burning wound because this was faster?

“Can half ghosts even get infections?” his friend had rolled his eyes, but removed the hasty bandage before Tucker could rip it off himself.

“You still have blood, it can get infected! I’m not going with you to the hospital when you’re trying to explain why not all of that blood is red.” He felt a little bad at the wince those words caused, but this sort of thing was important.

“Paging doctor Tucker, we’ve got a clueless one with a death wish.” Sam was smirking over the tiny altercation. 

“Hey! I’m not a doctor, I’m an anti doctor. I’m like an apple that works.”

The half ghost gave a shudder. “You just made me imagine some sort of moist fleshy meat apple and I’m inflicting it on you too.”

“Gross,” they responded in unison.

Still he didn’t really think anyone else in the school would notice him enough to realize he knew quite a bit about keeping healthy, even if his diet suggested otherwise. Valerie stopping him to ask about what he’d do about a light sprain was a mixture of exciting and awful. He still wanted to be her friend, but it was difficult to do that because she spent so much time trying to waste his other friend over a misplaced grudge. He actually knew how she’d gotten that sprain, Danny had been worried sick that he’d accidentally broken something when he’d ripped the weapon away from the huntress trying to kill him.

It wasn’t like he was telling her anything she couldn’t look up if she used a school computer. Yet it had started to become a common occurrence. She couldn’t go to a doctor and have her dad find out she was still hunting ghosts, and Danny couldn’t go without raising some serious eyebrows. He really wasn’t a doctor though. If either of them got seriously injured there was only so much he could do. He could slap together an iffy sort of splint, and Danny’s frequent clashes with Skulker were making him better with impromptu stitches than he ever wanted to be, but all that did was give him even more reason to hate hospitals and doctors.

The fear might have started over something dumb when he was young, but now he had far too many current reasons to hate them. The smell, the illness and the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything to help this time. Danny might put up with bad stitches and amateur hour splints, but he was some weird hybrid that healed up quickly, they didn’t need to hold all that long. If Valerie got in a real fight with a ghost who actually wanted to hurt her and it succeeded, what could he do? Crack bad jokes before he passed out at the very idea of trying to get her to one? Why did this whole helping thing have to be so exhausting.

He may have managed to go to that hospital when everyone was suffering from the ‘ghost flu’, but he still had nightmares about it now. It was every terrible thing he expected at a hospital, down to the ‘doctors’ actually not wanting to help you. He really did try to focus on the fact they weren’t real doctors, it had been evil ghosts doing evil schemes, but all that did was make him trust people in goggles less.

This was absolutely going to be a problem, and he should probably do something about it. Trying to learn other methods of doctoring wasn’t the healthiest way, but it was all he could think of. It wasn’t like he could tell anyone he’d become the two most known ghost hunter’s go-to emergency doc. Sam could always help if they really needed a doctor. There was no point to worrying about something that might not happen.

He could handle it. This was totally fine and normal.

[bytheangell]

(S3E1 inspired fic) (Read on AO3)

Meliorn stands beside the Seelie Queen, listening intently as she goes over her latest plan. He wonders if she notices the way his eyes widen for just a moment at the mention of Simon Lewis, or the way his grip tightens a little too much around his spear when he hears about his role in placing the Mark of Cain.

“Why me?” Meliorn asks. “Do you not want to do the honors yourself?”

The Queen greets his query with a small, knowing smile. “No. The honor is all yours - unless, of course, you have a problem with performing your duties?”

“I am perfectly capable of bestowing the mark, Your Highness,” Meliorn says, the words carefully crafted to avoid the actual question posed to him.

Because in truth, Meliorn does have a problem - a rather large one, which comes in the form of the feelings he’s developed for Simon.

---

It all started after Simon first came to the Seelie Realm with Jace and Clary - the day Simon learned the true nature of the Queen and her Realm. Unlike Clary, who hadn’t even noticed Simon leave after her kiss with Jace, Meliorn saw the emotions that crossed the vampire’s face. He saw the hurt of betrayal, the disappointment of misplaced trust, the heartbreak… but he also saw the way Simon looked at the Queen and her Knights with a mixture of fear and awe after such a cunning, yet cruel, display of power. Meliorn still to this day doesn’t know why he cared so much - about what Simon thought of him or how Simon felt after being humiliated - but he did.

So, after the Queen dismissed him and he was certain no one would notice his departure, Meliorn went to check in on Simon. Simon was, rightfully, wary of his intentions, but before long the vampire was rambling half his life story out to him, and Meliorn found himself increasingly drawn in by his disarming authenticity.

They met again several times, the visits made easier to arrange by Meliorn’s increasingly frequent trips to the city for Downworlder Council meetings. If he invented a few extra vampire-relation-specific trips as an excuse to go to the Dumort between meetings, well, no one questioned him on it. Talks turned into lingering glances, which turned into touches.

It started as a simple curiosity, then an interest Meliorn never planned to be anything more than casual.

The thing about Simon Lewis is that few things ever go as planned when it comes to him.

Meliorn didn’t realize how far gone he was for Simon until Simon made the deal with the Seelie Queen to free Maia.

“What were you thinking?” Meliorn demanded. He left the Seelie Realm to seek out Simon the first chance he got and found him lingering outside the portal as if waiting for him. Expecting Meliorn to come chasing after him. Had he grown so predictable?

“I didn’t have a choice,” Simon defended.

“You could have left her. You should have left her.” Meliorn knew it was cruel, that it wasn’t who Simon was and it never would be, but he didn’t care.

“No. You know I couldn’t, Mel,” Simon said. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. You have no idea what you just agreed to. I have no idea! I can protect you from a lot of things, Simon, but I cannot protect you from her.” He hated to admit it, but it was a truth he needed to make perfectly clear, now more than ever.

Meliorn knew he wasn’t angry at Simon for being so selfless, but angry at himself for not being able to do the same. And he was scared: scared for Simon, and for their relationship should the Queen ever find out about it to use as leverage against either - or both - of them. Meliorn tried to imagine what he might do if his hand was forced... if he might actually be capable of standing up to the Queen for Simon’s sake.

It was then that Meliorn realized that the feelings he held for Simon went so much deeper than he thought. The idea of anything happening to Simon made his stomach churn, and he wanted to wrap Simon up and put every bit of protection magic he knew on him to keep him safe forever.

“I love you,” Meliorn said the moment he realized it.

“I love you too,” Simon said back.

And for a little while, that was all that mattered.

--

Until now.

“Has the spear been prepared?”

The Queen knows. Meliorn can hear it in the lilt of her words, he can see it in the mischievous light dancing in her eyes. She knows about him and Simon, and this is a test.

It’s a test Meliorn is about to fail as he watches the fear cross Simon’s expression while he’s restrained and hears the panic in his voice. Simon’s addressing the Queen but his eyes dart behind her to where Meliorn stands, a silent plea for help that Meliorn can’t answer. Meliorn just barely resists the urge to cross the space between them and pull Simon from the guard’s grip to hold and comfort his lover the way he craves to… the way Simon deserves.

“It has, M’lady,” Meliorn says instead, his words cool and clipped behind barely concealed frustration.

He does all that he can to ease Simon’s mind in the moments that follow. Instead of allowing the other Knights to continue to restrain and escort Simon, Meliorn steps forward and takes Simon by the crook of his arm, following two other Knights that lead the escort to the Wander Woods with the Queen trailing behind them.

She’s close enough to hear anything he might try and whisper to Simon, so instead of reassuring him vocally, Meliorn allows his grip on Simon’s arm to loosen. It’s just enough for his fingers to trail back and forth, ever-so-slightly, in a calming pattern. I’ve got you. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay. He can’t speak the words but he tries his best to convey them with every touch and every glance.

“What are you planning on doing to me?” Simon asks again, and Meliorn wants nothing more than to simply tell him. Telling him won’t change what’s about to happen and maybe if he knows, maybe if he understands that in its own twisted way the Mark will keep him safe - that it’ll keep him protected in all the ways Meliorn always wished for (though not like this, never like this) - it might make this easier.

Instead, the Queen keeps him in the dark. Meliorn uses his own magic to wrap the vines around Simon to restrain him, hoping the familiar feel of it can serve as a small comfort. It’s the best he can do at the moment and, he’s painfully aware that his best is lacking. Simon looks to him briefly, then looks back to the Seelie Queen. Simon’s smart. He knows pleading to Meliorn won’t help him now; if there was anything Meliorn could do he would’ve done it already.

What Simon doesn’t know is that no amount of begging can change what’s already in motion and that his fate was sealed before he ever entered the Woods.

“Why are you gonna hurt me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’m a good guy. I sang you a song about nature!”

Meliorn loathes this. He hates the tremor in Simon’s voice, the wide-eyed look on his face, terrified and helpless. Most of all, he hates that he’s the cause of it. Him, standing there, spear in hand, is the thing causing all of Simon’s distress. Meliorn thinks he might be sick from the guilt of it all but holds himself together.

If refusing in an act of defiance would spare Simon then Meliorn would do it with no hesitation, no matter the cost to himself. But it wouldn’t help. Meliorn needs to do this, because if he doesn’t, if he can’t, then someone else will. Someone less kind. Someone without Simon’s best interests at heart in the process.

As much as Meliorn despises the idea of causing Simon even a second of pain, he wouldn’t dare let anyone else near him with this spear. Being in control of the ceremony is the only way Meliorn can guarantee Simon is as safe as possible and that nothing will go wrong. It’s the only way he knows how to protect him now.

“Do not fret. The hurt will be over before you know it.”

“So this is it? This is the end?”

Something in Meliorn breaks at the resignation in Simon’s voice, realizing that Simon doesn’t just think they’re here to mark him. Simon’s defeated acceptance is for the fact that he believes Meliorn is standing in front of him to kill him. How? How could he think Meliorn capable of that? He loves Simon, and if that were the task set before him then Meliorn would not be standing there with a spear at the ready. How does Simon not know that?

For the first time since this process was put into motion, Meliorn hesitates.

 “Proceed.”

Meliorn flips the spear around so that the mark, red hot and burning, faces Simon now.

“What is that? What are you doing?”

There’s no time left to stall. Meliorn takes the final steps forward and touches the spear to Simon’s forehead.

Simon’s screams echo through the wood.

Meliorn wants to close his eyes against the sight of Simon’s twisted face, to retreat inward to muffle the cries of pain, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to watch, to listen, to be fully present in the agony he’s causing the man he loves. It only takes a few seconds but they feel like days, weeks, months stretching out in front of him as they pass. He wonders if it feels that way for Simon, too.

When it’s over Meliorn looks down as he steps back, unable to meet Simon’s eyes.

Only now does Meliorn allow himself to retreat inward, the conversation between Simon and the Seelie Queen growing muffled in the background of his thoughts.

Meliorn replays the chain of events over and over, trying to find a moment he could’ve done something different. He can’t think of any that wouldn’t end up with him locked away for betrayal, or maybe even killed. He’d done everything he could short of refusing to perform the ceremony. Hadn’t he?

The look of betrayal on Simon’s face as he walked toward him with the brand said otherwise. It’s a look Meliorn only ever saw on Simon’s face once, and one he never intended to have aimed at him. This is everything Meliorn had feared when he warned Simon that he wouldn’t be able to protect him from the Queen. Did Simon expect him to risk both of their lives by trying to flee with him?

...should he have?

The chances of them escaping the Queen indefinitely are practically zero, but there is a chance however slight, so should he have taken it?

No.

Does he wish the Queen had gone about it a different way? Or that he could’ve warned Simon ahead of time, or gotten his consent? Yes. Of course. But Simon was never in any actual danger. The Mark wouldn’t kill him, it wouldn’t even hurt him longer than those few seconds now that it’s in place. He just needs to explain that to Simon, to reassure him that he’d never been in any danger, that Meliorn would never willingly allow him to be.

“Anyone but you would be dead, dead, dead. Only a Daylighter can survive the ceremony.”

Those words bring Meliorn back into the moment because with them the Queen turns and begins to walk back to Court. This time Meliorn hesitates to follow.

“Allow me to escort the Daylighter out,” Meliorn suggests. If he can just talk to Simon, if he can explain, then maybe-

“No thanks,” Simon says before the Queen can answer. “I think I’m good on my own.”

The weight of that statement hangs heavy between them. Meliorn’s throat feels tight.

“Are you certain? The Wander Woods-”

“Then I’ll take one of the other guards as an escort,” Simon says, his voice flat.

Meliorn swallows thickly and nods. “As you wish.”

He can fix this, he knows he can, but first he has to convince Simon that he deserves the chance to. For now, all Meliorn can do is watch Simon leave: hoping that all he needs is a little time and praying that his last interaction with Simon isn’t one of pain and broken trust.

[kriffingunlucky]

Could pleeassseee do a scared reader request with like the 501st (whoever you want) where the reader is like scared to go back to her house or quarters or something b/c someone broke in or something(?) and she wants them to like do a walk through to make sure it’s safe. Bonus if like they stay over to keep watch and make her feel extra safe. Also, you’re writing is sooo goood I would wait a year to read your stuff tbh☺️😍

A/N: Ahh! Thank you, darling! That’s too sweet of you. You might actually have to wait a year at the pace I’m spitting out fanfics heh. Oops. Sorry!

This is such a cute idea though! So I’ll do it for sure. :)

---------

Strolling down the hallways of the old base that the Republic just gained back, your eyes dart carefully around. Scanning the ceiling and ventilation shafts. You could swear you heard something up there. Nervously playing with your fingers, you step as quietly as you could, so if any noises were made you’d know and be able to react. Not that you’d know what to do.

After paranoidly stalking your way towards your quarters, you jumped a mile high when the door you were standing beside slides open. Eyes wide and body shaking, you creep towards the opening. Peeking your head in, the darkness giving you chills.

But there was nothing inside.

“What are you doing?”

You yell, startled, turning around and covering your face with your arms. Terror on your face. But after you weren’t attacked and the person starts laughing softly, you uncovered your face to look at the suspect.

“Oh, Fives. Hi.”

“What were you lookin’ for?” The man smiles, trying to stifle his laughter. But failing. “Ghosts?”

“No!” You defend yourself, voice cracking. “I was just, seeing who opened it. Yeah.”

Fives nods slowly, entertainment on his face. “M’kay, love. Whatever you say.”

You open your mouth to protest but you hear another voice call out, also making you jump. Leaping behind the ARC in front of you, you move his arm to peek out from behind him.

It was just Echo approaching.

“What took you so long? You said you were just going to see what that noise was.” Echo crosses his arms, inspecting his closest vod.

“SO YOU HEARD IT TOO!” You shout, shoving your head between Fives’ arm and side, making him look down and move his arm slightly. Not stepping out from behind him, though, you look at Echo.

Realization sets in on his face.

She’s what kept him, duh. What other than girls could distract Fives? Echo shakes his head side to side with a smile, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I did hear it. Can’t decide what it sounds like though.” He laughs.

Frowning, you mummer lowly, like it was a secret. “I’ve heard some guys talking about ghosts haunting this place.”

Echo sighs, “That’s silly-”

“I believe it!” Fives declares, throwing his hands dramatically around. “I set my bucket down as me n’ Echo were eating our rations, but when I turned back to where I know fur’sure I left it. It was gone!”

“Fives, that’s because you misplaced it.” Echo interjects, looking unamused.

“Spooky.” The goateed man whispers down towards you, something in his eyes. Ignoring what his friend had said, like he totally didn’t just ruin his story.

“I kept hearing things in the ceiling and art ducts, it was scary.” You swallow, looking down at your feet. Suddenly worried about what they’d think of you. It wasn’t stupid that you were afraid, right? “I didn’t like walking alone. That’s why you scared me so much when you walked up, Fives.”

The clone frowns in response, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know.”

You mumble an ‘it’s okay’ under your breath and try to not look as tense as you were, but fail. Your body was painfully stiff as you flinch at the noise you hear again.

“We’re almost done with our rounds, and heading in the same direction as your quarters anyways, so maybe we could assist you. Would you mind if we walked you the rest of the way?” Echo offers, tilting his head.

You look up, guilt written all over your face. Eyes wide. “No, no you don’t ha-”

“(Y/n). It’s not an inconvenience, so don’t even start on that.” Fives shoots you a reassuring grin, holding his hand out to you. “It’d be our pleasure.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. Smiling at the both of them and take his hand. Finishing their rounds with them. You chatted about the most random things, being friendly and joking around, picking on each other. They both helped you forget how afraid you were before, feeling safe walking between them, holding Fives’ hand.

But the three of you arrive at your room.

“Here we are! Glad we could walk ya! I enjoyed talkin’.” Fives laughs, letting go of your hand as you unlock your door.

You chuckle, agreeing with him as you walk in, turning around with a smile. “Yes, thank you both! I’ll see you around.”

Fives and Echo both say their goodbyes, strolling down the hallways back to the barracks for the shift change.

You inspected your room, not being scared at first, but it set in later. The base had barely any lights, and most of them weren’t even working. The metal walls seeming closer then they really are. The shadows shifting around in the room, never letting you set your eyes on them. Your breath hitches in your throat as tears form in the corners of your eyes. You realize;

you’re terrified.

In a fit of panic you open the door again and yell for your ARC friends, voice shaking violently. “Come back! Please don’t leave me!!”

Tears stream down your face as you cry, terrified as it felt like the darkness followed you down the halls, as your feet carried you in the direction they walked off in. You couldn’t stop yourself from going, and once you were, you didn’t want to stop. Closing your eyes as you turn the corner, you wanted everything to just stop.

You ram into a hard, but movable, wall. Not exactly what you were thinking but it worked well enough for you. Falling onto your butt, you continue to sob, curling into a ball. Whispering things out of worry. You didn’t open your eyes, because you knew that if you did whatever was chasing you would be in front of you.

“(Y/n)?”

Echo’s voice finally broke through your fit of panic, his warm hand on the side of your face. You didn’t know how long he’d been trying to talk to you, but you tried to quiet down, listening to what he was saying.

“Take big breaths, okay? In and out. Open your eyes. I’m right here. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Breathing deeply you slowly peek your eyes open, met by his deep brown ones, clouded with worry. Throwing yourself over him in a hug you try to keep your breathing steady.

“Now, what happene-”

“Please stay with me.” You whisper into his neck, voice shaking.

Echo looks up at Fives, and they share a glance, but decide on what to do.

“Okay.” He responds, standing up with you in his arms. “Lets go back and get you in bed.”

Fives walks behind Echo, a soft smile on his features as he looks at you. He really did love you, wanting to keep you safe was at the top of his list. So making sure that if you decided to open your beautiful (e/c) eyes again, he would be there. To reassure you that you’re safe.

Entering your room, the door opening with a woosh, you were lowered down to be set on the small bed. But you don’t release the clone from your grasp.

Echo sighs, speaking to you gently. “You have to let go of me so I can remove some of my armor, it’d be uncomfortable to sleep in. Trust me. I’ll climb into the bed with you as soon as I’m done, alright?”

Slowly nodding, you move your arms from around his neck. Nervously shifting on the bed. Whispering, “Sorry.”

Fives was out of the top half of his armor first, so he scoots into the bed with you, his back pressed against the wall as he pats beside him. “It’s fine, love. C’mere.”

Doing as you were told, you scoot closer. Curling into Fives’ large chest with some hesitance. He wraps his arms around your shoulders carefully though, keeping you near to his chest. Your head against where his heart his, the loud, healthy thudding calming you. Soon your small legs become entangled with his.

Echo then joins you both in the small bunk, crawling close to you and snuggling into your back, arms around your waist and face wedged into the crook of your neck. Sticking his feet under Fives’ warm legs, he smiles into your skin.

“Are you feeling okay?”

But the only answer he got was a loud snore from you.

This will be one hell of a situation to explain to the captain, but it’s worth it for her.

[sol1056]

What are your overall thoughts on Castlevania season 3? So far the season, particularly the last two episodes (especially the 9th episode), have been controversial.

Well, that penultimate episode definitely put me in mind of the famous quote…

Obiwan: “I feel a great disturbance in the force…”

Half of which was probably screams into the void over this seeming betrayal, and the other half was shrieks in delight about confirmed OT3 potential.

On a more serious note, I’ve got a bunch of asks about S3, so I’m covering them all in this one response, because my thoughts come down to one thing.

This season was all about trust.

If we can consider this season (much like S1) to be setup, these episodes are for getting characters into the places and mindsets that the following act will require. So whatever we get in S4, it’ll require that Sypha be accustomed to Trevor’s life as an outcast demon-hunter, that Trevor accept his choices impact more than just him, that Alucard repell intrusions on his solitary guardianship, that Carmilla has a bound forgemaster and solid plans to grow an army, and that Issac has a full-sized army of his own. 

A pedestrian approach would have been all plot: a whole lot of running from one place to the next while shouting exposition. It could’ve ended up a truly jarring tonal shift between what’s basically four separate storylines: Alucard and Cho’s former prisoners, Sypha and Trevor and Saint Germain, Isaac’s journey to find Hector, and finally Carmilla and Hector. Though given they hardly interact after the first episode, we could treat this as two parallel storylines: Carmilla and her sisters, and Hector and Lenore.

(Spoilers behind the cut.)

Instead, Ellis uses these four (or five) storylines to explore different issues with trust, betrayal, and isolation. Sypha and Trevor recognize that St Germain’s unexpected willingness to trust wasn’t born of seeing them as trustworthy, so much as a symptom of St Germain’s overwhelming isolation and loneliness – and they even remark on the similarity to someone else, implied to be Alucard. Who – after his highly guarded and distanced interactions with Sypha and Trevor in S2, followed by a month (or a year, Alucard’s lost track) of total isolation – has come to the same place as St Germain. 

In both cases, those finales pivots on whether this third, isolated person can be trusted, as well as whether that person can trust the pair that claims to be helping. St Germain isn’t a fighter, and goes into the finale clearly terrified as to whether Sypha and Trevor can even keep him safe, while Sypha and Trevor have to take it on faith that St Germain’s intentions are good. (If you take Alucard’s animation to indicate that he has no experience as a lover, then the parallels are even more stark.)

Meanwhile, Isaac – as the captain so insightfully points out – remains fixated on the offenses done him, easily dismissing the kindness of an unexpected gift from a stranger. Hector’s issue, on the other hand, is too much trust, given too easily, with no questions ever asked (as Lenore drives home, first through interrogation and second through manipulation). Isaac’s determination not to trust anyone makes his way more difficult, while Hector’s determination not to question his immediate trust in the latest authority figure is what eventually traps him. 

Even the four vampire sisters (an element I really loved, almost making up for the first two seasons’ near-dearth) pivot around issues of trust, but in their case, it’s whether they can trust that Carmilla’s grand vision is feasible. They don’t distrust Carmilla, or her ideas – they distrust that they can fulfill her visionary plan to its fullest extent. But they’re also intrigued by the idea, and clearly competent enough to make it happen – and despite a few times where it seems there might be fractures (more of Lenore’s diplomatic manipulation, in hindsight), the four really do trust each other pretty firmly.

There’s a secondary theme threaded through the storylines, too, although we only hear it stated explicitly in the Isaac and Trevor/Sypha storylines. 

the captain: “If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

The context here is whether one’s motivation comes from an external source, or is internal to the person. Isaac’s motivation (at least at the midpoint of this season) is clearly stated as revenge on Hector – that is, to rectify Hector’s wrongs that undid Dracula’s story. Alucard, too, is trapped in someone else’s story, as his motivation first is that he thinks helping two lost souls would please his mother, and later that training new demon hunters would please Trevor. 

Sypha’s motivation is simpler: action! adventure! excitement! And in not stopping to consider the source (or the results) of her motivation, she ends up being accessory to not one but three stories (with Trevor along for the ride). The Trevor/Sypha storyline could be seen, in this light, as one in which they’re tools in other peoples’ stories. They fail to warn/assert/react fast enough to prevent the mad priest’s actions, they learn of (and then tackle) the church problem due to the town mayor’s need, and they learn of (and then tackle) the thing in the basement due to St Germain’s need. 

In the end, St Germain (like Dracula) goes onto the next chapter of his story, with Sypha and Trevor left to handle the aftermath (like Isaac). They don’t even reclaim their story with the final discovery of the mayor’s depravity, as they end up (if understandably) destroying the evidence, as the mayor had requested. 

When Trevor echoes the captain’s words (which could be Ellis wanting to drive the point home, or could imply that at some point, Trevor also met the captain), Sypha deflects his point. She’s quite certain she’s been living her own story, and enjoying it immensely. In the aftermath, Trevor turns the point around, saying that for the past few months, they’ve been living Sypha’s life, all action and adventure. 

Trevor: “And now, we’re living my life.”

Trevor’s origins, after all, lie in the destruction of his family – but that destruction wasn’t at the hands of the demons they fought. Instead, it was at the hands of the church, its people, and the larger community. His storyline in S1-S2 was of someone who’d seen the worst of humanity, and ended up deciding to fight because he chose to, not because humanity deserves it.   

With the possible exception of St Germain (which is more of an open question than a certainty), they trusted and discovered their trust wasn’t misplaced, so much as… that taking everything at face value meant they remained blind to what lay beneath. Their story halts with Trevor reminded of why he originally kept people at a distance (through snark and alcohol), and Sypha now enlightened as to how sometimes humans are far worst monsters. 

That blindness is also present in Alucard’s story, when he takes the two young prisoners-turned-hunters at face value. He opens his house (well, most of it) to them, trains them, and tells them secrets of how to hunt his father’s race. It’s a radical shift from his original reaction to the Belmont hold, as a museum dedicated to the extermination of his race.

Which brings me to Ellis’ choice to have the finales as parallel battles, but he manages to have them reflect each other, as well. For Isaac, Sypha, and Trevor, it’s an external battle against an overwhelming foe. Sypha ends with literal blood on her hands, and other than St Germain’s departure, the rest of their victory is literally pyrric.  

For Hector and Alucard, their storylines peak (ahem) at what should be a moment of trust and connection, which is why I can see the choice to have those storylines turn sexual. (Honestly, I thought the two young hunters were just going to cook Alucard dinner in return, or something – I had zero expectations that any story would ever go there.) 

First, five separate battles would’ve been just a lot of chaos, compared to the contrast of apparent happy-endings (or happy-middles). Second, it drives home that Alucard has defenses all over the place, but none to seduction, while Hector simply clings to whomever is willing to call the shots, and only thinks to question later. They’re in the stage of their story that the captain raises to Isaac: after you’ve achieved this goal, what next? What is left for you? 

Which is why I think their parallel endpoints – Isaac’s final battle, Alucard and the hunters, Hector and Lenore – all come to a head at being bound in some way. They’re still playing out someone else’s story, so they run headfirst into situations where that tunnel-vision can be used against them. Isaac may be the least trusting of the lot, but even he shows a remarkable tendency to take things at face value: to trust the gift from the seller, to listen to the captain, to sit and converse with the old witch who tells him about the possessed city. With as little foreknowledge as Alucard or Hector, Isaac rushes in, eyes too fixed on achieving someone else’s goal to see the trap ahead. 

None of the bindings are shown as simple, easy to break, or without lasting effect. At the same time, it’s striking that Isaac and Alucard do manage to force their way free, while Hector can only flail about in pain. To me – given the theme of trust – that implies that somehow, both Alucard and Isaac do have the potential for a balanced trust. That is (unlike Hector) knowing when to take it away, even if both struggle with learning to give it.

Oddly, that’s why I think the season managed to position things beautifully for a next season, because we’ve come full circle. 

It’s a curious thing about Alucard: when we first meet him in S1, he’s recovering from his father’s betrayal (of attacking humans); in S3, he’s recovering from the grief of loss (his parents, his only two friends) – and S4 ends with him shivering in pain/hurt over the betrayal of two people. Gotta wonder how much more Ellis will see fit to break this character down.

In S2, Hector was a valued lieutenant, if terribly blind to the implications of what Dracula wanted. Now those illusions are gone; he’s enslaved, wanted only for his skills (in the forge and in bed) – and the deal is quite explicit. Lenore has the grace to say that Hector should be getting something out of the deal, but that doesn’t change that Hector can’t pretend there’s no deal being made. 

Isaac begins cast out, grieving Dracula (not entirely as a mission, but more as a friend, I think) – and ends with the resources and experiences to go in a new direction. He doesn’t have to take out Hector, who could be seen as small fry, anyway. (Especially given Hector’s now just a shell of a controlled man.) If Isaac chooses to go after Carmilla in S4, that’ll be the first step towards making his story his own. Note also that although Isaac may seem alone, he’s accompanied by a host of creatures. He has allies.

It’s the trust in those allies that seems to determine who ends well, and who does not. Although Trevor and Sypha (especially Sypha) were dealt an emotional blow by the post-battle revelations, they always had each others’ backs – and they leave the town behind, relatively unscathed. Isaac ends victorious, with a few of his army intact and the material to make more. 

But the storyline that ends in the ascendant position is Carmilla’s. With her visionary ideas and her sisters’ abilities to make those visions real, Carmilla is positioned to go exactly where she wants. Which is why it’s also striking that (other than Lenore’s sex scene), neither Carmilla nor her sisters really have a ‘final’ battle. They’re effectively a season ahead of everyone else – the trust between the four is already established, solid, and reciprocated equally. 

So you could say that being foolhardy about trust will land you in hot water – which pretty much covers all the central protagonists. But the story’s not that bleak, despite its final scenes, because it’s also saying that sometimes, to get where you want to be, you do have to take that leap – as illustrated by Isaac and St Germain. Or even that you trust, and if betrayed, you deal with the consequences, learn the lesson, and move on, like Trevor and Sypha. 

Or you learn a different lesson, one preached by dear old dad: put the bodies of your conquests out front on stakes, and lock the doors, and trust no one. Which is a legitimate reaction to betrayal, don’t get me wrong, but one that S3 seems to be firmly saying will only end badly.  

[dearcat1]

Alessandra AU

Fandom: Bleach, Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Relationships: Ichigo Kurosaki & Xanxus.

Summary: Ichigo reborn as Xanxus’ little sister.

.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Honestly, Xanxus is not even surprised when these particular bunch of clowns appear in front of him. He's just happy that it happens during his sister's first day of Mafia School. He doesn't want them anywhere near his baby sister. Not after he saw the amount of damage her soul is still healing from. 

There had been quite a lot of casualties the day Xanxus found out. His elements don't talk about it, Alessandra looks oddly touched if the subject ever comes up. The entirety of the training grounds had to be rebuilt but Xanxus figures they should be happy Xanxus had mellowed enough not to go out hunting. 

"Rukia, I presume," he drawls and looks the outfit over. Summer dress and a cute little smile, she looks like a high schooler and all-around good little girl. The act won't serve her well here, though, this is the Varia and they know better than some Japanese teachers over three decades ago. Alessandra is fond of her, Xanxus hates her with a passion that surprises even him. 

Both of them agree, whatever debt was owed to her has long been paid. 

"Ah, yes, mister Xanxus," she demurs, sweet as sugar. "Is Ichigo here? We'd like to talk to him."

Xanxus hides his fury behind his careless facade. He's a mafia Don, he knows how to play this game, no matter how compromised he is. "Ichigo Kurosaki is dead," he doesn't say because of you but he hopes she heard it regardless. "He doesn't live here."  

She falters at that, for a split second, and then recovers. "My apologies. I meant Alessandra, mister. Could we talk to her?" 

With a hum, Xanxus shrugs, takes a deliberately slow gulp of his whisky and watches her do her best to reign in her temper. "I don't believe you can, no." 

"And why is that?" She asks, tone far tighter and teeth pressed together. 

Maybe he shouldn't be taking as much enjoyment from this as he is but Xanxus doesn't give a shit about her comfort, "for starters, she's not here at the moment." 

"And?" Rukia demands and Xanxus lets her.

Let her think that she's untouchable, let her go on with that for a while yet. Xanxus wants to see the realization in her face, the fear creeping in. He'll draw the line in the sand and he's taken measures to ensure it will be respected. "And even if she was, I wouldn't let an ungrateful traitor like you anywhere near her."

"Traitor?" Rukia grits out and there it is, the temper. If Xanxus didn't hate her so, he'd admire her spine. "We are his friends!"

Yes, Ichigo's friends in just the same way that Timoteo is Xanxus' father. It's easier on the mind to call it kindness than manipulation, after all. "Were you? Then why is it that you only come around when you need something?" 

Rukia's eyes widen and she flinches back, Urahara beside her lowers his head and hides behind his fan. The third soul reaper just grimaces slightly and Xanxus has no idea which one this is but he's going to hate him out of principle. "Or am I wrong?" He goes on, knowing full well that he isn't. "Are you here just to say hi and not because you need a child to fight for you? Incompetent as you seem to be." 

"Soul Society needs…" 

"To lower its ego." Xanxus finishes for her, "if it needed to be created, it means the world survived before it as well. Your disappearance might make things hard for a while but the world will adapt. If an organization has become incompetent enough to need a teenager to save them when they have people who have been alive for centuries on their payroll…" 

He lets the implications settle, lets them see how unwilling he is to cooperate. Let them know he will not bow to their self-importance. 

"We could just ask Ichigo directly," she answers, smug with the knowledge that very few have ever been more important to Ichigo than his family and friends.

Xanxus doesn't let it bother him. This girl, centuries-old or not, is in denial. She can't seem to think of Alessandra in any other way than in terms of Ichigo. And yes, Ichigo and Alessandra are at their core the same but reincarnation has its impacts and as much as Ale remembers her life as Ichigo, it's faded like all old memories are. And Xanxus is her older brother, the one she admires and looks up to. The one she trusts to keep her safe. 

"You do that," he mocks, drinking a little more whisky. "She'll give you the same answer: no. My sister won't break a promise to me for the likes of you." But seeing as he doesn't want any of them near his Ale, he leans forward in mostly fake interest. "Let me show you something, before you go. Try to get out of that fake body of yours." 

Though Xanxus can see the obvious disinterest at the beginning, he can also tell the moment she realizes that she can't. Xanxus smiles, all teeth and bloodlust, "what do you think will happen to you should you die in that? You're, after all, already a spirit." 

Verde's services had been incredibly expensive to acquire but Xanxus wasn't about to get stingy on such important matters. Besides, the new data might just be enough for the crazy scientist to stick around a little longer. 

"You're a good brother," soul reaper number three says with something that tries to hide approval. "I am glad. Send Alessandra my regards, we will be leaving."

"But brother!" 

"Rukia," the man Xanxus now can identify as Byakuya reprimands, "we're going." 

The girl follows with a frown on her face and evident confusion surrounding her. Xanxus doesn't care, if he never sees her again he'll be a happier man for it. He turns to look at the blonde instead. "So?" 

"Her soul," Urahara begins, hesitant. "It can't be fully healed."

It's not, it really isn't and Xanxus is both furious and terrified. It must show in his face somehow because the scientist closes his fan, clutching it against his chest like a lifeline. Ichigo loved this man like a father, Xanxus knows. Alessandra loves him mostly the same, perhaps because there was no father in this life to muddy the waters. She misses him, after nightmares or bad days. Xanxus… he doesn't know how he feels about it. 

"I couldn't save Ichigo," and like this, without the fan hiding his face, it's easy to see the grief and regret. The desperation. "I couldn't. But Alessandra… the machines I made to keep Ichigo stable, they should help her heal." 

This is begging, Xanxus knows. And he wants to deny the man, turn him away and demand he never returns. But he remembers his sister's words "Kisuke didn't know what was happening" and her unwavering belief that even if everybody else abandoned her, Urahara would have fought tooth and nail for Ichigo's life. So he nods, ignoring the tightness of his jaw. "Send the research over, if it checks out, we'll contact you."

He doesn't know what comes over him but in a moment of mercy or maybe out of misplaced fondness, he reaches for the man. Xanxus lays a hand on the blonde's shoulder and hands over a small picture the Varia Commander always carries with him. Alessandra, smug and grinning at the camera. He has more copies anyway.

Kisuke leaves after that, clutching the picture to him like it's the one thing that keeps him going. Maybe it is. Xanxus… about this man, he doesn't know what to think.

[mycupoffanfiction]

Dragostea în Cărți

Pietro x Reader Soulmate & Bookshop AU

Title translates to Love in Books.

Summary: The Reader has a notebook that allows her to communicate with her soulmate. Little does she know he’s a lot closer than she thinks and there’s a reason why her heart skips a beat every time she enters her favourite bookshop.

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word count: Approx 2000

Masterlist

Pietro Week Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, this one is one of my favourites, I hope you enjoy this little soulmate AU fic. I’d been looking for a Pietro soulmate fic for a while and I can’t seem to find one, so I decided to write one instead 💖

The subtle creak of the wooden door instantly made you feel better and even more so when you were graced with the soft ring of the old brass bell above the door. Closing the door behind you, enjoying the feel of the old mechanism of the handle, you stood on the door mat for a second, letting the rain water drip off you as you rubbed off your boots. It was stormy out, but you hadn’t let that deter you from coming out to your favourite bookshop.

A shiver rushed through you as the soothing warmth of the store greeted you. Taking in a deep breath, the wonderful smell of old pages, leather bindings and antique cloth filled your senses with a hint of a warm, spiced yet sweet smell of tea.

Taking a step into the shop, you heard a familiar mumble and the shuffle of books, a sound you enjoyed more than you liked to admit and you could already feel yourself starting to smile. Your footsteps were perhaps more of a telling sign of who the customer was than the sound of the door opening and closing and Pietro, the owner’s honorary nephew and trusted employee leaned out from the side of the bookshelf he was organising.

Flashing you a lopsided smile, his frown of concentration melting into a soft and dreamy look as he took you in, though you were not much of a sight on a rainy Thursday, dressed in a slightly oversized raincoat, you looked a little flustered from taking a quick jog towards the shop and you visibly shivered from the temperature difference.

“Good afternoon.” He greeted simply, eyes not leaving yours as you stepped further into the store and you returned his smile, probably somewhat goofily. You knew Pietro by name from hearing his uncle talk to him when he was around, though you weren’t sure that he knew yours. You did know however, that he recognised you since you were a regular and you were sure he reserved that dreamy smile just for you, at least you liked to think he did because you never saw him give it to anyone else when they walked into the store.

“Afternoon.” You responded shyly, feeling yourself getting a little nervous under his soft gaze, though it was the good kind of nervousness that sent butterflies through your stomach and a light airy feeling in your chest. When you realised you had held his gaze for a few moments too long, you awkwardly looked away and quickly dove between some bookshelves to begin browsing rather than making a fool of yourself in front of the handsome guy with an accent.

As you lost yourself in the shelves, you remembered someone had given you a list of books to read and you had intended to buy all of them that day if you could find them at your local store. Pulling out the little, well loved pocket notebook that was bound in leather with delicate blue and gold embossing on the corners, you opened it to find the right page.

Inside as you flicked through the pages, it was clear you were not the only author of the notes and inner thoughts. Another handwriting joined yours amongst the pages. It had been years ago that you had discovered the notebook was a shared possession between you and another, a soulmate so to speak. You didn’t know a lot about him, but you knew he was passionate about books and on the last page you’d communicated to each other on was a list of three books he’d told you that you must read at least once in your life.

You scanned the shelves for the books he’d written out so neatly for you. Just to save space in the book, you’d both messily crammed as much writing into each page as physically possible, though you were coming to the end of the book and you were terrified of what would happen if you didn’t at least know who and where he was and another way to contact him, but you were so afraid to ask.

Gripping The Tale of Two Cities in your hands, mentally crossing one book off the list, you ran your fingers over the backs of the books on the shelf, stopping when you touched The Scarlet Letter and added it to the other book, holding them protectively against your chest as you searched for the last one.

As you held your notebook, you felt a gentle pressure beneath your hands and you flicked it open, your soulmate’s writing spilling over onto the last page of the book. It was a quote, though you weren’t sure what from.

Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein. –Song sung by Mr. Rochester

I thought you might like that, Prinţesă. He wrote and you smiled at the name he gave you.

You read it over a couple of times, the cryptic nature of it making you think about a deeper meaning to the quote he’d written and your mind could only flick to and from the idea of not knowing one another outside of your notebook.

Fully engrossed in your notebook, rather than paying attention to where you were walking, trying hard to figure out if you had in fact read it somewhere before, you walked straight into the very person you had been trying so hard not to accidentally bump into. You bounced off his soft, woollen sweater clad chest and stumbled back a couple of steps to look up at Pietro, who gave you a concerned look before reaching out to steady you, though hesitant to touch.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern melting into a sweet smile and you suddenly felt yourself getting warm and rather embarrassed from bumping into him. “Oh god- I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I-.” You explained haphazardly, but Pietro just smirked and shook his head, raising a hand to stop you. “It’s alright, were you looking for something? Perhaps I can help, yes?” He asked, accent thick and undeniably sexy.

“Yes, yeah I was looking for uh- for Jane Eyre.” You stuttered out a little, hoping you didn’t appear too flustered, but you knew it was rather hopeful to assume he hadn’t noticed quite how shy and bashful you were around him.

Pietro caught a glimpse of the other books you were carrying and quirked a brow, giving you a questioning look. “Jane Eyre.” He repeated, taking another look at the other titles in your hands and then noticing that you held a little notebook in your other hand. “Follow me, I’ll help you find it.” He smiled, gesturing for you to walk alongside him. “It is easy for books to get a little misplaced in here, I always order things but somehow they always end up in strange places.” He huffed. “I have a feeling it is my sister’s doing.” Pietro chuckled, shaking his head.

“I see you here often, you are my regular.” He tossed a glance and a heart stopping grin at you before turning to scour over a shelf to help you find the book you were looking for and you felt yourself melt from his ways of speaking, the accent and the way he looked at you. The fact he called you his regular – you were definitely over thinking this, you had a soulmate and this was just some random guy in a bookshop you frequented.

“Ah, here is Miss Brontë.” He found a few copies of Jane Eyre and picked out the prettiest one with a hard cover, cloth bound and it looked a bit older than the others. “You will enjoy this one, it is a classic romance.” Pietro explained as he handed the book to you. “Thank you for you help, I look forward to reading this one.” You smiled up at him, shyly meeting his eyes.

“Is that all? Come, I can ring up your items.” Pietro held out an arm to guide you across to the counter and you met him at the large, deeply coloured wooden desk where you gently placed down your books, loosing your grip on the notebook and dropping it onto the counter. It landed open on one of the pages you frequented the most and the spine of the book was used to opening on that specific page.

The first words on the page was a sentence you always went back to. It cheered you up on a miserable day and kept you going on days that were tough and gave you an extra boost on those days when you just wanted a little extra sunshine in your day.

I’ll always be here, Prinţesă.

The words were comforting, not to mention it was the first time you’d been called that.

Prinţesă? What does that mean? You had asked.

It is princess in Sokovian, Prinţesă. He replied.

You hoped Pietro had not gained a glimpse at those pages, it made you feel vulnerable that someone else might see them and you hastily scrambled to take your book back. As you rushed, a feather light touch landed on your wrist and you saw the carefully placed hand of the store clerk. Looking up to meet his eyes, you stilled your movements and he smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your soulmate book, Prinţesă mea.” He winked and your eyes went wide in realisation.

“Oh my- you’re-.” You cut yourself off, pointing at the notebook as he picked his out of the back pocket of his jeans and slid it across the counter to you as proof. “I am, it’s me prinţesă.” His eyes softened and you relaxed under his touch, sliding your hand back and turning it so you could hold his hand in yours. “The books you picked out were my first clue, as well as the frequency of your visits here, you know soulmates are tightly bound and it would make sense that you are drawn here.” Pietro explained as he let you hold his hand, carefully gripping yours too. “But the killer was you dropping your notebook open.” He chuckled, smirking at you and you felt a swirl of embarrassment, bashfulness and an overwhelming feeling of happiness.

“I was worried I’d never get to know who you were.” You sighed, thinking back to how anxious you had been about it earlier that day. Pietro hummed and nodded. “Perhaps it was meant to happen like this?” He asked a rhetorical question, shrugging.

“Keep me company for ten more minutes and I would love to take you out for a coffee, if you’ll let me? I’d like to get to know you outside of those pages.” Pietro fixed you with a dreamy smile as he leaned forwards on his elbows onto the counter and you stuttered a little before nodding a response. “I’d like that a lot.” You managed to get out, hoping not to sound too flustered. You received an approving grin from Pietro as he reached up to fiddle with his silver hair for a second.

“Are you going to finally tell me your name after all this time?” Pietro asked with a teasing edge to his tone. “I don’t know, maybe I’d like that coffee first.” You teased, making Pietro chuckle in response and he gently lifted your hand in his. “Well, I would like to formally introduce myself, Prinţesă. I am Pietro Maximoff, Sokovian bookshop clerk and soulmate to-.” He prompted, waiting for you to finish and you bit your lip, loving how flirtatious, yet sweet with you he was.

You told him your name over the counter and he kissed your hand so sweetly. He took you out for coffee and told you many things about his life and you about yours. He shared Sokovian with you and before you parted ways, you exchanged ways of contacting one another.

That was the day that Pietro told you that there was love in books in more ways than one and from that day onwards, you looked at romance novels a little differently.

You were glad you had been drawn to that bookshop and you had finally discovered your soulmate all because of the very last page of your notebook.

Pietro Taglist (OPEN):

@valkyriesryde @bisexual---mermaid @sherlocked-bitch @virtualmemmecollector @megantje123 @sebbbystaaan @unknown-and-invisible @scarlett-berserker @yougottakeeponkeepinon @chiefwobblerauthorrebel @kitkatd7 @herwaywardskies @saltywintersoldat @potterssuperhero @mushyjellybeans​ @lancetuckershairgel​ @southernbell91​ @marvelgirl7​ @book-dragon-13​

[ohemgeeitscoley]

Rey doesn't think when she calls Ben to go into her emails to send off her draft email with her final to her professor. 

It isn't until she's off the phone that she remembers all the other draft emails are to him and vary from confessing her love to him and describing in detail what exactly she wants to do to his body. 

No, Rey didn't think this through at all.

These letters to you (1/1)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Rey/Ben Solo (Reylo)

Note: This came from this prompt from the ReylosPrompt Twitter account.

Curious Cat Prompt: "Ben finds a draft on Rey’s email addressed to him confessing her love and lust for him."

@andyouweremine​ and @storiesofimagination​ are some of the best betas a girl could ever ask for. They make sure that my tenses stay correct and reassure me the entire time that I’m writing. They are the best cheerleaders and I wouldn’t know what to do without them. <3 

Read below or on AO3.

Please pick up. Please pick up. If there is any sort of fairness in the galaxy, please pick up your fucking phone--

"Hello?" Ben's voice is low, deeper than usual. It's his mostly asleep voice. Rey hates that she has thought enough about the variances of Ben's voice to know the different tones almost as much as she hates the fact that a sleepy Ben Solo is almost always her favorite version of Ben.

Ben had been one of the first people Rey had met when she transferred in as a sophomore. He had been in his first year at the law school. They both fought for the right to study under a specific tree toward the edge of the campus. It was quiet, far enough away from the hot spots to really attract much attention or noise. The leaves were big and provided plenty of shade from the sun. The ground was soft and mostly free of any large rocks or bouts of even landscaping. 

It was Rey's favorite spot. 

They fought over the tree for two months, both of them refusing to leave and each attempting to annoy the other into giving the spot up. It didn't take long for them to realize that when they were just sitting under the tree, quietly, together studying, it wasn't so bad.

It was actually nice, not being alone. 

Rey moved into Ben's apartment the following fall and they'd been best friends ever since. 

Rey's fairly certain she's been in love with him for roughly the same amount of time. 

Not that she has the time to be getting lost down that particular rabbit hole.

"Thank God, you answered," Rey responds, twisting the cord of the phone around one of her fingers. Everything about the diner she works at is a little bit kitschy and old, but having to make a call on a phone actually attached to a wall with cords is a whole different experience. "I'm so sorry I woke you up. I know you were up late studying."

"Rey?" Ben asks while yawning. Rey can hear him shuffle around in his bed. "It's not even 6 AM, is everything okay?"

"You answered," Rey smiles, hoping Ben knows that she is practically beaming at him through the phone. "Everything is going to be fine. My final paper is due at 6. On the dot. I was too nervous to send it last night when I finished it. I was going to send it in this morning, after I had a chance to at least look over it for grammar and spelling, but I'm me and I--"

"Slept through your first four alarms and barely made it out the door for work?" Ben interrupts.

"Yes." Rey sighs, rolling her eyes. "Anyways. You know I can't use my cell at work, I'm probably going to get shit for this call, and you're the only number I have memorized. So I really, really need you to get on my computer, go to my email and send in my paper. I have a draft saved and everything. All you have to do is get in my drafts folder and hit send."

"Sure," Ben agrees. "Password for your laptop?"

"Capital d-y-at sign-d-hashtag-number 3-exclamation point."

"I'm on it." Rey can hear Ben's door open, the same squeak sounding over the phone that she complains about every night when he's anxious from studying and walks back and forth from his room to the kitchen every twenty minutes. "Consider it done."

"You're the best roommate, slash friend, slash just all around hero of my life," Rey blushes, stopping just short of adding 'probably the love of my life' at the end of her sentence. Thinking about her feelings for Ben is definitely a rabbit hole she is better off to avoid. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"It's the least I can do if I'm really the only phone number you have memorized."

"It's 2020, Ben," Rey teases. "The fact that I have your number memorized is really impressive."

"Why mine?"

Rey can hear water running in the background, a cabinet opening and a drawer shutting. Rey hates that she can clearly see Ben in their kitchen, making coffee, probably with a slightly grumpy look on his face because Rey knows that she put the grinder and the filters back in the wrong spot. She hates it the same way she hates knowing that Ben won't say anything about the misplaced items to her, and that if she were home he would make her cup of coffee first. 

The way Ben always takes care of her first drives Rey crazy most days. 

"I figure the only time I'm ever going to need to call someone without having access to my phone would be in a real emergency. And you're the person I would want to call." Rey bites her lip, shaking her head as if she could shake away how vulnerable she sounds to her own ears. "Or, if I've been arrested. And if that's the case, you're the only lawyer I know."

Ben snorts. "I have to actually finish next semester and pass the bar to be a real lawyer."

"You're going to pass," Rey gently reminds him. It's the same conversation they've been having since the beginning of the year. "And then you're going to kick legal ass all over New York."

Ben's laugh is warm. "You should go back to work, don't worry about your paper. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Text me what you want for dinner. I'll pick it up on my way home from my last final." 

Rey hangs the phone back up on the wall and walks back out into the diner. She smiles, grabbing a rag to wipe down the front counter. Her nerves finally calm knowing that Ben wouldn't let her down and she no longer had to worry about failing one of her last classes. 

Ben would just go into her draft emails and send the email on to her professor.

Into her draft emails.

Her draft emails.

Fuck. 

***

Ben is not surprised when he opens Rey's email and sees that she has 37 draft emails. It's honestly exactly what he expects. 

He blows across the top of his mug, watching as the steam from the cup scatters. The coffee's still too hot to drink, but it's 5:57 in the morning and Ben's only had 2 hours of sleep. 

If he survives law school and passes the bar, Ben is going to need a three week long nap.  

Taking a drink from the mug, Ben grimaces as the too hot liquid burns his tongue and throat, and yet at the same time warms his soul. Ben opens the draft emails, seeing the one at the top to Rey's professor. It's easy enough to look at, make sure that there's an attachment attached and that Rey's message isn't full of 2 AM Rey snark. 

It's sent by 5:59.

Ben's glad that he woke up to his phone going off and that he answered. Usually, answering unknown numbers isn't something Ben does, but he's always a little more cautious when Rey is gone and it's a local number. Just in case. 

Answering a spam call and wasting 5 seconds but knowing Rey is fine is worth it. 

Everything about the call fell into the 'reasons to tell Rey about his feelings' column in the pro/con list he kept in his mind. Rey had his number memorized in case of emergencies. 

Somehow Rey Johnson had decided that he was worthy and could be trusted to be someone she could rely on.  

And for Rey, with all of the abandonment issues Ben knows about, to trust him to be there for her… it means more than Ben can say. 

Falling completely in love with his best friend was not on his list of things to complete before finishing law school. 

Though he thinks it might be the most worthwhile thing he's done in the three years. If he wasn't absolutely terrified of Rey not feeling the same way and ruining their friendship, Ben knows that loving her, being loved by her… that would be the honor of a lifetime. 

Tilting his head back, Ben reaches for his mug and takes another drink. These are the kinds of thoughts that Ben knows he cannot dwell on so early and on such little sleep. He's going to fuck up one day and send her a text message confessing that he does actually reorganize their kitchen cabinets sometimes just because he thinks that the way she scrunches her nose when she's confused and angry is the cutest thing in the world.  

Maybe he'll just text her that he loves her and not in a friend way. But in a ‘very real, very romantic, wants to take her on dates, and make her toes curl in pleasure’ kind of way.

Which is why Ben needs to go back to bed and try to sleep before studying again. His last final is tomorrow and if he isn't smart enough to list ten reasons why texting Rey about how pretty he thinks her freckles are in the sunlight, well, he has no idea how he's going to pass his trademarks and false advertising final. 

Ben is just starting to close the laptop when he sees his email on one of the draft emails. He knows that he shouldn't snoop in Rey's draft emails, but it's addressed to him and it's probably just a dumb meme that she forgot to hit send on. 

Because Rey sends Ben a lot of dumb memes. It's one of the things he loves about her. 

Ben pushes the screen up and is stunned to find that there are a bunch of emails to him.

Before he can think his way out of doing it, Ben opens the first email.

Dear Ben:

I came home early from work and you were shirtless and exercising in the living room

First: rude.

Second: I've decided it's unfair for you to ever wear shirts and you should be shirtless all the time

Third: actually, no one else needs to know about this gross injustice and you should only not wear shirts around me

Fourth: have you always been so... big?

Fifth: I need to go to bed and think more about this.

Yours,

Rey

Ben takes a deep breath. That was not a dumb meme.

That was the furthest thing from a dumb meme.

Ben slowly releases his breath, closing out of the draft email. He should stop. He knows he should shut down Rey’s computer and that he absolutely should not open another draft email to him. 

But he needs to know what else they say. For the first time in three years, there's a spark of hope inside Ben that maybe Rey feels something for him. So he looks down the list of drafts and opens one from 6 months ago on his birthday.

Ben,

It's your birthday. I know you aren't comfortable with attention being solely focused on you, but I'm so glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight. 

You deserve it. You're always so hard on yourself. I wish you could see you the way I see you. How kind and caring and thoughtful you can be. It never fails to amaze me, just how wonderful you really are.

You looked gorgeous. I had to stop myself from telling you just what seeing you in that suit did to me. I almost told you how badly I want you. 

I drank too much. I hate that you thought you had to leave the club to make sure that I made it back home okay, but I also… God Ben, you are always taking care of me.

No one else has done that for me.

You got me in bed, made sure I could change out of my outfit (which did you like my outfit? I thought you looked like you appreciated it when I walked out of my room, but you didn't say anything. I mean of course you didn't say anything. But I hope you did. I wore it for you.) you even brought water and aspirin for me to take tomorrow morning when I wake up. 

You kissed my forehead when you tucked me in.

I just want to kiss you. 

Well, I want to do more than just kiss you. But kissing seems like a good place to start. 

Which is how I ended up here. Reading all of these unsent emails to you. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. My feelings for you haven't changed. 

But I'm so so scared.

I am terrified Ben.

I can't lose you. You've become the one constant in my life and I don't know what I would do without you in it. 

What if you don't feel the same way? What if I ruin everything?

I should go to bed. I just wish that I were in your arms instead of alone.

I'm so tired of being alone.

Anyways.

Happy birthday, Ben.

Yours,

Rey 

Ben reads the email four times before it really clicks in his brain that Rey likes him. Rey has apparently liked him for at least six months, but maybe even longer since she referred to sending her first draft email and that her feelings hadn't changed.

Her feelings. For him.  

His birthday had been the best birthday he could remember. Rey had planned the entire event. She had been so excited to celebrate him that it was hard not to embrace it. 

Ben's birthdays usually consisted of a phone call from his parents, maybe lunch or dinner if they were in the same city, and a few text messages from others. 

Rey woke him up with pancakes and waffles, because no one should have to choose between the two best breakfast foods on their birthday, and a detailed itinerary of all her ideas for the rest of the day. 

She spent the entire day with him doing whatever he wanted to do. Watching his favorite movies, ordering lunch from his favorite restaurant, confirming with everyone the dinner plans and post-dinner drink plans she had made. 

Ben had almost told Rey about his feelings for her that night. After reading her email, he wishes that he had.

How much time had they missed out on being together because they were both scared?

Ben shakes his head, he still isn't sure that this all is real. Maybe Rey hadn't really called and he is still asleep. Maybe this is all a dream. 

He downs the last of the coffee in his mug, running a finger across the chip on the side. 

Rey had tried throwing the mug out after she moved in, saying something about how they could just use his mugs. Ben had ignored her, placing the pastel colored mugs, chips and all, next to his glossy black ones in the cabinet. He told her the blue one was his favorite and it wasn't going anywhere. 

The smile she had given him lit up the entire room. 

He sets the mug back down on the table, scrolling down until he finds the first draft to him. I almost hit send on the first one I wrote. The email is dated the day before she moved in. 

He opens it.

Ben,

I will probably never send this email, but I also don't know that I won't. I know that I want to send it. I want to be brave and to know the truth.

The thought of doing it is just scary though. 

You know that you're my best friend right? It's hard for me to imagine a world without you in it, which for me is a lot. You haven't even been in my life for a year and you've already managed to make it so that I don't know what I'll do when you decide to leave.

That's what people do, Ben, they leave me. 

It's just a fact in my life and knowing that, honestly, has kept me safe. I keep people at a distance, which wasn't hard growing up because I just bounced around from foster home to foster home and school to school. But now I'm here and I'm not going anywhere new anytime soon.  

And then there's you. 

For some reason, I believe you're not going anywhere either. 

Which is scarier to me. I've never had anyone stay before. I don't know what to do with that. 

A part of me needs to believe that you're going to leave. So when you do eventually move on and leave me behind it'll at least be something I knew was going to eventually happen.

Anyways. I've gotten really sidetracked here. 

I've been going to therapy. Which you already know, since you're the one who kept telling me that it was something I should look into. Thanks for that by the way. You were right. 

She suggested that I write letters to the people who have left or hurt me. Not to send, but to just, get my thoughts and feelings out of my head. 

It helped. 

Which is why I'm writing this email to you, even though I'll never be brave enough to send it. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about you, Ben. I need them out of my head.  

I love you. 

I am in love with you. 

Not in a platonic way. In a very romantic way.

Almost everything you do drives me crazy and makes my heart warm and my face glow. 

I want to kiss you and hold your hand. I want to find out if my head will fit in the crook of your neck when you hold me the way I think that it will. I want to commit the taste of your skin to my memory. I want to know the marks on your body better than I know my own. I want to know what you look like when you lose control and give into pleasure. 

It's really apparent, I think, the way I feel about you.  

Only you don't seem to notice. And I need to admit to myself that it's because you don't think of me that way. 

Which is fine. I get it. 

You're you… and I'm just, well, I'm just me. 

But I'm moving in tomorrow and I just needed to get these thoughts out. Otherwise I'm a little worried I might just blurt it out when you help me wash the dishes or eat dinner with me. Which I'm sure sounds a little strange, but after a lifetime without these moments… 

I imagine living with you is only going to make me fall more in love with you. 

Maybe I'll just have to write you more. 

Yours,

Rey

Ben doesn't bother to count how many times he rereads the email. He just keeps going back to the top as soon as he reads her name and starts again. He doesn't stop until he is sure he could repeat every word without looking at the screen. 

And then he continues to read the email again, just to make sure.

Rey loves him.

Even with the words clearly on the screen for Ben to see, it's hard for him to believe. He's been in love with Rey since before she moved in. The idea that Rey has felt the same way the entire time doesn't make sense. 

Ben is objectively smart. He isn't even shy about his intelligence. In fact any given classmate of his would likely describe him as an insufferable know it all. Rey loving him without Ben catching on for over two years is inconceivable. He would have noticed. He would have seen the signs.  Certainly he would--

He reads the email again. And again. And again. 

Every time he tries to find a way to read anything into it beyond 'Rey has admitted in three different emails, to various degrees, that she is physically attracted to you and that she is in love with you' he rereads the emails. 

He doesn't read any more beyond the three. There are plenty of drafts to him that are unread, but he grasps the threads between them to form the overall picture without needing to read the individual emails. 

He feels guilty if he thinks for too long about reading the ones he did. He has information now that he didn't have before. He reasons that it is information that he should have though. Because now that he knows and he thinks to any given memory of Rey, with just a tiny bit of certainty that Rey loves him…

Well it's the easiest thing in the world to see. 

When he really thinks about it, Rey doesn't hide the way she loves him, she shines with it. He can see it in the way she smiles at him when he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch and tucks it around her during a movie. Her face soft and warm as she instinctively burrows into the heat. 

He can see it in the way she keeps finding reasons to touch his arm when they are walking. Her hand guiding his elbow when she's giving directions. A finger tapping on his wrist when she wants him to follow her gaze. Her arm interlocked with his when she's had just a little too much to drink to still be steady in her heels. 

It's certainly the way she trusts that he won't let her fall. 

Ben closes the laptop, stretching as he stands. He places the empty coffee mug in the sink, rinsing out the small drops of coffee lingering in the bottom of the glass. The time on the stove clock mocks him. 

7:34.

Rey isn't going to be home for hours. She'll go straight from the diner to her final. And he doesn't want to worry her by texting her. Especially when he knows she won't have a lot of time, if any, to text him back.

He isn't even sure what he would say to her. 

He could study. He should study. He tries to study, but it's pointless. He can't really focus when at least half of his brain is still focused on Rey's emails. 

Ben waits. Impatiently watching the clock and attempting to will time to pass faster. He reads his note cards in between planning the possible ways his conversation with Rey may go when she finally, finally gets home. 

It's a long day.

***

Rey glances down at her phone for approximately the millionth time on her walk from the diner to campus. She's almost run into ten different people while walking because she's too focused on her phone and not where she is going. 

There are no messages from Ben. No missed calls either. 

Maybe Ben didn't see the emails. There's no way Ben would see the draft emails to him and not read them. And if he read them he absolutely would have texted her about them by now. 

Right? Right.  

Unless he thought that letting her down over a text message or a phone call is too impersonal. Maybe he is just waiting for her to get home to break her heart. 

She should have just turned in the paper late. So what if she failed and had to retake the class over the summer and figure out a way to pay for it out of pocket? At least she would still have her best friend.

A drop of water hits Rey's face, Rey looks up from her phone and glares at the darkened sky. She doesn't remember rain being mentioned in the weather forecast, but that hardly matters as it starts raining harder.  

Rey checks one more time for any messages before sliding her phone into her bag and running the rest of the way to class. She makes it inside of the building just before a large round of thunder and the rain starts to pour.  

She sits at her desk, waiting for the rest of her classmates to show up. She pulls out her phone, debating if she should send Ben a message. 

Hey! By now you probably read the emails. This is really embarrassing and obviously I should have deleted them instead of saving them. I'm an idiot. Please let me know when you need me to move out by. Sorry for making this so awkward.

Or

You find two years worth of love letters and you have NOTHING to say to me??????

Or

I assume that if you felt anything similar toward me you would have said something by now. Can we just pretend that you never saw them? I don't want this to change everything. 

The professor walks in, handing off the test packets to another student to begin passing around. 

There's not enough time for Rey to address any of this with Ben in a message. But she can't stomach the idea of not hearing from him at all before going home. 

Rey: Hey! Getting ready to start my final, you never said what you want me to grab for dinner on my way home?

***

Rey hands in her test to her professor with a tight smile and a small wave. She's pretty sure she passed, which at this point, is all she can hope for. 

She spent half of the time thinking of different scenarios that could be a possibility when she went back to the apartment. Anything near passing would be fine. 

She walks out of the classroom and pulls out her phone. She has two messages from Ben.

Ben: Actually, I was thinking I would make dinner. Something to celebrate your last final. 

Ben: Maybe something to distract me from studying. 

Rey sighs as she walks toward the exit of the building. Maybe Ben didn't read the draft emails after all. Even if he didn't have feelings for her, surely they'd be enough to at least distract him. 

Rey had poured her heart out in some of those emails. She knows there are at least a few where she went on and on about what she thought about Ben's body and the way his hair looked with him growing it out. A few where she made it clear about her thoughts about how kissable his lips looked, how she wondered what his fingers would feel like tracing her curves. 

Even if he didn't have feelings for her,  certainly he would be distracted by some of those emails.

Maybe she won't go home. Maybe she can avoid Ben long enough that she won't have to find out if he read the emails or not. She won't have to find out if she's ruined one of the best things in her life.

The sun is bright when Rey steps outside. The sidewalks are a darker grey, small puddles pooled around the cracks and uneven slabs. 

Rey zips her jacket up, shivering slightly as the wind picks up speed. 

She spends most of the walk home trying to fight against her disappointment at the thought that Ben hadn't gone through the emails to him. She had spent so much of her energy imagining Ben breaking it to her that he didn't feel the same way, but a part of her had been hoping that maybe, maybe he felt the same. 

The idea that Ben just didn't read the emails was worse.

Maybe Rey should just tell him. Get her feelings out in the open and see what comes from it. There was a chance, a small chance, but still a chance that he felt the same way. Or that he could be open to the idea. 

Rey: Sounds good! Need me to stop for anything? Dessert? Wine? Hard alcohol to help with the studying?

Ben doesn't respond until she's almost home. 

Ben: No. The only thing missing is you.

***

Ben fidgets with the pen in his hand, twirling it in between his fingers. The pasta is done, the french bread is in the oven.

The only thing that is missing is Rey.

He glances down at his phone to check and see if Rey had responded, but there's no notification. She should be home soon and Ben still doesn't know what he's going to do when he sees her. 

He knows what he wants to do. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful, because she is, even if she'll fight it because she always complains about how gross she feels after a shift at the diner when she has to head straight to class. She’s always beautiful though, and now he just wants to tell her that. He wants to be able to tell her that when she wakes up in the morning and she’s scrunching her face up against the harshness of the sun sneaking in, or when she is passionate about something and it lights up her entire face.

He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he has been in love with her the entire time too. He’s just not sure how. 

It doesn't seem like enough to just say that he loves her. She wrote him fucking love letters. And even though Ben only read three, he knows that there are more and that they are just as lovely and somehow all about her feelings for him. She deserves more than just him saying that he feels the same way.

She deserves to know about the day he realized he was in love with her. She deserves to know about the way the slope of her neck into her shoulder drives him crazy. She deserves to know that he pretends to fall asleep during their movie nights because then she'll fall asleep and curl herself around him on the couch. 

The oven beeps and Ben stands from the table, he closes his book, grabbing his note cards and pens and highlighters. He dumps the items into his bedroom, before walking back into the kitchen to pull the french bread out from the oven. 

Ben's sliding the bread onto a cutting board, knife in his hand, when the door opens and Rey walks in.

Ben struggles to remember how to breathe as he stares at her. She looks beautiful. But she's nervous, her fingers are playing with the sleeve of her jacket, pulling and twisting at the loose fabric. She shuts the door, taking a step into the kitchen. 

She's staring at Ben and he can see it now. She loves him and he can see it. How had he never noticed it before?

Maybe he really was an idiot.

He had spent all day fighting his own nerves, trying to come up with the perfect plan on how to tell Rey that he never thought about what she must have spent the entire day doing.

Obviously, she knew that she sent him into her draft emails and that there was a chance that he would see the emails.

Did she know that he read them? Is that why she is looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if she is almost about to say something, but she doesn't. 

Of course she's worried that he doesn't feel the same way. Why else would she keep writing him draft emails while not saying anything or giving him any real signs about her feelings?

He sets the knife down next to the bread and takes a step toward her.

"Dinner smells good," she says, a little breathless. 

Ben doesn't say anything in response, he just takes another step, closing the distance between him. Rey glances up at him, her body tense as she takes a small step back. 

Ben reaches out for her, his hand settling against her lower back, gently urging her to come closer to him. 

"Ben," she breathes, stepping forward, her hand hovering over his bicep for a second before she commits and rests her hand against the sleeve of his shirt. 

"It was the first night you stayed over," Ben says, brushing a stray piece of Rey's hair behind her ear. "It was… two, maybe three months before you moved in. You came over to study. We had dinner first and then you demanded that we watch a movie before we started studying. Something about how our brains needed a break and we'd be better off waiting for a few hours to get started on our all nighter."

Ben smiles, mostly for himself, remembering how cute she had been arguing with him. 

"We didn't study," Ben continues, running a finger down her cheek. "You fell asleep twenty minutes into the movie. You looked so peaceful and beautiful and I just… all I could think was about how all I wanted in life was to share it with you. Because I was in love with you."

Rey's expression is soft and a little bewildered as he continues. She turns her head slightly, her lips quickly pressing against his thumb.

"I've been in love with you this entire time. I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you. I was nervous… I am nervous that I'm going to ruin this. I love you and I know, Rey, I know that nothing is ever going to change that. I'm going to love you forever. I can feel it in my bones. Be with me? I know it's scary--"

Rey pulls at Ben's shirt until he bends down and she cuts off his sentence by kissing him. Ben sighs against her lips, his eyes closing as he places her free hand on her hips. She deepens the kiss, her tongue running across his, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

The way Rey feels pressed against him, the pressure of her mouth on his, it's better than he could have imagined. 

It's over too soon, Rey breaks the kiss, a large smile spreading across her face. Ben's grin is just as large and toothy. He stares at her for a second, trying to memorize the way she looks in that moment to his brain. Then he pulls her into his chest and kisses her hair.

"I love you too," Rey says after a moment. "And I agree that it is scary. But I want to be with you. It's worth it."

***

Ben's kisses are something Rey could get addicted to. He kisses with his whole body, the way he angles in his legs to brush against hers, the pressure of his thumb pressing into her hip, his fingernails lightly scratching down her spine. And his lips.

God his lips.

She had been right about his lips. They were absolutely made for kissing.

He left kisses all over her face, her cheek, her jaw, just above her eyebrow. Rey tugged at the bottom of his shirt with one hand, the other quickly moving to run along the exposed skin of his stomach. 

He is so warm and solid underneath her hand. 

Ben pulls away just long enough to pull his shirt off. Rey spends a few seconds taking in the sight of him shirtless, his eyes darker than she has ever seen them as he watches her watch him. 

"You're so gorgeous," she says because she can. Then she moves to pull her own shirt off.

The black bra, which was mostly see through mesh, that she had picked out that morning appears to have been a good choice, judging by the way Ben swallows at the sight, his eyes slowly moving down her body. 

He places one hand over her right breast, gently squeezing before taking her nipple and rolling it in between his fingers. 

Rey moans, pushing herself forward into his hand, desperate for more friction. he repeats the actions on her left breast and Rey can't control the needy sounds falling from her lips. 

Ben pulls away then, dropping his hands to her waist as he takes a step back to put distance between them. 

Rey whines, instinctively following after him.

"The food is going to be cold if we don't stop," he explains, nodding at the pasta that's on the counter. 

Rey shakes her head, lifting up on her toes to kiss him again.

"Ben," she says, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she tries to find her balance. "I don't give a fuck about the food."

***

Ben groans at Rey's words, helpless to pull away when she's saying things like that and smiling against his lips. 

He kisses her, while moving them until her back is pressed against the wall. His fingers making quick work of the button on her jeans.  

This is going too fast. He knows that he should stop, that they should eat and he should ask her to go on an actual date, or to be his girlfriend, or fuck, his wife,  whatever she wants. 

But he can't stop kissing her. And judging by the way she's trying to undo his belt, she doesn't want to stop either. It's hard to argue against the side of his brain begging him to give into the pleasure and to take her into his room when she's pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to run her fingers down his cock.

"Rey, look at me," he begs, his hand grips the corner of the wall as he fails to stop his hips from pushing forward. The way Rey's hands feel wrapped around him, moving at a slow and steady pace as she raises her eyes to his face. Her hand picks up speed, and her eyes slightly narrow in concentration, like she's trying to decipher every twitch of his face so she can make him do it again is too much. 

"Yeah, Ben?" Rey says as an answer, her eyes not leaving his. She looks like the picture of innocence as she holds his gaze, her eyes full of love, her cheeks slightly pink, and her lips turned up in a smile.

It's difficult to believe that she can keep that expression on her face while giving him the best hand job of his life. 

"We should, uh, we should talk," he manages to get out, his grip on the wall tightening. "About all of this and what it means. I don't want… we don't have to rush into anything. We have time."

Rey's hand stops moving and if Ben was capable of holding on to more than a few of his brain cells he would have been embarrassed at the way he kept moving his hips long after she stopped. 

She holds his chin in her other hand, tilting his head down so she can look directly into his eyes before she leans up. The kiss is chaste and short, it leaves Ben wanting more.

"I don't want to talk," she says, moving her hand down his length again. "I don't want to wait either Ben," he shudders at the combination of her words and the way she twists her hand around the head of his penis. "I just want you."

***

Ben doesn't say anything, he tilts his head and looks at Rey like he's trying to decide what he did to deserve her and what he wants to do next. He's all action once he's made up his mind. 

He places his hand on top of Rey's, and Rey pumps him faster, feeling emboldened by the feel of Ben's hands on hers. He moves her hand away off of him, pinning it above her head and against the wall. 

"Ben," Rey sighs, half heartedly fighting against his hold, "I wasn't done--"

Rey stops talking while she watches Ben push down his pants to the floor. He picks her up and Rey wraps her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. 

Heat pools in her stomach when he starts to walk them towards his room. His mouth is on her again. Ben's room is only about 30 steps away from the kitchen, but it seems to take forever before Ben finally makes it to his door. 

Ben holds her against the door, carefully shifting her in his arms so that he can move one hand from her to open the door. Rey uses that as an opportunity to suck at the skin just below his jaw. The arm wrapped around her tightens and Rey can hear Ben's sharp intake of breath once she's moved her lips away. 

So she does it again to the skin below his ear, just to see if she gets the same reaction from him. 

Ben carefully sets her down on his bed. He settles his knees on either side of her and bends down to kiss her. His mouth is hot and desperate against hers as he unclasps her bra. Rey leans back on the bed and helps him slide the straps down her arms. 

Rey lifts her hips up so Ben can remove her underwear and jeans. She runs her fingers along the edge of his hip bone.

"You're beautiful," Ben says, his voice lower than Rey has heard it before. He drags his thumb along the curve of her breast and across her nipple.  "You're so beautiful Rey--" his fingers trail down along her waist and stomach until he barely grazes her clit with the pad of his finger. 

But it's enough to send small tendrils of pleasure throughout her body. He moves lower, running a finger through the wetness at her opening. She nods at the questioning look he gives her. 

He pushes a finger inside of her, curling it up as he sets a slow, leisurely pace with his movements. Rey moans, trying to urge him on to go faster.

"Ben, please," Rey begs, though she isn't quite sure what she's asking him to do. "I need more."

Ben drops to his knees, hooking Rey's legs over his shoulder. He adds another finger, picking up speed while he places wet kisses on her thighs and hip bone. His nose brushes against her clit when he moves his head to pay attention to the other side of her body. 

Rey whines, lifting her hips to try to find something to give her friction where she needs it most. Ben grins into her thigh. 

"You're a tease," Rey huffs. "An absolute damn tease and I need--"

"I know what you need," Ben whispers, his breath hot on her center and then he finally, finally lowers his mouth to her clit. 

Rey's brain ceases to function when he sucks and pleasure washes over her body.  She lifts her hips up and she's only slightly annoyed when Ben's hand pushes her back down to the bed. 

Ben works her up easily. He isn't shy about trying different things, and the way he manages to work his tongue with his fingers and his mouth is magic. 

Rey threads her fingers in his hair, she tugs on the strands as he brings her closer and closer to the edge. 

"Ben," Rey whimpers, her back arching. She's fairly confident the grip she has on his hair is actually painful, but she can't bring herself to let go and Ben doesn't seem to mind. At least, it isn't stopping him from devouring her. 

She doesn't want to come yet. She wants to stay in this moment forever. She needs it to last longer so she can commit the way her nerves are buzzing with pleasure and her heart is swelling with love and comfort to her memory. 

Ben sucks harder. The hand on her stomach moves up and he is pinching her nipple and she comes. 

He works her through her orgasm. His mouth and tongue slowing their movements against her clit until she swats at his head. 

"Too sensitive," she mutters, her eyes still closed. He laughs against her skin, resting his chin just above her pubic bone. 

Rey leans up, pressing her elbows into the mattress. "Hi," she says, grinning down at him.

"Hi." Ben sounds a little breathless, but he matches her smile and presses a kiss against her skin. 

His hair is a mess and Rey's stomach swoops with the knowledge that she did that. She's the reason this gorgeous man was out of breath and his usually perfectly tousled hair was all out of place. 

He moves up her body, running his tongue along her exposed skin until his head is hovering just over her own. 

"I love you," he says. And if it were possible Rey knows that he would be able to see her heart beat out of her chest. 

His face is so open and honest it surprises Rey. Because she knows that he said he loved her earlier, but there's still a part of her that isn't sure that he can mean it.

But then he looks at her with such adoration in his eyes and she's not sure how she could doubt him.

"I love you too," she says, beaming up at him as he closes the distance between them.

She can taste herself on his lips, but she isn't complaining as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Condom?" she asks, breaking the kiss before placing smaller kisses along his jaw.

He nods, moving off of her and moving to the other edge of the bed. He opens the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a condom. Rey just watches as he tears open the wrapper, pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it down his length. 

"Come here," he says and Rey rolls over and makes her way to Ben. She settles herself over him, resting her hands on his shoulders and sinks down on him.

Ben let's her set the pace, but he meets her thrust for thrust and it makes Rey clench against him. He feels so good inside of her, and then he uses his hands, dragging them down on her spine, across her chest, down her stomach until he reaches her clit and he presses down and Rey starts to see stars. Her movements above him stutter and she knows she isn't going to last long if he keeps that up.

"That's it," he says, "Are you going to come for me?" He puts more pressure on his finger, drawing small circles on her clit. 

Rey sighs his name, squeezing her nails into his shoulder. He's taken over, controlling the speed of her thrusts as she just let's him, too lost in the pleasure pulsing through her veins.

"Ben," she groans when his mouth wraps around her nipple, his teeth sharp against her skin.

She comes when he bites down, her vision blurring. He keeps fucking into her chasing his own orgasm.

He comes silently, his breath hot on her neck. Rey catches her breath, enjoying the way Ben can't keep his hands still. He runs his hands over her collarbone, a finger trailing across her jawline, another down her spine.

She rolls off of him once she feels like she can take a full breath without immediately trying to suck in another. He moves around, removing the condom and tossing it into a trash can near his bed.

Rey is glad to discover that her head does fit into the crook of his neck just like she imagined. She tastes the salt on his skin when she leaves an opened mouth kiss to his shoulder. She wraps her arm around his chest and curls herself around him.

"So, you read the emails then?" Rey asks with a small laugh.

Ben kisses her head. "I read three of them, yeah."

"Just three?"

Ben sighs, his fingers continuing to run across her body as if he can't get enough of her skin. "I felt bad. Reading through emails you didn't send me, it felt like I was invading your privacy."

"I'm glad you did," Rey admits, pulling him closer to her. "Otherwise we might not be here."

Ben hums, his chest vibrating underneath her hand. "You have a point."

"Which ones did you read?"

"Um," Ben hesitates. Rey can feel his heartbeat pick up pace. "A recent one about me working out? And then the one on my birthday and the first one."

"Those were good ones," Rey laughs. "You could have read the other ones."

"You could send them to me." Ben drags his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to hide from me anymore."

"Maybe I will," Rey teases. "Now that I know you might feel the same way about me."

"I do feel the same way," Ben amends her words. "I'm crazy about you. I've been crazy about you."

"But will you be tomorrow?" Rey asks, hating how needy her voice sounds to her own ears. "And the next day?"

"Always," Ben answers. There's no hesitancy to his answer. 

"Always is a long time," Reys says, kissing his neck. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I never do," Ben promises. "I'm always going to love you."

"Me too," Rey says, her voice heavy with sleep. "I'm always going to love you."

"Maybe tomorrow we can read the rest of them together?" Ben asks.  

"Yeah," Rey smiles. "We can do that."

[i-just-love-spop]

For the OC asks, could you do 2 for Clover, 26 for Arrow, 14 for Sagi, 34 for Thorn, 48 for Finn, 38 for Leo, 71 for Angie, and 3 for Willow? Also, thanks again for sending me asks for my characters.

For context: Arrow, Angie and Sagi are my Glimbow-kids, Leo and Finn are my Catradora-kids and Clover, Thorn and Willow are three of my Scorfuma-kids.

Other characters mentioned: Kohana is another one of my Scorfuma-kids, Sirena is one of my Seamista-kids and Eira is Frosta’s adopted daughter.

Here are the questions again if anyone wants to ask anything else.

2. Do they have a fear of an animal? If so, what animal?

Yes, he does. Clover is afraid of birds, especially really big ones. There’s no specific reason for this, at least none he can place, but he just finds them kind of terrifying for some reason. He had a lot of nightmares about being pecked at as a kid, and he’s still startled by big birds when he grows older.

It also takes him some time to get used to Angie because of this. When she’s flying around, the sound of her giant wings flapping freaks him out quite a bit.

26. Have they ever been in a physical fight before? If so, with who? Who won?

Arrow actually gets into a lot of fights – most of them accidentally. She’s not one to deliberately pick fights under normal circumstances, but she often ends up in situations where they just can’t be avoided, especially when she’s with Sirena. They’re both sensible people most of the time, but Sirena is very inquisitive and keeps probing people even when it’s obvious that they don’t appreciate her digging into stuff that’s not really her business, and she’s also not good at biting back sarcastic comments when they’re out of place, which gets her in trouble often, and then Arrow gets in trouble along with her most of the time. The fact that Arrow has a tendency to be a bit too sassy for her own good usually also doesn’t help defuse the situations they get into.

Who wins might depend, but she’s more likely to loose, at least when it comes to physical fights – she has won a couple of times, but she’s not that great with hand-to-hand-combat outside of training situations (she and Sirena fight in training regularly, and whoever looses will not hear the end of it for at least an entire week, but that doesn’t really count because they just kind of know the way the other moves after a couple of years, which of course isn’t the case in regular fights). She’s more the “if possible let’s blind them and get out of here before things get serious”-type of person, and if that’s not a possibility, she will still choose using magic to fight from a distance over brawls any day.

There’s one particularly bad incident when she’s about sixteen where she and Sirena investigate some strange activity in the Crimson Waste, and once again Sirena cannot keep her mouth shut and they end up in a fight, which is especially problematic because there is no water anywhere near them that Sirena could use for self-defense. The criminals corner them pretty quickly, forcing them into hand-to-hand-combat. And the two girls lose. Badly.

14. What is a pet peeve of theirs?

People. Being. Mean. To. Willow.

Also, Sagi really has an issue with unreliable people who don't follow through on promises. He takes promises very seriously and is genuinely hurt when people say they’ll do something for or with him and then don’t do it.

If someone promises too meet him, he’ll expect them to show up and be really upset if they don’t. Being late is fine, but not showing up at all really hurts, even if it’s just out of forgetfulness rather than out of malicious intent.

And sure, he’ll forgive someone after they broke a promise and maybe put on a fake smile, but once you’ve broken a promise without having a good reason to (sometimes things don’t happen as planned, and if the person just couldn’t keep the promise because of something out of their control, that’s fine), he’ll possibly never trust them again the way he used to.

He also doesn’t forgive being lied to very easily, at least if it’s a serious topic.

34. Have they ever broken the law?

No. Thorn I think is the one that’s the least likely to break the law out of all of my characters? She’s the teachers’ favorite student, good-girl kind of person and would never do anything that could potentially harm someone else. She wouldn’t hurt a fly – aside from accidentally stinging people out of reflex if they startle her –, which is ironic, since she’s definitely one of the most powerful kids and also the one that could potentially cause the most damage out of all of them because she’s the only kid that’s connected to more than one Runestone.

The only thing she’s ever done that might be considered law-breaking would be the cake-‘heists’ Arrow pulls with her (and sometimes also Sirena if she’s around), where they sneak into the Bright Moon-kitchen and ‘steal’ cake if one of them is upset for some reason... but nobody actually considers it stealing since Arrow is the princess, and the kitchen staff often just... pretend not to see it when the kids are young but actually deliberately place some cake somewhere they can reach it easily so they don’t climb the furniture and get hurt.

48. What does their room look like?

Finn has a huge bed. Don’t tell anyone, but it actually has the softest mattress in the entire palace because they genuinely like sinking into the mattress unlike their moms.

When they’re practicing a scene for the first time, they spread out the pages in order all over the bed and read every page in a different position and with a different voice.

They also have a really large wardrobe. This is because they have tons of different clothes – both regular and costumes – because they love dressing up in different ways to play different characters. It’s not quite Double Trouble’s shapeshifting abilities, but it’s close enough. If they can fool someone in Bright Moon into thinking they’re someone else than Finn, they’re extremely happy for the rest of the day because that means their acting skills are actually kind of good. They also have the biggest, weirdest wigs and hats you could ever imagine, both because it’s funny to see other people’s reactions to them and because they’re good for cheering people up and making them laugh when they’re in a bad mood, which can be found all over the room. (Honestly, they have so many different clothes that they try on regularly spread out across the furniture of the room that sometimes you wonder if anything is actually inside the wardrobe).

There’s also about three different lamps on the ceiling for different kinds of lighting for when they need to practice scenes – one was a present from the Seamista-family and sort of imitates Mermista’s ‘lightning when I need it for dramatic effects’, one is a mood light that can change color that their moms and their older brother got them together, and one is a straight up spotlight from Double Trouble. Pro tip: don’t turn them on all at once, especially not in addition to the regular ceiling light, unless you want to go blind or crazy or both.

They also have a meditating mat hidden under the bed somewhere that they’ll absolutely only ever use when they’re sure no one is around because they’re too embarrassed to admit they actually kind of enjoy it, as well as tons of childhood toys that are kept in a treasure chest for good memories.

Finn’s also pretty sure they misplaced a knife in the room somewhere because they ‘borrowed’ it from Arrow’s knife throwing target when they needed it to practice for a scene (nobody was hurt, thankfully), and after that, it just kind of... disappeared and was never seen again.

They have a family picture in the nightstand drawer that’s way more precious to Finn than any of the toys they got as a kid could ever be, and beside it is a bracelet that Bow and Glimmer gave them for their very first audition when they were still a little kid that they’ve since worn to all their auditions as a good-luck-charm.

They also have some crafting and sewing supplies lying around because if they can’t find the exact clothes or accessories they have in mind, they might as well make them.

Some posters on the walls cover the burns left there by Kohana when they trained in the room very poorly.

And there’s a waterfall, because this just seems to be a thing in Bright Moon. Finn also has no idea what it’s for.

38. Do they get along with others easily?

Leo has a hard time making friends because he’s pretty shy, and he’s also very shut-in for a while after he’s adopted because he’s pretty traumatized from losing his biological parents.

Aside from that, he is a very sweet little kitten that most people like once they get to know him, and very unlike his parents, he doesn’t really pick fights – although he does sometimes end up in some anyway – or ever make actual enemies (which, admittedly, is kind of easier without the Horde around to ruin everyone’s day).

Sure, there are people who don’t like him – I mean, really, having literally everyone like you would be kind of a reach –, but his friends love him to pieces, and he’s one of those people that rarely ever fight with their friends.

So in general, I would say yes, he does get along with others pretty easily, as long as he can actually bring himself to start a conversation.

There is an exception, however, and that’s if someone he meets is rude to him or his friends right off the bat for no reason. He will not try harder to get this person to like him. He‘ll forget his shyness for a moment, hiss at them and move on.

He won’t waste his time and energy on trying to get along with someone like that.

71. Who is their ride or die?

Angie is actually kind of a fun person for this question because she’s not close with many people – nor does she want to be, she’s never been very comfortable with the idea of a huge friend group – and if she ever lets anyone get close, there’s a good chance she would go to great lengths for them.

Out of her family, her ride or die is definitely Sagi. She gets annoyed by his clinginess sometimes and his enthusiasm can get exhausting to her – especially because she’s not a morning person and she doesn’t appreciate him talking her ear off at seven in the morning because she doesn’t even want to be up already can he please shut up, but they are really close because they’re so close in age and she loves him dearly and is very protective of him. He gets insulted from time to time because a bunch of people find his endless babbling annoying, but while the insults fly over his own head most of the time, there’s a chance said people might get their ass kicked by her later if she overhears it. She also tries to keep a bit of an eye on him whenever she can because she knows how much of a klutz he is and that he has a tendency to get himself into dangerous situations by accident.

Out of her friends, Eira. These two are a bit of an odd match because Angie prefers to go on adventures alone and Eira doesn’t like to go on adventures at all and would rather stay inside all day... but when they met they just kind of clicked. Eira is the only one Angie will actually stay inside and read a book with, and Angie is the only one that can really bring Eira to take risks.

3. What do they wear to bed?

The most important thing for Willow is comfortable clothes. How they look doesn’t matter as much as how they make Willow feel when worn – the fluffier the clothes are, the better. They also prefer long, warm clothes over short ones.

Willow doesn’t get hot very easily, and either way, they prefer being hot at night a lot over being cold (they can’t sleep at all when they’re cold), so they’ll still wear long woolen clothes all through spring and at least during parts of summer.

They really like colorful clothes, especially when they’re a kid, and despite eventually growing to like simpler colors when it comes to the clothes they wear in public, their pajamas always stay really colorful.

They also have a glow-in-the-dark-pajama with stars and planets on it that helps them cope with their fear of the dark.

[certifiedskywalker]

Academic Misgivings (Part Five) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Thanks for following this series so far! This is where the story REALLY picks up! Remember, 250 notes for the next part! Have a fun read!

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / 

“So you found your sweatshirt, that’s good!” You pried your eyes away from the library doors to meet Peter’s. There was a glint in his brown eyes as he took in your form: green fabric hugged your shoulders and, due to the larger size, the sleeves hung around your fingers. You couldn’t help the heat that raged on your cheeks under his gaze and silently cursed yourself for it. You had to stay objective. 

“Yeah, I guess I just misplaced it,” you lied and added a smile for good measure. To avoid further questions, you turned your eyes to the bright, linoleum floor. The sight of the odd colors had become a signature sign of academic decathlon practices after school. 

“That’s good,” Peter replied, “it looks good on you, I see why you like it.” You dared to meet Peter’s eyes once more and saw your worst fears within them. 

You tried to think of everything Peter had, everything he had beat you to or at, to catch to hold on to that feeling of jealousy that drove you to teaming up with Flash. Peter had everything you had ever wanted and he had barely batted an eye while you were forced to watch from the sidelines as he climbed to success. You wanted to crest that hill, win that prize for yourself. So the thought, the twinge of maybe, maybe you wanted to climb with him and no longer against him, terrified you. 

“Uh, I, how are you feeling, after Chicago and everything?” Peter asked as he must have sensed that your silence had stretched on for far too long. You snuck a glance at him and when you saw only sincere concern on his features you felt a pang of betrayal about your masked scheming. Yet, you answered him anyway.

“I’ve been better,” you replied as you pushed away thoughts about the mission Flash had created for you. Peter nodded and you felt awash in understanding.

 “I-I know this might sound ...strange but, “I think that Spiderman is a bit creepy…”

“Wha-I, what? He, like ...saved you?” You smiled at Peter as he stammered out his question. When his shocked eyes found your features, you tore your gaze away. 

“He did, it’s just that…” you glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, “he was also the one that gave me my sweatshirt back.” Your admittance didn’t seemed to sink in for Peter right away. His thick brows furrowed together and the tips of his ears turned red.

“That’s uh ...is it creepy? It sounds like he’s just trying to be n-nice, right?”

“I guess so, it was just,” you frowned, “I wish he had given it to me in person.” Peter stopped, his sneakers squeaked as he halted behind you. You turned and looked at him only to find hints of worry on his features.

“Wouldn’t that have been ...worse? Like,” Peter met your eyes, “you would want to talk to him?” You couldn’t help the laugh that sounded out from your throat. 

“You can be so dense sometimes, Parker,” you sighed but before Peter could grasp that it was more of a jab than joke, you continued. “How else am I supposed to thank him?”

“I mean...he...he probably doesn’t want to risk you finding out who he is.” You bit the inside of your cheek at Peter’s words and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, “ you said through slightly gritted teeth. You hated to admit such a thing. As much as you needed to get close to Peter for sabotage purposes, you hated the thought of further inflating his ego. Yet, with that kind, signature smile, MJ’s words echoed in your head: ‘The quiet nerd that stutters when he tries to talk to you? You think he’s arrogant?’

“I could uh ...if you write him a letter I could give it to-to Mr. Stark and he could give it to him, maybe. They know each other and…” Peter scratched the back of his neck as you watched him struggle to piece his words together. You felt your face warm at the sight and a feeling of jealousy bubbled up to swallow the shyness that threatened to overtake you. 

You shook your head and put on your best glare. “Yeah, yeah, Parker, I know. You have connections. No need to flaunt them.”

“No, no I’m serious, Y/N. Write him something and I can give it to him.” You narrowed your eyes at him in a poor attempt to mask the giddiness that rose up your throat and pulled at your lips. Peter began to walk again as you remained quiet in thought. The scent of whatever cologne he wore muddled your senses as he walked past and, quickly after, you fell into step beside him.

“Sorry, I...thank you,” Peter peered at you as you spoke and you could see a slight tiredness in his eyes. Before you could have pressed him about it, he spoke up.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said with a shy smile, “you can tutor me.” Your eyes must have widened to the size of globes because Peter’s bashfulness fell away into worry. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I talked to Mr. Harrington and he’s worried about me falling behind like I did first semester with the internship and everything and-”

“You want me to tutor you?” Peter nodded and his brown eyes scanned over your face as if he could sense your every microreaction. You bit the inside of your cheek and felt yourself begin to flounder. Peter had asked you to tutor him, you! “Why not-”

“You’re like the smartest girl I know,” Peter admitted and pink rose to his cheeks. “I-I just, I want to let people know they can trust me. That I won’t let the team down and if you help me...people trust you with the team so...” He just had to make everything harder didn’t he? He couldn’t just revel in his achievements, rub them in your face, and make scheming against him, hating him, all the more justified. No, instead, he was asking you for help and your heart spoke before you mind even had the chance to think.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Really? Thank you, Y/N, really, thank you for doing this. With this and the intern-”

“It’s no problem. Tomorrow after school? We could meet and study,” you said, unable to stand the thought of having to hear him rattle on about Mr. Stark.

“Oh, y-yeah, yeah, here, you can put your number in my phone” You watched him unlock his phone and was able to catch the first digit of his pass code. ‘5’, you thought to yourself; one number closer to knocking Peter out of your way. The smile he gave you as he gave you his phone almost had you regretting the thought.

You nervously glanced around the school corridor to make sure no lingering students could take note of the exchange. Luckily, the only ones that stayed in the school after hours were band kids and those on the academic decathlon team. Everyone on said team were all inside the library, most likely waiting for you and Peter. Quickly, you entered your number in Peter’s phone before you handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, again, Y/N,” Peter said with a sweet smile. You nodded and reached for the handle on the library door.

“Sure, Parker,” you muttered but Peter must have heard it as you walked into the stuffy room where the team sat idle for he spoke up again.

“Oh, and, Y/N?” You held the door open and turned to Peter with an indignant sigh. 

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget the note,” he quipped before he entered the library before you with a smile. As he passed by, you couldn’t help but smile too. 

The next morning seemed to drag on for much too long. Free reading days in English class when you read much too far ahead were often boring. Luckily, you had a task to fill the time. You leaned towards you bag and pulled out a notebook. The quiet of the room only made the clicking and scribbling of your pen as loud as a guitar plugged into an amp. 

Shyly, you began to rough out a letter to Spiderman. It felt demeaning, like a child writing a note to Santa Claus in the hopes of gifts; only you wanted to gift him with gratitude. As you noted the similarities between Spiderman and the jolly fellow, you picked up on the squeak of a desk chair. With rosy cheeks, you looked up and met MJ’s curious eyes. 

“What are you writing?” Her voice is in a low whisper, but one still loud enough where you looked around the room in worry. When you saw no one seemed to have heard, you turned back to face MJ.

“A letter,” you replied, hoping that your vague answer would be enough to ebb MJ’s interest. However, you should have known better. You cryptic answer only intensified her curiosity. Seemingly without a care of getting caught, MJ leaned closer. 

“About? To who?” MJ’s questions seemed to echo through the graveyard-quiet classroom. “Is it like one of those letter to your future self things?”

“No,” you snapped in a whisper that felt much too loud for the setting. “It’s….” you leaned in closer, “a letter to Spiderman.” The explanation didn’t seemed to have shocked MJ, or prompt a fit of laughter from her either. Instead she gave you a quizzical look. 

“Why are you writing to someone who’s on the team?”

“Because I don’t know who he is,” you countered and MJ gave you a knowing look.

“C’mon Y/N, I’m like eighty-five percent sure it’s Pe-

“Ladies!” Ms. Lauren’s voice rang over MJ’s and you looked up apologetically. You mouthed a ‘sorry’ in her direction and focused back on your letter. 

“It’s obviously Peter,” MJ muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a sad glance one that she returned with a shrug. You wished you had her confidence when it came to such wild ideas. Some part of you believed her, her logic flowed more than any algebraic equation you had the displeasure of proving. Yet, when you mind drifted to Peter, you couldn’t agree. If he was Spiderman that would set yet another, this one seemingly unreachable, goal for you. He simply couldn’t be that perfect.

Just as you were about to ask MJ if she believed Peter could even be capable of being a superhero, the bell rang. While the rest of your English packed up, you sat with your eyes glued on the paper before you. You scribbled out the ‘To Spiderman’ greeting and with a renewed sense of wonder wrote ‘To whoever is behind the mask’. That was who, in reality, you were writing to. The person, not Spiderman. 

“Alright team, good work today,” Mr. Harrington said but the smile on his face did not match the tiredness of his tone. You were setting up your papers for the tutoring session you had with Peter  when you saw Mr. Harrington pulled him aside. Peter had been late again, thanks to whatever Flash was doing behind the scenes. When he had stumbled into the library with reddened cheeks, Flash had winked in your direction with not an ounce of shame. 

The way Mr. Harrington had his hands on his hips as he talked with Peter had you feeling a pang of guilt. You could no longer deny that sense of shame that gripped you tight as you drifted off to sleep most nights. Nightmare of falling and Peter’s sad face had become your heart’s roommate ever since you had returned from the trip. 

Just as quickly as you dared to admit the thought, you would pushed it down all the more swiftly; in the same fashion you tore your eyes away from Peter when Mr. Harrington dismissed him. With a frown on his features, Peter took a seat across from you.

“Are…” you began to ask if he was okay but shook your head. “Are you ready?”

“Y-Yeah, thanks again,” Peter said quietly. You could see in his distant eyes that he was still caught up in whatever Mr. Harrington had said to him. 

“Really, don’t thank me,” you said as you took your seat. More regret for you scheming was not something you needed on your plate. “Do you want to start with a particular subject?”

“I think I’m okay with science and math,” Peter thought aloud, which made your heart sink. Of course he felt confident in those subjects; he was a Stark Industries intern. Why did he want you to tutor him when he could just ask Tony Stark questions? “How about English? I struggle with trivia on authors a lot.”

“Alright,” you sighed through gritted teeth. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked and you cursed yourself for letting your anger poke through you facade. Your mind was still in a tail-spin, rattled by MJ’s theory about Spiderman. It didn’t help you were so close to who she believed had saved you from certain death. 

“Yeah,” you lied, “just thinking about a project.”

“The one in European history? I can help you with that if you want,” Peter’s suggestion settled into your bones that screamed at you to tell him the truth. Tell him that you hated how you hated him and how much you wanted to be like him; or with him. Instead, you opened up your studying material and shook your head.

“It’s alright, thanks, though, Peter.” 

You dared to meet his gaze and found it was a mistake. His once distant brown eyes were bright now with the exchange, a loose smile on his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, you fired off a question. 

“This author was a renowned hunter and fisherman. He explored those interests through the character Santiago in which of his great works?”

Peter’s eyes widened and for the first time in your life you saw a flash of fear cross over his face. “Uh...it’s...Hemingway?”

“You don’t seem very sure,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement. Peter smiled bashfully and shook his head.

“That’s why you’re my tutor,” he fired back. His playful attitude sent heat to your cheeks which you did you best to mask as you looked down into the book of trivia.

“You’re right,” you admitted, “but you hesitated. You have to be quick.”

“That’s hard for me, in the English sections,” Peter gushed, “and current events.”

“Oh, for those, just make sure to read the paper or follow a bunch of news accounts online,” you explained, as if it were common knowledge. “It’s a good way to stay updated and some articles about celebrities help in the pop culture section.”

“Oh cool, I-I’ll do that,” Peter said with a smile.

“I did always find it odd that an academic decathlon team should know John Wayne’s filmography.”

“Or George Lucas’ intergalactic universe,” Peter chimed in and you laughed. You laughed. Peter Parker made you laugh and, in the moment, you didn’t care. The plan was scrapped in that stretch of seconds

“It was fun though,” you said once you had caught your breath, “watching those movies instead of practicing. Best week of practice by far.”

“Yeah,” Peter hummed fondly, “except if Flash decides to throw popcorn at your head.” That drop of joy spilled from your spirit at the mention of Flash, but Peter didn’t seem to have noticed the slight frown that spread across your features. “Is this...I think this is the longest we’ve talked. Like...ever.”

“I think so too.” You swallowed the dread that bubbled up your throat and turned back towards the book. “After becoming the most notable Romanticism poet of his time, this great writer died of tuberculosis in 1821.”

“Lord Byron,” Peter said, not a beat missed. You quirked a brow at him and his face fell. “Not Lord Byron then?”

“John Keats,” you corrected and Peter sighed. He looked tired, more so than usual. Something about how vulnerable he looked stirred within you. You bit the inside of your cheek and stifled the questions you truly wanted to ask.

“Do you know any of this stuff? Like the authors and their works?” You looked up and nodded. “Can I ...test you?”

“Uh, sure,” you said, your voice faltered as you passed the book over to Peter. He flipped to a different page. The sudden nervousness at the idea of Peter putting your knowledge to the test dissipated when he squinted his eyes at the page. His nose crinkled as he searched for question and you felt your heart swell. “You look like you need glasses.”

Peter looked up at your jab with a shy smile before he glanced back to the book preached atop the library table. “Yeah, I probably do.”

“You’d be the one to make glasses look good,” you thought aloud. Peter looked up again with red cheeks and you felt your own face go hot. “In like a nerdy way, you know. The glasses wouldn’t wear you like they do with some other people.”

“Thanks?” Peter managed to spit out the word, that sounded more like a question, through some soft laughter. You wanted to explain yourself, add more words to the pile of your growing embarrassment, but luckily, Peter found a question. “Some could argue his essay published prior to the American Revolution attributed to Washington’s success in war. Who is the author?”

“Thomas Paine,” you answered quickly, “hit me with a hard one.” Peter’s eyes were bright with awe and you felt a wave of heat wash over you despite the ceiling fan above. 

“Um... okay, how about, her first successful work was originally published under her husband’s name in 1818.”

“Mary Shelley, although there is only loose proof that Percy had his name on the novel when it was first published.” Peter raised his eyebrows and pushed the book back towards you. With a smile, you picked it up and flicked back to the prior page. 

“I’m glad you’re my tutor,” Peter expressed with a heavy breath. You looked up from the gathered textbook questions and met Peter’s eyes. You saw a glimmer dance across his face, a ray of light that filtered in from the windows around you. With the strange light, shadow lines dashed across his face like a spider’s web. The sight distracted you and you let Peter’s compliment hang in the air around you. 

MJ’s words pounded in your skull and you wondered if Peter could hear them as they echoed out through your ears. Peter was right there, sat before you and literally asking for questions. The intrigue was too hard to resistance. For science, you thought to yourself, just for science.

“Okay...this next one is ...what do you think about Spiderman?” 

“What?” Peter’s brows furrowed and you wondered if you had gone too far. This was a tutoring session after all, not some personal hour.

“Sorry that was stupid, I-”

“No, no, it wasn’t stupid,” Peter said and waved his hands. “I mean he saved you, so I think he’s pretty...neat.”

“Neat? You call a kids first art project neat,” you scoffed and Peter stifled a smile. 

“I guess it’s just...people compare him to Iron Man other think he’s like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He can’t win really. I think all he wants to do is save people, like you.” Peter’s eyes met yours and you felt your heart as it began to hammer in your chest. The glint in the pools in his eyes whispered some inaudible truth to you, one that some part of you hungered to hear. 

But then reality pulled the blinds from your eyes and you remembered that this was all an act. The fact you had asked him such a question was going to get yourself in too deep to act with an objective mind. You needed to stay focused, for the plan, to get Flash the passcode into Peter’s phone. That was the plan; so why did it make you sick to think about it?

“I guess you would know,” you swallowed hard, “knowing him and all.” Peter’s face contorted for a second, lines in his face read as confusion and only served to confuse you.

“O-oh, yeah, I guess I would,” he said quickly and he let out a nervous little laugh. “Speaking of, do you uh, the note?”

“Yeah, here, hold on.” You began to rifle through you book bag until your fingers brushed against your smaller notebook. You flopped it on the table and pulled at the letter that took up a page and a half. “It’s not my best work but-”

“It’s not for a grade, Y/N,” Peter soothed and you felt his fingers brush against your own as he grabbed the sheet. The touch was light but still there enough that you had to fight a shiver that threatened to show your cards. Perhaps you were already in too deep. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, “you’re right.” Peter was right, you realized, he just felt right and you hated that. You hated how easy it was to talk with him, to laugh with him. Jealousy had taken root with you for so long, confused with affection, and now, speaking to Peter, had come untangled. The knot in your stomach undone, you felt ill with regret. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You met his gaze and Peter swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as evidence. 

“Do you-”

“The library will be closing in five minutes.” You nearly jumped out of your seat at the sound of the librarian’s voice. He was a nice man, who wore a different bow tie everyday, but when you’re not expecting him to intervene in your tutoring session, the kind demeanor is twisted. “Oh, hi Peter.”

“Hi, Mr. Ribald,” Peter greeted and the epiphany you had sunk back into the depths of your heart. Sure, it was easy to be around Peter, especially because, in his presence, you were invisible. While Peter and Mr. Ribald exchanged comic book recommendations, you packed up your things. Peter soon took note and bid the chatty librarian goodbye. 

As you shoved your trivia book in you bag, Peter eyed you. You met his gaze and raised your brows in question.

“Yes? What?” The one word questions came out much too harsh and Peter frowned.

“He didn’t...have you met Mr. Ribald?”

“Yes,” you drawled as you zipped up your bag, “I spend almost all my free time here.”

“Then why didn’t he say ‘hi’ to you?” You flung your bag over your shoulder and stared at the boy before you. His annoying naivety was back and in full force.

“Because he saw you first,” you snapped coldly. You hear Peter whisper you name sadly, but it’s so pitiful you pretend not to hear it. Instead you start towards the library door but stop when you hear Peter as he trailed behind you. “Peter, I don’t-”

“Let me walk you home,” Peter babbled, “it’s the least I can do with everything. Please?” His eyes were pleading and, once again, that momentary bliss of just being overwhelmed you. You acquiesced when you held the door open for him. With a kind look, Peter trailed behind you and walked with you out of the school. 

The way home was filled with silence for the most part as you muddled over the back and forth of your own emotions. One moment, you felt dirty, wrong for wanting to grab for everything Peter had in anyway possible and, instead, wanted to just melt into him. He was kind, after all, there was no denying that, even if his guilelessness got in the way of it. Yet, in another moment, you wanted to see him gone, as if the sight of him nauseated you despite how lovely his brown eyes looked when they were on you. 

“So you live close by the school? That’s cool,” you turned to glance at Peter as he spoke. Those eyes of his already on you made you flush in silence. “I have to take the subway to the school. It’s right off of the fourth stop.”

“You live with your Aunt, right?” The image of the woman embracing him after the team returned from Chicago played in your mind. 

“Yeah, I do. May’s the best,” Peter said happily and you could feel the affection he held towards his aunt. “She took me in without a second thought. That’s family, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and mumbled in response. Peter picked up on your sore attitude for, when you glanced at him, his face was crestfallen. 

“Right,” you said clearly this time, “family.”

“So do you live with-”

“This is me,” you said quickly and gestured to the rather decrepit looking apartment building. The lack of light at dusk did little make the complex’s facade welcoming. 

“It looks...homey,” Peter drawled as he took in the sight. You couldn’t help but snicker and shake your head at his poor attempt of comfort. “That obvious?”

“I’ve lived there my entire life,” you explained, “it’s never felt like home once.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how sad it sounded. Your smile died and Peter’s expression softened. You cleared your throat, “so uh, I should…”

“How about we study in that cafe across from school next time?” You raised a brow at Peter’s suggestion. “It stays open longer than the library at school so we could get more done.”

As long as you don’t ask stupid questions that make you feel stupid things, you thought to yourself before nodding. “Alright, that sounds good.”

“Ok, awesome,” Peter concurred with a grin. He had the kind of smile that popstars wrote songs about, a thought that made you cringe and melt at the same time. “I guess...uh ...have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Peter,” you said as he started to walk backgrounds down the street, that smile still facing you with all it’s fancy. “Goodnight.”

You didn’t want to drag out the farewell any further so you darted towards the entrance of your apartment building, not even sparing a second to look for any oncoming traffic. Luckily, the street was quiet and you were ascending the stairs in no time. Like the roads lining it, the apartments were eerily quiet. Even the lock on your door was silent as you used the key.

Not even the door creaked as you stepped inside. No one was home, again. When you slammed the door behind you, it was the sole sound that filled your ears. That, and the pounding of your heart as you realized your feelings towards Peter Parker were far more complicated than you had originally thought.

[bethanyrob94]

the morning after || tee & beth

Discord thread featuring: Beth & @timmyteehill

When: October 25th, 2020

Where: beth’s apartment

Mentions:  @kingsboroaurora @ellicfm

Description: beth tells tell that she has stopped taking her meds and cheated on rora

Trigger Warnings: bipolar disorder, misuse of medication, cheating, crying

Bethany.

There was a lot to describe what was going on inside of beths head right now, but she couldn’t exactly seem to put into words how she was feeling. She had felt so good and energized for the last several weeks, and now Beth actually felt like dirt. This was probably the worst she had felt in a while; hungover, sad, a terrible sister, and a dirty fucking cheater. In the moment, what she had done with Wes seemed fine. She didn’t think twice about Aurora last night even though she was in a couples costume with her. And poor Ellie. Beth had gotten her hammered, knowing she was a single mom and had to go home to an infant who needed her. She popped her head up from under the covers when she heard her friend come into her room. She didn’t say anything, she just laid head head back on her pillow and scooted over a bit so he had room to sit on her bed.

Tee

Tee had spent the morning drinking lemon and ginger tea in an attempt to soothe his stomach. This was probably the first party in a while where he didn’t do anything too crazy but the drinks were still having an effect on him. It was only fair that he share some of his hangover cure with Beth, especially since there were some things she said the night before that he wanted to talk to her about. So he got Kami to drop him off at her place and made his way to her room after preparing some tea. Beth looked like shit but he was too good a friend to actually say that. “Here”, he said, handing over the cup of tea to her. “This should help.” Tee sat down on the bed beside her and tried to think of the best way to broach the subject. “You want to talk about last night?”

Bethany.

Her brown eyes watched at the therapist put down the tea he had brought for her on the table beside her. “Thanks.” With a sigh, she sat up just enough to sip on the hot liquid. No. Beth didn’t really want to talk about last night. She had already told Ellie was had happened, and she was still preparing herself to tell Aurora. Because she had to. Tee’s perspective might be good. He could keep a solid relationship. Something Beth never could really do “We can.” She said with a morning rasp and a slight nod. “Do you ever do that thing...where things are going well for you...and you have no reason to fuck it up, but you fuck it up anyway? Like...I don’t know what I’m saying.” Beth was a self- sabotager. Things were going so well for her, which terrified her. So, of course, she was going to do something dumb. Like stop taking her meds and cheat on her girlfriend.

Tee

Tee knew exactly what Beth was talking about as it was something he used to do a lot. Now he tried to keep his fucking up for when things weren’t going so well in his life, which still wasn’t great, but at least it was progress. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” This didn’t bode well for what happened last night and it made Tee feel bad that he didn’t ask more questions the previous night. He knew something was not right if Beth was taking shrooms and going to the haunted house but at the time she seemed too out of it for him to ask. “Is that what happened yesterday?” Tee wondered if the meds she mentioned had anything to do with it.

Bethany.

Beth set her tea down, and took a deep breath to brace herself for what she was about to tell Tee. She trusted him enough not to judge her and to actually help her with what was going on. He was one of her best friends for sure. “Okay. You have to promise not to tell anyone.” She made him promise by holding out her pinky finger for him to latch onto it. “I stopped taking my medicine weeks ago. Which explains the shrooms, the haunted house, I’ve been ditching work, drinking a lot, and...” she took one more deep breath as she felt her chest tighten. “I cheated on Rora last night, Tee.” Her eyes fell to her lap.

Tee

Tee hooked his own pinky with Beth's, promising that he wouldn't tell anyone. There was no one for him to tell, even if he wanted to, but Tee would never break his friend's trust. Especially since he could tell that whatever Beth was about to tell him was very serious. He wasn't expecting her to say that she stopped taking her meds, although he should have probably realised from her behaviour lately. The signs were all day. Her showing up in a haunted house with no fear whatsoever after she told him they terrified her, the shrooms...it was all adding up. This was actually something that he dealt with often in his line of work. Having to take medication for the rest of your life and from a young age...it wasn't an easy pill to swallow. "How come you stopped taking them?" he asked, wanting to understand her reasoning behind it. Judgement wouldn't help anyone in this situation although he couldn't stop his eyes from going wide when she admitted to cheating on her girlfriend. Well, shit. "Oh." What else could he say to such a revelation? "Are things between you two not going well?"

Bethany.

That was a loaded question. And Beth wasn’t exactly sure why she stopped in the first place. She pulled her knees to her chest before she spoke. “Well. I misplaced my meds at first. So I missed a couple of days. Then I started feeling really good. Like...energy I haven’t felt since before I was diagnosed, and I guess I didn’t want it to stop. Now I’m fighting with Ellie, cheated on my girlfriend, I haven’t showed up to work in like three days so my job might be down the drain...” she gripped her knees tighter. “There was nothing wrong with me and aurora. Everything is going to so well....I dunno why I did it, Tee.” She put her head in her knees and finally let out a little sob. Something she definitely had been needing to do all morning.

Tee

What Beth was describing after missing her meds sounded to him like an emotional high which was common with bipolar disorders and which was often followed by lows. It's not like Tee could say much without asking more questions and he didn't feel like that was his place. Beth was one of his best friends, not his clients and, as usual, he needed to remind himself of that before he put his foot in his mouth. He also knew that this was a delicate time and so he needed to be careful of what he said. "I think....and I'm going to say this as someone that really cares about you. I think you need to consider taking your meds again. I know it cannot be easy knowing that you have to take something for the long run but they help you regulate things so you don't feel too high but you don't feel too low either", he said, trying to say it in a way that came off as helpful rather than judgemental. The situation with Aurora was a little harder for him to help out with. He could be as comforting and positive as he wanted but Tee didn't have any control over Aurora's reaction to this. At the end of the day, Beth was his close friend so his loyalties lay with her. And so he brought her in close for a hug when she started crying, trying to offer what little comfort he could.

Bethany.

Beth did not want to turn into tee’s job. She wasn’t going to do that, but she needed her friend to know what was going on inside her head. She had really fucked bed life up in just a few weeks. Now what was she going to do. She listened to Tee speak, and leaned into him to cry when he gave her a big hug. It was definitely much needed, even though it only made her feel a little bit better. She nodded into his chest when he told her it’s a good idea to start raking her meds again. She couldn’t argue with that. After a few minutes of just crying and crying and crying into her friend’s chest, she took a deep breath and reached into her bedside table drawer to grab her lithium. She popped the pill in her mouth and swallowed it sigh the tea. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. Thank you for coming over.” She put her hand on her forehead. “I don’t know how I’m gonna face aurora.” She felt a big pit in her stomach grow at the thought of admitting to her girlfriend that she had slept with someone else.

Tee

Tee didn’t try to stop his friend’s tears. Sometimes there was nothing better than a good cry for the situation not to look so grim anymore. All he did was hug her closer and offer a few word of comfort whispered in her ear. He watched as she pulled back and took her meds, grateful that she didn’t put up a fight. The meds weren’t the solution to everything but at least they would help. “Don’t apologise, you’re good. What are friends for?” he smiled. Although his smile dimmed at the mention of Aurora. That wasn’t really something he could help with, except for maybe offering some advice. “I know it’s going to be hard...but I think you should tell her.”

Bethany.

“Thank you...” She squeaked. Thankful that someone was on her side because she knew that people were definitely going to hate her. she hated her. Bethany up a bit and wiped her snot on her sleeve. “I’m going to tell her.” She said with a timid nod. “She deserves to know, and I don’t want her to hear about it from anyone else.” Beth really did love Aurora. Maybe manic Beth didn’t know how to show it, but the sane and rational Beth wanted to do what was right. She couldn’t believe she had ruined something so good for her. Typical Beth. “Can you stay for a little bit? I don’t want to be alone.” She asked.

Tee

In Aurora’s place, Tee would probably appreciate being told directly instead of finding out through someone else. It was less hurtful that way. And, while he didn’t know Aurora incredibly well, he was hopeful that she would take time to reflect on the situation before coming to a conclusion. Not that he was trying to make excuses for Beth, but it was a difficult situation for everyone involved. “Yeah, of course. I’m not going anywhere”, he said, making himself more comfortable. “Things might be less than ideal right now but you’ll get through it, I know you will.”

[writinginstardust]

I’m With You

Pairing: Tyler Jones x Finian de Karran de Seel

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Fictober day 30, prompt “I’m with you, you know that.” More Tylian for y’all! I’m trash for this ship and I need you to join me.

Word Count: 1065

*

“What do we do now?” Tyler asked - mostly rhetorically since he knew no one had an answer - as he slumped down on a couch. This had been their last idea, well, their last sane idea, and it had failed. He’d failed. As expected, there was silence. The squad were all feeling just as hopeless and discouraged but none of them carried the same weight on their shoulders as Tyler. He had to lead them. Keep them safe and alive. Come up with the plans. And ultimately, the task of saving the whole damn galaxy was his responsibility. But he didn’t know how. He was lost.

“You’ll think of something.” Scarlett finally broke the silence, speaking quietly and laying a gentle comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder. “You always do.”

“Not this time, Scar. I’m all out of ideas.”

“Ty-”

“You can all go to bed,” he interrupted. “It’s been a long day. Get some sleep.” Everyone hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided to leave, sensing he needed some time. All except Finian. There was no way he was going to leave Tyler when he wasn’t okay. Especially not with the way he felt about him or given recent unexpected but very welcome changes in their relationship.

“Talk to me,” he said when the others had left, wandering over to sit down beside his Alpha.

“Fin, just go to bed like everyone else.”

“No. You need someone right now. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me until you’re okay.” 

Tyler contemplated telling Fin to just fuck off and leave him alone but the boy was right. He did need someone whether he wanted to admit it or not. And Finian’s presence always had a weird way of making him feel calm and grounded. It didn’t make sense, not with Fin’s sarcastic personality, but Tyler was long past caring about the why. All that mattered was that it worked. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “I’m supposed to lead you all. I’m supposed to have the answers but I just don’t. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.”

Never had Finian heard him sound so hopeless. He didn’t believe in himself anymore. He’d practically given up. And Fin couldn’t bear it. As long as he’d known Tyler Jones and even before they’d met Tyler had been such a certainty in his life. A rock and an inspiration. Now he just seemed lost and it was up to Finian to help him find the way. No pressure. 

“You can’t know everything all the time. You’re only human.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and actually almost smiling.

“I wasn’t finished. You don’t have to do any of this alone. We’re all here to help you, it’s kind of our job.”

“I know that. But it’s all still my call and if I don’t know what I’m doing, if I mess up, I could lose one of you again.” He was still beating himself up for what happened to Cat and terrified of it happening again. Finian didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for letting her get hurt even though there was nothing he could have done.

“It’s a risk, I know, but it’s one we’re all willing to take. It’s what we signed up for.”

“None of us signed up for this, Fin.”

“Maybe not at the Academy, no. But we all chose to follow you, we signed up for whatever and wherever you lead us. No matter the danger.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter. We made the choice and none of us are backing out, especially not me.”

“Fin-”

“Tyler, I’m with you, you know that right? I don’t care what happens. I don’t care how dangerous it gets. I’m with you, whatever happens. And I know the others feel the same.” He rested his hand firmly on Tyler’s shoulder and spoke with an air of command in his voice. “So stop worrying and let’s do what needs to be done.”

After a long moment of staring into Fin’s eyes, seeing all the surety and trust he had in him, Tyler finally nodded. He did have one more idea on what to do next but it was stupid and dangerous. He’d refused to consider it before but with Fin’s confidence spreading to him where they touched, he reconsidered. It was a risk but it was all he had. He trusted the team and they trusted him. Maybe just maybe it could work. He explained it to Fin.

“It’s insane, I know. If you or anyone thinks we can’t do it then we won’t but-”

“Tyler, we can do it. I’m in and they’ll all say the same.”

“Are you sure? We could all die. And die quite painfully at that.”

“Yes. I already told you: I’m with you, no matter what.” He smiled and Tyler managed to smile back. Maker knows how he’d done it, but Finian really had made him feel better. There was still lingering doubt after everything that had happened but Fin still believed in him. The whole squad still believed in him. As long as he had that, he could face whatever the galaxy threw at them next.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it golden boy. I’m always here if you need a shoulder to cry on or anything more-”

“I’m gonna stop you there. I have a feeling I don’t want to know where that sentence was going.”

“Probably not,” Fin admitted with a grin. “Though you didn’t seem to mind last week when we-”

“I am begging you to stop.”

“I’m just saying. You know where to find me if you need anything.” He winked and stood, enjoying the slight flush on Tyler’s cheeks. He turned and walked towards the door, making it almost all the way there before Tyler spoke again. 

“I’ll come by when Scarlett takes over watch.” Fin’s smile turned smug but he didn’t turn back and let Tyler see it, only paused in the doorway long enough to reply.

“I’ll see you later then.” And he left. Leaving Tyler alone with his thoughts. Thoughts which weren’t so hopeless anymore thanks to his favourite pain-in-the-ass gearhead. With Finian’s unshakeable faith in him, he finally felt like they might have a shot after all. He was going to make sure that faith wasn’t misplaced.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Aurora Cycle: @aurising