#I also only know about Ben drowned but I doubt he counts

[4ever-in-night]

oops. forgot to post

JASHTOBER DAYS 25 AND 27

PERFORMANCE AND NIGHT

… I didn’t like Performance all that much. was made under a lot, lot, lot, lot LOT of pressure and self-hate towards my art, however, I did like Night a lot! Drawing Majora’s Mask’s Moon was a challenge I didn’t know I could accomplish! :]

[sweetrevxnge]

Like Phantoms, Forever

Chapter Twenty | Across the Stars

Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader

Summary: Your destiny had never been clear to you, only becoming so when it led you to leaving behind the life you knew to train with the galaxy's sole Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker. His Jedi Academy became your new home, bringing with it the promise of someday becoming a Jedi Knight. While navigating the ways of the Force, an inexplicable connection forms between you and a fellow student—the heir to the legendary Skywalker bloodline, Ben Solo. Together, the two of you must face your destinies and forge the path to your true selves.

What to expect: fluff, violence, sexual content, general angst, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

Additional info: this story is set in 28 ABY, six years prior to the events of TFA

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Masterlist

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Word count: 6.4k

Chapter-specific CW: NSFW, descriptions of drowning

A/N: yes, I took 6 months to update this. no, I don't have any good excuses. but if you're still here reading along, know that I appreciate you so, so much and am trying my best to write more often :') ALSO... since starting this story, Lucasfilm has officially stated that Luke's academy is located on Ossus, so I'm going to edit the story to match that!

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“Geegee, set course for Ilum.”

Ben’s voice echoed through the steel ship as you watched the Academy fade into the distance, lost in the green expanse of Ossus. You stood at the back of the ship’s hull, choosing to watch your departure from a narrow viewport rather than the cockpit.

“Right away, Master Solo,” said the droid, joints squeaking as it tottered to the cockpit.

As the roar of the ship’s engines lowered to a hum, unease crept in. While the thought of venturing into the galaxy to find a kyber crystal once filled you with excitement, it now made your stomach churn. It’s going to be okay, you told yourself, trying to make it true.

Leaving the safety of the New Republic’s surveillance was hard enough on its own, let alone voyaging to a foreign ice planet in the Unknown Regions. It wasn’t all bad, though. Knowing that Geegee automatically transmitted a signal back to the Academy provided you some comfort.

Behind you, you could hear the clicks and whirs of the control panel as Ben prepared the hyperdrive. You turned around, finding him hunched over the panel, muttering something about the motivator. Despite his frustration, he carried an air of confidence as he worked. Shoulders relaxed, hair pushed back from his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the first time you had flown with him in the Grimtaash.

The memory flashed in your mind when your eyes landed on the co-pilot’s seat—the same seat that cradled your bruised, bleeding body the night you escaped Zeffo. Just the thought of it was enough to make you doubt this entire journey.

Ben sat down in his chair, letting out an accomplished sigh as he rested his hands on his knees. With the coordinates entered and the drone of the engines steadily growing louder, you knew what was coming next.

“Everything alright over there?”

Ben’s voice snapped you from your trance. You let out a sharp breath, unaware that you had been holding it for the duration of your reverie.

“Princess?” he said louder this time, craning his neck to meet your gaze.

Whether it was your unconvincing nod or your failure to meet his gaze after his question that gave your apprehension away, you weren’t sure. Regardless, in a matter of seconds, he had jumped out of his chair and come to stand in front of you, hands clasped over yours in a firm—yet comforting—grip.

“Talk to me, princess.”

It came in pieces. The pounding in your temples, followed by the pungent taste of blood coating your tongue. But the memories weren’t strictly physical. Defeat and desperation replaced your climbing anxiety, polluting your senses with the stench of utter fear. All from just looking at a piece of furniture.

Just before you could unravel, Ben’s grip on you tightened, pulling you from your thoughts. It wasn’t until your name spilled over his lips, drenched with concern, that you pulled your gaze away from the co-pilot’s seat. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t–”

“Stop it.”

You stiffened. “Stop what?”

“Saying sorry all the time,” he said with a tsk. “I’m going to start charging you five credits every time you do it.”

“Well, the joke’s on you then. I don’t have any credits,” you said dryly.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at you and, without him saying a single word, you gave in. Exhaling a long breath, your nerves settled.

“It’s just hard being in here again, even under the best circumstances.” Without realizing it, you found yourself squeezing his hands in return, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Not to mention what would happen if I were unable to find a kyber crystal. Master Skywalker would send me into exile and I would be forced to live a life veiled in shame and failure–”

“Okay, I get it,” he said, fighting back a laugh. “But that’s not going to happen. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he said, releasing your hands as he sat down again. “Now, we need to make the jump to hyperspace, which is unfortunately something you need to be sitting for. It’ll just be a moment, okay?”

You nodded in understanding, moving to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. But before you could lower yourself into the seat, Ben’s hands locked onto your waist, spinning you around and pulling you to sit on his lap.

A gasp escaped your mouth, earning a deep, amused laugh from the pilot. You whipped your head around, shooting him a disapproving look.

“What? I didn’t specify where you had to sit,” he said, squeezing your hips lightly. His gentle touch eased your nerves, calming you in a matter of seconds.

“You’re an infuriating man, you know that?” you said with mock ridicule.

“So I’m told.” Dimples framed his smile, melting away any remaining concern. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost believe that his charm was more effective than any sedative a medical droid could offer. Almost.

Ben leaned forward, toggling a few more switches on the control panel. The feeling of his lips grazing the shell of your ear pulled you from your thoughts.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, weaving his fingers with yours as he guided your hand to the slender chrome lever in the center of the dashboard. The hyperdrive.

“Are you sure I’m qualified?” you asked.

With a peck on the cheek, he replied, “Absolutely.”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, causing your hands to tremble as you grabbed the rod. It was natural to be nervous about flying—especially when you were in the pilot’s seat. But the big arms wrapped around your torso assured you that you were safe.

As you pulled back on the lever, the engines roared in crescendo, launching the ship into hyperspace. The momentum pinned you against Ben, forcing you to grab onto the armrests for support. In the blink of an eye, the stars surrounding you transformed into blinding streaks of light before morphing into the swirling blue blur of deep space. To say it was exhilarating would be an understatement.

“Look at you,” Ben cooed, planting another kiss on your shoulder. “Before you know it, you’ll be piloting this thing all by yourself.”

You scoffed. “I seriously doubt that. I can barely operate a landspeeder without endangering myself and others.”

“Well, there’s only one way to get better, and I assure you, I’m a much better teacher than my uncle is.” Ben lowered his seat to a more comfortable position, pulling you back with him until you were resting against his chest.

“Is that so?” You couldn’t control your wandering hands as they crawled up the pleats of his robes, peeling back the fabric along his chest and neck.

He clasped your hands in his, holding them in place. “I mean it. After everything that happened, I want you to be comfortable piloting if you need to.”

There it was again, that horrible cloud that hung over your head at the mere mention of Zeffo. As if sensing this, Ben sighed and brought your fingers to his lips.

His warm breath spreading over your skin and his big, brown eyes peering up at you softened your resolve, leaving you no choice but to agree. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“I think you’ll find that I can be quite persuasive,” he said as he kissed the tender pads of your fingers, slowly working his way from pinky to thumb. He lingered on the last digit, dragging it over his plush lips. “Want me to show you?”

You nodded, mind turning hazy as you watched his lips, keenly aware of his other hand creeping under your tunic.

“Ben, we really shouldn’t,” you said halfheartedly, trying and failing to pull your hands free.

“Why not?”

“Because…” You drew the word out, motioning with your eyes to the empty hull of the ship. “This ship isn’t exactly private.”

He followed your gaze. “I see. Here, allow me to fix that.”

Without taking his attention off you, Ben flicked a switch on the control panel, causing the sliding door of the cockpit to close, hissing as it sealed you in.

“Better?” he asked, slipping his other hand under your robes, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind as he inched towards your bra.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you rolled your hips forward, pressing down on his growing desire. “Much.”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Now, we need to address a different issue. You’re wearing too many clothes.” His wandering hands stopped at the clasp of your bra, undoing it in one swift motion. “Let’s fix that.”

Raising your arms over your head, you let him peel away the heavy cloth, kicking off your boots as he did the same with his robes. Arousal burned through you as you undressed in the small space, cursing the confines of the cockpit. Still in his uniform pants, Ben pulled you onto his lap again, eyes raking over your newly exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it.

All that remained now was your underwear, the only barrier between you and the rough cloth of his pants as you straddled his hips. “Why do I always end up more naked than you?”

“Shh…” A smirk ghosted his lips as strong hands moved to grab fistfuls of your ass, squeezing with a bruising force. “We wouldn’t want anyone overhearing us, would we?”

The heat simmering low in your belly quickly transformed into a wild flame, demanding attention. Lacing your fingers through his hair, you kissed down the curve of his neck, running along the taut muscles until you reached his collarbone.

“I can’t make any promises,” you said, teeth grazing his skin.

A low moan rumbled in his chest, vibrating on your lips. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, snaking a hand up your spine and doing the same to your hair. Tugging your head back, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Then I’ll have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

With that, his grip loosened, fingers moving to trace over your jaw until his thumb slid over your bottom lip. “Open,” he ordered, trailing kisses down your chest, coming dangerously close to your breasts.

You obeyed, squirming in his lap from the anticipation, seeking any relief for the ache growing between your legs. As you parted your lips, he pushed his thumb into your mouth.

“Good. Now, suck.”

Head spinning with arousal, you swirled your tongue over his digit, earning a groan of approval from him. You stifled a gasp as he took a nipple into his mouth, alternating between sucking and rolling his tongue over it. Beneath you, you could feel his cock stiffening, causing your arousal to burn hotter.

Wanting to encourage this, you sucked harder, allowing your moans to rumble around his thumb. When his cock twitched against you, you beamed with pride.

A moment later, he released your nipple with a pop, free hand fumbling with the waistband of his pants. “I need to fuck you,” he said, practically begging as he worked his pants down.

Every nerve in your body was alight, needy for attention. He pulled his thumb away, watching in awe as a string of saliva fell from your lips before running it over the head of his cock. Pupils blown with lust, he wasted no time, dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your desire around your entrance.

With a grunt, he paused, searching your eyes. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, aligning yourself with him. “Please.”

You both let out a sigh as he pushed into you, lips clashing together. Before long, you relaxed around him, sinking your hips lower, relishing how he stretched you. He moved slowly at first, giving you control as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the headrest. Dark locks of hair fanned over his face, clinging to the beads of sweat forming on his skin.

True to his word, he kept quiet, concealing his groans of pleasure as heavy breaths. The same couldn’t be said for you, who was letting out wanton moans with every thrust. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though. The desire coursing through you had addled your mind, leaving you unable to control yourself.

A particularly loud gasp caught Ben’s attention, causing him to slow his movements. “Careful, princess.”

Nails digging into the armrests, you held back another moan. “Sorry—I just can’t—help it.”

“I know you can’t.” The corners of his lips twitched and before you knew it, his thumb was seeking entrance to your mouth again. “Now, be a good girl for me and stay quiet.”

Running your tongue over his thumb, you welcomed him in again, heat rushing to your core as you sucked. Ben’s breaths grew erratic as he continued to fuck into you, eyes trained on your lips. He effectively silenced you, but the few moans that managed to escape were now muffled by his thumb instead.

“That’s my girl,” he said, sliding his finger free and dropping it to your aching clit. “I think you deserve a reward.”

“Don’t tease, Ben,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly applied pressure.

“Didn’t plan on it,” he said, drawing tight circles around your bud. 

The sensation was enough to drive you insane, hips rolling involuntarily against his hand, demanding more. Insatiable as ever, you pleaded for him to go faster, earning his cooperation.

“Fuck—baby—you look so good riding me.” His words were broken by quick breaths, evidence of his mounting pleasure. Your thighs burned from straddling his, trembling as your own pleasure threatened to wash over you. Every second you spent teetering on the edge felt torturous, stretching for eternity.

Desperate for release, you rolled your hips harder, forcing more pressure from Ben’s hand. A string of expletives fell from your lips as your resolve shattered, allowing the ecstasy bubbling beneath the surface to flood in. You bit down on the back of your hand, lost in the waves of euphoria that rippled through your body, your cunt pulsing around his cock.

With one last thrust, Ben gripped you tight, pulling you against his chest and burying his face into your neck. He littered your skin with sloppy kisses as he regained his composure, slowly leaning back into the seat.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his as your fingers traced over his rattling chest.

He let out a long sigh through his nose before agreeing. “Me too.”

Time passed like the stars swirling around you, and before long, the Grimtaash snapped out of hyperspace, revealing the ice planet of Ilum before you.

With a striking, silvery atmosphere, and patches of white storms riddling its surface, Ilum was truly a sight to behold. Unlike Dantooine and Ossus, there was no distinction between the terrains, only a vast, pale landscape.

“You weren’t lying about the snow,” you said, standing from your seat to get a better look.

“That’s what the coats are for,” Ben replied with a wink before calling back to the hull of the ship. “Geegee, prepare the landing sequence.”

The two of you had traded your robes for thermals and jackets in anticipation of landing, but despite the layers, a chill traveled down your spine. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought it was from the planet’s atmosphere radiating through the ship, but you knew what caused it. The prospect of adventure, traversing the unknown with the person you love by your side.

The realization felt like a blow to your chest, upsetting your balance as you reclaimed your seat. A string of beeps behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Master Skywalker’s astromech had come out of rest mode, now serving as a well-timed distraction.

Ben laughed under his breath. “No, Artoo. Your wheels will freeze to the ground if you go with us.”

The droid fired back, warbling as he rocked side to side on his wheels in defiance.

“You know I’m right! We can’t just sit around all day waiting for you to defrost.”

Another rebuttal from the droid, one that made Ben’s mouth fall open. “Just… stay on the ship, okay?”

R2-D2 concluded his argument with another string of beeps before spinning his head and body around and leaving the cockpit.

The low hum of machinery permeated the silence as you sat back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. You would’ve given anything to know what R2-D2 had said to get under Ben’s skin the way he did.

Ahead, the Grimtaash entered the planet’s atmosphere, causing the ship to lurch as it sliced through the storm clouds. The floor beneath you no longer felt solid as the turbulence rattled the ship like a leaf in the wind, dread stirring in your stomach.

“Hold on tight—it’s going to be a rough landing,” Ben said, hunched over the control panel as he completed the landing sequence.

“Yeah, I gathered that!”

With knuckles blanched around the armrests, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the chaos to settle. When the ship finally touched the ground, you relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Running a hand through his glossy black hair, Ben smiled at you. “Welcome to Ilum.”

All the furs and thermals in the galaxy couldn’t have prepared you for the cold of Ilum. It was visceral, threatening to turn every drop of blood in your body into crimson ice. White flurries engulfed you, blinding you to your surroundings. If it weren’t for his hand clutching yours, you’d hardly be able to make out where Ben stood.

“Lovely weather this time of year, isn’t it?” he joked, voice raised over the howling wind.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped when the chill spread through your teeth, prompting you to pull one of your many layers over your nose for coverage. “I didn’t think it was possible to be this cold.”

Shielding the snow from his eyes, he leaned in closer. “Once we get inside the caves, it won’t be so bad.”

From the depths of his coat pockets, he retrieved a small cylindrical device, struggling to activate it from the confines of his leather gloves. Finally, a blue digital map appeared in the center, displaying a system of caves and tunnels northeast of where you’d landed.

“There,” he said, his breaths strained from the weather. “The closest entrance is less than a kilometer away. Follow me.”

Wordlessly, you did as you were told, careful to step in Ben’s footprints to avoid sinking through the snow. The two of you were uncharacteristically quiet as you trekked through the tundra. You daydreamed about beams of sunlight, steaming cups of caf, and hot showers—just to name a few. More than just a coping mechanism for the intense cold, it also served as a distraction from the task awaiting you.

A natural opening in the crag served as your respite from the elements, inviting you to explore the labyrinth within. Despite being encased in frost and ice, the alcove felt warm, if only from the vapor of your breaths.

“So, where do we go from here?” you asked, voice hoarse from the wind.

“That’s kind of the problem,” Ben said, peeling off his wind-beaten jacket. “The Empire gutted this place, making it unstable in some areas. For now, we’ll follow the charted tunnels.”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you grumbled, doing the same with your coat. It came as no surprise to learn that the Empire plundered the Jedi’s sacred planet, destroying the ancient temple housed in its caves as they did. Twisting the knife in the Jedi Order’s back.

“It’s what they did best. But that’s why we’re here,” he said, a smile tugging at his rosy lips. “To rebuild.”

To defend, you thought. Your heart sank at the idea of your efforts being in vain. What good would a fledgling Jedi Order be against a rising empire? If the old Order crumbled at the height of its power, Master Skywalker’s Order didn’t stand a chance.

You cleared your throat, pushing your thoughts aside and refocusing on the task at hand. “Right. Well, then. Where should we start?” you asked, glancing at the glowing holomap in his palm.

“That’s not my decision to make.” His eyes twinkled from the blue light of the map as he placed it in your hand.

As much as you wanted to reject it, you didn’t. He was right, after all. This was your journey; he was just here as support.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints if we get lost.”

He smiled down at you. “Sure thing, princess.”

You nodded, holding his gaze for a moment longer. It was impossible to ignore his frostbitten beauty. Tendrils of hair clung to his forehead, the result of melted frost and sweat. The cold highlighted his sharp features more than ever, coloring his cheeks and nose in a peachy hue. Under different circumstances, you’d be happy to help him warm up.

Heat rushed to your face as you refocused on the holomap. Now was not the time—and most certainly not the place.

You examined the details of the holomap, trying to make sense of the labyrinth of grainy blue pathways. The crack you’d slipped through was just one of many that led to the caverns within, like veins tracing back to a heart. From what you could tell, the path you were on eventually let out into a central chamber, which then branched out into a handful of different tunnels. It was as good a starting point as any, and with a deep breath, you set out.

Ben followed behind you as you navigated the tunnel, with only the occasional drop of water breaking the comfortable silence. Stalactites adorned the ceiling, each bearing a unique state of damage. Every inch of the slate walls shimmered with ice crystals, reflecting in all directions as the blue glow of the holomap passed by. Slivers of clouded sunlight squeezed through cracks in the cavern’s walls, illuminating your footpath.

“What was your first time here like?” you asked over your shoulder, studying the mining scars etched into the walls for any sign of kyber.

“Loud,” he said, sighing. “I mean, just imagine a dozen teenagers running around a place like this. It’s a miracle we didn’t drive Master Skywalker insane.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image he painted. He, Tai, Hennix, and to your surprise, Voe came to mind, a decade younger than they were now, squealing as their feet slid across the patches of ice. And Master Skywalker, futilely trying to reign them in.

“Maybe that’s why he wasn’t keen on coming back,” you said with a scoff.

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

A beat passed before you asked, “How long did it take you to find your crystal?”

Another sigh. “I’ll tell you once you find yours.”

Where you had hoped his answer would provide you with some comfort, you were only left with doubt. What if you couldn’t find one today? Or tomorrow? Or at all?

“Of course you will,” you muttered, watching your position on the holomap as it gently pulsed, showing that you were approaching the end of the tunnel.

The cave ahead was larger than you’d expected. With a ceiling that blended with the hanging darkness, you would’ve thought you’d stumbled upon a rune crafted by ancient men. But the crags and formations embedded in the walls proved otherwise. Water trickled freely down the jagged mineral, echoing throughout the room and filling the space with a fresh fragrance—rather than that of stale air.

Veins of opaque, white crystal ran through the stone walls, and for a moment, you wondered if this was it. There was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you approached a thread, setting the holomap down on a patch of ice. With trembling hands, you peeled a glove off and brushed the surface. The cavern immediately siphoned the warmth from your fingers, turning them numb before you could determine if the ore was made of kyber.

Finally, you conceded. “I don’t feel anything,” you grumbled, working your hand back into the glove.

Ben came to stand behind you, chest pressed flush against your back as his hands slid down your hips. “That’s okay. It’s just quartzite ore.” His breath fanned over your ear. “You’re not the first person to mistake it for kyber, and you won’t be the last, either.”

You spun around, still locked in his embrace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He smiled. “We’ve been looking for all of twenty minutes. Don’t give up yet, princess.”

Despite everything—the weight of the unknown, the frost forming within your lungs, the lingering doubts you held about leaving the protection of the Academy—you found yourself savoring this moment. Deep in the heart of Ilum’s caves, wrapped in Ben Solo’s arms, you were content.

The vision of Coruscant appeared in your mind. Of you and him on the balcony overlooking the crowded hyperlanes of the planet home to so much life that it had become life itself. A place where anyone could blend in. Or disappear.

You blinked, wiping away the dream. “What if I never find one?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’d say that’s pretty unlikely. The Empire took what they could, but that doesn’t mean that they were thorough.”

“No. I mean…” You dropped your gaze, holding his hands on your waist. “What if we left now? Before I find a crystal, and before you undergo the Jedi Trials.”

At that, his face fell. “This is your fear talking. You’re not thinking rationally.”

“No, just… listen to me.” You guided yours and his hands over your heart, acutely aware of its relentless pace. “Is this our destiny? To steal moments under the cover of darkness? Away from the eyes of the galaxy?”

Ben was silent for a long moment, his honey eyes searching yours, full of conflict. “What if it is?”

Your breaths mingled, dancing to the tune of your heartbeats. His words told a different story than his heart—the heart you shared.

“I know you don’t believe that,” you said, running a thumb over his rosy cheeks. “So, what’s stopping you?”

He untangled himself from your grasp, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced the room. “I can’t just leave. The galaxy is on the brink of another war—the same war my family dedicated their lives to ending. I’ve spent the last thirteen years working to become a Jedi Knight, to protect the people of the galaxy from conflicts like this.” He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, shaking his head lightly. “I’ve come too close to throw it all away now.”

He was right. The galaxy was in jeopardy, its future dependent on the New Republic’s ability to snuff out a fire before it became an inferno. War was likely, and when it came, you both needed to be there to serve the light. To serve justice.

You realized then just how polarized the two of you were. Ben, the son of a Skywalker, burdened with the weight of a legacy imposed upon him from birth. Hailing from a family that ensured he would follow the Jedi path, just as his uncle and grandfather had.

And you, the daughter of a traitor. With no one left to turn to. Whose family legacy was that of deceit and treason.

It was unfair to ask this of him; you knew that. But in the same breath, you couldn’t imagine continuing to live like this.

Before you could apologize, Ben’s hands seized your face, his lips crashing against yours. His kiss felt like a flame breathing oxygen, burning hot and powerful, rendering you senseless.

“But I can’t lose you, either,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. “You are the stars in my sky. Without you, I’d be lost in the dark.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and yet, words eluded you. The three you’d long wanted to give voice to felt too constrictive. What you shared with him went beyond anything under the definition of love alone. It was so much more than that—a connection that tied you to one another. The Force itself granted you this insight when it bridged your minds, creating the bond you shared. To call it love would be a disservice.

“Then come with me,” you whispered, pulling away to look at him. “It doesn’t have to be today. Just someday. Tomorrow holds endless possibilities for us.”

He pursed his lips as he let out a long breath, leaving you in agonizing suspense as he prepared his answer. “Okay.”

Elated, you reached to cup his face, eager to return the kiss he’d given you moments ago. Except his hands stopped you before you could.

“But only after you’ve finished your training,” he added, hands gliding down your arms. “And when the galaxy doesn’t need our help.”

It was a fair compromise to make—no different from you asking him to leave his life behind. Most of all, it was a compromise you could live with. 

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I promise.” He breathed the words rather than whispered them, stoking the fire in your chest. Before you could, he closed the distance and kissed you again, more gently this time—perhaps than ever before. It was the manifestation of his word, and yours in return.

When he eventually pulled away, the ghost of his touch lingered, burning through your very soul. A vortex threatened to consume you, chipping away at your rationality, seeking to swallow you whole. But now was not the time. In this moment, you knew what you needed to do, and even if it required the strength of all the stars in the galaxy, you would do it.

You cleared your throat as you reached for the holomap, forcing yourself to be interested in anything other than tearing Ben’s clothes off. “It looks like this path here branches out into three smaller ones.” Using the dial on the base of the map, you magnified the projected image, looking to Ben for reassurance. “We’ll follow it through.”

He nodded. “Lead the way, captain.”

The two of you continued down the cavern’s narrow and winding passages for hours, only stopping when an unexpected gleam of light caught your eye. Out of the twelve times you’d hoped to find kyber, eight were quartzite, with the other four being shards of scrap metal left behind from the Empire’s demolitions. Each disappointment chipped away at your morale, feeding into your belief that you were unworthy of being a Jedi.

Ben must have recognized this as he suggested stopping for a break, digging through his pack for an energy ration. You came to stand beside him, dragging your feet across the ground as if they had turned into blocks of ice.

“Here,” he said, offering you the ration he’d fished out. “You need to eat. This will tie you over until we can get back to the ship.”

“At this rate, that could be days from now.” Your fingers had lost all dexterity as you tried to unwrap the ration, mouth beginning to water at the thought of food. “I just want to go home.”

As you took the first bite, your vision turned white, but only for a fraction of a second. It startled you, causing you to drop the chocolate-coated ration onto the icy floor.

“Hey! Careful with the Endorian cocoa. That stuff’s hard to come by nowadays,” Ben said as a deafening shriek pierced the silence of the caverns. 

You twisted your neck, trying to identify where it originated, heart hammering against your ribs as you lifted a trembling finger to your lips.

Ben grabbed the crook of your arm, turning you to face him. “What are you doing?” His tone was stern, seemingly unfazed by the cry that still echoed through the caves.

You wrested your arm free, lowering your voice to below than a whisper. “Are you deaf? That noise—the scream. We’re not alone.”

“I didn’t hear anything.” His dark eyes were wide, suspicious. “And we are alone. If we weren’t, the holomap would pick up their heat signatures, too.”

You lowered your eyes to the map, finding only yours and Ben’s forms in shades of red and yellow. But before you could consider any logical explanations for the sound, another cry rang through the tunnel, this time coming from the unexplored end of the path. Shrouded in darkness, the path beckoned you, drawing you closer like a magnet. The voice was deep and distorted, yet familiar. You closed off your other senses, focusing only on the voice as it came to clarity. Someone—or something—was calling for you.

“Come to me…” it said, nearly clear enough to be mistaken for another person in the room. “My love.”

Your breath hitched and tears welled in your eyes, rolling down your cold cheeks and onto the exposed fur of your jacket. It was a voice you wouldn’t soon forget.

“M-mom?” you asked, like a child searching for comfort in the night.

Ben stiffened at the word. “Princess, there’s no one else here.” From the volume of his voice, you could tell he was wary. He must have thought you were in a hallucinatory state, and truthfully, you couldn’t blame him.

“I know, but I can hear her calling for me,” you said, voice cracking as you stepped towards her voice. “I have to follow it.”

“No, you don’t.” He reached for you again, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Maybe you caught something in the infirmary or–”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, pulling away. “I just… feel like this is something I need to do.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Ben insisted, trailing behind you. “I promised Master Skywalker that I would keep you safe, and I can’t do that if we’re separated.”

You ignored him, turning on your heels and reaching into the Force to guide you in the right direction.

Beyond the shadows was another frost-lined chamber, and as you entered, the world around you fell silent. No voices, no footsteps, no ambient drops of water. Only the sound of your breath.

Your boots squeaked on the icy ground as you shifted your weight, glancing back to find Ben. To your surprise—and horror—you found yourself entirely alone. Not only that, but the chamber itself had become something unrecognizable, with no exits and cramped walls.

Panic swelled in your chest and as it did, the ice beneath you gave way, plunging you into dark, freezing water.

You were numb in an instant. Struggling against the weight of your clothes and the fear consuming you, you tried to swim, limbs heavy as bricks as you willed them to move. Unable to process what had happened, your thoughts were overtaken by instinct.

Slowly, you pushed forward, following the only source of light spilling through the black water. With no end in sight, you wondered if you would even make it, lungs growing tight, burning more with each passing second.

The light was pure, preternaturally so, blinding you as you swam into its glow. You resisted the urge to draw a breath, knowing that doing so would only seal your fate. You couldn’t die like this, not now. Not after the promises you’d made in these caves.

As the light engulfed you, you thought of Ben. Where was he? Could he sense that you were on the verge of sinking into oblivion? Would he mourn you when he realized?

With that last question, you used what was left of your energy to call to the Force, pleading for its aid. It wasn’t long before its familiar warmth came to you, an invisible hand grabbing yours and guiding you to the surface. 

As you approached the rippling plane of water, you could hear your name being called, dampened by the roar of blood rushing in your ears. It came again, louder this time, synchronous with your hand breaking through the water.

Cool air kissed your skin, welcoming you back to life. You thrashed at the surface, coughing up the water you’d taken in when you fell, nearly heaving from the force of it. As you opened your burning eyes, you found that the hand holding yours wasn’t invisible at all, but tangible, as real as your own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” your mother said, lips unmoving as her words permeated the air. “You’re safe now.”

She looked ethereal, a backdrop of white light painting her like a vision of an angel. For a moment, you were sure that you’d arrived in the afterlife, reunited with your mother at long last. It wasn’t until her hand slipped away and yours hit the hard stone floor you realized you weren’t.

The brilliant light vanished along with her presence, leaving you blanketed in darkness. Desperate to escape the freezing water, you clawed at the jagged stone of the opening, mustering the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your nails dug into your palms as you pushed yourself out of the water, crawling only a few inches before falling onto your back, muscles screaming. The layers of wet clothing clung to your skin, sending a violent chill through your bones, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was your breathing, the sweet sting of air filling your lungs.

The Force lingered around you as you lay there, fists slowly unfurling as the adrenaline waned. As your fingers relaxed, something rolled out of your palm, hitting the wet stone with a soft clink.

Your eyes shot open at the sound. Scrambling to sit up, you searched for the object in the dim light, but it didn’t take you long.

Beside you was a glowing crystal, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own and humming a soft melody attuned to your ears. You blinked in disbelief as you reached for it, tears blurring your vision.

A blue heart of kyber, calling to you.

[iwishtobeastorm]

Congratulations on your 200 followers! I’m proud to be one of them! Can I request a Frankie Morales with plus size reader? Maybe reader thinks that Frankie likes someone else? 🥺 angst and fluff? Thank you so much in advance, I love your writing.

“I was afraid I’ll lose you.“ “Never.“

A/N: Thank you so so so much babe! I'm so grateful you're following me and that you like my work. 💕 When I saw you requested Frankie I almost fainted because I love the man more than anything and I couldn't wait to finally write something about him. I hope this angsty fluffy thing won't disappoint!

The most dangerous thing - Frankie Morales/Chubby!F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word count: 2200+

Celebration | Masterlist

It's as if everything around you stopped, the whole world just froze, the sounds got drowned by silence, the light turning into darkness as a huge wound opens in your chest sucking in all the warmth that you felt after Santi's last joke. You can't look away, your wide opened eyes filling with tears, before Benny nudges your shoulder, taking you back, your gaze snapping to him, the loud roaring of the bar fills your ears as you're met with the baby blue of his irises, watching you with worry. "Y/N, are you okay?" He speaks softly, his hand squeezing on your shoulder. You don't know what to say. You're sure he can tell perfectly you're not okay by the hot tears running down your cheeks. "Uhm, sure. I just need a minute," you murmur, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands as you rise from the table, rushing to the toilets before any of the boys come back to sit down or before Benny's able to stop you. You close the door behind you, locking in, before you lean your back against it, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs as you slowly slip to the ground, clutching your knees to your body, your tears now coming in burning streams, blurrying your vision. All of this for one man.

You've met the boys while working at the bar as a part-time job to have more money to cover your university life. You immediately grew to the whole group, spending maybe too much time joking around with them for your boss's liking. They've always flirted with you, or most of them did. Most of them, but never Frankie. And you being the little fool you're, of course you fell in love with him. He was always quiet and shy, never holding an eyecontact for too long, never teasing you. He rarely spoke to you at first, which made him even more attractive in your eyes, more mysterious. But when he started talking to you? Oh boy. You learned how smart he is and so perceptive, while he told you about a new book or an article he read or that caught his eyes, while he waited for the rest of the group and you hanged on his every word, watching him with unhidden fascination. You know he's older than you, but that doesn't mean the two of you couldn't work together. Actually you think you two would make an amazing couple. You can imagine falling asleep in his arms while he reads to you or spending the weekends with the boys, playing pool or cards like they sometimes do, as Benny told you once. You could get used to the life with him more than easily, but those are all daydreams. The longer time you've known them, the more you found out about Frankie and his past. You got to know he's divorced and has a little daughter and that all of the boys served in special forces, that's where their nicknames come from. The more you've heard about Frankie the more you grew to him. A few months ago you were invited to Benny's b-day party and ever since that, you hang out with them from time to time. You know you technically don't belong there, but they never made you feel like the third wheel, more like the little princess they all have to protect as your knights in shining armor. That's when you got significantly closer to Frankie. You two found yourself caught up in your own conversation more and more often, sometimes leaving the noisy company of the rest of the boys, just sitting on Millers' patio in the rocking chairs and talking about everything and nothing, laughing together until your ribs got tough sometimes. Frankie brought out a part of you you didn't know you had. All of those little things made you believe it was going the right way. You go along well, right? What else should matter? Until today Frankie was late. You were late yourself bacuse you had an important assignment to finish, but Frankie was never late. He was always the first one there, always. It made you worried, because apparently none of the boys knew what was actually going on, until Frankie showed up with a lady by his sight. Pretty one, a bit older than you and much much thinner, making your insecurity thrive. That's why you ran away like a coward, hiding in the bathroom, curled up into a ball on the ground to cry your eyes out. This is not how you imagined this night. You thought it will be the usual. A bit of friendly flirting with Pope, life-check up with Will, a lot of laughing with Benny and nice conversation with Frankie, before you retire to your stinky dorms. Not this. Maybe you could climb out of the window and run away. No, no, you can't because you left your purse at the table. Or maybe you could pretend you were sick and sneak out? That could work, but you're not really prepared to face Frankie and whoever that lady is. You're screwed. "Y/N! Are you in there?" There's a banging on the door, making your form shake with it and you slowly raise your head, wiping away the tears that got stuck on your cheeks and taking a deep breath before responding to Benny's question. "Yeah, I- I just don't feel really well," you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Well, technically this isn't a lie. "Would you open the door for me?" He asks, hint of plea in his voice. "Uhm- just wait a second," you say softly, raising from the ground. You know that if you said no, Benny is able to kick the door open without hesitation. You check yourself in the mirror, getting rid of

any signs you've ever cried, before opening the door, just to find the younger Miller brother leaning against the doorframe, face curved in worry. "What's going on? Are you alright?" He asks, stepping in, letting you close the door behind him. "These are restrooms for women, Benny. You probably shouldn't be here," you murmur, trying to sound like you're teasing him to lighten up the mood and also mainly to avoid answering his questions, but there's no way Benny would let it slip. Not after the anguish he saw in your eyes and the tears that rolled down your cheeks. "Spill it, Y/N. I know something's up," he states, folding his hands on his chest like Frankie does sometimes, the mental mention of him reminding you of the lady by his side and your eyes start stinging again. "I just- didn't feel good," you say softly, trying to sound persuasive. But Benny's way past buying that. "Because of Sylvie?" He asks and you frown softly. "Sylvie?" You raise an eyebrow at him, making him chuckle softly. "Yeah, the lady that Frankie brought with him," he states, making your heart sink. "No," you murmur to respond to his initial question. "Are you sure?" Benny raises an eyebrow at you, leaning his body against the wall, eyes never leaving you, so you have to watch your expression carefully. "Yes. Can I leave now? I really don't feel good, Benny," you say, not really waiting for his approval, reaching for the door to open them, but Benny pushes his arm against it, holding it closed. Your strenght is nothing compared to his, so you know you're trapped. "Let me leave, please," you look up at him. "I saw the way you look at him, Y/N," he states, his gaze softening. Your eyes fill with tears but you refuse to let them fall. Always so stubborn, as Will says. You look down, trying to hide all the emotions your eyes could give away easily. "Why don't you tell him?" Benny asks, leaning against the door. "Because it would be useless. I- I thought he feels the same but apparently he doesn't. I don't need more damage. Would you now let me leave, please?" you say softly, tugging on the door. "It's not like that. Pope set them up. Frankie didn't want it," Benny states. "Does it matter now? He's out there with her on our night, isn't he? And- and he looked happy so-," you clench your jaw, trying to open the damned door but it's useless when Benny's leaned on it. "Get away from the fucking door, Ben. I- I'm not playing," you grumble, the tears slipping over your eyelids and rolling down your cheeks at your struggle. Benny steps away from the door and tries to reach for you to continue with his attempt to comfort you, or whatever that was supposed to be, but you dodge his hand and storm out of the restrooms. You head straight to the table, not looking at anyone, just grasping your purse and murmuring quick I gotta go, before you're out of the door, their shouting of your name rings in your ears even as you walk down the street to your dorms. It's over. It's all over. He left you. He never felt the same. And now you have nothing.

You've spent the rest of the weekend in bed, eating ice cream and watching Bridget Jones, hoping that will heal the aching wound in your chest, but by now you doubt anything ever can. You turned off your notifications on the phone, not letting a single one of the guys know what is actually going on, so Benny remained the only one cursed with knowledge. On Sunday evening you finally get out of the bed and clean up a bit, since your roommate will return tomorrow morning from their visit of their family or whatever and if they saw this mess, they'd probably beat you up, so you play some lazy songs and get into it. Just as you're cleaning up the small bathroom you have, there's a knock on the door. You at first think it wasn't your door, since there's literally no one who could've been knocking at your door at this time, but then it's there again, louder this time, forcing you to turn off the water, wipe your hands and head out to find out who it is. When you open the door, you hesitate the urge to shut them again, your heart squeezing in your chest, making it feel too tight for your liking. "Uhm, hey," you murmur, your eyes meeting the dark brown irises you sometimes dream of. "Hey. I just- can I come in?" He tilts his head towards the inside of your room, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Y-yeah, sure," you murmur, stepping away from the door and letting Frankie in. You close it behind you, biting on your lower lip. There's not much space in your dorm room, so you gesture to your bed so Frankie has somewhere to sit down, while you pour him a glass of water. "So- what is that you need?" You ask softly when you return from the bathroom, handing him his glass of water and biting on your lower lip. "I- I'm here because of Friday," he states and you wish you could jump out of the window and run. "Okay," you murmur, not really sure where this whole thing is going. Did boys send him here because they are worried and they know you two are close? Or did Benny tell them what he found out? Either way you seem to be fucked. "What happened, Y/N? You left in such hurry and- I saw you were crying," he swallows nervously, his grasp on the glass tightening. Benny told them, eventually. It took a long time, lots of beers and lots of pressure from all of the guys but he told them. And Frankie's here to make it all good. "It's nothing," you murmur, adverting your gaze, your cheeks burning. "I know it's not nothing, Y/N. Please, you have to tell me," he reaches for your hand, squeezing a bit on it until your eyes meet his, welling up in tears. "I just- I- I like you Frankie. Like a lot. And- and I just- when you brought Sylvie I-," you take a shaky breath, your throat getting too tight with the sobs you hold back, making you unable to speak. "Shh, come here," he murmurs, grabbing your other hand too and leading you to sit on his lap. You're so surprised you forget how to breathe for a moment as your hands rest on his shoulders, while he cups your both cheeks with his calloused hands, wiping away your tears. "I like you too, darling. Sylvia is Pope's fault. I- I insisted there's nothing I feel to you and he then dared me to take some girl out to persuade him about it. I didn't want to. All I wanted was you. And I realized it fully when I saw you leaving the bar. I just- I'm sorry," he mumbles, sighing through his prominent nose, that you adore dearly. His words make you smile, warming up the empty cold darkness in your chest, finally bringing you back to your usual self. "I was just afraid I'll lose you," you admit, playing with the little curls on the back of his neck. "Never," he says, raising your chin so your eyes meet his and before you're able to do anything, Frankie's soft lips are on yours. He pulls you closer, hands squeezing on your hips, making your cheeks flush red as you run your fingers into his hair. You fight the grin on your face as you realize what this means. You have Frankie now. And Frankie has you.

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

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Thank you so much for your support!

@pintsizemama @rosi3ba3z @lovelylostminds @lokigirlszendaya

[kneamet]

Jaguar! Tom discovers his wife is having an affair. He murders his rival. Reader's wrists are tied to the chair. Tom caresses her cheek. He tells her: You're mine. She says he forced her to marry and she isn't love him. Tom smiles and tells her : You will never leave bedroom. You will stay there forever as my lovely wife.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, murder

Word Count: 1536

Character: Jaguar!Tom/reader

Summary: your husband finds out you're having an affair. And he is filled with pure anger.

POV Thomas

He was angry. Very angry. Anger filled him. But also, in a sense, I was a little confused. How could his beloved wife dare to cheat on him? Why? Didn't she love him?

But didn't they have the most beautiful and pure love in the world? Weren't they happily married together? In Thomas ' opinion, she had everything: beautiful and expensive clothes, a husband who idolized her, delicious food, comfortable conditions. What was wrong with her?

Thomas spent most of his free time with you. Spent time with you, even bathed you when you were sick. And in the end, what? And in the end, she just ignores his feelings and throws a knife in his back. Not literally, of course.

But why with him? Why did she cheat on him with a stranger? A man who wasn't even her type! Thomas knew about his wife's tastes. You liked the dangerous ones, the courageous ones, and most importantly, the smart ones. Who would even like a stay-at-home person? Some nerd, what does he do, what does he read about morality?

No, his doll was only interested in gentlemen like him. And she won't need anyone else. Period.

Thomas sighed, clenching his jaw tightly, squeezing his snow-white teeth. He blinked a couple of times and his gaze returned to the body. On a dead body. On the body of his wife's lover.

What a freak. These were Thomas's thoughts, and he kicked with a little lethargy, his shoes already stained with blood. The blood of the bastard who tried to steal you from him.

Thomas didn't like Ben. That was the man's name, Ben. The towering man slowly savored the name. He didn't like it. What kind of idiot would give his son that name. Although St. Benedict...

But no. Beliefs were alien to him, and he had never had much sympathy for any religion. Although thanks to them, it is easy to manipulate people, which was certainly a plus for all politicians.

Thomas quickly squatted down, spreading his legs and raising his left eyebrow. And how could this man only attract the attention of his wife?

Benedict's red hair lay in an unpleasant and sticky arrangement. Was he poor, since he couldn't even afford a normal gel? It was possible, especially if you looked at his clothes, which were old, worn jeans and a loose red sweater. More like a jumper, though. Thomas didn't know much about it.

He didn't want to believe that those disgusting hands were touching the body of his doll. He couldn't imagine this freak stroking her back.

No, he wouldn't dare touch his doll like that. Her beautiful soft hair, which was convenient to grasp during acts of love, soft and innocent eyes that always looked into the eyes of the interlocutor. This is a beautiful face, the beauty of which can not be compared with anyone from the existing person.

Still, Thomas hoped Benedict hadn't touched her in that particular way.

The man stifled a sigh.

"Thank you for not even torturing you. My tortures can be quite brutal, by the way, " Thomas lamented, getting up from his crouch with a loud gasp and adjusting the black frosted pants from the new Westwood collection. And why was he only wearing that suit? I knew I'd get it dirty. And his favorite shoes.

Thomas turned to the other men who were standing by the door, watching the scene, and said quickly::

"Get out of here, and quickly," he waved a hand in it. "I don't want the police to notice the murder of this senseless man," Thomas said in a steely voice, quickly scanning the perimeter for other people.

"Get ready, doll, because you're going to get hurt," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists tightly.

***

"I love you, doll," the man mumbled happily, holding his beloved's small hands tightly in his big and wounded ones.

The girl only smiled in response, resting her head on the strong shoulder of her beloved Thomas. He just smiled, blissfully closing his eyes.

"Me too," she murmured back.

***

POV Your

Fucking freak. A complete freak, incapable of even the slightest feelings of compassion. How could you ever meet someone like that? Why exactly are you? Why exactly do you get into all sorts of unpleasant situations with crazy psychos?

You sighed softly, feeling your heartbeat quicken again, getting faster and faster. You didn't want to think about what would happen when Thomas, your husband, came here. I didn't want to. You were sure that this betrayal would be followed by the punishment that your, you slightly grimaced, husband, so often spoke of.

You blinked a couple of times and looked at the door across from you. Freedom was so close and yet you couldn't get it... Although even that plan did not seem to be very implemented.

Your last plan, which Thomas revealed, was to have an affair with a man behind his back. With a man who would do anything for you, even write a book! With a man who will love you with a sincere and pure love, and not the way Thomas loves you.

You don't even want to say his name in your mind.

But in the end, the plan failed because Thomas installed a small sensor in your body, as painful as it was to realize, that would monitor your location.

But how did he know about it? After all, you did everything secretly, there were no inaccuracies. You checked everything! And in the end, Thomas somehow doubted your "loyalty" to him and decided to track you.

But even apart from that, you didn't stop dating your beloved Benedict. After all, he was so cute! Infidel, one of the best people there is.

***

Thomas's intense and watchful eyes were watching you. Watching you change into a pair of light pajamas that consisted of long shorts and a white nightgown.

You turned your brooding gaze on him, looking at Thomas in a little confusion. He took your gaze and cleared his throat, lowering his eyes.

"Tell me, do you love me?" he asked incredulously as he sat down on the soft, spread-out bed. You stifled a sigh and sank down beside him. It was getting harder to wake up and fall asleep next to him.

Trying to smile, you turned off the light.

"Of course I love you," unfortunately, or fortunately, these words had to be said constantly and through force.

***

You pressed your lips together. Being in this room right now was just disgusting. You never liked her, but you knew that if you said a word against Thomas ' word, you'd be in trouble.

Although it would seem that the usual room of a rich man. The white walls matched the white bed, the legs of which were dark in color. There was a large beige sofa next to it, a large-screen TV in front of it, and bookcases with books and clothes next to it. And of course, in the corner of the room, you could see a small camera. Thomas loved to dominate the situation.

Yes, everything would be fine, but only if Thomas didn't force you to have violent sex in this room and everything here wasn't bought with stolen money.

And although you used to like this beige sofa, standing next to the bed, now you just hated it fiercely, as well as the bed itself. And all why? Because you were sitting on it right now, and the ropes were tied to the bedposts, rubbing your skin very painfully.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened loudly and closed with an equally loud bang. You looked up reluctantly. Your husband, who was apparently in a complete mess, was walking straight towards you, angry with Thomas. It seems that not now will definitely not be good.

You've never found Thomas eerily handsome. Yes, he was good-looking, in your opinion: that black hair, gelled, thin lips, brilliant blue eyes that you could drown in, a great style in music, clothes, books, after all, but still something about him always seemed suspicious. He was too perfect.

Suddenly, he was right in front of you, grabbing your sore cheek with a strong hand. You stifled a painful groan. Damn, this is so unpleasant. But you will have to endure, because it is better not to show Thomas your fear and resentment, otherwise he may be bitterly angry.

"You're mine!" he roared loudly, through his teeth, like a lion about to pounce on its prey.

You sighed softly, feeling the uncomfortable feeling in your hands again, where the hard rope was rubbing painfully against your wrists, and feeling your cheek tighten again.

"I'm not yours!" No, it was just unbearable. You're not a toy and you don't belong to anyone. "I will never be yours, because you just forced me to marry you, you freak!"you snapped back, already feeling that Thomas would slap you, so you prematurely closed your eyes.

However, the blow did not come. Blinking, you saw Thomas smiling at you with a sickly smile. She's always terrified you. It meant that something was about to happen.

"You just don't understand. You just don't get it, do you, doll? But no, you understand perfectly!" he growled again, barely able to contain himself. You saw the veins in his neck bulge. All of a sudden he just calmed down. "You will never leave this room again. You will stay here forever, as my beloved wife.”

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 5 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2.5k

Part 5 - Making believe

The news about your fight with Tom had spread across Hogwarts quicker than you had thought was possible. Three days had passed and you were sure even the teachers knew about it by now. And everyone seemed to know more about it than you did. 

You had heard stories about you hexing Tom in the hallways, about him threatening you there, about you almost drowning yourself in the lake, about Benjamin trying to kiss you, about you trying to kiss Benjamin. The list was endless. And none of it was true.

The way people looked at you made you angry to a degree where you had to control yourself not to smack them. Your anger was also fueled by the fact that Tom had not apologised yet. Three days. Feeling as long as three years when the whole school seems to watch your every move while you are waiting for your future husband to make up his mind.

Those three words alone made your blood boil. Your future husband. Who certainly was the most conceited, hot-headed, mistrusting bastard on earth. Who you had agreed to marry for your sister. Who thought you would cheat on him, in this imaginary relationship, on the first chance you got. With Benjamin Hilt... Maybe he was also the daftest future husband on earth.

But nonetheless, you wondered far too often when he would finally walk up to you and apologise. You had even considered apologising to him just so you wouldn’t have to ignore him anymore. But that thought hadn’t lasted longer than a minute. He had to learn his lesson.

Tom’s friends seemed awfully aware as well. Although Avery and Lestrange stayed out of your way, some others made you feel like you were constantly observed. Almost as if they were his spies, telling him where he could go to avoid you. Tossers. 

The only person keeping you sane was Camille. She knew the truth and shut down every rumour that came to her ears. She had also tried to talk to Tom, much to your dismay. But he had ignored her completely. 

“Still no news on the fiancé front?” Camille asked when you sat with her in the courtyard. 

“Don’t call him that,” you answered. 

“Sorry,” she said but smiled. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. And I don’t really care.”

Camille laid her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t care, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh well… You talk about it an awful lot for someone who doesn’t.”

“You started it this time,” you grinned. Changing the subject seemed appropriate. She was right. “Do you want to study together around 5? In the library?”

“Sure. I still haven’t done the homework for Charms.”

“Me neither.”

You watched the people around the courtyard. They looked comfortable. Cosy with their scarfs on. Carefree, wandering around and talking to their friends. You wondered if you looked like them too. Or if they could see how bitter you felt. How uncomfortable and tired. If your poor attempt of faking indifference was enough to deceive them. The bench where you sat with Tom three days ago was right next to you. You had specifically chosen not to sit there but at the one next to it. Not that anyone had a clue, not even Camille knew which exact bench it was. But it felt good to avoid it. 

One of Tom’s friends, Evan Rosier, walked by. Another spy, another rat, running back to the nest, to tell him where not to go. He locked eyes with you for a brief moment but retracted ever so quickly and went inside. 

“It’s cold,” Camille said and pulled your gaze away from the other students. She rubbed her hands together and crossed her arms. “Want to leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” you said and took a deep breath. The cold air didn’t hurt. It was sharp and fresh, it kept you awake.

“Okay,” she answered and laid her head on your shoulder. “Look, Ben and his friends are over there.”

They sat on the ground next to the stone walls, about fifty feet away. They didn’t seem cold either. Some of them had their coats open, their scarfs only hanging down loosely from their necks.

“They’re strange,” you mumbled.

“I know, right? Like outcasts. But cool ones.”

“Cool? I’m not sure about that.”

Camille laughed. “I don’t know. They seem so happy all the time. As if nothing mattered to them really.”

“If that was true, Ben would know how to mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You turned your head away from them, looking to your left where you heard footsteps coming your way. And indeed, someone was approaching you. The person’s shoes seemed oddly familiar and all your muscles tensed when you looked up and found out who they belonged to. Tom.

Camille noticed your movements and looked over as well. Tom stopped in front of you, not saying anything, just looking from you to Camille and back to you.

“I, um,” Camille cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go inside. I’m freezing.”

You nodded, watched her leave, then looked up at Tom again and waited for him to say something. 

But he didn’t. He just looked back at you, or through you maybe, until he finally sat down next to you.

He sat there, staring straight ahead in silence, even though you gave him every chance to speak. The wind tousled his hair in those everlasting minutes of curiosity. What was he doing here, if he didn’t want to talk? 

People around you had noticed as well. They were looking over in turns and proceeded to whisper to each other. Like you wouldn’t notice.

“I have something for you,” Tom suddenly said and fiddled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. “My grandfather sent an owl.”

Seriously? Three days of silence and he came up to present you a letter? From Marvolo Gaunt of all people. The nerve of him.

“And?” you asked.

“And what?”

“Don’t you think you should say something first? Like an apology?”

He sighed and looked away again. As if he had known you wouldn’t let him get away with it. As if he had dreaded that moment.

“Yes,” he then said, so quietly you could hardly hear him. “I’m sorry for how I behaved. That I haven’t trusted you and that I didn’t let you speak.”

He looked like it hurt him physically to apologise. But it wasn’t enough. 

You turned towards him, watching him staring into the distance. “Now look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Tom turned his head your way, his brows furrowed, eyes looking into yours, filled with such anger, making you regret what you had said. You couldn’t tell if he would rather stand up and leave, or curse you right then and there for what you asked of him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated nevertheless.

“Thank you,” you answered and wondered if you should comment on how long it had taken him. Better not.

Tom pointed to the letter in your hands. “Now read it.”

The parchment was old and smelled damp and mouldy.

“Tom,

I was informed by an unknown source that people at Hogwarts are doubting the authenticity of your relationship with your fiancée. 

Someone sent a letter and implied they would notify the ministry about it if we wouldn’t cancel the wedding ourselves. 

Let me remind you two, that our plan must go through. If it won’t, the little one will pay for it.

Improve.

Marvolo Gaunt”

Breathing felt harder all of a sudden. There was a lump in your throat that burned and stung right down into your lungs. If the ministry would doubt the validity of your relationship, they could definitely null and void the marriage before it even happened. Which would be fatal.

“Merlin’s sake,” you sighed. “Who would do that? Threaten your grandfather...”

“You don’t know?” Tom asked and looked over to the group where Ben sat. “I got a suspect.”

“Of course… And what are we going to do about it?”

Tom took the letter and folded it back together, not taking his eyes off Ben. “Let me handle him.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” he said. “Possibly.”

“And how does Marvolo expect us to improve?” you asked. “We can’t change what people think about us.”

“Make them believe. It’s not that hard to fool people.”

He was right. Tom might have been a prick, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. If rumours about your fight spread so quickly, rumours about you making peace would spread even faster. 

“Hold my hand,” you said.

“What?”

“We have to make them believe. Better start right away. There are lots of people around. Maybe we can even trick Ben and his friends.”

He restrained for quite a bit, then ever so slowly reached for your hand, still not looking at you. His skin was warm from being inside, almost hot against yours. He felt stiff and mechanical, as if he didn’t know how to behave. It was a bit uncomfortable, having your hand lying in someone else’s, who didn’t really hold it but simply let it lay there.

You adjusted your fingers and put them right against his, which made him turn towards you. His pulse pumped softly against the tips of your fingers. It was faster than you had thought and made you smile. Tom didn’t. But he looked at you, differently.

His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, the anger from before completely washed away. His eyes were open, studying your face with a deadpan stare until he squinted.

“You’re cold,” he said and brought his other hand around the back of yours, now properly holding it with both of his.

“I’ve been here for a bit,” you told him and looked around, letting his unfamiliar warmth spread through your veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Hm?”

“The people. They’re watching.”

Tom took a glance, his fingers twitching as he did. The other students turned away one by one when his gaze neared them. Even Ben and his friends had noticed but ducked their heads now too. 

Seemed that making people believe was actually easy. 

“And he really held your hand? Wow. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Camille whispered when you told her about what had happened.

“I know, me neither,” you said while opening the Charms textbook. 

“And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn it. I knew I should have peeked around a corner.”

“Gross,” you joked and looked around if anyone could hear you. 

The library was quite full, but you had found a desk at the far end, where no one would bug the two of you.

Studying with Camille was, as unbelievable as it may sound, one of your favourite parts of school. It brought tranquillity and effect together. Feeding your brain with new information and sharing it with one another was a sensation you got nowhere else. You had done it since first grade and it had worked well ever since. No matter how dry, or tricky the material was, you had always found a way to remember. You were great together. Balanced. 

And she brought chocolate, every time. Major plus.

It had gotten dark outside a while ago when you finished the Charms essay. Only then you noticed how tired your eyes were from the dim light. Camille had completed hers two chocolate bars ago and was waiting for you by the window. 

“Done,” you sighed. “Finally.”

“Great. Let’s go then,” she said and started packing up her things.

“I haven’t proofread.”

“Oh,” Camille nodded and teetered from one foot to another.

“But you can go. Really. You’ve already waited for so long. I’ll just read it again and then I’m off.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Somewhere you need to go?”

“The loo,” she whispered and you laughed.

“Then run!”

You rubbed your eyes and folded the parchment flat out under your hands. One more read-through and you were done. It was even quieter around you, now that Camille had left. The only things you heard were the librarian’s steps, as she tiptoed through the rows every now and then, and some quills scratching on paper from afar. It was a hypnotic silence, that made it easier to read. So easy, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you.

The sound of the chair next to you screeching lightly over the floor was so startling, you almost knocked over your inkwell.

“Merlin’s sake,” you whispered as you screwed down the small bottle. “You can’t creep up on me like that. Almost ruined my essay.”

“Pardon me,” Tom said. “Who could have thought people had to be quiet in a library?”

You shot him a look to prevent yourself from telling him to keep his cocky jokes to himself. “What are you doing?”

He opened up a book, giving you the same look in return as if to say, what do you think people do in here. “Reading.”

“Alright then,” you said and leaned over your parchment again. 

Just a few more pages. But suddenly the words you had written didn’t make sense anymore. You had to read each sentence twice, to even understand what they meant. And you were awfully aware of your breathing. Tom made you nervous. 

It took you twice as long to read one page and the fact that you watched him from the corner of your eye every other moment didn’t help. 

Concentrate. Forget he’s even here. You had eventually found somewhat of a rhythm again, laying one paper aside, when Tom touched your hand.

You automatically jolted and looked over to him. He was still reading his book, now holding your hand firmer, more proper than earlier that day. It seemed like he wanted to finish this particular paragraph before he looked back at you. And the blank expression on his face said more than ever before. It was a mix between him waiting for you to pull away and simultaneously telling you not to dare to move. 

It was the same silence, the same tension that occurred when he had come for dinner at your house, when you were alone in the dining room with him. But yet, it felt so different.

So you held him, too. Quietly. Still staring at him. While no one spoke a word. 

Your fingers folded along the back of his hand perfectly, like they were meant to be there. 

And then, he moved. His thumb swayed back and forth across your skin, so lightly you could barely even sense it. So softly, as though he was scared it could hurt and break you. His eyes were fixated on you. He studied every breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, every muscle moving in reaction to his touch. 

And there it was. Something different in his eyes. Something more than the notorious apathy. A spark, a tiny hint of what you would call emotion. 

Something you had never seen on him. It suited him well. So you let him feast on it. For forever if he asked you to.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Backwards Glance

Based on an idea by my wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian!

Please leave a comment on Ao3 or reblog and let me know what you thought in the tags! 

--------

Juno is about to marry the love of his life but its hard to forget the last time he wore a wedding gown.

So he's come to remember how far he's come.

--------

It seemed to Juno that there was more dust than there should be.

How much grime, how many fragments, how many days manifested as faint clumps of barely there grey, could really accumulate in just under two decades? More than he’d ever realised. It stuck to his fingers in drifts as he moved box after box, aging his skin before his eye like he was moving further into the future rather than digging back into his past. There was no system to them, they were just stacked haphazardly with no labels and uneven weights so he had to clamber through them all to find the one he wanted. Clearly he hadn’t ever expected to be back here, when he’d been a brokenhearted younger lady he’d just wanted to shove it all away in this storage unit and forget.

Part of him wanted to go back to that, the part of him couldn’t understand what exactly he was doing here now. They only had five hours left on Mars, a quick, whistle stop trip to collect Mick for the wedding and to stretch their legs before another long haul into space, and he was spending it trawling through the shit that was too depressing to keep around even when he was Mars’ PI who most needed therapy. He knew he should be out seeing old friends and visiting old haunts before remembering he didn’t have any old friends and all his old haunts had been destroyed and then just going to a bar or a restaurant with the man he was going to marry in less than a month.

But instead he was here. And there was a reason.

That man Juno was going to marry was currently leaning in the doorway, politely not questioning his fiancee's decision to bring them here, also not going near any of the boxes that landed near his feet as they were thrown aside, waiting for Juno’s permission because of course he was.

“You can look,” Juno grunted, wiping the dust off his hands, not making them much cleaner and ruining his trousers into the bargain, “It’s just junk.”

“Your junk,” Peter Nureyev amended, like that made it important and worth looking at.

He bent and looked through the first of the boxes Juno had jettisoned over his shoulder when it didn’t hold whatever he was here to find. That one was just old toys of his and Ben’s. Turbos mostly.

“They’re in quite a state,” Nureyev hummed, turning one over in his hands, watching as one of its arms sagged in the socket and counting the crayon marks, “I take it you weren’t as fond of this one?”

“Haven’t you ever had a toy, babe?” Juno snorted, moving aside a box of old school assignments. All Benzaiten’s, he’d thrown away all his own, “The more banged up it is, the more you liked it.”

“Ah...no. I never did, actually.”

Juno stopped, screwing up his face and cursing himself in his mind. Of course his thief had never had a toy, he’d never had the chance to be a child, “Sorry…”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Nureyev said lightly, as if he thought it really was, “My love, what is it you’re looking for?”

Juno bit his lower lip as he thought, eyes scanning the boxes that had seemed so few when they’d walked in but, now he was crouched amongst them, covered him like castle walls, “I...I think it’s in this one…”

Of course it was in the box that had been pushed furthest back, right into the corner of the chilly, cramped little space that had been all a younger Juno could afford. It was the one he most wanted to forget. The one he’d wanted the most space between it and him.

Again, the smell was mustier than it should have been. Inside the box, the old synthetic lace smelled like dust and stasis and just the faintest hint of rot. Juno stood and shook it out, unfurling the dress to its full length and holding it up so the pale sunlight from behind them washed yellow through the fabric and made it look like a skin of something. It made it look hollow, a space made to be filled.

“Oh,” Nureyev murmured faintly behind him, his voice catching just a little. He sounded further away than he really was.

Juno remembered when he’d first got this dress, spending far more money on it than his junior HCPD salary minus his addictions could stretch to. But at the time, it seemed worth it. When he’d worn this dress, even when he’d just held it up on the hanger in the store and imagined it on him, everything had felt like it would be okay. When he’d moved quickly and felt the waterfalls of tiered fabric had whispered, it had drowned out the doubts in his head. When he’d tried a twirl, just because he could, and watched as the lace floated in the air like it was weightless, he could forget the last argument they’d had and could ignore the fact that now a night couldn’t go by that didn’t end with them screaming at each other. When he’d looked at himself in the mirror and felt beautiful, he didn’t have to think about how Sasha still hadn’t replied to her invitation, how Mick changed the subject whenever Juno tried to steer it towards him being his best man, how Rita asked nearly every day now if he was sure this was what he wanted.

And he could forget that the answer wasn’t coming as easily anymore.

When Juno had worn the dress, it all felt right. Like an actor being given his costume, it had all solidified. The lines had felt more like truth, the repetition of them was only practise for the real thing. All the problems had felt trivial, things that every bride must surely worry about before their big day, before everything became as fairytale as they’d promised. Before the bad parts stopped and it was all just the good days, the bits he kept going back to them for.

The dress stopped him being just the son of the woman who’d gone mad, the brother of the dancer who’d died tragically young, the fuck up from Oldtown who’d thought he could make a difference, the jaded cop who’d started out with wide eyes and a clear heart but now needed as much drugs and drink as the rest of them to get through the day. He wasn’t Juno Steel. In the dress, he was Diamond’s wife. And that had it’s good days, at least.

Nureyev stepped up quietly behind him, his voice soft and almost reverent as he placed a hand on Juno’s hip, “It’s a beautiful dress, my love. I’m sure you were a vision in it.”

Juno paused a moment before laughing roughly, “It isn’t. And I wasn’t.”

With Nureyev’s hand against him, the dress looked different. He didn’t like the style at all, it was overly flashy with it’s ridiculously puffed up sleeves and it’s ruffled tiers. He must have looked like a damn wedding cake with it on, one someone would spend too much money on and would turn out to be nearly all fondant. The front was cut too short and the back draped way too low, the fake gems around the bodice were tacky and dull even in the light. It just wasn’t Juno’s style. Which made sense, seeing as he hadn’t chosen it.

And it was so small, reminding him how unhealthily thin he’d been back then, how the drugs had made him drawn and all sharp, painful angles. How food had never been a priority because he was too busy at work or because Diamond had taken his wallet again and their own fridge was bare. How, without Benten to feed as well, there just hadn’t seemed all that much point in remembering to eat. In taking care of himself at all, as a singular person who was meant to be part of a pair.

“Well…” Nureyev was attempting a charitable kindness, “I think you would look dashing in anything, of course…but you do have a point. It’s not quite your style.”

Juno made a soft noise of agreement, passing the material through his fingers, “Good thing I only had to wear it the one time.”

There were marks of that one time all over the dress. Not the ceremony that never happened, obviously, but the night that had followed. And, almost ridiculously, Juno found himself smiling at them. He found the dark amber stain on the skirts where he’d spilled his fourth whiskey at the Pour and Floor. He saw the grease on the back where he’d ridden behind Mick on his hoverbike through the streets at two in the morning, far too fast, fast enough to kill them both if they’d crashed but Juno had just whooped and cheered until his throat was so raw he couldn’t make a sound. He found the mud on the hem and the burn at the edge of the sleeve from when Sasha had turned up, given him one of her rare, tight enough to hurt hugs and they’d hopped a chain link fence behind a store to shoot cans off the wall with his and Sasha’s blasters. And of course the whole thing was crumpled and creased, when he’d staggered to his own apartment and fell asleep on the couch well past sunrise, he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to take it off and fold it nicely.

And when he’d woken in the morning, he’d never wanted to see it again.

That night had been reckless, profoundly stupid, one wrong step from turning into broken sobs and beating his fists against the pavement. But it had been wonderful too, everything feeling slightly unreal and just perfect enough to feel like the best days of his childhood. He’d breathed deeply, like his head had been underwater until that moment, and he hadn’t needed any powder or pill to feel it. After a while, even the space where Benten should have been standing began to feel less painful and almost friendly.

He’d felt like Juno Steel again and, honestly, for that night it hadn’t seemed like a bad thing.

He’d almost forgotten that night, in it’s bitch of a hangover that had stretched on for years and years of bitterness and depression and clawing himself back to some kind of control over his own body and his own mind. But it had been a pretty fun night.

“Would you like to keep it?” Nureyev asked gently, hand moving from his waist and sliding round until his arms encircled him completely, holding him fast, “We could take it with us and...I don’t know, perhaps I could sew it into something for you, a garter or…”

Juno leaned back in his arms until Nureyev’s forehead was pressed to the crown of his skull.

“Nah. I’m gonna throw it out. Should have done it years ago, honestly.”

There was a tinge of relief to how Nureyev smiled and kissed the top of his head, “But I think you needed to come here today. Am I right?”

Juno smiled crookedly, “I did...thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course,” Nureyev murmured, as if Juno didn’t even need to thank him for something like that, as if it was obvious he’d wanted to be with him as he’d faced his difficult memories.

But standing there, holding his old wedding dress, Juno felt like he really did.

“Come on, I’m done moping. Let’s go do something fun, there’s a tea place over in Halcyon that’s right up your alley,” he turned in Nureyev’s arms and kissed his cheek lightly before leading him back to the door.

Now he could understand why everything seemed so much older, so caked in dust that seemed to show more years than had actually gone by. It wasn’t because of time as it was distance. It was the fact that he was a completely new Juno Steel, who could barely remember being so sad, so angry at the world. He was looking at the relics of another life, one he’d gladly left behind.

Maybe that was the reason Juno had wanted to come back here, when he could have been feeding his fiance cake from the end of a fork or something else suitably romantic and engagement-y. After all, it wasn’t really as far off as it seemed sometimes. He’d made those bad decisions, he’d hurt those people and been hurt in turn. It did Juno good to remember that.

Because now he could see how far he’d come.

He would close the door and plunge it all into darkness, the dress melted into a careless puddle of fabric where he’d let it fall. He would toss the keys down at the desk of the storage unit place and tell them cheerfully to throw out everything, he was done with it all. He would pull Nureyev out into a surprisingly sunny afternoon, into their new names for the day, and live the kind of life he’d always dreamed he’d have but had never really believed he would. And then he would leave, back into the stars with his family.

And Juno Steel wouldn’t look back.

[evesbeve]

Christmas fic request, you can choose what you like better: Klaus wants to surprise Ben with a gift for Christmas. How does he do that though when Ben is a ghost that's, like, with him 24/7? OR Ben wants to give Klaus a gift for Christmas. How does he do that when he's... well, a ghost? What can he give? (thank you!)

Anon, my dude. You get me so much. I know this is really late, bur here it finally is!

Title: Two Presents

Summary: How does one surprise their dead brother that follows them around everywhere with a Christmas gift? Well, Klaus better figure it out soon, because Christmas is right around the corner and Ben isn't going anywhere.

(Read on AO3 + FFN)

___

“I need help with Ben’s Christmas gift.”

Okay, yes, maybe Klaus should have planned this whole Christmas gift thing a bit better, but it wasn’t his fault that Ben followed him around twenty-four seven. Not that it was Ben’s, but that didn’t change the fact that he was getting in the way of his surprise.

So, of course, he asked Diego for help.

“You need help with Ben’s Christmas gift,” Number Two repeated. “My help.”

“Precisely.”

“And you’re telling me this now, a day before Christmas.”

“Possibly.”

“And you’re expecting me to help you.”

“Indeed.”

Diego sighed, bringing his hand to his nose. “Klaus, you can’t just… You can’t just do that. I have things to do, and the streets are drowning in traffic.”

“Pretty please?” Klaus said, taking a paper out of his pocket and handing it to Diego. Diego glanced at it for a second, then back at Klaus. “It’s the name of the book. Should be easy enough to find.”

He knew he was pushing his luck. Diego was on his nerves again, Ben was in the room next door with Vanya, manifested, and Klaus could already feel his powers draining; there wasn’t much time left before Ben dematerialized and came back to him for company.

“Fine.” Diego pocketed the piece of paper. “But you owe me, Klaus.”

“Thank you, Diego dear!” Klaus said and pulled his brother in for a big hug.

He felt kinda bad for putting this on Diego, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. 

There was nothing that could make up for everything Ben had done for Klaus. Taking care of him when no one else was there, being his one and only friend, loving him for who he was, not who he should have been. Ben deserved a Christmas gift. It was the least Klaus could do.

Speak of the devil. Not ten seconds later, Ben phased through the door.

He had this look on his face, the one he always had when he was worried about something. Klaus couldn’t blame him; he had just been robbed of his quality time with Vanya.

“Hey Benny,” Klaus said.

“Ben’s here?” Diego asked, and Klaus pulled away from him. He pointed towards the spot Ben was standing at, and Diego tried his best at looking into his eyes, or so Klaus assumed. “Hey Ben.”

“Hey,” Ben said, smiling a little bit. He then turned to Klaus. “Did you ask him about it?”

“Nope.” Klaus clapped his hands together, looking at Diego.

“Klaus, what’s going on? What did Ben say?”

“Ben and I want to get gifts for everyone, since my name is Santa Klaus and all,” Klaus explaind. Diego opened his mouth to speak, but Klaus was quicker. “So… Can you drive us to the mall?”

It was the perfect plan; Diego would leave Ben and Klaus to buy their gifts while he did his own thing—buying the book—and Ben wouldn’t suspect a thing.

The next day, when the entire family had gathered around the tree to open their gifts, Klaus couldn’t shake the stupid grin off his face as Ben stared in awe at the gift in his hands.

“Uh, Klaus?” He turned around, only to see Luther holding out a box for him to take. “This one’s for you.”

Klaus took it in his hands and stared; the small box was wrapped in green paper, and a neat red ribbon was placed on top. At the side, there was a label.

To: Klaus

Ah, yes, Vanya’s handwriting—

From: Ben

Wait, what?

___

“I need help with Klaus’ Christmas gift.”

Vanya turned around to look at Ben. She had just closed the door to Klaus’ room—Klaus was hanging out in Diego’s with him—and Ben hadn’t given her time to say a single word.

“Wh… What?” Vanya said.

“Klaus’ Christmas gift,” Ben repeated. “I obviously can’t go buy it myself, so I need your help.”

Vanya had known there was something suspicious about Ben wanting to host one of their book-discussion meetings Klaus’ room, but this wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

“O-Okay?” Vanya said, because what could she say? No? No. “What can I do?”

“Okay so,” Ben said, not wasting a single second, “you know how Klaus is afraid of—” Ben stopped himself, as if he was reconsidering his words. “Klaus has trouble focusing. Like, besides being Klaus, everything can get a little bit too overwhelmed at times and—yeah.”

Vanya knew that feeling all too well.

“Anyway,” Ben continued. “He really likes listening to music, but he’s also an idiot, so he lost his music player.”

“So you want me to buy a new one?” Ben nodded. “On Christmas Eve?”

“And headphones.”

“Ben!”

“I would have told you earlier if I could!” Ben crossed his arms. “I know it’s a lot to ask, so I understand if you don’t want to—”

“No, I’ll do it,” Vanya said. “But there’s a problem.”

Ben’s face cringed at the mention of an obstacle. “Which is?”

“I don’t have a car, and public transport’s packed today. I probably wouldn’t even make it in time, it’s…” She looked at her watch. “Shit, it’s five already!”

Ben bit his lip and looked to the side, bouncing his leg like he always did when he was nervous. His eyes were pinned on the wall that led to Diego’s room.

“Ben—”

“I think I might have a solution to that.”

___

The last thing Diego wanted was a family trip to the mall.

As it turns out, Vanya also needed to do some last-minute shopping, so he was stuck in the car with three of his siblings, one of which was a ghost, one who wouldn’t shut up, and one who probably hated him the same way he had for so many years.

“Are we there yet?” Klaus asked, and it took all of Diego’s self-control not to punch him right there and now.

“What do you think,” Diego asked, pointing at all the traffic in front of them. Klaus pouted and leaned his head against the window again. This was going to be a long ride.

They reached the mall at around seven, but that was without the extra thirty minutes it took them to find a place to park the car. Diego was smart enough to tell the others to go on without him, and that he’d meet them when he actually found a parking spot.

Vanya stayed in the car though.

It wasn’t as if Diego didn’t like Vanya. Quite the opposite, actually. Diego left the Academy on heated terms with everyone, but it wasn’t until Vanya wrote her book that Diego got furious with her.

After stopping the Apocalypse, he’d been trying to do better.

And of course he’d apologised, but he’d said some nasty things to her in the past, things that didn’t just go away. So yes, maybe it was kind of his fault that his car ride with his sister was so awkward. He’d just have to deal with it.

“So… What are you picking up?” Vanya asked.

It was only then that Diego realised he had no idea where to look for the book. The last time he’d stepped into a bookstore was ages ago, and he felt really awkward about asking for a book they probably didn’t even have.

“I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t tell Ben or Klaus,” Diego said, making the same turn for the twentieth time.

“Okay.”

Okay. “Klaus asked me to get Ben something for Christmas.”

“Can I tell you something?” Vanya asked, and Diego hummed in response. “Ben asked me to get something for Klaus.”

Diego huffed, shaking his head. “Of course he did.”

He’d never understand the bond between Ben and Klaus. For the longest time, Diego had thought he was the only one from the family Klaus had kept in touch with after leaving, but boy, had he been in the wrong.

Thirteen years and counting. That’s how much time they’d spend together.

“It’s funny what these two have,” Vanya said as if she was reading Diego’s thoughts.

“Tell me about it,” Diego said. “They’re the last two people in our family I thought would get along so well.”

“I know,” Vanya said. “Ben was always so… Contained, you know? He’s changed.” She paused. “Not that it’s a bad thing! Just surprising, is all.”

“Well, we all grow up,” Diego said. He cunder his breath when another driver took the free parking space. “Look at me, driving you all to the way mall without any complaints.”

“Without any complaints?” Vanya asked, and Diego could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh, shut up,” Diego said.

No one spoke after that, and Diego hated it. It meant there was nothing else to be said, that Vanya didn’t want to talk to him anymore. And yet, Diego was also silent, even though he had so much more to say.

“Will you help me find the book for Ben?” he asked.

“Sure,” Vanya said. “If we ever find a parking space.”

There was silence again, but this time it was comfortable.

___

Ben was acting weird, and even he knew it.

Barely had he had the time to explain his plan to Vanya, when he started fading away. By some sort of miracle, his sister had understood.

She was coming with them to the mall. Them being Ben, Klaus and Diego. 

Ben and Klaus had been planning this trip to the mall for weeks. Ideally, it wouldn’t happen on Christmas Eve, but there they were, struggling to pay for a new scarf for Allison.

“You’re only getting this so you can wear it yourself,” Ben said as they exited the shop.

Klaus faked a gasp. “Are you doubting the fact that Allison will like it?”

“No,” Ben said. “I’m just saying that she won’t really have the time to enjoy it if you steal it from her.”

“Boooooo,” Klaus pouted.

Ben couldn’t help but smile. “Who’s next on the list? I have the perfect idea for Vanya.”

“Bookstore?”

“Bookstore.”

Watching Klaus try to ask for the book Ben had in mind for Vanya was more than painful.

“I think it’s called the Adventurous Castle?” Klaus said. “By, uh… Erica Blyt-something.”

“The Castle of Adventure by Enid Blyton.”

“The Castle of Adventure by Enid Blyton!” Klaus repeated. The employee looked a bit confused as to how Klaus recalled the name so confidently after struggling for a good five minutes, but didn’t protest. Soon enough, they had the book put in a festive bag. “Thank you!”

It was then that Ben noticed their siblings in the next aisle. “Shit, Klaus!”

Klaus must have noticed them too, because Ben had never seen him so worried before. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Klaus said, and they ran out the store.

Cut to Christmas Day.

They had all gathered around the tree in the living room, dressed in their pyjamas. The logical thing would be for Klaus to be handing out the gifts—he had insisted he was Santa Klaus, after all—but somehow they’d convinced Luther to do it. He was even wearing a Christmas hat.

“For Allison, from…” Luther sighed. “Santa Klaus and Ben on the Shelf—guys, this doesn’t even rhyme—”

“Just give her the gift!”

The next hour went on like this, opening their presents one by one, until they decided to hand them out simultaneously to save time. After all, lunch was almost ready, and everyone wanted to try Mom’s festive dishes.

“The Castle of Adventures,” Vanya, who was sitting next to Ben, said through a smile. “I can’t believe you.”

Ben shrugged in a teasing way, and Vanya pulled him in for a hug.

Ben remembered when they were kids, sneaking into each other’s rooms and reading books till their eyes hurt. They discovered Enid Blyton’s books together, and got lost in the mysteries she described. The Castle of Adventures was the only one from The Adventure Series they didn’t have.

So yes. Judging by Vanya’s reaction, he’d take that as a victory.

“Ben,” Luther said, handing him a gift.

He didn’t think much of it at first—he still hadn’t opened Five’s gift, and a book sounded like something he’d receive from him—but then he read the label.

For: Ben

From: Klaus

He must had been staring for hours, or so it felt like. How was it even possible that Klaus got him a—

Diego’s handwriting. “This is why you freaked when we saw Di and Vee in the bookstore, isn’t—”

Ben stopped when he realised Klaus was holding a gift of his own, looking at it in disbelief. A smile had crept up his face, and he turned to look at Ben with an even wider one. “Bitch.”

Number Six chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”

“I think it’s only fair that you open them at the same time,” Five said, not looking away from his stack of books. He seemed so proud of it, a smug look on his face.

And so they did.

Unlike with all his other gifts, Ben opened the blue wrapping paper with care, too scared to damage what was inside.

It wasn’t surprising to him that the gift was a book. What was surprising was the book it was.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

Ben ran his fingers across the cover, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually holding it.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t read the book before. Back when he and Klaus first left the Academy, they used to stop by the library once in a while, just so Ben could take a look at the books. And Klaus? He’d hold them open for him, turn the pages as Ben read along.

The Alchemist was the first book they ever read like this.

He almost started crying. Almost.

He was snapped back into reality when Klaus pushed him back on the floor, trapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Guessing you liked the present,” Ben joked, struggling to breathe—not like he needed the air.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” Klaus said, not letting go in the slightest. “You asshole. I love you.”

It was then that the first tear rolled down Ben’s cheek. “I love you too,” he said, finally hugging him back as best as he could.

It looked awkward and funny, and Allison had probably taken enough pictures to ruin their lives for good, but Ben didn’t care. If he could spend an eternity like this with Klaus, he would in a heartbeat.

“We’re going to listen to The Doors and The Hollies all night,” Klaus said, taking a laugh out of everyone.

When everyone went to bed that night, Numbers Four and Six stayed up listening to music through Klaus’ new music player, and reading Ben’s book the same way they had all these years ago.

For the first time in a really long time, Klaus slept like a baby, and Ben didn’t mind waiting for him to wake up.

[ehstarwar]

a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves (5/8)

Rey has always known Ben was attractive. But right now, he was perfection.

Rey felt almost guilty for all the debasement she was about to unleash on him.

Almost.

-

Ben and Rey spend her heat together.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.6K

Read on AO3

Notes: so sorry for the delay on this chapter! i threw a May the 4th party for my fam and my attention were... elsewhere. plz enjoy this party of sin as a lil treat. 

♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

(also i feel inclined to inform you that the editorial note for this chapter was 'Ch 5: Ben comes over; they fuck')

chapter 5: made with the fume of sighs

-

It’s hot when she wakes. Like, boil off your skin, 7th circle of hell, smokey inferno, hot. It’s not that she didn’t expect it, per se, but she didn’t realize just how bad it would be. Heats on suppressants were awful, to say the very least. She remembers the scratches that adorned her skin the first time she ever had a heat. The body marring she’d inflicted upon herself when the fire inside of her grew too hot. But they were bearable by herself (and a solid knotting dildo that she’d used her very first paycheck on).

But this? Rey would never survive on her own. 

When she realizes that she doesn’t have to, Rey instantly turns to Ben. He’s snoring softly next to her, chest moving slowly as he breaths. The soft glow from a lamp they’d forgotten to turn out in the hallway illuminated his skin. 

Rey has always known Ben was attractive. But right now, he was perfection. Rey felt almost guilty for all the debasement she was about to unleash on him. Almost.

She rolls over onto his chest, nose instantly going to the juncture between his shoulder and neck, inhaling as deeply as possible. His scent is so thick and rich, she can taste it on her tongue. Ben smells sinful.

Only when her hips start grinding on his thigh does Rey realize how wet she is. Her slick has clearly been flowing for some time now, and has drenched her cunt. It’s wet and sticky and feels so, so good moving against Ben.

He’s already hard when she wakes, and can feel him through the thin shorts of his boxers. Her hands dig into his sides, grounding her to him like she might float away if she doesn’t. She feels Ben wake with a sharp intake of breath, no doubt smelling her. Ben stays still below her for a moment, letting Rey use his body, until he finally comes to full consciousness. His whole body tightens when he realizes what she’s doing, and his hands grip her hips. 

Rey is putty in his hands, making no effort to combat him when he flips them over, just holding herself to him as tightly as she can manage. Ben mouths at her hair, kissing any part of Rey his mouth can find. Rey touches all the skin she can find, and nearly hisses when she feels the fabric of his boxers impede her way. 

She tries to shimmy them off of Ben, trying to get him naked and inside of her as soon a possible. Her hands shake against his skin as the fruitlessly pull at the offending fabric. Ben guides his hand down her body and to her shaking fist, soothing her in a way she didn’t know she needed. Ben moves with her to take of his boxers, and Rey is only reminded that she’s wearing a shirt when Ben rips it off of her.

Rips.

With his bare fist.

The omega in Rey positively keens. 

She’s panting against Ben as he continues his assault with his mouth, moving to her neck and sucking on her scent glands.  She babbles incoherently until she feels his cock, hard and dripping against her core. 

“Need you… alpha… need you…” Ben makes a sound of affirmation at her words, unable to pull himself off her to properly respond. When his hips cant and his head enters her for the second time that night, Rey gasps. 

Her hands fly to Ben’s head, tugging his hair into her fist as he seats himself fully inside of her. His groan against her skin sends delicious vibrations all the way down to her toes and Rey thinks she’s never felt more right. 

“So, so good… good for me… omega…” His words are whispered through clenched teeth. Ben bites at her collar bone, no doubt leaving even more purple hickeys dotting her skin. Rey tries to move her hips beneath his crushing weight, to get him to move inside of her like she so desperately needs.

When he starts thrusting, Ben does it like it’s painful. Like every movement test his self-restraint. Like he wants to piston inside of her and fuck her within an inch of her life. If Rey had the capability to speak in even fragmented segments, she would have begged him for that.

“Fast…Ben… please…”

He moves with purpose now, giving Rey a taste of the roughness the fire inside of her so desperately desires. Her mouth goes to his glands, licking and sucking at his like he did for her. The whimper he gives makes her arch her back even further into him. His hands hold onto her hips, at first to keep her steady, but now to move her along his cock. Ben stretches her every time he enters her, giving wondrous sensations along Rey’s spine. He moves her so easily, like she weighs nothing at all. 

The heat that Rey woke to, that she though was all consuming, became a blanket of comfort. Feeling the heat between them was satisfying in a way Rey had never thought possible. It’s still a lot, still clouding her head like a dense fog, but there’s a rightness in it. A sense that this is where she’s supposed to be. Beneath an alpha, this alpha, letting him have her in anyway he could want. It’s a drug that she’s quickly becoming addicted to.

Her orgasm crashes on her the moment his thumb finds her clit. If she screams, the blood rushing in her hears drowns it out. Her mouth flies to Ben’s, eagerly waiting for her. Ben works her through it, kissing Rey within an inch of her life, and using his body to bring out any pleasure that could possibly be given. 

Rey feels the hot splash of tears on her cheek, and when she opens her eyes, it shocking to see that they come from Ben.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her hand instantly flies to up cup his cheek. Bens’ eyes are wide as they stare down at her. He still moves within her, slower now, with that same painful restraint from earlier.

“I need this… I need you…” The flush in his face and pout in his lips make Ben look so beautiful that it’s impossible to look away. Rey pets his cheeks, brushing his hair from his sweaty forehead.

“You have me, Ben. You have me,” She tells him. His lips drop to hers in a bruising kiss as he comes. His hips are flush with hers that their body is nearly one, as he continues spilling into her. 

It’s a balm her body needed that comforts her in a way words won’t do justice. Even better than before, on the couch, before the worst of her heat. Now, in the throes of it, his come saves her.

His knot inflates and locks them together, not that either of them would ever dream of parting, but in such a secure way that Rey is overwhelmed with. Ben collapses on her, kissing and licking her skin and glands, knowing somehow that its what she needs. 

She knows the hot tears on her cheek this time come from her.

-

They drift between sleep and sex like breathing. One moment they’re basking in the feeling of cooling come, the next they’re passed out like they haven’t slept in days. Rey like it most when she wakes to Ben kissing down her skin, either in chaste, kind kisses that remind her there is thick layer of sweetness beneath this strong alpha, or in hot, wet kisses that makes her body feel like it’s on a bed of needles. 

She’s lost count of how many times they’ve fucked, certainly how many times they’ve come, but the sticky white fluid coating her thighs and sheets beneath her makes her think a lot. 

His head is resting on her stomach, hands holding onto the sides of her hips. Ben sores lightly against her skin as she cards through his hair. It’s a rare moment of clarity that is giving her the ability to bask in the moment, feel human again, if only just. It’s been… 36 hours? Maybe. The curtains are drawn closed so time telling is a bit harder. Especially since they don’t know where their phones are and don’t care to look

Rey feels Ben come to, snores ceasing. She smiles down at him as he lifts his head from her abdomen, sleep still evident in his eyes. 

“Hi,” She breaths, mentally mapping the moles on his face. Ben grumbles something before dropping his head back down, planting wet kisses on her stomach. 

“I think…” He begins, trailing kisses up to her face, “… that I’m going into rut.”

Rey hums, still running her fingers through his hair.

“How do you know? When it’s coming on, I mean?” She asks.

Ben pauses, seems to consider this while his nose works a line up and down her neck.

“My senses are on overdrive… like I can taste emotions. Last time you came I could taste it in my molars.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Its not. Not with you.”

If Rey were in any better state of mind, that admission would cause her to reel. To think of what he means and if he actually means it and it’s not just some pheromone induced statement meant to get into an omegas pants. 

But heat-Rey knows Ben means it. Means it for her. 

Rey feels the familiar lick of heat stir within her core and knows this brief reprieve will be ending soon and the lust induced haze will settle over her once more. 

“What are you like during rut?” Rey rushes to ask. She’s not worried about it in the slightest, just curious to know before her hindbrain takes over.

“Posessive.”

Ben doesn't elaborate, but they both know it’s enough of an explanation. 

-

The slick, slapping sounds of their hips meeting repeatedly almost drowns out the grunts Ben gives and the moans Rey can’t contain. He is spread on his knees, hands holding Rey by the waist as he moves her up and down his cock. 

“Want… want behind… you behind… please…” Her voice is broken as she whines her request. The blurry view of Ben she has is enough to see him clench his jaw tighter.

“No,” He grunts out. Rey gasps.

“Please alpha… please.” 

“If I take you from behind,” Ben punctuates his words with a deep thrust that makes Rey feel him in her throat, “I’ll bite you.” The words are spoke though clenched teeth, with a voice that sounds like its pulled from the depths of his vocal cords.

“Bite me, alpha. Mate me, mate me please…”

“Omega,” He warns.

“Please, alpha… mate me, fill me with your pups… please, alpha,” Rey cries.

Ben’s knot catches as he comes and comes and comes.

-

“Please…”

Rey protrudes her neck out even further, chin all the way pushed into her chest. 

“Rey…” His voice is a whine, his resolve is breaking.

“Want you to mate me, alpha.” “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do, I do! Please, Ben,” She sobs. 

His head falls on her shoulder blade, and she can feel the tension in his jaw. 

Ben has his arms wrapped around her center as his cock pushes into her, much too slowly for her liking. But alpha is in control now, and Rey doesn’t dare move against him.

“Baby… I can’t.”

Rey goes to beg him again, but his hand latches onto her clit, circling it until her lips can’t form words.

-

It’s cool when Ben wakes.

The a/c must have kicked into overdrive while he and Rey were… fornicating. His room is frigid and a stark comparison to the heat they’ve been wallowing around in for days now. Rey must be cold to because she’s huddled up beneath him, body curled around his and leg hooked over him.

Her small hands are balled into fist holding up one of the many blankets he brought over when they first got here. She’s warm against him, but not in the steaming hot way she had been all weekend. That, and her scent, tell Ben that her heat is over.

The stab of disappointment he feels hollows some part of him out.  

Ben should get them up, give her some water and food, make her take a shower, then drive her and her nest to her apartment, with a friendly peck on the cheek while he thanks her for a much-needed vacation.

That’s the proper way to handle this. It was a means to an end. She went into an inevitable heat, putting him to a rut, and they fucked like rabbits because it’s what biology wanted. 

Biology did, however, fail to explain the intense feelings Ben still felt when he looked at her. Or the way he always held her tighter when she said his proper name. Or how hard he came when she was begging him to mate her. Or the surge of love he felt when she asked him to give her pups.  

Ben looked down at Rey, still sound asleep against his chest. 

He knew he would never recover from this. That now his life was her. That it didn’t matter how Ben didn’t sink his teeth into the pulsing gland on the back of her neck and mark his territory forever; Ben was Rey’s, mating be damed. 

Rey’s face scrunched up before her breathing caught, coming too much like Ben had. When her hazel eyes opened up and landed on Bens’ face, he felt his heart stop.

“You’re awake.”

He nods.

Instead of getting up and doing what Ben fears the most, Rey nuzzles back into him, inhaling his skin like its not the only thing she’s smelled for the past few days.

“My heat is over.” Ben doesn’t know whether he says it for her benefit or his.

“Yeah.”

They stay silent for a moment before she speaks again, this time her voice is even softer than before.

“You didn’t mate me.”

The twinge of disappointment he detects in her voice make his throat feel tight.

“Did you want me to?”

It’s a loaded question, one that shouldn’t be asked to an omega coming out of a heat. Ben needs to hear her answer all the same. 

“I asked you to.” Her hand comes up to brush along the gland, feeling the unmarked skin. Rey looks back up at Ben, eyes wide and filled with an emotion he can’t quiet place. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have asked that of you… especially in rut. You’re a stronger alpha than most.”

Ben should feel a bout of alpha pride at that complement. He should beam and flex his muscles and buy a monster truck just to back up what she’s said.

But he doesn’t.

For all the times Ben has wished for strength and resolve, he wished it weren’t given to him. That he was weak enough to have broken down and bitten her and mated with Rey and finally confessed what he felt for her went far beyond the friendly rapport he would have to sink back into. That the sense of belonging he felt with Rey and no one else would finally come to head and they’d be connected for the rest of time. That he would mate her and marry her and have a hoard of children and grow old together and be remembered as each others.

Ben hopes she can’t see the tears welling in his eyes.

“It would have been wrong of me… to do that to you. Without your consent… your mentally stable consent.”

She looks at him for a moment more, face unreadable even in the pale sunlight that is peaking into the room. When she rest her head against his chest once more, only moving her hands to caress his skin, Ben exhales a sigh of relief and prays that this moment would last forever. 

-

come say hi on twitter! 

[iloveyouthree-thousand]

and we might not be able to save everyone (but I’ll be damned if I can’t save you)

I wrote this a while back, but I never posted it on here, so I cleaned it up a little and decided to put it up because, god help me, I can’t think of anything new to write.

Warning: this fic contains mentions of suicide. Please stay safe.

/ / / 

"Kid, I'm going to need you to listen to me—just this once—and I promise I'll let you go to bed at whatever time you want for the rest of your long, long life," Tony starts, his attempt at being calm becoming less and less convincing with every passing second, "but I need you to step away from that ledge."

"I just wanted to help, Mr. Stark. I just—I didn't want anybody to get hurt," Peter stammers, a dark blue jacket and jeans fluttering in the wind while his face—his horribly pallid face—was left exposed to the night air.

The kid's innocence had worn off steadily throughout the past few years. Oh, he still had a heart of gold and manners fit for the Queen of England herself, and you would be hard-pressed to find someone who still didn't see eighteen-year-old Peter Parker as the living embodiment of an actual fucking ray of sunshine. This kid, despite losing nearly everything he ever loved, never ceased to be the count-your-blessings-glass-half-full kind of person. It was remarkable.

Behind that happy-go-lucky exterior, though, Tony knew he hid a world of hurt.

He knew that several times a month Peter retreated to a soundproof room in the basement of the Compound and buried himself in a pillow, only to return hours later with blood in his ears and looking like he had seen a ghost. He knew that sometimes Peter went home and held his eyes shut until the sounds of Ben's cries were drowned out by sleep. He knew that, tucked into the back of his closet, was the small black suit and the shoes he had worn to his parents' funeral, still caked with the same dirt that he watched the groundskeepers cover his parents' graves with, long after everyone else had left.

Tony also knew a thing or two about emotional baggage—about carrying around the loss of people you love well after everyone else has moved on. He also knew that Peter would grin and bear it for as long as he lived, hiding behind the Spider-Man mask by night and behind his own bubbly façade during the day.

Peter took the worst things that life could throw at him and turned them into strength and resilience and unrestrained compassion, and it was precisely those character traits that had Spider-Man parading around a children's hospital that morning. 

The visit was part of a charity event to raise money for and put smiles on the faces of terminally ill children, and Peter had been looking forward to the visit for weeks with an excitement that was palpable. Tony had gone as himself, leaving the Iron Man suit at home while still giving the kid some much-needed moral support. He stood in the background, not bothering to hide his pride as Peter displayed his webbing abilities for the children, a grin no doubt spread across his face under the mask.

And then everything had gone wrong.

A maniac had heard about the hospital visit. An explosion destroyed an entire wing of a hospital. Sixteen people were dead in a little less than a second, before Peter or Tony could even blink. Eleven of them were children. There was nothing Spider-Man could do but watch in horror.

The Daily Bugle headline for the evening had read 'Spider-Man: Don't our children deserve better?'

Tony would’ve purchased every single copy, would’ve strung the ratty journalist up by his toes if it meant that Peter would never see the stupid headline, but the damage was done. 

And now his kid was standing on a roof, ready to jump into the wind like he’d done so many times before, but there were no webs to catch him this time.

"Peter, it's not your fault. Those people—those kids, there was nothing we could do."

Tony was in his suit, poised to catch the boy if the unthinkable were to happen. They were sixteen stories up, one for each of the victims that Peter hadn't been able to save. Rhodey was also suited up, on call to swoop in just in case. No one was going to be scraping Peter Parker off of the sidewalk tonight.

Peter's hands were trembling at his sides, no, his whole body was trembling. His eyes were wide-open, locked onto the streets below, and he was crying so hard he was hiccuping, snot dripping down his nose and tears pooling in his eyes. He looked like a shadow out there—a broken, fleeting wisp of the boy Tony knew and loved.

Peter lacked the physical energy to fight anymore. At some point, even Atlas buckles under the weight of the world. Everyone has their breaking point. And while Tony was certain Peter's name wouldn't be written in the obituaries tomorrow—he wouldn't let that happen—he was terrified that something inside of Peter had finally given in. It didn't matter if Tony or Rhodes snatched him out of the air or not, if Peter jumped, a part of him had already died.

"Pete, look at me, please." His impossibly wide eyes were still vacant and frozen, but they managed to train on Tony.

"I've been here, at the end of my rope, when it was too much. I know what it feels like, that helplessness, that absence of control. Because you're a superhero, right," he chokes, "a card-carrying member of the 'earth's mightiest heroes' club, but they don't tell you when you sign up how much it absolutely sucks.”

And it does, it sucks and it’s not fair, because for every person you save there are dozen more that you lose, innocent people that die without a hero to fight for them. 

“They don't sit you down and explain that sometimes the bad guys win, and that most of the time, even when they don't, the good guys lose. We lose and we lose and we lose over and over again."

"Death doesn't discriminate, Pete," the tears are streaming down his face now, "it takes and takes and takes and you know what the worst part is? We get knocked on our ass again and again, but we have to keep fighting. We have to keep living and carrying the weight of the ones that aren’t so lucky and it’s hard. I know that sometimes it feels easier to just break the cycle, to just jump and let it all be over with. Trust me, I know. But heroes--they have to get back up, even when it feels like there’s nothing left to fight for, even if it sucks and even if it’s not fair, because that’s what heroes do.” 

Peter's eyes shift nervously to the bustling street hundreds of feet below him.

"Yea, yea," he whispers, "with great power comes great responsibility."

"Yea, kid,” Tony says softly, his words carrying in the wind, “and I wish more than anything that you didn't have to bear that responsibility, that you could just be a normal kid worrying about normal things. But I know that some higher being out there gave you these powers knowing that you could handle them—that you could use them to change the world. And as much as I want to kick that someone's ass for robbing you of your childhood and making this your life," he gestures to the trembling child, "we need you Peter."

"You've never had a selfish bone in that entire body of yours, it's infuriating, really," he chuckles drily, "and I know you didn't suddenly grow one tonight. Peter, think about May. You’re her whole world. And Ned, and MJ; Peter those kids need you. Queens needs its favorite superhero. And I--I have always been selfish, so I’m not afraid to admit that I need you too," his voice is so thin now, but he desperately tries to keep his cool composure as Peter turns back to stare out into the night sky, tears precariously close to falling, his chest heaving in a way that makes Tony's heart skip a beat.

"We can't always save everyone, but I'll be damned if I can’t save you. We can work through this together, in time, but first I need you come here. Please, Pete,” he says, and his voice is breaking, he’s breaking, “please, just come here."

It takes him a minute of staring at Tony and then the ground below, but he takes a step back and then two and three and in less than a moment he's in Tony's arms, tears leaving hot trails down his face. Tony stumbles out of the suit, taking the kid to ground with him, clutching him like he might disappear at any second.

"This world doesn't deserve you kid. I don't deserve you."

"Mr. Stark, I-I'm s-s-sorry," he sobs, gripping the man's shoulders and bleeding tears into the fabric of his expensive suit.

"Nope, no apologies, not tonight kid." 

Tony thinks back to one gruesome night, back when he was still a kid—just around Peter's age. Howard Stark had come in and seen the pills strewn everywhere, his son lying in a daze, eyes glossed over, clinging to life. He remembered the screaming, Tony, Tony! How could you do this—how—how could you do this to us? And then it was a mess of hospital lights and a tube down his throat and he had pulled through, but Howard barely even looked at him for the next couple of weeks, and it just made him curse those damn pills for not taking him soon enough. He knew his father cared, that he was probably more scared that night than he'd ever admit, but that feeling of utter loneliness in the darkest moment of his life is something that Tony never wants Peter to feel.

So he just holds Peter, reaching a hand up to brush his hair back before resting his chin on the top of his head. His fingers toy with the navy material of Peter's sweater, needing to just feel him, as he repeats, whispering into his hair, "not tonight kid."

[novemberpest]

many ways to give in - prologue

summary:  All she wanted to do was take a road trip, drop her car off at her brother's place and then get back home. She really, really didn't need Sebastian to come along for the ride. For some reason he was there anyway.

pairing: Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character

word count: 2.7k

warnings: none

a/n: look, I don’t know what I’m doing. does anyone? Sebastian is just too pretty. that’s the only reason I can give for this.

this will have about 8 or 9 chapters, i haven’t fully decided yet. this will be 18+, expect smut soon-ish. warnings will be updated for each chapter. this isn’t beta read.

please let me know what you think, I need validation.

(you can also read this on AO3)

The apartment was so packed, you could barely make out the walls. People of all ages were mingling and drinking, some of them deep in conversation, others shrieking over the droning music. It was much too warm, despite the unusually cold September weather. New York City was celebrating one of their greatest and it seemed like everyone came to get a piece of her.

 Dante fell deep into the cushions of the couch, barely keeping her glass of champagne from spilling. She enjoyed these kinds of get-togethers — they were far from her busy day-to-day life and there was just something about being a nameless face in a big crowd that appealed to her. Or maybe it was the opportunity to meet interesting people; because, really, if you’d meet them anywhere it was at one of Holly’s parties. As the owner of various high-end bars throughout the city she had connections to all kinds of people, and she’d never been stingy when it came to handing out invites. A true social butterfly — although Dante wouldn’t ever compare herself to her best friend, she still liked taking up that mantle every now and then.

 Holly’s flavor of the day was cute, there was no denying it. Jessica sat on Holly’s lap, a hand knotted into the thick hair at the nape of her neck and giggled like a five-year-old at a children’s birthday party. Which admittedly wasn’t too far from reality, seeing as this was a birthday party — Holly’s 36th to be precise — and despite not looking like she was five, there was also no way Jessica was actually 26. 

 Dante loved her best friend dearly, but her taste in women had always been questionable.

 “So Dante is a boy’s name right? Why do you have a boy’s name?” An obnoxious giggle spilled over Jessica's lips. “You don’t look like a boy.” 

 Dante took a long drink from her champagne flute, wondering how soon the alcohol would set in. She tried to focus on the projector someone had set up on the far wall. It was currently showing some artsy black-and-white film she didn’t recognize — not that she’d recognize many films. “My father was really into racehorses, but too fucking poor to afford one. Naming his children after them was as close as he could get, I suppose”, she explained in a deadpan voice. “My brother’s name is Secretariat.” 

 Holly’s girlfriend stared at her with glassy eyes, and Dante was sure, if her head had been see-through, she would’ve been able to see the new information slowly trickle through the lump of tissue she called her brain. Then, finally, she laughed. “You’re funny!”

 Dante threw Holly a long look. She, however, only gave an apologetic shrug and pressed a kiss to the temple of the woman in her lap. “Bunny, why don’t you go and get us another bottle of wine? You know, the white with the pretty label?”

 Jessica jumped up with all the motivation of a kindergarten child told to go get their drawing pencils. Dante genuinely hoped she would take a while.

 “Look, before you say anything-”

 “You cannot be serious.”

 “You say that, but honestly, she’s not as bad as it seems, you just need to get to know her.”

 “Please, don’t make me get to know her.”

 At this, Holly threw a crumpled up tissue at Dante’s face. “Shut up, we can’t all be celibate loners like you.”

 Dante only snorted into her drink, but didn’t reply. Her eyes wandered through the room, mentally listing all the birthday guests she recognized. When her eyes found a familiar head of tousled brown hair near the front door she paused for a second. 

 “Or whatever it is the kids call it nowadays when they’re in love with someone for years but are too afraid to, you know, just go for it”, Holly added with a knowing glint in her eyes.

 “Shut up.” Dante was really, really not in the mood to talk about him today. Which was funny, because Holly’s birthday party was the only time she ever saw him. A week ago she’d been so sure she’d be able to deal with him but now she just wanted to hide behind the sofa.

 “I’m just saying, as far as I know he doesn’t have a girlfriend right now. And he’ll actually be in the city for a while.”

 “Holly, please, we’ve been over this. Last year was a fucking disaster, and I don’t want to get back to this, like, at all.” Dante swallowed hard. “Besides, I doubt he’d be interested. Sebastian was the one who-”

 She stopped.

 Who did what? What even did he do? One year later, Dante still wasn’t sure why she was actually mad at him.

 “I know”, Holly supplied quietly. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

 Dante nodded, her expression carefully blank. She watched him get pulled into a hug and out of her immediate line of sight. A new group of people had arrived and were slowly pushing their way into the apartment, carrying various bottles of liquor. The music was just bassy and loud enough to effectively drown out most conversations from where they were sitting on the couch, and the champagne bubbling in her stomach actually made her calm down a little. Maybe she’d get through this evening — maybe even more successfully than the other five birthdays she’d celebrated with Holly in this place.

 Her eyes didn’t stray from the front door for long, even when Jessica arrived back with a bottle of red wine clutched in her hands.

 /////

 “So when are you going to Seattle?”

 Dante had emptied the bottle of champagne and was now on her second glass of white wine. Her head was pleasantly fuzzy — that was the only way she could explain to herself why she didn’t run away as soon as Sebastian and Rebecca sat down opposite of her. 

 She shrugged her shoulders, trying to formulate an answer to Rebecca’s question, while blatantly ignoring how his eyes suddenly snapped up from his beer to focus on her. “I’m not sure yet, I’ve got to drop the car off by the end of the month. I was thinking of making it an actual road trip to get away from the city for a little while.” Her eyes flashed to his for only a second but that was enough to shoot fire through her veins. She really hoped her face was already flushed from the alcohol she’d had.

 “You’re going to Seattle?”, shrieked Holly as she reappeared with a noticeably flustered Jessica by her side. She dropped down on the armrest next to Sebastian and slung an arm over his shoulders. “So is my man Sebastian.”

 There was a definite challenge in her eyes. Dante tried her hardest to ignore it. 

 “You are?”, asked Rebecca, the brunette blissfully unaware of the mounting tension between them.

 Sebastian cleared his throat. “Yeah, actually. One of my friends is getting married in two weeks.”

 “In two weeks?” Holly’s grin widened as Dante whispered an inaudible but heartfelt No. “That’s perfect timing! The two of you should just travel together. That’s better for the environment, right?”

 Holly — flying all across the country five times a week, can’t spell recycling to save her life, owning a wardrobe big enough for five families — was on top of her bullshit game tonight. 

 Sebastian’s eyes met her own and Dante could have sworn her heart stopped for a second. She saw him consider the possibility — but fuck her, if she knew what to expect from him. She didn’t understand him on the best of her days.

 “I was planning to go with Ben and Muriel”, he replied in an even tone. Relief and, Dante was afraid to admit, a bit of disappointment flooded her veins as she took a long sip from her wine. “But they had to cancel because Muriel apparently can’t get off work.” 

 She was already choking on her wine before his words fully registered. When her coughing abated, she almost hissed at him. “Why don’t you book a flight?”

 “They’re all fully booked.” His reply came fast, sharp and unexpectedly smug.

 Dante didn’t have an answer to that. She could only stare at him as she tried to understand what is happening. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief and the side of his mouth lifted just so nearly drove her insane. He knew exactly what he was doing.

 “You can’t refuse him, Dee!”, Holly cried from the side in a way that made Dante want to punch her in the face. As if she actually believed his bullshit.

 But Holly was right. 

 She couldn’t refuse him.

 So without another word Dante got up and left the room.

 /////

 It was well past four when Dante decided to call it a night. She hadn’t seen much more of Holly after she’d tried to force Sebastian on her, but Dante wasn’t disappointed. Holly was a social animal through and through, always moving from one person to another to talk as much as she could. Holly was also really fucking drunk and Dante much preferred her best friend sober.

 Dante had spent the night carefully avoiding Sebastian, which wasn’t too hard considering the huge apartment and the sheer mass of friends that Holly had invited. It seemed like he wasn’t looking for her either, which suited her just fine. It was fine.

 Carding through the pile of coats and jackets in Holly’s guest room was a fucking pain. Dante almost moaned with delight, when she finally felt the soft material of her coat under her fingers. She swayed a little in her heels when she pulled it free and turned to leave, trying her hardest not to think of him and how she’d touched him in this room before, or how he looked at her earlier and- 

 The music was still too loud and despite the hour it didn’t seem any less crowded. Dante pushed her way through the front door, almost stumbled when she reached the stairs, but some other guest, a man with a bright grin and even brighter blue hair, quickly grabbed her wrist to steady her. She thanked him with a tight smile, so relieved to finally be on her way home that she didn’t much care about her clumsiness. Carefully she maneuvered past more people hanging out on the stairs, apparently just as content a little further away from the party’s epicenter. Dante could hardly blame them.

 When she finally stepped outside the crisp night air let Dante breathe a little easier. 

 It also made her realize that she was really fucking drunk.

 She took an embarrassingly long time to push her arms through her sleeves — her coat was somehow upside down twice — and searched through her pockets for some cigarettes. It wasn’t a habit she indulged in often, but she felt like she deserved one after getting out of this party alright.

 It had to be her tired mind or her one-sided focus that kept her from noticing the door falling shut behind her a second time. But when she couldn’t find her lighter in either of her pockets, a cigarette already stuck between her lips, a hand appeared in front of her face, a lighter clutched between its fingers. 

 Cold dread washed over her like a tidal wave.

 She raised her eyes from his hand up his shoulders to finally settle on his face. Dante cursed her luck. She’d almost made it.

 “What, are you gonna take it?” The low timbre of his voice cut through the night like a hot knife through butter. When she looked up at him Sebastian was smiling, teasing in that soft way that only he could.

 He clicked his thumb and a little flame popped out of the lighter. 

 Dante looked at it for a second, then plucked the cigarette from between her lips. “I’m not your bitch.”

 She took the lighter from his fingers, trying to ignore their warmth, the feel of them, and lit her cigarette up herself.

 “Never said you were.” The smile was still there, but his gaze seemed a little less playful.

 “That’s what this is though”, she mumbled, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “when men light up their girl’s cigarettes. It makes them their bitch.”

 She met his eyes in a sort of challenge, not even knowing what reaction she was trying to provoke. 

 He huffed out a laugh, looking over her shoulder for a second, before focusing back on her. “You’re not my bitch. Never intended for you to be that.”

 His answer made her deflate. She handed him back his lighter and stuffed one of her hands into her pockets, dropping her gaze to her shoes. “What do you want, Sebastian?”

 “How are you doing? I haven’t really seen you all night”, he asked instead, ignoring her question. 

 Dante let out a long breath, looking down the street — barely seeing anything with how fast her mind was spinning. She’d actually thought she could break their streak, huh?

 “This is the sixth year”, she simply said. When she faced him again, she hoped her expression was as detached as she felt at that moment — numb, even.

 But the way he looked at her wasn’t at all what she expected. His gaze dropped down to her heels — she was almost at eye-level with him now — and carefully travelled up her whole body, mustering her, filing away how the past twelve months had changed her. “You look great.”

 The cold night had nothing on the heat that exploded in her belly. Dante had seen that gaze before, knew its implications with every fiber of her being. But she couldn’t do it, not again, not this time. She’d burnt her fingers on this candle often enough and she’d finally learned to move on.

 She told him as much. “I can’t do this. Not again.”

 They were silent for a while. Dante had finished her cigarette by the time he spoke again.

 “I wasn’t playing around earlier, you know. I’d like it, if you let me tag along to Seattle. Would be great to get a bit of fresh air.” 

 Dante didn’t ask the questions that were rolling around in her mouth. 

 Am I your bit of fresh air? 

 What happens after you’ve gotten your fill? 

 Will I see you next year for Holly’s birthday again?

 She didn’t understand what she saw when she looked at him, like the information reaching her brain was jumbled, not translating correctly. His face seemed rougher and softer at the same time; older, somehow, although it had only been a year. His eyes were always the same though, cutting through her much easier than she felt comfortable with. Sebastian made her feel all hot and all cold, and it was just too much for her right then.

 Dante rubbed a hand over her eyes, squeezed them shut in hopes of drowning out the pounding of her heart and the fuzziness inside her brain. She’d always been so bad at saying no. 

 “Look, you still have my number, right?”, she didn’t give him time to reply, because maybe he didn’t and then she wouldn’t hear from him again and then everything would be fine and good, and perfect, really, “Call me in the next couple days. I’m not deciding on this right now.”

 His expression was boyishly hopeful when she looked at him again. “I’ll do that.” Sebastian reached for her but stopped himself quickly enough. “Thank you.”

 Dante nodded, allowed herself to look at him a little longer — but turned to leave before her thoughts could turn silly again. She was ten steps away when he called her name again.

 “Dante!”, and his smile was so lovely and warm, she almost went back and — “Have a good night.”

 And she gave a little wave, smiled too, hoped it didn’t look as lost as she felt, but —

 There was something hot and tight coiled in her stomach and she really, really wished she had come up with some excuse for tonight. 

 She had learned her lesson with him, right?

 When she arrived home, she decided. For once in her life she would tell someone no, she would take this trip on her own because she’d been looking forward to it for a while now. 

 And Sebastian — she’d moved on. He was a grown man, he would find a way to get to Seattle without her.

 This would work out absolutely fine, she knew.

 Except when she closed her eyes, she saw his face, his smile; felt the ghost of his fingers on hers and — suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore.

[elliot-orion]

Can you answer 1, 5, and 44 for all those characters you mentioned?

heck yea! thanks! this is going to get very long tho so brace yourselves lol. I’m going to do them grouped by characters.

Ben

1. What is one word to shut them up?

I’m going to assume this means like a word that gets them to stop talking for a not so great reason and not just “quiet!” but i might be wrong and just be in the mood for some angst. For Ben, it’s kind of moot because they don’t talk, but saying anything at all with an angry tone would definitely get them to freeze up.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear.

Oh my god you have no idea how perfect this question is because fear is a Huge aspect of this story considering Ben is Nightmare and their powers completely revolve around fear. Ok so, surface fear is sleeping, which has a very not surface level reason, but i’d still count it. They will do fucking anything to not sleep (tho funny enough they don’t drink caffeine, it sends their powers all wack). A repressed fear... hmm im not sure if this means like a fear they don’t acknowledge or fear that they have but don't know the reason for. I’m going to go with it just being a slightly less bad but still big fear, and/or something they don’t know the reason for but still are afraid of if i can think of something. So for repressed fear, it’d be showing their wrists. They don’t know why it’s so anxiety provoking for them, they never cut and their only bad scars are on their neck not their wrists, but if they aren’t wearing long sleeves or dont have bracelets covering their wrists then they get antsy and anxious. For Deep Dark Fear, i could list just about any of the fears Carter left them with, sure, but the Carter shit really falls under the “trauma” category rather than simple “fear” category since the reason they are afraid of shit like making noise and people being mad is because of their trauma. So i’m going to go with their powers. Their powers scare the shit out of them, partially bc they literally see and hear everyone’s worst nightmares whenever they are near someone. they are constantly surrounded by fear and always have been. that’s fucking awful honestly. but also bc when THEY get scared, other people suffer since they are an empathetic type. and they dont want to hurt anyone. So... yea.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

We’re back to the sleep thing here. god this kid needs a five day nap, they are always exhausted. But dreams are Carter’s domain, and if they sleep, he can find them, hurt them, whatever he wants. So they can’t, not until Carter is gone.

Oliver

1. What is one word to shut them up? 

Ollie has a few words/phrases that almost always will send them into the past at some point. “Duck!” or “Grenade!” or anything that might be shouted on a battlefield, certain quotes from historical figures, some names or dates, stuff like that. He goes nonverbal when he’s particularly lost, so that’s a surefire way to get him to shut up.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear. 

Ok so, surface-level is ovens. He will not use an oven, or any microwaves, or any kitchen appliances that could start a fire. He also refuses to take a bath and prefers someone being in the other room when he takes showers. This is 100% because he gets lost in time so easily that he’ll forget what’s going on in the present time. I cannot stress to you how many times this kid has almost set his house on fire bc he got lost in 1620 and forgot he had the oven on. Baths usually make him head back to a time with lots of water, be it in the middle of a fucking ocean or during a flood or whatever, and he hates that bc usually, he doesn’t show up in a nice safe place and he’ll feel exactly like he’s drowning even if he isn’t physically drowning. Showers he slips a lot in for similar reasons, hence why he prefers someone who’s listening nearby. For repressed fear, he’s afraid of dying, even if he acts fine with it. No one acknowledges it besides the other Elementals, but Oliver is the Time Elemental. Time isn’t a recognized Element, but the Elementals just Know. Even though he’s just 18, he’s only got a few years left, and he’s just got to put on a brave face bc there’s not much he can do about it. For Deep Dark Fear, he’s terrified of losing the remaining time he’s got left. Even though he’s only 18, because of PlotTM, he’s only got a couple of years before he burns up, and he’s terrified to lose it.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t? 

Watch documentaries. Funnily enough, Ollie is a massive history nerd, always has been, and he used to watch a ton of documentaries before he got his powers. But even nature or space ones will inevitably make him forget when he is, and so he can’t watch any. He also can’t read any historical fiction books (which sucked when he was younger, his favorite book series had been the Magic Treehouse) for a similar reason. He can read history textbooks, though, since they just list facts and dont show footage or make it seem like it IS that time. 

Morty

1. What is one word to shut them up?

hmm. tricky... Let’s go with Hotspot. If you’ve read sparks fly, you get why.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear. 

Surface level is probably dogs. He’s been attacked by multiple dogs, multiple times since most animals don't vibe with his whole dark aura of death thing. But getting attacked by dogs is the one that stuck most. He gets nervous around Ollie’s service dog, Edison, but Edison is so well trained he just doesn’t care and being near him actually helps Morty with that fear. Repressed fear is definitely death. Which yea, i know, that’s weird considering he’s the death elemental but hear me out. 1 unlike sparky who gets overwhelmed by too much electricity, Morty gets basically drunk when he’s around too much death. Hospitals, battlefields, large graveyards, etc, and the thing is, he loves that feeling. and it scares him how much he loves it, partially bc he knows what the last death elemental was like and doesn't want to be like them (for reference, the guy went on a mass murder spree and started a couple of civil wars since the death elemental will live until the high rates of death stop, even if it’s past when Elementals normally die and you know they didn’t want to die). 2 Morty’s very existence is a sign that mass death is coming but there are no wars going on and that scares the shit out of him. 3 One Eye literally planted the fear of his powers, killing, and death in his mind to try and limit the damage he could cause and to prevent another situation like the last death elemental. For Deep Dark Fear, Morty is terrified that he can’t trust his own memories or even what he knows about himself. One Eye manipulated his memories and mind so so much and for so long. Morty’s always doubting what he knows and what he believes bc its not like One Eye HASNT planted shit, and he’s always on edge bc he doesnt even feel safe in his own damn mind.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

As of the start of the story? Be with Ben. For most of the time the two have known each other, they were online friends, until they both ran away together when they were 17. But about 4 months ago Morty left to go back to the SA headquarters, even though it’s literally part of his biggest fear to go back, because Ben was facing a double threat of either Carter getting them, or the SA, and Morty is determined to get the SA to leave them alone (ok technically the Supers Association and Heroes do leave them alone bc One Eye is scared shitless of Ben, but they send assassins like Scout and Hall after them all the fuckin time, and not all of them have sorta morals like the triad). In general tho, hear Ben’s voice. He just wants Ben to feel safe. (Morty is a fucking romantic no matter how tough he likes to act i swear)

I’ve got to do my interview now and this post is long enough as is, so I’ll do the same questions for Matty and Blue afterwards!! thanks!!

[purplesurveys]

812

Is there anyone you work with that you don't get along with? Why? I'm always civil with everyone, and when I get mad at someone I make sure it’s because they really fucked up on a task, and not just because I don’t like their personality or whatever. I’ve always just felt like butting heads with someone is only going to affect my work, so I try not to clash with people. If I don’t like someone for any reason, I usually just minimize my interactions with them. Have you ever been romantically interested in a coworker? ...Does a classmate count? I started crushing on Gab back in high school lol. Have you ever been romantically involved with a coworker? ^ Same question. Do you have any thoughts on a 14-year age-gap? Not a fan. Age gaps in general scare me away, though I think it’s because I’ve only been with someone of the same age. What is the game you're currently playing most often on your phone? Bitlife. It’s like a simpler Sims.

What is your go-to Starbucks order? MAN OH MAN does this question make me miss coffee shops. I get a grande iced caramel macchiato. I get it as is because having so many customization options just makes me overwhelmed. Do you have any friends that you're drifting apart from? I don’t think so. We all just have to be apart right now but once we can see each other again, I’m 110% sure it’ll only be like we hadn’t seen each other in a day. Are you close to someone who is mentally unwell? I think all my friends aren’t mentally okay to some extent. It’s pretty common in our age group. What phone do you have? iPhone 8. What is the last thing you ordered for delivery? Andrew and I had Chinese food delivered to Skywalk after a particularly brutal verbal beatdown from our thesis adviser who had told us to revise big chunks of our thesis ASAP. I was super stressed so I allowed myself to splurge on the Hong Kong noodles I really liked and I specifically asked for three fucking packets of peanut sauce to drown my noodles in lmao. Do you have an opinion on adopting/purchasing a pet? It’s my preferred way of getting a pet. Adopt and don’t shop, plz. What's your favorite chain restaurant? YABUUUUUUUU. If I reach the point where I only had ₱400 left to my name, I’d still most likely spend it on their katsu.  Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? No...well, Gabie is part Turkish, so kinda? She’s still mostly Filipino though. Have you ever read any of your idol’s books/autobiographies? Out of all the people I fangirl over, only AJ has produced an autobiography and yes, I have her book. Oh I have One Direction’s first book too, but I haven’t been able to buy the next ones that came out. Do you own any succulents? Nope. Can’t take care of plants to save my life. When was the last time you climbed a tree? I’ve never done that, all the trees here have red ants. :/ If you have any pets, how would you describe their personalities? Kimi’s an absolute diva and chooses to follow, listen to, and be sweet with only me. He’ll be super nice when he’s asking for food, but will be quick to stop minding you completely once he’s gotten enough food from you. We give him a pass since he’s a senior dog now, but he’s definitely the snobby type hahaha. What is your phone's background? My home screen is of Hayley Williams; my lock screen is of Beyoncé and Jay-Z on stage. Who played at the last concert you went to? Paramore. Who is playing at the next concert you're attending? I’m really fucking hoping it’s going to be Beyoncé because she’s the only artist left I have yet to see lmao but if not, I’m most likely going to see Paramore again. What's your favorite amusement park ride? I like riding the octopus, but only the one in my high school’s fair. What's your favorite deep-fried food item? Corndogs, for sure. Why were you last pulled over? I got confused with the road rules in Alabang and ended up stopping at a red light albeit over a pedestrian lane. Stilllllll pissed about that instance to this day and I’ve never gotten over how rude the traffic enforcer was towards me. Do you have any friends that own a private lake? I don’t think so, we don’t have a lot of lakes here to begin with. What was the last thing you've done on the water? Take a shower, if I understood this question correctly. Canoeing or kayaking? I kayaked in Palawan when we were there and it was so peaceful and felt like absolute heaven. I’d relive that experience over and over again. What's your favorite lake? Like I said, we don’t really have a lot of lakes here. I don’t even know enough to pick a favorite. Are you cool with swimming in a lake? Sure, why not. Do you have a drone? I don’t. I’m not interested in having one. Do you have a smart watch? Nope. I’d love one but tbh I end up losing every watch I ever try to wear, so buying one would be pointless. What's your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant? It’s a bar rather than a restaurant, but Exile was such a fun place to be in. I still don’t understand why they had to close down so suddenly when sooooo many college kids were going there every single day. It’s since been replaced by this random shrimp restaurant, though I think that already closed too since no one ever went there because EVERYONE PREFERS EXILE. It was a very important part of my early college years and it helped me get out from my slump, so I’ll always be grateful that it was around at some point. What do you order from there? I don’t even remember anymore, it shut down two or three years ago. I’ll see if their menu is still up on Zomato... andddd it’s not. It’s like it never existed, sigh. What's your favorite ice-cream flavor? Cookies and cream. They jack up the prices for Ben & Jerry’s here like CRAZY so even though I’ve wanted to try so many of their flavors, I’ve never gotten to try it. I’m not paying ₱500-₱600 for ice cream. Do you have any t-shirts from any local businesses? Yes, I have a couple of shirts from this local business called Artwork. Their employees, who are also artists, produce original designs on t-shirts, bags, pins, shoes, wallets, etc. every week so every time I visit the store, the selection is almost always completely brand new. What is your prettiest friend's first name? Gabriela, hehe. Who is your favorite comedian? Not really into comedians. I like Andy Samberg’s work, but mostly only for Brooklyn Nine-Nine. What's your favorite Netflix series? Queer Eye or Black Mirror, if we’re talking about original Netflix series. Do you listen to any talk shows or podcasts? I regularly tuned in to a morning radio program when I’d drive to school before quarantine started, but that’s it. Do you know anyone who's had their own podcast? Nope, but I have friends and acquaintances who have released other stuff, like vlogs and EPs. Where were you the last time you stayed in a hotel? Cavite. What are you looking forward to, today? Mom bought shawarma so I can’t wait to eat them tonight. What are you looking forward to, in the next few months? For this Covid mess to finally blow over so I can have an actual, tangible graduation and see all my friends again. Are you a dog or a cat person? Dog. Without. A. Doubt. Do you know anyone who is freaked out by cats? Me. They never liked me no matter how nice I am with them, so I can never be around one for more than a minute. There’s only one cat that’s been nice to me – one of the cats that roam around the college, we call him Ginger – but even then, sometimes his claws can get super sharp when we play and it pierces my skin and I get scared, ahuhu. I’m sure cats are super nice and that they make for great pets, but we just can’t ever bond lol. Do you know any with Crohn's disease? No.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Anniversaire (Klaus x Reader)

Anniversaire (noun; French)  /a.ni.vɛʁ.sɛʁ/

Someone’s date of birth. (ex: Happy birthday!)

A date that celebrates a meaningful event. (ex: It was their tenth anniversary.)

Synopsis: Post TUA No Apocalypse!AU in which Y/N is Klaus’ childhood best friend. Even when he lived far away from the Academy, he always took time out of his doubtlessly busy schedule to celebrate her birthday. It’s their tradition.

Word count: 11,3k (May I suggest you settle somewhere comfortable?)

A/N: As always, there’s some slight physical description for the third person reader, because it was written with an OC in mind. Either ignore or enjoy.

MASTERLIST

“My birthday party,” she grumbled and reaffirmed her grip on his arm. “Birthday, my ass! This rather looks like your party,” she accused a very much inebriated Klaus slouched against her.

She wasn't frail but Klaus was tall and not exactly a lightweight either. The walk was a slow and tedious one for (Y/N), who had to drag along her friend's heavy, useless carcass out the back door of a clandestine underground club. Trust Klaus to know the existence of this place.

Klaus' half conscious mind tried to force his feet to move and help (Y/N) in her endeavor, but they weren't very synchronized, if at all, with her steps. He mumbled something against her shoulder and (Y/N) acknowledged him with a hum but did not answer. What was there to answer to an incoherent mumble anyway?

He could feel the alcohol course in his veins and still felt hot all over from the stifling, humid air of the club where he had dragged his best friend for her birthday. After twenty-two years of knowing each other, he was starting to run short of ideas. It was easier making shenanigans when they were kids, they could get away with a lot more than now. Hell, he was lucky (Y/N) was always up for whatever foolish, crazy plans he came up with; she never shot him down for being too childish or silly.

He suspected she sometimes only agreed to make him happy; Klaus didn't have a lot of people in his life who put his happiness before their own, especially on their birthday. His (Y/N) was something else.

(Y/N) wasn't really into big celebrations but they usually did something with just the two of them. Stuffed their faces with Agnes' donuts, booby-trapped Diego's entire bedroom, tried to sneak into the sacra-saint office of his now dead father, or – now that they were adults - just sat at a bar and pretended nothing else existed for one evening. Not his powers, not other people around them, not all of this constant noise.

They had met in rather unusual circumstances as children, and were quite inseparable since then. Klaus, of course, did not stay at the mansion much longer than he needed to, especially not with his abusive father looming over his shoulder all the time. (Y/N) did not enjoy watching him turn to drugs to drown out the white noise and to escape his reality, nor did she like hearing he had skipped town from one day to the next.

She would have liked a goodbye.

But he always came back and that's all that mattered. Of course there were the occasional surprise visits whenever he was close-by and felt like saying hell, but more importantly, he came back for a very specific occasion. For her birthday, every year for the last ten years, he had shown up at her doorstep bright and early, somewhat sober, and told her to get ready, chop-chop, because he had planned the whole day for them. It usually turned into a long week-end - whether or not her birthday was on a week day did not matter at all to him - and (Y/N) learned to take sick leave for a couple days after the first two years.

How long would it take for her boss to figure out that she was “sick” every year at the same date? Time will tell.

This year's celebrating wasn't particularly inspired as he had only meant to bring her to a club and dance the night away. At the beginning, she had indulged him, because his father's death anniversary – and the family reunion that goes with it - had taken place only a week before and he had struggled to push through without turning back to drugs, so his mind must have been elsewhere. However, (Y/N) could not keep up with his drinking, and she soon realized she might have to be the one who stuck to water in order to make sure the other one would go home safely.

There was no doubt in her mind that Klaus had been in worse predicaments than simply being drunk at a club and unable to go home – she knew for a fact that he had slept in back alleys before and wasn't afraid to do it again. During Sir Reginald Hargreeves' lifetime, any place was better than the damn academy. Then again, (Y/N) wasn't as adventurous as Klaus, and a soft mattress was a must to end the night.

When she reached the corner of the street, (Y/N) was sweaty and felt damp all over. They both smelled like the bottom of a tequila bottle, but she hoped someone would still let them climb into their car. She hailed a cab, with Klaus still leaning on her like the passed out idiot he was, and the man in the driver's seat shot them a nasty look, but she smiled kindly and he reluctantly nodded.

Thank the fuck. She wouldn't have been able to haul his ass all the way back to the academy and she did not want to try sleeping in a trashcan. The ride was silent except for Klaus' barely audible mumbling in her ear and snuggling against her like she was his favorite pillow.

“Happy 28th birthday to me,” she grumbled and rolled her eyes when he began to snore loudly, his hair tickling her cheek.

Ben sat riding shotgun, smiling to himself while he watched them in the rear view mirror. She couldn't see or hear him, though she was aware of him following Klaus around pretty much all the time.

“Happy birthday (Y/N),” he said, and disappeared. He wasn't needed tonight, Klaus was taken care of.

*

Why was that house so damn big? There had only been the ten of them who lived here, so what were all 42 bedrooms for? Why did she have to drag Klaus' limp body through an unnecessarily big house? And why on earth was his room all the way to the back? He was just lucky she could navigate through the many corridors and didn't get lost thrice before finally seeing the door to his bedroom.

“You are so damn heavy, you know that?” she asked him, if only to make conversation for herself.

Unexpectedly, he answered, “Hey! I can hear you! 'm not fat.”

“Must be the weight of your idiocy then.” She shook her head and kicked open the door, nearly losing balance and falling over, Klaus and all. She could have blamed it on her short stature, but elected to blame Klaus' tall figure instead. “And for heaven's sake stop leaning on me you jerk, or I'll drop you right there.”

He did somewhat relieve her of some of his weight but she was still navigating them both through the mess on his floor. Why did he have to live in this garbage?

“I don't feel so well,” he admitted, his head hanging on her shoulder.

“That's what you get for charming almost everyone in this club into buying you a drink,” she huffed with a laugh.

She couldn't remember how the topic first came up but she bet Klaus that he wouldn't be able to seduce a really hot girl into paying for his drink. He wasn't one to back out of a challenge, especially if a free drink was on the line, and he did get the drink, much to (Y/N)'s bafflement. He didn't stop there though, and serial-flirted with every single soul who dared come near him until he was too drunk to even dance anymore.

So this was really all his fault if you thought about it, because (Y/N) only challenged him to win one free drink, not ten.

“But I feel really awful,” he insisted, nudging her a little to make her pay attention.

“I bet you do. Also, eww, your breath smell like death, man!” She scrunched up her nose and waved her hand before her face to dissipate the smell. “We can't put you to bed like this. Bathroom first.”

“Why is the room moving?” Klaus slurred out the question just when (Y/N) opened the door to the bathroom across from his room.

Hadn't she carried him around for a lifetime already? That was that for her weekly exercise, no need to go to the gym this Tuesday. The bathroom was cold and dark. She was always taken aback by how uninviting this manor was. It was so richly ornate, so vast and in-your-face that one would think the rooms where at least heated correctly. But a shiver ran down her spine when she took the last few steps towards the single chair sitting next to the tub.

(Y/N) dropped Klaus on it, then she stretched her back with a delighted groan when her joints cracked a little. Ah yes, she could finally stand upright. When she lifted her arms to stretch, she realized that she didn't smell like roses either, but this was due to carrying Klaus around, she was sweating now.

A quick shower would do her good once she had taken care of her sleepy best friend. He was very pale in the face and rocking between sleepiness and exhilaration. Kneeling down, (Y/N) placed her hands on Klaus' knees and shook him a little to gain his attention. She did not expect what she got instead.

Klaus toppled over and before she could process what he was doing, she felt a distinguishable warm, sticky substance spill on her thighs.

“Fuck! Klaus!” she shrieked, forgetting about anyone else being in a nearby room, asleep. “What the hell?!”

After all she had done for him tonight, he just barfed on her jeans? And the stench... She was going to be sick too. She quickly grabbed a towel and wiped most of it off before discarding said towel. They had enough bathrooms anyway, one missing towel wouldn't be the end of them.

“'orry, s'rry,” Klaus was muttering, barely audible over the sound of (Y/N) fuming and cursing tequila.

She wiped him clean as best she could; her jeans would have to wait until she was done with him, even though it disgusted her. The stench was plain unbearable. Klaus regained some colors, which was the only plus side to this debacle.

“We'll see how sorry you are tomorrow morning,” she snapped, throwing a towel to his face – albeit a clean one, she wasn't like that. “I wish you a hangover!”

“You don't mean it,” he laughed a silly kind of laugh. His upper body was slowly leaning towards the left until (Y/N) stopped him from falling over and sat him upright again.

“C'mon now,” she sighed and took the towel from his hands. “Let's get you cleaned up and call it a day. You know, we're getting too old to party like that. I don't know how you keep up with this lifestyle.”

“I don't,” he blurted out, staring straight at her, sounding more sober than she had ever heard him. “But tonight's your birthday,” he added quickly, breaking into a sloppy grin again, making (Y/N) wonder if she was staring to mishear things because of how exhausted she was.

“Yesterday, actually. It's well past three in the morning.” He seemed to have fallen back into a half slumber, so she added, “Clothes off now!”

He didn't need more convincing than that and allowed her to remove his jacket and shoes, tossing them in a corner. Then she handed him a glass of water to rinse his mouth. This required a little effort from him and he swallowed some wrong and ended up coughing for a solid minute.

“Nearly there, now be a dear and use this mouthwash, because you reek or liquor and puke,” (Y/N) said teasingly, though Klaus was too far gone to notice her playful tone.

He obeyed and when she was satisfied he wasn't too smelly anymore, she nodded to herself.

“Shirt off,” she ordered, holding out her hand. The task was a tedious one but Klaus finally handed the sweaty shirt over and she tossed in the same corner as the rest of his clothes. “Now the pants, and then I'll let you sleep.”

Part of her was glad he was too fucked up to see the blush on her face when she said that. It really shouldn't be there, they had been friends forever and there was nothing she hadn't seen already. But removing lace-up leather pants was an entirely different ordeal than taking off a t-shirt, and Klaus groaned in protest.

“Don't be a baby, Klaus! I wanna go to bed too!” He wouldn't do as she said, so she made him stand up. “I can't believe I'm doing this!” she grumbled to herself, counting on the fact that Klaus wouldn't remember anything that happened tonight once morning came round.

Otherwise, God forbids she ever did what she was doing right now. Her hands fumbled awkwardly with the front laces of his pants and she had to admit it was quite the task. No wonder Klaus didn't want to do it, even she struggled to open them.

“Mmmhm,” Klaus let out a sort of giggle, sort of sigh. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?” His voice shouldn't have been so deep, it made what he said sound sexual.

What was she doing, indeed? Fuck that! He would just have to sleep in his dumb leather pants! She gave up on the task and left his pants half open at the front, raising both hands in the air as a sign of defeat.

“Nothing!” she told him, running a hand through her hair. “Let's get you to bed.”

The short distance between the bathroom and his bed was much more easily covered than their walk here. Klaus fell heavily on the bed, face first, and crashed into his swarm of pillows. Would he be able to breathe like this? (Y/N) briefly wondered. Well, he survived up to his thirtieth birthday without her checking if he wouldn't stifle in his sleep. She shrugged and returned to the bathroom to take a rapid shower. She had deserved it.

Once clean and smelling like Klaus' coconut soap, she hopped out and dried herself. No way she was going to slip into her disgusting clothes again! Her jeans were done for, she would have to burn them. She put her underwear back on and made her way to Klaus' room wrapped in a towel, then she searched through a drawer until she found a shirt that looked clean. This would do.

And finally, blissfully, (Y/N) went to bed too. She pushed Klaus over to make room, and slipped under the covers, passing out almost instantly.

*

Klaus was the first to wake up, and he was extremely confused by everything he saw. First of all, he tried to remember what happened last night. It was (Y/N)'s birthday, so they went out, obviously, but where? How long? What did they do? Oh God, what did they do?

When he startled awake, he first thought he was cuddling his bolster, but it moved and pillows usually don't move. His eyes opened, and he realized his arm was wrapped around (Y/N)'s middle, pressing her back up to his chest, and their legs were sort of tangled. Immediately removing himself from her, as though he had burned himself, Klaus's eyes widened in shock. What the hell was this? What happened? He had clearly spent the night nuzzling (Y/N), why didn't she just push him off the bed?

Having been in this sort of situation before, Klaus' first reflex was to lift the duvet and check what he was wearing. A sigh of profound relief fell from his lips when he saw his pants were still on. But- wait. The front laces were... undone? And (Y/N)'s pants were gone altogether!

His brain slowly powered up while he blinked away the remaining traces of sleepiness. If he based his reasoning on his current position, last night must have seriously gone off the rails. How drunk had he been? Surely he had known worse, because he wasn't too hangover this morning. He had never made a move on (Y/N)! What could have happened that made him do it last night? Why did she let him?

Oh fuck. He couldn't think about this before coffee. He needed coffee. Thank the fuck for Number Five who brought caffeine back into this house after their father's death. May the old prick rest in pieces.

Klaus sneaked out of bed without waking up his friend, grabbed a clean shirt, and headed downstairs. Yes, coffee first, dealing with his drunk-self's decisions later.

*

The house wasn't as full as it should have been so soon after their reunion – a real joke, if you asked Klaus. He had come because the timing was great, he had planned on flying over to see (Y/N) anyway, and this time Allison had paid for his trip because she wanted them all to be together.

She was the first to go, soon as the last toast had been given, she'd flown back to her life of glitter and gold. Luther hung around for no other reason than he did not know what else to do. Ever since getting back from the moon, he had been aimless. Number Five was stuck in a fifteen-year-old body and could not go live on his own yet. He lived in the academy all year round, and sometimes Diego came too. He was on the move now that detective Patch was dead. Vanya lived nearby but she didn't stay too long, the place held bad memories for her.

Klaus hated the academy, but it was still his home. He didn't have a place of his own like (Y/N). Coming was no choice for him, it was the only thing to do. At least Grace and Poggo were happy to see him.

He had been sitting in the kitchen, his right leg nervously jumping up and down, eyes wide open staring ahead of him while he bit the nails of his left hand and held his third cup of coffee in the right one. His memories from last night were still hazy at best, he did not remember much apart from getting a lot of free drinks, and dancing with (Y/N).

The logical thing to do was to wait until she woke up to ask her directly, but Klaus wasn't known for making rational decisions. Were it anyone else, he would have bounced the moment he woke up. Shit. He had done so well all these years, being the best friend, never crossing the invisible line, why'd he have to mess up now?

“How much longer are you going to be like this?” Number Five asked from his left. He was reading the newspapers, not even looking up as he asked the question.

His question did not even register in Klaus' brain. Five looked at Luther who sat across from him.

“I think someone broke Klaus,” he told the number one.

Luther grumbled something about it not requiring much given the state Klaus was usually in, before grabbing his bowl and putting it in the sink. Just when Luther left the room, (Y/N) swooped in, looking refreshed despite their late night activities – Jesus, it sounded so bad, even in his head. She was basically at home here, and knew her way around the house, greeted everyone like they were family.

But when Klaus saw her walk in wearing nothing but one of his shirt and underwear, he nearly tipped his chair over. Some steaming coffee spilled over the edge and burned his hand right when (Y/N) greeted them.

“Good morning,” she cooed, stretching like a cat when she stood in front of the counter, probably thinking about what she wanted to eat for breakfast.

Klaus' appetite had yet to make an appearance today. His eyes were glued to her until he realized he was staring a little too hard too long at his best friend's butt. When he turned his head back, he caught Five sending him a suspicious look through narrowed eyes.

“(Y/N)!” Klaus couldn't help but exclaim. Both Five and her stared at him curiously, waiting to see what he wanted to say. “There's a child in the room, have a little decency, please.”

Five rolled his eyes and his attention went back on the newspapers. Meanwhile, (Y/N) smiled wickedly and slowly turned back around, taking extra care to show her backside while she leaning forward to place two slices of bread in the toaster. This usually would have made Klaus laugh, even if it was tainted with longing, but after last night, it just made him swallow hard.

“Five is two times you age,” she pointed out. “Also, how's the hangover, Klaus?” Her fingers were tapping along to some imaginary tune against the counter while she waited for her toasts to pop up. (Y/N) then hopped on the counter and sat there, a butter knife in her hand. She began to unscrew the pot of raspberry jam.

“Not in this timeline,” he argued. “And I replaced alcohol with coffee, I'm fueled up for the day,” he assured her, lifting up his cup. “Don't remember much though.” Except his vague memory of (Y/N) fingers tugging at his pants to undo the front lacing, and some other flashes of disturbingly enticing memories.

“You're shaking, how many have you had?” She pointed at his left hand and Klaus had to admit she was right, it was shaking slightly. It took some focusing to steady it but he shot her a confident smile.

“Two.”

“Four.”

Klaus glared daggers at Five for betraying him like this; Five looked totally unfazed. The toaster dinged then, and Number Five folded the newspaper and stood up.

“If you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than sit here and watch you two make small talk to avoid the tension in the air.” Klaus was so going to get back to him for this, child or not. “Nice seeing you, (Y/N). Catch up soon.”

“The tension in the air?” (Y/N) repeated to herself, wondering what Five meant by that. She bit in a toast and walked to the table, sitting where Five sat only seconds ago. He sure as hell did create tension with his comment, but the air had always been clear between Klaus and her.

“Did we sleep together?”

Klaus' question came just as (Y/N) was about to take another bite from her toast, but instead it fell from her hands and landed on the wrong side on the table. What kind of question was that? She always crashed in his bed whenever they came back from a night out. It was how they did things, it had been this way since the beginning.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) answered with a shrug. “I mean unless you woke up on the floor, in which case I'm sorry for pushing you out of bed.”

Ignoring her humorous comment, Klaus gasped and nervously bit his fingers. She frowned but elected not to make anything of it. It was Klaus after all, he must still be out of it from last night. He poured her coffee in a robotic manner, as if it was born out of a reflex more than an actual intention, like when some people walked all around their room when they made a phone call, because moving helped them think.

“Why aren't you wearing pants?”

(Y/N) groaned before taking a sip of coffee. “Oh, thanks to you my pants are lost to the world! There's no getting them back. I was hoping you would lend me something to wear.”

Klaus nearly had a stroke, picturing the two of them bumping from wall to wall along the corridor leading up to his room, kissing feverishly and scattering clothes along the way. Speaking of, where were his clothes? He put on a shirt before going to the kitchen this morning, but he didn't forget that he woke up half naked, cuddling his equally half naked best friend in his childhood bed.

Why was she acting so natural around him?

“My closet is your closet,” he answered, somewhat mechanically too.

He saw the way she frowned at him before attempting to pick up her face-down toast. He watched her dip her finger in the jam on the table then lick it clean a few times, he closed his eyes right before the sight turned him insane. He could feel his body react to her; the mixture of apprehension and this enticing sight made him all kinds of confused and horny.

“I think I need a shower,” he stated and stood up quickly, before (Y/N) could catch sight of his current state. A cold one.

“You sure do,” she agreed and nodded without detaching her eyes from her newly jammed toast. “I'll be going home soon, but I'll see you again before you leave, right?” she asked hopefully, a second before Klaus stepped out.

He wanted to turn around to tell her this face to face, but he really had to get out of here before she saw what she did to him.

“I think I'll stay a bit longer.” This came as a shock to (Y/N), whose lips parted slightly, asking a silent question. “Can I come by tonight?”

She nodded, a smile on her face.

*

Klaus' head had been a mess all day. Especially after he got out of the shower and found (Y/N) in his bedroom, putting on a shirt he had once stolen from Allison. It was all too much and the cold shower he had taken minutes before did nothing for his hazy memories and slight dizziness.

In the evening, when she opened the door and saw him standing there, grinning wider than the Cheshire Cat and looking twice as mad, (Y/N) she was in for one of their endless contemplative conversations. She popped out some fancy glasses and mixed them each a cocktail, and off they were to her fire escape stairway. Access to the rooftop was banned since her 25th birthday, the year Klaus thought he would surprise her with fireworks. It was a nice idea, worth being forever banned from up there. So the stairway was the next best thing.

Immediately after they downed their drinks, Klaus' mood shifted and he blurted out the last thing (Y/N) expected. She had noticed how frantic he acted this morning, and was hoping he would be back to his normal self by tonight, but he clearly had something to say. It wasn't always easy being a Hargreeves, this wouldn't be her first improvised therapy session, except they usually only started after the fourth drink.

“(Y/N), I see dead people,” Klaus breathed out as if it were a hush hush secret and not a widely known fact.

“I know Klaus,” she laughed and tipped over her empty glass, watching the melting ice cubes swirl around.

“You don't get it.” He shook his head, his fingers nervously tapping against the railing. “I see everyone, the living, the dead, hell why not throw in the undead too? Sometimes I'm not sure who is who. I'll be talking to someone and I won't realize they are dead until I catch other people staring at me like I'm a freak,” he began rambling, staring off into the night. (Y/N) didn't dare interrupt. “I am, aren't I? I'm a freak. Why would someone like you stick to my side for so long? It makes no sense, so what proof do I have that you're alive and not some ghost following me around?”

(Y/N) extended her hand for him to take, except Klaus, in his state of existential crisis, did not take it right away and simply started at it like he had never seen a hand before in his life. (Y/N)'s nails were painted black because he had done her nails last week, for the memorial, though the polish was chipping off now, and the pure silver ring Klaus had once gifted her as a diploma gift was on her right middle finger.

He tried to remember a time when she wasn't wearing it but couldn't come up with anything. (Y/N) had been wearing it day in day out since he gave it to her – both as a way to celebrate her passing her exams and also to stick it to his old man. It had been a very lavish and expensive gift whose real value was known only to Klaus himself because he knew (Y/N) never would have accepted it otherwise.

His eyes moved back to her eyes. They shone bright like uncut stones, and her rosy cheeks swept by the evening wind made her look terribly adorable. She rolled her eyes after a while and simply grabbed his hand in hers. For whatever reason, he seemed taken aback. As if he had expected her hand to go right through his.

“You can touch me,” she told him, a slight blush warming her faces. True, he had developed the ability to physically interact with Ben now, but he had always been able to touch (Y/N), from the very first moment they met and he had grabbed her arm to pull her out of the way just when a car came crashing into the front façade of a pawnshop. Good times. “And your family see me too.”

“Right. But it still doesn't explain why you stick around. I'm a mess!” He laughed a sad, hysterical laugh that broke her heart, his eyes glowing under the harsh light of the nearby streetlamp. “You should have left years ago, when I started using. Do you know I don't even remember a bunch of your birthdays because I was so high? Who does that? Who celebrates their best friend's birthday high off their ass and forgets about it afterwards?”

He had abruptly let go of her hand. It hurt to hear that some memories that she cherished weren't shared, but (Y/N) never blamed Klaus for trying to escape his distorted reality any way he could. Doing drugs wasn't a good solution, but if he hadn't found a better one yet, who was she to try and force him to face his demons? She had always thought that he would do it in his own time, when he was ready. And he did.

“It's more complicated than that. I know that you-”

“It really shouldn't be. I should have been there - and I mean really there - for you. Why did you wait for me? Even when I left town, you waited for me.”

His sputtered out sharp, accusing sentences; his breath was short, erratic, a bit like when he was coming down from a high. But this wasn't it. Drugs didn't have anything to do with this.

(Y/N) found it difficult to swallow and it took her a little while to decide on the right thing to say. Her feelings for Klaus had always been a touchy subject, but so far he had never questioned their relationship – they were simply the bestest of friends, and that was that.

“I don't know what else to do,” she admitted, feeling the emotion built up. This really was a bad time for her, she becomes weirdly emotional after nightfall and even more so if she drank on an empty stomach. “If you weren't a part of my life anymore, I'd have a huge gap to fill. I look forward to seeing you show up at my door every year for my birthday. You never give me a heads up but I wait for you every damn time. There's no one I would rather get stuck on a deserted island with. You're my ride or die person.”

“I'm not reliable. Ask...” He gestured vaguely. “...literally anyone.”

“You've never let me down so far.” She shrugged. “The rest doesn't matter to me. Now stop questioning my reasons for sticking around. I love you Klaus, what else is there to say?”

He couldn't do anything but stare. (Y/N) wasn't a coward but her courage deserted her suddenly and she had to look away, ignoring his hard stare on her, willing her face to stay cool. Ben was glaring a hole into the side of his head and told him what he had been repeating Klaus all day, slowly driving him insane.

“Tell her. Tell her you love her too.”

Klaus would've told him off or hissed at him if he wasn't hyper aware of (Y/N) patiently waiting for an answer. What he settled for was even worse.

“Your mistake,” he eventually said before letting his head fall back. It was meant to be funny but it came out the wrong way.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” (Y/N) shouted all of a sudden, stung by his comment. “You are one whiny bitch, do you know that? Just accept that you're stuck with me for the rest of your life and move on, because I'm not turning my back on you regardless of how much you bitch about it.”

“You said 'bitch' twice,” he pointed out.

“Yes but one was a noun and the other was a verb.”

“I still don't get it,” he insisted.

Ben scoffed and turned away, as if he couldn't bear to witness Klaus' stupidity in action any longer. Klaus had to admit – at least to himself – that he was being stubbornly dumb with (Y/N). He didn't really know if he wanted to make her mad so she would leave him alone like he deserved, or if he was in complete and genuine denial of his own feelings.

“I don't get how gravity works but you don't see me floating away,” she replied, her tone settling down and getting relaxed again. “Whether you believe or not doesn't change the way things are. This ain't Neverland.”

There was a pause. She waited for a reaction. Klaus rubbed his hands over his stubble.

“I don't understand this reference,” he admitted, very begrudgingly.

“It's from Peter Pan, Klaus! How do you not know that?” (Y/N) raised both hands towards the sky in frustration but her smile betrayed how she felt.

“I've had a pretty rough childhood,” he chuckled as if it was an inside joke. Reluctantly, (Y/N) joined in and they shared an understanding look. “I feel like I lost the superpowers lottery,” he added. “The award for the worst superpower goes to Klaus Hargreeves.” A humorless chuckle. “I can't do anything with it. Nothing heroic at least. I can ask David Bowie if he likes my outfit before going out, but that won't save anyone's life.”

“You saved my life,” (Y/N) reminded him.

“We saved each other's life, it's a draw,” he shot back, frowning as he usually did when (Y/N) brought this up. It had happened eons ago, they were children for fuck's sake. “I couldn't protect you today. I'm not strong, I can't travel through time and space-” he paused, his eyes glazing over for a second as he no doubt remembered Dave, “or force people to do as I say, I can't even throw knives. Anyone can throw knives! You even don't need powers for that, but I still can't do it.”

“I don't need protection.”

“You will if you insist on staying in my life. Trouble always finds us - it finds me,” he added the last part a bit more quietly. “Trust me, I tried to outrun it for years.”

“I don't remember a time in my life when trouble didn't know exactly where I was and when to knock me off my feet,” (Y/N) assured him, setting her empty glass down now. She felt she would snap it in two if she kept twirling its stem between her fingers. “Whether you were there or not.”

“I know you're talking about your time in college, but that's just how college is I think,” Klaus chuckled. “Not that I would know, but that's what I've heard.”

A sad smile etched on (Y/N)'s lips forced Klaus to be serious again.

“It's not just that,” she told him quietly. “Also, you would've loved college. I know you're smarter than you let on, and it would have bought you four years away from the academy. Four years of absolute madness with Yours Truly.” She gestured at herself, grinning bright and wide.

“See? You should have listened to me, that's exactly what I told you ten years ago,” Ben added, much to Klaus' annoyance.

He didn't like when his brother meddled with his conversations with (Y/N), especially not if he teamed up with her against him – she didn't need that kind of support, she was right most of the time anyway.

“I would've blown it. I don't do well with authority,” Klaus argued, mostly to deflect Ben's argument than (Y/N)'s.

Ben huffed and disappeared again. Good riddance, don't come back before I go home, Klaus thought. Just because he's dead doesn't make everything he says cool and mystical.

“Whatever you tell yourself to feel better,” (Y/N) chuckled and grabbed a beer from the edge of the window behind them. “You look a little... off, Klaus. What's bothering you so much? Been seeing more ghosts again?”

“No, I mean yes, but that's not why I'm weird today,” he fumbled with words, pressing the cool beer bottle against his forehead to calm the whirlwind of thought in his head. It was just (Y/N), there was no need for such anxiety. “I don't understand how you can be so relaxed about it.”

“About what?”

“Don't act like you don't know!” He pointed an accusing finger at her and (Y/N) stared at it with wide, confused eyes, blinking slowly.

“I don't know what you're on about, dude. Is it something that happened last night?” A light bulb seemed to light up above her head suddenly. “Did you finally remember how you barfed all over me? Wasn't your most brilliant moment I have to say.”

“I did what now?” Klaus asked, baffled. “No, I don't remember that, and I sure hope I never will.”

“Then what's gotten your panties in a twist?” (Y/N)'s frustration was growing. If he didn't tell her right the fuck now why he acted like that, she would have to tease it out of him some way or another. “You are testing my patience, I can only handle so much nonsense, you know it.”

“Don't I,” he whispered to himself. “You know what? You're right, I'm being dumb. It's not a big deal, we're adults.”

(Y/N) frowned deeper, not having a clue what he was raving about, but deciding she was going to wait until he finished another beer to push the matter. His mind was clearly a mess, who knows if he even knew what he was talking about? Let's change the subject.

“You know, I'm glad this year's celebration was on the legal side, I really didn't want to be arrested again, and if we can avoid any and all near death experiences in the future, that'd be cool too.”

“Yeah,” he drawled out. “I thought we'd go back to classics this year,” he told her. “Since you vetoed all the fun stuff!”

Last year had gotten out of hand, which prompted (Y/N) to set some ground rules for future birthdays and other celebrations.

“I trust you to make even a plain, boring night at the club special,” she assured him, stroking his ego like nobody's business – it wasn't like anyone else did it anyway, his head would still fit through the door in the morning. The other umbrellas and his father always underestimated him. “I've never spent a dull evening with you.”

“So many compliments! Are you trying to get into my pants, (Y/N)? Because that's exactly how to do it.” He poked her cheek when her dimples showed and (Y/N) gave him a pointed look.

Yes, this was easy, this he knew. Just act normal, Klaus buddy, and she'll never know how freaked out you are about spending a night of drunken passion with your best friend, thus defiling your childhood bed.

“I'm way out of your league, man,” she scoffed in mock disdain and turned away from him. “You'd be lucky to get a hand job out of me.”

“Do I hear a challenge?” he asked immediately, jumping to the occasion to tease her further – he knew exactly what it took to make her turn beetroot red in the face. He liked how she tried to hide it behind a curtain of her dark hair. However, he knew he was treading on thin ice, and he had to keep himself in check if he didn't want to fall through.

“No, it's not Klaus!” she fired back, turning red alright. “It's a hard fact.” Fact, my ass. It wasn't even true. “Beer won't do if that's where the conversation is going. I'll be back.”

She climbed back into her living room and disappeared from sight. Klaus let out a sigh and looked into the night. It was mostly silent tonight, except for the cars driving by and the light music (Y/N) put on for background noise.

What kind of a mess had he put himself into? And fool as he was, he kept digging deeper and deeper. He needed to watch his tongue and stop making innuendos all the time. But it's what he usually did, so wouldn't it be weirder to simply stop? Would (Y/N) notice? Well, of course she would, she knew him better than anyone, except maybe Ben, but this was merely due to his ghost status that rendered privacy nearly impossible. Geez, did this mean that Ben saw the whole affair? Klaus dry heaved at the sheer thought that his brother had seen (Y/N) and him in action.

Also, if he couldn't remember shit about it, than it wasn't fair that Ben got to.

“Hey!” (Y/N) called, and Klaus felt something cold and damp against his arm. It was a glass of what he assumed was a gin tonic that she pressed against him to make him snap out of his bubble. “Are you going to take it or should I dump it directly into your mouth?”

God, he thought, accepting the glass but not taking his eyes off her, maybe Ben was right.

He squinted his eyes when he realized she was holding something else, a piece of paper, or was it? He couldn't tell, she was clearly trying to hide it in her palm.

“Since we're already on the subject of sensitive topics, I have a question for you,” (Y/N) told him as she sat down, her arm grazing against him and her eyes meeting his. “I've been meaning to ask you for a while now, but it never feels like the right time.”

He wasn't very good with social cues most of the time, but he had learned to pick up (Y/N)'s. Right now, he knew she wanted to have a serious conversation, her eyes told him so. It prickled his tongue just to know that for once he wouldn't be able to joke his way out of a situation, he would have to answer her truthfully, whatever she asked.

Neither of them drank the gin tonic she brought. (Y/N) thought it might give her a bit of courage if she drank before diving in the great unknown and asking the question that burned her lips. But she felt she might become sick if she so much as brought the glass to her mouth. She set it down on the iron railing.

Soon enough, her eyes prickled a little. Damn, why did she have to be so emotional after dark? It was exactly like when she was little and spilled all her secrets to her friends during a sleepover – the next day they told everyone who her crush was. Guess (Y/N) hadn't learned her lesson yet. No, she wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. Klaus' eyes were still glued to the side of her face, waiting for the anticipated question.

“Why did you leave, Klaus?” Even her voice was full of tears, but she somehow kept them from falling. Her eyes were trained on the photograph in her hands – an old picture of Klaus, Ben and her that Allison had taken a few weeks prior to Ben's death.

It was then that Klaus had fallen well and good into self-medication, and she knew she had lost him, she had seen his departure the following year coming from a mile away. Though it didn't hurt less when he disappeared without a goodbye.

“You know why.”

(Y/N) laughed a little. Klaus rarely used this serious a voice, she must look a fright if he didn't try to tease his way out of her questioning.

“That's not what I'm talking about.” No, she wasn't talking about Klaus skipping town at age twenty because he couldn't take the abuse anymore and still grieved his brother. “Reginald is dead. Why'd you leave last year? I thought you might want to settle down somewhere now that his influence can't reach you anymore.”

He shook his head and resting his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his open palms.

“This house isn't home. I don't see his ghost but his bitch ass haunts the place as sure as I am the hottest sibling. I can't even sleep in this house when you're not here,” he scoffed and slammed the full glass on the ground too.

It took (Y/N) aback. She blinked away the remaining tears and a put herself together. He still couldn't sleep. How did that affect someone's daily life?

A childish, idealistic part of her wanted to tell him to come live with her. He knew he was always welcome, she never rejected him. But the adult part of her knew it wasn't that simple. He couldn't spend his life on her couch.

He could just sleep in my bed though.

No, she shook the thought away, that was just plain stupid. The silly, naive teenage girl she never truly stopped being clung to an old hope. She had to let go of this.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling the ridicule of her sudden outburst now that it was over. She hadn't gotten the answer she was hoping for, but at least she would wonder anymore. “I ruined the mood, didn't I? There was a time I wasn't so serious, see what happens when you're gone too long?”

Shit. She closed her eyes and kept them tightly shut for a second. That wasn't the right thing to say. It came out all wrong, but Klaus still huffed and laughed.

“You mean you becoming boring? Tell me about it, I should take you out of this soul-sucking city before it's too late.”

(Y/N) thought she might like that.

All night they talked, and talked, and talked, but now once did Klaus mention what really bothered him. (Y/N) sat and listened to his jokes and his stories about Five going through puberty again and she laughed with him and huddled under a blanket with him when the night became too cold.

Yet he still would spill the beans to her. It was the first time she felt as though he was withholding information from her, that he didn't just refuse to talk about something, he refused to talk about it with her. Made her wonder if she did something wrong. The only reason why he would hide her something was if she was the source of the problem.

It pained Klaus to see her wait in expectancy all night, hoping he would open up to her. But the more he looked at her – really looked at her, her shining eyes, her smile, the way she shook her head when he told her something funny – and the more he realized he was living a lie he told himself. Ben had always been right. But (Y/N) couldn't know.

So she obliviously kept laughing with him, hoping that whatever preoccupied him so much would soon be dealt with, one way or another. God knew how long he was going to stay this time.

“... I mean, adolescence sure doesn't sit well on Five, he's been insufferable since I suggested he bust a nut to unwind. Something about cheating on Dolores,” Klaus kept going on and on. “Can you imagine? How long will it take for him to recognize I gave him valuable advice? Even you and I did it the other night, and we're fine as fiddles.”

(Y/N) blinked slowly, feeling a wire snap in her brain.

“Wait, what?”

*

(Y/N) didn't have a superpower. Or maybe she did, only different from the kind of power the Umbrellas had. Klaus wasn't sure. All he knew was that she made things go quiet and he needed that in his life.

When she was sitting next to him the dead didn't come too close. When he held her hand he didn't hear their heart wrenching moans. And the best part was that she didn't even realize, she just hung out with him because they were friends.

One day, he mused, Luther said something in a fit of anger that Klaus hadn't forgotten since, despite the years. He told him that he used (Y/N) for his own benefit and that he would step out of her life if he cared for her at all. That was shortly before Klaus skipped town and became a regular at rehab and the ER.

But he couldn't stay away, he couldn't abandon his best friend. He came back at least once a year for her birthday and tried to come by as often as he could without relapsing. Yes, he was a shitty friend, but he tried. And once a year, for a few precious hours, he was at peace.

He already lost his love once, he won't let it happen again. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep (Y/N) in his life. Sometimes he still thought of Dave, of course. It lasted a flicker beat, during which he wanted to reach for the dog tags - except they weren't there anymore. He had kept them, put them somewhere safe as they were precious memorabilia, but they were no longer part of his everyday attire.

At the beginning he needed to feel them again his chest, they grounded him while he mourned. But over time they began to hang heavy around his neck, weighing down on him instead of helping him keep his head out of the water. That's when he decided to take them off, as painful as it was. Dave was in the past, far, far away in the past, and he was dead. How long could Klaus hold onto the memory of a dead person before it drove him crazy? He was unbalanced enough as it was, no need to add to it.

But as recalled holding (Y/N) against his chest, he thought maybe there was still hope for him. Maybe all the good parts of him hadn't died with Dave in Vietnam. It wasn't her job to fix him, obviously, Klaus knew that, he was aware he couldn't rely on her to fix himself. Perhaps though, waking up next to her and seeing her smile was all he needed to give him the courage to get better. The strength to get out of bed and not dread the day ahead. Maybe he had found a secure place for his heart again - he knew she would take great care of it, she always had.

He shook his head.

He was just putting the cart before the horse. Who said she felt the same as him? Sure, he thought that she act strangely calm after their drunken “hook up”, but he knew now that it was all in his head. She acted normal because nothing happened. She made it very clear that nothing occurred between them, so much so that Klaus would have taken offense if he wasn't busy feeling all kinds of other troublesome emotions.

This was giving him a headache. He had been hiding in his room like a teenager for days now. A few horrendous, boring, restless days during which he barely got any shut eye, for various reasons.

For now, he would enjoy his bath, but how long until (Y/N) barged in here to demand an explanation?

*

“Where's Klaus? He's been avoiding my calls,” (Y/N) asked Poggo the moment the large double doors opened.

He gave her a crooked smile, and made a slight head movement to the left. She sometimes thought Poggo knew when she was going to come before she even took the decision. She thanked him and stormed in, heading straight for his room and banging on the door. No answer. Her hand flew to the handle and she burst in uninvited. No one. Fine.

There was only one other place he could be if he wanted to avoid people and that was the bathroom. This time (Y/N) did not even knock and simply waltzed in, shutting the door behind her so abruptly that Klaus nearly dropped his headphones in the water.

“(Y/N)! You scared the shit out of me!”

Did he just... summon her? No, that didn't sound right. It was a mere coincidence.

“You should've answered my calls, it would've spared you a heart attack,” she replied, walking straight to the tub he was soaking in. “What's the matter, Klaus? Just say it so we can move on.”

“It's nothing!” he exclaimed, his voice too high pitched to be telling the truth.

“I don't believe you.”

“Just tell her. You know she won't drop it,” Ben told him with his usual 'I am full of wisdom' voice.

They would really need to have a conversation about how dying doesn't make you smarter or give you permission to spy on people's bath time.

“I know!” Klaus shouted at Ben.

(Y/N) took it for herself.

“Then why don't you spill the beans? I'm not going to judge you, whatever it is. Have you had a relapse?”

“No...” Klaus rubbed his eyes both his thumb and pointer finger, feeling tired already. It was barely past noon and he wanted nothing more than find cover in his bed.

“Why are you hiding it from her? Maybe she loves-”

“Shut up!” Klaus yelled, his head snapping to his right.

“Wait, is Ben here?” (Y/N) asked. She knew how much Klaus hated to have more than one conversation at a time, what with ghosts always trying to get his attention. It made it hard to focus and that's what made him turn to drugs in the first place. “Do you mind? It's rude to eavesdrop.”

Ben smiled even though she couldn't see it. She was standing there, fists on her hips, trying to look stern while Klaus sat naked in the tub, unable to avoid this conversation. Reassured that he would not just jump out of the water and try for a run, Ben nodded.

“You can't avoid this anymore. It's long overdue anyway,” he told his brother right before leaving them alone.

“He's gone,” Klaus informed (Y/N).

His shaking hands removed his headphones and reached for the window's edge to grab a cigarette. What had him so nervous? (Y/N) grabbed the lighter and lit his cigarette for him before he burned himself or dropped it in his bath.

“Please, Klaus. I'm getting worried.”

Her eyes shone in the bluish light filtering through the opaque window. He couldn't resist those big puppy eyes. (Y/N) sat down, back against the side of the tub. When his arm extended over the edge to hand her the cigarette, she took it and placed it between her lip.

“Is it something I said? It's not still about last week, is it? I told you: we didn't sleep together like you thought we did,” she said, blowing out smoke and watching it swirl skyward and dissipate before hitting the ceiling. She handed it back to him but he didn't bring it to his mouth.

(Y/N)'s gaze got stuck on his goodbye tattoo.

She, too, had been thinking over and over again about their conversation. When he admitted he thought they had spent the night together, she was taken aback. So much so that her first instinct was to deny vehemently, maybe too much even. It didn't come from a bad place, she was just surprised and shifted into her default denial mode. Whenever someone asked her if Klaus and her were a thing, she flipped and sputtered out something about male and female friendship being possible without developing romantic feelings.

Truth was, it was possible. It simply wasn't the case for her. She had always had a thing for Klaus, and she always thought he was aware and elected to ignore it for the sake of their long standing friendship. She realized how she felt upon seeing the enormity of the emptiness in her life, right after he left.

More than once, (Y/N) almost took a leap of faith and confessed, but they saw each other so rarely already, what if he simply walked out of her life for good after that?

She was blind and that was it. They were already so far from each other on a daily basis, she had nothing to lose, nothing at all. If he didn't share her feelings, they would still have a whole year to put that behind them and get their friendship back on track for her next birthday.

(Y/N) took the cigarette back. Klaus still hadn't answered her. Her fingers lingered on his hand and slid towards his tattoo, circling it.

“You surprised me, to say the least,” she started, still wondering what she was going to say next. Sometimes autopilot was the best option. “On the one hand, I'm glad we did nothing because you were drunk out of your mind and would have forgotten it all – which honestly would've crushed my self-confidence – but on the other, I think it would make for a memorable birthday present.”

It sounded better in her head. When she looked up, she met his eyes and it nearly broke a dam inside her. He looked so vulnerable, so heartbroken. She hadn't seen those eyes in years – or so it felt – and they rendered her helpless. (Y/N) swallowed, unable to look away, trapping by his big, glossy eyes.

“Don't say that,” he breathed out. She barely heard it, as if he was talking to himself and not to her. But she did catch his words and they burned in her mind.

“I am saying it. We've been together for so long now, I should have said it eons ago and not wait for a dumb misunderstanding before finally telling you.” He was so silent, everything was silent, almost like they were alone in the house. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine and her heartbeat picked up its pace. “Say something, Klaus. Anything.”

“I hate this place.”

Well, it wasn't what she was hoping for, but at least he said something.

“So?”

“So I hate coming back. It makes me feel wrong, it's like a poison,” he tried to explain, finally freeing her from his gaze.

“Maybe you shouldn't come back then,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself growing sick.

“I can't,” he admitted, his voice desperate all of a sudden, breathless almost. “I can't stay away, as much as I hate it, I have to come back, because you're still here. And I can't leave you.”

It was difficult holding up his gaze now. What was he saying? Why couldn't he speak plainly? Then again, neither could she. It was so hard putting yourself in a vulnerable position – it was like exposing your neck to a hungry lion and seeing if he would bite you or spare you.

“I can't live without you.” His confession hit her like a thousand bricks, knocking the air out of her.

“Why does it make you so sad?” (Y/N) pushed.

“I already told you. I'm no good, I can't protect you, I'm a forever work-in-progress, you'll nev-”

“Don't presume to tell me want I am, or want, or need, Klaus,” she warned him before he could go any further.

“I can't even sleep most of the time. My life is a nightmare when you're not right next to me,” he whined, pressing his palms against his temples.

(Y/N) extinguished the cigarette on the tiled floor and stood up, kicking off her shoes. When her hands reached for the front button of her jeans, Klaus' shook his head.

“Wha- what are you doing (Y/N)?” he asked, blinking as though he thought he might be seeing things.

Soon, she stood (once again) half undressed in front of him. What he genuinely did not expect, was to see her take a hold of the edge of the tub and slowly climb into the water with him. Water spilled over the edge of the tub but they didn't care. Klaus froze and blinked dumbly, staring at her as if he didn't trust his own eyes. She was sitting in the tub, straddling his waist to be face to face.

He would lie if he said this hadn't happened already in some of his fantasies, but when he extended his hand to touch her arm, she was real.

“Do you know how difficult it is to take off wet jeans?” she said as an answer to his previous question – which he had completely forgotten about. “Why are you staying in cold water by the way? It's freezing in this bathroom.”

“Welcome to creepy manor,” Klaus replied on reflex. “Where everything is as cold and dead as Sir Reginald's stone heart.”

“You're joking because you're nervous,” (Y/N) said with a blinding smile. Klaus shot her a crooked little smile.

“Guilty. I'm only a man, and you just took a very sexy initiative, bravo.”

He licked his lips. (Y/N) let her fingers trail up his forearms, leaving a path of wet in their wake, little droplets running down to his elbows and returning to the tub. For the first time, she allowed herself to touch him in a new, unfamiliar way. Klaus stopped breathing altogether until she stopped her exploration and simply moved her hands to his neck, her thumbs brushing along his jaw.

He wasn't so cold anymore now, and (Y/N) must have felt it too. He was stark naked, there really wasn't anything he could hide from her, now could he? It wasn't fair, now that he thought about it, it was only right that she dropped her top too. His hands slid under the hem of her shirt and lifted it; she got the message and helped him take off the wet garment.

Klaus seemed to finally come alive when his hands settled on her waist, and (Y/N) replaced her hands where they were. Their proximity was exhilarating: they could feel each other's hot breath against their skin, they got drunk off of it. Klaus' head spun a little. His eyes locked with (Y/N)'s seconds before they met.

Seeing no hesitation on his part, (Y/N) smiled and touched the tip of his nose with hers, making him break into a similarly wide grin. Then, she leaned forward, sending some more water over the edge, and finally kissing him. One of his hands moved to the small of her back and pressed her to his chest, urging her to deepening the kiss. (Y/N) wanted to taste him first, savor the softness of his lips, enjoy the tickle of his facial hair.

But she was hungry too and she was done holding back and being a good girl. Their kisses became more frantic, they lingered; their lips became swollen and red too. Soon, Klaus' lips trailed down towards her neck and her collarbone.

(Y/N)'s hand shot out and held Klaus' throat, cutting short his ministration. Their chest heaved and they grinned madly at each other, completely forgetting the cold water. The rest of (Y/N)'s clothing was soon thrown across the room, hitting the door in a wet splash, triggering a round of giggles.

“Are we really going to do it in a tub?” (Y/N) asked, biting the skin right under Klaus' left ear, sucking it lightly to leave a mark.

“It's no smaller than my bed,” Klaus pointed out with a laugh, though his brows remained knitted together and his eyes closed in delight. He held to deploy an extraordinary effort not to moan out loud.

There was a glimmer in his eyes when he stared at her, as though he still didn't quite believe she wasn't a ghost or a figment of his imagination. He pushed back her hair, taking a fistful of it without ever stopping to look at her like she hung the moon in the sky.

He pulled her closer to him yet, and (Y/N) dived on his lips before answering, “there are 42 rooms in this house. Just imagine the possibilities.”

Neither of them was going to get out of this tub before quenching a thirst that had kept their throat dry for years now. It was messy at best, water everywhere, fumbling hands, voracious kisses, bites, nails marks – they laughed it all off, feeling so light they would fly away.

When they joined, there was a moment of silence, of holding onto each other for dear life, taking it all in and accepting that this was the beginning of something new. Klaus was the first to snap out of it, and his cupped (Y/N)'s cheek, watching her nuzzle his hand and place a soft peck on his palm.

Of course he loved her. How could he ever doubt it?

*

“What are you thinking about?” (Y/N) asked Klaus with a sly smile, already shifting closer to him as she pushed his hair out of his face.

It had been a long, tiring day – both emotionally and physically – and it had been no small feat to sneak out of the bathroom and into Klaus' room without getting caught. Five would have plucked his own eyes out and Luther might have spontaneously combusted.

Huddled together in Klaus' bed to warm themselves after the cold but no so cold bath they share, they fought to stay awake. Klaus' mind jumped back to his earlier musing about waking up beside (Y/N), and he knew he had been right.

“Nothing,” Klaus lied right away, refusing to reveal the ridiculous musings that crossed his mind. (Y/N) leaned into him, her breath hot again his neck when she spoke again and whispered

“Liar” against his skin.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down again as he swallowed. The scariest part was behind them now, there was no need to be nervous. (Y/N) hand was placed over his heart and he briefly thought she could feel the desperate thumping of it in his ribcage.

“I was thinking-” he started, his throat a little dry, eyes lost in (Y/N)'s hopeful ones. “I was thinking I could stay for a while.”

[hearts-hunger]

Funny How Love Is || bxjxg

Summary: After a long day of failed auditions, Joe can’t stop thinking how he’s never quite good enough. Funny how love is always there to drown out doubt and remind him of how loved he is, especially by his two boyfriends.

Pairings: Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello x Gwilym Lee || poly!borhap boys

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Hello lovelies!! I promised I’d give you some fluffy bxjxg by the end of the day, so here it is! That pic of Ben and Gwil on Gwil’s insta got me so soft that it actually kickstarted my dumb brain into writing for them again, and of course I had to write Joe in too. I hope you like it! ♡

Joe didn’t know exactly what it was that had made his day so horrible. Maybe it was the traffic, which he despised but usually tuned out of by calling one of his boyfriends. Maybe it was the fact that his phone had died just as he tried to call, leaving him stuck in the motionless car with no distractions. Maybe it was the same five songs that every radio station seemed to play, those top hits that he liked to dance to when he was tipsy but really would be happy never to hear while sober. Maybe it was the words of the casting director that kept echoing in his head without anything to drown it out, repeating over and over choice phrases that he’d been no stranger to in his acting career. We just don’t think you’re right for the part. You’ve got some good ideas but we’re going in a different direction. Sorry, Mr. Mazzello. We’ll give you a call when we decide.

Yeah, he knew what that meant. He’d get no such call, he could guarantee. Maybe it was arrogant on his part, but he’d thought that after landing Bohemian Rhapsody, casting directors everywhere would be begging for him to come audition for them. He’d found it was kind of the opposite; no matter how much money Borhap had made, Joseph Mazzello still wasn’t a big name in Hollywood, and people were looking for big names. Names that had made it onto more than one A-list movie in the past two decades.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary - really, traffic was crawling, so he could have put the car in park - and took a steadying breath. One rejected audition didn’t mean his whole career was coming to an end. He needed to be patient. He needed to keep trying.

He needed to stop hearing that damn casting director’s voice on repeat, is what he needed.

He fiddled with the radio again, tuning it to the station that played oldies and actually played Queen pretty consistently. No such luck this time, though - David Byrne’s voice crooned out through the speakers in its clipped way, oddly grating to Joe at the moment.

He turned the radio off with a huff. “Yeah, I’m about to be a psycho killer if this traffic doesn’t start moving.”

He was ready to be home. It had been a long and disheartening day, and he was just ready to be home and lay on the couch in sweatpants and watch reruns of X-Files on Fox. Maybe have some wine, possibly take a long and boiling hot shower. Anything to self-soothe from having to submit to the mortifying ordeal of giving his all to an audition only to be rejected, yet again.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself as traffic began to move. He eased the car up to the speed limit after inching forward for nearly half an hour and felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.

He got home over an hour after he said he’d be back, night starting to fall over Belgravia and easing the temperature down with a cool breeze through the darkening sky. Looking up at the second floor windows of the brownstone, he couldn’t help but feel comforted at the warm light spilling between the sheer curtains and onto the street below. Double checking the car was locked, he headed up the steps to the front door, straightening his shoulders so as not to immediately give away how tired he felt.

The sound of “Funny How Love Is” greeted him as he closed the front door behind him, drifting in from where it was playing softly in the living room. He put his keys and his wallet on the little catch-all table in the foyer as he closed the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called.

“Oh, fuck you!” came Ben’s voice from the living room.

Joe gave a surprised laugh at the reply, a smile crossing his face for the first time all day as kicked off his shoes. He made his way into the living room and found Ben on the couch, intently playing Mario Kart.

“That’s one hell of a way to greet your boyfriend,” Joe teased.

Ben gestured hopelessly to the screen. “I was in first place and Toad ran me right off.”

Joe saw Ben was playing Rainbow Road, and he could understand his boyfriend’s frustration. “So, that wasn’t directed at me?”

Ben looked mildly panicked. “God, no, sorry.” He gave Joe a smile. “Hi, honey. I’m glad you’re home. Come here.”

Joe sat next to Ben on the couch as he paused the game, tossing the controller aside in favor of taking Joe’s face in his hands and giving him a few gentle kisses.

“There,” he said. “Better?”

Joe couldn’t help but smile. “Much better, thank you.”

He propped his feet on the coffee table and leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder, enjoying the closeness. “You can keep playing if you want. Gotta show Toad who’s boss.”

Ben laughed, a warm and comforting sound, taking the controller in hand again as he started another race.

“And if you can’t beat Toad on Peach Beach, I’m officially disowning you,” Joe added.

Ben snorted. “Okay, dad, thanks.”

Joe was content to sit in silence and watch Ben play, listening as he sang along with Queen in his warm voice.

“Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see,” he sang almost out of habit. “Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.”

Joe closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, sinking into the sound of Ben’s voice and the feel of his warmth. Ben was practically a furnace; he usually wore his dozens of soft hoodies not because he was cold but because he was a very tactile person, enjoying physical touch and substituting with sweatshirts when he couldn’t have any.  

“So… how did your audition go?” Ben asked as the track switched to “Seven Seas of Rhye”, distracted by the video game but still wanting to engage with him.

Joe started to say that he didn’t want to talk about it, but he was saved from answering Ben as Gwil appeared on the stairs. Gwil smiled as he came down to the living room with a hoodie in hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his round glasses.

“Thought I heard you come in,” he said. “How was your day, love?”

“Fine,” Joe said, trying for nonchalance. “Do you have a headache?”

While Gwil usually wore his glasses closer to bedtime and both Ben and Joe adored it, thinking it made Gwil’s sharp-featured beauty look a bit softer, they’d also learned that he wore them when he got headaches.

“No, thankfully,” Gwil said. “But my contacts were bothering me a bit.” He tossed the hoodie to Ben, who paused his game to pull it on.

“I couldn’t find the one you asked for,” Gwil said. “So I just grabbed one of mine.”

Ben gave him a smile. “‘S perfect, love, thanks.”

Gwil watched Ben go back to the game with a gentle smile on his face. That was Joe’s favorite part of being in a relationship with the two of them, seeing how they looked at each other like they hung the moon.

Joe warmed as that same gentle affection was turned on him, Gwil studying his face with a shadow of concern in his own before holding his hand out to Joe.

“Come on into the kitchen with me, Joey.”

Joe sighed and took Gwil’s hand, standing from his spot next to Ben on the couch. He almost wanted to stay with the blonde, knowing that Ben wouldn’t ask him questions about his day while he was focusing on the game. Gwil, though, had no such distractions, and Joe felt the weight of his admittedly vague answer between them.

“Tea?” Gwil asked, filling the kettle at the sink.

Joe took a seat at the bar. “Sure. Thanks.”

“There’s dinner leftover if you want some,” Gwil said, setting the kettle to heat on the stove. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten, since you came home later than you said. I tried to call but it went straight to voicemail.”

Joe ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, my phone died right as I left and I got caught in traffic. What’d you make?”

“It was Ben, actually,” Gwil said with a smile. “Chicken parmesan. I can heat some up for you if you want.”

“That’s ok,” Joe said. “I might have some later.”

In all honesty he felt kind of queasy at the thought of admitting that he hadn’t gotten the job. He stared blankly at the kettle on the stove, the casting director’s voice kept ringing in his ears. You’re just not what we’re looking for.

“Joe,” Gwil said.

He looked up to see Gwil taking three mugs down from the cabinet. “Hm?”

Gwil’s smile was colored with a bit of sadness. “I asked you what kind of tea you wanted.”

“Oh, sorry. Um, whatever you’re having. I don’t care.”

That wasn’t necessarily true; Ben and Gwil both knew Joe’s favorite tea was Darjeeling, and Gwil fixed it for him despite his answer. Joe felt a strange kind of ache as he watched Gwil make tea for the three of them, humming softly to himself, wiping up a spilled drop of water with the sleeve of his cozy black sweater. It was the same kind of ache he’d felt before they were together, when he’d found himself wanting to be held and comforted by the tall Welshman but not knowing how to ask.

“Where’d you go?” Gwil asked, giving him his tea.

Joe drew his mug close. “What do you mean?”

“You were miles away just then,” Gwil said. He smiled. “Just wanted to see where you’d got off to.”

“Nowhere,” he lied, running a hand over his face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Gwil looked like he was about to say something, probably pushing back on the “just tired” excuse, but Ben’s voice cut him off from the living room.

“Did you make tea?” he asked.

“Yes, love,” Gwil called back. “Yours is ready if you want it.”

A moment later, Ben came into the kitchen; he took a seat next to Joe at the bar, pulling the sleeves of Gwil’s hoodie over his hands.

“Thanks,” he said as Gwil handed him a mug.

“My pleasure,” Gwil said, leaning on his elbows on the counter close to them. He bobbed his tea bag a few times, the water turning a honey color as the herbal tea he always drank seeped in.

“Say, you didn’t ever tell me how your audition went,” Ben said, nudging his shoulder lightly against Joe’s.

“You were a little distracted,” Joe said, trying for a joke and also trying to avoid the question again.

Ben smiled. “Yeah, but now I’m all yours. How was it?”

Joe wrapped his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth of it against the sudden chill of anxiety that made its way through him. “Um...” He felt a vague fight-or-flight feeling kick in, and searched for a way to get out from under the question without it being woefully obvious.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it in a minute,” he said, standing. “I’m just gonna… go to the bathroom real quick.”

Oh, good job, Joe. He mentally kicked himself as his boyfriends gave him looks that mixed confusion and concern.

“Is everything ok?” Gwil asked.

Joe rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous, immediately making himself stop as soon as he noticed he was doing it. It was his biggest tell when he was lying or upset, and if they hadn’t already seen right through him like he was sure they had, his hand on the back of his neck was a dead giveaway.

“Yeah, fine.” Again, he tried for a joke. “I had to pee before I left, and sitting in traffic didn’t do me any favors. I’ll be right back.”

Before either of them could say anything or he could embarrass himself further, he made his escape up the stairs to the master bathroom. He could have gone to the guest bathroom downstairs, but he wanted a whole floor’s difference between him and his boyfriends who were surely talking about him now that they were alone. He splashed cool water on his face, glancing up at his reflection; he was red-cheeked with embarrassment, and he only flushed deeper when he thought of going back downstairs again. They’d probably take the hint and not ask him about it again - doubtless they’d guessed he didn’t get the part - but he’d still made such a huge deal about it that they were sure to walk on eggshells around him.

As he turned off the faucet and buried his face in a towel, he heard quiet bickering coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

“He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it,” Gwil was saying in a hushed voice. “Maybe we should just let it drop.”

“Maybe something’s really wrong,” Ben insisted, his tone matching his boyfriend’s. “Maybe it hasn’t got to do with the audition at all.”

Gwil was quiet for a moment. “You don’t think he’d hide something important, do you?”

Joe could picture Ben shrugging in response.

“He’s been like this since he walked through the door,” Ben said. “I’m worried, Gwil. This seems like a lot of fuss for one silly audition.”

“I agree,” Gwil said. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s something different.”

Joe sighed. Why couldn’t he have just admitted he didn’t get the part and gotten it over with? He felt bad that he’d whipped his boyfriends up into a state of panic with his behavior; he knew it was childish. To have to go and tell them that it was indeed just the failed audition that had gotten him this upset, and not some life-threatening news worthy of a whole charade like the one he’d put on, was nearly too much to bear. He couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever, though, and after a few steadying breaths he went out into their bedroom.

Ben and Gwil broke apart from where they’d been talking closely together on the foot of the bed, trying to act as if they hadn’t just been in intent conversation about him. He almost smiled as he shrugged off his jacket and went to hang it in the closet; it was a small comfort that they were as bad as he was at acting like everything was fine. He stayed in the closet longer than he needed to, trying to buy himself some time or wait for them to say something.

Their hushed voices started up again, and Joe heard Ben say he was going to ask.

Gwil took Ben’s hand as he stood, trying to get him to sit back down. “Wait, Ben, just - ”

“Joey,” Ben said in his regular speaking voice, the baritone colored with concern. He gave Gwil’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go and coming over to the closet.

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” he said.

Joe brushed past him and went to take off his watch, setting it on top of the dresser. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, feeling a flare of frustration. Why couldn’t they have just let it go?

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve been acting out of sorts since you came in the door,” Ben said. “We’re just worried about you.”

Joe huffed and carded his hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said. “I didn’t get the part, but you already knew that. That’s what’s wrong. Now can we please not talk about it any more?”

The words tasted bitter on his mouth, and now that he’d said them instead of just implied them, they couldn't be taken back.

“So…” Gwil ventured, “it is just the audition?”

“What, that’s not enough?” Joe snapped. He didn’t like that he was talking to his boyfriends like this, but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of his frustration and shame.

“No,” Gwil said, a bit surprised at Joe’s tone. “I mean, not getting a part is never fun, sure. But you’re not usually like this about it.”

Joe gave a derisive laugh. “Yeah, because I’ve had so many failed auditions that we know how I’m going to react to them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gwil said, pained that he’d wounded his boyfriend further. “We’ve all had plenty of failed auditions before. What I meant was that even out of the three of us, you’re usually the one who takes it best.”

That was true, and it was probably most of the reason why they were pressing him so hard about it this time. Gwil would brood and mull over his audition for hours on end if he didn’t get one, trying to see what he’d done wrong; Ben could get downright sulky if he got turned down. Joe, though, was always the one to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t wanted the part anyways, to say they were probably going to go with someone else because the industry had a thing against redheads. He’d rarely taken a loss like he had this one, and he didn’t blame his boyfriends for being overly concerned.

Joe ran a hand over his face, annoyed at the sting of tears he felt.

“What was it about this one that made it so hard, Joe?” Gwil asked. “I don’t remember you saying you wanted it that badly, but I’m sorry if you did and I forgot.”

“No, it’s ok,” Joe said tiredly. Truth be told he hadn’t been very excited about this part, but at this point he figured he’d take what he could get.

He almost laughed. Of course, he’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel and had still come up empty. That was par for the course, wasn’t it?

“I just…” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel, you know?”

Ben and Gwil both frowned, surprise and confusion warring for dominance in their expressions. Ben sat at the foot of the bed again next to Gwil, both of them waiting patiently to hear what Joe meant even as they worried over him. Gwil put his hand over Ben’s to let the younger man know that it had been good to get Joe talking about this.

Joe sighed. “It’s been months since awards season, and I haven’t gotten any jobs.”

“That’s nothing to worry about, though,” Gwil said. He gave a wry smile. “You don’t get jobs lined up like that unless you work for Marvel or something.”

“You did,” Joe protested. “Both of you got jobs as soon as you got off Borhap.”

“Not big ones, though,” Gwil said. “Top End’s only playing in Australia, for god’s sake.”

“And I’ll only be in Six Underground for ten minutes, tops,” Ben agreed. “It’s not like I’m headlining my own box-office hit.”

“Still,” Joe said, unconsoled. “They’re still jobs. You’re still actors that people want to cast. I’m just…”

You’re just not what we’re looking for, the casting director’s voice filled in for him. That had been the constant, through all of it - everybody else could get a job, but Joe was never what anybody was looking for.

He hung his head. “Maybe I’m just not good enough.”

If he’d expected wild protest from his boyfriends, he didn’t get it. For a split second he had the dreadful feeling their silence was agreement, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he felt Ben’s arms around him, pulling him close. He let himself be held, burying his face in Ben’s hoodie.

“Oh, Joey,” Gwil said, running a hand over his back and gently kissing the parts of his face that weren’t hidden against Ben’s chest. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“Why can’t I get a part, then?” he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of Ben’s hoodie.

Gwil sighed. “I dunno, love. All I know is that every one of those movies would have been lucky to have you. You’re incredibly talented, Joe. You just haven’t found the right part yet.”

“And everybody who said no to you has no idea what they’re missing,” Ben agreed. He pulled back to look at Joe’s face, brushing away the few tears that Joe hadn’t managed to keep at bay. “Okay?”

Joe nodded. “Okay.” He knew he wouldn’t be fully convinced until he landed another job, but for now it was enough to lean on his boyfriends’ confidence in him.

“Sorry about…” He sighed. “Everything. I should have just told you.”

“That’s ok, love,” Gwil said. He brushed back Joe’s slightly mussed hair. “Why don’t you have a bath, hm? Wind down a bit before bed, how does that sound?”

“Only if you two join me,” he said.

Smiles surfaced on both of their faces.

“I think that can be arranged,” Gwil said, at the same time Ben said “do you even have to ask?”

Ben and Joe got comfy pajamas laid out for the three of them while Gwil drew the bath, leaving the bathroom lights off. They came into the bathroom greeted by the scent of rose bath salts and the warm glow of the candles they’d bought for just this purpose. Joe wasn’t even in the bath before he felt the tension leave his tired body, his boyfriend’s gentle hands helping him out of his clothes and into the warm water enough to erase a lifetime’s worth of worry. Gwil got in behind him and Ben across from them, their legs tangled together in the middle. Joe leaned back against Gwil’s chest as Gwil comfortably wrapped his arms around him. Ben traced up and down Joe’s thigh with a gentle touch.

“Okay, Benny?” Gwil asked.

Ben smiled. “Perfect. Though you both owe me lots of cuddles when we get in bed.”

Both Gwil and Joe gave a soft laugh.

“Come here, you,” Joe said, leaning forward to kiss Ben. The feel of Ben’s mouth on his and Gwil’s warm hand on his back made Joe almost lightheaded with happiness. He rested his forehead against Ben’s for a minute, drinking in the closeness of the two people he loved most in the world, the two people who showed him tirelessly that he was good enough, even when everything else was telling him he wasn’t.

He leaned back against Gwil and kissed his scruffy jaw, feeling Gwil’s smile.

“Thank you,” Joe said. “Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwil twined his fingers with Joe’s. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck with us.”

Ben took their entwined fingers in his hands and brought them to his lips, peppering them with gentle kisses and tracing circles over their knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

“Gwil and I love you so much, Joey,” Ben said against their hands. “You’re perfect, you know? Absolutely perfect.”

Joe’s cheeks pinked and he turned his face to hide against Gwil. Gwil chuckled and kissed his temple.

“It’s true, love,” Gwil said. “You are perfect. And pretty soon some casting director’s going to see that as plainly as we do, I promise.”

“I love you,” Joe said. That one was just for Gwil, and he knew it; he drew Joe closer and gave a sigh of contentment.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Joe lightly nudged Ben in the ribs with his heel, drawing a giggle from the blonde as Joe had hoped it would. Ben was very ticklish, and his innocent laughter was one of the most beautiful sounds Joe had ever heard.

“I love you,” Joe told him. He couldn’t help but smile at Ben’s grin.

“I love you too, Joey,” he said. “Even more than Mario Kart.”

Gwil gave a huff of a laugh. “Charming.”

“It’s okay, Gwil,” Ben said. “I love you more than Mario Kart too.”

“Did I ever mention how irresistible your skills for romance were?” Gwil asked.

They all laughed and settled closer to each other, limbs tangled in the warm water, Ben’s skin fairly shimmering in the gold light, Gwil’s big hands belying their true softness as they traced over whichever parts of his boyfriends he could reach. Ben hummed “Funny How Love Is” in the companionable stillness, and Joe felt it was rather appropriate. Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see. Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.

Even if he never got cast again in his life, he’d still gotten Borhap, and that was the only that mattered because it was what brought him to Ben and Gwil. Tomorrow brings love in the shape of things. Even if tomorrow brought audition after failed audition, it would still bring him another day with the two loves of his life. It would still bring him to loving and being loved in a hundred different ways by the two people who made everything right in the world, no matter what.

story taglist: @sunflower-borhap-boys @mimibarnes

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @dashlilymark @hazah

[woozapooza]

On male and female deaths on Lost

(I’m sure somewhere in the fandom the following has been pointed out already, but I haven’t seen any posts about it, so I’m writing my own. Keep in mind that I’ve only just started my first-ever rewatch. I checked Lostpedia whenever I was unsure about something, but there could be mistakes in here, although I’m confident that I’m right about the overall pattern I’m observing. This is a critical post, but rest assured Lost is still one of my favorite shows. Sometimes you gotta complain about something you adore. Also, I’m excluding Nikki and Paolo from this post, lol.)

It’s been pointed out that Lost repeatedly uses the “women in refrigerators” trope: with Shannon, with Libby, with Charlotte, and with Juliet. (You could also make an argument for other characters, including Nadia and, if non-love interests count, Alex, but I’m going to focus on members of the main cast.) While thinking about Lost’s many main-cast deaths, another gendered pattern occurred to me: female characters’ deaths tend to be accidents, whereas male characters have more agency over their own deaths. I think this trope (which probably has a name but I don’t know what it is) is very closely connected to women in refrigerators, but I’ll get to the connection at the end. Let’s go through each of the main-cast characters who died and see how they died. Ladies first:

Shannon dies while chasing after Walt’s image. Ana Lucia hears her coming at shoots her out of fear. Ana Lucia could just as well have shot Sayid, who was running after Shannon and calling to her, but she didn’t.

Ana Lucia and Libby both die at Michael’s hand in his quest to save Walt. Ana Lucia dies because she happens to be guarding Ben and Libby dies because she stumbles upon the scene of the crime. If it had been a man guarding Ben, Michael would have shot him, but it wasn’t, and if Hurley had gone back for the blankets instead of Libby, Michael would have shot him, but he didn’t.

Charlotte dies as a complication of time travel, which could just have easily happened to Daniel or Miles, but it didn’t.

Juliet dies because she gets caught in a chain and falls down the shaft that became the Hatch. The chain could just as easily have pulled Sawyer to his death, but it didn’t.

Ilana dies because she mishandles dynamite. This could have happened to any of the men who handled dynamite, but it didn’t (not counting Arzt because he wasn’t a main character).

Finally, Sun dies because the explosion in the submarine caused her to be trapped behind a heavy...I don’t know what it was but the point is she couldn’t get free so she drowned.

Out of the seven main female characters who die, not one of them chooses their death, and only two (Juliet and Sun) have a chance to confront what’s about to happen to them. Both of them use their last moments to tell their men that they love them. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing in itself—after all, Jin also uses his last moments to tell Sun that he loves her—but the point is that there are no women who get cool death speeches about anything else like some of the men do.

Now the gentlemen:

I’m going to break chronological order for a second to start with Jin, as the difference between his and Sun’s deaths illustrates the pattern I’m talking about. It could just as easily have been him who got stuck behind the heavy thingy, leaving Sun to make the choice to die with him, but it wasn’t. Sun’s death is an accident; Jin’s death is a choice that gives the audience our final impression of him.

Going back to season one, Boone could be seen as an exception to the pattern. He dies because Locke told him to check out the plane. He’s “the sacrifice the island demanded” or whatever, but he doesn’t willingly sacrifice himself. Still, he chooses death in the sense that he explicitly absolves Jack of the responsibility to try to keep him alive.

Eko dies facing the smoke monster head-on. He gives ones of the coolest speeches in the show, making peace with his past and bringing his character arc to a close.

Charlie knows well ahead of time that he’s going to die. Desmond offers to go down to the Looking Glass in Charlie’s place, but Charlie takes responsibility for the task. He drowns intentionally, bravely, and at peace with himself, having done something heroic.

Michael dies as a deliberate act of redemption when the bomb explodes on the freighter. He stays behind to die so that Jin, Desmond, and the Oceanic Six can survive.

Locke, as a murder victim, is another possible exception in that he has no agency over his death. It’s never 100% clear why Ben killed Locke as far as I know, but it seems to be at least partly out of jealousy. Locke’s death is definitely anything but accidental or random.

Daniel is shot by Eloise for threatening Richard. This in itself is already pretty far from random. Then there’s the fact that Eloise had spent Daniel’s whole life bringing this moment about. True, it’s a very sudden death, not a death Daniel was able to choose or to face on his own terms. He dies feeling like a pawn. On the other hand, it’s not random or accidental and it explains a lot about Daniel’s life.

Sayid, my darling, beautiful, brave Sayid, dies, like Charlie and Michael, as an act of self-sacrifice and redemption. Before he carries the bomb away from his friends, he makes sure Jack is prepared to be the hero the island needs. Sayid’s death is meaningful on both an external level and an internal level. Not only does he save Jack, Kate, Sawyer, and Hurley, but by doing so he overcomes the “sickness” that had brought out the worst in him, and thus he proves that he was at heart a good man. I have to take a timeout from this post to cry.

Okay, I’m back. Finally, Jack dies of his wounds after fighting the Man in Black and restoring the cork at the center of the island. He willingly sacrifices himself to make sure good triumphs over evil and to make sure the passengers on the Ajira plane make it off the island alive. He dies at peace, with a smile on his face, having fulfilled his destiny. I have to go cry again.

Okay, I’m back again. So, out of nine men who die, only three—Boone, Locke, and Daniel—can really be seen as victims. Of those “victims,” only’s Boone’s death is really random, and he gives the audience closure with a cool death speech. The remaining six know that they have to die in advance, and they face death with great dignity and courage.

So, what have we learned, and how does this connect to the four women in refrigerators? Well, tropes aren’t an exact science, so your mileage may vary on what I’m about to say, but in my opinion, a character is usually only “fridged” when their death isn’t really about them at all. If Libby had died bravely, standing up to Michael and defending Ana-Lucia, and if in doing so she had reached the culmination of previously established character arc, then I wouldn’t consider that an instance of fridging—at least, not when evaluated on its own as opposed to as part of a pattern of women dying and men being sad. Fridging basically means turning a character into a prop that moves the story forward, rather than letting that character embody a story in their own right. Not that none of the women who died had interesting stories. But their deaths weren’t part of those stories; instead, they interrupted those stories. Take Shannon, for instance. She might be the woman whose death comes closest to meaning something other than sadness for a man. After all, she initially comes off as pretty self-centered, but by going after Walt she shows concern for someone else. But her growth just gets cut short when she gets shot. That didn’t have to happen. She could have said some last words to Sayid about how she hoped the rest of the gang would rescue Walt. Or something like “make sure Vincent is taken care of.” But because she doesn’t get to choose her death OR say anything before dying, her significance as a character vanishes and what’s left is a plot development for Sayid (and, to be fair, to a lesser extent Ana-Lucia) to react to. The men’s deaths are about the men one way or another: either they’re targeted by someone else for who they are or for a choice they’ve made (Eko, Locke, Daniel), or they choose death (Boone, Charlie, Michael, Sayid, Jin, Jack). Not one of the women’s deaths is about that woman in either of these ways. In other words, when a man dies, it’s part of his story, and when a woman dies, it terminates her story. In other other words, men are the protagonists of their own deaths and women aren’t. I’m not saying every one of the women’s deaths was objectively bad writing or that every one of the men’s deaths was objectively good writing. I’m just saying the pattern seems glaringly obvious now that I’ve noticed it.

Finally, some statistics: Out of nine women whose actresses had main-cast billing, only two—Kate and Claire—were alive at the end of the show. Out of seventeen men whose actors had main-cast billing, eight—Hurley, Ben, Sawyer, Walt, Miles, Richard, Frank, and Desmond—were alive at the end of the show. So while more individual men (nine, or ten if you count Paolo) than women (seven, or eight if you count Nikki) die, a much larger chunk of the female cast is killed off than the male cast. Women have a 22% survival rate and men have a 47% survival rate. This suggests that the writers are simply more interested in keeping men’s stories going than women’s. Hopefully this is obvious, but I’m not accusing the writers of having some nefarious woman-hating agenda. I doubt they realized what they were doing. I think it stems from subconscious assumptions about men and women that manifest in all sorts of media. It doesn’t make that media irredeemably misogynistic, let alone flat-out irredeemable. It’s just unfortunate.

[mezzomercury]

Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue Chapter Two: You Take My Breath Away

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Doctor’s office

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

September 4, 1985

Munich, Germany

A couple days before his 39th Birthday Extravaganza, Freddie invited Jim and Nadia to stay with him in Munich for a couple weeks, as Queen was recording their new album A Kind of Magic at the Musicland Studios before they would resume in London within the next month. While he was hard at work as always, he desperately missed his husband, as well as the woman carrying their child, whom both men had grown quite fond of and developed a fast friendship with ever since she accepted the offer to become their surrogate. Being away from home meant having to miss a lot of milestones in Nadia’s pregnancy, which he felt guilty about every passing moment. Therefore, having them visit would be the perfect opportunity to touch base on everything he missed, as well as celebrate his birthday with the people that mattered most to him.

Everything about their visit seemed ideal, except for the fact, which Nadia pointed out, that they would be missing their 20 week ultrasound if she and Jim were out of town. This hadn’t occurred to Freddie in the slightest before talking on the phone with her about it, but he quickly dismissed her concern and assured her, 

“I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry, it will happen wherever we are.” 

This unfortunately put him in a difficult predicament, and now he had to find and ultrasound technician that spoke English fluently, via looking through a phonebook entirely in German and trying to make an appointment in a language he did not speak at all. After giving up and slamming down the phonebook in frustration one day, he sought help from Queen’s producer Reinhold Mack, who was a Munich native in addition to being a father of three. Mack scheduled an appointment at a clinic on his behalf, which unfortunately was on the complete opposite end of the city, but Freddie figured that beggars couldn’t be choosers. All he needed to do was obtain Nadia’s medical records and send them prior to the appointment, then the rest would hopefully be easy.

It was now the day before his birthday, the day of their appointment, and Freddie, Jim, and Nadia arrived at a small clinic after trying to find it for more than an hour, their limo driver losing their way multiple times in the process. The three of them were full of excitement, as this would be the appointment where they would see their baby again, and hopefully find out the gender of their little bundle of joy. Freddie took a moment before they entered the office to observe Nadia. Her baby bump had grown significantly since he left London, and her figure had become curvier and more feminine, complimenting her statuesque, six-foot-tall frame. She was currently wearing a loose-fitting summer dress, as Autumn had yet to arrive, and had an absolutely radiant glow on her face that never seemed to leave. Of course, his days of being romantically attracted to women were long gone, but Freddie couldn’t help but admire the sun-kissed Maghrebi beauty that was standing before him and his husband, carrying cargo that was way too precious for words. Pregnancy suited Nadia well, and it was just an added bonus that it was his and Jim’s baby that she was carrying. If it’s a girl, I hope she looks like her mum, Freddie thought to himself with a small smile, now being hurried off with the other two members of his group into an examination room as soon as they walked into the clinic.

The technician assigned to them was luckily a British expat living in Munich, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an almost maternal manner, thoroughly answering all of Jim and Nadia’s questions with informative care. Freddie found himself not having any of his own to ask, as he was far too nervous and in his own little world to come up with anything. He involuntarily reached out for Nadia’s hand as she sat down in the chair, which she accepted and squeezed assuringly to the nervous father-to-be. Jim looked on at his husband in concern, knowing how anxious he was, and wishing he could say something that would help.

The moments leading up to the three of them seeing their baby seemed unbelievably slow, or perhaps it was due to Freddie’s current child-like impatience. His anxiety levels seemed to exponentially increase as he watched Nadia lift up her dress to expose her belly and the technician squeeze some weird gel onto the exposed area before waving around the transducer on it to try and get an image onto the screen in front of them. Freddie’s eyes were completely glued to the screen, sweating bullets as he was waiting for an image to appear, worrying that nothing would show up and there would be no sign of a baby in sight.

All of the sudden, as if some higher power had taken notice of his worries, the image of a small, potato-like figure appeared on the monitor, immediately causing all three parents to gasp in unison. Jim stuttered to speak, trying to get a confirmation from the technician, 

“Is that….” he found himself stopping, too busy focusing on the little blob that was his future child, 

“Yes, that’s your baby.” she answered happily, glancing at all three of their reactions. 

Nadia seemed to be amazed that this little thing was growing inside her, while Freddie looked like he had just seen a ghost, but had the beginning of tears forming in his eyes. It hardly looked human, Freddie thought, save for the outline of a head, feet, and a spinal cord that resembled a string of pearls, but it was his baby. His smile got even wider as he watched it move its little limbs around, finding himself wanting to touch Nadia’s belly to see if he could feel the movements for himself, but alas, he would have to wait until the appointment was over to try his luck. Still, he found himself tuning out his surroundings and focusing only on the image in front of him, as if it were the only other thing in existence.

Time seemed to stop as Freddie continued carefully watching the monitor, not registering that the technician was taking measurements and getting snapshots of the screen to print out for later. Freddie’s eyes found themselves quickly darting over to meet Jim’s, sharing a moment of pure bliss. Their relationship had gotten so intense and so loving at this point that they could communicate to each other with just a single glance, and now they were repeatedly saying to each other, That’s our baby. I can’t believe we’re going to be fathers. Their moment was interrupted when they started to hear a faint whirring sound in a pulsating pattern coming from the doppler that was just placed on Nadia’s belly. The baby’s heartbeat. They heard it before when they had first found out that Nadia was pregnant, but this time is was much louder and stronger. Freddie had to fight the ongoing urge to cry now, nearly hyperventilating and squeezing Nadia’s hand even harder than before. It was by far the most beautiful sound he ever heard. Every other sound seemed to pale in comparison to the tiny thuds that signified the life he helped create.

“Everything looks really good so far.” the technician assured them as she continued waving the transducer around, “Very healthy and happy.” 

This came as a huge relief to everyone else in the room. Nothing was more important to them than the baby’s well-being. Finally, it was the moment they had all been waiting for: 

“Would you like to know the gender?” the technician asked. 

Nadia glanced at both Freddie and Jim to see their reactions, both of them excitedly giving the confirmation for the big reveal. Freddie found himself ridden with anxiety again. Part of him wanted to wait and be surprised, but he just had to know if it was a boy or a girl. He watched eagerly as the technician kept moving the transducer around, but the little blob on the screen wouldn’t uncross its legs. 

“Already such a stubborn little thing.” Jim joked, trying to relieve the tension in the room.

 Freddie was starting to get a bit frustrated and tried to calm himself down, but found himself accidentally saying, “Come on, little one. Don’t be shy.” out loud, much to Jim and Nadia’s amusement, both knowing he didn’t intend for anyone to hear that. 

Then, as if the baby somehow heard its father’s gentle pleas, it uncrossed its little legs and gave the answer to the question everyone was looking for. The technician immediately zoomed in on the screen to see if she could find any visible genitalia on the baby and happily declared, 

“Looks like you’re going to have a little girl. Congratulations.”

All time stopped again. Those words rang through Freddie’s head like the colossal bell of Big Ben. He kept repeating silently to himself I’m going to have a daughter over and over until he couldn’t keep his composure any longer and broke down in the room in front of everyone. His heart felt like it self-destructed in his chest and he was drowning in emotions that he previously forbid himself to have for the longest time. He didn’t even have the time to try and suppress these visceral feelings, and he had reluctantly surrendered and let everything go right then and there. As he covered his face as not to reveal hot and heavy tears, Jim rushed over to his side and tenderly kissed him on the cheek. He also had tears of pure joy leaking from his eyes, but didn’t even try to pretend they weren’t present. 

“You were right, Freds. We’re having a little girl. She’ll be so beautiful.” he whispered to him while cupping the back of his neck in the way that Freddie so enjoyed.

As the technician finished up the ultrasound and left the room to get the photographs that were printing out, Freddie and Jim spent a couple more minutes holding each other tightly, both in disbelief that soon they would be fathers to a little girl. Everything about her seemed so real now. She wasn’t just an abstract concept to them anymore. She didn’t have a name yet, but there was no doubt that both her fathers would move heaven and earth for her even now. Once Freddie regained enough composure to have at least one coherent thought, he got up out of his chair and embraced Nadia as tightly as he possibly could, his breath still hitching in his chest and the tears he shed now stained on his cheeks. He wanted to say so much to the woman whom he believed to be an angel on earth, the woman who said yes to the most outrageous proposition, and as a result was now giving him and his husband the greatest gift they ever could receive, but all he could say at that moment was, 

“Thank you, darling. For everything.” 

Even though Nadia was more than a decade younger than him, her maternal instincts kicked in and she started to lightly scratch Freddie’s back, trying to soothe him as if he were a small child. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” she replied, “I have no doubt that she will be the most loved and adored child in the world, given her two dads.” 

Jim blushed and helped Nadia get up back into her feet once she and Freddie broke apart, also giving her a tight hug.

Fast forward to nearly twenty minutes later, as the trio sat in Freddie’s private limo on the way back to their home. Nadia and Freddie sat next to each other with Jim sitting across from them, as Freddie was now completely glued to the expectant mother’s side ever since they left the clinic. He was quietly fixated on the sonogram photograph, which he hadn’t stopped looking at since the technician gave it to him. He held it in one hand, while the other gently rested on Nadia’s tummy, his thumb slowly and absentmindedly fanning the spot below her belly button. If he was previously in disbelief that his daughter was growing in there, he was even more now. Jim looked at the two of them in awe, knowing how excited and over the moon his husband was. He knew that Freddie would be the perfect father, no matter how much he vocally doubted it during late nights after drinking a little too much. This would be something that would completely change his current lifestyle, but he gradually seemed to welcome it with open arms. After all, he finally found the love of his life, and was convinced they could get through anything as long as they were together.

Amongst this scene was a calm silence, with only the sounds of the limo driving through the old Bavarian cobblestone streets, the driver trying not to cause any feelings of turbulence for the passengers behind the partition. This silence was broken when Nadia gently sighed and rested her head on Freddie’s shoulder, causing him to chuckle and bring her in closer, his hand still protectively on her belly with no plans of letting go anytime soon. In a rather bold but not unwelcome gesture, he lowered his head as best as he could so that he could gently press his face into her bump and started quietly speaking to his daughter; Something he started doing shortly before he left for Munich but hadn’t done again until now, 

“Your Papa and I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. I already love you so much.” 

Nadia looked down at him in awe and added in, 

“Happy Birthday, dear Freddie.” to which he smiled and sat up, gazing lovingly at his dear friend, and then at Jim.

“This is undoubtedly the best gift I have ever received.”

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

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