#ben falling back onto old habits that he thought that he beat too.

[yamithediaperdork]

Welcome to baby land (Ben 10)

it was a tale as old as time, one that had happened before, would happen this day and despite the fall out from today's events would happen again in the future.

A young boy, fueled by fetish desires and spending hour after hour, day after day bringing himself to the peak as he looked at his chosen fetish, only to pull back last second.

Because the boy knows for what he wants, for what he's going to do.. he needs that desperate pent up denial of release to shut down his common sense. to make him nice and dumb.

His name was Ben Tennyson, and up until a short while ago he had been the hero of the universe and earth. But that was before the watch had been taken, and given to his cousin Gwen who had been picked as being a most reasonable hero. with cutting remarks that he would of never gotten the watch for as long as he had had it's marker realized who was wearing it, and being called to immature.. was it any wonder a bitter and dejected Ben cut himself off from his extended family and drove into the world of porn?

never mind he had beaten off a alien invasion, a 'pants peeing doofus' couldn't be trusted with the watch.

Fine. whatever. if they wanted to look at him as a stupid big baby.. that's what he'd become.

He didn't even like diapers at first when he started, but well.. porn has a way of warping a young boy's mind. Looking at picture after picture, caption after caption and reading the stories Ben for all intents and purposes turned himself in a diaper boy, and a humiliation junkie.

Taking birthday money he even found and brought a package of punishment diapers meant for shaming (though he got it at a discount as the shop was being put out of business) that were super thick, boasted how they could hold any mess.. and also claimed they didn't keep any stink from being contained and guaranteed diaper rash if used.

For a porn addicted loser like Ben, this was pure gold and since he paid for rush devilry he got a enema bag and a small bottle of little crampers, the enema for brats.

Ben knew what he wanted, total, public humiliation but he kept ruining it for himself with self pleasure driving the need out of his mind before he could do it.

finally, Mid October the little porn fueled loser decided enough was enough, he was gonna stop wasting his time and the diapers he'd paid for and set himself up to goon. For a week strait he subjected himself to it, and by the time he was done on Sunday night, Monday morning the little loser set himself up to fail.

waking up early, Ben used the whole bottle of little crampers even though it said to just mix 1/8 with a litlre bag for a enema kit, and groaned and whimpered as he used it, hot water and a dash of castor oil in the big enema bag, only his bulky white and black t-shirt hid the preggo belly he gave himself.

getting back to his bedroom and cramping, the soon to be ruined diaper loser looked at the pack of his punishment diapers and having not worn one till today, toyed with layering at first but they just looked too thick.

Settling on one of the bulky diapers with it sobbing crybaby design, he taped it on then tried the tapes, blushing as the package lived up to it's name.

Once taped on it would take 2 hours for the tapes to come back off, he was truly trapped. again a normal boy of Ben's age would of been panicking, realizing they had gone too fair but Ben just breathed fast, and smiled as he picked his baggiest pair of pants and was delighted that they still only JUST hid the diaper, if he bent over his padded shame would be CLEAR.

Getting down stairs and getting breakfast in himself, he was already seated as his parents came down and made small talk with them even as the delightful cramps started to build. (he'd never admit it, well at least before today's events unfolded but he'd grown to like pain, it made his heart beat fast and smile)

Still he couldn't help but squirm and groan a little bit, and got looks of concern from his parents as he finished his bowl of cereal.

"Benny you feeling alright?" His mother asked, coming over and putting a hand to his forehead. "You can stay home today if your not feeling good."

"N-No I'll be alright. just worried about a math test." Ben said, mixing truth with lies,then added: "Besides, you and dad said you were BOTH gonna be out all day today. who'd stay with me?"

"Heh, He's got a point there.. and good on you Ben. I'm proud your being mature enough not to try and get out of a test." His dad said, totally misunderstanding the happy giggle Ben let out.

His father might of thought it was Ben was so happy he was proud of him, But for diaper bitch Benny, the irony of the comment almost made him ruin the fun early.

If Ben's plan had one flaw (well one he'd admit to) it was the fact that he hadn't taken into account how much slower he'd be having to waddle his massive diaper butt to school with the added fun of having to stop 3 times to force himself not to spoil the fun early.

He'd even left a little sooner then normal, his parents had been quick with their breakfast and he 'accidentally' left his house key on the desk in his room and after making sure the front door was locked, went out the back door as you could lock it from the inside while the door was open.

'No getting out of this by running home!' Ben gleefully thought.

He barley made it into homeroom before the bell rang, though since he was known to be tardy from time to time it didn't raise too much attention, get getting a snide comment from his homeroom teacher about gracing them with his presence.

Even better, home was also his math class and that was going to be first period (which was a good thing for the ever so full little perv as his 'chocolate mud baby' wasn't going to stay in him much longer.)

Mr. Fillawick wasted little time in handing out the tests and after a standard warning that he'd tolerate NO cheating and there was going to be NO bathroom breaks, he offered anyone who had to go a chance to use the potty now.

'OK..this is it..your last chance.. you could just say you need to go, and sneak out the school.fill your diapers in the woods and get out of them once the tapes give up.' Ben thought to himself, biting his lip.

it wouldn't be destroying himself in class and getting him labeled stinky baby for the rest of the year, but it would land him in hot water with the school and his parents and he'd run the risk of being seen outside right?

He almost started to raise his hand when his inner pervert took over and he just turned it into brushing his hand though his hair.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you. you'll have a hour to do the test. good luck." Mr. Fillawick said and shrugged, going back to his desk and sitting down, doing whatever it was teachers did.

Five minutes later and Ben was in a mixture of heaven and hell. he was twitching and sweating a little bit, his pencil twitching in his hand even as he started to leak in little bursts against the front of his diapie.

the cramps were at the point of no return and even if Ben said fuck it and got up to run, he wouldn't of made it more then five steps.

all he'd managed to do so far was write his name on the test and the date, then the cramps had gone over board.

'Ok..Ok.. this was a mistake.. I've leaked enough boy milk to see that.. maybe.. maybe I can still just.. get out..of..' Ben thought, going white knuckled as he gripped the side of his desk with his left hand as a powerful cramp hit, a low rumbling fart coming out his backside though the sound was mostly muted.

the smell however was not as the diapers lived up to their claims and Kids around Ben wrinkled their noses and looked around looking for the source of the smell and eyes zeroing in on his as he was blushing.

"Mr. Fillawick? I think Ben needs to go to the bathroom." A redhead boy behind him said. "Or at Least can he be moved to the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Tennyson had his chance for that Mr. Randal. and I prefer he stay where I can keep a eye on him." Came the teachers amused answer.

even as the class giggled and laughed, two more rotten poots escaped and there was open cries of disgust.

"Gah, at least open a window!"

"What did you have to eat this morning, a skunk!?"

Ben whimpered and squirmed, he had the whole class basically looking at him now and the teasing and taunts had brought his pervert side back up to full power.

'It's now or never.' Ben thought, though he also knew wasn't really a option. it was more like Now or never if he wanted a semblance of control over the act.

it helped he was trembling lots now but Mr. Fillawick who'd never cared for Ben much since he was a rowdy student only watched with sadistic glee.

Ben's Pencil 'accidentally' shook out of his hand and rolled off the desk and onto the floor, and Ben made a show of just reaching into his desk to find anther one.

"Mr. Tennyson, whatever your habits in your own room may be, I run a clean Classroom." the smirking teacher said. "Bend down and point up that pencil."

"Uh..but..If I-" Ben started, putting the perfect crybaby whine in his voice.

"You'll what? fart? like you haven't been doing that already?" the teacher shot back.

Putting on a show of being embarrassed and scared (he was embarrassed but his heart was beating fast) Ben leaned over the right side of his desk and there was a gasp from the students behind him as one thing he hadn't planned on happened.

"BEN'S WEARING A DIAPER!" Hooted Crash.

"A BABY DIAPER!" a blond girl added.

"More like a BIG baby diaper!" Randal noted with amusement.

Somehow his pants must of lowered enough to flash off his embarrassing diaper! Oh god! for all of 2.4 seconds trued to stop what was about to happen but the act of leaning over had been the final trigger.

as the enema finally worked it's magic and the back of his diaper started to swell up Ben could only hear the roar of his mess and though tear filled eyes almost could swear he could see image of him in just diapers and a bib, tapping a shovel on a grave that had been filled in. the tombstone read:

RIP Ben's self respect.

as the force of the mess made Ben fall forward, landing face down and ass up, his pants failing down more so everyone could watch his diapers load up in the back (thankfully they wouldn't be able to tell what he was doing in the front!) The image of baby Ben came over and looked down with a grin at the real one.

"Welcome to baby land~ no going back now."

As Ben's life was ruined, and he was designed to never be able to get that 'excited' again unless he was crapping brains out(heck, he was going to be pulled from school and his parents would begin his new big baby life, treating him like the baby they thought he wanted to be, not knowing he was just a humiliation junkie) Charmcaster smirked in her jail cell.

Sure having to watch all the events unfold from sitting into of a toilet wasn't the way she'd hope to see the spell play out, not to mention it had been that bitch Gwen she had targeting, but this worked out in the end.

Gwen would suffer being the cousin of the big stinky baby and would likely end up having to change him and it wouldn't be too long now before her uncle broke her out. wincing as Ben started to baby babble though she did have one moment's regret.

'I mean, I'm evil and wanna take over the world but was making him a diaper perv too far?' She wondered, then smiled. 'Naaaah!'

The end

[val-aquenta]

Here for the Jedi June prompt: There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Sorry this one’s also late, but being busy on Saturday pushed both of these back hehe. 

Here on ao3

10 years was more than enough time in the desert. Force, even one minute was all it took to tire of the constant sweltering heat and blasting sand of Tatooine. The place was barely habitable with its krayt dragons and sandstorms and heat, and yet it managed to hold so much life regardless. Obi-Wan had to respect and admire the Tatooine natives for remaining so long on the planet. The Jawas who remained, and the Tuskens who prospered in the arid landscape. He felt he was… withering away here, parts of him chipping away and disappearing into the sand. He would not last long as they did, but he had to endure a while more. For Luke. 

A tear dripping dripping and then being whisked away-

A decade, though, was a long time. And Ben felt that he was falling apart. Still, he had flashes of old memories, phantom pains and feelings of burning heat, words spoken and not spoken that could have changed so much, regrets that had so much power on him, but so little power elsewhere. Even with the grounding presence of his banthas, the neighbouring Krayt dragon, and the natives that wandered the land, he felt unmoored. He was not built for this life, evident in the wrinkles on his hand, and the silver on his head. 

Smooth hands in the sand, lingering warmth, the cold stone, carved-

Today, though, there was a… heightened sense of failure that hung over him quietly. A silent grief that he had learned to live with had a sharper edge today. He methodically prepared himself to go out. The last thing he wished to do today was wallow inside his home all day. He wrapped his arms in a light cream strip of fabric, tieing and pinning them beneath the flowy sleeves of the tunic that reminded him a bit too much of his old tunics, now torn and gathering dust in the depths of his closet. The lunch he had prepared was stuffed into the large pockets of his robes and that, along with his staff, was all he needed before he ventured outside. 

Sand whipping burying something deep. Always changing, hiding and revealing-

Ben continued to move, unsure of his destination. He had not planned to do anything today. Vaporators were working optimally, the banthas were grazing far from home, the Krayt was silent, and Luke was… hidden away. He had, well, nothing to do really. He’d always thought he’d have a purpose with the Jedi, a purpose to serve the Republic’s citizens, and yet, it seemed not so.

Bloody hands and symbols on a grey stone, a tear and another dropping-

The cloak snapped behind him, the only sound other than the shifting sands that followed him. His staff descended into the orange sands, leaving little holes behind him as he walked. Soon, he entered a canyon and, grateful for the shade, he entered a small cave. By now the suns were at the zenith and the heat was just this side of unbearable. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan began to eat, still wondering where the Force was trying to push him. He finished with a fruit, purple with cream spots all over. It was sweet yet with a light tang, reminiscent of some delicacy he’d had in Ryloth with Qui-Gon many years ago.

A mask of fabric snapping, whipping through the wind-

Once he finished, he once more began his journey, travelling further down the canyon. He stuck to the walls, stopping every now and then to take a sip of water. Eventually, the Force pushed him back onto the dunes, so he followed dutifully. He wrapped the cloak further up and began his walk once more.  

Sudden and strong enough to strip flesh from bone, struggling to move through the-

The sun beat down mercilessly as the Force slowly drew him to a stop. The presence which had guided him slowly and kindly nudging him through the desert dissipated as quickly as it had begun to push him here. He huffed, slightly annoyed, but looked around him nonetheless. It looked very… normal. It looked exactly like every part of Tatooine that ever existed. Dry, hot, and incredibly boring. “What is it? Why bring me here?” The Force stayed quiet, and Ben sighed. He had not exactly expected the Force to answer, but there was always hope it would. 

A grief as loud and powerful as the sand moving. Loss and a yawning chasm, empty and silent and dark and-

Ben kneeled in the sand, staff held loosely across his lap, and closed his eyes, careful that his hood blocked out most of the light. Slowly his breaths went in and out, and he began to meditate on the location and its mystery. Time passed as he examined the location with his senses, and he felt the wind pick up, jostling his robe. There was an imprint in the Force, loneliness and grief that felt strangely familiar. A pain that seemed to be controlled yet so very vast. Ben chased the feeling until he realised exactly what happened and he pulled himself from it, shaking with fear and anger. “No…” He breathed, refusing to touch the memory embedded here that brought slight shame to him even all these years past. “No.”

Hands shaking as they carved and kept carving and kept moving and-

He opened his eyes finally to be surprised by the sandstorm rolling in. Cursing as he leapt up, he began to walk home rapidly, wishing that he had not been so foolish to walk so far from his home. Despite that, Ben knew that, deep down, he would never have ignored the call on the Force, but he was still somewhat annoyed. A scarf was quickly tied around his mouth and goggles fit onto his head. Quickly, the sandstorm began to pick up, and soon it was a roaring mass around his ears that, with some aid from the Force, he was able to keep from harming him. He blinked, memories bleeding into the present for just a moment.

Stumbling stumbling, no purpose here. Just sand and more sand and all of them-

It had been a day similar to this when a sandstorm had rolled past, unexpected by all except the old woman from the fruit stalls. He’d been caught then, by surprise, while he had laid a stone amid the dune sea. Obi-Wan, because parts of him had still been so Obi-Wan back then, had snapped, and the tears had started and started and not stopped, the only saving grace being his hasty use of the Force, expelling the sand from hitting his face and gouging deep. He’d mourned there, even during the sandstorm, carving that stone until his hands had begun to bleed. Only when he was finished had he replaced his gloves and just sat there, staring at the tiny placard, the only sign of remembrance of his family that he had. The Jedi Order’s symbol, a phoenix rising with a beam of light was beautiful, and already being covered by sand. The names of his friends, of his family, were already being smoothed out by sand. He’d almost wished, for just a moment that he had also been buried in the sand with them, but he had more to do in life it seemed, so he had stood and left, the pain almost bringing him back down, crashing to the sand. 

Granule by granule, covering them up, swallowing them until nothing was there.

The Force danced, just out of reach, still trying to lead him back, and Ben almost felt like ignoring out of pettiness, but he only groaned and turned back. He trudged back moodily, cresting the dune and then tripping and receiving a faceful of sand. He lay there for a moment out of frustration before he stood and twisted to see what he’d tripped over. On the gleaming sand, accompanied by the Force’s quiet ‘I told you so’ lay his carved stone, the light grey stark against the orange sand. Ben scurried forwards and clutched onto it, resting it on his lap. He pushed some sand off, and sure enough, the symbol of the order remained. The sand had erased the shallowly carved names, but the symbol was there. Ben did not know how long he sat there, but it was long enough for the sandstorm to peter out, and for hunger to make itself known in his stomach. ‘Take it’ the Force whispered, ‘let it bring you comfort,’ and Ben listened once more.  Holding onto his stone, filled with his grief and pain, Ben feel sthat it is one of the few times he has turly been at peace since he got to Tatooine, and he smiles for it. 

[snarkythewoecrow]

hanging on while the world crashes in

by: Snarkymuch

Word count: 5.2k

*TRIGGER WARNING for SELF HARM*

I tried to approach this subject with sensitivity but it is still triggering. There are discussions of the guilt and shame around self-harm.This was written for an anon on Tumblr, who wanted more Peter coping with self-harm, using a rubber band. I hope you like it.

AN: Big thank you to @justme--emily and @thelostweasley77 for checking the ending out and making sure it sounded good. I appreciate it!

Summary: Peter is struggling after coming back from the snap. He starts to fall into old habits, ones he thought he was over. He uses a rubber band on his wrist to cope, but eventually those close to him notice. Tony misses nothing.

READ ON AO3

The battle fell silent, and Peter saw Tony collapse against a piece of rubble. He fought invisible hands as he tried to reach his side. It was like he was moving through molasses. When he reached Tony, he fell to his knees, reaching out unbelieving as his mentor, his friend, laid dying. Empty eyes looked off into nothingness, glazed and unseeing. A scream built in Peter’s chest as he reached for Tony, but he couldn’t touch him, his hands passed right through …  

He woke himself, panting and clutching the sheets. It was just a dream. Tony was alive and well in his lake house with Pepper and Morgan. It was the same dream he’d had nearly every night. Instead of Captain Marvel using the gauntlet, Tony had, and he’d died in the process.    

A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, and his clothes clung to him. He tried to steady his breathing. It has felt so real.      

To the outside world, he’d done his best to put on a good face and pretend that he was okay, but he was far from it. It was all too much to lose five years, having people who were younger than him now older. He felt lost in a sea of emotion, drifting in the currents and struggling not to drown.      

It had been a long time since he felt so lost, without a tether. Like when Ben had died, and he’d fought hard against the waves of grief. Nothing had felt stable then, just as nothing did now.      

In those times, he’d turned to less than acceptable means to ground himself and find control. A blade offered solace where nothing else could. He knew it was wrong, but the pain was like a lifeline in a stormy sea, stopping the choppy waters long enough to catch his breath.    

Like everything, though, May had found out. Maybe Peter wasn’t hiding it well on purpose. Maybe he wanted to be discovered. Part of him had known if he didn’t stop, he’d keep falling down the slippery slope.    

Therapy had become a thing, and he’d learned skills to cope. Holding ice cubes in his hands until they burned, drawing on his arms, but the one that stuck and worked the most was the rubber band. It couldn’t be a thin one. It needed to be one with weight and strength. He’d wear it like a bracelet, drawing it back and snapping it hard whenever the storm inside him became too rough, and he felt the urge to cut.      

At first, he’d seen the pain in May’s eyes when she saw him snapping it, but eventually, it just became part of them. When he fingered the band, May would ask if he was okay. He didn’t open up at first, but he soon found himself snapping it less and talking more. The churning sea of emotion became more settled, and he moved on, but he kept his bands in a drawer, just in case he ever needed them again, which now, maybe he did.      

So much grief and hurt swirled in him, mixing with loss. He should be happy everyone was okay, that the vanished were returned and Thanos was stopped, but he couldn’t change the twisting emotions that wrenched at his heart.      

For the first time in a long time, Peter wanted to cut. It wasn’t a pretty feeling, and it wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay, though. He was spiraling and needed something to stop his fall. He couldn’t focus, and everything felt like too much. He craved the feeling of it all being driven down to a sharp point, real physical pain he could control.      

With clumsy movements, he pushed himself up, throwing back the covers. His heart was still beating a bit too fast, and his breaths a touch too shallow. The walls felt like they were pressing in, and his chest ached selfishly for everything he’d lost.    

He plunked down in his desk chair and pulled the drawer open with single-minded focus. The little pile of rubber bands gave him pause, and he brushed over them with his fingertips, but that wouldn’t be enough, and he knew it. Or maybe it could have been, but he was weak and wanted the real thing.    

Pens and paperclips rattled around as he dug to the very back of the drawer, his bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers brushed the plastic outside, and his prize shifted out of reach, but Peter doubled his efforts. His nail caught it, and he dragged it, scrapping, toward the front of the drawer.    

The small yellow utility knife sat amongst the clutter with a power that it shouldn’t hold. Like a siren call, it drew Peter closer, never taking his eyes off it. His fingers brushed over it before picking it up, turning it in his hand, weighing it, and finding it worthy of the task.    

A piece of him knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but it was suffocated by the need for an anchor, for something grounding. He told himself that as he looked at the blade that it would be just once, he would use the bands after, but even as he told himself that, he knew it was a lie.    

He felt alive as he held it to his skin, and the storm raging inside him quieted as he pressed the blade to the surface of his arm. He drew a stuttering breath through his teeth at the initial sting and then breathed out a sigh. He didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. He felt in control for this first time since Titan.  

Blood bubbled up from the cut and dribbled down the side of his arm, weaving a haphazard path until it reached the pale underside and beaded there, ready to drip onto the floor.    

He watched it with fascination, grabbed a dirty sock on the floor, and dabbed up the blood with the cleaner looking end. The immediate rush he felt was already fading, and the line the blade had drawn was already sealing over, no match for his super-powered healing.    

Adjusting his grip on the knife, he licked his lips, glancing once at the open drawer and nest of rubber bands. He shoved it closed, not wanting to see evidence of his failings staring him in the eye.  

With more pressure than the last, he carved a deeper line into his arm, a cut that, unlike the previous, bled free and fast. The blood did drip onto the floor this time, hitting it with tiny splatters. Some landed on his leg and more on his barefoot, running down under his heel.    

The only thing he could feel was the burn of the wound. It muted all the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. For a moment, he could just breathe. Sitting in his room, the world made a little more sense, and everything he couldn’t understand before was in focus.    

The flow of blood had slowed, but it was still running in rivulets down his arm. He pressed the soiled sock to the wound, relishing the stab of pain that came with the action. It would heal in a few hours if it even took that long.    

Peeling back the sock, he examined his work. The skin was neatly split, but the blood had stopped.  

There was no point in bandaging it, so he cleaned up the blood on the floor and changed his pajama pants. Then, he went into the bathroom and washed the blood from his arm. When he got back to his room, he slipped the knife back into its hiding spot.  

The next morning, he hesitated by his desk, eyeing the drawer. Two very different but connected things were in there. The rubber bands and the knife. He wondered what it said about him that he couldn’t decide which to take. Maybe he should take both.    

Part of him began to reason that healing his factor protected from real harm, so where was the danger? The small piece of plastic and metal had given him more peace than anything else had in months. After giving in and letting himself have that moment, he’d been able to sleep without dreams of turning to dust.    

But then he thought of May and the look she had in her eyes the first time she saw the cuts healing on his arms after Ben, and it felt like the air was sucked from his lungs. She’d trusted him not to cut, and he’d broken that unsaid promise.    

Guilt crashed over him at what he’d done, eating him alive like a thousand flesh-eating beetles. There was no going back, though, no pretending he hadn’t done it. Even if he didn’t tell her, he’d know, and that was enough.    

He needed to do better—for himself and for May. He yanked the drawer open and grabbed one of the bands, still unsure what he’d say when May saw it. He stretched it over his hand and let it circle his wrist. He gave a small snap and then shut the drawer and went about getting ready.  

May was in the kitchen when he went to grab something to eat before school. She greeted him with a warm smile, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss his cheek.    

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, turning to refill her abandoned cup on the counter. “How’d you sleep?”  

“Good,” Peter lied, the word tasting chalky in his mouth. Unconsciously, he rubbed the band that circled his left wrist. “How was work last night?”  

“You know, a nurse’s job is never done. It was busy, but I guess it could have been worse. At least the AC was working.” She leaned against the counter, taking a sip of her coffee, but paused and lowered the cup, her eyes locked on Peter’s wrist. “Do we need to talk?”  

Peter dropped his arm, like that would somehow hide what he’d done. “It’s—I’m okay.”  

May’s brows drew together, and she studied him for a moment before setting down her cup and crossing the short distance to Peter. She took his hands in hers, warm and dry against his cold and clammy. She squeezed them, and he did it back.    

“You’d tell me if it was getting bad again, right?”    

He nodded as the guilt over what he’d done filled his lungs, stopping his breath. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell the whole truth either.    

“It can’t be easy for you. You’ve been through a lot. There’s no shame in struggling.”  

He couldn’t move his head to nod, so he stared at a point to the side of her face and tried to swallow some of the emotion he was drowning in.    

She stayed silent, holding his hands, and after a moment, he chanced a look at her face. The understanding he saw in her eyes just made the pain all that much worse.    

“I’m sorry, May.” His voice trembled. “I’m so sorry.”  

“Whatever happened, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I know you didn’t mean it. And this here”—her thumb touched the band—“this tells me that you want to do better, and that’s enough for me.”  

xXx  

The rubber band became part of his very existence again, just like it had years ago. He found himself constantly touching it and reminding himself that it was there. When the world became too much, and he felt like he was drifting away, he would snap it and let the sting ground him, reminding him where he was.    

It wasn’t what he craved, though. It was a cheap replacement for the real thing, but the guilt over what he’d done was enough to keep him from cutting again. Almost.    

Over a month had passed since the incident as he called it, where he fell back and reset his count to zero. May asked him every day how he was. Sometimes she would ask him to rate it, the need, from one to ten. Some days were lower than others. Most days, he hovered near a six. A few times after waking up from a nightmare, he’d been higher, but the band brought it back down to a reasonable number, if there ever was such a thing. What was reasonable about wanting to cut your own skin, to watch yourself bleed?  

Tony had invited him to spend the weekend at the lake house, and May didn’t let him say no. She thought it might be good to get out of the city. If he was honest, it scared him a little, thinking about going. Tony was perceptive, his eyes were sharp, and he rarely missed the details, no matter how hard Peter tried to hide them. Tony didn’t know about the cutting or the band. It was the one thing he’d kept from the man. Maybe he was a coward, but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in Tony’s eyes when he told him. Even though it hurt to lie, it was a necessary evil, a small price to pay for peace of mind.    

Peter began to pack a bag, and he paused at the desk, his eyes locked on the drawer, and it wasn’t the bands that were calling him. Swallowing a lump of guilt, he opened it and reached into the back, finding the knife. Wrapping it in a sock, he tucked it into his bag, feeling a sickening twist of relief.    

The ride to the lake house went quickly, and soon Happy was pulling into the secluded driveway. The weather was hot, so he was wearing short sleeves. Thankfully, there was no scarring from what he’d done before, and to anyone looking, it seemed like he’d collected a random rubber band. There was no hint that it was something more profound.    

Morgan greeted him with a hug around his legs when he got out of the car, and Tony stood from the rocking chair on the porch and smiled. He had a glass of something that looked like lemonade in his hand.    

Peter grabbed his bag and then let Morgan lead him into the house. The few times he’d stayed over, he was given the guest room near Tony’s and Peppers. He wiggled out of Morgan’s hold long enough to drop his bag and then followed her as she showed him her bug collection, something that he imagined Pepper wasn’t too excited about.    

Pepper swept in with a smile and greeted Peter and collected a very disagreeable child for a bath. In all the chaos that was Morgan, he hadn’t thought of the band on his wrist, and maybe that was a good thing. He liked to think it was.    

The sun was casting long shadows as it set against the trees at the end of the lake. Peter hadn’t seen Tony yet, other than to say hi as Morgan dragged him past. He thumbed the band on his wrist and walked out toward the garage, where Tony was probably hiding.    

He knocked on the door to the garage, and Tony’s voice came from inside. “It’s open.”  

Peter opened the door and blinked a few times at the dimmer lit room. His eyes didn’t really need to adjust much—spider powers and all. Tony wiped his hands on a shop towel, draping it over his shoulder after.    

Peter might not have been avoiding him, but maybe he was scared to be around him. Between his memories of his nightmares, and fear Tony would somehow see through him, see how broken he was. He shouldn’t be depressed or struggling. He should be thankful and happy that he’d been given another chance and saved, but the only thing he felt was wrong. He didn’t feel like he fit like he used to. The world felt like it moved on without him. Perhaps it had.    

Without thinking, his index finger hooked the band and snapped it. The little jolt brought him back into the moment, and the sting grounded him there, pushing away a bit of the storm that was brewing inside him.    

When Peter blinked, he noticed Tony looking at his wrist, and Peter dropped his arms. He rubbed his palms against his jeans and tried not to shirt under Tony’s scrutiny.    

“So, what you working on?” Peter asked, hoping to break the tension.    

Tony seemed to shake himself out of whatever was on his mind and motioned to the workbench where Pepper’s Rescue armor lay. “Just upgrading a few things. Never can be too careful. Could come in useful again someday, though let’s hope not.”  

Peter tried to hide the flinch at the mention of the final battle. “That’s cool. Do you need any help?”  

Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Yeah, of course. I can show you what I’ve done.”  

They worked together in silence, Peter more watching that helping. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and it was finally wearing him down. He tried hard not to touch the band. It was already stupid to snap it once in front of Tony. It showed too much of his hand. He knew the man would begin looking for answers where Peter didn’t want to give them. He reassured himself, though, that at least he wasn’t cutting. He’d been doing well.    

But not using the band in front of Tony or the rest of the family put him in a bad position. He couldn’t keep the urge in check and keep himself grounded. He felt a little like he was floating away. Tony’s words drifted past him, not really connecting. Maybe it was tiredness, or perhaps it was something more. Either way, he was having trouble pretending that he was okay and that his world wasn’t tilted and off-balanced. He knew the smile on his face rang hollow, and it scared him that Tony was too perceptive to miss it.    

“Why don’t we go see what Pepper’s wrangled up for dinner?” Tony’s voice pulled him from his head.    

He hadn’t noticed it, but he was thumbing the band again, so he stuffed his hand into his pocket.  

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. Morgan’s probably looking for me again by now.”  

Tony smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You’re a good brother, Peter. Thank you for that.”  

Peter shook his head. “I should be thanking you.”  

And he really felt he should. Tony had created time travel to bring them all back. It wasn’t his fault that Peter was broken and didn’t come back right.    

Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s back. “I guess we should just call it even.”  

Dinner went well. It was lasagna with garlic bread and a salad. Morgan ate the soft part of the bread but refused to eat the crust, she nibbled the lettuce like a rabbit, and spread her lasagna across her plate. He wasn’t really sure she ate much, but her giggling and chatter eased some of his nerves.  

Every time he looked down at his wrist, though, he saw the band and thought of what he’d done, then looked at Morgan and felt a wave of shame and guilt. She deserved better than a brother who hurt himself because he couldn’t cope any other way. And he was scared, too, worried that his darkness would somehow rub off on her, contaminating her. What if she learned what he did and followed down the same path?  

Dinner sat heavy in his stomach after that thought, and he excused himself from the table, earning a concerned look from Tony. Peter tried to give him a weak smile and reassure him, but he knew it fell flat.    

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, honey?” Pepper asked, looking ready to stand and press a hand to his forehead. He appreciated the kindness.    

Peter nodded, his lips stretched in a thin smile. “I’m just drained. I haven’t been able to sleep the last few nights—no, it’s nothing to worry about—just been up studying. My own fault.”  

Tony’s eyes searched his face for something, but then he let out a breath and nodded. “Get some rest, kid. We can go swimming tomorrow.”  

“I can do a cannonball!” Morgan announced.  

Peter’s smile got a little warmer. “That’s great, Mo. I can’t wait to see.”  

“You sure you don’t want to stay up with me? We’re gonna watch the Lion King again.”  

Peter ruffled her hair. “I’ll watch something with you tomorrow. I promise.” He waved at the table and excused himself.    

When he got to his room, he closed the door, leaning back against it as his shoulders fell. He sagged against the wood, running a hand over his face. Coming to the lake house had been a bad idea. He should have stayed home, where he couldn’t spread his disease. He didn’t need to infect others.    

The worst of it was that he wanted to cut, and his day hadn’t been that bad. Maybe that made him even weaker. He couldn’t even handle day to day life without feeling like he had to hurt himself. It wasn’t how healthy people reacted. He was a freak.    

He didn’t want to snap the band, he just wanted to be better, but what else could he do? He glanced across the room at his backpack, and the knife he knew was wrapped up inside. Tony would never know. If he was careful, he could hide it. They weren’t expecting him to leave him room until morning, and by then, everything would be healed.    

No, he couldn’t. He crossed the room to his bed and laid down. He would sleep through the urge. He needed to be better.    

Peter kneeled on the ground, his knife in his hand, pressing to his arm, blood dribbled down his wrist, and dripping on the grass. He was at the lake house, in front of the porch, and Morgan was watching him, a knife of her own held in her small hands. She watched his movements, then looked at her arm and began to cut like Peter. He wanted to stop her, to scream no, but he couldn’t find his voice.  

Peter woke with a start, clutching the sheets and panting for breath. It was dark except for the crisp moonlight cutting through the window. His stomach churned of the memory of Morgan’s chubby little fingers wrapped around the knife. The edges of his vision began to darken as he struggled to breathe, spots dancing. Bile rose in his throat, bitter-tasting on the back of his tongue.    

He blindly felt around his wrist for the band and began snapping it, but the sting wasn’t enough to ground him, though it did help a little. The skin started to get sore, but he kept going, finding a steady rhythm.    

His heart began to slow, and his breathing settled, but he needed air. The walls still felt too close, too confining. If he were back home, he’d go to the roof. Tossing back his blanket, he slipped from the bed and walked barefoot out of his room and down the stairs. He was careful to walk quietly so as not to wake anyone up. He went out the back door and onto the porch, sitting down on the bench and looking out over the water. The moon’s light reflected over the surface, causing ripples of light that stretched across the lake.    

Instead of snapping the band, he began to dig his thumbnail into his arm. He needed it, just for a minute. It would stop the spiral and let him breathe. The pain grew, the harder he pushed, and blood started to bubble up. It looked black in the moonlight and oddly satisfying.    

His eyes fell closed only to snap open when he heard the door.    

“Pete?” It was Tony. He was dressed in sweats with a tank.    

Peter tried to shift his arm and hide the blood trail that marked his arm, but it only made it that more obvious. Shame crashed over him, and his heart began beating out of his chest.    

“It’s not what it looks like.” Peter’s voice broke over the words.    

Tony’s eyes were on the small river of blood leading toward his wrist. His gaze broke away from it to meet Peter’s, and it took everything Peter had not to shrink under the intensity. He didn’t look angry. That would have been easier. No, Tony looked worried and hurt, which was so much worse.  

Maybe seeing Peter struggling, Tony’s expression softened even more, and he sat down beside Peter, looking out over the lake.  

“You did it to yourself.” And it wasn’t really a question. Tony was telling him.    

Peter looked at the water, frowning. The blood on his arm was drying, and the small wound was already closing. There was no point in lying, and if Peter was honest, he didn’t want to lie. He carried enough—he didn’t have room for lies, too.    

“Yeah,” Peter breathed, feeling a weight lift.    

He could see Tony nod beside him, and they sat in silence for a little longer, the water lapping the shore the only sound.    

“How long?”  

That wasn’t an easy question. Had he ever gotten better, or had he just tricked himself into believing he had? Was this something he would ever heal from?  

“After Ben.” Peter’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “And then after the battle, after coming back. I—I don’t think I came back right, ya know?”  

Tony looked at him, and Peter dared a quick glance. Tony’s eyes dropped to the blood, and then he looked out over the water again, so Peter did, too.    

“Why didn’t you come to me? I should’ve—I knew something was going on. The rubber band, right?”  

“Yeah, uh, it’s a coping thing?” It came out like a question, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it failed to work when he needed it. “May knows,” he added, not really sure why.  

“Do you we—what do we do here? Do you need to talk? I feel like I should be angry, but I don’t want to be, kid. I just want you to be okay. I feel like I dropped the ball. Can I ask—can I ask why?”  

Peter sucked in a breath, fisting his hands in his lap. “I don’t know, I guess. It wasn’t something I set out to do. It just happened one day, and then I couldn’t stop, but it’s not like before. I used to be worse, I guess. I’ve only really done it once since coming back, for real anyway.”  

Tony sucked in a breath. “Is it always just scratching? That’s what you did tonight, right? It looked like you did it yourself.”  

Something inside Peter tightened. He didn’t like talking about this, but he didn’t want to lie. Maybe it would help to talk about it. “Um, no, I mean, sometimes—I have a knife.”  

Peter chanced a look at Tony and saw he had gone still.    

“Did you bring it with you?” There was something Peter couldn’t place in his tone, and it made his stomach knot.    

“I, uh … It’s in my bag. I wasn’t going to use it here.” He felt like he should explain. “I wouldn’t do that. I just—it made me feel better having it. Just in case.”  

Toy made a noise of acknowledgment, then sucked in another breath. “Okay, well. I’m going to need that.”  

Peter swallowed; his palms were sweaty now. “Yeah, I understand.”  

“And I’m talking to May about this. We are going to get you some therapy, something. I lost you once. I can’t—I won’t lose you again.” There was a finality to his tone, and Peter knew better than to argue.    

“I really am sorry.”  

Tony looked at him, then wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. “Don’t apologize for this. Yeah, I don’t want you hurting yourself, and I don’t really understand, or maybe I do. I don’t know. I just—it’s not your fault. We’ll figure this out. You’re not alone.”  

Tears blurred Peter’s vision, and he slipped his arms around Tony’s waist, burying his face in his chest. “I don’t want to be like this.”  

“I know, kiddo. I know. I promise we’ll figure this out. We just need to take this one day at a time.”  

Tony rubbed a hand up and down Peter’s back, and they stayed huddled together until the sky began to lighten, and Peter’s neck started to ache. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up and looking out over the lake.  

Red and orange painted the horizon as the sun crested the mountains in the distance. Morgan and Pepper would be up soon, and he needed to clean himself up. The dried blood on his arm was still there, flaking away, but the crescent-shaped cut from his nail was gone.  

Tony rubbed his back a little more and took his arm from around Peter and rubbed his eyes. Peter couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked now.  

“I think we know what we need,” Tony said, looking away from the sunrise to Peter. “Waffles. Iron Man waffles. They’re like magic, can fix anything.”  

Peter knew waffles weren’t going to fix anything, but he still found a smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe you buy your own merch.”  

“I’ll have you know, Rhodey bought the waffle maker.” He tipped his head to the side. “Now the shower curtain, that’s another thing. I can’t help it. I like how I look.”  

Peter huffed a laugh, absently fingering the band. “I should probably go get washed up before Morgan wakes up.”  

“You okay?” Tony’s eyes were full of concern.  

He looked at the blood on his arm. “You know, I don’t think I am, but I’d like to be.”  

Tony nodded, nudging his shoulder into Peter. “It’s okay not to be, but, Pete, I need you to bring the knife down.”  

He looked out at the water and then at Tony. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Do I really need to talk to someone? What about, you know, Spider-Man?”  

“Let me take care of that. I’ll find someone we can trust. You’ll tell me if it gets bad, right? Until we find someone, I need to know you’re safe.”  

“Yeah, the, uh, the band helps, but if it gets bad, I’ll try to tell you. I just—it’s not always the easiest thing. I don’t always think things through.”  

Tony drew a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I’ll take what I can get. Enough with the heavy stuff. Why don’t you go clean up and get the thing we talked about, and I’ll go warm up the waffle iron.”  

Peter nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”  

He knew things wouldn’t be instantly better, and he knew waffles wouldn’t fix the pain, but maybe it was the first step to making things better, a soothing balm over a raw wound. He didn’t need to hide anymore, and he wasn’t alone. Help was waiting. He just needed to reach out and take it.  

[megalony]

She’s a good girl- Part 2

This is my new murderer! Ben Hardy series I’m working on, thank you for the lovely feedback on the first part I hope you all enjoy this part (two posts in one day!).

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg​

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is a good girl from a church-going family and her brother, Joe is trying to put Ben behind bars. But when (Y/n) starts to fall for the dangerous killer, things get complicated.

Enjoy.

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"Why didn't you wear your dress? You always wear the blue one on Sundays." Linda's voice sent shivers running down (Y/n)'s spine and the papers in her hands started to become crinkled at the sides from how tightly her fingers were pressing into them and she was sure her fingerprints would soon become visible.

The comment made (Y/n)'s eyes dart down to look at her attire for today's sermon, wondering what was so wrong with what she was wearing. She had chosen a pair of dark navy blue leggings, a checkered blue and white shirt that tied into a bow at the bottom front and she had a black cardigan to go with it.

(Y/n) never really got to choose what she wore to church, even when her mother made it seem like a choice, it really wasn't. Linda advised (Y/n) what to wear, said a dress was appropriate and once she wore the blue one Linda just persuaded (Y/n) to call it her Sunday dress and for her to wear it every weekend without fail.

But (Y/n) didn't want to wear a dress that both made her seem innocent and sweet yet a young, timid little girl. She wanted to choose what she wanted to wear and she wanted to wear things that were nice and looked good. (Y/n) wanted to look like she was actually eighteen and not twelve or fourteen, she didn't want to be seen as a childish little girl who had to be protected.

Deep down, she knew the reason she had chosen to wear something different also had something to do with what happened last Sunday. When she met Ben. If by chance, he happened to walk past at the end of sermon today, (Y/n) wanted to be wearing something that made her feel more confident and look her age. She didn't want Ben to see her as a little girl, even if she shouldn't be thinking so much about how a murderer looked at her.

She had gone for a walk with him on Monday and then on Thursday he had taken her for a drive in his car. Each time, (Y/n) had to lie to her parents and say she was going out with a friend from college and both times she had been told off for going without asking first. But it just felt so good to get away from everything and not have to worry about what time she went home or who she was out with. She could be herself around someone she really shouldn't feel comfortable with.

"I thought I'd wear something different." (Y/n) smoothed down her top out of nervous habit. Whenever she wore something her mother or father didn't approve of, she ended up rethinking it and changing into something they liked. It was too late for that today.

"You should have gone with the dress, you should look respectable at church-"

"Mother please, there's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing." (Y/n) would have thought the dress was worse considering it showed her legs from the knee down whereas what she was wearing today only showed her arms.

(Y/n) reached for the last piece of paper discarded in the front row before she placed them down on the table at the alter. It was only a small list of hymns they had sung today and the topic of her father's speech. A small smile of relief flooded her face when her father came out of the vestry. He wasn't changed yet which meant they weren't leaving for a while, it gave (Y/n) time to get outside and watch with hopeful eyes for Ben passing by.

"I'm going to wait outside." (Y/n) spoke to her father rather than her mother, knowing he would be more understanding, even if he normally was just as strict as his wife.

Hooking her bag onto her shoulder, (Y/n) slowly walked down the aisle and out of the open wooden doors that were heavy and creaked and groaned when they were opened or closed.

The bright sunlight hit her eyes and make it momentarily hard to see but when a hand rested on her elbow she jumped. Her heart fluttered in her chest but soon started to calm down when she saw that it was only Joe. This had been the first time in two months that Joe was finally able to make it to a Sunday sermon and their mother had been mightily impressed and over the moon that he was here. Their whole family sitting in the front left row watching their father give one of the same old speeches that enamoured everyone but (Y/n) whose thoughts had been somewhere else entirely.

"Dad really knows how to calm the mind, huh?"

Joe stuffed his hands into his pockets and moved so they were standing to the left of the doors, out of the way up beside the old bricks of the church. Something about Sundays always made Joe calm, he loved sitting and listening to their father preach, it was like listening to whale music when trying to sleep. It calmed Joe down immensely and eased his mind, especially when he was working on a case.

"Is your mind usually erratic?" (Y/n) countered with a grin, leaning her shoulders back against the wall but her eyes couldn't help but scout around. She wanted to see Ben walking past or notice his car parked over the road, she wanted to see his cheeky grin or his lips wrapped around a cigarette. (Y/n) wanted to run her fingers through his hair or reach out for his hand, she wanted to lean her head on his shoulder as they walked down the street like she had been so desperate to do on Monday.

"It is when I've got a killer running laps round my mind. The bastard's beaten up one of his own men and put him in hospital and the guy won't testify. Won't say a bad word against him."

Joe tipped his head back against the bricks, stomping his foot to the ground in a way that reminded (Y/n) of an angrily child who didn't get what they wanted. Joe either didn't see the grimace on (Y/n)'s face or if he did, he put it down to talk of a murderer when in fact, it made her uncomfortable to even think about Ben as a killer.

She had been around him a few times now and every time he was as sweet as sugar with her. He smiled, he laughed and he tried to coax her to talk and was always a gentleman around her. He never made fun of her or was rude to her in any way, he didn't step over the line when he was out with her or push her too far or showed any bad side when he was in her presence. (Y/n) just couldn't see how Ben was the killer Joe made him out to be when he was so kind around her.

"How do you propose to catch this killer, then?" (Y/n) forced a smile as she looked over at Joe.

"I need the evidence, gotta wait for him to slip up and watch him until he gives me something useful."

As if by magic, something caught the corner of (Y/n)'s eye and when she glanced over, she could see the familiar frame walking slowly up the street with his eyes set on the church like it was a beacon to him. He had come to see her, there was no other reason for him to be up this way at this time unless he wanted to see (Y/n).

"Hopefully it won't take you too long." (Y/n) nodded at her brother, a nervous smile playing on her lips before she pushed herself off the bricks and walked over the short cut grass. She knew Joe would presume she was just going to sit on the wall and wait for their parents to be ready to go home, like always.

(Y/n) perched herself down on the wall beside the willow tree just like last week, except this time, there was no fear or surprise in her eyes as she watched Ben walking closer to her. There was a half-finished cigarette pressed between his lips and he had a plain white shirt on, black trousers and a black beanie which kind of conflicted the look but still looked socially acceptable.

Ben seemed to have noticed Joe straight away because he kept his head turned and didn't look over in Joe's direction once, he was drifting by like a whisper in the wind.

(Y/n) tried hard to stop herself from smiling too widely when Ben's eyes landed on her but he wasn't slowing down his pace. A surge of panic started to beat through her veins with her blood as she wondered if he was going to walk right past her. Maybe he didn't want anything to do with her anymore? What if he had seen Joe and thought (Y/n) was definitely spying on him for her brother? What if he was just teasing her all along and she had fallen for it hook, right and sinker?

Every question imaginable raced through her head but they were all diminished when Ben's hand reached out and took hers that was resting on her lap. He locked his fingers expertly with hers and carried on walking, gently tugging her with him until she hopped off the wall and started walking down the path with him. Ben kept a quick pace to ensure that Joe wouldn't see (Y/n) walking off with a stranger, to then realise who the stranger was.

"Hello." (Y/n) smiled up at Ben when they were round the side of the church and out of sight of everyone who would see and snitch back to her parents. Her head tilted up to look at Ben who smiled down at her around the cigarette.

"Hello." Ben's voice was almost enamouring and addictive and when (Y/n) noticed the way he was biting the end of the cigarette it sent sparks running through her stomach.

(Y/n) thought that when they were out the way of the church, Ben would have let go of her hand since he would have no need to make sure she hurried alongside him. But he kept her hand tightly against his own, rubbing circles on the side of her hand with his thumb like he was silently telling her something or trying to calm her down.

"What happened to the dress?"

Ben removed the cigarette from his lips, offering it to (Y/n) before stubbing it between his shoe when she kindly declined. When Ben noticed the way (Y/n) looked herself over without a smile, his head ticked to the side and he bit down on his lower lip. She was a puzzle to him that he wanted to work out and fit into place. He wanted to see the bigger picture with (Y/n) but he didn't know why. He had no idea why he talked to her last weekend when he first saw her.

Maybe it was because she seemed so shocked but not scared when she saw him and knew who he was. Maybe it was because there was an aura about her that was intoxicating to him, maybe talking to her stirred something inside Ben that he hadn't felt in a while. Whatever the reason, Ben couldn't seem to walk away from her and she didn't want him to either.

"I, um... I thought I'd wear something different."

"Suits you... although I'd like to think that you dressed up for me, and not for your prayers to the man upstairs." Ben spoke against the shell of (Y/n)'s ear causing her heart to jump up into her throat and constrict her breathing. Was it so clear that she wanted to look different when she was around him? That she wanted to look like more of a grown up and more like herself than the little shy doll her parents always tried to dress up. 

Ben's temple leaned against her own as they continued walking and for one split second, (Y/n) wondered if he was going to kiss her. He certainly looked like the thought had crossed his mind and that it was something he was debating, but then he seemed to think better of it and settled for a sharp but still gentle smile her way.

"Where are we going?" It took a lot for (Y/n) to keep her voice level as she realised didn't quite know if Ben had somewhere in mind or if they were just going on an aimless walk like they had done on Monday. Either was fine with her but she wanted to know if Ben had some sort of idea, he normally seemed to know exactly what he wanted to do.

"Would it be acceptable for me to steal you away from Sunday lunch for a bit? I'd like you to myself for a while."

It felt like rockets had been set off in (Y/n)'s chest when those words registered in her mind. There were hundreds of connotations and meanings behind what he just said but (Y/n) knew there was nothing creepy or dirty or weird behind them. Yet it still made her heart flip in her chest and when he pulled her closer into his side her legs almost gave way.

There was no way this man was the murderer Joe was after.

Last time they were out walking together, there had been a small membrane of space between them like a barrier neither of them were willing to cross in fear of what they would be faced with. But Ben had broken that barrier this time around because he was holding her hand and keeping (Y/n) tucked into his side like he was making sure he kept her safe.

Taking a daring risk, (Y/n) looked up at Ben before she leaned her head on his arm. She could feel his eyes on her as she did so but he didn't say anything about it, they just kept on walking.

(Y/n) didn't know how long they had been walking for, it felt like they had been drifting around for hours before she noticed Ben was slowing down until they were practically non-moving. When she leaned to see what had caught his eye, (Y/n) noticed that it was a building. It was a two-story building that was formed into an odd shape with extensions on the side, an unfinished building round the back and a car park at the side.

"Is that your gym?"

"Yeah."

There were no cars in the car park and the doors looked like they were locked, (Y/n) figured it was either normally closed on Sundays or Ben didn't like it open when he wasn't there to run it. She knew he actually owned the club, he wasn't a manager or leasing the place.

"What's it like, running a business?" (Y/n) didn't know where the question came from but it surprised both of them. Her chin moved to press into Ben's arm so she could look up at him as they continued walking down the street. She knew it must be satisfying to actually own the business, he controlled what happened, who worked for him, anyone he didn't like he could fire. He had the responsibilities of making rotas for workers and giving wages and memberships and it was clear Ben exercised a lot in the gym and did boxing himself.

"It's good, I like being in control of everything, and being the boss means people work for you, they don't work against you or piss around and if they take things for granted, I can fire them. What about you, doll, do you have a job?"

When (Y/n) read Ben's file that Joe left lying around, it was very clear that he was a control freak. He hurt people who went against him, he had beaten up one of his own men by what Joe said today and his men were either so afraid of him or too loyal to speak out. That meant they must have some shred of respect for Ben. He seemed like the kind of man who would be aiming for the top job so he was on top of the pyramid. People being higher up than him wouldn't seem to sit very well with Ben, he had to have the control and be in charge, he needed to make the decisions.

"No, mother wanted me to finish school first. I did get a job in the corner shop for the summer but I didn't like it much... my dad likes me to help him out at church."

Linda thought it was more appropriate if (Y/n) finished school before getting a job and she wanted (Y/n) to have a proper job, one she could boast about to her friends like how Joe was a police officer or Cora now had an apprenticeship in the firm her boyfriend worked at. (Y/n) was expected to follow with a good job like that.

She worked at the corner shop for some money during the summer but it had been too boring for her to handle, seeing the same people everyday, not being able to talk to them for long. She wasn't even allowed to use the cash register she was mainly stocking shelves. It was okay for the summer but she really couldn't do that for the rest of her life.

"The church?"

"Oh, my father is the Reverend of the church."

"Ah, so that's why you reserve Sunday morning for the man upstairs." Ben smiled when he caught sight of the gold cross hanging around (Y/n)'s neck. It was slightly hidden behind her shirt but he remembered seeing it the first time he saw her. The cross hung proudly over the top of her blue dress.

"My father does the sermon's every Sunday, I help out with events like fairs and get things ready for christenings and such. We go to church in the evening on Christmas too. I take it you're not religious?"

"No, too many inconsistencies for me to believe but I've got no problem with anyone else's beliefs. Besides, if God is real I think I'd be in real shit by now, too many sins to count." Ben watched (Y/n) bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing as she knew he was probably right, God would have something to say about the way Ben was conducting his life. "Doll, since your faith clearly allows you to walk around with a murderer, do you think you could swing something else by the man upstairs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think you'd like to come and work for me?"

Ben's words took (Y/n) by surprise, so much so that she stopped walking and turned so she was properly facing him. He was offering her a job, not a boring job stacking shelves but something interesting, something where she would be in a gym and a boxing club with a mix of criminals like Ben and normal avid gym-goers who knew nothing about the man who owned the place.

Joe did seem to think something else was going on at the club, maybe a job there wouldn't be such a good idea. But then again, (Y/n) was going around with Ben who she knew was a murderer and he didn't seem to have any bad intentions towards her. He was offering her a job and he owned the club so he wouldn't give her a horrid job or something she would be uncomfortable with. But he felt he had to make sure she would feel okay working for him when they both knew he wasn't a saint.

"What would I do?"

"Anything you like. You could be on front at reception, letting people in and out, you could work backstage with me sorting out wages and the files, you could check the equipment and order the stock if you like. Whatever you want to do is fine by me."

Ben was offering (Y/n) something she had been so desperate for, but he had no reason to. He wasn't obliged to give her a job or feel sorry for her or try and gain something out of her. Yet here he was, saying he would give her a job doing whatever she wanted in his own establishment without wanting something from her in return, he had nothing to gain from this.

"Why would you do that for me?"

(Y/n) felt like she couldn't breathe for what seemed like the hundredth time since she started this walk with Ben when he circled his arms around her waist and dragged her closer until her chest hit his. He tipped his head back like he was really thinking about his answer before he leaned down until his face was level with his own. Something about the way that he seemed to stoop down so they were level made (Y/n) smile, it was like he was giving her some sense of power when she was around him instead of hogging it all for himself.

"You want a job, I can give you one and it benefits me to have your lovely face wandering round my club. I'd get to see a lot more of you."

"You want to see more of me?" (Y/n) breathed heavily through the words that came out very quiet. She couldn't believe someone like Ben would be interested in someone like her, it felt too unrealistic, too different like he was stringing her along, but he wasn't. He was genuine and it stunned her to know he wanted to be around her.

"I know you know what I do and it isn't good. That brother of yours also thinks he can put me away, but you've overlooked that so far to be around me. I'd like to think that you'll say yes if I ask you to hang around me a lot more and be my girl.”

(Y/n) couldn't find any words to respond, all she could do was smile and breathe like she was about to faint.

Ben wanted to go out with her, he wanted to give her a job to make her happy and so he could see her a lot more without having to go for walks and stay out of sight of Joe or her family. Ben actually wanted to be with her after not knowing her for very long at all. He seemed as enticed with her as she was with him.

"I'll take that smile as a yes, shall I?"

The moment (Y/n) nodded, Ben grinned wickedly like the cat that got the cream before he leaned forward until his lips were pressed to hers. Ben knew from the way he'd kissed her neck on their first meeting that she'd never been kissed before so he hoped she didn't mind him stealing her first kiss like this. His hands dug into the flesh around her hips as he felt her hands moving to his neck like she didn't know what to do with her hands but she knew she had to do something.

His lips felt so warm and smooth against her own, (Y/n) could feel each ridge and crease in his lips and likewise, Ben could feel the bumps of skin where (Y/n) had bitten down too hard on her lower lip and pulled a layer of skin off.

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine and her hands pressed firmer against Ben's neck when lips parted and his tongue darted out over her lower lip. But he didn't dart his tongue into her mouth to battle against her own, he bit down on her lower lip instead and slowly pulled back, pulling her lip before eventually letting go.

How could being with Ben be so wrong, when it felt so right?

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Apocalypse After (Part 4)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader

Summary: There was never any hope of saving Michael Langdon, never a chance to stop the apocalypse. The Antichrist was already too intertwined with his destiny when the reader met him all those years ago. But Mallory can go back and make things right and when the reader travels with her, an opportunity sparks to try and make things right after all.

Words: 4.6K

Warning: omg I don’t think we have any?!  

Tag List: @queenie435 @elimineetje @i-alyssa @clairvoyant-hs @trelaney @a-l-l-e-x-a-n-d-r-r-a @ahsloverrf @sodanova @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @langdonsfallen @queencocoakimmie @petersfern-fics @langdonsoceaneyes  @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sassylangdon @confettucini @Langdonalien @alexcornerblog @sevenwondr @sammythankyou @wroteclassicaly @Sloppy-Wrist  @sojournmichael  @langdonslove @whoviancumberbunny @the–queen-of-hell​

A/N: Part 4 is here! This chap is really exploring the beginnings of Michael and Y/N’s relationship, how they’re gonna fit together and how they adjust to each other. No romance yet though cause Michael is still a bubba at this point (think Return to Murder House). Also I am not a Banker and haven’t a clue about accounts lol so if I do slip-up let me know! 

We have to take the bus into the city. I don’t have a phone to call an Uber and Michael has no possessions whatsoever, all we have are the clothes on our backs and mine are on loan from Violet. I promised I’d buy the girl a whole room of new stuff if she let me hang onto her favourite jeans and got rid of the purple taffeta mess I’d arrived in.

        ‘What do we do first?’ Michael asks, swinging into a seat at the back of the bus. ’Are we gonna stay in a hotel?’

        What has Constance been teaching him?

        ‘This isn’t Home Alone.’ I tell him, taking the seat beside him. ’We need a house.’

        Michael frowns, ‘Do you have money?’

        ‘No.’

        I moved to Robichaux back in twenty fourteen, the Coven was my life right up until I met Michael and he became my new home. He cocks his lip at me, ‘Then how are we gonna live?’

        I return his scowl with one of my own, ‘Yee of little faith.’  

        He waits for me to elaborate and when I don’t reply, Michael takes up fiddling with his sleeves. I bat his hands away, ‘Don’t fiddle, it’s a bad habit.’

        ‘Why?’

        ‘It makes you look nervous. Shifty, like you have a reason to hide.’

        Michael holds off for five minutes before resuming the action. He stares out the window watching the world go by as he hides his hands in the too long sleeves. His expression is one of intrigue and I can’t help asking, ‘Have you ever been to Santa Monica?’

        ‘Not often.’ He reveals, ‘Only when I could fit in the stroller. Grandma would take me to the hairdressers with her and she’d let me choose a chocolate bar on the way home if I was good.’

        ‘That mustn’t have been very often.’ I joke, nudging his shoulder.

        Michael’s head whips round to me, ‘That’s not very nice.’ He scolds, ‘I can be good. I willbe good.’

        I didn’t mean for him to take it that way. Vivian’s words must have really hit a chord with him, Michael’s desperation to meet her approval shining in his eyes. He turns his body back to the window and gives me the cold shoulder, I catch him tugging at the sleeves of his jumper again. ‘Stop it.’ I say, ‘I’ve told you once.’

        ‘You’re not my Mom.’ He snaps back, drawing the interests of some of the passengers near us.

        ‘No, but I am the one in charge.’ I say, ‘Stop acting like a brat.’

        ‘I’m not-’

        ‘Michael…’ He harrumphs and throws himself back in his seat, he takes his time rolling his head in my direction till finally those blue eyes penetrate mine. I find myself distracted by the range of emotions swirling there, there’s an unbridled resentment there that unsettles me, growing more obvious during our battle of wills. I don’t think Michael’s met anyone he hasn’t been able to push over or who hasn’t just given up on him before. ‘It’s gonna be difficult at first.’ I say, ‘We don’t have a home, we don’t have money. We’re completely starting over, but it’s better than where we came from.’

        He listens intently and then nods in agreement, ‘When are you gonna tell me where you come from?’ That spark of genius flickers across his face again, ‘I know you aren’t an angel. If you were you wouldn’t talk back to me and you wouldn’t have shoved my Dad against a wall. But you’re something strong, I can feel it.’

        There’s always been a magnetism between us.

        ‘When we have a house I’ll tell you.’ I promise and this seems to satisfy Michael for now.

        ‘I know you’ve done a lot for me.’ He mumbles, glancing round the bus as we come to a stop. Michael watches an old couple at the front, the man’s arm wrapped round her shoulders. ‘I’m not trying to be ungrateful-’

        ‘It’s fine.’

        I calculate how many stops we have left till we reach our destination. Just two, thankfully, it’s the most awkward bus ride I’ve ever had. Michael’s shoulder brushes up against mine every time he fidgets, his focus still on the couple. I wish I had a phone, I’m gonna have to pick one up. But with what money I’m not sure, I have no idea what my savings were like back in 2014, did I even have any? I’m hoping my plan is going to work, but I know it’s risky.

Michael’s hand slips into mine, derailing my thoughts. His hand is warm and Michael’s fingers easily wrap round mine. He steals a peak at me, so quickly I almost don’t catch it. What do I do? Do I let him get close to me like this? He’s six years old, it’s just a comfort thing. But it doesn’t feel like that, not when Michael’s thumb glides over my skin.

        Our stop arrives before I’ve made a decision on what to do about Michael’s hand in mine. We get off in the middle of Santa Monica and I tug Michael through the streets, ‘What are we looking for?’ He calls, letting eyes roving everywhere. Michael takes in the high-rise buildings and palm-trees, the bright shop names and the milling beach-goers, locals and tourists.

        ‘A bank.’ I inform him, ‘I need to access our savings.’

        ‘Our savings?’ Michael repeats, ‘I have no money.’

        ‘Not exactly true.’

        We weave through the streets, even in the middle of the city we have a small glimpse of the sea straight ahead of us. Michael yanks me back from the cross-walk, ‘There?’ He points out the First Republic Bank and I grin at the sight of it.

I pull Michael onto the nearest bench, ‘Once we get inside you are going to have to behave, I don’t care about any excuses. If things don’t work out I’m gonna have to perform more magic.’ I tell him and Michael’s eyebrow go skyward in excitement, ‘This is crucial, Michael. You don’t do anything, even if things go horribly wrong. I will get us out of there.’

        ‘What could go wrong?’

        ‘Hopefully nothing.’ I say, ‘But we haven’t exactly had the best luck have we?’

        His eyes wander to the fish taco shop opposite, ‘Well now you’ve jinxed it.’

        ‘You wish to combine the accounts?’ The Teller eyes us down, ‘How old are you both?’

        Michael goes to answer but I beat him to it, ‘We’ve just graduated college.’ I reply, flashing my best smile.

        The man we’re speaking to doesn’t seem all that thrilled to be dealing with us mere kids. He stares Michael down, but to Michael’s credit he doesn’t show any weakness, ’You wish to withdraw money from the Harmon’s account based on the fact that you are their son?’

        ‘That’s right,’ Michael says.

        ‘But here’s where your little charade falls apart,’ The Teller smirks at us, as if we’ve fallen right into his claws. ‘Mr and Mrs Harmon died in twenty twelve and their son was stillborn, their benefactor claimed the account money years ago. So whoever you are, I need to ask you to leave before I call the police.’

        ‘Who is the benefactor?’ I ask.

        ‘Classified.’

        I hate that word, my eyes slipping over to Michael. He looks back at me as if he’s waiting for something, and I realise he wants my magic show to begin.

        ‘There were twins.’ I reply, ‘Two sons. Upon the death of the Harmons, Michael was raised by his God-Mother.’

        The Teller does not believe us, he addresses Michael. ‘Who is your Godmother? They may be the benefactor but I would need a name first.’

        I try to kick Michael under the table, but he babbles out the name anyway, ’Constance Langdon.’

        I have to work quickly.

        ‘Radicem suam voluntatem.’

        It’s a stronger Concilium spell than the one I used on Tate, I was taught this spell by Myrtle Snow herself. The Teller goes rigid, his expression slack and a bark of laughter escapes from Michael.

        ‘What did you do?’ He looks thrilled, waving a hand in front of the Teller and receiving no reaction.

        ‘Shut up,’ I hiss. This spell is all about eye contact and I cannot be distracted or the Teller could break free. ‘You will release the money from the Harmons account.’ I take out a piece of paper from my pocket and slide it across the table, ‘You will do so based on the wishes of Ben Harmon himself written by his hand in this last will and testament which overrides any previous false wills. Michael Langdon is the son of Ben and Vivian Harmon and he is their last living relative. All the money in their accounts goes to Michael.’  

        It isn’t exactly legitimate, I’m not a Banker and I haven’t the faintest idea if this is going to work. Ben had stopped us before we left the Murder House and handed over his will to me. The ghosts in the Murder House knew Michael was being raised by Constance, so Ben had created this will in the event of Michael’s reappearance to give him some extra help, despite Vivian’s wishes.

        ‘The money has been withdrawn.’ The Teller informs me, ‘You’re too late.’

        ‘Who withdrew it?’ I demand as the Teller’s will pushes against my magic, I hold him in place with my eyes. His eyes move from me to his computer screen and he starts typing. I move round to make sure he’s doing his job. The Harmon’s account opens and I let out a noise of disappointment. It’s more or less a big fat zero, but the account the money was transferred to is also there.

        ‘Constance.’ I growl, the bitch withdrew Michael’s owed money for herself. Probably the moment Ben Harmon died.

        ‘If she is the boy’s Godmother I’m sure the money went to college.’ The Teller assumes and I roll my eyes. We’ve lost out and our chances of securing any money for ourselves dies like the poor souls trapped in the Murder House.

Then there’s also the fact Michael said Constance’s name.

        The boy responsible for my problems stands and peers at the Teller, now blank once again. ‘He’s totally under your control.’ He marvels, ‘Can I do that?’

        It’s too much of a risk.

        I take out the bottle of water I bought back at the Fish Taco shop, open the lid and spit in it. I place it in the Teller’s hand, ‘Drink.’ He shudders, fighting the physical compulsion to follow my commands. He strains against me, the veins in his forehead becoming more and more visible as he battles for his freedom. Michael’s watching with his mouth hanging open, ‘What are you doing?’

        ‘Drink.’ I repeat and the Teller snaps, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a huge gulp. I pat him on the shoulder, ‘Only some memory loss, you’ll forget you ever saw us. Come on, Michael.’

        Michael frowns but he follows me out of the bank, ‘Did we get our money?’

        ‘No.’ I say, ‘Constance stole it all.’

        ‘So we go and use our magic to get it from her, or use magic to fix our accounts.’

        I snort, ‘I don’t have thatmuch power.’

        Michael observes me, ‘I think you’re capable of remarkable feats.’ His words have a honey to them that has me momentarily stumped. Michael offers me a little smile, ‘So are we gonna sleep outside?’

        ‘Well it didn’t help you told them about Constance,’ I remind him.

        ‘Why?’

        ‘What would you have done if she got a call from the bank saying Michael Langdon her ‘God-Son’ was trying to access the Harmon’s accounts. Constance thinks you’re dead.’

        Michael scowls, ‘Well I’m not. She left me to die.’

        I could strangle the boy. ‘I know,’ I say evenly. ‘But she would track you down and who knows what would happen then.’

        He doesn’t seem to care. Michael crosses his arms and his gaze falls on a MacDonalds up the road, ‘I’m hungry.’

        I definitely couldn’t be a mother.

        ‘Go and order something for us.’ I tell him, ‘There’s a call I need to make.’

        Michael scarpers off, abandoning me in the streets of Santa Monica.

I didn’t want to have to go there yet, but with the Harmon’s money gone and with none of my own I have only one option. I locate the nearest payphone and dial the number I know by heart and hold it up to my ear, waiting for someone to pick up.

        Cordelia was as much a mother to me as she was to all her girls. Her voice is tight and I can hear the emotion quavering as she spoke, ‘You’re alive?’

        ‘Yes.’ I keep my answer short, not knowing how she’s going to take my sudden re-appearance.

‘Where the hell have you been Y/N? You vanish right in the middle of class, Zoe’s not been right since you disappeared. It was like you were taken by something and no one could find you anywhere.’

        She won’t let me get a word in, so I wait for the Supreme to calm down. ‘I’m fine.’ I repeat, ‘I don’t know exactly what happened, maybe the spell I was doing went wrong.’ I’m getting very good at spinning these lies, ‘I need your help.’

        ‘You need to get yourself to New Orleans right now.’

        ‘I can’t.’ I tell her, ‘There’s things I need to take care of.’

        ‘What things?’ It touches me that Cordelia still cares about me so much. She should though, in this timeline I’ve only disappeared, there’s no bad blood between us yet, even if it did take all my pride to call the Coven. ‘What do you need?’

        ‘Money.’ I get to the point, ‘There’s something I’ve found that I’m investigating but I need to be able to afford accommodation. Can you work your magic and help me out?’

        Cordelia doesn’t acknowledge my pun, ‘Where are you?’

        ‘New York.’

        I’m not going to tell her where I really am, the last thing I need is Cordelia Goode turning up on my doorstep while I’m harbouring the ex-Antichrist.

        There’s a pause and I can hear Cordelia talking with someone else.‘I’m sending you the funds now. You should have everything you need.’

        ‘Thank you, Cordelia.’

        ‘On the basis that the moment you are finished you come straight home.’ She tells me, ‘You aren’t doing anything dangerous are you?’

        ‘No I’m not.’ I say, ‘It’s a personal matter. I’m sorry, I can’t say more.’

        ‘I mean it, Y/N. I will get the council involved if you don’t keep in contact with me.’

        She’s making me check in, Cordelia wants to keep tabs on me. I suppose she’s only trying to look out for me, ‘Alright.’ I agree, ‘Thank you for your help.’

        ‘Has it gone through?’

        The Coven’s ability to move huge sums of cash has always intrigued me. It’s so mafia how they earn all their money. I know most of its handed down through the generations and people pay good money for a little magical help. I’m sure Fiona had a good few million stored up when she died that Cordelia’s put to good use.

        ‘I’ll let you know when I have a phone.’

        ‘Jesus, Y/N.’I smile, knowing I must sound ridiculous. ‘Stay safe.’ She warns, ‘If I hear of anything I’m coming to get you.’

        Of course she will, or she’ll send one of her little minions. I hang up the call and head towards the MacDonalds, praying I won’t see Cordelia Goode any time soon.

        Purchasing a house was pretty simple, a quick lie about starting college combined with the amount of zeros recently added to my account made the process quick and easy. But Michael got his way and we did have to spend our first couple of nights together in a hotel.

        I was worried so many new experiences would overwhelm Michael, he’d lived such a sheltered life so far. He drank in the world around him like a man parched of water, his eyes roving everywhere pointing out the slightest and most minute of details. He saw the world through a magnifying glass, as if everything was heightened. Michael memorised the way to our room with absolute ease, navigating the corridors and which lift to take as if he worked there himself. He worked out how to fix the broken HDMI cable in our room in under an hour and took it upon himself to handle the management of moving of our new furniture into the house, even though I didn’t think he’d ever supervised anything in his life. He was still growing at an exponential rate, still advancing at genius level. I believe his exposure to such a vast amount of stimulus was encouraging his mental growth to catch up to his body, it was showing with his magic.

        ‘What have I told you about the bed?’ I grumble, putting down my bags on the desk.

        Michael’s bed thunders back to the floor, ‘You said to practice.’

        ‘I meant sending a fork whizzing through the air.’ I say, my eyes catching yet another room service tray sat on my bed, only a few crumbs left. ‘And these room service bills,’ I snatch the receipt off the tray, signed with Michael’s new loopy signature. ‘We aren’t made of money.’

‘But we are.’ He points out, ‘I did the accounts, Y/N.’ He become much more familiar with me and my name. Michael likes to eek it out, his mouth forming every vowel as if he’s experimenting to find which version suits him the most. He smiles when I don’t have another retort and watches as I take out my new laptop and start setting it up, ‘Do I get one?’

        ‘What would you do on it?’

        Michael shrugs, ‘Stuff.’

        ‘Exactly.’

        The laptop pings into life and Michael’s curiosity gets the better of him. He grabs the other bags and makes the short distance from his bed to mine, upending the bags and leting the contents tumble all over the bed. I do my best to ignore him as Michael inspects the new clothes I’ve bought him holding them against his body, ‘Try them on.’

        Michael peers over my shoulder, ‘Are they all for me?’

        ‘All but the dresses.’

        His arms wrap around me and squeeze tight, ‘Thank you.’ He gathers up an armful and heads straight to the bathroom.

        That was the first time Michael had hugged me or shown any kind of affection since the bus ride. I thought he had reigned himself in, but clearly not. The anti-virus is installing when Michael pops back out, dressed in a black shirt and black jeans. He looks at himself in the mirror, ‘It’s very …black.’

        ‘What’s wrong with black?’ I ask.

        ‘It’s just black.’ He states, ‘Boring.’

        ‘It suits you.’ I praise, fishing in one of the bags and producing a tub of hair cream. I climb off my bed and hand it to him, ‘Knock yourself out.’

        I catch the light dusting of blush on Michael’s cheeks as he takes the tub and inspects it, ‘What do I do with it?’

        ‘You use it to tame your hair.’

        ‘What’s wrong with my hair?’

        Maybe I am trying to dress him up too much, trying to shape Michael into the man I knew. ‘You’re right.’ I take the tub back off him, ‘Too soon. There’s nothing wrong with it, your hair is lovely as it is.’ I muss a little for emphasis and Michael pushes me away. I settle back on my bed, the anti-virus now finished. I jump straight onto Amazon and open a secondary tab for IKEA.

        Michael appears before me, his face just above my laptop. ‘Y/N?’ I meet his gaze. Michael’s eyes shine with apprehension, ‘Are you gonna send me to school? Like the other kids?’

        I hadn’t thought about that, though I doubt any other kids could already become an accountant. ‘No.’ Relief flickers across Michael’s face, ‘I think we should focus on your magic.’

        He nods his agreement, “Good. I wouldn’t know how to…’ A pang of sympathy runs through me and Michael catches it. ‘I’m not an imbecile.’ He says and I’m sure he got that word from Constance. ‘I can make friends. I can do school I just think-’

        ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

        Michael pauses mid-rant, not expecting my calm approach. I click open a word document, ‘Pass me my handbag?’ He retrieves it for me and I pull out the notebook where Michael’s account info is kept. ‘Update this for me, will you? All the receipts from today are in my purse.’

        He gets to work, grabbing the pencil and little notepad set out by the maid every day. We work in amicable silence, Michael jotting down his sums, eyebrows moving up and down as his brilliant mind calculates while I online shop.

        ‘When do you think Mom will accept me?’

        His question catches me off guard, ‘What?’

        ‘Vivian.’ Michael clarifies, ‘She said if I be good, if I get things under control then I can visit her.’ I wait for him to carry on, ‘Well I’ve been good for three days.’ Michael points out, ‘When do I know if I’ve been good enough?’

        He has a point.

        ‘I don’t know, babe.’ I reply, pushing the laptop off my lap to take a break. ‘Once we’re moved in things will be easier. We can set up some real lesson plans and get you started on controlling your powers.’

        ‘But I wanna see them.’ Michael insists, ‘Violet and Ben and Vivian and Jeffrey.’

        ‘Well maybe we can visit again soon.’ I offer, ‘It’ll be a process, Michael. You’ve got to give them time too.’

        Michael returns to his sums while I observe him. I have no denial about how monumental the task ahead of me is. To train Michael and hone his powers, teach him to control them and expand that patience into every other aspect of his life. Back at the Hawthorne Academy, when I first met Michael Langdon I saw how the Warlocks fast-tracked him along for their own purposes. It was never about Michael, just how my education with the Coven became less about my own personal growth and more about developing me as a tool, as a weapon they could use against him.

        Oh how it backfired, Michael and I choosing to stand by each other rather than becoming the enemies we were shaped to be.

        ‘Done.’ Michael announces showing me the math, ‘We’re still doing really good.’

        I take the notepad from him and start copying the info onto my word document, ‘You’re smart, you know.’

        He grins, ‘I do know.’

        ‘Arrogant too.’

        ‘I know.’

        He’s doing it to wind me up. In three days Michael has already perfected how to get under my skin, behaving more and more like my brother. That word sickens me a little, I don’t want my relationship with Michael to be familial, but how can it be anything else? In the past we looked out for each other, but Michael took the lead on that role. Now I’m his caregiver, his provider but I do not want to be his mother.

        I won’t be.

        Dinner ends up being room service again. I pointedly ignore Michael’s smirk all throughout our meal as he chomps down on fish and chips and a brownie. He can eat anything and still have those sharp cheekbones, it’s not fair. Our evenings have been spent watching crap hotel TV and experimenting with small-scale magic and tonight is no different. Michael has gotten into Hells Kitchen. I think he likes watching all the aspiring chefs panic under Gordon Ramsey’s wrath. He has his favourites, he cheers them on, hisses when they are sent home. Honestly, Michael is more interesting to watch than the show.

        Now I have my laptop I settle back into social media, making sure to keep myself private. I check on the Coven girls, Zoe, Queenie, Cordelia and try to find a trace of Mallory. Cordelia’s words still hang over my head and I send her a quick text knowing it’s better to keep her fed with updates than have her set one of the other witches on my tail. ‘Whatcha doing?’ Michael complains, ‘Are you even watching?’

        ‘Half-watching, babe.’ I reply, reading Cordelia’s quick-fire response.

        I’m distracted by Michael’s weight, nudging me over and climbing into bed with me. This is a new development, there’s always been an understanding that neither of us invades the other’s bed. It’s our only personal space, having to share a bathroom too. Michael’s still wearing his new clothes as he pulls the duvet up over us. He confiscates my laptop and puts it on the floor, ‘Watch.’

        ‘I am.’

        ‘Watch properly.’

        I give in, letting the show absorb me, but I just can’t give it my all when Michael’s so close, when his hand has slid to cup the side of my thigh. It’s a small action, but one that sends a thousand questions running through me. Is this appropriate? The age gap between us seems problematic, my twenty-one years seeming so uneven against his sixteen, or is it six?

        I scoot up making some space between us both. Michael doesn’t comment on it as I retrieve my phone and check for any other messages. Thankfully there’s nothing, my circle of friends isn’t exactly wide right now. ‘Moving tomorrow.’ I venture, ‘Excited.’

        Michael screws up his nose, ‘I like it here.’

        ‘But you’ll have your own room.’ I point out, ‘We won’t be on top of each other.’

        ‘You mean you can put some space between us.’

        I hope I’m not saying the wrong thing again, ’Sometimes that’s a good thing.’

        ‘I don’t mind it.’ He looks at me, ‘I’ve been alone a lot, it’s nice to have company.’

        He’s killing me. Michael’s eyes fall on my phone, he opens his hand and my phone flies into his open palm. He puts it down with my laptop, ‘I’m getting better.’

        He certainly is, already mastering Telekinesis. Has Michael retained the same capacity of power he had as the Antichrist? Is that possible?

        We start a game of making the notepad fly back and forth between us while the program finishes, when it does I sink down into bed, ‘Sleep.’

        Michael stares at me, ‘It’s nine.’

        ‘I’m tired.’ I say, turning on my side. ‘I’ve been out all day while you’ve been in here eating away our money.’

        ‘Funny.’ Michael’s voice drifts into my ear and when I look up he’s right above me. ‘I’m not going to sleep yet.’

        ‘I don’t know how you stay up so late.’

        Michael smirks, ‘I had a PS2 in my room. Grandma never cared how long I stayed up for as long as I wasn’t causing trouble.’

        I turn my light out and wait for Michael to move off my bed back to his own. His weight disappears and I listen to him padding around as I try to find sleep. The TV gets switched off, plunging the room into darkness and I wait to hear Michael sink onto his own bed, but it never comes. My duvet lifts and I feel Michael press himself up against me, ‘What are you doing?’

        ‘Getting comfortable.’ He answers, his nose pressing into my hair.

        ‘Michael, I don’t think this is very appropriate-’

        ‘You said you weren’t going to be my Mom.’ Michael says, ‘And I don’t want you to be.’

        What on earth does he mean by that?

        His arm slides around my waist, tugging me back into him. I can feel his soft cotton pyjamas brushing my ankles as his bare feet press into the back of my legs, stealing my heat. ‘I don’t know, Michael.’

        ‘Please.’ His voice is a flutter in my ear, ‘I just wanna be close.’

        I bite back the thought I nearly voice, that Michael always gets too hot in bed. But he’s not running as warm as he used to, Michael’s a normal temperature, still invitingly warm but not oppressive. I already know he’s going to win this battle, I don’t have the energy and part of me wants the contact as much as he does. I miss having Michael with me, but I’m scared that I’m giving in too easily. He’s already got me wrapped round his little finger with only a well placed pout and a smile.

        I can’t let this get any further, not until he’s older.

        I turn over and he smiles dopily at me, his hand still on my waist. I run my fingers through his hair watching how he basks in the attention. It takes a lot of willpower to extract myself from my bed and settle down in his own. Michael rolls over to look at me as I snuggle down into his pillows. His eyes are questions marks that quickly dissolve into hurt, the rejection pooling in his eyes. He turns over and pulls the duvet tight around him, refusing to say another word to me.

        It was cold, he didn’t deserve that after being so well behaved the past couple of days. The guilt bites at my chest, how could I do that to him? After all he’s been through? I try to find sleep, but an empty bed just isn’t the same. I miss his warmth, the feel of Michael’s arms around my body and I don’t sleep a wink, not with Michael crying into his pillow till the early hours of the morning.

Read Part 5 here

[diego-hargreeve2]

light in the dark

Part Twelve

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Ship: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Warnings: Language, abuse (emotional and physical), mental illness, violence and, in later chapters, smut.

When the laughter faded, they lay there for a moment, her hands sliding to his back in a loose embrace, his face buried in her neck as his heart settled down to a steady beat and he lifted his head to look down at her again. He had thought she was pretty last night, but this morning like this – her skin flushed from exertion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair rumpled and surrounding her on the pillow – he leaned forward and kissed her softly. She was beautiful.

“I’m gonna shower” he announced, gently peeling his skin off hers as he pulled away. “Then I’m gonna get us breakfast”. He hadn’t eaten after the fight last night, there had been more pressing matters, but his stomach was now less than gently reminding him that he didn’t run off air.

She had already wondered what followed next, what happened after this, but she blinked and smiled, that concern fading as he outlined a plan. Maybe by the time they ate she’d have begun to understand what happened next. Or at least found the courage to ask.

“The gym’s closed today if you want to shower too – ladies locker room will by empty”. She nodded, watching him leave the room before unfolding herself to take his advice. By the time she returned to his room – once again wearing his clothes, a situation she could happily get used to – he had already disappeared out the building and she took a seat on the bed, cross legged, lifting her hands and turning up the heat in her fingers as she began to run them through her long hair. Other people had hairdryers; she had her powers.

He returned home to find her, hands aglow and steam rising above her as the moisture evaporated off her hair, turning the dark blonde wet mess into her usual confused mass of curls and frizz. Diego walked back through the room, a bag in his hands, and smiled at the sight of her – an expression he tried to disguise immediately. Walking around, he put the bag on the counter and crossed the space to the bed to take a seat beside her. “So how hot can you burn?” He asked curiously. Eve shrugged. “I don’t know” she admitted. Nodding towards the head of the bed, the metal rods bearing imprints from her fingers earlier, she continued, “that hot I guess?” “You’ve never tried to see how far you can push it?” Diego was incredulous. Admittedly he’d spent his childhood honing his skills and being pushed to the limits, but he imagined even without that he would have been motivated to see what he was capable of. “I never wanted to be able to do this. And whenever it happened...I was punished. I was nine before I realised…that I could control it, before then I thought they were right saying it was hellfire. Mostly I try and stay as cool as I can” Eve pointed out, tipping her head forward and letting her still damp hair fall forward over her face. When she was very young it happened in her nightmares more than waking hours. She’d be woken surrounded by flames that didn’t seem to touch her with other children screaming with panic. She had believed the Elder when he preached it was hellfire, proof of her demonic origins, and she had prayed every night that God save her. But as she got older, she began to see other signs. How she could carry a pan from the fire without oven gloves. How she could warm her bath water back up. The way that, when ill, her fever burned so hot that touching her left marks on other people’s skin. She had realised she could control it - but her goal had never been to see what the highest temperature was, that she could reach. “You can try it here without being punished” Diego told her gently. It wasn’t why he was attracted to her, but he couldn’t deny being intrigued.   “Thinking you could get a crime fighting sidekick?” She joked pushing her hair back from her face now it was dry. It was the only reason she could imagine he’d want her to learn to control it and push to see how hot she could go. He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“No chance angel. Like I’d let you out there on the streets” he said simply, standing up after a moment and grabbing the takeout bag to bring it back and sit beside her again.

“You don’t think I could handle it?” Had he outright asked her to do it, if Diego had suggested that she consider training and fighting with him, Eve would have shied away from the idea. She had never fought anyone in her life and had only ever been on the receiving end of violence – but the fact he wrote her off had her bristling. She was one of the same group of births as the Umbrella Academy, even if she wasn’t one of them. With the right training…

Diego shook his head, adamant.

“I’ve trained for this since I was a kid and I still get hurt out there sometimes” he pointed out, pulling food out the bag. “And you think I’d ask you to put yourself in danger?” He shook his head again, the chuckle escaping him until he lifted a sandwich out the bag and tore into it.

It shouldn’t have been sexy watching him devour a sub as though he’d hadn’t eaten in years, but she felt a blush touch her cheeks and dropped her gaze.

“So, why’d you think I should try and see how hot it goes then?”

“Not knowing how to use the ability… that’s how my brother Ben died. And I’d wager its why Five disappeared. Knowing your own limits is a way to keep yourself safe” he pointed out, the joking tone from a moment ago gone as he thought of his lost brothers. Ben, who never wanted to be part of the Academy in the first place, who hadn’t wanted what he could do and never understood how it happened, and Five, who was so eager to prove himself as the strongest, the best, that they all suspected he’d tried to jump time as he had stated was his intent at breakfast the last morning they saw him. Eve turned her hands over, looking down at her palms thoughtfully. He had a point.

“What do you know about it?” he asked through a mouthful of food, nodding at her upturned hands.

“I know…that my hands are the hottest and the easiest to channel it. I know that it happens when I get emotional. And I know I’ve never been burned”. Touching things hotter than her skin never hurt her or left a mark. He watched her talk, his head tilted to the side, as she looked down at her own fingers, loosely curled.

“I’d just…rather learn to turn it off rather then up” she admitted, dropping them back down to the bed, sliding them under her thighs against the sheets. “Can you switch yours off?”

“I breathe. Does that count?” She blinked, for a moment confused. Diego’s ability with knives – or other objects – was one he utilised so often she forgot he had another skill.

“How did you figure out that you could do this stuff?” she asked, her mind jumping onto parallel tracks.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember a time before I could do it. Our father seemed to have figured it out when we were pretty young”, he shrugged, taking another bite of the sandwich. How Reginald had known to take them and figured out the odd things they could do was a question Diego had never had an answer to, and he didn’t spend a lot of his time worrying about it. He could’ve wasted his whole life trying to fathom out the man who’d adopted him, but he chose not to. Actions over ideas was his philosophy.

“But he trained you to make it stronger?”

“Me? Nah, mostly he trained me how to fight”, the words half muffled through a mouthful of bread. Reginald had focused on Ben, Five and Klaus when it came to abilities – Diego, like Alison and Luther, had their lessons focused more on combat. Their abilities emerged young and were reliable early on without effort – although he had occasionally wondered sometimes what their father wanted from Klaus, what he thought could be done with the boy he numbered as Four, that led to the amount of cruelty he’d subjected him too…what he thought would happen. Eve interrupted that old wondering with another question.

“Could you teach me to fight?”

“I just said-”

“I know. I didn’t mean to mess up that I just meant…living on the street can be dangerous. And I can’t always assume some vigilante is going to arrive with a pocketful of knives” she pointed back, thinking to how they’d met. Just a couple of months ago, even if it had felt longer. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in danger, and Evie had always run. Learning to defend herself felt like a sensible idea, but he frowned.

“You planning on going somewhere?” he asked, his face furrowed into a frown as he lowered the food, distracted from his stomach by the suggestion she was going to disappear.  

“No – I just – the life I lead…”

“You came to the city to find the Umbrella Academy. You found me. Why would you need to go leave?”

“I didn’t say leave Diego…I just meant you’re busy and have your own life and – it would be good to be able to defend myself” Eve explained, exasperated and apologetic in equal measure as she tried to explain her thinking.

“Yeah, but you’re not living on the streets now, you’re at the shelter. And you know where I am whenever you need me” he pointed out, pushing the bag toward her to encourage her to eat.

“Whenever?” she asked, her voice nervous. He grinned, the expression lazy and self-assured, his lips parted as he moved the bag off the bed and this time shifted closer, his hand lifting to touch her jaw.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking, kid?” When she didn’t respond he pinched her chin gently, waiting for her to lift her gaze to meet his.

“People already think you’re my girl. I don’t tell them different” Diego told her. Eve met his gaze, and the teasing expression on his face sparked a smile from her.

She was used to looking at the floor, fearful of meeting people’s eyes. It was a hard habit to break, but even Evie had to admit that lately whenever she did meet Diego’s gaze it was full of warmth and affection, none of the disgust, fear or hate she had grown up with nor did he look through her as if she was invisible as had become the norm living on the streets. The look in his round eyes and the smirk at the corner of his mouth made her bolder than she thought she could ever be.

“That clear enough, or do you have more questions?”

“Just one” she told him, mirroring back the smile he wore. “How soon can we do that again?”

That made him laugh, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her.

“Let a guy finish his breakfast first”.  

hi anyone still reading after smut. i do have more things planned for this, including with other members of the hargreeves family, so if people still enjoy i will keep writing

@lovinglydiego @klausbutgayer @reblogserpent @fatbottomedcurls @me125 @electronicglitterenthusiast @mrsdiegohargreeves @carryon-doctor-lock @rhymesmenagerie

[wykart]

Does it Matter (It’s Klaus)

Part 2 of Fifty-one years (and one day) later (read on ao3)

Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.

Chapter 8: Will you love me (chpt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7)

24 hours,

“Talk to me, Klaus,” Ben pleaded, again.  

Klaus leant against the exposed brick of one of the city’s many back-alleys, his home for many a night in the past thirteen years. After he talked to Diego, he knew that his siblings would come after him, try to help him. He didn’t want their help. He didn’t want their pity – and he certainly didn’t want Ben’s.

“Klaus!” He cried, but Klaus just closed his eyes, willing the pills to work. They should have started kicking in my now, he should be able to feel something. He still hadn’t told Ben what he’d done to Five earlier that day, but Ben knew it couldn’t have been anything good, the way Klaus was crying when he’d snapped out of it. He’d grabbed his coat and headed for the streets, spending the hours until nightfall traipsing from gutter to gutter, searching for old friends. He’d found them, of course, they were never hard to find when you knew where to look. It felt so easy, falling back onto old habits. He was ready to feel numb again, let them take away the grief, if only for a moment. He felt the pills slide down his throat, anticipating the quiet rush of euphoria, building, but it never came. He felt something, but it was subdued, as if it were happening to someone else. He’d gone too far, he realised, now even the drugs weren’t enough to push it down. The ghosts still followed him, waiting, filling his thoughts with anger and vengeance. The moon beat down from above, and the darkness was full of eyes – all trained on him.

“What is it, Ben,” he sighed, turning to look at his brother. He had his hood pulled up over his head, hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were wide with concern, and always, always with pity.

“What do you mean, what is it?” He snapped, “you’ve barely spoken to me in the past eight hours, something weird’s going on with you, all this power is doing something to you, you must see that. You need help.”

Klaus waved him away, shushing him. “I’m fine, I’m just experimenting okay? You’re the one that wanted me to “explore myself” and all that crap.”

Ben scoffed. “You know, I liked you better when you were –“ he stopped himself short, averting his gaze.  

“When I was what, Ben? When I was high off my ass seven days a week,” he yelled, “when I couldn’t hold a thought for more than a few seconds, when I couldn’t sleep at night without seeing corpses, go a sober day without hearing voices? I wasn’t even living, you’re the one that told me that, you’re the one that always wanted me to sober up. Well here I am,” he shrugged, “all sobered up, and you –“ he spat “– can’t come to terms with the fact that I’ve changed since we were seventeen. I’m not your kid brother anymore, I’m just this. This power is all I am.” That glint in his eyes, it was back. Other voices creeped in to join his own, Ben could feel them, pressing inwards, threatening.  

“That’s not true,” Ben muttered, despondent. “you’re more than that, I see it, we all do. We love you, Klaus. Please just go back to the academy, talk to them, let them help you,” he pleaded.

“They don’t understand me,” he dismissed, “they won’t even try, they never have.” He nodded to himself, “I can show them.”

“W–what do you mean?”

“I mean, this power, it’s brilliant, it’s terrible… I just…” his voice faltered, “I just want them to understand.”

“You need to stop.” He was right, Klaus knew it, but he couldn’t, they wouldn’t let him. They would never let him stop. “It’s hurting you, and it’s hurting others. Your abilities are only growing, but you’re lost, Klaus, you can’t control them. We need more information, we need help from our brothers and sisters.”

“Will you stop trying to give me advice already,” he snarled. “You’re just another one of them, the voices, that’s all you’ve ever been.”

“Klaus,” he murmured, voice soft, hurt.  

“I’ll remind you, because you seem to have forgotten, you’re dead, Ben,” he hissed. “You belong to me.”

A calm anger fell over Ben’s face, a touch of fear. He nodded. “Then go ahead,” he replied, voice hard as stone. “Destroy yourself, destroy them. I don’t care, right? I’m not really here.”  

“I don’t have to listen to your shit,” Klaus muttered, letting out a sigh, “not anymore.”

It was the first time that Klaus had pushed Ben away on purpose, the first time he’d had the ability to. Ben was silenced, stuffed down into purgatory, cast aside just like any other voice in the ocean of spirits that swarmed around him, desperate for a piece.

…

18 hours,

It had been a hassle, convincing Vanya to untie him from the bed. It wasn’t her fault, he had warned her that Klaus could possess him at any moment, in fact, he felt a little unsafe at how little it had taken to convince her otherwise. He needed some air, and he could walk now without his knees buckling every few steps. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere in particular, in fact, he didn’t want to stay out too long if the other’s came back to the academy with news about Klaus. He didn’t know what he’d do if they never did. He had to protect Vanya, she’d been right, it was her power that was meant to trigger the apocalypse, but Five couldn’t see how that was possible, especially since he’d noticed that she’d staring taking her pills again. And The Handler… she wouldn’t have shown up unless their fates were sealed – and what of the other agents, Hazel and Cha-Cha, they’d been uncharacteristically quiet these past few days. If their assignments had been terminated, then the human race really was on the chopping block. The sun was just beginning to rise over the farthest buildings, sky painted a hazy pale blue. It was the last day any of these people would ever know, unless Five could stop it. It had to be Klaus, it was the only possible explanation, no matter how little sense it made.

He was still deep in thought when a man stopped him in his tracks. Five would have punched him in the gut if he didn’t think his hand would shatter on impact. “Are you alright, young man,” he said. He was middle-aged, broad shouldered, a well-meaning smile on his face. “It’s late for a kid like you to be out alone.” Five shrugged him off and mumbled an excuse before the man clamped his hand down on his shoulder, hard enough to sent his healing wounds ablaze. “Come now,” he gloated, and his voice rang with a hundred more. Five glanced up, and his eyes bleared blue. The man smiled, lips quivering with the strain, “we wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Five felt his heart skip a beat as he pushed the man off him and teleported a few paces away. He started running back to the academy. “Careful now,” a woman stepped in front of him, umbrella twirling over her shoulder, “it’s time to stop this little game.” He darted around her and her blazing stare, breaking into a full sprint.

“You can’t run forever, little Number Five,” a girl shouted from across the street, mother looking down at her with concern. Five gritted his teeth, ignored his protesting bones. The academy wasn’t far now. He felt eyes on his back, voices in his head, bile rising in his throat. Why was he gloating? What had he done to the others?

Five bounded up the front steps, panting. To his surprise, Luther opened the door. Five was so relieved to see him back and unharmed that he threw himself into his arms. He looked taken aback, but returned the gesture all the same.

“Five,” he asked, apprehensive, “what’s the matter?”

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, not quite letting himself to believe it, “you’re all okay!”

“What are you doing out of… never mind. We’re fine,” he reassured him, “we couldn’t find Klaus though, we searched all over the city.”

“I was so worried.”

“You should be.” It wasn’t Luther’s voice anymore. Five looked up in surprise. Luther’s eyes were vacant, glazed blue, veins popping in his neck. He smirked as Five cried out in alarm, dashing around his brother’s lumbering form and running into the entrance hall.

“You’re not safe here,” Allison called down from the stairwell above, “you’re not safe anywhere.” That feeling again, like the air was choking the life from him.

“Keep on running,” Diego called, leaning against the living room wall, looking on with mild surprise. “It won’t do you any good.” He couldn’t breathe. He barged into the operating room.

Vanya was standing by the bed, bright blue eyes boring into his vision. She smiled, cocking her head, “Because I’m coming for you, Five.” He couldn’t stand it anymore, he screamed, in fury, in fear, in shame – because this was all his fault –

“Five!” Vanya exclaimed, snapping out of Klaus’ control. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

“Shit!” He hissed, “no, not at all.” He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. Vanya dashed over to him, trying to put a protective arm over his shoulder. He shrugged away. Luther, Diego, and Allison came storming in as well, all equally concerned, and equally unaware.  

“What was that about?” Diego muttered.

“Five, why were you screaming?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Just, Jesus, will you all just shut up,” he snapped, pressing his hand to his brow, trying to quell his oncoming headache.

“Well, sorry, but I for one am I little concerned,” said Allison.

“So none of you feel strange at all?”

“Got a bit of a headache I guess, weird stomach,” Diego shrugged.

“Yeah, me too,” Luther agreed.

"Yeah, because you both ate that dodgy chicken curry!” Allison reminded them sternly.

“You ate Klaus’ cooking?” Vanya asked, incredulous.

“What did I say about shutting up!” Five snapped. “Klaus. Just. Possessed. You. All of you.”

Diego chuckled, looking around at the others, “Uh, no he didn’t.”

“Yes,” Five sighed, “he did. It was only for a moment, so you’re not exactly getting the… full effects. But his power is growing, he possessed some people out on the street too, chasing after me. He switched between you all as easily as flicking a switch, Dad was right about him, more than right.”

“You’re serious,” Vanya murmured, sitting back down in the chair by the bed, deep in thought.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Luther muttered, trying to convince himself.

“Well,” Five gave him a sarcastic smirk, “he just did, and what’s more, he said he was coming here. Coming for me.” He slumped down on the hospital bed, exhausted.

“Yeah, coming for you, not us,” Diego shrugged.

“But we’re going to stop him, right,” Vanya looked between them, eyes wide, “we are going to stop him?” There was an uncomfortable silence. They hadn’t forgiven him, but they still didn’t know what Five had done – what he’d really done. He’d killed Klaus, destroyed his life of happiness. His actions were meant to stop the apocalypse, not start it. The Handler was right, as much as Five hated to admit it. What’s meant to be, is meant to be.

“We will,” Luther nodded, “no matter what Five did to him, we won’t let Klaus become a killer.” So that was it then, this was for Klaus, not for Five. He supposed that was fair enough.

“But how can we help him?” Allison asked.

“Well, don’t drugs numb his powers?” Luther shrugged, “Maybe we could give him some.”

“Great idea, big guy, we can throw fistfuls of cocaine at him to make him stop.”

“Honestly,” Five sighed, throwing his hands up in the air, “I’m open to suggestions.”

“You didn’t find anything in Dad’s journal?” Asked Luther.

“Not much, no,” Five admitted, “but he did know about these… potential developments. I don’t think he expected Klaus to last as long as he did on the streets, and even if he did, the drugs would keep it down.”

“That’s horrible,” Vanya mumbled.

“Well,” Diego quipped, “what else did you expect from that asshole.” He thought Luther might retaliate but even he seemed to be in agreement.

“There’s more,” Five continued, “I was… visited, last night.”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific bud,” Diego drawled.  

“By my employer,” he pressed on, ignoring him. “She seemed to imply that the apocalypse is still on for tonight.”

“What?” Vanya gasped, after all, Five has assured her that she was supposed to be the cause.

“I checked with the police already, they’ve got Harold Jenkins in custody and he’s beaten to a pulp, I don’t see how he’s escaping,” Allison added.

“Just shut up, okay, shut up,” Five muttered, closing his eyes. He hadn’t missed these family arguments. Everything had been so much simpler when it was just him and his thoughts, and of course, Delores. “All I’m saying is if Klaus’ powers continue to grow at the rate that they have been – everything the journal listed; physical manifestation of the dead, possession, telekinesis – then maybe he could be the cause.” There was a murmur of disbelief from all of them.

“Okay,” Diego offered, humouring him, “that would make sense if Klaus actually wanted to destroy the world, which he doesn’t.”

“You’re forgetting, I know what it’s like to be inside his head – to an extent anyway – I felt like I was going crazy after just a few minutes, but that’s his life…” his voice grew small, because of course he remembered. Back at the apartment had been one thing, but the possession… a thousand entities stuffed inside one body, all screaming and jostling and trying to force their way out. No wonder Klaus was high all the time, that power had been growing inside him ever since he was a kid, it was enough to drive anyone to madness. “Look,” he grimaced at his brief vulnerability, “all I’m saying is that we should be on our guard, and if Klaus really is capable of causing the apocalypse, then,” he cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe he was really saying this. “We can’t hesitate to do what’s necessary to stop him.”

“Okay, now that,” Diego pointed at him, snarling, “that is some bullshit right there.”

“Yeah Five, what the hell? This is Klaus we’re talking about, remember?” Allison added.

“Yeah, she’s right Five,” Luther muttered, “and that’s if it’s even possible to kill him anyway.”

“Wait, what did you say?” Five snapped.

“Wasn’t it in Dad’s journal?” he looked around guilty, “Klaus can’t die.” Five raised his eyebrows in a manner that said no, it absolutely was not in the journal. “Well, that’s what Pogo said anyway, that Klaus’ connection to the, err, dead dimension or something, is too strong.”

“He is, I believe,” a voice sounded from the shadows, and Pogo came hobbling from around the corner, “now in a perpetual state suspended between life and death.”

“Oh great,” Five rolled his eyes, “and where have you been this whole time?”

“Extrapolating new conclusions from your late father’s research, so much regarding young Klaus was left unfinished – and when I heard about your… situation,” he glanced towards Five’s broken body pointedly, “I thought there might be something he may have missed in his negligence of the boy.”

“And was there?” Five asked, growing impatient. Sure, Pogo had been like family growing up, but he’s always been Reginald’s man – well, ape – through and through. And Vanya was right to be wary of him, protecting their father’s harmful deceptions even in death.

“There were… strategies, that Master Hargreeves planned to implement when the boy’s powers grew beyond his control, or beyond his usefulness. It’s the same reason he medicated Miss Vanya, and conditioned Miss Allison’s powers to respond only to a recognisable, and rather long, activation phrase.”

Allison looked over in shock, but quickly resolved it within herself. “What, so–“

“So he could control us,” Five finished, “it’s the same reason he wouldn’t let me time travel, not even under his guidance, because it wasn’t useful to him. He always went on about our full potential, but he never cared about us reaching it.” Pogo looked down, he seemed uncomfortable. Good, Five thought. He’d stood by and watched them suffer through everything their father had put them through, and he never said a word.

“Yes,” Pogo coughed, “quite.” Vanya looked up, outraged, as if she were about to speak up, but she decided against it.

“So, what did you find?” Luther asked.

“Quite a few promising artefacts, actually, Master Five, if you’d consider coming upstairs to see them for yourself?”

Five nodded, “alright, lead the way.”

“Seriously?” Vanya cried, exasperated, “as far as I know we haven’t actually talked to Klaus yet, maybe that would be a better place to start?”

“You know, for once, I actually agree with her,” Diego admitted, rueful.

“Well,” Five shrugged, grinning sarcastically, "by all means, go on another wild goose chase across the city, good luck to you.”

“Yeah alright,” he shrugged, smirking back at Five, “good idea. Certainly better than your’s anyway.” Five glared at him, jaw hanging open. He couldn’t believe how stupid they all were.

“Can we get breakfast first?” Luther grunted, looking around at them sheepishly.

“Yes, okay,” Diego replied, “good plan. Breakfast, then we find Klaus, we talk to Klaus, we bring Klaus back here and you don’t have to kill him with one of Dad’s hell creations.”

“Seconded,” Allison announced. And once again, Five was powerless to stop them as the three of them marched from the room. Vanya stood to leave as well, and, again, Five stopped her.

“Vanya, I just found out last night that the apocalypse is still on, there’s no way I’m letting you go out there.”

She scoffed, “letting me – Five, I can handle myself, okay!” She was starting to lose her temper with the way he, the way all of them, were treating her like she was made of glass – tiptoeing around her as if one wrong look would make her blow up and cause the end of days.

“Vanya, please, just stay,” and there it was again, that pleading expression that made all his age and his spite fall away, and Vanya only saw the boy she’d shared everything with, comforted, promised to stand by, and lost. He noticed her soften and continued, “you have a concert tonight, right? Why don’t you do some last minute practise and, if all goes well, we can all be there tonight, okay?” Of course, Five didn’t think that was going to happen, but it paid to be positive.

Vanya only looked conflicted for a moment. “Okay,” she nodded, caving again. She got up and left the room, however – she couldn’t stand to be near Pogo knowing what he’d kept from her.

“Master Five,” Pogo prompted, once she was out of earshot, “shall we go take a look at your father’s office?”

…

7 hours,

He’d been wandering the city all day, wishing he’d eaten some of that curry Ben made for him the day before. There was only one place he could think of going to, somewhere he could see Dave again, if only frozen in a moment. The veteran’s bar was open, and despite it being so early in the evening, the bar was populated by at least a dozen grizzled patrons, drinking the day away. Would he have come here with Dave, if he’d lived? He might have ended up becoming friends with some of the people here. He couldn’t stop thinking about the life they had together, the one Five had stolen. Where had they lived? Had they been happy together, all that time? He’d never know now. A part of him wished he didn’t know about any of it, it only made his death harder to accept.

Heads turned as he entered the bar, and Klaus recognised a few of them from – had it only been three days? – ago when he’d caused a bit of a scene. He blocked them out, making a beeline for the Vietnam memorial on the far wall. He pressed his fingers to the glass, stroking the spot where Dave’s grainy photograph hung. The picture didn’t do him justice, and the film was spotted brown with age. He was pictured there next to him, as he’d been just a few months ago, happy, even in the middle of a war zone, happier than he’d ever been.

“Back again, are we?” A voice behind him growled. “You’ve got a lifetime ban from this place after what you did, you and your brother – not that you’d be welcome here anyway.”

Klaus chuckled, turning around the face him. “Oh look,” he grinned, “it’s the village idiot.” The man’s expressed pulled tight under his white beard, eyebrows furrowed in rage.

“You’ve got some nerve, kid, showing your face here, again. Your crazy brother was here again last night looking for you, but this time,” he spat, “you ain’t got your brother here to weasel you out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, cordially, turning back to the memorial and going to open the glass panel. The veteran slapped his hand away and slammed the glass shut again. “Ouch,” he hissed, “you know, that’s very rude of you.” The first veteran was backed up by almost every other patron there, standing behind him, faces twisted into a snarl. Klaus couldn’t exactly blame them, after all, he understood what they’d gone through, what a little shit he was being in their eyes. Then again, he didn’t much care. Just like everyone else, they wouldn’t believe him, would never understand. The spirits were crying out for blood, a thrumming energy pulsing through his veins. They waited, and he let them in. Figures of dark smoke and blue light started to manifest around the room, many of them soldiers themselves, dead in wars long past, forgotten, bent on vengeance. The crowd of living veterans stared around in disbelief, some of them putting their hands over their ears or pressing their fingers to their temples, overwhelmed. One of the patrons – closer to the door – went to run, but found that the locks clicked shut before he could reach for the handle.

Klaus giggled excitedly, wiping a drop of blood from his nose. He ran and vaulted over the bar, grabbing a packet of salted peanuts. All around the room, figures solidified, covered in blood and anger. He sat up on top of the bar, grabbing himself a shot glass and filling it generously. It was a burden lifted, to manifest them here, like pulling a weight off of him. They tied down his thoughts with feelings of rage, and now they were free, just like they wanted.

“Okaayyyy spirits,” he announced, like some sort of necromantic ringmaster. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “go ham?” he waved his hand around in the air, grinning, and downed a shot. Some of them snarled, those who could still understand anything but rage anyway. He crossed his legs and threw one of the peanuts up into the air, catching it in his mouth. This was gonna be good.

This is what he’d been missing these past couple days, they’d all been building up inside, struggling to get out. Everyone of them that he brought forth was just another voice removed from his head, another screaming face gone from behind his eyelids. Not only that, it was exhilarating. Ever since the night he discovered the truth, he’d felt more and more connected to the spirits that plagued him. To an extent, at least, he felt what they felt – loneliness, frustration, injustice, rage – and with every passing hour it was only getting stronger.

It was probably the best bar fight he’d ever seen, and he’s seen, hell, been in plenty. He found himself cheering for one side or the other, observing the subtle blue glow emanating from his hands that now came without strain. Some of them were bound to be the victims of one veteran or the other on the battlefield, sporting barrages of bullet holes and missing chunks from grenade blasts. Spirits tended to hang around their killers. Others were just there for the show, and some of them were twisted into something less – or something more – than human. You couldn’t look into their eyes without feeling like you were falling. It wasn’t what Klaus would have called a far fight.

One of the living still in the fight smashed a bar stool against the front window, making a sizeable hole which he began to clamber out of, cutting himself on the glass. “Oi!” Klaus cried, “that’s cheating, he’s leaving the arena!” He jumped down from the bar, shrugging, “guess we’ll have to go after him.” He clenched his fists, concentrating, because there were more, there were always more waiting for their turn to live again. They burned for it, and he couldn’t refuse. He looked to his side, expectantly. “Ben!” He cried, waving energetically, “how’s my favourite brother doing?” People on the street had spotted the man running from the bar, and the crowd of ghosts now streaming through the locked door and out onto the roadside.

“Klaus?” He muttered, looking around the ruined bar, the vengeful spirits, and the bodies on the floor, “what the hell did you do?” He grabbed Klaus by the shoulders, shaking him and repeating, louder, “what the hell did you do!”

“Relax, relax,” Ben’s hands fell through Klaus’ body as Klaus held his up his own in a placating gesture.

“Do you think you could help me with a little something – you know,” he splayed his fingers out around his stomach, waving them around while making gross sound effects, “do your thing?”

“Are you insane?” He cried, which, to be frank, Ben was coming to think that he was. He left his side for morning and this was where he ended up?

“Oh, come on Ben,” he chided, looking at him with sad puppy-dog eyes. “I know you’re just like the rest of them, I mean you died when you were just seventeen – how horrible,” he stuck out his bottom lip in feigned sadness. Ben scowled. “Come onnn,” he pleaded, “aren’t you angry? Don’t you wanna,” he punched the air in front of him, “strike back at the world!” He lowered his voice, looking into his eyes, “your siblings?”

“Klaus,” he warned, turning away.

“It’s our fault you died, little bro, doesn’t that just make you wanna–“

“Stop!” He shouted, rounding on Klaus. “You’re a bunch of assholes, that’s been established, but that doesn’t mean I want to kill innocent people for you and your mad power trip – I mean look at yourself Klaus,” he indicated towards the havoc now pouring from the bar to the streets outside. “This is insane!”  

He pouted, tilting his head sideways. There was a manic glint in his eyes. “I thought you’d say something like that.” He closed his eyes, reaching back into that dark place where their minds were laid bare. Just a quick extension of himself and –

“Klaus,” Ben murmured, “what… what are you…” his words were cut short as that blue light seeped across his eyes, through the veins where blood no longer flowed. Klaus smiled at him, watching his influence take hold, echoing that same glow. Klaus smiled as Ben stepped away towards the streets, opening his jacket, letting those twisting monstrosities free. Regular ghosts where all well and good, but regular ghosts didn’t have portals to hell dimensions inside their abdomens. Ben was going to make this a whole lot more fun for everyone.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, “wait up a sec, I almost forgot.” He dashed back to the other side of the bar and wedged open the glass panel containing the Vietnam memorabilia. He snatched the photograph from the case, prying the worn out paper from its frame. He ran a finger over the grainy imprint of Dave’s fave, and clutched it to his chest as he stepped into the air, letting it carry him above the ground on a swirl of pale, wavering sky.

[raptorginger]

I am a fiend for possessive Ben/Kylo Ren. Something like Ben has been denying his feelings for Rey until he sees another man flirting with her & can't hold it back anymore. In any au you want...I just live for that shit! Thanks so much!

are you a mind reader, anon?  i heard “Mr. Brightside” the other day and have been wanting to write something since.  i hope this is okay! it’s my first time writing a possessive!Ben, like, on purpose.  Please let me know!

Coming out of my cage

And I’ve been doing just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I want it all

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

Ben hated clubs.  Always had.  Always will.  He’d only come because his roommate Rey had pleaded with him to come out tonight with her and her friends.  He’d been taking notes for his graduate seminar on Quantum Field Theory and planned on rewarding himself with a couple hours of Dark Souls (he was a glutton for punishment), but Rey had tugged insistently on his sleeve, looked up at him with those sparkling hazel eyes, and practically begged him to come with her.  Ben’s chest had tightened painfully, his throat went dry and he assumed he was having another panic attack, but he’d agreed to go anyway.  Rey had smiled brightly and jumped up to get ready.  He loved making her smile.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Rey.  She’d moved in with him this past summer, having plucked his ‘roommate wanted’ flyer off of the physics department community board.  They’d exchanged a few texts, met for coffee to gauge compatibility, and he’d helped her move in about a week later.  Ben had to admit that for an undergrad, she was incredibly bright, with a keen mind that often solved whatever physics problem he was having before he could.  He had a few grease boards around the house, and he’d frequently wake up from where he’d passed out on the couch to see the rest of the problem puzzled out for him in Rey’s distinctive flowery scrawl.  He’d check her work, and nine times out of ten, she’d be right.  He’d tell her about it when she emerged from her bedroom, warm brown hair wild and eyes red and bleary from sleep.  She’d chirp excitedly and they’d talk about it, or she’d pout and Ben would explain where she’d gone wrong.  Ben loved that.  Living with Rey was as easy as breathing, and Ben found himself eagerly looking forward to the moments they were home together.

However, Ben quickly discovered they were almost polar opposites socially.  Rey was easy going, friendly, charming, everything he wasn’t.  She had friends.  She dated, he assumed.  She never brought any guys back to their house, but there were some mornings she came in through the front door instead of through her bedroom door.  There were some mornings his physics problems hadn’t been miraculously solved.  He didn’t envy her social life, exactly.  He certainly didn’t begrudge her for it.  It was just…frustrating to him.  He felt like a little black cloud hung around his head when he’d wake up and see Rey wasn’t in her room.  Ben tried not to poke and prod the feeling too much.  It led to a rabbit hole of thoughts that made him uncomfortable.  

Once, when he’d found her crying in her bedroom a week or so ago after a break up, he’d had to go on a long run to staunch the flood of rage that overtook him.  How dare someone hurt Rey!  How could they?!  And yet, at the heart of the rage monster inside him, was a small speck of happiness.  Ben was more afraid of that speck than anything else.  Rage, he could handle.  Whatever that speck was, he had no idea how to deal with it.  Had no desire to deal with it.  Lately, the speck wouldn’t snuff when the rage monster died.  It would linger, persistent and irritating, demanding attention.

And now, in this loud, dark, and smelly club, that little speck grew into a small flame as Rey grabbed his hands and pulled him to the dance floor.  Even in the dim, shitty light, Ben could tell the crests of Rey’s cheeks were bright red, from both dancing and drink he guessed.  She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with the strobing lights.  Ben nervously placed his hands on her hips as she pressed closer to him and rested her cheek on his chest.  She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her.  Everywhere she touched felt hot through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and he sincerely wished it was socially acceptable to wear sweatpants to a club because his jeans were suddenly the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever worn.  She placed her hands over his and helped him sway her to the beat of the song, an old hit by The Killers.  Well, old to her probably.  Ben still had a hard time thinking of the music he’d listened to in high school as “old,” even if it was fifteen years old.

When the song ended, she stepped back and placed a friendly peck on his cheek before flouncing back over to her friends, who had been joined by another group of socially outgoing club goers, one of whom handed Rey a fresh drink.  Ben sullenly shoved his hands into his pockets and went back to the sidelines.  He thought about leaving.  He’d agreed to come.  He hadn’t agreed to stay.  He felt his scowl growing more and more pronounced as he watched Rey with some classically handsome swarthy pirate looking guy.  Ben heaved a growling sigh.  He couldn’t compete with that.  He was all awkward bulk, tall, pale, dark haired emo grumpiness, a schema he’d easily settled into in high school and never left.  Rey and the pirate guy complimented each other beautifully.  Appropriate height, lean muscle, tanned glowing skin, easy smiles.  Their clothes even complimented each other, as if they’d called ahead of time to coordinate.  Light rinse jeans, white t-shirts, dark sneakers for him, dark heeled ankle boots for her.  Rey had added a warm green cardigan with floral embroidery.  Ben liked that one.  It brought out her eyes.  It paired wonderfully with the guy’s tan leather bomber jacket.

Ben felt his lips curl into a sneer as the guy started getting handsy, his (presumably) well manicured hands drifting to squeeze her bottom.  Rey was giggling playfully, giving him a tut-tut waggling of her finger.  The rage monster was uncurling and stretching in his stomach, soon to bloom in his blood.  His fists clenched and unclenched, his short nails digging into the skin of his palms.  The guy kept running his hands all over Rey’s lithe body, and she kept giggling and playfully pushing at him.  When she pulled him to the dance floor, Ben lost it.  He took a couple of steps forward, but stopped himself.  What the hell was he thinking?  Rey could dance with whoever she wanted.  She wasn’t his.

Ben’s eyes widened with the shock of sudden realization.  The little speck started to feed on his rage, morphing into something else.  Something that frightened him.  No, she wasn’t his.  But he wanted her to be.  

***

It was quiet in their neighborhood when Ben rounded a corner onto the street.  He had rented a house in an area with other graduate students and young university researchers and had never moved since, since it was never that loud.  A few lights were on in nearby homes, a handful of people on their porches drinking a beer, having a smoke, or both, but otherwise, the night was cool and quiet.  Ben stomped angrily up the porch steps and rammed his key into the lock, opening the door to the dark living room.  He heaved a sigh.  Home.  Alone.  Again.

Until a lamp flicked on and he saw Rey sitting in a chair.  Her legs were crossed elegantly, contrasting sharply with her angrily crossed arms.  She was frowning at him.  Ben raked his hands through his hair, mussing it.

“Care to explain what the hell that was, Ben?”  Rey snapped.

Ben frowned and shrugged, trying to plead innocence.  “What are you talking about?”

“You looked about ready to commit murder back there,” Rey accused.

Ben began to pace like a caged animal.  He tugged at his hair, a nervous habit since he’d been a kid.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If he’d been looking at Rey, he’d have seen her expression soften.  He heard the old chair creak and Rey’s soft steps as she approached him.  She placed her hand gently on his forearm, halting his pacing.  “You’re a piss poor liar, Ben,” she murmured.

He yanked his arm away from her.  She flinched and Ben felt like his heart was screaming.  “Why are you here?  I thought you’d still be with…that guy,” he grumbled heading into the kitchen.  Away, just get away.

He heard Rey sigh deeply.  “That…wasn’t what it looked like.”

Ben slammed a bottle of Jack down on the kitchen counter.  “Oh really?  That wasn’t you letting some guy feel you up?”  I bet you feel amazing. What I wouldn’t give…Shut up!  Ben scowled at the glass he’d pulled out and took a swig straight from the bottle instead.

Rey took the bottle away from him and took a swig herself, wincing at the burn.  “Okay, that might have been what it looked like.  But, I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

Ben blinked owlishly at her.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That was Poe.  He’s Finn’s boyfriend.  They’ve been listening to me complain about being in love with you forever, and Poe came up with this silly plan.  I thought dancing with you and telling you…but you didn’t seem to hear me.  So Poe said we should dance.  But then you looked so angry, and I didn’t know what to think.  I was so sure you felt something for me…”  Rey babbled, still sipping the Jack as she hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter.

Ben could only stare at her wide eyed.  He leaned against the counter, his head hanging so his hair was falling into his face.  “Wait, what are you saying?  You’re in love with me?”

Rey wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, setting the bottle down carefully next to her.  She leaned in close, gently tucking his hair behind his ear.  She gently took his chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned his face towards hers.  She was smiling kindly at him, and Ben felt the speck hug his heart.  Warmth spread through him, and he felt his arms shaking.  Rey held his chin in her hand as she brought her mouth to his, her kiss a soft caress.  She pulled away after just a moment, resting her forehead against his so he could feel her small nod.

As if possessed with a mind of its own, Ben’s hand lifted from the counter and came to rest lightly on Rey’s thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into the side.  She sighed and nuzzled his cheek, making his breath hitch.  Ben huffed a laugh.  “I think…I think I’m in love with you, too,” he whispered before he took her lips in another kiss.  

[lifeasitis21]

Always Do

Imagine (Anon Request): Henry Cavill x Reader where the reader and Henry are co-stars and they slowly fall in love over the course of the film and they make their first moves during the press tour.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Y/n Johnson

A/n: I hope you enjoy anon! Thanks for the request! 

He’d been doing this all day. He filmed himself literally everywhere the two of you went. Whether he was promoting the movie or just describing everything you were doing, he always had that camera in his face.

“Maybe a break, would be good for today..Yeah?” You interrupted.

Henry glanced over at you with that smile on his face. 

“Well it looks like, we’ll  have to see each other again tomorrow. But for now, goodbye from Y/n and I.” As he spoke he leaned over close to you, his head was basically in your lap. You gave the camera the best smile you could and waved goodbye to whoever would end up seeing the video. 

Henry was the only one out of the two of you that had any social media so when the producers asked him to post promotions for the movie every once and awhile, he really had no choice.

He turned off his phone and tossed it into one of his bags as the two of you arrived on set. You still had about 3 more months of filming left, but you enjoyed the plot of the movie and working with Henry was actually really fun. He made you laugh more than you cared to admit.

“Today’s gonna be a good day, I can feel it.” He said, optimistic as usual. 

You hopped out of the van and headed straight for your trailer to put your stuff away before makeup. Something Henry should have also been doing, but when you found him close on your heels you couldn't say you were surprised.

“Did you get that email from production? They moved that crazy fighting seen up to today.” He watched you move around your trailer, a lazy smile forming on his lips. “We get to film together, All. Day. Long.”

You glanced back at him as you grabbed a snack from your fridge.

“Say no more, you’ll get me too excited.” You said as sarcastically as you could. 

He just laughed it off as you walked past him towards the trailer door. 

Since it was Monday, the two of you headed off to the morning staff meeting. Just an overview of what was planned for the week. This action filled sci-fi featured both you and Cavill as the leads. You played strangers turned partners at the end of the world to put it broadly. Henry’s character had a love interest, but your character seemed to be too busy holding everything together. And no matter how many times the writers told him no, it didn't stop Henry from suggesting every other day that you should end up with him by the end.

Since filming began, the only place the two of you weren’t together was wardrobe and makeup. Most every scene featured the both of you, and if it didn’t, you always seemed to find Henry standing off to the side of set watching you act.

“Cavill and Johnson to set two!” 

As you made your way over, Henry jogged up beside you.

“May I say, you’re looking particularly bad ass today.”He said as he leaned in close to your ear.

You laughed a little and gave him a gentle shove. “Same goes for you Cavill.”

The set director put you into position and went over the scene with you once more before calling action.

You and Henry were set to be fighting back-to-back blasting creatures as they crawled out of the walls around you.

“And, action!”

The blasters sounded throughout the room as you put on your best “war face” and went through your steps.

“On your left!” You shouted. 

Behind you, Henry turned and fired at the wall where a creature would be CGI’d in during editing. 

After the two of you did your rehearsed dance around the room for awhile, firing at creatures, dodging attacks, Henry said his next line.

“I’m running low on ammo.”

You looked at him with a smirk on your face.

“There’s only a few left, I can take ‘em.” 

You prepared to do the move you’d practiced all day last week. You were supposed to take a few steps back and then run full speed at Henry, who would launch you off his thigh and fling you straight at a creature. The plan was for you to jump over the side of a balcony and land on the mat that'd been placed half a floor down off-camera. After firing your last round and then tackling a dummy creature down with you, all you had to do was tumble onto the mat.

Henry insisted he could toss you all the way to the mat without an issue and you’d voiced your concern that too many things could go wrong, but if it worked, it would look amazing. You didn't want to mess up the flow of the scene so without a word you started to run. Everything felt right as you ran at him, but he’d been just one too many inches off his mark, which caused you to overestimate how far away his leg was. You stepped too high up on his thigh, but before he realized, he had already set in motion tossing you to the mat. As you began to jump from his leg, your foot caught on his bicep and you flew through the air, knowing you were going to fall short of the mat.

In the little time you had, you did your best to fall the same way you would have on the mat but instead of padding, you crashed down hard onto concrete. 

The moment you hit the ground you yelled out in pain and they called cut. Henry ran down the stairs and straight to you. It was bad, you knew that much.

As quick as you could, you stood and put as much weight on your ankle as you could. It hurt like hell but you hid the pain.

“Someone get the medic over here!” The stunt director shouted.

You waved him off and took a moment to catch your breath. Henry had his arm around your waist, trying to take some of the weight off your ankle.

“No no no, I’m fine, I’m--I just need a second.” You walked over to a chair as normal as you could, wincing with every step.

“Shit Y/n. Fuck I am so sorry. Fuck.” Henry looked panicked as he walked beside you. 

“Don’t worry about it--I’m fine, just needed a second and--”

Behind you Ben Richards’, the head director, approached you with the set doctor beside him.

The doctor kneeled to remove your shoe but you stopped him before he could. 

“I think I’ll be okay, I just twisted it a little. It feels better already.” The smile on your face was weak. Nothing good ever happened when production was set back so you did your best to play it off as no big deal.

“Y/n, I don’t buy it.” Ben said. “Take the rest of the day. I’l send the PT to your trailer in, say an hour.”

“But Ben I--”

Ben kneeled down and gently grabbed your ankle, then he not so gently squeezed it, causing you to wince in pain.

“Fu--ck me! Shit.”

“That’s what I thought. Take the rest of the day kid.”

He placed a hand to your shoulder and sent Henry with you back to your trailer, probably to assure that you got there. You should have known Ben wouldn’t let this slide. He’d been an old family friend for as long as you could remember. The moment he told you about this movie you jumped at the opportunity to work with him. Which is why you felt so bad for potentially slowing down filming.

You were almost to your trailer now, but with every step your ankle throbbed. Henry was practically carrying you, but the last few feet he actually picked you up and carried you into your trailer.

As he set you down, you inhaled sharply. This was the part you were dreading. He helped you untie your shoe and gently began to pull it off.

As he did you could immediately see the bruising beginning, which hopefully meant it was a sprain instead of a break. 

Henry grabbed an ice pack from your freezer and wrapped it in a towel. He slowly laid it on top of your ankle that was now propped up on the couch.

“Y/n. I am so sorry.”

You smiled weakly up at him. “If you wanted to shoot that scene by yourself, all you had to do was ask.”

That brought a sad smile to his face and he motioned for you to sit up a little, so he could sit next to you. You rested your head against his shoulder and let your eyes close. He wrapped his arm around you as he leaned his head on top of yours.

“How’s the pain?” He said quietly.

“Manageable.” You said through partly gritted teeth.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t say anything. He held you for what felt like a long time, before his phone buzzed next to him.

He took his time as he read the text, then, “They need me back on set. We’re gonna film all we can today without you, so just take your time and rest.”

You felt a twinge of something as you remembered something from this mornings meeting.

“You have those scenes with Tiffany you can film right?”

He looked like he’d just remembered a bad memory. “That’s right, a whole bunch of looove scenes.”

He tried his best to joke but you could see the sympathy in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“It’s too bad, I was looking forward to making fun of the way you kiss during your scenes.”

“Looks like you’ll have to figure that out yourself.” 

Without responding, you raised a brow and scoffed.

“Um...that’s uh--not what I meant--I’m gonna, I should go.”

As Henry walk/jogged back to set he was mentally beating himself up. He could never talk to you. Since the first time he meet you over 6 months ago, he always found himself tripping over his own tongue. 

He arrived just in time to annoy the makeup artist, who had already warned him multiple times not to make a habit of showing up late.

He didn’t even say anything to him, he just rolled his eyes and powdered Henry with a look of annoyance in his eyes. Henry would need to add him to his mental list of people to buy coffees for tomorrow morning. To be fair though, the only other person on that list was you, and it would take more than coffee to make up for what he did.

“Cavill to set 2! Cavill to set 2!”

Henry noticed Tiffany talking to one of the directors as he approached. He didn’t hear everything but he gathered that she was discussing the sex scene that was supposed to take place between the two of them.

“--nd I think it would be best to add in at least one more scene. It just seems empty--oh, here he is now. Henry, don’t you think there should be at least one more love scene for our characters before the end scene with Y/n’s character?”

Henry was caught a little of guard, one because he’d had little interaction with Tiffany throughout the whole movie, and two because, if it was up to him, there would be no love interest with her at all.

“I’m not sure...I guess its hard to say.” He chose his words carefully. “More than one might come off as more serious than my character actually is about yours..Unless I’m reading it wrong. It seems like the two aren’t very seri--”

Before he could finish, someone directed the two to take their places. Luckily enough, as Tiffany seemed to disagree with whatever he was saying. 

Right now all he had to worry about was a simple kissing scene. He’d done a few before. It was always awkward, like kissing a nameless faceless being.

He thoughtlessly shot off his lines with as much passion as he could manage. It felt good as he finished. Tiffany in turn said her lines and waited as Henry reached for her hand and pulled her to him. She looked up into his eyes with what, if he didn’t know better, looked like a whole lot of desire. As he looked down at her though, he increasingly began to dread every other love scene he would have to shoot today.

As if in slow motion, he moved in and tried to trick his brain into simplifying it. Just close your eyes and kiss her. you’ve done it before. 

Henry followed every tip he’d ever been given for a good kiss scene and hoped for the best. As his lips met hers it began to feel like the kiss was going to last a lifetime. He’d suddenly became very grateful you weren’t here to see it.

“Aaand cut. That was, alright.”

Tiffany pulled back and glanced at him.

“I feel like it was empty. He’s not giving me anything. I mean, we just confessed our love for each other and it seems like--”

Before she could finish, Ben intervened.

“Actually, in this scene, your character confesses her love for him. He’s supposed to just be here. And Tiffany, I read over some of your notes for this scene and I’m sorry but I have to disagree about another love scene. That’s not where these two are headed, or my vision for what they are to each other.”

Tiffany apparently still disagreed and called for a break as she approached Ben. Henry, on the other hand, had never been so grateful for an interruption.

He pulled out his phone and typed in your name. 

--feeling any better?

He figured if you didn’t respond you had fallen asleep, which was a good thing. But moments after he sent it, he saw the little response bubbles pop up.

Y/n --much better. The PT came with pain killers so I’m doing just fine. Hows the make-out session going?

--Just as horrible as I imagined it.

He needed to tread lightly, he knew that. But he’d never met anyone he could talk to like he talked to you. If there was anyone he would share his feelings with, it would be you...that is, if the feelings he had weren’t for you.

Y/n--Sad day. Make sure you come see me for lunch and tell me all about it. I miss you :(

The idea of you lying on your couch right now made him want to sprint to your trailer just to be with you. 

--I miss you too. Much more... He stopped himself before pressing send. He’d never spoken to you like this before, but then again, he’d never felt so turned off by kissing someone else before either.

Before he could even decide what to do, he was pulled from his thoughts by a director calling his name. It surprised him, and without even realizing, he pressed send and put his phone away without a second thought.

It only took you a week to heal and get back to work again, which you were very happy about.

Everyday of the week you were hurt though, someone brought you flowers, and Henry, he never left your side the entire time. As much as he could be with you, he was with you. He spent the entire time seemingly dedicated to making you smile. And who could ask for more than that? Those last 3 months went by way too fast. After filming ended you had about 2 weeks of down time before the press tour began. 

You hadn’t even realized until you met Henry that you both lived in the same city. Almost every day of your break he would text you. If he wasn’t inviting you over to his house he was asking to go to yours. Most nights the two of you spent together were in his apartment watching movies, drinking, eating. Basically whatever you wanted to. 

In that time, you realized that you two could talk for hours. Eventually you got bored spending all day together, but you never wanted to be anywhere else. You wanted to be bored with him. 

Sometimes late at night, you would think about the text he’d sent you the day you got hurt. You were lying in your trailer when you got it. You couldn’t get those love scenes out of your mind. You began to get protective, but you never told him that. And when he told you he missed you, you believed him. Maybe that was a mistake.

As soon as the break came though, it was gone even quicker. The press tour wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, it almost seemed like more work than the actual movie, but it was apart of the job.

The first few days of the tour you had interviews with both Henry and Tiffany. Though the movie was focused on the two of you, everyone ate up the sappy love story between him and Tiffany. 

You arrived for the meeting wearing a dress your agent had chosen for you. When she texted you the picture of it, she said --this interview is casual business attire..? With a shrugging emoji included.

It was a comfortable enough champagne colored dress that flowed loosely. When you arrived with your agent, the two of you walked into the building together.

“It’s a simple one person interview, no press. The bigger stuff is at the end of the week.”

“Thank you for that.” You said, grateful you were getting this stuff over with first.

She led you to the interview room, and both Henry and Tiffany had beaten you here. As you walked in you noticed the two in conversation, but as soon as he saw you, you could of sworn his eyes lit up a bit. He met you halfway and wrapped you in his arms like he hadn’t seen you for months. But you reciprocated, because you couldn't imagine doing anything else.

As you released each other, you walked over to the chair on the end and gave Tiffany a hug, which she returned.

The three of you sat down together, Tiffany in the middle of the three chairs, and waited for the reporter. 

When he showed up, he had a huge smile on his face, and he wasted no time starting the interview.

He started with some baseline questions about the movie production and filming. Mostly to get them out of the way, but you let Tiffany and Henry do most the talking on those. 

“So Y/n, I heard that you may have injured yourself during filming, is that--?”

“Yes, thats true. Henry and I had been practicing a stunt for one of the scenes, but during filming I misstepped and twisted my ankle.”

The interviewer grimaced a little as Henry chimed in.

“She’s very kind, It was actually completely my fault. I felt like a huge jerk.”

You leaned forward a little and smiled over at Henry. “No hard feelings though.”

“Your two characters are very close in this movie, would you say that?”

Both you and Henry nodded your heads.

“One thing that viewers are really excited to see is the friendship dynamic the two of you share. It seems to be very special, you guys obviously have a real connection, do you think that connection will come through on screen?”

Before answering, Henry glanced over at you to see if you had an answer prepared. You looked back at him, giving him the go ahead.

“Oh I’m sure it will. Y/n and I, in my opinion, instantly clicked when we first met.”

“I agree. Of course” You said. “The friendship we found, and still have, it’s almost impossible for it to not be on screen, because every scene we acted out played off of very real feelings of protection for or investment in one another.”

From behind the camera, your agent shot you a thumbs up at your answer. She tended to do so in every interview you had.

“And because I have to ask, was there a lasting chemistry between you, Henry, and Tiffany that maybe showed up after the on-screen relationship the two of you had?”

The question caught you all of guard but you were somehow still expecting it. Beside you, Tiffany awkwardly laughed and placed a slight hand on Henry’s knee for just a second before taking it back.

“Like they say, a movie’s just a movie..until it’s not.”

On the inside her words hit you like a bus. Your eyes wanted to bulge out of your head at her answer, but this was all on camera, so on the outside, you smiled and glanced over at Tiffany as if you were keeping a secret with her.

On the other side of her though, Henry’s reaction was a little more telling by it not being a reaction in the slightest. No smile, no movement. It wasn’t until his own agent motioned at him off camera, that he faked a laugh that didn’t make it to his eyes.

After that, the interview ended and the three of you exchanged thank you’s and you’re welcome’s. As soon as you made it into the hallway with Henry, Tiffany came bursting through the door and intertwined her arm with his.

“Henry, don't be mad, but this is what everyone is expecting of us,” then she glanced sideways at you and lowered her voice. “and don't act like that night you came to ‘run lines’ with me, that nothing happened.”

“We kissed Tiffany.” It hurt him to say it. Even more so with you so close. “The first night we began filming, and then never again. That is nothing.”

It made your stomach turn to even think about it. You picked up the pace and left them behind you. All the while convincing yourself this had nothing to do with you.

As you walked towards your agent who was standing next to the car, she saw the look on your face, which she understood as she glanced behind you.

When you got closer she opened your door for you to get in and followed behind you.

“What the fuck was that?” She asked, closing the door behind herself.

“None of my business.” 

She took the hint.

“Uh, Next interview is a little bigger. Press is allowed, just the two of you though.”

Her words drifted over your head as you stared out your window. Something inside of you felt broken and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You could feel yourself shutting down as you walked backstage for your next press conference. You stood there and waited for them to motion you on. 

Henry came up beside you and placed his hand around your arm, pulling you gently towards him. 

“Y/n. I don’t know why she feels the need to do this, but I told her I wasn’t going to. And that night, it was--”

You pulled your arm from his grasp and looked up at him.

“You don't need to explain this to me.” Your voice was calm and detached.

He flinched when you said it and if it hadn’t of been for your queue to go on stage it would have gotten to you.

As you walked out, with him following you, you smiled bright and waved as a crowd of press and audience members applauded.

“Let’s Welcome, Y/n Johnson and Henry Cavill of Atomic Expression!” 

The two of you sat down on the couch on stage as the interviewer smiled bright and shook your hand.

“We are so happy to have you here! Y/n, Henry. I’ll start by saying, a better cast could not have been chosen for this movie. How many of you saw the trailers and wanted to grow up to be Y/n.”

She raised her hand and looked out towards the crowd who did the same. You laughed and thanked her for the compliment.

“So, what was your experience with this role?” She started.

You took a quick breath to steady before answering.

“If I had to use one word...Empowering. I got to play this woman who without fail, always came out on top, and who did it with grace and honor. It was definitely one of my favorites.”

The audience applauded your answer as Henry watched you with a smile on his face.

“And Henry, your character seems to get the best of both worlds. Both an unmistakable bond through friendship and love with the main characters, what was that like?”

“Well, actually that’s something that I worked on a lot with directors and Y/n.” When he said your name you glanced over at him, with no idea what he was going to say. 

“We really wanted my character to be more complex than just someone who gets the girls. It’s more than just a love story in that sense. I think Y/n’s character ends up being more to him than he planned or could even imagine.”

You tried to look like you knew what he meant but you were afraid you were failing. 

You thought it best if you tried to salvage his answer into something a little less revealing but before you could say anything the interviewer latched onto what he said.

As she leaned in closer with a huge smile on her face, the crowd reacted with applause and shouts. 

“We don’t want you giving too much away because you’ll drive us all crazy. So I’ll ask a different question. Throughout the entire film process fans got to see your faces all over social media. Why did you decide to record yourselves so often?”

He smiled when she asked that and looked over at you. “At some points Y/n didn’t appreciate a camera in her face, which is understandable. But I think it’s important to document your life experiences, especially if it’s something you don’t ever want to lose.”

“Y/n appeared in most, if not all of those videos. And from what we could tell, it was really just day to day stuff?”

She looked at you when she said that so you took it as a queue to answer with something.

“Yeah, Henry would film pretty much every thing we did on set. When we weren’t filming together, we were just around each other a lot, so there’s a lot of behind the scenes of what is essentially our lives when we’re together.”

As you spoke, a smile made it’s way onto his lips and it wouldn’t go away. He loved hearing you talk.

A pause in the conversation prompted the interviewer to pick up a stack of white cards.

“I have some fan questions I want to ask the both of you if you don’t mind. Y/n this fan asked what you would want to do if you weren’t an actor?”

You decided to keep it short and sweet. “Explore the world with a soulmate.” It was an honest answer, the host seemed to like it.

“Beautiful. And Henry, what’s your favorite thing about being an actor?”

“I get to meet some extraordinary people.” He didn’t miss a beat.

His answer got the attention of the audience as they hollered and clapped.

“This next ones for the both of you. Kind of a cute one. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You two couldn't help but laugh a little as you both saw where this was going. You were a little lost for words, but that’s when Henry grabbed your hand and said, “I don’t know, Y/n look at me.”

You let the smile on your face take over as you looked over at him. He looked at you a second too long before looking back to the host and letting go of your hand.

“Oh yeah. Definitely.”

The crowd erupted along with the host herself. The interview had run it’s time and she did her best to quiet the audience so she could close out with one more promotional.

She walked the two of you backstage as you waved and blew a kiss to the flashing cameras and the crowd who was still going wild.

You kept the calm smile on your face as the two of you walked out of the studio. As you did, you leaned towards Henry and told him to ride with you to the hotel. There were a few cameras outside near the car and the two of you stood together and smiled for one more picture before getting inside.

As soon as the driver pulled away you winded up and punched him in the arm.

“Ow, what!” He said, flinching away.

“What the fuck was that you asshole?!”

He laughed as much as he dared to and then just looked forward. “The truth.”

Without another word, you turned and kept your eyes forward, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

The car pulled up outside the hotel you were both staying at. You opened your door and made your way inside without waiting for him. He caught up to you anyway.

On the elevator ride up he tried to test the waters.

“You look great in that dress. I meant to say something earlier.”

You didn't respond.

The elevator dinged and let the two of you out on your shared floor. Your rooms, as if by fate, were right next to each other so he had yet another excuse to walk with you. 

As the two of you approached the rooms you’re heart began to beat unexplainably fast. 

His door came first. He swiped his key card and pushed the handle down. The moment he did you turned to him and pulled him into a deep kiss. You pushed him back into his room and let the door shut behind you. 

When he realized, it’s like he came alive. 

He lifted you up and rested your back against his door. His hands found your jaw and deepened the kiss, if that was even possible. Everything began to spin, the way he smelled was intoxicating. He pulled back for air and his lips found your jawline. He littered it with passionate kisses, moaning every time he made contact. And god was that a sound you could hear forever.

You ran your hand through his thick hair and pulled him closer to you, and like he heard your mind, he found your lips with his once again. 

This time though, he pulled away and lowered you to the ground. You missed the contact immediately. 

What you expected to see was regret or confusion, but when you looked up at him, he was just taking you in. Like it was the first and last time he would ever lay eyes on you. He timidly ran his thumb over your bottom lip, you closed your eyes at his touch.

Beginning at your forehead, he placed a kiss there, followed by your temple. He gently kissed your eyelid and worked his way down your jaw once more.

“kiss me, please.” Your voice was low, a quiet desperation.

He pulled you close, but this kiss sent a chill down your entire body. This one was different. This one was breathtaking. It couldn’t have lasted a second too long.

Rain ticked the glass windows of the loft. This was the first cloudy day you’d had since arriving. You sat on the couch with Henry’s phone in your hand, watching the rain fall in the streets. As you scrolled through videos he’d taken during filming, you came across one you’d never seen anywhere before. You glanced up towards the stairs to listen for him, when you didn’t hear him you pressed play.

It started in a dimly lit room. It was the break hall that’d been on set. Across the room you saw yourself sitting on the couch with a book in your lap. You remembered that day. Henry was across the room walking towards you. He held the camera on you and walked slowly. 

“There she is, reading as always.” He whispered but you could hear the smile in his voice.

He stopped a ways off of you and zoomed in a little. You hadn’t noticed him yet,  but as your head was down a smile graced your lips.

“My god. Look at that...I’m gonna marry that girl one day.” A small laugh escaped him as he continued towards you.

The video ended just as he’d asked you what you were reading. 

Above, you heard footsteps and you tossed his phone aside as he descended the stairs, hair still dripping from the shower.

“Well it looks like walking down to the Louvre is out of the question today..but we can always go tomorrow, unless you still want to today?” He asked.

“A day in sounds perfect to me.” A sweet smile settled on your lips as you watched him walk towards you.

“Okay. Did you miss me?” He said with a grin. He leaned down over you a placed a kiss to your lips.

“I always do.”

Tag List: @jaderbugz @a-girl-who-loves-disney @chillnadia @pietrosprincess@cojootromuelle @smexy-bucky-waifu  @maragaretcarter  @supersleepyfangirlthings  @shortstoryimagines  @omg-fuck-i-love-you  @thebutterflyxx  @posiemax @tomhollambucky @samdean-67

[shmisolo]

Nsfw prompt from nsfw prompt list? "I bet you want me pretty bad now, huh"?

“hottest wife you’ve ever seen.”

“you know, you’re not wrong.”

“bet you want me pretty bad now, huh?”

she’s lying there on the bed, unable to see her feet and a bowl of ice cream is resting on her belly because it’s so conveniently there and shelf like and the least the little creature inside her can do if it’s making her crave goat cheese and cherry ice cream at two in the morning is hold the bowl for her.  they have a deal–her and little unnamed solo.  they have a good thing going on.  

poor ben gets caught in the lurch with a wife whose stomach is too swollen to move–lying there in ratty old pajamas, her hair oilier than she really wants to think about (fucking hormones), and dark circles under her eyes because little unnamed solo has a midnight and four-am kicking habit that wakes her up.  which, she supposes, will prepare her for when little unnamed solo is little named and wailing and hungry solo.  well, they’ve already got the hungry bit down.

“anything else i can get you two?” ben asks from the doorway.

“nah, we’re good,” rey says, licking the spoon clear of ice cream before digging in for some more.  “this was just what we wanted.”

ben comes over and sits back down on the bed.  he kisses rey’s belly, then her cheek, before giving her a look.  

she knows that look.

“i was joking,” she says.  “i know i’m not at my hottest, you don’t have to give me the bedroom eyes.”

“i’m not giving you the bedroom eyes,” he says, but he totally is, and rey rolls her eyes and eats another bite of ice cream.

“you’re really not getting laid if you think this is hot,” she says, waving her hand up and down over her heavily pregnant form.

“i get laid plenty,” he says and rey smirks at him.  part of why she doesn’t particularly feel bad about sending him out for ice cream at two in the morning is that her pregnancy hormones have made her want to suck his dick like twice a day for the past two months.  she hasn’t actually wanted him to fuck her.  just to suck his dick.  a lot.  she takes another bite of ice cream so as not to keep thinking about his dick.  usually if she starts thinking about it, she wants to suck it.  “and you are hot.”

she raises her eyebrows.  “really?  i’m like four times the size i was a year ago and you think i’m hot?”

he leans his head down next to her, pressing his lips to her neck before breathing in his ear, “do you really think the sight of you pregnant with my child isn’t hot to me?  really?”

“i’m just–”

“your scope of what’s hot is very limiting,” he shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but his voice sounds triumphant.  

“we’ve had like fifteen whole conversations about how you think my ass is hotter than my boobs, and my boobs are like twice their normal size right now meanwhile my ass is losing all its form because i’m bedridden and–”

“pregnant with my child.”

“do you have a pregnancy kink you didn’t warn me about?  where’s our ketubah?  was that in the fine print?  i trusted you not to jerk me around in aramaic.”

he’s laughing, and god how she loves it when he smiles.  his whole face lights up and he looks about ten years younger.  he bends his head to kiss her and has the audacity to move the ice cream off of little unnamed solo so he can pull her onto her side and curl himself around her, his hands brushing her cheek and reaching up to tug her oily hair out of its messy pony tail.  “you really are desperate–my hair’s gross right now.”

“will you stop calling me desperate if i admit to having a pregnancy kink?”

“probably not, though don’t think i’m not registering that subtle admission.”

“and what about if i say i have a rey kink.”

she rolls her eyes as loudly as she can.  “that was a bad line.”

“it’s two in the morning.”

“if you’re gonna try and get in my pants after not letting me finish my ice cream, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“like this?”

and his hand slips into her pajama bottoms and he runs his fingers along her slit and rey’s breath catches in her throat and her skin starts to tingle.  the last person who touched her down there was a doctor because–because–

well because she’s spent too much time blowing ben.  why has she been doing that?  his dick tastes great and all, but… her eyelids flutter shut and she shifts her hips–or tries to.

she and little unnamed solo have a good thing going on when it comes to midnight cravings.  not so much in the ease of access to her vagina when she wants it.  like right now.  

she makes a slight noise of frustration and ben pauses.  “at me, or at the kid?”

“i feel cockblocked.”

“i hear that’s part of parenting.”

she snorts and he kisses her, his tongue sweeping lazily through her mouth.  “you know? i thought you were crazy when you were asking for goat cheese ice cream.”

“did you just taste some?  it’s good, right?”

“yeah.”  he laughs into her lips and she wraps her arm around him, pulling him closer to her and kissing him again.  his hand returns to her slit and he continues rubbing it gently, easing moisture out of her before slipping his fingers in.  

“how are we going to do this?”  the last time they’d really fucked, she’d been significantly less large, and it hadn’t felt ungainly.  she doesn’t think she could ride him without falling over.

“hands and knees?” he asks and he helps her onto them.  her belly rests on the bed but almost as soon as she’s in position she starts shaking her head.  “no, if you fuck me as hard as i want to, i’m gonna collapse on it.”

“i’m not going to let you collapse on the baby, no matter how hard i make you cum.”

“no,” she says and she sits down.  suddenly, she’s miserable.  horny and miserable and huge and her husband has a pregnancy kink and she just feels like a whale with a thing she’ll crush if she fucks properly.  stupid hormones.

ben bends down to kiss her and a moment later he’s kneeling between her legs, bending them so that her feet are flat on the bed.  “will your hips be ok?” he asks as he lines her up to him, testing the position before either of them drop their pajama bottoms down.  her legs are strong, but her back has been killing her lately and she wants to cry now because she’s only been up in this position for like fifteen seconds and she already wants to stop.  “hey,” he whispers, bending down over her.  “none of that.  we’ll figure it out.”

we won’t, rey wants to cry at him, but instead she mutters again, “bet you want me pretty bad now, huh?”

“always,” he whispers kissing her.  “do you want me to eat you out?”

“i want you inside me.”

“then i will,” he whispers, but rey is already biting back stupid horny hormonal tears and she curls back on her side and buries her face in the pillow.

ben curls around behind her, kissing her neck, her cheek, her ear, whispering, “i didn’t take you for a quitter.”

“that wasn’t the right thing to–” but she stops short because he’s tugging at the waist of her pajama bottoms and she feels his dick poking into her ass.  “oh.”

“you nailed it,” he whispers and his fingers find her slit again, rubbing, checking to see if she’s wet enough.  

“bet you’re proud of that pun, aren’t you.”

he doesn’t reply–he just sucks on her neck and a moment later she sighs as he eases himself into her.  she wriggles her ass against him and shifts her leg, and he hooks his hand over her hip to find her clit as he starts to ease himself in and out of her.  she can feel his heart beating against her back, warmth spreading through her from him and from the baby.  

“god you’re so tight like this,” he moans into her.

“not for long,” she snorts and he laughs.  his hand leaves her clit to rub at her belly, before making his way up to rub at one of her breasts.  they’re so tender, and she moans as he thumbs lightly at her nipple.  

“can’t wait for these to leak milk.  if you think i’ve got a pregnancy kink…”

“ben,” she squeals and he bites her neck as he slams his hips into her, thrusting hard and fast as his lips trail along her neck, her shoulder, her cheek, her ear.  his hand leaves her breast and finds her clit again, and rey finds that she misses the light pressure on her nipples so she reaches one hand up to keep rubbing at it while the other she reaches behind her to run her fingers through his hair.  

between his speed and his very practiced fingers, it’s not long before she’s gasping and coming for the first time in far too long and the baby is kicking inside her, undoubtedly curious as to why its recently increasingly inactive mother’s heart is suddenly beating so intensely.  it’s ok, your dad’s just making me feel alive, she thinks as ben pulls his hand away from her sensitive clit and rests it on her hip instead as he continues thrusting into her from behind.  the baby is writhing in her and ben is filling her up completely and she sighs and turns her head to kiss along his jaw until he chokes out her name and cums inside her.

she leaves her lips at his pulse as he comes down from his orgasm.  he wraps his arm around the underside of her belly and rey wriggles against his chest, feeling warm and content.  the baby’s kicks slow, and as ben’s dick starts to go limp inside her, she sighs at the way her whole body is relaxing.  she might actually be asleep soon.  

except that that’s more than just her slick and ben’s cum on her legs–there’s a lot more than just that–and ben seems to be growing aware of that right at the same time as she is.  

“ben?”

“yeah?”

“you ready?”

“are you?”

“let’s find out?”

[toxicityrp]

                  NARCISSUS ● THE SOCIALITE ● CLOSED

     ❝ When this little shit came into the group, I had no  idea what was running through Anthrax’s brain. But after  a while, you really see their worth. They’re charming and    get the connections we need. They tell me the gossip,            I dish it out. Perfect duo or what? ❞

THE SINNER. TW: SUBSTANCE & FAMILIAL ABUSE, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Here’s the thing about growing up in a house built entirely on looks and lies: a kid learns to get very, very good at things like working a room, hiding in plain sight, and flashing a grin so charming anyone could fall for it. Julian picked up everything they know about projecting confidence and style from their wreck of a home. Sure, it looked nice from the outside—both their parents had Wall Street ties, the houses they owned were huge and immaculate, and there was not a reason in the world that anyone could find to dislike them. All that money had to go to something, right? Too bad the smokescreen was only for outsiders. Mrs. Donovan was all smiles for everyone except her child, who could never quite seem to do anything right. Even when their skin was marred with bruises and cuts designed to sting unseen, who would believe their glamorous mother was anything other than perfect? Their father never seemed to care much for them, so no luck there either.

If that was just the way it was, then Julian would adapt. They became the perfect little prize to parade around at parties, dapper in little suits and a little too clever with sly jokes for their own good. They did well in school, they practiced hard at the piano, they did everything right. And it wasn’t enough. Still the criticism, still the accusations and insults and pain. They learned to dress so well because every single thread was nit-picked by their terror of a mother, and then that critical voice started to manifest inside of them, too. That’s too bland, that’s too trampy, you look like a sack, what’s wrong with your skin? Your hair? Your nose and teeth and shoulders and stomach? They tried so hard to keep being perfect anyway. They tried so hard they began to crack from the inside out. At the dinner table fourteen-year-old Julian would stare at their fork and think about all the places they wanted to jam it into their skin just to see what would happen. They never followed through on any of those impulses, not when their mother still followed them into dressing rooms and barged in on them showering to spout her spite. Any mark she could find was just another possible danger. No, the fantasy was less about pain (they already received so much of that) than about ceasing to exist as a physical entity. Being a perfect son, a fine young man, whatever everyone called them—it was all so exhausting. How did anyone do this?

Only two years later, they were clumsily picking the liquor cabinet lock and taking from it little by little. Never enough to get caught, but enough to get drunk. At first. Then they needed more, and more, and more and more, to drown out that horrid little voice in their head telling them everything was wrong. They’d wake up hungover as all hell and get trotted off to some rich man’s garden party, but somehow they always made it through with a smile and a thousand handshakes and no one the wiser. Or maybe, simply, no one cared enough to see.

In college they were supposed to be free, and sometimes they even felt like it. They had the chance to grow into their own identity for once in their life, and it constituted something of a radical shift. They found their pronouns and their people, bedmates and peers, hobbies besides networking and drinking. They still drank, of course, and it was celebrated as a fantastic party trick. Nobody notices the warning signs when they’re all also shitfaced! Julian tried so many drinks and drugs they thought they could rule the whole fucking world.

Then they ended up at home one winter break, locked up in the bathroom for making some unforgivable mistake. They’d been accused of so many over that they couldn’t be bothered to remember the details at this point. It always came back to them being a liar or a whore or something along those lines. If only she knew what a goddamn degenerate I really am, they’d thought, not bothering to wipe away the tears on their face. The eyes that stared back from the mirror looked lifeless. They would never be good enough. Why did they even keep trying? It would be so much easier to pick up that razor under the sink and just-

Oh. Their heart skipped a beat. That had scared them more than their own mother.

The next few years were a drunken, hazy blur, one big attempt to bury that frightening moment so deep in their soul that it never surfaced again. They graduated from college and business school while self-medicating with whatever anyone would sell them and got the hell out of the house as soon as they figured out how to leech from the family assets without being tracked down. All that training in smiling and smooth-talking helped them bounce from place to place without losing too many connections or giving up on their rather lavish lifestyle. Sometimes screwing preppy country club rats even made them feel good about themself, for an hour or so. Then it was right back to the oxy and rum. Did all that pretending to be pretty and charming and harmless do anything to help the spiraling emptiness in the pit of their being? No, but it was an effective enough distraction most of the time, and when even that failed they took up the kinds of hobbies rich people without much to lose could enjoy. They took cooking classes and learned how to screw around under the hoods of cars and found skill after skill to learn as if any of them made them feel alive.

They only went home once after that, when they got word that their father had up and left without a day’s hesitation. Stepping back into that gargantuan house was like walking right into a cage on their own free will, but something they hated inside of them drove them forward anyway. Maybe it was a desire to finally please their mother, just once. They didn’t accomplish it, since she spent the entire visit acting as if she was the victim of the whole universe’s cruelty. So he found out about the affair, she said. So I told him you’re not his. What did I ever do wrong?

That was a new and intriguing consideration. Though it pained them to spend a second more with her, they managed to wrangle out the name they needed to track down their real sire, only to discover a set of siblings to boot. Cruel trick, God, if you’re even there. You know I always wanted someone to play with.Anticipation lodged itself in every bone in their body as they planned out a trip to Dertosa to track down anyone who was willing to test the waters with them. Ben and Cecilia were such a surprise. They couldn’t fathom what they did to piss Nightshade off—usually they had to flirt with a girl before she went all icy on them—but the feeling was mutual, and that was fine. It wasn’t like they didn’t know how to smile oh-so-sweetly at a woman they despised. Ben was a different story. For the first time it was as if someone saw right through all the charm, right down to the weight dragging Julian down all their life. Ben got it. The word family finally felt like something.

After that, finding a fancy loft in Dertosa and joining up with the Poisons was a no-brainer. Julian had never had a clear idea of what to do with themself anyway, and it was like they had been sculpted and groomed just for this job. The job made them better, actually. That and being around Anthrax. Narcissus still binged on anything that sounded good in the moment and flirted their way into and out of every situation imaginable, but that voice in their head grew less powerful. They were good at this. They were doing something worthwhile and doing it well. If only they could rub that in their mother’s face now.

Almost five years strong, and then it all went to hell. Narcissus woke up in a cold sweat, tangled in their bedsheets as chaos raged around them, to the news of Anthrax’s murder. The voice surged back, drowning out everything else with one spiteful, sorrowful cry: it should have been you instead. It should have been me instead.

The past six months have been nothing short of rough. If there’s one thing Narcissus is sure about, though, it’s that Nightshade can and should pick up where their brother left off. They don’t want to lose the first real family they’ve ever had, or the first real sense of growth they’ve felt in pretty much their whole life. Besides, anyone who thinks they can run Toxic City’s resident keepers out of town with a couple petty scare tactics has clearly never met the Poisons before.

THE FACTS.

Narcissus is sticking by their sister and continuing their work as the Poisons’ marketing-and-sales brain. They’ve always got something to prove to someone. Gregarious and incorrigible, they’re good at making connections and digging up gossip, even if they sometimes cause a little gossiping with their behavior. They have a penchant for edible vices and a reputation for a long bedmate waitlist, though the former is a lot more serious than they make it sound and the latter is somewhat overblown by rumors. They’re covering up some serious issues that they should probably talk to someone about, but only Anthrax ever really knew what kind of darkness lurks behind that sly grin. Things were improving before his murder, but now Narcissus can feel themself slipping back into dangerous habits and they’re clawing desperately at any good thing they can hold onto. Maybe that’s the source of the sudden change in their attitude toward their sister—they may not admit it for fear of losing a few teeth, but they know the signs of someone sliding into a bad place. If they can’t help themself, why not help others?

THE MUN.

☾ Divya | PST | She/Her

[carmenswritblr]

Please Don’t Leave Me

Word Count: 1,838

Au: military au

Pairing: kiribaku

~Four years ago~

Kiri stared at the little white card that had come in the male for Katsuki. Kiri couldn’t tear his eyes away from the official seal dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Kiri turned hoping to delay telling his boyfriend his thoughts though he didn’t have a chance to ditch the envelope before feeling a pair of arms around his waist.

“Is that the mail?” Katsuki asked and Kiri turned to look at his boyfriend of 3 ½ years.

“Yea it is.” The redhead had done his best to keep his voice light though he wasn’t able to, and his voice cracked as he spoke. Katsuki raised an eyebrow able to tell that something was going on with the male.

“What’s wrong Shitty Hair?” Katsuki asked using the old nickname he had given Kiri when they were in UA together. Instead of answering, Kiri held up the white envelope before Katsuki had grabbed it.

Tearing it open, Katsuki’s eyes widened in shock before he tried to compose himself. “Hey it’s ok. We’ll make it through this no problem.” Katsuki tried to believe what his boyfriend said though it was hard to believe what he said. Kiri sniffled a little not wanting to cry, yet it felt like he was drowning in so many emotions at once. Kiri wrapped his arms around Katsuki again burying his face in the other male’s chest wanting to run and hide from everything and take Kacchan with him.

As he had his face buried in Katsuki’s chest, he could smell the faint scent of cologne and the smell of caramel wreathed around him making the sadness dim slightly. Kiri tried his hardest to burn the smell into his brain along with the feeling of having Katsuki wrap his arms around him.  

“You’ll be gone for four years.” Kiri murmured against Kacchan’s chest before the smaller redhead looked  at the blonde. Kiri was taken aback by the look in his boyfriend’s eyes, it seemed like Kacchan was upset about the news as well. Kiri bit his bottom lip as he didn’t expect to see that Katsuki was as upset as he was.

Kiri stood up on his tiptoes and kissed his boyfriend lightly starting to feel better about this situation.

~Present day~

Kiri woke up this morning way too excited to see his boyfriend again as it had been four years of them being apart and only talking over skype every so often. He had taken to wearing Katsuki’s clothes though they no longer smelled like the blonde male which made Kiri a little upset about it.

His gaze went to the door hearing it open and he immediately jumped up too eager to sit down. Kiri went straight to the door before he stopped in the hallway. Something was wrong with Katsuki from how he held himself, to the fact that he was holding his duffel bag in his left hand instead of his right. A gasp fell from his lips when he noticed that Katsuki was missing his right arm from the elbow to his fingers.

Kiri chewed on his lower lip watching his boyfriend before he moved forward to wrap his arms around Katsuki wanting to try and comfort the blonde male. He heard the duffel bag drop to the floor and one arm wrap around him and it took all of his control to not start crying into Katsuki’s shirt.

“I’m so glad your back babe. I missed you so much.” Kiri murmured thinking of everything he could say while trying to keep from crying all over Katsuki’s shirt. He looked up at the blonde male, and a pang went through his chest at seeing the ghost of a smile on his face which made his heart break a little more. Kiri pulled back a little and looked down at Katsuki’s right arm and realized the rest of his shirt sleeve hung limply at the male’s side.

Kiri wasn’t able to hide how upset he was, a tear rolling down his face though he desperately tried to wipe it away with the heel of his palm not wanting to cry in front of Katsuki though it was becoming hard for him not to cry.

Katsuki looked at his boyfriend and wrapped his left arm around the redhead’s waist pulling him close. He had to admit that it was hard to get used to using his left hand for everything when he was so used to his dominant hand being used for everything. Katsuki pressed a kiss to the top of Kiri’s head trying to calm the smaller male though it would be hard since Katsuki could tell that something was wrong with the male.

“Hey. Remember I said everything is going to be ok?” He asked gently trying to move his right hand out of habit before realizing what he was doing and gritted his teeth. Kiri noticed and he sniffles a few tears falling down his face and Katsuki cursed himself not wanting to make his boyfriend cry more.

“I promise everything will be ok. It takes some getting used to.”  Katsuki moved his arm from Kiri’s waist before he had tilted the other male’s chin up to get Eijiro to look at him. Katsuki’s spine stiffened when he felt Kirishima’s hand on his right upper arm as he hadn’t anyone touch his arm besides doctors who had to amputate his forearm.

“What happened?” Eijiro asked and it was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. Katsuki didn’t want to tell his partner as it would probably push him to tears.

“The transport vehicle that I was in hit-“ Katsuki stopped and closed his eyes as he tried to keep from reliving the moment, the truck rolling off the road  and his squad mates yelling out to each other, unable to see. He could still feel the stinging almost burning hot  pain in his arm as the shrapnel sliced through his arm to the point where he could see the bone.and the blood pouring out pulsing as if it was in time with his heart beating. He took deep breaths forcing himself to calm down and focus on what was going on.

“Babe?” Eijiro prompted softly grabbing Katsuki’s hand as if he could sense that something was wrong. Katsuki blinked and forced himself to focus on what was going on on the present.

“The truck hit a roadside bomb. A piece of shrapnel got my arm badly enough the doc had to amputate.” Katsuki forced himself to finish speaking before he felt like he was transported back to the camp.

Katsuki had ben moved by two squadmates onto a piece of the truck door being used as a makeshift stretcher. He was then carried in by two of his relatively uninjuried squadmates There was a makeshift tourniquet made from a shirt tied around his arm just above the elbow to attempt to stem the blood flow as they rushed to get a doctor.

“Doc?” Katsuki managed to get out though he was struggling to stay conscious as he lost a good amount of blood before then squad leader used his shirt as as a tourniquet.

“What happened” The doctor asked but his voice sounded so far away and Katsuki struggled to get up though someone shoved him back down and a mask affixed onto his face. Katsuki started to lose consciousness before completely going under. When he woke up, the doctor had amputated his right arm from the elbow to his fingers.

Katsuki was snapped back to what was going on when he had heard soft sobbing and his eyes widened when he saw Eijiro crying. Katsuki swallowed his feelings of guilt and wrapped his arm around Kiri trying to calm the male down by rubbing his back slowly.

He knew there was very little he could do to calm down the male but he was going to do the best he could. Katsuki presses a few kisses against Eijiro’s forehead and top of his head thinking of ways to take his mind off of what he said.

Eijiro looked up at the blonde male before his fingers reached out to touch the remaining part of his arm again and it took all of Katsuki’s strength not to rip away from the male. Katsuki never let anyone touch his arm except one doctor that has been treating him since that fateful day. He forced himself to relax as Kiri’s fingers explored his upper arm not flinching as he thought he would.

Katsuki ran his left hand down Eijiro’s back, a normally playful and loving gesture though now it seemed wrong and forced in the moment

It had taken Katsuki months to get used to using his left hand instead of his right. Sometimes without thinking, he would try to use his right hand out of habit.

“Why didn’t you get a prosthetic baby? It would help right?” Eijiro asked softly before pulling his fingers back wondering what the blonde’s reason was for not getting a prosthetic as he thought it would make everything better for the male.

“I tried. It just didn’t feel right. It’s like having a glove over your hand and like nothing feels right.” Katsuki replied and looked away, hurt filling his gaze and Kiri could tell by how his body has stiffened up at the mere mention of a prosthetic arm.

Kiri felt bad for bringing it up as it obviously made Katsuki upset about the idea of a prosthetic arm. Kiri wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s waist and gave a small squeeze trying to comfort the male. “It’s ok. I’ll be your cheerleader through everything.” The red headed male added trying to get a smile from the blonde male though it wasn’t successful.

Kiri felt as if there was a weight on his chest making it harder to breathe even if he was supposed to be happy that Katsuki was home and mostly safe.

The weight felt like it was pressing on his chest more than he had thought was possible when this was supposed to be happy. bringing it up but he was simply brainstorming what he thought would help his boyfriend feel more normal however possible. He stood on his tiptoes pressing a kiss to the male’s lips though Katsuki had felt like a statue under the redheaded male and he pulled back worried he had done something wrong. Kiri removed his hands from where they were on Katsuki’s waist and moved to grab Katsuki’s hand in both of his giving a tiny squeeze. Kiri pressed a kiss to Kacchan’s lips again before speaking again in a whisper.

“Remember what you said to me four years ago? I used that to get through everything and now you need to remember. Kiri tried to push the thought away, and tried to seem happy but putting on a smile even if it didn’t seem genuine now. We’ll make it through this no problem.”