#I feel like this isn't as good as I imagined it would be but oh well

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Consider It Done

Prompt Day 28: Pining | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Brief Mention of Sex Acts, Steve Wanting His Nuggets, Bullshit | Tags: Future Fic, 1990s, Roommates, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Background Lumax, Platonic Stobin

"Dingus, are you listening?" 

Steve jerks his head towards Robin. He wasn't listening, he's not even sure what they were talking about. 

"Sorry, what?" Steve asks, and she's just looking at him, all-knowingly. So, her usual face.

"I said, take a picture it'll last longer," she says in his direction, and Steve jerks his head back to where he was looking. 

Eddie, holding the baby, Max and Lucas happy to have the break that Eddie's so good at providing. He was great at holding her when she was brand new, and oh so little, but now? At nearly a year, Eddie's really hitting his stride. Entertaining her, making her giggle with delight, so happy to be in his lap.

It's affected Steve more than he could have imagined. Steve loves that his nuggets are having nuggets. It doesn't seem possible, but they've grown up so much. They all have. 

And Eddie looks good, looks right, with that baby in his arms. It has just unleashed an unholy level of longing in Steve that he didn't know was even possible. 

Thing is, Steve knows that whatever they are isn't gonna be that, and he's accepted it. He really has. It's been years. They're fuck buddies. Roommates. Friends. Definitely not boyfriends, spouses or ever going to be parents together. That's not in the cards. Eddie was upfront when they fell into this thing that he wasn't ever gonna be any of those things.

Down for a good time, but not a long time.

And Steve understood. At least he thought he did, but now he's looking at Eddie holding a baby, the Eddie that he loves and shouldn't, and his heart yearns for more. 

It's been years, half-assedly together, and Steve could only guard his heart for so long.

"You're pining pretty loud," Robin hisses, and Steve tears his eyes away, focusing on her instead.

In the car on the ride home, Steve's quiet. Eddie's talking, jabbering away, and Steve loves him. Loves him more than he's ever loved anyone that isn't Robin, and as usual, he has no outlet for it. Nobody wants his love. He's a good fuck, a good friend, a good babysitter. But he's not good forever material. 

"You're awfully quiet," Eddie finally says, in between monologues.

"The baby's even cuter than the last time we saw her," Steve says. 

"Totally," Eddie agrees, "she's getting so fun."

"I want her. Well, not her. That's weird. One. I want one."

"Yeah, so you've said, Harrington. You wanted six last I knew," Eddie teases.

Six is never happening. Six was the dream of an overly optimistic nineteen-year-old. At twenty-nine, he just wants one. He wants to love others, to be loved back, wholly. Openly, freely, without feeling like he's too much.

"One would be good," Steve says.

"Well, I'm sure there's some woman out there itching to have a baby with you. You do have the good hair."

Steve laughs, because he's supposed to, but he doesn't want a baby with some random woman he doesn't know. He wants a baby with Eddie. He wants a life with Eddie, and Eddie isn't on board with that.

And Steve hates it. Hates that they are so far from the same page it isn't even funny. 

"I want a baby with you," Steve says, and then squeezes the steering wheel. Fuck. 

Eddie laughs, "Well, we don't exactly have the parts for that. But we can still practice until you find somebody better equipped."

Steve's defeated, done. "There is nobody better. I want you. You don't want me, but I want you. And yeah, it's bullshit, I know."

"Steve…" Eddie trails off.

"Just forget it."

Eddie's quiet for the rest of the ride, and Steve wonders if he's trying to decide which of them will have to move out of the apartment, just like Steve is doing. He could stay with Robin for a while, her girlfriend would welcome him on a short-term basis, he's sure.

Steve's facedown on his bed, when the door swings open. 

"I can't forget it," Eddie announces loudly. 

"Can't forget what?" Steve asks, voice muffled by his pillow. 

"That you want me," Eddie says, and if Steve wasn't already facedown on the bed, he'd want to hide from the shame of it all.

"Sorry," Steve mumbles, but he's only sorry that he's made it weird. 

"Don't be sorry, be honest," Eddie says, and Steve doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. Steve's been honest, that's why they're in the uncomfortable situation in the first place.

He feels Eddie's knee hit the bed, and it shakes as Eddie crawls across the mattress, then he's on Steve's back. Chest to his back, his arms snaking all along Steve's exposed skin, to cover Steve's arms all the way to his hands.

Eddie's chin is slotted against his neck, touching him in all the places he can reach, and Steve hates – and loves – how much this grounds him. 

"You're in love with me?" Eddie asks. "You don't just love me as your eccentric roommate that enthusiastically sucks your cock?"

Steve laughs, the weight of Eddie pinning him to the bed.

"Well, I love that, too."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Eddie asks.

"You told me what this wasn't," Steve says.

Eddie lets out an indigent sound, "That was a dirty lie to protect myself, Harrington! You're supposed to know me better than that!"

He squeezes the tops of Steve's hands with his own, "I've loved you the whole time, you dickhead."

Steve wants to believe it, wants to throw everything he has into it.

He will. There's no other option.

"Well, I've loved you the whole time, too, you dickhead," Steve mimics.

Eddie laughs in his ear, pressing his lips to the side of Steve's face, "We can have a baby. We can get married. Anything you want, trust me, I want it more."

And Steve smiles into the pillow, "Okay. Let's do that."

"Consider it done, Harrington."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: Special thanks to @griefabyss69 for throwing out this pining plot idea (Steve pining for a family after seeing Eddie with Lumax's baby) after I was complaining yesterday that my first fic for this prompt outgrew the 1000 word limit, and now I needed to start over last minute. That doesn't sound like me at all, does it? 🤣 (It'll work out okay, since it will also works for one of my bingo prompts, so I'll continue it for that!)

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3])

the river flowing. mushrooms and lichens growing from a fallen tree. nicky's other mom is always with them.

agatha clearly loves teaching nicky all she knows about magic, because she is a teacher at heart! and he's literally the first person she gets to pass her knowledge on to, she's relishing every minute of it.

meanwhile poor nicky is just hungry. because the fucker makes him live in the woods.

and I guess she finds it easier to be honest when it's about explaining how magic works.

oh no the way they're whispering is so cute??? and she'll keep calling it her purple long after nicky's death.

and this has been pointed out many times, but when nicky smiles you're sure reminded of how they went out of their way to find a kid who looked like aubrey plaza too

another thing that has been pointed out ad nauseam and it will be repeated again, because it's so good: I cannot heal you, like jen would. I cannot protect you, like alice would. and I cannot divine, like lilia would.

could a real coven have healed nicky, protected him, saved him from his fate? did she kill him sooner than necessary by keeping him cold and starving in the woods? agatha will never know, because despite all her love, she put her own fear over his safety. maybe nicky would have died anyway, but it's still cruel and unfair that he had to spend the little time he had on earth in such a lonely way.

agatha, despite all the mind tricks she plays on herself and on others, is simply too smart to not see that what she's doing is selfish, harmful to nicky, and ultimately futile. this is why she'd rather blame rio, and it's why she can't go to nicky in the afterlife: she can't face her own guilt.

(also, she's afraid she'll find a version of him that can now understand what she did and will hate her for it.) (and I imagine that a grown up nicholas would have had a hard time coming to terms with his childhood too.)

and still. and still. this whole mess of a person doing a terrible job at raising her son? she's also the daughter of an abusive mother who is trying to be better, she is trying to give him what she never had - love, support, knowledge. her selfish choices don't negate all the love and joy she gave him too.

and on top of everything else, nicky is about to freaking die! in modern times we'd say he has a terminal illness, she doesn't know how much time she has left with him. that is an impossible lot to navigate, especially for a person alone and carrying with her so much baggage and trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. keeping nicky so isolated is the only way she feels like she has an illusion of control over the inevitable.

agatha is not only denying nicky a coven, she's denying herself a community that would have helped her carry this burden, that would have taught and encouraged her to do better, that would have ultimately shared her pain in mourning. isn't that another tragedy within the tragedy? knowing what could have been?

agatha teaches him magic, even though he doesn't have any. maybe he was still too young, maybe he really was just a regular kid. still, she teaches him.

NOT THE DANDELION. i'm about to bite my screen in anguish

sure, sure, the time has come to go. I'm fine, I'm totally fine.

aaaaaand some more scamming!!!

agatha the ham is one of my favorite agathas. but wait, I'll make you sad again now! they're doing this shit because they don't have any money to eat. and nicky is clearly sick, and agatha is still making him do it. because they don't have any money to eat.

meanwhile witches everywhere are getting curious about the Ballad. (doesn't she look a bit like sadie sink?)

for the THIRD TIME a witch notices nicky coughing / how sick he is and offers her coven's help.

nicky looks agatha straight in the eyes and refuses to lure witches to their deaths. he stands up for himself. he disobeys.

and yes, the obvious double meaning: my other mother needs me home.

agatha forgets all her scheming and runs after him in a panic. she is losing control over him. she is losing him.

go to episode 9 part 4

[zepskies]

Ahaha I'm so sorry to do this to you, Liane. 😂 (Even though I'm laughing about it.)

But I'm very glad these felt logical and authentic to the characters to you. First off, I highly recommend Big Sky (at least season 3 where lovely Beau comes in lol. Reba McEntire is also in it!!). With Dean's reaction, it's kind of a double-edged sword -- like, good that he's there for her and is supportive, but it's not good that he buries his feelings and what he might want, because his feelings are valid too. ❤️‍🩹 None of these guys are perfect, and I tried to make that aspect come through.

But as challenging as Dean's was, and even Beau too, yes Ben's was by far the most challenging part. Like you said, his values are more traditional, but the man is also inherently selfish, whereas Beau and Dean are more selfless and understanding. Ben just doesn't get it at first, and he's more likely to express that in anger. 🥲

Honestly, my first thought reading just the ask was "Uh-oh, that could and probably will get ugly" lol

Honestly yeah lmao. That's the reason I hesitated to do this one, because I knew it had the potential to run away from me on Ben's part, and it's a hot-button issue in general. But something made me take on the challenge. 😅

Also, it's honestly terrifying to think about possible complications carrying a Supe baby. Touchy subject, but I really do wonder what Soldier Boy would do when he realizes that fuck, maybe this pregnancy rly isn't safe at all for her.

Oh yeah, very much so! I didn't explore it here or else it would've become a full one-shot, but I did explore that idea in my series Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader) -- in the sequel story Strong as Blood. That danger is a focal point of the story and Ben does have a realization about that. 😬

Thank you so much for your lovely comments on this little imagine!! Part of me was worried about publishing it tbh. 😅💕💕

Hi Zep!! I love your writing so much!

How do you think Dean/Beau/ Ben would react to a surprise pregnancy and if the reader was unsure of keeping it?

Hi there! Aw thank you, anon. 💜

I know you asked me this a while back, but to be honest this is a touchy subject, so I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer it. All I can do is give my honest thoughts based on what I know of these three characters, with all their flaws and personality traits and humanity that goes along with that.

Headcanon: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to a surprise pregnancy.

(And if you weren't sure about keeping it.)

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

Dean Winchester

Once Dean gets past the initial shock, and the inevitable "how did this happen??!", he remembers just how he could've gotten you pregnant. Part of him wants to smile at the memory.

Good times.

He slowly realizes that he's...he's happy.

He never thought that he'd have any piece of "normal" after the way things ended with Lisa. Hell, he never thought he'd find what he had with you, let alone have a kid.

He hasn't told you this, because he's locked it deep within himself and hasn't allowed himself to open that door, but the part of Dean that considered what he would leave behind on this earth if he died--the part of him that wanted a family, is still there, beating in his heart. Maybe now he's finally getting his chance.

But he focuses on you.

He gauges your reaction, and his urge to smile falls away when he realizes you're more nervous and freaked out than excited.

Dean sits down with you, taking your hands to calm you down. He suppresses his own feelings on this for a moment, and he asks you the important question.

"What do you wanna do?"

You look up into his eyes, and you really don't know. The hunting lifestyle you both lead, how can you bring a child into this? Would that be right? Are you even ready to be a mom? Are you even capable?

"I don't know if I can..." you confess. "Dean, I don't know if I'm ready."

It breaks Dean's heart, though he tries not to show it.

For once, he thinks hard about what he's going to say next.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and squeezes your hands.

"I get it," he says. "Whatever you want to do here, I'll back you up. But for the record, I'm right here with you. I might be screwed to hell in ways that I can't even...but I got no doubts about you, sweetheart. And I know we could do this together..."

If that's what you want. The rest is implied through his eyes. You read it there, clear as day.

You try blinking your tears away. When that fails, you sink into Dean's warm embrace and let him hold you. You press a lingering kiss against his prickly cheek in a wordless thank you. And I love you.

For now, you know that he's with you, and he's not going to let you go.

Beau Arlen

Like Dean, Beau would go through similar rounds of Oh, dear sweet Lord, and holy shit.

He thought you and him had been careful, damn it! But, apparently he's more potent than he thought he was.

For a few moments, it's just pure unadulterated silence between you two...until he looks over at you and tries to figure out what you're thinking.

He's got a half-grown daughter, sixteen going on seventeen. He's approaching his mid-40s. He hadn't even been thinking about the possibility of another kid...at least not yet.

Though he can admit, the thought of having kids with you makes him smile.

"So, uh..." he trails, earning your teary-eyed expression. He softens. "Aw, darlin'. Come 'ere."

He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close. You bury your face into his neck and sniffle, holding onto him tightly.

You love Beau. You truly, truly do, but you don't know if you're ready for this. You had plans, things you wanted to do, things you feel you have to do.

"I don't know, Beau. I don't know what to do," you admit. You don't want to hurt him, even though you know that you are. You can see it in his eyes when you pull back to look at him, though he tries to hide it.

"I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?" he says. His voice is low and steady. He rubs your back to try and calm you down.

It starts to work. You nod and heave a shaky sigh.

Then you steel yourself, and you work past the fear making your chest tight to ask him an important question.

"What if I tell you that I'm not ready?" you ask.

For once in his life, Beau is quiet. He takes a long beat. So long that your heart begins to break.

But he does answer.

"Then I'd tell you...that I love you," he says. "That I'm with you. That I'll be with you, come whatever. But I gotta tell you...I got no problem being an old-ass dad. If I've got double-knee replacements in my future, then that's just what I gotta do. I'll break my hand building the crib and the porch swing. Hell, I'll build a whole damn tree house."

You can't help but break into giggles through your tears, in the way only Beau manages to accomplish. You stroke his cheek and rest easier against him.

Your heart eases quite a lot just being in Beau's supportive embrace.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Ben isn't all that shocked when you tell him that you're pregnant.

His surprise quickly fades into a pleased grin, and he pulls you into his lap to kiss you. Fucking finally...

But he stops short, realizing that you're not as happy as he expected you to be. Actually, you look anxious, and even scared.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice deep and direct.

You hesitate to meet his gaze, but you gain the courage to do so, resting a hand on his chest.

"Ben, I wanted to be honest with you, and so I am. I'm just...I'm not sure about this."

His brows furrow. "What's not to be sure about?"

Your gaze drops from his, making him frown. Upset begin to rise in his chest, disguised as anger. When you rise to get off his lap, he grasps your hand to stop you from walking away from him.

"Hey..." But then it hits him. The realization dawns, and deep inside, it hurts him. "You better not be saying what I think you're fucking saying."

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. Your heart clenches tight in pain just watching him work it out in his mind. You try to tug your hand out of his.

"Ben, please. Don't make this harder for me--"

He stands, but doesn't let go of you.

"What, you think I won't take care of you? You think I wouldn't take care of my own kid?" he says angrily.

"That's not it!" you say, shaking your head. "I just need some time to think, for Christ's sake!"

"What's there to think about? If you give a shit about us, about what we have? All that ain't fucking good enough for you?" Ben says incredulously, gesturing at the home you two live in, and the life he thought you were happy with. "What the fuck is the problem?"

You look up at him in frustration with tears in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. You shake your head at him.

This," you say. "This is the problem."

This time, when you tug sharply against his hold, Ben actually lets you go. You walk away from him and slam the door to your bedroom.

Ben just stands there for a while. The silence is only broken when he can hear you in the bedroom, trying to muffle your weeping.

Something unsavory churns in Ben's chest, squeezing tight around his heart. It's the sting of regret, both unfamiliar and irritating.

Blowing out a sigh, Ben cards his fingers through his hair. He can either stand here like an idiot, or he can do something worthwhile.

He goes to you. You haven't locked the door (not that that would matter), so he opens it. He sees you burrowed under the covers, laying on your side away from him. You turn away from him again when he approaches.

Almost hesitantly, he sits down beside you, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"Sweetheart, you're gonna have everything you need. You don't need to worry about anything," he says.

"I told you, it's not about that," you say sharply. "It's not about money, or being comfortable."

Ben endeavors to be calm. He counts to five in his mind, then he squeezes your shoulder, taking pains to be gentle.

"Then what's it about?"

After a beat, you finally turn around to face him.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for this," you admit. "We haven't been together that long, and I..."

Ben shakes his head. He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

"Don't worry about that," he says. He hesitates to say anything more.

The truth is, he cares about you more than he's been willing to express. The thought of you leaving him, or even not going through with this pregnancy--both cut him down to the bone.

Is it that you don't trust him? Do you not trust yourself? He doesn't understand all of what's in your head, but if the reason you're not sure about having his kid really is because of him, then...

His curled fingers brush along your jaw and prop under your chin, until your eyes meet his.

"Look, whatever reservations you have about me, just know this," he says. "I'm not going anywhere."

You sigh softly. You know how how long Ben has wanted to be a father. You know he wants a family. You don't want to take that away from him, but you also need to protect yourself.

You consider his words carefully, as well as his face, and you see that he actually means it. You believe him.

It doesn't take away other concerns you have, but it's a start.

You sit up in bed, letting the sheets slip away from you. You reach up a hand to cup his bearded cheek.

He lets you guide him down to kiss you, his arm wrapping around you strong, but noticeably gentle. Tears sting behind your closed eyelids.

Maybe he is ready to be a father, and a better man.

AN: 😮‍💨 This one was angsty, huh? I think Ben's part was the one that held me up the most. It still assumes he's had some character growth from having a "real," actually caring relationship, but I tried not to sugarcoat what I think his reaction would be.

Let me know what you think! 💜

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[mylovesstuffs]

Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

A/N: Sorry, I got carried away and made it too long TT.

Joshua isn't just a sweet talker, he’s a menace with his words. Imagine him leaning in with that soft smirk and his warm eyes as he whispers, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” and you’re not even dressed up—just in sweats. You’d roll your eyes, but your heart? Oh, it’s flipping. And don��t even try to sass back.

Always using terms of endearment like, darling, love, babe.

He's the boyfriend who somehow always wins every argument you guys ever had.

This man would curate the most soul-melting playlists just for you. Love songs, sexy R&B tracks, even songs that remind him of you.

Don’t let the gentleman image fool you. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he gently tugs at your shirt collar, brushing his fingers against your skin as he adjusts it. And the way he smirks when he catches you staring? He’ll lean in and say, “Like what you see?” in that voice, making you combust on the spot.

You’re craving snacks at 11 p.m.? Joshua’s already putting on his jacket. He’ll hold your hand as you wander through the store, teasing you about your odd snack combinations but still buying them all anyway.

He’s the ultimate cuddler. Joshua will rest his chin on your head, his arms securely around your waist, and murmur little nothings that make your heart feel all warm and squishy.

The Protective Gentleman™: Someone dares to make you uncomfortable in public or even in private? Joshua’s usually gentle demeanor shifts in an instant. He’ll place a hand on your waist and give the offender a look so cold they’ll apologize themselves without a word.

Look, Joshua is a giver and overachiever in the bedroom. He’s the type to ask, “Do you like this?” in that deep, husky voice while holding eye contact. And when you can’t even form words? That’s his cue to smirk and go harder, exactly the way he knows you like. He’s all about making sure you’re the one who’s utterly wrecked by the end of fucking.

Joshua is the boyfriend who insists on holding you close whenever you’re cold.

“You’re so smart.” “How do you look this good all the time?” “I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He’s not over the top, but his compliments are so genuine that they leave you smiling for hours. Even if you’re having a bad day, Joshua’s words have this magical way of lifting you up without fail.

He remembers everything. Your coffee order, your favorite way to fold socks, the random anecdote you told him months ago—Joshua stores it all like it’s precious treasure.

Joshua will absentmindedly play with your hair all the time. Whether you’re watching a movie or lying in bed, his fingers are threading through your strands, gently tugging just to make you look at him.

Joshua looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He’s the boyfriend who says, “I want to grow old with you,” and you know he means it.

He might be soft-spoken, but the second you start pushing his buttons? You’re done for. His voice drops an octave, and he’s gripping your wrist with just enough pressure to make you stop in your tracks. “Keep testing me,” he’d say, with that calm, terrifying tone that sends shivers down your spine. And when you do, let’s just say you won’t win the next round...

Picture this: Joshua in an apron, trying his best to follow a recipe while sneaking bites of whatever you’re making. Flour ends up on both your faces, and he’s laughing so hard that you forget you burned the cookies. “Let’s just order pizza,” he’d say, pulling you into a hug that makes everything better. (Queue this)

If you’re ever upset, Joshua knows just what to do. He’ll hold you close, his voice will be soft as he reassures you. He doesn’t rush you to feel better; he just stays by your side, offering quiet support and the kind of love that makes you feel safe no matter what.

Joshua isn’t afraid to be goofy with you. He’ll make silly faces, sing off-key just to make you laugh.

Well, he's got the whole church-boy aura, but let’s not be naive here. That glint in his eyes when he’s pinning you against the wall during a heated makeout session is pure sin. He’ll whisper something like, “What would people think if they saw you like this?” just to watch you squirm. And don’t even think about trying to outplay him—he thrives on seeing you flustered.

At concerts, he’ll sneak little glances at you in the crowd and smile like you’re the only person in the world. HE IS UNREAL.

Joshua is the type to trail his fingers over every inch of your skin, memorizing the way you react to his touch. He’ll tilt your chin up gently, his thumb brushing your lower lip before kissing you like it’s his last day on Earth. It’s slow, intense, and leaves you aching for more.

He’s not flashy, but he’ll keep his hand on your lower back or entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly whenever he feels like it.

He doesn’t even need to try to make your knees weak. He’ll be casually helping you grab something from the top shelf in a grocery store and lean down to say something, with a grin that’s way too innocent. Sir, is this a grocery trip or a personal attack?

Late at night, he’ll play the guitar and softly sing while you’re lying on his lap, and boom—you’re gone to heaven.

After he’s made you lose your mind with those sinful kisses, Joshua transforms back into the fluffiest boyfriend. He’s wiping the smudges off your lips with his thumb, kissing your forehead. The duality is WHIPLASH, but are you complaining? No.

When he looks at you, it’s not just attraction; it’s pure adoration. And when he holds you close, you’ll realize that being with him feels like coming home every single time.

Joshua’s the kind of boyfriend who makes you believe in love songs again. His actions, his words, his everything—all of it screams, “You’re my world.”

Yeah, Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend, and honestly, you’re done for. Congratulations on never recovering.

[bibibbon]

Happy Xmas (belated) and a joyful new year.

Its not necessarily about besties au but I saw a post about rewriting Inko to have a life and I agree (through my issue is not "oh Inko has no job" she could have been stay at home mom if she was a character and not whatever the fuck canon gave us)

In besties ...the more I think, the more I want to distance Inko from fanon. Many make her a lawyer or a nurse. My Inko was a baseball player. She was good but stopped bc she wanted to form a family with the man she loves.

This is not super relevant but ...I did mentioned before how Inko IS so anger at Aldera. One thing I don't I see in many fics is make Inko angry on Izu's behalf. My Inko is so mad...she has the bat. She is having dark thoughts

"it's oc of her to be like that" if this was a regular day, I would agree. I think Inko learning how her daughter was suffering and she didn't do anything stings, a lot.

I want to make her an athlete bc the whole "oh yeah teens beating each other is bigger than Olympics" it's bs....and imagine if people recognize Inko. She was a great player...she steps down to have a family (her husband passes away and her daughter was abused) I know I didn't put that in the chapters so far but it can still be added....Miss Curious is digging (along with Shoto)

I think it's bc AM and his "divorce" clouded anything else.

My question is: make Inko a almost famous baseball player (she could have been a big deal, she plays some championships here and there) could work? A sort of bittersweet feeling..."see Izumi, there life outside the hero world"

Hi @mikeellee 👋

Happy holidays to you as well!!

The truth is Inko has no other purpose in Canon other than being Izuku's mother, and even with that, the woman is barely present and is presented as incredibly neglectful to her only child's needs and wants.

You can argue this is why horikoshi states that he feels bad whenever he draws inko. Now, I know that MOST MHA parents introduce within the series don't get major roles and we don't see deep insights to their lives but there are a lot that do like kotaro shimura, the todoroki parents and heck even bakugo's parents get more insight than Inko herself.

Personally, I would expect Inko to have more screentime and development because she is the MC's mother. She is important within the series, but I guess it's not utilised or ever expanded on by horikoshi.

Again, I agree the problem isn't that inko doesn't have a job, but she doesn't have a life outside of izuku. She doesn't have a character outside of izuku, and it's infuriating.

Personally, I think making Inko a formerly up and coming great baseball player is such a good hint and would add so much to her character on so many levels.

What I mean by this is that Inko, being a baseball player, would show that she had goals, ambitions that she succeeded at, it would show where her fast reflexes mixed with her float quirk come in to help her in day to day activities, it would show that there is a world outside or heroics and how heroics is negatively impacting other entertainment industries such as sports which inko used to work in. This would also show that Inko left a mark in the world.

Her retiring young and starting a family because she wants to is incredibly realistic and interesting for her because inko does seem like a lonely character who wants to be surrounded with people and a family, its why she cares for izuku so much even if she may not be the best mother.

Inko being overprotective over izuku or angry in this case isn't actually OOC because the series does lamely try and show inko being mad at UA and trying to protect izuku even if that plot point ends nowhere.

I'm checking back chapter 96 and gosh that page where Inko says that it may have been better for her child to stay quirkless adds so much to her character and the depth she could have had. Inko sees the reality of heroics and she so desperately doesn't want her son to head down that path but inevitably he does and if we assume that inko was watching the screen during chapter 419 than we can assume she saw her son with limbs detached dragging himself across the battlefield to keep fighting to do something.

[casualya]

FUN FACTS ABOUT YOUR TAV

Thank you for the tag @yennefer-of-vengerbergs ❤️!

ohhh, I'm very, very slow, I know. I just don't have a very good imagination for it 😅.

I use google translator, so I apologize for my mistakes.

Is your character good, evil, or neutral (makes some good decisions, some bad ones)? - My character is initially neutral-good, however later on, she becomes more of a chaotic-good. She isn't evil, that's for sure. She doesn't know how to be truly evil.

What hobbies do they partake in? - She's very, very mediocre at playing, but she likes it (and everyone in the camp tolerates it while she strums whatever musical instrument she can get her hands on), but she sings beautifully and has an enchanting voice. Also her voice – it’s power from her patron, she can charm, persuade, deceive with using it. Or intimidate. - She loves to read and tries to do so at any free moment when she's not busy solving various problems of their little troop or she reads when they take a break. She likes to collect, read and memorize different stories, legends and then put them together into songs. She likes that Astarion is often busy reading as well.

(But she likes to do more than anything else in the world is this: She loves it when Astarion comes to her tent or she comes to him, and then she likes to lie down and stroke Astarion's hair. She has small thin fingers, she traces the contours of his face with them, wrinkles and small scars on his skin, she likes to stroke his hands. Falling asleep, she takes his hand and puts it under her cheek.)

Do they own any heirlooms from their family or ancestors? - No, alas, and she doesn't remember her parents or her family.

Can your character cook? - Oh, yes, she can cook, she doesn't cook culinary delights, but she's good enough to feed the whole squad in the parking lot. However, she would rather do something more useful (like go to Astarion's tent and read or cuddle with him) if someone offered to do it for her.

Does your character have a best friend? - Astarion is her love interest… but about best friends - probably Wyll and Karlach. She really bonded with Karlach and Wyll because she wants to help Karlach, and with Wyll because he too has a patron who gives him power and asks for something in return.

Their biggest fear? - Her biggest fear is losing the Astarion. She's afraid that something will happen to him, that they might not be able to deal with his master (my Tav and her squad are at the beginning of Act 3, somewhere near Baldur's Gate or Rivington, their story isn't finished for me yet). She's also learned something about the Ritual, maybe more than Astarion himself, and she's worried that she won't be able to convince Astarion not to perform the ritual. She's afraid that something will happen and Astarion will be different, not the way he was, not the way he is now. She hasn't told him everything in words but she understands her feelings for him, she is very much attached and in love with him. No doubt she will try to convince him to stop and not do the ritual, but first she needs to eliminate Cazador somehow. She also worries that her patron may for some reason interfere with her relationship with Astarion or demand an exorbitant fee for the magical power.

Name one of their red flags - (I don't think I'm getting this right, but so be it) - When she is compared to someone else clearly not in her favor

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Merry Christmas to you too my wonderful friend!🎄💗

Aww poor Ben. I love how we start with shading in his past Christmases compared to what he's starting to experience now with the reader. We come at it from the same angle of headcanon, that Ben's mom was the only person who truly loved him in his family. So it was such a good detail that after she died, Christmases became just more of the same toxic/apathetic atmosphere with his father, compounded by the impact of his mom's death.

Thank you! I love this headcanon and I really hope that in the prequel series "Vought Rising" that we're able to see a little more of Ben's relationship with his father and hopefully let us learn more about his mother. I know that this headcanon is a little "dean-like" but I think it also kinda plays into the "angel in the house" phenomenon that started in the mid to late 1800s. But the headcanon to me, makes sense. Ben has so many issues with his dad and I honestly don't think that if his mother was around that Ben's father would give him such a hard time or allow Ben to grow up in that kind of enviornment.

I also wanted to give Ben some "happy" memories from his childhood that he could compare what the reader was doing for him to something that was familiar and something that resonated with him😊, something about Christmas that was "familiar."

Lmfao come on, Ben. Let's not take this out on others. 🤣

He is the KING of taking it out on others LOL 😂 He also takes it out on Hughie in this fic and I felt so bad doing that to Hughie, but it is so in character for Ben 😒

Wow, that's so interesting. Taking a trip literally through Memory Lane and walking through his family's mansion. I've never thought about that before, but I imagine it would be one of those things that Ben, for the longest time, couldn't bring himself to sell, but also couldn't visit. Like a mausoleum of his old life.

I use this headcanon in my other series Madness, (same with Ben's mother), but to me it seems to make sense. That Ben would have a family mansion somewhere that is full of terrible memories from his father being a total jerk to him and never wanted to set foot inside. "Like a mausoleum of his old life" EXACTLY! It's just a big drafty old house that Ben can't go into because even though he says he's not afraid of anything, he can still feel his father's disapproval and disappointment, and going "home" to where he grew up would only make it worse.

Ben doesn't know what a home is because of what his father did, and now the reader is slowly showing him what it means. I also low-key wanna write the fic of her and him coming back to his house and him being hesitant and her just wandering around in complete shock. 🤔

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

Girl, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 I had to 😂 It's really just pouring on the hurt and he just really loved his mom 😭

Lmaooo deeply relatable. I feel like it would be oh so funny to intentionally getting on his nerves (knowing he wouldn't hurt you). 😂

I knoooowwww. 😂 I love that about your BMD reader, that she isn't afraid to tease him and he just absolutely HATES it, but he loves her so he can't do anything about it and she knows it. I'll bet that he thinks the real problem is that she knows it LOL 😂

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

He does, man is a total SIMP 😊

People want to think there aren't any good aspects to "traditional/old-fashioned" men, but for the men who are actually good men, traditional doesn't necessarily mean outdated or toxic, so thank you for including this tidbit.

Thank you! 😊 You're right, I think that there's a disconnect about the idea that a "traditional/old-fashioned" man can't be respectful and is always labeled "sexist" or "toxic." And it's wrong, because you can find a man who is respectful, forward thinking, and who has those "old-fashioned/traditional" values (CHIVALRY! 😂) that really translate into putting their girl first, being respectful of what she wants to say, trying to protect her (not because they don't think she can protect herself, but because they want to), and doing things for her (again not because they think she can't do it herself) but because they genuinely care about her. It's the difference between a man and a boy tbh 💅🏻

Her gift to him was so very sweet!! Of course she made him something heartfelt, and he appreciated it because it was a genuine "first" for him, having someone give him a hand-made gift from the heart. 💚💚💚

I know 💗, I really wanted the reader to make something for him, just so that he could again be reminded how much that she loves him and isn't staying with him just because it's convenient or because he's attractive or because she's settling. Also I like that you picked up on the "first" thing again, because that was exactly what I was trying to do lol 😊. It's hard to find firsts for a guy who's over 100 years old 😂

And his gift to her was absolutely perfect. 🥹 A keepsake from his mother? Him basically saying he wishes she could've met his girl? I'm dying of happiness from the sheer fluff. 😭💗

This one was extremely fluffy, but so fun to write! Ben getting her a gift that meant something so intimate to him that he wouldn't have given to anyone else in the past, really just made me melt when I wrote it 🥺 Because he's never wanted to share those pieces of himself with someone else and now he has the reader and I'm just *crying*😭. AND yes! Him saying that he would have brought her home to meet his mom just destroyed me 😭

This was a beautiful addition to the Take a Chance story, and kind of feels like an epilogue in a way, even though I know you're working on that one too. I loved this, friend!!

Thank you so much my wonderful talented friend! 🥰 It really does read like an epilogue and I did not notice that lol 😅

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV and Reader POV

Summary:  All Soldier Boy wants for Christmas is to find the perfect gift for you and all you want is for your boyfriend to have the best Christmas he has in forty years. Reader is a supe with plant powers. (Takes place in my Take A Chance On Me Series- 4 months after they get together, but can be read as stand alone!)

Tropes: Established Relationship, First Christmas, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Illusions to Sex, Fluff, Soft Soldier Boy, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Soldier Boy is Mean to Hughie, Mention of drinking/drugs, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

A/N: I know I should be working on the epilogue of "Take a Chance on Me," but @zepskies wrote a lovely Christmas fic called 'Twas the Night for Dean Winchester, and it really just got me in a mood to write some Christmas Fluff! 🥰

Soldier Boy POV

Ben frowned at the delicate necklace laid on the black velvet cloth in front of him, the 10 carat diamonds catching in the brilliant lights that lined the ceiling of the jewelry store. It was the eleventh piece of jewelry that he'd asked the woman behind the counter to remove from the display case, and it still wasn't right.

Ben had waited until the last possible moment to go Christmas shopping. It wasn't because he'd forgotten or because he'd been so busy he hadn't had time to shop or because he'd been called away on a mission, but rather Ben kept putting it off because he didn't want to think about it.

It was his first Christmas back in the U.S, and it was already proving to be one so different than the ones he'd known before.

Christmas for him in his youth when his mother was alive was filled with light and joy. Each room of his family's mansion strung with tinsel, adorned with holly and festive wreaths, and a Christmas tree so large that it put all others to shame and sent the smell of pine wafting thorough the large home. He remembered the lavish parties his mother threw with women in gorgeous gowns and men dressed in suits taking crystal glasses from silver trays, remembered the warmth in the kitchen as his mother baked and rolled fresh pastry, remembered the taste of the hot chocolate on the tip of his tongue that his mother made him before she sent him to bed on Christmas Eve, and remembered her tight embrace and the smell of her floral perfume on Christmas morning when he'd run down the stairs into the living room.

Ben's jaw tightened.

Christmas without her was different, the large mansion where he lived with his father was cold and dark. The hallways desolate and frozen in the winter months that lead into spring, the kitchen no longer heated by the warmth of the oven or infused with the smell of gingerbread, the parlor no longer tinkling with the sounds of glasses and the laughter of guests, the living room no longer housed a Christmas tree so tall that it made the Eiffel tower look like a trinket, and there were no longer Christmas parties where people danced into the wee hours of the morning and poured themselves into bed smelling of champagne and eggnog.

All that was left was the drunken stupor of his father, the harsh words that echoed down the long hallways, and the urge for Ben to find the nearest bottle and drown himself in it.

Ben spent most of his years as a supe trying to forget the years that followed his mother's death and also his Christmases as a supe washing away the memory of the ones that seemed to be infused with the magic of Christmas in his youth.

Ben spent them at Legend's Christmas party with his woman of the hour clinging to his arm, making painful small talk and waiting until the party turned into a hedonistic thrall of sweat and skin as so many others had. And the next morning when he woke up from the fog, he turned back to the little white line that promised to make him forget and the amber bottle that did little to ease the reality that started to sink in.

But this year was different, because he had you.

You who loved Christmas more than anyone he'd ever met, you who was slowly reminding him how much he used to love Christmas as a child, you who'd dragged him to go Christmas tree shopping before Thanksgiving, you who had encouraged him to help decorate the small apartment the two of you shared with so many Christmas lights it was blinding,  and you who had planned something Christmas themed every week for the past month whether it be baking Christmas cookies or watching Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate on the couch. And in each moment, you'd found some way to include him in it.

Ben wasn't used to that.

He wasn't used to someone wanting him there with them and someone like you going out of your way to include him in everything you did.

If a person had tried to tell him in the past that he'd ended up with someone like you, someone who smiled easily, someone who always put other people first, someone who actually gave a shit about him, someone who was always so damn warm and welcoming, someone who included in him everything you did in a way that didn't make Ben feel like an old grump, and someone who tried their best to make sure that Ben remembered every day that you wanted him around, he would have laughed in that person's face.

And yet there you were.

Truth be told Ben knew that the old version of him probably wouldn't have let someone like you close to him, let alone fall in love with them.

Ben hadn't met anyone else like you in the numerous years he'd been alive and he really didn't want to fuck it up. He'd fucked up so many other things in his life and he hadn't cared, but if it involved you, he wouldn't dare.

Hence, the current dilemma of him standing in the crowded Tiffany store at 8 pm two days before Christmas with you waiting at home for him to exchange gifts. Ben wanted to pick the perfect gift for you, but nothing felt right.

He'd never given much thought to what to buy someone for Christmas. In the past usually an expensive piece of jewelry, a handbag, a dress, or a car would have made any of Ben's many escapades swoon, but not you. Ben had tried to give you jewelry before, expensive jewelry that would have made any of those other women drop to their knees, but you were different.

And as much as Ben loved that about you, it was only making this worse for him.

The one time that he'd tried to give you a gift outright, a beautiful diamond and emerald drop pendant with earrings to match, you hadn't been impressed. Sure, you'd thought that it was beautiful, but you'd told him that you liked gifts that "meant something."

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And he knew for a fact that the 10 carat diamond necklace on the velvet pillow in front of him would mean nothing to you.

"Fuck." Ben murmured under his breath, and the saleswoman stiffened.

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-"

"It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

He was running late.  He knew that you were waiting at home for him to bring back dinner and to give him his present, the one that he was sure would be thoughtful and perfect for him because you were always so damn caring.

The other shoppers were pushing and shoving their way to the counters where other salespeople stood in identical navy blazers and white button down shirts, the tension and buzz of two days to Christmas electrifying the air, while Christmas music that Ben couldn't recognize played in the background.

His supe hearing made it worse. Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming and as much as Ben pretended that he didn't have PTSD, he did. Being surrounded by this many people was not helping. It was in moments like this when you were there, would hold entwine your fingertips with his and brush your thumb gently over the back of his hand to ground him as if you could sense his discomfort.

Ben hadn't ever had someone care enough to notice things like that. Another reason why he wanted to find you the perfect gift, because you put up with all his shit and didn't ask for anything in return.

"Ben?" He hears a familiar voice ask, hesitant, and he turns to see Annie standing a few feet inside the open doorway. S

he's wearing a black puffer jacket and her hair is hidden under a red stocking cap, while Hughie holds the door for her. Hughie's arms were laden down with bags while Annie's remained bare. The winter wind blew in through the space, flecking bits of snow onto the rugs that had been laid out to avoid the customers sliding through the sludge.

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

He wasn't good at talking to your best friend or her boyfriend. Personally he thought that Hughie was a fucking pussy and that he didn't have the balls to tell Annie no, but the one time Ben had told you that, you'd only rolled your eyes and told him that Hughie "loved Annie."

Ben loved you and he did have the balls to tell you no, but Ben thought that sometimes it was better to keep his mouth shut and do what you asked. Not to mention Ben hated saying no to you when it was something that could make you happy. Ben liked making you as happy as you made him. 

He flinched at the thought. The self-deprecating monologue was beginning to seep in, the one that told him you were turning him into a "pussy" and that he should cut and run. The same monologue that made him make a mistake and run back to Vought a few months ago when he should have run to you.

Ben shakes it off.

"What are you doing here? I thought you two were going to leave this morning for Illinois?" Annie asks in surprise used to Ben's grouchy demeanor.

Your grandmother turned Christmas into a two day extravaganza, complete with a Christmas Eve and a Christmas Day party. And although Ben and you were supposed to begin the 14 hour drive to Illinois this morning, your grandmother had insisted the two of you catch a flight first thing tomorrow.

"Decided to catch a flight tomorrow." Ben replies.

Ben was secretly happy, because flying meant that he wasn't going to have to drive 14 hours in the snow. The two of you had driven to Illinois once before, and Ben hadn't minded it. You’d been more upset with him for not letting you drive, but Ben liked driving. Driving meant that he was in control and in an emergency situation he wouldn't have to reach over the console and yank the wheel to save the two of you and driving meant that you could relax in the passenger seat and work on whatever it was you were crocheting.

"Like us!" Hughie flashes Ben a wide smile that Ben doesn't feel the need to return. “You should have told us. We could have all traveled together!”

Ben's frown deepens at the thought at being stuck in a metal tube for hours with Hughie and he knew that if you were here you would probably elbow him in the side and tell him to "be nice." If anyone had ever tried to do that to him in the past, he would have ripped their arm off, but not you.

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

Ben dragged his eyes over the numerous bags hanging from Hughie's arms. "Yeah. You too?"

"Mhmm. We just finished." Annie replies. Her gaze drops to the diamond necklace on top of the display case that the saleswoman is fiddling with. "Is that for-"

"No. Of course not!" Ben says sharper than he means to, shoulders tensing. But him standing in this store when he knew that you were waiting at home for him to celebrate Christmas made him feel like Annie and Hughie had caught him red-handed. "She doesn't like jewelry." He adds referring to you as he takes a step back from the counter and the sales associate who looks confused.

“But sir-“ The woman begins to say, but Ben waves a hand to shut her up.

"Why do you think that?" Annie asks interrupting the woman.

"Because she yelled at me when I bought her that diamond and emerald necklace!" He shouts so loud that some of the other customers turn to stare at him. "This was a fucking mistake, I have to go-" Ben starts to stomp out the door and past Annie not sure where he's going, but she shifts to stand in his way. His eyes narrow in annoyance, thinking about all the ways that he could move her.

He only put up with Annie because she was your best friend and he knew that if he did anything to her then it would upset you, and Ben didn't like upsetting you.

Well, he did think that it was cute when you got angry with him. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your cheeks turned a cute shade of pink, and your eyes seemed to glow with the force of your anger. There were few people who had the courage to tell him off, but the more you did it, the more he started to like it.

But this was different, and now thinking about you only reminded him of his current dilemma.

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

He could practically feel the seconds ticking away until he had to go back to the apartment. It was the first time that he'd ever dreaded going home and seeing you and fuck he hated every single moment of it.

"She does like jewelry." Annie's mouth drops into a sympathetic smile.

Ben tried not to get more angry when he saw the pitying look in her eye. He didn't need her pity, didn't need anyone's pity! He was still Soldier Boy damnit!

"Then why the fuck did she-"

"She doesn't like this kind of jewelry." Annie clarifies. "She like vintage stuff, simple, refined. Hell, I have to practically drag her away from the display cases at Atomic Archives."

"Atomic Archives?" Ben asks hesitantly. He had no idea what Annie was talking about. You'd never mentioned that place before.

"Yeah, it's our favorite antique store. It’s about two blocks over from where the plant shop used to be.”

"Can you show me where it is?" Ben says it before he can stop himself, his heart surging with hope at the possibility of finding the perfect gift for you.

"I mean I-" Annie begins to say, but Hughie interrupts.

"Babe, didn’t you say that the owner was closed this week because she went out of town?" Hughie asks her, throwing a sympathetic look in Ben's direction that made him bristle.

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

Ben felt the hope inside pop and deflate like a pricked balloon, but the longer he stood there in the crowded shop, with the ostentatious jewelry twinkling under the lights, the buzz of the chatter of other shoppers, and the ridiculous new-age Christmas music that grated on his ears, he began to have an idea.

"Come on." Ben might have said it as a suggestion, but it wasn’t open for debate. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed Annie and unfortunately that meant that Hughie was going to tag along.

"What?" Annie sputtered.

"Come the fuck on. I don’t have time for this." Ben snaps back and stomps out the doorway past Annie and Hughie into the snow.

"But what about-" Hughie begins to say and Ben whirls around to glare at him, eyes narrowing. "Okay you got it. Lead the way buddy." Hughie nods his head in agreement.

"I'm not your fucking buddy." Ben sighs under his breath.

Soldier Boy POV

"This place is really murdery." Ben hears Hughie whisper to Annie from somewhere behind him. "Do you think Ben is going to try to kill us? Should I call Butc-"

"I'm not going to fucking kill you!" Ben snaps, pulling out his keys, the jingle of the metal echoing down the long hallway. "And I guess you really can't make a decision without that British fuck can you?”

The storage unit warehouse was desolate, but that was to be expected, it was after all two days to Christmas and most were more focused on buying things to put in their storage units than moving things out. The lights along the roof of the steel gray hallway flicker and throw long shadows over the navy blue doors of the units doing little to alleviate the creepy aura.

In hindsight Ben did agree that this particular storage space was "murdery," but it was the only one that he could get close to the apartment last minute. The same apartment that Ben has been trying to convince you to move out of.

It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and Ben hated the thought that you'd lived there as long as you had, walking home at night alone before he moved in. Now it wasn't a problem because Ben never let you walk by yourself. And as hard as you'd fought him not to live in a "big fancy apartment" all Ben wanted was to live somewhere where he could imagine staying permanently. Not in a small one bedroom apartment where he had to stoop in the shower, the bed barely fit in the bedroom, and seemed too small for one person let alone two.

He knew that he was wearing you down, but he still had a long way to go.

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

"You're here because your girlfriend wouldn’t come without you.” Ben rolls his eyes as he fits the key into the thick padlock.

He was getting tired of listening to Hughie’s whining. He heard enough of that when he was stuck on missions with him, but he was tolerating him, for the moment at least. He had to, because if he didn't then he was never going to be able to find the perfect gift for you.

The interior of the storage unit isn't anything special. Ben didn't have much that he wanted to keep from his old life, as a supe or from his childhood. The things inside this storage unit were the only things that Ben had left that didn't cause him to be reminded of how his father chastised him or the drafty home that Ben returned to each time he got kicked out of another boarding school.

The mansion that had been in his family for decades had sat abandoned and locked up, hidden from the main roads so it was undisturbed after Ben's father died. Ben had gone to Philadelphia a few months ago to get things in order with the bank and prepare it for sale, but had been surprised when you told him you wanted to come.

He didn't think that you'd want to be involved in something so tedious, but it was almost as if you could sense how hard it was going to be for him, and you'd insisted.

Ben had no intention of setting foot inside, but you were curious and even though it made Ben's throat tight to walk down the dusty cobwebbed halls, the wonder on your face as you walked through made the cold memories of the world he knew before he was a supe fade into the background.

And this storage unit was all that was left of that life.

Ben located the old steamer trunk with ease. It was a faded gray now, but Ben remembered the day his father bought it for his mother. When the grayed sides were a soft supple black, the metal lock and edging were a polished gold, and the rose patterned fabric that lined the inside was soft and covered in bright pink flowers.

When Ben opens the trunk, he catches the smell of the floral perfume his mother used to wear and after all these years it makes him remember the tight hugs she'd give him the moment she sent him off to bed and the tight hugs she'd given him when he rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning.

He didn't like thinking about her or talking about her, but sometimes he would think of her when he was with you. Whenever you did something caring without being asked or whenever you took the time to check in to see how he was doing. Not that you were motherly, just that Ben hadn't had anyone in a long time care about little things like that.

The only other "relationship" he'd tried to have was with Crimson Countess and she didn't do any of the things for him that you did. There wasn't any comparison between the two of you as far as Ben was concerned.

He shakes off the memory the way he always does and moves some of his mother's clothes for the cherry wood carved box that he knows is in the bottom.

He opens it slowly, extracting a small velvet box from within, one of many inside that Ben probably should have taken to the bank ages ago for safe keeping. Ben's father had a tendency to buy things for his mother whenever he "messed up" and the small velvet boxes inside were proof of that.

Ben turns back to where Annie and Hughie are watching with curiosity at the door of the storage unit. "Here."

"Here?" Annie says hesitantly looking at the velvet box in Ben's hand.

"You brought us out here for a box?" Hughie huffs.

Ben narrows his eyes. "No. And if you tell anyone about this I'll turn you inside out, ass-wipe."

"Why do you always have to be so-" Hughie begins to say, but Annie nudges him in the side.

Ben wondered briefly if Annie and Hughie also tried to tolerate him the same way that he tolerated them for you.  

"Wow." Annie says, her voice hushed and reverent when she opens the box with strands of her blonde hair falling out around the hat.

"You think she'll like it?" Ben clears his throat, trying not to wince at the question.

He hated that he was relying on Annie for this or relying on anyone in general. Ben would have rather taken a long walk off a short pier than anyone for help, but he was just so desperate to make sure that the first Christmas the two of you spent together was perfect.

You deserved that and Ben wanted to give it to you.

"She will."

"Good." Ben takes the box back, but decides to bring the wooden box with him back to the apartment just in case. His eyes narrow as he looks over at Hughie. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll shove your head up Butcher's ass. Then again, you two would probably enjoy something like that."

"You're welcome." Annie raises an eyebrow.

"Whatever." Ben mutters.

Reader POV

Ben was late and you were starting to worry.

Not that Ben was always punctual. The man was about as punctual as the White Rabbit, but rather Ben was sure to let you know when he was running late. Not to mention Ben was rarely late to things that he knew were important to you.

And tonight was special or at least you wanted it to be.

You look at your phone again to check the time, noting that it was nearing nine and Ben had told you he was going to be back at eight. You were trying not to think too much about it, busying yourself with other little things, like packing for your trip to your grandmother's home in Illinois. Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben.

But you liked annoying him.

Ben's nostrils would flare, his jaw would flex, and the green of his eyes would darken in a way that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, but tonight you were too anxiety ridden at how late he was to care about making him annoyed.

Ben and you were supposed to leave this morning to drive the 14 hours to your hometown in Illinois, but you'd called your grandmother a few days ago and asked her if Ben and you could fly in instead.

You wanted the two of you have a Christmas alone before you dragged him back home and made him sit through the two holiday parties your grandmother threw. So you'd planned a quiet Christmas at home where the two of you could drink eggnog, watch some holiday movies, and exchange gifts before Ben was subjected to every single person you'd known since you were six.

But Ben didn’t seem to mind any of that.

Regardless, you were going all out this Christmas. It was Ben's first since he'd come back to the States and you wanted it to be perfect and it was the first Christmas the two of you were spending together as a couple.

The anxious energy that thrummed through your veins reached out into the numerous plants in your apartment, that shifted and stirred as your powers coaxed them forward. The vines that crept along the walls shook with an unnatural breeze, the Christmas tree grew an inch taller, the mistletoe hanging above the front door grew another few shimmering berries, the blackberry and raspberry vines that hung over your refrigerator fidgeted and wove together into a curtain while the tomato plant in the garden box above your sink dropped bright red fruit onto the counter, and the orange/lemon tree that sat behind your kitchen table blocking the view of the alley beyond shook it's branches for a moment. You could feel everything alive in your apartment leaning towards you as if waiting for your silent command.

Rex, the creature you'd created from broken vines and trampled leaves four months ago, flicks his eyes over to you sensing the same disturbance the rest of the plants inside could.

You bite the inside of your cheek fighting your urge to check your phone even though you know that less than a minute has passed since you'd last checked. Instead you fiddle with the ribbon on the lumpy wrapped gift that is perched on your lap.

Shopping for Ben had been difficult to say the least.

You weren't sure what to get your 104 boyfriend who'd lived as a hedonistic playboy for most of his life and you didn't like giving gift cards (you didn't think Ben would understand the concept) or giving people meaningless trinkets that they used once and then threw away (the Grinch was right about some things). You liked giving gifts that you put time and effort into that you were sure the recipient was going to love.

And you were sure that the package on your lap contained the perfect gift and you were excited to see the look on Ben's face when he unwrapped it.

Your cat Bean purrs where he sits beside you on the couch and Rex your, for lack of a better word, Dragon was watching the multicolored lights on the Christmas tree in the corner blink on and off.

It was bigger for your apartment than it should be, but Ben had insisted on getting it and you couldn't complain. Not when he genuinely seemed to be happy to stand there in the snow picking out a tree with you.

And after when no Uber driver agreed to pick the two of you up because of the tree, Ben had carried it on his shoulder fifteen blocks while you begged him to let you help. When you'd tried to take some of the tree, Ben had shifted it to his other shoulder and taken your hand instead, which wasn't what you meant when you reached out towards him, but you didn't let go, not when it was cold and Ben's hand was warm.

The one jammed into the corner of your small living room didn't have a leaf out of place or any signs of decay. You'd fixed that with a flick of a finger.

You'd gone all out with decorations.

Every plant in your apartment had lights of their own and ornaments that swung just out of reach from your pets. Christmas lights were strung down the hallway and there was a wreath on your bedroom door. Strands of mistletoe hung over every doorway in your apartment and there was one taped to the wall above your bed. That one was Ben's doing, but you couldn't complain, not when it felt so damn good to kiss him.

Ben hadn't spoken about the Christmases he spent in the past, but he'd listened to you talk about your Christmases growing up when the two of you decorated the tree with ornaments you'd collected over the years.

He might not have been big on sharing, but your boyfriend was good at listening. Not just pretending to listen, but actually being quiet and wanting to learn more about what you're saying. You'd thought it was odd when you became roommates and you realized just how much Ben listened and remembered what you told him, but now it was one of the reasons that made you love your boyfriend more.

You sighed, a happy smile on your face. You didn't think that you could feel this way about anyone, let alone someone you hated for so long, but you did. Ben was changing the belief you had about what relationships should look like, and you were sure that you were doing the same for him.

You hear the jingle of keys and the fumble of the doorknob as Ben slowly opens the front door and you leap from the couch.

"You're home!" You exclaim as your body hits his full speed, but he doesn't move. It was difficult for you to produce enough force to move him, difficult for anyone really.

Ben chuckles "Miss me Petals?"

He moves the plastic bag of Chinese food to his left hand so he can hug you back, his right hand fitting comfortably over the small of your back to hold you tighter against him.

You could remember the first time you hugged him, when all he did was stand there with his hands at his sides awkwardly while you held on to him as tight as you could. This was better. Ben's embrace is warm and strong, unyielding, but full of the love that he’d had such a hard time admitting.

"Yes." You squeeze him hard, smiling into his jacket that's flecked with melting snow, cold against your skin, but the warmth of his body soaks through the chill and into you. You sigh, nuzzling further into him. "I was worried-"

"Why?" Ben's voice rumbles through his chest, against your cheek.

"Because you weren't home yet." You pull back to stare up at him. His brilliant green eyes catch in the multicolored strands of Christmas lights, strung through your apartment. There's snow caught in his dark hair, turning to water and dripping down into his face in the warmth of the apartment.

Ben frowns. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're here now." You smile arching up to kiss him. Ben groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening as he deepens the kiss, pressing the hand on the small of your back just a little more to secure you against his chest.

You sigh softly, content in living in this moment with him for another few precious seconds. The heat of his body transferring into you the longer you stand pressed against him, soaking through your sweatpants and chunky sweater in the best way.

You'd never felt this way about anyone in the past. There hadn't been another boyfriend who'd treated you the way Ben did, no other boyfriend who'd cared about the little things, and no other boyfriend who you were so in love with. Even your first love so long ago faded into the background, the one you thought you'd never get over, and all that was left was Ben.

You're too excited about giving Ben his gift to eat. You sit cross-legged on the plush gray couch so close to him that your knees are touching the outside of his thigh as Ben places the boxes of food onto your coffee table. The anxious energy tingling in the pit of your stomach and buzzing in your chest so much that it's difficult to sit still.

And before Ben can give you your chopsticks, you thrust the lumpy wrapped package onto his lap with a wide smile.

"You first!" You say.

Ben shakes his head. "It should be ladies first."

“I’m not a lady Ben. We both know that-“

“Sorry sweetheart that’s the way it goes.”

“Don't be so old fashioned Gramps. It's 2024.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing at the cute frown that pulls at his lips when you use the nickname. Ben never liked it, but when you'd first met, Ben hadn't told you his real name, and you'd assigned him the nickname and it had stuck when you realized how much it annoyed him.

That was when he did everything in his power to annoy you as well, so it seemed like a good fit.

In all honesty, you didn't hate how old fashioned Ben was, if anything it was a relief, a reprieve from the way the modern boys treated women. It was nice to finally be with a man who actually gave a shit about you and cared what you wanted.

"And I really want you to open yours first." You plead as you lean towards him. "Oh, and this goes with it."

You reach down behind the couch to grab the small golden barrel cactus, avoiding the sharp yellow spines, and place it on the minimal space left on the coffee table. You'd crocheted a dark green sleeve to go around the terra cotta pot.

"You got me a cactus?" Ben snorts.

"I mean, I have so many plants in here and I thought that you'd want one that was yours. Plus, you'll never have to water it." You gesture with one hand to the numerous plants around the room, the ones bathed in the multicolored lights from the Christmas Tree, the ones with bright green leaves that unfurled towards the light, the others with hanging vines that trailed to the ground so thick that you couldn't remember the color of the wall, the apple tree with ripe red fruit, and the numerous herbs in the garden box that hung over your kitchen sink. "And I gave it a sweater."

"Why did you give it a sweater?"

"It’s used to a warm climate and because I had some yarn left over."

"From?"

"You're just going to have to open your gift and find out." You shrug, but can barely contain your excitement.

Ben shakes his head at you, but a smile twitches on the corner of his lips. You knew that your boyfriend loved you because you were different than anyone he'd ever met, and you reveled in that. You liked that even though Ben was older than you,  that no matter how many other experiences he'd had in his life,  you were a first for him just as Ben was a first for you.

He rips through the paper carefully, trying hard not to ruin what was inside, the sound of crinkling and tearing blocking out the Christmas playlist for a moment that you'd put on before Ben had come home, but you can hear the ABBA song clear as day.

For a moment he stares down at the gift not quite comprehending what the lumpy mass in his lap is, but then he picks it up.

It had taken a month for you to pick out the perfect dark green yarn that was soft but not too soft, green but not too green, and another two months for you to finish it when Ben wasn't home, but you were proud of the sweater that you'd made your boyfriend.

He stares at it for another few beats, holding it up to the light, and it makes you worry that maybe you should have bought him something at the mall instead.

"You made me a sweater?" He asks, there's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place, some traces of emotion that you're not able to identify.

"Yeah. I wanted to make you something." You clear your throat, worried. "I mean- you don't have any and I know that you keep saying you run a little warm, but I figured we're going to Illinois for Christmas and it might be cold."

Ben doesn't say anything and you start to feel the self-doubt come roaring in.

Why did I make him a sweater? I should have bought him some cologne or something.

"And you complained when Butcher sent you on that mission to Alaska last month and I just thought that-“ You press your lips into a tight line, shoulders drooping. “If you don't like it I can keep it for me-" You fumble, but before you can finish, Ben yanks you into his lap.

His hands cup your cheeks as he kisses you so fiercely that it wipes any doubts from your mind. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, but sink into the kiss.  “Don’t you fucking dare.” Ben mutters against your lips.

Your blush burns against your face. “You like it?”

He nods. “ No one’s ever made me anything before.” His voice comes out a little bit gruff, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, but it makes you smile.

“I figured and I wanted to change that.” Your fingertips dance over his forehead, brushing away the hair that’s fallen forward before your hand drops to cup his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against the palm of your hand. “But you’re sure you like it?”

Ben kisses you again, his large hands settling on your hips with an encouraging squeeze. “I do.”

“Good. Merry Christmas.” You wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hug him for a minute, sinking into his embrace with a happy smile.

"Merry Christmas doll." Ben murmurs into your hair, affection lacing his words.

Again, you send a mental thank you to your grandmother for understanding that Ben and you needed a day to be together and celebrate the way you wanted to before coming to stay. Not that you didn't like the Christmas Eve party or the Christmas day party, but you wanted to give Ben this. You noticed that Ben still had a hard time being in places with a lot of people when the PTSD came roaring back, and you wanted to show him what Christmas meant to you and hopefully show what Christmas would look like between the two of you as long as you were together.

“Sweetheart you gotta open yours now.” Ben’s voice rumbles, the warmth of his breath on your ear. It makes a pleasurable shiver thrill skate down your spine when you think of all the other times the two of you have been this close.

“It’s okay I can wait.” You hum into his throat, content, but Ben won't give in.

He pushes you back gently from his chest shaking his head. “Too bad. It's your turn."

"Fine." You start to move back to the space beside him, but Ben's hands catch on your hips to stop you.

"I didn't say I wanted you to move did I?" His smile turns more smirk.

"I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I like having you on top of me?" Ben purrs, kissing under your jaw, his beard scratching in a way that makes your throat tight.

"Keep doing that and the only thing I'm going to unwrap is you." You sigh in a half-moan, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck.

"After." Ben leans back to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box that fits in the palm of your hand.

You hesitate to open it.

It wasn't that you didn't want jewelry for Christmas, it was that Ben and you had done this song and dance before after he tried to make you wear a diamond and emerald necklace with jewels bigger than your index, middle, and third finger put together. The whole time you wore it the only thing you could think about is how many groceries you could have bought with the necklace, how much you were afraid that it was going to break, and how much you feared that you were going to lose it or someone was going to try and steal it.

Maybe that was ridiculous, but extravagant gifts never appealed to you. You liked gifts that meant something, gifts that were heartfelt and thoughtful, gifts like the bookshelf Ben had gotten you months ago before you were dating because he noticed you needed one. Not to mention you loved just spending time with Ben. If he hadn't gotten you anything you would have been content with just sitting with him on the couch and watching a Christmas movie.

But you smile, because you don't want to hurt his feelings and because it's his first Christmas in forty years and you wanted it to be special.

It's Christmas and I will be thankful and happy with whatever he got me, because Ben was thinking of me when he bought it.

You think to yourself as you open the box.

The first thing you notice is that the box isn't as new as you thought, the inside of the lid is printed in ancient script that's a little faded, worn against the aged white silk that lines it. Your eyes drift to the piece of jewelry nestled on the pillow. It's a silver locket, hexagon shaped, and about the size of your thumb. The face is printed with weaving ivy leaves and roses that reach to a simple plain border.

Simple, stately, and completely you.

Ben is uncharacteristically quiet, but he breaks the silence first. "Do you-" He clears his throat, "Do you like it?"

He asks it hesitantly, as if he's afraid to hear your answer. It was unusual for Ben to look so nervous.

You can only nod, any words you had stuck in the back of your throat. Your fingernail finds the seam between the two pieces of metal and you gently unlatch the locket to see the picture inside. There's a piece of glass protecting a yellowed photo of a little boy who looks no more than five standing in a small black suit. You didn't think that they made suits for kids that small. He's smiling and one of his teeth are missing, but he looks oddly familiar.

"Who is this?" You ask. The more you look at the photo the more you think that you've seen him before.

"It's me." He says it quiet, almost a whisper.

"You? But-"

"It was my mother's." He clarifies and you inhale sharply in surprise.

"Really?"

He nods once, looking uncomfortable. By now you knew that moments like this usually made your boyfriend uncomfortable no matter how many times that you'd told him that he didn't have to be uncomfortable about being vulnerable. He was getting a little better, slowly, very slowly.

"Oh Ben I don't know if I should-" You shake your head, afraid to touch something so old.

Ben didn't often speak about his mother, but when he did, it was always reverent and respectful. You could see in his eyes how much he had loved her and how much he had cared about her. His father, Ben also didn't like talking about, but Ben never spoke of his father with the kindness that he'd spoke about his mother.

And you didn't want to take something like this away from him, something that meant so much to him, because of how much he loved his mother.

"No. I-" He clears his throat and Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "I want you to have it."

"But-" You stutter.

"What else am I going to do with it Petals? Can't exactly wear it myself." Ben chuckles, but the humor doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s your mom’s and I-“ You trail off still looking at the photo of Ben as a little boy. He had the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you loved, the same unruly dark hair, but there was something different about him. He looked happier. It was the same look that Ben had when it was just the two of you together, the happiness that you wanted Ben to feel the rest of his life when he understood what it was like to be loved and cherished.

And it made you understand that the last time Ben must have felt loved and cherished was when his mother was still alive. It broke your heart to know that Ben had lived all these years without her and missed that in his life.

The locket was beautiful and the fact that Ben remembered what you said about liking gifts that “meant something” made your heart flutter.

Because this meant something. Ben taking the time to go through his mother’s jewelry and pick something out just for you that was special to him that he wanted to share with you, meant more than the emerald and diamond necklace he had tried to give you months ago.

There were tears burning behind your eyes the more you look at the photo of the little boy.

Ben is watching you. “Well-“ He shrugs. “I'm an only child. Which means I don't have any siblings who have wives to fight over this stuff so, I figured that if anyone was going to get it, it should be you. If you don't take it, it'll sit in that fucking storage unit. Seems like a shame."

You don't answer.

"And-" He hesitates, "I think my mom would have wanted you to have it. Hell, she might have given it to you, if I'd brought you home to meet her."

Your cheeks flush.

Ben studies you for another minute, before you watch his smile twitch into a frown. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have gotten you jewelry.  Annie said that you liked jewelry, but I told her you didn't and now the bitch is probably having a good laugh with that pussy of a boyfriend! Forget about it sweetheart, I'll go get you something else right now-" Ben tries to take the box from you, but you swat his hand away.

“Don't you fucking dare!” You shout, using the same words that he said to you when you tried to take his sweater away.

"But you don't like it-"

"I do!  And knowing how much this means to you, makes it better."

"Really?"

You nod, a wide smile wiping away any uncertainty in his gaze. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Sure." Ben says gruffly. His voice has lowered a little, and you know that it's a mixture of pride and love mingling in the tone. It made something break open deep inside and flood your ribcage with love.

You turn your neck to the side, pulling your hair away from the skin as Ben hooks the chain together at the nape of your neck.  The cool metal of the necklace against your skin and the weight are unfamiliar, but you already knew that you wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon. "It's perfect!" You pull Ben in for a kiss, threading your fingers into his dark hair.

Ben smiles into your mouth, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go and you don't want him to.

It was odd to think that you'd only been together for four months, but you couldn't imagine your life without him. It seemed ridiculous for you to think that Ben was it after such a short time, but he was. You'd never rushed into anything in your entire life, but then Ben was there shattering every expectation that you had, enough to make you throw your inhibitions to the wind and jump feet first into the unknown if it meant he was with you.

The kiss is softer than the one the two of you shared at your front door, filled with more emotion than Ben usually let the world see, but he was opening up bit by bit, learning that you wouldn't judge him for that and it made you feel sky high.

This was the relationship you'd always wanted, and you never thought that you'd have it with Ben, but now that you were here you wouldn't change a thing, because it wouldn’t have put you in his arms.

"You can change the picture." Ben murmurs into your lips.

"No way. I don't have any kid photos of you. And I'm pretty sure you'll see all of mine this week.”

“I bet you were cute.” Ben smiles, raising one of the hands from your hip to push your hair from your face. “Hard to imagine you being any other way sweetheart.” 

"Debatable." You sigh, nipping at his bottom lip in a way that makes Ben pull you back to him.

And when the kiss turns hungry, with you gripping his hair so tight you'd be sure that it would hurt anyone else, and with his fingers pushing up the bottom of your t-shirt to feel the warmth of your skin against his hands and find the dips and curves of your body that make you moan into his mouth, you can't help but think that this is the best Christmas you'd ever had.

"I do think it's later sweetheart." Ben's eyes shine with mischief, mouth pulling into the familiar smirk that makes your knees weak.

"Good. Because I have one other gift for you." You moan as Ben's mouth trails down to your jaw, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin, in a way that drives you mad.

"It's not another plant is it?" He bites just under your jaw and you tighten your hands in his hair, gasping softly.  "Fuck, I love those sounds you make baby." Ben murmurs.

"No." You've lost all ability to form sentences, not when he's so perfectly warm and the trail of his hands working up your abdomen consumes you.

"Give it to me later." Ben's eyes flash a startling green. "I want to unwrap my favorite gift right now."

"Keep going the way you are, and you're gonna find it."

Ben hesitates, before he raises his hand to feel the end of the brand new lingerie that you'd bought special for tonight, his eyes darkening with the realization. "Well then, Merry Christmas to me."

Ben's mouth falls against yours, but before he goes further, he pulls back just for a moment, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Ben?" You question. 

"Merry Christmas Petals." He whispers, dragging his thumb over your cheek, and nudges his nose against yours in a gesture that warms your heart. He didn’t do things like that often, but whenever he did it always stood out to you, because it added on another layer to the man you loved with all your heart.

"Merry Christmas Ben."

A/N: I thought that they deserved a little Christmas fluff. I'm hoping that I have time to drop a follow up to this before Christmas, because I kinda want to write what happens when they go back to Illinois, but we'll see what happens! ❤️

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰

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[fairyminnie444]

Hi! So I've finally plucked up the courage to make an ask and I thought of asking you since your posts really help me! 🩷🫶🏾

I've been really struggling with overcomplicating the law these days, my brain just seems to always want to make things more confusing for me?

Like i'd be understanding the law, reminding myself about how the 3D isn't my reality, imagination is and all I have to do is persist. I feel like I have to remind myself every time so I don't forget.

But soon as a remind myself and re-explain what the 3D is and what the 4D is and how i'll respond to bad circumstances and how i'll live happily in imagination my mind just becomes so overwhelmed to the point that I just loose control and start spiraling.

For example: I'll be reassuring myself on how I won't respond to 3D circumstances and then my brain will start overcomplicating and ask 'What even is the 3D again?' then I'll say the 3D is a projection of imagination (or similar) then I'll counter it by saying 'oh well then what's imagination?' and I might say simply the true reality then I'll counter than by saying 'why? Or what even Is imagination?'

Soon after I'll just start spiralling, nothing I say will make sense, nothing I say will click in my brain, I'll be stressed and confused and maybe after that I'll start consuming on loa which likely worsens it as it makes me ask more questions

It's like my brain just needs to know the answer, and I believe I have them, I just hate it when the questions overwhelm me and becomes too much to handle and I stop trusting my own word. And sometimes I don't know the answer, like when I ask myself 'what is imagination'? I can't produce myself a concrete answer that will make me shut up 😭

I thought to myself that the main problems I struggle with are overcomplicating and trusting myself, more so trust because if I simply learnt to trust the law I wouldn't need to overcomplicate and lead myself to spiral. But how can I learn to trust myself when my brain literally wont let me?

Every hour it feels I need to reaffirm what manifestation is before I forget it, the main reason why I struggle to manifest my desires is because I end up overcomplicating and not trusting the law, I end up spiralling, I stress myself out and before I know it I 'forgot' i had my desire or I just gave up and tried to give myself time to relax.

An answer would be greatly appreciated because I don't know how I can have fun and enjoy manifestation without changing my ways. Thank you for reading 🩷💋

-y

Your struggle with overcomplication and spiraling is more common than you think, and it often comes from a genuine desire to “get it right.” The good news is, the law is incredibly simple, and trusting it doesn’t require you to answer every question your mind throws at you. Let’s break this down and make it manageable:

1. The Overcomplication Trap

Your brain is stuck in a loop of analysis because it’s searching for certainty. This happens when we feel we must fully “understand” everything before it works. But manifestation doesn’t rely on intellectual understanding—it works through belief and feeling.

Simplify: The 3D is just the current reflection of past thoughts, and the 4D (your imagination) is where creation happens. That’s it. Every time your mind overcomplicates, repeat this to yourself:

“What I focus on in imagination becomes real. That’s all I need to know.”

2. Answering “What is Imagination?”

When your mind starts to question the nature of imagination or reality, remind yourself that you don’t need all the answers for it to work. It’s like using electricity—you don’t need to know how it works to turn on the lights.

Reframe: Instead of trying to explain imagination to yourself, shift into feeling it.

Ask yourself:

• “What does my dream life feel like?”

• “How would I feel if I already had it?”

This grounds you in experience rather than analysis.

3. Stop Fighting the Spiral

The more you resist spiraling thoughts, the more power they gain. Instead, allow them to pass like clouds in the sky. Acknowledge them without engaging. For example:

• “Okay, my brain is spiraling again. That’s fine. I don’t need to figure everything out right now. My manifestation is still working.”

4. Cultivate Trust Through Repetition

Trusting the law comes with practice, not perfection. You don’t need to convince yourself the law works—you just need to keep applying it. Over time, results will reinforce your belief.

Manifest something “simple”, like seeing a specific color or hearing a specific word. Each success builds trust.

5. Focus on Feeling, Not Logic

The law isn’t about intellectual reasoning; it’s about feeling. When you start spiraling, shift your attention to a state of gratitude or contentment.

For example:

• Instead of asking, “What is imagination?” ask, “How does it feel to have my desire?”

Feeling is the language of manifestation—not words.

6. Create a Grounding Routine

When spiraling feels inevitable, ground yourself with a simple routine:

1. Close your eyes.

2. Take a few deep breaths.

3. Imagine one simple, joyful moment from your desire (e.g., holding your SP’s hand, seeing your bank balance, etc.).

4. Let the feeling of that moment wash over you.

This brings you back to the present and out of your head.

7. Stop “Starting Over”

You never lose progress. Even if you’ve spiraled or doubted, your manifestation is still active. The law is always working, and your consistent return to your desire reinforces its creation.

Affirm:

• “Even when I doubt, my manifestation is still unfolding.”

• “I trust the process, even if I don’t understand it fully.”

8. Have Fun with It

Manifestation doesn’t have to feel like work. It’s about playing with your imagination and enjoying the feeling of your desire being real. Let go of needing to “get it right” and just focus on feeling good.

Reminder: The 3D doesn’t have to prove anything to you immediately. Relax, trust, and let the process unfold naturally.

Your job isn’t to know how everything works; it’s to assume the state of the wish fulfilled. Let the “how” take care of itself. Keep it simple, focus on your feelings, and trust that everything is working in your favor—even when you’re unsure.

[reanimatedgh0ul]

listen ik lance would NOT be the type of guy™ to watch a disney movie but ik for a fact that if someone showed him treasure planet (2002) he would relate to jim hawkins sm that he would basically turn into this lol

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

well lots to think about there

[batsplat]

how has the motogp fan community grown/changed since you became a follower? can i get your thoughts on more fans coming in especially from f1? or on liberty media taking over? what are we hoping/bracing ourselves for?

honestly, I'm not the best person to answer the first question, because I've really not engaged all that much with the motogp fan community over the years... motogp isn't a massive thing in either the country I'm from or the country in which I currently reside, and I've only very rarely come across people irl who have any sort of interest in it. it's really just been through reddit, other forums, comments under blog posts on popular motogp sites, that sort of thing. I don't think reddit is a bad way to follow the sport - you've got all the hot topics but also stuff that's a little... broader than you'd get say on tumblr, about the more technical side or folks talking about less-discussed riders from the past, anecdotes from older fans, that sort of thing. it's also free and easy to not click on any post about sepang 2015, though admittedly there have been times where all these sites were quasi-unusable (hey ho argentina 2018). but I don't really feel like that community has massively changed, apart from maybe becoming a bit bigger and just having... more posts in general? you definitely get shifting opinions over time, sometimes it's a bit of a hive mind in terms of which riders are flavour of the month... so for instance bez was a lot more well-liked twelve months ago. but that kind of thing is common across all sports-oriented subreddits in my experience

I have checked in with the twitter fandom a few times in recent years just to see if, you know, it exists, and sure there's a few journalists and commentators it's worth keeping up with, but beyond that? there is a kernel of motogp-flavoured stan twt but a) many of them are primarily f1 fans, and b) their way of engaging with the sport is so alien to me that I generally take one look and then very much look away. as for the tumblr fandom, I can't speak to that at all though I'm sure others on here could tell you a lot more. I realised this bit of tumblr existed by complete accident at the start of the year. never even crossed my mind that this is a sport that would have an actual fandom on tumblr, god knows sports I follow I would consider a lot more mainstream barely do

as for new fans from f1... you know, what can you do, really. it's a good thing if the sport's fanbase as a whole becomes younger and more diverse, even if personally I am not a dorna shareholder and don't really care all that much about 'growing the sport'. new fans will bring their own biases and preconceptions and mostly not care about the bits of the sport that I care about... but that's how it's supposed to be, no? get them invested in the new riders, find all these young acosta and aldeguer and alonso fans to liven up the sport in the future. at a certain point you just have to learn not to care about what the wider fandom thinks about a lot of things. I have seen countless wildly inaccurate takes on this sport for years - which, yes, often there are howlers from newer fans who are clearly missing a lot of context, but also older fans can be flat out wrong about plenty of stuff. new fans migrating from f1 or whatever will create what... well, it's essentially fanon lol, based on how other fans introduce them to the sport as well as to certain historical events. but, you know, that already exists on here, and there's plenty of popular interpretations of these riders and past events and the current landscape of the sport that I personally strongly disagree with or are just... not true. plus ça change. stop worrying about a foreign takeover and just be careful to curate your space, imo - you can avoid most of the truly annoying stuff if you exercise self-control

generally speaking, I imagine more fans in a space like tumblr will lead to more polarisation and fragmentation in a way you can't quite afford in the same way in a smaller community. more drama, more controversy with more people who can potentially set it off and more people inclined to drag it out. corners that are based increasingly around specific riders or specific sets of riders. there's always upsides and downsides to that kind of thing in any fan space... you get more stuff created by fans, more art and fic and fanvids and essays about two decade old rivalries (funnily enough I'm not massively expecting an uptick in that particular market). more fans for riders who don't currently get a lot of attention. you do also get more discourse and more controversy... hopefully the most conflict-happy new fans stick to twitter. but at the end of the day, everyone starts out as the fan others want to gatekeep against, and it's not like you can actually stop them from joining, so. whatever. also, who knows if the sport really will actually 'take off'. I follow a sport for which a netflix show was announced and a lot of people were expecting something along the lines of the drive to survive-effect. so much posting and think pieces a dozen about whether the new fans would have the wrong opinions on all manner of hot topic issue. in the end, the show flopped and we got fuck all new fans, so that was a massive waste of everyone's time lol. motogp has itself been through something similar with the ill-fated prime show where they bungled the release... you never really know

that being said, it is quite likely that if the liberty media purchase goes through, they will do a pretty good job of attracting new fans. they've broadly done a good job with f1 - and it's not like they can really be blamed for most of the problems with the actual racing. it wouldn't be a bad thing to get new races in the states, as long as they're good ones (my problem with the newer races certainly isn't location but is with some of the rather drab circuit layouts) - and if f1 is anything to go by, I doubt we're going to lose any of the series' gems. quite frankly, if we need to cut a few european circuits, not wanting to name any names but I do have a bit of a shortlist. further calendar bloating is a worry, but for various reasons it's not going to happen in the short- to medium-term. and unlike in f1 there's less enthusiasm at the prospect on the part of the actual teams (also, crucially, the tyre supplier). obviously street circuits aren't going to happen. hopefully, some aspects of the way the sport is presented to audiences will be improved - from the actual television product, to what footage is released to fans, to how much we see of riders further down the field, and so on. hopefully, the sport will become more accessible to more fans in terms of viewing options... but yeah, how riders lower down the field are treated is I think the main thing I'd like to see change. hey, maybe we'll finally have access to more on-board cameras. maybe they'll finally show us the controversial and presumably interesting incidents happening outside of the top ten in any given race. my main worry just from a selfish perspective is any change to the videopass product (unless they'd like to make it a wee bit cheaper). I'm just about willing to shell out the amount I currently do given I heavily make use of the archives and think it's a fantastic resource, but for instance in f1 there's geo-restrictions to the kind of f1.tv you have access to... there's always the slight concern what new tv deals might change. still, this is all pretty minor stuff, and really I don't expect liberty media to be either able or willing to come in and make radical changes to how the sport currently works. concerns about ticket prices and fan experiences are also reasonable, though as someone who hasn't had the money/opportunity to visit any races myself, I really can't bring a lot to the table to that discussion beyond 'I hope it doesn't become prohibitively expensive'

of course, there's some things I very much want to see retained, for instance I'd hate it if liberty pushes for riders to speak english more often. also, we need to petition them to bring back the press conference table. overall, though... some of the changes will probably be bad, a lot of them will hopefully be good. change is necessary and motogp needs to finally adapt to a post-rossi world. it's unhealthy for a sport to continue to rely on the second hand glow from a man who retired years ago, to pray that the fans he created are somehow going to continue to care if you don't give them a reason to. rossi revolutionalised the sport, but eventually you need a new revolution. anecdotally and according to various podcasts, there's finally been a shift this year away from just crowds of yellow at all these circuits... which is categorically a good thing. above all, you need fans to care about the current product, make them fans of the current racing, the current riders, while also providing them opportunity to get interested and emotionally invested in the history of the sport. a lot of them will ignore that history... but eventually, that's how the cycle goes with everything. you don't get much discussion of, say, doohan these days on tumblr, and time will creep up on all these riders. you see it on here with how many newer fans say they went back to watch races starting from 2013 - because they care about the marquez era and are less interested (if at all) in either rossi's golden years or the alien era. which is how it should be... you cannot expect new fans to care about over twenty years of racing when they're just getting started (if they ever will). all you can do as a sport is hook them with whatever they're willing to be hooked with, and gently nudge them wherever they're willing to be gently nudged to. and if the end product of all that change is something that's more palpable to the masses but less suited to your personal tastes... well, you can always watch the old stuff

[girlivealwaysbean]

my sister called me and kept asking excitedly that what's happening in my life and

[musical-chick-13]

I'm the LAST person to suggest that you have to preface every single comment you make about a character/fictional relationship/etc. you like with a reminder that you Know™ it's pRoBLeMaTiC, but I DO question what the point of acting genuinely for real like there were no problems is.

[th3houseofleaves]

thinking abt dove baek and how they've done a variety of illegal things to survive and they justify all of it bc it was for their survival right and as an adult they're avoiding breaking the law as much as possible bc they have to be a good influence for sparrow bc they don't want him to pick up any of their bad behaviors right but at the same time they're super nonchalant and open abt some of the stuff they did (there's some things that are going to stay buried forever thank you very much) so sparrow absolutely picks up on that energy and the first (and only) time dove has to come pick their son up after he's caught stealing they're incredibly upset – at him but mostly themself – and they fear for their LIFE bc it's totally going to be blamed on them and while karina isn't gonna hold it against them forever she won't be happy abt it and her parents will be even more upset.

meanwhile sparrow thinks he's done some cool shit and doesn't understand why everyone's not being chill about it

[ozzgin]

Just read your arranged marriage kidnapped by a most post and the humor in the servants always thinking reader is in peril. The same going for monster hubby (He just thinks they're submissive and breedable)

Like none of them realize they are a moster fucker cause they hide it so well. Like just imagining reader be like "oh be gentle with me I'm a dainty maiden" and then giving him the night of his life is hilarious. Or them having dinner and the servants feel bad for them cause monster hubby is eating human meat but their just thinking about other things he can use his tongue on.

Or maybe someone comes to rescue them from the terrible monster finally. But they don't wanna leave and instead fight the knight off. The knight thinks they've been brainwashed or something. Meanwhile the servants think the knight just wasn't good enough to rescue them.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, NSFW! [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

The servants are not blind by any means: they can tell, quite plainly, that their monstrous Lord has a soft spot for you. Not only that, but the beast nearly worships you! They've come up with many theories, the latest one involving witchcraft. Surely you must have some sort of magical trickery under your sleeve in order to subdue their Master. There's no other way around it. All previous humans have been devoured, or have died in a pitiful attempt to escape, terrified to the bone upon gazing at his blasphemous Majesty.

You can't blame them. It's probably better for everyone involved if you omit the fact that your source of witchcraft lies in your...genitals. Well, not just that, of course. Your husband had started to lose hope. His appreciation of humans never came to fruition before your arrival. He was expecting you to cower in fear, not throw yourself at him.

He wondered if you wanted something from him in return, but no one could possibly pretend so flawlessly: the way you clung to him unprompted. The way you hungrily took him in, tears welling in your eyes, refusing to let go until you could feel his load avalanching down your throat. The way you'd trap his hips with your legs, despite being weak and feverish, asking that he doesn't stop yet. If that wasn't proof enough, your whines and moans were loud and clear. To think he could have his own little human, one who isn't repulsed by his monstrous form. He would've been content with mere tolerance, yet someone who begged to be fucked by him? He's been delirious ever since.

He loves everything about you, naturally, but he can't deny the shameless addiction he's now developed towards your body. He'd pound you anywhere and anytime if he could. If he needs to leave for official matters, know that the return will burn in the back of his mind.

"An important date, Sir?" one traveling servant will ask, glancing at all the scribbles in the calendar.

"Indeed", he answers solemnly. It's the times when he can finally fuck you dumb.

While the servants worry about their devilish Master being put under leash, for the other fellow humans the opposite seems to be true. You recall your last "rescuing" attempt distinctly. During one of your evening walks, burly, foreign arms swept you off in an instant. Before you knew it, you were holding onto the armored shoulders of an unknown man, as he made his way out of the traditional garden.

"I'll get you out of here", he promised between heaving breaths.

You stared in confusion. What was he saving you from? A good dicking? No matter how much you explained that you do actually like your newly appointed husband, the hero wouldn't budge.

You ended up just walking back home when the man fell asleep.

"That was quite the long walk", your monster partner remarked, polishing his weapons.

"Oh no, I was kidnapped", you state casually. "Got us some fruits on the way back."

Would it have been better to lie about it? On one hand, you do feel terrible for whoever attempted to retrieve you from the claws of the tyrant. Your husband is very possessive, and you know he'll scorch the Earth until that treacherous pest is gutted and fed to the pigs.

On the other hand...he becomes particularly savage after such incidents. You won't be able to sit properly for the next few weeks, but it's worth it.

Tough luck, you tell yourself, lounging in bed with a satisfied smirk and torn apart hole.

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)

Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.

Yet he feels completely out of control.

This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.

Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.

A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.

Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.

His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.

Good. Fucking good.

You turn too, brow furrowed.

"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.

John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."

"Y—yes. Sir."

The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.

What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.

Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.

Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.

“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“That,” he growls.

Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”

The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.

“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.

Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.

"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.

"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"

"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.

Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.

He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.

The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.

You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.

But that hardly matters.

Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.

He is so close to making you his.

No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)

"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."

Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.

It still hurts. Still aches.

The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.

His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.

"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.

Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.

"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.

"She's mine."

"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.

One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.

"Take a deep breath, Lt."

"I'm trying."

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