#and that actually became a real relationship

[hsnlv]

caught in the act (of falling) | y.jw

req!: jungwon with fake dating trope (and like he wants to make it a real relationship or smth like that)

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: what started as a fake dating scheme to fend off jungwon’s ex turns into stolen kisses, lingering touches, and feelings neither of you expected. when “pretend” starts to feel a little too real, jungwon’s flustered confession might just change everything.

warnings/others: fake dating trope!, cute flustered jungwon🤭, jungwon’s ex is obsessive (i would be too if i were one actually)

w/c: 1.07k

here’s my masterlist!

you honestly can’t figure out how you and jungwon ended up here—tangled in each other’s arms in his room, no one around but the two of you. his chest is warm against your back, his chin perched lazily on your shoulder, and his hands are wrapped around yours, helping hold the comic you’re both supposed to be reading. except neither of you is paying attention. how could you, when you can feel his breath tickling your neck every time he exhales?

this whole thing started as a joke—or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. jungwon’s ex had been haunting him like a particularly clingy ghost, and out of sheer desperation, he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend. fake dating, he called it. to drive her away.

at first, you thought he was out of his mind.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

“jungwon, have you completely lost it?” you whisper-shouted, darting nervous glances at his ex, who was seated way too close to your table in the cafeteria. her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. “she’s going to end me.”

“she’s not going to end you,” jungwon whispered back, though his tone wasn’t exactly convincing. “look, it’s a foolproof plan. a few hugs, maybe hold hands—just when she’s around! it’ll be fine.”

“fine? jungwon, she’s been staring at me like i ran over her cat.”

he winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “okay, fair. but you’ll be doing me the biggest favor ever. i’ll owe you one. please?”

you crossed your arms. “and what exactly does fake dating involve? because i swear if this gets weird—”

“it won’t!” he exclaimed quickly, his face scrunching up in that stupidly cute way that made you want to throttle him and pinch his cheeks at the same time. “just little stuff. harmless things. like holding hands. maybe linking arms. y’know, couple things.”

you eyed him warily. “define ‘couple things.’”

<<<<<<<<<

“couple things” turned out to be… a lot. jungwon, in his infinite wisdom, decided you both needed to “practice” being a convincing couple. this involved a series of increasingly absurd activities that had you questioning his sanity—and yours for agreeing to any of it.

“okay,” jungwon said one afternoon, pacing in front of you like a drill sergeant. “let’s practice nicknames. couples always have nicknames.”

“we already have nicknames,” you pointed out. “you call me by my name, and i call you uwon to annoy you.”

“no, no, no.” he waved his hand dramatically. “those aren’t cute nicknames. i mean things like ‘baby,’ or ‘sweetheart,’ or… or ‘honeybuns.’”

you nearly choked. “honeybuns? jungwon, if you call me honeybuns in public, i will personally make sure your life is a living nightmare.”

“noted,” he said with a laugh. “okay, let’s keep it simple. i’ll call you… babe. and you can call me—”

“uwon,” you interrupted, grinning. “i’m sticking with uwon.”

he sighed but didn’t argue. “fine. but we still need to work on PDA. let’s practice holding hands.”

you raised an eyebrow. “jungwon, we’ve held hands before.”

“yeah, but not like this,” he said, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. his grip was warm and secure, and he gave your hand a small squeeze. “see? it’s all about the squeeze. it makes it look more real.”

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered, though your cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

<<<<<<<<<<<<

present.

weeks passed, and jungwon’s ex finally got the message. her death stares became less frequent until she eventually stopped showing up altogether. mission accomplished. but the fake dating didn’t stop.

“uwon,” you call softly, the nickname slipping out naturally as you shift in his arms. he hums, his chin still resting on your shoulder, but his hold on you tightens slightly.

you put the comic down and turn to face him, his hands automatically settling on your waist like it’s second nature. “what are we doing?” you ask, your tone light but pointed.

he blinks at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “reading?”

you sigh, rolling your eyes. “not the comic. this.” you gesture between the two of you. “what is this, jungwon? because i’m pretty sure your ex isn’t spying on us anymore.”

jungwon freezes, his eyes darting away like he’s suddenly very interested in the corner of his room. “uh… practice?” he says weakly.

“practice for what?” you press, crossing your arms. “you said the whole point was to convince your ex. but she’s gone now. so why are we still… doing this?”

he scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “well, you know… just in case.”

“just in case of what?” you shoot back, leaning in slightly. “jungwon, are you hiding something?”

his face flushes, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for an excuse and coming up empty. finally, he blurts out, “okay, fine! i like you, alright?”

your brain short-circuits. “you… what?”

jungwon immediately panics, his hands flailing as he starts to babble. “oh my god, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to just—i mean, i did, but not like this! and i totally get it if you don’t like me back, but—oh no, wait, please like me? or don’t? no, wait, maybe you could? or we could just pretend this never happened? or—”

“jungwon,” you interrupt, your voice sharp enough to cut through his spiral.

“yes?” he squeaks, his wide eyes meeting yours.

instead of answering, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. he freezes for a split second before melting against you, his lips moving softly against yours. the kiss deepens, and his eagerness makes you giggle into his mouth, causing him to pull back slightly, breathless.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, pouting.

“you,” you tease, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “you’re way too eager.”

his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t back down. instead, he grins mischievously and suddenly hovers over you, gently pushing you onto your back. “you stole a kiss from me,” he says, his voice low and playful, “so now you’re stuck with me. forever.”

before you can respond, he leans down and captures your lips again, this time with more confidence. his hands cradle your face, and the weight of him above you is both grounding and electrifying. when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his smile soft but radiant.

“so…” he whispers, his tone teasing, “can we drop the ‘fake’ part now?”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “yeah, i think we can.”

[sunnydbeam]

alpha and beta play a role on making biohazards life miserable, then does that also mean that they weren’t in a good relationship all this time even before he became radioactive? Also what kind of things are they gonna do to haz to make him miserable? Kidnap y/n?

Actually, it's not Alpha and Beta's fault, they're just following orders, so there's nothing personal. The three of them never got to know each other beforehand, as Biohazard (Gamma) was the only one that was put into operation. He did, however, know that there were others like him stored elsewhere, which he only saw once.

The real problem here: the humans fear Biohazard and don't know what to do to get rid of him, so they use robots to try to shut him down or destroy him. It's hard to explain this without spoiling too much (I guess I already have). But yes, YN would also be involved due to them wanting to protect him.

[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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[lesbianneopolitan]

i'm curious about trivia/neo headcanons and such. i never considered it before. i assume it's in a plural context?

Personally, to me it's been like...Neopolitan was Trivia's first true friend, right? Even if she was imaginary to other people, she was the first to create a special bond with Trivia EVEN if she was also just the kind of person that Trivia wanted to be, a part of her

Neopolitan was a representation of what Trivia couldn't do at first, but she was also her great sense of self-love, someone who actually protected her when others wouldn't, and that literally saved her when she jumped through the window, when the fire happened (or when confronting against her bullies in Vale, etc)

Neopolitan is that hug and that support that came to Trivia even when she was so playful and sassy, the one that was there when she was so so SO lonely

I'll take the chance to promote this small drabble I wrote 2 years ago on Trivia's struggles with depression when at home and how Neopolitan, of all people, was the one to protect her again from doing anything too stupid

So Neopolitan is like, the one that never leaves her, the one that's there for her when no one else is, the voice inside her head

When Carmel broke her illusion and Neo and Trivia became one, Neopolitan went dormant because she wasn't needed- (or at least she was at the back of her mind), she was mainly shining through Trivia's true self, and only appeared back in the Ever After, when Neo was at her lowest again and she needed to feel that genuine love (specially because her sense of self got shattered more due to her mental stability going to hell)

In fact, in my Neo's canon, Neopolitan ends up being like the March Hare to Neo's Mad Hatter (Mad Catter?) and is present through her tea parties, she also makes her lots of company, and the Dormouse is that side of Trivia that is already buried (and thus the imagery of the Dormouse being asleep almost all time, like how Trivia's old self will never really come back for real now that Neo is more true to herself and who she wanted to be, always sleeping!)

Could their relationship be romantic? In a sense I guess it is- Trivia gave her first kiss to Neopolitan in my canon, and also her first time in bed when she got old enough for that kind of experimenting (even if in my canon, Trivia kept denying her sexuality at first and brushed it as that she was simply lonely- coming out of the closet as a lesbian came way later), and once in the Ever After, she was just like a partner to her, a lover temporarily feeling the void, in a way??

Then again, it doesn't stop being complicated because at least in my headcanons, Neopolitan doesn't stop being just a part of Neo given form through her Semblance- to Neo she's very real, but even if to a point her imaginary friend has her own personality, she doesn't stop being part of her personality either (mindfuck!)

It's self-love taken to another level, because even if it's kinda crazy and Neo could regain a sense of self if she were to fall in love with someone else, Neopolitan would still be there if it didn't work for her

She will always be there if she's alone, aaaaaaalways

[lazysoulwriter]

Behind the Scenes of Jealousy - Nicholas Alexander Chavez. ･ﾟﾟ･｡

i just wanted to write for my boy too!!!!! let me!!!!!

Nicholas had always been laid-back when it came to their relationship. Sure, he was protective, but he trusted her implicitly. The bond between them was strong, built on shared experiences, laughter, and an effortless connection that many people envied. They were actors in the same industry, often working on different projects, but that only seemed to add to their charm as a couple.

This time, however, things were different. Both of them had been cast in a new drama series—a show that would push them to their limits in ways they hadn’t anticipated. She was playing a fiery, independent character, and Nicholas was cast as a brooding, mysterious anti-hero. But what truly made the project unique was the chemistry between her and her co-star, Jake. Jake was everything a person could imagine—a tall, dark-haired, impossibly handsome man who oozed charm. Every time he laughed, it felt like a wave of electricity, and every time their characters touched on set, she could feel the pull of the scene.

And so could Nicholas.

At first, Nicholas didn’t think much of it. He had always been confident in their relationship, and he understood that acting required a certain level of intimacy—fake or not. But it was hard to ignore the growing tension. His thoughts, at first playful, started to feel darker and more intense with each passing day. Jake was everywhere—on set, in her dressing room, sharing laughs between takes.

When he found himself avoiding watching scenes of their characters, it became evident that something was bothering him. He knew it was just acting, but the thought of her lips touching Jake’s, her hands exploring his body, made his stomach churn in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He'd seen her kiss men on-screen before, but this time was different. It was as though every touch between them, no matter how scripted, felt real.

But nothing prepared him for the day they filmed the scene. The moment when their characters would make love, a moment scripted to ignite a fire of raw desire and intensity between them. Nicholas had been on the set earlier, silently watching them rehearse the scene. The crew had tried to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. Every movement, every brush of her skin against Jake’s, seemed to make his chest tighten with a possessiveness he’d never known he had.

He couldn’t stay any longer. After the director yelled, “Cut,” Nicholas had stormed off to his trailer. He tried to distract himself with music, but the images of her tangled in Jake’s arms kept replaying in his mind. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

It wasn’t like him to act this way—jealous, possessive—but this time, it felt different. He wasn’t used to this feeling, and he hated it. It wasn’t the acting; it was the way Jake looked at her, the way the scene felt almost too real, like something deeper was being stirred.

Later that evening, when the day’s filming wrapped, Nicholas couldn't hold it in anymore. He found her in the green room, adjusting her makeup, her face still flushed from the intensity of the scene.

“You alright?” she asked, a small frown tugging at her lips as she noticed the tension in his eyes.

Nicholas crossed the room, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t like it,” he said bluntly, his voice low. “The way he looks at you... the way you... kiss him like that. It’s too much.”

She blinked, a bit taken aback by his admission. “Nick, you know it’s just acting, right? I’m not actually with him. It’s just part of the job. You trust me, don’t you?”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s not about trust. It’s about... how real it feels. How close you two were in that scene.” He paused, looking at her intently. “I didn’t want to feel this way. But I can’t help it. It bothers me.”

She stepped closer to him, her expression softening. “I get it. It’s not easy, especially when we’re both so invested in our roles. But you know you’re the one I come home to, right? You’re the one I’m with, the one I care about.”

He let out a deep sigh, and then, with a small grin, he leaned closer to her. “I know, I know. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling... territorial.”

Her eyes flickered with understanding as she stood on her toes to meet his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Nicholas responded immediately, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, slow and intense, his lips tracing hers as if proving to both of them that nothing had changed.

As they pulled away, their faces still inches apart, Nicholas smirked. “Like I said, you’re mine. Let me show you just how much,” he murmured, his words a promise of more to come.

She laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his touch as he kissed her again, this time more urgently. His hands slid under her shirt, fingertips grazing her skin as she tangled her hands in his hair. The kiss became more heated, more desperate, as if they both needed to reassure themselves that their connection was undeniable, that no one could come between them.

Eventually, they broke apart, breathless and laughing, as their foreheads rested against each other.

“I just needed you to remind me,” Nicholas said, his voice rough with desire.

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “And I will, every single time.”

He gave her a playful grin, hands still resting on her hips. “Good. Because I’ve got a lot of ways to remind you.”

And with that, he kissed her again—this time slower, more tender, letting the passion simmer between them, as though telling her, with every touch, that no matter how many scenes she filmed with Jake, she would always be his.

[cpattersonevans]

A Love Letter to My Inquisitor

As my first ever post, I felt compelled to write a love letter of sorts to my Inquisitor Lavellan. I have been playing RPGs for a long time, but have never been very good at the 'role playing' aspect. Until recently I had always played Dragon Age as a female human, struggling to make decisions that I would not make in real life. Prior to the announcement of Veilguard I had not played a DA game in probably 6 or 7 years, but to reacquaint myself with the world I decided to replay them (starting at DA2 because my computer hates DAO). This time, I was determined to play as an elf for the first time ever in Inquisition...and romance Solas for the first time ever. I enjoyed the Solas romance. I knew going in that it would not be a happy ending, but I knew nothing of how it would actually develop. I absolutely loved this playthrough. So much so, that right after I finished it the first time all the way through to the end of Trespasser, I restarted a new game to play as Lavellan again, willingly choosing to slog through each collection quest (maybe I'd finally find that one last mosaic piece - I did not). Not because I wanted to relive the romance, but because I missed HER.

In Inquisition, my Lavellan was cold and stoic at first, angry at those who blame her for something she knows nothing about...she literally woke up like this. However, she starts to show her true self to those who slowly go from mere acquaintance to respected friend. She was somewhat tactless and blunt, not having much experience interacting with the human world. She was reluctant to accept the position as leader, always asserting that she is NOT the Herald of Andraste. Seriously, how many times does she have to say this! She continues to express her anger and reluctance when the title of Inquisitor is thrust upon her. She never wanted this! She gets shit done, always focused on the task at hand. She hopes that once she fixes everything, she can go back to her old life. Oh how she was mistaken. As time went on she leaned more into her Dalish identity and enjoyed making decisions in favor of the elves (bye bye Celene). She realized that, although she never wanted to be Inquisitor, she may be able to take advantage of this opportunity for the betterment of her people. Dorian, Cassandra, Varric and Iron Bull became her besties (Sera never stopped thinking she was too elfy). As for the romance. She (me) was not attracted to Solas at first, I still found myself very much liking Cullen (had romanced him and Blackwall previously as female human). I even laughed that Cullen is probably the one people would tell her she should be with, but Solas ended up being the one she was fated to be with. Over the course of the game she realized her attraction towards him was growing. The more conversations they had, the more missions they found themselves in relying on each other to survive, they slowly grew closer and fell in love. Plus...that voice. This relationship was different than any I'd experienced in a game before. It felt like, for them, more was expressed in what wasn't said...or how it was said. I could feel the passion between them. When the break up came, she was ANGRY. I will take any chance I get to yell at Solas in Elven. But, she had a mission to complete. She was fine.

Then Trespasser came. Two years later and still the leader of a massive political organization. How did she get here? She never wanted this. She could still care less about politics. Everyone, please stop asking her about Solas. She doesn't want to talk about it. She is fine. Except...she's not. The closer they get to Solas, the more those repressed feelings come to the surface. Solas was HeLpInG us with the Qunari all along! Face palm. I hated this delulu response, but had to do it. When they finally meet face to face, turns out she's still ANGRY. Cue more angry yelling in Elven. HE SHOULD HAVE TRUSTED HER. Not understanding the full extent of his plans, she offers to help. He won't let her. She vows to save him, this isn't the only way. Bye bye hand. Angry Inquisition book drop. Bye bye Inquisition. She never wanted this.

Now comes Veilguard. I will preface that I have not read any fanfiction. I have only been a solavellan for about 4 or 5 months, so I understand this influences my perspective on how things play out in Veilguard. I had no headcannon. I had no expectations for both the Inquisitor's reappearance and the possibilities of closure. I, of course, hoped her and Solas would reunite, but also knew there was a very strong chance one or the other (or both) could die by the end of the game, because Dragon Age.

I actually liked how Lavellan was portrayed. I don't think it's fair to judge how she has lived for the past 10 years based on the few moments we have with her in the game. I don't think she sounds pathetic or sad. To me she sounds, wise, mature, and like someone who has just seen too much shit. Her voice was filled with sorrow. She has had 10 years to ponder everything that happened during Inquisition, replay every moment, every conversation had with Solas. At first she was so so angry, but over time that anger turned into understanding, then forgiveness. This is not to say that the anger is gone completely, sometimes anger reappears when we least expect it, as it often does when we mourn what was lost, but it does not drive her. Over time, she learns how to manage it, to navigate it, to accept it so that each time it hurts a little less. This is the closest they've been to catching Solas. She finds a memory statue of his. She can feel him, feel that it has something to do with him. It is after this that all those feelings, emotions, start flooding back to her. She never stopped loving him. However, the world has gone to shit. She never wanted this, but knows her title, her position, still carries some weight. She steps up to lead once more in the South. To be the person that people need her to be. She doesn't fully express her feelings about Solas until after she hears about the events that occurred in Arlathan, that he helped save Dalish elves from Elgar'nan. Hope returns, maybe, just maybe, the Solas she knew is still in there somewhere, but...she has a world to save first.

The atonement ending is a great ending. I had no expectations, but I wasn't expecting this. I don't think a game ending as ever made me cry so much. It was very cathartic. Maybe because I had played all of these games back to back then straight into Veilguard, so emotions were high.

Lavellan was never going to turn Solas from his path on her own. Her appeals to him didn't work in Trespasser, why would that be any different now? But she vowed to save him from himself, and those that knew him from the Inquisition truly believed he wanted to be stopped. That it was his pride, himself, getting in his own way. She had to try, but this time she has back up. Solas is released from his duty, he is free. She reassures him that there is another path forward, together. Sure, she could have walked in there, spewing more angry Elven at him, but she is not the same Lavellan she was 10 years ago. She is wiser more mature. This does not mean that this anger won't come up later, but she understands that this is NOT the time for that. It's not about her in this moment, it's about him. It's about saving the world. She accepts her fate. Before joining the fight in the North, she made sure all of her duties were appropriately delegated in the South. When her best friend asks her if she will be leaving again after all of this is over, her reply - "something like that." She knew. She joins her vhenan in the Fade to heal both each other and the blight. I do believe that the Fade prison will not be as bad with them together. She will help him confront his regrets and one day they will be able to leave just like Rook did (Rook's regrets honestly pale in comparison, so it will take him more time), but they will have calmed the blight in the process. Someday they will be able to travel the Fade freely and visit old friends, both spirit and corporeal.

She left the world she knew, left behind the title of Inquisitor. She never wanted this. In Trespasser, Cassandra tells her "Being Inquisitor has brought you good things. Many good things. But only a few have been by your choice. Take what happiness you can from those, and do not let them go." And she doesn't.

This turned into a long post, but all this to say...Lavellan holds a special place with me - for not only being a wonderful, bad ass, protagonist, but for finally allowing me to fully embrace the world of role playing games. I have had an amazing time going on this journey with her, one I will surely repeat many times. I love her.

[figure45]

While I whole heartedly respect Neil x Todd, I didn’t see it as much as I saw Neil x Charlie. Like Charlie is the first person he called when he got the role of Puck, Charlie, they’re always together, etc… I’m sure I had more to back up my belief but I haven’t watch it in a long while. And since it’s been years since I’ve watched the film, so please correct me if I’m making a wrong observation, but Charlie and Neil are often together by choice while Todd and Neil are together (not by force because that seems like too hostile of a word because they do have a bond) but like happy happenstance, they’re roommates so they get along, etc…

I’m in the small sliver minority I know lol, just a thought.

this is actually a really interesting perspective, so i will give my take on it, charlie and neil to me are very much childhood friends to lovers. they’ve known each other forever and have an extremely close and intimate bond because of this, leading me to believe they possibly had a queer platonic sort of relationship (look it up if you don’t know what that means)

me personally, however have always been more drawn to neil and todd because of how quickly they became anything at all to one another. they only had a few months to build what they had, but they managed to become extremely close nonetheless.

in summary, they are both very real and i also believe neil and charlie could’ve had something in the past

[bumblebeehug]

I'm starving for nalu angst content. Please feed me?

i shall feed you with some of the best angst i can muster<3 thank @zuzu-fairys-tail for prompting this tihi

For the sake of Love

Summary: Natsu makes a mistake that drives him away from Lucy, but when he returns, he's forced to face the aftermath. Notes: This fic works as a stand-alone, but makes direct references to "Unrequited Love" Part of this series Ao3 - FF.net (link coming)

***

Natsu had never thought about love as something he would experience. He had seen other people express it, claiming that their life didn’t start until they met their significant other. He heard them talk about needs, desires, communication and other otherworldly things – otherworldly, he called them, because couldn’t this apply to anyone? Why did it have to be a specific person? Why them?

He once asked Gray about this. He mentioned his relationship with Juvia, how they had been going steady ever since the team got home from the hundred years quest, but that he couldn’t understand where their original relationship had gone. Their yandere-tsundere act, their genuine friendship – had he really given it up for the sake of “love”?

“They cohabit,” was Gray’s curt answer, clearly disgusted having to talk about feelings with an idiot like Natsu.

No matter how much Natsu pressed him after that, Gray wouldn’t elaborate. Cohabit. He asked Levy for a definition, and came to the conclusion that that’s what he and Happy did. Lived together, spent time together, cared for each other. Except, he wouldn’t marry Happy even if he stood at gunpoint, so Gray couldn’t have been serious. He kept the real information for himself, the actual secret behind normal love and romantic love – what they meant and what differentiated them.

Before Natsu met Lucy, he was going through a troubled period in his life. He had spent so much time alone ever since Lisanna died. His home was dusty and empty, any time he spent in Magnolia was spent at the guild hall, and even his time there was limited to when he was between missions. And those missions then – they would last for weeks at a time, and anytime he found a lead on Igneel, he would follow it, resulting in more time spent away. It could go days between his last conversation with humans, though luckily he didn’t go anywhere without his blue furry pal.

Then Lucy entered the picture. If Natsu hadn’t been talking a whole lot before, now he barely got a word in edgewise. Except, he didn’t dislike hearing her chatter away like there was no tomorrow. It filled his brain, the empty space that normally made his loneliness echo throughout the night. Lucy was a breath of fresh air in comparison to speaking to anyone else in the guild. They all knew him for his losses – losing Igneel, losing Lisanna – but here he had a girl who didn’t define him by these things. She valued Natsu for his current self, the one she had met in Hargeon, who was strong, friendly and reliable. He appreciated this – he didn’t have to feel out of place when he entered the guild. Plus, she was easily impressed by all he had to offer. It was almost too good to be true.

After her, the world shifted. He was once again finding joy in the simple things. Jobs became more intricate and engaging, and even when the reward was butchered he’d always leave with a good feeling in his stomach. He enjoyed hearing her explain plants she saw on the way home from the job, and though he never enjoyed trains, he felt at ease knowing she wouldn’t leave him on it. Lucy became his ground pillar, the safety line that kept him from falling. Soon enough he found himself looking towards her every time he outdid himself. He wanted to know that she had seen, that she knew how far he had come. And the best part was that every time he searched for her eyes, she was already looking at him. Her support was unwavering.

At least, that’s what he thought. Lucy was always going to be there, searching for him, aiming all her attention to Natsu. He believed that her door would always be wide open for him, and if it wasn’t, he’d be granted an open window – something that told him that she wanted them to connect. For years, that was true. He had landed in the fact that he loved her presence, and she loved his. That their friendship was beyond just friends – soulmates would be more accurate.

But Natsu felt inadequate. Like he was failing at being a normal human. He had been haunted by the fact that he never was seen as any other guy – he was always a dragon, a demon, or in some cases a dunce. Truthfully, he didn’t want that. So one day he took a look at himself, and at other guys his age, and did a comparison. What was it Natsu did wrong, where did he fail as a human?

It didn’t take long to notice it. Almost every guy his age had been with, or currently was with, a partner. Not in the way Lucy was a partner, though he often referred to her as such, but in a dirtier way. There was jealousy, touching, tasting and biting, not always confined to a private space, seeing as he had noticed all this just in the guild hall. Jet had yet another girlfriend fuming with anger as she ran out of the bar area – she had apparently had enough of being compared to Levy. Natsu didn’t actually crave that sort of love, but he still couldn’t help but search for it.

The day he met her, he was on a solo mission. Happy and Lucy were visiting the Exceeds, but Natsu wanted some extra money for food, so he’d gone alone on a quest to catch some dark wizards before they got their hands on a sacred jewel from the village. It was walking distance, the pay was good, and Natsu would get to let off some steam: it was the perfect mission. What he didn’t know was that within that group of wizards, there’d be a mage with the most captivating looks.

Her light blue hair and fierce, deep green eyes had him captured. Not captured enough to avoid him from defeating the group, but enough to make him feel like he couldn’t help but to try to talk to her. Surely she’d come over to the good side if they had a good heart to heart? Natsu was confident that all she needed was some TLC: a warm shower, a proper conversation, and a soft bed to sleep in.

That night, Natsu did things he’d never done before. She had kissed him, and to his initial surprise, he had kissed her back. The small voice in the back of his mind, worrying about Lucy, was quickly pushed away. This was what he wanted – he had waited for a moment like this for years. A chance to hop on the train to being a normal guy, someone with girlfriends, exes, an emotional life. So under the sheets they went: he believed their activities would come to an end after this, resembling something of a “one night stand” as he’d heard people call it.

Man, was he wrong. The lust that awoke within him suddenly felt untamable: he needed her to satisfy him. It was years of pent up longing, though he still wasn’t sure for who he had longed. She seemed quite satisfied with their relationship though. Their sessions were intense, only lasting a day a month, so whatever they had could be kept a secret. Lucy and Happy didn’t have to know.

But soon enough, the two of them came to talk before and after their meetings. They’d talk about anything at first: the weather, recent news from the area, things that had happened on missions they’d gone to – she had listened to his advice way back then and started up as a novice witch, freelancing her way around while she got used to the good side of the wizarding world. Natsu was thrilled, because now he could share his struggle: they were both equally destructive in their ways. Between sessions they’d find themselves comparing ways they destroyed towns: Natsu still winning by a landslide, though to be fair, they weren’t yet exactly on common ground. She had many years ahead of her to sharpen her tactics – if getting more destructive was part of it, then so be it.

Natsu loved her ways. He found himself thinking this quite often. He loved how she laughed, how she moved, the things she did. Never having felt this before, he quickly got swept away by the intensity. Suddenly he met up with her multiple times a week, not even to do anything dirty – just to talk to her. She seemed to share his sentiment, not really initiating any major sessions unless the mood was really there: she was clearly interested in him back. When Natsu realised this, he thought he’d finally gotten back the good karma he’d collected over the years, that the universe owed him.

Before he could ask her out properly though, he felt like he had to stop this secrecy. He hated not being able to tell Lucy about things, and it felt weird that she knew everything about Lucy, while she knew nothing about her.

The plan was to just kindly drop the ball in Lucy’s lap. He’d tell her about her, keep his description of her short and clean, and then she’d slowly get used to the idea. It’s not like he didn’t know how special their relationship had been lately: they’d kept up the husband-wife act, she allowed him to share her bed, though nowadays he longed for her smell in it (he couldn’t tell Lucy that of course), they ate almost all meals together, and still went on missions. The only difference was that he was starting to like the idea of doing these things with her as well. And even he knew that he couldn’t have both: he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.

His confession to Lucy hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He had taken her to this diner across Magnolia, made sure they took the long way there so they could enjoy their company a bit before he put his big news out there: in hindsight he realised it must have led her on. When they sat down, Natsu could barely contain himself. As soon as drinks were ordered, he grabbed her hands, sparkled in his eyes, and dropped the bomb.

“Lucy, I think I’m in love.”

As soon as he said it he let everything about her spill out. He couldn’t stop talking, it felt like he was in a daze: it felt so incredibly good being able to talk about this. To Lucy nonetheless. In fact, if you asked him then and there, he’d tell you he was in his version of heaven – and that being said knowing how great sex with her was. This, however, didn’t compare. Him and Lucy, no secrets, and he was in love. He’d be dancing on the table if the establishment was slightly less refined. So he talked and talked, about midday blue hair and eyes green as the forests from his childhood: and he didn’t see the way Lucy pressed her lips into a thin line, how tears threatened to build up in her eyes, or how her heartbeat got heavier. These were all things he would realise once he arrived back home, but wouldn’t be certain if it he’d just imagined or not.

If Natsu could go back in time and change how he had told Lucy, he absolutely would have, without a doubt in his mind. But that was only because in hindsight, he realised that Lucy might have harbored deeper feelings for him. He hadn’t realised it at first, dense as he often could be, but it was apparent once he took his usual trip to Lucy’s apartment just to find her doors locked, her windows closed and her blinds drawn. It was weird, caught Natsu off guard, and left him with a gruelling, dull ache in his chest. Did he prompt her to do this? Not wanting to draw any hasty conclusions, he went back every day the following week. Surely he’d catch her going outside to get groceries one of these days? But to his terror, she didn’t.

When he asked the guild about Lucy’s whereabouts, all he got was curt, dismissive answers. In a way, that answered his question: he was the cause of this. Even Happy had turned against him: he now spent most of his time in Lucy’s apartment. Natsu couldn’t blame him: he hadn’t told him about her until right after he’d gotten home from telling Lucy. Happy was Natsu’s oldest friend, so it was natural he’d hold a grudge if Natsu didn’t tell him about important things in his life. But that he’d be cooping up at Lucy’s place was the thing that set his theory in stone: Lucy must have had a crush on Natsu. There really wasn’t any other explanation. Happy was attached to Lucy, sure, but there had to be some sort of resentment from Natsu not going out with Lucy instead of the girl. Happy could be territorial in that way – he didn’t want new people to come and steal away Natsu’s attention.

For months things were weird in the guild. Natsu never knew how reliant the guild was on his and Lucy’s team: without them all working together as usual, it was like the mood in the guild hall had gone grey and stale. Natsu focused on solo missions, secretly doing them with her so he could get any extra help he might need. Sometimes it bugged him that Lucy wasn’t the one with him, but he brushed it off as just not being used to teaming up with someone who didn’t have the diversity of 15 different celestial spirits close by. Though it happened that he’d feel annoyed when she ignored clear instructions once again, causing double the amount of damage that was necessary for the mission. He suspected he was learning how it must have been working with him all these years.

Natsu couldn’t help but act like a busybody when it came to Lucy. He had promised himself to stay out of her business, but when he heard that she was looking thinner, he worried she didn’t have enough money for both rent and food: soon he started slipping a couple of thousand jewells to her landlady. Just so she’d keep her eye on Lucy for him.

One day he saw her there, in the guild, at the table with Levy and Cana. Before she noticed he was there she looked almost exactly like she used to: radiant, happy, gorgeous. The second she laid her eyes on him, her entire aura changed. With it, her normal appearance seemed to fade away as well. Suddenly he saw every pore in her face, felt her ragged breath in the air, noticed deep under eye bags contrasting the paleness of her skin. Her cheeks were sunken in and her muscles deflated – had he done this to her?

That’s when he started with the sympathy-smiles. He felt as stupid doing them as she probably felt receiving them, but before he could get out of it, it had become a habit. He’d draw the left side of his mouth, his lips pressed together as the corner of his mouth tried to turn into something of a smile, though it’d fail every time before it had a chance to turn upwards. Everytime he did it, he’d hear her swallow hard, smell tears in her eyes, and he’d feel the burning eyes of any fellow dragon slayers in the room – they all blamed him.

Natsu wasn’t sure he enjoyed living life like this. He loved her, without a doubt: they had finally become a couple, enjoying their date nights to the fullest. But even though he considered her a kindred spirit, he felt like something was missing. He wanted some contrast in their relationship. They could talk about something, find a word they didn’t quite understand, and then… silence. Silence where Lucy would kindly take her time and explain the word, its origin and how it was used: often with a couple of synonyms as well. That was how he even knew the word synonym. It was all thanks to Lucy.

Once, when they were thirty minutes into an intimate session, Natsu accidentally called out her name. Not her name, but Lucy’s. A faint whisper, right by her ear, making her jump out of bed quicker than he’d ever seen her move before.

“What did you just say?” She was grasping at her clothes, gathering them from the floor, distraught painted all over her face. “Lucy?”

Natsu fell over in bed, hurrying to cover his goods with the blanket.

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t mean to,” he tried. It was in vain, he realised, as he watched her blue curls swoosh with her very violent shaking of her head.

“No. It’s- it’s too weird, Natsu. I’ve known that you’ve loved her for a really long time, but I was stupid to think I could make you get over her.” She had tears prickling the corners of her eyes, though it looked like she was keeping them in check for now. She’d probably let them out as soon as he was out of sight. She tended to do that. Cover up any sign of weakness in case Natsu’s opinion of her would change. Maybe it would. He wasn’t so sure of himself anymore.

“Love? I don’t- not with her,” Natsu pressed his lips into a thin line, like his mouth had grown accustomed to recently. He never seemed to do his signature grin anymore: there was always something stopping him.

“How couldn’t it be love, Natsu? You always talk about her, you’ve preached to me how she changed your life! You’re one of the most romantic people I’ve ever met, but you were never romantic with me. It wasn’t me who you uprooted a tree for. It wasn’t me you turned into a demon for.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I know you want to love me. Maybe you do. But it will never compare. I’m sorry. Let’s end this here.”

Maybe she was right. Natsu watched her as she pulled on her pants and her shirt. He didn’t feel like stopping her from leaving. He didn’t like seeing her cry, but he wasn’t ready to do anything in his power to stop her. Though, his resolve on crying girls had been weak since some time back, considering that he didn’t drop everything in his life to stop Lucy from doing it. He’d become very similar to guys he had no respect for: he hated this.

When she was almost out the door, she stopped a second. Just a split second, hoping that he’d run forward to stop her. A quick glance over her shoulder: he looked like he was in his own world. She wasn’t sure he had ever really cared about her. In her eyes, they were practically kids, just swept away in the heat of the moment. His short obsession with her had only been a quick infatuation in comparison to what he had with Lucy. Everywhere they went, on every date, every topic: Lucy had seemed like a third party in their relationship. He spoke of her like she was the greatest person in the world, and though she couldn’t help but harbor a tiny bit of resentment for her, she also knew that Lucy must be a pretty amazing girl if she had managed to capture a flighty guy like Natsu.

__________

Natsu stayed at that hotel for a couple of days. He’d only told people he’d be gone for the night, back in the morning again, but they didn’t come looking for him despite his brief disappearance. He still couldn’t completely grasp what he’d done, but with every hour in that bed, the place he’d called out for Lucy instead of her in the depths of his passion, he found himself deeper in his realisations: he had fucked up.

He laid in unrest under the tan covers of the hotel duvet. He’d spent the last six months in his life in a daze, and now everything was rushing back to him in waves of regret, making him feel ill. He didn’t know how to fix this: life had turned upside down. He had messed up so badly, leaving his perfect life with Lucy and the guild, for a brief period to feel like a normal, shitty guy in puberty. Was it worth it? Destroying years of intimate friendship, breaking up the best team Fairy Tail had ever seen, leaving Happy behind to have irresponsible fun with a girl he barely knew?

He appreciated the time he’d gotten to spend with her, he really did, but it didn’t compare. Nothing gave him the sense of satisfaction that he’d reach from succeeding at a really silly prank in Lucy’s house. She didn’t give him the butterflies Lucy had given him when she traced flowers on his shoulder in the dead of night. 

Natsu was still confused. The relationships he’d experienced were so vastly different: but didn’t he do everything right? He gave the nasty love a chance, to save his love for Lucy from the dirtiness. He thought he’d juggled the two of them, one would fill his body’s desires and the other his soul’s. Lucy wouldn’t have to see him as the horrid person he really was behind closed doors. She got to see everything else: his happiness, sadness, everything that made him the person he wanted to be. Surely she wouldn’t accept him if she knew the dirty dreams that would leave his underwear soaked in the morning. He didn’t accept that version of himself: how could she?

When he stood up from his fetal position in his bed, and finally went to the bathroom to wash his face, he didn’t recognise the person looking back at him in the mirror. It was him, technically. Pink hair, sharp, monolid eyes, pointy teeth. But he had wrinkles between his light eyebrows, his mouth couldn’t curl into his normal grin: his eyes didn’t follow his commands. He pulled at his cheek. Those lips had kissed her more times than he could count. They felt dry, and looked pale in the reflection. These weren’t lips allowed to kiss someone as important as Lucy. No, he was completely inadequate. His hair was choppy, after having tried to cut it back to his normal lengths with a pair of kitchen scissors. Cancer wasn’t able to help him with that anymore, but he missed how soft his hair could feel after 5 minutes under Cancer’s care.

His neck looked thin and stretched out, faint marks from passionate kissing the night before, still left on the sides. For some time he’d at least be able to cover it up with his scarf. His eyes continued to scan what the reflection showed him: his bronzy skin had a gray tint, his hair looked duller, and then those eyes. A bit red from not getting any sleep last night, but more importantly: they had completely lost whatever sparkle they had before. He wasn’t sure when he’d last taken a good look at himself – maybe this dullness came from the break up with her, but honestly? Deep down he knew he’d lost it months ago. It was like the horrible actions he’d consistently made had slowly desaturated him, leaving him an empty shell of what he once was. There was a time when he was proud of what he saw: he was righteous, tough and had a fiery determination – where had it gone?

He threw his scarf back on and went back to bed. Could he really deal with Lucy when he came back? Would she let him talk to her? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. But in a way, he thought he owed her at least the truth. He wasn’t completely sure what the truth was yet: if it was his love for Lucy he wanted to convey, or his regret over his past actions.

The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm that refused to settle. He turned in bed, his body refusing to settle. Soon enough the night was there again, coming back to taunt him: keep him up at night and make him reflect on the life that had led him up to this. It was all his fault. He had to gather himself though. Not able to figure out where to start, knowing this couldn’t go on. He owed Lucy something – an apology, a confession, or maybe just the clean cut, yet gory truth about what a mess he had become. Even if she slammed the door in his face, even if she never spoke to him again, he needed to face her. He needed to fix at least one broken thing in his life, even if it wasn’t repairable.

Morning light streamed in through the thin hotel curtains. It painted the room in soft, warm tones that felt at odds with the cold knot in his chest. Natsu sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly together as if trying to stop them from shaking. He’d never felt fear like this – not when he faced dragons, dark guilds, or any of the countless battles he’d endured. No, this was different. This was the fear of standing in front of someone he loved and knowing he had ruined everything.

His scarf felt heavier on his shoulders as he adjusted it. It smelled faintly of ash and campfire – a comforting remnant of the person he used to be. He clung to that thought as he forced himself to his feet. Every step toward the door felt like dragging a mountain, but he kept moving. He didn’t pack anything; there was nothing worth keeping from this place except the lesson it had burned into him.

The guild would notice his return soon enough, and he had no illusions about the reception waiting for him. Anger, disappointment, maybe even indifference—he wasn’t sure which would be worse. But none of it mattered. His focus wasn’t on Fairy Tail, nor on repairing his reputation. He wasn’t coming back to make amends with the guild. He was coming back for Lucy.

As he stepped out into the bustling street, the cool morning air hit his face, and for the first time in days, he took a deep breath. It didn’t cleanse him, not really, but it steadied his steps. He didn’t have a plan, and his words were as jumbled as his thoughts. All he had was the drive to see her, to stand in front of her and let her see what he couldn’t put into words.

Because if there was one person in this world who could look at him, broken and lost, and still see something worth saving, it was Lucy. And for that, he owed her everything.

__________

The streets leading to Lucy’s apartment felt eerily familiar, but every step carried a weight he couldn’t shake. Magnolia was alive as always – shopkeepers setting up for the day, townsfolk chatting – but the world seemed muted to him. His thoughts drowned out the noise, focusing only on the path ahead. He didn’t dare to look up, in case he’d see any familiar faces. The shame and guilt he dragged along him surely made his face look contorted, ugly and fake.

He stopped in front of Lucy’s building and tilted his head up. Her window was closed, curtains drawn. Was she even home? The question almost made him turn around. But his feet refused to move, as if the ground had anchored him there. He couldn’t run anymore.

The staircase felt steeper than usual as he climbed to her door, the wooden railing creaking under his grip. When he finally stood outside her apartment, he stared at the engraved number on the door, a number he’d never thought twice about before. Now it felt like a barrier, daring him to go through with this. 7. The number that had haunted him throughout his life: sometimes as an omen, other times as a sign of luck. He wasn’t sure what it represented today, but he knew he’d been blind for its positive connections for too many years.

His fist hovered near the door. For a moment, he hesitated, his knuckles shaking slightly. What if she didn’t answer? Worse, what if she did? What would he even say?

Natsu gritted his teeth, swallowed the thickness in his throat as his stomach protested in turmoil, and forced the thoughts away. He’d come this far; there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, he knocked firmly on the door.

The sound echoed in the narrow hallway, louder than he anticipated. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. Then, faint footsteps.

The doorknob turned, and the door opened just enough for Lucy’s face to peek out. Her expression was unreadable—neutral, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.

“Natsu?” she asked softly, her voice cautious. Her face was tense, like she was forcing away whatever her feelings tried to express through it.

He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. Her gaze was steady, and for the first time in months, he felt like the world had stopped moving. He hadn’t seen her face this close in months. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. It was her, his Lucy in the flesh. No, not his Lucy. He couldn’t call her that anymore. He hadn’t been able to for a long time.

“Hey,” he managed to croak out, voice low. He fidgeted with the edge of his scarf, trying to find the courage to say what he’d rehearsed in his head on the way here. “Can we… Can we talk?”

Lucy’s eyes searched his face, and whatever she saw there made her pause. She stepped back slightly, the door opening just a little wider. The air from her apartment leaked out, filling his nose with the wonderful nostalgia of their past life together. His heart ached. He had missed this so much.

“Yeah,” she said, after what felt like an eternity. “Come in.”

Natsu stepped inside, his heart pounding. He looked around, seeing her books stacked in neat piles and her celestial keys resting on the coffee table. Everything was just as he remembered, yet it felt like years had passed since he’d been here. He didn’t see any signs of the life they had lived together in there: the space he’d been given once to put his shoes in the hallway was filled with a pair of her sneakers. He didn’t see his coffee cup anywhere, waiting for him to return for it. The extra chair by the dinner table was gone as well, likely to distract her from the space it held for Natsu.

Lucy closed the door behind him and crossed her arms, leaning against it. “So?” she prompted, her tone guarded but not cold. How was she so calm? No, that wasn’t fair of him. She was probably experiencing the same internal emotional whirlwind that he was: she had just been able to practice hiding it.

Natsu took a deep breath. His fists clenched at his sides as he met her gaze.

“Can… we sit?”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to decide whether she wanted to let this conversation happen. Finally, with a small nod, she gestured to the couch.

“Sure,” she said, her tone clipped. “Go ahead.”

Natsu moved toward the couch but paused before sitting. The cushions were the same ones he’d sprawled out on countless times, but now they felt alien, like he didn’t belong here anymore. He glanced over his shoulder at Lucy, who had yet to move from the door. She watched him silently, her arms still crossed.

“You can sit too,” he mumbled, his voice faltering.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but after a moment, she pushed off the door and walked over, sitting in the armchair opposite him instead. The distance between them felt vast, and Natsu couldn’t tell if it was the physical space or the emotional wall she had carefully raised.

“So,” Lucy said, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharper now, though not unkind. “What do you want to talk about, Natsu?”

He fidgeted, running his hand through his messy hair and pulling at the fraying ends of his scarf. Words fought to form in his throat, but they all felt wrong, inadequate. He lowered his gaze to the floor, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Lucy let out a soft, humorless laugh. “For what?”

Her response caught him off guard. He looked up, startled, and found her staring at him, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.

“For everything,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “For leaving, for not talking to you, for… messing everything up.” His fists clenched on his lap. “I didn’t know how to deal with stuff, and I – I hurt you. I know I did. And I’m sorry.”

Lucy didn’t respond immediately. She leaned back in the chair, her fingers tracing the armrest as she studied him.

“You’re right,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with a sadness she couldn’t fully mask. “You did hurt me. But you also left me with no explanation. Do you even know what that felt like, Natsu?”

“I-” He started to speak but stopped. His throat tightened, and he looked down again, unable to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, you gotta understand that I’m bad with words, I-”

“Do I?” She cut in, her voice cutting his heart open. “Do I always have to understand? Because honestly, Natsu? That’s not fair.”

He looked up at her in dismay. She looked like she was fighting tears. Did he really make her feel like this? He wanted to die. Gulping hard, he shook his head.

“N-no. Of course you don’t. That’s…” his voice mellowed out. “... my fault.”

Lucy didn’t answer. She was still waiting for his explanation – why he was here, why he’d found another girl and now didn’t seem to have her in his head anymore. She was still so confused.

“I don’t think I can give you an explanation you want to hear,” he carefully laid out, observing Lucy’s cautious body language. “I just… wanted to feel normal. Everyone else experienced romance, I was… jealous, I think. But I didn’t dare to approach you about it. You’re so… perfect. I’m disgusting in comparison.”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to stay in one place for longer than a second. He avoided Lucy completely, missing how her heart dropped with his self deprecating words.

“I have impure desires, and I thought that… maybe, just maybe, I could handle those on the side, while still being with you. I never wanted our relationship to change. It’s always been too important. I didn’t want to jeopardize it.”

Natsu shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his fingers gripping the edge of his scarf like it might hold him together. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, glancing down at his hands as he twisted the fabric tighter. His foot tapped against the floor in an uneven rhythm, filling the silence Lucy was yet to break.

“Did…” Her voice cracked. “Did you love her?”

Natsu froze again at her question. The air in the room felt like it had thickened, pressing down on him with all the weight of everything unspoken. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words felt like they were stuck in his chest. Did he love her? He thought he did at the time – hell, he was sure of it. It felt like the right answer, the right thing to say. But now, at this moment, the truth was much harder to pinpoint.

“I-” Natsu’s voice caught, and he quickly shook his head. “I thought I did. I thought I loved her... at first. It felt like... like something real. Something I’d never felt before.”

Lucy’s gaze softened, but her arms remained crossed, as though holding herself together against the uncertainty in his words. “But you don’t know now, do you?”

“I... don’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration building inside him. “It’s hard to explain. With her, it felt intense, and passionate... like I was... alive, you know? But it wasn’t the same as with you. Not like this.”

Lucy leaned forward slightly, her eyes watching him with careful understanding. “Natsu,” she said gently, “forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think that that wasn’t love. That was infatuation. It probably felt intense because it was new, and because you were looking for something you thought was missing. But… I don’t think it was love.”

Natsu stared at her, his chest tight as he absorbed her words. “I... I thought I loved her,” he said quietly, his eyes darting to the floor. “But now... I don’t even know what love is, really.” He shifted uncomfortably, his voice trailing off.

Lucy exhaled slowly, her gaze hardening slightly. “Natsu,” she began, her voice quiet but firm, “I understand you felt something for her. But... what you felt, whether it was infatuation or... lust... it isn’t something you need to hide or be ashamed of. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But it’s not love.” She paused, her expression unreadable. “Love... love is deeper. It’s not just about attraction, it’s about connection. About seeing the worst of someone and still choosing to be there. I don’t think you understand that yet.”

Natsu’s eyes flickered down, and he clenched his jaw. 

“I know it’s different with you,” he said quietly. “I thought I loved her. I... did love her, I guess. But now... I’m not even sure what that was.” He took a breath, frustration building inside him. Why was this so damn complicated? He’d dug his grave and now he had to lie in it. “With you, I always knew it was different. I knew what I felt for you wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just about the physical stuff. It’s always been… more. But I was scared... okay? I was scared that I’d ruin all we had.”

“What left is there to ruin though, Natsu?” She was soft spoken, but frank. Natsu knew she was right: he knew his rendezvous meetings with her had crumbled what he had hoped he and Lucy could keep. He messed up.

Lucy’s arms tightened across her chest, her face softening but still distant. “You didn’t need to be perfect, Natsu,” she said, her voice colder than before. “I never needed that from you. But you can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re running from everything you feel. That’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you.”

Natsu’s eyes snapped up, guilt and frustration swirling in his chest. “I know,” he said, voice raw, like every word was a struggle. “I know I screwed up. I just... I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t face it.” His fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders tight.

Lucy’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes were still wary. “You’re facing it now though. That’s more than I can say that I’ve done. I’m sorry for not catching… all of this… earlier.” She took an airy breath before she continued. “You haven’t ruined everything though,” she added slowly, her tone quieter now, but still carrying weight. “But if you don’t stop running, I don’t know what’ll be left to fix.”

Natsu’s breath hitched, and for the first time, he felt the weight of her words sink in. He leaned forward slightly, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m not perfect, Lucy,” he muttered, voice rough with regret, but there was a determination in his eyes. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Natsu’s words hit her like a physical blow, but Lucy swallowed the sting before it could show. She tried to steady herself, to push past the emotion that was threatening to rise, but her chest felt tight. He was so honest, so vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. It was painful, but somehow, it was also... familiar.

“I didn’t just miss you, Natsu,” she finally whispered, voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t name. She hesitated, her hands unconsciously tightening into fists at her sides. “I missed… us. I missed the stupid little things we used to do. And it hurts. God, it hurts. Because every time I saw your face after everything, it felt like... like my heart was pulled in two.” She didn’t look at him, instead pointing her gaze at the floor, as if the weight of her own words was too much to face. “I didn’t know how to keep going without you in my life. And now... I don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here.”

Natsu stood still, the guilt in his chest growing heavier with each word. He wanted to speak, to apologize, but nothing felt like it could make up for the emptiness he had left behind. How could he explain to her that he never meant for it to go this far? That he had been terrified of facing what he felt for her?

“Lucy,” he started softly, his voice strained with the weight of regret. “I messed up. I was scared of... everything. Scared of not being enough for you, scared of losing what we had. I didn’t know how to deal with what I was feeling, so I... ran. Tried to find it elsewhere. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know things would end up like this.”

Lucy slowly looked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment, then she sighed. “Natsu, I get that you were confused,” she said, her voice quieter, more guarded. “But you still chose her. And that’s not something I can just forget. I wanted us to do so many things. But you weren’t there. You weren’t there for me.” Her shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of her own hurt sinking in. “I just... I don’t know if I can go back to that. I don’t know if I can trust that you won’t… replace me again.”

The tension between them thickened, and Natsu swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known how to be vulnerable before; he didn’t know how to start now, not with the mess he had made of everything.

Lucy continued, her voice softer now, but her gaze still wary. “You weren’t perfect. I didn’t need you to be perfect, Natsu. I just needed you to be here. And you weren’t.” She let out a shaky breath, and for the first time, Natsu saw the weariness in her eyes, the raw exhaustion of someone who had been holding on for too long. “I don’t know if I’m ready to try again. I don’t know if you’re ready, either.”

The words stung more than he’d expected. He had wanted to make it right, to find a way back to her, but he didn’t know if she could ever feel the same way again. If she could find it in her to forgive him: get over his mess up. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

“I want to try,” he said, his voice low but firm, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll prove it to you. Please.”

The silence between them stretched, thick and suffocating, like it was waiting for them to figure out how to breathe again. Natsu’s chest was tight, his heart hammering in his ribcage like it had never known stillness. His hands clenched at his sides, unsure of what to do with all this feeling that had nowhere to go.

Lucy’s gaze stayed fixed on him, the distance between them too much, but too little. She didn’t pull away, not physically. But her eyes were guarded, like they always were now, like she was still trying to keep herself safe. Natsu wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the need to reach for her, to close the space, was so overwhelming he could barely think straight.

His breath hitched, and before he could second-guess it, his body moved forward, drawn to her like he had been all those months ago. There was a hesitation in her eyes, a softness to the way she looked at him that he hadn’t seen in so long. It was like she was still here, in a way he hadn’t expected. That didn't make everything okay of course. She was still hurt, still unsure, but there was something flickering in the way her lips parted slightly as he moved closer.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t anything spectacular. It wasn’t smooth or fluid or anything that could undo the mess they’d made. It was desperate, almost clumsy, two people trying to find something familiar in a sea of unfamiliarity. His lips brushed against hers, too hesitant at first, like he was afraid he would break her if he pressed too hard. But the feeling was there, just underneath everything, unrefined. The taste of her, the touch of her, something that felt so real it almost made him dizzy.

When they pulled away, the world around them still felt heavy. Lucy didn’t look at him at first, her gaze somewhere far away. But when she did, her eyes were a mix of things – of confusion, of hurt, of something that felt like relief, all tangled together.

“I’m not... not ready,” she whispered, voice trembling, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t... I can’t pretend like I don’t feel something, too. I don’t want to let go.”

The words rose anxiety in his chest as it stung sharper than anything he ever experienced before. But it wasn’t rejection. Not really. She wasn’t telling him to leave, to forget everything. She was telling him that they were both still stuck in this. She was still afraid to fall into it, but she wasn’t pushing him away.

Natsu’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. The guilt of what he had done – of hurting her – was still heavy, suffocating, but at least there was a chance now. A chance to do something different, to prove that he was willing to face whatever came next, no matter how hard it was.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he murmured, his voice rough. “But I’m here. I want to try. I won’t... I won’t give up on us.”

Lucy’s breath caught. There was a flicker in her eyes, a tiny thing that reminded him of the way she used to look at him – soft, but strong, and maybe a little broken. She didn’t know what to say, either, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes, the unwavering determination there, and something in her, something deep inside, softened. She didn’t have all the answers, but she knew one thing: she wanted this.

“I’m not sure either,” she said quietly, her voice calm now, steady. “But I know we can figure it out. We’ll work through it. Together.”

And in that moment, Natsu felt the weight of her words, the promise layed out in front of them. They weren’t whole yet, they weren’t where they used to be, but the foundation was still there – strong, despite everything. They had something real.

And as they sat there, just a little closer than before, Natsu realized that maybe the future wasn’t so uncertain after all. They had a long road ahead of them, sure, but they’d walk it together.

[dihydromorphinone]

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 you are not suguru geto.

— satosugu!! gojo/geto, heavy angst no comfort, shibuya arc but there’s hidden inventory mentions, gojo’s crashing out, third person pov but it’s all satoru satoru satoru, not proofread and REAL chaotic but tbh that’s how i imagine how gojo felt but i’m not that good with reading characters because i don’t react like my peers oops

an: it’s a bit different than what i usually write so i felt a bit odd posting this but oh well i’m glad i’m trying new things :3

it’s been a long time since gojo saw him.

it’s been a while, he thinks, and gets confused; he killed him, didn’t he? so, who is this then?

no, it has to be him. he didn’t dispose of his body, he couldn’t bring himself to, right? so that might be him.

if he survived, gojo thinks he just became the happiest jujutsu sorcerer ever, and it’s common knowledge they usually lead miserable lives. but how could he survive? no; the person in front of him mustn’t be him.

along with the disturbing thoughts whether the man standing in front of him is the one he loves or perhaps an entity trying to trick him, the memories and equally obnoxious images of them two flood gojo’s mind.

they used to meet up in secret after he defected and tried to continue with their lives as if nothing happened. as if there wasn’t any scars, jabs and marks on their relationship. as if suguru didn’t kill humans, spiralled down and, most importantly for gojo, as if geto did not just leave him.

during their post-geto’s departure meetings, he couldn’t help but just.. reminisce about the good, old times; when they were both young, and most importantly - together, despite everything. there was no other person who would match satoru as well as suguru did, and both of them knew it well.

he was cocky. too arrogant. too full of himself. always the best and no one dares to even assume differently. geto understood everything; he was born and raised with the whole ‚you are the strongest’ mentality, so he wasn’t really blaming him.

and as for suguru - always so oddly polite, seeming even dishonest because of his calm, but peculiar personality; he seemed inhumane, even, and gojo knew well how does it feel to be shunned by your own kin out of fear which was just a bullshit excuse.

they mixed well together, despite all the flaws; together, they created something, perfect. beautiful, even. but can you really create something beautiful and then destroy it?

the betrayal. overwhelming sadness, that feeling as if a thousand needles just pieced him; it was the closest thing satoru could describe what he felt when suguru dropped the bomb on him. he wasn’t mad AT him, he wasn’t upset WITH him - if anything, he was pissed at himself.

he was his closest friend. the only friend. how could he ignore all the warning signs? there were dark circles under his eyes, he really lost a lot of weight, and every time he kissed suguru, he could taste a bit of blood; something he brushed off as him accidentally biting his own tongue or lip too hard, but after some time it was obvious for satoru that it was anything but accidental.

they used to be so young and so happy; riding together on one bike despite it being strictly forbidden, sharing ice cream flavours throughout the summer, using the same umbrella during the fall; even though satoru could just walk in the rain, he turned his infinity off every time suguru pulled out an umbrella.

the man in front of him is not suguru. there is no softness in his voice; the creature tries to imitate it, but fails - no one else did it like suguru. and what’s up with that forehead stitch? he didn’t cut his pretty face, so how is it here? no, that’s not geto suguru. gojo is sure of this.

the flow of cursed energy is surely his. the body may be also his, but he’s not actually there. maybe in some dark depths of his own body, lost and scared of what he’s become - but the one doing all the talking is not his suguru. satoru does not like it at all, and if there’s a god above him; he should feel insulted by all the curses said at his address by the white haired man.

he deserves it anyway, satoru thinks. he put him through hell while he was with suguru and did just the same without him. nothing but a cruel existence. gojo just sighs, trying to accept everything and take it at face value, but he winces against his will.

so how it is then, satoru? he asks himself, expecting no answer; you accepted that you killed him, accepted your tragic and romantic past, so how it is that now you feel your heart crushing, satoru? and truly, he has no explanation ready, because simply, there is none.

he probably never accepted anything wrong about suguru, because there was nothing wrong with and about him. he could apologise for ruining half of the world and gojo would brush it off as, well, something that just happened, not a big deal; and that mindset surely is a double edged sword when your beloved commits crimes against your own morals and law.

now, gojo can’t help but think if somewhere behind those oh-so-familiar eyes that were no longer his, maybe somewhere really deep inside suguru is there watching. and if he is, that’s enough for him; because despite everything, maybe all people are meant to lose the ones they love, but gojo knows he fought for suguru until the very end.

reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated 💟

[survivingcristero]

Your "gods" would see you as an Animal to be used like Cattle if they were real , my God loves me so much that He took up Human Nature and became one of us , suffered the most ignomious , agonizing and humilliating Death in my name to save me from Death and Sin and rose from the dead to bring me eternal Life .

You do not believe in your "gods" , you are LARPing .Because actual pagans did not love them , they had a contractual relationship with them , like a protection racket .Loving the Divine is a Christian Invention .

Why do you worship your god YHWH as the only one? This is a legitimate question? What good does it do for you? Everything your god has done for you shouldn't have anything to do with his status, or uniqueness. I've seen the power of gods alien to your own, from Hel (the goddess I'm closest to, though I do worship others), I've seen her stop animals from moving, protect the sick and wounded, and cause a blind preacher to see her and flee. And I've felt her love, felt her comfort (I probably wouldn't even identify as agender if it wasn't for her help). But because she is not your god you would call this demonic? And say my soul is bound for damnation? Why not admit the existence of other gods, and keep to your own if you wish. How can your relationship with your god even be safe if you can't leave for another? How can it be called anything but bigotry to deny another god's divinity while you worship one yourself?

It’s not bigotry to deny the existence of something that’s not real.

You’ve never seen the power of another god because there is no other god.

The God of the Bible states several times He is the only God and we shall have no other gods before Him. If there were really multiple gods it would conflict with and contradict everything in the Bible and it would make Jesus a liar. There’s plenty of evidence that Jesus existed, that’s not really disputed by anyone and there’s more historical evidence backing up Christianity than any other religion.

If I “admit” the existence of other gods that goes directly against one of the main pillars of my faith. There is also no real evidence that any other god exists so I believe what I know to be true and I reject what is false.

[lunarflare64]

Had to draw up the relationship chart for the nightclub polycule because it had gotten hard to keep track of and it turns out the polycule looks like a failed satanic ritual

[hemlock-dreams]

I love MJ. Peter must have really been devastated by her being affected when he was outed as Spider-Man. I have a few questions! You mentioned in the original universe she had a relapse — was it just the same universe changes that made Peter a criminal that caused there to be an MJ that was an addict? Would the venom have caused her to die in a while like most people, or no because Peter became her supplier and had presumably good control? Wouldn’t she have known the reasons he had hesitated to kiss long eventually, since he had to tell her everything to help with the venom thing? And does his venom just… come out automatically after a bit with anything, or is it possible for him to have situations where it’s not involved at all for a time? I’m sure he misses her and usually MJ and Peter are friends before they get together in many canons, so I’m really happy that he’s able to be her friend in the new universe and didn’t lose her entirely 🥺 even if he basically had to reform the relationship from scratch. (Also if Peter and Marko were such good friends, why was he willing to put him and his loved ones in danger by telling everyone?) all of this is very cool and fun ty for sharing.

So OG-MJ was an addict before she ever knew Peter(and before everything with the knock off venom.) She had been sober for two years at that point, and continued to stay sober for a few years after she and Peter officially got together.

However, Peter was always gone, flaking on all their special dates/anniversaries etc. He'd make plans and then never show up, or cancel at the last minute. And despite being super affectionate with his words, was always really physically distant. All of this left MJ feeling really alone and angry, as she was dealing with her own abandonment issues (foster care).

Eventually, everything was just a perfect storm of frustration (struggling with her boss, Peter flaking on another date, a new job opportunity not coming through) that she ended up reconnecting with some old friends who convinced her to try 'this sick new upper'.

The issue with manufactured venom (gonna call it Aurora) is that in it's impurity, it had extremely degenerative effects at lower doses. Peter's venom, while just as bad, was 'cleaner'. He can secrete it at will, but his body starts automatically pumping it when he gets excited (not to mention his fangs do not retract!!!) (They are very sharp!!!)

As for Marko, he'd been Sandman for a while before he revealed Spiderman's identity. Not only was he mentally very unstable, but he'd been very bitter over Peter going 'straight'. They were supposed to be ride or die, but Peter kept drifting away and eventually cut ties with him when it was obvious that Marko was never going to leave the lifestyle.

Then one day, during a fight with Spiderman Marko just...recognized the body language, the words, just...something clicked, then broke. Because not only did Peter leave Marko, the guy who had his back all those years in prison, his supposed 'ride or die' was also fucking Spiderman. The guy who had been actively fucking up Marko's life for years. The enemy.

Payback was an easy decision for a guy who held tight to grudges.

And for the kicker, he didn't even sell the information, just gave it to JJ for free-- that's how much he wanted to hurt Peter. Later, he would really regret it, but it would be too late at that point.

After Marko threw Peter's life into the fire, he and MJ had a blowout fight. At the height of it, MJ told Peter to 'prove he loved her' and used her own addiction as a way to control his time and attention after being starved for so long (kind of holding herself hostage).

Yeah...it all kind of went to real shit after Lmaoo

Once again, thank you SO much for the support and all these amazing asks!! <3 <3

[fitzrove]

Fun facts about crown prince rudolf 🥰💖

Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria was this super tragic figure whose super tragic life was always tragic and very sad. Also he was an irredeemably evil sexist jerkface and if you like him you're a pick me girl who wants WOMEN TO DIE,, anyway here are some fun facts about him!

He died in 1889 from suicide :( Or he may have been murdered by French agents sent by his friend Clemenceau,, listen I know they were friends who were aligned politically, but Empress Zita said this ~40 years after Rudolf's death, and because she's distantly related to him through marriage it must 100% be true!

He shot himself in the mouth, I don't know why all of these adaptations change it to be the temple lol

He infected his wife with syphilis >:o

According to his writings (mostly Eine Orientreise where he frequently admires the fresh manliness of his Arab hunting companions) he was heteroromantic polysexual <3 representation

He used to keep this creepy sex register where he used different colors of pens to mark what kind of woman he slept with (virgin, of noble birth, etc...). No trust me bro it's legit even though nobody has ever presented proof of this register existing anywhere or even a credible primary source citation to point to someone contemporary describing it

During his travels in Egypt and Palestine Rudolf acquired many cultural and historical artifacts for museums in Vienna as well as for his personal collections<3 Explorer king. Wait what do you mean imperialism, graverobbing and arson?? Noo I wouldn't describe it as such haha...

He was really sexist and that's not ok tbh :/ How can anyone be interested in him when he was horrible to women :( I mean it's kinda hard to find 19th century european men who would not have been and a lot of our still-revered statesmen had comparable attitudes that people let slide, but actually when it's someone that was also mentally ill in a Scary Violent Way it's ok to center his negative traits and ignore everything else about him haha. Also women are only allowed to enjoy researching and discussing historical figures who are unproblematic and good representation<3 ALSO women are not allowed to make arguments about historical figures being interesting or sympathetic based on their political views/positions if those figures were awful people in their personal lives, it's like the rules of feminism or something! ~~

He was involved in this crazy conspiracy to crown himself as king of Hungary. Also he was really hyped about hungarian nationalism and independence and totally wasn't an imperialist first and foremost who would've seen the ideology as ultimately destructive regardless of any personal fondness for Hungary

The italian anarchist Luigi Lucheni actually really wanted to fuck him and this was a motivating factor for Lucheni's assassination of empress Elisabeth in 1898 😳

[THIS POST IS SATIRE (inspired by) and the "facts" are purposeful misinformation kfkfkfkf. If anyone can provide actual proof of that sex register thing that does NOT come from greg king and penny wilson (derogatory) I will graciously not duel them in the hofburg parking lot xD I hate that this disclaimer needs to be included because it ruins the joke, but a lot of these are such common takes that I can't not]

[pisshandkerchief]

ok, my real actual review if anyone cares is that it's good and entertaining as a work of historical fiction but if you're a sixties folk music aficionado already and going into this movie expecting it to be an accurate or nuanced portrayal of Dylan's place in the music scene, you're going to be disappointed. The performances that are there are overall good, and everyone clearly put effort into their acting, but the portrayal of the era and the Greenwich Village folk crowd is incredibly surface level. The actual political issues that Dylan was writing about are barely discussed at all. We get brief news clips in the background while Dylan is writing, a few mentions of the Civil Rights movement though none that go into much detail, and the Vietnam war is barely mentioned at all. A lot of the language and set/costuming is not historically accurate, and again the actual scope of the folk scene is barely touched on. Pete Seeger is one of the only representatives of the folk old guard present in the movie, and he is HEAVILY overrepresented (to the point that towards the end of the movie my dad and I actually laughed out loud when he showed up AGAIN seemingly out of nowhere. seriously he's there constantly, it's like he and Joan Baez are the only important figures in Dylan's life). This completely cuts out Phil Ochs' role (he was both inspired by Dylan and deeply envious of him, as Dylan managed to become a vastly successful charting musician while slowly distancing himself from the issues of the time and Phil's music remained deeply political while he himself remained in obscurity. He and Dylan were friends at first but gradually as Dylan gained more success they became rivals. Phil started to consider him a sellout, and Bob continuously insulted him by saying he was more of a journalist than a songwriter. Phil Ochs' dissolution with the changing folk music scene, frustration at being unable to make it big, and worsening struggles with schizophrenia and other mental health issues eventually led him to commit suicide. Personally I think Phil is a much more interesting figure in 60's folk to explore here than Pete Seeger, whose relationship with Dylan has honestly been done to death. Not including him even a little bit was a massive missed opportunity). overall most events are watered down and condensed significantly. The film has an annoying habit of completely inventing performances just as an excuse to have Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and Joan Baez all in the same room together at the same time. It also has Bob meeting Pete Seeger for the first time in Woody Guthrie's hospital room, which they both just happen to be visiting at the same time, and performing a song for them both. This is completely made up (Seeger first met Dylan when he saw him perform at a club in Greenwich Village). It does the typical biopic thing of shifting around the order of historical events as an obvious excuse to fit in as many iconic moments from an artist's career as possible, even if it doesn't fit with the time period of the movie (for example: the famous moment where an angry fan yells "Judas!" at Dylan and he responds with, "I don't believe you. You're a liar" happened not at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival when Dylan first went electric but at a concert in Manchester the year after). Another glaring omission is basically the entirety of Peter, Paul, and Mary, the folk trio who ACTUALLY launched Dylan's popularity by covering his song Blowin' In The Wind. They are not mentioned at all, except for a couple cameo appearances by Peter Yarrow who, to my memory, is only referred to by his first name. Dave Van Ronk, another very influential folk musician of the time, is also never mentioned by name in the movie, and his role of early mentor to Dylan is completely given to Pete Seeger. This is especially aggregious as Dylan famously stole the arrangement for House Of The Rising Sun from Van Ronk.

Ok now I could complain about this movie all day but I'm tired so I'll list the few things I did enjoy about it. The performances are overall very good. Timothee Chalamet portrays Dylan way better than I expected, and he hits that nasally Dylan voice in a way that captures the Dylan energy without sounding like an overdone impression. He's a great singer, all of the Dylan covers in the movie sound good and are well performed, and he's better at acting like a little weirdo than I expected him to be. Similarly, Edward Norton does a fantastic job as Pete Seeger and he really does sound like him, he has his cadence and way of speaking down pat (even if his character is WAY too present in the movie). Monica Barbaro is very good as Joan Baez, her singing doesn't sound particularly like Joan at all but her singing voice is good and her chemistry with Dylan is very believable. She's very good at acting her growing frustration with his inattention to her and their crumbling relationship, and my favorite scene in the movie is actually their duet of It Ain't Me Babe at the Newport Folk Festival, which is very emotionally charged and well done. They're two people whose relationship has been decaying for awhile due to Dylan's selfishness and cheating singing this song about being the wrong person for someone directly to each other, and it's very intense. Barbaro in particular portrays Joan's emotions in the scene incredibly well and to be honest it's the most the movie made me feel anything. I wish I could put a clip of it here, because if there's one thing you watch from A Complete Unknown it should be this.

In conclusion: an entertaining movie but if you're a newbie looking to learn more about Dylan's place in the evolution of 60's folk, please don't take this movie at face value. It's not historically accurate at all. Read a book or watch a documentary instead.

my dad and I are going to see the timothee chalamet bob dylan biopic later today....I WILL be giving my review

[weirfq1]

with all these gaston crackships/rarepairs that are coming out lately it would be so fucking funny if he had a flig with all the main characters (ambar, nina, simon... hell luna too if you want) and they all know it except matteo

[aliusfrater]

it's really funny to see a post about someone's interpretation of dean with like thousands of notes that i feel like misses several marks regarding his character due to their chronic omittance from sam and how sam factors into dean's character/winchester familial dynamics and how it makes dean the tragedy that he is, then when i click on their blog they're a huge lestat fan that doesn't really acknowledge louis. many such cases