#and this fucking world doesn't want me to get anything

[heavyhitterheaux]

Santa Tell Me

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: It's your first time celebrating Christmas with Joe as a couple as your first semester at LSU comes to an end. The two of you celebrate in your own little way seeing as Joe is going back home while you are headed to New Orleans. However, you confide in your best friend about your hesitations about getting into another relationship so quickly and hoping that what feels like a fairy tale isn't too good to be true

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Series Masterlist

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The timer went off once again letting you know that all of the cookies were now officially done baking. As you were taking them out of the oven and placing them on the cooling rack, Erin attempted to grab one to eat it when you quickly slapped her hand away resulting in her letting out a yelp followed by her glaring at you.

“Ow!”

“Those are specifically for Joey so we can decorate them once he gets here. I literally just made you an entire cheesecake.”

“But I want a cookie, too!” Erin exclaimed, but you weren't budging.

“No and he should be here soon.”

As you sat at the table in your small kitchen, Erin sat across from you and had begun eating her cheesecake when you suddenly asked her a question which caught her off guard.

“Erin, what if me and Joe break up? And that cheesecake was not meant for it to be eaten in one sitting.” You casually asked as you unlocked your phone to play one of the many games that you had installed.

“Huh? What in the world are you even talking about? And I'll just ask for another one.” She asked as she put her fork down to look at you.

“What if we break up and we don't work out? I literally just hopped from one relationship to another and…”

“Stop. Just stop. I have on my Christmas sweater and I am eating my Christmas treats you made me and we are listening to Justin Bieber's Under the Mistletoe and you are fucking the vibe up.”

“But…”

“No, we are not doing this. You two haven't been together very long, but Joe literally worships the ground you walk on. The way he even looks at you is insane. That boy is IN LOVE.” Erin said as she now opened the freezer to take out the ice cream you thought you were discreetly hiding from her, but it looks as though you efforts had failed.

“But what if it's too good to be true? Sometimes It doesn't even feel real.”

“You literally have no idea of what happiness looks like even if it hits you in the face. He has been after you basically the entire semester and now that he finally has you and you have him, you think that the two of you are going to end up breaking up? Make it make sense, babe.”

“Everything started out too good to be true with Trevor and look what happened with that.”

“Uh no, boo. Trevor had been an asshole from the beginning, it just took you forever and a day to notice. Everyone else saw it but you. You’ve been treated like shit for so long that your ass is literally blinded to how good you actually have it. I mean Joe hit me up a few weeks ago to help him pick out your Christmas gift or gifts I should say.”

“Wait, he did what?”

“Oops. I wasn’t supposed to say anything so let’s just pretend I didn’t. But they're really pretty and I know that you’re going to like it.”

“I just… he’s really important to me and I just want this to work out between us.”

“And it will. I literally started planning the wedding the day you two met because I saw the way you lit up when you talked about him. It’s going to work out and I will be the first person to say ‘I told you so’ when you are walking down the aisle.”

“I’m holding you to that seeing as it’s still pretty early to be singing about wedding bells.”

“But for now, it’s December, we almost made it through our first semester as college students, you have a very cute boyfriend who wants to spend every waking moment of the day with you so you need to make the most of it.”

“You’re right, I do need to make the most of it seeing as it’ll be a few weeks where we won’t see each other since he’s going back home.”

“And his birthday is coming up too. So, my vote is to have Christmas early with the two of you. Hopefully by doing this you won’t miss him so much on the actual day since the two of you kind of already celebrated in your own way.”

“I mean, I did get us matching Christmas pajamas to decorate our cookies, drink hot chocolate, and watch cheesy Hallmark movies.”

“See? Perfect. And I know that he is going to love every minute of it. But for now, I am going to go study for one of my many finals and hope and pray that the words on the pages in the textbooks somehow transfer themselves to my brain. Let me know how everything goes.” Erin told you as she wrapped up her cheesecake and placed it in a plastic bag hoping none of the filling would get on the seats in her car.

“Me saying ‘I told you so’ is going to hit so hard in a few years. But….” She was cut off mid-sentence as there was a knock on the door.

“And look at that, there he is. Let's go see your future husband.”

You couldn't help but to laugh and shake your head at Erin as she was gathering all of her things, while you went to go and answer the door. Once you did, you were met with your boyfriend carrying a shitload of different bags and him leaning down to kiss you.

“Okay, you two! Spare my eyes, I'm leaving so Joe can turn you every way but loose without me having to see it.”

“Bye, Erin.” Was all you said as she continued to smile at the both of you.

“Hi Joe, Bye Joe.” She told him as he fully walked into your apartment as she was headed out the door.

“Bye Erin.”

Once the two of you were by yourselves, you immediately started questioning Joe about the many bags he brought.

“Uh, babe? Are you moving in and didn't tell me yet?” You asked and he let out a laugh before starting to open some of them and pull out their contents.

“I just bought a bunch of different things we could do. It's almost finals week and I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. And you have literally been playing this album since the day after Halloween.”

“Aww, I love it. Okay so tell me what you bought. And what about it!?” You asked as he had set everything down and motioned for you to sit down on the couch so he could show you.

“So my chess set. Ever since I taught you how to play, you said that you were going to try and beat me before the semester was over and never mind that I even said anything. Low key convinced that you're going to break up with me and get with Justin.”

“Very true but athletes are my thing, not singers.”

“My telescope since you love learning about space as much as I do. And I guess that means I'm safe?”

“I am loving this so far and yes, babe. You're safe.” You told him as you placed the chess set on the table.

“Madden. Since I know if you were able to be on the field with us, you would be. But I mean I can't sing all that well, but if you want me to serenade you just say the word.”

“Good point and seriously?” You replied while laughing.

“And I think that's it for now. I could only carry so much. But you'll be the one hitting high notes with how good I'm making you feel.” He told you as he shrugged while you gave him a small smile while also shaking your head at him.

“It's absolutely perfect and I have something for you too. I'm ignoring that last part.”

“What is it? Before the night is over, I'm making it happen.” Joe said as you ran into your bedroom to find the bag that they were in before coming back out into the living room.

“Matching Christmas pajamas.”

“Oh, so we're that type of couple now?” Joe teased as you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and this is literally going to happen starting from this year until forever.” You replied as Joe moved closer towards you and put his finger underneath your chin in order for you to be able to look up at him.

“Forever? I like the sound of that.” He quietly said while leaning down to kiss you.

“But for now, we also have cookies to decorate that I baked and hot chocolate to drink.”

“Let’s do it.”

The two of you got comfortable in your pajamas before starting to decorate the cookies and you were multitasking with making the hot chocolate at the same time.

Joe was concentrating hard when you decided to peek over and take a look at what he was doing.

“Joey, I thought you were making a Santa cookie?” You asked while a little bit confused on what you were actually looking at.

“I am! This looks like Santa! I just need to do his beard.”

“And his hat.” You added noticing that was missing also.

“Not everyone can be an amazing baker in their spare time like you.”

“Hmm, you're right, but it doesn't look bad. If I opened my own bakery, I might hire you. I do happen to be a woman of many talents. So, someone mentioned to me that you got my Christmas gift already?”

Joe stopped decorating his cookie to look at you with a blank stare.

“No. I'm not telling you what it is and I am never telling Erin anything else ever again.”

“But babe!”

“No. Final answer.” Joe replied as you rolled your eyes at him which then led to him pinching your cheek.

“Fix your face. I want it to be a surprise and I don't plan on spoiling it for you.”

“Well I got you a gift for your birthday as well as Christmas. It didn't feel right combining both of them together.”

“And unlike my girlfriend, I'm going to be patient and wait.”

“You mean to tell me that you aren't the least bit curious about what I got you?” You asked him and you could tell he was thinking about his answer before he said it.

“Nope.”

“Liar. I know that you definitely want to know. But I'll just say I know that both of them are something that you're really going to love.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“As much as I love you?”

“No, but knowing you it might come close.” You told him as you were now putting the final touches on the hot chocolate you made for the two of you and handed him his mug.

“And like I said, I'll be patient unlike some other people.”

“I'm ignoring you. Anyway, break out the telescope since it's clear tonight and we'll be able to see something.”

Once Joe had gotten the telescope set up by the window, you were just finishing your hot chocolate and went to place your mug in the dishwasher before going back into the living room and seeing Joe with a bashful smile across his face.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” You asked while wrapping your arms around him and Joe leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead before responding to you.

“I'm about to show you. Stand in front of me and look through it. Don't adjust anything.” He said as he slowly turned you around so that you would be facing it.

You did as you were told and noticed that it was focused on one single star.

“I see it, babe. What's so special about it?” You asked as you turned back to look at him and he simply handed you an envelope.

“It's the star that I got named after us.”

Your eyes went wide and a smile broke out on your face as you took out the contents of the envelope and it simply said Y/N and Joey's Star at the top.

Underneath was a map detailing where you would be able to find it.

“So no matter where we are, whether together or apart. We can be able to look at it at the same time. This isn't a part of your Christmas gifts by the way, I just wanted to do it since I figured you would like it.” He shyly told you as the smile became wider on your face. You didn't say anything, but simply wrapped your arms around him once again.

“This was… no… this is definitely the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me. I honestly wouldn't have even been upset if this did end up being my Christmas gift. I love it and I love you which you already knew, but I figured that I would tell you anyway.” You quietly told him as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips.

“And I love you. Remember earlier how you mentioned that matching pajamas are going to be a thing for us forever?” Joe asked and you gave him a swift nod.

“Mm hmm, what about it?”

“This is also going to be something that we have forever. Any time we get in a disagreement or we're not seeing eye to eye with each other, we need to remember that we're in this together for the long run. And looking up at the star can remind us of that. I know we haven't been together for very long, but I want this with you and I've been saying from day one how I'm going to treat you how you deserve to be treated.” Joe confessed and the smile on your face couldn't help but to get bigger.

“I'm going to hold you to that Burrow.”

“How about you hold me to this too? Look up for me?”

As you looked up, you saw that Joe was holding a mistletoe above the both of you.

“Any excuse to get more kisses from me, huh?” You playfully asked him and was met with a smirk.

“I mean, I've been getting kisses from the moment I got here, but this is just a plus.” He told you as he leaned down and you reached up to meet him halfway.

“And there will be many more where that came from.”

“Santa definitely did his big one this year.”

“How so?”

“I get to spend it with someone who I know cares about me just as much as I care about them. That's literally all I asked for.”

[pasteldreams]

all i want - m.s.

pairing: bsf!matt sturniolo x reader

summary: matt doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for his best friend

cw: (resolved) angst, crying, cursing, self-deprecating comments, texts, friends to lovers, kissing

a/n: happy holidays friends! this is my first written piece! don't expect too much, but i hope you enjoy lol

based on- driving by dwllrs (lyrics in bold)

word count: ~2k

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

"are you sure you don't want to go out with us? we're gonna be gone for a while, you don't just want to come for a bit?" nick asks, unsure about leaving his sulking brother alone even for just a few hours.

"yeah, i'll be fine, just leave already." matt rolls his eyes starting to lose his patience with his brothers, who looked down at him as he laid on the couch.

"are you going to text her? weren't you supposed to hang out with her tonight?" chris asks tentatively.

matt's eyes shift, looking straight ahead before going out of focus.

'why'd he have to bring her up?' matt thought, suddenly stuck in his own mind. 'he knows why I can't just text her, why I can't ask her to come over, why i-'

"look bro," chris says, interrupting matt's spiraling thoughts. "she's your best friend. don't push her away just because you have feelings for her."

"can you guys just shut the fuck up about it? I know how she feels about me. I heard her say we're just friends, so why can't you both just leave me the fuck alone?"

"woah, kid. take it down a notch, okay? we know you're upset, but, first of all, you haven't even told her how you feel, and, second of all, she's right. you are just friends because, news flash, you haven't talked to her about it or literally anything for that matter." nick harshly reminds him.

matt sits in frustrated silence as chris opens his mouth to speak. "kid, she's texted me like a hundred times asking if you're okay and what she did wrong. you're scared of losing her, but you're not doing a great job of keeping her, dude."

"whatever," matt responds, opening his phone pretending to scroll through Instagram in hopes they'd get the hint to leave him the fuck alone.

"the uber's outside, so this is your last chance to not spend your night alone in whatever shitty mood this is." nick offers, only receiving silence in response.

 

driving alone

thinking 'bout the times, wrongs were feeling right

'cause you were never mine, i know

i'm lost inside my mind

it happens all the time, when it happens, I wanna go

 

once his brothers left, matt sat as his feelings began to suffocate him. his chest tightened as your words echoed through his mind.

‘am i dating matt? oh, no, we're just friends.'

he felt like running, like driving, like escaping to some other reality. a reality where you knew how he felt, where you felt the same, and, most importantly, a reality where you were his.

matt stood up, his surroundings feeling more like a dream than his own home, as his unsteady legs carried him to the door. he grabbed his keys and he made his way to his car. his mind was too overwhelmed by emotion to have a plan of where he would go once he started the engine.

 

sunsets always hold me, i only go driving when i'm lonely

i wanna go cry, my feelings always leave

i'm running towards a dream that i'll never reach

 

as the engine started, matt felt hot tears begin to roll down his cheeks. he pulled onto the street as he continued thinking of a world where you loved him back. a world that, realistically, could never exist. because you were smart and funny and caring and loveable. and he was just matt… your friend, just as you had clarified.

matt watched the sunset fade as the colors flew past his windows. after what felt like hours trapped inside the hellscape of his racing mind, he felt the car slow to a stop, his body functioning on autopilot. and there he was. parked outside of your apartment.

matt reminisced on all the times he took the same drive to see you. he remembered the nights he spent next to you on the couch, your eyes fixed on whatever film was playing as his eyes were glued to you. he remembered later on those same nights as he gently combed through your hair and traced your soft features while you slept through the movie you had initially been so eager to watch. he didn't mind you falling asleep. quite the opposite actually. he cherished those quiet moments with you, the moments where he could admire you in the way he wished he could while you were awake.

 

all i want, all i need,

all i dream, i need you next to me.

what do i want? what do i need?

what do i dream? i need you next to me

 

suddenly, he felt his hands reaching for his phone. 'what am i doing?' he thought, opening his messaging app. he clicked the name pinned to the top of his screen, your name, opening a thread of 32 unread texts asking what was wrong and pleading for him to respond. more tears threatened to spill as he read your most recent text.

'what the fuck am i doing?' he groans as he closes his phone and lays his head on the top of the steering wheel. 'god, i'm so stupid. i should've never texted her. i should just go ho-.' he sat up, suddenly interrupted by a familiar sound, your text tone.

 

matt felt his heart pounding as his eyes locked onto the screen, his mind racing.

'she's gonna ask what's wrong and what the fuck am i going to say? sorry, i ignored you because i'm in love with you? that's so fucking stupid, i'm so fucking stupid.'

he combs a shaky hand through his tangled hair before resting his forehead back against the steering wheel. the sound of soft taps to the passenger window causes him to jolt up. there you were.

matt's wide eyes take in your messy hair and red eyes. it takes another tap on the window for him to snap out of his trance long enough to unlock the door.

you slide into the passenger seat, the sound of the door closing slicing through the heavy silence. your body faces his while your eyes remain glued to your fidgeting hands. tears spill over matt's lashes as the guilt of how he treated you hits him. he can't stand the way your sad eyes avoid his matching ones. he buries his face in his hands, releasing the emotions that have built up inside him since he overheard your painful but truthful words.

"matt?" your voice cracks wanting to cure his sadness but not knowing what caused it.

"i- fuck." he chokes out through sobs.

"what's wrong? what happened?"

"i just- i fucked up, and i'm so sorry. i should've texted you. i'm so stupid" he says between deep, shaky breaths.

you gently brush through his hair waiting for him to calm down enough to hear you over his ragged breathing. once he's calm enough to face you, he lifts his face up, making eye contact with your soft eyes.

"hey," you give him a soft, yet sad smile

"i'm sorry," he whispers, tears threatening to spill again. "i shouldn't have ignored you."

"i know."

"i uh i missed y-"

"did I do something to hurt you?" you blurt out, unable to keep the question in any longer.

"no," he sighs looking down, "well, i don't know."

"you don't know?"

he could've lied at this point and said that it had nothing to do with you, that he was just stressed about work or his brothers, but he knew you wouldn't forget his hint that you were somehow related to his sadness.

"i-" he clears his throat bringing his eyes back to yours but struggling to maintain eye contact with your intense gaze. "i heard you say something about me to some girls."

"about you?" you questioned, wondering what you could've said to have hurt him so badly.

"yeah," he states simply, with no further explanation.

"when? what girls? what did i say? I would never say anything bad about you."

"no, it wasn't- i just-" he stutters as you stare at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration plastered across your face. "i heard you say we were friends."

you stare at him blankly as rage builds inside of you.

"are you kidding?" you spit

"no," he says quietly

"i've been crying for days wondering if you were okay, only to find out you did all of this because i told some people we were friends? are we not friends then?" your anger slowly turns to sadness. your voice shakes as you feel your heart sink. "because i-"

"no no no, we are friends! i just mean-" he sighs and pulling at his hair as he gathers his thoughts. "we are friends. but I don't want to be," he scans your face as your tears begin to fall rapidly.

'he doesn't want to be friends anymore? after years of movie nights and game nights with his brothers and late night drives, he just decides he doesn't want to be friends?' your mind struggles to grasp the concept of losing him.

"i don't want to be your friend anymore because i want to be more." your faces turns from heart break to confusion as he continues speaking.

"what i'm trying to say is…" he takes another deep shaky breath. "i want to be yours" he confesses. "your boyfriend, i mean. i want to be your boyfriend" he clarifies with a short awkward laugh. "but i know you don't feel the same, and, even if you did, i probably ruined any chance i had by pulling this shit." he references his avoidant behavior. as he looks up at you, he panics not being able to decipher your expression. "can you say something?"

"you really are stupid.”

"huh?" he says, taken back by your harsh words.

"you could've just fucking told me instead of treating me like shit.”

"i know… i know. i'm really sorry i just didn't know how and I didn't want to ruin anyt-"

"i would've told you i liked you back.”

suddenly matt's eyes shoot up to yours, searching your eyes for some indication on if you were telling the truth.

"you what?'

"matt, i've tried telling you so many times, our friends have told you, and i'm sure your brothers have mentioned it at some point. you just never made a move or reciprocated any of it, so i figured you didn't feel the same way about me.”

"no no no, god no. fuck. i can't even explain the way i feel about you." his eyes drift off as he rambles on nervously. "you make me feel safe and warm and happy, like so fucking happy, and i just-"

his eyes train back on yours, realizing how close you both were.

"i just want to kiss you," he breathes out softly.

"you want to kiss me?" you ask still unsure if this is all a dream. he nods.

"can i? can I kiss you?" it was your turn to nod anxiously as his face slowly moves towards yours until you feel his breath fan across your lips

"god, you're beautiful, is this really okay? you really want me to kiss you? it’s okay if y-" he rambles on.

"are you going to kiss me or not, matthew?" he smiles at your sassiness, cupping your face gently before closing the space between you.

as his lips meet yours, the unspoken words and pent-up frustrations disappear, leaving only the feeling of his soft lips and warm hands.

as you begin to pull away from the kiss, matt whispers, "no, wait. i need you next to me," pulling you back into him.

🏷️ taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem, @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan

reply/msg/inbox to be added to taglist!

play button divider by @enchanthings-a and leaf divider by @anitalenia

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Merry Christmas, my friend!! ❤️💚 First of all, I'm so honored that 'Twas the Night gave you some inspiration! 🥹 I'm excited to dive into this special Christmas edition of Take a Chance.

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.

Of course he's having a hard time choosing a proper Christmas gift for her, because when was the last time he gave someone a gift because he genuinely loved them? I feel like Countess wouldn't be a good example lol. So what's going to be a reflection of the relationship he has now? Especially because she's not one for flashiness, or more materialistic gifts.

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

Yup. 😂😂

"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.

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

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

Okay, Ben. You do you. 🤣🤣

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.

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.

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.

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

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.

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

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.

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

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.

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.

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. 💚💚💚

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 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!!

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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[bullet-prooflove]

"I know our stars were meant to align"

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fallmoreinloveeveryday @elenavampire21 @floralfloyd @lamaudite

Companion piece to:

Lucky - Tim's assignment doesn't go to plan.

Stars - Tim's not like the other guys.

The Good Book - Tim makes you a promise you don't think he can keep.

Bad Timing - You and Tim have always had a case of bad timing.

Straight From The Heart - Tim speaks from the heart during a late night phone call.

Missed Call - Tim's world crumbles when he listens to your voicemail.

Tim can still taste the blood, that copper tang coats his tongue as he sits in a hospital waiting room with his head in his hands.

It’s been three hours since he found you in that shitty flophouse, life spilling out through the bullet wound in your chest, your phone still clasped in your hand. He thought you were dead at first, your skin completely leached of colour, your breath barely existent. It wasn’t until he pressed his fingertips to your jugular that he detected the faint flutter of a pulse and that relief…

It snapped his training back into action.

His shirt was off in seconds, shoved urgently against the wound to stifle the surge of blood that erupted from your chest. In the background he could hear Raylan talking but his focus was on you, on that phone call the two of you had had last week about your transfer.

“I got the go ahead to move to Kentucky.” You’d told him over a crackling phone line because the shithole your residing in gets poor signal. “Once this assignments over we’ll finally be in the same place again.”

You’ve been in Louisiana ever since you left the service, an FBI field agent working out of New Orleans. Tim had hoped he’d be assigned there when he’d completed FLETC but they’d diverted him to Kentucky instead. The distance is nothing new but you’re both at a point where you want to put down roots and that’s almost impossible to do that when there’s 800 miles between the two of you.

“It looks like our stars are finally aligning Lucky.” He had said as he had surveyed his apartment with a critical eye.

He’d started looking at house listings the next day, trying to gauge a decent area for a good price. His plan had been to approach you about it once the assignment was over but then he’d got that voicemail and his whole world had come crashing down.

“Family of Ilana Jones?” A voice calls out.

He’s on his feet in an instant, tucking his hands into his pocket to hide the trembling. Sometimes he forgets you have a real name, not the one they gave you back in Afghanistan.

“Me.” He says his voice rough. “I’m her family.”

You’re like him in that way, parents dead, no siblings, alone in the world. Kindred spirits is what he’d thought the night you met.

“Is she…” He can’t bring himself to say the words because Tim, he can’t imagine a life without you, a world where you don’t exist.

“She made it through the surgery.” The doctor tells him, clutching a tablet to her chest. “We managed to remove the bullet and fix the damage. She’s a very lucky young woman, half an inch to the left and we would be having a very different conversation.”

There’s that word again, lucky.  

Tim doesn’t think luck had anything to do with it. He thinks you’re just that fucking good.

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[chlix]

treatment resistant

bf! chan x fem! reader: he comforts you during a mental health episode

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ANGST like seriously, turns into comfort at the end tho 🙏🏾

word count: 4.7k

warnings: graphic depictions of depression, anxiety/anxiety attacks, and psychosis (paranoia); self worth issues; general self-loathing

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting about six months ago and deliberated posting it, but it's almost the end of the year so i feel like i should release it. i used to feel so validated by fics where reader is depressed and gets comforted, but she was never as depressed as i sometimes was, so i drew a bit from life for this one. everyone please be safe and read the warnings <3

It doesn't start with the dishes. In fact, you think your therapist might tell you that it's not about the dishes at all, but about your own poor self-image, or lack of emotional regulation, or about a thousand other things that are wrong with the way you perceive yourself and the world.

The truth is that lately you've been sleeping way too late and waking up too early, and you're so tired that you can't eat, which makes you so hungry that you can't take naps. You're between jobs and the outlook hasn't been great, your best friend keeps blowing you off in favor of her new boyfriend, and just this week you found out that your favorite bakery is no longer making the souffles that you've been using as a pick me up since you moved into this building.

You don't do well with change, or rejection, or honestly anything, lately. You wake up stressed and you go to sleep stressed. You keep your phone on Do Not Disturb because you can't bear receiving notifications. Just today you've talked yourself out of taking showers twice, only to have a meltdown when you tried to sit on your bed because you felt too dirty to touch your own sheets. You sit on the floor instead. You eat a singular banana for lunch, just to make your headache go away. Your headache does not go away. You feel both unreal and painfully solid, sinking into the ground and on the verge of floating away.

Your boyfriend, Chan, keeps texting you updates about his day, and answering them feels like an exercise in performance art. You scroll through your previous texts to make sure you're adding the right amount of exclamation points, that you're using the same recent emojis. It's like cosplaying a happier version of yourself. A better version, a version that he could love, as opposed to how you are now: greasy and gross and plastered to the floor in your hallway. The idea of him seeing you like this fills you terror, or at least it would if you hadn't burned out your capacity for feeling things already.

A new message pops up.

Chan: Hey baby ❤️ Was thinking of swinging by tonight after work? I can bring dinner with me

Just the thought of eating threatens to make you vomit. You suck in a breath and hold it as you type,

You: If you want something specific go for it! I already started cooking but we could have it another time

Chan: I don't want to waste all your hard work. We can have what you're making. I'm sure it'll be delicious :)

You: I can promise edible. Delicious is up in the air rn 😭

Chan: I have faith in you even if you don't ❤️. I'll be there around seven today

You: Okay! I love you sm, see you then! ❤️❤️❤️

You lock your phone and throw it across the room. Why do you do this to yourself? "Already started cooking?" You haven't showered today.  Normally you try to deter Chan from coming over when you're having a freakazoid episode, but now you've basically invited him in? You have to be normal for an entire evening?

You fall on your back on the ground and put your hands over your face, blocking out the sunshine that insists on steaming through the cracks in the drapes. Your heart is beating so hard you worry you're going into cardiac arrest.

Get off the fucking ground, y/n, you tell yourself. You have to go cook dinner for your boyfriend.

"There is something very wrong with me," you say out loud, very quietly. The silence of your apartment swallows the words. They vanish, as if never said.

You get up.

It takes you two tries to make something even passing as edible. Your head is all over the place, and you burn batches of oil and veggies before you manage to stay in your body long enough to finish making anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of pans and spoons and bowls to make something that should be simple, and as dishes pile up in the sink you feel stupider and stupider. Why are you acting like you don't know how to cook? It's not hard to make some vegetables in stew. You don't know why it's taking every appliance in your kitchen and all of your concentration to execute such a simple task.

By the time you're done cooking, you've stressed yourself out enough that you're getting a tension headache. You close your eyes and brace yourself against the sink, rallying yourself.

Just do these dishes and then you can sit down, you think. Just one more thing.

You pick up a sponge.

You put the sponge down.

There is no way you can do these dishes.

It doesn't so much hit you like a train as the realization slowly creeps up on you. It's not that many dishes, really. It looks like a lot, because the pots and bowls are so large, but numerically there's very few items in your sink. It wouldn't even take 30 minutes to clean everything and leave it in the rack for later.

But that's not happening. The idea fills you with a cold and genuine dread, just as strong and perverse as when you'd tried to shower earlier, or sit on your bed. You can't turn on the tap because then the water will touch you, and it will feel Wrong, and then your whole body will feel Wrong, and then you'll die of Sudden Onset Wrongness. And now that you think about it, a lot of your anxiety today has revolved around water, and isn't that a symptom of rabies? Hydrophobia? Did you get rabies somehow? Would you know if you had rabies? Maybe that's the thing that's wrong with you- you're not depressed or insane or just a terrible person living a terrible life. You're just rabid. There's something eating your brain, and that's what's making you into such a fucking failure of a person.

While you're debating the possibility of brain-eating viruses, Chan comes home from work. You automatically turn towards him, a bright smile on your face, and rush to greet him.

"Hey, Channie!" you say, bouncing over to him with a pep you do not feel. "I'm so happy you're here!"

And you are, mostly. You love your boyfriend, really you do. He's loving and attentive, and he's never made you feel like anything less than the number one priority in his life. You have similar values and work ethics, which keeps you on the same page through most difficult periods in either of your lives and careers. You haven't been together long, but your bond is solid, and you really believe you're going to make it far together.

You also really believe you won't if he ever finds out what a complete nutcase you are. So you hide it. You grin at him and you appear light and joyful and easygoing and you brush off his concerns with adages and placations, and you redirect the conversation back to him, because you're a good listener and you love the sound of his voice and you much prefer that activity to any activity that involves you explaining how you laid on the floor for five hours and had an emotional breakdown while slicing cabbage. He has other things to worry about, other problems to solve without adding yourself to the list. You're supposed to be his respite, not another draining task. He doesn't need to know how hard it's been lately. You shouldn't have to say it.

So he doesn't. And you don't.

"Hey baby," he says. He sets his stuff down and kisses you in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Okay," you say. The answer feels curt, but you don't want to ruminate any more on your absolutely fruitless afternoon.

Chan doesn't comment on your strange answer. He takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat, and as he's about to walk past you he spots the mountain of dishes in the kitchen.

"Oh, were you about to do the dishes? I can do them if you'd like."

"You just got home," you protest. "You should go sit down."

"But you've been standing just as long cooking dinner, right? I should do my part."

His insistence is making something terrible expand in your gut. Instead of being flattered at his offer to help, his words feel like a violent condemnation. You should've done the dishes before he got home. You should've finished cleaning the kitchen altogether, so that he can relax in a clean environment. What kind of stupid fucking girlfriend are you, where you can't even do basic chores around the house?

"No, it's okay. I already psyched myself up to do them, so I'll do them."

Chan hums in a tone that's either playful or mocking, you genuinely can't tell which. "Okay, if you say so. Don't be afraid to tap out if the dishes get the better of you."

Great. He thinks you're so stupid you couldn't do the dishes if you tried.

You subtly regulate your breathing as you turn towards the sink. Chan disappears into the apartment out of view, and you give yourself thirty seconds to push your freak-out as far down inside you as you can.

"You're not an idiot, y/n," you tell yourself. "You can do some fucking dishes."

You reach under the sink and pull out some disposable plastic gloves. They make your hands look weirdly swollen and unfamiliar, as if they aren't your hands anymore. For a bizarre moment, you're convinced that they're genuinely not, that someone else's hands have been put on your body. You close your eyes so hard sparks fly in front of you.

Stop being crazy. Do the fucking dishes.

You turn on the water and pick up a bowl.

Chan reappears. You flash him a smile, but say nothing. Chan grins back, all dimples and crescent eyes. He's so handsome it makes you want to rip your own skin off. You thank God every day that you were born beautiful, because you could never have caught his attention with your personality alone. He'd be completely out of your league, and honestly, maybe he still is.

That thought gets shut down and pushed away. One crisis at a time. You don't have hands and you might have rabies, but you definitely have a boyfriend who loves you. There's no point in kicking yourself while you're down.

You turn back to the sink.

You cannot do these fucking dishes.

"Work was funny today," Chan says as he moves over to the stove and opens the pot.

"Mm?"

"Just some technical issues in the studio. Nothing serious, but it gave us some good bloopers."

You pick up a glass cup. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in the curve, and your eyes are so wide. Have they always been that wide? Are your eyes drier these days than they normally are? You can't tell, because every part of you feels both dehydrated and submerged under water.

"This is really good, babe," Chan says.

You blink. "What?"

Chan holds up his bowl. "The stew. It's great. I told you it would be delicious."

You let out a pleased sound. "Thank you baby. Your encouragement really motivated me."

It was the wrong thing to say. You have no idea how, but from the way Chan's expression changes slightly as he looks at you, you know he's caught on to you acting weird.

"Is everything alright?"

Shit.

"With me? Yeah, I guess so. I've just been really tired lately."

"On the job hunt?" he asks sympathetically. It's like a stake in your heart.

"As always."

He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your hair. "Don't worry, baby. You're super qualified in your field. You'll find something soon."

You need him to stop touching you or you'll start throwing pans at the wall.

"I hope so," is all you say.

"I know so. Just keep faith."

You hum again, noncommittal. It's like you're slowly losing the ability to speak. And the gloves are too tight and the water is so loud and you're nauseous and your head still hurts and it's probably not even the stress, it's probably the rabies, it's turning your brain into swiss cheese as you speak.

After another tight squeeze, Chan lets you go and retrieves his bowl from where he'd set it down. You hope he might leave you to go eat in the living room, but instead he hovers on the opposite side of the island, and continues telling you about his day. Normally, you'd love to hear the play by play of every crazy thing that happened with his group members and managers. Today, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The story is endless, keeps weaving around other anecdotes and tangents and you wish he would just shut up for one second so you can pull yourself together but you can't say that, because he isn't doing anything wrong, you're just being crazy, you're a bad and lazy girlfriend and you can't even put your own issues on hold long enough to listen to your boyfriend talk about his day. Everything is wrong wrong wrong, and you're Wrong and something is Wrong With You and it just keeps going it never stopswhy can't it all just stop-

"Y/N?"

Your name sounds like it's coming from a thousand miles away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turn to look at Chan, see his eyebrows pinched together in concern. You have no idea how long he's been saying your name.

Very calmly, you strip your gloves off and lay them to the side. You turn off the water.

"Sorry," you say. "Give me one moment, please."

You walk past him and down the hall to your bedroom, where you very calmly and gently close the door behind yourself. You climb on to your bed, filthy clothes and all, and pull two of the pillows from the end to rest on top of each other. You tie your hair back with a hair tie, press your face into the stack of pillows below you so that your whole face is covered.

And you just start screaming.

Screaming is therapeutic, apparently. Or at least, it's on the approved list of emotional regulation activities your therapist had given you. As long as you aren't screaming at anyone, it can be an effective form of release. It helps you release the tension from your core and focus that nervous energy into sound and action.

You scream into the pillow as loud as you can. You aren't sure how much it's doing to muffle your sound, but the belief that it's helping allows you to let go. It's tearing at your throat, the intensity of it. Once you start it's hard to stop, you just keep going and going and going, as if you're expelling demons.

When you finally peter out, you pause for a moment, then push yourself onto your knees. You're dizzy. Blood is rushing in your ears. It's oddly hard to breathe, as if you can't get enough air in your lungs. Even the fact of your own body is too much for you. You wish you could abandon it, just for a moment. You wish you could observe this from the outside so that you would better know how to fix it.

Eventually, your breaths calm. The buzzing recedes, leaving room for rational thought. And your chest feels....lighter. No longer is there a bomb sitting in your sternum, waiting to explode. The pressure has equalized. You look down at your hands, fisted in your bedsheets, and they look like your hands.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

You think you can probably do the dishes now.

Gingerly, you climb out of bed and make your way to the door. You open it, prepared to put your smile back on and apologize for your rude exit.

Chan is outside your door.

His eyes are wide with alarm. He looks stiff, hesitant. One of his hands is outstretched towards the door, as if about to knock.

Your face goes blank, wiring short-circuiting as you try to figure out what to say.

"Hey, y/n," Chan says, slow, testing. "Are you okay?"

Your script restarts, and a big smile automatically draws itself on your face. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though. Come on, you can finish telling me your story."

You grab his hand and try to pull him away from the bedroom. He doesn't budge.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

You turn back to look at him. "Nothing's going on."

"Baby, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it yet. But you don't need to pretend there's nothing wrong. You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I heard you screaming in there."

Ice flushes through your body.

"Ah. Well, it's like I said. I got a little overwhelmed. I'm not hurt or anything. Sorry if I worried you."

"A little overwhelmed?" He's getting frustrated now, put off by your blase tone. "You look like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"No, I don't," you say, because you don't. You know what you look like when you get like this. You've trained your expressions so well that your face doesn't flush. Your eyes don't tear up. You have to look put together, because if you don't look put together then you can't convince yourself that you are put together.

"Y/n. I know you. I can tell when something's up." He sighs. "I've thought you were a bit distant for the past couple of weeks but I figured you would come to me eventually. But here we are, and you're having an anxiety attack right in front of me and you won't even admit it."

"I'm not having an anxiety attack."

"Love, I know what anxiety looks like. If you'd just let me help-"

"I'm not having an anxiety attack. I don't have anxiety. I would know if I did."

"Everyone has bad days and hard times, baby. You don't have to be defensive. I'm not accusing you of anything."

"You say you're not accusing me of anything after unilaterally diagnosing me with anxiety?"

Chan lets out a long breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I just mean-"

"You can't just assign me disorders when you decide I'm acting irrationally. You don't know my medical history. You don't even know me that well. You don't know if my behavior is normal or not."

"You can't be getting upset at me for 'not knowing you' when it's clear you're actively hiding things from me," Chan says, patience thinning. "I see you're in distress and you're picking apart my wording? I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't say I wanted your help."

"You're my partner! Of course I'm going to help you!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" You choke on it and slam your lips shut.

Chan's face is drawn in irritation. He makes a go on gesture. But you can't go on. It's like the words are trapped in bubbling tar.

Your silence stretches. Chan sighs and drags a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd gone out of his way to come visit you and now he regrets it. You've wasted his evening and ruined his mood. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you ruin everything. Hell realize he's drowning in all your mess and decide to save himself, and then you'll be alone again.

You draw in a breath of your own, but you're still lightheaded.

"Why did you invite me over if you didn't want me to see you like this?" he asks finally. "You don't have to see me every day if that's not what you want."

All the anger is gone from his voice. He's being so patient that your own stubbornness is acrid in comparison. You swallow, hard. Every muscle in your body is tense. You have the pull the words out of your throat with hooks, one syllable at a time.

"I wanted to see you," you explain, stilted and pathetic. "I thought I could pretend for long enough."

"Pretend what?"

That I'm not crazy. That I'm not falling apart. That I'm normal and easygoing and a joy to be around and definitely not rabid.

It's impossible to say. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know that something is. You can't do the dishes. And you can't do this.

Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor of the hallway.

"Y/n?"

You don't respond. You're just staring straight ahead, all your thoughts whirring so fast that you're having trouble parsing any of them.

"Y/n? Hey, baby, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

You blink, and he's in front of you, on your level. He's trying to look calm but you can see the panic in his eyes. It only makes your chest tighter. You're dragging him down, you're cursing him. He needs to get out or you'll have his blood on your hands.

"We need to break up," you whisper.

Chan reels back like he's been slapped. "What?"

"We can't- we need to break up. I shouldn't have invited you over. I'm sorry."

"I..." Chan is at a loss for words. "You don't mean that."

But you do mean it. With everything in your body. "We can't be together."

"Baby, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have to break up if you don't want to. I don't want to break up."

You feel sick with his sureness. How can he claim to know you better than you know yourself?

"You don't get it," you say. Your tone is unnatural, words strange on your tongue. "We just can't be together."

"Can you tell me why you feel that way?"

"Just look at me."

"I am looking at you. And all I see is my beautiful, wonderful, perfect girlfriend who is having a very bad day and might be making some hasty decisions."

"Not a bad day. A bad life. I'm fucked up, Chan." The words come out with such a quiet malice that it shocks even yourself. "I can't even do the fucking dishes."

"I can do the dishes, love. I said it wasn't a big deal."

"No no no. It's not about the dishes." You're struggling to explain- the words are getting twisted, the thoughts all merge together- "I can't do anything. It's not about the fucking dishes. It's about- I can't-"

And you burst into tears

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm really sorry. I just-"

"It's okay," he soothes. "It's okay. I understand now."

He doesn't. He can't, and you know that full well. You shake your head, vision blurring from your tears. You're so embarassed and it's making you cry worse. You think you must look so ugly right now. He must be repulsed by you. You're repulsed by yourself, your own misery making your skin crawl.

"Can I touch you, baby? I want to hold you."

You shouldn't. You'll infect him. You'll ruin him and take away everything that makes him good. Why is he even still talking to you? Why doesn't he leave?

"You don't have to-to feel obligated. I can just- if you give me a second-"

"I don't feel obligated," he says, patient but firm. "I love you. I want to hold you all the time."

Something in your chest cracks. You're so weak. It's pathetic. But you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please," you whisper, defeated.

Chan reaches out and pulls you into his arm. You're both still on the ground, but he rearranges you so you can hide your face in his shoulder, and you do, too humiliated by your tears to be able to look at his face. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and your traitorous body relaxes without your permission.

"You've been struggling for a long time haven't you?" he asks. "You didn't want me to pity you."

You don't say anything. You can't bear to.

"Well, I don't pity you. I think you're very strong, trying to deal with this on your own. You made me dinner today even though you didn't really want to, right? That was very kind of you to do. You take such good care of me, baby. You light up my life. Isn't it fair that I should get to take care of you too? Can't I return the favor by helping you now?"

"It's not the same," you mumble into his shirt, because the magnitude of the two asks isn't comparable. You chopped up some vegetables and threw them in a pot. He is witnessing you have a mental breakdown in your hallway. You're not equally yoked. It's too much to ask of anyone.

"Whether it's the same or not doesn't matter. Love isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be equal effort every single time. This isn't a favor I'm returning. I'm comforting you because you're upset, and I hate to see you cry. Do you believe me when I say I want to see you happy and smiling? That I would do anything to ensure it?"

You finally pull away from him, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. "You might have to go find a new girlfriend then," you say, voice cracking from the tears and the weight of your despair.

"I don't want a new girlfriend. I want you." He's hesitant, but he continues. "There are ways of getting help, you know. We can try some things, like therapy, or medication. I can help you. You don't have to feel this way all the time."

You shake your head. "I'm in therapy and on meds already. None of it really....works on me. I have fewer bad days than I used to but they still leave me like...like this. And they just drag on....it turns to weeks and months, and I can't....I can't do anything." You let out a shaky breath and make yourself stop talking. Even after all this, the urge to hold back is engrained in you. "You deserve better."

"I think I decide what I deserve," Chan says. "I know it's hard to open up about things like this, but what's worse than you being depressed is you hiding it from me. How can we work on this if you're pretending it's not real?"

"I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be...to be easy."

Chan leans forward and cups your face in his hands. He looks you right in the eyes, and you see that they're glossy with their own unshed tears. "I don't need you to be easy. No one is. I just want you to be you. And I want you to let me be there for you. In everything. Including this. I want all of you. Do you think you can do that? Can you try?" He wipes away your tears with his thumb.

You swallow harshly. It goes against everything in you, everything you've taught yourself. Chan loves you. He wants to stay. Even though it may all crash and burn later, even though he might still turn on you or reject you or give up on you and declare this all a lost cause, right now he wants to stay. He believes in you. And you want to hold on to that belief as long as it lasts.

"Okay. I'll try."

A relieved smile stretches across his face.

"That's my girl," he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It makes something like pride settle in your chest, as if the part of you that cracked earlier might not stay jagged forever.

"Let's get off the floor, hmm? I feel like you might've spent enough time down here today."

You definitely hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he really does understand more than you'd thought possible. You don't know exactly how to feel about that, but you allow a bit of gratefulness to come through as he stands up on his own and reaches a hand down to pull you up. You wipe your eyes one last time, let out a breath, and take his hand.

[angelicsjn]

yooo how would the yanderes react if like the reader was being very close and touchy to her guy friend that she hasn't seen in a while, thank youuu

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A N: Ooo, jealous yanderes?

A B O U T: You are touchy with your friend.

W A R N I N G S: GN reader and GN friend so everyone can enjoy it. Jae being an asshat, as usual.

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

Roman is indeed a composed and unreactive man—he has no reason to fear your loyalty unless you give him reason to question it.

Therefore, he will not mind your interactions with your friend. He understands that you haven't seen them in a while. He understands that you are excited.

In fact, he's happy for you. To see you smile and enjoy your time around your friend.

Roman knows how serious things can become when in his life, so be appreciates seeing you smile as carefree as the day he laid eyes on you.

— LATEN REED.

He doesn't care. Flat out. He's a very touchy person and enjoys affection. He will hug anyone. Hell, he'd even hug your friend, too.

Actually, he does. He's so excited to meet your friends, and he wants to create a good impression, so he's down to get involved in whatever you're both doing.

Much like Roman, he enjoys seeing you happy. But unlike Roman, he will join in on your activities and get to know your friend and the version of you that he hasn't seen yet.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

He bleeds from the palm of his hands from his nails as they dig into his flesh—he wants to rip this person's skin off and turn them into a lampshade.

He feels embarrassed. You've actually embarrassed him.

Remember this meme...?

Yeah. That's him.

Once you're alone, he erupts. Blurting tons of verbal abuse, "Are you fucking stupid? You made me look like a fucking fool, basically fucking your stupid fucking friend right in front of me!"

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

Bro is in a world of his own. He's just happy to be there.

He'll hug your friend, and let it linger because anyone who is a friend to you, is a friend to him.

He treats them like he's known them for years and not to make them feel comfortable. No. It's because he's an idiot and believes that they have a connection because you two have one—he's silly like that.

— HAYDEN WEST.

This poor boy walks away feeling so so insecure.

You seemed to enjoy hugging them more. You sat closer to them. Every touch, every movement was picked up by him.

He genuinely feels sick.

He doesn't say anything, though. Of course he doesn't. He'd feel stupid admitting it.

— JOSHUA WHITE.

He believes that your friend is disrespectful—towards you and your innocence but also your relationship with him.

I mean, the way they held you? Wasn't very God honouring!

He feels his fist curl at the sight as they pull you in extra close, their lips to your ear as they whisper—Joshua breathes out and puts on his best face.

If God doesn't handle them, he will have to.

— BLAKE CROSS.

Blake is a bitch and spots the affection before they've even caught you in their grasp, he isn't mad.

He's not even offended.

He feels petty. Which is worse, in my humble opinion.

Once the whole ordeal is over, you'll be asking him what's wrong become the entire time he was quiet and calm—the two very things that he is NOT.

"I don't know, go hug your friend." He shrugs, not even looking your way as he picks lint from his polo shirt.

[glitter-stained]

Hear me out because I have a vision:

Barbara- centric hacker movie. (Barbara-centric, not Birds of Prey for this one.) Like not a dc adaptation, a hacker movie that's an AU. Fair warning: I understand nothing about how hacking works.

Barbara is a thirty-five years old bisexual overqualified librarian. Every time someone asks her why she works in a library and if she's never bored she replies she likes the quiet and the books, but we see, on her work computer, that she's always reading like one science article one philosophy book and news article etc at the same time to stay stimulated; she also has several degrees and on screen we see notes of her working on p=np because it'd be funny. On a date, we see her hint that she likes that the library is calm because she gets excitement from her nightlife.

The nightlife in question: Her hacker name is of course Oracle. At first, she learnt how to code because she was bored, and then she got invested in the secrets she could unravel, but her real entry into cyber activity happened after she hunted down the identity of the man responsible for the stray bullet that paralyzed her during a shootout and framed him for tax evasion. This isn't like, the heart of the story or anything, just a little flashback to explain her motivation and how hacking helped her regain her self-confidence and grow around it. That part was cut in the final version of the movie because it was very very long but Barbara's actress and those who have seen the director's cut agree it's an important context for her characterization.

The movie is about her uncovering a fucked up ploy by the government to cover up an industrial catastrophe that's already killed hundreds, and continuing to poison people because they're burying the proof so that the industry can carry on for profit. It becomes even more complicated when she finds out not only is this a corrupted government officials issue, but the cia is involved because of the potential interest of whatever chemical is being produced in this factory as a weapon, so it's one woman against the giants of this world.

Thankfully, Barbara isn't truly alone in everything. She has or builds close relationships through the movie, such as:

-Dinah: her old highschool friend with whom she had lost contact, but Dinah doesn't know that at first: she's down on her luck (lost all her money+ scum boyfriend after scum boyfriend, etc.) and Oracle calls her and offers a sketchy job. (She cuts into the funds of some billionaire to do this, highjacking the dumb algorithm he made for tax evasion.) She calls Barbara her conscience and Jiminy (her own conscience is perfectly efficient and still she says that). Barbara is always calling her on an old kind of phone because she doesn't like technology. Barbara calls her "My hands, my eyes, my heart". Around the last third to fourth of the movie, at the start of the build-up to climax, we have the famous "Barbara...call me Barbara moment", except after that the scene continues and they fuck, like you don't see everything but it's not fade to black either, Dinah's mouth on her neck, hands untying clothes, fingers trailing across the other's skin drenched in water from the pool, the classic cliche fingers intertwining, dramatic music, and then we can fade to black.

-Dick: a 25 years old bartender with an inability to keep the same job for more than a couple of months who is haunted by the death of his parents in a circus accident when he was a kid. They start to date because she's investigating his parents' involvement in her case (they were killed to stifle down whistleblowing), I don't want them to kiss in the movie just they're clearly starting dating and then he wakes up alone in her bed and thanks to some adequate plot excuse Dick finds the file about his parents and falls to his knees. I want a scene where he's kneeling at her feet, devastated (idk if crying or not, director's choice) and she's trailing her fingers in his hair and asks him if he wants to help her get him his revenge and he looks at her with so much grief and devotion and says he'll do anything. After that moment they don't really break-up (esp since they weren't officially together) but their relationship has shifted, there's a form of affection/care/devotion but it's less romantic than the cute dating from the beginning (but no less weirder or intense). The music for them is not when she brings him back to her apartment but when he's kneeling at her lap because that's where the climax is.

> I'm not sure who more to include but I'm considering versions of Cassandra Cain, Helena Bertellini or Selina Kyle. Keep in mind that these are civilians in a hacker movie, more than having meta abilities or insane hero skills they need to be smart, brave, motivated af with a bone to pick, trusting in Oracle and generally normal people (though a reasonable measure of Selina's b&e skills certainly wouldn't hurt.)

> They find help in allies amidst doctors/scientists trying to study the apparent epidemic (but the research is being pushed down), maybe Talia al Ghul and Barry Allen?

> In any case I want Barbara to be badass and flawed in a way that's like kinda a bit morally grey, but it's not in a "everyone's a bit of a villain here"; there's a scene in the movie where Oracle is blackmailing a corrupt guy into double-crossing the cia for her and he's like 'you think you're so much better than me" and Oracle is like "oh, it's terribly easy to be better than you, I don't even have to be good."

Anyway the scandal is released and there are protests and justice stuff and they win. I'm not sure how the story ends for Barbara, maybe the last shot is her at the library working on her equations as if nothing had happened but with a tiny floating little smile, maybe she disappears mysteriously from everyone's life leaving a shadow and they're all wondering what she's up to now and why she left (leaving ground for a potential sequel that might never live up to the original) Dick is reflecting about how she changed his life forever and the last shot is Dinah thinking about the way she's missing the part of her soul that was whispering in her ears, etc.

The movie gets released in the theatres etc for a little less than one week before it's cancelled and forbidden forever because of some concerning similarities between the plot and some existent factories that somehow made it to the big screen without anyone noticing, however the movie is already circulating, it's all over the internet, grainy footage from the theatre, leaked bits from the director's cut (not the final cut remember), alleged snippets from the original script appearing on forums, etc. It's too late.

Idk, just- Barbara centric hacker movie. "Any similarities to real life circumstances is purely accidental" type of stuff.

[the-crustoadian]

.

[bertoyana]

charles and erik with each other: oh dear, oh dear. gorgeous 🥺👐 charles and erik with the villain of the week/the x-men: K1LL YOURSELF 🔥🔥🔥

X-Men: First Class (2011) | X-Men Apocalypse (2016)

[shannonsketches]

[imnotabotdontblockmeplz]

although I do not like to post complaints today my dad said "believing the future won't be a dystopia is a first-world perspective" and I have to say that might be one of the worst takes I've ever heard in my life

[firestorm09890]

guy deflecting all my attempts to write terrible angst situations featuring him by saying "it wouldn't fit the tone you've set for your vision of canon. they wouldn’t do that to me"

[mx-maddmcgeeky]

the original bit was the boy band clones being feral & eating out of his trash bins

I know that! I'm just a huge brain autistic and I don't... get jokes that are like haha he's gay!

Why'd they make grunkle stan SOO gay. I mean don't get me wrong I'm ecstatic and excited they all pretty much confirmed it!!

The connections are there! The fucking beautiful men and eating out of the trash bins like animals is kind of how Old Man McGucket just acts at that time. It also doesn't help that Stan went to Vegas and married Goldie?! Who's also a fucked up prospector caricature.

Fiddlestan is canon in feelings and vibes and I doubt it sometimes like oh this is a really cool hypothetical ship. Probably sprung upon from the existence of the popular ship fiddauthor!

NO! It's plausible in the text!!!

(it doesn't really count to anything but I just want to point out We have at least two people swearing in the show and it's Stanley and it's Fiddleford. Theres probably more but these are the things that come to mind.)

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[synonymroll648]

from a vibes perspective, i totally understand why so many people look at keefe and go ‘this guy would be the male equivalent of a wine aunt when he’s older’. 

but. but. 

taking lore into consideration, in my heart, he’s terrified of alcohol (even if he tries really hard to hide it). because. like. his first exposure is almost guaranteed to be through cassius, and cassius canonically threw a glass extremely close to him at least once when he was, like, 8. maybe cassius wasn’t always extra nasty when he was drunk, but there’s gotta be a correlation in keefe’s brain between risking getting seriously hurt (emotionally or physically) and alcohol consumption that’s really hard for him to shake. 

[shmowder]

The urge to headcanon every pathologic character as aroallo is getting harder to resist each day

They'd each fall differently on the Aversed/Neutral/favoured spectrum for romance. Some would go for a relationship, and others would prefer a fwb situation. Some are poly by default while others prefer monogomy.