#i just want to protect him from anything bad

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler. 

This was a lie. 

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels. 

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd. 

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.  

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either. 

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person. 

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death. 

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find. 

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?) 

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends. 

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate. 

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise. 

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end. 

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out. 

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government. 

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest. 

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout,  he was getting his car out of it. 

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice. 

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal. 

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise? 

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel. 

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris. 

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way. 

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E. 

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force. 

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.) 

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is. 

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh. 

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage. 

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor. 

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove. 

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed. 

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now. 

Billy’s death.

 Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home. 

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.” 

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return. 

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice. 

 Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did? 

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82. 

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed. 

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall. 

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all? 

“Harrington?” 

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him. 

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good. 

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind. 

Lies. 

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.” 

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face. 

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time. 

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back. 

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London. 

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate... 

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up. 

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings. 

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. ) 

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination. 

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after. 

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game. 

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him. 

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.” 

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be. 

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.) 

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch. 

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination. 

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment. 

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt. 

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them. 

How much easier some of it would have been. 

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face. 

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke. 

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.” 

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.” 

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands. 

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”  

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested. 

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go. 

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.” 

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had. 

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.” 

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.) 

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?” 

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.” 

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off. 

He sighed a second time. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone. 

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.) 

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it. 

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.” 

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!” 

“Not any good ones.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--” 

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was  down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing. 

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part two

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: heading back to the townhouse to wallow in self pity is thwarted when Azriel follows you. Giving a part of himself to you, can some form of amends be made?

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You had to leave. You couldn’t stay there and look at Azriel and Eris. You felt almost like you were on trial, as if they were sizing you up to determine if you were worth their effort.

Eris - well, he didn’t act out of character from what you had been told about him. Azriel’s silence was the worst part of it all, waiting to hear him say something about wanting you, defending you from Eris’s gaze.

Instead you could hear the pause after Eris said he could convince Azriel to reject you. The callousness with how he regarded you was something you weren’t going to forget for a long time. Your chest was in pain, your heart crying out for the mate who hurt you.

You hurried down the hall, closing your bedroom door behind you, shoving a chair in front of it so Azriel couldn’t get in.

The house was silent, a fact you had appreciated only an hour ago, but now felt consumed by it. Was this how your chest would feel when Azriel rejected the bond - silent, empty, hollow?

You ripped open drawers, pulling out a bag and stuffing it with whatever clothes you thought necessary. If Azriel can pack a bag and go to a secret cabin, surely you can pack a bag and go somewhere yourself.

You had to get out of this house, at least to think, to get it all straight in your head. Maybe you could go to the Townhouse. Hardly anyone used it - you and Azriel would stay in it when Cassian and Nesta were particularly loud and longlasting.

A sharp pain shot through you at the memory - finding Azriel at the dining room table in the dead of night at the House of Wind, his shadows swirling around his ears, deep in thought. How his arms were strong around you, flying the two of you through Velaris. How the city glowed through his wings, the membranous skin so delicate and see through. How you had lingered in your bedroom door, foolishly hoping he might just kiss you.

The memory taints itself, your mouth filling with a bad taste. He had a mate when he had done that. It meant nothing to him.

He was your mate. But you weren’t his.

Tears started clouding your vision, irritating you more than anything. You wiped angrily at your face, clearing your tears just enough to see. It was chaos - you grabbed willy nilly from your underwear drawer, pulling out random pants and tops.

It was instinctual to grab for the stuffed kitty sitting on your bed. It was a birthday gift from Azriel. He was gone on a mission, but somehow the box was on your bed with a note that sat in your drawer.

‘He’ll keep you safe when I can’t’.

Damned stupid thing - didn’t protect you from this heartache. You grabbed it anyway, certain you’d want the comfort of crying into such familiarity.

You closed your bag, grabbing the handle before hustling through the house. You made it to the balcony, winnowing your way to the edge of the townhouse’s wards.

You sprinted to get inside, not wanting anyone to see the foolishness of this night on you. You made it to one of the guest rooms, shutting the door to seal yourself in. You sank to the floor, wrapping your arms around your knees.

It was then you noticed your mistake. The undeniable scent of pine hit your nostrils, making your eyes well up immediately.

He had been here recently, three days ago at most. Three days ago you would have given anything to throw yourself into a bed that smelled like him, to bask in the tangling of your scents as you slept.

This was great.

Your thoughts were a war in your mind, uncertain which direction to take. To stay here, to have his scent cling to you while you cried over him felt both cathartic and overwhelming. You could move to another room, but you’d have to get up off the floor and pick up your bag and that seemed like more effort than you could handle.

You sat on the wooden floor, tears streaming down your face. This was wrong. This was all wrong. You had never heard of anyone having two mates - the Mother loving someone so much she allowed them some choice in the matter.

Maybe they did exist, but the untethered, the unwanted mate got left out of history books.

That would be you. Too late and untethered, lost to history as someone who ‘was there but not important’. Was that what you would become to Azriel? A story for dinner parties?

‘I once had two mates..’

The thought made your stomach churn.

You sat crumpled on the floor for ages, practically melding into the floor board with each staggering breath. The heartache felt endless, neverending emotional damage at the knowledge you obtained tonight.

My mate’s mate.

What a gut churning title you had become.

Your fate was to remain here for as long as it hurt.

Madja wouldn’t need you for a few days, your planned vacation from work a slap in the face at how it all turned out. You couldn’t explain to her why you were back early, and you weren’t certain the old healer would even allow you back. Madja constantly expressed how important it was for healers to rest and take time off.

Hopefully sleep will find you sooner rather than later.

Pools of darkness curled around you, tiny slithers of shadow dancing in the puddles of tears littering the floor. One of them slithered up the air, catching a tear as it fell, cradling it. The shadow held your tear with such tenderness it threatened to consume you whole.

The moment was broken by the harsh knock on the door, a desperate plea of your name from Azriel’s lips sending chills down your spine. His voice was both a cloak of comfort and the source of your anger.

You wanted him gone, you couldn’t look at him now. What did Eris Vanserra possess that made him better than you for Azriel? Because he got to him first?

“Did something happen to your mate and you came to find the spare?”

Azriel made his sigh audible through the door before dark tendrils crept in from the crack beneath the door.

“We have to talk.” His voice was strong and unwavering, something you had to be to get through this conversation before you could let yourself fall apart again.

“What’s there to talk about? The Mother gave me a mate who is already mated to someone who can’t stand me.”

“That’s not true.” The shadows grew, forming a pool that Azriel stepped out of, looking down at you. Your gaze lingered on his shoes, a more formal pair than his leather boots and what he wore around the house.

Gods, you were pathetic for knowing that.

“What part of that is a lie?”

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.

“It’s technically true, but-“

“See?”

“Let me finish.” His words were resolute in the darkness, the townhouse still in the silence following his words. “It’s true. I have a mate and he is… an acquired taste. He is quick to judge and even quicker to barb with his words.”

You waited, the glutton inside of you hanging onto his every word, the anguish hungry for more fodder.

“But you… I met you and you consumed so much of my thoughts. I thought it was a crush or merely missing my mate and looking for him in others.

“But it was you. I needed to be near you. I don’t know how this works, this has never happened before. But I want to try.”

That caused you to look up, to finally see the sincerity in his eyes, to let his emotion wash over you. The bond connecting the two of you was a wave, a wall of regret and hope and sincerity so strong it threatens to blow you over.

“Azriel, I have to trust you. You are my mate, I should be able to trust you. But you kept this big secret from everyone. Why should I believe you? What would make me more than just a cover up?”

Azriel huffed, a fight occurring behind his eyes as he mulled something over. He reached a hand into one of his shadows, his arm nearly disappearing in the darkness before coming out holding a leather book with a beaten cover. He extended the book out to you, waiting until you took it from him.

The leather was cold, the spine cracked as you opened it. Every page was filled with Azriel’s near perfect penmanship. Every page dated, detailed down to what he ate in a day.

“No fae has ever seen this.” His voice was soft and unguarded before he added, “not even Eris.”

Curiosity stood at the forefront of your mind, your fingers already flicking through pages as you sat up. It didn’t surprise you that he kept such detailed depictions of his days - you would have been more surprised to know he didn’t keep detailed records. What did surprise you was him sharing this with you.

You briefly wondered if his shadows made notes for him, allowing him to transcribe the details of the day in his own thoughts and perspective. You could see him at his desk, shadows swirling and floating next to his ear, singing a song to him no one else can understand. As you flicked through it, names jumped off the page at you, every member of the Inner Circle mentioned throughout the book at some point or another.

“I have more - I have loads more. This is where it began with us - me and him. It starts somewhere in that journal - about a quarter of the way in. When you finish that one, let me know. I’ll give you the next one.”

Azriel had such a hesitant look on his face - you were certain he wanted to say more. He even stepped forward, reaching a hand out as if to speak. Instead, he merely tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before turning and walking out, shutting the door behind him.

You got the silence you wanted, but now you have a piece of Azriel laying in your hands.

-

You had stayed up most of the night reading Azriel’s journal, accompanied by a handful of shadows that had stayed behind after he left. At first they felt like an invasion of your privacy or a lack of trust from Azriel, but they responded to you like they always had: twirling in your hair, brushing soothing strokes up and down your arms, helping you with minor tasks.

It gave you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you needed.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, likely at the end of the first journal. You woke up in a daze, the journal moved off the bed, likely an act of protection from the shadows. Your head was throbbing, eyes so heavy from all your crying yesterday.

You laid still, trying to discern any noise throughout the townhouse, making sure no one else was here before trudging out of the room. Your rumpled clothes didn’t bother you as you made it to Azriel’s room, knocking softly, cursed with the bond to know he was there.

Azriel looked beautiful in the morning light, his hair sticking up in places, disturbed by his sleep, or lack thereof by the bags beneath his eyes.

“Here, I’m ready for the next one.” Azriel grabbed the journal from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the exchange. A shadow swirled beside him, a pit of darkness Azriel plunged the journal back into, returning with a near identical one before placing it in your hands.

“How can you tell the journals apart?”

“My hands are extra sensitive.”

You nodded, accepting his answer, no matter how confused it left you. Had it been a joke you didn’t understand? Would Eris have understood it? Blood roared in your ears at the thought.

It was difficult standing before him, knowing the intimacy between the pages of the journal you just read. How he and Eris all but killed each other in a fit of rage when the bond snapped, a fight that left the two broken and bloodied, nothing resolved before they slunk off to their respective courts.

It was a chance encounter - Azriel had been on the border between Spring and Autumn, moving in a cloud of shadow, trying to parse out any rumblings from the Vanserras when the eldest son caught him in a ball of fire. The bond had snapped into place when Azriel had begun choking on the smoke, Eris’s heart nearly giving out in shock, dropping the flames around Azriel. Azriel had immediately lunged at Eris, mated protectiveness out the window as they wrestled along the forest floor.

Pages and pages were Azriel writing through all of his emotions, deep rooted anger at the Mother’s chosen mate for him. It was months before they saw each other again, the entries between those meetings full of thoughts and new evaluations about Eris.

His diction changed somehow, as if having a mate had so fundamentally changed him it was impossible to not notice Eris’s influence, even though the pair weren’t together. He still detailed his days, but they felt more like letters at a point, or as if he were telling Eris about his day in extreme detail.

The romantic subtext left you queasy.

The second time they saw each other was near the end of the journal, an act of instinct. Azriel felt hot, searing pain, shooting himself into the sky, making it to the Autumn border before he got his wits about him. He had landed in their previous meeting spot, crouching to hide amongst the brush to wait.

It was agony, forced to hide, the closest to his mate he’d been in months.

The sun broke through the trees when Eris finally arrived, surely feeling Azriel’s proximity deep in his bones. The Vanserra had not been kind - he was all teeth, clacking insults at Azriel. The shadowsinger took it, not truly knowing how to respond. He couldn’t stop the intense feeling of relief at seeing Eris, the emotion so overwhelming he flew away after several moments of Eris’s abuse.

The last few pages of the journal were full of question marks, Eris’s name, and attempts at finding some code in the insults the redhead had hurled at him.

The new journal laid in your hands, full of a story you wanted to watch unfold.

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Azriel nodded, “thank you for being the first person I trusted to share this with.”

You wanted to ask, wanted to know why Eris hadn’t seen it. The two had been mated for years at least, if their domesticity was anything to go off of. Feyre and Rhys were two of the only mates you knew and you couldn’t fathom them keeping their own journals and musings from each other.

Much less share them with someone else.

Azriel looked down at you, his eyes wanting to desperately share something with you, but it was impossible to know what it was.

You bowed your head before turning on your heel, hoping to find more answers in the book you held.

-

It was a few days before you decided to leave the townhouse, Azriel joining you without telling him that you were returning to the House of Wind. The morning you were going to go back, he had merely been standing in the foyer waiting for you.

Nesta and Cassian would be back in a few days and you needed a change of scenery. The townhouse had began feeling too small, Azriel’s scent no longer lingering on your sheets, making your heart ache in a new way.

The flight back had been slightly awkward, the silence filled with the sounds of leather as your mind and body battled, tugging back and forth between leaning into him and pulling as far away as possible.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since the two of you landed a few hours ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t around somewhere. You opened the balcony doors, sitting out on the lounge chair, looking into the vast and endless sky of stars above you. You were so small beneath them, your problems somehow miniscule but all consuming.

You had finished another journal, probably journal number five at this point. Not quite ready to exchange it for the next one, fresh air beckoned to you.

The air was cold, but not harsh as it filled your lungs. It helped clear your thoughts, the frigid temperatures helping slow down your overactive mind. You now had some idea of Azriel and Eris’s beginnings - you weren’t anywhere near their acceptance of the bond, but it was clear how every slope of Azriel’s pen had been in thought of Eris. He now rushed through his days, giving as much as detail as before, but now it felt like a necessary evil to get to the subject he truly wished to discuss: Eris. The door to the balcony opened, causing you to go rigid.

“Relax.” Nesta’s hard voice surprised you, expecting it to be Azriel. You turned in your chair, delighted to see the valkyrie.

“What are you doing here?”

“In my house?” She smirked, moving to sit next to you. “We came back from Day a little early. There’s supposed to be a rain shower tomorrow and Cassian didn’t want to fly in it.”

It felt like a lifetime had passed since you saw Nesta last, a little over a week ago. She seemed brighter, a likely side effect of spending any time in Day.

“And how is your mate?”

“Miserable. He got sunburnt.” You laughed at the mental image of a red and crispy Cassian, certain he was making it as much of a problem for everyone else. “Emerie had a good laugh about it.”

It felt good to be in someone else’s presence for the first time in days. You hadn’t realized just how isolating this past week had been, your only companion the shadow that remained tucked in your hair and the journal of your mate’s past.

“How was your week with Azriel?” Nesta’s tone felt accusatory, like she was fishing for something she already knew. If she had any notions about you and Azriel, she didn’t confess them to you.

“Quite lonely, actually. I’ve hardly seen him.”

“A pity.” She leaned back in the seat next to you, stretching out her legs. “Do anything interesting?”

“I’ve mostly been reading.”

Nesta sat back up, her interest focused back on the conversation. “Anything good?”

“It’s mostly history books - I’ve read a good bit about the Autumn Court. It sounds beautiful.” It was the truth - you couldn’t bring yourself to call it a romance, certain Nesta would want to know more about it. She slumpt down once more, her interest lessened as she sat back.

“What do you think of Eris?” The question slipped out, a byproduct of having been alone all week. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Vanserra?”

You nodded. “Is there any truth to what they say about him?”

“I’m not sure. He’s smart and slippery. I think Rhysand is slightly afraid of him because of that, but he’d never admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That if Eris so chose, he could certainly concoct a scheme and outsmart Rhysand.” You bit your lip, certain that with their mating, Eris had outsmarted Rhysand.

“What’s he like?”

“The most difficult fae alive.” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. “He’s a challenge on his best days.”

“Pity the fae mated to him.” Your words come out strong for the first time in this discussion, but some deep part of you knows it’s the biggest lie of the evening. If Azriel’s journals leave you with anything, it’s that Eris Vanserra is a loyal and lethal mate, prepared to burn the world for his mate.

Her brows were merely raised in agreement, silver set on every movement you made. You felt the scrutiny of her gaze, schooling your features to give less of your heartache away.

“Are you certain you’re okay?”

You shrugged half heartedly, trying to find some reason to explain away your melancholic state.

“Endless night skies leave me restless, sometimes. So many possibilities, I’m not sure where I’d end up.”

She stood up, taking in the same view as you, but seeing something completely different.

“Not all possibilities are good ones.” She turned on her heel, heading back inside, leaving you out in the frigid cold, alone and unsure.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

A/N: ahhhh!! Part two!! I’m setting some things up so it might feel like filler but I promise the next part will be juicy 👀👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124 @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thank your for reading ❣️

[cherie-doll]

how do you think the cod men would react to you hiding an injury (from a mission) from them?

(annoyed i had a draft of this ready but my laptop decided to act up and i lost it, so i had to rewrite it again)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hiding An Injury From Them

ઇଓ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

it wasn't until after the mission that he noticed you clutching your side, your hand curved protectively over the wound that was surely getting worse by the minute or so he feared

he insisted on taking you to the medic right away, and as you were being examined he stayed right outside the room, he really wished you had told him, he was captain so he had to know if one of his had been injured

you were left to rest but the next day he came back, when you awoke he was there by your bedside, "why didn't you tell me?"

he just wants you to know that you need to trust him, he's more worried than anything on why you didn't come to him, did you not trust him?

Ghost

while you were seeking shelter he noticed the way you limped, you hadn't said anything but anyone who looked at you could see how terribly you tried to hide your pain

he sighs and trudges towards you, as if annoyed he has to do this, but he takes you aside and has you show him the injury, it wasn't as bad as he thought it was which is why he's a little relieved

as he bandages you up he's mostly silent, he wanted to scold you, to say something to get this feeling off his chest but when you gasp in pain when his fingers apply too much pressure he can't bring himself to be annoyed at you

you're left feeling the phantom touch of his fingers and how he gentled when he saw you wince in pain

Soap

you two were almost always assigned together or ended up finding one another and watching each other's back, so you were always in his subconscious; he just couldn't let anything happen to you

yet, in the blink of an eye it had happened, you brushed it off as being just fine, that it was only the debris and nothing more, nothing vital had been hit

but when you went back to base and he didn't see you around for a couple of days and found out you had been sent to recovery he rushed to find you, "you told me you were fine!", and he's upset you weren't honest when he asked

you two were a team...always working together so he definitely gets cross about the matter for a little while afterwards but not for long because he's still checking up and asking how you're holding up

Gaz

when you were a rookie you went to him for almost everything, he was the one you felt safest with and he had treated you with the most respect even if you were still learning and made mistakes

so he couldn't help but feel forgotten or sidelined when you didn't tell him about your injury, in fact, you weren't planning on telling anyone because you didn't want to make a 'big deal' out of it, you had been doing so well and you didn't want anyone to know you had messed up

yet, he found you taking painkillers and stuffing rags of blood down to the bottom of the trashcan, "how long have you been covering this?!" as he rushed to take care of it for you

he was stunned to find out you had been trying to take care of it yourself, still he remained patient as he somewhat understand why you did it

Roach

he went into panic thinking something worse would happen if you didn't tell someone right away, but you tried to tell him it wasn't that bad as a knife was sticking out of your leg

neither of you knew what to do other than informing someone, as help was on the way he shushed you and was 'calming' you down when you weren't even showing distress

he loves being helpful when he can so he stuck around to see if there was anything you needed whether that be emotional support or medicine; he was ready to help

Alejandro

he'd mutter a few curses before ordering some soldiers around to get an emergency kit, you try to move into a more comfortable position but he scolds you to hold it, you're making it worse

"this is serious you idiot, stuff like this can't be held off until later" and he might go off into a long rant but really he's trying to distract his mind as he cleans your wound and wraps it

he implements a new rule; everyone must report what they're doing or what has happened to them at all times during a mission, doesn't matter if they're taking a dump or if they got a papercut they gotta report that too

really he's just worried you'll get hurt and he won't be there in time to aid you

Rudy

he's all over you, anxious and troubled that one, you were injured and second, you were intentionally hiding it from him! he's more disappointed than anything

"i'm so sorry, you'll be fine.. i promise" he comforts as you're being patched up and treated, it probably hurt him more than you but you swear he's being a little over the top

back at base, there is not a day that goes by without him coming by to see you and bringing something for you, he doesn't even get mad at you for trying to hide the injury from him, he most likely forgot

Phillip Graves

"no, no- fuck, why?!" he focused in on solely you when a soldier told him about the injury you were trying to hide, but he cares too much, and you've seen how he is with his Shadows, of course he wouldn't let something like this slip by him

doesn't matter if you can walk yourself but you're not doing anything without assistance anymore until you're completely healed, it's sort of heartwarming in a way

he makes it very clear that this doesn't happen again, and you think he's talking about the injury but no he's referring to you hiding that you're hurt, he doesn't mind offering help he just doesn't want you suffering in silence

Makarov

he can't help but feel guilty, he should've known the risk for sending you out there and now the result is you needing emergency care, thankfully you weren't in too much pain

still, to him this is very serious, "this is serious! tell me what happened, who did it?", he's ready to go out there and find the bastard who had the audacity to do this, but you tell him it was kind of your own fault because everything had gone well it was actually due to your clumsiness that you had stumbled and hurt yourself on the way back

he doesn't know if that's another lie but since you seem better now he'll take it

Keegan

you've seen how much he yells during missions, so you know you're in for a reprimand the moment he figures out you're hurt, it's just a matter of time until he notices

strangely, when he does notice the blood through your clothes his eyes only widen as he points out the stained cloth and then gets to work silently as he uncovers the wound

you nervously try to tell him it's not that bad and he shouldn't be fussing over it but he just rolls his eyes, "not that bad you say? are you even looking at it?"

yeah it was pretty bad

König

he gets nervous the moment you show the slightest sign of discomfort so it's no strange that you'd hide an injury he's surely freak out over, you just don't want to cause him to lose focus

little do you know, the other soldiers are his eyes and ears as they report to him your injuries, he comes and says it's best you go back to base a little earlier, you protest thinking it's not fair that the others have sustained worse injuries yet they still have to keep going forward with the mission

but he just wants to prevent you from getting hurt worse and being so far away from a medic who could treat you end up with terrible health complications

Horangi

you and him tended to play around during missions, as if not taking them seriously, until it resulted in you getting hurt, he went serious after that even though to tried brushing it off

he could see you tense up a bit, your body sensitive to the throbbing pain that was begging to be taken care of, you needed rest and you weren't going to give it what it needed, he really wished he could be more caring and nurturing in this moment

he can only tell you to breathe slowly, to focus on the stars above you right now and hope you got to a medic soon, he wants you to realize you're not fine and that this could have been prevented, if only he had been more on guard

Nikto

he's seen people get their arm blown off, maybe even lose a leg and he barely bats an eye at it, so why is he constantly looking over at you who seems to be suppressing pain?

to him if blood isn't noticeable then it's no reason for alarm, and even then a little blood never hurt anyone, but your throbbing pain only gets stronger and he can see it in your eyes, the desperation and how you wish you had painkillers right now

while everyone else is asleep he orders you to tell him what's hurting and he tries his best to take care of it, he's built a high pain tolerance over the years but will feel disquieted when you appear worn out

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

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

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

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.

go to episode 9 part 3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Merry Christmas to you too my wonderful friend!🎄💗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

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

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

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

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

He does, man is a total SIMP 😊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 8.5K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

Ben's jaw tightened.

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

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

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

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

But this year was different, because he had you.

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

Ben wasn't used to that.

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

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

And yet there you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever the fuck that meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

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

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

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

Ben shakes it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

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

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

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

"Then why the fuck did she-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

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

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

"What?" Annie sputtered.

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

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

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She will."

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

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

"Whatever." Ben mutters.

Reader POV

Ben was late and you were starting to worry.

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

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

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

But you liked annoying him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shopping for Ben had been difficult to say the least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'd gone all out with decorations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben chuckles "Miss me Petals?"

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

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

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

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

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

Ben frowns. "I'm sorry."

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

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

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

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

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

"You first!" You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got me a cactus?" Ben snorts.

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

"Why did you give it a sweater?"

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

"From?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-"

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

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

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

You hesitate to open it.

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

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

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

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

You think to yourself as you open the box.

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

Simple, stately, and completely you.

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

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

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

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

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

"You? But-"

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

"But-" You stutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't answer.

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

Your cheeks flush.

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

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

"But you don't like it-"

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben?" You question. 

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

"Merry Christmas Ben."

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

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

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[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

38. feeling feelings (written)

prev // m.list // next

As cliché as it sounds, before meeting you, Yeonjun never actually thought about the consequences of his actions. After the incident with Minho, he only cares about having a good time and surrounding himself with pleasure and excitement so he could drown his pain. At some point, he actually stopped feeling hurt and started enjoying the parties, the drinks, and the girls. All the attention and praise he got made him feel part of everyone else, as if he was no longer an outsider. However, at the same time, all of that made him seem unreachable for most people. It was perfect; he got to enjoy the mundanity of it all while protecting himself from yet another heartbreak. But then it wasn't...

Meeting you is the best thing that could have happened to him. Yes, you were broken, but you both have been trying to build each other back up and make something real out of it. He's happy. When he's with you he forgets the past, and then it reaches him and makes him doubt. His insecurities drag him down and scream at him how he's not enough. He wasn't enough back then and he's even worse now.

"Wanna talk about it?" You ask while running your fingers through his hair, something you just learned helps him relax.

"I have to." His voice is merely above a whisper but is enough to make you shiver. Sure, you've cuddled and shared a bed before, but he's never exactly been this close to you. Every breath he takes tickles your neck and makes you want to have him even closer.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want."

"I do want to tell you but for now let me stay like this a little longer." He feels so small and yet so safe. Has he ever been held like this? Maybe his bar is also on the floor.

"Whatever you need."

He wakes up in the middle of the night without being able to remember when he fell asleep. Your arms are still around him and you're still playing with his hair.

"Why are you still awake?"

"I'm not tired, it's not even midnight." He can hear the smile. "Had a good nap?"

"Absolutely, you're the best pillow ever." He wraps his arms around your waist and brings your bodies closer.

"Charming as ever, I see."

You stay like that for a little while, just bathing in each other's presence and warmth. He's scared to even breathe too loud and bursting this bubble of peace and comfort. He has to, though.

"I'm sorry," he starts and before you can protest he continues. "I know you think I don't have to apologize but I need to. You've been going through some messed up shit because of me and you don't deserve to. And maybe you didn't want to make me feel bad or whatever but you should've told me.

I'm not mad, though. If anything I just feel grateful that you thought about me even in that overwhelming situation. But this also made me realize how much more you deserve. I can't change my past and I can't promise you people are just gonna leave us alone, they have the right to feel whatever they're feeling after all.

What I can promise is that I'll do everything in my power to make you feel confident in this relationship. You have nothing to worry about. I'll try even harder."

"Yeon-"

"Please, let me finish. I'll make us work. But, if you have already decided this is too much and you don't wanna go through the hassle I also understand that. You didn't sign up for this kind of harassment after all. I'll stay away if that's what you want. I'll even give you space to think about it."

He sounds so defeated. He told you he had issues, you just didn't realize how deep his insecurities run.

"There's nothing to think about," your voice remains calm. "I want to be with you. It's not a hassle and you're not too much. I'll be happy to walk with you and make this work."

He doesn't say anything, he just buries his face in the crook of your neck and holds you even tighter. He even sheds some tears but you don't notice, and if you do you don't comment on it. Is this what love feels like?

notes:

I love them so much

beomgyu adores yn because she makes yeonjun happy but he's never saying that out loud

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[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

★ synopsis: you're not just friends, but you're not more than that either. he's the epitome of unreadable and unavailable, leaving you confused, hurt, and lost.

★ character: xavier

★ cw: first person pov, really angsty, like REALLY angsty (i chose violence my bad), college au, situationship plot

★ word count: 4.3k

★ a/n: before i say anything im so sorry. like i was not expecting it to be this angsty but then it was and...well i couldn't stop it. i will for sure write a happy ending for this if someone would like that!! i think xavier would be a situationship final boss cause bro cannot manage his feelings. also can you tell i really like college au's... anyways, enjoy!!

His hands rest on the curve of my waist, firm and possessive, as if his fingers might weave through my ribs and anchor themselves there. His touch lingers with a quiet desperation, a reminder of everything we’ve shared. Once you’ve seen so much of someone, their fears, their desires, the way their eyes light up in the smallest moments—walking away feels like tearing apart something sacred, like committing a sin against the universe itself.

I stare at his sleeping face. I could protect him, my heart a sanctuary warm enough for him to find peace. He’d never have to wander again, never ever need to leave. The softness of his skin could soothe the ache buried deep within me, erasing the sickness with a quiet, tender touch.

He has my heart trapped like a bird.

Part of me wonders if he knows how he’s holding me, if he finds comfort within his slumber and dreams with my body pressed against his. Or if he’ll stir and realize, turning away and leaving me to stare at the muscles in his back that flex as he sleeps.

I trace circles onto his bicep, like the circles he runs around us.

I had met Xavier a little over a year ago, he was a friend of a friend, and we met at a small house party that a few mutuals of ours had thrown. He was like a star, shining so brightly in the room it drowned out everyone else. He was standing in a corner talking to Jeremiah, a good friend of mine that I shared some classes with. The way Xavier shyly smiled at me when Jeremiah introduced us made my heart feel like King Arthur’s sword, and someone had finally managed to capture it.

We talked the rest of the night, never leaving that spot in the corner. I paid no mind to anyone else I knew in that house, all that mattered was the beautiful cosmic boy I was encountering.

He found me again in the library a few weeks later, lightly tapping my shoulder and asking if he could study with me. Xavier was an astronomy major, ever so fitting for the star-boy who sparkled like constellations no matter where he went. The way his face lit up when asked about space was a vision I wanted to replay behind my eyelids every time I slept.

Xavier quickly became one of my best friends, and every second I spent with him was a second closer to my demise.

With him, I had tunnel vision. It didn’t matter how many guys my friends tried to set me up with, none of them were Xavier.

He was all I ever wanted.

I had never wanted anything as bad as I wanted Xavier. In my eyes he hung the moon and the stars. My love for him was an insatiable hunger that only he could cure; if he was Hades I would’ve taken that pomegranate from his tree, sacrificing my life to spend the rest of my time in hell just so I could spend eternity with him. I’d put myself on display for him so he can play God on judgement day, I’d let him carve his name into me so I’d remember what to say, I’d do anything he asked.

He’s the serpent and I’m Eve.

Xavier was hard to read, it was like trying to understand the plot of a book in pig latin. One moment he’s sitting so close to me I can smell his shampoo, looking me in my eyes and smiling so widely I thought his cheeks would hurt, as he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. He’ll cut me off mid sentence and tell me I look beautiful, and watch me as if I’m a movie he’s been waiting years to see.

The next moment? I don’t see him for days; I don’t get texts, no photos and complaints about his astronomy homework, no little alien gifs, no hellos or goodbyes. He disappears without a trace, and the only proof I have that he ever existed is the ache in my heart when I realize he’s pulling away again.

I’ve never gotten anything I’ve ever wanted, but once, I got close. Xavier had showed up at my dorm on a storming Saturday night at 1 AM like a sopping wet dog in the hallway, his first appearance in a week. Slurring his speech, blubbering about how Jeremiah and their friends dragged him out to the bars.

“M’sorry I just showed up, I wanted to see you…Just see you…”

Drunk off his ass, the pity for him overcame my anger. I gave him a change of his own clothes, hoodies and sweatpants I had borrowed and never gave back, the only pieces I had of him when he would turn into a ghost again.

Xavier watched me as I maneuvered around the room, grabbing him a glass of water, his eyes bleary and lips mumbling breathless words I couldn’t catch.

“Hey.”

I turned to look at him, his cheeks and ears red from the alcohol. He was sprawled out on my bed shirtless after refusing the hoodie, declaring the room was too hot. Xavier gestured for me to come closer, and as I approached the bed, he yanked my wrist down causing me to collapse onto his bare chest. His half-lidded eyes scanned my face, hand snaking up my waist.

“Is this okay?” He said through breathless kisses on my shoulder. Holding my body very still, I thought if I moved I may wake up.

“Xavier, you’re drunk.” I whispered, my words betraying my thoughts. He stilled, and I internally punched myself. Pulling back far enough I could see his eyes again, he smiled and placed a kiss on my palm. I couldn’t help but smile back, as my heart lurched out of my chest and into his hands for good. Xavier slowly and awkwardly flipped me onto my back, stumbling a bit through his inebriation. He mumbled words of adoration, planting kisses that burned like the fire of a star all over my face and skin.

“Perfect… So perfect… You’re like Venus, so full of love… Beautiful girl…”

Xavier kissed me like I was broken and he was thread, trying to sew me back together. The moment was holy, his heart singing to mine like a psalm. I memorized the movement of his lips against mine, cherishing the taste of cheap beer on his tongue.

“I love you.”

He fell asleep next to me, as I stayed awake staring at the ceiling, wondering what this meant for us.

Nothing, I suppose.

Xavier never mentioned it, and I never felt the courage to bring it up. It was only a fleeting moment, but it stuck with me like a plague, hanging over my head. It left the soft moments with him more confusing, the compliments more intimate, the feelings more frustrating.

I stare at him asleep holding me, face gentle through dreams, and I want to cry. Falling asleep next to me was nothing new, crashing in my dorm after movie nights or study dates. ‘No it’s okay, don’t sleep on the floor. We can just share the bed.’

I am a ticking time bomb, and I’m going to explode.

My heart is trapped like a bird.

-

“Honestly, I really think you should just confront him,” Tara flips through the pages of her textbook, “it’s not getting you anywhere not knowing what he thinks.”

I throw my face in my hands, letting out a groan and tangling my fingers in my hair, “It’s not that easy. What am I gonna say? ‘Hey, we kissed once so what are we?’ Do you know how crazy that sounds!”

“You forgot the part, ‘you also spend the night in my bed a lot’ or, ‘you told me you loved me’.”

“Friends do and say stuff like that all the time!” Shuddering at the thought of rejection, I hold up a finger to silence Tara, “Plus I’m not sure I even want to know. I think staying in the dark is better for everyone.”

She rolls her eyes, slamming the textbook closed, “Right. Okay, fine, that’s fine. Just quit complaining, I’m gonna tear my hair out.” Walking over, she places a kiss to the top of my head, “You know I love you, but I’m gonna kill both of you if I have to hear about it one more time.”

Tara leaves for class, and I’m left alone in the library with my thoughts and an exam to study for. I feel the pads of Xavier’s fingertips against my skin leftover from last night, and the feeling of emptiness when I woke up and he was gone. No text saying he had left for class, just radio silence and his body imprinted in my sheets. It’s moments like this, when I’m convinced I’ve got him right outside my grasp, he’d fall back out of reach.

I’m about to put on my headphones and tune the world out, when I hear a man's voice.

“Are you studying for the exam?”

I look up, and I see the boy who sits next to me in my stats class, Rafayel. His hair is a mess, and his black sweater has a few paint stains on them. I assume he’s just come from the studio, as his satchel is hanging loosely over his shoulder, his portfolio book sticking out. Rafayel’s an art major and never fails to complain the whole time about how the class is required for him, but he’s ‘never even gonna use this stuff’.

I huff, staring at my laptop screen, “Yeah, trying to at least.”

Rafayel slips into the seat Tara was just in, throwing his satchel on the floor beside him, “Oh good, you can help me then!”

I'm grateful for the distraction, as Rafayel is a sweet guy and a good break from the chronic thoughts of Xavier. His glances at me in class while I try to work on a concept with him don’t go unnoticed, or the way he doodles me on the corner of his paper, flashing me a grin when I point to the drawings. He would be so perfect, the artsy goof who showers me in attention, clingy, comedic and kind;

But he’s not Xavier.

“How am I supposed to help you with this if you’re busy drawing?” I tap his sketchbook with my pen. Rafayel looks up from his work with a frown, “I’m getting bored!”

He snatches my pen from my hand to stop my tapping, “Hey, why don’t we go to the cafe for a quick break? My brain could use it.”

“You’ve been studying for fifteen minutes.”

“So? You’re supposed to take breaks after twenty minutes, it’s been like, scientifically proven or whatever.”

He stares at me with a big smile, and I know I can’t say no to him. Literally, I wouldn’t be allowed.

When we got to the cafe, the place was packed and I internally groaned. Looking around the bustling coffee shop, it was uncomfortable just how busy it was. Waiting in line practically squished next to Rafayel, I rested my head on his shoulder as I had done many times in class before. He draped his arm around my shoulder, going on about how one of his professors gave him a bad grade on a painting because he used the wrong shade of blue. I thought about how nice it would be to stand like this with Xavier, but I never felt as if I could get close enough to try.

Trying to shake off the thoughts about him, I thought about Rafayel’s arm around me. The way his finger would poke my shoulder as he talked to put emphasis on his words, or the way his bicep flexed on the back of my neck as he moved. It was comforting in a way, secure. It was protective. Safe.

“Oh my God, I hate that dude.” Rafayel scoffs, looking at a table in the corner. Following his eyes, I caught a glimpse of tousled platinum hair. Meeting his blue eyes, my breath hitched in my chest, body freezing against Rafayel. I couldn’t read a single ounce of emotion on his face, just feeling his stare bore into me.

My first instinct wanted to rip away from Rafayel, let Xavier know I was still his. Yet-

I’m not. I’m not his, and he’s not mine.

I remember the feeling of defeat this morning when I woke up, body tired from staying up and watching the rise and fall of his chest, mind exhausted from the push and pull, chasing after him and never quite catching up.

Leaning farther into the boy beside me, I look away from Xavier and look up at Rafayel.

After all, the key to moving on is finding someone new.

“Which one?” I ask him, not sure if he’s referring to anyone else at that table. It was a group of Xaviers friends, people I had met briefly.

“The blonde one, he’s in one of my gen ed classes and he’s a total prick.” Rafayel stares back at Xavier, and I try to avoid his piercing eyes, focusing on picking at a piece of lint on Rafayels sweater.

“Oh, yeah. I know him.” I don’t want him to be introduced to that part of my world. Rafayel is pure, untainted by the chaos. I didn’t want to drag him into the hurricane.

-

After that, I didn’t hear from Xavier for a while. Though his silence wasn’t uncommon, I couldn’t help but think this time it may have been provoked by the moment in the cafe. I saw him around campus a few times, in his usual spots, but when he’d notice me he’d just look away.

Saying it hurt would be an understatement.

I started seeing Rafayel more to fill the void that Xavier was leaving behind. Every tear Xavier had ripped into my heart and soul, Rafayel was taking bandaids and patching them up. While it was nice, it wasn’t a permanent solution to the wounds.

I felt guilty, like I was using him, doing the same thing to Rafayel that Xavier was doing to me. Though, despite whatever was happening, Rafayel was content. I don’t think he minded the situation I had imposed. From little dates to holding hands, to kisses on my cheek when he’d drop me off at my dorm, I was getting the attention I craved and Rafayel had someone to keep him company. It’s like we had this silent, mutual agreement that whatever was happening was okay, and this is all it had to be.

Rafayel never knew about Xavier, and I would never tell him.

The incident at the cafe was the first, but not the only time Xavier saw us together. Whether it was the library studying, or the student union building, Xavier would see us and almost always stare. Rafayel always had comments to make about it too, muttering things under his breath about him being a creepy stalker.

I was sitting on the floor of my dorm with Rafayel, scrolling aimlessly on my phone as he sketched the fake plants I had sitting on my desk. My phone started to blow up with everyone texting in our group chat, something about a party happening this weekend.

Tara: Please tell me you guys are gonna be there!

Jeremiah: i have to go, one of my friends is in the frat and he’ll kill me if i don’t

Tara: Okay that's 2 of us! Who else???

“Who’s texting you so much?” Rafayel says, clearly annoyed by my phone's insistent text tone going off.

“This group chat I’m in with my friends,” I sit my phone down, “there's a party this weekend and they’re trying to get everyone to go.”

“Are you going to?”

“I dunno, are you?”

Rafayel laughs, “You know better than anyone I couldn’t be caught dead at one of those.” He puts his sketchbook aside, grabbing my hand, “You should go though, you don’t really do much besides go to class and see me, and as much as I'm happy with the attention, this is a really sad look for you.”

I pull my hand away, offended, “I am not sad!”

“Then prove it, go to the party.”

“I’m pretty sure this is peer pressure, hazing even.”

“That’s most definitely not hazing.” Rafayel picks his sketchbook back up, going back to his drawing with a smug look on his face.

I text back in the groupchat, upset that I agree with Rafayel. Ever since I started hanging out with him and Xavier started giving me the full blown silent treatment, I haven’t really gone out much. I see Tara here and there for lunch or a quick study session, but it’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to do something fun.

Me: yea i’ll be there, lmk what time

Tara: OMG YAY!!!! I’ll send you the details

Xavier: I’ll see U guys there

Seeing Xavier text that he was going to be in attendance sent a lightning bolt of anxiety through my chest.

This was the longest we had gone without talking. Usually, his moments of silence only lasted a few weeks at most. With due time he’d come back with a post he sent or ask me to hang out, announcing his presence and waltzing back into my life; and I'd let him in.

Every. Single. Time.

The distance he created between us this time around made me anxious to face him the upcoming weekend. Would he say hi? Ask how I was? Would he look right through me like so many times before?

After Rafayel left, I sat in bed cocooned in one of Xavier's hoodies he had left behind, watching the stars through my window. I thought maybe, if I stared hard enough, they could make a constellation of his face.

-

Friday rolled around faster than I had hoped. Per Tara’s request, we showed up fashionably late, so the old beat up house was packed by the time we arrived. It was the first time in months I had put myself together, doing my hair and makeup. Taking a couple shots of whatever Tara had given me, I was feeling mildly prepared for the night ahead.

Walking in, my hand gripped hers tightly as she maneuvered gracefully through the crowd. Grabbing a drink from the makeshift bar, I cracked open the can and started chugging. I was going to need as much alcohol as I could to get me through this night. We found a couple girls that we knew, chatting loudly over the music, as I pounded back a few more drinks.

Before I knew it, the man I was dreading seeing the most appeared beside Tara with Jeremiah.

“Ladies!” Jeremiah shouted, wrapping his arms around Tara and I. Xavier’s eyes could have burned a hole through my skull with the intensity that he stared at me. Internally I was at war with myself, half wanting to shrink away because of how small his look made me feel, but also feeling powerful thanks to the liquor coursing through my veins and the hot outfit I had on.

One voice on my shoulder screamed, “Get out of here! Go home! Never show your face again!” While the other danced around, “You’re such a sexy bitch, show him what he’s missing!”

I chugged another drink.

“Wait- Tara, I want you to meet one of my friends, come with me.” Jeremiah gestured for Tara to follow him, and I flashed her a panicked look. She shrugged, squeezing my hand before following behind Jeremiah.

I stood alone with Xavier, the rest of the group disbursing where it just left us.

“I’m gonna get a drink, come on.”

I looked at him, “What?”

“I’m gonna go get a drink? Let's go.” He raised an eyebrow at me, like I asked a stupid question.

“Okay, but why do I have to come with you?”

“Because I’m not leaving you all by yourself-” Xavier pressed two fingers to his temple, “nevermind it’s fine I don’t need another one.”

“I was just asking-”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He cut me off, his question catching me off guard.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you having trouble understanding tonight or something? How much have you had to drink?” His words were venom, and I was appalled. Not once had he ever spoken to me this way, not even in arguments.

“I just don’t know who you’re fucking talking about, my bad.” I spat back at him.

“The guy who’s always up your ass, where is he tonight?”

I laughed, shocked, “You mean Rafayel? He is not my boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or his jealousy, but his attitude was a loaded gun.

“Well I couldn’t tell, seeing as how you both practically eye fuck wherever you go.”

Stunned, my jaw dropped. His eyes softened, and I could tell he knew he hit a nerve. With the blaring music in my ears, and the alcohol coursing through my veins, I was suddenly convinced that if I didn’t get out of that house I was going to fall apart to pieces.

“I don’t have to take this.” I shoved past him, pushing my way through the crowd and out the front door, until the cold air hit my face.

Xavier called out my name from behind, but I continued walking down the sidewalk. I wanted to be so far from that party, from him, that I thought I may just walk back to my hometown and away from this stupid place; to somewhere he didn’t exist anymore.

Calling my name again, he caught up, grabbing me by my shoulder. His face was switching through emotions every second, and I was getting whiplash.

“What the hell is your problem!” I shouted at him, tears threatening to spill, welling up in the corner of my eyes.

“Hey, wait-” His hand that was on my shoulder went to my cheek, and I jerked away.

“No, you don’t get to do that anymore, we’re done playing that game. I give up!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You- This, us! You kiss me, you tell me I’m beautiful, you tell me you love me, you sleep in my bed and I’m in your arms, then you don’t text me for weeks! You don’t acknowledge anything you do, and I don’t know what any of it means,” I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste the salt in my mouth, “You’re so confusing and I don’t know what’s happening, and it hurts so fucking bad and you don’t even care.”

Xavier stands there dumbfounded, my vision blurry and spinning. I think I might throw up, and I’m not sure if it’s from the situation or the liquor.

“Then you have the audacity to be mean to me over some guy that I’m friends with,” I start to sob, my voice becoming weak and small, “you don’t get to do that, you have no right.”

He doesn’t move, and I stop talking. The only sound between us is my quiet crying and hiccups, mixed with the faint music from the party down the block. He says my name, and I barely hear it over the roar of my own ears.

“You’re my best friend…” He whispers.

The words cut through me like a knife, and I think if I look down I’ll see I’ve been gutted. If you could die from a broken heart, I’d already be six feet under. I swallow thickly, and nod. His words were enough, it told me everything I needed to know.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks.

I shake my head.

I started walking down the sidewalk.

He didn't follow.

When he was out of sight, I sat down on the curb and broke down again. Everything I had felt over the past year of knowing him came out at once, my body ejecting all of it. I cursed him, his name, his future wife and family. I prayed that he was destined to stay up at night, regretting that the woman asleep next to him isn’t me. Distraught, because I believe I myself am cursed to love him forever.

I called Rafayel, and asked him to pick me up. I threw up in someone's yard before he did, and when I finally got back home I closed my curtains and locked my window, hiding under my blankets; convinced the stars in the sky were out to get me. I never wanted to see them again, I’d avoid going outside at night for eternity if it meant I never had to face a reminder of him and his devastating beauty.

The next morning, I blocked him.

Well, I blocked him on all social media, even the ones we didn’t use; but I didn’t block his number. For emergency purposes, I thought.

Or I guess for the slim chance he came back; haunted by regret, choking on apologies, and falling to his knees to plead for forgiveness. I told my friends I was finished with him, swore it with conviction, but I’m starting to think those words were as empty as his own promises.

I won't text him first, I’ll just wait.

I’d wait until he misses my laugh, the sound of my voice, or the songs I’d sing to him as he fell asleep, my fingers through his hair.

I won’t text him, but I won’t shut him out entirely. I’ll close the door behind me, but I won’t lock it, not completely. I won’t hand him the key, but maybe I’ll leave behind a clue, something subtle, something only he’d recognize. Just in case he decides to come back, he’ll know where to start searching, know there’s still a way in, even if I pretend there isn’t.

I’d keep the house behind the door clean, buy a welcome mat, and even build a porch.

Just in case;

But he never called.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[magnoliapromenadegalleria]

TLDR:

-People have a hard time connecting with Kant because his main motivation, Babe, is not around much.

-Kant and Bison are both guilty of lying to one another. Interested to see how they navigate their relationship now that they are both on to each other.

I've had this thought in my head since last week, but never got around to writing it down. I think part of the reason people, not me because if Kant had one fan it would be me, have such a hard time getting behind Kant's reasoning and motivation, is because we aren't that familiar with the object of said reasoning. Babe is Kant's motivation. He's the only family he's got as far as we know, and he's Babe's guardian. It's not only a question of if Kant doesn't do what Capt. Crunch does he will be sent to jail, it's if Kant doesn't do what Capri Sun does he will be sent to jail, and Babe will most likely go into the system because there's no one else. That's simply just not an option. Kant wasn't stealing cars because he liked the thrill of it, he did so because he needed to take care of his brother, and he was desperate. We joke that Kant is a terrible criminal, but I think that's the point? From the pieces that we can grasp, he was/is a criminal out of necessity after his parent's sudden death, and not just for the thrill of it. He wouldn't be in his current situation if he was great at it.

When you write it out like that, I think it makes one more empathetic to his plight but the problem is we don't really know Babe. I wrote in a previous post that Fadel and Kant are the same in different fonts. Both are protective of their brothers and will do anything to protect them, but the stark difference is we know Bison. He's a fleshed-out person and we feel bad for him. We don't know Babe. We know that he likes Shakespeare, he gets bullied, and he's Kan't brother. That's it. We go episodes without seeing him, and his absence leads one to forget that he's the main reason Kant is doing any of this at all. He just looks like a sleaze trying to stay out of jail.

With each episode, it is becoming clear that Kant is failing horribly with not becoming attached to Bison. He lies and has a healthy amount of fear of Bison, but his gestures are honest. He can't help it, he's been into Bison since before he knew what he was. He's not just sweet on Bison because he has a role to play, he's sweet on Bison period. With them living and working in such close proximity anyway, they were bound to be a thing.

But.

That's not what happened, and he can't even fully explore his feelings because this cop is threatening him and has put him in an impossible and dangerous situation with no resources or protection, Bison is a killer, and he's stressed out by both. There's definitely nuance and reasoning there with Bison, but baby boy is still incredibly lethal. Kant's head has got to be stronger than his heart and his other head, and as much as he likes Bison, he loves his brother abundantly more, and that's reasonable. He also does not know Bison. I wrote something last year while watching Only Friends about Sand and Ray's relationship that I think can be applied here. Kant and Bison are not getting the same insight into one another, for clear reasons. They're open with each other, but they are not completely honest with each other for, again, reasons.

Kant is lying to Bison, but Bison is also lying to Kant. Kant knows Bison is lying to him, but being a sweet-faced assassin is a pretty big omission. Bison is under the impression that he's killing bad people, but Kant isn't privy to that and only knows that under that pretty face with dreams and an artistic spirit with a love of cats lies a killer. Someone who could kill him and his brother and not think twice about it. Obviously not, but Kant does not know that. Someone who just as easily lies to him about a big part of his life, and with a lot more ease. Bison doesn't want to be an assassin anymore and wants to live his life, but as far we know he does not lose sleep over any of his kills, and that's still scary. Again, nuance there, I got a whole thought process on other mother raising children to be disposable assassins, but this post ain't that!

It's been touched on many times that Bison knows there's something up with Kant. He is a perceptive little thing, so there's no way he doesn't know Kant is not being truthful. Fadel has pointed out and Bison does not listen. Bison knows. Deep in his bones he's always known, but I think he didn't want to believe it because he's fallen for Kant. That may not have been the initial goal, he just wanted freedom and Kant's hot, great motivators, but dammit if he didn't fall for the guy. I have a similar theory about Kant. Let me explain, don't touch the mic, let me explain. Kant knows Bison's other occupation. Capt told him what was up and he hasn't been completely comfortable around Bison because he knows this information, but I don't think it really clicked for him until he went into Bison and Fadel's secret room. Not because he didn't believe it, but because he didn't want it to be true. I think he wanted Capt. to be wrong about this because he's fallen for Bison too, and not only that, he's falling deeper despite all that. Which is a terrifying revelation. And Bison protected his brother twice now? Kant might be better at keeping himself than the other three, and he might be lying to himself out of self preservation, but he's just as gone. Now that both know about the other, I'm so ready for them to finally be truthful and truly lay themselves bare without deceit between them.

...This got away from me, but whatever.

One last thing! I think this scene above is after all truths and betrayal are out in the open because that looks like a taxi, probably stolen, Kant looks like he might be wearing some sort of uniform that hides his tattoos, and Bison is wearing a hat to hide his identity. Okay, I'm done.

[blueepink07]

My interpretation of Diana's character

(spoilers for chapter 1 and fte!!)

I find it interesting how many people believed that Diana is the mastermind, when the prologue released, and still believe that she is hiding something, especially since we see the events from Damon's perspective. And for me it's really odd, because I feel like Diana doesn't act with other ill-mannered intentions in mind, but out of consideration for others. So much so that I think that she has become a people pleaser. 

Starting with her animal motif, the chameleon, everyone knows it for its ability to change its appearance as a form of protection, in order to survive. Many people tied the chameleon with her ultimate talent, because as the ultimate cosmetologist she can change others and her appearance with make-up. But I think it goes further than this. Her personality is rather unpredictable. Of course, she is usually bubbly, and very talkative, however, it seems she cares a lot about what others think of her. 

At the end of chapter 1, after the trial, the conversation she has with Eva, highlights some interesting details about her character as a whole. She wanted to make both Wolfgang and Eva happy. However, these two had contrasting beliefs, two sides of the same coin. She was forced to choose between two different points of views… But she wasn't able to. So she tried to support both of them, the best she could.

In the end, this choice led Eva to not trust Diana's kindness at all, because she knew Diana was never fully on her side. She would still agree to what Wolfgang said, which implied going against her. What comes next is more concerning, however. And I’m not talking about the fact that Diana might become the antagonist in the future chapter, but strictly about what it will become of her character. To throw away your sense of self so easily and to state that you will live to fulfill somebody else's wish, that she will change to become more like Wolfgang and continue on his footsteps…

And then, I've completed her two fte's and realised that her decision to continue Wolfgang's legacy makes sense. Damon, in the second fte, asks her why she never told anything about herself, but insisted for him to open up more. From Damon's perspective, of course he finds her behavior suspicious, because considering the context and the fact that they are in a killing game, Diana is at advantage, not sharing information about herself.

So I've decided to look again at Diana's first fte and this part was truly interesting. 

She asks if Damon wants her to become his follower. The report card summarizes the conversation by stating that Diana asked Damon what he wanted her to be.

Considering all these aspects, I have reached the conclusion that Diana doesn't really have a "sense of self". She is always seen changing the way she behaves in order to please the person she has a conversation with or is seen asking how she can improve in order to meet the expectations. The reason why she even went to the boiler room was also because she didn't want to disappoint Wolfgang. Diana's always thinking about how others perceive her, so much so that, with time, it seems she has lost her sense of self.

That’s why, the moment when Damon wants Diana to talk about herself, she is restless. Diana has no idea what to say. The only thing we learn about her is the fact that her family is nice and supportive and she never had to worry about money. But she didn't continue on with the conversation, because she felt like she was bragging.

Moreover, she always seems to see the good in people, but is harsher on herself.

Despite Eva being the culprit, Diana considers that it is solely her fault for not saving both her and Wolfgang. Even after the way Eva treated her, she can't see her as a bad person. Diana acknowledges that nothing will ever be the same, but is still standing strong, wishing that her actions will give hope to others. She hasn't just  covered the wound that she received from Wolfgang, but, indirectly, also her trauma and her negative thoughts about herself by stating that she will change, in order for others to not suffer anymore. 

Maybe I'm just biased, but I can't see Diana having any bad intentions. She is just a 17 year old, who experienced something very traumatic, and is trying her best to help the people around her by putting her own needs aside, changing the way she behaves so the others can feel comfortable around her. 

[fbfh]

Could I request a drabble with Dave Lizewski and his best friend who has a major crush on Kick Ass and tells Dave all the dirty details?

OOOOOH SCRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUS. aged up to 18+ obvs, give me a hoot or holler in the notes or my ask box if you want a fluffier version lol

Dave always wondered why girls never noticed him. he figured it was cause he's a quiet geeky nerd who likes comic books and superheroes. nope. it's because of you. when you first met Dave - however old you were, freshman, middle schoolers, kindergarteners - you latched the fuck onto this boy so fast. you've always been protective over him, always had that vibe that says you fuck with him, I'll fuck you up. besides, having a best friend as hot as you immediately made everyone assume he's totally off the market. like, it should be obvious. being "best friends" with someone as hot as you, spending all your time together - you have sleepovers for god's sake. EVERYONE at school fully believes you're fucking. the only ones unaware of this are Dave and Todd and Marty and possibly yourself.

it's at one of these infamous sleepovers that you finally spilled the beans. you've been obsessing over kickass for weeks, constantly talking about him and his exploits to Dave. you just got your hands on another grainy, horribly low quality picture of kickass stopping a purse snatching from someone's video doorbell. you're sitting at Dave's desk while he's flopped on his bed, finishing some homework.

"fuck I want him in my mouth so fucking bad..."

it just slips out, but Dave is instantly hard. he startles, sputtering and desperate to know who his best friend is practically moaning for.

"y-you want who?!" he demands in confusion at your sudden outburst, causing both of you to laugh. you turn the monitor towards him, and Dave sees himself looking back. his stomach does the thing, that flippy jerky oh shit thing from both anxiety and horniness. he is really, really hard now.

"k-kickass?" he asks, his voice getting all whiny and cracking in that way you've always found so cute.

"yes!" you exclaim with a laugh, looking at him incredulously. "come on Dave, you told me about a sex dream you had about our math teacher two days ago. he groans half heartedly at you bringing up.

"I already regret telling you about that." he protests playfully, his voice muffled into his duvet.

"just look at him," you sigh, already looking at the pictures of kickass. "look at his arms... I'd probably cum just from him putting me in a headlock."

Dave nearly chokes on his spit. He's really glad he's laying on his stomach so you can't see the way he's kind of rubbing against his mattress. it's not on purpose or anything, it's not like he's trying to get off to his best friend (even though he has before. like a lot. like he has to clear his porn search history because it's all descriptors of people who look like you) but when you're going on and on about how wet you'd get from being choked by a guy without realizing he's actually inches away from you... well, what is he supposed to do??

"christ, you can see his whole bulge in this one," you murmur, biting you lip. "I have never wanted to suck someone off so bad."

Dave lets out a choked noise, which you interpret as more playful disgust over your thirsting.

"I'm serious!" you exclaim. "I swear to god, he could keep me barefoot and pregnant and I'd thank him."

Dave's hips have started moving faster on their own as he grinds against his mattress. he knows he shouldn't prod for more details of what you'd do to kickass - to him - he knows you're his best friend and that you'd probably think he was some sick freak if you knew the truth, that he's kickass and he's getting off to you listening to you talk about him like that. Dave loves you, he respects you and admires you and cherishes your friendship so much, so why is feeling guilty and conflicted about about listening to you unintentionally dirty talk like this making it feel so good??

"literally, I would make sure his balls were always empty. like, always." you state.

each word that tumbles out of your mouth makes his blood burn with lust.

"U-uh huh," he chokes out, fighting for his LIFE not to moan in front of you right now.

"just one chance," you sigh, "I just know he's majorly packing. Bet he cums a lot too." you murmur.

you're pouting now. pouting over not being able to taste his cock. the same cock Dave is trying to discreetly jerk off just a few feet away from you. he whines softly, praying you won't notice as you continue to look through photos of him as kickass.

"I don't think I've ever been so down for someone," you whine, throwing your head back and sighing. "okay, you can't tell anyone about this-"

you start seriously.

"but I literally got off thinking about him last night, and I came so hard-"

and if that's not the straw that breaks the camel's back. Dave lets out a strangled, stifled whining moan as his hips rut and stutter against his mattress. his head swims as he cums in his pants, blinded by a raw, pure pleasure.

"O-oh god!" he pants, head spinning as he comes down from his high. his cheeks are flushed, and he can't fucking believe he just did that in front of you. he swallows thickly, terrified - and for some reason, a little thrilled by how you'll react.

you look over at him, eyes locked on him for a moment. it only takes you a second to realize what just happened - your horndog best friend got so turned on from listening to you thirst over kickass that he actually creamed his pants.

"You're so gross," you laugh playfully, throwing a pen at him. "I hope you know how lucky you are that I'm great at keeping secrets." you finish, an unspoken promise that tonight will stay between the two of you.

you turn back to what you're doing, unperturbed by the fact that your best friend just came in his pants from hearing you talk like that, chalking it up to Dave being Dave. this isn't the first time he's gotten hard at an awkward time, but usually he just sneaks off to the bathroom or something to take care of it himself. you had a hunch he might resort to something like this eventually, so you're not too surprised.

"Anyway, what do you think his type is?" you ask, swiveling around Dave's desk chair to look at him. your arms are crossed on the back of the chair, and you lean down on them as you look at him.

"Like, from an objective, guy perspective?"

"U-uh," Dave starts with a soft, nervous laugh, still unable to believe that just happened. "I- I don't know..." he shrugs.

he thinks that's the first time he's lied to you. he knows exactly what kickass's type is, because he's looking right at you.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy so I know I haven’t really been active lately but I’ll try to get back to stuff but in the meantime have…whatever the fuck this is}~

•Snow•

When John Constantine woke up that morning he already had a bad feeling about…something

Ok he didn’t really have a thing to have a bad feeling about so far the day has been uneventful (which is odd considering it’s HIM) so John really didn’t know what was going on to make him so unsettled

But just in case (oh gods he’s starting to sound like the bats) he checked all of the protective runes on the house of mystery than checked every room for anything that all but when nothing turned up he just thought he was being paranoid

And while trying to calm himself down on the couch he heard something from behind him so he looked and when he did he saw

The Bloody Fucking Door

It was on the floor and a Being with white hair and that’s all he could really see from the hood covering their face and a mask with some of their hair coming out from under the hood kicked it the door down but before John could do anything the being grabbed him and throw him through the portal that was not there a second ago 

What has John’s life come to at this point he thought before he passed out with a cold feeling on his back and the blurry figure walking through the same portal

John wakes up to poking in his face and the sound of two pre-teens arguing

“Are you sure this is the right guy, he looks like a alcoholic” says a younger girl voice coming from his right side and probably the hand that’s poking him

“Yes, I’m sure this is the right guy he was in the magic house and he has the trench-coat” replied a boy around the same age as the girl and coming from his left side

That’s when John opens his eyes and are met with the faces of two pre-teens

~{ And that’s about it }~

•-—••••••••••••••••—-•

•Explanation•

Danny (With de-aged Dani and Dan who have been renamed Dawn and Dusk for plot purposes) had to dip from his home dimension but not the reasons you may think so

Vlad was being his usual asshole self and with Maddie shutting down any and all attempts at getting a date (I HC that he’s obsession is family because he was left alone in the hospital with a secondary obsession on control because he couldn’t do anything about he’s condition or help himself, but it’s still not a excuse to be a creep) so he was holding on by a thread at this point now to get off topic of this for a sec

Meanwhile Dani~Dawn and Dan~Dusk had to de-aged and Danny was taking care of them with a little bit of help from his parents when remembered they have children (Somewhat good Fenton parents! That’s rare in this Fandom) and a very busy Jazz has she is dealing with college stuff and everything is chill

Until Vlad’s obsession starts to change from dating Maddie and keeping Danny as his son to just keeping Danny but in the way Ra and Slade are and of course Danny is creeped TF out and starts to get ready to dip and somehow this gets back to Vlad and that’s what makes him go off the deep end and he starts to go after Danny

And in the fight to leave Jazz, The Fentons, Sam, Tucker all get got by Vlad and Danny gets injured but he is able to go through the portal and destroy it from his side with Dawn and Dusk with him

And they end up in Danny’s Lair and this leads us to now

•Explanation Done•

•—-••••••••••••••••—-•

•Outfits•

John Constantine-

Nothing really changes it’s basically the same as always

Danny-

Dusk-

Plus

( For his coat, Dawn and Dusk have to wear warmer clothes because they have a Wind and Water Core instead of just Danny’s ice core and they HATE IT )

Dawn-And her coat

•Ending•

~{And that’s it! I left this mostly unfinished so if anyone wants to take this I’m fine with it as long as you tag me so I can read! Anyway that’s about it see you gremlins soon byeeee}~

[theshypinkflower]

Merry Christmas to you! 🎄

I love reading your theories and headcanons, so I wanted to ask... What if MC get pregnant by Ren (from boyfriend to death 2), what do you think how would Ren react about that and how he will act? Will he be good father or bad father? (Sorry for bad grammar, I'm barely know English 😞)

If it’s BTD2 Ren he’d kinda panic over the fact he got you pregnant. He knew his breeding kink was a bit unruly, but even he thought getting you pregnant wouldn’t be possible. Cross breeding and wag not. But because BTD2 Ren isn’t as cold as Fox yet, I imagine he’d actually WANT a family instead of being on the fence about it. His panic about being a dad would die down when he sees you all swollen and glowing. He’s so sappy, kissing your belly, being so over protective, talking to you’re belly, listening to it. I think BTD2 would be a a pretty good dad, very attentive and loving since he knew what it was like to grow up without a dad and instead a cruel mother. I think Ren would actually try and be a bit normal, going out and getting some sort of job. He’d still be paranoid that you’d leave him and take his kit with you, so don’t expect to go out much.

He absolutely adores his new baby, holding them and cooing. How could he not when it’s just so cute and little? Ren would spoil the little thing rotten (and educate them in anime). He finds it hard to believe this baby has part of him, let alone he has to raise it. But he’d absolutely do his best so you three could live comfortably (although after seeing your tits during your pregnancy it’s probably gonna be more. Cause cmon of course Ren has a lactation kink). He’d still be a sadist, but it’s not as frequent. If anything the sadism is somehow more intimate, it’s like sex after putting the kids to sleep.

(No worries about the grammar honey, I read you loud and clear!)

[rizzoreads88]

I just want to tell you even though I have never shipped elriel its so nice to see at there are some elriels out there who love Lucien.one thing I can stand about most elriel shippers is they try to villianize Lucien all the time.

Hi anon,

Ohh man is this going to be a loooonngg response ….There are a lot of Elriels who still like Lucien. However I can understand what your saying too as I think at times certain shippers from both sides tend to try and paint Lucien/Azriel in a bad light depending upon who they ship…

Some E/uciens say Azriel is incel who feels entitled to woman and only cares about sex while some Elriels say Lucien is a coward and didn’t help Feyre enough. While neither are perfect( because no one is )none of this is true about either. I think both sides of these arguments contradict each other.

⭐️Lets start with the “Lucien didn’t do enough to help feyre” and he’s a coward argument

Do we forget Lucien was putting his life on the line UTM to help her whenever he could? He was also thrown into the second trial and almost died for being her friend… in Acomaf when everything was going wrong between her and Tamlin Lucien did try to help them both. And neither listened. (I don’t see how anyone can blame anything on Lucien seeing as he wasn’t in that relationship and Feyre was a grown ass woman but I digress). Then in acowar Feyre uses him as a pawn to try and make Tamlin jealous not even caring the repercussions it could have for Lucien. After all this when Feyre was escaping the spring court to go back to the night court Lucien was willing to die by the weird Hybern twins so she could escape…Lucien has helped Feyre in many ways. She would have never gotten back to the Nc without him or survived the trials UTM without him. He also did try to help her AND tamlin and neither listened… “well all he did was talk to them that’s not enough” What are you supposed to do when two grown ass adults are in the throes of PTSD and depression and in a consenting relationship if they won’t listen to anyone? Not to mention while this is going on Lucien is busy trying to protect the spring court citizens, gets attacked and injured by amaranthas beast, is trying to help Tamlin rebuild the spring court and dealing w his own mental health issues too. He’s being put in the middle of Tamlin and Feyre and tries to help them both and they don’t listen but “he didn’t do enough”? I’m sorry what a senseless argument that is…

Let’s look at the flip side… if you blame Lucien for not “helping feyre enough” do you blame Azriel for not helping feyre or nesta as well? Azriel had no issue going along with Rhysand taking away feyres bodily autonomy or lying to his high lady… Azriel said nothing when everyone found out Nesta could make made weapons but Amren & Rhysand felt she shouldn’t know about her own body (Rhysand seems to have a pattern of keeping info from women about there own bodies🥴), Azriel said nothing when Amren lied about court laws to manipulate Nesta into the house of wind or when they actually locked her in the HOW. How about in HOFAS when rhysand exploded rooms out of his anger for Nesta and he triggered ember, azriel said nothing to defend Nesta or call Rhys out and azriel had actually been around Bryce and got to know her more then them. You can’t say Lucien is a coward and didn’t help Feyre enough if you don’t hold that same smoke for Azriel in all these situations either. Let’s also not forget Lucien went on a dangerous mission to find their dad and Vassa and helped fight in the war. Lucien is no coward.

⭐️Now let’s move on to Azriel is just a incel who feels he’s entitled to women and only wants sex…

If you truly feel this about Azriel after Acosf and Hofas you don’t understand his character. Sorry not sorry. This man has never once acted entitled to a woman. “ well he literally says in his bonus chapter he feels should get elain because she’s the third sister”. No he doesn’t. He was asking how it’s possible the three of them came into their lives and rhysand and cassian fall in love and are mates to Feyre/ Nesta but he has feelings for Elain and yet can’t be with her. He was questioning fate over Elain. We know this because he then goes on to question his own damn religion over her too when he questions the cauldron over her. Friends let’s be so for real here…. You don’t hang out in the garden until the wee hours of the morning with someone, you don’t risk your life not caring you could die to rescue someone and then carry them while your bleeding out and won’t go get looked at until you know there ok…. You don’t save someone’s gift for a year and look at it every night… you dont lend someone your most prized possession that you never even let your best friends or anyone else touch… if you just feel only lust or entitlement to them. You and I both know Azriel has deep feelings for Elain. The antis know it too no matter how much they try and act like they don’t.

Let’s look at the flip side of this… if you hold this against Azriel do you also hold this against Lucien? Remember when Lucien left with feyre to go to the Nc to see if Elain was worth it? Or how about the first thoughts he had when he saw her at the spring court being “Touch her, smell her, taste her—“ even though he noticed how her depression had made her so thin… “well those are mate instincts” your right they are but that was still one of the first things he thought… so again you can’t act like azriel is a incel who only wants elain for a booty call and is entitled to her when Lucien thinks lustful thoughts about her and doesn’t even know her like Azriel does.

✨At the end of the day BOTH Lucien and Azriel are good men. Let’s not forget Feyre even talks about how good of a man Lucien is to Elain. We all know how the inner circle feels about Azriel as well. It is evident by both of thier actions they both have great hearts. I hate when either sides put either down because of the ships. You can still love a character and ship them with whoever.✨

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Empressnight_30 asked via Ao3:

What if Mk and Bai He, the adopted children of Shadopeach, were yandere for the reader? They get reunited with their fathers and meet the reader. Mk and Bai He are a bit apprehensive of the reader but slowly warm up to them. They start thinking that the reader is a mom to them. That’s when they become platonic yandere.

Mk trying show off his cool moves to his “mom” and Bai He would be picking flowers for her “mom”. Mk and Bai He see all of five of them being a happy royal family. They reluctantly accept Spirit as their Aunt. They want to ride of her like their dads but knows it will make their “mom” upset.

They are both bloodthirsty but not as bad as their dads. You know, since it is a Warlord Au. They would do anything for their “mom,” and just like their dads, they wouldn't push the envelope and would back off if their “mom” told them to.

Like the idea of the family being yandere for reader.

>>>

Oh, I like these dynamics for sure. That would be a cool read for sure. I however have a different approach that I was planning.

Mk does have a slight Yandere gene that he got from Wukong and Macaque, this gene is directed for someone else though. In this au he was born from the stone like Wukong. However because Macaque was always around the island he also got some attributes from him.

So, this boy has six ears, golden eyes and of course his dark brown fur. He is more powerful than in the show but of course also has a hard time controlling his power. Well that depends on if I have the monkey duo raise him or if I have Pigsy raise him. Probably Wukong and Macaque, just got to get through some plotting issues I’m having. Some changing stuff around.

Anyways, when he meets Reader, he would definitely see her as a mother figure, he’s a loving kid so doesn’t dislike her but he’s slow to warm up to her as a true friend. And for some reason she’s starting to pop up everywhere, he doesn’t know that she was his dads wife at first. But when he hears about it.

He actually tries to protect her from them, he likes his freedom and doesn’t want hers for be taken. So, he wouldn’t try to keep her on the island, but he would be very protective, like VERY protective of her. I see him as a stone trying to help her but also tries to make his dads happy, he doesn’t want his dads to be mad at him per say but he doesn’t want to take Reader’s freedom away. His feelings are very conflicted.

As for Spirit, he actually likes her. She’s a strong monkey demon who is willing to let him spar with her, and she helps him learn where his blind spots are. And NOT to underestimate your opponent. He does however find that she can be slightly annoying at times.

Bai He, oh now she is a character that I want to delve into a bit. I’ve actually got three ideas for her. Yes, one of them is the warlords raising her, another is that Reader could find her and take her in and the last is pretty angsty.

I see her as being slightly clingy since she was an orphan and wants the best for her mother, who cares for her a lot.

In the version that Wukong and Macaque raise her they find her abandoned by her parents who drop her off a ship. She washes up onto their shore and they take her in since she is so young, and their wife was human and would hate for them to throw out a human child. They grow fond of her and take care of her until they reunite with their wife. (Who she grows fond of immediately. Her dad and baba can comb through her hair just fine but her new mother is so gentle and sweet with it. She takes her time to care for not only of her hair but also to talk about anything and everything that she could ask about. She doesn’t make the world outside sound scary like her dads. She makes it sound beautiful.)

She also likes having another girl around that she can talk to.

She isn’t Yandere for Reader but she does want her to stay with the family. She wants Reader to be her mother in every way possible but she respects Reader’s decisions. No matter what this little girl loves and cares for her family even when they decide to travel away from each other.

The other version of Bai He was was thinking of was Reader taking her in actually. Reader raises Bai He along with two other rascals who are her oldest children. Anyways Bai he loves her mother and wants her life to stay just how it is. (The monkey duo have to win the child over too now)

And with this version… hehe~ Lets just say that the monkey duo don’t realize she’s adopted, they think that she’s Reader’s bio kid… So ya know, drama! They go trying to find Bai He’s dad but come up with nothing. They are jealous over someone who doesn’t even know Reader.

The last version was a more angsty one. In that version I thought about having Bai he as someone who the Lady Bone Demon/The Mayor raised to be LBD’s host. So she’s more traumatized but eventually after the LBD arc she’s adopted and loved by… dun dun dun Reader and the warlords!

Anyways I’m still deciding on the kids, but they aren’t Yandere for Reader. They instead want her to have the freedom she desires. So there is some tension between them and their dads, but they are loved by all three of their parents no matter what.

All of the kids have differing opinions on Spirit too, since she has ice like powers, Bai He finds her hard to trust. She doesn’t like the cold.

Hope this answered your question!

[jojo-ker06]

The people have spoken and they want:

✨️ORION LORE✨️

(WARNING: Might be longer than the Wishmas lore)

Normal Form Human Form

Introduction and Family:

Orion is an 17 year old prince from the star kingdom Estrellania.

Despite his parents ruleing over the kingdom of the deceased star-king Galaxius, they are not related to him. When King Galaxius was defeated in war with Rosas, the kingdom went to them since they had been friends and Galaxius had no wife or children.

Orions parents are King Aster and Queen Luminara.

(Family picture from when Orion was 7)

They once had a happy family life until the queen left them. She told her family that she would go down to earth to "settle things" there and promised the then seven year old Orion that she would return soon. But she never did and this caused his father to become very over-protective of Orion. King Aster stopped believing that his wife would ever return, but Orion didn't. He just knew that she couldn't be gone forever. Even though he wants to go to earth to search for his mother (and to maybe explore the earth after finding her), his father won't let him leave his home because he's too worried that he'll loose his only son and another person he loves. So call it luck for Orion (or bad luck for his dad) when Asha's wish knocks the star prince out of the sky.

Powers and other things:

All stars share the same abilities: Flight, the power to take on a human form and the form of a round little star, talking to animals and making things fly with stardust. But Stars who come from royalty have a bonus power: healing wounds with their tears.

What's also special about the stars is that they're born with a special power. It can be: controlling light or making animals actually talk, to name a few options. But royal stars are born with two special powers. Those can be common ones (from which I've mentioned two), but it could also be rare ones like: viewing things trough mirrors made by stars, shape-shifting into other people, to change constellations, and other things.

Stars don't unlock their full power potential until they are 18. So while they're not 18 yet, they can't use their powers too long because it exhausts them too much. Orion will turn 18 later in the story, but I'm sure THAT'S totally not plot relevant or anything😅.

Orions two special powers are:

-being able to change sizes while in round star form.

- Something else I won't reveal yet because it's super plot relevant (and I still want you to be interested in my rewrite and not get bored lol)

A little fun fact about his plushie-form: While he's in it, he can't really communicate with humans. The thing that humans hear when he's talking while in that form is little squeaks (like a squeaky-toy lol)

It is also this form that Morado (the pet cat of the royals) loves to hunt. Morado really loves shiny objects and that's what Plushie-form Orion basically is to him. There will be little chase scenes between the two, where Morado wants to grab the little plush and Orion has to escape. Too bad his dust makes things fly lol.

Emotions and reactions:

When feeling different emotions, Orions light changes according to his feelings.

When in his normal mood, his light is and warm bright, but still not eye-hurtingly bright.

When extremly happy, he shines VERY, VERY bright. You would probably need sunglasses if you meet him like this lol.

When sad, his light dims down.

But if you somehow managed to get him super angry, and I mean, smoke-coming-out-of-his-ears-angry, then his hair turns into fire and he becomes filled with cartoonish rage.

Orion actually rarely gets angry in any way. Not just because he's a peaceful and optimistic person but also because he himself thinks that he'd be useless without his happy mood. He made himself believe that he can only be usefull if he's always helping others and is constantly happy, because wishing stars are always supposed to be helping those in need and don't require help themselfs. He puts himself under pressure and is always talking himself down for the tiniest flaws he made or makes. Instead of talking about it, he puts a smile on and continues to offer his help to others but never wants help for himself because he made himself think that that makes him weak. He knows that it isn't true, but still, it scares him.

He also dosen't cry infront of others and does it when he's completly alone. I plan to add a scene where Asha, not being able to sleep, accidently finds Orion crying. Before that point it was always Orion who comforted her and listened to her, but now Orion is the one talking and Asha is the one listening.

And that's it for the lore about Orion! I hope you enjoyed it, didn't get too bored while reading and liked the little sketches I made✨️. Have a great day/afternoon/evening/night! 👋

(Tagging Time: @starss-artss @spectator-zee @rascalentertainments @your-ne1ghbor @dangerousflowerpanda )

[beef-brisket]

Angel smiled: I'll style it, and every sinner and demon will be looking at you, but there's only one that really matters~.

Adam scoffs: I can get attention very easily... I just don't know why he's suddenly interested.

Angel: "Suddenly"? Babe. He's been interested since you got here.

Adam: Don't be offended if I tell you you're full of shit.

Adam folds his arms as Angel starts brushing his hair.

Angel: I'm very offended. The fuck went on with you two anyway? I know the whole wife thing, but I think it's more than that.

Adam: Don't know what you're talking about...

Angel: Now you're the one full of shit. I can read people, Adam. And as much as you claim to hate the short, red, and spicy king, I have a feeling that's more of a shield than anything.

Adam scoffed: A shield? Seriously? No. There's no fucking shield. I'm not a pussy, I don't need shielding.

Angel: That's what every traumatized dilf says. News flash, big guy, you're in Hell. Not Heaven. There's not of that "men don't show feelings" bullshit. We're all human, we all feel. Even the big bad exorcist.

Adam: ...It doesn't matter. Not now. Honestly, I don't think it ever did matter...

Angel: And what's this "did"?

Adam: I don't know. Shit.

Angel: I think "did" is you.

Adam: I'm not "did". "Did" is a fucking loser... I'm not a loser.

Angel pulled out the curling iron and started heating it up.

Angel: "Did" had a big role to play, right? Seemed to be a bigger role than everyone else's. Maybe "did" was forced to push their feelings down to keep others happy. To keep others comfortable. Maybe "did" was told they didn't matter, maybe "did" was told to protect his wife from his best friend, maybe "did" was being pressured by Heaven to be the big strong protector, when there was nothing to protect anyone from.

Adam stayed silent, even when Angel started curling his hair.

Angel: Heaven put a lot of pressure on "did." Making "did" feel like they didn't matter because when they failed, they were punished more servery than the ones that actually did wrong. They let Lilith off easy, didn't they. They let Lucifer off even easier. He's a fucking king. Eve, well. I have a feeling that once she became self-aware, she wasn't too keen on Heaven's whole plan, right?

Angel was silent for a minute or so before continuing.

Angel: I think "did" is Adam. And I think Adam didn't deserve any of this. I think you were doomed front the start, babe.

Adam could feel tears pool in his eyes, but he tried to hold them off as Angel crouched in front of him, amd put his hands on his knees.

Angel: Babe. You hate so much about yourself. You're not an asshole or a bastard. You're pushing people away before they get too close. You don't want to get hurt again. But I think-.

Adam looks at Angel as he cups his face, and give him the warmest smile.

Angel: I think Adam deserves love. And another chance. We all want to know the real Adam. The Adam that's behind the shield. And, think of your hair as the first step to that. A small step for others, but a massive step for you. And that's so important, Adam. So important.

Adam wiped his eyes: N-No one's loved me for thousands of years... h-he's playing me, Angel. He's probably j-just going to humiliate me, like she did...

Angel stood and pulled Adam into a hug, using all three sets of his arms. His lower set rubbed his back while his middle set held him firmly, his top set ran their fingers through his warm, golden hair.

Angel: You've been fucked over so many times, and you've held onto that pain. Loves... amazing, babe. Being in that garden, being made along with two others who are learning at the same time as you, having them be named your wife, isn't love. You were new, you all were. That wasn't love, Adam. Not saying you'll ever love Lucifer, fuck, you don't even have to forgive him. Hold onto that anger and hate all you want, but I swear, you be so much happier without it. You'll be freer without it. And you'll ve giving one of the most important people in your past, another chance. And Adam?

Angel pulls away so Adam can look up at him. His heart breaks at how defeated and tired Adam looks.

Angel: If he fucks this up. Then that's his fucking loss. And if you ever want out of this place, I know you can make a name for yourself. You're fucking amazing. You don't need anyone to be you. You just need to give you a shot.

Adam nods and blushes as Angel pulls him into another hug.

Angel: Besides. I'd happily kick his ass for you~.

Blonde!Adam au!

It's stupid and I love it.

After dying and waking up again in Hell, Adam's demon form is how he looked in Eden. Exactly.

Blonde hair and all.

Before Adam went to the hotel, he was able to fine (steal) himself some clothes, so he made sure to have a hoodie on so no one would see his hair.

The only times he'd take it off is when he's in his room. He's craving that hair dye, but he's too shit scared to leave his room, let alone the hotel (he doesn't know that part of his punishment is that hair dye doesn't work on him 🤷))

So far, his hoodie has been working fine until one morning when Adam is sick and is late for one of his sessions, and Lucifer teleports into his room.

Lucifer: I'm sick of you doing nothing! I allowed you here because you're meant to be working your ass off towards redemption! Now, get up! The sooner you do that, the sooner you can get out of my realm-!

Lucifer pulls back the covers. If Adam didn't feel like shit, he would have fought back.

Lucifer stares at Adam. He completely forgot that blonde was his natural colour.

He touches a strand, making Adam groan and try to smack Lucifer's hand away.

Lucifer: ...And they say my hair is like gold...

So everything is the same but Adam is just blonde as a sinner? If hair dye didn't work he would get a wig lmao

Adams laying there feeling like shit and Lucifer is just touching his hair lol 😆