#if my roommate thinks i'm being odd right now. let her think i'm being odd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beenbaanbuun · 1 year ago

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Late Night, Come Home - Kim Seokjin

It's been a while... sorry about that. I went through a period of writers block that turned into a year of writers block. Mix that with the fact that I travelled to the other side of the world for three months this summer. I've been a little busy lmaoooooo. Buy, hey, I'm back. No idea how often I'll be writing or posting and I wont promise anything, but this is a start, right?

Words: 3.2k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, Making out, Jin being the nicest man alive

You stood there, dripping rainwater onto the door mat outside of your neighbour's apartment. It was a long shot given the fact that it was almost 3 AM, but you had no choice. You couldn’t get into your own apartment and you desperately needed somewhere to stay for the night. You knocked again, the guilt of potentially waking him up already gnawing at you.

“I’m coming,” a voice said from the other side of the door. The jingle of keys soon followed and before you knew it, the door swung open to reveal Kim Seokjin. Your neighbour.

He stood there, looking down at you with barely open eyes. Pyjama bottoms hung loose around his hips as if they’d just been thrown on before he came to open the door, but he hadn’t had the courtesy to throw on a top. The knowledge that your neighbour slept naked sunk in slowly, a pink blush steadily rising through your body.

“Hi, Mr Kim,” you greeted, voice sheepish.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, “makes me feel old.”

It was awkward. You didn’t know what to say. After all, you couldn’t exactly just barge into his house, nor could you really ask him if he’d let you sleep there. Your mother had always taught you that it was good manners to wait to be invited in. The last thing you wanted was to add to that by making him think you were rude.

“Sorry,” you spluttered. You couldn’t look at him, scared that your eyes would linger for too long on his toned abs or his plush lips that you hadn’t really paid much attention to until now. Instead, you looked at your feet and the wet patch that surrounded them. You were lucky the hallway was sheltered, although you doubted your clothes could soak up any more water if they tried.

“No problem,” he was avoiding looking at you too. You’d clearly gone out for the night and the tight white dress that had gone see through in the rain left nothing to the imagination. As much as he wanted to take a good long stare, he was a gentleman. “I assume it’s an emergency.”

Was it? It felt stupid to say that it was, especially when the whole situation was avoidable. But as you stood there, terrified of the thought of having to sleep in the hallway all night, you decided that yes, it was an emergency. With your phone, keys and money all in your roommate’s bag, there really was no other word for it. Of course, you couldn’t help but remind yourself that if you’d taken your own bag, you wouldn’t be standing on your neighbour’s doorstep wondering if he’d give you a bed for the night. Hindsight was a wonderful thing.

“I’m locked out,” you muttered, embarrassed about your predicament, “Kate has all my stuff and she’s off with her man doing… something.”

At the mention of your roommate, he rolled his eyes into the back of his head. It seemed odd that he had an issue with her given that the two rarely spoke. They’d say ‘hi’ to each other in the hall on occasion, but that was the extent of their contact with one another.

“You’d best come in then,” the door was opened wider and Seokjin stepped back so that you could enter his home. You gladly obliged, limping slightly as you stepped over the threshold. You hadn’t noticed how bad your shoes had rubbed on the way back. You guessed you were too busy trying not to catch hypothermia. The pain was immeasurable though, and you yelped out as you took the step.

Seokjin just shot you an unreadable look and gestured for you to stay there. It was his home, so you listened to him. It would be impolite not to. He scurried further into his apartment, disappearing for a moment or two. You didn’t mind though; it gave you plenty of time to inspect your surroundings.

His apartment was much nicer than your own. Cleaner too. The wooden floors didn’t have so many chips, and the sage green paint wasn’t peeling away from the walls. The mirror that hung above his hardwood dresser was polished and lacked all the makeup splatters and finger marks that gave your own hallway mirror character. Even the plants he kept in there were so much nicer. Each of them was thriving, a plethora of healthy leaves coming from the stems, whereas yours were all brown and decaying.

You grinned to yourself, the thought of Seokjin waking up every morning and watering his plants filling up your brain. You wondered if he wore the same checkered pyjama bottoms as he shuffled around with a watering can in one hand and a coffee in the other. It was almost sweet, the way that you pictured him in your brain.

“You’re looking mighty happy for someone who resembles a drowned rat,” the grumpy voice of your neighbour brought you back down to earth though, wiping the smile off your face entirely. “Here.”

You focussed on him, noticing that he now had a lilac hoodie on. It was hard to hide your disappointment in the fact that you could no longer sneak tiny glances at his tanned stomach, but at least now you could look at him without feeling like a dirty voyeur.

In one hand was a fluffy towel, lilac to match his jumper. In the other was a set of clothes with a pair of fluffy socks placed gently on top. Given your height differences, you were almost positive that his clothes would be way too big on you, but you were still thankful for the kind gesture. Honestly, you’d wear anything if it meant that you no longer had to feel the cheap material of your dress clinging to you like plastic wrap.

“Oh, thank you,” you kept your responses to him formal, despite the fact that he didn’t have the courtesy to do the same. He did live here, you supposed, and it was 3 AM. He was probably too tired to act polite to the girl who had shown up on his doorstep. You were honestly thankful enough that he let you in in the first place. “Is there a bathroom I can change in?”

He nodded.

“Down the hall to the left,” he said, “take your shoes off first, though. I’ve done well to avoid any chips.”

Once again, you felt a twinge of embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you were just about to stroll across his pristine floor in the very shoes that were responsible for half of the dints in your own. How very inconsiderate of you, you scolded yourself as you slipped them off.

“Thank you,” you said again.

“Meet me in the kitchen when you’re changed, okay?” You nodded before shuffling your way to his bathroom.

You were right, the clothes were huge on you. Not in a bad way, though. They were warm and cozy and the sleeves fell over your hands so you could make sweater paws with them. The material felt like clouds as it brushed against your damp, icy skin, and you were dreading when the time came for you to take them off and change back into your own clothes. How could you when you’d now felt the luxury of Seokjin’s?

The towel he’d given you was wrapped around your hair, slowly taking in all the water that had weighed it down. It felt good to no longer have long, wet strands sticking to your face and neck, and you were sure that with the quality of the towel, it’d be dry in no time.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, a shy smile rising to your face as you realised just what was happening. It was like something out of a romance novel, except for the fact you were pretty sure your neighbour was only doing this because he was a good person, not because he was secretly in love with you. You took a deep breath and controlled your expression before you opened the bathroom door and followed the sound of a microwave spinning to the kitchen.

As you stepped into the room, Seokjin was busy taking whatever it was out of the microwave. It smelled of stew, and the thought of a nice warm meal made your stomach rumble. The sudden sound caught his attention, and once again, you felt a familiar heat in your cheeks.

“Come sit,” he pointed at a chair as he finished preparing the food, “It’s leftovers from today, but it should still be fresh.”

Honestly, you didn’t care about the freshness. You were just flattered that he’d gone out of his way to get you some food, even if all he did was microwave it.

“Thank you.”

“Is ‘thank you’ the only thing you’re capable of saying?” His question caught you off guard a little. What else did he want you to say? You sent him a questioning look in return. “Well, you show up at my doorstep at stupid O’clock and all you say is you can’t get into your own apartment? I want a little more information than that, don’t you think?”

You guessed he was right. You’d given him as little information as humanly possible and yet he still had the kindness to let you into his home, lend you his clothes and feed you.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Everything, really,” he replied, “from the beginning.”

As you started to explain how on earth you got stranded, Seokjin moved to sit down across from you with a plate full of warm stew in his hand. He pushed it across to you, briefly interrupting your story to tell you to eat. You simply smiled, thanking him once again, and took the fork from his hand. Every so often, he’d take a break from listening to you and gesture to the food to remind you to take a bite. It seemed you were so wrapped up in the events of the night that you couldn’t even focus on anything other than recounting them.

You didn’t know why, though. It’s not like you felt angry or betrayed by your friend, even though you probably should have. In your mind, you couldn’t help but try and justify her actions. She was sad about losing her job, and how was she to know that Lewis would be there to seduce her? She probably thought that staying with Lewis for the night would help get rid of some of her frustrations.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Explaining the whole situation just made you feel worse about the whole thing. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame her. She was your best friend after all. “She’s just forgetful.”

“Why are you defending her?” Seokjin grumbled.

“She’s my friend.

“And she treats you like shit,” his voice was loud, but he wasn't angry. Frustrated was a better word to describe it. Annoyed, possibly, at your ignorance of your friend’s actions. You couldn't help but feel ashamed of your instinct to forgive her no matter what. “She’s lucky you made it here safe, you know. Anything could’ve happened.”

You felt like a child being scolded, and yet you knew you needed to hear it. It was the same things you’d been telling yourself for a while now, but ignoring your thoughts seemed like the best course of action. Having someone else lay them out in front of you made you realise just how stupid you’d been to value your friendship over your feelings.

There was a familiar ache in your head and your eyes welled up with glistening tears. Everything had just piled up and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. It’s just a shame you were sat with a man you barely knew instead of alone in your bedroom with a bottle of wine by your side to comfort you.

And you half expected the atmosphere to get even more awkward. What, with you hunched over and sobbing into a half-eaten bowl of stew that was quickly going cold? It wouldn’t have been a surprise to you if Seokjin sat there in silence, unsure of what to do to help the woman he’d invited into his home.

But then you heard his chair legs scrape along the floor, and the pitter patter of bare feet on the tile floor. And before you knew it, he’d squatted down next to you and placed a warm hand on your back. Soft, calming hushes left his mouth as soothing shapes were drawn onto your spine.

“Get it all out, Y/N,” he whispered, “bottling it up never does any good.”

So you did. It was about 5 minutes before your tears ran out and all that was left were pathetic little sniffles every now and then. Seokjin remained silent, the only semblance of proof that he was still there being the hand that remained firmly on your spine. You were grateful; you didn’t need him to say anything else at that moment. You knew all you had to know.

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you quietly snivelled out. He let out a snort of laughter.

“I thought I told you to stop saying thank you,” you nodded, even though you knew you wouldn’t stop. You needed him to know you were grateful for everything he’d done. He didn’t have to let you into his home, just like he didn’t have to lend you clothes or feed you. He didn’t even have to sit and comfort you as you cried, and yet he did. As silly as you sounded saying it, you felt indebted to him. “And call me Jin. I think we’re past formalities.”

“Are we?”

“I think so,” his voice remained soft as he talked to you as if he was still trying to help you through your mini-breakdown. “Practically best friends, by my standards.”

That fetched a laugh out of you. You’d barely spoken to the man before tonight, and yet he seemed intent on making you feel comfortable with him. And in a strange way, you did. He’d shown a lot more care towards you than he would if he classed you as a stranger, even though that’s pretty much what you were. You seemed to trust him more than a stranger too. Perhaps it was a mutual desire for something more to come out of this. A friendship, perhaps, although you wouldn’t mind if it led to even more than that. Seokjin was among some of the best-looking men you’d ever seen…

“Sure we are,” you gave him a sad smile, “Jin.”

He smiled in return.

“That’s more like it,” the grin on his face was obvious when he spoke. “Now, how about you finish your stew and we can go get you settled into the spare room.”

You let out a chuckle as he grabbed the spoon and held it up to your lips. He made a show of blowing on the food to cool it down, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the proximity of his face to yours. As the spoon made contact with your ever-so-slightly parted lips, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

And it seemed as though he couldn’t either. As the spoon breached your lips he let out a heavy breath through his own. You didn’t know where the sudden tension came from, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Your only hope was that he felt it too. That he wanted to put his lips on yours just as badly as you wanted him to.

And God, did you want him to.

You didn’t even know where the urge had come from. The man had never piqued your interest before tonight, but perhaps seeing him in such a… domestic setting was what was getting you going. The pyjama pants that mismatched his hoodie in such a perfect way, or perhaps the bed head that he hadn’t even bothered to sort out since you’d stepped through his front door. Everything about him was just so familiar, and you didn’t even know the man.

He did the same thing, grabbing a spoonful of stew before lifting it up to your face and blowing. Whether intentional or not, his breath tickled your face and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose.

“You’re kind of cute, you know,” Jin whispered, once more pushing the food into your awaiting mouth. “I never noticed until now, but Jesus Christ, I could just…”

He trailed off, but you wanted nothing more than to hear what he had to say. You swallowed.

“Just what?”

There was a thud as the spoon hit the table and the hand that held it made it’s way up to your cheek. It rested there, thumb brushing your soft skin.

“Just want to kiss you, baby,” he chuckled, leaning in a little closer until his face was just an inch from yours. “Are you okay with that?”

Of course, you nodded. Enthusiastically, actually, which brought a bright smile to Jin’s face, but he made no move.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, Jin,” your voice was quiet, “please kiss me.”

And with that, his lips were on yours. It was slow at first, as if the two of you were finding your feet. The way his plush lips gently caressed yours as the pad of his thumb matched the rhythm of the kiss on your cheek.

It wasn’t long until you got a little braver, though, raising your own hands so you could grip onto his messy locks and pull him closer to you. He smiled against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip with his exposed teeth. There was a sharp intake of breath from you before you dive back in for more, this time with a little more urgency.

Lips crashed against lips feverishly and you couldn’t help but let out a little squeak as his tongue brushed against your lower lip. You let him in, of course, wanting nothing more than to feel Jin close. He seemed to realise that quickly, tugging your body to the edge of the seat and shuffling himself so that he was kneeling between your legs. You spread them wide so he could slot inside, as though the two of you were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

It was a little strange, actually, how well the two of you seemed to fit together. His hair in your fingers felt normal, as did the way his large hands felt on your sides, and even though you’d perhaps spoken 10 words to one another since moving in next door, the feeling of him between your legs felt… perfect.

Like he belonged there.

Eventually, the two of you pulled away for air and soft, breathy laughs filled the air.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he laughed, leaning his forehead against yours, “I didn’t think I’d be making out with my neighbour at 4 in the morning, and yet…”

“Here we are.”

“Here we are,” he grinned, “you must be tired.”

You nodded, although you wouldn't have minded staying up later with Jin.

But the man in question stood up, holding a hand out to you, and you couldn't help but let him pull you to your feet.

“Let's get you to bed.”

#bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts imagines #kim seokjin #bangtan fluff #bangtan scenarios #bangtan oneshot #bts oneshots #seokjin fluff #jin fluff

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posttexasstressdisorder · 9 days ago

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To my tumblr homies...

...and y'all know who y'all are...

Let's hope the coming year isn't nearly as bad as we think it's gonna be.

Something tells me there may be something out of the ordinary happen in this shitshow that we can't see because reasons.

Reasons like doomscroll propaganda, like Yet Another Influx of Bots...pornbots, russian psyop bots. liking posts from 3 or 4 years ago, and following.

Case in point, one I blocked yesterday: seemed to be someone "on our side", with multiple posts generally supportive of the Good Guys, but in their one-page-blog, there was 1) an antimask post, and 2) an antivax post, and 3) a political post basically saying we're doomed.

I'd advise everyone to block all unfamiliar usernames, especially those with obvious pornbot names like "sweetemily98", etc. See unfamiliar usernames in your likes or follows? Nuke-em!

These past ten days away from posting have been odd and rough. One of our number, my brother-from-another-mother in eastern OR called me out of the blue two days after xmas to tell me his wife had passed away that morning. This one hit hard...wonderful lady, he and I have been bros for 25+ years now...the two of them were beyond kind when I went on my big road trip in '13. They loaned me their vanagon to camp in for a week...just wonderful folks. And she made a damn fine breakfast. Please send some love to my bro. He'll know.

As for my situation, I tried to just let myself collapse for a few days. Tried. Downstairs neighbor situation gone DefCon4. Banging/thumping long into the night, and all day. Noxious chemical smells, several different ones, wafting up through the floorboards. Sometimes I wake up with my bronchs completely closed, especially when she uses one particular one.

I am, essentially, being poisoned in my own bed. They refuse to change their behavior, except to maybe bang less loudly. Chemical fumes come up through the floor like they are IN MY BEDROOM.

I did some googlin', and I think I figured out what they're doing: the daughter is probably making fake braids and "weaves" out of synthetic hair. google the dangers of that shit. I'm at wits end. I've had the manager up here a couple times to listen and smell but they always stop what they're doing when he's here...they see him walk up the stairwell.

She came up and screamed lies at my front door, trying to make all the other neighbors think I was the bad guy. She says the noise I hear is "children next door running up and down their livingroom". Bullshit. Bitch responds when I say something loud enough for her to hear: either gets mad and slams it all harder, or takes whatever it is into the bathroom, which is just as bad, and makes worse smells.

A few times she tried to bang softer, but every thump hits me in the kidneys. My PTSD is off the hook. I could not sleep for four straight nights. She went until 3:30 am one night, regularly goes until after 1am. Absolutley unresponsive. Absolutely not taking responsibility for endangering my health. I have asthma. These fumes are literally killing me in my sleep.

She refuses to do this in another part of the apartment, like the living room, or the kitchen where there is a VENTILATION hood, no no no she HAS to do it right under my fucking bed.

I am a nervous fucking wreck. I just re-added up bills for January and now I am gonna be like $45 short. I put one fucking gallon of gas in my truck, afraid to put more. I will have to only partially pay the Electric bill, I guess.

Living in abject poverty, in what is essentially an un-safe place that costs $2800/mo. And the agency that is trying to find me a roommate said i needed to "lower my price" to $1300/mo, but that won't pay the fucking rent.

I got notified in October that I am on the "waiting list" for a really cool "seniors only" subsidized complex in Berkeley that is on a creek, next to a park, run by a nonprofit org, that will take 1/3 of my SSI as the rent. I might actually be able to...you know, LIVE.

But it may be literally YEARS before I can actually end up there. I went back to the listing, and they say "no previous evictions", so if I finally am evicted for being broke, I won't be able to get into that complex.

I have no idea where i am on the list, I have no idea how many old people would essentially have to die for me to finally get an apartment there. I've been doing my best to just keep repeating a little mantra of "my new address is..." all the way down to the zip code. Over and over. I don't know what the fuck else to do.

The stress of this shit, plus the incoming shitshow that we all know is gonna happen, feels fucking lethal. But I'm a PTSD-stricken, broken old autistic nearly 66 year old man who can't really keep up the energy to "mask" enough to leave the house and get groceries, so what do I know.

I know I woke up screaming from a nightmare this morning.

I feel like I'm being hyper-acutely "Spidey-Sensed" to death. And as I typed that, the thumping from downstairs started in again.

Drums. Drums in the deep. That never stop. I am living in the fucking Chamber of Mazarbul. Literally.

I am gonna wait until tomorrow to start posting "regularly" again. My energy levels are not gonna allow me to do the three radio show posts, I will have to cut it back to one a day. So that brings me to another point:

All the shows are on my archive page.

I made this a week-long poll, to get as many responses as possible before I make a firm decision.

To wrap this post up, thank you to all of y'all who have been so loving and supportive. Y'all are essentially all I got right now.

As we approach this symbolically "new" year, I hope we all wind up in better, safer, more humane circumstances.

Love y'all,

PTSD (aka Mr. Baggins)

#radio free tumblr

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mustfindcreativeusername · 5 months ago

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Granada Holmes season 1 thoughts

I (finally) started watching this with my grandma and my roommate, who decided to join us. Unfortunately grandma wasn't impressed (pacing) so she dropped it after ep 4. But me and my roommate are enjoying it! So now we're watching it together, 1 ep/day.

Anyway here are my very unfiltered thoughts. Straight from the notes app

1- SCAN (30 iul)

Yessss. I liked it. A lot. Loved the disguises, i didn't even recognise him in the first disguise.

..why did they change it to "Irena" tho?? At least that's how they pronounced it. Weird.

At least they didn't butcher her personality

2. DANC (31 iul)

I liked this but it seemed slower. And after they get the bad news i feel like it should've been a bit.. worse? At least make the wounds more horrible. And why is Elsie still in the house? They had time to get her to a hospital.

3. NAVA (1 aug)

I hadn't read this one so i didn't know what to expect. I liked it. We made a lot of fun of Percy. I thought at one point that he had hidden them and was playing it up but no, he really was that dramatic.

Poor Holmes hurt his hand :(

Also very funny, i actually hurt my hand like 10 minutes after the episode ended.

Like during the episode I was all "awww do you want one of my pink peppa pig bandaids :(" and guess what. Guess fucking what.

4. SOLI (2 aug)

Well well well

I enjoyed this

I especially enjoyed Holmes beating up that creep

I have not read this story either but i listened to the Sherlock and Co episode. So i kinda knew the basics but not too much, yk.

My roommate appreciated how polite Holmes was with miss Smith. And i was reminded of that one part in the books where Holmes said that he thought of one of his clients like his own daughter. (Don't know what story it's from tho, i only saw it in screenshots on here)

I think it had a good ratio of intense (the obvious) and funny (holmes being kinda mean to watson, the ending :) )

Also the whole wedding in the woods bit was insane. Who would really think that that's enforceable. Jeez.

5. CROO (4 aug)

I mean it was alright. The "david" thing was a bit weird? Especially because she muttered it in her sleep? Like i guess it's something like calling someone a karen but still. The fact that she still said "david" in her sleep was odd.

Also what... How could someone do that? Indirectly (try to) kill a person who trusts you bc you like their girlfriend. That's insane.

He had it coming. Too bad it took 30 years🤷

Also Holmes being mean to that guy in the beginning was hilarious.

Oh oh and Watson's deduction at the end? "Elementary, my dear Holmes" :)))) that was good. We cheered for him

6. SPEC (5 aug)

AAAHH YEAASSSS YESS FINALLY this is my favourite story from the books, it's one of the ones i read when i was around 10 and it was my favourite then and yeah. Love it.

But yeah loved to finally see it on screen. I imagined the snake bigger and spotty-er but yeah. Oh and i loved the interactions between Holmes and Watson. And between them and Miss Stoner. (I told my roommate if i see one more person describe him as cold and emotionless, I'm throwing hands)

I liked that Holmes kinda felt bad for bringing Watson along because it was so dangerous, only for Watson to immediately go anything for you Beyonce :))

And then in the room, his hand shaking? Quality content. Bc yeah. It's a wild animal, it's unpredictable. (Super stressed at the end when he picked it up?? In his hands?? Like yea the leash was there but bruh-)

Also poor Watson being woken up twice :)) (does Holmes know how to wake someone Watson up like a normal person? Unclear)

Also also- "my intimate friend"

Yes

7. BLUE (6 aug)

Right so i do know the original story but i read it a while ago. I still think it's nice that they let the guy go but i remembered him more sympathetic in the books. Idk. Also, did Holmes keep the stone? I thought it was a bit of an odd choice. And how were they able to free the plumber guy without the culprit or the stone? Ehh yeaah, odd.

Also is everyone forgetting that Holmes and Watson aren't the only ones who know that the carbuncle is with them??

Anyway

God he looked so different at the beginning of the episode, before he did his hair. Also my roommate made a comment about having cigarettes for breakfast and. Yeah, petition to have this guy eat a normal meal?? *Sigh*

Also why did we see Watson with a bunch of presents and then never saw any one of them opened? Chehov's Christmas presents. I wanted to see what he got for Holmes

(At least we have the Sherlock and co episode...)

#sherlock holmes #granada holmes #granada sherlock #john watson #thoughts #scan #danc #nava #soli #croo #spec #blue #hope i got all the abbreviations right

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maryonmega · 7 months ago

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Twin Stars - Chapter 4

As you remenber (but really not?)

If the party had plans to split to look for itens, they were shattered the moment you joined. It's overwhelming, but you'll be blinded if you complain.

At the same time you're grateful the whole "woe is us, wish craft amnesia!" thing allows you to get away with generic or vague responses and internally panicking over being very much aware of how little to nothing you know about being a sibling, let alone a similar-aged one. You hope that those things can be brushed off by, well, everything. Stars, you were a mess long before looping trauma. At least on that, you and Stardust can agree.

"I don't really have a place to settle, I've been on the road for a good time." Truth.

"I was out of Vaugard for some, so I didn't find out about the King business untill a couple weeks ago." Truth.

"It feels so surreal I'm kind of mad, not gonna lie. Feel sidetracked." Half truth.

"Stardust is because he came after me." Half truth. If you patted a bug off one of shoulders that's another thing.

Good thing the Kid is as loose lips as their age can excuse. They're so clearly impatiente to get home.

You think about an angry voice yelling about their home being frozen. You were stupid and ripped it away from them. This Kid forgave the Traveler, but would yours forgive you?

You had to go back to the place you had left the rest of your attire, thankful for the warmt your cloak gave you and that you still don't have a lot on you (careful with the alcohol bottles, they're unlikely to break but not impossible). Maybe a matching set serves as extra evidence? You're siblings, yes, even have the same "made with love" type of clothing.

You don't feel... "things" thinking about this as much as you likely would before, but it's still there. How twisted is that? Grief pilled on top of grief?

You pull your hat down over your face untill the shopping is done and the group heads for an inn. At least you can do that again.

In some odd luck strike, your the group managed to get rooms on the same floor. As you and the Researcher make yourselves comfortable, you could hear the Traveler and the Fighter if you payed attention, tho not what they say. Maybe it's better this way.

You need to be careful. She might have accepted you, but that doesn't mean she trusts you. Stars, she might have offered to be your roommate because she doesn't trust you.

"So, a third person from the country that got erased."

"Ah, third?" Well you be blinded, she's not sparing you here, is she? Good thing you're not biting your tongue in such a cliche way.

"Yes. It's a curious thing, considering how long ago it seens to have been."

She's trying to bait you.

Don't let her.

"The other person didn't look like us, did them? I can't imagine the migrane if we turn out to be triplets."

The Reasercher shakes her head. It could be impression or wishful hopeful thinking, but you think she face could have softened.

Real or not, so did yours. You already knew she wasn't exacly like your Researcher, but this kind of reminder is just as painful. Better to take solace in her denial, now that would be messy.

"This is not about how your family tree branches, it's about a noted pattern. Sisyphus, do you percieve memory problems?"

Talk about not beating about the bush, eh? You should ask Stardust how the communication is going, when you get another alone time. Right now, tho, you have a bomb to difuse near your face.

You smile and clasp your hands.

"My, oh my, missy. Is that the impression you have of us? That we have terrible memory? I mean, I do have bad memory and used the royal we, but that's aside."

She showed with just her eyes that she listened, face hard to read. This still sens to be same. Fuck.

"Don't take it personally, Sisyphus. It wasn't intended as an insult to you or your ethnicity."

Right now, will extra details come across as a cover up? But silence wouldn't help with tension at all, it doesn't help that you can't foresee if she's going to slip into coldness or allow a bit of warmt out.

No, silly, she won't be warm. Even if you have a human face again, to her, you're still a stranger.

You grab your pants under your cloak.

"Miss, please, I'm trying to wiggle back into a family I don't even know if I can still call mine. Can I have more than a few hours to breath?"

Truth. Maybe that's why she decided to surrender.

"Of course. But don't try to run, young one. This involves me now."

"I know."

Truth.

The bottle calls you like a siren song. You take it and offer to the Researcher, who looks at it but rejects, before taking a swing.

You think about sharing a wine bottle, but that tought gets fuzzy with the burning sensation running down your throat. Maybe the "no" was for the best.

You only take off your cloak to prepare for bed, the heat in your gut more than welcome when it left your skin.

Even under the fog, before your eyes drift close, you can't help but wonder if she waited so you wouldn't be cornered.

The thought lingers as you allow nothingness to embrance you.

~★~

Loop is sharing a room with Odile. In party it was because you couldn't muster up the courage to insist, but there was the part that chose not to for selfish reasons. You know madame wouldn't offer just like that for no reason and don't think you could face her glare if you did, sure, but wanting to share with Isa was another. Your only defense is that you've had a boyfriend for longer than a sibling, even if the extra time was less than a week.

First hand experience is something new and your plays seen to have been packed with a good amount of lies, don't be too hard on yourself.

Stars, you think about how Loop would know things inside the House and wonder how much they could know now, even if their body changed.

Do they know about the daily breadowns in the time you were in bedrest?

You don't think so, but you didn't think they would help save you, either.

"Sif? Siffrin?"

Isa's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Even if it hasn't been that long, it's not hard to tell the new "we need to talk" tone. Sometimes you can't help but wonder if it's porpuseful. You turn away from your bag and towards him.

"Yes?"

Isa has his arms over his chest, expression serious but not dark. Good sign?

"I was thinking, the sibling is yours, the trauma, too, we can't dictate how you deal with associating both."

You feel goosebumps in your arms. You didn't think about that.

"But, that involves us, too, specially now. I really think it's important... No, it is really important for us to know how much you want Sisyphus to know. Or not know. I don't want to backslide your talking progress" even tho it's tiny and partly coughed out under mental duress "but I don't want to trample a boundary either. We can figure things out, I'm sure! But that depends on what you want."

You're already half panicked just with Loop being Odile's roommate. The thought of pretending like they know nothing is terrifying to the point you think you'll faint here and now if you say you don't want to tell.

Well, you be blinded, you'll have to act like you're giving a newcomer special treatment.

"I'll tell them about the loops. When we have an alone time."

"You will?"

"Yes. Ah, don't get it wrong! It's not because I trusted you less! I just don't want to stun even more, specially when it's already so hard."

"Sif." His gaze siftned "It's fine. I'm glad you will."

"I really think I should tell one on one, though."

"And I can leave the room so you can have privacy when you talk."

What did you do to deserve this man?

You don't see Loop when you leave the room for dinner. "Out like a light", is how Odile described. You can sympathize. You were tired, you can't imagine how they were.

Besides, the little time it buys is welcome.

(Mother of inner monologues? Actual stuff will happen soon enough, I swear!

Loop: I don't want to ruin my new skin *proceeds to attack their liver*)

#isat fanfic #in stars and time fanfic #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #two hats spoilers #twinfrin au

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ofyoursilentreverie · 1 month ago

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finally finished the show! right before it got taken off of netflix and here are my final thoughts:

i'm actually not mad about lance being a farmer - i think as long as he's still in contact with everyone and visits other planets as well (with sam's stabalized teleduv) then that actually makes a lot of sense for him, one of the ending pictures shows him on altea too, so he definitely gets out (he might even still have his lion? not clear on that)

how in the world does lance have altean markings. they kissed. big whoop. zarkon didn't have any and clearly he and honerva did more than kiss

pidge!!! ah she's so cool and grown and building a creepy ai doll ??? idk but i like that she keeps doing her thing like always with her family

hunk and his cooking and the callbacks to previous episodes was great, i liked that it's clearly an arc that was developed although it probably could've been developed more and you can see him stepping into that role even beforehand with things like the altean cookies

keith also makes a lot of sense to me, but i'm sure he gets a little lonely, i did like how they had zethrid, ezor, and acxa included in the blade of marmora though

shiro's wedding!! i wish they'd included more about what he's doing beyond that, but i'm happy for him (and coran in the background is so funny)

as to actual plot, the ending didn't make a ton of sense to me as realities should be infinite and it also seems odd that one person could amass that much power but it's a show so i'll let it be

i don't like that it was never really addressed if the entity left allura or not - if it didn't, she should've had more power, but also if it did, then how was honerva affecting her when she was on the atlas

there was something nice about it ending with the original five and their lions, but i wish we knew more about what happened to the lions afterwards

anyways i really liked it and i can't believe it's off of netflix now, it was cruel and unusual of my roommate to suggest we watch it before it went off

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #text post

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alternativememories · 10 months ago

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both sides...

i have a friend who has sucked for a while now. i've been thinking about writing about it for a minute but i've been putting it off like everything with our friendship lately...but part of who i want to be is someone that shows up, even when things fucking suck, and i can't waste any more time. i know what i've got to do and it's time to rip the band-aid off. our friendship is over and i've gotta be real about it.

i'm fucking sad, man. i see him as a younger brother. so much of how we see things and approach things is similar to one another. the ways that he has sucked for some time are really similar to how i struggled when i was younger. he had a breakup recently, which in the big picture i thought would actually end up being good for him. i think both he and his ex have stuff that they need to work on individually and that this would be a good opportunity for him to get himself squared away.

but the spiral continues. the last time i saw him we talked about where he was with things and where he's headed and it was mostly half-assed excuses. it's apparent that he's not showing up for himself, let alone anyone else for that matter. he smokes, which has kept him comfortable in the cycle of not showing up in any meaningful way, and he lacks accountability. he's living with his parents right now and it seems like they're enabling his behavior.

it's shitty. we lived together up until the end of october and to be honest it was toxic as fuck. it came down to money and cleaning. in moving in, we agreed to not have his now-ex on the lease to keep things simple in case they ended up not working out as a couple. however, when she ended up staying at the apartment more than A and i and we wanted her to pay toward the bills, it was an issue *eye roll*. initially, the conversation about contributing was shut down bc homie talked to other roommate and he supposedly said that he didn't care if she paid and that was the end of it...(we'll revisit this)

at one point during this conflict, there was a text about wanting to be friends after the lease would end...i've thought a lot about that since. it took me some time to figure out why i couldn't help but fixate on it, but with where we are now i think i know the answer. the statement operates through an inherent assumption that how things were handled was damaging to our friendship. to be honest, it was. the bills conflict was infuriating bc the argument against contributing was school loan payments being high; meanwhile in watching behavior they ate out all the time. and you know, everyone has bills. but not everyone takes advantage of their friends to pay theirs.

with the cleaning thing, it became clear that he was frustrated by the cleanliness of the apartment but never communicated what those expectations even were. eventually we landed on a chore-board. but this wasn't without its problems bc it just led to them not being accountable for their share of the chores; beyond that, there was noticeable passive-aggressiveness toward the other roommate who tbh idk if he ever even agreed to in the first place. weird to someone to a standard they never agreed to but maybe that's just me...

when he and his ex broke up he told me a very specific story of what led to the fracture. i want to say that i found the specificity odd but dismissed it bc i was excited to have my friend back. when they were dating he was very reclusive and we were barely friends anymore. truthfully, we moved here in a pandemic and while i have loads of coworkers, he's really been my only friend here...but a few weeks ago i found out that it looks like he's lied about those specifics of the story that he told me, knowing that it fundamentally changes the reaction. it's manipulative.

in thinking about it, i've really tried to explain away or excuse the poor behavior...but to be honest, it's inexcusable and with what he's lied about, there's no recourse here...there's no way to police the behavior, and with him lying about it, no way to trust anything he says that it's even stopped. now i'm wondering what else he's lied about to get what he wants. the first thing that comes to mind is the bills conversation. it's a fundamental breach of trust and i don't think our friendship can be repaired. it fucking sucks and this fucking sucks but it is what it is...because he sucks.

#2024

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semper-legens · 1 year ago

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181. Shadow Wave, by Robert Muchamore

Owned: No, library Page count: 343 My summary: James' final mission is set to be a normal CHERUB mission - babysit the kids of some bigwig for a bit. Mundane, but at seventeen James isn't the prime CHERUB agent anymore. But when his old roommate Kyle comes in with a lot of information about his client's past, James and Kyle start hatching a new plan of their own. Protesting is far easier when you know your target's every move… My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

The final CHERUB book! Or, at least, the final book that I'm going to be covering here, as this is the last of James Adams' CHERUB career. He's seventeen now, so close to ageing out of the CHERUB programme, and needs to start thinking about his future and his career. This is the book that wraps it all up, and once again the narrative makes some weird decisions with regards to its focus and exactly what it puts emphasis on. But anyway. I've not got much today for preamble, so let's get into it!

Again, we have this very strange decision where the book isn't actually about the kids we've been following this whole time. About a quarter of the book is taken up with some flashbacks including Kyle helping out with basic training when he meets Aizat, a local Malaysian kid whose village is being destroyed and bought out by an oligarch named Tan Abdullah. That's the man whose kids are being protected by CHERUB in the present day. And a large part of those flashbacks involves a reporter who Kyle has contacted investigating Abdullah's exploitation in the area, once again following a character we've never met before rather than our main character in the final book of the series. I'd have thought that this book would pick up on the Brigands thread from the last book - something that doesn't rely on exposition, so we can use the time to explore our established characters a bit better. But no, the Brigands mission is wrapped up in a pretty anticlimactic way in the early parts of this book, and the main mission that this book focuses on is the babysitting mission with Abdullah's kids that James turns down. It's just a weird choice.

Anyway, James turns down the mission, but decides to help Kyle protest Abdullah on the sly. It's not a CHERUB operation or a sting operation in general, so the outcome we're working towards seems a bit fuzzy, which makes the way that the book wraps up seems odd. After being protested all day, and after reporters were digging into his career, Abdullah decides to flee with his family and ends up shooting himself. It just seems all too neat a conclusion, for a mission like this. Adullah takes himself out of the picture, so everything is fine. We don't get much on what happens to Aizat or his community or other communities like it, but that's not really what this book was going to be about? I'm also side-eyeing the character decisions made. James has never shown much of a conscience before, so him taking a stand is admirable, even if it does ring a bit hollow in the fact that he's soon to be leaving CHERUB, and cancelling on the mission has no real negative impact on him. Lauren's reasons for staying on the mission, meanwhile, are sound - she's earlier in her career than James, and if she turns down something easy like this she won't get juicier missions. But then all of that is undercut with another character saying she just wants to go shopping with the rich kids, which strikes me as a strange beat largely because Lauren is the one with the conscience - she's the principled veggie after the animal rights mission, after all. Odd characterisation.

So, what do I make of CHERUB as a whole? It's been largely a disappointing return for me, sadly. The series has some strange ideas of morality, and overall paints things as being a bit too black and white for my liking with casting antagonists as out-and-out villains or protagonists as uncomplicatedly good despite the ethics of each situation being far more complex. James as a character really suffers from what I can only assume was an effort to make him more appealing to the typical teenage boy, meaning that he's wildly homophobic and misogynistic in a way that isn't challenged by the narrative in a satisfactory manner. The choice to have most of the non-mission story be taken up with relationship drama is largely uninteresting, mostly because that kind of teen-soap-opera nonsense is at odds with the spy thriller genre of the books. While CHERUB as an organisation could be an interesting idea for a narrative, the fact that its ethics aren't satisfactorily examined in the story lead it to feel more like copaganda than anything else. That's not to say there's nothing to enjoy here - I did enjoy the books, and I carried on with the series to completion - but overall I don't remember it as well as I did, and that makes me a little sad, not gonna lie.

Next, time for some Doctor Who, and adventures with the Ninth Doctor.

#Shadow Wave #Robert Muchamore #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #3

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nientedal · 2 years ago

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for the fic writers ask meme, i’m rather curious about 9 & 10; which of your fics did you find the easiest and hardest to write?

From this ask meme!

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Each fic has its own challenges, but right now, it's probably a tie between Swansong and the Cold Fusion series. And for similar reasons! Both have complex plots - Swansong's is primarily emotional, with Megamind processing complex grief and a broken (and then new) mental link, and Roxanne processing having a roommate going through emotional turmoil, plus some mental stuff of her own...and then Metro Man's whole thing, and holy shit maybe there's still a chance, and mixing hope into the grief mix is just a fucking nightmare for everyone involved, and djf;aldjfa;ldjadflj;afjdj it's a mess. And because it's written in third person limited, rather than omniscient, there's only so much that I can tell readers directly. Which, in a story with so much happening internally, was...extremely frustrating, at times!

Cold Fusion's complexity is more events-based, but in that one I am having to balance the fact that there ARE external plotlines happening against the fact that...the primary focus of those fics is on the characters and their development. Also, for a LONG LONG TIME, I did not actually KNOW what the plot was, I was just sort of winging it, and now I DO know, and it's a lot bigger than I expected it to be? Which I think some people may not like. And on one hand, fuck 'em, I'm writing for me, but on the other hand, I do write fanfiction with my end goal being to share it with people, so my readers' enjoyment is absolutely a thing I have in mind, I'm not JUST writing for me. So, aaaaaaaaaaaa.

I am now also having to grapple with the fact that when I started writing Cold Fusion, many of my headcanons were different from what they are now. I was originally very set on it being canon-compliant, on ONLY working with things we knew from the source material and not doing my own worldbuilding more than was absolutely necessary. And then I fell into a depression hole for like 3 or 4 years and could barely force myself to write at all, and when I finally came blasting out of that hole on the Wellbutrin-fueled jet pack I titled Dive, the amount I cared about "canon compliant" had plummeted to pretty much zero. Writing Swansong helped with that, I think -- I had basically been writing nothing but Cold Fusion for AGES, and then Ramendobe slapped me in the face with that prompt, and I discovered that writing universe alterations was a lot of fun! And then Dive punted my desire to stay canon-compliant into the sun. So now, rewriting Cold Fusion as I post it to AO3, I am working with characters who are different from the way I now write them in other fics. I'm bringing some of my newer headcanons into that universe for shits and giggles, but still. It's an odd feeling.

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Another tie! Because I cannot make decision.

By Chance, which I wrote because my buddy ElfKid dropped a prompt into my askbox when I was like, "holy shit the ADHD is BAD tonight and I wanna see if I can write a one-shot in one evening," I think...? aahahaha actually no I just went and looked it up, and I had tagged my 'weh ADHD sucks' post with #hey if anyone is reading this send me a writing prompt and let's see wtf happens when i can't motherfuckin think lmaoooo and...I basically sat down, put the best of black sabbath on loop, and waited to see what fell out of my hands. And it was that. (Here's the original tumblr edition.)

and everything emptying into white was originally just some tags I had put on an ask from another friend of mine about Megamind purring, and I couldn't stop thinking about them and that day at work just SUCKED ASS and so I copied and pasted them into an AO3 draft on my phone at work and churned that out over the course of my lunch break. And then added a bunch to it during the next couple days.

(and I gotta give an honorable mention to Dive. I basically churned that thing out in less than a week of HOLY SHIT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN YEARS AND MY BRAIN JUST WOKE UP AND REMEMBERED HOW TO ENJOY THINGS adrenaline, it was great. It wasn't as easy to write as the other two, simply because it wasn't as short & sweet, but it was easy and I owe that fic a lot. So.)

#askbasket #anonymous #nonny mouse #dal is a fanfic #megamind #actually now that i'm thinking about it i think kbjones ALSO sent me a prompt that night that i meant to follow up on #WHOOPS #time to scroll ye olde aske boxe #(fun fact: like 90% of my best work has come from prompts from other people)#(i don't write all the prompts i receive but you never know)

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zepskies · 15 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

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

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

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

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

Yup. 😂😂

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-" "It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

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

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

Okay, Ben. You do you. 🤣🤣

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

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

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

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben. But you liked annoying him.

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

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

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 8.5K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

Ben's jaw tightened.

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

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

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

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

But this year was different, because he had you.

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

Ben wasn't used to that.

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

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

And yet there you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever the fuck that meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

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

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

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

Ben shakes it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

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

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

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

"Then why the fuck did she-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

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

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

"What?" Annie sputtered.

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

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

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

"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 🥰

Taglist for Take A Chance On Me:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

@spxideyver @zepskies @impala67stellawinchester

@reidtomewinchester @samanthadegaro @glossy01 @nikimisery

@tunnelvisionlove @incandxscents @winchester-stark @samahanta

@melonmochi

@kamisobsessed @whichwitchwanda @karolina-12110905 @jcollins03-blog

@pixviee @filmologetica @yvonneeeee @c1nnamong1rl29 @kmc1989

@livya99 @cherrygirl444 @tulipsvanilla @angrydragon90 @chi-raz

#lovely mutuals #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #the boys fanfiction #the boys tv #christmas fluff #annie january #hughie campbell #zepskies reads

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unsuredreamer · 5 months ago

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I’m honestly not that bad when I’m drunk I just become more chatty. I’m also far more coordinated when drunk so I don’t know how that works but whatever I’ll take it. I think her boyfriend said it was Skyy but I’m pretty sure it was mixed with Tito (he mixes his vodkas and makes the nastiest of flavors) all I know is when we got to fight of our lives that and the ginger shots were a no go anymore. I ended up just drinking water and lemonade the rest of the movie. Plus we just finished since one of my friends decided they wanted to get food. They all asked if this was a two part movie or if there was like a snyders cut because it was short and good but short.

As for what kind of vodka I like it usually depends on the day (I’m a seven shots in one cup kind of girl). If I’m in a drinking just because kind of mood I’ll mix some cheap vodka, usually burnetts, with a Red Bull, sprite, or a flavor mix pod. If I’m drinking because it’s been a day and I don’t like the day anymore I’ll try to find stolichnaya or Tito’s. Otherwise I’m not a fan of alcohol beyond maybe some wines.

As for friends and how we even got to watching Disney movies together is sort of a fun story. We all either live with each other or in the same apartment complex and we all apparently went to the same university or were from the same general area. Well because we were looking for roommates we found each other and then it turned out that my roommates were friends with two of my coworkers and so we started hanging out (fun fact I’m the loner of the group or the odd ball if you will). But at our university there was a Disney club and a couple of them were in the club and so at one of our very very long gatherings they brought up that they were in this club and what movie had just come out and then we all got to talking about our love of Disney movies (now mind you I hate talking and I hate being social I’m far too introverted but when it comes to Disney, marvel, and a few others baby I’m a social butterfly).

Let me tell you I’m the least productive especially on days off. I’ll do my laundry and some cleaning or I just take the day a watch some shows or movies. My roommates have dubbed me the “perfect girlfriend” for those who just want cuddles or like being in control (I’m just chill? Maybe? Idk but yeah like just tell me what you want to do and I’ll make sure we do it and that it’s a fun day😌).

How was work? What do you do (if you don’t mind me asking)?

What’s your favorite flavor vodka?

And are you a red or white wine kind of person?

Also what are your pronouns I feel awkward just calling someone babe or babygirl or anything gendered when I don’t know someone (I swear I can’t help but ask, consent and knowing what people are okay with is a must for me 🫠 it’s not to be awkward I promise).

Anyways I hope you ate today and stayed hydrated 😉

-🤺

Well, good for you, because my balance is completely off. And I feel like we all become a bit more chatty, for me, it gets me a little more confidence than usual (Which not always is a good thing)

Ugh, there's this part of fight of our lives that's hitting my brain in just the right ways.

Tbh Im not a big fan of alcohol too, sometimes when i do want to get drunk I just buy the cheapest wine there is, like 2 bottles and drink my ass off. When I'm in a mood when i just want to drink a little and maybe have some fun I usually drink beer.

From your little story I wonder how old are you? if you don't mind me asking of course.

And i sooo get you in being the introvert, but it's kind of weird on my side here. Because I'm introverted as shit at the same time being a people pleaser. Like if I do have to interact with strangers, I'll do the most maybe even too much. When i do become closer with someone I tend to be quieter, but it's a matter of time i get more comfortable, then, depending on days i can be either this or that (so confusing im sorry😭)

To be honest, I would love to do all kinds of things (like going kayaking or to the amusement park, just going to the gallery and walking around laughing, gokarting or just simply laying in bed, rotting and watching movies wigh snacks would be the most fun to me) I could do these alone but it's no fun 🥲 And I do have a lover but she is not really willing to do the things i would love to do, rather just lay in bed all the time. I mean, I like to be in bed cuddling and such, but all the time? Have some fun! Take me out, I'll take you out, just excite me.

Work was great actually, the time went quite fast even though we had some things to do. I work at a bakery! Where do you work love?

I'm not really a vodka lover, so I have not tried many, but one time, i was at a party. This girl made vodka shots with grapefruit juice and I drank like shot after shot. It was heavenly 🙌🏻

To be honest just give me wine and I'll be content x. What are your preferences?

Mine pronouns are she/her, what are yours love? I appreciate you asking. Consent is a must, I agree. (You certainly are not awkward, actually i feel like ur the nicest person. Made me smile so much in those two days of your reqs 😄)

I did and I hope you did too . Hope you have a wonderful day!

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gnattyplayssims · 2 years ago

Text

1943 Pt1 - The Orphanage

It was late summer and the kids from Canal Creek Orphanage were finishing up an afternoon of odd jobs. "Hey we're close to Pigulock Manor. You should come meet my new friend."

"Not today, I'm too tired!"

"I'll take you home Sof. Go ahead, Kyler, I'll catch up."

Kyler ran ahead and soon he and Stefan were having a good time on the monkey bars. "Look I can climb under here like a spider. Ahh!"

Stefan laughed as Kyler lost his grip, "I've never heard a spider make that noise before."

"Awe man I was trying to be cool!"

"Maybe next time"

As Kyler tried to get ahold of the bars neither of them noticed Nikolas come up. "Showing off again I see. Careful you don't fall on your head."

Kyler laughed nervously, "Stefan this is my friend Nikolas from the orphanage."

Stefan was quick to invite "Want to climb with us?"

Nikolas made a show of thinking about it before he shrugged, "Yeah that sounds fun."

"Sof get home okay?"

"Yeah she's been watching Mrs. Miller's brats the last week. Those kids are terrors so I can understand her being tired."

"I can't believe you guys actually have to work!"

Later that night Sofia snuck into Nik and Kyler's room. "How's the new roommate, Sof."

Nikolas nudged him knowing what Kyler really wanted to know.

"Oh Kyler she's awful. An actual witch." She laughed. "I think she might actually be able to shoot fire from her eyes!"

"Ah but I'd die a happy man."

Nikolas couldn't help himself anymore. "Don't fool yourself, you'd be miserable. She's pretty, but we all know she's not your dream girl"

"Nope I got my dream girl right here, huh Sof?"

Sofia giggled, "My hero of the monkey bars."

"You told her!?"

Unfortunately Danika was very talented and ladylike. The kind of young girl that families adopted. Like Sofia's childhood bestfriend, Ann, who was beautiful with a voice like an angel. People didn't adopt dreamers.

"Lost in fairy tales again I see."

"Leave me alone Mathias."

Tears welled up in Sofia's eyes and she couldn't hold them back. Mathias came to sit next to her. "Hey don't cry. I was just teasing. You'll get adopted I'm sure of it"

"When? I'm already 8 years old. I'm working as hard as I can but no one seems to want a girl who can read"

"Hey," Mathias grabbed her wrist pulling her hand away from her face as she wiped her nose. "I want you. I can be your prince. Just like in one of those novels"

"That's not what I-"

Suddenly he was leaning in, his lips pressing against hers. She jerked away. "I...I don't..."

Sofia didn't know how to feel. She'd kind of liked it but it was her first kiss and it wasn't how she had always pictured it, especially with Mathias.

"Everything okay over here?"

Mathias jumped at the sound of Nikolas' voice. "Yeah yeah everything's fine!"

"Sofia is he bothering you?"

"I'm okay."

"I'll have you know me and Sofia just kissed. We're basically a thing now."

Nik's eyes narrowed. "You did what?" "Hey don't look at me like that. She started it...with the tears and everything."

"Scram Mathias before I get real angry"

Mathias scrambled off somewhere like the coward he was and Nikolas let out a breath scratching his head nervously "Seriously you okay?"

Sofia just stood there in shock. "That...that was my first kiss"

"Ah, yeah" He scuffed the ground with his shoe. "It wasn't a good one though"

He didn't know what else to do so he wrapped her in a hug. "It doesn't mean anything if you don't want it to."

"No one's coming for me are they? I'm really trapped in this tower and always will be. There are no princes...only dragons."

She held onto him and let the tears flow.

Downstairs the orphanages resident tattletale was seeking her daily audience with Maci "First, Danika wouldn't let me in the bathroom, then I caught Kyler stealing sandwiches from the fride, and THEN I saw Mathias and Sofia KISSING!"

"Thank you Audrina, I'll take care of it"

But that answer didn't satisfy Audrina. "What are you doing in here?"

"Getting a snack."

"You know we're not supposed to play in the kitchen"

"Don't be such a hypocrite I know Kyler steals those sandwiches to share in your little club"

"It's not a club, we take those to work"

"Oh so you think you're better than us? You think watching a couple kids makes you worthy of more food?"

"What are you even talkin about Audrina?"

"Kelsi and I work too you know."

"Yes, everyone knows you're Maci's favorite and that's why you get to clean her office."

"Exactly and that's how I KNOW I'm better than you. I've seen it."

"What are you talking about."

"There's not even a father listed on your birth certificate did you know that? And you know what else. You're a twin just like me but your mom kept him and left you here."

Sofia didn't know what to say but suddenly her attention was drawn to the smoke billowing behind Audrina. "Did you turn on the oven?

"Yeah what's it to you. You gonna try to tattle on me and get revenge. Good luck with that."

"No! Audrina fire! There's a fire"

The two girls ran from the kitchen as the oven burst into flames and smoke started to fill the room. "I hope you're proud of yourself. That was a real stupid move."

"Whatever! You made your point just run!"

Maci sighed in relief as they burst from the house. "Thank the Watcher"

They waited for the firefighters but unfortunately they weren't fast enough. Maci stood in the shambles of the kitchen. There was barely enough money to feed the children let alone replace the appliances. She was left no choice.

The Canal Creek Orphanage would have to close.

1943 Pt2 - Finding Sofia

#mizrahi legacy #classic generation #decades challenge #sims 4 storytelling #ts4 storytelling #ts4 legacy

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intrepidradish · 2 years ago

Text

Media: Dragon Ball Z

Year/my age: 2002/12

What drew me to the media:

I came home from highschool everyday and had a small tv with a built in vhs in my closet. It was 4:30pm and toonami was on Cartoon Network. I watched the entire Cell Saga and Majin Boo like a fiend. It was a shitton of episodes! Ugh. It's almost impossible to watch all the way through now, but maybe because as an adult I want like...more plot motivated writing. One of the best fanfic foder aspects of DBZ is that so much is left open to interpretation. I didn't question the filler episodes as a kid. I just liked all the muscles and screaming. The animation/manga style remains super duper fun. But mostly I found DBZ memorable because of Vegeta. I got truly invested in him as a character, because for most of DBZ, he really lets you down. I think TV shows love to harp on tropes for children, ie the bad man becomes a good man and all his values change to match the good characters *sparkles*, because they think morally those are the stories that should be told to children. Which is sad, honestly. Vegeta doesn't fall into that arc. He remains...kind of a bitch... and his character arch is fantastic and long and hard and he fucks up a lot and he doesn't really apologize for any of it. This was amazing to see as a preteen. Teaching failure to a child is really hard, and I think that America's school system is really bad at even attempting to. But failure is super important. Because all of life that child cum adult is going to fail, and its going to suck.

What made me a fan:

In college, I did another pass of DBZ, and whoa, developing adult horny brain really went into spiral knots wondering...so what the fuck... Bulma and Vegeta... had sex? They made a child. They made Trunks. So they had sex, right? I think this is pretty common a reaction. And as soon as you think that, well... the next step is... 'wait wait wait, how did they have sex? why did they have sex? what did that even look like?' And that's what sends you scouring the internet at 1am in your underwear (covertly, because you're in a dormitory with three other roommates).

I wish I could put to language what is it about romance that sends people into fandom holes. Romance is really important to fandom. I think it has something to do with how regimented relationships are in mass media. They aren't diverse. Most main stream romance is very streamlined and never gets into the messy odd bits without being labeled as some kind of edgy cusp drama. I don't know. But relationships seem to be the spring board for fandom hijinks. I'm all about it. I'd rather have fake blorbo relationships in my brain to obsess over than the real world. That shit gets you into trouble.

Oh god, and what an indicator of future dispositions. If you get into the Vegebul fandom, a lot of them are rape stories (because god forbid, a woman could want a shitty asshole alien man to bone at night. Bulma has her own set of problems, specifically with vanity being high up there). But yeah they were hot and I was pretty ashamed about the whole thing.

I was such a baby then.

Have I written fanfiction for it?

YES. One winter vacation, I wrote a 40 page fanfiction. This was probably in 2010? It was UNFINISHED, but I was incredibly sweaty the entire time, trying to build up to a spanking scene. (Yes, 40 pages of build up for spanking. I'm embarrassed for myself.) My computer crashed and the entire document was corrupted. My first fanfic was lost. RIP

Opinion on the fandom:

Pretty chill. I didn't interact with it much besides reading secretly. Originally, I was reading on fanfiction.net. When I came back to it years later (once again after college, I got my husband into it) I was reading fanfic for it on Ao3. I run into other Vegebul's periodically. They are all in their late twenties, early-late thirties. I follow someone here on tumblr that wrote this fantastic long series (100+ chapters) called Pillow Talk which is on Ao3. It's fucking incredible about showing the ups and downs, ins and outs of their relationship, because they do wind up together in canon (which is wild).

The most recent interaction I had was in the kink community, which was like *sigh* 'god, we are so fucking predictable, aren't we?' We had a good laugh! But he was trans masc too, chilling in a femme body, so we clicked right away about it.

I also remember I had an annoying conversation with my stepbrother once about tattoos. I don't have any, so they were asking why I don't. I said "If I started to get tattoos it would be a slipper slop before I start making bad decisions like getting a full Vegeta arm sleeve." Their mouths twisted in that judging you face and said "yeah don't do that." Like...ahem. My point exactly.

I think people get pretty judgy in general about Vegebuls because its a 90s kid's show, and its not a very good one. But being a Vegebul is kind of like... realizing your parents have sex. It's part of 'coming of age'.

Would I participate again:

Hell yeah, I would. Once a Vegebul always a Vegebul. The biggest hurdle for me would be catching up on all the new material. I watched Dragon Ball Super and found it lackluster. GT was so bad, I cannot. Something that's commonly an issue for me is the amount of subject material required to understand a story in fanfiction. I'll get into it later with other fandoms, but if the lore gets too big, I suddenly don't know how to participate.

Master post

#my personal take

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shadowworks · 4 years ago

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

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