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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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Hey!! Can I submit a Fiyero x fem!reader request where reader has a unique/different sense of style than most students at Shiz do and she’s lowkey kinda self-conscious about it since she’s new and has been judged by people before at her previous school. Galinda, noticing this though, thinks it would be a good idea to help her by taking her under her wing and “Galinda-fying” her. Reader tries to take this in stride, but honestly isn’t sure if it’s working😂 that is, until Fiyero notices reader’s struggles and tries to reassure her that she doesn’t need to do all of “that.” Reader is slightly touched by that sentiment, but reveals the real reason why she’s doing all of this in the first place. Cue in soft Fiyero, they share a lovely, sweet moment + Fiyero being his usual charming self at the end🤭😉

cw: insecurity, hurt/comfort

The second you showed up to Shiz, you knew that you were different from the others. Your style was very unique and people didn’t seem to care for that. You could see the way they would look at you when walking to class, the way you’d try to jazz up your uniform to diversify it, making it not look like everyone else’s.

Fiyero liked that about you. He liked how you were yourself and didn’t care what anybody else thought. He was always flirty with you but not in the way he was with everyone else. He genuinely liked you and was starting to wonder when you’d get the hint that he wanted to go out with you.

Glinda also noticed the attraction between the two of you and didn’t know why she felt the need to help you. She could see what was underneath all of your insecurity, how brightly you shined, and she wanted to make it come through. And she could with a little makeover.

To her surprise, it wasn’t hard to get you to show up to her suite. She told you the truth: that she wanted to give you a makeover, and for some reason, you had agreed. Neither of you knew exactly why, but Glinda wasn’t going to question it. She was just going to take what she was given and roll with it.

Okay, maybe you knew why you were doing it. You’d never tell anyone, but you were doing it to catch Fiyero’s attention. You knew it was silly to change your appearance just to catch someone’s attention, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was right there, just out of reach and being yourself clearly wasn’t working.

What you clearly weren’t getting was that you already had him. He had asked you out multiple times and you had just been so oblivious to it, telling him that you had other things to do. Eventually he got the hint and tried his best to move on even though it wasn’t going to be easy.

“You’re here,” Glinda said as she opened the door. Her eyes were wide in shock, but she quickly shook it off, a bright smile on her face as she pulled you into the room with a lot of force.

“This is going to be so much fun!” She gushed. “Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

Glinda closed the door behind her then made her way over to her vanity where you were sitting. She rested her hands on your shoulders and bent down so that you could also see her in the reflection of her mirror. She smiled at you through it before giving your shoulders a squeeze, standing back up, turning you to face her.

She then pulled something from her bed, opening it to reveal more makeup than you'd ever seen your life. You watched in amazement as dipped a brush into a pretty pink blush before tapping it on your cheeks, nodding to herself once she had put on enough.

She continued to do your makeup as she made conversation with you, genuinely curious about your life before arriving at Shiz. And you told her everything, wondering why you had previously disliked her when she was just trying to be nice to you. Maybe it was because of what you had heard about what had gone on between her and Elphaba.

But she was sweet, and you really didn't care what her motive was for helping you. At least she was helping. And with her help, you were finally going to get Fiyero and the two of you would live happily ever after. Well, you hoped you would.

"What do you think?" She asked as she turned you around to face the mirror. You hardly recognized yourself and you supposed that was the point. The makeup look Glinda had done on you had been nothing like what you had usually done. It was glowy and pink and you didn't want to admit how much you liked it.

"I look-" you cut yourself off, unsure what to say. You moved your head this way and that, captivated by the way the makeup looked on you, wondering if there was a way you could replicate it once you had taken it off for the night.

"Amazing, right?" She asked and you nodded in agreement, deciding that word was good enough to describe what you look like. Afterwards, she gave you some clothes you could borrow and even went as far as accompanying you to class the next day so you'd feel more comfortable about your transformation.

The two of you walked throughout the school arm in arm, your heads held high in your pink and blue uniforms, everyone turning their heads to get a good look at you. Especially Fiyero. Seeing you dressed like that caught him off guard. You were like a clone of Glinda and he didn't like that. He liked you better as yourself and wondered what had inspired you to go through such a transformation.

You were vulnerable and Fiyero thought Glinda had taken advantage of that. She just wanted someone she could use, a minion, and that made him feel sick. He wanted to say something to you but didn't feel like it was his place even though the two of you were friends.

So he watched from afar, distancing himself from you because he was afraid that he would blurt out his real feelings if he got too close. That was the thing about you. You were always able to disarm him, able to make him behave like himself, not the persona he was always putting on for everyone else.

He didn’t like seeing you like that, your personality and mannerisms slowly morphing into Glinda’s right before his eyes and it seemed like no one else cared. Well, that was because no one else loved you the way he did. He loved you. That was quickly becoming more clear as he watched the little things about you that he loved slowly fade away the more time you spent with Glinda.

And the thing was, Glinda was never helping you with malicious intent. She just wanted to help you come out of your shell. She just wanted to help you see your full potential the way she did. And giving you the makeover wasn’t to change you completely, but more just show you that you could be way more that you were. To give you some more confidence than you already had.

You were walking back to your suite after classes and saw Fiyero talking to one of his many friends out of the corner of your eye. You had noticed that he had been distancing himself from you and you wanted to know why, to get to the bottom of it. You wanted to know what you had done.

You marched over to him, anger taking over your features as you did so. Fiyero could see you hurrying towards him and wanted to run away like usual, but you seemed to have intention so he stayed there, ready for whatever punishment you were about to give him since he thought he deserved it.

But you only got a few feet before your ankle twisted, sending you to the floor, your books scattering across it as you did so. Before he could think about what he was doing, Fiyero rushed to you, resting his hand on your back as he looked at you, worry written all over his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded before turning away, wiping away the tears that were trailing down your cheeks.

“I’m fine, Fiyero,” you told him as you quickly got up from the floor, dusting yourself off. You went to reach for your books, but he had already gotten them into a stack, holding them out to you.

“Your knee’s all scratched up,” he told you and you looked down to see that he was right, blood trickling down your leg from the wound.

“Please let me patch you up.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes and Fiyero was quick to scoop you up into his arms before carrying you to his suite.

The two of you were quiet the entire way there, even as he sat you down on his bed. You watched him rifle through his belongings before producing a first aid kit.

You didn’t know why he was helping you when he seemed so upset with you, but you weren’t going to deny it. Anything to be close to him, anything to get him to speak to you again.

You didn’t realize how much you missed him until he was right there within reach. And now you wanted to pull him into your arms and never let him.

He sat on the bed and wordlessly put your leg into his lap, opening up an alcohol wipe and getting rid of all of the blood and anything else that could have gotten into your wound.

“You know, you wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t worn those ridiculous shoes,” he grumbled as he put some antibacterial ointment on the wound before covering it with a bandaid.

This was the first time Fiyero had spoken to you like that so it caught you off guard. Now it all made sense, why he had been distancing himself from you. You wished he had just been honest with you instead of ignoring you.

“If you don’t like the way I look then just say that,” you snapped and he pushed your leg off of his lap. He stood up from the bed stood in front of you, bending down so you could see his face.

“I don’t like the way you look.” His words sounded like poison, stinging you in every way possible. You knew it was true, but hearing the words come from his mouth hurt even worse.

His face then softened as he knelt in front of you, taking your hands. He looked apologetic and he was quick to wipe away the tears that were now streaming down your face.

“I liked you better the way you were. I’m sorry for ignoring you and I’m sorry for being so cruel. I just hated that you felt the need to change yourself.”

“I did it for you,” you told him, looking down at your lap, but he grabbed hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye?

“What?” He genuinely seemed shocked when you thought it was obvious. Maybe your advances hadn’t been as clear as you had originally thought.

“It was for you, Fiyero,” you repeated. “I just wanted you to like me.”

“I do like you, y/n,” he said. “So much. Why do you think I asked you out so many times?”

“You didn’t.”

“I most certainly did. I asked you to get coffee many times and even went as far as inviting you to dinner a couple of times.”

Oh, now you felt stupid. You replayed all of the scenarios in your head and sure enough, you had been reading it all wrong. Fiyero did like you and he liked you a lot.

“I-I didn’t know that. I-I would love to go to dinner with you, Fiyero.”

“It’s a date,” he smiled before pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “Make sure to wear that cardigan I like,” he winked, going in for another before helping you to your feet.

The two of you lingered at the door, sharing kiss after kiss until you finally left to go get ready, making sure to wear the cardigan that Fiyero was referring to. The entire time you got ready, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, making a mental note to thank Glinda. She was the whole reason why the two of you had gotten together, after all.

#wicked #fiyero #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero x y/n #fiyero tigelaar fluff #fiyero x fem!reader #fiyero tigelaar x reader #fiyero x you #fiyero x reader

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zepskies · 2 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 🥰

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#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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lugarn · 2 days ago

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a question for QL fandom at large: when did we start only wanting media that is perfectly suited to our standards?

there has never been a perfect show, and there never will be a perfect show, because everybody likes different things and QL is run on shoestring budgets. i thought this was something we made our peace with as viewers of the genre!

so i'm just wondering at what point fandom decided that a show is only worthy of praise/fandom if it has no problems?

at what point did we decide that talking about the problems of a show is more important than talking about what we did enjoy and what kept us watching? i don't know when it happened, but it definitely has. critique is treated more seriously and gets more interaction than people talking about what they like.

it seems like a really exhausting and slightly puritan way to do things, to be constantly finding imperfections and treating them as more important than the good parts. dunno about y'all but i don't want to be unintentionally enacting puritan shit.

i want joy, i want fun, i want the spirit of camaraderie in fandom.

so, why did fandom begin to snub any media that didn't fit very high standards? and how can we steer ourselves away from that impulse?

(i am genuinely curious about why this is happening and how those of us who don't enjoy it can change, so please feel free to jump in, even if you are 'late' or think you only have a very small contribution to make to the discussion.)

#bl fandom #ql fandom #thai bl #fandom meta #i'm sorry if this comes off aggro #i do not mean it aggro #i just want to figure out what happened and how to effectively deal with it

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lesbianneopolitan · 17 hours ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#Ask #headcanon #neopolitan #trivianeo #yankthoudong

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nohoperadio · 2 days ago

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Being in the presence of a many centuries (or more!) old building/monument/etc never produces the deep feeling of awe I expect it to, like I recognize intellectually that it's cool and kind of amazing for something manmade to survive that long, but being there and seeing it doesn't trigger any genuine sense of being connected to whatever historical period it's from, it always just registers as a thing in the world, in the present day, like any other thing in the world in the present day. This tends to take me by surprise and I find myself trying to talk myself into feeling something, never to any avail.

Other people describe having the kind of feeling that I conspicuously don't have, and I'm curious about to what extent this is a real difference between me and them vs people reporting their own inner experience inaccurately--it's obviously a mixture of both because lots of people exist and they're all different, but I want to know what the general trend is. It's easy to typical mind fallacy and dismiss when other people report things about their inner lives that don't match yours, but it's also clearly true that people's introspective reports are often pretty unreliable, whether that's from just plain lying, some kind of unconscious self-deception, something like peer pressure or simply rambling on without paying much attention to whether your words match what's actually happening in your actual head. You basically can only take pretty rough guesses as to what a lot of the general human condition is like.

#uninteresting

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sophie-frm-mars · 19 hours ago

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Hello Sophie! In a recent post, you praised the the former socialist South Yemen, which I thought was neat, because NO ONE talks about South Yemen.

But I'm curious (and I'm asking this in the least sectarian, and genuinely curious way. This isn't me making a value judgement), as a self-described anarchist, how do got square your anarchism with an upholding of these ML political projects? Is it just a realpolitik thing?

I find that Marxists tend to uphold anarchist projects as worthwhile expressions of socialism, if perhaps misguided. But I don't see the reverse anywhere near as much, and I'm interested to hear your thoughts in why that might be.

Every attempt at a revolutionary socialist society is a new social consciousness struggling to be born and those ideoforms, those social consciousnesses will become powerful enough to overthrow capitalism completely if they can work together and if they can grow into each other. I'm a big proponent of critical support and I think a lot of Western anarchists have simply had too much McCarthyism hidden in their breakfast cereal. Lenin was a sick cunt and what the Bolsheviks accomplished was amazing, it shouldn't be discarded and ignored just because they also persecuted anarchists. ML projects the world over are a natural expression of the struggle for freedom of oppressed people just as anarchism is. It's just a matter of specific material conditions, if I was in a different place or time I may well have been an ML instead

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rosiarie · 8 hours ago

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2025 intentions

this year was a blur for me. i've died and been reborn more times than i can count. in all, 2024 was a year of change. i learned so many things, fell in love for the first time, and i've changed as a person. i was my most happiest and the most sad i've been. what i've learned is that time waits for no one, and in the time that i am alive, i want to live a life i am proud of. to be pure in the face of adversity is a strength i wish to keep. <3

here are my intentions for 2025:

quotidian:

wake up early - my earliest class next quarter is a 12 am, so i want to wake up early enough to eat breakfast at the dining commons and before the bathrooms are cleaned - around 9:10 am - to get ready for the day. i've noticed that my best days are the days i wake up early, wear a well-planned outfit, pack my bag diligently, and eat breakfast. i feel like i haven't wasted the day.

eat 3 meals a day - i struggled with eating breakfast as a first year my first quarter since i had a 10 am and breakfast closes at 11 am, so i skipped my breakfast every day. i only ate breakfast four or three times! counting weekends too. this is clearly unhealthy, and i noticed it took a toll on my health, sleeping schedule, and academic life.

sleep before 12 pm - my sleeping habits have been soso unhealthy and doom scrolling has just worsened it. i will allow myself the pleasure of still doom scrolling some nights, but i will not allow myself to sleep late anymore. it is very unhealthy, and it wrecks the rest of your next day, too.

journal daily - journaling daily was never one of those things i cared for. i've always cared about journaling, but i've always prioritized journaling as a weekly chore. i want to start journaling every night, at least three sentences, about something that stood out to me about the day. un petit souvenir à souvenir. i always journal in a narrative sense (i can make a post more on this!) rather than a "what i did today" which i am so glad i do because it makes reading back so much more fun!

read every other day - i've (so far.. there's still a few more days of 2024!) read 19 books in 2024, which to some may be a grand lot, but i have read so much more in the past! i do enjoy reading so much, but it feels more like a hobby now than a habit (which it used to be). i used to enjoy reading in the sense of just immersion, and i would pick any random story i was curious about. nowadays, i seem to find myself reading only one genre, which i want to change. in 2025, i plan to read more nonfiction texts and other genres; books that'll teach me things as well as novels for pleasure.

gym 4x a week - it's true what they say, physical exercise 100% helps boost serotonin levels and health in general! going to the gym more will help my mood, sleep, and confidence. i want to work on my body before summer, and look as good as i feel. i believe in myself to gain the body i want!

less partying - as a college freshman, you are kind of pressured to go out and party (mostly by your own fomo than from other people). it's what you think you're supposed to like. but i've come to my own conclusion that though partying can be fun, it's not something that i want to continue to do every friday. being hungover on saturday, not being able to do any work, and cramming all of sunday evening has been damaging to both my health and grades. i want to set my intentions of going out better, maybe once or twice a month when i know i can relax or genuinely want to. even if i feel like "i've earned it", if i don't really want to experience the side effects, i won't. that also makes partying during special occasions like halloweekend, st. fratty's day, and sorority/frat mixers to name a few more fun !

less entertaining things not meant for you - as a college freshman, i've had countless guys coming up to me, dming me, and asking me out. i either refrain from dming them back or softly rejecting them. but with some, i have talked to a little or gone on a date or two. though it's good practice, honestly, it was a waste of time. like any girl, i would love to have a caring and intelligent bf, but it isn't something i want to actively seek. my education and self-improvement have to be at the forefront of my mind, and i'm taking men out of the picture. until i meet the right man who meets all my qualifications, no matter how good-looking or charming a guy is, if his intentions aren't pure and his presence is bringing actual value into my life, i'm not entertaining it no longer.

academic:

start early on new material before class - there was a girl in one of my classes last quarter that told me she would review the chapter before our prof went over it in class. i told myself, i'm going to do that now! but i never did. she understood the concepts soo well in that class, and i want to implement this trick to help me next quarter too!

pack my bag the night before - i'm always missing my hand cream or a water bottle in my bag when i pack it before class. doing this saves sm time and is much more efficient than running out of your door late!!

study everyday - no more cramming - i've always been a procrastinator and crammer. i fooled myself into thinking studying the few days before helped better, but honestly, that only helped my short-term memory retention skills. long-term understanding > short-term memory. i mainly want to study economics daily, but also languages, such as retaining french (non-native but fluent) and learning chinese (beginner!).

more study dates - now this can get a little iffy because sometimes studying with friends leads to being distracted from your work. but personally, i've spent my first quarter as a college freshman studying mostly with myself. i regret this so much because it is so fun when you do study with friends [that know when to lock in]. eating afterwards, getting a sweet treat, chatting a little, are all ways to keep yourself sane while studying.

anyways,

that's all for today. let me know what kind of posts you guys are interested in from me. this is my first "real" tumblr blog post, so pls be nice lol ! i would love to hear from you guys :) i will probably post 2-3x a week.

remember that you are protected. no weapon formed against you shall prosper. bisous!

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saccharinemeat · 22 hours ago

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No hate I’m just genuinely curious

Why do you post your proships online. Like why not keep them to yourself?

what the hell is "a proship"

also, idk man,why do artists share art,why do people write books. Why do people crave the joy of community and the embrace of empathy? idk man,weirdo behavior am i right? /s

#proship

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rayhalloffame · 2 days ago

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The people have spoken! Part two of this. I’m also going to make this a series so there will be another part, my brain is thinking about this version of Art so much, it’s so serious >:/

…

Despite his confidence and the fact that he really did cover your tab all night, you only grant him a quick peck when he walks you to your uber. You take his phone and put your number in. Right then and there you set your contact picture to a flirty photo of yourself taken at a high angle that leaves just enough to the imagination. You tell him you’ll reply in the morning if you really like him. Art texts you to tell him when you’ve made it home safe. He’s unsurprised when you don’t answer.

He is surprised when he wakes up at nearly 8am to his phone buzzing. He silences it but a minute later it goes off again so he picks it up without looking. “What?” he groans into the receiver. His head is turned on his pillow so that he can rest the phone against his cheek.

“You promise you’re not a murderer?” comes a small, crackled voice from the other line.

Art pauses, picks up the phone to be greeted with your pretty face. It snaps him right out of his slumber. “G’morning, birthday girl,” he murmurs. He hears your deep breathing through the phone but you don’t respond. “I promise I’m not a murderer.”

“I need a bagel and a cherry coke,” you whine. You say nothing else. Art takes the hint.

“What kind of bagel, sweetheart?” He’s already swinging his legs over the side of his bed, waiting for your reply.

“Bacon, egg, and cheese. And it has to be a fountain soda, with crushed ice to the top.” Your voice sounds so pitiful. Art tells you to text your address and he’ll bring you whatever you want. You send it as soon as you hang up the phone.

When he makes it to the door of your apartment he doesn’t know what to do. Art is simply mystified by you, doesn’t understand how a pretty little thing has him by the throat when she’s the hardest chase he’s had since going pro. He knocks on your door anyway.

He can hear your groan through the wood, and is chuckling by the time you swing the door open. You don’t even look at him, really, just shield your eyes from the outside light and retreat back into your dark apartment. Art follows you in and locks the door behind him. He toes his shoes off before entering further.

You’ve already dropped yourself on your couch by the time he’s passed the foyer. There’s a garbage pail by the arm of the chair, a bottle of Advil and a water on the coffee table. “Rough night?” Art jokes.

You don’t even have the energy to glare at him, just make grabby hands for your treats. He meets you at the couch, putting the bag and drink on the coffee table. Unable to help himself, he crouches at your head and brushes sticky hair back from your face. He expects you to stop him but you nuzzle into his palm when it passes over your cheek. “You’re not as scary as you pretend to be, are you?” He sounds curious, like he’s perplexed by you but wants to figure you out.

You peek an eye open at him and shake your head. “Only sometimes. Like when men are cocky. Have to knock them down a peg.” Art laughs through his nose, tells you he’s learned his lesson. He opens the bag with your bagel and hand feeds you a bite. You moan. Art puts the bagel down and stands. He’s going to be tenting his pants if you make more of those noises with his hands so close to your mouth.

You sit up enough to take a sip of your soda, a sigh of relief leaving your throat. “How much do I owe you? From last night and today?” You look up at Art from where you’re half-laying, reaching absently for your phone to Zelle him. Somehow, even with your skin flushed and your mascara streaked, he still wants to eat you up.

Art clears his throat. “Nothing,” he says, “I’m happy to treat you for your birthday.” You sit up fully and shake your head at him. You tell him you got a little too cocky yourself last night, that you feel bad and you owe him. Art smiles at you, a genuine one. “Go on a date with me,” he says.

“Wait. What?” Confusion is a written all over your face. Art rocks back on his heels, suddenly bashful, but repeats his request. “When?” you ask. You’ve abandoned your phone to sip more of your carbonated beverage.

“Tonight,” Art says. “I have training this afternoon, but I should be done by 7, the latest.”

You hum in acknowledgement, picking apart your bagel and popping small pieces into your mouth. “You’re not worried someone might see us? Fans, paparazzi?” You pick up your cup and shake around the ice inside. “You know, your name is carried on the wind. There’s not much that’s private about you.”

“Yeah?” Art asks.

“Mhmm,” you hum, accompanied by slow nods of your head.

Art can’t stop looking at your lips. “I don’t know how true that is,” he continues, “let me take you out. There’s a lot to know about me. My life isn’t as public as you imagine.”

You tilt your head, considering. Art’s eyes follow the stretch of your neck into your large white tee, which is almost see through. He returns his gaze to yours and finds you watching him. You flash him a knowing smile, then nod your head. “Sure,” you say, “let’s go on a date.”

#challengers #art donaldson #art donalson x reader

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rottenfyre · 12 hours ago

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I got so into your batfam stories, I’ve actually gotten into reading the comics to better understand the universe! Honestly never thought I’d touch superhero stuff, but your writing is just so darn good I had to go learn more about these characters! Also I know you’ve got several series planned, but I was curious about that Dick x joker’s assistant one. Could you indulge us with a few of your ideas for that one? (If it’s not spoiling anything!) the concept is just so good

Awwww, thank you! 🥰 First of all, I’m so happy you’re enjoying the stories enough to dive into the comics! It really means the world to me that my writing has sparked that interest. As for the Dick x Joker’s assistant story, let me clarify because I actually have two different series involving Joker's sidekicks—one with Dick and the other with Jason. Since you’re asking about the Dick one, let me spill a little about Jester.

So, Jester is… complicated. She was this lonely kid growing up, the kind who was always a little “off,” and Joker saw that in her. He took her in, not because she was as crazy as he was (she’s not), but because she had this strange detachment from reality that he found fascinating. She’s unhinged in her own way, though—she doesn’t really understand the concept of good or bad. To her, the world is like one big storybook where rules don’t apply, and everyone’s just playing their part. That’s why Joker adores her; she operates in her own little bubble of logic, completely removed from societal norms.

She’s untainted by traditional human logic and morality. To her, Joker is just a misunderstood "mad king," and she’s his pretty princess.

She met Dick for the first time when she was about 10. At that point, she wasn’t Jester yet, just this weird little kid who accidentally crossed paths with him while he was fighting crime. Dick saved her during the chaos, and for her, it was like a fairytale moment. Here’s this ridiculously pretty boy with an even prettier voice, swooping in like a literal prince, and she’s immediately smitten. Even though it’s just a brief moment, and in her eyes, he becomes this impossibly beautiful and noble "prince."

Fast-forward to later that same year—she’s now Jester, Joker’s official sidekick, and runs into Robin again. It’s chaos everywhere—Joker and Batman are tearing each other apart in their usual deadly dance, but then you’ve got Robin and Jester off to the side, having this completely bizarre and awkward “high school girl confessing to her crush” scene. She’s carefree, bubbly, and genuinely just wants to be friends with him. Meanwhile, Dick’s all serious and professional, probably trying to figure out if she’s an actual threat or just delusional. (Spoiler: It’s both.)

Her obsession with Dick escalates quickly—because in her mind, this is how love stories work. She doesn’t just want to be his friend; she wants him to be hers forever. So naturally, her solution is to kidnap him and make him her “pretty bird.” She genuinely believes this is romantic. Like, why wouldn’t he love her back? Isn’t this how princesses and princes end up together? She dreams about marrying him, having kids, and living out their happily ever after.

The thing about Jester is that she doesn’t see herself as evil. She doesn’t even really understand what “evil” is. To her, everything she does—whether it’s breaking the law, hurting people, or abducting her “true love”—is just part of the story she’s living in. She doesn’t see it as wrong because she’s so disconnected from reality. She’s living in this fairytale bubble where everything she does makes perfect sense to her, no matter how horrifying it might actually be.

That’s what makes her so fascinating and, honestly, terrifying. She’s not malicious or cruel; she’s just completely untethered from reality. In her mind, she’s the heroine of this grand love story, and Dick is the prince who doesn’t realize he’s supposed to love her yet. It’s twisted and unhinged, but in her own warped way, it’s sincere.

Jester’s relationship with Joker is as twisted as you’d expect, but not in the way people might think. Joker didn’t raise her to be cruel or hateful—he didn’t even need to. She already had this skewed view of the world when he found her, and he simply encouraged it. To him, she was this bizarre, broken little doll who saw life through a kaleidoscope of whimsy and delusion. He adored how unpredictable she was, how she could smile sweetly at someone while holding a knife to their throat, not out of malice, but because she thought it was “funny.”

But Joker wasn’t a father figure to her. He was more like a mentor or a ringmaster in her eyes. She looked up to him, sure, but in the way a kid might look up to a magician who promises to show them how to make the impossible happen. He gave her attention and fed into her fantasies, but he didn’t care about her in a meaningful way. To Joker, she was just another toy—a fascinating one, but still a toy. And in her naivety, she didn’t see that. She thought their bond was special. That they were alike.

In reality, Joker kept her around because her complete detachment from reality amused him. She didn’t understand pain, fear, or consequence, and that made her a perfect wildcard. But when she started fixating on Robin, Joker didn’t stop her—he thought it was hilarious. He egged her on, treating her obsession with Dick like a soap opera to entertain himself. He probably even encouraged her fairytale delusions, mocking her behind her back but also supplying her with whatever she needed to chase her “happily ever after.”

And then there’s Dick. He was everything Joker wasn’t—kind, warm, heroic. The first time he saved her, she wasn’t just drawn to his looks or his bravery; she was drawn to the way he saw her. He didn’t look at her like she was a freak or a broken doll. He saw a scared kid and treated her like she was worth saving. For someone as lonely as Jester, that moment stuck with her. In her mind, it was love at first sight. He became her Prince Charming, her one bright light in an otherwise chaotic existence.

But Dick didn’t even remember her. To him, saving her was just another day as Robin. He had no idea he’d planted the seed of obsession in her mind. And when they crossed paths again, with her now as Jester, he didn’t recognize her at first. She was this eccentric, giggling enigma who acted like they were old friends—or more than friends. She flirted, teased, and acted as though they were already destined for each other. It confused him, but he also saw glimpses of that scared kid underneath the makeup and manic laughter.

What makes it heartbreaking is that Jester doesn’t understand the depth of her own loneliness. She doesn’t know how to express love in a healthy way, and she’s never had anyone teach her. Her fixation on Dick is less about him as a person and more about what he represents: stability, warmth, someone who sees her. She clings to her fantasies of marrying him, of building a life together, because it’s the only way she knows how to cope with the emptiness inside her. She doesn’t even realize how much she’s hurting him or herself in the process.

It’s both funny and kind of tragic because, deep down, she’s just a lonely kid who never learned how the real world works. Dick, being the compassionate guy he is, probably picks up on that, which only makes things more complicated. Her obsession is unrelenting, and she truly believes she’s the princess who will win her prince in the end, no matter what stands in her way.

Dick would probably feel pity for her. He’d try to reason with her, to help her see the world for what it is. But the more he tries to help, the more she doubles down on her delusions, convinced that he’s just playing hard to get or that the world is keeping them apart. It’s a tragic cycle: her chasing a love that’s not real, and Dick trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

#🕊️.ask #🕊️. dc comics

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prodixal · 2 days ago

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"You misspoke. I believe you meant a 'malfunctioning' mind." he chuckles at his own silly little joke, knowing full well the childishness of it would likely annoy her extra hard. It was truly a pleasure. "I shall have you know I very rarely need to rid myself of clothes or dignity to inspire admiration. I simply need walk into a room." Varyn was much too aware of his own ability to turn heads and sneak his way into other peoples hearts and minds. It's not that Cersha was bad at doing the same, only she lacked the warmth he often exhumed that attracted people like pollen did the bees. She was calculated, educated, and she could read people in a way that allowed her to sneak past their inner walls. He was not so skilled, rather, he made people come to him, made them want him. "Eh, I suppose you're right. Though I am not the one marrying what is to become the most powerful person in all of seven kingdoms. I should say, if it were my predicament, I too would start acting a nervous fool. As you appear to do right now."

He raises his hands in defence to her snappy refusal of being 'lectured'. Though the words which proceed certainly imply the need of a lecture indeed. There's a small scoff, at the very forward strategy she put in place to make the other fall in love with her. Typical Cersha, everything was formulaic and perfectly structured. "So you intend to pretend? For the rest of your life? To be whatever sweet Vaelora would like you to be?" a roll of eyes follows and he'll press the wine against his lips. "If only you applied this idiotic approach to being a sister too. We'd all be much happier for it." he jokes again, more so in revenge for her previous reaction at his genuine attempt to provide advice. He should have known better. "Love is not rational, dear sister. You could be everything a person says or even thinks they want -- and they could still never grow to love you." words are casual, there was no doubt in his mind about it. "On the other hand -- you could be everything they truly hate, and they could still love you beyond it. Curious, isn't it?"

He would not speak on it further, nor offer advice should she not ask him to elaborate. If she was so keen on figuring it all out for herself. He would let her. And then laugh at her should she fail. As brothers do. Because much like his previous statement would suggest, no matter the distaste he had for her, he was also cursed with loving her nonetheless. It's how he knew she did not need to 'fake' her way into Vaeloras heart. There was plenty of her to love, just as she was.

Varyn is not at all surprised by the quickness of her response. Cersha had always lived her life with an aura and attitude of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. He wondered what that must have felt like. The confidence it must have inspired to be so sure, so certain of something. He also knew, with the sheer resolve of her voice, she would do anything to succeed. A self-fulfilling prophecy. It was almost...admirable. Though he knew better than to show it. "And rule you shall. You are a Lannister, they'll hear you roar yet sister." -- "And I've no doubt they'll be better for it." he clicks her glass with his own and rests back in his seat, eyeing her with a newfound sense of curiosity. "You will be happy, once you rule?"

---

As the conversation of his bastard is met with a reaction, he groans at the response. "Brothels are so...dull, so overused. There is no challenge to be had. Noble ladies on the other hand..." one had to work to get up their skirts. They were not so willing to risk their honour for just anyone. And lady Dayne, what a challenge she had been. "Suppose all this does reflect less badly on her. She's Dornish, they've no shortage of noble bastards." but they were not Dornish, and should the news get out this would absolutely reflect much worse on him than it would on lady Dayne. "Lucky for me I've a sister whose anticipatory stress has no doubt prepared her for this mishap long ago. --" her question seems out of relevance momentarily, but he can very well assume where it is heading, though he dare not answer. Instead he'll take another sip. "She loves the child." His eyes divert from those of his sister. Varyn always feared she could read his mind, when he was trying desperately to hide it. He cared for the boy. And she could never know.

Her refusal to let him dig further into her own affairs, as his are now 'taking priority' only causes him to wish ending it all sooner. "Go on, what am I to do then?" his arms cross over his chest, his whole body wishing to reject the question he just asked. There was something so humbling, in asking for her help. --- "We'll circle back to that, your betrothed...wishing to treat you equally." Cersha had been right. Something was off. "And trusting you...explicitly."

" IT DOES NOT PLEASE ME . it is simply a symptom of having a well functioning mind ." cersha snaps with a roll of her eyes , huffing in a way that makes her expression twist yet again . " not that you would know , clearly ." the words are bitten out as she brings her goblet right back to her lips , taking another healthy sip before she's narrowing her eyes sharply as he continues . the glare that is levelled his way is sharp enough to cut even if her expression barely twitches outside of it . when she was younger she would often imagine the power she would wield if her look alone could kill . ironically enough , that original thought as well was in relation to her brother . apparently some things never change . " i will have you know , they are already thoroughly impressed , varyn . not all of us have to rid ourself of our clothes and dignity to gain admiration ." perhaps the iciness of cersha's tone is only proving his point , but she sees little reason to change it . it's with a grand roll of her eyes that she scoffs . " and am i to believe a marriage with you will be joyful ? you leave far more pain in your wake than i ever have . at least my use of the pieces around me is for a goal rather than for sport ." some part of cersha is aware that she has gone on the attack instinctively ; a gut reaction in defense , born of a desire to protect one's soft underbelly from something a bit too sharp . and yet she can do very little to help it . what else is a lion to do but bite and claw and roar when cornered ? it is with a measured movement that cersha begins to top up her goblet , her hand steady even as clenches her teeth just hard enough to ache . the sigh that flows out of her nostrils is slow .

" i do not need you to lecture me , varyn . i am more than capable of making myself lovable ." the words are purposefully even as cersha moves to place down the bottle , as she unclenches her jaw with a conscious movement . it takes just as much effort to unclench her fingers from the neck of that bottle instead of hitting her brother over the head with it . the option is perhaps especially tempting with the lack of witnesses . " why do you think i am gathering information so diligently ? i do not seek to blackmail them for the entirety of our marriage ." cersha huffs as she looks into the liquid in her cup, staring at her distorted , reddish reflection within it even as she says , " once i know what she wants , i can be that and the love will come with it ." it is only then that cersha sighs and says , " besides , i have already begun and she seems more than pleased with who she believes her betrothed to be ." she moves to toss a curl over her shoulder primly as she says , " this is not something new to me ." love was a strange concept . on some level cersha would like to think she understood it . people loved what was presented to them . what they could see . what they could hear . if those cards were just right then adoration would follow . cersha has experienced it . from gathering the hearts of the lords and ladies that her parents entertained as a child , to collecting the affection of eligible lords and ladies in her adulthood , cersha understood love , and lust , and infatuation or what have you . it was something that could be trapped if you put out just the right bait . and one could create that bait with the right information . cersha knows that she was the bait . that she could mold herself into it . that she could become it . but she also knows that it was that bait that people found themself tempted by . that it was that bait that they'd come to love . that it wasn't her , truly . she could make herself into something lovable but was she lovable ? it wasn't particularly something she found need to worry over . after all , if you could trick people into loving you did it truly matter ? telessa loved her somehow , of that she was quite sure . varyn loved her , in his own strange way . and cedric , surely . perhaps her father as well , on good days . on cersha's good days , of course. her mother must have loved her at some point , surely . perhaps she may not have liked her , but she must have loved her for at least some time . maybe for that first moon . or for that first instant , even . perhaps she was born with claws and fangs , but there were some who loved her anyways .

but cersha knows to be loved is one thing , and to love is entirely another . and yet wondering over her capability to love would take up mental energy that varyn seemed intent to hog to himself at the moment . for just an instant cersha can't help but be grateful to him for it . at his question , she doesn't hesitate : " i want to rule , varyn ." cersha says with the same confidence that she perhaps came out of the womb with , her brows arching her brother's way as if the very question was somehow an insult to her resolve . " i was born for it . i would excel at it . and for that i should have a right to it ." it is with that that cersha shrugs , blunt as she says , " and the seven kingdoms would be better for it if i was in such a position ." it's all she has ever wanted . perhaps that in itself is strange , but it's the truth . cersha could not explain the feeling within her . the innate drive towards this end , the burning desire towards her goal . all she knew that it was there : burning endlessly . it had yet to so much as flicker since she realized its existence and now here she is . so close to it . so very , very close to it . she knows the flames won't burn her once she's engulfed in them . perhaps that is the immunity that uniting with a dragon will afford her . cersha arches a brow at varyn's gesture , studying him for a moment before she's moving to sit down with a sigh that is accompanied by a roll of her eyes . it is at that point that she settles in to listen , doing not much more than shrugging at the mentioning of catching her spiders ( after all , she had sent much more than two ) and merely blinking his way for the rest of it . cersha would like to say that she is dreadfully surprised . she would like to say that she is shocked . and yet at the end of his tale she can only sigh deeply again . " you are an imbecile , do you know that ?" cersha's expression is twisted with something deeply unimpressed , and despite knowing that getting drunk at these festivities is the very last thing she wants to do she can't help but take another healthy gulp from her goblet . " gods ." cersha's expression twists in something resembling annoyance as she pulls her goblet from her lips again . " i knew you would father a thousand bastards , so that is of no surprise to me , but a lady , varyn ? truly ?"

cersha could keep the judgement out of her voice if she tried , but thankfully there is little need to . the only one here to hear her scolding is varyn , who is apparently welcoming it . so cersha doesn't dull the cut of her tongue even slightly in response . " can you not just go to a brothel like any other depraved man !" she throws her hands up in frustration . " or god , exercise some semblance of self control for once in your life ." cersha takes a long look at varyn before clucking her tongue , her hand moving to pinch the bridge of her nose tightly as she takes a measured breath . " not to say she is innocent either . you both are at fault considering that the birth of a bastard would be the natural result of your joint carelessness ." a scoff as she shakes her head and gestures to him frustratedly . " and you lying truly helped nothing ! we should have been prepared for this and gotten ahead of it however instead you kept this to yourself ! and all you've done to rectify your mistake is to haphazardly slap a bandage on it ! " her lips twist then , her expression almost thoughtful before she glances to her brother . she looks at him a long moment then , expression sour and eyes tight before she sighs and says , " does she still love you ?" cersha can't help but scoff as varyn directs the attention back to her , brows arching . " oh no , you are not getting out of this that easily ." she points a finger to him then , brow arching . " do not detract from the point at hand . you will overshadow my engagement with your nonsense at this rate !" she snaps frustratedly . however it is with a slight huff that she waves a hand and adds , " but if you must know she trusts me explicitly and wishes to treat me as her equal ." cersha's brows raise pointedly with the words as she moves to take another sip from her goblet . " which is fundamentally a poor course to take all things considered but again ," a gesture to all of him as her nose wrinkles in frustration . " your mess has taken momentary priority ."

#c. varyn lannister #varyn x cersha #// i have pulled this out of my last dying braincell

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