#bear with me as i draw the same thing fifty times

[andromeddog]

new brush tests

[dollfacefantasy]

Kiss It Better

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: on a day planned to be just for just you and leon, he gets called into work. it dredges up some old memories, and upon returning home, he wants to make it better by taking extra care of his baby bunny.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, cockwarming, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hurt/comfort, reader copes with her past at the shelter

word count: 6.1k

a/n: yay leon and his baby bunny finally return. i hope this lives up to the first part lol which can be found here. i have another part planned as well if people are interested. as always reblogs and comments mean the world <3

“I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny.”

A statement Leon had said off-hand in the heat of the moment. Something he’d told you as a comfort, a way of warming you up for your first intimate moments together. He hadn’t put much thought into it before it rolled out of his mouth. 

But damn, if only he’d known how true it would prove to be.

The words were ringing through his head right now as you dragged him through the mall on another Saturday he dedicated entirely to spending time with you. He’d already bought you a fair amount of stuff from cute frilly socks to pretty pink panties to some tiny t-shirts he knew he’d regret as soon as you used one to get your way. And now you were heading towards a shop tucked away in the farthest corner of the shopping center. His only hope was that the location meant it was the end of the line, the last stop on your trip.

From what he could see, it sold stuffed animals amongst other items that could clutter up his house. Luckily, the small plush toys seemed to be the only things drawing your attention. Your eyes scanned the rows before fixating on a specific one that sat on the bottom shelf. You crouched down to get and pulled it to your chest, standing up again so Leon could see your selection. His eyes soften as he notices your little cottontail twitching with excitement.

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face at the sight. His sweet girl standing there with a small plush cow in her arms. The tufts of black and white fur jutted out the top of its head near a set of foamy horns. You looked up at him with puppy eyes, which he’d come to view as unfair since he’d chosen a bunny for a reason. But they worked on him all the same.

“Baby-” he starts, but you interject, predicting his argument.

“I don’t have a cow yet,” you plead, “It’s just one more.”

“Yeah, this one is just one more. And so is the next one, and the one after that, and the one after fifty more of these things,” he teases.

“C’mon, please,” you beg, stepping close to him to lean against his chest.

“Is this your way of telling me you want your own bed again? You’re just gonna fill the one we share with more and more of these until there’s no room and I’m pushed to the floor,” he jokes.

“No,” you deny, “Plus I put them away at night anyways.”

“Most of them,” he corrects.

“Cause I need my bear to sleep,” you say with a little pout.

He swears he almost swoons. You’re too fucking cute. He knows he’s spoiled you rotten. You’re treated better than the average hybrid to put it lightly, but he was past the point of paying that any mind. That shelter he’d picked you up from never let you have stuff like this. In his mind, he was righting their wrongs, burying those sad memories with as much cute shit as he could afford. And if other people didn’t approve, if they thought he should keep you silent and on a leash, he couldn’t care less.

Looking down at you now, playfully pleading with him for that stuffed animal, he knew he could never treat you like that. He rolls his eyes and messes with your hair, gently scratching the base of your floppy ears.

“Fine,” he says, “One more.”

You all but cheer with your excitement, bouncing up to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. He takes the stuffie from you and walks to the register to pay for it. You walk, lacing your hand with his and swinging your arms back and forth.

He looks over at you and instantly remembers why he always ends up giving in. Why he can never say no. Now that you had opened up, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d loved you before that day a few months ago, the day when he’d caught you during your attempt at self-soothing with his pillow between your legs. But since that day, a whole new layer of you had been revealed to him. The sweet and shy bunny he’d met at the shelter touched his heart first, but the affectionate and needy girl you’d allowed him to see owned it now.

He pays for your little cow, adding another bag to the collection hanging from his arm, and leads you out of the store. You tuck yourself under his arm, clinging to his abdomen.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say quietly and press a kiss to his chest.

His heart throbs at the sound of the sweet name you’d attributed to him months ago. He has to remind himself that you’re in public before any other part of his body reacts.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he says and strokes one of your ears with his free hand.

Once the pair of you reach his car, he loads your stuff in before giving you a pat on the ass as you climb in the front seat. You’re all smiles, and he couldn’t feel better. He gets in the driver’s seat and switches the car on. Your hand goes for the controls to the music right away. He always let you pick when you were with him. Each song acted as a little glimpse into you and what you liked.

As you’re selecting one you like, he feels a buzz in his pocket. He fishes his phone out as you share some of the stuff you like about the song you put on. You then start asking him where you’re going next, but the plans slowly begin to unravel as he reads the message displayed over the picture of you he had as his screensaver.

“Shit…” he mutters to himself before looking back up at you. Your ears droop in tandem with his face dropping. “Baby, I gotta drop you back at the house. I gotta take care of some stuff at work for a bit.”

He sees the disappointment in your eyes, and it kills him.

“But… I thought you took the day off,” you say. Your mood rapidly depletes. It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be a day where he was all yours. Twenty four hours where the D.S.O. laid no claim on him.

“I did, but I’ve told you how it is sometimes. I can’t get out of it some days,” he says.

“But you already stayed late all week. What else do they even need you for?” you ask. It may be irrational, but you can’t help how your mind floods with a sense of abandonment in the moment. You knew Leon would never do that, but the years you spent in that shelter had done a good job of convincing you otherwise.

“Just some formality stuff. I’ll be as quick as I can. You know I wouldn’t choose working over being with you,” he says.

Now he’s the one pleading. Your ears are flat on your head, and your eyes are fixed on your seat below you. He knows you feel wounded now even though you’re holding it in.

“If you’re mad it’s ok,” he whispers and reaches out to stroke your jawline, “You can be upset, honey. I won’t get mad at you. I know you were excited about today.”

As much as you had opened up, he could tell you still shied away from showing too much negative emotion. He knew you’d gone through some punishments at the shelter you were still too scared to talk about.

“It’s not your fault,” you say and shrug, dejection all over your features.

He sighs and starts the car, pulling out of the parking space, and heading towards the house. “I know it’s not, but you can still let out some frustration. I wouldn't think you’re ungrateful if that’s what you’re worried about. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” he says, keeping his tone gentle.

You bring your feet up onto the seat and retreat into yourself a bit. With a simple shake of your head, he knows the topic has closed.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drives down the road.  It drips with the frustration that he’s letting you down. He can’t reach inside your head and pull out the negative effects of the shelter. He can’t tell the D.S.O. to fuck off and let him spend as many hours as he wants with his precious girl. All he can do is pull into the driveway and watch you get out of the car, your posture slightly slumped with the encroaching feelings of loneliness. You pull your shopping bags from the car. At least you give him a little parting kiss so he doesn’t feel completely emaciated.

He watches your sad trudge into the house before taking the car back out of the driveway and down the same road in the opposite direction.

Inside the house, the silence dominates you. You pad down the hallway to the bedroom that had once belonged solely to Leon. Dropping the bags of clothes near the door, you then hop on the bed and toss your new little cow up near your other pillows. Your eyes linger on the ceiling. You’d become familiar with the insignificant bumps and ridges above that provided a distraction on sleepless nights. Nights where you just needed to tune everything out and count them to avoid being haunted by the past.

Before Leon had taken you in, you always imagined you’d enjoy the quiet of a real home. The shelter always echoed with loud cries of sorrow, screams of anger, and whimpers of hopelessness. You’d lie on the thin mattress tucked in the corner of your area and try to dream of the days your bed would be lush with pillows and blankets, decorated how you liked and  surrounded by the peace of you and whoever had chosen to love you.

And now those days have come. They’re real. You didn’t have to deal with the constant atmosphere of despair or the looming threat of punishment for acting like a human being. So why was it so easy for you to tumble into sadness like this? Why did the quiet no longer mean sanctuary but rather the absence of the person you loved most in this world? You could never work it out. It was too hard. Any time you tried you ended up spiraling into even more self loathing. Because there’s nothing to be sad about anymore. There’s no reason to feel like this. That stuff shouldn’t bother you; it’s nothing more than a collection of ugly memories at this point. Why couldn’t you be grateful for the life Leon had given you? The man gave you just about anything under the sun you could want, so why did one minor inconvenience have to throw you off this badly?

The bags by the door didn’t make you smile anymore. They only brought guilt. You didn’t deserve them. All the gifts and love he lavished upon you would never make you into what you were supposed to be.

Your thoughts consume you for longer than you notice. The sky darkens outside, tinting the room with a violet haze. You lie on the bed under your self-made cloud of gloom for hours, not noticing how much time has passed until you hear the garage door closing and footsteps getting closer. You glance at the bedroom door as it opens silently.

Of course, it’s Leon. His eyes fill with concern at the sight of you. He’d seen you down before but never so deflated. His face now resembles how he looked when he caught you humping his pillow all those months ago, but it’s also distinctly different. He still has curiosity in his gaze, not able to pin down what exactly is the reason for the present circumstances. Though the reaction this time is more worried than surprised. Your present state doesn’t shock him; instead he feels a protective instinct flare within him.

He approaches the bed and sits next to your limp form. His palm rubs up and down your arm slowly. “Hey baby,” he says softly, “You doing ok?”

You look up at him and nod. Sitting up, you scoot to him and align your side with his. Your legs extend out in the opposite direction of him as your head rests on the curve of his shoulder. “I just missed you,” you say softly, your arms encircling the circumference of his bicep.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and starts rubbing your back. “You do anything fun while I was gone?” he asks.

“Nothing special,” you respond, “Think shopping made me sleepy.”

You speak with a soft tone of voice, attempting to further the idea that this was merely a bout of tiredness. His eyebrows rise with suspicion. As cute as you look with your cheek squished against his shoulder, he pulls your body around and seats you on his lap. His fingers sweep down your jaw and guide you to look up at him.

“You sure you’re just tired? Nothing else? We weren’t out for that long. I just wanna make sure you’re alright,” he says, trying to show you with how he speaks that it’s not an accusation.

But you remain firm in your convictions and nod. “Mhm, I’m already feeling better. I just needed a little rest,” you assure him and tuck your face against his neck.

It’s not a lie. You were feeling better now that he had returned, each passing moment had little improvement for your mood. But he knew something still wasn’t right. He strokes down the silky expanse of your ears while his other hand massages the base of your tail.

“Well, I missed you too, y’know? Couldn’t stop thinking about my sweet baby bunny the whole time I was at work,” he says.

You were already melting against his chest from the physical contact, but now a smile graces your features. “Really?” you ask, looking up at him again.

“Really,” he confirms, “I felt pretty bad leaving you all alone when it was supposed to be our day.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fe-” you start before he interrupts.

“No, I told you the day was gonna be for us. So how about this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your chin, “How about instead we make it a night for us? I’ll give you a nice bath, put you in some of the new stuff I got you.”

He kisses your head again, then your temple, then your cheek.

“Maybe daddy’ll even give you a special treat before you fall asleep,” he murmurs before kissing your lips.

Taking in a deep breath, you nod. You’re helpless when he treats you like this, disagreeing doesn’t even seem like an option.

“Will you get in the bath with me though?” you ask.

He grins and rises off the bed with you in his arms. “Of course. Anything for my baby bunny.”

The two of you head to the attached bathroom. He sits you on the counter while drawing the bath. Steam drifts up into the hair from the hot water pooling in the tub. He lights some candles, dims the lights, and lets you pick out the scent of bubbles you want.

You sit on the laminate countertop, lazily swinging your dangling legs as you watch him. He checks the temperature of the water multiple times and stares at the clear liquid coming from the bottle of bubble bath. Once that’s taken care of, it’s your turn. He slips your shirt over your head and your bottoms down your legs like you’re the most delicate thing on the face of the earth. Kisses land on your jaw as he pulls your panties off too and drops them in the hamper with the other articles of clothing. So meticulous about everything, at least when it came to you.

He scoops you up again and brings you to the bath, setting you down in the water before twisting the faucet off and discarding his own clothing. Then he climbs in behind you, slotting his body between yours and the cool marble.

“C’mere, baby. Nice and close to daddy,” he murmurs as he pulls you onto his thighs.

You sink into his chest. The feeling of his skin against yours is almost enough to make it all better, enough to make you forget about earlier. You nuzzle into his muscular front, making him smile. He strokes your face and takes care to avoid getting your ears wet.

Both baths and showers used to make you anxious, and he knew that. One of the details you had shared with him about your life at the shelter was having to share the space with all the other hybrids, including the bathrooms. You’d told him how much you hated it, and he could only imagine. He tried extra hard now to make both as comfortable for you as possible, pampering you like an absolute princess.

Thinking about all this, him going above and beyond for you like he always did, makes you turn more into his body. Your arms loop around him, and you place your head beside his, obscuring your downtrodden expression from his vision. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he returns the embrace and holds you closer.

“My perfect girl,” he whispers.

The words are complimentary, but right now, the second in particular stings like a blade. You nestle your face against the warmth of his throat and tighten your limbs around him, trying to drown out the bad swirling inside of you with the feeling of his flesh on yours.

He knows you’re still acting a little unusual. Maybe your heat was right around the corner and it had you feeling extra needy. Maybe you were just still a bit sad about missing out on a day with him. He wasn’t totally sure, but he just wanted to make it better. And the way you were starting to press against him, breasts flush against his chest and the warmth of your thighs pressing against either side of him had his cock starting to stiffen up.

“Sweet thing… you wanna feel a little closer, hm?” he murmurs, fingertips rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back.

You weakly nod.

“Is this close enough? Or should daddy get even closer? I think being inside would feel even better,” he whispers.

You nod again, this time with more motivation. “Please daddy,” you mumble.

“Of course. All you had to do was ask,” he says. He lazily strokes himself a few times beneath the water, getting himself a little harder before he lifts you slightly and slides in.

A soft moan drifts out of you as he lowers you again. You put your head back down on him and sit with the comfort of being full.

“There’s my baby bunny,” he coos in a low voice.

He also takes in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. The feeling of your warm, wet embrace wrapped around him.

The two of you sit quietly for a while more, the bathroom silent except for the occasional trickle of water when one of you shifts. Flickering lights from the candles paint the walls in dim orange as the scent of the bubble bath takes over the air completely.

But to Leon’s dismay, your mood doesn’t seem to be brightening up. You don’t start squirming with the need to ride him like you normally would. You don’t get extra sappy with him and start going for more kisses or longing looks. 

He reaches for the wash cloth resting on the brim of the tub and soaks it in the water. He squirts some soap onto it and gently rubs it up and down your back. He can feel your muscles losing some of their tension, but you’re still withdrawn. He continues tenderly cleaning you off while you sit with him inside you.

After a few moments more, not knowing becomes unbearable. “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“Nothing, I’m-”

“You’re not just sleepy,” he interjects. His voice is still loving despite the confrontational manner of the conversation. 

He gently guides you away from his body so you’re kneeling straight up in the bath. His eyes scan you over, trying to make this easier by figuring out what it is, but he can’t. He brings the wash cloth up to your chest and starts brushing it against your chest, between your breasts, and down your belly.

“I know something’s wrong, and I know you’re scared of talking about things like this. But I would honestly prefer you telling me what it is, even if it comes out harsh, to sitting here and trying to figure out what’s bothering you,” he says as he rubs your skin with the soft cloth.

“I don’t know,” you say timidly.

“I’m only asking because I care. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is. Seeing you hurting hurts me too, baby,” he responds.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know,” you say again, some defensiveness seeping into your words, “I don’t know why I feel bad. I don’t know how to tell you what’s wrong. I just- I felt sad earlier, and I know I shouldn’t feel sad which makes me more sad.”

He sees the panic rising in your eyes and hears your words becoming more rushed. In an effort to keep the situation controlled, he pulls you back to his chest, hushing your worries by engulfing you with his arms. You reciprocate the motion, eager to retreat from your emotions. He takes a pause to grapple with what you had just said.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t feel sad?” he asks.

“Because… because there’s no reason to be sad,” you answer.

“If you’re sad, then there’s a reason to be sad,” he says and looks down at you with growing concern.

You shake your head. “No, there isn’t,” you whimper. You start to feel tears collecting in your eyes while your throat feels like it’s constricting. “You make everything so perfect for me, and I can’t do the same for you.”

He’s beyond confused at this point. He feels a couple tears fall against his neck, and all he can do is hold you tighter.

“Woah, woah, baby, c’mon,” he says, trying to prevent more tears, “What are you talking about? Perfect? I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

“Yeah, exactly because you are perfect. You never push me. You never ask for too much. You never do anything bad, and I still get like this,” you cry.

“... Is that a bad thing?” he asks, still lost.

“No, but I just wanna be perfect for you too. You work so hard all the time at your job, and then you come home and you have to deal with me,” you weep and cling onto him more, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” he says in a hushed voice, “You’re exactly what I want. I couldn’t ask for anything more than you.”

“Yes, you could. You deserve someone who can give you what you give. You deserve someone who’s not fucked up by stupid stuff from the past,” you cry, “I’ll never be a perfect pet, and I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

His chest aches and tightens up when he hears that. He starts to pull out, figuring this wasn’t the time to be balls deep inside you, but you stay locked around him so he stays put.

“Sweetheart, you’re not… I don’t see you as…” he starts, being careful with his words.

You continue your quiet crying against him.

“You’re more than a pet to me,” he decides, soft but firm, “You don’t disappoint me ever. You can’t disappoint me because I don’t have expectations of what you should be. You’re not some dumb animal that I want to mold into a fantasy. I know you were treated like that before, but that’s not what you are to me. You’re my baby bunny. My little love.”

More tears spill out onto him. The bathwater ripples with the shaking of your body.

“You’re not fucked up,” he whispers, “That stuff you went through at the shelter, that’s a big deal. I don’t expect you to just be able to move on from that like it’s normal. You need some extra care, and I’ve known that since the first day you came home with me. It’s not a bad thing. It’s something I love about you. I’m not dealing with you when we do things like this. You’re not a burden to me.”

“Promise?” is all you can choke out right now.

“I promise, baby. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he murmurs and kisses your temple. He sighs and squeezes his arms around you before saying a little more amidst the quiet of the bathroom. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly how you feel. But I know how it is to get shoved into a life you didn’t ask for. To get expectations put on you that you can never meet. I don’t want you to feel like that with me. I love you, and I’m gonna love you whether you’re a perfect ‘pet’ or not. That’s not what’s important to me.”

You know he’s being genuine. You hold yourself closer and press a few faint kisses to his throat. “I’m sorry,” you cry.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, “Just try and calm down for me, sweet girl. Take some deep breaths.”

You do as he says and work towards settling down. Your breathing slows, and the tears slowly stop. He grabs another washcloth and wets it. He guides your head up and gives you a small kiss before dabbing at your cheeks and cleaning your face of any remaining sadness. Your eyes flutter shut and relax under the loving care of his movements. He tends to your hair next, caring for it how you need.

Once your bath is done, he pulls out of you. You give him a little pout, bringing a smirk to his face.

“Patience, little one,” he teases before standing up with you in his arms.

He taps the stopper with his foot, draining the bathtub as he steps out. He sets you down so he can wrap a towel around his waist and then bundles you up in a big fluffy one. He dries you off and brings you in front of the mirror. He applies some product to your ears, something he’d gotten to keep them from drying out. You can’t help the smile on your face as his fingers gently rub down your long, fluffy ears. You can feel his love through his motions. He follows it with your hair routine, going through each step with precision and making sure to do it just how you like.

Before he takes you to the bedroom, his arms curl around your waist and he slots his head next to yours, gazing into your eyes through the reflective glass of the mirror.

“My baby bunny,” is all he says before pulling you out to the bed and laying you down on it.

He gets some of your lotion, a scent he’d become so familiar with. He rubs it all up and down your legs, taking time to lightly massage as he works. His hands glide all over your body, over your hips, up your sides, across your chest, and down your arms to your hands. Every inch of you was going to feel soft as silk if he could help it. The soft sighs of pleasure that come from you are enough to keep him thoroughly invested in the process.

When he’s finished, he plants a kiss on your lips and gets up. He heads to the door where you had dropped the shopping bags from earlier. He’s rifling through them, pulling out some new items you could wear to bed. He fishes out a cute t-shirt and some smooth panties when he hears your voice call to him.

“Wait, daddy?” you say.

“Yeah, baby?” he responds immediately, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Come back,” you request.

He looks at you curiously but stands up and walks back to the edge of the bed where you were sitting. Looking down at you lovingly, he holds your jaw and squeezes your cheeks. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna get dressed yet… Maybe I could still have my treat… if you want to,” you initiate timidly while grabbing the hem of his towel.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh. “Yeah? You’re feeling better and need daddy again?” he asks teasingly, letting you tug the towel loose. It crumples to the floor behind his legs and unveils his cock to you.

“Always need my daddy,” you say, looking up at him.

“Don’t I know it,” he teases.

He pushes you back on the bed and crawls on top of you. Leaning down, he kisses and nips at your neck. His hands squeeze your hips. You nuzzle the side of his head affectionately. Out of the corner of your eye you see him swat away the plush cow that sat nearby on a pillow from when you’d thrown it earlier.

“Hey,” you say, feigning protest, “That’s mean. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me,” he says with a grin.

Your body is already exposed from the bath, and he takes advantage. He kisses down along your collarbone towards the valley of your breasts. His palms cup them at the sides as his lips coast over them. He always took his time with you when he could. He’d get to rush when you were in heat and soaked just from being in the room with him.

Your fingers lace through the strands of his hair as you draw in a sharp breath. He laves at your nipples and the sensitive flesh of your breasts. His tongue caresses along the curves slowly, building your anticipation and causing your tummy to start fluttering.

His hand slides down your body, dipping between your legs to seek out your center. His fingers brush against the velvet folds and feel how they’re beginning to grow slick with your arousal. He swirls around your clit before pressing down on the sensitive nub and rubbing. Your lips part as you mewl.

“Is daddy already making you feel good, baby?” he coos.

You nod as your face starts to morph into that pouty look you get when you’re worked up. He loves every second of it and continues flicking his middle finger against the bud.

“You gonna let me show you how perfect you are, hm?” he asks.

You simply whine in response and tilt your head back against the pillows.

“That’s my girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you get like this,” he says.

He swipes his fingers up and down some more until he feels you're wet enough and ready to take him. He was certain you could take it without as much prep. Over the last couple of months, you’d you’d shown him the phrase “fucking like rabbits” was true after all, but he liked making you feel like you needed it. He like dragging his tip against your entrance, teasingly prodding the head of his cock at your hole. He savored the way you whine and squirm for it. Just like you were doing right now.

He pushes it in you, a deep groan coming from him as he sinks in all the way to the hilt. The way your eyes flutter and droop drives him crazy. His arms cage you down on the mattress as his knees sink into the plush blankets for leverage so that he can start thrusting.

“Perfect fit, that’s for sure,” he grunts, “No one else can take my cock like you can.”

You nod, whimpering and holding onto him. “Made for my daddy,” you say before gasping.

“Yeah you were. My perfect angel bunny. Sent down just for me,” he says and starts rocking his hips.

You writhe within the confines of his arms. Your breasts push up against his chest as your back arches. He fucks into you deep as he can, just how he knows you like it. Gripping your wrists, he pins them on the mattress, keeping you secure and in place so that he can piston his hips against you without interruption.

His own head tilts back, eyes shutting and lips separating the smallest bit. You gaze up at him like he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Every bit of him makes you clamp around his length.

“Such a good girl,” he mutters, “This is just what you needed. Just needed daddy to breed you and get you nice and calm again.”

That word makes your fuse burn faster, and you nod vigorously. “Can’t help it daddy,” you whimper, “I’m just a bunny. Don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I know, baby. Sweet little bunny like you needs to be bred. You need daddy’s cock to function, don’t you? Nothing feels right if you haven’t been bred,” he says, picking up more speed.

“Mhm,” you squeak.

Your legs start trembling hard as he hammers into your sweet spot over and over. To stabilize you, he lets go of your wrists and places his palms on the back of your thighs. He’s pressing you so hard into the mattress it feels like you might drop through straight to the floor. You cry out for him again and again, spurring him on.

“Good girl. I gotta breed my perfect little bunny. Fuck you nice and full like you deserve,” he grunts. The bed creaks with the force of his movements.

He pants as he drills into you. His head eventually falls forward to your shoulder again, but his hips don’t stop rolling.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, you’re gonna end up with a whole litter,” he moans.

Your eyes roll back and your legs lock around his waist. “Need it, daddy. Please,” you whine and clutch at his shoulders.

“I need it too baby. Need to knock up my sweet baby bunny. Gotta get you nice and full so everyone knows you’re all mine,” he says.

You’re both almost at the peak, gripping each other as tight as possible, sucking in air like there’s a limited supply. Both of you are moments from snapping when Leon’s eyes screw shut, his mind clouded by images of you pregnant with his babies. It’s too much, and he’s snapping into you like he’ll die otherwise.

“You’re gonna be the prettiest mama to our perfect babies,” he moans against you before his body starts sputtering.

The feeling of his cum flooding into you is enough to throw you over the edge with him. You seize up, back arching off the bed like you're possessed. You babble out some words of love, but all of it gets lost. You’re so jumbled up from the high, you both can only cling to each other as you ride it out.

You’re still breathing heavy as you come down, and so is he. Puffs of his breath come out right next to your ear. He lazily kisses below the lobe as you come back to reality.

“You see how important to me you are? See how much I love you?” he murmurs as he carefully rolls over and brings you to rest on his chest with him still buried inside you.

You nod and peck his jaw as you settle against him.

“Good. I never want you thinking like that again. If you ever need a reminder of what I think of you, I want you to tell me, and I’ll give you this same reminder.”

“I will,” you agree softly as he strokes your back.

You’re both exhausted from the exertion and the long day. He’s content to just melt into the bed while tangled up with you.

“Gonna keep you plugged up for a while, baby. Gotta make sure it takes, my sweet girl,” he mumbles as his eyes start drooping.

You gaze up at him, pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes. Your doubt and sadness had been abated for now. You nuzzle him and kiss his chest before trying to get some rest yourself. 

“Love you daddy. So so much,” you whisper.

[birlwrites]

scrapbook snippet: seventh year

this is a warm-up i did, sort-of-vaguely set in the atfhv universe but i don't think it'll make any sort of actual appearance, just based on my general writing process.

featuring: soft established rosewater, talking about the future (referencing complications due to both of them being set up to inherit control of different noble houses), THE CHAISE

-

It's alarmingly easy to accept Evan's silent offer, sink onto the chaise in the space at his side. Regulus used to think of himself as more... well, independent. Desks and armchairs and twin beds. But the allure of this took hold of him around the same time that Evan did—sofas and loveseats and a chaise longue big enough for two, if they keep close.

A sofa is simpler, a bed more comfortable, but Regulus has a soft spot for the chaise. It was a gift from Hogwarts, after all.

Besides, he wants to keep close. Sometimes that's the only thing he knows for sure.

Evan's fingertips are light as they run through his hair, his voice soft. "My parents are giving me the townhouse as a graduation gift. If you wanted to know."

"I didn't know you had one." The Rosiers certainly don't spend any time there.

"That's what makes it such a good gift—now the upkeep is my responsibility instead of theirs. And someone gets some use out of it."

Regulus doesn't have to be a genius to figure out why Evan is bringing this up now. NEWTs are approaching, and then graduation will bear down upon them like a freight train, and their neighboring beds, their shared meals, even Regulus's office—they'll all vanish, relegated to a bygone era of their lives.

He knows what it's like to wake up without Evan nearby. There are the summer and winter holidays, after all. But they don't feel real in the way that Hogwarts does. They've always been temporary.

"What will your policy be on callers?" he says, because it's easier than what he wants to say.

Even as recently as fifty years ago, people got married younger—right out of Hogwarts. That was when they were beginning their adult lives, after all, and they wanted companions for the journey. They don't really do that anymore—there's no traditional flurry of proposals in the spring of seventh year, no flood of weddings every July and August.

Even if there were, it wouldn't be simple. Not for two heirs.

"Well, you can come over whenever you want," Evan says comfortably, and as expected as it is, Regulus still feels a little warmer because of it. "There'll be a private Floo in the drawing room. I'll give you the address. You'll just need to come over an hour or so before mealtimes if you want food."

"Very practical."

"And I'll make sure there's Assam."

Regulus is already pressed against Evan's side, but he's momentarily swept away by the urge to press even closer, impossibly so—he has to content himself with hooking one leg over Evan's, pressing his lips to Evan's collarbone maybe a little too hard, and Evan stops stroking Regulus's hair to hug him almost tightly enough.

"Get a chaise too," Regulus says to Evan's neck, just to hear him laugh.

"Consider it done." He loosens his hold, goes back to stroking Regulus's hair—it's practically habitual for Evan at this point. "Purple again, or shall we branch out?"

"How are we meant to choose furniture colors when we haven't seen the rooms?"

"Oh, I'd redecorate if necessary." Like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Even if I said I wanted bright orange and green stripes with silver trim?"

"You came up with that design concerningly fast."

"You are, as ever, tactful about your instantaneous rejections."

That makes Evan laugh again. "If you really wanted that, I'd at least take you to a Healer for a health screening before saying no."

"How reassuring."

A few breaths pass, soft, even, before Evan says quietly, "We could pretend you lived there too."

Regulus has to shut his eyes.

"I know you can't, not really," Evan says, and the gentle movement of his fingers through Regulus's hair seems restless rather than absent-minded, or maybe neither. "But we could pretend."

Regulus pictures it—a townhouse, new to them both, a master bedroom meant for two and two only, a pantry full of whatever they want, invitations addressed to both of them, a fabulously ugly chaise longue photographed for posterity before being completely reupholstered however Evan wants it, because really, Regulus doesn't care. He wouldn't care even if it were utterly hideous. He'd just look at Evan instead.

He'll just look at Evan instead.

"It's not impossible," Regulus says, because it's easier than I'll make it possible. "Just very, very complicated."

Evan hums in agreement. "Is now when I'm meant to say that you do like complicated, or were you not setting up a punchline?"

"I like complicated." Regulus kisses Evan's collarbone again. "We'll figure it out."

[lacunasbalustrade]

I am reminded that you are offshoots of the same plant when you say such things, such things that would have touched me in another lifetime (all my past years are eons of space away, vast .distance)

they’re all desperate, and for the first time maybe I can see the true emotions that lie behind these words, easily said by you, yet upholding a ruthless amount of responsibility. If I accept these words, your heart, I can never give it back. you say such things and at first with the first shadow of you I thought it was an aura of overcoming adversity that you could make yourself so vulnerable.

now I know better, having met thousands of your ghosts and having loved every one of them. it is possible for a confession to be a burden only on the recipient, and all your confessions were a source of relief to you and only you.

when I tell the newest phantasm of you - he shares your mannerisms, yet insists he’s different - I tell him of your murder. How you killed me. He says he is not the same, damning his own admittance with it. How I wish he could see that I forgave you, and I still think of you dearly. I cherish the shared memories only your ghosts and I danced amongst, for him to say this is a denial that they will ever be back. Seeing you in him is half of the reason we began to know each other, why I even gave him a chance. It seems selfish, but still I know no one can ever intrude upon our halls of existence; the period I shared with you alone.

your newest ghost cannot feel the way our hands interlaced when we talked, the history behind bowls of spoon-fed porridge, and he does not know the meaning of the words he gives to me like sacks of bricks “I trust you.”

oh, for despite all our quarrels and problems, we were fond of one another. Ours was a familial affair that would never fade away. Even when we were arguing, you shone so bright that I was already forgiving you even though we kept bantering. We fit each other’s cracks so well that half the meaning of my life caved away into a collapsing cavern and I am now buried in the rubble.

I will never be whole without you.

I learnt how to easily sit beside a person and cry without shame because of you.

and I lost you.

what can he offer me besides the remnants of you?

it’s a slow, overarching grief. Not courtly, this kind of love takes no prisoners. There is simply cold metal truth against my forehead, goosebumps breaking out on my skin, and the endless bang of a gun firing.

how much longer will I be empty?

no, despite everything they gave me in remembrance of your name, all your possessions and their quiet whispers of our hearts held together by locks, they could never grasp the undeniable pain and simplicity that held me to you, even as ghost after ghost, I could not admit it out loud.

There, I have said it.

I loved you.

and over and over again, I lost you. Piece by piece, shard by shard, pencil by pencil, all of my drawing equipment swept out by the sea. I have nearly lost this ghost of yours as well, and he does not comprehend the meaning of everything you were to me, your heart now rests on my shoulders and mine shoulders alone, a dumbbell heavier than the sky. Atlas, come and swap your burden with me. You do not have to bear the cost of a price you never wanted to pay.

I choose another, over and over. He heals my being, every square foot of my heart, every notestaff of my soul, every inch of my mind.

BUT I HAVE STILL LOST YOU, AND I CANNOT BEAR TO LOSE THE HALF-PRESENCE OF YOUR GHOST, STRICKEN BY AMNESIA AND A REWRITING OF HIS FIRST FIFTY PAGES.

I told you to stop confessing in that subtle, silent way. You never listened, and that’s what cost you your place besides me. Can you not keep your words to yourself, and spare me the blood transferred between us? An inverse vampire, you bite and molecules of your life flow into my veins. I cannot recall a day you were not walking, translucent and statuesque, besides my gait. And with every new ghost, lighter and softer than the next, I feel my irises changing. Soon the world will bloom with petals even when they are veiled by skin and masks, and I will live in a waking dream of a wilting you.

am I worth the sacrifice of your life? my company cannot be so precious. and I cannot trust you to reply with anything sensible. love and distance has made prayers of us all.

live for something else, I want to say.

but how am I to do so?

you are already dead.

[the-keeper-of-midnight]

~Robert & Marine on In My Time of Need~

A week after the sudden breakup, you start to feel more at peace. Even Kev seems to be returning to his normal duties, after spending the week cuddling with you, giving all his support in this trying times.

“Beep!” your phone announces that the transfer was successful. Kev has been refusing the extra money you promised to him after all of the trouble you’ve been giving the poor man. He didn’t refuse the kisses though. But that’s another story.

He said today that you both should go to a party to “get the spirits up.” Also, spending all the time at home alone would make you an easy target to the murderer, that seems be forgot during all the feud.

So here you are on the way, secretly planning on spend the night sitting drinking the most amount of champagne possible without vomiting. “I don’t want to see broodiness on the party. Do you understand me?” Kev says. You just grunt, not deign an answer to that.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the party, things don’t seem that bad. After gulping the tenth? Eleventh? Champagne glass, you see a red haired woman approaching you.

“Marine?” she seems very surprised to your presence.

“Yes?” you question slowly. But the it hits you, this woman, you’ve seen her before, she’s Vera, the TV host.

“I didn’t know you were invited…” she says, as if that weren’t rude.

“Rude!” you think. Totally flabbergasted by her bluntness, you resist. “As someone that lives by celebrity gossip, you certainly are misinformed.”

Now she’s the one that gets offended, but you don’t wait for an answer. Leaving immediately, you go to the patio outside. Where the pool is. Where the pool is… this seems familiar. A chill runs through your spine, this house, this patio, that garden, all of this was on that Bob proposal dream. But, have you been here before? You don’t remember being here outside the dream. Checking it seems every corner bears fidelity to the one in your dream.

“What is happening!?” you draw in a shaky breath.

In your musing, you don’t notice the man coming right in front of you, and luck you, he’s not paying attention either.

Pop! Creack! Crash! On the impact, the glass on his hand flies off and hits the floor. “Fuck!” he shouts. You both seem to break the gaze from the glass to each other at the same time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No… Oh no… That’s…

“Marine.” Bob says in a flat tone, while forcing a non expressive face.

“Robert.” You say, mirroring his behaviour.

For an instant, he seems surprised, then sad, maybe hurt, but in a second the façade comes back. “I didn’t know you were coming to such event.” he says, once again flatly.

“Well I came because…” When move to look at Kev, he’s with Vera sharing a concerning whispers with Vera while pointing to you both. “Oh…” You say tiredly.

Bob seems to understand too. “So, how’s going? Seeing someo—” He pretends to be okay with the situation, but this evening, the week and the events before, seems to resurface all at once.

“Stop! Robert Skylar Hawkins!” You give a big gulp to swallow all that pride. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, for have hurt your feelings in doing so. I do not want to pretend that I’m okay being far away from, to pretend that we ended in good spirits. Fuck! I’m not okay with ending at all. ‘I love you’ seems like a very shallow sentence compared to what I’m feeling for you. No! I don’t want to be with you for sex or lewdness, I want to be with you because that what my instincts tells me so. I want to be a 90 years old dancing a slow waltz with an old you in the future. I want to be with you celebrating fifty years of marriage with all of ours twelve adopted children. I want to be a Hawkins!”

You start to gasp for air like you were ruining for kilometres. Tears fall like waterfall from your eyes. The guests and music have stopped, everyone is silent waiting for Bob��s response. He’s not moving, eyes glued to your face.

Slowly, his hands start to move to your face, this time you don’t flinch, every cell of your body has succumbed to your brain’s desire to be with the man in front of you. He softly puts his right hand on your left cheek, using his thumb to dry your tears. He doesn’t say anything, slowly moving to give you a soft kiss on the lips the resting his forehead on yours.

“Does that mean you’re sorry? Because I am.” He whispers. You give a half sob, half chuckle and whisper “Yes.” back.

The guests start to clap sound like a thunderstorm just began. The DJ starts the music back, but this time way slower, and so you stay with Bob hugging in a small slow dance on the same spot. “All is well.” it’s what most people think the moment.

[852 words; unrevised]

[glitternightingale]

Is it me or am I weirdly seen and comforted by the shot progression and the confirmation that Bruno has a tummy. Because: firstly, I hate it when people draw him muscular-

Second: His legs and arms are.... pretty thin like, the space between his legs compared to all of the healthy characters is worrying and in a weird way I like that because it shows the seriousness of the situation (I know I might/probably am looking WAY too into it) but when I was underweight because of ED, whenever I ate my stomach was always distended because I wasn't eating enough so, anything made me full. And seeing that here is kinda giving me the same vibe and I appreciate that they didn't gloss over how he PHYSICALLY needs HELP. NO ONE COULD SURVIVE THISS😭

Then again, I'm probably thinking too much into it but idk😭makes me feel happy in the weirdest way

Sorry if this was weird thing to send to your inbox😳

Please don't mind me using your message as an excuse to write some meta.

The question of whether or not Bruno even has a protruding stomach is officially answered. It's now up for debate to analyze what kind and why he has it.

Bruno's Belly: Artistic Choice? Chub? Malnutrition?

Artistic Choice

As someone who takes a close look at characters I want to recreate when I draw, I pay a lot of attention to their mannerisms and, of course, their body as you will definitely notice in this post.

There's a lot of thought that goes into character design and every shape, every wrinkle is supposed to mean something and make the character recognizable. The design is meant to make us project emotions on fictional people and associate them with certain values.

Bruno, the guy with the connotation of sickly green and made out to be the villain of the movie, already subverts this for plot purposes. Roundness conveys security, friendliness, and reliability; all traits Bruno possesses and bears on his face, most notably in his nose and eyes. Then there's his clashing thinness, with angles and bone. Perhaps it should make him seem a little dorky and defenseless (and in need of "rescuing" by the protagonist).

Even Camilo uses shape language to push the image of having a (cool) evil uncle. The Bruno he portrays is gaunter, more driven, and intimidating. And he has, as far as I can see in this very brief frame, no belly (since the shirt doesn't wrinkle on the crest where it should):

You might be familiar with the earlier design of Bruno in Disney's concept art. You know, the one where he's much, much larger?

I assume the crew dropped this design for two reasons:

1. To make the "living inside the walls for ten years" more realistic in the movie.

A bigger frame requires more fuel to sustain it and more food going missing would have alerted the rest of the family. Also, navigating soundlessly through Casita's narrow hallways and the opening behind the painting giving access to them would have been more difficult.

2. To underline the relationship between Bruno and his sisters.

Much like his color that is a mix of his sisters', Bruno's current design incorporates Pepa's side of the family (rather tall and thin) as well as Julieta's (the more sturdy-looking characters).

What I find surprising, and I'm really reaching here because I have no idea what really went on behind the scenes of the creation of Encanto, is that the animators seem to have added Bruno's pouch.

Here's a screenshot from, as far as I know, pre-production days:

To a frame that definitely made it into the movie:

This means that Bruno's stomach was important! Why else would they go back to remodel the figure even though it must have been clear it would be covered by a large cloth most of the time?

Chub

Now, there are a couple of reasons why Bruno might have (so much) stomach fat.

1. He's fifty years old and this happens.

2. He's been living inside the walls with minimal exercise (Mirabel chasing him and Bruno bolting like crazy seems like a one-time thing to me. He probably never expected to be run after and the only reasons he made it over that chasm were luck and a great fear of being caught and giving up his secret).

3. Illness (that's a thing for a different post)

But then again, why would all that weight only settle there, when his limbs are so concerningly thin? (I know there are different body types and that Bruno is a cartoon character with extreme proportions, but still...)

Malnutrition

We finally get to the point that has something to do with your ask and that is: maybe, what Bruno has isn't stomach fat at all!

There are two possible assumptions I can come up with:

1. Ascites

It's an illness where fluids build up in the stomach area due to underlying health issues like cirrhosis of the liver, tumors of the gastrointestinal tract, and heart failure. Let's hope that's not the case and Julieta's arepas could spare him from that.

2. Bloating

Looking at the screenshots, it would have to be extreme bloating, but a possibility nonetheless. We don't know how much Bruno got or wanted to eat, despite the kitchen being right next to his hideout. He also describes his dear rat companions as "always hungry, never satisfied" and feeds them in the next frame, so it's not outlandish to assume that Bruno makes sure they get food before he does. There are also other (mental) illnesses that could cause a lack of interest in eating.

Conclusion

All in all, we don't know for certain why Bruno looks like he does. But no one could ever convince me that this

is meant to signify a picture of health. Even the bones of his chest and hands are visible in this model.

So, @mmollymercury , I absolutely agree with you. The new info only makes Bruno more interesting and offers more whump material. And, please, never feel weird or awkward when sending me asks.

Extra

I literally wrote this drabble five minutes before reading your message. I thought about incorporating it into my fic WAACH one day.

Julieta wanted to give Bruno more food. However, it seemed like he turned the offer vehemently down.

“Ah, that’s a lot, isn’t it?” he asked briskly, eyeing the tray she had prepared for him like an offense.

Julieta could only silently stare, in fear and exasperation.

“I… well, I already have quite the pouch…,” he mumbled, patting his stomach that bulged a little over his waistband and thus hoping to show his sister she had nothing to worry about.

“It only appears so––“‘disproportionate’ she wanted to say, but bit it down, “––like that because the rest of you is so small. Hm, just look at your arms and legs! Dios mio, Bruno, you are a grown, middle-aged man; you should look like one!”

“I’m fine. I really am!” he defended, overreacting in a way that deepened Julieta’s frown.

Julieta didn’t want to hurt her brother further, but the best medicine for denial was the unshakable truth. Julieta sighed before she took on a gentle if stern tone: “Bruno, you simply cannot be ‘fine’ after what you’ve gone through.”

Edit: a second part to this post is up.

[bonnymori]

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲

Word count: 2760+ (i'll try to keep bigger lengths such as this one!)

Synopsis: You meet a new classmate who's working along Nanami, you think he's fun to be around, it stands the same to him about you. Later, feelings unravel.

Contents/Warnings: (1) Itadori Yuuji x gn!reader (2) FLUFF, TONS OF FLUFF - and some comfort (3) With the small participation of... Ino Takuma!! I really like him too, that's why <33333 (4) This is pretty platonic, but also not? (5) Ending turned sorta cliché... but I liked it u.u

A/N: This boy made me run rampant... to fhe point it's not single attraction anymore I just wish him happiness (smh if only my parents knew...) also next post will be Toji's fic pt. 2! Y'all see the first part is almost reaching 100 kudos????? I'M SO HAPPY EHSODJWKDKSJD- thanks for all the new followers and the support!! <33

Ever since his fake death, Itadori has been training alone with the help of Gojo - and now, he works along a freshly new face, who belongs to a senior, founds out ex-salaryman named Nanami Kento. He's far a thousand times more strict than Gojo. Itadori doesn't really likes the change, because Nanami is a person he can't get along. This whole guy's appearance scream "work 4 life"; he has proved different, now he screams "work is shit - but I gotta do it because others won't".

They've just finished cleansing the outside of a movie theater off a few curses, when Itadori hears shouting from far behind them. Two figures approach, waving excessively. He quickly picks on Nanami's tired sigh beside him.

"Nanami! We figured out you'd be here! Our mission has been finished and we wanted to catch up to have lunch together!" A male clad in a full black outfit shouts, he has brown hair and a beanie on top of his head, looking quite content.

The other person simply trots next to him in silence, approaching with a friendly smile. They notice Itadori faster than the male, smile widening and quickly waving hello, suddenly eager to reach up to them. The gesture makes the pink haired boy perk up, curious to why the other person looked so joyful. His question is easily answered, when they tug on the man's sleeve and motion to him.

"Ino, we have a third buddy!" The dude looks at him with widened eyes. "So nice to meet you, I'm Y/N L/N! It's great to see new faces around!"

Itadori smiles at your energy, knowing already he would click with you very well.

"I'm Ino Takuma, sorry for not noticing you before! Your uniform looks cool." Itadori exchanges a few compliments with Ino, before the man turns to talk with Nanami, leaving him and you together.

"Yes! I'm Sukuna's vessel, Itadori Yuuji-desu! My type of woman is Jenn-"

You turn to him. "So, are you a first year?"

"Geh? Weren't you dead though?!"

"I was!- I am!- Please keep secret."

"Okay!"

"Ahem." Nanami coughs, drawing attention. "I requested you two to not come after me today. Itadori here is the reason why."

"That's no problem, we're very capable of keeping secrets." You threw your arm over Itadori's shoulder, him nodding along with you.

"Oh really, then remember to keep quiet about it. I'll let this slide." The group of students nervously at Nanami's intimidating tone. "But, I'll get to have my break alone."

"Gah!" Ino exclaimed, watching Nanami walk away; he also left the responsability of taking care of Itadori for you two, leaving without a word. "It really had to be today, when Nanami would take us to his favorite bakery..."

"Crybaby." You teased. "Itadori here can't go outside where anyone can see him, he's dead. So, we were to order food either way because he shouldn't be left out."

"Augh okay, it would be unfair."

"So, where are you staying Itadori?"

"At Gojo's state!"

"Whoa, I've never been there before." Ino commented, waiting as you sent a message to Ijichi to pick them up.

"He's my teacher, a very cool one!"

"I imagine! Ooookay, once we get there I'll get the food."

Itadori felt as his chest would burst of excitement, finally there was people around him again, he couldn't be less happy about it.

"Sharing is caring!"

Itadori laughed as you wrestled with Takuma for some fries, netflix long forgotten in the background, as watching the banter was way more entertaining. Most of the time, Ino rambled a lot about Nanami, while he rambled a lot about Gojo. The guy even showed him the cool scar under his beanie. He felt kinda upset after explaining the exchange was just temporary, his stay under Nanami's wing wasn't decisive, and therefore, he was more like a classmate than a partner.

Itadori also learned a lot about you. He was surprised to find out that you, although energetic, was the one to speak the lesser in conversations. His surprisement grew even bigger when you told him you're a exchange student from Kyoto, arriving Tokyo about the same month as him - thankfully, you were to say for good.

Conversations flowed easily in the air, until a voice from the doorway barged in.

"Yuuji-kun! Don't forget about your lessons! Hi kids! Bye kids!" Gojo said playfully, throwing the familiar punching bear to Itadori before leaving.

"What's this thing?" Ino asked.

"It's to help me control my cursed energy. So while I watch the movies, if I don't charge it with cursed energy it punches me square in the face. I thought I had mastered this thing already, but he insist I keep training with it." Itadori grumbles.

"At least it's cute." You commented, taking a sip of your drink.

"Until it punches you in your face without warning!" The pink haired boy barks.

The talks died down, the three of you eating quietly when another movie is played on the screen. Itadori didn't bother reading the title, it was a plain one about a zombie apocalypse that got him extremely bored, yet he kept watching still so the plushie didn't punch him in the face again; he's been keeping a record since all his last cursed energy training lessons were a sucess to this day. When his head started nodding and eyelids dropping Itadori can't remember well, about fourty five minutes of movie perhaps? Make it fifty, the second slumber took over his body completely.

When he awoke once again, it was near midnight, the clock on the wall told him so. He also noticed a soft and warm surface supporting his head, figures, it's your shoulder he's resting into, he feels an arm around his own shoulders and your cheek placed upon his hair.

"Hey, it's late." You immediately notices he's awake, calling out softly. "You should sleep on your room, or something, better to your spine."

He chuckles when you poke his side. "But I'm comfortable here."

"I'm surprised, you just met me today, and now is sleeping on my shoulder."

"I'm not, that happens often to me."

"Sleeping on people's shoulders?"

"No! Making friends quickly." Itadori likes your gentle warmth, your hug, everything makes him feel at home. "I met two more people before you for two weeks, but they can't see me, because I'm dead."

"So I'll keep you company, that's my new mission."

His eyes widen at that, a oh so little blush covering the tip of his ears.

"For how many time I slept anyway?" He asks.

"About two- no, three hours. You missed two movies, and this one is about to end."

"And you stayed here the whole time?" He motions to your shoulder.

"Yep. That reminds me I gotta pee."

Itadori grumbles, but quickly lifts himself off you, respecting your needs. That gives him some time to look around, he notices Ino is gone, and the plushie sits quietly at the other side of the couch, unmoving.

"Y/N! How did you manage to make it quiet down?" He's beyond bafflet.

"...que."

"What!"

"I said!" You arrive quickly at the doorframe, hands still wet from when you washed them. "I used my innate technique."

"Oh! How is it like?"

"It's kinda funny, gimme a moment." You left to wipe off your hands, coming back in a second. "So, just like Shoko, I produce reverse curse energy, but it's quite different than hers, I can't heal people. That's why we often call it positive energy instead. I can use it to soothe off negative energy, so the bear has no cursed energy right now."

"How does it works on people?" He felt very curious about everything, asking away like a kid.

"Since everyone has negative energy, it just makes you sleepy really. But when it comes to curses it's really practical, I can either weaken it or, if the curse is like grade three or four, I can slap them off existence completely by wiping all their energy." You were naturally proud of having a such versatile power, your own energy swirling with pride around you.

"That sounds amazing! Is it why I fell asleep though?"

"Nah, only if I did it on purpose. I guess you were just tired, hope you don't mind I decided to let you rest today."

"No way, it was a good nap."

You nodded. "By the way, Ino left to attend to a drinking party, he paid for our food."

"Drinking? Is he old?"

"Yeah, he's twenty." You chuckled, already expecting that kind of reaction.

"No way! He looks young just like us!"

"That's totally my reaction after I learned he's twenty!"

After that day, you started visiting Itadori weekly to daily, after exchanging numbers he made a little group with you and Ino, naming it the "Nanami trio". But really, he exchanges more texts with you in private, be them memes, cool images he wish to share, etcetera. Although, Ino wasn't left excluded, he ofter brough his xbox to connect to Itadori's tv room and you all would spend hours playing together; he just didn't spend much time with both of you as much. And that was okay.

For a few days, your connection with Itadori died down when he didn't reply to your texts. They would remain unread for some time, the longest being half a day, until he would spam apologies then move on with the topic. That became a routine until one day when you came over to check on Itadori unnanounced, needin to ease off your worries about the boy, only to find him sobbing in the middle of a hallway, staring ahead and beyond, his back to you.

"Ita-?"

"Egh!" Startled, he scrambled to wipe his eyes, turning to you. "H-hey, um, hi."

"What happened?"

"I- he-" His eyes didn't met yours, knuckles white in a death grip. You notice he has a few bandages thrown over his face and arms. The way his shoulders are drawn, as if he wants to shrink into himself is something you've experienced before.

"Something hard to talk about?"

He nods almost immediately, head still facing down.

"It's alright, come with me." You reach for his hands, grimacing slightly when his forceful grip is now on your hand, yet you don't comment on it. He follows you through the state wordlessly.

You two stop on the same tv room, sitting down on the couch. You then guide his head to your shoulder, gently massaging his scalp with the free hand.

"It's alright."

Those two words are chanted like a prayer for the next half hour, at some point, Itadori twisted his body towards yours and unknowingly caged you between him and the sofa arm. He embraced you with a force you didn't have in you, like he didn't want to lose one another. Painful or not, not a muscle moved on your body. He needed a shoulder to cry on.

Thirty minutes passed like seconds, you peered down only to find the boy confortably napping against your bosom; at some point you just became the cold side of the pillow to him. That's alright. It brings you joy to be the mom friend anyways. So you decided to join the sleepland aswell, arms still secured around his shoulders and the back of his head.

It feels like the nap hasn't been long, though, because you can feel Itadori's grip loosening and therefore, you're awake.

"Sorry if I broke any bones, in advance."

"Wow, and you only warn me now."

He laughs at your comeback, hands still secured around your waist.

"I'm surprised you let me uh, cuddle you for comfort - and sleep. I don't understand it? You just make me sleepy." He rambled, keeping eye contact with you while his head still rests on your chest.

"That's a piece of cake when you have younger siblings who seek for you every night they get a nightmare."

"Does that mean I can come to you again if I have a nightmare?" There it is, his togepi-kirby cutesy face.

"Are you four?"

"That's mean!" Itadori blushed, squeezing you on his arms. "I like the contact. It puts me at ease."

"Mm, do you want to talk about it?"

He gulped. "No, not really."

Your peach haired friend remained silent, and so did you. It seems he doesn't intend in letting you go soon, or he just really forgot to mention it. It gives them time to think, your younger sisted used to do that sometimes, back in Kyoto.

"Y/N, wanna watch anything?"

"Sure, have you watched Parasyte before?"

"No, let's give it a try then!" Itadori glances at the remote, then back at you - making you confused over his hesitation to move. He notices you noticed it, chuckling nervously. "To be honest, I don't wanna let go."

"It's hurting my back."

"SORRY I'M SORRY!" He jumped away from you like a cat would jolt away from a cucumber, making you snicker.

"It's okay, I just wanted to change positions."

And to tease you, but he didn't need to know that part.

He glared at you with a small pout, typing the initials of Parasyte on the search bar. Outside his line of vision, you were grinning like a idiot, his sweeteness took a tow on you. All the people of Tokyo you met really held a way different spirit from your classmates in Kyoto, Itadori being the nicest of all. It's surprising him being Sukuna's vessel to begin with; being honest, you felt drawn by it.

"Y/N, it's startiiiiing." He cut your daydreaming short, slumping on your side and propping his head on your shoulder.

"This again?" You throw an arm around his shoulders, very much like the first time he cuddled himself on you.

"Don't blame me, you're the one who wanted to change positions. Guess I'll just make some alterations since I'm awake this time!" One of his arms went behind your back and circled your waist, hand resting at your hip.

"It's definely different, since the other time you drooled on me."

"Hhgh, okay okay! Let me enjoy this." For perhaps the actual first time, you're able to watch without exchanging words with one another.

And this time, it's you who's head loll to the side, nose buried on his soft rose perfumed hair. Itadori doesn't comment on it yet, his free hand moves under your legs to lift your whole body up efortlessly when he senses you have fallen asleep.

"I remember you said it's bad for my spine, I wouldn't mind it... yours however."

The boy makes a beeline to the guest room, he sighs when there is no choice but open the door with his foot. Inside, he places you carefully in the soft bed.

Before he could leave, a hand reaches up for his sleeve.

"Itadori," He turned, looking at you. "Make me company?"

He giggles softly - you think it sounds like a highschool girl. "You should start calling me by my first name!" Itadori rambles as he climbs on the bed, arms wrapping around your waist in a motion you're familiar with.

"Yuuji, I'm tired, let me sleep."

"But I wanna talk more..." He pouts. "Also, are we, um, dating?"

You wriggle around, bringing his head down to peck on his forehead, teasing. "Correction, I want to date you."

"Uh, oh." A blush coats his face so quickly, you'd say someone dumped a bucket of red paint on his face.

"Is that a no?"

"No!"

"So it is a no."

"Christ, will you stop teasing for a second, I'm trying to talk here." He makes an angry version of his togepi-kirby face, you can't help but grin.

"You amuse me, but okay. I'll do it for you."

"Thanks." He blinks, the blush slowly fading away. "You know, I lied, not about the contact, I like the contact nonetheless-"

His hand moves to play with yours, such as tapping his tips against yours, or meassuring the palms.

"-it's you who brings me comfort."

It's also your turn to blush, that line was seriously charming.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, we're dating now." You respond, a little eagerly. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

This is the best person I could ask for, Itadori thinks, keeping his eyes open as yours shut during the kiss, whom I won't change for anything else in this world.

When you both separate, Itadori feels drowsy and sleepy. His face fits perfectly on your shoulder as always.

"Goodnight, my favorite person."

[soobmint]

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.” 

-

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of  boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest. 

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together. 

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

- 

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood. 

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck. 

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure. 

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face. 

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. 

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

-

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back. 

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

[bistevethor]

Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations

Happy birthday, Steve!

I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.

Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.

Fics are under read more.

General

The Rocket's Red Glare

Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.

an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity

In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.

Baby Steve Adventures

Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)

"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”

The Truth When Captains Meet

Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Irish Coffee

Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers

Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.

The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)

What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?

Fifty-Two Pickup

Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.

little kids get big so fast

Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.

Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories

If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.

“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”

Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.

On Camping Trips

Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.

Powerful

Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.

His Dream

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.

"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."

"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.

The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."

Realization clicked in Sam's head.

"The gas de-serumed you."

Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.

OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.

A Strange Encounter

Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.

even if we're apart, i'll always be with you

Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.

As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.

Draw/Breath

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.

AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.

With Magic We Do Fly

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?

Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.

Just Like We Practiced

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers

Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.

Black and White but Red and Blue

They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.

"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."

The Road Warriors

Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff

It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.

We'll Fix It

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.

From Here On Out

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.

AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.

Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.

I have this breath and I hold it tight

Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision

Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

to you.

Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark

It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.

New Love

Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers

Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.

Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.

I'm Fine

Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.

dogpile

"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."

Alone In This World (Together)

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson

“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”

“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”

“Once night falls.”

Do we have any idea where she is?”

“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”

it gets the worst at night

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov

Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.

(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)

Shelter

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.

Princely Bickering

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor

Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.

And The Seconds Tick Down

AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.

"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.

A Tune Without Words

Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.

Purpose

Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.

Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.

Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.

Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.

Three Awakenings

The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.

Making Your Own Future

Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.

Better Living Through Pizza

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.

Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.

Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers

When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.

Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge

"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.

Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."

Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper

Fan Mail

Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!

Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."

Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."

Mascot

Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.

Locks Not Replaced

Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.

woof

For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."

Mission: Baby

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.

14 Tracks

Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.

Life Will Rattle Your Bones

Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers

Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?

In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.

come build me up

Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”

“All of the time.”

Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.

Down in the Worn Out Place Again

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff

“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.

Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”

(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)

Satellites

Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.

Timeless Classics

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.

you just wait and see

Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers

“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”

The Small Hours

Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."

The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels

Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.

we're all choir boys at best

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.

Epistaxis

Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.

You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades

His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.

Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)

After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.

Mourning the Future

Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.

Riviera Life

Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.

Voluntary Bros.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm

"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.

"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.

Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple

Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.

... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.

Battle Fatigue

Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.

We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)

New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.

Leviticus 25

"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."

Strike

Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.

Conversation in Wakanda

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

Contact Light

Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.

Twenty-Two

“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.

“Does he help?” Natasha asked.

Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”

Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.

AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).

Gray

Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.

We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.

"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.

This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable

Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.

it's safe here in our new world

Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.

Shadowboxing

Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers

It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?

Everybody Eats When They Come to My House

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.

i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.

Status Quo Ante

Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)

The Glass Parade

Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov

Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.

In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.

Still Life

Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)

Selective Service

The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.

I'm a Hustler, Baby

Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.

The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens

Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.

If I Die Before I Wake

It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.

Even Gods Do

Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.

Under My Skin

Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.

A Glossary of the 21st Century

Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.

Blanket Gift Policy

“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.

“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.

“I’m getting a migraine.”

“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”

“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”

Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”

One Tin Soldier

Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?

“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.

and if there's life we'll see it

Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.

Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)

Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.

Way of the Eagle

Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.

Walking Wounded

In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)

[purgatorypoetry]

it's the end of december and the rivers up, but not just high I'm talking flood warning's still on for another hour,

you ask me if I will miss you, my heart makes new tears in the same old places my knees buckle in exaggerated angles at unnatural directions,

cause and cost and conception like collapsing I said falling, I meant spinning,

I'm always on about the spinning but it can't be denied when the purity of the mind feels itself like a new dope maybe sometimes

I just wanna breathe smoke -

and when I'm on about smoke I'm also on about fire it's the same images I can't stop scribbling on these ugly fucking walls -

it's why I still love coffee, why I like it so much with whiskey and so much that I have to be careful I know, I know, sometimes I'm a bit much to handle, bare-handed and strange, death-rattle twitchy - but bear with me

calculate terminal velocity, meters and seconds and the resistance of the wind I sometimes wonder if I'd fall faster without my skin

there's no dive form saves you even when you hit the water at such speeds it's as unforgiving as bone on concrete but I still have dreams about drowning anyway,

look I'm every existing definition of sorry and probably at least six or seven more and I've said it so many fucking times before

-

it's the end of december and it's fifty degrees and drizzling and slate-goddamn-grey

the difference between clumsy and careless but you could care less and I wouldn't blame you but I still want to thank you for the fact I continue to draw breath,

and I'm beating this dead horse to death but I guess maybe it's not dead maybe it's just lame and maybe it's not lame but maybe it's just afraid,

like how you can tell a beat dog by the way his head shys from a petting hand I'm trying to say I try so hard to not be defensive

I try to explain how I've always felt like something's been missing inside of me and how I tried to fill it with so, so many things and some were so beautiful -

and some were so decidedly not

-

it's the end of december and the rose grass is flowering I mean we've yet to even see a real snow I just can't escape this feeling like we're all gonna die so if you ask me one more time what I'm running from don't get all weird when I don't have an answer better than everything

I try to not tell you about how I've never really felt at home anywhere for longer than it took me to be able to find the exit in the dark I try to not tell you how sometimes

I just fucking fall apart -

[waywardscorpio]

Chapter 4: You're Our Omega, And We're Your Alphas

Tag list: @callmekda @braunstrowmangirl @phoenixoffiretwo @luna-loo @scuzmunkie @fanfiction-san @omg-im-such-a-masochist

*Dean's POV*

Y/N's now six months along in the pregnancy. I was pacing the locker room lost in my thoughts, until Y/N, snaps me out of it. "Dean?" She calls out from the door of the locker room, with one hand on her belly and the other on her hip. "Yes, Baby Doll?" I replied looking at her. "I'm hungry. I want jalapeno cheetos and yogurt." She said waddling over to me carefully. "In my duffle bag is some cheetos you like, and the yogurt is in the fridge over there, Baby Girl." I replied to her as I held her hips and kiss her softly. She smiled kissing back. "Thank you, Daddy." She said softly to me so, only I hear it.

"You're welcome, Baby Doll." I replied. There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I called out. "Nia and Randy." Randy calls back. "Come in." I said to them. "Hey." They said as they walked into the room. "Hey. What's up?" I asked. "Nia and I, are coming to watch over Y/N." Randy said. "Okay. She is not to leave either of your sides." I said as I finished taping my wrists off for my match. Nia nods her head. "We know Dean. I will not let her out of my sight. Someone tries to hurt her I'll break the bones." Nia said. "Good." I replied as Y/N absentmindedly watched videos and ate her food. I kissed her forehead before I went to leave for my match tonight.

*Little time skip*

After my match with Baron, i walked to my locker room and seen Y/N, sleeping and Randy and Nia talking quietly. Y/N stirs in her sleep whimpering a little. Knowing the reason she is stirring I lay my hand softly on her belly humming to sooth the pups movements. After a minute the pups relax and Y/N stops stirring and whimpering. Her eyes flutter open as she looks at me "Thank you" she whispers softly before drifting back off to sleep. "You're welcome, Baby Doll." I whisper to her. I look over at Randy and Nia. "What are y'all talking about?" I asked them as I stood up and walked over to them. "Randy here is wanting to court a female but can't figure out how what to get her" Nia said to me as she looks at me." I looked at Randy "What is one thing that she loves more than anything?" I asked him as I sat down and talked with them. "She loves to draw, dance, take photographs" Randy replies to me. "Okay. Why don't you buy her one of them computers that will allow her to record videos, has the pen and apps to draw, a camera to take as many photo's her little heart desires." I offered. "Thank you, I just said that to him" Nia said. "You can also get it in her favorite color(s) too." Nia said. "It won't be cheesy will it?" Randy asked us. "No, it won't but, even if it is, it's the thought that counts." Nia said. "I agree with Nia. The courting gift that I picked out for Y/N, was a necklace with a little teddy bear and ice cream pendants on it. She loved it and wears it still to this day." I said to him.

"Thanks you too" Randy said to me. "You're welcome" Me and Nia said at the same time to Randy. "So, who's all coming to the baby's shower?" Nia asked me. "Well for a sure note so, far it is going to be, You and Randy, Lana, Rusev, Me, Roman, Seth, some of the other wrestlers and divas will be there as well. Y/N invited her family and friends outside of the wwe as did me and the guys did. Y/N wasn't leaving her friends that has been like family to her since she's been here." I said. Nia smiled as she nods. "You okay?" Randy asks. "Yeah just hoping I'll be a good father." i said to them as I turned my head to check on Y/N before I turned back to Randy and Nia. "You will be Dean" I heard a small voice say. I turn my head to the voice and it was Y/N, sitting up on the couch rubbing her eyes softly. "I'm sorry, Baby Doll. I didn't mean to wake you up." I said to her as I watched her get up and waddle over to me to sit on my lap. "No, Daddy it's okay." Y/N said to me as she snuggles into me.

Roman and Seth, walked into the room and looks at us. "Wrapped around her finger" Roman whispered to Seth. "I heard that. And I won't argue with the statement either. I don't care that I am wrapped around her finger." I said to them. Nia and Randy just chuckled as they stood up. "We're going shopping to get stuff for the Baby shower." Nia said. "Rusev, and a few of the others will meet us at the huge mall" Randy said to us. "What happened between him and Lana." Nia asked Randy. "Lana divorced him for another alpha."

I looked down at Y/N, as she was eating her food while looking at her Tumblr. I smiled seeing her happy and relaxed for once and not upset and scared. She went from lookin' at Tumblr to lookin' at Wish. I knew she wanted something by the fact she would pout at me and show me what she was looking at. I pulled out my wallet, an handed her my credit card. "Get whatever you want Baby Doll." I said to her. Triple H walked in and seen what I did and chuckles. "She definitely gets what she wants." Roman nods. "He doesn't tell her no" He said. Y/N, giggles softly. "Nope, I don't tell her no. If she wants something she gets it." I said to everyone. "Told you." Randy, said to Seth. Seth, grumbles and hands Randy, fifty dollars. "Alright Baby Doll, I have to go get ready for my match." I said as I softly set Y/N, down. She whines softly "Nooooo." I frown a little "I promise, I'm coming back as soon as I am done with my match."

"Okay." She said. I hated leaving her side but I still had a job to do. I give her a kiss on the lips before I walked to the gorilla pen. "Here is your number one contender for the Wwe world heavy weight championship. Dean Ambrose!!!!" Jillian announced. I walked out to the ring with a firm glare set on my face. I knew this was going to be a long match because I was going against, Matt Hardy. He is one hell of a fighter and neither one of us get along with the other all that great.

As the match went on me and Matt were both bloody. I was able to get him with Dirty Deeds. "1...2...3... and your new champion is Dean Ambrose." The ring announcer says threw the mic. I walk up the ramp backwards holding the title up in my hands smirking evily.

I walk behind the curtain and walk down the corridor to my assigned locker room. I hear shouting and stuff crashing. I ran into the room seeing Y/N, hiding and Rusev and Bobby Lashley going at it while Seth and Roman are protecting Y/N, by standing in between her and them. "What the fuck is going on?" I yelled. "Bobby started it with Rusev." Nia said. Nia and Randy are trying to break them up. Bobby throws a vase at Rusev who ducks and it hits the wall beside Y/N's head. Dean dropped his belt and grabs Bobby, and throws him. "Now you fucked up you son of a bitch" I scream heated as I swing on Bobby. Y/N was shaking and crying. Seth picked her up checking her. He seen her hand is cut from accidently setting her hand on it trying to push against the wall to hide from all the yelling, and she was bleeding on the cheek from the glass bouncing off the wall. "Roman she has glass in her hand and cheek" Seth said. Roman's eyes went wide and he growls and pulls me away and grabs, Bobby himself. "Your my next match next week. I'm gonna show you what pain feels like" He said throwing Bobby, out the room and drags him to Triple H where him and The Rock was talking. They look at him and he tells them what happened. The Rock, growled "Make that a tag team match." He didn't like Alphas messing with other Alphas ladies or them causing harm to females.

"I will go announce it tonight at the end of the show." Triple H, said to Roman. Roman nods walking back not seeing us because we had took Y/N, to the infirmary. Roman panicked and only got angrier. "Y/N!!!!" He said looking for Y/N, Seth and Dean up and down hallways and locker rooms. Y/N, jumps hearing Roman yell for her. "Roman's mad." She whimpers softly looking at Seth. "Shhh it's okay. I'll go get him and let him know you're safe." Seth said to her softly kissing her cheek that wasn't cut. I held Y/N's, hand while Seth, went to find Roman. "Hey, she is okay just a small little cut on the cheek and the palm of her hand." Seth told Roman. "No, one came and fucking told me she was being taken to the infirmary." He said enraged by the fact no, one told him that Y/N, was going to the infirmary. "Calm down, Roman. We just wanted to make sure she was okay and not seriously hurt." Seth said to Roman. "And I'm her mate I should know too." He yells. "Okay, next time we will tell you. Please calm down. Y/N, can feel your anger and it is upsetting her." Seth adds as he looks at Roman. Roman rubs his hand down his face sighing. "Okay. I am calm. Now can I go see her?" Roman asked. Seth steps out of his way to let him by. Roman walked into the infirmary where Y/N, was at sitting on the edge of the bed and I was between her legs comforting her. "Daddy Roman!" She said reaching for him. He looks at her and walked over kissing her lips resting his head on hers. "I'm sorry Princess, for upsetting you." Roman said apologizing to her. She snuggles into him. "It's okay. You were worried about us. I understand, Daddy." She said. "I love you, Daddy." She whispered to him. "I love you, Princess." Y/N, smiles softly at his words until she whimpers seeing someone walk in.

"Oh look the big dog has been tamed by the little bitch." Dolph said laughing as he looks at Roman. "What did you just say about them?" I said to him. "I called her a Little bitch." He repeated. Roman growls pulling away from Y/N, making her whimper and reach for Roman. "She isn't no, such thing. She is beautiful and smart." Roman said. His eyes changed to a fiery red. "What's wrong Big Dog? Your lesh being pulled to tame you some more." Dolph said. "You can say what you want about me. But, you leave Y/N, the fuck alone." He said punching him in the jaw hard. Y/N, watched what was happening. I picked up Y/N, and carried her out as Seth pulled Roman, off Dolph. "Come on Roman, stop before you get arrested." Seth said as he pushes Roman back. "I don't care. No, one calls Princess, a Little Bitch." He said to him as he looks at him. "But beating him almost to death isn't gonna do anything either. Roman roars and throws stuff starting to get everyone's attention. "Roman you need to calm down." Seth said, to him. I knew Roman would calm down if Y/N, was there to sooth his angry Alpha side. "Okay I wanna help him. Take me to Daddy Roman, please?" She said reading my mind. I nodded my head carrying her. "Okay Baby." I set her on her feet as she makes slow steps towards Roman. He felt her presents and swiftly turns to her, eyes still red. "Daddy, its me. Your Princess. Y/N" She said softly reaching her hand up to touch his cheek. He growls a little but not to scare her. He wraps his arms around her waist pulling her close to him. "Shhh relax. It's okay. I'm okay, and I am safe." She said soothing the angry Alpha. He placed his head on her shoulder nudging her neck softly with his nose which earned a small mewl from Y/n's, lips.

I watched relieved that he calmed down. I hated seeing my brothers upset. Me, Roman, and Seth were like brothers.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Thriller Bark

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

the tone of thriller bark is super fun- the combination of horror and comedy is done really well, and i like how it’s set at the very start, with the introduction of a seemingly terrifying situation and character (brook and his ghost ship) that are very quickly revealed to be anything but. 

i also like that we hear singing and see music notes before we ever even see brook. we’re associating our musician with music before we even know him. 

brook’s recruitment is delightful, and so very luffy. of course he would want a talking skeleton musician on his crew, and of course he wouldn’t be fazed by brook in the slightest except to think he’s cool. i love him a lot. 

for the most part, thriller bark isn’t actually scary despite its horror theming- but it does get some good moments in, and of them, i think the reveal of cindry’s room is definitely the best. it’s not scary, necessarily, but it’s deeply creepy, and only becomes more so when you learn why it’s like that and what exactly hogback did. 

i love how team-based thriller bark feels. especially immediately following water 7/enies lobby (in which two crewmates leave and the crew has to deal with a ton of internal strife) and preceding sabaody (where the crew gets separated), it’s just so nice. it’s most obvious in the team fight versus oars (and i’ll get to that later because i LOVE it), but also in smaller moments like robin and franky’s team fight against the spider zombie.

the team just feels so cohesive in thriller bark, and it’s really good. robin and franky are the two newest crewmates, but they already trust each other enough to pull off some fantastic teamwork. 

usopp is really good in thriller bark. he also has the best outfit in this entire arc. 

my two favorite fights in this arc are usopp versus perona and zoro versus ryuuma, for very different reasons. 

zoro’s fight with ryuuma is fantastically cool, and i really like the level of respect and understanding that seems to exist between them. you have an ancient samurai and a modern samurai, separated by several hundred years, dueling it out to the best of their abilities- it’s really just awesome. 

usopp’s fight with perona is very different, because they’re both people who hate fighting directly and will avoid it whenever possible. their fight is a mess of diversions and distractions that makes usopp’s moments of courage and triumph, like sticking his hand into a bear’s mouth, not to mention his ultimate victory, all the more satisfying. 

i just really like seeing usopp grow and accomplish things!!

i’m aware there’s an argument to be made that the character we meet in this arc isn’t really ryuuma, because ryuuma is 1) dead and 2) possessed by brook’s shadow, but it isn’t going to stop me from saying ryuuma is awesome. 

the clouds of fire he’s frequently shown with are also gorgeous, and definitely evocative of the style oda will later use to draw wano, which is a very cool touch. 

everything about cindry makes me so, so sad. 

i’d also argue that the fact that she overcomes hogback’s conditioning by finally expressing emotion, first by crying and then by smiling, is the first manifestation of the same thread we’ll later see with koala and the slaves of the celestial dragons. one piece says over and over again that there is no point where someone stops being human, no matter how much agency they’re robbed of. 

i just think nami giving her attempted rapist several thousand volts to the face is very very sexy of her

like i mentioned, the crew against oars is such a HIGHLIGHT of this arc. i think it’s one of the only times we actually see the entire crew focused on a singular opponent (the only other case i can think of is the pacifista and then kuma at sabaody), and it’s just so much fun to see. 

i also appreciate that the strawhats carry the first half of this fight without needing luffy to be there. he might be their captain and the linchpin of the crew, but they’re still a crew when he’s not around, and still very capable of working together without him. 

this is just still one of my favorite gags.

continuing re: the team fight against oars, the final sequence where the entire crew coordinates for one final attack, some of them working to incapacitate oars and others to weaken him and other to position him just right for luffy’s final blow to paralyze him- that’s the GOOD SHIT.

i don’t know that there’s much i can say about zoro’s confrontation with kuma that hasn’t already been said, so all i’ll say is that zoro’s loyalty to luffy is absolutely staggering, and hits me in the chest every time i so much as think about it.

zoro has the second “luffy’s going to be pirate king” moment, i believe, after usopp in alabasta, and definitely one of the most memorable. 

there’s something about luffy on top of brook’s piano that always delights me. i think this is their dynamic in a picture: brook playing music, and luffy listening, and talking, and cheering him up. 

there’s something about the ending of thriller bark that really hits, in a way not really shared by other arcs. there’s a certain finality to it, a swan song. i think it was sarc opbackgrounds who pointed out that unlike most other character flashbacks, which come at the middle of the arc to add extra weight before the climax, brook’s comes at the end. the battle’s already finished, and now it’s time for him to close out the last fifty years and bid farewell to his old crew before setting sail for a new dream. 

it’s really nice. this is how the rumbar pirates get to go out: singing and dancing, after the battle’s already won, as their last survivor finally gets pick his hopes and dreams back up again and set out to sea once more.

it’s not a panel, really, but i feel like i have to include binks no sake in here. for one, it’s a really good song and sticks in my head like glue whenever i so much as see the lyrics. second of all, it’s the pin that holds this ending together, the shared point between the past and the present. the rumbar pirates sing it for their final performance and they sang it for laboon years before; brook sings it alone to himself on his ship, lost in the fog; and the strawhats celebrate and dance and sing it at the tops of their lungs.

i’m a sucker for a good musical throughline, but i think this is probably the first time i’ve ever seen it done well in a fucking text-based medium. 

i’m happy for him :’)

i LOVE the new crewmember toasts so much. look at them!! look how happy they all are!! 

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 11x06: On the Inside - Analysis

Okay, how did everyone like this episode? I loved it! It might be my favorite episode of the season so far. Partly because of all the horror movie vibes and jump scares. I thought that was delightful. And Lauren Ridloff did an amazing job. But more than that, it's because of all the symbolism and what I think this represents. Seriously, I think I might have like fifty-six theories come out of this one episode, LOL. Not brand-new theories, but just connecting symbols in a way I haven't before. For now, let's talk about the broad arcs here and what they mean.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 11x06. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Basically, we’re following two storylines in this episode. The first is Connie and Virgil. The second is Daryl, Leah, and the Reapers. I suppose you could call Kelly and Carol looking for Connie a third story line, but given that they're searching for Connie, it's really just a subplot of Connie's arc.

Connie and Virgil:

There are a lot of people saying that they might be setting Connie and Virgil up as romantic partners. I think that's probably the case, for a lot of reasons. They were very purposely put together in this house. After the episode, Angela Kang talked about how Virgil basically had to suppress part of his heart in order to get through the death of his family. That's why he seemed a little bit villainous when we first met him with Michonne.

Actually, we're seeing a major theme here that we've seen with other characters. Near the end of the episode, Virgil tells Connie, "I lost myself for a long time." It's very reminiscent of what Michonne said to Carl in 4x14. It's a theme we see where the character goes through some kind of trauma, and the aftermath of that trauma is very much a PTSD thing. They lose themselves to insanity for short time, but then someone is able to bring them back. We see this with many characters over the years. And this is something they're doing with Virgil. So this was Virgil kind of coming back to reality. Michonne gave him the chance to come back first, but he also says that her giving him that second chance led him to Connie and he sees that as Providence.

So basically, A.K. is saying that Virgil lost a big chunk of his heart when his family died, but he's rediscovering it here with Connie. And that's very important. I can't imagine them saying that, or him having this kind of arc, if there isn’t going to be a romance between them. Which, for the record, I think is cute. I totally ship it. (Totally objective over here. As always, of course. ;-))

But the big question is, what does this foreshadow? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

I think this is a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl. I'm sure you're shocked to your toenails. I'll give you a moment to recover. Good? Okay.

A lot of us got Alone vibes from this episode. Just the two of them in house together. The undercurrent of possible romance between them. There's even a hug at one point.

Actually, the white, plantation style house with the white pillars immediately struck a cord with me. Back when they were filming the missing scenes from S5, they filmed in a house just like this one. it wasn’t the “white cabin” as we always refer to the house Emily was seen going into. But it was next door to that one and had a sign up about not mowing the lawn because it would be used for filming. 

I don’t know if this is actually the same house, but I’m willing to bet that this will end up having parallels to something we see when we finally get those missing scenes.

Once they get inside the house, we see Connie holding the door shut against walkers. It's very reminiscent of Daryl doing that at the funeral home in Alone.

The thing is, I don't even think callbacks to Alone are the big cheese. (For the record, we also saw them around Kelly, but I'll get to that in a minute.)

Because more than being a call back, this is a foreshadow. It represents some time in the future when Beth and Daryl will be together inside the CRM and trying to escape. Remember that “No Exit” sign in Beth’s cell?

We have a situation here where Connie and Virgil are trying to get out and there's literally no exit. All the doors are locked, they’re being trapped everywhere they go, they get separated. Even when Connie is in the wall, looking at Virgil, she wants to warn him of things, but she has no way to get into the room with him. There's literally no exit for her.

There are so many parallels to Beth and Daryl.

They emphasize the fact that Connie is lost. After getting out of the cave and walking around for walkers for so long, she clearly lost her bearings and doesn't know where she is or which way to go to get to Alexandria. It puts me in mind of the scene from 6x10, where Carl was talking to Judith and said if she was ever LOST and needed to find her way HOME, she should use the North Star. This is another way in which Connie is being paralleled to Beth. She's lost and needs to find her way home.

Virgil talks about wanting to get Connie HOME. To get her back to her family (which just so happens to be her sister). Of course there's the undercurrent of romance.

I also couldn't help but notice outlets throughout the episode. This house is very dilapidated and dirty. There's grime and rust and darkness everywhere. But we can very clearly see the outlets on the walls, as though they’re brand-new. I believe that's to draw our attention to them. Outlets suggest power, which suggests lamps or batteries.

Remember how I said that the whole battery theory is about resources and that it indicates the CRM? This is why I think this house represents the CRM. And I'm not at all saying that at some point, we’ll see Beth and Daryl running through a house together, as Connie and Virgil do here, trying to escape some threat. I think this represents a much bigger arc of them being inside the CRM and trying to get out. It will probably span a lot of episodes, maybe even multiple seasons.

At one point, we see a red coda pendant hanging in the window behind Virgil. Remember that, via the Matrix theory, red represents the outside world that TF is currently unaware of, and of course Coda suggests Beth. That’s a big part of the evidence for this template being a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl.

I’ll go over all the background details tomorrow, but pretty much every detail I found suggests what I've laid out here. I'm going to do completely separate post on the awake/asleep theme as well as the mailbox theme. That one stemmed from last week's episode (11x05), but I haven't gotten a chance to post it yet. And of course we saw the mailbox feature prominently in this episode as well.

We also have a situation where Virgil basically tells Connie to go on without him and that it’s very important to him that she gets home. And then he gets stabbed, and she not only saves him, but pulls him out of the house. We’ve always said that we think there will be a time when Beth will save Daryl. I think this is a foreshadow of it.

I think we'll have a situation (again, much bigger than what we see here in the single episode) where Daryl will be willing to sacrifice himself, his life, to get Beth back to Maggie. Of course she's not going to allow him to do that, but he'll probably be hurt very badly.

(And for the record, I think we've seen foreshadows of this and other arcs. Daryl getting hurt when fighting Alpha was probably a foreshadow of the same thing. I'm sure we could identify others.) I think he will be hurt and Beth will save him, and that will happen as they’re figuring out how to get out of the CRM.

To touch on Kelly’s side of things, we see her find a camp that Virgil and Connie had previously been at. She finds Connie’s stuff there, and the orange backpack that Virgil must have left behind. The thing that jumped out at me here is that, in the foreground, we saw ropes around the camp with cans attached as an alert system.

That was featured very prominently in Alone, both because Daryl set up something like that at the funeral home and also because the other half of that episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob and they did the same thing in their camp. So again, major callbacks to Alone, and to what this is probably foreshadowing.

But my favorite thing about this was connections that I made. Things that kind of confirm events we’ve suspected in 4B, but have never been able to prove. Let me explain.

First, there’s the reunion between Connie and Kelly. And this really jumped out at me. Not only because it's two sisters reuniting, but because of the way it was shown.

When approaching Connie, Kelly is crying and says, "I'm sorry." And that's out of character or out of place in any way. She’s sorry that for what happened to Connie and that it took them so long to find her. All that is completely understandable. But at the same time, Kelly has no reason to feel bad about what happened to Connie. It wasn't her fault, and she's been a dutiful sister looking for her intensively ever since.

But I think the “I'm sorry” will make a lot more sense if we hear Maggie saying it to Beth, given everything that's happened, and especially what happened in S5. I mean, Beth did get left behind.

The other thing is that when they see each other and then hug, the background music almost sounds angelic, like a choir. I mean, they really wanted this to be a big deal, the reunion between these two sisters. And not that the Kelly and Connie's reunion isn't a big deal. It's very sweet, but I feel like this a foreshadow something much bigger. And what other reunion between sisters could qualify for something like that except Maggie and Beth, who didn't get the reunion in season five?

We’ve always said that Connie was a proxy for Beth, and that the cave-in, followed by her being missing was a parallel to Beth’s arc. So, this arc ending in Connie finding someone she’ll eventually have a romance with and then finding her sister is makes me very hopeful for what we'll see when Beth returns.

I have to say that this is kind of a relief to me. Because of Daryl's line back in Still about how, "you ain't never going to see Maggie again," I’ve gone back and forth about whether Beth and Maggie will actually get a reunion. Yes, there are plenty of ways to explain away that line, and I don't disagree with any of them. But I’ve still been really back-and-forth about whether this is going to happen. After seeing Connie and Kelly really reunite, I have no doubt that eventually will see a Beth/Maggie reunion. Yay!

Next, is the fact that Virgil and Connie talk about how the people living in this house lured them into a trap.

This is talked about very much anymore, but was always but what happened in Alone was always so wonky to me. I know it was supposed to be, but the whole thing felt like it was orchestrated somehow. I mean, what happened to the dog? We hear barking, but we didn't actually see the dog again, because when Daryl open the door all the walkers were on the porch. But how did that many walkers get up to the porch without them hearing it?

When Beth and Daryl sat in the kitchen staring at each other, they heard the cans rattle and then at the dog bark. I think that the idea was that Daryl thought it was the dog moving the cans and that's why he was going to open the door and get it to come in. He didn't understand that there were walkers there. But why didn't they hear the walkers? More importantly, why would that many walkers go up to the door if they couldn't see any humans on the inside? It's completely weird behavior for walkers. And then when Beth leaves the house, she just happens to be picked up by a car?

Like I said, I just always felt like the whole thing was really orchestrated, but even at Grady, we were never told that it was. Gorman suggested to Beth that they happened upon her accidentally. Of course, Gorman is the opposite of trustworthy, but we also understand better now the way that these episodes are often approached. We sometimes see things from one character's point of view over another. Clearly, Slabtown was seen from Beth’s point of view, so if she couldn't see the truth about what happened, that's why we couldn’t neither.

My point is, in this episode, Virgil says that he and Connie were herded there like prey. These feral people apparently went to the camp (Kelly says the left in a hurry and something was very wrong, and I think she's right. Given that Virgil and Connie left all their stuff behind; Connie would not have left behind her slingshot on purpose). Which means the creatures came to their camp, scared them away, chase them toward the house, herding them that way, in order to eat them.

Now, I'm not saying that's specifically what happened in Alone, but I think it kind of proves that what happened was an orchestrated trap that was set up to capture Beth.

And we do get the sense from what Noah told her that Grady purposely left the strong behind and took the weak. So, I'm not sure if Beth and Daryl were actually herded toward the funeral home. From what we saw, it really was more like they happened upon it. But I'm wondering if once there, someone observed them, or observed them approaching, and decided that they would be optimal targets. Given that Beth was injured (which they would have known if they saw Daryl giving her the piggy back) obviously it would always be her that was taken, while Daryl—obviously the more survival-oriented of the two—would be left behind.

And I love this connection because it proves (as far as we can prove theories 😉) that there are things they haven’t shown us, not just in S5 with the missing 17 days, but reaching all the way back to S4.

The other thing that's just kind of cool to consider is that, as I said before, the other half of the episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob, right? There are a lot of things that their sequence foreshadows as well. And in the episode, Maggie is specifically looking for Glenn, not Beth. However, given that this episode with Connie and Virgil also featured Kelly, Connie’s sister, looking for her, it just doesn't seem like it could possibly be a coincidence that the other half of Alone was Maggie searching for someone. What I’m saying is that both Alone and this episode, 11x06, foreshadow what will happen when Maggie and Beth reunite. I'm sure I could go into the details of Alone find a lot of connections, but I don't have time to do that right now. Maybe during the hiatus. Maybe. ;-).

Daryl and Leah:

Okay, I guess we need to talk about Daryl and Leah’s part of this episode as well. I don't have as much say about the symbolism for them. This is really more about where this is going.

Daryl tortures Frost, which I'm sure some people are going to have a problem with. But A.K. said that this is really about Daryl wanting to stay on the inside with the Reapers. As I said after ep 4, Frost is smart and he understands what Daryl is doing. A.K. said he did exactly what Daryl wanted to do him to do here. Daryl wanted him to give them a basic location but not an exact one. In other words, to tell them the neighborhood but not the exact house. And that's exactly what Frost did. Angela says Daryl did this because he was trying to save Frost’s life. Unfortunately, by the end of the episode, we see that didn't work out so well. But he was attempting to save him.

You have to watch the details closely to pick this up, but the first house that Daryl, Leah, and Carver go to is not the house Maggie is in. That's why Daryl says they should stick around and look around for things, because he knew Maggie wasn't there and wanted to give her time to escape. But the second house we see them go into is where Maggie and co are hiding under the floorboards.

At first, it seems to be empty, but when Daryl comes downstairs, he sees the place where they might be hiding and slides the rug over it. In the end, Carver sees it and checks, but Maggie and the others have already made their escape.

I had to stop and think about that for a minute. Since Beth wore yellow and we think yellow equals life and escape, I would have thought the yellow house would be where Maggie and the others were hiding and then escaped from. That would've made more logical sense. But actually, the yellow house was a decoy.

It gave me a whole new insight into the meaning behind the color yellow in TWD universe.

I still think yellow represents escape, among other things. But it also represents looking for someone in the wrong place. Even if you think about Rick’s mini death fake out in 7x12, there was probably only 12 feet between where Michonne thought he was (right side of the screen being eaten by walkers) and where he actually was (left side of the screen coming out of the yellow carnival car) but still, she was looking for him in the wrong place and assumed he was dead because of it.

I also thought of the Glenn situation in S4. Maggie looked for him on the school bus (yellow). And in both cases, it was because that’s where Rick/Glenn were last seen, but what was UNSEEN was how they ESCAPED. So, TF was looking for them in the wrong place.

And I’m sure something similar will happen with Beth during the missing 17 days. It doesn’t really change what we believe happened with Beth, but it makes me want to re-examine every yellow reference we’ve ever seen on the show, which is probably hundreds by now, lol.

At one point, Carver is coming down the stairs and Daryl runs over to him and starts talking really fast. He says that they (Maggie’s group) will not to come back here, that it wouldn’t be smart, etc. The first time I watched it, I remember thinking that Daryl was being really obvious. It made him seem nervous and like he was hiding something. And he probably was somewhat nervous. The reason he ran over Carver right then, is because he didn't want Carver to see the hiding place where Maggie and the others were (because Daryl himself noticed it when he was coming down the stairs).

But the other thing to remember is that Daryl knows Maggie and the others are down there. He was using this to give them information. He talks about how the Reapers have walls and weapons, twenty people inside their town, etc. That is also him getting Maggie information so she would know what they're up against. It was actually very smart on his part, even if it kind of tipped Carver off.

By the end, they returned to Pope and find that Frost is dead. I thought it was super weird and creepy that Pope started laughing when Carver said they had lost Maggie's group. That's very out of character for him. Angela Kang said Pope was purposely playing mind games to make Daryl and Leah paranoid, but even so. That laugh was just maniacal.

So, not sure exactly where this is going, or what Pope's plans are. He kind of suggests that maybe Frost turned on Daryl and sold him out before he died. I doubt that's true, but Pope also strikes me as the kind of guy who, if he's decided Daryl is an enemy, doesn't actually need proof of it. So, we'll just have to see where this goes.

Okay, that's it for today. I'll do details tomorrow. How did you all like the episode?

[whump-town]

November Second

It’s Hotch’s birthday and he’s trying really hard not to let it bother him that everyone seems to have forgotten. (for @therealmadblonde) WARNING: briefly mentions some domestic abuse and child abuse

November 2nd.

They’ve been preparing for a week.

It’s strangely humorous to think that they know one another inside and out and yet, can hardly manage to throw a party for one of their own.

“He’s O negative,” Emily supplies, legs tossed up onto the edge of her desk. She’s twirling a sucker around in her mouth. It’s made her tongue a deep blue and as she speaks Morgan spots it. He points to her tongue-- drawing attention to it with a surprised laugh-- and then points to his own. A silent inquiry if his own has changed color. She nods her head eagerly, “it’s green!”

Morgan nods his head with a proud smile, “cool.”

Dave rolls his eyes at the interaction-- at the idiocy of his coworkers. He loves them, of course, but sometimes he has no idea how he does this every day. “Emily,” Dave says her name with thick disappointment. “You’re the man’s friend. He trusts you and all you can think to add is that his blood is O negative?”

Emily knows more than just that. She knows how he takes his coffee and his Chinese take-out order. That he won’t sleep without a blanket but he doesn’t need a pillow. In fact, he’s more than likely to just sleep without one. He sleeps on his stomach and doesn’t snore. His favorite snack is gummy bears and she’s never once seen him refuse the offer of an oreo. However, she’s failing to see how any of these things amount to “helpful” right now.

So she rolls her eyes and thoughtfully pulls the sucker from her mouth so that she can clearly dictate the amount of sass and snark needed for a rebuttal. “Sorry, Dave.” She shakes her head and motions vaguely with the sucker. “I just thought it would be a little more important to know his blood type than what his favorite color is. Given that he runs into more medical emergencies than battles with evil kindergartens holding him at gunpoint and demanding to know if he likes blue better than green.”

Dave sits back in his chair, shaking his head and leaning his head heavily on his fist. God help them, he thinks. No, God help him.

“It’s good to see you all hard at work,” Hotch comments, dryly as he walks across the cat-walk. He’s walked the path every day for years so it’s nothing for him to keep his eyes glued to the file in his hands rather than where he’s walking. He also knows his agents, his friends, well enough to know that there can’t be any work getting done if they’re all in the bullpen together. Not that he minds. While his tone may divulge a different assumption, they know what he really means-- “please don’t be getting into any trouble”.

Emily turns herself, feet still kicked up, but head now turned so that she can see him. “Hey Hotch,” she greets, lopsided grin pulled to the side by the sucker she’s placed back into her mouth. “What’s your favorite color?”

He comes to a staggering halt on the catwalk. Dark eyebrows knitting together as he turns his attention to the bullpen, his file snapping shut at his side. He’s just come out of a meeting with Strauss-- the only reason the team had gathered in the bullpen to talk so broadly about him. After sitting with that witch of a woman for the last two hours, his brain is a little scrambled-- overworked. So it’s taking him a moment to process the question.

Emily pulls her feet down and smirks, casually caught off guard by the fact that this is so trivial to him. Surely, Jack has laid this question on him. There is nothing children aged 3-6 love more than inquiring about colors. “What is it,” she asks, growing a little more impatient each second he leaves her unanswered. “It’s gotta be green or blue or something.”

He clears his throat, right-- colors. Those are colors. What are his favorite colors?

Purple. It comes to mind first. His eyes dart to Reid the second it does. He associates his resident genius with purple. Lavender, really. Soft. It makes him think of Haley’s funeral, the scarf that Reid had wrapped over his coat. The only real color that day. Hotch’s eyes kept flickering over to it, the only thing that seemed to ground his racing mind.

The answer used to be red. When he was just a boy and naïve and because it was the same color as a fire truck. The color doesn’t associate with firetrucks anymore. He remembers his mother’s busted lip as she urgently shut him into a closet, seven years old and cowering away at the sound of his mother’s choked pleads for his father to just leave. He didn’t need to do this.

“He’ll learn,” she had begged. “He’s just a boy, Mark. Please, please--” He’d flinched when the door was thrown open, his father standing there in the doorway.

And Haley. Red reminds him of the pain. Haley always got cold so easily and he’d just wanted to hold her a little longer. Keep her warmly tucked against him and try to remember the way she used to play with the hair at the back of his head. Pushing her finger against the way it grows.

“Hotch?”

He blinks once-- twice-- “I, uh,” he shakes his head. Trying frantically to remember whatever color he’d told Jack last. Probably like… “Blue or green,” he says with a shrug, trying to play off his reaction. His hands ache with the memory of that day. He’d broken three metacarpals in his left-hand killing Foyet, set himself up for carpal tunnel and arthritis. A price he pays everyday. A handful of medicine to survive the damage of the stab wounds and another to work against the inflammation.

Shaking his head of the thoughts he keeps heading towards his office. That’s not what he needs to be thinking about right now. If he’s not careful he’s going to end up having an anxiety attack on his office floor and that’s just not something he really wants to deal with right now. Especially, here with no medicine insight and where any member of the team could walk in on that.

That’d be just his luck.

Bogged down by work, he doesn’t even think about his birthday. He gets too caught up in Halloween and the party Garcia throws for Day of the Dead and he’s exhausted. Rundown.

He doesn’t even realize how quickly his birthday is rolling in until the morning of.

November 2nd.

He’s fifty-four. Old.

Hitting snooze, he lets himself sink back into the warmth of his bed. He doesn’t want to go to work. He’d much rather stay here. Catch up on sleep and, who knows, eat something crazy for lunch. Chocolate chip pancakes or eggs and too many pieces of bacon.

But he can’t afford that. The office still needs him. There’s still a job to be done.

Birthday or not.

He’s not expecting anything but typically, by now, most of them have sent him a fond message. Nothing crazy.

Garcia bakes him macadamia nut cookies. A dozen, just for him, and takes the team their own. There aren’t any cookies on his desk when he comes in.

Derek and Dave are nowhere to be seen. JJ’s arguing loudly with someone on the phone. Emily’s ducked into her work and Reid’s spinning in his chair. No one says anything to him. He decides it doesn’t matter. Today’s just another day. Every year he tells them how much he hates celebrating his birthday. He does hate celebrating it but… he doesn’t mind it entirely. He does like Garcia’s crushing hug and having to squeeze Reid so he knows Hotch doesn’t mind their hug. He likes Morgan making jokes at his expense and Emily rising to his defense. Dave shaking his head at them all.

Then, when they’ve all left, Dave pulling him in tightly and reminding, “I’m so proud of you, kid. Happy Birthday.”

He guesses they’re not doing that this year.

He’s searching for where Reid’s ran off with the sugar when Emily Prentiss blows through the break room. “What’s the rush,” he asks. Hotch doesn’t talk all that much. He’s prone to silence and a much better listener but he’s starved for a little adult conversation. Something, even a meaningless conversation, is better than the internal monologue he’s had going since he stepped into the office.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she shakes her head, sighing. “A case,” comes her haste reply. “They’ve got me running front for some case in Louisiana.” An obvious hit at Emily to bother her. Southern states are typically covered by Morgan or Hotch. It’s not to be presumptuous but the more southern the state the less likely they are to want to listen to a woman’s advice on the matters of their murders.

He grimaces in sympathy, “I’m sorry.”

She sighs when she sees the other coffee pot is slowly filling, meaning she’s going to have to wait for a cup.

“Here,” he offers her his own cup. The mug is one Jack had gifted him some time ago. Hand-painted. He and Haley had made it when he was only about a year-old. The colors are horrid but Hotch can’t stand to think about parting from the thing. Ugly as it is, in Haley’s fine print are the words: We Love You Daddy! Sometimes rubbing his finger against those raised letters is the only way he can get through the day.

Emily accepts the mug with a sad smile. She knows he’s partial to the mug but she needs the coffee. She slides him her mug, it suddenly hits her when she does. “Shit!”

He frowns.

“I’m so sorry,” she pours sugar into his mug. She’s clearly overwhelmed, visibly upset. “I can’t go to lunch.”

Every year on his birthday they go to lunch. It’s nothing special. They got to lunch all the time. About once a week. So, it’s not really that big of a deal but he can’t help but feel a little sad. He likes spending time with her but he doesn’t so much as let an ounce of that disappointment show.

Taking Emily’s mug, he shrugs it off. “It’s fine,” he insists, well aware that she’ll know he’s lying if he can’t meet her eyes. He makes a point of forcing his gaze on her, settling a rare smile her way. “We’ll catch up later,” he assures with a nod. “Go on, I’m sure the Louisiana PD are waiting on hand and foot to hear back from you.” She rolls her eyes and he smirks. When she turns to walk away he adds, “and, Emily? If they give you a hard time--”

She shakes her head at him, “I know....” Turning back to hurry out she shouts back to him, “happy birthday, Hotch!”

No one else says anything.

He just… sits in his office. His paperwork is done. There’s no reason for him to be here.

Haley would have remembered. She always remembered.

Every year she’d make him a cake-- something crazy and he’d never know what to expect. For three years in a row, she’d burned the hell out of the cakes and he’d come home to her sobbing on the floor. In her defense, they were both very stressed trying to get her pregnant. Things weren’t going well. Then she got pregnant and forgot about the cake and it burned. Having a toddler around the next year had not helped her case.

He’d never minded. She was also so happy to have him around.

The other side of the bed used to be warm. He’d wake up to her fingers ghosting along his back or her head on his shoulder. Now he wakes up alone and raises their son alone.

He killed her and he’ll never forgive himself for that.

Sighing, rubbing at his tired eyes, and feeling the steadily increasing pain in his back he decides he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday anyway. What is there to celebrate? What about him is good enough to praise? On his watch, Reid had been kidnapped. JJ scooped up by the “Pentagon” and sent to war where she lost a child. Emily died. Garcia got shot outside of her home. Morgan was forced to face his abuser, again. Jason left. He didn’t help Elle.

He doesn’t even deserve it. It’s not even worth the time.

“Hotch?”

He flinches at the sudden invasion, squirting to see who it is at his door. Reading glasses askew and pen hovering in the same spot it has been for the last hour, at least he looks like he’s been busy. He forces himself to liven up a bit, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Can I help you,” he asks hopefully, a smile tugging at his lips.

JJ nods, checking the watch on her wrist. “Yeah, uh, Garcia needs you down in the lair. I don’t know-- Listen, I don’t know what it is but she’s been bugging me about it all day. Can you just go check it out?” She sighs and pushes her hair back from her face. “I’ve got to get out of here. See you later, Hotch.”

He just nods. Throat tight.

It’s stupid. This whole day.

He’d never even celebrated a birthday until he was eighteen. Haley had gotten him a cupcake, just trying to make something of the day. For the longest time, she was the only person who even cared. Then Dave and Gideon had come. On his first birthday with them, they’d gotten him a tie. It had birds on it. Then Derek had come and JJ and Garcia and Reid and then Emily. He went for almost twenty years without celebrating a freaking birthday.

This one isn’t even that important.

He’s just being stupid.

Sighing, he makes his way out of his office. No one’s in the bullpen. The place is shut down for the night.

Hands in his pockets, he’s sulking down the hall. Head down and eyes on the tiles as he walks. Vaguely, slowly he hears the unmistakable banter of Garcia. It’s hushed, quick. At the top of the hall, he can see her door is cracked open. Just enough to allow him to see Reid moving inside, his hand being swatter because it looks like… he’s got icing on his fingers. He doesn’t even look ashamed to have been caught swiping at the cake.

Too anxious now to be excited, Hotch makes his way down the hall. Thankful the motion sensor lights have been turned off now that the building should have officially closed some two hours ago. They don’t hear him coming.

Sticking his head in the room he sees Garcia’s entire lair is covered in gifts, decorations, and stuffed with the members of his team. He smirks at the sight. Morgan’s trying to light the candles on the cake, Reid observing that they’re probably going to set the fire alarm off. Emily’s sitting on the couch, fiddling with the zipper on her boot, waiting. JJ anxiously wraps her necklace around her finger.

“Sir!”

He feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

When Garcia sees him, though, her lower lip starts to tremble. “Oh sir, I’m so sorry!”

He stiffens when she hugs him, completely unprepared. “Sorry,” he repeats, looking over her head to the others for some sort of direction. “What are you sorry for, Garcia?’ It’s clear they hadn’t forgotten. If they had he would easily forgive them. It’s a birthday. It doesn’t matter that much.

She hiccups sadly, pulling away to look up at him. “We made you sad,” she whispers. “It was stupid idea,” she says with a shake of her head. “We just wanted to throw you a surprise party but you don’t even like parties!” With each passing moment, she’s just getting more upset. “So, look--” she goes to the left, to a little table where she produces a plate of cookies. The macadamia nut cookies. “I even brought you cookies--”

She’s flustered enough that when he’s the one to pull her into a hug, she just melts.

“Garcia?” She holds onto him tightly. “Thank you.” He can feel her pulling in a breath to push away the words but he keeps going. “No one, other than Haley, has ever cared enough to even make me a cake. Let alone try and throw me a surprise party.”

She sniffles, “that’s so sad.”

He huffs, smirking, “I guess.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Reid really doesn’t want to break up the sweet moment but the cake has been taunting him all afternoon. “Does that mean we can cut the cake now?”

Morgan rolls his eyes, “you’ve had your fingers in the damn thing all day, pretty boy!”

Hotch nods his head and Reid smirks at Morgan, clearly pleased he’s won this argument regardless of the fact that he has been swiping a finger through the icing. But cake is cake. 

“Alright birthday boy.” Emily’s balancing the cake in her hands, bringing it to him carefully. The candles lighting up her eyes in a way that seems scarily mischievous. “Make a wish!”

He frowns at her but the look softens when Rossi places an encouraging hand on his back. He blows the candles out with a smile. 

“What’d you wish for?” Reid asks hopefully. 

Morgan pushes him, “you can’t say it out loud, doofus! It won’t come true.”

Emily rolls her eyes, obviously mentally scorning them both for their childish natures and for Morgan believing that.

It makes him smile to watch. The three of them hovering over the cake as Emily cuts it and Reid and Morgan try to fight for the first piece she cuts. Reid gets it but that’s not surprising. He smirks at Morgan but the devious look falls quickly when he sees Hotch is watching. 

Dave seems to come out of no where. He leans against the wall beside Hotch, “you good?”

Hotch nods, unsure if he can trust his voice right. Very good. 

[ladynestaarcheron]

“Fae fertility cycles had never been something I’d considered, and explaining them to Nesta and Elain had been uncomfortable, to say the least.

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.” A Court of Frost and Starlight, page 45.

So…Elain doesn’t want to talk about periods. Where ever did Feyre, a girl who lost her mother when she was eight, learn about hers? I wonder...and thus this was born.

---

Nesta's loved stories all her life, but she doesn't think she'll ever be able to write one, because whenever she tries to in her head, this is what she comes up with: Once upon a time there were three beautiful princesses who lived in a beautiful castle. Then their mother died and their father lost all their money and they had to move into a rundown little cottage on the edge of town. The end.

Sometimes, when the night is quiet and she has time to think, she puts a bit more effort into it. Swaps the beautiful for different adjectives that fit each of the three of them in turn (clever, kind, creative, when she is feeling generous, cold, silly, and hopeless when she is less so), and describes the castle in more detail. Carved from the earth itself is a phrase she rather likes, although she's not sure it would make for a pretty home and it definitely isn't true, anyway.

Tonight is particularly quiet, because Elain has been asleep for hours and Feyre still has not come to bed, so Nesta takes her time in her mind to write something that might be worthy of putting to paper one day. Perhaps it's time she comes up with a different beginning than once upon a time...

Nesta's internal narration, however, is sharply cut off with a crash and a stumble. Elain stirs slightly next to her, but does not wake.

"For goodness' sake," she hisses, sitting upright. "What on earth are you making all that racket--"

Her castigating falters when she catches sight of her youngest sister's face. The moonlight spilling in the room catches on the silver in Feyre's eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She's shaking.

Nesta pushes the blanket off of her and crawls out of bed to meet her. "What is it?" she asks, tightening the tie of Feyre's nightgown. She's not quite sure what to do. If Feyre cries about their mother or their, well, life, she does it to Elain or Father, and only when Nesta cannot see. And Elain always goes to Father, so it's been quite some time since Nesta's had to comfort anyone but herself.

"I think I'm dying," Feyre whispers, voice cracking, and Nesta's heart lurches. Typhus? Like their mother? Oh, and they do not have nearly the same amount they had when Mother was sick; what medicines will they be able to afford? Because so much of it was spent on Father's leg--not that he's ever attempted to earn any of it back, of course, and now it's twelve-year-old Feyre who'll have to suffer for it.

Still. Best not to scare the child any further.

"What do you mean?" Nesta says, making her voice calm.

"I have a terrible headache," Feyre says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, "and the worst stomach pains of my life and my back, too--"

Nesta's breath stops in her lungs. All the symptoms of typhus Mother had, except for the rash. All the forgotten gods. What are they going to do? Should she wake Elain and Father for this? She should, shouldn't she? But what good will that do? Are they all to sit by Feyre's side and wait for her to die?

"--and I'm bleeding."

Nesta blinks at that. Mother had had a cough, sometimes, but very dry; no blood at all. "You're bleeding?"

Feyre can't answer vocally. She only nods.

Nesta gives her a once over. She doesn't see any blood. "Did you fall?" she asks, puzzled. "Where is the blood?"

The room is too dark to tell, but Nesta thinks Feyre's cheeks flush. "I didn't fall...it's--I'm--it's under my nightgown."

"Well, sit down and lift it up, so I may have a look."

"No," Feyre says, clutching herself tighter still. "It's...you won't know what to do. You cannot...it's between my legs," she blurts out, and clenches her hands into fists as she tries to control her sobs.

Relief crashes over Nesta, as violently as the grief of her mother's death. Along with a bit of guilt--she had not realized she should warn Feyre about cycles. Elain had merely come to her one day, red-faced and squeaking about where Nesta kept the linens, and she had shown her. But she had known about it all--well, Nesta is not quite sure Elain is very well aware of sex, but at any rate...

"You're not going to die, Feyre," she says, awkwardly patting her sister on the shoulder. "Come here. I'll draw you a bath."

"You..." Feyre says, sniffling slightly, "you know what to do?"

"I do," she says, and turns so her sister can undress and slip into the tub. They're not going to be able to afford hot water soon, are they? What'll they do then? Boil it in the fireplace? "All right, stay here and calm down. I'm going to get you something to help you settle."

Nesta makes her way to the kitchen, heating up some tea for Feyre and putting a small bit of brandy in as well. Just a little bit, to help her fall asleep. She supposes they'll need to have more poppy and willow bark on hand for pain now, if Feyre'll be having back aches as well as cramps.

Feyre is submerged underneath the water by the time Nesta returns. She hands her the tea and sits on the floor by the bath. "All right," she says, half wishing this had fallen to Elain, half grateful on Feyre's behalf that it is not their silly sister explaining this. "Well. I suppose you have not heard about cycles."

Feyre thinks. "I...suppose not."

Nesta's lips quirk. She should just say it. "You know how pregnancies start."

It is again too dark to be certain, but Feyre reddens, she thinks. "I--I have not--"

"No, no, I know you haven't," Nesta says, vaguely wondering where Feyre has learned about sex. She decides she does not want to know. "At any rate. Before...that, a girl's body needs to be ready. For pregnancy. So every month, the body goes through a cycle. And at the end of the cycle--" or is it the beginning? Nesta can never remember. "--you bleed. And you can feel cramps or back aches or headaches or any of the life...for a few days."

"How many days?" Feyre asks, fingers tightly holding onto the cup.

"Depends. Elain's is three. Mine is five. Sometimes it can be different...especially in the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"Now. For you. Your first few cycles, I mean."

"How many will there be?" she asks.

Nesta shrugs. "I don't know...once every month until you can't bear children any longer. So around..." Feyre is twelve, this should last till she's around fifty... "four hundred fifty, give or take."

Feyre's eyes widen. "Four hundred and fifty?"

"Well, don't think about it that way," Nesta says hastily, realizing how morbid that sounds. "Just...track your months as they come. You'll barely think of it in a year from now."

Feyre sips her tea. "I never knew you and Elain..."

"Well, it's not something you can really tell. It's not like your skin changes color or anything." She adopts a more timid tone. "It's...all right. Really. I'll bring you some stuff for pain tomorrow. And it should get better. Each day is easier than the last, and by the time your grown, it'll probably hurt less, too." Nesta's only fifteen herself, so she's not entirely sure that's true, but it's what Mother told her. "Anyway. Baths help. And they're good to rid the blood...oh. I'll show you how to put on linens..."

After Nesta has wrapped Feyre's under things and crawled back into bed, her mind wanders once again to her story. What if the ending were different this time? Somehow. The mother not dying, perhaps. How would that go? If they were all in the rundown little cottage together?

Before the words have faded from Nesta's mind and sleep claims her, the bathroom door opens once again. Feyre shuffles out and into bed, taking her place on Elain's other side.

"Thank you, Nesta," she whispers, voice soft and still watery from her scare.

"It's okay," she says back, softly. It's not quite a proper reply, is it? But perhaps it's what she needs to hear, anyway.

She'll wake early and rouse Elain, she decides. Tell her to extend some extra kindness to Feyre...and that should be all right. Not a perfect ending. But maybe a little better then what might've been, too.

[damn-stark]

The Jedi Master

Chapter 2 of Unfrozen

Summary: You once were a General and Jedi Master fighting against separatists alongside the clones, the next, darkness clouded over and life passed in flash, and before you knew it you’re waking up with no memory running for your life.

A/N- next part, I hope you all like it!!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Since Poe and Rey were tied, what I’m going to do is let you all choose which you like more as the story continues and chemistry’s unfold!!!

————

“So this is our key? A Jedi Master?” Finn asks Rey in a horrible whisper. Your drift your gaze up to the trio and pull your hands from your head, looking to Commander Dameron as his gaze remains on you.

“Do you have a starfighter?”

Commander Dameron blinks in surprise, not expecting you to speak, he shifts in his seat and shakes his head. “Have you seen the ship we’re on? Doesn’t really fit a starfighter now does it? Plus it seems like you may have some type of amnesia, you can’t fly.”

You sit up straight to stand to your feet, looking to the end of the hall and feeling the strong urge to not do as he says and attempt your sudden made up plan. “I can fly, I need to go save my Commander. You heard what they said, they have him.”

Rey stands up and gets in your way as you attempt going out to search for some sort of escape pod. “I can’t let you do that. You can’t, you don’t know if they’re lying—”

“I do,” you remark with a cold gaze. Even if you didn’t have an idea how, you knew. “Search your feelings, citizen.”

Finn beside her looks between the both of you with his eyes peeled and Commander Dameron steps in. “We can’t go back on just a hunch.”

“And he’s my Commander, I leave no man behind.” You interject sharply. “And it’s no hunch, they said it, aren’t you paying attention?”

The Commander sighs and nods, grabbing your shoulder to attempt and assure you. “I understand that, trust me, but getting you back to our base alive is our priority. If you go back there's a possibility that you’ll get killed.”

You step back away from him and begin to pace as you think of a plan.

“Plus, if it’s you they want, they won’t kill your Commander,” Rey continues, “they’ll use him as bait. Besides don’t you want to remember your past first?”

You stop your pacing and lift your head to look at her, frowning and letting out a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Well I can help, but only if we go back to base.”

You hum and sit back down to put your head in your hands again. “At least please tell me what year it is? I,” you pause and swallow thickly at the feeling of a sharp pounding pain in your head, more memories flash, but they’re like if you were looking at someone else’s memories. It was all surreal. “I can’t remember.”

The three of them look at one another and commander Dameron answers for all of them with a sympathetic look featured on his face. “It’s thirty-four ABY. It’s been fifty four years since the fall of the Republic and jedi order.”

Your frown deepens and it seems that at the mention, at the knowledge of how many years have passed your headache heightens. You cover your whole face with your hands and tilt your head down, part of you wants to cry, but the other part doesn’t know why exactly. Your head was in thousands of pieces with only small fragments of it pieced together.

“General….Heart, is it?” You hear Finn's voice ask. You proceed to look up and meet his dark gaze, at that moment seeing another vivid flash of someone else.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around and a smile instantly widens on your face at the sight of Anakin Skywalker, your best friend; you see he mirrors your gesture and you both rush towards one another to meet each other halfway with a big, warm bear hug. “Ani! Haha. It’s so good to see you!”

Anakin pulls away and his grin widens as you two begin to pace around each other in a circle, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the whole universe. “And it’s so good to see you! Damn, it’s been so long! Wow! Look at you! Jedi Master and all!”

You grin and just shrug, “what can I say? But look at you! Look at your hair!” Your eyes scan his shoulder length light hair and you can’t help but giggle at the memory of his previous cut. “It suits you.”

“What can I say?” He mocks you, both of you finally coming to a complete stop in front of each other, still sharing the same gleeful look. “But you, wow, I’m so proud. Turned Jedi Master at nineteen. You’re the youngest Jedi master, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s no problem, it was a year ago, I’m over it.” You assure him.

Anakin rests his hands on his hips and his grin falls a bit, but not completely, his childlike joy still remains. “What is it your clones call you, General Heart is it?”

Your smile turns shy, and you nod, “yep, it’s silly, but they insist on it, so I’m letting it slide.”

“Well, General Heart not to brag, or anything, but I was the youngest Jedi knight to become a general.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely,” Anakin says smugly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “So I guess we’re both making history.” He begins to approach you and wraps his arm around your shoulders to walk you to the briefing room. “We’ve definitely come far, I never imagined becoming war Generals so young.”

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and agree with his statement. “Nor I.”

Your eyes widen and tears sting your eyes, you look away from Finn and grab onto your chest as this sudden heart aching pain starts within you. Hundreds of memories flash through your mind, all having to do with that same young blue-eyed, brunette that just suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly remember his name and what he meant to you, you acknowledge your name from that memory but even that seemed insignificant at the time. You hear the three people before you begin to worry over your current state, but you block them out as the memories of Anakin Skywalker just resurface.

Just the memories that had to with him and nothing else.

“Anakin….” you mouth, feeling the subtle taste of salt in the corner of your lips.

“Did you just remember something?” You hear Rey ask in a concerned tone.

When you look up to her, you make sure to wipe away your tear before speaking. “Uh, yes, my name and a friend.”

“Oh...what is your name?”

“It’d be pretty ridiculous to ask if either of you had knowledge of my friend, would it not?” You ask desperately avoiding her question.

“Uh, depends what friend.” Commander Dameron answers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Again they look at one another and share a look you couldn’t understand, when they turn back to you, Rey suddenly has this assuring look on her face that is basked by the yellow light from the hall beyond the cockpit door. “We’re almost at base, it’s best if General Organa helps you with your questions, she’s much more reliable than any of us could be.”

You nod slowly and grip onto your knees as you reveal your name. “My name is Master Y/N L/N.” You offer them a kind smile.

“Oh well it’s very nice to meet you, Master y/n l/n,” Rey formally greets you with her hand extended out towards you.

You look at it and wrap your hand around her forearm. Which confuses her slightly, leaving her a little stunned and unable to think of what to do until a couple minutes later where she does the same. You pull away after a few seconds and stand up to take Finns arm and then Commander Dameron’s; who seems a little starstruck now. He has his lips parted and keeps his hand on your forearm longer than the rest had.

“I, I just want to say that I’m a big fan,”

“Huh?” You quirk your brow and look at him nervously.

He draws in a deep breath and then swallows thickly before releasing his breath and explaining. “You may not remember, but you’re actually a very amazing pilot, my mother used to look up to you, she would tell me so many stories of you and Anakin Skywalker.”

“Oh,” you grin, feeling a warmth begin to burn under your cheeks, “well I’m very flattered.” You use your other hand to grab his forearm with both hands and just suddenly become very flustered. “Thank you,” you pull your hands away and rest them on your hips, “I’m very honored, as well as proud and upset because I can’t rub it in my friends face.” You smirk, “regardless, thank you.”

“No wonder you seemed so familiar,” Commander Dameron added with a more confident smile.

You look to the other two who just look at the commander with a teasing look, and before they could say a thing, the same blue and white droid as before rolls before you and beeps before showing a hologram screen of a scoreboard that read, “Skywalker v L/N.”, and had a line in the middle that each side kept a score of ten tally marks. You narrow your gaze on it and can’t help but grin brightly at the memory. “Ah, yes I remember now, Ani and I had a racing competition going on, we restarted every couple of months because he couldn’t handle not being the best pilot in the galaxy or whatever he called himself.”

The droid remarks your comment and you laugh for the first time before glaring at him. “Don't make me throw you out of this ship you old fried machine, because I will. Anakin isn’t here to stop me.”

The droid goes on a burning ramble and you recall your relationship with this droid and just ignore him and sit back down to look at the three people just watching your interaction. Rey chuckles, but still looks at the droid with concern. “Wow, I’ve never heard him swear, it’s new.”

You scoff, “new is understatement.”

“Well,” Commander Dameron sighs as he turns to the control board, “enough of that, the ship should jump out of hyperspace in three, two and one.” He jumps on the pilot seat and maneuvers the ship down to a beautiful, green jungle planet that soon showed a small hidden base on the ground, hidden amongst all of the greenery. When the ship lands you can’t help but feel a tight stomach churning feeling, or as if something was going to happen. You walk out as normal as possible, you disguise your nerves and walk through the tiny base, seeing the stares and hearing the murmurs. It’s not until you walk inside a building does your gaze focus on one person, on the General they were speaking of.

Upon sight of you she dropped what she was doing and approached you and the four walking beside you. You studied her and noticed she was very small, old and pretty, yet her determination was unmistakably reconzible. Her brown eyes locked on your eyes and her eyes widened a bit as her face turned paler, as if she was seeing a ghost. Once you all finally came to a stop in front of one another, she managed a warm assuring smile that matched her greeting. “Master y/n l/n, welcome.” She grabs your hands and her gaze turns more sympathetic, “everything must be so confusing at the moment, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that we can help with any of your concerns.”

You tugs your lips into an understanding smile and nod. “Thank you, General. And as far concerns, I have plenty,” you swallow thickly and sigh, “I can’t seem to remember a lot of my past, I’ve been getting some memories back. Piece by piece, but there's still a lot I’m missing.”

The General nods and walks you further into the base. “Well to ease some confusion, I’m General Leia Organa Skywalker.”

You drop your smile and a new wave of confusion spills all over you. You blink and freeze in your spot. “Skywalker?”

“Yes,” she confirms, turning to face you as the others watched curiously, “you may have known my father, Anakin Skywalker.”

A faint smile tugs on your lips and you nod, “yes, he was my best friend, he was like my brother, and,” you suddenly cut yourself off and stare blankly at the ground as the memory slams into you. “And I knew your mother too. She was a good friend too,” tears well in your eyes and your voice sounds shaky, “you-you’re their child. I knew of you, of course you were only a fetus before, but I knew of their secret. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

The general's face expresses different emotions, but she ends up smiling softly. “And it's an honor meeting you. I’m sorry for what happened, to be thrusted into such a new place, a new year, everything must feel like a crazy dream.”

“Yeah, just about,” you nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

“And I’m sorry to put you in distress, but it seems the force has brought you here for a reason. The galaxy is yet in another war and we need your help.”

You frown and keep your gaze downcasted. “Hmm.”

“And before I go into much more grave detail, I think it’s better if we ease your mind and help recover what you've lost.” Her gaze drifts to Rey beside you and she gives her a small nod, “Rey if you could, please.”

“Of course.” Said girl responds kindly, turning to you and offering a warm smile, “we’ll find more peace outside, I can take you somewhere.”

With no choice in the matter you follow after her, leaving the two men and the General behind; walking back out to the blazing sun and the humid jungle air. Even if you knew it was impossible, part of you searched for something slightly familiar, a face mainly. But nothing, you were surrounded by new unfamiliar people. All from a different generation apparently, all just purely new.

“We can stop here,” Rey spoke up, breaking you from your train of thought and stopping in a clear spot. Proceeding to turn to you with a sweet and assuring smile, “I’m just going to need you to clear your mind and meditate. I’m going to just help you remember, heal you in a way.”

“Okay,” you nod, looking down at the new change of clothes she had let you borrow before straightening your shoulders and closing your eyes to take in deep breath, breathing them out and clearing your mind, falling into a deep state of meditation. Not feeling as her fingers gently touch the side of your temple and she slowly begins to use the force to ease your confused state; to heal what was damaged and reel back everything that had been lost in the inner corner of your brain, bringing back a huge wave of emotions that used to be well put away. Causing a pain and disturbance within you.

“Something doesn’t feel right, I sense a disturbance in the force.” A new pain shoots through your head and you fall to your knees, screaming and hearing voices and other shouts, feeling a heartbreaking pain and a breakaway.

“Execute order 66.”

The order passes over your head as you’re on your knees in pain, all you could say was just. “No...Anakin.”

The heartbreaking pain finds its source and the face of your longtime friend fades through your mind and displays an unfamiliarity in his now yellow sith eyes. As hard as you try to hold on and just confuse it as some trick, the blue eyes that belonged to Anakin were gone. You were left suffering until it was too late to notice what was actually happening around you.

“General General run! Get out of here!”

“Ahhhh!” You scream out and fall to your knees, grabbing onto your chest and crying out in pain and heartbreak as everything resurfaces and you remember yourself, remember your time before it froze. Literally.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Rey exclaims as she falls on her knees before you, grabbing your hands and trying to help ease your situation.

You fall on your hands and knees and cry out to the ground. You punch it and punch it as if that was going to do anything. You last in your own little secluded, painful and heartbreaking world for a while, until you could grasp what was currently happening, where you were, what time you were in. You speak up hoarsely and unintinally startle Rey. “I remember, everything,” you croak out, slowly picking up your head to look at her with your bloodshot eyes. “The force, it kept me alive when I fell in the ice,” you sniffle, “my commander pushed me to save me and I pulled him down with me. The force kept us alive.”

Rey’s eyebrows knit together and her light eyes search you for her response. She’s caught lost, unable to find the exact wording to help you. She can only seem to cup your shoulder and try to share an assuring look. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I feel like there's nothing I can say.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure her before you clear your throat and push yourself to your feet, “I understand. Thank you for helping me,” you express kindly, grabbing her hand and failing to smile, “I appreciate it.”

You drop her hands and then begin your mission and walk past her, hearing her quickly catch up. “Wait, Master, don’t you want to know more? I know a way you can talk to your previous master, talk to any master and...Anakin Skywalker—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off sharply, “don’t say that traitors name again.” You whirl around and glare at her, “don’t you dare.”

Rey stops in her tracks and looks at you stunned and mouth agape, gasping at the new sudden change at the mention of his name. She wants to apologize, but you walk off towards General Organa before she could.

“General.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I need a ship.”

“Wait,” she blinks, “what?”

Your gaze drifts to Commander Dameron and Finn behind her and then slides back to her. “Rey helped me remember what I had forgotten and now I need a ship to rescue my friend. My commander.”

“But, we—”

“And I understand you need me help,” you cut her off in a cold tone, “but I need to save my friend before I can help. Your fellow soldiers promised and I promised my friend I would help him. What kind of General would I be if I can’t keep my promises?”

“Master, l/n, I know you’re desperate, but there's still much you have to learn, to know before you go running off.” General Organa tries to calm you down, “I can help, you’re struggling, you’re confused and hurting. Please wait until everything makes sense.”

You fist your hands and shake your head, “no, I can’t, but I'll hear you out after.”

“You’ll hear me out?” She questioned with a pointed gaze.

“Hmm.”

General Organa looks at Rey behind you and then at the two behind her before looking back at you with a sigh. “Fine, but I can’t let you go alone.” She turns to Commander Dameron and her face softens, “Poe, I know I may be asking a lot, but I trust you to fly her to her location and bring her and her Commander back. All of you.” She turns to Finn and Rey with the same look.

“I don’t need help,” you interject, “I can fly myself.”

“You could,” General Organa says as she turns back to you, “but I need reassurance that you’ll return, I need you.”

You look to a ship parked a few feet behind you and then return your gaze to her, adding a feigned smile and a lie. “I will.”

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A/N- again depending on the interactions with Rey and Poe you guys can choose which ship you like better :) Rey and him tied so I feel like choosing as the story proceeds would be fun.