#this is actually a series of still images run together into a GIF

[marzipanandminutiae]

“And I...shall think and write for you, as I used to do.”

[twig-tea]

Perfect Propose: A few final thoughts

There is a melancholy to this series because it’s about a romance but it’s also about breaking out of external and internal barriers holding you back from happiness. 

Hiro’s work situation was such an incredible representation of what it feels like to work in a workplace that is out to exploit every second of your time and never thank you for it. I really loved that the show is clear about how people enable their own exploitation in these environments, and how often people don’t leave because they need the idea that their life will be better when they finally do quit, and they’re afraid it isn’t true so they’d rather stay with the devil they know [it's me, I'm people].

I loved Kai finding his way to Hiro when he was at his lowest, and going from a guy who was afraid to ask for anything or make any kind of mark on Hiro’s life, to putting up a wind chime decoration and building a hydroponic vegetable system and asking Hiro to come home to him every night.

Kai’s arc wasn’t as strong or as detailed as Hiro’s, but it was important to the story. Kai has always recognized Hiro's kindness in asking for something from Kai rather than offering something to Kai--Kai has always felt useless but Hiro gave him purpose, as a kid and again as an adult. But Kai needed to learn to want things for himself, something Hiro noticed and encouraged him to do. And when Hiro misses their festival date and realized he’d let Kai down, he offers to make it up to him in two ways (committing to the tomato growing, which was a short-term but tangible commitment to Kai, and agreeing to share a bed), which helped bring them closer together and helped Kai get bolder, sending Hiro those images of the food he was missing to help him continue to want to be home.

Kai got to see Hiro more vulnerable, and feel more wanted, and then got the apology from the old restaurant owner’s son. But when he heard that his presence had held the restaurant owner back from moving in with his son, he took it the wrong way, and defaulted back to thinking he’s a burden who puts the people he loves at risk just by virtue of being there. [There was a kernel of truth in there about how Kai, in making Hiro’s life a little better, also was enabling him to stay longer in that awful job, but he couldn’t see how he was also giving Hiro a reason to quit it.]  

And at the end, when the typical Japanese Run For Your Love failed (which I really enjoyed), the words that got through to Kai were heartbreaking. Hiro doesn’t tell Kai he’s a good presence in his life; he’s already done that and he knows it wouldn’t get through anyway, because he knows Kai. Instead, he reminds Kai that Hiro’s life was already empty and meaningless, so Kai couldn’t possibly make it any worse. He made himself and a relationship with him feel safe. I have been sitting with this all day and it still makes me devastated every time I think about it for more than 30 seconds. Kai made home a place Hiro wanted to be enough that he could actually come home, and Hiro made home safe enough that Kai felt like he could stay there without being afraid he’d ruin it. 

Would I have wanted more of these two together? Absolutely, I could watch Hiro and Kai together for triple this runtime easy. But for me, this show used its time incredibly well and ends in the perfect place. I have enough with what we got to see exactly how they got from where we leave them to how we see them in the show opening credits.

Enough to know they’re going to be ok.

[kit-kat-katie]

Goodnight, Moonlight

A/N: Y’know, I’m actually super proud of this fic. I was unsure of myself and the direction that I wanted to go, but I ended with something that I really like. Please let me know if you want another part, I’d love to continue the story and see where our lovebirds end up next. ;)

TW: Cannon-typical levels of violence and gore, aquatic fighting, mentions of drowning, reader is described to be physically strong and have typical traits and skills that a victor from District 4 would have (dw I can’t swim but I can be delulu), reader maintains their obliviousness, slightly OOC! Peeta and Katniss (I've never written for them before so please excuse any flaws), poison fogs, reader and Co. sustains multiple injuries, death (no main character death yet)

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (”one-sided” romantic to shared romantic)

Summary: As you’re thrust into the arena, you’re forced to focus on keeping yourself alive, keeping your mentor and Katniss from harming one another, and keeping ahead of the endless perils that are thrown your way. Mixed signals from Finnick eventually even out, and a moment of clarity brings you two closer together than you’ve ever been before.

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Finnick can’t die or get captured by the Capitol. It has to be me.

That’s your first coherent thought as the pedestal stabilizes in the arena. You find yourself growing oddly… familiar with this environment, these few seconds where nothing yet everything matters.

You can’t see Finnick or Katniss, but you recognize Johanna’s fiery red hair. You also spot Wiress and Beetee close together, and you let yourself relax for a moment before the canon fires.

Water.

You dive into the water without a second thought. Swimming is as natural as breathing, given your home district, and you easily outrace your competitors to the rocks that lead to the Cornucopia. You climb on the rocks with ease, and you’re running towards the center of the arena until you spot blonde hair struggling to swim in the water.

Peeta.

You don’t hesitate to switch course and dive in after him. Helping Peeta would not only get you further into Katniss’s good graces, but it would be right on target with your image in the Capitol.

That’s exactly the kind of thinking that Finnick encouraged.

You push your mentor out of your mind as you quickly peek above water and spot another male heading towards Peeta. His eyes are dripping venom, but you’re not scared to shoot a murderous look back. 

Sunny was a sweet mentor, a respectful celebrity, and a dangerous tribute. You could manage to be all three - as long as you did so with a smile on your face.

“Don’t be afraid to smile,” President Snow chides as you nervously stare at the carnations as his desk, “you know that’s what the people want to see, right?”

The image of Snow’s head on a large spike is enough to motivate you to swim faster than your competition. 

You push Peeta out of the way before landing a punch to the face of the other man. From a quick assessment, you weren’t as strong as this man, but he couldn’t fight in water like you could. 

You dodge an uncoordinated swing to your left side before landing another hit - this time you punch his chest. He takes a bigger breath as his eyes meet yours. 

You offer a warm smile before he tries - and fails - to land another hit. You look over for just a second, just to make sure that Peeta’s still in your peripheral vision, before the other tribute tackles you under the surface of the water.

You immediately thrash around as he tries to keep you under - a lucky breath saves you from drowning as you manage to free yourself from his grasp. 

He’ll drown if he tries to drown me.

You emerge from the water, and the warm air that enters your lungs causes you to cough violently. You grab onto a nearby pedestal as you try to locate Peeta in-between coughing fits.

You spot Peeta as he throws a punch at the man, and your head snaps to the Cornucopia as your breaths even out. From a distance, you see a man with a trident looking for someone, and you take a bet on who that might be as you wave a hand in the air.

Finnick immediately rushes around the Cornucopia after he spots you, and returns with a black-haired girl who you could recognize from a mile away. 

You swim towards the rocks before finally making your way out of the water. The warm air on all of your skin feels like relief in its sweetest form - one that is most welcome as you realize how drained you are from one simple encounter.

It has to be the water because I cannot be a weakness right now.

You point out Peeta in the water once Finnick and Katniss get closer, and Finnick doesn’t hesitate to dive in as Peeta continues to struggle in the water.

For the first time in a long time, you fear for his safety. Peeta’s a teenager, just like you were, but he’s already back in the arena.

This isn’t fair.

Words die on the tip of your tongue - comforting people was your speciality, but Katniss didn’t appear to need comforting as she raises her bow and prepares to fire an arrow.

When Peeta and the other tribute are submerged underwater before Finnick gets to them, Katniss reluctantly puts down her bow as she stares expectantly into the water.

You jump when the canon fires, and the hope in her eyes turns to fear as a still body emerges from the water. You’re scared to look because if it’s Peeta-

Thankfully, Peeta emerges from the water as Finnick reaches him, and they both swim back safely as you and Katniss share a relieved expression. 

Katniss watches the Cornucopia as the careers gather there and stare her down, and you grab Finnick’s trident from the rocks.

It doesn’t feel right in my hands - it’s like this weapon was meant to be with Finnick.

You hand Finnick his trident after he gathers himself, and you watch Katniss take Peeta’s hand and help him out of the water.

“You alright?” Finnick places a hand on your shoulder, and the weight of your earlier realization crashes down on you as you nod.

You can’t let Finnick get hurt, but you can’t let him know that you feel this way about him because you know how he feels about-

“I’m good, thanks,” You gently place your hand on his, “but you really couldn’t grab me a weapon?”

The serious expression melts off his face as he chuckles slightly, and you feel a bit self-conscious as Katniss and Peeta stare at you like wild deer.

“I didn’t have time, and I know you’re better with your fists, sweetheart.” Finnick replies to your teasing with a smile as he lets go of your shoulder.

You find yourself missing his touch - don’t think about Finnick like that - when Peeta steps towards you.

“Thank you fo-“

“You can thank me when we’re out of here, okay?” You interrupt him before another cannon sounds. “I don’t feel like becoming prey for the predators.”

Katniss glances back at the Cornucopia one last time as the four of you make your way towards the beach and into the thick forestry that awaits you.

~

Your quartet runs into the forest as Peeta leads with Katniss right behind him. Finnick allows you to go in front of him with a handsome smile and welcoming arm gesture (you’d have to tease him about that later).

Your mind wanders as your feet effortlessly navigate the forest floor - playing tag on rock beaches and having some experience in rock climbing did have its uses, after all.

Does Finnick mean what he says when he calls me sweetheart, or is it apart of the Capitol facade? I suppose I’m not much better - does Finnick know who I truly am behind the sunshine?

The distinction had become unclear for yourself - you were kind, but that wasn’t all that you were. You liked to tease your mentor and be a thorn in his side, but you also wanted to help the children in your district understand that there is life outside of the games. Couldn’t both sides of you coexist at the same time?

“Okay, hold up, hold up!”

Finnick’s voice causes you to pause as your breathing catches up with the rest of your body - you’d run a long distance without being phased in the slightest. You need to take breaks so you could be energized for a possible encounter, but a quick look back assures you that the Cornucopia is out of sight and, for now, out of mind.

Peeta’s the first to sit, and you’re quick to follow as you watch Katniss scan the environment for any possible danger. Finnick catches up and sits next to you. Katniss reluctantly kneels as you start to fan yourself - you’re in a jungle, not a forest, and it’s fucking hot.

“God, it’s hot,” You wipe the sweat from your forehead as Peeta speaks, “we got to find fresh water.”

You glance over at Finnick, who offers you a reassuring nod. You notice that Katniss is watching the two of you, but you choose not to say anything. She’s paranoid and overprotective, and who wouldn’t be?

A booming cannon pushes everyone’s attention to the sky, which is quickly followed by a second and third cannon.

With his bright smile and a small laugh, Finnick tries to lighten the mood with a simple joke.

“I guess we’re not holding hands anymore.” 

You briefly smile and chuckle under your breath before Katniss chimes in.

“You think that’s funny?”

Your eyes widen as you glance over at Finnick to see how he handles her aggression.

“Every time that cannon goes off, it’s music to my ears. I don’t care about any of them.”

“Good to hear.” Katniss draws a machete from her back as you place a hand on Finnick’s arm.

You’d always be there for him, and you’d fight off Katniss if that’s what it took, but you needed her alive, along with Peeta. Although you had know her for such little time, you saw your younger spirit in her - the feisty, brash child that fought with her heart in her hand.

“Wanna face the career pack alone?” Finnick pauses for a beat before asking her another question. “What would Haymitch say?”

“Sunny, you have to know that Katniss doesn’t play nice with others.”

“But she was nice to me, Haymitch-“

“You’re odd, just like she is. Maybe you can find some common ground and convince her to not shoot Finnick the moment he opens his mouth.”

“…Thanks.”

He’d probably tell you, at this very moment, to grab a drink and enjoy the show, but you had to keep the peace.

For his sake, for Peeta’s sake, and for my sake.

“Haymitch isn’t here.” Katniss coldly answers while slightly lowering her machete.

“We should get going.” You glance over at Peeta, who nods in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, let’s keep moving.”

You pull yourself off the ground, and Peeta does the same while Katniss stares daggers into Finnick.

“Play nice,” You mumble under your breath to Finnick before walking over to Katniss, “and I’m sorry that his ego can get in the way sometimes. He’s a nice guy, I promise.”

You offer Katniss a hand up off the ground as a truce, and a small smile appears and then quickly disappears off her face as she takes your hand.

~

“For the record,” Finnick mumbles as you walk with him behind Katniss and Peeta, “I was playing nice. She’s just a bit… rough around the edges.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” You roll your eyes as Finnick bumps your shoulder.

“First you say I have an ego, and now this,” He sighs before playfully pushing you ahead, “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Sunny.”

You feel your face start to heat up as you begin to fidget with a part of your clothing.

If only he knew how much I really liked him-

“Of course I do, Finnick.” You bite your lip while hoping that he doesn’t notice the effect his words and lingering touches have on you.

Don’t think about this right now-

“I’m glad someone here does.” 

His comment earns his a golden stare down from Katniss, and you lightly smack his shoulder before continuing on in silence.

Peeta cuts through the vines ahead as creatures of the jungles - ones that you hope aren’t here to eat you - make various noises that only set your nerves over the edge. Katniss falls behind you and Finnick, and you can only hope that you’ve set her mind off of killing Finnick, even if it’s just for a moment.

You continue to walk on, but you pause once you hear Katniss’ footsteps stop. Finnick doesn’t take notice of the situation, but you can tell that she’s seen something worthy of alarm.

Peeta continues to swing the machete when you see a small reflection of light on a bush in front of him. Your eyes widen in alarm as you take a small step back.

The forcefield-!

“Peeta, no!” Katniss screams at Peeta strikes the forcefield.

Sparks fly as you instinctually cover your eyes with one arm, and you use the other arm to shield Katniss as much as possible. Peeta is blown back by the impact, and you’re knocked to the ground along with Finnick and Katniss.

Katniss is quick to crawl to her knees as you follow suit.

“Peeta?”

Your heart aches as the weakness in her voice laces around every syllable of his name. 

She cares for the boy, more than she lets on.

She gently caresses Peeta’s face as you watch from a small distance behind her - she needs to check over him herself, to make sure he’s okay-

“He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing!”

You push Finnick towards the two of them, and Finnick harshly pushes Katniss out of the way so he can attempt to save Peeta. It’s a standard medical procedure that all District 4 families know by heart, but you place a reassuring hand on Katniss’ shoulder after she tries to pull an arrow on Finnick.

You know that words won’t do anything to comfort Katniss, and she rushes to Peeta’s side as you’re forced to be an uncomfortable spectator.

“Peeta, Peeta-“

You place a hand over your mouth as tears start to form in your eyes.

Come on, Peeta…

“Come on, come on!”

Finnick matches your worries as he continues compressions on Peeta.

“Please wake up.”

Katniss’ voice cracks which cracks the dam in your eyes as you begin to cry.

Katniss loves Peeta like I love-

You do your best to wipe the tears from your eyes as you imagine how the Capitol is enjoying the show. They’re watching three fierce competitors do their best to bring back another victor - a first in the history of the Hunger Games, you’re sure. You’re not even doing much but displaying your heart on your sleeve, and that’s enough for you to do. People stay attached and are sympathetic, and you can only hope that it’ll continue after you commit the worst crime, betraying the Capitol, after you get Katniss and Peeta out of here.

Peeta takes a deep breath, and you deeply sigh in relief as Finnick backs off to let Katniss and Peeta have a moment.

Once Finnick stands up, you pull him into a comforting hug, but you’re not sure if the hug is more for you or for him.

“I can’t-“

“I know.” He places a gentle hand on your back as you watch Katniss and Peeta interact.

“Do you wanna stand up?”

“Yeah.”

Once Peeta stands up, Katniss pulls Peeta into a hug as you let go of Finnick. You notice that Finnick’s hand doesn’t move as your heart pounds - this isn’t the moment nor is it your moment - as his eyes never leave Katniss and Peeta.

He knows, and I know.

~

Katniss throws a rock at the forcefield as a small group of sparks come from the collision. Peeta follows behind Katniss, and you follow behind Peeta as Finnick brings up the rear.

The next rock she throws reproduces similar results, but you notice that Finnick places a protective hand on your shoulder. You make your way through the jungle floor as Katniss throws another rock at the forcefield.

“Hold on.” She says before moving further ahead of the group. She climbs the largest tree she can find, and the three of you wait in silence before she comes back down.

“The forcefield is a dome,” Katniss reports after coming back down, “so we’re at the edge of the arena. I couldn’t find any signs of fresh water.”

Your throat dries up further at the mention of water. None of you will last long in this heat without any sort of hydration.

“It’s gonna get dark soon, we’ll be safe with our backs protected. We should set up camp - take turns sleeping.” Finnick sits next to you while looking directly at Katniss. “I’ll take first watch.”

Katniss scoffs before replying.

“Not a chance.”

Finnick gives her a disapproving look before grabbing his trident and standing up.

“Honey, that thing I did back there for Peeta? That was called saving his life. If I wanted to kill either of you, I would’ve done it by now.”

Finnick sticks his trident in the ground as Katniss continues to have a glare-off with him. Eventually, Finnick takes his trident and offers you a hand up. You quietly take it before shooting Peeta and Katniss an apologetic look - not your first, but certainly not your last.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll take first watch.” Katniss instructs Peeta mores then telling him, but he reluctantly stands up.

“Just for a little bit.”

She nods as he moves to sit farther away from you and Finnick, but closer to Katniss.

He doesn’t trust us because she doesn’t.

You squeeze Finnick’s hand as you sit a few feet from the forcefield.

“Let me talk to her tonight. I have a way of charming people.”

“She’s tough to crack-“

“I did it before, in the practice room,” You say with determination while looking at him, “and I know I can do it again.”

He doesn’t answer, but he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

That’s good enough for me.

~

Peeta lays peacefully asleep as you sit on a nearby rock by Katniss and Finnick.

“How’s Peeta?” He softly asks.

“Is he well?” You add on while trying to break the palpable tension between you three.

Not three, but if they’re going to argue, then all of us will suffer.

“He’s okay, I think, just…” She trails off for a moment, “dehydrated, like the rest of us.”

Familiar music draws your attention to the skies as today’s victors-turned-victims display on the forcefield. There’s familiar faces, ones that you had come to befriend and love… it’s enough to drive you to tears. As the display continues, Finnick places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. 

It’s not enough, but it’ll do.

Peeta awakens too, and the four of you sit in contemplative silence as the display finally comes to a close.

“Eight.” Katniss says as you wave off tears.

“I’m fine, Finnick,” You gently brush his hand off your shoulder as you look up to the sky again, “but look at the sky!”

A small canister attached to a parachute floats down and lands a few feet from Katniss, and she’s quick to gather the canister. She opens the canister with easy, which contains a note plus something else you can’t quite see.

“Drink up?”

“What is it?” Finnick asks as you approach Katniss behind him.

“It’s from Haymitch,” Katniss picks the item out of the canister, “I think it’s a spiel.”

Katniss rushes past Finnick to pound the spiel into a nearby tree with a rock. Peeta rushes to Katniss’ side as the four of you watch and eventually see the spiel product water.

Haymitch did his part, which means that I have to do mine.

~

“I counted twelve.” Katniss notes as you look up to the sky.

“It’s midnight-” Finnick tries to add.

“-Or the number of districts.” Katniss challenges as you shake your head.

They can never agree on the simple things, huh?

A series of lightning strikes on a large tree in the distance draws your attention.

“Well, if you two aren’t going to sleep,” Finnick says as you nod in confirmation, “then I will.”

“Alright.” Katniss says as Finnick gets up from his post.

“Goodnight, Finnick.”

“Goodnight, Sunny,” Finnick looks back and offers you a warm smile, “make sure to get some rest.”

“I will.”

He silently walks away as you turn your attention to Katniss.

“I’m sorry about Finnick, he can be-“

“Why did you try to save Peeta earlier? You don’t know him.” Katniss bluntly asks.

“Peeta is important to you, and I wanted to spare you the pain that so many others face.” You truthfully answer as Katniss studies your face with scrutiny.

“You don’t know me either-“

“-Katniss, if I knew every person I’ve ever helped, I wouldn’t be Sunny,” You tell her, “and I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t that person. I used to think Sunny was a persona, but it’s become who I truly am.”

“Were you someone different before the games?”

“I think we all were, if that’s not obvious enough,” You glance at Peeta before returning your attention to Katniss, “but I think the Hunger Games showed me who I truly was. Wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone else, though.”

“I-“

“I think you’ll discover that we’re not so different after all, Katniss,” You say before standing up, “but I wish you a good night. I hope the night is uneventful for you.”

You walk a small distance before turning back.

“Oh, and don’t be too hard on Finnick. He’s been through a lot more than he lets on.”

“Tell him to back off first.”

You chuckle as you lay down close to Finnick, but far enough that your beating heart doesn’t threaten to blow out your eardrums.

~

“Run, run! The fog is poison!”

Katniss’ words send you from slumber to alert as you’re the first on your feet. You move down the side of the hill as Finnick and Peeta catch up to you. You let Katniss pass you as Finnick pushes you in front so he takes up the rear. 

You continue to run through the forestry without a second thought as the thick fog chases you. The fog suddenly approaches from the right, and Peeta is quickly to avoid it, along with the rest of you.

As you round a corner, the fog then approaches from the left. You dodge the fog like you dodged arrows in your original Hunger Games. It was too easy, but you were concerned for Finnick since the fog was nearly kissing you.

When the four of you make it to a clearing, the fog makes a semicircle around you, and Peeta’s forced to lead the group in another direction as you aimlessly follow in the hopes that you’ll survive this.

The fog seems to increase in speed, and you scream in agony once it touches your skin. You barely avoid Katniss, who tripped in front of you, and Peeta goes back to save her. He’s burned by the fog too, and Katniss pulls him up before they follow behind you.

You continue in front of the group this time, and you hear Finnick’s shrieks from a distance, but you can’t go back for him. 

As long as he’s yelling, he’s alive.

It tears your heart into shreds to hear him, to hear those kids behind you, in so much pain. You immediately turn around when you hear a body fall to the ground.

“Peeta!” Katniss sticks next to him like a loyal dog as you watch from a safe distance. Finnick approaches the two of them, and he doesn’t hesitate to help Katniss by wrapping one of Peeta’s arms around his shoulder. As Katniss wraps the other arm around his shoulder, Finnick motions you to continue forward.

You run forward, safe from most harm, as the other members of your group continue to bear most of the brunt from the fog. A sharp hill awaits you, but you quickly navigate it as Katniss, Finnick, and Peeta fall, quite literally, behind you.

You cry in pain as you touch the back of your neck. You spot a nearby pool of water as the trio behind you makes a rough landing.

You watch in horror as the fog approaches, but it’s stopped by an invisible wall that barely prevents any injury to the rest of you. Your attention snaps back to the water - your neck really fucking hurts - as you approach the water. When you submerge yourself in the water, you sigh in relief as the stinging pain caused by the water rids you of your injury.

Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, you pull Katniss, the only person who seems to be awake, towards the water. With her determination and your strength, you get her to the edge of the water. You gently place one of her hands in the water, and she screams before the poison is released from her hand.

“The water- the water helped-“ Her strangled cry is heard by Peeta, who starts to pull himself towards the water as well.

You immediately move to Finnick’s side as you deliberately and slowly start to move him towards the water. Once Katniss and Peeta are mostly finished, they help you push Finnick fully into the water. He screams in agony as the three of you pour water over his body.

“Finnick-“ 

Emotions threaten to pour from your eyes and your mouth, but the sometimes-stoic Katniss composes herself before you can truly express how scared you are to lose Finnick.

“We need our weapons.”

Peeta and Katniss move to gather the weapons as you stay, dedicated, by Finnick’s side.

“C’mon, you need to get up. Who else is going to argue with Katniss over the simplest things?”

Finnick grumbles for a second before softly laughing.

At least I’ve made this shitty situation better for someone.

~

As Peeta gathers water from a nearby tree, you sit and pour water all over yourself in order to keep cool and clean any remaining toxins off of your skin. Finnick and Katniss do the same, but you give them space to talk things out with their words… instead of their fists.

They both mutter apologies to one another before Finnick pauses to stare blankly ahead. Your eyes catch sight of what he’s looking so intently at.

Mutts.

A gentle nod to Katniss alerts her of the situation as well, and she stands along with Finnick. You slowly try to back away before noticing that some are approaching from behind. You immediately backpedal next to Finnick and Katniss as they’re the only ones with proper weapons.

Where’s Peeta?

“Peeta.”

“Yeah?” Peeta looks up from the spiel towards Katniss.

“Back away from the tree, slowly.”

A growling mutt a few inches from his face causes Peeta to slowly back up towards the three of you. Once you’re all in the water, the mutts growl and slowly close in as your heart pounds. 

What am I supposed to do with no weapon?

“Get to the beach.” Katniss tries to move towards the newly sighted Cornucopia, but two mutts block your last escape route.

Katniss pulls her bow back as the mutts continue to advance on you. A mutt makes the first leap towards you and Katniss, but Peeta quickly strikes it down with his machete. They all growl angrily before one lunges towards Katniss from the opposite side. She quickly shoots it down with an arrow before killing another when it’s barely tried to leap at her.

Peeta swipes at a mutt that approaches you before gently pushing you behind him.

“I owe you one for earlier.” Peeta recalls the fight at the Cornucopia, and you nod before centering yourself between Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick. 

Finnick strikes a mutt down with his trident before smacking another back. Peeta continues to aimlessly swipe at a few mutts to keep them away, and you duck as Katniss shoots one over his shoulder. A mutt then jumps on Peeta and tries to sink its teeth into him, but he guts it with a blade through the stomach.

Katniss and Finnick work in harmony to push the mutts back before she successfully hits three mutts with her arrows and stabs the fourth with her bow. Peeta pulls his knife from the mutt before you help him up. The onslaught continues for a few moments which spreads seconds into eternal moments. You feel useless, but keeping yourself out of harm’s way is the best way you can help everyone. 

A mutt tackles Katniss into the water, but Peeta quickly kills it and helps Katniss up.

“Come on, we got to get to the beach!”

Peeta leads the way as you follow behind Katniss. You turn back to assure that Finnick is still there - you’re worrying about him when he has a weapon, he’ll be fine, Sunny - as you try to navigate your way to the beach.

A mutt jumps on Katniss and Peeta which knocks them further away. A separate mutt eyes you before jumping, and you attempt to send a punch its way. It takes a bite on your outstretched arm as you cry out in pain. You manage to wrestle your arm out of its grasp before Finnick spears it with his trident.

“How bad is-“

A few small incisions line your dominant arm, and they sting like hell, but you can’t focus on that now.

“I’ll live.” 

Finnick grabs your non-damaged hand as he spears another mutt that dares to approach him. He then lets go of your hand to kill a mutt that jumps on Katniss, but once she’s back on her feet, his hand finds yours again.

You gasp as you notice someone in camouflage with large bite marks covering their neck.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a Morphling,” Peeta explains to Katniss, “C’mon, help me get her.”

They grab the dying Morphling before dragging her to the beach. More mutts approach as Finnick lets go of your hand and pushes you ahead. 

“I’ve got this - just watch them.”

You nod before turning to follow Katniss and Peeta. Despite your painful arm injury, you run through the forest just as you did before. Pain was an adrenaline booster for you, and it was a scratch compared to the injuries you got from messing around on rock cliffs and beaches back in District 4.

You make it to the beach as Katniss and Peeta bring the girl into the water. Finnick tumbles in behind you before quickly recovering and pushing the remaining mutts back. Once he realizes that the mutts aren’t going to follow him, his eyes meet yours.

“You arm-“

“Look,” You point at the sky as another canister falls from the sky towards you, “I told you I’d live. I might not be the capitol darling, but they can’t let go of their little sister that easily.”

Finnick reaches the canister before you do, and he opens it to quickly to dig out the gauze and skin-applicable pain medicine.

“I suppose they wouldn’t mind seeing the Capitol darling tend to their little sister, then?” Finnick’s lips quirk into a teasing smile as you sit on the beach and admire the sky.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Then that’s the only opinion that matters.” He sits next to you, and you present your arm to him. “You’re tougher than you act, honey.”

“I thought you knew that already,” You look away for a moment to hide your embarrassment, “after all, I did learn from an amazing mentor.”

The medicine feels cold once it touches your skin, and you sigh in relief as the pain starts to fade away.

“Did anyone leave a note?” You ask as Finnick looks away for a moment. “Oh, so I’m the one who has an admirer, and you get-“

You yelp when Finnick starts to harshly apply the medicine.

“-Jealous much?” You roll your eyes as Finnick laughs.

“Is it bad that I want your eyes on me and me alone?”

You’re left speechless as you bite your lip nervously. The invisible tension, the string that draws you two together, is finally pulled to its breaking point as you realize how close Finnick truly is. 

“It-“ You pause for a moment as your sunshine threatens to slip and reveal some deeper emotion in your heart, the one that you named before this fresh hell started. “It depends on what you’re going to do about it.”

Finnick sets down the medicine to grab the gauze, and once Finnick returns close to you, you push yourself on top of him to give him a kiss to release the emotions buried deep in your heart.

The sunshine clouds over as a storm brews, but you’re not scared of the damage that this thunderstorm will cause your mind. You’d accept once the outcome that you weren’t the one for him, that the signs were wrong and all in your head, and that-

Finnick kisses you back.

Oh shit.

Finnick kisses you. In the 75th Hunger Games. On TV. In front of thousands of his admirers.

Oh shit!

You pull away and place a hand over your mouth as you contemplate the absolute shitstorm you’ve just released on the both of you.

“You’re not a bad kisser, if that’s what you’re embarrassed about-“

“Finnick!” You squeak before smacking his arm.

“There’s only room for two people who can’t admit that they love each,” He nods at Katniss and Peeta in the distance, “and that image doesn’t quite fit either of us.”

“What are we, then?”

“Whatever you want to be.”

~

tagging -> @yokolesbianism

[persage]

My Best Gift - S. HARRINGTON

I wanted to post it on Christmas - yes, it's a silly fluffy Christmas story- but it was a busy time and now here we are a little late but I still hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Steve is resigned to spend Christmas alone. He certainly doesn't imagine that Robin has planned a surprise for him, much less seeing someone he honestly believed he would never see again and that he misses more than he cares to admit.

Words Count: 3.5 k

Tags: none, just some Fluff I needed on Christmas time. It's silly but I promise it's cute

Steve Harrington is ready to spend a serene and peaceful Christmas, just him, his father's good whiskey and a good action movie. A calm evening, for the first time in a long time without family dramas, parents in quarrels, embarrassing silences or equally embarrassing reproaches. Also without Nancy and her family, but Steve prefers not to think about it. With them he spent the first happy Christmas with a family of his entire life, then he just lost them. Being alone on Christmas day is not sad and it is not pathetic and he has no intention of indulging in excessive thinking, he will enjoy the peace like a grown man.

Like a Harrington.

After wishing Dustin and Rob and everyone else happy holidays, reassuring an unspecified number of people that "No, I won't be alone", giving Robin and the kids his presents, now Steve clutches the remote in his hands and think back to Joyce Byers' unexpected invitation and the way in which for a moment, just one, he has risked calling her mom. He feels pathetic now.

Dinner time approaches, but he has no desire to start cooking, so he shrugs, concentrating on the colorful images that pass before him on TV. He takes a gulp of warm alcohol down his throat, which burns like pure fire and he is about to light a cigarette when the doorbell rings and for a moment he lets himself be taken by the stupid fantasy that it could be his parents, that they have come home  to surprise him and he runs towards the door without even realizing it, like a child who hopes to be able to see Santa. His heart sinks into an abyss, a dark place that he didn't even know he owned, when opening the door he finds nothing but darkness and silence waiting for him. He wants to cry to be honest, like a stupid little boy.

But before he can slam the door as hard as he is able, Robin's face peeks out. He doesn't have the chance to say anything because a pair of arms tighten around his neck and he immediately catches a scent that he knows well and calms him down. "Dingus!" Robin exclaimes happily, pulling away.

"Rob? What are you doing here? I thought... "

"Did you really think we'd let you celebrate Christmas alone?"

He raises his eyebrows in defiance, spreading his arms to make room for a series of all too familiar heads and faces and this time Steve has to use all his strength not to be moved and start crying for real, because his real family is here and for the first time he is not alone."Merry Christmas Steve"  Nancy says, making her way with Jonathan,  a turkey in her hands. She places a kiss on Steve's cheek standing up on her toes and Jonathan squeezes his shoulder and after all that has happened this is enough for him to know that everything is okay, that they are friends, that they can be together without embarrassment or resentment.

"I'll put this in the kitchen" she shouts, smiling at him. Steve lets his gaze slide over Robin, her open jacket, her red sweater and a Christmas hat identical to Max's one, who wears it with a much less happy expression than Buckley. Envelopes of every shape and color protrude from her feet.

"What are you waiting? Will you let us in?" Dustin asks, in a fake annoyed tone, actually smiling to the point that Steve fears his cheeks might come off.

"And your families?" He asks shyly, still fearful that now they might leave again. They enter the house one by one, greeting him, some with a nod, some with a hug. "They'll understand" Max replies, trying not to show satisfaction in seeing Steve so excited.

"You don't get rid of us, man." Lucas continues, bypassing him and entering the house, where Nancy is already beginning to dictate orders. One by one Dustin, Robin, Max and Lucas, even Will, Mike (who would rather be anywhere else) and El file past him. He can't deny it, this is a surprise, more like a Christmas miracle... And for a moment he feels different, lighter, more carefree. Steve Harrington feels happy. He is not used to that feeling during Cristhmas. He looks down at the ground and shakes his head, unable, however, to stop smiling. When he thinks that parade of his people is over and that there are no more intruders to let into the house, he gently pushes the door with a wave of his arm, and turns towards the living room. Before he hears the door close, however, he senses someone coughing lightly, and a voice comes clear and distinct.

"You won't let me in?"

Steve's eyes widen, because he's sure he knows who this voice belongs to and up until now he's been sure he won't be hearing it again any time soon. His breath catches in his chest. In a second he turns back towards the entrance, where the toe of a black shoes block the door from closing.

"Y/n?" He mumbles before meeting your face again. He hurries to open the door all the way back and immediately freezes to the spot. In front of him, wrapped in a black coat,  hair scattered around your face and eyes brighter than the stars exactly as he remembered them, you star at him with a faintly hinted smile on your face.

"Oh my god y/n" his voice shakes  more than he wants to, so he fakes a  a cough, while Robin looks at him knowingly and a sly smile. You star at him for a few more moments, just a fraction of a second, before dropping the envelope and purse on the floor and throwing yourself into his arms. After all it's been a while since you last saw him, before your parents forced you to leave Hawkins and move.

Hardest experience of your life.

You still remember the day of departure, passing in front of your friends' houses, you have flooded your clothes with tears and thought about everything you left behind and the things you never had the courage to say and do. And all these things are now here, in front of you and they are looking at you with the biggest eyes in the world.

Incredulous.

Because Steve Harrington has always been your biggest regret and your only desire.

"Steve." You sigh against his skin, so happy to finally be here that you almost shiver. When Robin Buckley has called you to ask you to join her in Hawkins, she really thought you couldn't do it, given the short time in which she had organized the surprise for Steve. "You'll be his Christmas present!" And you had thought of a joke and you had anxiety until you had Robin in front of you and she smiled and embraced you happily, as if your presence could really be a gift. Yet here you are, with the boy you thought you hated so much as a child, only to discover that you felt everything for him except hate, that never really felt anything but love.

"What... What are you doing here? You should... Be on the other side of the world. I haven't seen you in..." He strokes your hair lightly, then he grabs your face in his big hands and squeezes it tightly to check if you are real. "One Year and Three Months Stevie" And after saying that he squeezes it a little tighter, because he probably just realizes right now how much time has actually passed. You are one of the things Steve tries not to think about, filed away in a corner of his heart where your absence can't hurt him. You wrote to each other in the beginning, even quite often, but then it just became too difficult. He moves away a little, just enough to look you in the eye, and none of you try to hide the surprise and the smiles. Somewhere deep down there are  regret and the fear too.

"You are... Changed." he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You've gotten slightly taller and your cheeks have taken on color and are fuller than the last time he saw you, when the upside-down chores were slowly draining you. You seem healthier, calmer and happier, safer than you will ever be here. With him.

"You too Harrington look...Grown up. A man"

He doesn't answer and you continue. "I guess being a hero makes you grow up fast" You burst into a nervous laugh and look down at the toes of your boots.

"Sorry, it's just that... I'm nervous" He shakes his head.

"Don't be y/n, this is still your home." You observe him, the words get caught on your tongue, stumble and never come out right.

I love you. I miss you. I wished I was here.

And instead all you can say is "I know things have happened...Bad. Difficult. I.." Steve closes his eyes, trying to erase the images of StarCourt, of the Russians, of Billy. Hopper. You have lost so many things but honestly he is happy about it. When he opens them you're watching him worried, his fingers reach your cheek again, gently brushing it

"Yes but I'm glad you weren't there. I prefer to know you're safe"

You smile, softly, placing your hand on his still firm on your skin. You're about to reply that you wish you were here just to keep him safe but Dustin's voice cuts you off.

"Lovebirds, would you do us the favor of coming here?" Stepping back, he coughs lightly as a blush spreads across his cheeks. "Come on, before someone destroys my house." He leans in towards you, reaching out to close the door behind you, and for a tiny instant, you were numb by the scent of him. The moment soon vanishes as he takes you by the hand and leads you to the room where all the voices come from.

"Steve, you haven't even decorated the tree!"

Nancy says shocked. When her eyes lock on your clasped hands, she just smiles at you sweetly.

"It's not like I exactly expected to spend Christmas like this." He tries to justify himself, earning a series of insults and "You're terrible!" from the rest of the company. "As if you mind," Dustin teases. "I'm the one who minds being here actually" Mike mutters slyly.

An hour later Steve is leaning over the dining table, a glass of white wine in his hands and watches as Lucas and Will attempt to scramble over each other to position the three topper. Robin and Jonathan burst into laugh after noticing they brought the same kind of decorations. You and El are trying in every way to whiten the tips of the tree to simulate snow. Right now, while looking at his friends, Steve again perceives this feeling: pure joy. It's has nothing to do with food, gifts or Christmas lights.

It is more a warmth,  something that objects can't bring people. He feels it again, this damned wonderful overwhelming happiness, when, having puffed and abandoned the hard work you've been doing, you look up at him and smile at him from across the hall.

You are here.

You're here, for real and Steve already feels the pain of having to let you go again. But you're here and he can hold you,  kiss your hair, talk to you. It's the best gift ever. He still remembers so distinctly the moment he met you, you were just a little thing, so small you looked like a doll running around the garden of his house and rolling with him among the flowers that his mother cared for more than her own son and Steve hated to death. He remembers your little hand hanging a drawing of the two of you on his bedroom wall. He rembers you throwing your head back and laughing by the sea when Tommy and Carol dragged you for a weekend away from the city routine and then you hiding your tears at Barbara Holland's funeral, trying to be strong and breaking down anyway, shattered in front of an empty coffin, devoured by guilt. There is no memory of his childhood or adolescence that does not involve you, or that he cannot be traced back to you. Even after your departure in every memory you are, a distant thought. Now that you're here everything seems to be back exactly as before. And even if he doesn't even know what heaven is, Steve Harrington feels very close to it. The dinner is not as perfect as Robin planned it, but no less exciting. As she studies her best friend sitting next to you, she still can't believe she haa managed to bring you home. You laugh with Nance and Jonathan. Dustin, Will and the boys are chatting across the table. Robin feels like a little girl waiting for her presents and always leaving a plate of cookies and a glass of milk by the fireplace.

In the imperfection of her life and the difficulties that her family has to face, she has managed to do something great for Steve and this is the most precious gift in the world. If everything they've been through has brought them here, Robin is ready to face it all again. There is nothing  she could want more then her dingus being in peace. You wake up abruptly, still upside down from the jet leg, in the living room, lit only by the tree surrounded by colored lights.

You must have collapsed just a few hours ago, curled up on Steve's couch - specifically next to him, surrounded by his perfume - and now you see your friends curled up in their sleeping bags scattered around the room, each too tired to even notice they're asleep on the floor. Shifting the blanket someone must have wrapped you in after you fell asleep, you decide to use it to cover Max, lying on the other side of the sofa clutching one of the large pillows to her chest, her hand left dangling down to where Lucas promptly reached out to squeeze it . With all the delicacy of which you are capable, you place your feet on the floor and try to get around the various sleeping bags scattered along the room. Luckily, you manage to make it to the kitchen without waking anyone – not that they could have woken up anyway – but noticing a light on.

Before you can even think anything, your eyes met the figure of Steve who has his back at you, wrapped in a burgundy sweatshirt and wearing a pair of shorts. You've missed seeing him so calm, so relaxed. You just missed him to tell the truth, more than you expected.

"What are you doing up?" You ask in a low voice, leaning an arm against the counter and waiting for him to turn around.When he does, he runs a hand through his messy hair and smiles at you.

"I can't sleep" he explains to you, placing a cup on the counter. You catch the movement and narrow your eyes. "By chance is that...?"

"You caught me." He raises his hands in surrender.

"Hot chocolate. Oh, God... You shouldn't have done it without me it's pur thing Steve!" You scold him, silently approaching and trying to suppress a grin. Chocolate has always been their ritual during the endless study afternoons, spent doing everything but study.

"I am sorry... "

"Now, my dear Harrington, I shall be forced to take serious measures."

You threaten. Before he can do anything, you've gotten very close and managed to grab onto his hips. You begin to tickle him when he tries to move, but you're faster and let your hands slide under the sweatshirt, on the abdomen and Steve is shaken by a series of irrepressible laughter. "I give up, I give up!" He almost screams, grabbing your wrists and finally managing to stop you.

"What do you have to say in your defense?" You lift your chin to him, closer than you've ever been all evening, and your smile fades as you notice Steve's eyes roaming over your lips tracing them with his gaze. Just do it. Please . But don't speak, in fact your breath catches in your chest. Everything is exactly like in the good old days.

Immediately he releases your wrists.

"Steve" You mumble confused by whatever is going on, this is enough to bring him back from the trance he seems to have fallen into. Steve turns and leans towards the top right locker where he keeps his cups, with his back to you. "A cup of hot chocolate on the way." He mutters, you try to suppress the sigh you feel growing in the center of her chest. "I missed you, you know?" You confess with a half smile, going to sit on the opposite counter, continuing to observe his back. It's nothing new, you know what there is between you, affection, Devotion but sometimes it's feels like it could be so much more it actually hurts.

"I would have liked to keep in touch, to contact you more often..." He starts.

" I know it. It looked wrong. ridiculous. I get it, really." you interrupt him. He still won't look at you. "I'm glad you're okay." You continue."I'm glad you're okay too. Thank God you are safe. I would die if everything ever happens to you Steve." Only now  he turns around, hitting you with the intensity of his gaze "I missed you too. You don't know how much, princess" As soon as you hear that nickname, that stupid nickname he gave you years and years ago, your heart skips a beat. And you blame the memories, you blame Christmas and the distance, for what you do afterwards. While Steve walks up to you carrying the hot cup, it's easy to take it out of his hand and place it behind you. It's easy to grab hold of his fingers that you know as your own and bring him close, just as it's easy to stare at him from below without letting go. The easiest thing, however, is to close your eyes. Close your eyes and wait, as you have done since you were twelve, when you finally understood that there is no person in the world more similar to you, more suited to you than stupid Steve Harrington. And that's why, in the end, you fell in love with him hard.

The long-awaited kiss reaches you,  the only light that remains is the sensation of this moment, imperfect as it has always been between you two, but nothing less than exceptional. You sense the initial awkwardness, which, of course, has nothing to do with inexperience– Steve seems born to kiss ypu and make it seem like the simplest thing in the whole universe. It's an embarrassment that says "you've been my best friend since before I even remotely looked like a girl, but now you want me and I want you and here we are" and likewise you feel it fade, giving way to an ease you haven't felt with anyone else.

The romantic side of your mind suggests it's because he knows you better than any other guy.

Steve, who has leaned over your legs stretching his neck towards your face as if a natural thing, moves his left hand towards his side, and only now  you suddenly realize you want him closer, you need him. Therefore you surround his waist with your legs and cling to the collar of his sweatshirt, devouring his mouth in a need that has been ignited since he held you in his arms in front of the door. Despite the desire, however, you are  this is Steve you are kissing now and you must know what the hell it means to him before doing something you could regret. In the same moment in which Steve starts to move away slightly, you do it  too and finally open your eyes.

"I wish I hadn't waited a year to be able to do it." He whispers softly, letting the fingers of his right hand get lost behind your neck, in your soft hair. And it's enough for you, for him and for everything you've never said.

For now, that's enough.

"You've always been slow Harrington"you scold him, trying with all your strength not to smile at him, "Give me a good reason to stay Steve" He leans down once more to kiss you.This time, you both smile.

This time you will never leave.

[artsykidwolf-2000]

Welp...FF7 Rebirth came out and ummm....I have this ship with an OC called Raven and I put her with Sephiroth...Ravenroth??? Idk

I'm debating on what prompt to do them with but we'll see with the actual story. This may also tie into a painting I did~

(they also have a kid named Mercury, he's a sweetie and I made Sephiroth a sister named Seri...yay) (Mercury is not in this story but Seri is!)

Without further adoooo let's get started.

May I Have This Dance?

Rating/Warning: minimal stuff but also AWWWWW

★★★★★

Ever since I can remember, I've always been by his side. Sephiroth. The Golden Child of SOLDIER. Ever since we were young we'd be teamed up together. He was there when my father died in that freak accident. There i remained in SOLDIER. Even as a First Class rank I didn't care much for the formalities or the perks of being this popular. I always thought myself a medic and only that.

Genesis or Angeal will always tease us as teenagers. Teasing about dating, who would win in a fight, best aim, you name it. As the years passed by, I found myself trying to answer why. It had been years since Genesis and Angeal disappeared and I still hear their voices egging me on. I had things, priorities, to attend to, especially one that was his very sister, Seri.

"Raven!!! What do you mean you're not coming to the company ball?! Everyone will be there!" Seri whined as I checked her vitals on the screen and took some tests.

"I told you Seri, I have my duties to the hospital and you. Sephiroth will have a conniption, you know he doesn't dance anyways" I replied.

"well I'm going with Zack! He invited me in Aerith's place because of her circumstances! She insisted!" She fussed as she crossed her arms.

"Oh are you? Then I guess I have no choice~" I rolled my eyes playfully as I gave her medicine and a change of clothes from her closet and helped her put them on.

"Yay! Dress shopping!!!" Seri squealed. I helped her onto her wheelchair and we walked to the elevator to get to the bottom floor.

We walked along the streets of Midgar to a dress shop nearby. I was never really into girly stuff even as a kid. The only girly thing I wear is earrings bc my face still says masculine. I guess looking more like my father was half of a good thing. I'm glad I developed nicely up top and got ass for days. My dad would try and get me to wear hair berets or make up to make me look more feminine but I was a part of SOLDIER. I couldn't/it would run or snag in the field.

Seri and I walked through all the clothing racks. Seri picked out a few dresses her size. She kept on pointing to other dresses that might look good on me but none were speaking to me. Seri started scanning the whole store. I know those eyes too well, just like her brother's, always on target and ready to pounce. Then she grabbed a dark colored dress and snuck it under her picks, thinking she was sneaky. I only caught a glimpse of the color but not the style. I was worried but not in a scared way.

As we made our way to the changing rooms, she picked out a cute pink dress because she told me Aerith liked pink and wanted to respect her favorite color. Seri really has grown fond of both Zack and Aerith these past few years. I've never seen her this excited unless it was Sephiroth coming home to take her to a fancy dinner and toy shopping. She's 7 years younger than him yet they're both a spitting image of each other. They definitely are siblings.

I remember the day my father showed us her, so small and frail. It was devastating to see her health decline when she reached 10 years. My dad did so much for her, even as he got up in age, he was like a father to her. His death put a toll on all of us, I stayed with Shinra because I had nowhere else to go. That's when I became on call for SOLDIER and mostly full time at the Hospital. I made a promise to my dad and myself.

Seri showed off her dresses and then from underneath she revealed the dress she swiped for me. It was a long sleek slender gown with a slit up the leg that stops at the thigh and has one strap. It was a dark blue with shimmers.

"oh no...that's no me..." I deflected.

"Come on Raven just try it on! You never wear dresses so how can you know?!" Seri pouts and shoved the dress and shoved me into the changing room, "imma go find ya shoes! Be right back!" With those parting words she wheeled herself away and I was alone. In the changing room. With a floor to ceiling mirror...

I placed the dress over me to get a feel then I started to undress from my uniform into this dress. Once it was on I saw myself. My figure helped but I had muscle. Was that sexy? Appealing? I even posed with my leg out the slit.

"Raven! I'm back with shoes!" Seri snapped me out my thoughts and shoved the shoe box under the door. I looked inside. They were black high heels...

"You sure about this Seri?" I called out.

"trust me!!!" Seri giggled.

I gulped and tried on the shoes. I looked at myself again and was amazed. Everything...matched me... Was Seri some kind of fashion genius? Maybe those fashion magazines around the hospital didn't help.

"come on out I wanna seeeeee!!!" Seri whined and scooted her wheelchair back.

I opened the door and revealed myself. The look on Seri's face said it all. She looked like she saw an angel.

"you look...amazing!!!!" She took a picture with her phone. "Sephi will FLIP when he sees you in this dress!!!"

"you think so?" I blushed.

"I know so! And with your silver earrings to match him it'll be perfect!!! Zack is already matching me with a pink tie already. He is not scared of pink!" Seri laughed.

I smiled, "then I'll get this dress. And maybe a necklace for both of us"

I quickly got unchanged and went to go pick out some necklaces. I got matching silver bang necklaces for us. I paid for the shopping spree and we headed on home to the apartment. Only god knows what will happen tonight...

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

The ballroom of the venue was packed with higher ups and other important people. I adjusted my dress. My hair and make up fixed up to match my dress. I touched my necklace and took a deep breath and walked into the venue. Seri already left earlier with Sephiroth for the venue. She was adamant Sephiroth doesn't see me get dressed in my pretty gown. My heels clicked along the floor as my presence started to turn heads and unwanted whispers. Why am I so nervous?

Then I saw Seri and Zack talking it up in the SOLDIER section of the venue with our names on the tables on the outside of the dancefloor.

"well look who decided to show up!!" Zack chuckled, "you look pretty good in a dress and is that a clutch?!"

"yes Zack...and you look stunning in that suit. Really brings out your eyes" I teased. Zack's cheeks turned pink. "And your cheeks~"

Seri chuckled, "he at least has some good dance moves."

"Seri where is your brother?" I asked.

"over there next to the corporates and higher ups. He's been sipping champagne for an hour with them..." She pointed.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to them. The drunken fools started whistling at my appearance. I deflected their looks and focused on Sephiroth.

"Look who finally decided to wear make up after so long" Sephiroth commented as he left the drunken old men to come to me.

"you don't look half bad yourself" I adjusted his blue tie. I knew Seri would make him match me.

"Shall we go out to the balcony? Away from these fools and noise?" He suggested. I gladly accepted and we walked outside.

"I'm so used to the sound of the battlefield and hospital. Yet I always get nervous around other people." I chuckled. "At least Seri and Zack are having a great time."

Sephiroth chuckled and held Raven close, "who says we can't have our own fun out here? May I have this dance?"

I blushed and smiled, "you may" he soon pulled me in and we began slow dancing on the balcony to the muffled music of the ballroom. The moon shines full and bright above us.

We swayed back and forth and he spun me a few times. I knew he wasn't much for dancing but he learned to cheer me up when we were teenagers. He knew my father loved to dance with me. Even Genesis and Angeal got on the bandwagon. They were all my best friends. Well now I only have Sephiroth. Ever since we were young we were glued to the hip, even in battle we had each other's backs.

My heart started pounding faster at the thought of feelings for Sephiroth. Are we allowed? I'm not in SOLDIER anymore by default but I work with Seri now so it might be?

"you're making that face again~" Sephiroth spoke softly and snapped me out of my thoughts.

"what face?"

"the cute face you make when you're deep in thought or worried." Sephiroth smirked. Cute? Cute?!

"oh...sorry..." I chuckled embarrassingly.

"don't be sorry, I like it, besides you're beautiful tonight. Seri picked out a nice dress" he placed a hand on my hip, trailing his fingers against my exposed back, "and don't worry about the muscles, I like that about you, you're not dainty or fragile like Seri. Strong and stubborn."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, "you think so?"

"I know so" Sephiroth placed his other hand on my hip, leaning in closer to where we're almost nose to nose.

"I'm glad you said that, because I like a man who can keep me on my toes and always had my back for the past 25+ years" I stared into his eyes as the moonlight hit them.

"then I'll hold you to it for the rest of our lives. You've done too much to just be rewarded once" he leaned in closer.

"it's a promise" I closed the gap and kissed him. We held each other. He lifted me a bit to get one last jab at the toes statement. His chapped lips were soft and his hair was like silk. He even put it up for once in a low pony with a small braid.

We separated with a few good breaths between us. Was dad always right that I might end up with Sephiroth? I don't care, if it is true, I know where my heart lies tonight. It's definitely with him. Soon we were surprised to see Seri and Zack. Seri looked like she was about to lose it at the fact we finally kissed. Zack was dumbfounded that Sephiroth knew how to be romantic.

"I did it! I knew you guys would come out here! And you kissed!!!!" Seri squeaked out giggles and stumbled to her brother and I.

Sephiroth held her steady, "I guess your constant nagging about me staring and smiling paid off, little sister."

Seri smiled, "it's only a matter of time till I hear wedding bells! I wanna be the maid of honor! Can we invite Aerith?! Cloud?!"

"Slow down Hyperactive Kitten, it'll be way down the line for that possibility. What if we just eloped?" I chuckled.

"don't care! I still get wedding bells!" Seri smiled as Sephiroth twirled her around in his arm. She brought him so much joy. I don't remember a day where he tried to visit her and play with her, even being a muse for her paintings. She loved him just as much.

"maybe once I retire, we'll see about that" Sephiroth smiled.

Zack gasped, "you're leaving me all alone no fair! It'll just be me and Cloud!" He pouted playfully.

I laughed at his expression and we had a fun night for the rest of the evening. My feet were sore and tired from dancing. At the apartment I helped Seri get ready for bed and hung her cute dress up for her to look at in her room. I made my way to the other bedroom and got undressed into pajama shorts and a tank top. I wiped off all my make up.

Sephiroth was just in sweatpants as he looked at me with soft eyes. I walked to him and gave him another kiss. Memories of sharing a tent or a bed together on trips, even into older age, came into my mind. Entangling our bodies together to stay warm. Him placing his head on mine. Even in uniform it was comfy. Like we were two sides of one coin. We laid down in the large bed, embracing each other, with me laying my head on his chest. Listening to his strong heart. His strong arm wrapped around my figure. My olivey complexion is a clear difference from his pale skin.

"Goodnight Sephiroth" I yawned softly.

"Goodnight Raven...I love you" He smiled.

"I love you too"

[fountainpenguin]

"I'll treat you nice; I'll be so kind! Just bring me all the food you find~ And I'll run this dump, 'cuz I'm the smartest here..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 39 - “Wednesday: Squall Hospital”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

Dog's Life is 1 year old today!

Mumbo wakes up in the hospital. Etho pays a visit to ask after a commission… wandering trader style. Also, the phantom hybrids strip down to flaunt their stuff. Get your sparring game on!

Impulse, who modded out of phantom state long ago, watches from the sidelines.

Dog's Life anniversary chapters, Part 1!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

Brief #trafficshipping (Mumbo reflecting on his divorce with Martyn, which happened 100 years ago but Martyn only found out yesterday)

---

Mumbo

Location: Hospital, Southwest New Star, Bottom Floor

🖤  🌕  🖤

He couldn't tell you when he became aware of voices. On some level, they were there the whole time, even with memories playing across his eyes. Some he'd rather forget, full of escorts with diamonds for teeth waiting while his fumbling hands plugged his player file in a foreign server core, his heartbeats tangled, chilly breath on the back of his neck warning him that he only had minutes before he could expect his back thrust against a wall, fangs in his neck… Payment claimed for keeping a lone wandering trader safe another day out in the anarchy world.

Wake up, he warns himself, and dissolves to begging at the memory of his own anxious hands grabbing the shirts of a dozen anivores for support. Wake up. This isn't real. Get out!

Some hands had been a good deal gentler. That didn't always make them perfect. But Impulse had only been rough once. Vee almost too soft. BigB… Well, they didn't say much on the first and last trek they ever took together, even when collapsing into the same guest server and sharing a bed (with Vee, too) after a long, long day. Mumbo distinctly remembers the guy rolling over once, mumbling "Your turn," when the baby allays started fussing for their milk. It's laughable, looking back on it, although Mumbo had griped about it at the time. Hysterical. I can't believe I didn't crack up! BigB's underrated. He should let Grian know; make sure he remembers to appreciate what he has.

And Martyn… Martyn hadn't taken any adventures with him. But he'd roleplayed softly in their bed, letting Mumbo (For once, for once) take the lead.

He's lying on his back. Which isn't usual for him. Shapes and figures blur together. But he hears… words? Sounds like words. This is people-talk. He stirs without cracking open his eyes.

"Let's go," cheers a pleasant, pumped-up voice from somewhere to his right. A masculine voice. Big. Loud. One that's only familiar on the very fringes of his memory, like a frayed tassel on his llamas' blankets that he's always had, but only remembers when he's looking straight at it. Chair legs screech across the floor. Mumbo winces, screwing his eyelids tighter, but the mystery figure isn't one to be put off by silent rejection. "Welcome back to New Star! Boy, am I glad I decided to check in mentally for work today. What's this guy's name again? Oh, right, right. Well, we can cross 'Save patient' off our daily tasks. What's next?"

Oh, goodness… His eyeballs want to yawn. He tries it with his mouth, though it's… less satisfying than it probably would be on a server with actual sleep mechanics. Well, at least my head's no longer clicking. Fading images still dance across his mental comm screen, but they're swirling into smoke the more he shifts around, zoning back into the world. Mumbo blinks his eyes a few times, trying to make them stick. The face of a man with a black, neatly trimmed beard swims into view above him. Maybe a little too close.

"… I know you."

The man's face snaps from pleasant to shocked real fast. He bites one corner of his lip, leaning back in his chair. What? Mumbo's voice feels scratchy in his throat, even unspoken. Before he can get his next words out, the man's addressing another figure in the room somewhere out of sight. "Ohoooh… He knows me, and I had to check his file 4 times before I burned his name into memory. That's about to be real awkward. Hey- You know what? Accidents happen. That's life."

"Yeah, I know you," Mumbo mutters, mostly to himself. He lives across the hall from Martyn and Jimmy. Simmers' Quarter. Seen him around. He sort of hops all over the place. But the name escapes him. Mumbo should care about that. Should he care? A zing of guilt courses up his back at the thought of forgetting his ex-husband's immediate neighbor, but he breathes through his teeth instead of saying so.

… Okay. Take stock. Mm. If he can get his brain to drag itself awake from a sluggish, whimpery state, that is. Mumbo runs his fingers through sticky threads of mussed-up hair. His body doesn't ache, surprisingly enough. Or maybe not surprisingly; double regen is a killer. Well, the exact opposite of a killer. He braces his hand to the mattress, pushing himself to a sitting position. Mumbo brushes his fingers across his mustache. He goes to flip his F5 eyes on, but the shift makes him so dizzy, he pulls back and drops his face in his hands instead.

The bearded man scoots his chair closer to his bedside, all smiles and absentminded apologies. He double pats his chest. Thump-thump. "Hey, I'm James Turner- formerly known as The Sim Supply. Well, not over here… You kind of had to be there. And if anyone tells you I designed Vanillite, they've got the wrong guy. Ask your husband; he'll vouch for me."

"… Uh. Oh, goodness me." If he were in one of Martyn's mangas, he'd have slash lines across his face, flushing up a storm. Mumbo reaches for his hood. No robes. His hands clasp on empty air, so he pulls his blankets into his lap instead, squirming his hands between his legs. "Aha… I should probably come clean about that. Martyn and I aren't, um… sleeping together anymore."

Sleeping doesn't feel as hot and bitter on his tongue as married would. And it's the accurate word, even if it stings. It feels more correct than dating. They'd flirt and play and cuddle, usually with fingers in each other's clothes and hair, until they got all snuggled up and Mumbo (eventually) drifted off to sleep. Martyn left by dawn every morning, all his blond hairs despawned from the bed. Nocturnal phantom code. Warm. Soft. I… needed space. And I was leaving for a trip, and it was never really that serious anyway. Okay, that sounds bad out of context, but-

James' frown burns a scar in the crest of his head. "Uh. Dude? Does Martyn know?"

"It was 100 years ago!" He can hold his head high and proud on that, except he can't. "Did nobody get the memo?" And without a hood to tug over his face, he looks away, just biting the edge of his knuckle and gripping the hospital bedsheets with his hand. Wait. Why am I in hospital? Seriously, that memory just went out the window. Did he get flashbanged? Close range? He touches two fingers to his scalp. Sore…

"… Didn't I see your mouth all over him at the shower house on Friday?"

Ohh, don't remind me… Mumbo fumbles through a couple squeaks, then focuses on the more pertinent question. "Sorry; why am I here, exactly?" And why do I smell bacon?

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[slashingdisneypasta]

Ive seen the f/o werewolves au and I absolutely love it. From the way it works to how they all handle their wolf side in different ways... I just find it so neat!

Callahan especially got my brain going 100 miles an hour, Just imagining him and the YN from your series dealing with it...

The days leading up to the first transformation where the animalistic-scary grows from "hot" to "concerning".

Him missing out on a date because, as fate would have it, happened in a full moon and then just... Ghosting, because he doesn't like the fact he can't control this quite yet.

He wanted to ravage YN before the transformation? absolutely. Make them his (mate)? Certainly. But this is beyond him. He can't control himself, just the sound of YN's voice from when they showed up at his doorstep (one last check. Giving him the benefit of the doubt.) is enough to send him into a bit of a frenzy, and he hates it.

And then one day YN returns to their dorm to find this big, weirdly wolf-like, old dog (if the grey muzzle is any indication) at their door. One that's weirdly docile and (even more surprisingly) friendly with them, despite the fact they never saw this dog in their life.

The dog approaches, carefully sniffing their hand, before pressing the top of its head against the palm. Still a bit weirded out, YN gives the animal a few tentative scratches and pets, which the dog seems to like.

(Mate is caring for him after so long after all...)

And just that presence, that care, that absolute freedom to be at peace with the one the two of them love is enough to bring the two consciousness together for long enough of a moment for Callahan to detransform.

Thankfully the shock of petting a naked Callahan (clothes having bursted out from the initial transformation) sent YN reeling back, which ended up reverting him back into a wolf. Wouldn't do to have that image floating around the college forums after all.

YN was able to guide Callahowl inside to wait out the moon. But in the morning, they would talk, as they made sure to tell the dog. Whether he could fully understand them or not was still up to debate, but at least he seemed to understand their tone and looked a bit chastised.

For the all of five minutes before YN relented and began to pet him again, cursing whatever entity that ruled their universe and made Callahowl such a cute dog.

FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND

I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS IN THE MORNING. I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO ANSWER IN KIND.

First of all I am s o so jazzed to see that you, too, are mad about Werewolf!Callahan like me!! XDD And 'Callahowl'???? OMG perfect XDDD Second of all-

YOUR FIC HERE. IT IS MAKING ME INSANE. Y/N being affectionate with this wolfie that loves her even though they have a sort of temperamental relationship when he's human?? 'Mate is caring for him after so long after all...'- this this this!!! Because like??- thats Aaron and Y/N loves Aaron. They do. But usually they cant show him that, because he's an ass and it would kill them- and he cant show it to them either because, again, he's a total ass-- but in this form??? His underlying desire for affection from them (His mate!! <3) comes out and Y/N doesn't have to worry about teasing (or worse) ^^

I also love your detail that his muzzle is lighter to show his age!!

Thank you so so much for sharing this!!!!!!!! ^^ I wanna write for Callahowl so so bad and one day I will XD I swear XD For now though here are some imagines for you, too!! In these, Y/N is actually his student but the relationship is basically the same apart from that.

Werewolf!Professor Aaron Callahan x Fem!Student!Reader || Imagines

Plot: Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon.

Warnings: There are smut imagines at the end that involve male masturbation topics as well as sex, and breeding ref's.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon appearing in class dishevelled. His short hair unbrushed and ruffled like he's been constantly running his fingers through it, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, his jacket clenched at his side in his hand instead of on like it just got way too hot despite it being the middle of November, his glasses constantly crooked from rubbing his wild eyes.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon only being calm when its just the two of you. When, after class, you stay back to check on him in the office. He slumps on the corner of his desk and watches you with a certain warmth you've never seen on him before. You fix his glasses and his hair, and his eyes fall shut at the feeling for half a moment before he can pull himself together. You offer him his blazer before you leave, and he takes it simply because you offered it, wanting to hold onto you in any way he can, but only holding it in his hands as you leave instead of pulling it on.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon getting snippier and snippier with students, breathing heavily through his nose and rolling his eyes up to the sky and looking dangerously close to throwing things- but not to you. Not towards his mate (Not that you know you're that).

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon making a guy in your class with you, who was arguing con to your pro in a hypothetical court topic feel dumb and mortified in front of the whole class. He told the guy to oppose you (Its a regular law class activity!) but it turns out to be too much for him- he cant handle it. He has to stick up for you, protect you. And its nasty, and unfair, and awful, and everyone in the room feels the aftershock of it. Luckily, he's still him enough to brush it off and move on, but you're looking at him like he's insane the rest of the class and he knows he fucked up.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon making up excuses why he's acting the way he is and why he keeps cancelling on you and they just keep getting worse. He's a smart guy, he's actually scary he's so smart, but now he's acting like an idiot and you're actually getting kindof concerned. You ask him, genuinely, if he's okay?

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon looking up and to the door any time you walk through it, looking over at you like he knew it was you who came in even if its too loud in the room for him to have heard the door even open and he had no way of knowing when you were going to get there. Because he's so tuned in to your scent, and his nose is so sensitive this time of month.

~ Hornycanons from here ~

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon getting hornier the closer his transformation closes in on him.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to cover his mouth with his hand tight and hang up quick when you call because the bulge in his pants grew at record speed hearing you and he's going to moan if he stays; the sweet sound of your voice making him painfully turned on.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to jerk off under his desk during lunch. You stay back to check on him, he takes his blazer from you, and then he sits down slowly and takes out his red headed, leaking cock to quickly pump one out; riding the high or your lingering scent and your voice in his head and the feel of your fingers on his hair just before.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to excuse himself to go to the bathroom more often just in order to jerk off and keep his shit together.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who will fuck all night if you come to stay over. He'll fuck you against the wall when you come in, he'll fuck you on the couch, he'll fuck you all night in bed. He tries to bang it out, make the rest of his week easier, but thats not how it works.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who has to fight himself not to fucking cum in you, goddamnit. He doesn't want kids, he tells himself over and over. He doesn't want kids, he doesn't want kids. But the wolf in him desperately wants to fill you with pups. Luckily Cal's just strong enough to control that. Just.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who is just a mess, and completely enamoured with you, and desperately wanting to hide it from you.

[raphmona]

How did Ramona become your favorite ship and how did you become a hardcore Ramona shipper?

I guess it was just instinct. I knew I found something special when I came across RaMona and my love for it just grew as the years went on.

It all started when I was watching one of Black Nerd Comedy’s TMNT videos on YouTube. He was doing a ninja turtles Q&A and someone asked him if he would ever like to see Mona Lisa in the 2012 series. He agreed that Mona should return and called her “Raphael’s lady”.

Note: This was in March 2014, over a year before Mona Lisa was introduced in the 2012 show in November 2015

I was very new to TMNT at this time, with the 2012 series being my introduction, so I had very little knowledge of the franchise and other versions, but I was a sucker for romance side plots and my curiosity was peaked. So I did some digging on YouTube and found the 1987 episode “Raphael Meets His Match” and I watched it. This was my very first episode I ever watched of the 87 series and I fell in love with Mona Lisa and especially her relationship with Raph. I loved how well her personality clashed with Raph, snarky stubborn sass with even more snarky stubborn sass. I squealed when she called him a doll and kissed his cheek. Him assuring her that he thinks she’s beautiful warmed my heart and them reuniting by the end of the episode was so sweet. You can image my disappointment when I learned that was her ONLY episode and she never came back. So I relied on fanart and fan comics of her, hopefully waiting for the return of this ship.

For those who don’t know, back when the 2012 series was running there were A LOT of fans who would constantly email/DM the producers and writers of the show on social media, asking them to bring Mona Lisa into the 2012 series. I will admit I was one of those fans 😅 I never harassed them like other fans did, but I do remember commenting on their instagram post regarding the topic once or twice.

Also funny fact, apparently Sean Astin (2012 Raph’s voice actor) was also one of those people. He constantly kept on asking Branden and Ciro (the producers) when Raph was going to get a love interest, cause he saw every other turtle get a GF except Raph. Angry turtles need love too! XD

Fast forward to August 2015, San Diego Comic Con, at a TMNT 2012 panel, they announce that Mona Lisa will be coming to the series in the upcoming season 4 as a warrior from an alien planet. I fangirled so hard that night when I watched the panel on YouTube! I was squealing so loud and dancing around my bedroom! I was so happy I started to cry! My OTP was finally returning!

It was 2012 RaMona that sealed the deal for me. After watching their first episode “The Moons of Thalos 3”, I fell in love with them. Raph falling for her because she punched him in the face is both hilarious and adorable, and also (strangely) very in character for him. His “what a woman” line made me squeal in excitement. Their first kiss, I couldn’t help but cheer. I didn’t care about any other ship except for them. To actually see a happy healthy couple with little to no problems in this series was a breath of fresh air. I never cared for Apritello, Leor*i I was questioning (that’s a whole different can of worms I’m not getting into now), I didn’t care for Capril, and though I liked Renetangelo I wasn’t crazy for them. The more Mona appeared in the show the more my love for the ship grew. Them constantly flirting or making out in the middle of battle, how trusting they are of each other, how supportive they are of each other in combat, and even their biggest road bump with Lord Dregg they were able to over come, with the cherry of that episode being Mona confessing her love to Raph. Even when back on Earth, Raph still thinks about her, loves her and stays loyal to her. In truth, Mona made Raph a better man. Them reuniting in season 5 kinda leaves us with an open book because now we get to decide what happens with them now that they are on Earth together. I just know from the look they gave each other at the end of the episode as they held each other in their arms that they will be living happily ever after 🥰

We only ever see this ship in a hand full of episodes in the 2012 series, but it was enough to show me and the audience how happy and healthy this couple is compare to the other ships. I love them. I adore them. I want a relationship like theirs one day. I wanna find my Raph to my Mona. I want to continue to see this ship in other versions of TMNT in the future!

I will stand proud and say that I am the captain of the Raph x Mona Lisa ship! 🫡💞

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis - Chapter One

Pairing: frankie x f!reader

WC: 1k+

Warnings: alcohol mention, drunk Tom comes with his own warning, unwanted advances, but nothing crazy, implied unwanted/forced(but-not-really) sexual activity. Please met me know if there was anything I missed.

Summary: You learn that life is about to drastically change for you. Thinking back, you reflect on a moment that you never could have guessed would put you in your current situation, or how it will affect you moving forward.

A/N: I suck at summaries Just going to throw this out there and move on lol As always, I appreciate any and all feedback, reblogs etc, just be kind ❤️

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Fall is always an interesting time of year….. The leaves are changing, the air is getting cooler, Pumpkin Spice is the essential flavor of choice basically from September 1st through Black Friday and beyond…

Each season brings with it its own changes. Some good, some not so good, but predictable for the most part. Changes in temperature, the weather, summer activities and different holidays. Expected.

What you hadn’t expected in this particular season of your life, was to be looking down at a little pink + sign on a little white stick you had purchased at the grocery store. The emalgome of emotions that you feel can’t be described by just any one word. Your thoughts are racing—

How did this happen? He’s usually so careful…. Tom has never wanted kids—

—running over and over again, until you stop. Instead, images start flooding your mind. Still holding the little stick in your hand, you think back to one night, of which you’re sure resulted in your current situation.

It happened to be fight night, which meant that Tom would be out late with the guys.

Tom.

Tom was your husband of almost seven years. On certain fridays, Tom would go with Pope and Will to watch Will’s little brother Benny get knocked around as he tried to build a name for himself as an MMA fighter. He was actually pretty good from what little you’ve been told about him, though you’ve never gone to one of the fights yourself. Tom would overindulge, getting so shitfaced that he usually needed one of the guys to drive him home.

That Friday was no different.

—

You had been going about your normal routine and were just getting ready to head to bed, when you saw headlights pull into the driveway.

You hadn’t expected Tom to be back for at least another hour or two since the guys usually took to the bar shortly after the fights ended. You went to open the door and were met with a truck you didn’t recognize.

The driver also wasn’t Will or Pope, but you saw Tom in the passenger seat so whoever it was, had just been bringing him home. Stepping out of the truck, Tom was wobbly and immediately made his way over to you.

“There she is! Hey Fish, I wanna introduce you to somebody!” Tom was to you now and had his hands on your upper arms, pulling you in for a hug. The other man stepped out of the truck and made his way over.

“You haven’t met my wife yet, have ya Fish? Just look at her man!”

Tom was a very jealous, very possessive man in general, and rarely introduced you to new people. But on occasion, especially if he was drinking, he would gush about how beautiful you were. The problem was that he always did it in a this is mine sort of way that wasn’t flattering or even sweet.

Fish, as Tom called him, walked over and seemed almost shy at first, introducing himself as Frankie.

Eventually, you would learn that they were in the military together and that ‘Fish’ was his call sign just like Tom’s was ‘Redfly.’

Frankie was tall, but not quite as tall as Tom. Dark hair from what you could see under his hat that was just long enough that it curled around the edges. Broad shoulders and hands that felt rough, but were warm when he shook your hand. His beard was patchy, but it suited him, you thought. Just a hint of gray showing he was similar in age to Tom.

You were just about to ask how he and Tom knew each other, when Tom tried to take a peek down the top of your shirt… making a very blatant show of his intentions, going so far as to say “isn’t she sexy, Fish?” The discomfort showing on Frankie’s face matched your own, so when he suggested getting Tom inside, you silently thanked him with a nod.

The walk to your bedroom was silent, aside from Tom’s babbling. You and Frankie were on either side of him and you plopped him on the bed where he fell flat on his back. You nodded toward the door and Frankie made his way out, saying “G’night man —sleep it off and I’ll see you tomorrow,” after patting Tom’s leg in a friendly gesture.. almost pitying his friend, he shook his head as he walked out the door. You followed him outside and walked him to his truck.

“Thank you for bringing him home. And for helping me get him in the house.”

“Not a problem. He’s always been a lightweight and he had already started by the time I got there.”

Again, he shook his head and chuckled slightly before asking, “are you gonna be ok? I mean, do you need any extra help with him?”

“Oh. No, no, I’ll be fine” you look behind you toward the house. “He usually falls asleep pretty quickly once he’s in bed,” only a half lie.

“Ok then, well it was nice to meet you. I didn’t catch your name before.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it back and smiles slightly. “Have a good night.”

“You too..”

You watch the truck drive away until you no longer see the taillights. You know what’s waiting for you when you get back, so you don’t want to rush your walk back into the house.

There’s a reason Tom is a lightweight— He rarely drinks, normally only indulging when it’s fight night, so on occasion, he goes all out. These are the nights that weren’t a part of your arrangement. These nights, you adhere to your expectations as a wife… these nights you knew not to fight him. But something about tonight seemed different, and you’re not sure what brought on the change. Your only thought was maybe it had something to do with Frankie being in town…. You had never met him before tonight, so it seemed as though he didn’t live in the area or that he lived in the City. Whatever the reason, you wouldn’t find out tonight.

When you go back inside, Tom is ready and waiting for you.

—

The thought of having to tell Tom was making you physically ill, although it could be attributed to what led you to buying the test in the first place. Your thoughts continue unabashedly. You wish you could turn them off sometimes, but you try to stay positive—

This is a GOOD thing. A baby! You’re going to be a mother! —But the intrusive thoughts begin to take over—

Tom has never wanted kids. He’ll have even more to hold over me now. How will I ever get away from him with a child? A CHILD…

You slide to the floor with your head held in your hands—

This is a good thing.

This is a good thing.

[ninjathrowingstork]

Blade Runner: Bitter Water

Hello I am back again with more heartbreak.

I'll probably update with my actual notes once I remember what I wanted to add for this.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 3

A blood black nothingness.

A system of cells.

Within cells interlinked.

Within one stem.

And dreadfully distinct.

Against the dark.

A tall white fountain played."

He’d passed. He always passed. 

Leaving the dingy white room, the rapid-fire questioning had left his mind feeling scraped raw, but he was still on his baseline and he had a job to do. It had been nearly a week, and he was running out of time. This hadn’t been the fight he was looking for, but hunting down where a fugitive replicant would go to ground meant finding other fugitives sometimes. Fugitives who fought back. 

But they weren't designed to fight, to hunt, to kill, the way he had been designed. 

The investigation was getting nowhere. 

kD6-3.7 scanned through another day’s worth of surveillance recordings, fruitlessly looking for one, specific spinner. 

While pursuing his other lead had resulted in the crash landing in a pile of slush, he’d eventually tracked down first a shop owner who’d recognized the lost heiress’s replicant companion and that had led to someone else who’d confirmed the woman’s daily route, and finally to the series of cameras along the streets. 

Just for once, he wished something could have been easy. It took days to get some of the recordings back, from stores and private security cameras. Sure the Police Department could request the files be turned over, but tracking down the paperwork and waiting for permits to go through had already set him back, even before sitting and watching through the days and days of recordings. He’d eventually had to put each camera’s recording of the last day the replicant woman had been seen together in sequence,  tracking her path along the usual route, and- 

There. 

One moment she was walking, head down under an umbrella, and the next she’d turned a corner and by the camera next in the sequence, she was gone. There was still one more recording, partially blocked by an awning, that had a viewpoint of the alley in between the two streets. It was slim chance, but- 

He had it. The woman turned the corner onto the street, lined with parked spinners, speeding up slightly on the empty sidewalk. He watched as the door of one swung open as she approached, and with one last look over her shoulder, she’d slid into the dark, unmarked vehicle and it had pulled away and vanished into the flow of traffic around the next corner. But- 

Zooming in. Another flick of the controls and the image of the spinner’s open door was magnified to take up the whole screen. He brightened it, and there. It was her mistress. The missing heiress was already in the vehicle, holding the door open for the replicant woman to join her.         

He’d been told not to look into the human woman’s vanishing as well, and he’d surmised the two were connected, but their timing and circumstances for disappearing had stayed a mystery, until now.  While finding the method of their disappearance solved several questions, it only raised more. If the two hadn’t been abducted, hadn’t been taken by force, that left the questions of who helped the pair, and why did they leave ? Answering those would be a start in finding where they went. 

Wearily, he ran his hands down his face, it had been long hours sifting through the recordings, and it was getting close to dinnertime. That didn’t mean he was done for the night, though. With a few keystrokes, he sent the shots of the replicant Alice entering the car and a report of his progress to the Lieutenant, and put in a request for any ID on the spinner the system could find.. She’d given him a week, and he had one more day to work the case before she’d said it would be passed along, solved or not. He hoped he’d made  enough progress to buy more time. Whether that was to work the case or to live, he wasn’t sure. It was the highest profile assignment he’d been given, and the family of the missing girl could easily ask for his retirement for not finding the pair. Still. Joshi had phrased it to sound like this was just a courtesy and a preliminary investigation before more important resources were invested in the case. He could still be retired and replaced over a courtesy, when dealing with a family with the money of the missing girl. 

The only thing left was to go take a look at the street where the replicant woman had been picked up, if he could still find any evidence. If he could get any lead in the case from there. 

Trudging through the station, he kept his head down as always. The past week had been. . . different. The other officers still either ignored him entirely, or else he had to endure the gauntlet of glares and the occasional curse flung as he passed, sometimes a shoulder slamming against him as he passed, but. But. No one had grabbed him, no one had touched him more than in passing. He wondered how long the sergeant’s influence would keep them off of him, but he would take whatever reprieve she’d bought him. 

Sergeant Flint. He hadn’t spoken to her since that night, but he’d seen her at the desk in passing a few times. She’d looked up, nodding in recognition each time, but he’d been focused on the case, and it seemed wrong to approach her uninvited, with others around. There had been that one time he’d passed a hallway to see her red hair shining in it’s tight knot as the tall woman was speaking with the Madam. The conversation had seemed friendly, but there was the now-recognizable angry set to her jaw, and Joshi had been standing even more stick-straight than usual. Whatever the two women had been discussing seemed personal, and he’d turned and left them alone. 

“Officer K?” As though summoned by the memory, there she was striding down the hallway as he passed. With barely a pause, she fell into step beside him as they entered the entryway together. “On a case tonight?” It was less formal, less restrained than she’d been at first but there was a new tautness to her words, and that set to her jaw that said anger  had returned. 

Best be wary then. “I am, ma’am.” Then, “the report is due tomorrow.” 

She paused as they neared the desk, and he stopped a step later, looking back at the tall sergeant. “Think you’ll have time for dinner again?” 

Dinner? Was this a regular thing for them now? There was a small flutter of - of something in his chest, a strange lightness, but still. . . “If this lead doesn’t turn up anything, I - I could meet you somewhere.” It was one of the longest sentences he’d said to her so far. He told her the neighborhood, and after a moment, she nodded. 

“There’s a rail station there. Meet you there at seven?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“If you’re not working, officer, it’s not an order.” 

The pitch of her voice shifted minutely, the tone softer as it had been when she’d reassured him before. Oh. Not an order. He could. . . he could say no, could say another time, if he wanted. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll meet you there at seven.” This was already too close. Too familiar. Before she could say anything else, he’d turned on his heel and headed out into the evening. 

Within cells interlinked. 

The streets on the way were as busy as they’d been on the day of the disappearance, but turning down the side street, it was quiet. The backs of a few stores, and crumbling brick walls. It was. . . nice, not a neighborhood a wealthy heiress would be walking through, but someplace her tutor and assistant replicant would be left alone. Stopping at the point across from the camera, still with an awning stretched over a door blocking a corner of the view, he looked along the empty stretch of street. A single spinner hummed by in the evening chill. Not for the first time, he recalled his instructions not to look into the missing girl, the missing human. Investigating her would possibly give more information about the spinner’s route, where she had boarded it, who was driving it behind the dark privacy-tinted windows. If anyone had been watching the street here that day, they wouldn’t have any more insight than the camera had given about the spinner or the two passengers. Between the tinting and the positioning of that awning, any identification of the vehicle or driver had been carefully hidden. 

They knew someone would come looking.  

They knew, and he’d get nothing else from here. 

Once more, Officer KD6-3.7 turned, trudging into the evening. He might still make the station for seven. 

By the time he reached the monorail station, he half expected she’d have gone. It wasn’t long after the hour, but she had no reason to wait for him. 

But. 

There she was, lights glinting off the damp on the shoulders of her coat. She peeled herself away from the wall when she spotted him, lowering the boot she’d propped up behind her. “Didn’t know if you’d make it.” 

Didn't know if he’d make it alive, he realized. There never was a guarantee he’d come back. “I don’t have that much of a social life,” he shrugged. “Didn’t know if you’d still be here.”            

That got an almost-grin from her. “Not much of a social life either, I had time to wait.” 

The thought that a human would willingly spend her time just waiting for him, not knowing if he’d make it back, was. . . strange. 

“And anyway, I was the one who asked to meet,” turning on her heel, she led him into the station and towards the monorail car. “Wasn’t about to leave you here, if you got held up on the way and happened to be late.” 

As little as he could trust most humans, and even less those who held rank over him, whose orders he was bound to obey, he could feel himself actually trusting the sergeant. This was well beyond caring for his well being as department property, coming to this corner of the city just to meet him. The first night she’d led him from the station, had given him food and kindness, she’d said she didn’t want to use him, and his instincts were telling him this woman didn’t change her mind easily so he doubted that was her plan for the evening. 

Ahead, his companion quietly slid by the kiosk where evening passengers stopped scanning passes with a soft chime before crossing the platform to board. “We’re not paying, ma’am?”  He’d been on the monorail that wound through the black buildings and neon lights once before, in his first, disorienting days alive as he was learning his new life on the force. He’d been with another officer then, taking him  through the city on foot instead of spinner for once, leading him along with a hand clamped painfully around his arm, and it had all been too overwhelmingly new for him to process if there had been any fare paid then. He hadn’t tried the rail system since, preferring either the privacy of a department spinner or the economy of traveling by foot. 

Without stopping, Flint glanced back at him, reaching to tap at the insignia pinned to her coat shoulder. “Not in uniform, officer, we ride free, department wants us to have a presence out here and the transit folks say it keeps the rides safer.” He caught the corner of her half-smile before she turned back. 

As the lights of the city slipped by in the night, he glanced sideways at the woman standing still as a statue, gazing calmly out the window as she held onto the overhead strap for balance. Maybe her presence in her uniform-blue coat did make the other passengers in their car feel safer, maybe not, but if all he’d gotten from them was the occasional side-eye, he knew the weight of presence she carried around her was keeping him a little safer. They didn’t talk during the ride, despite the ease between them earlier Flint had slipped back into being the stone-faced sergeant beside him with the closeness of the other riders around them, and. 

And. 

And there was still that flicker of the suppressed anger in the set of her mouth and line of her jaw. Had something happened in the past week? Was this night with him for her to unwind for once instead of him? But there had been that something in how she’d asked to meet him, something masked behind the rare lightness in her tone. Either way, whatever her intentions, he reminded himself, it wasn’t his place to question her. Even if she had said it wasn’t an order. 

Still in silence, they left the rail car, a jerk of her head the only signal it was time to exit before she led him out and back into the city streets. There were more holo-signs here, the city more dense than the area they’d just come from. High above them, a glowing pink woman was dancing on the side of one building, and he stopped, for once watching one of the myriad of advertisements he walked through daily. “Those digis really are something.”  The sergeant had stopped, joining him again to stare up at the display. “Wonder if they really can be whoever you want, like she says.” 

“Wouldn’t know.” The idea of just having someone around to talk to had been utterly alien  to him until little more than a week before, but having someone, even a fake, digital companion had been so far above any wildest dreams, if he’d had any. “Probably costs a lot, though, so they must be worth it.” 

“Probably right.” The rosy light slid over the orange of her hair, turning it a strange, murky shade, “ but I guess if folks really need someone to talk to. . .” she shrugged, before turning and leading him further through the streets.  

Dinner that night was some kind of meat, likely vat grown also, but with a slight char to the corners and served on long skewers, and tonight, he didn’t protest her buying him food. Tonight, they ate quietly again, only commenting on the sauce on the meat, on the crowds. Tonight she wasn’t trying to distract him from anything, to save him from anything. There was no sharing of memories or stories of life- on the force and just of living . Just the company of sharing a meal with someone else as they watched the crowds pass by. 

She was subtle. So subtle it took until they were both nearly finished eating for him to realize she was watching for someone , and as she quickly finished her food, he wolfed down the last bites of his, savoring the memory of the sauce and crunch of seared vegetables, trailing a step behind her as they crossed through the  evening foot traffic to another table across the market from theirs. 

The pair, a man and a woman, stood, talking over plates of food and something- something in the way they stood, the fit of their clothes, despite being nondescript civilian garments, said this pair were also police. Plainclothes, likely detectives- 

Like the sergeant had been, he remembered. 

“Roark and Nguyen,” Flint had stopped, just far enough the pair wouldn’t notice them, her voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise of the street. “I’ve known ‘em for a while. They ever give you any trouble?” 

The question caught him off guard. Had they ever been among the ones he’d learned to avoid? Their faces were familiar, but just as another pair he’d seen around the precinct, never when his tormentors were around, never among the hands reaching to drag him into corners or rooms. “No, no, they’ve never bothered me.” 

“Good.” She nodded curtly. “Knew I could trust ‘em, just had to be sure, you know?” 

He didn’t know, but the realization she’d asked if her friends  had ever. . . the thought she’d checked her knowledge of them was real against his experience was something he’d lie awake in his thin, fold-out bed thinking about in the night. But for now, he was following her again, straight for the pair. 

“Evening, detectives.” There was a new wryness in her voice as she greeted them. It was almost. . . playful? 

“Sarge, it’s been a while.” 

“Hey, you.” The other woman, shorter, dark hair brushing damply against her shoulders, grinned up at the sergeant. 

He was seeing their friendship, seeing the serious, hardened senior officers he passed every day as people, as friends. There was that pull, that twisting in his chest again for something he’d never truly be a part of. 

“Hey back at you both. Been keeping out of trouble?” 

“Nothing we can’t get ourselves out of, you know.” The man, average height with a fighter’s build, his instincts filled in, as the detective leaned his elbows on the table, a smile in his eyes despite an otherwise serious expression. “Who’s your friend?” 

“Matt, Alicia, Officer K’s new around here.” A tilt of her head invited him  to step into their circle, joining Flint and her friends at the table. “K, these two and I go way back. Went out drinking with  them when I first made detective.” 

And she still stopped to ask him if they’d ever hurt him. 

“And the Sarge here has been kicking our asses in the shooting range since the academy days,” The man - Matt’s face finally cracked into a grin as he ran a hand through short, sandy hair, brushing out a scattering of snowflakes. 

“He’s the new ‘runner, right?”  Detective Nguyen - Alicia - eyed him curiously. 

“Yeah, since they stopped partnering with human detectives, don’t think I’ve seen much of the last few. Well, uh, it’s good to finally meet ya,” finally looking past the sergeant to greet K. 

Beside him, Flint’s jaw twitched with- with annoyance? 

“That’s part of why I need to ask you two a favor.” 

“Oh?” The shorter detective leaned forward to mirror her partner, curiously. “What kind of favor?” 

“Have you two seen Walters and his pals much this week?” 

She shook her head, as her partner drawled a slow “can’t say that I have.” 

“Well, that pack’s been givin’ K here trouble lately, and L-T can’t do much through official channels to stop it.” Her voice had slipped into the nomad drawl as she spoke to her friends. “Try as I might, I can't watch everything at once-” that got another grin from the detectives, “so I’m askin’ if you two could help keep an eye out, run interference for him. Keep that pack of degenerates off his back. Leastways until they get bored and back off. It’ll save me the worry and keeps the L-T from coming down on me if he takes any damage in the station that’ll put him out of commission.” 

This was. . . different, from how she’d been- been concerned for him, framing the request as a favor for her, for the department instead. Using her own friendship with them to shield him again. 

Both detectives stared at him, she with a cool appraisal and he with a sharp curiosity, and he found himself wanting to shift uncomfortably under the new scrutiny. He’d learned this much attention from anyone not connected to a case was rarely ever good. 

Roark straightened up, the sharp grin he’d greeted the Sergeant with almost returning. “Well. Never thought about the runners having trouble like that, but Walters and his guys are jackasses, so- K, was it?” 

“Yes, sir.” His reply was too quiet, again, as he stared at the flickering light of a holo ad on a wall past the man's shoulder. 

“K, you find me or Alicia here if there’s any trouble, those degenerates know not to mess with us.” 

It wouldn’t help if he was ambushed in the hallways again, but it was a start. 

“And I know this is already a big favor,” Flint jumped in, “but anyone else you can trust, who’s not been taking advantage of K here,” the muscle of his shoulder twitched as she dropped one hand onto the fabric of his coat, resting it with the slightest squeeze before dropping away,, “run this by them also, that the Sarge says he’s off limits.” 

Off limits. He almost missed the two nodding in agreement as he processed what her words meant. 

“Hey, Tam,” Nguyen reached across the table, tapping the surface by where the Sergeant’s arms were folded. “In exchange for this massive favor, you gonna come back out from behind that desk again? Joshi’s got that standing offer for you to join us in plain clothes again, I hear.

Beside him, Flint shifted minutely. Uncomfortably? “I’m  fine where I am, Detective, you know that. ‘Asides, if she wants me back that badly she can make it an order.” She shrugged, barely a lift of her shoulders. “You never know, though. Someday I’ll get bored in the precinct maybe, and finally go outside again.”  

The humor in her voice sounded forced to his ears, but the seriousness of the moment was broken. Making their goodbyes, Flint excused herself from her friends, and strode back along the street, with him following a step behind, the two of them alone in the crowds again. 

The carefully-designed investigator’s mind they’d built in him was racing with questions as he followed, watching the sharp set of her shoulders in the blue coat. All of them led back to why . Why had she asked him to meet her and  spend another evening out with her? Why go out of her way to meet him at the station, Why introduce him to her friends, and ask- 

She’d known. She’d known the pair would be eating in this neighborhood, and for her own reasons had made the encounter and request appear casual. But. But that still left the question of why . She didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to protect him. He’d been built to endure the violence that came with the solitary life of a blade runner. He - didn't’ want, couldn’t want anything else  - would have survived. But the sergeant had told him she’d used her position and influence to put the fear of real consequences, the fear of their sergeant into his - his attackers. Off limits , she’d said. She’d already done that for him. Now, she’d gone further and requested help from detectives . Human detectives. For him. If he could have felt shame, felt it even after what he’d been subjected to in his short life so far, he would have been ashamed of the request that the well-known and respected partners have to watch out for him, that they have to watch out for one replicant in the station who can’t- 

But. There was, once more, that strange warmth in his chest that she was trying to protect him, and they’d agreed. He’d never spoken with  the pair - still hadn’t beyond a few words, he realized, playing back the conversation - and, because she’d asked them, the two had agreed to help watch out for him and keep Walters and his cronies off his back. It wasn’t much on the surface, but, if they kept their word, then the number of humans in this world who gave a second thought for his life had just tripled. It seemed unlikely, but. . . but the memory of warm food and tea, of the blue-coated figure parting the crowds ahead of them, and of the rare, warm touches said it just all might be true. 

That figure strode ahead, hand now shoved deep back into the pockets of her coat, and he followed as always, just a step behind her shoulder.  With one long step, he caught up, for once walking beside her. She looked as she did that first night, that determination, that deeply hidden burning anger that only highly-tuned senses could have detected. “Thank you. . . thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to” He sounded too quiet in his own ears again, each word carefully measured out. 

She shrugged one shoulder, “can’t always be around to keep those sonsabitches off you, already asked Bernal and Elliot to help keep an eye out also. They’ve never bothered you, right?” One eyebrow tilted, she glanced across him finally. 

He’d seen the two men on occasion also, they’d maybe looked at him in passing but never longer than it took to recognize his approach before going back to their own conversion, their own lives. “No, they’ve never bothered me. “

“Yeah, those two are the last guys I’d ever suspect, and the last who’d be into whatever kicks Walters and the others get  from. . . well, it’s just not their thing.” 

There were several things she could mean, but right now it meant he had two  pairs of respected, senior, human officers watching his back in the station. 

“Thank you” His voice was even quieter this time. Falling back to his usual position  at her back, he almost missed the quirk of a smile his thanks earned. 

“It’s the least I can do, Officer K.” Her voice was that almost-gentle tone again, the current of anger she’d carried all night hidden deep. “Like I said before, you shouldn’t have to put up with how they treat you.” 

Any other protests he might have made, if he’d been able to find it in himself to ever contradict her, were lost as he trailed her through the narrow, winding stalls of the night market she’d led them into.  This was more closely packed than the one she’d brought him to before, smaller openings for evening shoppers to eat, and tighter lanes wrapping around the few, coveted stores hemming the packed streets. Long legs carried Flint smoothly through the press, sliding around crowds with the occasional person slipping out of the way upon recognizing her. Finally, she slowed, giving him the chance to catch up. 

“Up there,” she gestured at a larger booth, selling what looked like fruit from a distance. It was set up against a wall, possibly connected to one of the permanent shops if he judged the large, semi-permanent structure right. They stopped, and he watched over her shoulder as the sergeant leaned in, ordering from the woman behind the counter, her sleek dark hair a contrast with Flint’s fiery copper. It was hard to hear, even with his heightened senses, but he could faintly make out “les vrais” before the woman nodded, vanishing into the darkness of her shop. 

“When I was a kid,” Flint had turned, staring out across the market as she spoke, her nomad’s drawl slipping back into her speech, “sometimes we’d find berry bushes up in the mountains still. Scrubby lil’ things, but they’d be out there clingin’ to life.”  His full attention was focused on the story, another memory of a real childhood she was sharing with him. “Sometimes we’d find berries on them, growing in whatever sunlight the things  could get. Dusty, tart little things, but we’d pick any we could reach. Bring ‘em to the city, get good money for ‘em, even then.” 

He could only imagine, produce that wasn’t grown in Wallace-made facilities was treated like gold, and- 

The thought was interrupted as the soft rustling of paper containers sliding across the counter heralded the woman’s return. Two small, paper cups holding. . . holding blackberries. 

“Since getting here, this is the only place I’ve found that still has a hookup with other dusties, can still buy the berries from outside the city.” Her almost-grin looked more like a grin than ever now. As she reached out, taking the cups from the woman, he almost missed the flash of a slip of paper passed along with one cup to the sergeant, vanishing behind her fingers a moment later. Strange, but her business was none of his, and questioning human officers, no matter how odd their behavior, was not his job. 

The almost-warm almost-grin was back as she passed him one of the small cups, and for once, he barely noticed how her hand pulled away too quickly for their fingers to touch. The cup held barely a handful of small, dark berries, with a small swirl of . . . whipped cream? Slowly, carefully, he tried a berry with a bit of the cream, and- 

For a heartbeat, it was as though a part of his brain froze and a wave of something ran through him as the thin membranes of the berry burst on his tongue. It was sweet , sweet in a way nothing he’d ever tried compared to. There was a tart earthiness to the berry, a burst of flavor and juice that no synthetically grown food could compare with, somehow more substantial than any fruit he’d tried before. 

“Like it?” Beside him, Flint popped one of her own berries in her mouth, eyes suddenly distant as she chewed. 

“It’s. . . it's real. ” This was real food, something more real than he’d ever had, ever be able to afford on his own and that ache  behind his sternum was back, aching for everything he’d never know, never be able to experience, everything that was long-gone from the world even before he’d drawn his first breath. “They’re. . . really real. Ma’am I can’t-” 

“Yeah, they’re real. They get sweeter when they’re on the plant longer,  get to stay in the sun longer, but those don’t stay good as long to get em’ to a buyer.” She popped another berry in her mouth, savoring it for a moment. “And I know what you’re going to say, K, and you absolutely can . Your life doesn’t have to be shitty, leastways no shittier than any of ours down here, just because of what you are. You get a chance to enjoy some small, bright spot of joy down here, you enjoy what you can, you hear me?”

He did, and while most of what she said still sounded wrong to him, he took another bite of berries and cream, feeling the flavors burst in his mouth like nothing ever had before, feeling their realness and beauty. It was wasted on him, of course, since he was neither of those things himself, but . . . but for however long he had left to live, he’d remember the taste. “Yes, ma’am. And thank you, for the berries, for everything. If it’s an order, then I’ll. . . allow myself to enjoy things.” 

 That drew a snort of a laugh from her. “It’s not an order, just a suggestion. It  took me a hellova long time once I got here to start livin’ like a civilized person, enjoying the stuff we never had out there,” she jerked her head in what was probably the direction of the badlands, “havin’ so much running water alone felt wrong. But, I adapted. Learned to take what little softness the city had. It’s different, but. . . you learn to live, understand?” 

He did, a little. Remembering his curt, perfunctory showers framed her words over that being even more water than a nomad girl had in a new  light. “I- I think so. I’ll. . . I’ll learn, eventually. Maybe get to do some living while I’m alive, right?” The dry humor was coming easier now. 

Chewing the last of her cupful of the rare treat, Flint’s quirk of a grin showed it was appreciated. Eventually, regretfully, the last of the purple-black jewel-like berries he guessed to be more rare and prized than actual jewels these days was gone. The only trace was the lingering tartness on his tongue, and the rich, slightly-sweet oiliness of the cream coating his mouth. 

 He’d just eaten what was likely a small fortune in bootleg, genuine fruit. There was a strange mix of - not emotions he didn’t feel - from the delicacy. He knew he didn’t deserve them, that the rare produce grown on some far-off mountain that still had the faintest tang of dust clinging to them was far beyond the station for which he’d been made, been manufactured. They had been more real and valuable than he. But. But she’d told him he could eat them. Had wanted to see him enjoy them. If it had been anyone but Flint he might have suspected they’d wanted to see his reaction, if he reacted, to the taste as their own entertainment. She wasn’t like that and it didn’t take the heightened intuition and observational reflexes that had been carved into his nervous system to see that. She’d told him to eat, and even though the same deeply-carved and wired instincts recognized her as a superior officer, and something deep within his mind knew her as a registered user and her orders were law and there was never any question about obeying her commands. This hadn’t been an order, really. She’d given him the food, sure, but the closest thing to an actual order had been. . . to find what made him happy?  He may not have been given the luxury of free will, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find peace in the small luxuries he was able to obtain. 

It didn’t make sense, not with everything he knew to be true about himself, how he was created and what he’d been created to do. That he was a product, not a person. Maybe, though, maybe what the sergeant wanted him to hear was that it didn’t mean he had to endure what might be a short, brutal life entirely alone and empty. The idea was . . . new.  As much as he could trust any human, and any who he’d been created to serve and obey, he trusted her. 

They’d thrown the empty containers away as they exited the market, Flint falling back a step to walk beside him, far enough away her elbows couldn’t brush his with her hands back in her coat pockets, face hidden inside the cavernous hood. They walked in silence that way for a few blocks, the sounds and lights of the city at night rippling around them. 

“Bein’ a nomad, it’s not all that folks think it is.” Her voice broke the silence between them, and he half-turned to look at the sergeant beside him on the sidewalk, but the shadow of the hood hid her face as she spoke. “Folks in the Department jus’ know the dusties in raiding parties, maybe some that’ll camp outside the city, sellin’ anything that’ll sell. Anything we’ve found.” 

We , she’d said. It’d been a long time since Flint had been with them, K remembered, but she still slipped and called herself one of them. 

“But ridin’ together, stripping abandoned buildings, cities, looking for anything we can use, sure it’s a rough life but you’ve got the convoy, you know?” 

He didn’t know, but stayed silent as she spoke. 

“There’s scavenging yeah, but we weren’t scaveys, not like those almost-ferals down south. We work as teams, families sometimes, watch each other’s backs. You learn to turn junk into whatever we needed out there. Going on reuse and recycle runs to find supplies off old trucks, old machines. Clean it up, hammer out the dents, and cut it int’a what you need.” 

They walked, surrounded by the darkness and grime of the city that was the only home he’d known, but. . . but her words conjured up memories that weren’t his, of a dirty, lonely childhood spent hammering trash for the few pieces of treasure. Of bleak, dusty stretches of parched land. What could a life out there have been with a convoy and family behind you?  “I. . . I have memories of the ruins,” it was the first time he’d told anyone about the past that wasn’t his. “In an orphanage, they put us to work picking over scrap metal, breaking apart old machines.” 

A small hum of what might have been sympathy sounded from the hooded woman. “Think I heard about places like that, never been near one from what I recall. Yeah the clan had kids around but if’n one lost their folks, we’d just keep ‘em and raise ‘em with the rest.” 

A family, even in the harsh, wild life of the nomadic clans out in the badlands, it was more than he’d ever had. Ever have. “So, why’d you leave and join the Police?” There were notes in the file, and while he could put together pieces from her interview and records, there were also things she’d never said. 

For a few steps, they walked together in silence again until he thought she might not answer. “Lost my ma when I was real young,” that much he’d already heard. “My brother and my Da were on a convoy with me, and one night raiders hit us. We got away but Da got hit and we lost him.” Her words were short, clipped. Rehearsed? Something nearly inaudible in her tone sounded rehearsed but then, he supposed, she must have told this story before. The Madam had been her partner in the past and he doubted the hard-eyed woman he answered to would have let Flint’s history stay a mystery to her. 

“Brother and I stayed on the convoy together for a time after that, then one night we met up with another band, and knew the folks so we camped together that night,” she continued. “In the morning, he was gone. Hopped a truck in the other caravan and left.” 

“He left you?” 

She shrugged, one-shouldered. “Left the memories, saw a chance for a new band to fight with and took it. He liked to fight.” The last sounded almost sad. “Didn’t have anything keepin’ me there, so I packed whatever I had and came here. Knew the city was dangerous and all, but if’n I’m gonna get mine one day, I figured I’d do it somewhere I didn’t hafta forage for food and might get a hot shower first.” Beside him, she rolled her shoulders, head tilting back to look at the sky. It had begun snowing again, and the flakes settled on her lashes in the glimpse of her face he got before, lowering her head once again, she was lost in the hood. 

“Why’d you choose to join the police?” You had the choice to join. He’d never have the choice to or not, only the preprogrammed memories of choosing that he’d been given, like a pile of clothing left folded on a chair for him. 

“Why them? Well, as much as I can keep an engine goin’, things I was best at were fighting and shooting. Spent enough years guarding convoys I thought might as well get paid for it, not that the pay for a beat cop just startin’ out is that much, but it sure as hell was more than I’d ever had before.” 

And it sure as hell had to be more than the small allowance he was given by the same department. 

“Also, picked the Police over private cops because I’d heard they always needed fresh meat, and weren’t as choosy. Knew I could handle anything they threw at me after growin’ up how I did.” Her voice had dropped off at the end, and . . . and he could almost relate, almost understand with his fictional past. Fighting to survive in the orphanage had made the brutality, the isolation of his life here almost easy. But- but her past was real , her humanity stood as a chasm between them and their nearly parallel stories. 

“And now here you are.” 

“Here I am.” 

“Ever think of. . . of visiting them, your clan?” 

Another long pause. “Got no one left to visit. Some old friends, yeah. Might find my brother out there if I go asking around, if he’s still topside. Been so long though, don’t think I’d really know them that much. Anyway, got my life here now. Got work to do.” 

They’d reached the platform for the monorail again, and, now silent, she led him back across the platform and onto the car. She was silent again as they soared through the night, the sleek metal capsule flying past spinners and signs, the smells of bodies and metal dust and late-night spilled alcohol drifting around them.  Soon, they had stopped again, and he realized this was the station closest to the market and his own neighborhood. 

Still in silence now, they walked together through the snow-dusted streets. Around them, the lights rippled off the powder in the moments before it melted to a cold grey slush, turning the streets a momentary shimmering rainbow of neon.

They were a few blocks from his building when she broke the silence. “I’m taking the promotion.” 

Only his expertly crafted neurochemical system kept him from twitching at the jolt of surprise. “The promotion?” 

“Back to sergeant.” She’d shoved her hood back, staring levelly ahead, face back to the stony mask. “Got an ultimatum from the L-T. Wants me to take it, join a new task force that’s being built for these kidnappings, or else I’ll be put on the nomad raids.” 

He remembered that briefing, the events. . . after had made the report less important, and it wasn’t his work anyway, but he’d heard talk in passing of more disappearances in the week since. But that would mean. . . 

“So I won’t be around as much anymore, K. Might be in the precinct for reports but can’t say it’ll be regularly anymore. I’ve done what I can and having detectives saying you’re off limits should keep those pieces of shit off your back.” 

At least as far as anyone could see them, he knew. It might not stop the wandering eyes and hands, but he hoped, as much as he could hope for anything, it would keep them from going any further again. “I. . . I understand. Does this mean-” 

“And these nights will have to end, yes.”  The words were as cold as the snow beneath their boots. “I’ve had word from up above that this. . . association is frowned on. Might impact your effectiveness or something. Point is, I’ve been ordered to back off.” 

It was back, that yawning pit inside his guts, knowing now how much it ached when he wasn’t supposed to feel it ache, feel anything. He knew now what it was to have someone being near him, to walk beside in the dark, to eat with, tasting flavors he’d never dreamed he could ever know. But now, now he knew . And because of what he was, who had paid for him, he was denied that life a second time. “I understand.” He swallowed around the tightness rising up his throat. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble, sergeant.” 

They’d reached his doorstep again, and she glanced away, the corners of her mouth turning down as the simmering anger she’d carried all night flared. She’d known. She’d planned this as a final night, he realized. Flint must have been told that week, been arguing with Joshi that day in the hallway, and had planned this night to be a farewell, to tell him others would be looking out for him and to give him one last taste of the life he could never know. A taste of the fruit he would never be worthy of knowing. She’d known it would always end like this. 

“It’s no trouble, Officer K. And if the department wants to come down on anyone for this, they can take it out on me. I’ve been around long enough to handle it.” And for her, censure wouldn’t mean the risk of retirement. 

A rapid flicker of emotions nearly broke her stone-like composure, nearly said something else before the faint click of her teeth killed the words.  “Goodnight, officer.” Turning on her heel, she strode into the dark and snow. 

“Goodbye,” his whisper followed her into the night.            

On feet that felt as dead and heavy as lead from more than just the cold, he forced himself to climb the long flights of stairs up to his apartment. The jeers and hands reaching and groping for him that he usually had to endure on the path to his door all faded out as white noise tonight. Silently, he brushed past all of them, head down, ducking into the safety of his collar. Cans and debris crunched under his boots as he shouldered past figures outside his apartment. Someone called out at him as he unlocked the door, slipping inside as it shut behind him before any reaching fingers could catch the back of his coat (this time). 

He was alone. 

He’d always been alone. Now, he- he could almost feel how alone he was. 

(He wasn’t supposed to have feelings opinions but still-) 

Silently, as always, he moved through his evening routine. He was meant to be alone. The lukewarm water of his shower pelted skin. He’d known almost what it was like to have a friend. The packaged seasoning for the stovetop noodles smelled stale compared to the memory of flavors so sudden his eyes had nearly watered.  The packaged food was better than the protein grubs, although less nutritious, but the meal earlier had been solid and warm and he wished he could forget how the background hypervigilance needed for a blade runner to survive had quieted some with the presence in the blue coat beside him. Harsh alcohol burned down his throat, washing the small meal down, but the memory of the taste of berries and cream still clung to his taste buds. 

Curled in his thin, cold fold-out bed, he thought ahead to what the next day might hold, his time on the case had run out, and depending on what was asked by the people even beyond his Madame’s sphere of power, he could be gone and another, new replicant in this apartment in  the next few days. He’d been given a case with little to use and a short timeline, been given as little choice or consideration in this assignment as he’d ever been, and now the one person who’d cared enough to try to help him the least bit was gone. If the worst happened the next day, there’d be no one left to remember him. A deep curl of something by his heart almost ached at the thought. As he drifted off, the ghostly memory of a rough wooden toy in small hands that weren’t really his made his palms itch with the phantom touch, and the persistent whispered “ survive” slid through his mind, soothing away the thing that another might have called despair. 

<- Chapter 2. Chapter 4. ->

[boysplanetrecaps]

Build Up Episode 2: Decalcomanie

Welcome back to another recap in my Build Up recap series! In the previous one, I covered Sum (Breath). In this one, I’ll cover Decalcomanie, a song originally performed by Mamamoo. This will be an interesting one, so let’s go!

Ok, before we dive in, I thought I might tell you a bit about the song itself! It was released by Mamamoo in October of 2016. It was a huge hit, kind of part of their launch from lesser known girl group to big time. It was part of the 1-2-3-4 hit string of Um Oh Ah Yeh, You’re the Best, Decalcomanie, and Yes I Am. 

So decalcomanie (French term, decalcomania in English) is a technique by which engravings and prints may be transferred to pottery or other materials. What does that mean? Well, would it help if I pointed out that a shortened version of the word is “decal”? Basically, it’s kind of like screen printing, or stencils, or iron on transfers -- in that vein. You might be wondering, “Ok, so… wut?” Especially if you’ve noticed that there are lots of other kpop songs with the word in it. What’s that all about?

Well, basically, in Korea, the word decalcomanie has come to mean the idea of a mirror image or doppleganger. The song by Mamamoo is about this idea of two people who are coming together like two faces on either side of a mirror -- finding a connection that’s impossible to break. In other words, it’s about sex. Ok, great, that’s solved. 

And, fun fact, apparently Mamamoo avoid singing this song when they can because it’s so hard to sing.

Fun Korean word of the day: 위험한, wiheomhan (sound like “wee-oh-may” when they say it fast), which means dangerous. You hear it many, many times in Decalcomanie, but you’ll also hear it in a million other kpop songs. Heartburn by Sunmi, Venom by Stray Kids, Wee-oo wee-ooh by Pristin, Overdose by EXO, and a lot more. Plus there’s some EXO song where Chanyeol goes “Danger, wiheomhan” and I can’t remember which one it is. Brain is broken. Ok! That’s enough of that.

Let’s get back to the episode. 

We see that the guys are super nervous, because they have to sing the song in front of the original singer. 

Dahee says that this is her personal favorite song. When the song is revealed, the other judges applaud for Solar, I guess for being part of this song in the first place.

She’s excited that her song is being used.

Solar tries to put on a serious face, but I think she’s just happy about it.

The guys approach!

LTR: Bitsaeon from M.O.N.T., Ji Yeon Woo, Sunyoul from Up10tion, and Choi Su Hwan

Bitsaeon introduces himself as a chameleon who can do any genre. 

Yeonwoo seems pretty nervous, then introduces himself as a trainee from RBW, which is Solar’s agency. Solar says she didn’t know he was going to be on the show, but she has actually evaluated him before because she does the evaluations at her agency. They aks him how it went, and he says she was scary, telling him he wasn’t good enough. 

Suhwan says he wants to be remembered as an outstanding singer. Vocal Coach Guy (VCG) says that he remembers Suhwan from Produce 101, and that he’s very good. Suhwan is so happy. 

Then Sunyoul says “I want to be a beautiful melody on stage. I’m the main vocal of Up10tion, Sunyoul.” You’re already a beautiful melody, Sunyoul. The judges know his voice and approve of it. 

We flash back to the first episode and see 8th place Sunyoul running immediately to Decalcomanie. He says he feels confident with his high notes. This is as good a time as any to remind you that Sunyoul sang multiple songs on King of Masked Singer dressed as a woman, and convinced his listeners that he was female. That’s the kind of voice he has! 

So Sunyoul joined first, then 14th placed Bitsaeon and 19th placed Ji Yeonwoo (in the suspenders) joined while all options were still open. Bitseaon said he wanted a song with ryhtm and groove, and like, same. When Yeonwoo joins, they ask him, “wait, aren’t you at RBW?” and he’s like, yeah, but it wasn’t so much that he wanted to sing a song by his sunbaes as that he wanted a faster, less depressing song.

Suhwan was in 33rd place, and when he joined, four of the songs (Ditto, Tomboy, Shall I Love You Again, and Beautiful) were all closed. But Decalcomanie was his top choice, so he could show his high notes, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to be compared to Sunyoul. 

Suhwan tries to laugh about it with Sunyoul, but kind of can’t. 

They do the part distribution, and there’s a part no one wants. Sunyoul thinks that Yeonwoo, the trainee, might do well with that part, and then says “but you can be honest about what you want.” 

Yeonwoo voice-overs, “There were a lot of cameras….”

. … and they show us this amazing shot. There are in fact a LOT of cameras and people watching and listening. “It was my first time on TV,” Yeonwoo explains, so I was extremely nervous. People I’m working with have years of experience. I was discouraged.”  (Side note: My spy network had told me that Yeonwoo had gone on another show called Wild Idol, so I wonder what’s going on with that.)

Sunyoul seems cognizant of all this, and the age gap between the rest of them and Yeonwoo. I’m not sure how old Yeonwoo is, but Bitseon is 28, Sunyoul is 27, and Suhwan is 22. “This is his first survival show,” Sunyoul says. “I was worried that he might be hesitating to speak up.” Aww! Sunyoul! Sweet Sunyoul!! 

We see a brief montage of the others helping Yeonwoo a bit, showing him how the in-ear monitors work, and offering him shoulder squeezes. He interviews that he’s feeling a lot better from all the support from the others.

And the performance begins! 

Here’s the link to the version without all the reactions. 

The guys approach!

LTR: Bitsaeon from M.O.N.T., Ji Yeon Woo, Sunyoul from Up10tion, and Choi Su Hwan

My thoughts:

First off, this is a cool arrangement. It’s really fun to listen to. And who doesn’t like this song? It’s just so catchy. As for the performances, well, mostly pretty great -- good enough to end up on my playlist. But no one here made me go “ahhhh” the way I did when Taehwan, or Neon, or any member of Breath sang. It was all really really good, just not extraordinary for me. I hope you understand what I mean. 

Next thing I have to note is that my opinion of the performance seems to be very different from the judges’, so in editing this write up, I’ve had to think about things I’ve missed, opinions I might change, and in the end I have to stick to my guns and disagree with the judges. You’ve been warned!

Poor Yeonwoo forgot the words right at the beginning. Oh noooooo. He sounded sooo nervous, but pretty nice, and I was cheering for him, and then I heard a “nanana” where there should have been other sounds. Oh nooooooooooooooooooooo. Thank dog, he did a lot better later, but he never seemed to totally relax and get back into the song, except for the part where he was trading “I feel good!”s with Bitsaeon.  I think the guys really didn’t know who the judges would be, so when Yeonwoo found out it would be Solar, he panicked a little. Poor guy. I bet he did it perfectly in practice dozens of times. I really liked his teaser performance, and I think he has a ton of talent, so I hope he can figure out how to get over his nerves. Even nervous and unsure, I could see glimmers of his talent and technique, and I overall enjoyed his performance.

Man, I love Bitsaeon. I love his fuzzy sweaters, I love his energy and swag, I loved his “Whoo!!” at the beginning and his “yeah yeah yeahs” at the end, and I love his voice in general. He has impeccable pitch and a big open sound that manages to be both clean and textured at the same time. I was surprised that the rap part was included, but he did a good job with that too. 

On the negative end, he was a tiny bit ahead of the beat in his first chorus, but I didn’t notice that problem later in the song. Also, his highest harmonies were a little thin and nasal, and he had to go into his falsetto and I’m not quite sure if that was his plan. 

Choi Suhwan sounded so great for the first section he sang. He has just the right amount of vibrato to give texture to his voice, and a nice natural color. If I judged his whole performance by those four lines, I’d give him the win. Also, he carried a lot of the rapping and he did really great with that, bringing a Moonbyul-esque tone to it. 

Then partway through he started to sound more and more strained, almost like he had to swallow or clear his throat or something, or like he was getting a bit hoarse. It made my throat hurt listening to how strained he was. He still hit that great high note in the “wiheomhan, wiheomhan , WEEheomhan” part, perfectly on pitch. He wasn’t as nasal sounding as he was in some other performances of his, but the problems I noticed with his upper mix were still there. He still sounded good, though, overall. All four of them did, for the most part. 

Sunyoul’s voice is really lovely, with varied dynamics and little growls for texture, and I loved the energy he brought. He even did a little of the choreo, almost like it was reflexive. Sunyoul himself is so cute and loveable that I wish I loved his voice a little bit more than I do. It’s just a tiny bit too high pitched naturally to tickle my ears. But I adore Sunyoul. I don’t understand how their agency fucked Up10tion over so badly, when it seems like they have so many talented and lovable members who only seem to get noticed when they go on reality shows. 

In terms of what the four of them brought to the arrangement, I think other teams did a bit more to arrange their songs, but what these guys did was good. Something I liked about their harmony is that they sort of took turns taking the lead with it, so when they were in harmony sometimes Bitsaeon’s voice would come through strongest, or sometimes Yeonwoo, etc. That’s a subtle thing to work through and they did it! But the harmonies weren’t quite as complex or interesting as some done by the other teams. They were still good, just not anything that made me say, “oh, hmm, that was cool.” 

Also, I liked that they did the rap as rap. I think not enough people view rapping as a vocal skill, and of course it is. There’s a musicality to rap, where you find the right tone to rap on. It’s almost like you’re using your voice as a drum instead of a piano, but drums and pianos are both instruments, if you feel me. Oh, and I was wondering if they rewrote the rap at all, but no, they didn’t, it’s the original rap. The only change was instead of “Mamamoo is coming back for you” it’s “Build up is coming back for you.” (That’s perfectly fine, it’s not a rap competition, but I was curious.) 

If I had to pick a top tier member, I think it’d be Sunyoul. I’d almost say Bitsaeon, but I think his problems with the tempo might disqualify him. Sunyoul sang well, performed well, and led the group, and I think he deserved top tier. 

The MNET edit starts with Dahee reacting to the “whoo, let’s go!”

When Yeonwoo forgets the words…

… of course it deserves an instant replay. In the MNET edit, we can clearly see Sunyoul looking over to Yeonwoo to nod at him after the mistake, as if to say it’s ok, keep going. Sweet Sunyoul! 

Raise your hand if you love Sunyoul! Ok you can lower it again, you need it to scroll.

Link to the judging.

The judges applaud, but they also say “Aigoo!”  Backstage, the guys are still sad on Yeonwoo’s behalf. He has a nice voice, so it’s a real bummer that he forgot the words. 

Solar leads off the critique, saying the song isn’t easy to sing. As an expert on this song, she was a bit disappointed with their version. And Yeonwoo forgot the words.

“Here it doesn’t matter how experienced you are,” Solar says. “You need to do well now in this moment. What you do affects other people. You should take this opportunity to improve yourself.” 

Eunkwang jumps onto the dogpile saying, “You shouldn’t have given up. It sounds like you gave up. From now on you should train yourself to get your act together even after making a mistake.”

Just to pour a little salt on the wound, Solar mentions that the words he forgot were in the section of the song that Solar usually sings!  

“Oh god, it wasn’t just Solar’s song, it was Solar’s part, I am actually in hell, what if I could just implode into a puff of smoke and blow away to another galaxy?” -- Yeonwoo, probably

“OMG, he messed up Solar’s part? Oh god, the pain, the pain, the cringe, the cringe, I am so so so glad I am not Yeonwoo.” -- Everyone, probably 

Some of the guys backstage are like, “He’s not going to be able to sleep tonight,” and truer words were never spoken. 

Then Eunkwang tells Bitsaeon about his rhythm/tempo issue, which is fair. 

Solar praises Suhwan for starting off the song so well, which is fair. Those first few lines were really great. 

Baekho praises Sunyoul, which is also fair and accurate. Thank you, Baekho, for staying my unproblematic fave! Others join in praising Sunyoul.

The judges reveal their votes:

Baekho, my darling, chooses Sunyoul, but everyone else chooses Choi Suhwan. VCG says his voice would suit all genres and he thanks them. But then..

… then Eunkwang has to make Suhwan feel awful by saying that his jacket is too short. I think it’s meant to be cropped, but he’s got a short torso, so instead of looking cropped, it looks just a bit too short. So now even though Suhwan won, he gets to feel terrible. Thanks, Eunkwang. Thunkwang. 

I stand by what I said -- I still think that Suhwan’s later singing in this song wasn’t as fabulous as those first four lines. But I don’t hate that he won. Like everyone on the show, he is a really good singer. 

As the boys walk off stage together, they try to comfort Yeonwoo, and you can hear Sunyoul promising to buy Yeonwoo some chicken.

Protect Sunyoul at all costs, fam.

Ok, one more song to go! I’ll see you in the next one, my loves, and thanks as always for reading!

[chiclet-go-boom]

... for those of you not paying attention at home, I have been deep in the weeds these last few months resurrecting old websites I used to run or co-run back in the day. in this brave new world of corporate takeover and the tiny little cries of the oppressed going "where are all the little webpages now? the carefully curated lists of things that only three people actually care about? what if i want to hear all the dialogue lines from Gambit as voiced in the now defunct Marvel Heroes mmo?!" --- I have risen like cream.

I have three quarters of the webcode for about four different fansites from wayyyy back in the day when I was absolutely feral about building websites for whatever my current obsession was, and right now i'm currently putting Bird Go back together - a fansite for Gatchaman/Battle of the Planets specific to Joe/Ken yaoi but we were equal opportunity smut purveyors and pretty much entertained all comers.

For the most part I have left the old code intact and surprisingly most of it still functions, although its laughably bad if you consider 'best practices' of the here and now. But - it serves webpages on desktop monitors which is what it was originally meant for so I am content. Some stuff has been lost over the intervening years, old folders of images or pages not copied forward through hard drive crashes and the like, so there's been evenings of hacking through the Wayback Machines to try and restore at least some of what's gone missing.

Today though I have just finished re-creating 105 webpages for the individual episodes of the first series and can now attach the 40 folders of screencaps that I carefully put together back in the day because, yes, I do have the entire first series on CD and did spend quality time like the fan I was/am to crib all the really good shots (and all the really horrific ones) for posterity.

so please, in my carpal tunnel pain - see also my little drawing and painting attempts below that were lovingly drawn at the same time as this very old website, because there's nothing like a strong love for a particular anime to inspire a gal to want to make pictures for it.

Science Ninja Team Gatchaman! I will love you forever.

[jimblejamblewritings]

romeo and...cullen? | part 21.

Summary: Y/N Cullen, youngest in both actual age and last to be turned in the Cullen clan. Her world is turned upside down when Bella Swan enters her family’s life, because Bella doesn’t bring just herself but drags some of her friends into the Cullen’s life as well.

Warnings for the Series: light violence, light angst, light smut

Pairing: Jacob Black x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

It took three days for both you and Bella to recover and five for Jacob to spill the beans to Charlie so your family wouldn’t have to leave. Of course, Charlie doesn’t know about the whole vampire thing. Just the fact that your boyfriend could turn into a giant animal. Jacob watched as you moved a little slower than usual in the Cullens’ kitchen while getting ready.

“I just had to recover just in time for the first day of school.”

“Senior year, babe.”

“You know this is pointless, I passed all the credit requirements last year. I’m basically going in to fill out a bunch of paperwork for the next like three weeks to get my diploma early. I should be able to do this online, not have to come in. So ridiculous.”

Edward came into the house with Renesmee. Your niece reached out for you. You bounced Renesmee on your hip and sung quietly as you poured out the smoothie you made into a glass. The baby giggled happily. Renesmee stuck a hand on your face and sent you images in your mind to let you know she liked your voice.

“Yeah? You want another song?”

“You’re good with kids.”

“Was a camp counselor at a daycare in my human life.” You handed off Renesmee to Jacob so you could finish packing and eating your breakfast.

Edward smiled from the couch. You and Jacob would actually make good parents. They way you two watched over Renesmee, he was sure of it. Bella came back with the rest of the family from hunting.

“Just in time, I was about to leave. Happy birthday, Bells.” You gave your friend a hug.

“I stopped aging three days ago.”

“Still your birthday, and the family’s got a surprise for you. Catch you all later, be back in like two hours.”

You walked out the door a little bummed you were gonna miss Bella’s birthday surprise, knowing Emmett spent literally all night working on the little cottage for Bella, Edward, and Renesmee.

~~

The house was a bit quieter that night without Edward and Bella but with a child everyone agreed it’d be nice for them to have their own space. Aside from the two hours you were filling out forms at school, Jacob hadn’t left your side. You were in bed, resting and watching television.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about what you asked in San Francisco,” you said rubbing up and down Jacob’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“What we’re gonna do with our lives. How we want to spend our future together… how much time I have with you…”

“As long as a wolf keeps phasing, he doesn’t age. You have as much time with me as you want,” Jacob answered.

You felt better knowing that. You knew it was a long time away but it still had made you anxious.

“I want forever with you.”

“Then forever you’ll have.” Jacob kissed you.

“Do we have to stay in Forks forever? Because of the pack?”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I wanna get married, I want us to have a family and enjoy life. Maybe move at some point.”

“Sam can hold down the fort here without me. You want to go back to San Francisco?”

“Maine.”

“Maine?” Jacob questioned.

“We have a family home there,” you explained.  “Practically an estate. Deed’s in my name, no more relatives. It’s probably a bit run down but it’s ours.”

“So we get married and move to Maine.”

“We renovate the house so the pack and my family have a place to visit anytime.”

“But we come back to Forks and visit frequently.”

“Of course, we shouldn’t make them come to us all the time. Plus we need to see Charlie and Sue.”

“And my old man would miss us a lot.”

“The old man’s coming with us.”

“Really?”

“Grandpa Billy needs to be close to the children.”

“Children? More than one?”

“What… did you only want one?”

“No, no, I like multiple. I just thought you’d only want one.”

“Well one would be easier to get through school. Tuition can be expensive.”

“Tuition? Private school?”

“My cousins went to one of the best in the state. My brother too, they had a boarding program. Top education, they’ve even got cute uniforms.”

“Could we afford that?”

“Well I have all my inheritance plus I’d get a job. I’m thinking of running a shop. Fashion design. Custom clothing and tailoring such.”

“You know how to design?”

“Second degree I got. Trained under Dolce and Gabbana.”

“Impressive. Can’t let you do all the work though, I’d run my own mechanic shop.”

“You should name it The Garage.”

“I like that. Nice ring to it.”

You and Jacob paused before looking each other in the eye and laughing.

“Not even on step one of marriage and we’ve already planned our whole lives,” Jacob said.

“Not even moved out of my bedroom.”

Jacob pulled you over so you were laying completely on top of him. The two of you had just calmed down from laughing.

“Should we make a dream board with our plans?” Jacob chuckled.

“I’ll get started on it tomorrow… I love you, Jake.”

“I love you, too.”

Jacob sat up so he could kiss you better. His hands roamed under the big t-shirt you were wearing. The lack of any clothes but his shirt made it easier for him to touch you. And his lack of shirt made it easier for you to run your hands up and down his body. You tried to push him down on the bed but Jacob didn’t budge. He brushed his hand against your cheek.

“I want to satisfy you, (Y/N).”

“Jacob, you do.”

“I want to make love to you. No needing to do more because I need it.”

“I thought we got past the bruises, babe.”

Jacob let out a short laugh. “Not the bruises. I know you want me to let go. You do that for me now let me do this for you.”

Jacob’s hands were once again under your shirt. He kissed a trail starting from your forehead to your neck. He slowly moved your hips in a circle as he nipped at your ear.

“Jake,” you half whispered half moaned.

Jacob kissed your lips gently but full of passion. “Let me take care of you babe.”

~~

Edward was very hesitant when you and Jacob suggested bringing Renesmee to see the pack, and very relieved when none of them imprinted. He might have a truce with the wolves for your sake but if one of them had imprinted on Renesmee he wasn’t sure what he’d do. With formalities out of the way, the pack was able to freely come and go in the Cullen house once again. Not that they all did too much. Everyone got along for you and Jake’s sake, but few had become like family to one another.

You parked your car in the garage and stumbled into the house knowing everyone would be there.

“Guess who’s graduated?!” you yelled into the house. “And they said I don’t have to walk if I don’t want to. Senior year, even easier the fifth time around.”

You joked as you came up the stairs from the garage only to find no one in the living room. Not even a scent left behind from anyone could be sensed when you dropped your shield. Not the Cullens, not the pack, not even Jacob. The only creature to greet you was Koda as she came down the stairs, licking your hand and demanding scratches.

“Really? Everyone ditched me?” you muttered as you made your way into the kitchen.

“I hope whatever you ditched me for was fucking worth it,” you yelled to no one but an empty house.

Jacob came bounding into the house as you yelled that, laughing.

“That would be my fault. Told them I was taking you out on a date tonight, everyone decided there was no point in staying.”

“Should I dress nice?” You looked at Jacob who was not too fancy but definitely a little more than casual, swapping out his normal t-shirt for a rolled-up button down shirt.

Jacob held up the pizza box he had behind his back. “You decide.”

Since it was pizza, you opted to match Jacob’s state of dress— not too fancy but not too casual either. Jacob pulled up to the ‘Welcome to Forks’ sign. You got out of the car and sat on the front hood.

“You know, I think this might have been my favorite dates we did,” you said as you ate pizza.

“Really? What about our vacation? This one was really your favorite?”

“Yeah, it was when everything was simpler. No supernatural bullshit. Just (Y/N) and Jake.” You looked over at Jake. “And your hair was longer.”

“You liked my long hair?” Jacob grinned as he ate a slice.

“Loved it.”

Jacob walked back around the car and brought out a Tupperware container of cake.

“Sue’s strawberry?” you asked hopeful.

“Right on the money, babe.”

It had been forever since you had any of Sue’s baking. Jacob was standing in front of you, both hands on your waist. Before he had a chance to grab your fork, you took a forkful of cake and fed it to him.

“You know we still have to pick a new date for Hawaii,” Jacob said after swallowing the bite of cake.

“Mmm? Maybe after Christmas. Everyone’s gonna want to spend Christmas together especially with Renesmee so maybe a few days after. I’m thinking New Year’s there must be fun.”

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, Jake?”

“I wanna try something.”

You smiled, knowing exactly where this was going. You watched confused as Jacob didn’t lean in to kiss you but started to go down instead. Jacob fished in his back pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it to reveal a ring inside.

“Jacob, are you for real?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N). I can honestly say I love you. Even before I knew it, you were my world the moment you entered my life and I don’t want you to leave it. It’s not just the imprint, I would’ve fallen for you regardless and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Jacob Black, of course I will marry you.”

Jacob slipped the ring on your finger before getting up and kissing you. You pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, not really believing what was happening. You smiled wider and kissed him again.

(Part 22)...

[skyfallslayer]

Over The Edge and Into The Hands of Evil (One-Shot)

(Bucky x Daughter!Reader, Steve x Child!Reader)

Author Notes: For some reason my account got deleted, and then it was returned to me. But all my posts have been deleted, so I'm reposting this series. Enjoy!

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Summary: At the age of 6, (Y/N) Barnes loses her dad to war. A few months later, she's captured by HYDRA to be their new weapon. To her shocking surprise, she isn't the only one being held hostage. But how long can she remember him for before he's wiped away? (Set after the first Captain America Movie).

MASTERLIST

Main Masterlist

Warning: Child Abuse, Blood, Vomiting, Self-Doubt, Implied/References to Depression, Unwanted Touching, Strong Language, Torture, Brainwashing, Murder, HYDRA being HYDRA, Possible Inaccurate Russian (I used Google Translate).

(Also, all Gifs are NOT mine)

(Y/N) BARNES WAS BORN ON FEBRUARY 23rd, 1940….)

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...Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now.

No it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.

Or It wasn’t, ‘The Baby isn’t yours’.

No it was-

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also a sense of anger and betrayal.

She couldn’t be serious...

Right?

He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”

He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu-”

“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped. “That baby…” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”

She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snow droplets flew in, sticking to her clothes. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air. Was she trying to freeze you?!

“Becky!” He called out, stopping her on the porch.

She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you?

He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, but he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.

“Come on…” He continues, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lip quivered slightly. “Please?”

He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…

But she never did.

“Goodbye, James.” Becky said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk.

Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.

Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.

“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their-

No.

That’s officially gone out the window.

It’s his daughter.

He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.

He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.

(Y/E/C) eyes.

So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.

(Maybe later though)

He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling. “I got you, sweetie.”

You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry…” He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry.”

You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, and if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond man that was his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.

“S-Sorry.” Steve said, leaning against the frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”

Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles. “She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”

The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”

“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused.

“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”

He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “Are you… sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first, shouldn’t I-”

“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).

With a second thought to question his best friend’s choice, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the floor next to Bucky’s chair. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.

Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.

“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. “Wanna hold her?”

He held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words were spoken. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.

Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’ll show you.”

Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has a good hold on you. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hearts at this point.

Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Becky ever give her one?”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”

“Well have you thought of any?”

“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”

Steve looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” He asks.

He smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve so…”

“Huh.” The blond looks back down at you, his smile returning. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes. Not bad, Buck.”

Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back a laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m happy for you, man.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

A few moments passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”

“What can I say? I try.”

“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?”

“I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”

Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him.

And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead.

“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

He swears at that moment he saw you smile.

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(YOU UNKNOWINGLY LOST SOMETHING IN THE EARLY SPRING OF 1943…)

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...You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag was on the porch. You stumble around a bit on your four year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see.

“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”

You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.

“No?” Steve said, tilting his head. “Are you sure?”

You giggled again. “Yes.”

He smiles. “Just checking.”

A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father stumbling out of his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked almost miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.

“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”

“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”

“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering you with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.

“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.

“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.

“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you.”

He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your four year old mind couldn’t comprehend the heavy feeling in the back of your mind.

“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle.

“Yeah?” He said, softly.

“I thought you told me you were going with him?”

His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you’re okay.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Sure am.” He smiles. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”

Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!”

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”

Till this day, you still couldn’t piece together the horrible feeling in your gut.

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(YOUR WHOLE WORLD WOULD CHANGE IN MID-JANUARY 1945…)

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...You were confused beyond words. You were just sitting in your room, doodling in a book one of your aunts gave you, when you heard someone come inside the house. You listen closely, hearing your aunts and grandparents filling up with joy, but then,

There were sobs and people bawling.

You were six years old and could finally understand what emotions meant. So when you heard pure joy turn into sadness, you knew something was wrong. Curiosity got the best of you, it always had, something that your father told you to express but with caution. However, you couldn’t help it, your family was in pain for some reason, and you knew you needed to know why.

So as quietly as you could, you navigate yourself out of your room, moving slowly so the floorboards wouldn't creek down the hall. With your hand on the wall for support, you stop at the corner where it meets the stairs to listen in.

Your family was most definitely crying over something, but all you could make out when you peaked a little was your grandmother’s feet, who seemed to be leaning on her husband.

Odd. Was all you could think. Especially when you heard the next few words out of the blue.

“What are we going to tell (Y/N)?” Rebecca said, choking up.

You furrowed your brows together, and took a step to see what was going on, only for the step on the stair to creek loudly. You quietly gasp, and quickly hide behind the wall again. You heard some of your family gasp as well as the air felt thicker.

“S-Son…” Your Grandpa begins, tripping over his words with a shake in his voice. You didn’t like the way he sounded so broken. It certainly didn’t sit right with you.

“I’ll handle it.” Steve said, surprising you.

You didn’t even know he was here.

No wonder your family was overjoyed.

Yet…

Why are they so sad now?

You only peek around the bend again when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and sure enough there was your Uncle dressed in an odd military uniform (seriously, why is it all red and blue?), and looking way more buff than you remember. You felt so happy that he was here, not seeing him for nearly two years, and was about to jump up and give him a hug when you saw his face.

Depression.

You’ve never seen that once on him.

“Uncle Steve?” You said puzzledly, as he made the last step.

Why was he here and not your father? Was your dad hurt and that’s why he was here?

Yeah, that must be it. That’s why your Uncle looks so sad.

He smiles bittersweetly. “Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, holding out his hand. “I need to talk to you, okay?”

You frown at the fake sounding joy in his voice, but still complied. “Okay…”

You take his hand, and he guides you back to your bedroom. You could tell by the way he slowed in his steps that he was taking in its appearance. But who could blame him? The last time he saw you was when you were four, and your room held nothing but little toys and dolls, and had little bows and dresses lying around. But now he saw that you were a little bit older, and sure you still have some of the same things, he now noticed you were in school with your bag, and your artistic skills seemed to have grown with the doodles all over your room.

The appearance hurt him way more than he thought it would have. Especially when he knew his friend wouldn’t be able to see this.

He sits on your bed, and you sit next to him with your legs crossed as you wait for him to speak.

“(Y/N)?” Steve begins, masking the fear in his voice pretty well. “You’re a big girl, right?” You nodded slowly, preparing yourself with the news that your father was hurt. “And big girls can handle big news, right?” You nodded again, more eagerly this time. Even if your dad was hurt, you could finally see him after all this time. You honestly couldn’t wait for those words to come out. “Well…”

You watch him suddenly stop, and swallow hard. Now you were officially getting worried. “Steve?” You said as you sag your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

He seemed to have gotten paler the moment you said that. “(Y/N), your dad isn’t coming home.”

You froze instantly. “What?” You mumbled, and luckily Steve heard it with his enhanced hearing (although he didn’t like the tiniest break in it).

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but he’s not coming home.”

You knew what he meant without even saying it.

No.

There was no way that was true.

You start shaking your head. “No…” You stated, standing your ground.

Steve sighed. He knew this was coming. “(Y/N)-”

“No.” You start shaking your head even more. “No!! My daddy can’t be gone. You’re lying!! You’re really lying!!” You couldn’t stop from the dam breaking, staining your clothes and cheeks. “Please, please, tell me you’re lying, Uncle Steve!!!”

You started to choke and sob on your own, and you somehow ended up tangled in his arms. He held you so unbelievably close, gently rubbing circles on your back. Steve left his chin on top of your head, and you buried your own into his neck, suddenly clenching his uniform with your small hands.

“It’s okay, (Y/N). I promise, you’re not going to go anywhere without a family.” Steve whispered, staring at a familiar blanket tucked in a corner of your room.

“Did it hurt him?” You asked, sniffling.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat, recalling as he was in fingertips’ reach of grabbing your dad’s hand, only for him to fall in the icy ravine below. But he couldn’t tell you that. He couldn’t tell you that he died by falling from a train.

So he lied.

“No.” He replies, guilt eating at him. “No it didn’t.” He swallows again, mentally cursing that his mask was slipping. “You’ll be okay. Your father will always be with you in your heart.”

Your frown against his chest, starting to shake again. “But I don’t want him there, I want him here.”

Steve frowns too. “Me too, kiddo…” He whispers.

And the dam broke again.

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(AND IT WAS A FEW MONTHS LATER WHEN YOUR LIFE WOULD ‘END’...)

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...You twisted and turned in your bed for the millionth time tonight. You would curl up and then uncurl before clenching the covers for some comfort. Normally you would sleep with ease, but these last few months have been different. Your Uncle was away to finish the war, and out of desperation you made him promise to come back to you. You had given him your liliac blanket as a reminder of his promise, something that held a lot of meaning to you, something that helped fight nasty dreams away.

But now they plagued you and no one was there to comfort you.

Your Dad was gone. Your grandparents and aunts could barely look at you because of the resemblance. You may be only six years old, but you knew they were keeping you away. Long hours at school, along with long after school activities. It was no brainer what they were trying to do. So for comfort? That was something you couldn’t get right now as you continued to hope Steve would come through the door one day and make everything better.

You sighed quietly, and turned again. Why was it so hard to fall asleep?

As you tucked your head between your pillow and mattress, that’s when you heard a loud thug coming from downstairs.

You sat up in your exhausted state, but curiosity sparked you again. Which one of your relatives could be up at this hour? Furrowing your brows, and removing the covers, as you touched the wooden floor with your bare feet. You slowly walked across your room, opening the door to peak out into the hall. You saw nothing, and started trailing down it, only for your feet to get caked in something hot and sticky.

Frozen in fear, you peer at your feet, and with a slight squint in your eyes, you see the color red. Your breath caught in your throat, as you watched as the blood from your feet was coming from a bedroom next to the stairs.

Your Grandparents.

As nausea took over you, you took a few small steps back, ready to run away from whatever was going on. Where were your Aunts? Were they downstairs and that's who made the noise?

Yeah, that must be it.

You were ready to turn and head down, when you were met with two figures coming up. Two big, tall and scary looking men with guns in their hands. They gawked at you like a piece of meat.

“Другой?” One of them asked in a thick accent, and spoke in a language you did not understand. (*Another one?)

You stiffened when the man aimed his gun at you, but you seemed to be saved when his partner waved him off.

“Подожди. Я хочу, чтобы ты на нее посмотрел.” The partner said, calmly. (*Hang on. I want you to look at her)

“Почему?” (*Why?)

“Вы это видите? Сходство?” (*Do you see that? The resemblance?)

The man looked confused. “Какой?” He said, making a face. (*What?)

The other man sighed, and hit his partner in the shoulder. “Она похожа на Зимнего солдата. Это то, что мы ищем.” He explains, gesturing to you almost lovingly. (*She looks like the Winter Soldier. This is the one we’re looking for)

Now he seemed to understand. “О нет, я понимаю.” (*Oh, Now I see)

“Давай схватим ее.” (*Let’s grab her)

You backed away when they started approaching you again. And when one of them decided to lunge for you, you made a break for your bedroom. Heavy footsteps followed behind you, as you tried to slam the door shut, but one of the men ended up stopping it with his hand. He pushed it wide open, and you stumbled backwards into your wall, cowering in fear.

You ended up throwing anything you could get your hands on at them, but it had no effect as you started to get all teary eyed.

“N-No…” You whispered. “G-Go away…”

“Простите, красавица.” (*Sorry, Beautiful)

And then one of the men’s hands were around your throat, squeezing tight. Your tiny hands start clawing at theirs, as dark spots danced around your vision.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

And then…

The darkness came.

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(AND THEN YOU BECOME ‘REBORN’ OVER THE GRUELING MONTHS...)

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...You didn’t want to do it, but you had no choice. You obeyed the best you could to avoid the horrible touches the doctors and handler would give you, or the slaps and beat downs you would get intensely.

You obeyed even when you didn’t want to, because you were scared to lose your life in a place like this. You still had hope Steve would come for you like the hero he was, but a small part of you knew it wasn’t going to come true. Especially when they started the touture, and your mind became broken, and you slowly started to forget him.

You were only six and you knew how to hold a knife and fire a gun; You knew how to kill people in 40 different ways; You were brainwashed with trigger words, and were tested on constantly, something about some serum they wanted to put in you. But was it really a good thing that your body was rejecting it?

Training for hours, and testing you until you passed out, was that a good thing as well?

Sleep for a small amount of time, and given tiny portions of food, was that a good thing too?

Was it also a good thing that your mind was fuzzy, and you were slowly starting to lose who you are deep inside?

Was anything here at HYDRA good for you?

The very thoughts ran through your mind as you laid on the cold cement floor, bloody and bruised, worn out for wear as your arms were pulsing from all the needles they stuck in the flesh. You were an experiment, a weapon, they said. You had no time to cry, soldiers do not cry. You weren’t a child no matter how many times you try to remind yourself that you were.

A child whose life ended so shortly.

The man scoffed. “Еще один провал?” Her handler said, disappointed. The language that she once didn’t understand was finally making sense. (*Another fail?)

“К сожалению, сэр.” A scientist said, making your cloudy eyes look up at them as they spoke. (*Unfortunately, Sir)

“Проклятие…” (*Damn)

“Сэр, при всем уважении, то, что этот ребенок имеет ту же кровь, что и один из других наших солдат, не означает, что она будет работать так же, как он.” (*Sir, with all due respect, just because this child shares the same blood as one of our other soldiers, doesn’t mean she’ll work the same way as him)

“Фигня!” (*Bullshit!) The man throws his hands up in rage. “Он должен! Она будет работать идеально, как ее старик, может быть, даже лучше, если мы сделаем правильную сыворотку.”

(*It has to! She’ll work perfectly like her old man, maybe even better if we can make the right serum)

“Но сэр, мы только что создали Зимнего солдата почти год назад, поэтому мы так уверены, что он-” (*But sir, we just created the Winter Soldier nearly a year ago, how we so sure he’s-)

The handler scoffed again. “Идеальный? Потому что он уже.” (*Perfect? Because he already is)

Even with your fuzzy mind you still were confused on what he was saying. Were you related to a super soldier? You don’t even recall having any family, which is rather odd to say the least. So what did they exactly mean?

Suddenly the door opens, and a guard comes in, speaking in english. “Sir, the Winter Soldier’s ready for his exam.”

The handler smiled. “Perfect! Bring him in.” He said, before looking at the other guards already present in the room. “Bring her back to her cell. We’ll try again in a few hours.”

They muttered, ‘Yes, sir’, before you felt yourself being pulled off the ground. You let your head hang low and wobble back and forth, as they dragged you along. The cell actually sounded nice. Laying on your uncomfortable mattress with some hours of peace sounded heavenly to you (but made sure to never let them know). You only had stopped once when the door opened again, the room flooded with men with tactical gear and guns as they led someone inside.

And then your heart sank.

What you assume to be the infamous Winter Soldier you’ve heard for months now came in looking as empty as you. His hair went past his ears, his facial hair was coming in, and he showed off a silvery colored arm that was exposed like his upper body. Just like you, scars and bruises lingered in his form as he remained ghostly pale, or like the color of snow itself.

But that’s not what struck you.

That’s not what triggered something in the back of your head.

That wasn’t a reason a sudden memory was being revived.

No.

It was his face.

A face you knew even after not seeing it for nearly three years. You knew it was him.

All of HYDRA’s work to your mind suddenly went out of the nonexistent window.

Your eyes widened, and your body shot up in their hold as you yelled, “PAPA!!!”

The room got quiet and stiff, as the Handler started sweaty nervously when the Winter Soldier stopped himself. When his eyes met yours, you went crazy because it was him, your father, who was very much alive.

“PAPA!!! IT’S ME! IT’S (Y/N)! YOUR DAUGHTER!!” You screamed, hoping to get through, because he really was looking like an empty shell of a man. “PAPA! PLEASE, REMEMBER ME!”

The man tilted his head, and stayed silent, which made the enemy’s sigh with relief.

But even villains couldn't have their happy moments either.

You then saw the slight spark in his eyes, and the stern facade he had on fell only a centimeter, but you noticed it without any doubts.

“(Y/N)....?” He whispers, his voice sounding like it was coming from two different people (But it was enough to get everyone in the room on edge).

You felt your eyes start stinging with tears, because your father was right there. You wanted nothing else but to hug him like the world was going to end.

“Papa.” You said, trying to smile reassuringly at him, which seemed to do the trick.

His body became tense again, but it wasn’t from the programming they put him in, it was entirely from something else. “(Y/N)!!” He yells, sounding like your dad, sounding like your Bucky.

“Papa!”

“(Y/N)!!” Bucky says, again, trying to get past as the guards start to grab him. “(Y/N)!!”

“Papa!!” You yelled again, as the two men that had you in their grasp started walking away with you. “Papa!! Help me!!”

You cried and kicked, and screamed as your dad started doing the same. Serum or not, your dad didn’t know the full extent of his abilities yet, so when the guards started holding him and beating him up, he was left feeling useless. But he couldn’t give up yet, not when you were literally three feet away from him.

“God damnit! Leave her alone!” He yells, after getting kicked in the stomach. “She’s my daughter, you fuckers! You get your filthy hands off of her!!”

Your handler sighs yet again. “Не говоря уже об экзамене, его надо будет стереть с ума. Сначала сделаем его, а потом мы сделаем ребенка.” He says, to the scientists. (*Never mind the exam, he’ll need to be mind wiped. Do him first, and then we’ll do the child next)

“Сэр, не следует ли нам передать одного из них, чтобы это не повторилось снова?” (*Sir, shouldn’t we transfer one of them to prevent this from happening again?)

He sighs, and shakes his head. “К сожалению, да. Мы не можем рисковать, что они нарушат контроль. Давайте заморозим ее и перевезем в другое место.” (*Unfortunately, yes. We can't risk them breaking the control. Let's freeze her and transport her somewhere else.)

“Прямо сейчас, сэр.” A guard said. (*Right away, Sir)

Bucky tries wiggling out of their grasps, still screaming for you. But before you could scream at him back, you missed the way your handler gave your guards a nod, and before you knew it, you were slammed into the closet wall, hitting your head.

The last thing you remember was your dad calling for you, as you met the darkness some more.

.

.

.

(YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHY THEY WANTED TO KEEP YOU AROUND, BUT EACH PASSING DAY WAS A GIFT FROM HELL...)

.

.

.

...You didn’t forget your father’s face, even after time went on.

Was it days? Weeks? Months? Years? You did not know.

But you never forgot him once as they tortured you till your throat ran raw and you passed out. You took so many beatings physically. You had your brain put in the blender so many times. You were frozen and unfrozen at least a dozen times. You were drugged and tested on more times than you could count, and even when your memory of your earlier life slowly started to drift away, you still held onto a tiny piece of someone familiar.

Deep blue eyes that were nothing but caring and loving towards you.

The hair that was the color of the chestnuts you used to eat, or the hot coco you used to drink.

And the smile was brighter and warm. Comforting and calling towards you.

But…

You didn’t know who he was and why he made you feel that way, all you knew was that he was your only hope of hanging on the last bit of yourself.

So here you were again, feeling a little bit older as your arms ached from the needles, and the smell of vomit was all over you. Another failed attempt of getting the serum to react the way they wanted it to. And as always, somehow, it ended up being your fault.

You groaned quietly as you were curled up into a ball on the floor, tears pricking your eyes as your handler (Your new handler, apparently. They told you the other one had died when you came out of cryo) starting bitching and complaining to one of the head scientists.

“Почему это не удается? Объясните мне это !!!” Your handler said, shouting at the top of his lungs. (*Why does this keep failing? Explain that to me!!!)

“Сэр, она ребенок, а детское тело не может справиться с таким ужасным процессом, как этот.” The man explained while keeping a steady breath. He almost looked like he might vomit himself. (*Sir, she’s a child, and children’s bodies can’t handle a gruesome process like this)

You meantally scoffed.

You damn right. You thought, as your body started to flare up like it always does in these experiments.

Seriously, why did your body have to set itself on fire? While sharp nails ran through your bloodstream, and stab your fragile lungs?

“Не говоря уже о том, что вы только что заставили ее потренироваться восемь часов, ее тело, вероятно, истощено.” The scientist continued, trying to reason with his clearly psychotic boss. (*Not to mention, you just had her do eight hours of training, her body's probably exhausted)

Your handler looked like he was about to explode from the way his hands morphed into fists, and his face turned bloodshot red. “Мне все равно! Она солдат! Она должна уметь справиться с этим!” He spat, bitterly. (*I don't care! She's a soldier! She should be able to handle it!)

You wanted to roll your eyes, and curse at him, but there’s no way you could muster up some energy.

“Охранники! Преподайте ей урок.” (*Guards! Teach her a lesson.)

You froze.

Shit.

You knew what was coming and there was no way you could fight back. You suddenly found yourself lifted off the ground by a man, spotting a small glimpse at the boss who was torn between being pleased and disappointed (You even saw the scientist try to protest), before you entered another world of pain.

You were punched and kicked in so many different ways and in so many different places. You choked on the blood in your mouth, as stars clouded your eyes. You wanted to cry and tell them to stop, but your mind was just way too hazy.

Just stop.... You begged to yourself. Just stop… please…

Suddenly you were held up high, and you caught the familiar metal table that you were once lying on in your vision.

Shit…

You knew what was going to happen, and shut your eyes tight as you started begging again.

Don’t… not again. Don’t knock me out this way again…

You braced yourself as he was bringing you down on the table. You swear you hear your ribs crack when you hit the cement floor, and-

Wait.

Cement?

You heard them gasping, as you slowly started to crack open your (Y/E/C) orbs as you saw the bottom of the table was in your view. You come to an easy conclusion that you were on the floor, with the table hovering above you. But…

How?

What…? Was all you could think before you heard your Handler start cackling.

“Святая корова…” The scientist said in disbelief, his eyes blown wide. (*Holy Cow…)

“Это сработало! Сыворотка подействовала!” The boss yelled, laughing again. (*It worked! The serum worked!)

Serum…? You thought, as your body started to feel tingling, and there was a knot in your stomach. Fuck…

You rolled yourself to your side before vomiting out the acid in your empty stomach. You cried quietly again at how fucking bad your body was hurting right now. The burning and nails were ten fold.

“Наконец-то эксперименты принесли свои плоды. Наконец-то можно запустить фантом проекта!” (*The experimentation has finally paid off. Finally, project phantom can commence!)

You furrowed your brows together.

Project… Phantom…?

Before you can question it some more, you mind, just like always, blacked out into the abyss.

.

.

.

(YOU WERE A WINTER SOLDIER, BUT THEY LOVED TO CALL YOU BY ANOTHER NAME...)

.

.

.

...You were a Winter Soldier.

You worked for HYDRA.

You kill for HYDRA.

And slowly, you could see why.

You were fast. Faster than the vehicles you would see on your missions.

You were strong. Strong enough to flip over a tank.

You were durable. Although you could still bleed, and get bruised, and break bones, they would heal in a matter of a few minutes (depending on the injury of course).

But here was the other ability you had that set you apart from the rest of them.

You could phase. Go through walls and any other solid matter like a ghost. Or…

A Phantom.

‘Phantom’. That’s what they would call you. Dress in black like the grim reaper, a mask and hoodie to keep you concealed as you stab your enemy in their throat, or crack their neck in half, or make them taste lead.

However, the experiments and beating never stopped throughout your history with HYDRA. With every new handler, they would always cause you pain, and you knew why.

And that was because you weren’t perfect.

They’re ‘Project: Phantom’ still had its flaws, and it was because you couldn’t be a Phantom all the time.

You couldn’t phase willingly. It only happened at random, and neither you, nor them, could figure out why.

So they would scream at you, torture you in the chair, starve you for days. You were pushing the age of nine, and you started to feel like it was really your fault, even though you knew it wasn’t.

So they tested you.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over again to see if they could get it right.

One a cold day in your ‘new’ base in Sokovia, you slouched in your retrains, listening to everyone around you argue and cuss at you. You felt your handler slapped you, but you remained unphased because that’s what you were trained to do. Take it, and leave it alone.

“Damn you, Soldat.” Your new boss (yes, new. Shocker, right?) said, straightening up again. He sighs. “No matter, we’ll have to try again. Maybe a few more years back under the ice will help your body learn to adjust, hmm?”

He touches your face with the same hand that causes you pain, and you learned not to flinch or smack it away. He starts stroking your cheeks, and rubbing your chin. He eyed you like a delicious prey.

He chuckles. “No matter, Soldat. We’ll fix you, won’t we?” He said, mischievously. He hums again at your emotionless face. “Won’t we? Мой красивый солдат?” (*My Beautiful Soldier)

His thumb brushes over your split lip before he pulls it away. He looks over his shoulder. “Let’s put her back under, and try again. Hopefully, she’ll be perfect the next time around.”

You didn’t even try to protest, because you realized this was your life. Getting tortured and triggered to do kill missions. So why even try to fight it now? Would the man you still see in your dreams be disappointed? Or was he a monster just like you?

You let them grab, drag you, and shoved into the pod as you waited for your body to freeze over…

And wait to see whoever is going to be your boss next.

.

.

.

(TODAY WAS GOING TO BE DIFFERENT. WHY THOUGH? IT’S THE QUESTION YOU’RE DREADING TO KNOW...)

.

.

.

...You felt the ice melt away from you, even though you were met with a cool breeze of the very same room you were last left in. Only this time, it wasn’t filled up with tables and chairs, and men of various fields staring back at you. No…

It was empty.

As you wobbled on your feet, you weren’t sure what to do because who was supposed to give your mission? You were ready for the trigger words, ready to comply, but for who? No one was here.

Although, your prayers (if you could even call it that) were soon answered when someone circled around to face you. Sandy blonde and dark brown, and eyes the same color, a man with a five o’clock shadow stared back at you with almost a sense of joy.

And something else you couldn’t quite place.

You also couldn’t understand why he was so neatly dressed, and not in a HYDRA uniform.

You were still with HYDRA.

Right?

You opened your mouth to ask what your mission was, but he beat you to it.

“Hello, (Y/N).” He said, surprisingly in English.

You were a bit taken back.

HYDRA rarely spoke in English, unless it was either serious or when they were taunting you with their unwanted touching.

You were confused.

Was this really your company anymore?

He smiles when he can see the wheels turning in her head. With a bit of his accent, he continues. “My name is Helmut Zemo, and I will be your new handler.”

(TBC in ‘A CIVIL WAR IN OUR MINDS)

[buckysbabygorl]

Notice (Part 3) [Steve Rogers Series]

Summary: Y/N and Steve prepare for their “not date”, when things go horribly wrong.

Word Count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

Part 2

~

Y/N stood in front of her closet, wrapped in her simple robe as droplets from her hair dripped on the fabric.

Her eyes raked over her shelves and hanging garments. On the other side of her room, the drawers Steve had rustled through many nights ago lie open, clothes pulled out hastily in search. Her room had exploded with fabric and had been this way for a few hours now.

She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration. “Why is this so hard?”

She had thought her shower would’ve cleared her thoughts, calming her for the night ahead of her. But now as she thought of what to wear, her fears were coming back.

She closed her eyes as she tried to reassure herself, “It’s fine, you’re fine. It’s not a date, it’s not a date…”

“What’s not a date?”

Y/N yelped, making Wanda jump.

“Oh my god,” Wanda teased as she sat on Y/N’s bed, “For an assassin you’re not very spatially aware.”

“Shut up, I’m an agent,” She corrected, “And my non-date… is with Steve. He’s taking me into the city.” Wanda laughed, “That is a date, he’s asking you out.”

“No he didn’t ask me out, he’s taking me out.”

Wanda blinked in confusion. “...I don’t think there’s a difference.”

“Well there is. At least, I think there is.”

“You seem pretty nervous for not a date.”

“Steve and I,” she started, “we’ve never been like this, chummy-I mean. He’s my captain, I’m his teammate, it’s… professional.”

“You think it’s inappropriate?”

“No I wouldn’t say that..”

She sat down on her bed, thumbing over a shirt she was definitely not going to wear. Maybe she was stalling, Y/N didn’t want to admit she was nervous. But she was.

After their night in the gym; they were more comfortable with each other. Evident in how easily they lied in bed with each other the following morning...

Y/N couldn’t seem to get that image out of her head. His hold had been so gentle, his smiles came so easy...

They were spending more time together too, they did paperwork, training, coffee runs.

But nothing like this. Those had all been casual, last minute or coincidental. Now they were actually making plans to be together. Alone.

Whatever this was with Steve, it wasn’t nothing. But in the same turn, she felt she was making this out to be bigger than it was.

“This is nice. Being closer, I mean. I just, I don’t know. Professionalism is easy; there’s a plan. Battle is predictable, we have a strategy. There’s no strategy for this.”

“Says the one that always goes rogue.” She chuckled.

Y/N laughed with her, “Ironic eh?”

She tossed her shirt to the ground, before leaning back to lay on the bed.

“Chaos I can control,” she admitted, “Steve, I can’t.”

Wanda pursed her lips, lying down beside her.

“You’ve been on dates before haven’t you?” She asked.

“Yeah of course.”

Wanda shrugged, “Just do what you normally do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Easier said than done, you know Steve’s not just some normal guy.”

Wanda stretched out her arms as she thought. Steve was nothing special to her; he was a good man, a good friend, a hero. But to her, he was nothing more than a teammate. But as Wanda watched her panic over what to wear for dinner, she realized Steve may be normal to her, but not to Y/N.

Wanda smiled slightly, “No, I guess he’s not.”

She then very un-gracefully rolled off the bed, making Y/N chuckle. She fixed her hair before resting her arms on the bed, sitting on her knees.

“What are you thinking of wearing?” she asked, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Sitting up, Y/N pointed to the door. “This?”

Wanda glared at the hanging garment.

“Y/N that’s a pantsuit.”

“So?”

Wanda stood, still glaring at the formal business attire. “You’re going on a date, not a lunch meeting.”

“Not a date...”

“Fine, not a date, but you still can’t wear that.”

Wanda pushed past her friend and into her closet, shuffling through the hanging clothes before landing on something she liked.

“What about this?”

Y/N smiled, “Oh my god. I haven’t worn this in forever.”

~

Bucky watched as Steve frantically paced the room; he was in full panic now.

“All I asked was what are you doing tonight, you need to relax kid.”

Steve shot him a glare as he fixed his cuff for the millionth time.

“I should’ve asked Sam for help.” He said under his breath.

Bucky chucked a tie in his direction, which was easily caught.

Steve sighed as he unbuttoned the cuff and rolled them up to his elbow. Was that too casual? Was the whole get up too much to begin with? Goddamn, why was this so hard?

“What if this is a bad idea?”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he flopped back onto Steve’s mattress, it wasn’t a bad idea. There was no way in hell this was a bad idea. Things were developing between Steve and Y/N clearly; something new needed to happen between or Steve would be stuck in this pining position for the rest of their lives.

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides, she’s said yes! That’s a good sign Stevie.”

Frustrated, Steve unbuttoned his shirt and grabbed the other that draped over the back of his chair. Fuck it, he was going with the blue one.

“Okay, actually answer me this time. Where are you taking her?”

He avoided Bucky’s eyes as he fiddled with the buttons on his new shirt.

“I’m—I’m not sure…”

“Are you kidding me Rogers?”

“Shut up!” He groaned, turning back and sitting with Bucky on the bed. “I mean I have an idea—I’m just… not sure on one part of it.”

“Well that’s not cryptic at all.” Bucky teased, further agitating his friend. “You tryna get on active duty there, Captain?”

Steve shoved him at the dirty implication, “No punk, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” Bucky huffed as he sat up. 80 years and nothing had changed; Rogers was still predicting a bad date. Now he was the golden boy of the US, 6 foot whatever of pure American grade beef, and he was thinking it would blow.

“Look, it’s not gonna be like before.” Bucky said, “You're not that scrawny kid in back alleys anymore; and even if you were, you’re a good man Steve.”

Steve stopped fidgeting, his hands dropped to his lap as he looked to the floor.

“I just—I don’t wanna mess this up. And I don’t know where she’s at Buck… what if—”

“What if nothing Steve, look, hey—” Bucky snapped his fingers to get Steve’s attention, and the man looked irritatedly back at his friend.

“If you don’t know where she’s at; this is the best way to find out. You’re friends; she likes you Steve. You don’t need to impress her, you just have to treat her right. And I know you can do that, ‘cuz you have been already. Plus, she’s gotta be thinking the same thing. Otherwise she would’ve asked me instead…”

“Watch it.” Steve warned, but the lightness in his tone reassured Bucky that his words were somewhat comforting to him.

“It’s gonna be fine, if it’s not, you know you two will work it out.”

Steve puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled, “Alright.”

“Yeah? Good.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder, riling him up for good measure. “It’s gonna go great, and whatever part you're not sure of, just base it off how the night goes. Alright?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

Bucky smirked as a thought popped into his head, “You know, Sam’s probably got rubbers if you need ‘em.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

~

Steve rested against his motorcycle, hands in his pockets as he kept watch on the stairs.

He huffed at the chill of the air, though the summer was still at its peak and the day had been hot, Steve had forgotten in his excitement how cool the city could get at night.

Perhaps dinner had been a bad idea.

Maybe breakfast would’ve been nice; a tour of the park, feeding some ducks, getting ice cream on the way back…

But no, Steve had opted for dinner, dancing and a midnight tour of the pier. He really wanted to take her star-gazing. It was an idea he couldn’t shake off, and he’d based the whole night around.

Now he was gonna freeze his ass off.

And that’s saying something for a guy stuck in ice over half a century.

He regretted not waiting inside for her, but his nerves took over and he thought best if he went outside for a bit to cool off.

He was starting to think she wasn’t going to show, when the doors of the compound entrance opened.

Pulling tightly on her jacket collar, she exited the building.

Scanning the landscape, she saw Steve.

His look was casual, but polished.

And somehow he made that look sexy as hell.

His classic leather jacket adorned his figure, the blue of his shirt bringing out the light color in his eyes, and damn did those khakis look good on him.

She didn’t look too bad herself.

Steve tried not to ogle her legs in the short dress, the navy piece fitting formly to her torso and flaring out at the bottom.

She didn’t have her hair pulled back for once, and Steve hoped he’d see that more often.

As they stood in front of each other, they were at a loss for words.

This was happening. Actually happening.

He’d taken his shot, it actually worked for once. But now she was right here in front of him, looking as beautiful as she ever had…

And Steve had no idea what to do.

This was all so new with her, they had never been more than friendly to each other.

But things were different, he wasn’t sure how or when it happened, and he couldn’t help but look at her legs in that damn dress.

He thought of the night the slept together, how his hands slid up her thighs as he dressed her...

“You look good.”

The words came out before he could stop them, starling him with how blatantly he said them.

Y/N smiled, looking down at the dress Wanda had picked out just hours before.

“Thanks, you too.”

An awkward silence came between them. Talking about one’s appearance could only go so far.

Though Y/N could’ve raved about his thighs endlessly in her mind, she figured it wasn’t the best conversation topic.

“Taking the Rogers’ mobile tonight?”

She gestured to the bike, mentally kicking herself for the stupidity of her words.

Steve looked back at his motorcycle. He hadn’t thought ahead with the weather, maybe it would be too cold for the bike.

“Oh I, sorry--is that um, is that okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, of course.”

She kicked a small stone at her foot, silence coming between them again.

She had been honest when she’d said it’d been awhile. Between the academy, SHIELD, and the Avengers’ recruitment, she had no spare time to date.

She was rusty.

And the more she thought about it, it made her anxious that her first date was going to be the Steve Rogers: America’s Golden Boy.

“Look, I’ll be honest…” She started, “I’m a little nervous.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank god, me too.”

Y/N laughed as she watched him relax, “Really?”

“Yes, I haven’t done this in years either, you know.”

She nodded, she’d heard that little tidbit from Nat not too long ago. It reassured her some, but still left her with a feeling of butterflies in her stomach.

“Let’s just… cut the tension out, you know? We know each other, let’s just have fun with it.”

He smiles, “I think I can do that.”

He reached out, grabbing her hand and gently pulling her to the bike. Sitting in his seat, he patted the extra leather behind him.

“Hop on, kid.”

Sitting behind him, arms sliding around his torso.

Her touch with the added chill of the air, sent a shiver down his back. It felt like they were climbing into bed all over again, the bumps on her skin rising against his hand...

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “This okay?”

The shiver came again, and Steve smirked.

“You might have to hold tighter than that, doll.”

She giggled as Steve revved the engine.

Just as Steve set his foot on the starter, both their pagers blared.

They shared a look.

“At this hour?” Y/N scoffed.

Steve shook his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out his device.

“It’s Fury, man never sleeps.”

Though he never pegged Fury to be a cock block.

Y/N checked hers too, scowling at the small screen.

“Says it’s urgent… so much for dinner, eh?”

She tried not to let disappointment lace her words.

Steve tried to hide his own disappointment, looking down at the pavement.

Oppourtunity shot down... who knows when he’d get this chance again?

“Yeah, I guess so.” ~ He should’ve driven off anyways.

As Steve wiped the blood off his hands, he ran the mission over and over in his head. 

Should’ve just got to dinner, should’ve just turned the damn phone off...

Stupid, stupid.

He watched as the water swirled down the drain, red staining the white ceramic.

At this point in the night, they would’ve been at the pier. Watching boats enter the marina, admiring how the stars reflected off the dark water…

But things hadn’t gone to plan.

Clearly.

He was angry with Fury. He was angry with himself. And worst of all, he was angry with her.

All that they’d talked about, all they’d went through that night...

He thought she was better. He thought things had changed.

“I can’t believe you.”

It was the first thing he’d said to her in hours.

Bruce hastily stitched up the cut on her forehead as she held the ice pack to her chin.

Even sighing hurt, but she managed one for Steve.

“I had ‘em,” she mumbled, wincing at the ache in her jaw.

Steve gripped the edge of the sink, “Have you looked in the mirror yet? Clearly not.”

She yelped as Bruce pulled on the stitching, his face apologetic as he continued to work.

She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know it was bad. The swelling of her left cheek had made her vision blurry, and the pain was evidence enough.

Not to mention the blood on Steve’s hands…

“I said I was sorry.”

Steve’s knuckles turned white at the tense grip, “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?”

“Rogers, not now…” Bruce reprimanded the Captain in vain. From the audio logs of the mission, he knew there was no calming Steve down.

“Stay out of this Bruce, you weren’t there.”

“I know I wasn’t there: but she’s injured. She needs to rest. You can pick this up in the morning.”

Y/N appreciated Bruce’s attempts at diffusing the situation, but she could fight her own battles.

“What’s done is done. I can’t go back and fix it. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

Steve tried to control his breathing, he didn’t want to yell. But every time his eyes ran over her face, the swollen lip and the blackened eyes...

He had to look away. And fuck, did he want to yell.

“You’re not sorry. You’re angry that I’m angry. And I damn well should be. You’re out of your mind, and sorry doesn’t cut it this time.” 

She glared at Steve from across the room as Bruce tied off the suture, snipping its remnants away.

He could at least look at her.

They got what Fury wanted, she’d been more efficient this time--god damnit, couldn’t he at least look at her?

“I’m still waiting for my thank you.” She muttered.

Bruce inhaled sharply, looking over his shoulder to see Steve’s reaction.

Even though he faced away from them, Bruce sensed the rage in his face.

It tensed his shoulder and showed in his forearms as he cracked the ceramic, before he spun around to face her.

“You expect me to thank you for that?”

She stood up and marched to him, “I expect you to say something. You’ve been silent for hours and all I get is “I can’t believe you”? You got the intel you needed, I gave you extra time. So yeah, I feel like a damn thank you is in order.”

Bruce sighed, tossing bloody gauze and used medical supplies in the trash. He sat down at the table, bracing himself for the hell fire that was coming.

“You’re ridiculous. You gave away our location and that nearly cost us the mission, and our lives.”

She scoffed, “No, I gave away my location to get them off your ass. I held them off on my own until you came back, now we’re home. Safe and sound.”

She gestured to the room around them, false enthusiasm coating her defense.

“Is that what you think these missions are? Sacrificing yourself for no reason to our detriment?”

“What detriment? It was a success, let it go.”

She turned to walk away from him, before his hand curled around her bicep and he pulled her back.

She winced at the bruising grip, facing him with a snarl.

His jaw was tense, his eyes had turned dark at his anger. Ice laced his tone as he spat in her face; “No.”

She tore from his grasp and stared him down.

They stood in a standoff, breathing heavily as adrenaline coursed through them both.

They refused to look away, neither willing to back down.

“No,” he said, “I’m not letting it go. You just got back on the field, and clearly you’ve learned nothing.”

Her eyes went wide, “How dare you--”

“No!”

He interrupted her, poking a finger into her chest.

“How dare you, every goddamn time you put on that suit you become a child. You don’t think ahead, you make stupid decisions, and you try to get yourself killed from no goddamn reason. You throw away everything--”

His hands reached out to grab her shoulders, forcing her to stay in front of him.

“You’re not a super soldier, you have no fucking powers, you have nothing to defend you from things like that.”

With both hands on his chest, she pushed him back. “I’m a fucking Avenger. I know what I’m doing.”

“From what I saw out there? No you don’t. Next time, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Y/N shook her head.

How could he say that?

Why couldn’t he see that she was doing this for a reason?

Of course she’d put her life on the line for her team… for him.

“Steve--”

He put his hand up to stop her.

“Don’t. I thought we’d been through this, I thought that…”

His open sentence hung in the air, and somehow his lack of words hurt her more.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, thinking of the battlefield.

Her body on the ground, all that blood.

Steve thought things were different, but they weren’t.

“I can’t put you out there again.”

She blinked rapidly at his words, stunned at the implication.

“What are you saying?” She asked.

Steve steeled himself for what he was about to do.

He hated this feeling. He didn’t want to do this.

But he couldn’t lose her.

“I’m saying you’re off the team.” ~ She should’ve screamed.

She should’ve told him to go to hell.

Y/N stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the tears that came.

She should’ve told him there was no way that was happening, that she would never leave this team under any circumstances.

She rolled on her side, wincing at the pressure of the mattress against her cheek.

She should’ve fought him on it… but all she did was leave.

It had been a week since Fury had called her into his office, the team had put it to a vote.

“It gives me no pleasure to do this L/N...you’re not off the team, but we’re putting you on leave. You’re under psychological evaluation for six months, and if the shrink deems you fit to return, you’ll have your position.”

Y/N knew what that meant: it meant she wasn’t coming back.

They’d demote her to a SHIELD desk job, or put her on field duty with Woo where they found her.

But she’d never see the battlefield again, she wasn’t an Avenger anymore.

She felt betrayed.

A team vote… that means nearly everyone signed off on it. It wasn’t a civil war this time, it was a unanimous decision.

The team felt she was unfit to be here.

She shook her head, sitting up in bed as the sobs wracked her frame.

What about Nat? What about Tony? Didn’t they understand?

No, she didn’t have a suit of armor, a vibranium arm, soldier serum running through her veins or lethal assassin training, but god dammit she was a good soldier.

She was a good agent. She was smart, she was strong…

Did none of that matter?

Did none of that matter to him?

He saw what she’d been doing, how hard she was trying to make herself better, be a better fighter.

Wasn’t it all about fighting the good fight?

So what if she got bumps and bruises?  She wasn’t immortal, but she had fought alongside the rest of them and kept up pace.

It wasn’t fair.

She rose from her bed, making her way to the bathroom to grab water.

Filling her cup in the sink, she looked up to the mirror.

The black eye was fading to green, but the cut on her forehead was as nasty as when she got it.

Bruce said her nose was broken, she told him not to bother with resetting it.

Tears coated her waterline, which she hastily wiped away.

She was angry.

She hated herself for how she felt.

Not because of what she’d done... but because now, all she could think about was Steve.

She hated herself for wanting to see him, for wanting to talk to him, for wishing they hadn’t taken that damn page.

But he’d betrayed her. He’d gotten her kicked off the team, and she could never forgive him for that.

And never, would she ever apologize.

A knock came at her door.

Turning off the tap, she listened for a voice. Nothing came.

“Get lost.” She called out.

When there was no response, she went back to her bed.

Wanda sat at the foot of it.

“I said get lost, do I need to say it in romanian?”

Y/N trudged to her door, opening it and pointing out into the hallway. “Leave.”

Wanda sighed angrily, crossing her arms but making no moves to stand.

“65 armed HYDRA agents, that’s what the mission report said.”

Y/N rolled her eyes before shutting the door. Clearly Wanda had no intention of listening.

“We cleared through 40 before we even got inside.”

Wanda stood up, standing in front of Y/N with her arms still crossed.

“Which means 25 armed agents were still active, and you turned off your incognito before Steve was in the information tower.”

Y/N’s smile was condescending, brushing past Wanda as she moved to her dresser.

“I’ve handled 25 assailants before, I told him I had it.”

“12 stitches, a broken nose and 3 cracked ribs Y/N.”

“Don’t forget the dislocated shoulder.” Y/N added as she bent to the floor.

Wanda watched as Y/N rustled through her drawers.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

Y/N pulled out her training set, turning with a pair of sneakers in hand.

“Dressing for the gym, if I’m gonna be kept up I’d rather spend it doing something worth my time.”

As she pushed past Wanda, the witch grabbed her wrist.

“Are you insane? You’re in no shape for that right now.”

“What do you care?” She spun around, jabbing Wanda with her shoes. “I’m guessing you voted a yes to my dismissal, why do you give a damn how I spend my time?”

Wanda ran her hands through her head, she was in disbelief.

The team had battled for hours on this. None of them wanted her to go. But going through everything… they knew she wasn’t well.

Wanda had seen it before, but it never really sunk in. Missions with Y/N always ended in chaos, whether it was lying about her location or winding up with a broken bone, she always blew off the plan. They had been successful, but at what cost?

At some point Y/N’s luck was going to run out.

Looking at her swollen black eye, Wanda feared that was coming sooner rather than later.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Y/N leaned against her wall, waiting. Wanda sat on the edge of Y/N’s bed, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Y/N we didn’t vote you off the team. Steve even revoked his statement.”

Y/N shook her head. There was no way Steve would’ve done that, not with how mad he was.

“I bet. Makes sense why I’m on leave for 6 months, then.”

She couldn’t help but be petty, the entire team had gone against her. She couldn’t talk back to Steve, but she could at least hold her stance with Wanda.

“Temporary leave based on psychological evaluation. Y/N--”

Wanda’s head was ducked, staring at the floor. She didn’t want to fight anymore, why couldn’t Y/N just see...

“--Y/N we’re worried about you.”

Wanda tried to wipe away her tears before Y/N saw. She didn’t think Y/N was in the position for sympathy.

“Oh come on, I’m a soldier, I don’t need this.”

“Will you just listen to me? God Y/N, you’ve been in the infirmary 16 times in the last year alone. And not for anything that wasn’t of your own accord.”

Y/N scoffed before stepping towards the bed, shoes and suit still in hand.

“You think I want to get beat up every time I go on a mission?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate as she looked her dead in the eye.

“Yes. I do.”

Y/N finally noticed the wetness of Wanda’s cheeks. The weight of Wanda’s words were heavy. That was what she thought, it was what they all thought.

She shuffled in her spot,unsure of what to say.

“Wanda, I--”

Wanda couldn’t listen to her excuses. She had to make her point.

“You go in without a vest, you go in unarmed, you throw yourself in the line of gunfire, and last time--”

Grabbing her wrists, she forced Y/N to look at her.

“--Last time they beat you to the point where you could’ve stopped breathing.”

Y/N tried to slip from her hands, dropping her things and pulling away.

“That’s not--it’s not like that, it’s for the mission--”

“And what about the training?” Wanda asked, “Leaving at midnight for hours in the gym? Not eating? Not sleeping?”

Y/N’s inhale was sharp, a hollow feeling welled in her chest at the realization that Wanda knew.

“Steve told you?”

Wanda nodded.

Y/N tried to turn away, she needed to escape. She didn’t want to deal with this again. She hadn’t been able to control things that night with Steve, and now she was struggling to get a grasp on things again.

No one was supposed to know. 

He’d seen an ugly side of her, desperate to improve, scrambling to make something of herself.

“That… that was private.”

Wanda stood, reaching out to place her hand on her shoulder. Y/N winced, the swelling still hadn’t gone down. Wanda raised her hand slightly, before gently sliding down to her upper arm.

“Y/N, you’re tearing yourself apart every chance you get. You put your life on the line every time you think someone else is in danger.”

The other hand came to rest on Y/N’s other arm, holding her in place. 

“What are you trying to prove?”

There was no escaping, not this time. She couldn’t run it off like every other time, Wanda was making her face it.

“That I deserve to be here.”

Y/N’s voice was a whisper, a lame attempt at holding back her emotions. Wanda always pulled things out of her that she never expected to reveal to anyone else.

“You do.”

Wanda’s words pulled down Y/N’s walls, a sob escaping Y/N before she could stop it.

She turned, resting her head against Wanda’s chest as she held her tightly. In the dark, quiet room, the sound of her crying was devastating.

Wanda gently rested her cheek against Y/N’s hair, her own tears dripping down.

“Y/N, you’re sick. Your head’s not in the right place… we love you. But we need you to be safe. We need you to take care of yourself.”

Wanda hugged Y/N as she cried, her sobs echoing in the emptiness room.

Y/N couldn’t admit it now, but Wanda was right.

She needed time, she needed to fix things.

Perhaps leaving was the right thing to do

~ 

SORRY IT’S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO UPDATE FORGIVE MEEE

Part 4

Series taglist: @thefallenbibliophilequote

@farfromjustordinary

@thewolfgirluniverse

Master taglist: @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @dumb-ass-3 @cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XII. Highway To Hell (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7169

Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence.

You held a hand up over your shoulder and crouched down near the door, signalling for Carol to do the same behind you. Your gun was pressed snug between your palms, and your knife hung from your belt in case you needed it. Though, from the looks of the place it seemed pretty secure - if the lock you'd just busted open was anything to go by. The two of you were scavenging and had spotted a small general store, deciding to check it out before heading back to the cabin. The group hadn't eaten anything substantial in days, save for the things Daryl had been hunting. Even then, the harsh winter months made it harder for him to pick up tracks when most animals had better shelter than you all did.

It had been a number of weeks since the farm was overrun, but it almost felt like yesterday. The temperature had dropped to freezing seemingly overnight, making your fortunes that much more cruel. Even now, your breath formed clouds of smoke before your eyes, and the cold felt like it had infiltrated your bones at some point and never left. The tips of your fingers stung as they glowed red, exposed through your fingerless gloves, and you were certain that your nose matched, too. Carol's did, that's for sure.

You gave her a quick nod before kicking in the door harshly with your boot, raising your gun as you entered. The inside was bigger than you were expecting, and it took you a few minutes to clear each aisle for walkers. As you did, you noticed how most supplies were missing from the shelves, having been taken before the place was locked up. Still, Glenn had always drilled into you the first rule of scavenging: 'there's nothing good left in this world that isn't hidden.'

Sending a nod to Carol, you put your gun away in your holster before reminding her to stay alert. The two of you split up as she made her way towards the canned goods sections, hoping to find something there. Ever since you'd been on the road, you and Carol had gotten quite a bit closer. At first, she seemed sceptical of Rick and the whole situation you were forced into, as you all did. Though, after time she seemed to realise that he was the group's best shot. Most days, the two of you made dinner with anything you could find, often supplementing the things you were missing with whatever Daryl had managed to bring home from his hunt. Other times, you went scavenging together, as you did today.

At first, Rick absolutely refused to let anyone split up, and you had to abide by his rule. One time he'd caught you mocking his 'this isn't a democracy' speech to Beth behind his back and you'd had to forfeit your portion of squirrel to the greater good that evening. Daryl sneaked you some of his afterwards, however. Though, Rick quickly began to realise that there was no other choice. Before long, you'd gotten good with a gun; taking down walkers each day had that effect. Soon, you were one of the frontrunners whenever you had a house to clear - often fighting alongside him, Glenn and Daryl.

Now, he was comfortable with you leading a few runs of your own and taking Carol along with you. Glenn and Maggie often went together, too, so that you covered more ground. It wasn't that Rick was comfortable with splitting up the group, you thought; he just didn't have a choice. Lori was nearing her due date and you were all practically living on fresh air, moving from place to place quicker than you had the chance to catch your breath.

You hadn't even had time to settle things with Daryl. You barely saw the man. He'd leave first thing in the morning to look for food, and be back late at night - when most of the group had already fallen asleep. Even then, he often took watch straight after he returned. You could tell how responsible he felt for everyone and you saw the worry in his eyes daily, if the bags under them were anything to go by.

After you had kissed Daryl, back at the farm, you only had one conversation about it. It was a couple of days after you all fled, when you were taking watch with him as the rest of the group were stuck camping under the stars. It was brief, and before that the two of you had already gone back to acting as good friends, like usual. He'd told you that he wasn't good with words, and didn't want to just give you some half-assed response in the midst of struggling to survive the Georgia winter. You agreed, and it was decided then that you'd talk about it later. Yet, later never came.

It had been an unspoken rule between the two of you that everyone's safety was the priority. Though, in truth, you hadn't had a single moment where you felt safe since you left the farm. It seemed almost cruel that immediately after you'd told the man that you wanted to live, rather than just survive, you had been thrust out into the vicious world where that's all you could struggle to do. So, the two of you just existed at the moment.

Some mornings you'd wake up to sound of him leaving, and some evenings he'd be back early enough to share a meal with you. Other than that, you lived for the brief occasions where you'd take watch together, when he'd smoke a cigarette next to you and you'd sit in content silence. Though, sometimes it felt like you were frightened to say anything at all, in case you accidentally blurted out all of your feelings at once. So, the both of you barely talked - waiting for the time when you could actually talk.

You shoved some supplies into your satchel as you scoured the aisles. There wasn't much you could see that hadn't been taken already, but you picked up a few bandaids in case you ever needed them. The only thing you were able to save from the farm was your satchel. Luckily, it already had your polaroids in it and a change of clothes, since you'd been packing to move into the Greenes' farmhouse at the time the horde arrived. Still, there was so much you missed from those days.

You missed the material things, like the comfort you got just from seeing Dale's RV parked by the main camp. You missed the flimsy deck chairs surrounding it, and the big apple trees that gave it shade, and the books you'd borrow from Hershel's library to read when you had lookout duty on top of it. You missed your white dress that smelt like the washing powder that Patricia used - even though you knew it wouldn't have survived long out in these dingy, cold places. You even missed the intangible things, and felt a deep longing of nostalgia for the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze or for the sweetness of the air. Those days felt so far away from you now, like the images of them were slipping out of your grasp - like grains of sand before you could catch them.

The things that remained fresh in your mind, however, were the people that you left behind. You missed Patricia and Jimmy and Andrea, and even Shane. As much as that man rubbed you the wrong way, you didn't want to see him die. You didn't want any of them to die. That night was a mess. These days, you often woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. Except, this time it was the faces of your family replacing the walkers that usually inhabited them. You missed the people you'd lost and you missed the place that you all thought was home. You also missed Daryl Dixon.

A loud clatter sounded from a few rows over from you, immediately making you thumb over your gun as you stilled in place.

"Carol?" You called over, unable to see her from behind the tall shelves. "Everything alright?"

She responded instantly, and you felt relief wash over you as she did.

"I'm fine. I just dropped a tin." She reassured you, her voice carrying as an echo in the empty store.

You let out a small sigh before continuing with your poor haul. It was times like these that you really felt your mind wander when it shouldn't. You knew that you should always be cautious, since you promised Rick that you'd look out for Carol. Though, quite frankly, you thought that he didn't give her enough credit. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, but not many people had realised it yet. Daryl had. The friendship the two of them shared was really admirable. He'd been the one to search for Sofia, and comfort Carol after the loss of her - and Carol was equally as good for him as he was for her. She'd been able to coax him out of his shell where even you struggled to, and you could see how he'd started to accept his new role within the group because of her.

You just wished, very selfishly, that you could be with him. You understood that he had a job to do now, and how not everyone was able to do the things he did. The group had women and children and older people and a pregnant Lori. You were all running on empty, barely hanging on as it was. Yet, those nights when he'd come back empty-handed, cursing himself under his breath when he thought you were all asleep, made you want to hold him close. You never did, knowing how much Daryl Dixon hated pity from anyone, but the longing was so strong that it made your eyes sting with tears.

Although things weren't awkward between the two of you, you didn't joke around nearly as much as you used to. The atmosphere always felt heavy, as nobody knew when the next meal would come, or how long this place would be safe before you had to move again. As the nights got bitterly cold, you huddled next to Beth for warmth, or Carol sometimes. You felt absolutely no shame in it. There were only a few tattered blankets to go around, but they barely did anything for your numb toes and stiff fingers. If you weren't all family before, then you definitely were now - given how close you'd all had to become.

Some nights, the ones which were your favourites, Daryl slept beside you. You didn't think it was intentional at first. Or, maybe it was. In the grand scheme of things, it was barely anything at all. Yet, the first time almost made you cry, as it felt like he was reminding you that he still cared for you. It wasn't like you ever embraced him, or did anything remotely intimate. You hadn't ever been anything more than the brief kiss you shared in his tent. Though, it still felt intimate to you.

He'd come in late, as usual, on a particularly cold night. You'd heard him slug off his boots and throw them aside as he stripped out of his heavy winter gear. The whole time, you'd pretended to be asleep, like you normally did. After a while, he finally laid down on the ground, clambering over the sleeping bodies of the rest of the group. You usually all huddled together in one room for warmth. You'd felt the floorboards creak and shift beneath you as he settled next to you, not that you were touching, but close enough to feel his presence and hear his breathing.

Once you were sure he'd fallen asleep, you scooted backwards slightly, so that your backs were touching. It was hardly anything, but the slight warmth you felt from him was more comfort than you'd had in weeks. You were touch starved and hungry and cold. You needed something. When you'd woken up the next morning, he was already gone. He never said anything about it, but since then you'd found yourself occasionally waking up in the middle of the night to your back pressed against his, or sometimes having a hand intertwined with your own.

As you finished down one aisle, you noticed another that had been left untouched. It was a toy section, quite small given the size of the store. Obviously, the necessities had been taken first, and you thought that whatever children had survived the apocalypse probably didn't have many things left to play with - since they were all still here. You trailed your finger over the dusty shelf, feeling the glossy plastic of the boxes and the soft fur of the stuffed animals piled there.

"Looking for something for the baby?" Carol asked, popping up behind you.

You immediately jumped, and flung a hand over your chest as you shot her a look. It had been your fault for not paying attention, but she didn't need to know that.

You shook your head. "Not intentionally." You admitted, eyes scanning over the selection. "But I suppose we could pick something up."

You chose one of the bears and shoved it into your satchel. Usually, you'd have looked for something for Carl, too, but he'd recently been acting a lot older than his years. He wanted to step up and protect everyone like his father, he confessed to you one day. You had to admit, he was a pretty good shot and certainly didn't seem like a child anymore. You didn't want to undermine his efforts by presenting him with an action figure in the midst of your current situation, telling him to take a break from killing walkers to play with it.

"Did you find anything?" You turned to look at Carol, who held up her bag that didn't seem anywhere near full.

She shrugged her shoulders at you and made a face. "Few expired cans, but nothing much." She frowned. "You?"

You shook your head softly and flipped open the flap of your satchel to show her your haul.

"Some bandaids and a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You confessed, picking it out to show her.

You held up the small figure in front of her face, pulling back its comically large head with your thumb and letting it wobble.

"Cute, right?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol just gave a small chuckle in reply, folding her arms as though about to half-heartedly scold a child. You shrugged your shoulders before stuffing it back into the bag. Just because Carl didn't want to play with toys anymore didn't mean that you couldn't.

Carol glanced over at the entrance of the store, before giving the shelves a final scan. "We should get going soon." She noted, her bag clanking as she readjusted it over her shoulder. "Some walkers might have gathered outside by now."

You hummed in response, distracted by the array of multi-coloured boxes. "It's fine, I'll look after you." You said, shooting her a wink as she sighed.

The woman had become used to your teasing by now, and it was a welcomed change from how tense you all were most of the time. Even though you mostly used humor as a coping mechanism, especially when you felt nervous, it seemed to lighten the atmosphere when it got a bit too heavy.

"Though I don't think you even need me." You continued, eyeing the small pistol she had tucked into her jeans. "You're getting pretty good with a gun."

Carol snorted at that, reminding you of the time she almost shot a bullet through Rick's boot not so long ago. In her defence, Rick had been a lot more on edge that day, and you'd been quite tempted to do the same.

"Speak for yourself." She spoke, after you'd tried to convince her otherwise. "You started learning after me and your aim's already on parr with Rick's."

You remembered those first days, and how hard they were. Everyone had fallen into their roles and you'd felt almost stuck in place. You didn't know how best to contribute. It had taken the neighbourhood you were all staying in to get overrun before you had the chance to test your skills. You hadn't wanted to waste bullets before that, but you'd scarcely had a choice then.

"He's a good teacher." You smiled at Carol, giving Rick praise where it was due. "And there's no better practice than being terrified and having to learn on the job." You admitted with a strained laugh.

You continued walking down the aisle slowly, back in the direction of the entrance.

"But you're right, we should go." You agreed, gesturing to the door.

The two of you took a few steps together before you stopped abruptly as something caught your attention, right in the corner of your eye. You whipped your head around to look at one of the glossy toy boxes, reading its bold letter description.

"Oh my god." You mumbled to yourself, below your breath.

Carol looked over at you, confused. "What is it?" She asked, glancing in the direction where you were staring.

You couldn't hold back the grin that spread over your face as you grabbed the box and held it in your hand. You glanced over your shoulder, at Carol, before running your fingers back over the dusty plastic.

"No fucking way!" You yelled in disbelief. It seemed like your luck was finally changing.

Carol peered over your shoulder before letting out a chuckle at your expression.

"Now that would be perfect for the baby." She smiled, staring down at it in your hands.

You shook your head at her, looking up to meet her eyes. "I actually had someone else in mind." You admitted, still feeling the smile tug at the corners of your mouth as you said it. "It's a bit of an inside joke we have."

Carol hummed in reply, but didn't press for answers.

"But I agree." You went on, making room for the box to fit into your satchel. "It'll probably get handed down to baby Grimes at some point."

The walk back to the cabin was pretty uneventful. The two of you stayed in the cover of the forest, out of sight of the main road. You'd had to dispatch a couple of walkers on the way, but nothing that the two of you couldn't handle. At this point, you just wished for another set of clothes that weren't covered in muck and dried blood. You could hardly remember the last time you'd worn something clean - that hadn't just been dunked in a creek when you came across one.

As you walked, you must have strayed slightly off the path that you usually took, since you came across an unfamiliar, old Toyota truck that had veered off road and crashed into a tree. It was covered in dried leaves and all beat up, but you recognised the model as the same one belonging to Otis, back at the Greene farm. It was always parked outside there. It was a simple, two person pick up truck that was rusty red in colour, and it instantly made you think back on the night that you were forced into driving it.

After Rick had told you and Daryl that Randall had escaped, the whole farm went into an uproar. You stayed in the farmhouse whilst some of the group went to look for him, Daryl included. It wasn't long before you spotted the horde coming your way, and Hershel's barn had started to go up in flames in the distance. After that, you could barely remember what had happened.

You'd been with Daryl at first. He shot the walkers that got too close with his crossbow, before switching to guns. You did the same, trying to give the others an opportunity to pile into the vehicles and escape. At some point, however, you got completely cut off from the rest of the group and had been forced back to the opposite side of the farmhouse.

The chaos was indescribable. It was like you'd been drafted up for war in the span of half an hour. Soon, you had run out of bullets and only had your knife left to defend yourself. So, you ran. Not able to see any of the others anymore, you sprinted for the last vehicle left - Otis' old Toyota truck. You flung the door open and clambered inside, locking it just in time to avoid the hands that smacked up onto the glass windows. You remembered how your chest heaved as your hands fumbled around the dash frantically. You finally found the keys tucked into the sun visor above your head, and almost cried from relief.

When your hands stopped shaking long enough to put it in the ignition, you turned the key only for the engine to rumble once before falling flat. You tried it again, and it gave out a choked sputter and died.

"No, no, no." You whispered, turning the key over and over to try and start the truck. "This can't be happening."

The windows had almost been completely blacked out by the number of hands and faces pressed against them, the walkers snapping their jaws at you as you panicked inside. In the rearview mirror, you could even see some start to clamber into the truck bed, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they completely swarmed you. You slammed your hands onto the steering wheel in frustration and yelled, not caring whether you attracted more.

"I can't die now, I just kissed that stubborn asshole!" You screamed, accidentally hitting the windscreen wiper stick with your elbow. You watched as the blade caught one of the walkers' flesh and smeared it over the glass.

"Fucking great." You sighed, and turned the key again.

This time, you felt it catch slightly between your fingers, and thought that perhaps the starter motor was sticking. The truck hadn't been used since Otis' death, but it still seemed to have some life in it. You jiggled the key and turned it half way, praying to every deity you could think of. You twisted it fully, and the engine roared to life. You held your breath for a few seconds, not entirely trusting it, but as it continued to rumble you realised that it had started properly this time.

Not wanting to sit around any longer, you immediately set off, mowing down the stream of walkers in front of you all while hoping that the car wouldn't flip over. You watched your mirror as the ones clinging onto the truck bed were flung off as you picked up speed, and you almost wanted to yell out in triumph - but felt like you might be sick if you did so.

The truck was hell to drive. You couldn't figure out the stick for a while and your windscreen was covered in blood and smeared guts. You knew you had to head for the highway where the supplies for Sofia were left. You'd gone with Rick one time, when he went to wait for her there at noon. As you pulled out of Hershel's farm, you gave a final glance back in your mirror to see your home burn and become entirely inhabited by the undead - and noticed your little yellow submarine trampled to the ground as you did so.

As you neared the highway, after driving on the wrong side of the road for a while without realising it, you felt a knot start to form in your stomach. You hadn't seen the others get away - you didn't know if they were alive or dead, or even if they would have waited for you if they managed to escape. Your eyes blurred with tears as you drove, still not feeling any sense of relief despite having made it out of the farm. You just prayed that everyone was safe.

When you got closer to the meeting spot, you immediately noticed the familiar vehicles from the farm, and even Daryl's motorbike, all parked up. You stopped the truck once you couldn't go any further, being blocked by the abandoned cars. The group began to approach you quickly as you clambered out and hit the floor with shaky feet. Glenn reached you first, smiling widely when he saw that you were okay.

"Is that you?" He asked, clapping a hand over your trembling shoulders. "I've never seen anyone drive that badly before-"

You didn't let him finish, instead running over to Daryl on unsteady feet. You flung yourself into his arms, which pulled you in close and held you tight. You sobbed louder than you thought you ever had before, crying into his chest as you felt one of his hands stroke softly over your back. You didn't care what anyone thought at this moment. Nothing could describe the feeling of losing your home and thinking your family was dead. You realised how close you had been to being all alone, once again.

"Hey, c'mon look at me." He said softly, trying to pry himself out of your grip.

He lifted your chin up with his finger and you knew that you must've looked quite the state. Your eyes were completely blurred with tears, so much that you could barely make out the man in front of you, and your nose ran as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

"It's a'right." He reassured you, looking into your eyes as if realising that you needed further convincing. "Yer safe."

You looked around at the group, taking in their faces and feeling your hands tremble against Daryl's chest as they clutched the material of his shirt still. Everyone looked relieved, and offered you small smiles of comfort.

You stepped back from the man a little, giving him his space. You still couldn't stop the tears from falling. It was as if your body still hadn't caught up to your mind.

"I was so scared." You admitted quietly, voice quivering as you did so. "I thought you'd all left me."

You didn't drop your hands from his chest, letting yourself feel his heartbeat beneath your palms as a reminder that this was all real.

Daryl shook his head at you. "We'd never leave ya, Teach" He grumbled, as though he couldn't believe you'd even suggest it. "Went back to look for ya on the bike but I couldn't find ya."

Maggie stepped forward, pulling you into a hug as you finally released Daryl's shirt from your grip. She stroked your hair as she brought you into her chest, and you felt tears stream down your cheeks.

"You scared us all half to death." She told you, before gripping onto your shoulders tightly as you stood back from her.

Glenn nodded in agreement, before letting out a small chuckle. "Then we spotted Otis' truck barreling down the highway." He said, pointing over to the vehicle you'd abandoned. "Thought a walker was driving it the way you were swerving all over the place."

You tried to let out a laugh in return, but it came out all watery in between your sobs.

"The gearstick-" you choked out, hiccuping as you spoke. "Had to change gears with the wrong hand." You explained, lifting your arm to give a poor demonstration as you continued to cry.

"You-" you spluttered, letting out a wail mixed with a desperate laugh. "You stupid Americans."

It was a few days before you and Daryl crossed paths in the cabin again. It was late and you'd been trying to sleep for a few hours when the door creaked open. He'd shuffled around for a bit before you heard him take over watch duty from Glenn. At first, you'd wanted to go outside and scold him for never taking the time to rest, but after a few minutes you decided on a different plan. Prying yourself out from underneath the blanket you shared with Beth, you pulled on your boots - not bothering to do up the laces. The icy breeze hit your skin and caused it to prickle instantly, making you wish you had a spare comforter to take with you. You wouldn't be surprised if it snowed soon, given how dry and bitter the air had felt on your cheek earlier that day.

You retrieved your satchel and tip-toed around the sleeping bodies, doing your best not to step on any creaky floorboards and disturb them. You opened the cabin door slowly, and shut it behind you as you stepped out into the night. Daryl was sitting on the stone wall a few feet away, and you could tell that the smoke coming from his lips was from more than just the cold. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and you could make out the familiar lighter that he flicked open and closed in his other hand. You approached with purposefully loud footsteps, not wanting to startle him. He didn't turn around, waiting until you came closer.

"Mind if I join you?" You shot him a smile, pulling your arms to your chest to try and protect yourself against the chill.

He hummed in response, and you noticed how exhausted he looked in the glow of the lighter flame that flickered near his cheeks. His hands were covered in dirt, as were parts of his face, and his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck despite how cold it was. Though, you were sure that you didn't look any better. Your once white vest was now a grubby brown colour and you'd pulled your long hair into a bun on top of your head about a week ago and hadn't looked back since.

Wordlessly, the man shrugged off the poncho he'd found recently, and handed it to you. He had another leather jacket on underneath, but you still felt guilty. You thanked him, pulling it over your head and instantly feeling grateful for the warmth that engulfed you. He then pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering it over to you where he sat. You shook your head and gave him a small smile as he shrugged and stuffed them back into his jacket.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just watching and listening to the night. Nothing was uncomfortable between you. It's just that the two of you were almost like magnets, trying to intentionally stay away from each other. You feared that the two of you might never be able to seperate if you stuck together for good. It wasn't awkward, but there was definitely unspoken tension, like you were both waiting for something that you couldn't let happen yet.

"I miss my tent." You sighed, watching your breath appear as a small puff of air against the black night.

Daryl grumbled at that. "I sure as hell don't." He muttered, taking a final drag from his smoke before snuffing it out on the wall. "Thing was an eyesore."

You chuckled a bit at his response, not really sure what you were expecting. "You loved it, really." You teased, shooting him a wink that he dismissed.

"Whatever, Sunshine." He mumbled back, but his voice sounded a lot lighter than it had for a while.

After a few seconds, you remembered your satchel, now safely tucked away in the warmth of the poncho you wore. You fumbled around beneath it for a bit, which made Daryl give you a look, before pulling out the canvas bag and setting it onto your lap.

"I have something for you." You beamed, feeling the breeze sting your sore, chapped lips.

Daryl sighed at you, finally looking over to meet your eyes.

"Ya need to stop gettin' me shit." He drawled, with no bite behind his words.

You shook your head quickly at the accusation. "It isn't from me!" You almost yelled, before reminding yourself that there were people sleeping a few feet away, and lowering your voice.

You glanced back at the cabin and pointed to it. "This place has no chimney, so he told me to pass it onto you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at you, which you ignored. Instead, you fished around in your satchel until you found what you were looking for. You could barely contain your excitement as you pulled out the box wrapped messily in old newspapers, and handed it to him expectantly.

He took it from you carefully, as though not entirely trusting it. Though, he still held it gently in his hand, in case he was afraid to break it. You watched intently as he flipped it over and squinted his eyes at the writing on it, confusion clear on his face. You'd scribbled on it earlier in the day, having found a sharpie tucked away in one of the drawers. You'd tried to do it secretively, but almost had a heart attack when Glenn asked you what you were doing - dropping the gift and kicking it under the couch until he promised to leave. Luckily, you hadn't found any dents on it afterwards. Yet, you now found it almost comical how carefully Daryl treated the box, considering what you had done to it only a few hours before.

Your eyes scanned over the letters with him as he read them, seeing the words written on top of the newspaper in black, bold print:

'To Young Daryl Dixon,

Merry Christmas!

From, Father Christmas.'

By the time he looked up to question you, you were already watching his eyes - waiting to see his expression. At the moment, his face was still scrunched up in confusion, which made you chuckle. The man looked at you like you'd just handed him a bomb he didn't know how to diffuse.

"Father Christmas?" He asked slowly, like the syllables were foreign on his tongue.

You cocked your head to the side, looking back down at the gift and wondering if you'd made a mistake. Your eyes widened.

"Shit." You muttered below your breath, before looking back up to meet his gaze. "It's Santa Clause to you people, isn't it?" You questioned.

Daryl looked at you in disbelief, as if wondering what the hell you were going on about. You were used to that look from him by now, and continued to ramble.

"I'm sure that's what he meant." You said, nodding. "He probably was in a rush when he wrote it." You looked away from the man, trying not to giggle as you remembered the whole incident between you and Glenn.

He continued to stare at you before shaking his head.

"Yer crazy, woman." He grumbled, picking the wrapped box back up to inspect it closer.

You felt your patience reach its limit, unable to contain your excitement anymore. You shoved his arm.

"Just open it!" You ordered, and he did.

For a man so rough around the edges, you'd never seen someone unwrap a gift so gently before. He didn't rip into the paper like you would have, but spent a few extra seconds pulling the parcel tape off and unfolding it with care. Once it was opened up on his lap, you watched his face as he finally saw the plastic box inside.

You knew it wasn't the exact same one he'd told you about, from all of those years ago, but it must've been close. It was a child's sheriff kit. It had the little hat that looked similar to Rick's, and the pointy metal badge in the shape of a star. When you'd seen it in the store, you just knew you had to get it for him. He might have forgotten telling you about it by now, but you had remembered.

"It didn't come with a gun, I'm afraid." You pointed to the plastic window of the box, explaining it to him. "But we have plenty of those."

You shot him a smile as you saw his expression. It was still confused, as he glanced between you and the box in his palms, but it was a lot more shy and uncertain now. You could almost see the thoughts working overtime in that head of his, as he processed it all, and decided to stop staring at him.

"It was either this or a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You noted, feeling your cheeks hurt at how much you were beaming at the man. "And I wanted the bobblehead."

He sat in silence, just listening to your ramblings as he usually did. His eyes were still fixated on the gift, as if making up for all the years he'd wished for it as a child. You desperately wanted to slip your hand into his, or rest your head on his shoulder - but you refrained. You didn't want to take away from this moment; you just wanted to watch it. That, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to let him go if you did.

"You said how you never got any presents as a kid." You started carefully, trying to navigate your thoughts into words. "It made me sad." You admitted, in more of a whisper this time.

Daryl looked over at you, his expression soft. It was like he was uncertain of his own words, too.

"I know it's stupid." You confessed, voice trailing off as you lost your nerve.

"Nah it aint." He interrupted, shaking his head and trying to get you to look at him. "I love it."

You thought he was being sarcastic until your eyes met his and you saw the sincerity within them, and suddenly your breath caught in your throat. Daryl Dixon gave you a smile so warm that it almost made you forget it was winter. You didn't know he could even make these kinds of expressions, and you weren't able to entirely hide your reaction. Though, his smile went as quickly as it came. He looked away from you, as if noticing he'd let his stubborn, unapproachable wall crumble down. You snorted, wondering if he truly hadn't realised that you knew him better than that by now.

"I thought that baby Grimes could play with it eventually." You suggested, and he hummed in agreement.

"But in the meantime-" you continued, taking the box from his hands and opening it.

He watched you with curious eyes but didn't say anything, just letting you carry on like you had him wrapped around your little finger. You fumbled with the box, pulling out the star shaped badge, before handing the rest back. You turned so that you were facing opposite him, and pulled on his leather jacket so that it opened.

He grumbled at you as you did it, but made no effort to pull away or stop you. Instead, you flipped open one side of his jacket and pinned the badge on the material inside, closing it again before the cold set it.

"It belongs to Deputy Dixon, as promised." You finished with a smile, watching as he thumbed over the metal concealed in his jacket. The look on his face showed just how much he struggled to figure you out.

To your surprise, he didn't remove it straight away. He just bit his lip, as though trying to think of how to respond.

"Yer too much, Teach." He said lowly, after a few seconds.

"How so?" You asked.

He glanced back down into his lap, at the box that was still resting there. "Doin' all this." He mumbled, seeming like he was holding himself back. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You bring back comics for Carl, an' stuff for the baby." He said, looking down as he spoke. "We're all here tryna do our best jus' to survive, an' you come in with that huge beamin' smile on yer face showin' us a bobblehead ya found."

He finally met your eyes, and you could see from his look that he just genuinely couldn't comprehend it. You seemed to completely allude Daryl Dixon, and the thought of him struggling to try to understand you better made you almost giddy.

"I know it's odd." You admitted, pulling the poncho closer to your body as the wind picked up. "But just because our priority is surviving doesn't mean that we should put off living."

You bit your lip. This was the most you had spoken to the man in weeks, and as the seconds went by you found it harder and harder to hold yourself back.

"I thought you could use a reminder of that." You said, offering him a small smile. "You work so hard to try and keep us all fed and safe, I wanted to give you something as a thank you."

The newspaper fluttered in the breeze, and Daryl barely caught hold of it as a gust picked it up. You caught a glimpse of your handwriting, where he held it between his fingers.

"Santa Clause did, I mean." You corrected.

You sat together in silence for a while, but the man didn't light any more cigarettes. You felt yourself growing tired and attempted to convince him to swap his shift with someone else, but he refused. You knew the sun would start to rise in a couple of hours, so you wanted to get some sleep before then. Begrudgingly, you shuffled out of the oversized poncho and offered it back to the man before you left, immediately being reminded of how icy the weather had gotten. He shook his head at your outstretched hand, which you had already expected.

"Nah, you keep it." He said, in a way that left you no room to argue.

You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling nostalgic at the familiar situation. This time, however, you didn't fight with him. Slipping the material back over your head, you huddled it to your chest and whispered a soft 'thanks' to him. The sky was still dark, and kept you wondering whether you would start to see sleet fall in the next couple of days. You looked back over to the dilapidated cabin, with its wooden weathered walls and its roof that looked close to caving in. It was a far cry from Hershel's idyllic farmhouse, but somehow you didn't seem to mind as much on this specific night.

You slipped off the stone wall you'd been sitting on and stood up on your tip-toes to reach the man still sat there. You brushed away the hair over his face with the palm of your hand, and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead before turning to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Daryl." You told him, and returned to the house to watch the first snowflakes fall from the window.

A/N Don't you love it when the plot points you set up 6 chapters ago come back around to be resolved. It's *delicious*. I think I would actually pay to see the Christmas scene play out. There's only so much imagination can do - I want to see Daryl's shy reaction in person, too!

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