#go back to that place. he feels like a complete failure right now.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

the higher-ups (and Yaga) immediately trying to leverage Gojo & Ieri's absence to put Yuuta on the roster??? God that's such a stark moment. Thank god Nanami and Gojo saw through that one immediately, because Yuuta wants to justify his own survival so badly he would've fallen straight into it.

That whole scene, with Yuuta immediately jumping on the opportunity to help people even though something is Extremely Wrong with him and he's on the brink of physical collapse--this boy is selfless to the point of self destruction and I am chewing the drywall about it. I love him so much.

If only he was able to summon his newly found homicidal rage in defense of himself, the higher-ups would no longer be a problem. Alas, this boy is Extremely Unwell.

(Sea Glass Gardens is absolutely incredible and i am obsessed with it in a way that is totally and 100% normal. I'm so normal about it, trust me <3 )

The thing about Yuuta is that he really is prime to be taken advantage of right now and the higher ups know it. They had him try to kill himself for them--they know that there's a window of opportunity that they can use to get him under their thumb and avoid The Problem of Gojo, which is, namely, having a human weapon who you cannot fully control. Gojo nailed it from the beginning: they want a magic gatling gun with no personality or free will. They learned their lesson with Gojo and are trying to rob Yuuta of his agency before he learns how to protect himself.

And Yaga's part in that scene really was meant to kind of emphasize how, even with the best intention's, he just doesn't work to protect the kids. Like. everything he said was technically true, and he meant it with the best of intentions. He's the guy who has to think of everyone's needs. he has to manage this crisis. he's got a lot of people hurt badly who just came out of a war, and a lot of people going into fights with some very aggravated curses spawning without sufficient manpower to address the danger and no healer to save them if they cut it a little too close. He didn't have the intention of manipulating or sacrificing Yuuta, but he was aware that it would come to his detriment and risk.

The issue is the higher ups. They don't give a shit about the people in their workforce. They should be the ones doing whatever it takes to solve this crisis and save their people--and if that means giving up on their machinations? They should have already done it. It's their responsibility.

They just don't care. They want Okkotsu Yuuta under their thumb, and their society hemorrhaging is treated like an opportunity, not a dire problem to be solved. They don't care if half a dozen of their own people need to die to do it. Hell, it's better if they do die--they can put it straight on Okkotsu for not being willing to sacrifice himself, when they should have been making whatever promises they had to in order to make this work.

Gojo's done this before, is the thing. He was Yuuta, a long time ago. Nanami was right there watching it happen. They both know what the higher ups do: They let society get to a crisis level and put all the responsibility on you to save it. they let you maneuver yourself into a vulnerable position as a result, and then they use it as leverage to put their goddamn boot on your neck.

The thing is that Gojo adopting megumi all those years ago really did put them into a crisis state. the zenin pitched the mother of all bitch fits trying to secure his unconditional return, and they were a huge percentage of jujutsu society's labor force and resource pools. instead of the higher ups managing the problem at all, they took advantage of the situation and shoved more and more of its weight and responsibility onto gojo, until he was dropping off his own kid at his abusers' compound thinking it was the only compromise that could resolve things. megumi paid the price for gojo not calling bullshit, and right now, with him in a hospital bed? gojo's less willing to repeat mistakes than ever.

he knows that they're going to use the safety and suffering of everyone else as the leverage against him, and he knows that as terrible as it is, he cannot blink first. He's played this game before, and he knows that the only way to get the higher ups to back off on something like this is to dig in your heels.

I think what happened to Megumi all those years ago and how bad it got before they put a stop to it is something that haunts all three of them. When they first started raising him, they were very young, and they were very broken, and they loved him very, very much. He was their little boy, and he was never the same after the Zenin. They were supposed to protect him, and they didn't, and not a single one of them has forgiven themselves for that.

Megumi was sort of sacrificed for the greater good when he was a kid. None of them thought that that was what they were doing when it happened, but that's what happened. His happiness, safety, and wellbeing were sacrificed to pacify the Zenin and make it easier on everyone else.

Megumi and Tsumiki had to become their non-negotiables after. They had to become the things they refused to compromise on. The Zenin would take miles and miles if you gave them a millimeter, let alone an inch.

Gojo didn't think he was compromising them when he left them on their own to deal with Geto's war. They were disgustingly self-sufficient kids. They had been alone for longer stretches of time when they were practically toddlers--they should have been fine on their own for a couple of weeks.

But they were still his kids, and he still left them alone for everyone else's sake, and now his kid is blind and half dead in a hospital bed. It's like being punched in the face by old mistakes.

So they're off the roster completely, all of them. And they're not compromising an inch on what their focus is, and they're not letting anything happen to any of the other kids in their care.

It's terrible that their coworkers are suffering, but it wouldn't be happening if the Zenin hadn't fucked with Gojo Satoru's kid, of all the goddamn people. It wouldn't be happening if the higher ups would actually do their job and start managing shit.

And if they use Yuuta as an anxiety riddled bandaid on the bullet hole in their society? Then they'd be sacrificing him the way they sacrificed Megumi all those years ago. And they have never been less willing to do that.

I'm so so glad you like the story! Thank you for talking with me!

[blushy-tigerrr]

vent in tags sorry

cw: mention of loss

[sanakiras]

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[lowkeyrobin]

UMBRELLA! BEN ; a million timelines

summary ; you'll always end up with one certain face in every universe and timeline

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; ben isn't dead, umbrella! ben in fact bc I love that dork sm, viktor is already transitioned the whole way through, random word vomit

track ; not a lot, just forever, adrianne lenker

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

It seemed in every timeline, you'd be semy straight back to Ben's side.

You were intertwined, sewn together, in fact.

In 2019, you were reunited with him after Sir Reginald Hargreeves' death. You hadn't seen each other since you were kids, it'd been years.

You didn't have any special powers like the Hargreeves' did, you were just their normal friend who lived next door above the laundromat. You came back to town for other reasons, but when you heard the news, you had to go see them.

Your eyes first landed on Viktor, his short hair completely different from his old, long, luscious locks. You immediately smiled, wrapping him in a solemn hug, congratulating him yet showing remorse and compassion over his dad's timely demise.

You went through the rest of the siblings, other than Five, as he'd gone missing all those years ago.

Then up came Ben.

You could feel the soft look on his face as he looked at you, finally being reunited after all this time. He was by far your favorite of the academy, holding a special spot in your heart.

It wasn't just that his cool tentacle shit that drew you to him. He was a total dork, and you adored it. He always found a way to make you smile, he noticed the smallest of things, he was so sweet and compassionate. He could light up a room like a flashlight in the dark.

He wrapped you in a hug, spinning you around in joy.

"Oh my God, Y/n!"

"Ben!"

Your smiles were unmatched, the other siblings watching with little smiles, nostalgia crashing against their mental shores. They loved you too, but they also loved seeing their two favorite people together again.

"God, why are you here?"

"Came back for some stuff, but also for you guys. Sorry about your dad"

"It was coming-"

"He was murdered"

"Luther!"

You softly chuckle, hiding your face in his shoulder, enjoying the sweet dopamine rush infecting your brain.

You were stuck to Ben by the hip, almost literally, as you landed on cold, wet concrete on April 28th, 1960. You share a panicked look, calling for any of the other Hargreeves' before eventually giving in to failure.

At least you still had each other.

You spent the next three years thinking the others were dead and that you were permanently trapped in the sixties. You worked in a bar, and he worked right beside you. You both didn't understand that without degrees, you were hired, but it was much better than nothing.

Then you were reunited with Klaus, then Five, then the others.

But of course, some weird fuck up in the space time continuum forced the world to attempt to kill itself, again.

And once again, you stood behind Ben as he unleashed the tentacles from his internal organs to protect you and his family.

Good God, what did you do to get wrapped up in all this?

That lead you all astray again back in 2019, thankfully, but some other superpowered people had taken the Umbrella Academy's place. The Sparrow Academy.

But once again, you were right by Ben's side.

You were at his side during the first Kugelblitz, travelling with Five and Klaus to meet Klaus' already deceased mom, and at the end-of-the-world wedding between Luther and Sloane.

You now sit at the bar at the Hotel Obisidian, sipping on mocktails as you watch Luther and Sloane break it down on the dance floor. A tune calls your name, screaming for you and Ben to jump out there.

Just Like Heaven by The Cure.

"Oh my God, we loved The Cure when we were little!" You giggle, only a buzz directing the slight slur in your words.

Ben smiles, "We did"

"Come on" You quickly set your glass down on the counter, looking over at Ben, who hasn't moved, giving you a raised eyebrow. "C'mon, Ben"

He looks over at Five who rolls his eyes, sipping on some sort of champagne. Ben gives into your pleads, setting his glass down to go with you.

You join Luther and Sloane, and Klaus and Viktor, on the dance floor, allowing the song to consume you inside out. You jump about, singing along to the lyrics as you hold each other's hands.

Colorful lights splash upon your faces, blinding you for milliseconds as they pass you by.

Five, now accompanied by Diego and Lila, watches you two from afar. He lightly smiles, enjoying the smiles on your faces as you await to be disintegrated into dust as the world crumbles around you.

"Even in every jump across the space time continuum and in every alternate timeline that will somehow find a way to end, they're always at the end together" Five observes, glancing over at the couple, elbows rested against the bar behind him.

Lila gives him a cringed look, not understanding a word of the gibberish he'd just spoken. Diego sighs and shakes his head, taking a bite out of a bologna sandwich he made for himself.

"It's cute," Five clarifies.

"Why don't you get out there?" Diego asks Five, "The world is about to end. Enjoy it, Ebenezer Scrooge McDuck"

Five chuckles. "Yeah, let me go enjoy the world fading into dust at every touch." He sets his glass down on the bar, deciding to go join the enthusiastic group of mentally dead Hargreeves' plus you.

You and Ben, even as the song switches, continue to dance together, creating a little circle with Klaus and Viktor so Sloane and Luther could have their little alone time. Eventually, the whole family is on the dance floor, enjoying their final hours on Earth.

After a while, you crash on the floor beneath the couch, mindlessly listening to Luther, Five, Diego, Klaus, and Viktor drunkenly sing along to Seal's Kiss From A Rose. Allison, Sloane, and Lila enjoy the show, singing along from the couch.

Five, noticing you two were slumped over, half dead, calls out to you. "Hey, lovebirds! Get up here!"

You and Ben immediately look down toward each other, your feet touching one another's, giggling like little kids as you realize what Five had called you. You crawl up to your hands and knees, then rise to your feet, joining the brothers up on the little karaoke stage.

"Now that your rose is in bloom, a light hits the gloom on the grey!"

It was true, in the end of each timeline, in each version of the world ending, you and Ben would end up side by side. Nothing, not even theories and paradoxes, and jumps across the fabric of the universe could separate you.

[shotmrmiller]

absolutely not a smoker but

imagine stepping out of that rowdy pub you tend to visit with your friends. The chilly evening air cooling your overheated skin.

The place can get a little too lively, sometimes you have to step out to take a breather. Or a smoke break, like in this instance.

Placing the lit cigarette in the corner of your mouth, you lean back against the brick wall of the establishment, feeling the cold seep through your jacket. Tipping your head back, you gaze at the night sky; shimmering specks of light scattered across the deep darkness, with the full moon gently illuminating the surroundings.

And then the pub doors squeal as they swing open, but you keep your eyes up and away.

Gravel crunches under the person's feet as they walk. Only for those footsteps to get closer to you.

God fucking damnit. You don't want to talk to anyone right now- your social battery is currently charging.

Exhaling softly, you close your eyes and open them as you turn to look at whoever is approaching and... the cigarette almost slips from your fingers from the fright.

A man that's a head taller than most, shoulders too broad, chest like a barrel. His thigh was the size of both of yours pressed together. He wore all black- the leather jacket creased around where the sleeves and where the elbow crooks. Well-worn but still in good condition.

But what almost sent your heart into failure was the skull balaclava mask he wore over his face.

Fucking hell, why is he staring at you like that?

Tapping the smoke with your pointer, you place it back in your mouth and pull the sides of your open jacket over your midsection, crossing your arms after.

"Can I help you?"

His response is immediate. "Bum a cig off ya?" he asks, a mancunian accent heavy on his tongue.

Shrugging to yourself, you shake the box and offer him the one, which he takes without even a thank you.

Ingrate.

"Got a match?"

Wordlessly, the lighter clicks once and a weak flame comes out of it. Only to get snuffed by the crisp breeze. Your thumb rotates the spark wheel once again, but this time you cup your hand around the pathetic little fire.

It holds long enough, so you watch him pull the mask up just enough to put the smoke in between his thin, chapped lips and lean forward to the lighter in your hands.

A warm puff of air extinguishes the flame.

His dark eyes cut to you- dark, nondescript. You flick the tip of your cigarette with your tongue in frustration.

Then his gaze wanders to the dim, orange glow on the other end. "Bum the light, then."

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline but otherwise do as he says- rising to the tiptoes, and draw in a steady breath, the burning end flaring.

His face gets too close to what anyone would deem appropriate, getting a real good view of his unfairly long, wispy ash-brown lashes that framed his eyes.

The furl of smoke begins to rise, stinging your nose, and he finally straightens, the lit cigarette bouncing in his mouth.

The silence after is comfortable, just two complete and utter strangers having a smoke.

Tossing the filter to the ground, you step on it and crush it with your heel as exhale the remnants of it. A small wave his way and you head back inside.

If you'd paid any sort of attention, you would've noticed that the smoke that came out of his mouth was too thick, concentrated. As if it just sat there, instead of going through his lungs.

He gives it 3 more minutes before putting out his own, nearly full cig under his boot and following right behind you.

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Gym Buddy⭐️

Premise: You made a new friend at the gym, and he is determined to make sure you get a good pump.

Warning: Non-con, fem reader

Minors DNI

Working out with you is almost too much. You're cute, smaller body is too much. The way you look up at him and thank him when he takes the weight off you when you push your body to failure. The way you whimper when you can't do one more rep. He first saw you looking at a machine for biceps and you seemed ok, but your form could be a bit better so he decided he'd help you by correcting it.

The next time he saw you, you were trying a bicep workout, but you were lifting too heavy and it was messing up your form. Proper form is essential to any excersize and without it, you could risk pulling a muscle. He couldnt just stand by and let you do that so he became your gym buddy whenever he spotted you.

You always look so nervous when he talks to you. You can't even maintain eye contact, but when you do, you look up at him and smile sheepishly. It warms his heart. You thanked him for helping you with your workout and walked on your mary way.

He smiled and continued on with his until he saw you patiently waiting for him to finish his set from the corner of his eye. You're blushing all cute and averting eyes again. He takes out his earbud and looks over at you. "I-I feel like I didn't properly thank you before so thank you again. I really appreciate your help," You say, becoming cherry red by the end.

He wants to just pick you up and take you home. You're like a cute little bunny. He's a respectful guy so he's only ever looked at your body in the places he needs to for your form, but he'd be lying if he said they never drifted to other places. From your sweet-looking neck to the curve of your back, all the way down to your cute butt.

The way your workout clothes fit your body so tight in all the right places. He wonders if you want the attention. When you wear crop tops...or when he's lucky and you wear your super short shorts. The ones that barely cover your...He shakes his head. He can't get hard in the gym again. "No problem. You're very polite, you know," He says. You knod your head in thanks.

You scamper off to go do cute girl things, probably. He hopes you don't have a boyfriend. Actually, theres no way you do. No man would let a girl like you out of their site. Especially in a testosterone filled gym. And talk to other guys? No way. If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be fighting him right now.

If you had a boyfriend, your boyfriend would be laying on the ground, broken and defeated, bleeding from every orifice. He clenches his fists, his veins protruding. He'd lay the bastard the fuck out without a second of hesitation. No mercy and no reasoning. He finishes his workout with more vigour than usual.

The next time he spotted you at the gym, he saw some guy about to walk up to you. They're like fucking flies. This is the third one this week. He speeds up his pace and gets to you first before the fly could get its chance. The other guy turns tail immediately, confusing you because it looked like he'd wanted to talk to you.

"Hey, nice to see you again," he says, smiling that usual charming smile. 'The ladies probably go nuts for this guy,' you thought. "Nice to see you too!" Your voice is so sweet. It's like honey. He's memorized the texture of your sound. "Your arms look really good," you say, your face completely red. That came out of nowhere. He wonders how long you've been working up the courage to say that to him. He chuckles and flexes. "Thank you, I'm very proud of them."

He swears he could eat you up. Just the way you look at his body, whether it be in admiration or otherwise, it's all the same to him. "Do you want to get protein shakes after this? I can make them really tasty." You're going. Whether you like it or not.

"Oh..uhm, you don't have to! I don't know much bout protein anyway," you say nervously. Bingo. "Protein is incredibly important for helping you repair your muscles after you work hard at the gym!" He knows he's gonna convince you.

"O-oh, really? I didn't know that. If it's that important, ok then." You look off to the side, unsure about going to a mans house. He's feeling cuteness aggression. He wants to hug you and squeeze you so badly. His hands twitch, fighting the urdge to do so. He has to look away when you're doing a tough workout.

Watching sweat drip down your face is captivating. He imagines that face when he's alone in his apartment at night, his cock in hand. He just wants to lay you down on your back with him in between your legs...his thoughts wander too much. "Great, you'll love it!" He could'nt be more pleased with himself.

After you both finished, he waits for you outside the changing room. He was so giddy. He loves looking down at you..and seeing your cute little wonderous eyes looking up at him, like a confused little bunny. He takes your hand and leads you out to his car. You blush furiously at the contact. You get in the passenger seat and he drives you back to his place.

It's a really nice and expensive looking apartment building. Modern and well kept. It even has a gym inside. You wonder why he travels to yours. He takes you up to his apartment and you gasp. "It's so big!" He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining those words in a different context. "I'm excited to try the protein shake," you say, snapping him out of his fuzzy daze.

"Ah yes." He takes you over to his spottless kitchen and takes out a blender, some bananas, protein powder, peanut butter and milk. You lean over the counter to peer at what he's doing. Hes really good at making protein shakes. You wonder if he can cook aswell. You wouldn't be surprised. While you're lost in though, he has the perfect view of your cleavage. He bites his lip. Fuck. He feels his dick twitch to life.

He groans. He's been trying not to get hard this whole day. Good thing you're behind the counter. He pours the smoothies into two cups, his being larger because you dont need as much protein as he does. He manages to hide is boner well enough to make his way over to his living room with your cups.

He hands you yours after taking a seat, making sure to place a pillow in his lap. You take a sip. He loves the way your mouth opens and the way you lick your lips of the sweet drink. Fuck. He downs his and watches you. "Hey, so I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to hang out..outside the gym again sometime?" he asks, looking hopeful.

"Oh..uh," you thought he wasn't interested in you! You were sure of it! He's too handsome for you! He's way out of your league. You've never been romanticaaly interested in him. You know your place. You just get really nervous and shy around pretty people. He's an extremely athletic man and you're a snail in comparrison! You're not even looking for a relationship right now! This is a nightmare! You just wanted to focus on yourself. That's why you started going to the gym.

Oh god, what do you do!? You stare at your drink for a while, the silence thickening by the second. "I...uh...." You want to go home and hide under your sheets. How will you ever face him again? It's over. No more gym buddy. He looks down at you, his smile and hopeful eyes fading. You... don't want him. You don't want him!? But...he's perfect for you...and you for him!

He doesn't understand why you could possibly ever not want to be with him. He wordlessly puts his cup down. You just need some convincing is all. You look up at him. He can see emotions swirling around in your eyes. He stands up to his full height, casting a shadow over you. "(Y/n),... change your mind." His tone is eerily calm.

"But...I wanna focus on.. myself-" He cuts you off. "No! I will focus on you. That's what you need. I will take care of you. I'm dedicated to you. It has to be claer by now that I want you." He takes the cup from your hands and sets it down before pulling you up by your arm and forcing you deeper into the apartment.

"Huh? What? N-no, where are we going? Stop! I wanna go home!" You cry, trying to struggle out of his grip, the grip of the arms four times the size of yours. You notice now just how big he is. Hes...massive. Taller than most men...broad shoulders, a large frame, and incredibly muscular. Your face pails. You... can't stop him. You were right to be nervous to come here!

He drags you into his room, making you sit on his bed. He doesn't open the lights, but from the moonlight shining in from the window, you can see the glinting of his hungry eyes looking down at you. His chest heaves. He feels fuzzy and lightheaded as he looks down at you...all his blood...has shot right down to his cock.

He can't think of anything but the way your thighs meet at that special crevice that he wants to explore. You're probably still sweaty from the workout... he's trembling at the thought of your soft body pressed against his toned self.

He pushes your upper body down a bit too hard and splits your legs apart, settling himself between them before leaning down. Your faces so close. You turn your face away, which just makes him get even closer to you, his nose touching your cheek, his breath fanning over you. With him in between your legs, you can feel the heat emanating from his crotch as it presses into yours. You whimper under him and he groans a bit. His cock has never been so engored before. Its unbarable.

"Please...take off your clothes...I don't want to hurt you on accident," he breathes, using all the remaining blood in his head to think straight, trying to control himself. You shake your head. "I-I can't!" Not a second after you speak, his hands grip your poor clothes and rip them to shreds like paper. He's wanted to do that to your workout clothes for a long time. They were always taunting him with the way they squeeze your ass or the way your pussy shows through the crotch area a bit when you're bent.

You suck in a breath to scream, hoping one of his neighbors would hear you, but he covers your mouth with his palm just in time, muffling your cry. "Shhh shhh... it's ok shh. I've got you," he coos, trying to calm you. Your chest heaves up and down as tears stream down your cheeks. Your face feels like its burning.

He replaces his hand with his lips and kisses you gently. You continue sobbing quietly into the kiss, not wanting any of this. He doesn't cover your mouth after he lifts his lips from yours. Hope for getting another opportunity dies within you as he stuffs your underwear into your mouth and ties it shut with the drawstring of his shorts tightly behind your head.

He kisses your cheek and stays right there for a moment, just breathing in your scent. You decide now is a good time to at least try fighting him with everything you've got. You headbutt him in the face, sending his head back a bit. He grunts in pain and looks back at you with a blaze in his eyes. A trickle of blood escapes his nose. He wipes it off with the back of his hand. He shuts his eyes for a second, trying to maintain his patience. He sighs. He's trying his hardest to be nice with you.

He places a finger on your chin, turning you to face him. When you refuse to face him and turn your head in defiance, he grips your cheeks roughly and forces you to face him. His eyes are stern. "Bunny, I don't want to hurt you." Is all he says. You dont take his threat lightly. He looks more than happy to actually hurt you. You don't believe for a second that he's being honest about not wanting to hurt you.

He lowers his shorts with his free hand, taking your silence as compliance. You see the bulge in his shorts reveal itself to be a monstrous size when free. It's..scary. It slams against your bare pussy lips. It's heavy, thick and demanding attention. It's veiny underside is burning you.

You swallow hard, trying to wiggle out from underneath it. You don't make it far trapped beneath him with nowhere to go. Your hands are free, but every time you try to do anything, he swats them away and.. after his previous threat, you don't want to know what will happen if you annoy him enough.

His hand comes down to your cunt and plays with your lower lips. He releases your face, knowing you'll behave. You writhe underneath him, pathetically kicking and pushing at his hand down there. His other hand grabs your wrist and and squeezes it and a painful grip, looking dead in your eyes as he continues to play with your cunt.

Another tear slips down your cheek. He softens his grip a bit before leaning down to kiss your tears away. Your tear-stained face, the way you whimper and your face scrunches in discomfort..is doing things to him. He's learned something new about himself just now. He wants to be inside you so bad, but he knows he'd tear you in two, even with all his precum.

Your gasp as he flicks your sensitive pearl. He can't help but chuckle. Without any warning, he slips his index finger inside your cunt and relishes in the warm wetness hugging it tightly. He just wants you wet enough to take him without too much pain. He just needs to be more patient, but... it's so hard with you making all those cute expressions.

"Pleath shtop..I..." The muffled words you were trying to produce disappear in a cloud of smoke as he curls his finger upwards into your spongy walls. Fuck. He loves when you beg him to stop. You moan so cutely. Your pussy twitches around him. He bites his lip. You're.. wet enough. It's fine, it'll fit. He can't wait anymore.

He lines his fat cock up with your cunt and slides it up and down your shimmering folds. "W-wai-" He cuts you off by sliding the head of his cock in. It's so fucking tight. He grunts and can't help but sink himself further in. He feels like he's going mad.

He bucks his hips forward, meeting resistance. Your cervix. He pushes forward still, eventually managing to bottom out, the shape of his cock making an appearance in your lower stomach. Your cunt needs to know his shape for next time. It's a good thing he stuffed your mouth because you've been screaming and crying like crazy. "I'm sorry, bunny. I didn't mean to hurt you. I got a bit ahead of myself. I'll be more gentle." He kisses your nose, his cock driving in and out slowly.

You're sopping wet now, the two of you can hear your insides gushing when he pushes in. You're so embarrassed. The pleasure is undeniable. You scratch his back as he pressed in again, his hips meeting yours snuggly. You can't hold it anymore! you let out a long whine as you cum, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He moans, driving his cock in and out, rapidly pounding your cunt into a fine paste. You come down from your high as he's still churning your insides and cry out again. You're too sensitive now!

You tap on his shoulder, but it garners no response. He lifts your legs and presses them back into your chest, getting even deeper. He's pounding into you like a wild animal. You feel the familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten. Your nails dig into his back, your eyes crossing as you come again. He grunts as you tighten around him once more.

He thrusts into you so deep that you can see the imprint of his cock in your lower stomach even more than before. Your cervix needs an ice pack. He grips your waist, emptying the largest load he's ever cum. You're so tired. He continues pumping himself into you lazily. He rests his body weight on you, squishing you and pressing his still-hard cock against your stuffed insides.

Cum leeks past his cock onto the damp bedsheets. He pants, looking down at you. "I love you (y/n)," he says with the most love struck expression you've ever seen. You look like an angel to him. All you can do is twitch and bask in the afterglow of what he did. His cock began to completely re-harden at the beautiful sight he created before him.

You're no longer gym buddies, that's for sure. Thanks to him, you might be parents. You should have just accepted his feelings when you had the chance. Now your guts are filled and you're trapped under him with your knees by your head. What a workout.

[leighsartworks216]

Kitty Cards

Sylus x gn!Reader

I will never ever win a game against this man istg

Warnings: losing, frustration

Word Count: 925

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You swear he’s cheating. He has to be. There’s no way he just happened to draw three 6-point kitty cards to start with.

You look down at your own hand. Ah, yes, what a fine selection of ones and twos. None of the colors even match the cups!

“Sweetie, if you glare any harder, the kitties will jump out of the cards and run away.”

You turn your glare on Sylus. He’s sitting casually in the cafe chair, as relaxed as if he were back home. And that stupid smug smile! Ugh, it infuriated you to no end.

“Honestly, why do I keep inviting you to play if I’m just gonna keep losing,” you groan. You draw another card. Wow. A three. With no color matching cup. Fantastic. You sigh.

He chuckles and plays a card, doubling his 5 points to 10. At this point, it’s just sad. You’ve got 3 points to your name and he has 30-something at least. Maybe playing with him wouldn’t be so bad if you were anywhere close in scores, if he had 23 and you had 22. Enough to feel like it’s anyone’s game and not decided before you’ve even shuffled the deck.

Or maybe that would make it worse.

You play your 3-point card to keep him from getting the last cup. He lays his cards on the table, face down.

“Relax, sweetie. I’ve had plenty of practice in games with much higher stakes.”

“How many 6-point cards do you have right now?” you demand.

He smirks as he lifts up the edges to check. You know he remembers. The salt is ground ever deeper into your wounds. “None.”

“Mhm. And 5-point cards?”

“None.”

You frown, seemingly even more frustrated now that you know he just got lucky. “Well, what do you have?”

He fans the cards out for you to see, long fingers holding them apart.

All ones.

He chuckles again as you huff and snatch them from his hand to pile on the deck. You don’t look up at him as you shuffle repeatedly. He flags down a waiter who replaces the cups with new ones with staggering efficiency. You cut the deck no less than 3 times, to ensure complete randomness, and place them back in the center. He goes to draw a card, but you’re setting it in front of him before he can.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” he muses, picking up his two cards.

You ignore him, looking from your hand to the cups. You have an advantage by starting with three cards, but he could have the better hand regardless. The game really begins when he makes his move.

It’s not even 5 minutes later that your head is down on the table.

“I’m never gonna beat you, am I?” you mutter, not even caring if he does or doesn’t hear you.

He hums, quietly gathering your cards and organizing the deck. He sets it back in the center of the array without shuffling. “Don’t worry, you can practice with the twins.”

You laugh dryly. “They cheat like it’s the objective of the game.”

“All the better to practice against them.”

You don’t answer. Sylus drains the last dredges of his coffee. Your drink hasn’t been touched since the first round, two games ago.

As amusing as your pity-party is normally, he knows the failure runs a little deeper today. Usually, you sigh and moan and whine, but it only spurs you on to try harder next time. He’d never thought he’d see the day you succumb to defeat.

He sighs and stands up. “Wait here, kitten.”

You lift your head up. There’s a red mark on your forehead from where it rested on the table. “Why? Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles as he hands you his card. “Get a new drink and something sweet, kitten. I won’t be long.”

You glower at the card in his hand, but take it anyway. You don’t watch him as he leaves.

-

When he comes back, the table has been cleared of cards and empty cups. A half-eaten slice of cake has been pushed to his side of the table. He wonders if you wanted to share with him, or if you feel too bad to indulge.

You’re taking a sip of your drink when something is set on the table in front of you. Sylus sits back down and picks up the fork on the plate.

You blink, because surely you’ve fallen asleep in the cafe and this is just a dream. But the big, full eyes of the crow plushie continue to stare back at you. You look up at Sylus for answers.

“I’m not heartless, kitten. Even I can only bear to see you sad for so long.” He cuts a bite off the cake with the side of the fork. “It loses its fun if you’re really upset.”

You flush, from embarrassment or from watching him eat off the same fork you’d used when a clean one sat next to him on a napkin. Maybe both. You set your drink down and grab the plushie.

Its ruffle is a bit uneven, so you idly adjust it so it sits better. The fabric of its body is soft. You boop its little beak.

You look back up at Sylus. He still has his eyes on you, like he’s still not sure if you like his little gift. You smile and hug it to your chest. “Thank you.”

He grins in return. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[demigoddessqueens]

a what if….?

I’M FEELING ANGSTY AND I STILL HAVE FEELS

‼️ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS‼️ based on screenshots

don’t think about Miguel who’s bitter but endures the hardships with his heart closed off. Until now

He’s endured the loss through his family and his past failures weighing heavy on his mind, soul, heart

resigned to accept a lonely fate, there’s another Earth version of you and of all chances, you work within the society alongside him and the others

But he’s seen you before….or at least other versions of you, and he knows first-hand how it personally feels to let you down, to have failed you and he was helpless to save you

don’t think about how he so desperately wants to get close to you, it’s written all over his face. Jessica sees it, Hobie does; Peter B, Lyla, Pav, even Miles and Gwen see how he is around you.

The few times he’s let the mask fall around you, it’s a constant push-and-pull. You know his story, his failures, and Miguel knows he’s nowhere being the easiest to talk to or get along with, but you stay. And holding you in his arms as his lips touch you feels like a life he had not long ago

after the showdown with Miles, he’s back to his old ways and he feels you slipping away. It hurts, it tears, and sometimes he reminds himself he can never fully have you,

You go off with Peter B and Gwen and the rest of them, going against everything of your love, but you know it’s the right thing that has to be done

and most importantly, don’t think about Miguel tracking you down once he’s figured it out and the worst argument ensues until he breaks completely

“I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH, I CAN’T LOSE YOU AGAIN —- I- i can’t lose you…I-I’m not strong enough still.”

You kiss him goodbye (for now) and find the others, placing the mask to shield him from seeing your expression but mostly so that you don’t see the heartbreak on his

[fanfic-obsessed]

Failing to Thrive then Thriving in failure

I just had the funniest notion. Time travel comedy, but the twist is that Palpatine is the one to go back in time. 

So we start just after Kenobi, Palpatine has been emperor for about a decade, he succeeded. The Sith plan is complete, he has everything he had dreamed of and worked toward for a decade…and he is so bored. He never realized that 90% of his joy actually came from pretending to be a benevolent Chancellor and the intrigue of fooling people.  Now he has shown his true colors and could not go back to pretending (it simply would not work). Being the Sith in charge is not as fun as he thought it would be. Even getting to openly torture people has lost its appeal after 10 years.

It’s ok for Vader. For one Vader was never interested in those intrigues in the first place. For two 45% of Vader brain is taken up by trying to resurrect Padme Amidala, 50% is taken up by Obi Wan Kenobi (Palpatine is not sure if Vader wants to kill Kenobi, Kriff Kenobi, make Kenobi tuck Vader in every night and tell him is it going to be alright, Force Kenobi to help Vader resurrected Padme, or make sure Kenobi is eating, taking care of himself, and has a good enough blanket), leaving only 5% for everything else.  

Frankly if this is what Kenobi had to deal with before the war, Palpatine is somewhat impressed he got anything done.

Vader isn’t bored. Palpatine’s assorted lesser minions are not bored, they are living the dream of being as bigoted as their little fascist hearts desire. But Palpatine just could not find joy any longer. 

I do want it clear. Palpatine is not repentant. He does not regret the deaths that he caused, the genocide, the enslavement, any of it. He’s just bored. 

One day Palpatine finds a book, or maybe an artifact, or possibly a scrap of paper with an archaic formula. The title roughly translates to ‘Sith Master Time Travel’ (Listen The Son was also very bored, and being outside of Space Time meant He wanted to see what would happen). Palpatine is able to time travel, but only as far back as when he became a Sith Master. It was also a one time deal, he would not be able to use the method again AND it would destroy his origin timeline (not that that actually factored into Palpatine’s decision at all).  Not to mention he would essentially be possessing and killing his previous, alternate timeline self. 

Of course Palpatine time travels. He goes all the way back to the moment he became the Sith Master (it turns out the Sith titles are not just titles), looking at the still warm corpse of Hugo Damask, just as the Naboo crisis is wrapping up. 

Now Palpatine had already decided to do some things differently.  At first he was still working outward the Grand Sith Plan, if trying to keep his ‘Kindly Politician’ mask a bit longer, however he has decided that instead of Vader (or possibly in addition to Vader, if things get boring again) he will get Obi Wan Kenobi as his apprentice, figuring that there must have been a reason that every Sith Apprentice for 20 years ends up obsessed with the man (also because he thinks it would be funny to corrupt the Jedi’s ‘Guiding Light’). Dooku and all the pieces needed to start the Clone wars are already mostly in place. It is just a matter of maintaining until the clones are the right age.  So he does what he needs to to maintain the Empire building plans and decides to focus on corrupting Obi Wan. 

He fails, utterly. He fails so fully that Obi Wan did not even notice his attempts at corruption. Like he knew it would take time to corrupt a Jedi, he had done before after all, but he still expected at least a little change within the first year. There was nothing. 

And it was not a case of Obi Wan not trusting Palpatine. This is still a decade before the war. Obi Wan is a grieving, freshly knighted,  trying to keep up with a nine year old with somewhat unique trauma. Palpatine knows how to get Obi Wan to feel comfortable and trust him (Palpatine probably knows too well how to get Obi wan to feel comfortable and trust him, between Dooku and Vader). Obi Wan is just, for a given value, incorruptible. 

Now Palpatine’s obsession switch has been flipped. He went into it thinking that corrupting Obi Wan would be a fun side project, a way to pass the time.  He was wrong.  He knows from the previous timeline that torture would not be effective (Listen if the torture mask specifically built to corrupt lightsiders did not make a dent after a month it is pretty well proven that torture will not cause Kenobi to fall, Palpatine knows this) nor would killing Kenobi’s loved work (again, if it didn’t last time we have some pretty concrete proof). 

So now we have Palpatine trying every method he can think of to seduce Kenobi the darkside, always just shy of admitting to being a Sith or being creepy. To the point that he has actually forgotten the Empire building he was doing. He kind of even forgets to be Sidious.  He almost ghosts Dooku, before he remembers that Dooku is Kenobi’s grandfather(that is not the correct term, Dooku tries to correct Palpatine an even dozen times before giving up) and gets Dooku involved in the corruption that is STILL. GOING. NOWHERE.

Dooku basically becomes Grandpa Dooku to both Obi Wan and Anakin, and falls back into the Light while trying unsuccessfully to corrupt Obi Wan to the Dark. Due to darkside vow complications (also because I think it would be really funny) Dooku is not able to say, imply, or otherwise do anything to make the Jedi suspicious that Palaptine is a Sith. Also, to a certain extent he thinks that as long as Palpatine is focused on corrupting his incorruptible grandson, the other Sith is not thinking about galactic domination (To be fair he is correct).  

Palpatine spends most of his time trying to corrupt Obi Wan, while keeping up the act used to maintain Obi Wan’s trust. The thing is Palpatine is fully aware that Anakin in the original timeline was about observant as a particularly dense brick wall and would not have realized that the persona of ‘My friend Palaptine’ did not match the reality of ‘My pal Friendpatine’. Obi Wan would realize if his act was not consistent. 

So Palpatine decided to keep the act up 24/7.  And everyone knows that your actions become your habits become your personality. 

Somewhere in year 8 Palpatine forgets how to Sith. 

Technically he is still a darksider but not the extra layer of fucked up that comes from being an actual Sith. And he still has not even made a dent in Obi Wan’s light. He has also, almost single handedly, derailed the war that had been brewing and fixed about 40% of the corruption in the Senate.  All without killing a single senator.

Palpatine spends most of his time very confused. 

Palpatine lets his term as Chancellor end, having gone down in history as one of the most beloved Chancellors in history.  The Clones are found and mostly are inducted as an arm of the Jedi Order. Jango Fett is given a metric ton of therapy, which helps him see that the Jedi were not actually at fault for Galidraan (Jango had, in fact, been the person to escalate things to violence) before he is allowed to take Boba back into the galaxy. By that point the Clones want little to do with him. 

For the rest of his life Palpatine tries, unsuccessfully, to corrupt Obi Wan (who never noticed). At this point he is genuinely friends with a number of Jedi (He and Mace Windu have a surprising amount in common, including a love of the theater and a mild exasperation for Anakin Skywalker's antics). He is an honored guest at both the CodyWan and the Anidala Weddings (including a Jedi based wedding ceremony).

Honestly he is having the most fun of his life. 

He is also never caught as a darksider. He never figures out how that is possible either.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Consider: Julian being pregnant with Yoshi and going to Federation parenting classes with Miles and Keiko. And encountering a list of all the rights and freedoms every child is supposed to be entitled to. Some of which... don't sound like his childhood. (Cw child abuse)

I've got SO MANY more ideas for this it may turn into a series who knows??? But I want to share it now so people can maybe like it? Because I have feeeelings.

--

"So these are just, uh, suggestions, right? Parents don't have to do all of them?" Julian asked, instantly regretting it. If Miles' dirty look was anything to go by, clearly that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Julian," he gritted out, "you're my best mate and you're carrying my child so I'm going to give you a chance to explain. What the hell do you mean by that?"

Julian really wasn't sure that he could. Some of the statements on the poster had surprised him, that was all, but he didn't really want to get into the reasons why.

"Don't, uh-- Don't worry. It's not important," he tried to deflect.

"It bloody well is important, if you're just planning to ignore what you're learning here."

"Miles--" Keiko broke in, placing a hand on her husband's knee.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Julian exclaimed, cradling his stomach protectively. "I was just saying that, um... I guess that they're not all as important as each other, are they? Lack of privacy, for example -- that's not exactly abusive, is it, like some of the others?"

"That's a common misconception, but no, Doctor Bashir," answered Mx Rakoto. "Any parent showing a consistent failure to meet any one of these standards would be enough to investigate them for abuse."

"Oh."

"What do you mean, "oh"?" Miles asked, with an irritation that compelled Julian to shrug and look away.

"I guess I just didn't realise it was taken that seriously," he replied, feeling kind of silly and small as he said it. "I know we learnt about them in school, but back then it was more of a thing for teachers than parents, wasn't it?"

There was a pause, before Keiko said tentatively, "...These have always been for parents, Julian."

"Mrs O'Brien is correct," Mx Rakoto added. "Your parents would have completed a very similar course to this -- some things have changed of course, there's always more progress that can be done, but the fundamental rights and freedoms of children haven't changed, and nor has the law."

"No, but..." Julian's brain didn't seem to be working properly; was he missing something?

"You're saying these are things I should have had at home and at school?"

"Yes?"

"And my parents should have known about them?"

"I would find it hard to believe that they didn't. Parents are required to access learning about this every few years."

"Oh." Julian's voice had gone very quiet at the point. "I think I-- I need a minute..." he said shakily, eyes glued to the poster in front of him, reading and rereading the information as he tried to figure out what he'd got wrong.

Right to privacy.

Right to choose their own name.

Right to appropriate support and accommodations of a disability.

Freedom from unnecessary medical interventions.

Freedom from torture.

Right to make mistakes.

"Julian?" asked Keiko softly, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I mean, it's not like I thought they were great parents, you know, but I didn't think... Well, most people complain about their parents, don't they? I didn't think mine were abnormally bad. But there are so many things--" His voice quavered, almost breaking. "And you say they could have been investigated for just breaking one?"

"What... what kind of things?" asked Miles hesitantly. "Only if you want to tell us, of course."

Julian's eyes flicked around the room, but Mx. Rakoto seemed to have left the room.

"They've gone," confirmed Keiko, seeming to catch onto what he was thinking. "I can go too, if you'd prefer..."

"No -- it's alright," said Julian. "It's just... a lot to take in."

His eyes returned to the poster. Right to encouragement. Freedom from humiliation and constant criticism. Right to self-expression. Right to relax and play. Right to mistakes.

"It must be hard, right," he started, looking to them both anxiously, "to keep these all in your head? There's a lot of them, it must be normal to not remember all of them all the time?"

Miles and Keiko exchanged glances, a second-long conversation that Julian was not privy to.

"All parents make mistakes," said Keiko kindly. "It's when these things start getting ignored often that there's a problem."

"And some of them you barely have to think about anyway," added Miles. "You know, "right to shelter", "right to food", "right to clothes" -- it's not difficult stuff. You don't have kids if you don't want to look after them properly."

"Then why did my parents find it so difficult?" The words burst out of Juliann before he could stop them. "What was so wrong with me that meant they didn't do all this?"

"No, oh no, Julian," said Keiko, as Miles reached out to pull him in for a hug. "Don't think like that. It wasn't you--"

Julian wasn't really listening: his question had finally given him the puzzle piece he had been missing -- he'd realised what hadn't been adding up.

"No... no, it's fine," he said, feeling a little floaty now he'd got his thoughts all in order. "No, it was me. I was a difficult kid. That's..." He shook himself, feeling his cheeks get hot as he wondered what the O'Briens must be thinking. "I'm sorry, this session was supposed to be about your child, not about me."

"Our child," corrected Miles gruffly. "And this is important, Julian. I don't give a damn if you were "difficult", your parents don't get to just ignore your rights."

"You don't understand," said Julian desperately, hoping he'd be able to make them see even without mentioning his enhancements. He'd made a real mountain out of a molehill here, he didn't know why he hadn't managed to connect the dots quicker before this all had spiralled out of control. "I tried to piss my parents off. I'd stay out too late and go drinking illegally and date guys way too old for me just because I knew it would annoy them. And I'd always talk back and argue with my dad, and find ways to be smarter than him, and--"

"And none of that was enough to lose your rights, Julian," said Keiko gently. "That's not how it works."

Julian was shaking; he didn't want to listen to them. He'd figured it out -- it was his fault his parents hadn't done everything they were supposed to, because if it wasn't his fault, it was their fault, and that meant... well, that they were abnormally bad parents, and that... that...

"Hey," said Miles, more softly than Julian had ever heard him, peeling Julian's hands away from where he'd been covering his ears. "Let's say you're right -- just for a moment," he added in response to Keiko's hissed "Miles?". "Maybe we don't understand everything that went on. Why don't you tell us which of these you weren't getting from your parents, yeah? Explain it to us a bit more?"

Flashing him a weak smile, Julian nodded. he should have known he could always count on Miles.

"Okay, yeah, um -- so I guess, uh, "right to choose your own name"?" he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched Keiko pull the poster up on her PADD and circle it, but choosing not to comment. "It wasn't like, transphobic or anything though," he defended. "They'd just always called me 'Jules' since I was little, you know? So it's not really..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"Okay..." said Miles, and Julian tried to ignore the dubious look his friend shot at Keiko. "Anything else?"

"Um -- I always had to, uh, leave my door open? Or if I closed it, they wouldn't knock before coming in... That's not that weird though, right? One of my Academy friends thought it was, but--"

"Did you feel like your parents respected your privacy?" asked Keiko, and Julian looked at her for a few seconds, before shaking his head.

"But they were my parents," he said. "That was just how they looked out for me. They were supposed to look out for me."

"And you were supposed to have a right to privacy," replied Keiko, making another circle on her PADD. Fuck, this wasn't going the way Julian had thought it would. Hurriedly, he looked for a different one to try to explain better.

"Constant criticism," he said, distantly noticing the strangled tone to his voice. "That's hardly surprising, right? I mean, if you get things wrong all the time, you're going to be criticised, that's just how it works."

Neither Keiko nor Miles looked convinced; clearly he wasn't trying hard enough, describing clearly enough why it had been alright his parents hadn't been perfect. He was getting this all wrong.

The right to make mistakes.

For some reason, those had been the words his eyes hadn't been able to leave alone. Every time he went past them, his heart caught on them, as though the words were a rusty nail left half-buried in his skin.

It wasn't a fair comparison, really. He had been different to the other children -- better, smarter -- so of course he hadn't been allowed to make the same mistakes they did. Of course his parents' expectations had been high; they'd known what he was.

But all the same, it sounded nice, that imaginary childhood where all mistakes were okay, not just the ones he'd carefully measured out to avoid detection.

He didn't realise he was crying until he felt a rough thumb wiping a tear off his cheek.

"Oh, Julian," Miles was saying. "It's okay, you can let it out now. We're here for you. I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known."

[writingroom21]

Can I get a request!

Rafe and y/n are both working parents, so they have a nanny, but the nanny develops a crush on rafe

Kinds like one tree hill storyline with nanny Carrie

A/N: I love the way your mind works. I hope you enjoy!

You're All That I Want

Pairing: dad!rafe x mom!reader

Summary: You hire a nanny when you go back to work. A serious of weird interactions make you think that the nanny is into Rafe.

Warnings: fluff, Rafe being a softy for his family, feelings of insecurity, (Let me know if I missed any)

Wc:3.0K

When your son Luca was born everything was perfect. Rafe finally felt comfortable in himself. His fathers words weren’t plaguing him, keeping him up at night just to tell him he’s a failure. All the nightmares throughout your pregnancy seemed worth it when he finally held his baby boy in his arms. He couldn’t have been happier. 

He had the perfect wife and now he had a son. A baby boy who completed your family, making his heart grow even more. Rafe was originally scared when you told him you were pregnant. The both of you had only been married for a year at that point. All of the negative emotions that he worked to put behind him came rushing back like a tsunami. 

His father’s hatred is at the forefront of his mind. He thought he was destined to fail, ruin the family he desperately wanted. “It’s okay. We can figure it out together. For better or for worse, right?” You rationed with him. Never letting him forget he isn’t his father.

“Thank you  for coming with me today.” You had just gotten out of an appointment. Rafe was focused on the little picture in his hands. The sonogram showing a blurry blob that was your baby. “Why wouldn’t I come? This is our baby.” He’s confused on why you would think he wouldn’t show. Yes he’s busy with work but you and the baby come first. “It’s just some guys wouldn’t think about showing up during the work day. So thank you for being an amazing dad.”

You kiss him on the check and continue walking. That’s the first time you called him dad. The role of the parental figure feels heavy. Then he looks at that blurry blob and at you. A sense of pride fills him, his family. From that moment on the nightmares didn’t seem as scary. They still made him doubt himself but it was manageable. 

Then on a sunny Friday morning your baby decided to make his entrance to the world. He was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. You were crying as the nurses placed him on your chest for the first time. Luca’s little wales calmed once he felt your touch. “Hi baby boy.” You whisper, stroking his head lightly with one finger. You turn to look at Rafe.

He had tears streaming down his face as he watched the two of you. He has been staying back, watching his son from a distance. Following him around as the nurses cleaned him up after he had cut the umbilical cord. Once he saw his son and his wife bonding he broke. Every worry dissipated from his body. Knowing that he would do anything to keep the two of you safe.

Rafe was glued to your side from that day on and since your baby was glued to you, he always had eyes on the two most important things in his life. He felt lucky that he ran the family business. Since Rafe was the boss he could take as much time off as he wanted. You on the other hand had a steady job. 

In fact you were a nurse at the same hospital you gave birth at. They had so gracefully given you five months of maternity leave. It sure helps that they had an anonymous donor all of a sudden. Rafe just wanted to spend as much time with his family that he could. He knew you would want to work so he found a happy medium. His ideal would be you staying at home but you insist on continuing to work. He honestly values that quality in you, hoping that Luca and any future kids get it as well.

The first few weeks were hell. The two of you didn’t know how to handle a baby. Your mom tried to help as much as she could but you and Rafe wanted to figure it out on your own. It took a while but you got the hang of it. Soon feedings, nap time, and bed time were going smoothly. The five months had seemed to fly, feeling as if he was just born yesterday.

Towards the end of your maternity leave you both had a conversation. It was finally time for you to think on how to move forward with child care. “I have to be honest here. I love being at home but I miss being at work. I miss my patients, Rafe. I don’t know what to do.” You confide in your husband. Feeling ashamed for wanting to work. “Hey if that’s what you want we'll make it work. I won’t stop you.”

You look at him, trying to find comfort and finding it hard. “You don’t think I’m failing as a mother? Putting my job before our family?” You question, your fear finally being voiced. “Baby you are a great mom. I wouldn’t be as good of a dad if it wasn’t for you.” He comforts you. “I think you should do what makes you happy. If that’s going back to work then we’ll just find a nanny. It’s not a big deal.” You kiss him, grateful to have such a loving husband.

The Rafe you knew in highschool was completely different. He was a  trouble maker that made you fall for him. But now he’s everything that you dreamed of and better honestly. “Thank you.” You say after breaking the kiss. “How about we go look at nanny’s?” He questions, pecking you one last time.

The hunt for a nanny didn’t take long. The last five candidates really just have to pass the Luca test. He’s been fussy with people that aren’t you or Rafe. The only exception really being your parents and Sarah. Poor Wheezie is still trying to get him to like her.

All the candidates seemed perfect but Luca had other thoughts. Each one dropped like flies, not one lasting long enough to be considered. That was until Candice. She came in with a bright smile and Luca seemed to like her. You and Rafe watched as they played together, sharing a look knowing you finally found someone. Relief filling you both now that you have a solid plan. She was hired on the spot, instructed on all his needs and when to show up next week.

The final week was ignoring the outside world and spending as much time together. Taking every chance to cuddle with your precious boy and on rare occasions taking the opportunity to be alone. It was a perfect way to send you back off to the workforce. That was until your first day on the job.

You were happy to be back. Catching up with old co-workers, filling them in on the new addition to the family. Seeing the old patients that were still here and meeting the new ones. There was just this part of you that missed being at home. You chalked it up to just being back and went on with the day. The routine followed the same few a month or two. You went to work and longed to be home. A part of you telling you that something wasn’t right.

It never made sense, you loved your job. Sure there were some moments you didn’t like it, you just loved to help people. It’s normal to miss your child but this was something deeper. 

One day you got out of work early. Excited, you rushed home and were ecstatic when you saw that Rafe was already home. It wasn’t late so you could feed Luca and the three of you could spend time together. Once in the house you hear Rafe talking to the nanny.

“So basically you just buy property and sell them?” You hear her question. “Umm it’s a little more complicated than that. It can be stressful but yeah that’s the jist of it.” Rafe answers. There’s some clanking sounds of pots hitting each other. “You know if you are ever stressed I can help you.” Candice states. 

You freeze at her words. “Well thank you for watching Luca. Here’s your paycheck, see you tomorrow.” Rafe dismisses. You walk into the kitchen, looking at the two of them. Candice is sitting on the kitchen island and Rafe is moving around the kitchen. Candice turns to see you, her eyes narrowing a bit. “Oh hi Mrs. Cameron. I didn’t see you there.” Rafe looks over at you when you are mentioned. He smiles and walks over, giving you a deep kiss. “Hi baby.” He says, squeezing your ass a bit. “Hi.” You giggle, looking over his shoulder to see her gone.

You don’t mention how you feel, bottling it up and storing it away. Chalking it up to it being a weird interaction. Then you come home again a little earlier than expected. As soon as the door is open, arms wrapped around you. “How was your day Mr. Cameron?” A sultry voice asks. You push Candice off of you, her shocked expression matching yours. “Excuse me?” She backs away. Her hands rubbing together to calm her nerves. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you would find it inappropriate.” She reasons.

“Inappropriate? You said Mr. Cameron, were you waiting for my husband?” You accuse. Her eyes widened, her head shaking. “No I swear. I said Mrs. Cameron. You must have misheard. God I’m so embarrassed, I’m so sorry.” She seems genuine. Against your better judgment you let it go not wanting to think further into it.

The following week you get out of work, heading home just wanting to sleep. You had to stay extra today, your body is exhausted. You enter the house on pilot mode. Going through the motion as if you were in a game, all of your actions already being chosen. You didn’t snap out of it till you made it to the door of the living room. You saw Rafe and went to call out to him, stopping when you saw candice on the couch next to him.

They were close, leaning into each other. You stand there, an agonizing feeling in your chest. Why is he so close to her? Your mind thinks back to the way she threw herself on you. Of course she was waiting for Rafe. How fucking stupid could you be. Yet you knew he would never do this to you.

“Hey baby. Hi baby boy” You walk in and go over to Rafe, giving him a kiss. Picking up Luca for his playmate to give him a kiss. You look at Candice and she’s glaring at you. “Hi Candice. I’m going to go get cleaned up and we can have dinner.” Rafe’s hands find your thighs, rubbing up and down. He pulls you a bit closer, looking up at you. “Sounds good. I’ll put Luca’s toys away and get his food ready. Let me take him.” You hand him over to his dad, Rafe takes the time to kiss you one more time. 

That night in bed you let your mind wander. Voicing your discomfort in your own way. “The nanny is kinda cute, isn’t she?” You ask, head moving to look at him. He's reading a book and doesn’t really move to look at you. “Huh?” “I said the nanny’s kinda cute right?” This catches his attention.

People might think he’s stupid but he’s actually pretty smart. He knows what you are getting at here. You are starting to feel uncomfortable, maybe even jealous. “I guess, I never thought of it.” You hum at his response. It doesn’t give you much to go on. “It’s nice that she stays later even once you get home.” Rafe raises an eyebrow at you. Surely you're not implying what he thinks you are. “Yeah it is. Think we should give her a pay raise?” He jokes.

You suck in a breath, hurt starting to seep in. He wants to pay her extra for flirting with him? “What do you guys do while you wait for me to get home?” You get straight to the point. You are fed up of coming home and seeing how close together they are. You need to know if you are wasting time here. Rafe just looks at you, his eyes shutting closed and then pening up.

“Do you really think I would cheat on you?” He doesn’t hold back. The book is thrown off the bed as he turns his body to you. “No. I just can’t help the feeling that she likes you. That you will see that she’s better. It’s stupid but I really think she likes you.” He feels relieved knowing you don’t find him capable of that. He could never hurt you, you are everything to him.

“I’m never leaving you. I don’t think she has one and even if she does I don’t care. You’re all I want. We will be ninety and getting on each other's nerves. For better or for worse.” You laugh, your worries leaving. He was right, for better or for worse. 

Rafe didn’t understand why you were so worried anyway. All Candice asks him is about his day, job, and golfing. She will talk about her life from time to time but nothing more. He just simply didn’t see why you were so worried. The relationship between him and her was strictly platonic.

Rafe had beaten you home today. An account hadn’t taken him as long to close as he planned. He figured that this was a perfect time to make it up to you. He knows you have been having a tough time recently so he wants to make you feel better. Rafe had ordered your favorite food, went to the store and got your favorite chocolates and flowers. On the way home he even called your mom to see if she could take Luca for the night. He wanted to give you a stress free night.

“Candice, I'm home.” Rafe shouts into the house as he enters. His plan is to get her out of the house as soon as he can and bring Luca to your moms. He brings the bags to the kitchen, wanting to get everything set up. He’s in the middle of plating the food when he feels arms wrap around him. He smiles for a moment, thinking you got home and caught him doing something nice. He realizes something is wrong when the body leans deeper into him. He looks down and doesn’t see your ring.

“Can’t believe you would do this for me.” Candice’s voice rings in his ear. Rafe rips her arms off of him shoving her away. “What the fuck are you doing?” He yells at her. He stares at her with wide eyes. “What are you talking about? I’m just doing what we both want.” She’s walking closer to him. He has to shake his head to see if this is reality. Rafe puts his arms up before she could get closer. “Listen I don’t know what you think is happening here but it’s not real.”

He’s trying to be nice, not waiting to embarrass the young girl or make things awkward. “Yes it is. I see how you look at me. It’s okay Mr. Cameron I want to fuck you too.” Rafe is utterly bewildered. What the actual fuck is this girl on. “Hey I’ve done drugs in my time but I won’t allow you to put my son’s life in danger just so you can get high.” That could only be the possible explanation.

Every conversation and interaction is playing in Rafe’s mind. There is no way he gave her the impression that he wanted her. She just laughs at him. “I’m not on drugs, silly. I just want us to finally get it over with. I mean you brought all of this for me, clearly you feel the same.” Her arms wrap around his neck. You walk in just in time to hear the last part of what she said.

He really played you. He made you feel crazy for your thoughts and here’s the proof. You didn’t have time to speak up because Rafe was yelling. “Get the fuck off of me. You need to listen to me, touch me again and you are fired. Matter of fact you are fired. We will no longer be needing your service.” He shoves her off him, his eyes filled with rage. “What I thought.” Candice tries to explain.

“I don’t want to hear it. You know my wife saw you for what you are. A nasty whore who tries to break up families. I’m disgusted even knowing I defended you because you are nothing but shit on the bottom of my shoe. Take your fucking money and never come back.” Rafe throws the check at her yet she doesn’t reach for you.

“Let’s see what that little wife of yours thinks when I tell her how we’ve been sleeping together. She’ll leave you and you’ll just have to stay with me. She won’t believe you when you say I’m lying.” She smirks as Rafe’s face drops. Thinking she won the battle she goes to step closer to him.

“I think she’ll know you are lying. Then fire you just like MY husband did.” She freezes and Rafe looks relieved to see you. “Mrs Cameron.” “Save it.” you cut her off. “Take the money and leave. We don’t need you here anymore.” Candice picks up the check with a solemn face. She rushes past you as she leaves, looking back at Rafe one last time.

When she is gone Rafe takes a deep breath. “I’m so fucking glad you were there. I was close to punching her in the face.” He breathes out. You just laugh walking over to him. “I wouldn’t have minded.” He gives you a kiss, looking at the bags on the counter.

“So much for a romantic night for the two of us. Even have your mom for overnight duty.” You smile at him, biting your lip and you look up. “Why don’t we drop Luca off and you can make it up to me. Since we already have the sitter of course.” You rationalize. “I like the way you think Mrs. Cameron.”

[prose-for-hire]

Should I Stay or Should I Go? (Part Two)

Part One // Part Three // Part Four

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Part two of four 💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with dad!Giles, reader doesn't like Buffy much.

You did, it turns out, like Spike in a way you hadn’t realised until you had spent some time with him. It made sense now, all the time you had tried talking to him and clinging onto the small amount you had learnt about him while he stayed with you for all those months. The amount of Passions you watched just to spend time with him.

He fascinated you, made you feel at ease in a way that no one ever had, despite the casual threats of death.

You knew, however, that if you stayed where you wanted to be, with Spike, there could be trouble. Not only with the Scoobies. You were still hurt by what had happened with your father. You felt like a failure, you had never meant to lose the jobs or disappoint your Dad.

You just hated the expectations he had and the pressure he had always laid on so thick and it made you want something completely different. What this different thing was, however, you weren’t sure.

You were sitting on a stone tomb, watching as Spike walked towards you, slamming himself down beside you while he waited the last agonising minutes for the sun to rise.

“What’s happening in that mind of yours?” He asked, using two fingers to tap his own temple. He had caught you staring into the distance again, reliving that horrible moment with your father.

“What do you mean?”

“Can tell there’s something up from a mile away” He shook his head adding, “Not that I care much that is”

“I feel like a bad person” you sighed, folding in on yourself.

“You ain’t bad, believe me, I know bad”

“Maybe I haven’t killed anyone like you but if I was a good person, Dad wouldn’t have-” You started to let your mouth run as fast as your thoughts, before he cut you off, a flash of anger behind his eyes at how you had been made to feel.

“Don’t start with all that rot, what dear Rupert did was evil even by my standards. If anything, love, you’re painfully average verging on boring” He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he spoke.

“Thanks, I actually really needed that,” You laughed through the tears that had started to well in your eyes. You paused for a moment, before asking, “I don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me this much. Why wouldn’t you talk to me at Dad’s?”

“Couldn’t risk it”

“What do you mean?” Your words caught in your throat as you asked.

“Well, you know, send in the pretty one to play good cop and all that crap” he explained, elaborating that he had thought that you were playing him to get information out of him about the Initiative for Buffy and the others.

You smiled softly at the way he spoke about you. You sat in silence for a while, smiling at him softly, leaning back against the threadbare sofa. He did the same, lying back, his head turned towards you until there were mere inches between you.

He was watching your lips curve in that way he found so pleasing. It made him feel something deep within, a tensing, a fluttering of something he couldn’t describe. God, how he wanted to lean into you, press his lips against you. But he couldn’t let himself go there. He didn’t like Watchers or Slayers. In fact, he hated you. Yep, definitely. Hate. That was what this was.

Later on, after you had stayed for a couple more days, you began to worry that you had outstayed your welcome but he had never actually asked you to leave. It had been confirmed to you as Spike burst through from the lower level of the crypt and kicked some of your old clothes you had set aside to go to a laundromat later.

“Bloody crap everywhere! Can’t move for all your human bollocks” He kicked a bag that was leaking clothes onto the floor. You had sneaked back into your Dad’s place to grab more of your stuff and had overheard him on the phone to someone, once again assassinating your character.

“You’re right. I should probably find something more human-y and permanent” You shrugged, “Thanks for, uh, letting me stay and all”

“Where you gonna go?” He stopped what he had been doing, his brow furrowing in that way that you found so cute. His head cocked to the side as he asked the question.

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll find something”

“Can’t have that, love, stay until you’ve got somethin’ more proper figured out”

“You want me to stay?”

“’S not that. You could be eaten up tomorrow and I wouldn’t give a toss,” He insisted, slightly more half-heartedly than normal, “Just wouldn’t be right to see you out when you’re perfect bait for anything nasty that walks it’s way in”

It was true, the two instances that a demon had found their way into the crypt, they had made straight for you. Thus, ignoring Spike and letting him gain the upper hand on them both.

His eyes lit up at the way you smiled at his words. Despite the cruel appearance of his words, they made you smile. You had found yourself fond of his threats, his way with words. You had it bad. He drank in your form, eyes lingering first on your lips then slowly along your cheek and before slowly moving to meet your eyes.

He snapped himself away, after spending too long with that unmoving gaze. He snatched up his book and began to read by candlelight sat on one of the stone tombs, again waiting for the sun to set so that he could grab some blood and other necessities.

You stayed on the sofa, lying back and thinking about everything that had brought you to this point.

The turning of the pages and the soft candlelight, the occasional whisper of Spike’s voice as he murmured words that he was reading under his breath. It made you yawn, eventually slipping into a slumber. The atmosphere made you feel so comfortable, comfort in such a way that you had never experienced before. You weren’t afraid of being attacked or judged for your decisions. You didn’t have any pressure or expectations to live up to.

You felt… safe.

After placing a blanket over your sleeping form, Spike decided to make a little trip out. He needed to get a few things, he was starting to enjoy having a roommate. Especially one that he found so attractive. Not that he particularly let himself think on this for too long. He was trying so desperately to stop the feelings from growing, denying it the light of day to bloom.

You hadn’t noticed it to begin with, the way that the crypt started to resemble something not far from cosy. There was a tv set, a little makeshift bar with a fridge and it had been decorated with fairy lights and he had even sourced a real mattress for your room on the lower level. It was split into two, Spike had the bigger room, his explanation was that he deserved it being the only one providing for the house while you tried to find a job. 

After a couple of months, you and Spike had been dancing around feelings that had started to grow, not that either of you recognised that the other felt the same. Spike could be grumpy and still often threatened to drink from your brainstem if you left a mess around the place. He was surprisingly particular about how his home was made, especially considering that you were in a crypt and half of it was covered in cobwebs.

“Fancy a proper drink then, pet?” He asked one night.

 You had grown fond of the pet names and smiled at his words, you would never have thought your relationship with Spike would become something akin to a friendship. You adored him and allowed yourself brief daydreams where you reached for more.

“I haven’t got any money, Spike, you know that”

“On me”

“I don’t like being in debt to people”

“I’m sure we can work out some kind of repayment” He arched his eyebrow suggestively before snatching up his leather duster and gesturing for you to follow him.

Turns out, there was no repayment necessary as Spike stole the liquor and two glasses from behind the bar and topped up your drinks all night. You never thought you would feel so normal drinking in a demon bar. You did get a few suspicious looks but when Spike glared back they assumed that he was just going to eat you later himself.

You sat in a booth, leaning into him so you could hear what he was saying over the music that was playing. He told you all sorts of stories about his ‘glory days’ and you hung onto every word. You could tell he was exaggerating some of them to impress you and it only made you enjoy them more.

“Spike?” You asked quietly after a while.

“Mm?”

“Is this a date?” You asked, eyes not able to meet his. You instead pretended to find the contents of your glass incredibly interesting.

“Depends, love”

“On?”

“If-” He started, never able to finish what he had been about to let slip. Luckily or unluckily, depending on which mood he was in, he didn’t have chance because a gang slammed the entrance open and started to smash the place up.

He immediately got up and positioned himself in front of you, blocking you from the threat. He smirked and rolled his eyes when he saw you get up and stand beside him in his peripheral.

They were clearly looking for someone that wasn’t you, but when their eyes did land on you it was all that they were interested in. It was the Scoobies. They had clearly heard some edited version of why you had left from your father as they looked at you with suspicion.

“I should have known that you would sink as low as this. To dance with depravity like this is truly reprehensible” Your father spoke first as the other three whispered to each other.

“Spike’s done more for me in the last month than any of you put together. These people haven’t done anything to you-”

“Apart from the fact that they’re not people, they’re demons,” Buffy reminded you. You ignored her.

“I don’t care what you think of me anymore Giles, I don’t care that I’ve disappointed you and I don’t care that you think I’m all “evil” now for having a couple of drinks in a demon bar. Surely someone that was educated so well couldn’t be so stupid?!” You rolled your eyes

“Y/n-”

“Take your Slayer and go” You warned. They had just been looking for information anyway, Giles decided to do as you said (for probably the first time in your life). What you had said affected him. He had been visibly taken aback before you watched him walk back with the rest of the Scooby gang.

The bartender announced free drinks for everyone to celebrate their unlife lasting at least another night now that the Slayer had left. You weren’t exactly feeling it anymore though, so you both left.

You assumed Spike was going to say something mean in answer to your questioning that had been interrupted. But he truly had almost said it had been a date. If you had wanted it to be. He would have done anything, so long as it had made you happy. He knew this now. Knew for certain his desire, his love, was a force that could not be curtailed. The way you had stood up for yourself, even for him. He was used to the insults that were hurled his way by Buffy and the others. He had forgotten what it was like to have someone in his corner.

He was doing that thing again, watching you with that look. The one that told you he knew you, could see directly into your soul. The one you would so gladly offer up to him had he asked.

You were grateful for his presence beside you as the adrenaline from the argument still draining from your body slowly. It had still not properly subsided by the time you both arrived home.

Home.

Funny how a place like this could make you feel such relief. It was simple, but you had never felt that way coming ‘home’ before.

You stood close, his face close to yours, so close that you could smell him. Thick smoke and some kind of cologne that you had never noticed before. You leaned in further, not knowing if it was leftover adrenaline or just pure need, you caught his lips with yours.

He had been leaning towards you at the same moment, his hand sliding up your arm, lingering against your neck. He cradled your neck as his lips moved to meet yours. He pressed himself against you, desperate and wanting. Needing your touch, your kiss. Your everything.

His touch made your kiss deepen, you pulled his shirt, balling it in your fists as you tried to pull him even closer. He tasted good. Too good.

You moved away from him, breaking the sweet contact you had been wanting for so long now. You stepped back again, telling him to go and make himself comfortable. You needed to grab a few things and that you would be back.

“Bloody tease!” he called after you playfully as he did what you had said. He’d have listened to anything you had said to do that again. To touch your body so intimately. It had been all he had fantasised about. All he had been consumed by.

You didn’t immediately understand why you did it.

Why you left the crypt and didn’t look back, walking away into the night.

Leaving him waiting for your return.

[meanbossart]

Okay, one more question on the Bhaalist Drow au, if you'll indulge. What happens in Astarion's mindthe immediate aftermath of the ascension failing (as in, right then but also up until the game's end). Do they bother showing up to Withers' party? How does Astarion go slip sliding down into a cowed version of himself over time? And, what I am most fascinated by in something like this, how do the other cultists, especially direct reporters to DU Drow, or like deputies, treat him? Does Astarion find he's confined certain places?

Sorry, thank you!

No apologies needed! This is a very fun scenario to play around in.

So, I'm not sure if Astarion would immediately realize that DU drow purposefully ruined the ritual, but regardless he would have realized that this is the outcome he truly wanted.

I imagine that after Du drow embraced Bhaal, Astarion would have gotten it into his head that he now must ascend so they will be on leveled ground, and fully capable of pursuing their plans of taking control over the sword coast together as equally powerful individuals. DU drow would have sold himself as completely behind this plan and supportive of the idea, eager for them to exert total control as the most dashingly evil couple in all of Faerun. And perhaps this was genuine for a day, before the fear of losing his grasp over Astarion began to settle in. He didn't voice this as all, of course, but as an avid manipulator himself Astarion would be able to tell post-failure that his support wasn't earnest.

And I think Astarion just panicked; going back and forth between convincing himself that he should be thankful to have someone powerful by his side, and just feeling like has no other option but to go along with it. Whether or not he thinks he can abandon DU drow successfully, the world has just become a much scarier place than before, and at least here he knows he has someone to take care of him - someone he should be fond of, even if time eventually proves him wrong.

For a while (weeks, if not months) Astarion would have appeared nothing if not pleased with his predicament. He has a man who is head-over-heels for him who also happens to be the head-honcho of a powerful cult, he has access to as much blood and violence as he pleases and the ability to entertain his fantasies of power and cruelty to their fullest. If there is anyone left who cares for him, he paints elaborate pictures of their routine together - of their outings, of their riches, of his exquisite quarters and their intense sex. He tells them that DU drow might be Bhaal's chosen, but he has him wrapped tight around his finger day and night and pretty much runs the show behind the scenes.

These are fantasies that he wants to others to believe in as much as he wants to convince himself of them, and a narrative that DU drow might even humor - he likes the illusion of Astarion being in control, but it can't ever be like that in practice - but reality is a lot more hollow. They have gold, and they have the expensive garments, and the sex is intense, but life has become a performance from morning until night and Astarion has completely lost the element of tenderness that he had grown to enjoy. DU drow loves him like a prized possession, like a novelty - a fragile ornament that only he knows how to handle, and no one else is allowed near.

Whenever there is push back, whenever Astarion wants to branch out, he is reminded of how vulnerable and small he is. How every day occurrences and objects can harm him, and that while DU drow may appreciate him for the man he is, others will take him for a simple monster. That It is much easier to stick by his side, sacrifice some of his freedom but be cared for than to risk exposing himself to harm. DU drow also constantly reminds him of the pain he would be in if anything were to ever draw them apart, and guilts him about what may happen if he was to die.

And as rebellious towards Cazador as he might have been, total servitude is a default he learned to fall back into in search of safety. It is easier to turn to old habits and simply accept his circumstances, surrender to them. At least here, he is never tortured, he is never physically hurt, and he is only sometimes verbally berated. He can deal with it as long as it is an improvement upon his previous situation. Slowly, he'd just become DU drow's yes-man, he'd concern himself constantly with pleasing him, looking desirable, acting desirable, fulfilling his fantasies and acting the part that's expected of him. From the outside it may even seen like he enjoys the life.

He is basically seen but not heard by DU drow's consorts. It's less about the respect that they may or may not have for him and more about the respect (or should I say fear) that they have for their leader. DU Drow would make it clear again and again that no one is allowed to touch him, he would be weary of anybody trying get too close, of being too friendly, even of staring a little too hard - he would kill and torture men over the most mundane of comments whether they be positive or negative until everyone is just too fearful of interacting with Astarion at all. As for people outside of the temple, he basically never has a chance to mingle without DU drow's watchful gaze over him (all for the sake of protecting him, of course).

I think Sceleritas would be the only person who can consistently interact with alone, since DU drow trusts him completely. The little goblin himself no longer sees Astarion as so much of a person, more so a possession; one that keeps his master happy and productive. So he extends the same amount of respect to him as he does to DU drow himself, and functions as a butler to both.

He also reports back to DU drow about Astarion's every request, every diversion from habit, every misplaced sigh and fluctuation in mood, every eye-roll. He knows the questions to ask to get the answers he wants, to interrogate him with poise on behalf of his master so he can make sure that his beau is always happy and content. Astarion realizes this learns to watch himself around Sceleritas over time too.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 197 }

me and you

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ we’re the new face of failure | prettier and younger, but not any better off | bulletproof loneliness, at best, at best… }

your heart was pounding with anxiety when your teacher began passing back your exam for algebra 2. your palms were sweating, and you felt nauseous at the thought of seeing your score.

his humming was heard, and the moment you saw your teacher completely eclipsing your form from prying eyes was when you knew you had failed. your test was flipped on its back, but from the sheer amount of red marks seen, you knew that the grade couldn’t possibly have been a passing one.

your heart was still felt thrumming against the base of your throat when you slowly turned it over-

revealing a 50% marked in bolded ink along with a message that read, ‘come see me after class.’

you internally groan, feeling the tears threaten to well up in your eyes as the frustration began to mount against you. it wasn’t like you didn’t study-

math was just an atrocious subject for you, and that fact will never change.

once the final bell rang, you wait for the students to head out first, their laughter and carefree attitude seeming to put a damper on your mood as you begrudgingly stepped closer to your teacher’s desk. he pushes up his glasses while keeping his hands folded on top of some assignments. he says your name in a gentle manner while meeting your gaze, taking note of the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes.

“now, i’m not upset with you. i just worry that you won’t understand the concepts well enough; that you may fail this course. because this is just our first exam, i’m willing to give you another chance.”

you give him a grateful smile and begin wiping away your tears. “thank you so much sir! so, what do i need to do?”

your teacher considers your words before telling you, “if you can correct every question you missed on this exam and turn it back into me by tomorrow, i’ll give you a passing score of 80%.”

upon listening to his explanation, the hope of a second chance was immediately ripped away from you, making the tears nearly drop from your eyes once more. before you could start bawling, your teacher suddenly lifts a hand to stop you. “now wait a moment, i wouldn’t be cruel enough to make you do this on your own. there is one young man who scored a perfect 100% on this exam, and i am going to enlist his help right now.”

he focuses his attention on someone settled behind you before calling out his name, making your heart practically freeze in response upon hearing the syllables that made up his name.

“sung jinwoo, could you please help this young woman and tutor her over the concepts covered in exam 1 along with correcting her answers?”

you look back to see the said boy with perfectly styled ebony locks of hair and stormy eyes meet your gaze. he was simply conversing with his friends when the teacher called out to him. he looks back to see your wide eyed gaze before giving you a beaming smile.

“sure, i don’t mind helping her at all.”

and it was at that exact moment you knew you were screwed-

because you had the biggest crush on jinwoo the world has ever known-

today was not going to end well.

he says his goodbyes to his friends before coming closer to you, running a hand over his hair as you had to look up to meet his gaze. despite being only 16 years old, he still towered over you (and over 95% of your classmates), making you wonder just how he had gotten so tall.

“my apartment is a little cluttered, and my sister may have gotten home from school, too. if it’s alright with you, can we head to your place instead?”

you give him a stiff nod, trying to keep your expression neutral and your voice even as you walked out of class together with him. he remains close to you, hands being shoved within the pockets of his coat. he maintains a safe distance from you, but didn’t stand so far away that you couldn’t admire his features up close. he was focused on the scenery that passes by from your periphery, and a part of you felt a deep sense of guilt for potentially wasting his time.

“jinwoo?”

he lets out a hum of your name, “yes?”

the sound of your name coming from his lips makes you shiver, nearly making you do a double take when you shake your head to help with calming down, letting out a sigh. “i’m sorry, i didn’t wish to put a damper on your plans or anything. it’s just… i have always been bad at math.”

jinwoo lets out a rich chuckle, “i know, but i never once minded it.”

a strange sense of nostalgia was felt coursing through you, halting you in your steps as you looked back at him to see his gentle smile. you kept opening and closing your mouth, unsure of what to make of the strange familiarity of his words. jinwoo ends up shaking his head before telling you, “don’t take this the wrong way, i just meant to say that i don’t mind helping you out, so it’s no trouble at all.”

satisfied with his reassurance, you visibly relax and continue your trek back home, unaware of the knowing smirk that paints jinwoo’s features as he keeps his eyes on your back, stepping in line from close behind you, as if wishing to shield you from any potential dangers.

after spending some time walking, you finally arrive in your neighborhood, heading towards your house as you placed a hand on your front door and unlocked it, allowing jinwoo to enter first. a casual smile paints his features when he thanks you, entering your home while taking off his shoes.

“my parents are still at work, so we’ll be by ourselves for the most part, if that’s okay with you…?”

jinwoo simply shrugs before gesturing at you, “it’s no problem at all. lead the way.”

you both end up being settled on your dining room table along with some snacks and bottles of cold water. jinwoo then starts spreading out his notebooks, pens, and calculator throughout the table before taking a seat next to you. he asks to see your exam with a sweet smile, and you hand it to him, still feeling shaky at the thought of your crush potentially judging you.

instead, he simply hums while moving his seat so that he was closer to you.

“it’s okay, i see your work, and you got very close to the right answer. your steps were just mixed up, that’s all.”

his voice remained kind and calm, never once becoming agitated with you as he slowly guided you through each problem that you missed. a few hours pass, and when you saw that you managed to correct all of the questions that you missed you couldn’t stop the wide grin from spreading across your face.

“oh my god, jinwoo, i did it!”

his grey eyes shine with mirth, “of course. i had no doubt in my mind that you could do it. you just needed some clarification and a gentle push in the right direction.”

when jinwoo was done commending you, he lets out a happy sigh before uncapping a bottle of water, taking a huge swig of it. as you put away your corrected exam, you couldn’t help but keep your gaze on jinwoo, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed with each sip of water that he takes.

you were mesmerized at the sight of him, unable to look away as your eyes seemed to follow a single droplet of water as it made its descent from his lips all the way down to the base of his throat. he stops drinking from his water bottle moments later, now smirking at you when he asks, “what are you staring at?”

an undignified squeak was heard coming from you as you quickly look away from him, your features completely flustered as you found it difficult to meet his tranquil gaze. “it’s nothing! uhm…”

jinwoo lets out another rich chuckle when he puts his empty water bottle away before asking you. “have i shown you my favorite formula for algebra? i promise you, its helped me through many tough situations, and i’m sure it can help you, too.”

feeling grateful that he changed the subject, such talk of this amazing formula was enough to make your eyes go wide. “y-yes! please, show me this formula… if you don’t mind…”

jinwoo gives you a nod before leaning closer to you, taking a hold of your notebook as he opens it to a fresh page before uncapping his pen. it was then that he began writing against the lines in a neat script:

me + you = ♡

your heart rate becomes slightly erratic as your breath hitches in response. you meet with jinwoo’s gaze, seeing the look of adoration in them when he leans closer to you, not saying a word as he proved his feelings for you in a slow and sweet kiss.

you feel him smiling against your lips, causing a strange warmth to fill and course through your veins. jinwoo’s gaze never once strays too far away from you when he pulls away from you and admits, “you’ve always been on my mind. ever since the moment i first saw you, i wanted nothing more than to protect you… and keep you by my side.”

you wanted oh so desperately to tell him how much you liked him-

how you had always felt so strongly about him and basked in the way he made you feel-

but sadly, you knew that mere words alone would never be sufficient enough to convey your feelings for sung jinwoo.

so you did the next best thing-

you surge forward to capture his lips in another searing kiss, and upon hearing the way jinwoo lets out a soft growl of your name before returning your kiss, you didn’t think he minded your wordless declaration one bit.

a.n. omg i have such a block for jinwoo, but i’m trying; i’m trying so hard to balance everything and not have sylus taking over my life, currently unedited but i’ll make corrections later once this is posted 😭🙌🏻 there might be a double update since man i can’t get sylus out of my head lol ooops

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[ultralightpoe]

Venomous- Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: Gahhhhhh, enjoy. Part 2 soon

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, mentions of murder.

Word Count: 7566

Requests: OPEN! [This work is a request]

[Thank you for the gif @another-nerdy-blog ]

Enjoy!

Inland Taipan 

Scientific Name: Oxyuranus microlepidotus

- 

“Despair is the price one pays when they set an impossible aim.” Dreykov murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spy as he circles you slowly. His footsteps fall into a pattern your brain can’t help but follow, a constant thud like a war drum. 

And though he claimed to be checking you for your next mission you couldn’t help but feel as though he was circling you like a predator would it’s prey. 

‘He needed you’, you tried to remind yourself, doing your best to ease yourself and hide the fear from him. Because the truth was he didn’t need you. You might be his top assassin in this moment but you were easily replaceable. 

Natasha herself had warned you before she escaped. 

“We are nothing but weapons here.” She had whispered to you one night, huddled together to keep warmth on the mission, arms wound tightly around each other. Your sister in arms, your sister in life since you didn’t know your own family. 

You had known she wanted out, you wanted the same thing, and though you weren’t mad she had made it out you were upset that she had done it without you. 

Countless times dreaming of a life beyond all of this. 

Lies. 

“Do you understand what this means, pretty girl?” Dreykov asks, pulling your attention away from your memories back to where he know stood behind you, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror while you shake your head. 

You were nervous he had caught you, that he knew you had hacked into his system three days ago to find your birth name, and so when you had been ordered down you were sure he was going to kill you. 

But instead he had you prep for an upcoming mission. 

“It means not to set yourself up for failure. You know your skill, and you know your limitations. You are my top weapon.” He explains, not breaking eye contact as you bite back your tongue to make a snide comment. “The mission I am about to send you on is long and I trust no one but you.”

“Thank you.” You mutter, nodding your head. 

“I’d like to introduce you to the key of this mission, a vital part.” The door opens a couple feet away, and a strong figure was soon led into the room, the second you spot him your entire body tightens in discomfort. 

Right, Natalia Romanov was gone and you had taken her place. Which meant you would now do duo missions with the Winter Soldier himself. 

And you knew the moment your eyes traced over his body that he would ruin everything. By the way his eyes traced over your own before his fists tightened you knew he was thinking the same about you. 

- 

Dr. Aquinos always had a noticeable look of pity that, no matter how many times you saw it, always set your stomach twisting in a mix of anger and embarrassment. But you were sure if you were to bring this up she would simply tell you that you were over reading, trying to find an excuse not to trust her. 

‘By the sounds of it you weren’t always this distrusting, why don’t we try to go back and think about when that began to change’. Blah blah blah. 

The clock on the wall was the only sound that could be heard in the room, with you sitting completely still in an effort to wait out this hour until you could leave, and her across from you sitting patiently with her classic notepad and pen. She often twirled it between her fingers when she was getting impatient, and you tried not to smirk at the sight of her doing it now. 

“I thought we had moved past this waiting game routine.”

“I thought you were over that sweater,” You huff, shrugging your shoulder a bit and giving her an empty glare, only to find that she narrows her eyes. Like a lion reading the challenge. 

“You look sick.” There it is again, that damn pity that made you want to scratch out her eyes, and maybe your own. You always hated her pity, or maybe you hated the ‘serene’ paintings around the room or the happy family photo that proudly hung from the wall next to the office door. The same photo that always dug a hole in your chest whenever you spotted it. 

It was a reminder and a slap in the face at the same time. Dr. Aquinos kids will never know that pain or suffering which isn’t their fault and yet you couldn’t stop the resentment that filled you whenever you saw that damn photo. The smile that reminded you of so many… so many children that deserved better. 

You hated this office, and yet you found yourself here once a damn week. 

“I believe the term you are looking for is sickening.” You flash her a wide smile, crossing your legs to seem more confident in this moment, trying not to seem like that movement alone caused you pain. 

“I mean sick.” She states, her tone still holding that fucking pity. “Was it a long night for you?”

Yes. It had been an extremely long night for you. The first half of the night had been spent on top of a roof in the freezing cold for surveillance, only the target had shown up 40 minutes later than he normally did which meant you had an extra 40 minutes of the winter air making you shiver and tightening your bones. Which made the hip injury you tried to avoid all the worse, hard to move around. 

By the time you managed to limp your way home, scarfing down  the small rations of food into your mouth before shoving a pain pill down and diving into the cot you kept in the closet for safety. 

You had gotten maybe an hour worth of sleep before the terrors dragged you awake in a pool of your own sweat, panic clinging to your every move. 

Your hip still hurt, the throbbing beginning to work it’s way into your spine, but you had a performance to play here. “Not really, I slept through the night and woke up in my soft warm bed.”

“You’re not still sleeping on the military cot in the closet then?”

“No,” You lie, enjoying the way it slips past your lips without a notch. “I’ve got a queen size bed now.”

Yet another lie, your apartment held a duffel bag of your mission gear and suit. One dresser of normal clothes, the cot in the closet. That was all you needed. 

And it’s pathetic, the way you once dreamed of this for so long just to be living this miserable existence. 

“It’s common to miss it, you know, there is no shame in that. It’s the pain and the change, you feel like you have nothing right now but I can assure you that’s not true.” She mumbles softly, and you hate the way she can read you that easily. 

It was true, you missed the red room. You missed your sisters and you missed the routine. You never needed to be someone in the rooms, out here in the world? A new story completely. 

You were nothing, no one. 

All you had was a name and even that didn’t seem like it belonged to you. 

“Why don’t we keep expanding on your years in the rooms….” She switches the conversation, knowing you both had hit a dead end, choosing a new route. “You told me a little about it before and I noticed that most widows have specialty names built off of that name itself. But you didn’t, can you explain why you were named….the ‘viper’ was it?”

“Yes.” Ironically the way you bite this out makes the ending sound like your very own hiss, all you needed now was a rattle and black eyes. 

“Can you explain to me how you got that name?”

“Because of…. Him.” Even referencing him left a sore spot in your chest, sweat beading the back of your neck. 

“Ah, Bucky Barnes.” She hums, and you hated that people called him that. You hated that he got his name and his recovery. He was the Soldat, he would never change and of course people were falling for his trap. 

You had long ago. 

“The SOLDAT gave me the name on our mission.” You sneer, “What time is it?”

The clock had stuck, you were sure of it. And when she reached to check the time on her watch you caught sight of her notes with the words HEALTH RISK circled and underlined, her family photo once again making you a bit nauseous as she hums out and nods to the door to let you know the time was up. 

“I look forward to our next session.”

“I don’t.” It was the truth, and you enjoyed the fact that you could speak the truth with her even if she got a little too close. “But I wish you a good week, I hope your family is okay.”

The smile that spreads across her face as you leave makes you angry, but not at her, at yourself. 

She was right, you were a health risk. To yourself and to others, but that wouldn’t matter soon, the second you completed your final task you wouldn’t have to worry anymore. 

The list of names you had made for yourself, your last mission on this miserable life would be to take out the people that hurt you. 23 names total, and at the very end of the list in the neatest handwriting you could muster was ‘The Soldat’. 

You would leave this earth, but he would leave it first. 

- 

Alternative name/s:

Fierce Snake, Small-scaled Snake, Lignum Snake 

-

It was easy to ignore the widow,  she liked to keep to herself in the corner of the small safe house they were keeping in on the first part of the mission. 

A list of names, 118 total, that Hydra and the Red Room needed gone as soon as possible. Risks that needed to be handled. And the Soldat was used to doing missions on his own but they paired him with the Widow to help. 

And at first he was sure she would be trouble, but he was proven to be wrong since the Widow seemed just as sure as him that she didn’t want to be near him. 

Right now she sat in the corner, crisscrossing, taking time to clean all her knives with the polishing kit that most of the Hydra safe houses had to keep their gear clean. Her hands worked seamlessly, making sure that the knife shown under the light, and he couldn’t seem to look at anything else but her. 

Maybe the Soldat was annoyed that she had used the polishing kit before he could. Maybe he just liked seeing that someone else had the same routine he did on these missions. Or maybe he was interested in the vials sitting beside her. 

As if she could read his thoughts she reached for one, keeping the knives before her on the ground as she twisted the cap to the vial and moved to pour the liquid over each weapon before taking what was left and he was confused by the fact that she was putting on her suit.

He looked closer, realizing that there were vials hidden within her sleeve. He wanted to know what they were for until she looked up to give him a knowing smile, teeth flashing in a way that pissed him off. 

He turned away again, so she can go back to doing her hair and looking at her reflection. 

But it all made sense the night of the first hunt. She had started at the other end of the house and planned to make their way through to find their target, and by the time he did find her she already had the target within her clutch. 

His arm twisted within her legs to keep him in place with one hand pushing his head so his neck was exposed while her other wrist snaps to reveal two puncture points at the knuckles of her suit made to look like fangs. Only a flash of those before they reach his neck. 

She removes herself immediately and he rushes to get the target, worried that he would fight back and wondering what would make the widow so stupid to let him go before he realizes that the Target wasn’t moving at all. Instead he seems paralyzed as he died slowly. 

When he whirls back to the Widow she is once again facing a mirror, fixing her hair and lipstick before turning to him with a smile that twisted his chest. “Are there any more loose ends?” 

The russian falls off his tongue with ease and she narrows her eyes at him to tilt her head. 

“Tous les détails sont pris en charge,” [All the loose ends are taken care of.] She shrugs, twirling her hair before spinning on her toes and swaying her hips to walk away. His brain racks for a moment, never great at French which she had realized on the first day, and followed the brat down the hall. 

He risks a look down the hall where Marvin Montys child slept and spots the blood splatter on the wall, before following her. 

At least the widow could do her job. 

- 

“You’re making a lot of progress, Bucky.” Dr. Raynor hums out, nodding her head as she watches him from her regular spot. She hasn’t scribbled on her notepad in the past 30 minutes of their hour-long session, and he hopes that’s a good sign. “But I’d like to dive a bit deeper for a moment, cut to the harsh point if you don’t mind.”

“Not like I have a choice here Doc.” He mutters, but his tone lacks the usual bite. 

“Funny,” She smirks for a second before sitting up a bit. “There’s a patch of memories that you said helped you break from the Soldier with Steve. Made it easier, your own words.” 

“There was. About a month before I was sent out to get Steve….. I had just gotten back from another mission.”

“The one with the ‘Viper’ is that correct?”

He has to clear his throat in attempt to fight off the tightness, feeling his chest constrict in pain as he nods. 

“It was a long mission. I hadn’t been away from the chair for that long before and she managed to break through every crack formed. Or at least we thought she did.”

“Have you tried to find her? Since you have come back?” 

“I started trying to find her the second Steve found me.” He explains, thinking back to when he first started tracking her down. But there was nothing, even going through all the programs he could within the Red Rooms files, he couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere after him. 

He was terrified, because if he couldn’t find a single trace of you that might have meant you were gone and he didn’t think he could survive in a world that he knew didn’t have you in it. 

But then Natasha freed the Red Room while he was ‘snapped’ and the world he came back to was a world with the Widows and all their secrets revealed. And that’s when he found Yelena….. Well Yelena had found him. 

She had been suffering from the loss of her sister, and had taken to finding all the widows herself to make sure they were fine. She was the one person in this world that had the information he needed. 

Sam, the new captain america, had poured over the intel with him. Your intel, the trail to find you. 

“You sound as if you have.”

“Not yet, but I’m close.” He nods. “I have this feeling in my chest, that I’m almost there. That I’ve almost got her. And I can give her what she’s always wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

“A candle that smells like orchids by a front door where you can hang your keys. A door mat decorated to invite kids to trick or treat on Halloween. Curtains that catch the light in the morning.” None of the things he mentioned were his dreams, not until she had mentioned them. 

“I hope you get those things.” He does too. And he was close, matter fact he only had 3 more days before Sam and himself went to find you. 

- 

The inland taipan's venom is the most potent of any snake in the world. A single bite contains enough venom to kill around 100 adult humans. The venom is a cocktail of enzymes that paralyze nerve endings, destroy muscle tissue, and cause severe bleeding

- 

A month with the Soldat had been easy keeping to yourself, 2 months had shown you so much more. 

The first being he was extremely grumpy in the mornings, no matter what. Even before you both had begun getting along you had noticed that he hated them. Every move he made was tight, He would rip open the ration packets and stomp his feet just about anywhere. He would do weapons checks so that all you would hear were the clicks and twists of his gun and the metal hand grabbing everything. 

Then he would do bed checks, coming over to the cot you had claimed as your own to throw you off it and search through your stuff. 

Month three, 3 targets in, you had completely learned his morning routine. And since you had been on watch last night you got the gift of seeing it in real time. After a couple of hours of tossing and turning in his sleep and mumbling something about a Steve he sat up right at 5am, launching himself out of his cot and taking in his surroundings. He glared at you, which made you smirk as he passed to head to the bathroom. He stretched in there, too proud to admit that even the Soldat needed to loosen his muscles. You heard the water run telling you he was right on schedule with cleaning himself up and you took the chance to rest your head on the small pillow to close your eyes before he stomps back. 

You know he is reaching for the ration packets without even opening your eyes, and you know he uses his teeth to tear it open in hopes to release some of the tension he had built up. You know he is already snatching your own ration packet to prepare it, moving to start the kettle and prepare the bowls. 

You have another 15 minutes of him checking his weapons, hearing him grunt with every weapon cleaned and polished before making sure they were all strapped into their holsters. The kettle starts ringing and he has the habit of rushing to grab it before it bothered you, and you always thought it was the most human thing to do, like a glimpse into who he would have been if he hadn’t become this monster. 

The smell of cream of wheat fills the air, and you hear his steps come to your cot, right on time. 

In the beginning he used to snatch you up to fling you, now he merely reached out a hand to guide you up without an ounce of aggression before he searched through your stuff. And normally you would go grab the rationed breakfast and get ready but today you chose to head to his own cot, sliding into it. 

You were just tired, and you really didn’t care as he turned to glare at you while you curled up, pretending that you weren’t basking in the smell of the leather and soap he wore, pressing your face into the cloth of the cot. A small ounce of fear fills you when he marches forward, only for him to pull the blanket up and cover your shoulders. 

And the warmth fills your body, black filling your vision as you fall asleep once more, this time in the Soldats bed. 

You wake a little later, eyes snapping around the room to check everything, finding the Soldat sitting over his tech to watch your next target. He snaps his head to you the second you sit up, eyes tracing over you before nodding in contempt and turning back to the task at hand. 

When you stand from the cot to grab your gear you are shocked to find that he had already prepared it for you. 

Not only had the Soldat let you sleep, but he had helped you prepare. 

And that small tug in your chest is a weakness, you know it, but that doesn’t stop you from turning to watch him work. 

If he wasn’t in this life you were sure he would have been a good man. 

You felt bad lying to him,  but you had to because good man or not he was a soldier first. And a good soldier would take you out for your weakness, a good soldier would kill you for what you were doing. 

- 

The worst part of waking up was the fact that you couldn’t escape the dreams and memories even with your eyes open. Most think that it’s over once you wake, but for you? Never. Every move is haunted by the past, every breath another painful punishment, and everywhere you look is just another reminder. There was nowhere you could escape. 

So when you manage to pull yourself from the nightmare, sitting up with your clothes drenched in a cold sweat, the darkness of the closet surrounding you like a blanket of protection. 

You’re not there….You remind yourself. If it’s dark then they are leaving you alone. 

And when you sit up, pain shoots through your hip at every single move, letting yourself out of the closet you begin your routine. 

3 am, a slight shower. Not long in fear you would be caught and in part you didn’t want to run too much water. Brush teeth, dress in suit. 

3:15, limp to the kitchen and start boiling water before you reach into your duffel to grab the pain pills you kept hidden away. The prescription written in your name feels wrong, like aren’t actually yours, like you are living the life of a stranger. But you remind yourself it doesn’t matter anyways as you shove it in your mouth, going back to scarf the cream of wheat down and then you head out for an intel session. 

You never take the door, instead you snatch your duffel and remove a little of the newspaper to slide out and climb down the fire escape. 

You take back roads, your static sounder messing up any footage of yourself the cameras might have caught. And soon enough you were prepping yourself to watch your target, venom sitting in the wrists of your suit, a little bit of that past routine giving you something to focus on. 

20 more names on the list until you would go after the Soldat, 21 more names total. 21 names until you are finished with it all. 

All you had to do was wait for the perfect time to kill this one. 

- 

The bite of the Inland Taipan with envenomation can be rapidly fatal, it can take as early as 30 minutes

- 

The Widow had worn on the Soldat, a shame to admit. 

A routine had built where it shouldn't have and now instead of working around each other they worked with each other. They made the rations together, ate together, cleaned their weapons and reloaded them together. 

When he would sit to watch the intel she began coming to sit with him, if not to watch it herself she would lean her head against him and find something to busy herself with while he worked. 

But the biggest change was the banter. 

Gone were the days of him grunting and glaring, she would refuse that now. Instead they found themselves going back and forth, but it was never serious, mostly teasing. 

She would speak in French to piss him off because she knew the Soldat struggled to keep up with it. He would come out of the shower and lean over where she slept to make the water drip down on her while she tried to sleep. She would trip him as he tried to get dressed and he would pull out strands of hair while she did it. 

Back and forth, push and pull. 

Today, when they were planning to start the intel stage on the next target it had turned out to be a downpour of rain, and normally he would go anyway. And yet, when you went to grab your suit he reached out his flesh hand to stop you, pulling you to sit back down. 

“Today, we rest.” He orders, watching your eyes narrow at the russian before you nod and stand, keeping ahold of his hand as you head to where you both keep the stash of rations. 

This safe house was freezing, and it made him miss the last one, not to mention this safe house only held one cot. The best part about this safe house? 

It had amazing rationing food. 

So when you shook the pack to heat it up he made sure to stay close and start the kettle. Keeping so close that he could always feel your arm against him. 

And once the rations were ready you both huddled together against the counters for cover so you could let your walls down a bit, sitting side by side. You shared your beef and potatoes, he shared his spaghetti, eating out of the portion packs and drinking the tea. But his favorite part about this new routine was when the conversation turned to dreams. 

“If I wasn’t in this program……” You hum, and he can’t help but watch your every movement, the way you lick your hips and scratch your forehead in contemplation. “I would have a big house.” 

He huffs out a laugh, shoving the last of his food in mouth as you shrug. “Yes, a big house. And…… and I would have a candle that smells like orchids so whenever people enter they think it smells nice….. And maybe a rug outside the door so they can see it when the kids trick or treat.”

He can’t help the smile that forms from listening about your dream, grabbing your trash to throw away before cleaning out the mugs you both used. 

“Oh! I’d have kids. At least 7!” You continue, following him before shuffling to tech case to find your camera set up. He knows you’re going to triple check that everything is working to busy yourself, something you often did whenever you brought up the idea of kids. 

Widows couldn’t have kids, this he knew. They all received the procedure. To stop periods, to keep their bodies from transforming too much and too prevent pregnancies whenever Dreykov sent them on seduction missions. And before the Soldat had met you none of that had really mattered to him. 

But now, the thought of you being used like that, it made him furious. And he tried to figure out ways to prevent it, ways to stay attached to you as a mission partner forever. 

But that would never happen, they would never allow that. So he tries not to think about it, instead he moves forward to pull you away from the tech, pulling you to the cot so you both can lay down, pulling the blanket up and wrapping you in his arms. 

“Goodnight,” You whisper in french, and pinches your arm to make you laugh before letting himself fall asleep. \

- 

Bucky had the defense of saying that they had tried knocking first, and that was a lame defense at that. But he thought about his arguments as he picked the lock with ease, pushing the door open and letting Sam take the lead. 

At the last second his flesh hand grabs at the Captain America suit, pulling his friend back to warn him. “A quick heads up, she doesn’t fight like the others.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“No, don’t let her wrap her legs around you and don’t let her knives come into contact, small slash or not they are all laced in venom. And above all avoid getting punctured by any of her weapons.” He explains. 

“I thought we were going in to reason with her.”

“We are.” Bucky sighs, his chest constricting in pain. “She’s just a little lost. We’ve all been there.”

The need for revenge was strong. He had been there himself, Yelena had been there. Many widows have been there. And you were currently handling that yourself, handling all the trauma yourself. And that thought hurt him. 

Sam had agreed to help, to come with him and find you, talk you down from this path Captain America style. 

So they stood together as they pushed the door in, searching every inch of the apartment for you until they realized you weren’t here. So instead they looked around for where you might be. 

“I thought all the Hydra Safe Houses had been torn apart.” Sam mutters, admiring the work you did on the windows, newspaper covering nearly every inch while Bucky moves to the closet where he had seen the bed in their search for you. 

He could imagine you nestled up in the cot, surrounded in the dark. The way you used to pull the covers completely over your head to hide from the sun and use your feet to pull the blanket in so you were fully cocooned. 

But this….. None of this was you. Countless times talking about your dreams and this was the outcome? You deserved better. 

“Everything you told me about her just doesn’t seem right here.” Sam mutters once more moving to the kitchens and digging through the cabinets. “Military rations and tea. That’s all.”

“She was so full of life, used to dream of her freedom. She needs help.” Bucky snaps, anger beginning to course through him as he heads to the kitchen. One of your biggest things when you were paired was hiding the tech when you left so no one would have access. 

Your favorite spot was always the bottom left cabinet and sure enough it all sat there. 

“Brilliant.” Sam smiles, leaning over the laptop as Bucky hacks his way in to see what you have been watching. It takes a moment for the footage to load, and once it does he finds video footage of a man walking around his apartment in a towel. 

“Live feed.” Bucky mumbles. 

“That’s Eaiton,” Sam sighs, leaning forward as the man walks down a hall and heads into what looks to be a master bedroom. The footage follows the movement and when the feed changes to another camera you had hidden Sam whistles. “And that is NOT Eaitons wife.”

“Course not.” Bucky chuckles, pulling out his phone to enter in the address on the intel. “What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much. Was on Congress, just got removed but they didn’t announce it. Kept the whole thing hush hush. Last I talked to Yelena she was looking into his name, it’s why I recognized him so quickly.”

“The address isn’t far off, if we take the back roads we can avoid traffic.” Bucky explains, beginning to lead the way out of the apartment while already dialing on his phone. It rings and rings and rings.  Once the call fails he tries again and again and again. 

Finally it’s picked up, a brash voice filling his ears, out of breath. “Who the fuck keeps calling?!”

“Jared Eaiton, I’m calling to inform you that your life is in danger. I advise you to not hang up.” Bucky starts, watching Sams wings expand so he can take off as he straddles his bike. “I need you to do a couple things for me, starting with having you and the women you are with get dressed as normally as possible. I need you to act natural.”

“Why? For what?”

“Sir, there is a Widow somewhere near your apartment,” He explains, though part of him wants to let you get your revenge he knew you were better than this. You were more than a widow. “Step two, are you ready?”

- 

Inland taipans are generally calm and reclusive, preferring to escape from trouble. However, they will defend themselves and strike if provoked, mishandled, or prevented from escaping

- 

The Soldat moved easily with you, striding side by side as you prepared to take out the target. And normally you loved his proximity, but today it did nothing but give you anxiety. 

Something he seemed to be picking up on. 

Before you could split from him to follow the plan he grabs your elbow slowly, making sure to not trigger the fang puncture on your wrist, pulling you close to press his forehead against yours. “I don’t like this plan.”

“It’s a plan we have done many times.” You try to laugh, giving him your best pretty smile to push him off the track. It only makes it worse. 

“There is something wrong with you today.” He grunts out, keeping you close. “I don’t want to separate.”

“We do this, this is the plan.” You huff, “Don’t stress grumpy man.” 

You lean up on your toes to kiss his cheek, watching his eyes narrow at you a little more, but you smile like nothing is wrong once more. Leaving his arms and heading off. 

You didn’t have time, he had been a little grumpy this morning which meant he will work faster on the mission, and you had two kids to smuggle out before he caught you. 

You had made sure to take the side closest to their room for this mission, climbing up to the second story window and sliding in like a shadow. It takes 5 steps until you are in their room, and your heart expands the second you see them. 

They slept so soundly, looking so peaceful that you knew you were a villain just for having to wake them up. But you do, keeping a hand over their mouths to keep them calm as you order them in english. 

“I need you to listen.” You order, as they both try to move away. “Follow me. Now.” 

The boy jumps to do so, the girl however holds her ground until you get on her level. “Listen to me, you and your brother are in danger here. And unless you want him to be hurt you will follow me.”

And so they do. 

You work quickly, breaking a vase as you pass, spraying a bottle of fake blood to make it look like splatter before you have them hold onto you as you crawl out the same way you entered. 

The Agent you worked with most the time was already standing in the streetlight waiting for you to deliver them. “Go with him, he will keep you safe.”

The boy, once again, does not wait to run and you’re sure he is still half asleep. The girl keeps a firm clutch on your hand, forcing you to kneel as a loud bang sounds out, letting you know the Soldat is nearly done. 

“I need you to go.” You whisper, pushing some of the hair from her face and tracing her cheek with your fingers. “He’ll take care of you ….. I promise.”

She nods, crying, but runs off. 

And you don’t have time, but you watch anyways. The way the agent scoops them up and hugs them close, both their arms wrapped tightly around him. You envy it, and you hate it all in the same go. 

They will never see their parents again, they will never know the safety of their home. After today they are ruined. 

But you could at least make sure they get into the car safely before heading back, out of breath with tears falling down your face. 

You’re so panicked about time that you slip on your way in, slipping in the fake blood and slamming into the broken glass of the vase right as the Soldat comes around the corner in a fury. 

You panic, the rage written on his face makes you think he knows. He must know. This was the end and he would go back and find the kids, This will all be ruined. 

But the second he kneels in front of you the rage disappears, instead he is pulling at your limbs so he can look you over, checking you for any injuries you realize. 

“It’s not my blood.” You try to explain. 

“It is.” He snaps, eyes narrowing as he pulls a piece of glass from your hip. “You’re hurt.”

And when you look down you realize it is in fact some of your blood, since you had fallen on the vase. He pulls you to look back at him, keeping his hand on your jaw. “Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t check for the kids, he merely drags you away. 

- 

The target was acting weird, both him and his prostitute were. You knew better than that, and you refused to let this one slip away today, you were so sick of watching him and his hookers. 

So you grabbed your gear, and went to work. 

Never take the front door, that was the first rule. So you climbed onto the roof of his apartment building, finding the skylight and carving your way in, sliding down on a rope to land on your feet and pull out your knife prematurely. 

Immediately you know something is off, the sharp feeling in your spine makes you feel like there is a predator near. 

A predator you know all too well by the smell of leather. 

You can’t help the hiss that passes your lips as you whirl to find him, kicking out to knock him off his feet as soon as you can. Only he was prepared for that, catching your foot with his metal, pulling you close only to barely dodge the knife you slash at him, his eyes wide. 

You take his shock to your favor, slashing at him again, his metal arm coming up to protect him. The clash rings out and you hiss again, making him grunt out as you distribute the weight. Only to get knocked off your ass by another figure. 

You had been so distracted with your hate for the Soldat that you missed the red white and blue suit.

You waste no time to twist and attack at them, turning feral with the need to kill.  

And then the fight turns 2 against one. Every slash you make is dodged by a metal shield or a metal arm, every kick is met with one of their own, every punch is caught and pushed away. They both track your movements well, easily even. 

You kick the chest of the Captain, sending him reeling back, throwing a knife to trap his sleeve to the ground as you turn back to the Soldat and move to stab the knife down, he catches it between the crook of his metal arm, grunting out to keep you further back. 

“I don’t want to do this.” He grunts out as you push down with the knife, hissing. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Need?” You laugh bitterly. “I want to do this.”

And you almost got it until he kicked out your feet and sent you reeling back. 

You were getting desperate, panicked, and though you knew better than to let yourself get this way you couldn’t help it. So with no true aim you threw the knife, the Soldat catching it with one hand as you charge at him, triggering the fangs as you use his own knee to launch up, your knee pressing on his shoulder with your right hand pulling his hair to expose his neck while he drops the knife. 

Instead of pulling you off his arms come up to catch you, like natural instinct. And you are pathetic because you hesitate, this is your chance to get him and yet you feel tears in your eyes as you can’t even push your hand to get him. 

And then you’re being thrown as something hits your back, air leaving your lungs. 

Pain laces through you as you fly off him, the shield flying back to the Captain while you fall to the ground. 

Not only do you feel the pain in your back but your hip hits the floor and you cry out, struggling to get back to your feet to keep fighting. 

“Hey! Don’t you dare!” The man in the USA suit orders, pointing at you like you are a dog. “Stop.”

You hiss while the Soldat chuckles, wiping some of the blood from his lip. “Listen-”

“Fuck you!” You yell, lunging out to attack but it’s no use as you crumble to the ground, your hip giving out. He’s quick to go to help you, only to be pushed back as you reach to snatch another knife only for his boot to step on it. 

“You used to be better at this.” He huffs out, still breathing heavily as the other one comes closer. 

You want to kill him, to yell at him and hit him. You want to tell him that he’s the reason for all of this. But the tears are falling and your hip is throbbing. 

You’re useless. 

“Kill me.” You snap. “Just do it. Get it over with.”

You watch as his face crumbles, pain lacing his features while his partner takes charge. 

“We are here to help you, that is all.” He starts. “You want revenge, that’s understandable. But there are better ways, I promise you.”

“Better ways?” You hiss out a laugh through the tears. “You’re kidding me.”

“You want to ruin these men, and I understand.” He leans down, and you risk a look to the Soldat, who is watching you with a devastating look, you are forced to turn back to the other to avoid getting sick. “You have information on them, you can testify-”

“What? So they can get out of it?” 

“No, they could serve time in-”

“COULD. They could.”

“Then we get revenge.” It’s the Soldat that says this, his voice tight. “We will, I promise. You work with Sam and I and we will get intel on them all, enough so that they don’t have a chance. But no killing.”

You look back and forth between them, watching as they have a silent conversation between them, before the captain finally nods with a deep sigh. 

Soldat turns back to you, kicking the knife to you gently. “Come on.”

“I can get you a full pardon.” His partner offers. “Full pardon of all crimes within the red room to now. So long as the three of us work together.”

“My entire list?” You sneer, risking a look to the Soldat one more time. 

“Entire list.” He nods, watching you closely. 

And then it clicks for you. You’re trapped here, there is no doubt. But if you could get closer, to trap him in, you could finish your promise to yourself. 

You can kill him. 

So, with a final hiss and tears falling down your face you nod slowly, clutching your hands into fists as you answer with a ‘deal.’

- 

The inland taipan is a specialist hunter of mammals, and its venom is adapted to kill warm-blooded species. The venom acts quickly to kill the prey before they can bite back or escape

- 

The Soldat helps you the entire way, even though you weren’t actually hurt, which you tried to tell him. But the arguments were no use, he would hear none of it, instead he pushed to carry you until you both made it home. 

He hauls you to the bathroom, setting you down to start the water and let it heat up before removing your suit as slowly as possible. Once the suit of off he helps you sit down so the cut is exposed and he can clean it. 

The fact that such a small cut would bother him so much nearly makes you laugh, but it also gives you butterflies, and you wonder if this is how normal people feel. So you lean forward, grabbing his attention. And without thinking you kiss him, your lips meeting his as you melt into him. 

This would change everything, and you know it, but you don’t care. And he didn’t either by the way his arms wrap around you, melting into the kiss just as you had. 

- 

You were going to kill the Soldat, it was something you had promised yourself long ago. In the darkened cell they had kept you in, near dead, the only thing keeping you from giving up was that promise. 

‘I will not leave this earth unless he is gone from it’ 

You would kill him, this was fact, no matter what you had to do. Once you did that you could kill yourself.  This final mission was yours.

-