#i just tried to choose one gif for each scene IT IS HARD!

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

The End of Love

Natasha Romanoff x Taskmaster!Reader

Although I encourage everyone to read this, full disclosure it is male!reader. I tried to keep specified pronoun use to a minimum, but it can’t always be helped. There might be some mental rewriting required if you decide to go on.

Synopsis:

“You think too much,” she says.

You can’t argue with that. Because now that you’re looking at her in the light and you’re so close you can see each fractal of green in her eyes you're thinking there’s nothing more intimate than this.

She’s not your friend but if she were she’d be your best one.

Or, a look at who Natasha Romanoff was before the Avengers. Told through the eyes of the person who loved her the most.

Word Count: 43,000

Foreword: I wrote most of these scenes out of order and then proceeded to edit nothing so if something disagrees with something later on that’s why.

Acknowledgements: One) Title from the song with the same name by Florence + The Machine. Two) The final scene with Willem is indeed a copy from that scene in Good Will Hunting. Three) All rights to the original media.

It’s spring and something has shifted. You’re in bed with her when the feeling hits you. You are in bed together, legs twisted together under the sheets, the callous pads of her feet warm against the inside of your calf. You wonder if she feels it too.

You’ve been like this for hours. Nothing more, not tonight. Just the simple act of breathing in tandem with someone. Of holding tight until you don’t know how you could ever part again. 

She likes you because you are hers. Her mission partner, her choice, hers. There is power in choosing who you give yourself over to. And you understand but you prefer this. You hate to disappoint her, to stop her after just a kiss, knowing there is want for much more.

But her head is tucked beneath your chin and she’s so close she might as well have burrowed herself inside you and you hope it’s enough. Because this is safe. Her, always. But there are some things which you can’t speak. So she starts with a kiss on your cheek and you end with a kiss on her lips.

You are not at peace, but for now, wrapped in her arms and the scent of something that is so distinctly her, you are content. And you’ve done this so many times before, too many but somehow not enough all at once. 

The first time had been after your plane went down shy of returning to the Red Room. You were smaller then, less muscle and too long limbs and grief enough to suffocate. The walk back had taken two nights to complete. You would freeze to death if you didn’t share body heat after the sun went down. You both knew this. You slept back to back, bundled in extra shirts and the parachute from the jet. You both pretended you didn’t trust each other just a little more in the morning. 

Now you roll and stretch and Natalia makes a small noise of protest. You tell her you’re getting a glass of water, ask if she wants one too. She doesn’t answer.

The air in the motel room is stale and the light in the bathroom stutters like a heartbeat trying to stave off death. You fill a glass under the tap and drink until it’s empty again. Your breath wavers ever so slightly. You push down on the countertop a little too hard, your palms beginning to sweat. 

Then she’s behind you with a steady hand creating a rhythm of up-down, up-down on your back. You had tried to be silent, hoping she would not notice. You didn’t want her to see you like this. But she extricated herself from the warmth of the bed to be by your side anyway.

She knows you. And it’s terrifying.

She is not gentle but in these moments she is human, and so are you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You are not a person who apologizes. So you say it when the only thing it can mean is nothing. When it’s as weightless as the breath from which it comes from.

“It’s okay.” She is not a person who forgives. She is both the bullet and the finger behind the trigger. She is the dazzling starlet who shines the light in your eyes so you do not feel the knife in your back.

Your reflections in the mirror do not feel real. You make a point not to look too closely. Because when you do you see with the eyes of those who would put a bullet in your head for this. No, not quite. Because they would do much worse.

Lately you’ve been dividing time by the moments with Natalia and the moments in between. By one stolen night followed by a week, five weeks, a dozen. You never know. And it’s an adjustment because you can’t quite pinpoint the moment you stopped sleeping down the hall from her more nights than not.

You spend the time without her taking orders, putting on the Taskmaster mask, leaving messages in the form of bodies with sword-shaped slits. Then you’re still taking orders but wearing a different sort of mask, one where they can see your face but still can’t see you and you’re shaking hands and learning real politics is nothing like what you’ve studied. 

“You see what sort of dogs I have to deal with?” General Dreykov asks. Ever since the military dress uniform appeared in your room and you flew to Moscow as his “second” he’s been speaking to you more and more as a peer. Far from most of the time. But occasionally. Enough for you to remember and collect like they were some sort of medal. 

And Madame B, who has always detested you for being too emotional, had finally seemed to approve. One day on your way out after you had been training some of the young recruits she spoke to you across the wasteland of the dance studio. You stopped at the doorway to turn back toward her, but she stayed facing the wall like it was a window to another studio where she must judge a dozen more girls with bleeding feet.

“I never understood why he kept you around.” She always spoke clipped, enunciating each syllable like the crack of a cane. “You were an insolent child. Yes, you can dance but this power makes you think you’re invincible.” You watched her, too stunned to feel indignant about the criticism, too apprehensive to notice how small she was now that you were grown. “But. Perhaps it was not such a bad idea to rear you here. You will lead with an iron fist. And most importantly, you will understand.”

You left without saying anything.

What was there to understand. This place was all you knew.

You come back with a hand on your cheek. Natalia is staring into your eyes like they reflect the answer to life. But if your eyes were mirrors all she’d see was herself.

“You think too much,” she says.

You can’t argue with that. Because now that you’re looking at her in the light and you’re so close you can see each fractal of green in her eyes you're thinking there’s nothing more intimate than this.

She’s not your friend but if she were she’d be your best one.

She asks you to come back to bed. You nod and follow her into the dark. She is sitting up. On your stomach you drape yourself over the edge of the mattress and take her hand. Already you mourn this night. You cannot enjoy the time you have when you don’t know if it will be your last. You have become far too important to each other.

You can tell she feels the same. Misery has settled over the both of you like a cold, wet snow. She is tense as she runs her fingers through your hair. You lay your head in her lap and close your eyes against the danger lurking outside.

It is spring and something has shifted.

—

And it is that stupid feeling which makes you turn yourself over to the Americans after she is captured. That feeling which has transformed since you were small and angry. That feeling which has always been evolving; this new chapter taking an ugly turn. Perhaps you have let this go on for too long.

You are grown now, but still very much full of rage.

They show you a file they have on you which you think looks very hastily put together. Because they would have no reason to suspect you of anything. That’s the way your life has been curated. There is what you do in the daylight and what you do in the dark with a skull mask over your face and a hood over your head. These people are not the same. 

But you’ve made a purposefully big mess on American soil as Taskmaster and they’ve finally connected his face with the official headshot of one Junior Lieutenant of the Russian military.

Is this you, they ask and despite the handcuffs cutting into your wrists and the four guards with guns on their hips you laugh and call the man asking an idiot. The other guy is your twin brother. 

You don’t think he appreciated your answer because the next thing you know you’re being cuffed on the ear.

Along with the picture of you in your official uniform there is a mugshot of you from the day they brought you in. You don’t often see photos of yourself. The guy in this one looks dangerous. There are also two very grainy, very dark photographs pulled from security cameras of a figure who might be you from assassination runs you went on. You recognize yourself in one, and you’re pretty sure the other is of someone in a Halloween costume.

They’ve taken you in with nothing but the clothes on your back and your weapons and a watch of Dreykov’s he had given you a few years ago.

Even though your stomach is empty and your face is bruised you don’t help them put the pieces together. You tell them the same thing you’ve been saying. You know they have the Black Widow. You want to talk to her.

And weeks later when they think they have broken you down and built you back up with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s name around your neck they let you out of your cell.

The guy who slapped you that first day is your new handler. His name is Richard Kremer. You don’t think he likes you all that much. He’s old and he acts like he can go back and win the Cold War if he gets you to roll over.

But you’ve learned he can’t hit you now that you’re not a prisoner. So when you tell him you know his type, that he probably got discharged from field service because he broke down and nailed some kid in the head all he can do is tell you to shut up. I’m right, aren’t I? You ask and he is silent. Oh come on G.I. Joe. He tells you to get out and you happily oblige.

It is when you are outside on the track one day that you finally see Natalia again. You are allowed time outside with supervision–like you are a dog–and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier to see the sun. It’s just you, the rubber beneath your feet, and the wind in your hair. Because you are not worried about the rookie who’s been assigned to watch you. You can pretend you are somewhere else. You can pretend you are running back home instead of pacing holes through this American ground.

You tense when you hear another pair of steps. You do not want to go back inside. Five more minutes. But you look over your shoulder and the figure has bright red hair and astonishment in her eyes. 

You are so surprised to see her because you thought maybe you weren’t going to again that you stumble in your haste to stop. You skid and your feet fly out from beneath you. You catch yourself on your hands, bits of track sticking to your palms. 

Natalia laughs and you can’t fight the grin on your face. She offers a hand and you take it. You let her pull you to your feet. She doesn’t stop there. She is strong and you fall into her. You throw yourself over her, wrapping your free arm around her back. Your hands are still clamped tightly together. You are too relieved to see she is okay to care about who may be watching. Let them see. They know why you came here. And right now, she feels so familiar. 

She pulls away first. “You’re here,” she breathes, eyes wide. Her irises glitter in the sunlight. “Блять. I didn’t believe it.”

“You’re okay,” you say, still breathless. “They didn’t kill you. I thought they were going to kill you.”

“No, they didn’t.” She grows serious, the initial shock wearing off. “Change of plans, I guess.”

You switch to Russian now because you are finally leaving this place. “What idiots. To spare us both. Natalia, we can be out of here tonight.”

She stares at you for a moment, looking guilty. Finally, she shakes her head and very slowly explains, “I’m not going back to Russia. I’m staying here with S.H.I.E.L.D. We’ve come to an agreement. I’m going to defect.” You are bewildered and it must show in the whites of your eyes because she reassures, “I’m okay. This is my choice.”

You don’t know what to think, much less what to say. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter how they’re threatening you. I can get you out.”

“I’m not under threat.”

You narrow your eyes at her and back up a step. They must have messed with her mind, then. Because the Natalia you know would never do this. She was vicious like the edge of a blade and she was strong-headed like no one you’ve ever met. She could not be harnessed.

She grabs your hands. “Look at me. I’m still here.” You jerk because it is like she can read your mind. “It is better here,” she says. “They’ve offered me freedom and protection. That’s all.”

“How could you–” you start, but words don’t feel like enough to convey your disbelief. You shake your head. This can’t be happening. Because you’ve quit and run without permission. You were going to get forgiveness on your return. But you can’t go back without her. You tell yourself it’s because they wouldn’t accept that kind of failure, but you think she would be a tolerable loss compared to you. No. You don’t want to go anywhere without her. “You have to go back. We need to go back. I came here to free you from them.”

“And I’m telling you there’s nothing to free me from,” she says. “I’m using them to free myself.”

But you don’t hear her. You leave, a new word coloring the image of her.

Traitor.

And she’s dragged you to hell with her.

—

Inside your pillowcase is the newest spot you’ve chosen to hide your stash of stolen items. It’s not much, a rock from outside, a fork from the cafeteria, a broken matchstick you found on the ground. 

You are not allowed to have things. Nothing is yours, they tell you. Everything is shared as part of the collective. Don’t get caught up in the scheme of materialism. That’s why everyone takes turns doing the laundry and scrubbing down the showers and disposing of waste. But you don’t really want these things to own. You only do it because they tell you not to.

They found your collection when you put it under your bed and when you began carrying the things in your pockets. Both times they beat you for it. You’re sure they’ll find this one and make you count to fifty instead of twenty-five but there is something rotten inside you and you can’t help it. Maybe after this time they’ll finally thresh it out. 

It is night and you grope through the dark until you find the items. You find all three tucked safely where you left them. But something else pokes your finger as you retrieve your things. Your hand grasps a fourth item and you can’t see it but it feels like a small needle. You don’t remember taking this. Did someone put it here? How did they know about your stash? 

You lay curled on your side and take turns holding each item. You decide the mystery object is definitely a sewing needle. Maybe you did take it and you forgot. You move on. You’ve found a good rock this time. It is small and smooth and almost perfectly round. 

You think about throwing it at Madame T’s head. Then, you hide them again and fall asleep.

You wake up with a cold hand over your mouth. You slap it away and tackle the offending person to the floor before you’ve formed your first conscious thought. 

“Сука!” She hisses as her back lands on the wooden floor and you sit on her stomach. “When are you going to stop doing that?”

You stare down at the vague outline of a body before you slowly let her up. “When you stop waking me up by choking me out.”

“I’m not choking you. And it’s not my fault you cry in your sleep. I’m helping you. Would you rather have a guard come in here?”

“I do not cry in my sleep.” You wrinkle your nose.

“Yes you do. Like a little baby.” You imagine her smirking through the dark. You don’t know who keeps visiting you in the night, only that it’s the same girl each time and she’s probably in your class. You can’t see anything at night here. You know her voice, but there is little speaking during the day. And none of the girls talk to you anyway. Her hair is a little past shoulder length, but that’s the way most of theirs is. 

And she won’t tell you who she is. 

“Shut up,” you say, shoving her in the shoulder. 

“Hey, no fighting in the dark. It’s not fair.”

“I’ll stop when you tell me who you are.”

“What, so you can rat me out?” You’re sitting close so you don’t have to talk very loud. You can feel her breath against your face.

“I won’t,” you say. “I promise.”

She laughs. It is too bitter a sound for someone your age. “Like that means anything.”

“I’m going to figure it out eventually.”

She shakes her head, hair swishing against your cheek. “You haven’t yet. And you never will.”

“Yes I will.”

“No you won’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Yes,” you say, pouncing on top of her. You’ve taken her by surprise. She reacts quickly, rolling the two of you an extra time so she can sit on your chest. 

“I’m too good for you,” she says. 

“Arrogance will get you killed,” you retort. You struggle beneath her but you’re about the same size and she knows exactly how to pin you down.

“That’s a big word for you. Who’d you copy that one from?”

You ignore her, still focused on trying to get up. 

“Stuck?” She asks, her voice light. “Don’t start fights you can’t win, Markov.” She lets you up and pads toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Another week passes and something else appears inside your pillowcase. It’s a ribbon from a ballet shoe. You take it out and hold it up in the light of day. You know for sure, you did not take this. Someone else was messing with you. Or helping, you don’t really know.

You watch the girls around you. There are the mean ones–which are most of them–and the nice ones–of which there used to be more. You think it’s one of the nice ones who comes to you at night because she is waking you from bad sleep. But then again she likes to argue and wrestle with you. So maybe it’s a mean one.

You keep fighting and dancing and learning things like how to blend into a crowd and how to craft the perfect lie. You don’t find out who’s been adding things to your collection. But you hope you do before the guards find this new hiding spot. 

They find it when you have to strip your bed for laundry day and realize you have nowhere to hide the new things. You stuff it all in your pockets again and they call you stupid for not learning your lesson last time. So they drag you screaming and kicking downstairs and strip you naked. You bite one of them when they try to tie your hands to the pole because you remember what they told you would happen for the third time you were caught stealing. A boot collides with the side of your head and you go limp for a second. The big things in your life make you forget how small you are. 

There is a moment to breathe and for the ringing in your ears to subside. Then, just as the world refocuses, hellfire is released upon your backside.

You lay upstairs on your stomach and do not sleep. There are deep trenches of blood carved into your back. You could barely crawl into your unmade bed after they dumped you back on the floor in your room. 

You find a flower when you have to go outside the next day. It is bright and yellow and a rarity out here where everything is dead most of the year. You don’t take it.

The fourth night after you finally sleep, your body forcing itself to shut down despite the pain. You are getting better. But not fast enough. 

You only groan when you wake and realize there’s a hand on your face. 

“Shhh,” she says. Then she is silent. You think she is looking at the door. 

You push yourself up, drawing blood as you bite your lip. You slide into the corner away from her. “I can’t do this tonight,” you say. “I’m so tired.”

“I had to. It was going to be them or me.” She pauses. Then, slowly, the mattress dips as she climbs onto the bed.

“I’m serious,” you say. You are hurting and she is strong. She cannot know this. “It’s not fucking funny anymore.”

“Geez, I’m not going to hurt you,” she says. “I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to. Here. Take this.”

“I can’t see you.”

“You are impossible.” She brushes your arm. You recoil. She grabs your hand. It feels odd, like she’s trying to be gentle. She flips your palm up and places something in your open hand. It’s soft and delicate and feels a little like rubber. You roll it carefully through your fingers. You brush your other hand over the top and feel the petals. They are silky. Nothing can compare. It still smells like outside, like life. 

You realize she is the one who has been collecting prizes for you. 

“You’re trying so hard to watch out for me you forget I’m looking out for you too,” she says.

“I can’t take this,” you say. “They’ll find it. You have to take it back.”

“No,” she says. “Scoot over.” 

You obey, trying to hide how much it hurts to move. She takes your spot in the corner and you hear a ripping sound. “What are you doing?” You hiss.

She doesn’t answer. “Give me the flower.” You hand it to her, brushing her hand as you do. You wait in silence until she turns back around. “There��s a little hole in your mattress. I put it in there. They won’t find it. I promise.”

“Like that means anything,” you say, mimicking her tone. And as you do, you realize who you’re speaking to. It just clicked. You know this voice. “Natalia.”

“Look who’s finally earned his detective badge.” You wish you could see her smile instead of just hearing it.

—

You stay at S.H.I.E.L.D., thinking she will see sense eventually. You can’t leave the campus yet so you spend a lot of time wandering and watching. You count how many paces it takes to get from one building to another, estimate how quickly you could run. You look up at the buildings, wonder if you could climb any of them. Every day that passes is excruciating. You can feel the Red Room getting farther away. It’s been far too long since you’ve been in contact with them. You haven’t had the chance to tell them you’re coming back. That you’re not a traitor.

The only thing that makes life bearable is Natalia. She said she just wants to be called Natasha now and it confuses you even more. She really is changing.

You tell them you want to defect too. You pretend like you are fine. Like you are not in fact drowning.

You spend time in Natalia’s room, which is exactly like yours but she has a couple of books and a badly drawn picture of what looks like a person. You can’t really tell.

You point to it. “What’s this?”

She smiles. She’s been doing a lot more of that lately. It’s certainly not the worst thing. “It’s you. In your combat suit. You like it? Clint drew it.”

“He must be some kind of artist then. I could barely tell that that thing was a human.”

She laughs, and for a second the sound makes you forget how she has turned traitor. Because it is sweet and real and uniquely hers. “Look,” she says pointing. “This is your mask. See the eyes and the jawbone?”

“So those are teeth?”

“Yeah. And this arc is the hood, and these lines are the cape.”

“What are those?”

“Your katanas.”

“Why are there five of them?”

“There’s not. These are the swords,” she says, pointing to two lines angled toward the bottom of the page. She moves her finger to three lines above the figure’s head. “I think these are anger lines.”

“Anger lines?”

“Yeah. To signify danger. You know you’re pretty scary in that thing.”

You shrug. “Sure, I guess. And what did I do to have this honor?” You ask.

“You put yourself on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s shit list.” She takes her attention from the sketch and looks at you. “Clint said they didn’t know who they had at first, so he drew me this.”

“And you kept it.”

“I needed decoration. What’s better than a picture of you?” She smirks and nudges you in the ribs. “Like a guardian angel.”

You nod because she’s flirting with you and it’s making your head spin just a little bit. You like her even though you know you shouldn’t and you think she likes you too. You aren’t dating because people like you don’t ‘date’ but there’s something, just below the surface. Like an undertow waiting to drag you under if you wade out too far. You can sense it, like a coming storm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she says. “Why did they send you after me? And in such a dramatic fashion. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know,” you lie. No one sent you. Maybe you were already out in the middle of the ocean. “You’re the best they’ve got. There’s two dozen widows but there’s a reason you’re the one everyone’s been chasing.”

She shakes her head. “No. You’re the best they’ve got. Dreykov would never trade you for me.” She’s looking at you like she knows you’re lying. You hate to find that there’s hope in her expression. Like she’s waiting for a confession. But the truth is unacceptable. You cannot say you ran after her like a prince in a storybook. You cannot open yourself up. 

She has never hurt you. And you will not give her the opportunity now.

So you gamble on the chance she doesn’t know for sure. You shrug and look away. Because you’ve never been as good as her at hiding things. “Guess he did.” You open your mouth again.

“I’m not going back,” she interrupts because she knows what you’re going to say. She puts a hand on your chest, the other on your cheek. “We can make a place for ourselves here.” Despite her conviction she still sounds disappointed. Doesn’t she know she’s won?

“I know,” you say.

Eventually a month goes by but you have not left. By some sickness she has you trapped. This is why Dreykov had warned you against the widows. Because they spun and they lied and now you could not bear to leave her in this strange place.

There are weekly mandatory shrink sessions you must attend as part of your agreement. You aren’t cleared for missions unless you get their green light. It’s a whole fraud that seems to have everyone in this country up in arms but you are sure it’s just S.H.I.E.L.D. trying another clever way to extract information from you. The discussions at least have been mildly amusing. You don’t have much else to focus on right now.

You’ve been transferred to a different “professional” twice now. The first one had obviously been scared of you so you played into it. He was asking you about your life and about guilt so you spent the entire hour making up stories that were unbelievable even by your standards. You told him your job used to be to torture political enemies and captured agents. You stared him down and tried to blink as little as possible when you told him you enjoyed skinning them alive and hearing them scream.

So the next time you go in it’s office 109 instead of 212 and there’s a woman instead of a man. She’s kooky and has you lay on a couch as she asks about your childhood. So you tell her a story too. 

“My father,” you start, even though you hadn’t had one since you were six years old. But none of these people knew anything from where you came from. “He was a terrible alcoholic. He used to slap my face and shake me like a rag doll. I mean, is that what a real man is supposed to be?”

“No, honey. But it’s okay. You’re safe now. Go on,” she says. “How did that make you feel?”

“It made me so angry, doc. So one day I said to him, ‘I’m gonna show you what I’m made of.’ I grab his shotgun that he keeps under his bed and blam! Gunpowder and lead.” You open your eyes and her face is looming over you, confusion starting to bloom. You break out singing, because this is the good part. “I’m goin’ home, gonna load my shotgun. Wait by the door and light a cigarette. He wants a fight, well, now he’s got one. And he ain’t seen me crazy yet!”

You’re smiling because you heard the song on the radio once and you’d remembered it and the singer’s accent after all these years. Her confusion has turned to anger and suddenly the session is over. Oh no.

Kremer has a talk with you after this incident. He tells you to cut the shit and sit through it like everyone else does. Then he reminds you what will happen if either him or one of these therapists deems you unfit for work at S.H.I.E.L.D. But you don’t care. They’re not going to get the best of you twice.

But you go another week to a new office with something to prove. You’ve got a winning streak to maintain. This guy has glasses and graying hair and a stomach that’s a little round. There are shelves and shelves of books and you pace the room, grazing your hand over the spines.

“You got one in here that’s going to tell you how to fix me?”

“Hello,” he says. “My name is Dr. Francis, but you can call me Willem.” He is soft spoken and you think you can break him like you did the first one. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“Okay Willem. Sure.” You slouch across from him in a chair level with his. He’s not behind a desk like the first man or hovering over you like the woman.

“Do you like to read?” He asks, because you’re still scanning the shelves.

You used to, but not really anymore. “I’m not working here because I’m some genius who sits around reading all day.”

“No. Certainly not.” Was he making fun of you? “Has anyone told you how this works?”

You shake your head.

“Well I, along with my colleagues, are not ‘S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.’ We’re privately contracted. You know what that means, yes?”

“It means you probably get more money for sitting around and talking nonsense all day.”

“Sure. You’re not wrong. But it also means I don’t owe S.H.I.E.L.D. anything. Whatever is said in this room stays in this room. My only obligation is to make sure you’re not a danger to yourself or others.”

You eye him and his cardigan, wondering how he could walk out of the house with something like that on. “That’s what I’ve been missing!” You snap your fingers. “You’ve got my full trust now Willem, goodness I can’t believe what a great resource this is. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you everything.”

He chuckles. “You’re funny, aren’t you?” 

“I’m only as serious as this whole charade is,” you say gesturing around at the office which looks so out of place here at S.H.I.E.L.D. The clutter on his desk in the corner, the old wood furnishing, the acoustic guitar lying among stacks of books. “But okay sure. Let’s say you’re not going to turn around and blab to Kremer so he can be more efficient about making my life harder. You’re only here to make sure I’m not a danger.” You make little air quotes with your hands when you say this. “You do know what kind of missions are conducted here, no?”

“Of course. I did my time in the military.”

“Really?”

“This surprises you.”

“Yeah, I mean, come on,” you wave your hand at him. “I could kill you with my eyes closed.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I have no doubt you could. But as I was saying. I don’t mean you can’t be dangerous. Just that you have to know when to pick it up and put it away. For example, now was not the time to threaten me with mortal violence.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, getting out of the chair. You couldn’t do that. Violence was who you were. And you were tired of this anyhow.

 You make it to the back wall where there’s a window and on the sill there’s a picture frame. You pick it up, showing it to him. “Is this your family? Your kids are pretty cute.”

“Watch it,” he says.

 You flip the frame around and look down at it. “How old are they? The little one can’t be older than eight, no? What a shame I know her father’s name.”

Maybe it’s because you don’t actually plan to find his family or maybe it’s because you’ve underestimated him that your heart pounds when you look up and he’s in your space with a serious look on his face. 

“Don’t fuck with my family or I will end you.”

“Touchy, touchy,” you say.

“Get out.”

And that’s how your first interaction goes. So you’re surprised the next week when you hear you’ve been ordered back with Dr. Francis.

You stroll into the office like nothing ever happened. “You again. How are your kids doing?”

“Shut up and sit down,” he says.

You mock pout but sit anyway.

“How old are you?” He asks.

“You’ve got my file. I’m sure it says somewhere in there.”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you.” He’s wearing another ridiculous outfit. A gray polo shirt with a brown patched cardigan.

“So you can make some big point about how I’m young and don’t know anything, right?” You ask. Because this feels awfully familiar. 

You remember a time when you were twelve and told this Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) officer named Evgenia you were eighteen when she asked. Zhenya laughed and said, yeah right, if you’re eighteen then I’m forty. When you’d finally told the truth she looked at you funny. Do you know what this assignment is? You told her this was a joint mission to take out high-ranking members of a certain Russian mob family who had overstepped the line between civilian and state.

You’re a little young for this, no? She’d asked. 

No one had ever given pause because of your age before. You assured her you were capable of this assignment. 

She let it go but didn’t stop calling you “kid” for the whole two weeks. You hated it until you realized she didn’t mean it in a bad way. It was kind of nice, actually. To feel looked after. Carrying things on your own was so exhausting.

She made you try Oreshki as you sat in a hotel working on the mission reports because she couldn’t believe you’d never had it. Then she asked what your parents were feeding you at home because she’d never seen someone your age so strong. You told her your parents were dead and she’d stared at you for a few minutes. You pretended not to notice. 

When it was time to go back she told you to look after yourself. She seemed reluctant to let you go.

You assured her you would be fine. You always were.

Now you stare at Willem and wonder where he wants to go with this question.

“Something like that,” he says. “Come on, it won’t hurt you.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” you lie. Because there’s no way the number in the file isn’t just an estimate.

He’s quick with his response. “No you’re not.”

You’re about to tell him yes, you are but there’s something in his eyes, in his posture. He’s confident you’ve lied. “Fine. I’m twenty-two. Happy?”

“Exactly. You’re twenty-two. You’re a kid. You’ve barely reached the age we let kids have alcohol in this country. Tell me, have you ever read anything by Shakespeare?” You shake your head. “You ever swam in the ocean?” Another no. “Been to an art museum? Hiked up a mountain? Fallen in love?”

You stop him then. “Love is a scam. It’s some great ideal everyone chases like an idiot because they think their worth resides with another person. It’s an opiate for the masses. You tell someone they’ll be fulfilled if they find this ‘love’ and they’ll blind themselves in pursuit of it. People are more easily controlled when they are distracted by emotion.”

“I don’t think so. And I’ve been in love for twenty years. Almost as long as you’ve been on this earth. Love has brought me great joy and great sorrow. But you wouldn’t know about that. About giving yourself over to someone else. About allowing someone to open your eyes, to challenge you. I am not distracted by emotion, and even if I was I wouldn’t care. Because at least I’ve lived.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

He raises a hand. “Or you’re a coward. You want to think you’re above it all. You had Dr. Casey thinking you were a psychopath. You wanted me to think you were a monster. But you’re not. You’re a scared kid with his chest puffed out. You’re the kid who pushes others on the playground because you’re getting pushed at home. But guess what. I can’t be pushed.

You’re scared to talk because you don’t know what might come out. Scared to let people in because you think they won’t like what they see. How many people have you talked to since you’ve been here? How many people knew you, and I mean really knew you back in Russia? What about that young woman who got here a couple weeks before you? You’re unique. I’ll bet I’ve never met someone like you and I never will again. So I can’t get anywhere, I can’t start if you don’t help me. You have to talk to me.”

And after that he dismisses you, just like that.

The next time you come back the ball is in your court. He doesn’t talk to you, just sits and stares expectantly. Well two could play that game. You’ll show him you won’t talk if you don’t want to. So you sit and count away the seconds and leave when the hour is up.

Another week passes and you’re in his office again. And he’s silent, again. 

You won’t be the one to break. But you’re looking at the guitar on the stand in the corner with all its dust and you think it’s as safe a conversation starter as any.

“Do you play?” You ask, nodding at the instrument.

Willem sits up and blinks a couple times like he hadn’t been expecting you to speak. “No. Not really anymore. And to be honest I could never really play even when I used it. Shame, it’s a beautiful instrument.” He gets up to retrieve the guitar and begins to tune it. “I’ve never really had the ear for music.” He plucks at a string and goes onto the next one.

“Wait,” you say. “Go back. That one’s not right.”

“Too flat or too sharp?”

“What?” Just turn it a little more.” He complies and finally it sounds right. You nod and he goes to the next.

“I didn’t peg you as the musical type,” he says as he plays and you nod or shake your head.

“I’m not. Just a feeling, I guess. I know what notes sound like.”

“But you don’t know this is the ‘E string?’”

“No, nothing like that. I can play a song though.”

“Let’s hear it then, champ.”

He hands you the guitar and you play a song you saw someone playing one time on a mission in Mexico City. There are the movements of the man in the street who had captivated you to stop and watch, and there are your own hands, years later, mirroring his. 

When the song finishes Willem is quiet, then asks, “When did you learn that?”

“I didn’t really learn,” you shrug, like it’s not a big deal. “Saw a guy do it once. Copied what he did.”

“Do you know what chords you used? Can you play anything else?”

“No.”

“Unbelievable.”

You smile, because you have impressed him. “Neat party trick, huh?”

“Seems like it could be more than just a party trick.”

You tilt your head back and forth because he’s right but you don’t want to talk about that. “I don’t use it to sing pretty songs, that’s for sure. Where’d this interest of yours come from anyway?”

“My wife got it for me actually. When we were overseas I used to go on and on about missing music. About how I was butthurt having to join the army because it meant I never got to learn how to play the guitar. And she remembered. And the first Christmas after we got home, even though we barely had enough money to get by, she got me this. That’s part of what love is.”

“She’s ex-military too, then?”

“Yes,” he says, like he’s trying to recapture an old dream. “Let me tell you something. Wait, actually, this first. You ever been in a warzone?”

You hesitate for a second and he must see the debate in your mind so he clarifies.

“I mean a real warzone. Out in the trenches with a couple hundred other guys trying to fall asleep to the sound of bomb fire. Not knowing who’s going to have their leg blown off or their head opened up before the next sunrise. Knowing you’re all out there as nothing but cannon fodder, that everything they told you about the army before you left was nothing but a load of horseshit. And you ate it because your life was shit too.” You shake your head. “Well, it’s damn lousy. You have to keep each other’s chins up somehow. There was this joker in my squad, you see. Terrible sense of humor but we all laughed anyhow because things were just that bad. One day, she looks over at me and says, “Imagine this. Two fish are in a tank. One looks at the other and says, ‘Hey, do you know how to drive this thing?’””

You blink at him but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “That has to be the most awful joke I’ve ever heard.”

“It is!” Willem agrees. “But you know what? That’s the moment I fell in love with my wife.”

Now you are surprised. “Because she told you a bad joke?”

“No. Because she was so serious she didn’t know how to be funny but she always cracked herself up anyhow. And I loved her for it.”

“She was?”

“Pardon?”

“You said she was serious. Is she dead?”

“No. We are,” he pauses, quieter now. “We are separated for now. I suppose it’s been long enough that I've started talking about her in the past tense.”

“But you said she’s your wife.”

“She still is, nothing’s official, but,” he trails off, like he’s given up already.

“What?” You smirk. “You cheat on her? She cheat on you? Found some other guy who thought she was pretty and laughed at her dumb jokes?” When he doesn’t react you try something else. “You beat her up?” His head snaps to you and his eyes harden like you’ve pulled out a gun. “That’s it, isn’t it? You talk about war and all this stuff like I need a lesson but you can’t even handle it yourself so you spend all night drinking and you come home and she’s there with her ‘where were yous’ and her idiocy that you didn’t see before because you told yourself you were in love but now she’s annoying the life out of you so you try and put her head in the wall. Right?”

His glare has faded and it makes you a little nervous because it was always a bad sign when Dreykov stopped yelling and got quiet. “Yes,” Willem says calmly as if you hadn’t just gutted him open. “There’s one thing you’re wrong about though. I never had to tell myself I was in love with her. I just was. And I still am. She was right to kick me out.”

You puff your cheeks and blow out air. “You are a bigger идиот than I thought. Have you apologized?”

“Yes. I did the next morning when I realised what I’d done.”

“And she didn’t accept it.”

“No, she did,” he says, dragging a large hand down his face. “She did but I thought some time apart would be for the best.”

  “So you could get yourself a shrink.”

“Not exactly. They say therapists make the worst patients. I’ve found that to be true.”

“Well,” you say. “Sounds like you’re a coward too.”

Willem smiles. Just the smallest upturn of his lips. “Time’s up.”

—

The wilderness is no place for two children. Especially not the barren wasteland of Siberia. The boy has a rifle slung around his shoulder and no coat. The girl has two coats. Blood from a wound on her side drips out onto the snowy terrain underfoot. But she is strong. She refuses the boy’s offers to help her walk.

A long trail of footprints in the otherwise unblemished landscape leads back to a small massacre site.

The children are hungry but cannot stop because something is chasing them. It’s why they had to leave the little house with the fire and the old woman. 

They will hide, they will kill, they will walk until they collapse so the ground may swallow them whole. 

Because the wilderness is no place for two children. It certainly cannot be the place for three.

—

More weeks pass and you keep living and you try not to think too much about how Natalia is doing fine for herself. She has a team now with agents called Barton and Hill and Coulson and May. 

You do not talk so often, even if this is the most freedom you’ve had to talk since you’ve known each other. At first you tried to convince her to go back but no. She is adamant about staying here, about untying herself rope by rope from the Red Room.

The things you exchanged seem so trivial now. You know her favorite color is blue and that she is fine with coffee but would much rather have tea and that she has a scar beneath her collarbone. But here such information is freely given. 

You see other men talk to her in the cafeteria, watch her in the gym. She has always been the most beautiful woman in the room. 

And it is one day when you are eating lunch together that another agent approaches. He has an apple in his hand and sits next to Natalia like he knows her. “Natasha,” he greets. You don’t like how close he is. He extends a hand across the table. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” he says. “I’m Agent Matthew Hunter.”

You take his hand and shake it, squeezing a little harder than necessary. “Nice to meet you.” This is a lie. He is entitled and he is American and you would prefer he left you alone.

“Matt,” Natalia says, smiling.

He turns to face her like you aren’t there. “Listen I got to run, but I haven’t had the chance to say how great of a job you did on the Berlin mission last week. I wanted to catch you before I forgot.” 

She licks her lips and turns her shoulders toward him. “You weren’t too bad out there yourself.” 

He waves her off. “Are you kidding me? I have never seen someone handle a room like that before.” Agent Hunter looks at you next but his body is still facing Natalia. “Did she tell you about this? I mean what a fucking bombshell.”

“No,” you say. “We haven’t had the chance.”

“Ah, well. You should really ask her. Hell of a story, hell of an agent.”

Natalia looks down at her lap, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. 

“Anyway. I have got to go hit the gym. No days off, am I right?” 

He is looking at you and expecting a response so you just say, “Sure.”

“Alright, nice to meet you, man. See you later Nat.”

You watch him walk off like he owns the place and it’s only when you turn back that you realize Natalia had been watching him too.

You take a drink of water and ask, “Do you like him?”

She snaps her attention to you. “Who, Matt? Yeah he’s nice. A bit talkative, but that’s all right. What did you think?”

You ignore her question. “No, I mean. He was flirting with you.”

“I know that.”

“So,” you gesture. She would lead you in circles until your head twisted off if you let her. “Are you going to get with him?”

Her smile fades like you’ve asked if she was planning to kill him instead. “No. I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Why not?” You ask. “He’s handsome, young enough. You said you liked him.”

“Because I don’t want him.” And there is this look on her face like you have grown a second head. “I’m not just going to go run around sleeping with people.”

“I didn’t say you should. I was just wondering because I could tell you were into him.”

She scoffs. “I’m not ‘into him.’ He’s friendly. He gave me a compliment. What's so bad about that?”

“Nothing. It was just a question, that’s all.”

She is quiet for a moment, dragging her fork through the last grains of rice on her plate. “You know I like you too, right?”

“Of course. And I like you.”

“No. I mean, in the way you think I like Matt.”

Now it is your turn to choose silence. The two of you kissed and shared a bed sometimes when you had only ever slept alone before. And Natalia was the only person you’ve had sex with, at least in any way that counted. But that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t know any better and neither had she. There was bad and there was worse. You just happened to be sufficient for her when the bar was six feet under the ground. 

“You know, that doesn’t mean anything. You don’t owe me,” you say.

“I know I don’t owe you anything. It’s not about owing,” she says, shaking her head in incredulity. “You’ve been weird since we’ve been here. It’s not a death sentence anymore.”

“I’m saying just because we got together before doesn’t mean you can’t go after this guy now. It was a matter of circumstance you know. There was no one else to choose so you chose me, I get it.”

Her eyes narrow as you say this. You speak for her, but you do not know.  “What are you talking about?”

But you’ve built up steam now and you think if you stop you won’t get the words out because you’re sure they’re not true. You speak for the man you want to project. The one Dreykov would approve of. “And you’re pretty and you came on to me so,” you shrug. “But come on. You were a warm body. So were a lot of the other widows. And so was I. Let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is.” 

But it is a big deal. You ignore all the times you held each other in the middle of the night. The time she taught you how to braid her hair. All those times you made each other laugh. These are the things you take great effort to minimize.

And you are so focused on pushing her away because you are a bird with its wings clipped hurtling toward the ground that you don’t notice her own rage building.

She is used to being silenced. She just never thought you would join the long line of others who’ve treated her as lesser than. She thought you understood, that you were different.

“Fuck you,” she says, looking you straight in the eye. You can’t read the expression on her face. She has always been good at making her face vacant, like marble.

She leaves. Not that there was anything to leave in the first place. 

You tell yourself this is what you wanted. For her to be free. Free of you and free of any guilt that might plague her. Not that the Black Widow felt guilt.

But if this is what you wanted, then why did you feel like you had just severed a limb?

But you are fine too. You have a team with agents called Rumlow and Ward and Rollins. They are callous and crass and they remind you of the guards back home. They do not care where you have come from, despite the fact you still bear the title Junior Lieutenant, technically. Despite what everyone else thinks.

You are strong like the fabled Captain America and could home a bullet into any target with a blindfold on. That’s all they care about.

They say they do not care about your accent that you wear like a scarlet flag. And sometimes, you join them when they go out to drink. Ward and Rumlow are outspoken. Rollins is not. But they all share the same cynical view of the world. And so do you. Maybe that’s why you get along.

There is control and there is chaos. You are all agents of the former.

After word about your squadron placement gets around, no one eyes you in the hall like they want to fight. No one questions your–albeit minimal��authority. At least not to your face.

Missions with them are quick and bloody. You use a rifle most of the time now. One that is bulky and can fire an unnecessary amount of rounds per second. You are a strike unit, so you creep up to the outside of an office or warehouse or home and when everyone is crouched like predators in the shadows you jump out with blazing muzzles. You can’t really call what you do fighting.

It is one day you are out with them that you run into an old friend. She is one of the ones you are hunting. S.H.I.E.L.D. likes doing that, you’ve figured out. Sending you out on missions to destroy what you’ve spent your life building. What you were supposed to sit at the head of the table of one day.

They want to see when you might snap. They want you to cut and run. They do not believe you can change. You don’t believe it either.

But she tells you, and oh is it nice to speak Russian again, that Dreykov wants your head. You cannot go back. You hadn’t wanted to be a traitor, but you’d lit the torch when you let the Americans take you in. And now when you look back, the bridge is engulfed in flames.

She says rumor of your defection has grown and spread like a tumor on Dreykov’s name. You’ve humiliated him by turning your back, and now he is losing power.

“But,” you say. “I didn’t. I don’t want–I’m not loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She stops you. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But I’m still–”

“You’re not listening to me.” She grabs you by the arm. “If you go back there you will die. Apparently Dreykov was kind of a black sheep. They were all looking for a reason to strip him of his rank, and now that he’s lost his two best weapons no one will listen to him. The entire Red Room is on alert, looking for a way to capture you.” She stabs a finger to your chest.

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. “But there must be some way to clear this up. If I could talk to him I know I could explain. Or if I could get back. If I talked to the Headmistress.” You know she would understand and she would not be mad. Because she was stern but she never hit you. You used to talk every week in her office, just the two of you. You missed her.

Your friend shakes her head. It’s a “no,” but it’s also full of admonishment. 

“What?” You ask.

“Always so eager to please.”

“It’s called having honor.” 

There are footsteps outside the office you’ve pulled her into. She tugs on your arm and you retreat around the corner.

“We don’t have much time,” you say.

She’s silent for a moment, then, “Come with me.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving. It won’t be hard. No one will be looking for me as long as you have that S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on your chest. I’m saying you should leave too.” She puts a hand on your cheek, makes you look her in the eye. “We could be extraordinary.”

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Why not?” There is disbelief, there is frustration. “You just said it yourself. You’re not loyal to them. And these brutes have nothing on us. We can disappear.”

“You should go. I really think you should. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“I wanted it with you.”

“Goodbye, Svetlana,” you say, kissing her on the cheek. She is still.

On your way out, she speaks up. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? It’s funny. You’ve always been so blind when it comes to her. You think anyone can know the Black Widow? She will drain the life from you.”

She leaves you with a note with an address on it.

“In case you change your mind.”

When you get back you hide the slip of paper in the nightstand with Dreykov’s watch.

—

You pull on the hideous shirt with the too large sleeves and try not to think about how ridiculous wearing tights is. You grab your shoes and head down the hall to the other dressing room. 

When you enter the dancers that are actually a part of this company stare at you. The four widows–excluding Natalia–don’t bat an eye. Modesty was a long lost concept for all of you. Especially around each other. Nastya looks over and smiles at you. You wink back.

The understudy for the lead part–who like the rest of you earned the role after members of the main cast suddenly became ill the night before–finds you like a heat-seeking missile. Her blood red hair is pulled back tight in a bun, and the fluorescent lights pale her skin to a moonlight shade. She looks like she has come from another world to ravage war upon this one. She is muscle and sinew and bone. She is magnificent. 

She snakes an arm around the back of your neck and kisses you on the jaw. She wants them all to see. You are hers in this show and hers backstage. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You go out and perform on auto pilot because you watched a recording of the show once and now the movements are ingrained in the memory of your muscles. You focus on the crowd, try to spot your targets. There is a war going on in the shadows. You’ve all been sent to end it. To show them the Red Room is superior. They won’t even know what hit them. 

You have a break to watch Natalia perform her solo. You stand in the right wing and watch her under the spotlight, dazzling the crowd. Even here she is dangerous. She is like a panther getting upwind of its prey. Every move is measured, every step beaten into submission because of how many times she practiced. She makes herself delicate, but you know better.

There is a part where she almost rushes off stage as if reaching for something, but an invisible force drags her back to the center. You are standing in the spot she reaches for. Maybe you knew she would end up here, maybe you didn’t. It doesn’t matter because her eyes snap open and for a half second you lock eyes. The audience members aren’t the only ones she’s made believe in her desperation. 

After the first act ends Anastasia and Yeva leave for the targets’ hotel where they will be waiting. The four of you who are left finish the show and keep eyes on your targets. When you take your bow you are holding Natalia’s hand. Then you slink into the shadows, ditch the outfit, and put on your mask and hood. 

You leave as a unit out a back door and climb to the roof. It is raining outside. Not more than a drizzle, but the brick underfoot is slick and your targets will be hiding under coats and umbrellas. Stefanya kneels to assemble a rifle that had been packed into a violin case. You crouch in the shadows, feel the rain begin to soak through your pants. 

The crack of the rifle is loud like lightning and the crowd parts around the dead man. An ambulance is called but you know it is too late. The four of you split there. You will find each other later in an apartment building across town. 

You know Natalia will beat the ambulance to the hospital and an accident will befall the entourage of the dead. Nowhere is safe.

You follow a fleeing family of four to their car. The father is a high-ranking official of your enemy, the mother a scientist. They both know tonight is no accident. They run into the dark, down an alleyway instead of along the main road. Smart. You watch them go. You know where they will end up. 

You get in a vehicle which has been left for you and follow them out of the city. You drive until the houses have become sparse and so has the light. The rain is pouring down in sheets now. You step on the gas and flip the car’s brights on. The front of your car rams into the back of theirs. The sedan spins out of control, tires squealing against the wet asphalt. The car drifts into a ditch and you pull up beside it. 

You step out of your car and draw your swords. Because this is a message, not an accident. Two shots are fired your way. You duck behind the car and let the guy shout insults at you. But you hear the fear in his voice. He saw who they’d sent for him.

You rush through the dark, cape heavy and soaking behind you. You ram your fist into the passenger window and slide the end of one sword through the woman’s mouth. There are more shots but you have already disappeared again into the night. 

The children in the backseat scream. Their anguish refuses to be drowned out by the storm. You hear them as if they are crying right into your ears. The man gets out and slams the door shut. You see him in the flashes brought by the lightning. He yells for you to come out. So you oblige. You launch yourself onto the car roof and stare down at him. Here I am, you say. He points the pistol at you and you slice his hand off. He goes down, still cursing. The last thing he does is ask you to leave the kids out of this.

You go up to the backdoor. Didn’t he know? This was a family affair.

You tell yourself what you have done tonight is for the greater good. Many more will live off the blood of this sacrifice. 

When you get back to the rendezvous point you find only Stefanya and Marina. You were supposed to be the last one back. Where are they, you ask. They are quiet. Stefanya looks you in the eye and says none of them ever showed. You know she is lying. You take a breath and step closer so you may look down on them. They are not intimidated by you. Even in the dark, even with the rain outside, even with your face behind a mask they know you will not hurt them. 

Because you all grew up together. And that means something. 

So you draw back your hood and remove the mask. You let them see the worry in your eyes. Come on, you say. What happened.

They are quiet for a moment longer. Then, Marina whispers. Yeva and Nastya never returned. Natalia went after them. She told us not to tell you. 

You put your gear back on and rush out the door. Stay here, you call over your shoulder. You fly through the night to the hotel they were supposed to be at and find Anastasia sitting against the wall bleeding. She raises her gun at you when you barrel through the window. You take off your mask and rush to her. Nastya, you say. She is shot and she should be dead but widows are not ordinary humans. You ask if she is all right and she laughs. Clearly, I am not. She already has a shirt tied around her stomach and she is holding another tight to staunch the bleeding. 

Natalia has been here, you say. Yes. You ask where she has gone and where Yeva is. She tells you she doesn’t know. That Yeva and she were ambushed and overwhelmed. The room is trashed. Bullet holes in the walls and broken furniture. There are bodies littering the floor. They must have had two dozen men up here to overpower just the two of them. 

You ask if she will be all right if you go. She tells you yes she thinks so. Then you hold a hand out. She takes it. Her hand is clammy and cool to the touch. Are you sure, you ask. Because Katya might actually kill me if you die on my watch. Go, she tells you. Find Yeva. 

So you leave out the window and try not to think about it all being too late. If they had the chance to drive off they could be out of the city by now. You weren’t even supposed to be out hunting for them. You should’ve taken Stefanya and Marina and gone back to base. The others’ failure was theirs alone to bear. So you stand in the dark collecting raindrops, wondering why this has come as an afterthought. You realize in your haste you’d left your mask back in the hotel room. Water drips down your face as you stare up at the sky. Maybe the stars know.

Then, through the stench of the storm and the dirt and oil the rain has sloughed from the ground you smell blood. It is sharp and metallic and unmistakable. You trot down the near pitch black alley in search of the source. There are a number of irregular shapes down a perpendicular alleyway. You can barely see they are there. You stop, your boots splashing in a puddle. 

With measured steps you stalk forward, unsheathing the swords on your back. The shapes are bodies of men in ruined suits with ruined faces. One’s eyes have been gouged inward, pushed deep in toward his brain. Belly-up he stares unseeing into some void. And as if he hadn’t suffered enough he is also eviscerated. Guts and blood leak from him onto the dirty ground as if from an overfilled trash bin. No wonder you were able to smell it.

There is another with his throat slit and his head bashed in. Another with his jaw ripped wide open. He has been shot, but only in the leg. None of these men went out with a clean death. All of them suffered.

You find Natalia in the middle of the carnage, holding another body. Yeva is limp in her arms, eyes closed. You kneel beside both of them. She’s gone, Natalia whispers. You try to ignore the awful pang in your chest. Because she died in the service of her country. She died a soldier’s death. It is an honor. 

But alone in the rain in a struggle is no way to die. Dark blood is still seeping from the hole in her forehead to stain her blonde hair. She looks so young. 

There are footsteps at the entrance to the alleyway. Stefanya and Marina have Anastasia supported in between them. Stefanya is taller than them both which makes it an awkward position but they have made it. You’re not surprised they didn’t stay at the rendezvous either. 

The cops are here, Marina says. We need to go.

Natalia stands, Yeva in her arms. You pull your hood deeper over your face and lead them away. In a stolen car you drive out of the city. There’s a field and it’s on its way to being flooded but it will have to do. You have no tools so you dig with your hands and you try to ignore how familiar the action is. Even Nastya insists she helps. 

Dawn has already broken when the grave is finally dug. You lower Yeva’s body in and replace the dirt under the young sunlight. None of you care about the consequences the day will surely bring.

Very few will ever know that she lived. And only you will know about her death, about this gravesite. It’s only fair you take a moment. They tell you you are nameless, faceless, inconsequential and that it is selfish to believe otherwise.

But dammit Yeva was a person. They refused to give her a place in the world. So you suppose that’s what the four of you have done now. What a shame it could only be given after her last breath.

—

The next time you’re being briefed on a mission there are forty agents in the room. You go to the side of the room where your squad along with the rest of the platoon are standing. Rumlow tells you there must be a big fucking fish to fry.

Crowded on the other side of the conference table are members of STRIKE Team: Delta, including Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. You lock eyes with her for a moment but you turn away because Agent Matthew Hunter is right there next to her. Rumor has it they’ve been “going out.” Last week Ward asked you how it felt to have some tool like Hunter steal your girl. You told him she wasn’t your girl. That she’d be fucking a new guy in another week. You don’t know why you said that last part.

Then everyone is quiet because Fury is here and the Director never bothers with things as trivial as mission briefs.

Turns out there’s a huge freaking terrorist compound in Iraq and you’ve been authorized to take it out. Agent Barton is in charge of tagging the leader. Everyone else, don’t get killed.

So you fly out in three separate jets and you’re on the one holding a mix of both teams. Everyone’s keeping to their own side but Natalia comes over to stand by you.

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi,” you say back. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been missing her. But now that you’ve heard her voice and she’s so close your shoulders are almost brushing it hits you like a bucket of ice water. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. It’s odd though, you know.” 

“What is?”

“Not speaking with you.” she says. “I mean we’re in the same building most of the time now. It’s just been too long.”

“I agree,” you say. And because you cannot bring yourself to admit you feel less alive when she’s not around, that now that she’s here you have to stop yourself from grinning like a moron, you say, “I don’t think we’ve been on a mission together yet. Not since coming here.”

She’s looking at you and now you’re thinking about the furrow in her brow and the shine in her eye when she’s thinking hard. The little things you’re sure only you know because you’re the only person she’s shown them to. “You’re right,” she says. “We haven’t.”

“Kremer was probably scared shitless about the potential the two of us have together.”

“Kremer?”

“My handler. He’s an absolute asshat. I feel like he had one look at me and has already sentenced me. Nothing I do can change his mind.”

“That’s too bad for him,” she says. “He’s missing out on a great agent.”

You finally allow a smile to crack through. “How’s Barton?”

“He’s good. I think the two of you would get along.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you both know how to be a huge pain in my ass.” She smirks and you shove her lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh you don’t know what you’ve got yourself into Romanova.” 

She takes your hand and traces circles on the inside of your palm. “You’re the only one who calls me that anymore,” she murmurs.

Your face flushes because you hadn’t even realized what you’d said. “I can stop. I just, I forget sometimes. And besides.” You lean in and switch to Russian because someone is always listening in. “Natalia Romanova is the strongest person I know. I don’t think you should be ashamed of her.”

She turns her face toward yours and responds in kind. “You don’t have to stop. I like what it means when you say it.” You can feel her breath on your cheek and you wonder if she might kiss you. But she pulls away to smile at you again. “And you’re the only one who can pronounce it right anyway.”

You touchdown and by some force of habit you and Natalia pull away from the others and slink into the shadows. You pull your pistol out and shoot a figure with his gun out before Natalia can get to him.

She turns back to you. “Since when do you use a gun?”

You shrug. “Since I became American.”

“You don’t have your swords?”

“No. Those are still confiscated. But,” you take a retractable blade from your belt and unsheath it. “I’ve got this.”

“Can you use it?”

“Well enough,” you say. You could use a sharp stick if you needed to. “Actually, it’s quite different from using my katanas. First of all there’s only one of whatever this is. It’s pretty terrible. Americans have no idea about blades. Whoever made this shaped it like a toothpick.” You thrust it forward into the empty air. “You can’t slash with it, which is what you want to do,” you say, drawing an arc this time.

“Easy, tiger. I can’t believe I almost forgot how much of a nerd you are.” You’re about to retort but she stops before a corner and gives you a look. Down the hall there’s an open door and a light on. You edge up to it and count four guys smoking and playing cards. As one you jump out, Natalia covering you as you barrel into the thick of it. There are two guys with bullet holes in them and one writhing on the ground from one of her taser discs.

You’ve plunged your sword through the last one and are still trying to wrench it free when she kicks the one getting shocked in the head. Finally you get it free, his ribs cracking from how hard you had to pull it out. 

“That’s disgusting,” she says.

“Oh please,” you respond, wiping the blade off on your sleeve. There’s blood on your hands and face and more spreading over the concrete floor. “You’re the one who likes making messes on purpose. I told you this sword is atrocious.”

She shrugs. “I only do that if they really deserve it.”

“So that’s like everyone, right?” You turn away from her, shaking your head hard enough you know she must see. “It’s appalling really. I mean have some decorum Natalia. Twenty-three times is a lot to stab someone, you know.” 

Silence is the only answer you receive. But the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and in a flash she’s on your shoulders trying to bring you down.

You keep talking in between the short bursts of laughter rising from your chest. “At that point it’s disrespectful.” She covers your eyes with one hand and your mouth with the other. Then she twists with just enough force to signal she wants you down and you get to your knees to soften the blow before you completely collapse on your back. 

“The cops can’t even recognize the poor bastards.” She’s on top of you with a glint in her eye like she’s hungry. You put your hands up. “Please don’t, oh no I have an ounce of cocaine I still need to snort tonight.” She puts the handle end of a knife against your cheek and drags it down toward your chest. “I have so much to live for,” you say, suddenly putting on an American accent.

She cracks, a little smile emerging on her face. She stands before she thinks you’ve seen and leaves the room. “Get up. We’ve got a job to do.”

“I saw that,” you say, jogging after her. 

“Saw what?”

“You think I’m hilarious.”

“No, I think you’re dumb.”

“I can be both. It’s called having range.”

You wouldn’t say you enjoy what you do, but it’s all you know. At some point you had to become numb to it or you’d drown in the guilt. But you have missed working with Natalia. Your team is fine. But it’s different when she’s had your back in the field since you were ten years old. When you could pass out right now and know she’d keep you safe. When you know exactly what move she’s going to make next.

The end of the hall splits off and you go left while she goes right.

You pass a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and give them a nod before turning down another hall. You check another room and there’s a woman in there with a gun.

You raise yours, and you don’t know why but something makes you hesitate. Maybe it’s because you don’t think she’ll shoot. Maybe it’s because there’s been this bug in your ear nagging about innocence until proven guilty. 

But she doesn’t and there’s a shot and a bullet in your side. You don’t waste time before you fire a return shot that shatters her kneecap. She drops her gun and goes down screaming.

Rage explodes hot in your chest. At her, for shooting you. But mostly at yourself for slipping. “You bitch,” you seethe in Russian. The pain in your side is mixing with the anger in your chest and the storm is deafening. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me,” she sobs, laying on the ground. “I didn’t mean to. I’m not with them. I won’t fight anymore. Just don’t kill me. I’m sorry.” But you’ve seen this act before. You won’t underestimate her twice.

“Shut up,” you say in English. You put your foot on her broken knee and stand on it. She wails even harder. You’re looming over her as you unsheathe your sword. Her sobs are the only sound left in the room. You seethe in silence. Like you always have. 

You raise the blade above your head like an executioner with his axe and bring it down over her neck. Her head comes apart from her body. There’s a thud as she settles on her back. The sword snaps as it strikes the concrete from the weight of your full strength. You stumble forward. Sometimes you forget how strong the serum has made you.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Just the sound of your ragged breathing. You can’t tell if you can’t catch your breath because you’ve been shot or because of something else.

Then, “Holy shit.”

You whip around and aim your gun at the voice by the doorway. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Don’t shoot me, partner,” says Agent Hunter.

Блядь.

You put your weapon away but don’t say anything.

He looks at the blood on your face and the broken sword you’re holding onto like a lifeline and the body at your feet. The woman’s eyes are still open. Locked in a panicked gaze. Then he blanches and turns away. The sound of him throwing up almost makes you hurl too.

“Hunter,” you pant, finding your voice.

But he’s backing away with his hands out like you’ll get him next. “You’re sick.”

More footsteps come down the hall and a group of agents checks on him. It’s over for you as soon as the first new arrival sees the body and the blood on your hands. Oh my god, he says. The judgement rolls through the crowd that’s begun to amass. 

Agent Hunter is out of your sight now but you can hear him. “He fucking killed her. She was on the ground begging for her life and he fucking chopped her head off.”

Your face heats up and your heart is pounding something crazy in your chest because you still haven’t caught your breath. There’s too many people in the room. Too many eyes on you. You can hear every gasp, every hitch in their breathing, every whisper. It’s driving you nuts. Why can’t they just mind their own fucking business. 

They’re going to kill you for this. You’re injured and vulnerable. There’s a dozen of them now and they’ve all got guns. 

“What the fuck are you all looking at?” You yell. “Get out!” 

They stare at you for another moment before shuffling away. 

You think you see a glimpse of fire-red hair in the crowd. There one second, then gone. Like the flicker of a flame.

Rumlow is the first one to approach you. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t come too close. “Come on, man,” he says in the same rough voice he always uses. The familiarity is good. “It’s time to go.”

—

The girl with the blood red hair stops at a small grove of trees. She tells the boy it is time. She cannot go further.

The boy stops because the girl is the strongest person he knows. If she says she cannot go on she must mean her feet have fallen off. But he is also confused because there are supposed to be weeks and weeks left. This is not right. 

The girl curses and curls into a ball at the base of a skinny, bare tree. Because she knows this too. Stupidly, she thinks if she makes the area around her stomach just a little warmer everything will be okay. She is desperate.

But their luck has run out. The girl was good at keeping secrets and when the secret could not be kept any longer a man named Ivan put her on a long-term espionage mission. The boy has always disliked this man whom the girl looks to like a father but he owes him for this. 

But things went sour as things happen to go and when the girl sent the message from the cabin the boy should not have come. But this was a thing worth running for. 

Miracles do not exist.

The boy sinks into the snowy ground next to the girl. She turns her face toward his and they press their foreheads together Like a kiss, but with the tenderness that can only be born from the innocent. I love you, the girl tells him. 

The boy tries to be brave even though he is scared. I love you too, he says. No matter what happens.

—

They make you go to medical when you get back because everyone was watching you on the plane and it was obvious you had a bullet in your side.

You sit in a private room that’s got a door instead of just curtains between beds. But it’s not really private because there’s a doctor and two armed guards at the door. All three of them stare at you. They haven’t gone so far as to handcuff you but you know you’ve taken a huge step back. 

The doctor introduces herself as Helen Cho and asks, “Are you able to remove your shirt?”

You don’t want to take your shirt off. It leaves you too vulnerable. And you don’t want them to see your back.

“Agent, there’s a bullet in your torso. Remarkably it hasn’t hit anything vital. And by some miracle you’re sitting up like nothing’s wrong. But I still need to take it out. It’s not supposed to be in there.” She is direct but still somehow soft-spoken. You don’t like being in this white room with these strange people but you suppose she could be worse.

You fidget with your hands. You’ve washed them but there’s still red on your palms, dried flakes under your fingernails. Finally, you say, “I can get it out myself. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

“I would be more comfortable if you would let me do it. Have you ever extracted a bullet before?” You shake your head. “It’s tricky, it requires precision, and it hurts the person it’s in. It’s hard to keep your hand steady when you’re in pain.”

You glance up at the agents keeping guard. “Sure I know.” 

Doctor Cho notices and waves at them. “Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Ma’am, we have orders to keep him under supervision.”

“He’s injured. You can stay right outside the exam room. Nobody is going to disappear into thin air.”

“But–”

“I’m the doctor. And this is my patient. You can wait outside,” she says sternly.

And this time they listen. “We’ll be right outside.”

She turns back to you. “Better?”

You nod slowly, finally drawing in a larger breath. Your side ignites in fire and you gasp, which only makes it hurt worse. Your hand flies to the wound, hovering over it. 

“Getting shot isn’t fun, is it?” She asks, not waiting for an answer. “Now there’s two ways we can do this. You can lay here and let me help you or I can have you sedated.”

“No,” you wave a hand at her. “No, don't do that.”

“Okay I won’t,” she assures. “But I’ve been at this long enough to know some people need a little extra help. It’s all right.” She pauses. “I still need to see the wound site. I’ll walk you through it every step of the way,” she offers.

“You will?” 

“Of course.”

You hesitate. Maybe it’s to stall a little longer. Maybe because you actually care. “You’re not worried about being in here alone with me?”

“Why would I be? You’re not going to attack me, are you?”

“No,” you say. “But you have to be wondering why I’ve got a couple of angry looking sitters.”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “‘I’m curious. But I don’t make a habit of judging people I don’t know. And besides. I’m a doctor. I’d treat you no matter what.”

“So there’s no limit?”

“No, I’ve got a limit.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“It’s for people who think they can talk their way out of treatment,” she says, looking you in the eye. “Come on.”

Slowly, you maneuver your right arm out of the t-shirt. The movement stretches your side and it hurts but you grit your teeth and push through the pain. You leave your shirt on around your neck and left side. The wound is still oozing blood just above your right hip. You figure she has enough room to work.

Doctor Cho sighs. She takes a once-over glance at your body. Her attention locks on the bullet wound then flickers to your back then refocuses again. 

“You’re probably going to want to lay down.”

You oblige and she comes over with gloves on her hands but no mask on her face. You’re grateful for this. The doctors in the Red Room always wore masks and headgear that made them look less human. They also didn’t talk. Not to you anyway. And their notes always had the word “Subject 094” instead of your name.

You swallow as she sits on a stool by your side with a pair of forceps and a pen light. You don’t know when you'd gotten so sweaty. 

“I’m going to locate the bullet and extract it. Sound good?”

You nod and she waits. “Yes,” you say. 

She clicks on the flashlight and puts a cool hand on your stomach. “Last chance. You sure you don’t want to go under for this?”

“I’m sure.”

She presses down lightly with two fingers around the entry site. It hurts but it doesn’t really hurt until the fourth spot she touches. You suck in air through your teeth and clench your fists.

“I started working in the medical field because I wanted to cure cancer,” she says. “My passion was research, but my parents wanted me to get my M.D. They said there’s no success in research. So I did both. I have an M.D. for them and a Ph.D. in biomedical research for myself.” 

You focus on her words, imagining a younger Doctor Cho in your mind. She can’t be much older than you. “You must be some kind of genius,” you grit around a clenched jaw.

She blushes, and even though there’s a pair of forceps lodged way too deep inside your torso the pain eases a little. “Nothing like that. I just worked hard. And you know the crazy part? I ended up loving the patient work almost as much as I loved running tests in a lab. So my parents had the right idea after all, just for the wrong reasons.”

You’re looking at her face now instead of her hands and trying to memorize the slight purse in her lips and the brightness in her eyes. This is her arena, her fight.

“Сука!” You curse and jolt a little.

“Steady,” she says. “I’ve got it. Just have to pull it out.”

You try to draw in deep, steady breaths through your nose and out your mouth. “Great.” You can’t watch anymore so you squeeze your eyes shut and tell yourself pain is only a mental construct even though it really doesn’t feel that way right now.

There’s a clink and a rattle and Doctor Cho says, “The hard part is done. I’m going to clean, stitch, and bandage you now.”

“So you’ve given up on curing cancer to take bullets out of idiots instead?”

“No. Actually, I work in research almost full time now. They’ve got a pretty nice lab here. You should stop by, if you’re not too busy catching more bullets.” She doesn’t look you in the eye as she says this. 

“This is my first time getting shot.”

“There shouldn’t be a first time,” she counters.

“You said you do research almost full time now. Should I feel special, then?” You smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re a disturbance to my day off, actually.” She takes a bottle of water and flushes it through your wound. 

You hiss. “Please remind me never to get shot again.”

“If you come through here injured again I’ll kick you out,” she says, smiling. “I thought you all had armor for this type of thing. What’s it called, again? Oh, yeah. A bulletproof vest.” She wipes the rest of the blood from your skin.

“I don't wear those. Too much of a restriction on movement. Agility is the most important thing out there.”

“I don’t know about that. Sounds like I’d want this thing that keeps me from ending up on the wrong side of this bed.”

You shrug. Because she’s running thread through your skin and it hurts more than you try to let on. Maybe she has a point.

Doctor Cho retrieves a roll of bandages from a cabinet in the corner. “This part will be easier if you stand up.”

You stand and stumble. You have to catch yourself on her shoulder. “Sorry,” you say. “Might have lost a little bit of blood recently.”

“You don’t say.”

You fix her nametag, the picture smiling shyly back at you.

She wraps the bandage taught around your stomach. “No strenuous activity until I clear you, understand? Nothing that raises your heart rate too much. And I want to see you back in three days. Think you can manage?”

You shrug back into your shirt. “Does that mean I can’t go to my underground fighting club tonight?”

She makes an overexaggerated frown. “I’m afraid so.”

“Thank you, Doctor Cho,” you say earnestly.

“Don’t mention it.” And as you put your hand on the door knob, she adds, “Call me Helen.”

You smile over your shoulder. “See you in a few days Helen.” 

Your personal guards march you down to Kremer’s office. You tell them you’re sure you can get there on your own but they’re not in all that talkative of a mood.

Kremer is standing over his desk, arms braced against the wood like he’s trying to ground himself. He has his glasses on but removes them when you enter. He makes a dismissive motion with his hand and the guards disappear, shutting the door behind them.

“Sit down,” he says. When you don’t move he says it again, louder. “Sit down! That’s an order.”

You sit but he doesn’t. He stands, hovering over you like some angry buzzard.

“What the fuck was that? I’ve got a dozen eyewitness reports saying you beheaded some defenseless woman. You want to tell me something different happened?”

“Sir,” you start, cautiously. Because even though a plan is already in your mind to bolt you would rather not have to sleep with one eye open tonight. “I don’t know how you have a dozen eyewitness reports. Agent Hunter was the only one present for the moment of death.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I don’t fucking care if it was one person or fifty people or just God himself as witness. Did you do it?” “She shot me first. She wasn’t exactly defenseless.”

Kremer mutters to himself under his breath. “But you didn’t need to chop her goddamn head off! I’ve seen the pictures. Looks like an excessive use of force to me. Was she threatening you when you did it?”

“She could’ve had another weapon under her shirt or in her waistband. I made a call.”

“Hunter said she was sobbing, begging you not to kill her.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! She could have been acting. I’ve seen it done a hundred times.”

“You Reds and your excuses,” he shakes his head. “It’s my ass when you pull some stunt like this, do you understand? I don’t know how you did it back in Russia but here we don’t go around beheading people like barbarians. And if you don’t want to end up in some hellhole I suggest you get yourself up to our bar, quickly.”

“You think I did that just because? The bitch shot me first! I just spent twenty minutes having a bullet dug out of my stomach because of her.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” he points a finger at you. “I think you’re a fucking animal who was just waiting for some excuse to make another person suffer. I know your type. You get off on this kind of violence. If it was up to me you’d be rotting out in the middle of the ocean right now.”

“What the fuck?” You sputter. “I don’t–”

“We’re done here. You’re on a month’s suspension.” He sighs, putting his glasses on and sitting down. “But if you step one toe out of line you’re out of here.”

You stand up far too quickly. The ache in your side flares like you’ve ripped it open again. 

“And I think you should know,” he adds. “Fury has given me complete authority over this matter. Whether you stay or go is my call.”

You salute him before you go, pretending your eyes could burn holes through his skull.

The agents turned guards aren’t waiting for you when you leave Kremer’s office so you head back to your room. Your side hurts even worse now. The adrenaline has worn off. Every step you take makes you want to sink to the floor. 

By the time you make it across campus to the barracks you’re sweating a little and breathing hard. You’ll have to tell Helen you broke her rule. 

Natalia is in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed in her mission suit. Her hair is still braided back, little flyaways sticking to the back of her neck. 

“How did you get in here?” You ask.

“You’re all right,” she says in relief. She crosses the room, one hand on the side of your neck, the other on your cheek. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, putting a hand on her arm. “Can I sit? I’m not exactly totally good.” You don’t wait for her to answer before almost collapsing into the chair at the desk in the corner.

“What happened?” You look up at her, thinking about how you saw her in the crowd. How she didn’t come up to you. Didn’t defend you.

“I was shot,” you say. You lift the edge of your shirt up, just enough to reveal the bandage.

She sits on the bed again. “And?” She prompts, head tilted slightly. 

“And I got it patched. But it still hurts,” you say. Because you’re not going to give her what she wants to know yet. She has to play her hand first.

“I heard what happened. On the jet. People were talking.”

“People were talking,” you say, looking away and nodding your head. 

“They were,” she answers. “And I thought maybe you weren’t coming back. You know how people like to talk. Things get embellished. But you’re okay. They let you off. Right?”

“I don’t know,” you say flatly. You look right at her so she can’t hide. “Were they embellishing? You can cut the shit Natalia. I know you were there.”

She is quiet, but she doesn’t look away. “I saw the aftermath. That doesn’t mean I know what happened. Only you can know that.”

“Why don’t you ask your buddy Matt?” You spit his name like it is a curse. “He saw most of it. And I’m sure he wasn’t shy about telling everyone.”

She stands, says your name. She is already close, but takes two steps to completely close the distance anyhow. “I don’t care about what happened. I just care that you’re okay.”

You look up at her. She is frowning down at you like you are some wounded dog. You want to ask her why she did not ask this thing when you were standing alone, a dozen pairs of eyes on you. But you know. Oh you know. She did not want their judgement to pass to her, did not want to be seen with the outsider with blood on their hands.

And maybe, part of her was scared of him too.

So you don’t ask. Instead, you say, “And if I told you they were outside the door waiting to take me away?” You come back to a way she has already disappointed you.

She takes a breath. You search her face. She searches yours. “Then you would need to disappear.” You wait for the second part. About how she would let you go but in a month’s or year’s time it would be her sent to hunt you down. It would be her with the gun to your head. Because she was the only one smart enough to find you, ruthless enough to betray you. She was the only one you would ever lose to.

You lower your head. You need to stop pulling open this wound. Things are hard enough.

But then. She rakes a hand through your hair. “And I would need to disappear too. I’d kill everyone in here for you, you know that. If it came down to it, I would leave with you too.”

This is new. She has not yet chosen you over them. You feel an opening.

Your head snaps back up. “We can go.”

“But they’re not coming. They’re giving you a chance.”

“I don’t want a chance,” you say. 

“Don’t say that,” she shakes her head. “You can’t say that.”

“Why are you so adamant about staying here?” You are getting frustrated. “You left the Red Room because you were a pawn but now you want to serve some other cause. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Because I’m not going to spend my life on the run, in the shadows. Not when I can do something with it.” She sighs, her gaze turning melancholic. “I need. I need to make up for all the pain I’ve caused.”

“There’s nothing to make up for,” you argue. She was already perfect. “The world needs a little pain. Humanity will never go in the right direction without it.”

She shakes her head. “We can’t control everything.” She puts her hand on your cheek. You hate yourself for leaning into it. You hate her because she knows how to make you pliant. 

You think of all the other times she’s touched you like this, the times she’s made you feel chosen only to turn away the next moment with apathy in her eyes. Because she is a mask of indifference, a one-night flirt. But for you she’s made an exception. You’ve seen her come apart, seen her struggle to be human. But still. Some part of you whispers, “trap.” She is just using you to keep herself afloat. After all, she is first and foremost a survivor. If anyone was going to make it out alive it would be her.

“But we could,” you say.

“No,” is her only answer. She says it like she is watching you drift away and she cannot follow. 

Maybe you are. Or maybe she is the one leaving you.

—

You dread having to talk to Willem after the incident. You know what he is going to ask about before he opens his mouth.

“I heard you had an eventful last week.”

“Are you going to lecture me too?”

“Maybe,” he smiles. It’s a cheeky smile without teeth, but the corners of his eyes wrinkle all the same. “I heard you got yourself on some kind of double probation. I didn’t know that was possible.”

“You hear what I did?” You ask. Part of you hopes he hasn’t. You’d never admit it, but you don’t mind him. Whatever this was was weird. But it would be a shame for it to change now.

“No,” he says. “And I don’t care to. I want to know what you think. I’ve known Kremer for a long time. He’s a hard ass.”

“You’re telling me,” you scoff. “He needs to come in here.”

Willem laughs. It’s a nice, hearty sound. But he keeps whatever he had found funny to himself. He steadies himself with a hand on his knee. “You think he’s unfair.”

“I mean, yeah. He doesn’t give me the time of day. It’s like he’s out to get me.”

“Do you think he was wrong to suspend you?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

You hated Kremer but you also hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. But that wasn’t exactly your fault either. She was dead the moment she pointed a gun at you. What did it matter how you’d done her in? And she’d only shot you because you’d hesitated. That was Kremer’s fault for yelling at you so much about restraint. You pivot instead. “Have you ever killed anybody?”

Willem frowns at that. You think it’s not so much at the content of the question, but at your lack of answer for his. “Yes,” he replies.

You wave your hand in a vague gesture. “Then you know.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“The feeling,” you wave again. “I don’t know. That rush when you, you know.” 

“The bloodlust,” he supplies.

“Sure,” you say. “That seems a little extreme.” 

“That’s the name we had for it in the army. Everyone had a similar story. Some guy in their platoon you wouldn’t have thought would make it a week. He’s too skinny or he wets the bed or he cries at night. Whatever. But by some miracle he survives. And one day he’s toe-to-toe with some enemy combatant. Everyone thinks he’s a goner. But he gets his first kill. And it’s not from some machine gun a few hundred yards away or a mine he rigged up. No. This is personal, it’s bloody. From then on the guy’s an animal. Nobody makes fun of him anymore cause he might claw your eyes out. The bloodlust.”

You shake your head. “Not like that. Just in the moment. When it’s you or them. Everything else fades out. You get this urge. Like something has to break. And it can’t be you.”

“Sure,” he says. “In the moment. But you can’t go on living like that all the time. Or you end up like that batshit private.”

“That’s all it was,” you say. “I don’t get why it’s not acceptable for me to blow off a little steam.”

“Because it’s dangerous. If you can’t control yourself you shouldn’t be out there.”

“So you’re taking Kremer’s side, now?”

“It’s not about sides. But you have a job to do. And there’s standards you have to abide by. You think I could do this if I flew off the handle with every client?”

“You’ve yelled at me,” you point out.

“You’re the exception.”

You roll your eyes.

“Do you feel good about what you do?” He asks.

“I don’t feel bad about it,” you say, although it’s only a half-truth. You used to feel terrible when you had to hurt someone. You didn’t want to do that. But time went by and you got used to it. You had to. There’s only a twinge left now. You call it respect for the dead.

“Let me rephrase. Do you like what you do?”

“Define ‘like.’”

He ponders for a second. “If you were free to do anything you wanted, would you still be here?”

“That’s a stupid hypothetical. No one is free to just do as they please.”

“I think we are. Or at least we should be.”

“So walk up out of here right now,” you say, gesturing at the door. “Try your luck begging for money on the street. See how you like your freedom then.”

“I’ve walked away once before. That’s how I ended up here.” Of course he’s got a story for everything. “My first job after I left the military was private security. Ex-military means a lot more to civilians than it does to anyone who actually served. It was nice. I never once pulled out my gun. I had to babysit these assholes who thought way too much of themselves but it paid. About two-and-a-half times what I’m doing here. And all I needed was my high school degree.

I worked awful hours. Wasn’t at home much. But it didn’t matter because I was supporting them. Giving them the life my father couldn’t give me.

Then I got this gig. Full-time bodyguard for some idiot who was going to pay half a million a year. I took it and realized I wasn’t happy. My family wasn’t happy. So one night I don’t show up. They called and I said I couldn’t make it. My kid had a ball game.”

“You just left?” You ask.

“Yes. I realized life is short, and you only get one. I needed to reprioritize, so I did.” Willem pauses to give you that look he always does. As if you can’t hear him if he doesn’t stare you down “It can be done. So let me ask you again.You’ve been given a second chance. What the hell are you going to do with it?”

“Of course that’s what this is about,” you say, throwing yourself into the chair back. “You just want to make sure I’m on the right side. You and Kremer playing ‘good cop, bad cop.’”

“Cut the crap,” he retorts. “I couldn’t care less about that. You’ve been given a fresh start. You have a world of opportunity ahead of you and you’re throwing it away. Do you know how many people would kill to have a re-do like this?

“I didn’t ask for this,” you say, throwing your hands up.

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, his voice flat. “Someone like you, the prodigy you are doesn’t just get taken in by the enemy without a fight. And he certainly doesn’t stick around for no reason.” 

You are silent. You can’t admit that you came here for Natalia. And you definitely can’t admit you’ve stayed because this place hasn’t been so bad after all.

“Nothing to say?” He taunts. 

You don’t answer.

“Then we’re done here.” He stands and walks to the door.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. Because he can’t just quit. That’s not how this works. You jump up and follow him.

“You think you’re some martyr,” he says, opening the door. “You’re crucifying yourself for things you’ve been given a real chance to overcome. I’m not here to watch you jump into an early grave.”

“Fuck off,” you yell, slamming the door shut. “You want to talk about martyrdom? Why haven’t you made amends with your wife?”

“Because I did a terrible thing,” he says in that annoyingly calm voice of his.

“You fucked up!” You pace a few steps away. “But you don’t want to put in the work to fix yourself. So much for all the love you have for your family.”

“That’s my call to make.”

“That’s right. It’s your fucking call and you’re making the wrong one. Some people they fuck up and they own up to it! What are you doing? Coming in here and hiding behind someone else’s problems so you don’t have to look at what a mess your own life is!” You’re shouting and you can’t keep your hands still. 

He stands across from you, hands in his pockets. He says your name, tells you to look at him. “Why are you here?”

You stop and put your arms down. Because he is calm, and you are not. It’s like nothing you’ve said has stuck. 

“Look at you, tough guy. You’ve got a smart remark for everything but you won’t answer this simple question. Because you can’t face the truth.”

He opens the door again. And this time, you walk through it.

—

You wake tied to a chair. It is because your eyelids are heavy like lead that you jerk and try to escape without reason first. You breathe from your nose because when you tried to take a panicked inhale through your mouth there was something gagging you out. 

Look who’s awake, a deep voice says. Looks like you won the bet.

You settle because the rope wrapping over the entire length of both your forearms and your ankles gives you no other choice. You are stripped down to your underwear but still you sweat. You are in what looks like an office with the furniture removed. There is a man you do not recognize and a woman you do.

Evgenia looks nothing like the woman you have been working on and off with for six years. Nothing like the woman who scolded you but not for the same reason as anyone in the Red Room. She told you you had to stop hiding your injuries because you are a kid and not a dog and showed you the real world was not as intense of a picture as you believed. 

She showed you new foods and taught you the songs her grandma taught her even though she could not sing. And one night after a particularly gruelling mission she told you you had to draw lines between what was okay and what was not. That nobody could tell you what those were except yourself. You have to listen in here, she said, pointing to your heart. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

There is more to life than just the fight. You just need to look up.

Her face was also the one you saw as you felt a prick in your neck and a tiredness began to consume your body.

You look at her now, at her cold gaze and think what a glorious trick she has pulled on you. You challenge her to be the first to look away as you search for an ounce of guilt in her posture and find none. In the end it is you who breaks away first.

The man, who is dressed in a black shirt and black pants approaches you and takes the gag from your mouth. He tells you he has a few questions about Dreykov and the Red Room. He tells you you all are an outdated parasite on modern Russia and need to be excised. Let me demonstrate, he says, picking up a thin knife. He grabs your bicep and you try to jerk away but the rest of your arm is tied down and even though you are awake the world still feels out of focus.

Everything becomes clear real fast when he starts sawing at your arm. You don’t scream, managing to minimize your agony into a series of gasps and grunts. This is a yet undiscovered pain. He comes away with a little piece of your skin. He holds it in front of your face and flaps it like it is some sort of banner. Like this, he says. You know the air is not burning even if your arm is trying to tell you it is.

You look at Evgenia. She is standing back a few paces, arms crossed. 

Where is the Red Room? The man asks.

I’m not telling shit, you say, even though it feels a little like your brain is having trouble connecting to your mouth. You think I’m some traitor? You would all be lost without us. Dreykov is going to–

He slices at you again, this time on your shoulder and you can’t stifle the yell that emerges. You clench your fists and fight to get away but it's no use. 

You can’t help but look at Zhenya like she is a source of comfort. Like she might help you. She says your name. Just tell him and this can end. Please, you don’t have to do this to yourself.

Go to hell, you grit. The man grips you by the hair and takes a large patch of skin from your neck. You scream. You had never thought there could be this much pain without a single drop of blood.

He steps back. Where is the Red Room? You stare at him, breathing hard. The rope digs into your skin. You ache to put your hands around his throat. You are going to regret this, you say. You should know who you’re messing with. 

Oh, he says, cocky. He waves the knife at you. But no one will know it was us, you see. 

Kill me, go ahead.

I’m not going to kill you, no. You’re very valuable property. Very marketable. You are only the second man in history to get Russian version of super serum and not go batshit insane. Did you know this? Yes, there are powerful people who would pay a lot to have you in their arsenal. And they already have. You’ll be someone else’s little hound soon. And guessing at who our buyer is, you won’t even remember this conversation after they do what they do.

He holds the knife to your cheek. Too bad keeping this pretty face intact was not a part of the deal.

Wait, Evgenia speaks up. Let me.

He backs off and shrugs. All right.

She takes the scalpel and kneels before you. Hey, she says. Hey, hey, look at me. You must still be pretty out of it because you thought you were looking at her. Just tell us what we want to know and this can end. Don’t make me do this. 

You are looking into her eyes and you think you see a little bit of the woman you thought she was. I trusted you, you whisper.

I know, she frowns, mocking. I’m sorry. She starts to cut at the skin on your thigh. It feels more painful than any of the other times because she is the one doing it. You watch the strip of skin come loose and then think you must be dreaming because she turns away and rushes at the man. 

She stabs him in the stomach with the scalpel and throws a punch at his head. He is caught off guard and stumbles back. Without hesitation he rips out the blade and swipes at Zhenya. She takes a couple of quick steps back. 

You strain anew at the rope holding you down but it is thick and unforgiving and wrapped around your arms and legs like a python. 

He presses forward with the blade out, forcing her to work around him. She takes a step too close and he slices her across the stomach. Blood begins to bloom and stain her shirt a shade darker. But she is quick, she cuts at his wrist and forces him to drop the knife. Then, without missing a beat, she tackles him to the ground.

But he is bigger than her, stronger. He shoves her into the wall and dives for the scalpel. It lies just outside of his reach. Evgenia seizes the opportunity. She kicks it farther from his grasp and scoops it up. 

She turns around just as he tries to get her from behind. The scalpel cuts deep through his throat. Blood sprays from his neck onto her face as if from a fountain. His hands raise and try to staunch the bleeding but it is already too late. He falls first to his knees and then flat on the floor. He gurgles as he tries to draw his final breaths and then it is quiet. 

Zhenya stumbles backward, holding the wound on her stomach. You are still trying in vain to break free from your bonds. She curses and comes to you with the knife. You flinch a little when she points it at you. She apologizes. I didn’t know what to do, she says. This was the only way. I didn’t want to hurt you.

It’s okay, you tell her as she saws through the coils and coils of rope. You forgive her easily, instantly. You don’t think you could have been mad even if she truly had betrayed you. Because you will always be that twelve year old kid with fists aching from the weight of your anger. And she will always be the one to catch your wrists and demand you let go. 

She gets your clothes for you and you try to ignore how the fabric sets your raw skin aflame. Then, you stare down at the body of the other SVR agent. Zhenya has made herself a traitor because of you. She has ruined her life. You are not worth that sort of action. You shouldn’t have done that, you say. You should’ve let him have me.

No, she says. You are where I draw my line.

Her words make your heart pound and your face heat up. You will not cry because you haven’t for years and it would be ridiculous to now. You have recently turned eighteen after all. You are a proper adult now with proper responsibilities. That’s why they came after you.

You’re going to have to disappear, you say. 

I know.

I can’t know where you go.

I’ll find you, she says. When it’s safe. I promise.

You want to say it will never be safe. But you cannot entertain the notion you will never see her again. When it’s time you walk out first. So when they ask you where she went you can look them in the eye and say you don’t know.

—

Two months later and you have been carving room out for yourself. There is no back so you look forward. You tell yourself you can leave anytime you want. 

The hole in your side has healed, thanks to Doctor Cho. You went and saw her three days later like she’d asked. You checked the medical wing first, asking after her. Most of the staff avoided looking at you, but one nurse told you she didn’t work around here anymore and that you should check the laboratory building.

You thanked her and apologized for the disturbance. Perhaps your reputation was getting a little too out of hand after all.

The scientists in the research building weren’t much better either. They all stared at you when you entered, but that might just have been because they’re not used to talking to a huge circle of people.

“I’m looking for Doctor Helen Cho,” you said.

You were directed down a hall and into a different room. She was there, black hair tied up in a bun, talking to another person in a white coat.

“Doctor Cho,” you said, feeling somewhat off-put in this place. You couldn’t even name half of the equipment in here. 

She turned around, a smile lighting up her face when she saw you. That was nice. It didn’t happen with a lot of other people. She greeted you. “Let me wash my hands,” she said. “We can talk in my office.”

She discarded her gloves and safety glasses and the two of you walked down the hall into a small office.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, sitting on the edge of her desk.

“Okay,” you replied. “All things considered.”

“Can I take a look?” 

You shrugged. “What am I here for?”

She unwrapped the bandage and stared down at your side. You could see the gears turning in her head. “Well this isn’t right,” she said.

You couldn’t help but smile, just the edge of your mouth turning up. “Am I going to die, doc? Don’t tell me it’s too late.”

She shook her head, still unable to look away from the wound. “No,” she replied, so enraptured she’d missed your joking tone. “This is. This is incredible. It looks like a graze wound. Are you sure you got shot?”

“I didn’t let you take a bullet out of me for kicks.”

Now she looked up at you, eyes wide. You were smiling because her awe was infectious. You’d never impressed someone like this before. You were never good enough. They always wanted you to be faster, stronger, more durable. But the way she was looking at you said this was more than enough.

“How?” She breathed.

“I heal fast,” you said. 

She laughed and you found yourself thinking of more ways to draw the sound out of her. “No shit,” she said. “But I mean, this should be impossible. It won’t even scar.”

“You’re the genius scientist,” you said. “I don’t know how it works either, to tell you the truth.”

“I’ve never heard of anybody having genetics like this. But I suppose it’s possible. People have different heights and intellectual traits. Your cells must be able to process energy at triple the rate of anyone else.”

You tilted your head. “Eh, not exactly.” Then you paused because you’ve never talked to anyone about this before. And it was sensitive information. You eyed the woman in front of you. If you told her about the serum they’d stuck in your veins maybe she’d tell someone else, and then you’d be a rat in a cage. You couldn’t. So you smiled and said, “I should get back.”

For a second you thought she might press for more. She looked like she had a million more questions. “Do you think you have time for me to show you the lab?” Was all she said. 

You sighed in relief. You decided you liked her. So you let her take you into the lab and explain all the things you’d never understand. She was excited because they were on the edge of a breakthrough, she could feel it. She told you she was working on growing tissue so they wouldn’t have to rely so much on transplants. She hoped their work would save a lot of lives some day. She would be happy if she lived to the day it would save just one.

She was almost winded when she’d finished speaking. “Sorry,” she shook her head bashfully. “I’m not usually so talkative.”

“It’s all right,” you said. And it was. Because you’d had more attention on you in the last week than you thought you could handle. “The world needs more people like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re good. You’re not doing this for yourself. You’re going to help a lot of people.”

She looked down at her shoes. “I hope so.” When she looked back up at you her cheeks were a little red. “We should talk again. Outside of work.”

“That sounds nice,” you agreed.

Now you have come back from a mission gone slightly awry. The intelligence had been perfect, the lab waiting for you like a glowing jewel hidden beneath depths of concrete maze. There was nowhere to run when you broke the doors down and aired the place out.

The lead scientist put his hands up as soon as the bodies of his colleagues hit the floor. You were supposed to bring him in for questioning. You are looking right at the man and his empty hands when there is shouting and a single gunshot.

The target is dead, his head all exploded like rotten fruit. Ward holsters his gun. He says he thought the man had been reaching for a weapon. And that’s what all four of you report when Agent Hill asks you about it later.

It’s a problem because you are supposed to be the most seasoned strike team there is. It’s a problem because that scientist also functioned as an administrator and he could have led you to more cells.

It’s a problem because it’s not the first time something like this has happened.

It’s the third one since you’ve been here. There was the neo-Nazi who claimed he was part of a huge underground organization and the Russian politician who swore he would tell all in exchange for asylum. Both of them had become suddenly violent at the moment you tried to bring them in. Both are now dead.

The first time you had been confused. Then Rumlow looked you dead on and smiled, holding his index finger over his lips. Then you understood why they wanted you on their team.

Because they are imperfect, and so are you.

So you don’t tell your superiors the target had been subdued at the time of death. And they believe you because strikers are always like this, a little jumpy and a little imprecise. Consequences of pulling from ex-military and ex-police force pools.

But now you’re getting back from a long flight and an even longer debrief and Natalia is in your room with her arms crossed and an indecipherable look on her face. You’ve been on good terms. But you haven’t done that thing which is not a thing because it’s nothing where you lay with each other in the dark and communicate without speaking. 

So you find it odd that she’s in your room. 

“Hi,” you say, like a question.

“What are you up to?” She’s not asking what your plans are for the day. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted.

You shake your head. “What are you talking about?”

“Maria is pissed. About the mission. And so is Fury.”

“So? It’s a shame the mission went bad but the target was hostile. He might’ve shot one of us. We’ll get the next guy.”

“Except this is the third time something like this has happened in as many months,” she says, slowly. “And you don’t make mistakes.”

You aren’t alarmed. She’s smart, smarter than you maybe. So you keep your face and body still like you’ve been taught and say, “I don’t. But they do. You must know I was never the one to pull the trigger.”

She huffs because you’re right. On paper nothing is afoot. But you know she has a feeling. You’re stubborn but so is she. “If something is going on you can tell me.”

“Nothing is going on,” you lie. Something definitely is. But you don’t care.

“I’m trying to help you,” she says. “Those agents you work with, you can’t trust them.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because Clint,” she pauses to rub at her temple, “he doesn’t like them.”

“And that’s the end of the conversation?” You scoff. “Your new buddy says one bad thing and my team is suddenly suspicious.” 

“It’s not just him. Your ‘team,’ is made up of a bunch of assholes. Everyone knows it.”

“I didn’t know you held such high moral standards. Tell me, what is your squad up to, huh? You go out and you spy on people so you can throw them a big party?” You don’t want to be angry, not with her, but she is different now. She is jumping on you when she always used to give you the benefit of the doubt, when she always used to be on your side.

She has become a stranger and now she thinks she can barge back in and make you behave as she sees fit. Perhaps you never knew her in the first place.

“I never said that,” she says.

“No, but you think you’re better than everyone else. You always have. And now you’re acting all righteous because the director has made you his pet project.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What does that mean?”

She scoffs. “Really? Dreykov Junior?”

“I’m not his son.”

“No, you just wish you were.”

You turn away and take a deep breath. 

Her voice is closer and softer the next time she speaks. “I didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand.”

You shake your head as if the motion would fling all the anger away like it was some pesky bug. “Me neither.” “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble. That’s all. I wanted to help you.”

You turn back to face her. “I don’t need help.”

“But you do.” Her face is a stone wall, a chiseled mask of indifference. 

You blink at her. It is dark outside, and you are exhausted. Your quarters which have always felt a little like a jail cell shrink in on you. “What?”

She sighs, like you are a child who doesn’t understand. “They think you’re a spy,” she hisses, like she’s not supposed to be telling you this. “They think you are a spy and that you are trying to find a way to bring them down.”

“I’m not.” They have it all wrong, you want to say. You’ve been exiled, but you can’t tell them that. Because then they’d know you’re cornered, and there’s nothing more vulnerable than being caught with your back to the wall.

“Then why are you here?” She asks. And you feel like she’s pushed you off the top of the building. Because she is truly asking this question. She thinks you are working against them too. Working against her. “You came here to retrieve me, right? And I said I’m not going back to that hellhole. So you have a new mission.”

You must have some sort of surprise on your face because something clicks in her eyes, like she’s solved a mystery. But you can’t tell her that no, no one sent you here after her, because she’d ask you why you had jumped ship like an idiot and you’d have to tell her you were scared. You don’t have the words to describe how panic had seized you by the throat when news of her capture reached you. How even the daydream of her death made you want to die too.

Because you are not a savior. And she is not supposed to be worth saving anyway. Everyone is expendable. No one is special. And she was just a warm body all those years.

And because you cannot say all this, cannot accept that you ruined your life like some emotion-poisoned whore, you say, “You don’t understand.”

She is quicker with her response, because she has the power. She has always had the power between the two of you. “Then help me understand.”

You shake your head more furiously and back away. “Why do you even care, huh?”

“Because I want to understand you! You have to give me something. You have to show them you’re trying.”

“I am trying.” Could she not see that? How you were killing yourself everyday you woke up in the name of S.H.I.E.L.D.? You shake out the wrist you normally wear your watch on.

“But they don’t think so. You can do better.” She approaches you a little too quickly. You can’t tell if her outstretched hands are trying to support you or strangle you.

You seize her by the shoulders before she can touch you. “That’s what this is about? You’re worried I might be a stain on your reputation?” You are loud but you don’t care because you are furious.

“No. No, I never said that. I don’t care about my reputation. I want to help you, but I can’t because I don’t recognize you anymore!”

Her face is flushed red like it’s never been before and it scares you so you let her go. “You think I need help?” You throw your arms up because she is ridiculous and so are you. “You think I can’t handle this?” And she is shaking her head and getting redder and the corners of her mouth are turned down in the shape of a frown. She is saying no but you aren’t hearing her. “My whole life I’ve been handling everything just fine! And guess what. I have never needed you.” You’re pointing at her and every time you shake your fist it feels like pulling the trigger of a gun.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been through? I was there too. I get it but it is no excuse to keep protecting them!”

“It’s not that simple.” Because you had fought and you had suffered and you had had a role to fill. You still do. No, you weren’t just going to accept that you’d lost and roll over for the enemy. You can’t.

“It is!” She says. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is not perfect, but it is a fucking haven compared to back there. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because I’m not willing to turn my back on things so easily. I can’t just run from one thing to the next, changing who I am to fit in. I’m not like you.”

“Well then you are an idiot and a coward. And I see right through you.” You believe her. You feel so exposed under her gaze. “I’m not pretending to be someone else to fit in. I’m trying to be more than them, to be better. Fuck you.”

“Yeah? At least I’m not a spineless traitor. How could you leave? What has S.H.I.E.L.D. ever done for you?”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes! The Red Room gave us everything.”

“The Red Room didn’t give us anything. It took our choices and our lives and it’s taking still. Look at yourself!” She thrusts her arms out at you and you flinch. Just a little, but you know she sees. Because you thought she didn’t care about all the ways in which you are ruined.

“I am better for all they put me through. It wasn’t easy, sure, but I’m not crying about it. They saved me!” You eye her, up and down, pretending you hate her. “And where would you be without them? Starving and pregnant by some guy you married who spends all his money on booze?”

“You’re fucking unbelieveable. I am not who I am because of them. I made myself.” She glares at you. You can’t look away. You hate this intimacy. She speaks slowly, making sure you hear every letter. “But they broke you.”

“I’m not broken,” you say, low, like the warning of thunder. You’ve been made in their image.

“You are! It’s not normal to beat children because they do not act like soldiers. It’s not normal to think of sex as a means to an end at twelve years old. But you still think it is! You think it’s all okay when it’s not! You are stuck with what they have told us and you’re too scared to break out.”

“I’m the scared one? You’re the one who ran away because she couldn’t handle it!”

“Maybe you’re not scared. But you should be. You should be terrified of the person you’ve become. Because the boy I knew, the boy who would take a slap over having to slap someone else wouldn’t be okay with this. But they told you you were the chosen one and suddenly it’s okay to let others suffer because you’re on top, right? You’ve forgotten what it was like to be treated like a slave.

Things changed for you. You got your uniform and they told you your name meant something. But things didn’t change for me, or for any of the other widows. They are still trapped like the dirt under someone’s shoe. Their names don’t matter because they are called ‘whore’ and ‘weapon.’ Just like mine didn’t. Until I forced people to see me.”

Her words scare you because there is a truth in them you’ve pretended like you could manage. It’s why Svetlana always dreamed of running off. Why Ekaterina tried to kill you after you’d accidently walked in on her and Anastasia. 

But you can’t let go. There is fear and pain when you submit. But there is so much more if you dare to go against them.

You scowl. “Well who had a hand in making me ashamed of that kid? I changed because I was chasing after you.” You point at her. “Perfect little Natasha.”

“You think I wasn’t scared too?” She retorts.

“Fine,” you say. “I’m evil then, is that what you want to hear? If I’m so bad, why don’t you just kill me for it?” Your heart is racing like you’ve been in a fist fight and your muscles keep flexing like you’re about to hit something.

“I don’t want you dead. I don’t. You придурок, I never said that.” Her eyes are shiny like she might cry and it spooks you because you can count on one hand how many times she’s looked like that. “I want to help you. But I can’t when you don’t talk to me.”

“And I don’t need help. I’m not some victim! You want some explanation for why I’m not good like you? You want to hear how they used to take me downstairs and whip me until I passed out and that’s why I’m so messed up? How I got into an argument with Dreykov once and he broke my jaw? You don’t want to know that shit!”

She is shaking her head and speaking calmer now, but you don’t hear her. You are somewhere else, lost in the storm of all those nights you can’t quite remember right. You are drowning in anger. Yours and Dreykov’s and the Widows’ and the Madames’ and the guards’. Building and building in your chest because you cannot let it go, it is not in your nature to not feel, to not care. 

She is coming at you again and she looks a little like Marina did that one night you slept together only because you had never been taught to say no.

“Get off!” You yell. She is blocking the door so you make a fist and pound it into the drywall next to her head.

She grabs your wrists and tells you to calm down. She says your name. “Look at me. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you!”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know. But this is what I’m talking about. These are the things you have to say. The things I don’t know about you.”

You sneer back at her because she is strong and you are not and it’s the only way to protect yourself. “Don’t act like you don’t have your secrets too. But you wouldn’t tell me because you have to be so perfect all the time.”

 “I couldn’t, you’re right. But I will now. I will. Trust me.”

“But you’re a widow,” you say, cold and sober. “How could I ever trust you?”

“You don’t mean that,” she says. Because what she hears you say is that she is not human. That all she’s ever been and ever could be is a weapon. “Look me in the eye and say you don’t trust me.”

So you do. You look her square in the eye and say, “I don’t trust you.” 

Then there is fire in her eyes as she stands there and stares. “I hope you’re proud of yourself. You really are just like him.”

You almost slap her. She is standing tall with her chin up like she is waiting for it and you think you should knock her down a peg. 

But you don’t. You just walk around her and leave. Because she isn’t worth it.

Continue

[mmso-notlikethat]

EVAN 'BUCK' BUCKLEY

↳ looking at/talking about TOMMY

this is what I meant in this post

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hello! First of all I love your stories so much💖 and hope you're having an amazing day. I wanted to ask if you could write something with this, feel free to decline if not 😊

I have this idea of Daryl and the reader being a thing before the apocalypse, Merle hated his girl and left her closed in a place with loads of walkers around without D knowing(something similar to what happens to him in Atlanta) but she manages to escape and survive thanks to what D has taught her. The group at the prison helps her after finding her tiredly fighting some walkers close to there. D and M are in the woods and the scene of D's back comes and says that the reader was his saviour for staying with him even after that and that they were planning to escape and get married. They arrive at the prison and she punches M in the face and well says to D everything that happened. M gets to see how D gets around Reader and before leaving the prison says to reader to take care of his bro and "sacrifices" himself going to fight the governor, D and r found him already turned and they both cry, promising to take care of each other.

I love the detail here! Plz forgive me, this turned out way longer than I intended. Nearly 5k words! I hope I did your vision justice! It was getting pretty long so I had to cut and tweak some things but I tried make sure to include all your key details!

Separated

Summary: You and the Dixon brothers are on your way to Atlanta to find that refugee center you heard about on the radio before they stopped broadcasting. When your journey is interrupted and you and Merle get separated from Daryl, Merle impulsively leaves you trapped and stranded in fear Daryl would choose you over him if it came down to it. When you're reunited with your love, you face tragedy together.

Note: There are some time jumps here. They're labeled to hopefully avoid confusion. Also some canon dialogue <3 A lot of your backstory with the Dixons wasn't totally necessary but I was trying to create a ~vibe~

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, TWD typical violence, canonically moral deficient character, death and dying, mentions of alcohol and pills

the way he cowers and shrinks away from Merle's walker makes me cry every time omg

Then:

        Things went south so fast. The three of you were traveling relatively trouble free. The guys could hunt, and Daryl had taught you a thing or two yourself, so food was never an issue. Finding water wasn't as hard as it would be later down the line. All the supplies left in homes and stores hadn't been completely ransacked yet. It was the beginning of the outbreak. With Merle's truck, Daryl's bike, some weapons and supplies, and the general survival skills you were learning from the two of them, fleeing to the city to find that refugee center had been as easy as something like that could get, until the water ran out.

        It should have been an easy pit stop. The town was small. Your grandma would have called it a 'blink of an eye' town, because when you passed towns so small on a trip they'd fly by in the blink of an eye. There was a general store right on the corner, so that was where you decided to start the search. Just some water, maybe first aide and booze. Who knew what you'd find? The truck was parked right outside the store. Daryl wanted a smoke. He said he'd meet you and Merle inside. Then the growls started. Daryl could hear them from a distance, so he knew it was a big herd. 

        None of you had had much trouble with the big groups of them yet. So far, maybe ten or fifteen at a time. You killed the ones that got too close and fled as fast as you could. No unnecessary risks, that was the rule. Merle always said if he died it would be from something cool like a police shootout or a bank robbery. He refused to go out the way those things took people out. Daryl always said he'd shoot himself before he let them get the chance to eat him alive or turn him. He'd never be a walking corpse. You? Daryl always said you were too pretty to die. You just said you were too much of a badass. 

        Daryl popped his head inside. There were only two freaks inside and they were easy enough to take down, so you and Merle were just looting by then. 

        "Incoming. We gotta head out." Daryl announced.

        "Just a second, baby brother. I'm lookin' for the whiskey." Merle said.

        "Ain't got time for that. I can hear 'em comin'." Daryl insisted. You zipped your bag up with everything you had found so far, including the water, and walked toward your broody boyfriend with a half smile.

        "There were exactly three waters left. How's that for good luck?" You said to him.

        "Why'd'ya think I keep ya 'round? You're my good luck charm." He winked before slapping the window to get Merle's attention. "C'mon, man! No unnecessary risks!" 

        You slipped past Daryl and stepped outside, throwing your bag in the bed of the truck. You could hear the moans and groans. You turned your attention in the direction of the noise and you could see the heads peeking up over a hill. Your eyes grew wide as your heart sped up.

        "Uh... Guys? We gotta go!" You called out, not taking your eyes off the herd that was slowly coming into view. You had never seen so many of them.

        "Merle, come on!" Daryl was growing more aggravated and impatient as the seconds ticked by. 

         Daryl jogged back to the truck just as Merle was emerging from the little shop. With no sense of urgency in sight, Merle just looked over the bottle of Jack he had found as he casually strolled over to the driver's side. You scooted into the middle seat and Daryl hopped in the passenger spot and slammed his door shut.

        "Hurry up, man!" Daryl urged his brother. 

        Merle grumbled some smartass remark about being afraid of 'a few dead bodies' as he cranked the engine and hit the gas, speeding away.

Now

        You were so sore. So exhausted. So ready to just give in, but you couldn't. You refused to give in that easy. Someone told you once that you were too pretty to die, and you took that to heart. 

        You kept swinging your machete at them as they closed in on you. You were cornered between a building and a fence. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You had no idea, but you were determined to figure it out. You had gotten yourself out of worse situations.

Then

        "Gon' have to circle back somewhere to get back on the interstate." Daryl informed, looking at the map.

        "I don't need a second driver." Merle waved him off. You rolled your eyes. You were glad to be surviving something so scary with the man you loved, but the third wheel was getting hard to live with. 

        "Whatever, man." Daryl huffed, turning his attention to the window instead of paying his brother any mind.

        You kept your attention on the rearview mirror, relieved to see the herd fading away as the truck rolled forward. Those things really freaked you out, especially when they were all together like that, stumbling and bumping into each other carelessly.

        A mile or so down the road, you heard a loud pop and the engine started to sputter. "Ah, hell." Merle sighed. 

        "What?" Daryl asked, leaning forward to see his brother.

        "Gas is empty." He replied, looking down at the dash.

        "Are you kiddin' me?" Daryl asked incredulously. "Ya didn't think to check before?"

        "I did check, but I thought we'd be back on the interstate by now. Plenty o' cars to siphon a li'l fuel from back there." Merle defended. 

        "Hate to raise the stakes even higher here," you interrupted. "But, that herd is gonna be catching up soon, so we need to figure something out."

        Merle shot you a sideways glance. If it was up to him he would have just left you back home and fled with his brother, but Daryl insisted on picking you up. Now, he couldn't even hop on his bike with his baby brother and sail away to safety because there wouldn't be room for you and Daryl would never agree. He wasn't the greatest brother, but he wouldn't leave Daryl behind either.

        "Wha's that?" Daryl suddenly asked, breaking the tense silence as the three of you considered your pressing circumstances.

        You both turned your attention to what the archer was pointing out. Just beyond the treeline was a small wooden structure. Some kind of shack. 

        "A house?" You wondered.

        "Nah. Shed or somethin'." Daryl figured.

        "Maybe we can hide there and let the freaks pass by. They're pretty stupid, right? Maybe they'll just keep going straight if we don't draw their attention." You suggested.

        "Won't even know we're there." Daryl agreed.

        "Well then let's quit the yappin' and get over there before they see us." Merle drawled as he pushed his door open. Daryl got out and offered you a hand while you stepped out of the truck. Your posh parents never liked him much, but they never saw what a gentlemen he could really be. You had cut ties with them long before the dead started roaming.

Now

        You were beginning to think maybe this was really the end. It really wasn't that many. Seven at the most. But you were just so tired. You lazily swung the blade into a skull and struggled to yank it out. You had climbed on top of a dumpster, so at least they couldn't reach you, but you were still trapped until you could get rid of them. You wondered how stupid it would be to take a quick nap. Surely one of them would reach you eventually. You decided against it.

Then

        Without any spoken agreement, the three of you grabbed any supplies you thought you'd need and jogged over to the dilapidated structure. It was vacant and smelled faintly of mildew and rotting wood.

        "It'll do." Merle sighed.

        "Do? This is a mansion compared to the truck." You remarked, stretching your body. You were stiff from so much sitting. 

        The three of you watched silently through the cracks in the door as the herd stumbled by with their swinging arms and dragging feet. The smell was something you couldn't get used to, and with so many of them, it was strong. You gagged quietly. Daryl rubbed a hand up and down your back when he noticed.

        The three of you really thought you were fine. You outsmarted the dead ones and soon you'd be on your way again. You had never been so wrong about anything before.

        Merle got a little too comfortable given the situation. He went and dug through his duffel for his whiskey. He had been drinking so much you wondered if his piss could get someone drunk. The entire time you'd been on the road with them, the man had managed to find liquor everywhere he went. There wasn't a single day he hadn't been drunk, and if there had been, you were sure he'd have a stash of pills to keep him feeling nice. You guessed you couldn't blame him. Shit was rough nowadays.

        When Merle found the bottle he dropped it and it shattered. After giving Merle a look that could kill, Daryl turned his attention back to the herd. A few of them were veering off. The sound had caught their attention. Only a few heard, but as they started walking toward the shed, more followed. 

        "Shit." You whispered. 

        "This place ain't gon' hold." Daryl added.

        "My Jack." Merle complained.

        "Hell with your booze, man." Daryl scoffed as some of the dead started to claw at the outside. "We gotta go."

        "Go  where, baby brother?" 

        "We could take down the few that are at the door and break for the truck."  You thought.

        "Nah, too many on the road. But we can run off that way." Daryl nodded toward the back of the shed.

        "Okay." You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulders and readying your machete.

        Merle haphazardly hooked his duffel and cocked his pistol.

        "No guns. Too loud." Daryl reminded him.

        "Relax. It's a last resort." Daryl shrugged, tucking it unto his belt. With a nod to each other, you and Daryl kicked the door open and took down two walkers. Merle was right behind you.

Now

        Tires screeched from ahead. You looked up and saw a car. A woman and a man got out of the vehicle and rushed over, taking down the walkers with ease and precision. Gee, you thought. Bet it's nice to have someone that has your back. 

        The couple walked over to the dumpster and eyed you cautiously, glancing at each other. "You okay?" The man finally asked.

        "Could use an espresso." You quipped.

        "What's your name?" The woman inquired.

        "(Y/N)." 

        "I'm Maggie." She introduced. "This is Glenn."

Then

        Only using your energy on the ones closest, the three of you darted deeper into the woods. They followed, because they saw you and now they wanted you. 

        Only, there were more in the trees than you anticipated. Usually the woods were pretty clear save for a few stragglers here and there. These woods were not. You wondered why, but there was no time to guess. You just kept running.

        Eventually there were just too many. Daryl got pushed further and further away as more and more emerged from behind trees. When you realized you couldn't see him anymore you called for him.

        "Quiet girl! He can take care o' himself. You're drawin' more to us!" Merle hissed. You reluctantly obeyed, because you knew he was right. Daryl probably evaded them somewhere and would meet you both back at the truck.

        When the running began to take its toll and your chest started to burn, you put more of a focus on searching for somewhere to hide. To your advantage, there was an overgrown cabin not too far ahead. erle peered over his shoulder.

        "We're losin' em. Let's get inside an' wait 'em out. Daryl 'll meet us back at the truck when it passes." He strategized well for his inebriated state.

        "Okay." You breathed, just grateful for a chance to stop and rest.

Now

        "Need some help? Maggie asked, offering you a hand as you slid off the edge of the dumpster.

        "Thanks." 

        "You have a group?" Glenn wondered. Maggie gave him an unsure look. You noticed Glenn looked pretty beat up. You wondered what happened.

        "No." You said lowly. You did have people, but you were left behind. 

        "Well.." Glenn trailed off, looking to Maggie as if to silently ask what they should do with you.

        "You can come with us. Can't promise you can stay though." She spoke up.

Then

        The cabin had been vacant for a long time. Some of the old dusty furniture remained so you both sat down and just breathed. You handed him a water bottle and sipped on one for yourself while you waited. It felt like hours had gone by. It had grown dark out. Merle peeked out of the window. There were a bunch of them all around, but they had no idea the two of you were in there. It seemed like they lost their lead and just stopped, staggering around in the same spot. 

         "There's a lot of 'em, but they ain't payin' attention. I say we leave out the back an' sneak back toward the road." Merle suggested. You thought for a second. 

        "Yeah," you nodded. "Okay." 

        Just as you passed it by, Merle suddenly shoved you in a closet and shut it behind you.

        "Merle, what the fuck, man?" You complained, banging at the door. It wouldn't budge.

        "Quiet, now. Don't wanna draw in any unwanted attention." He taunted. You sighed.

        "Merle, c'mon this isn't funny."

        "'Fraid it ain't a joke, Darlin. Truck's outta gas an' my bike only carries two."

        Your heart sank.

        "Daryl isn't just gonna leave without me." You reminded.

        "He won't have a choice when I tell 'im 'bout how them dead ones took ya down." He mockingly lamented. "It was just terrible, ya know? They grabbed her. I couldn't pull'er away in time before they got to chompin'."

        "The hell, dude? Don't do this!" You begged, banging at the door again.

        "Look. Ya got your bag in there, got your weapon, got your wits. You'll figure it out." He reasoned.

        "Not if I'm trapped!" 

        "I'm sure you can kick that slab o' wood down if ya try hard enough." He was getting further away by the sounds of it. "Jus' try not to be too loud. Don't want 'em hearin' ya."

Now

        "I'd be grateful." You admitted. "I haven't had anywhere to rest in a while. I have some medicine here I'd be happy to share in exchange for a good night of rest."

        "Watcha got?" Maggie asked.

        "We actually came out her for medicine." Glenn added.

        "Some antibiotics, some Benadryl, some stuff for pain. Oh, and I found an EpiPen. I'm allergic to bees, so." 

        "Antibiotics is what we need." Maggie said.

        "Yeah, whatever you need. Thanks again."

        They still hit a few stores while you rested in their car. Maggie made sure to grab the keys just in case you tried anything, but you were too tired to try even if you wanted to. When they had found everything they thought they'd need for the prison, they drove you back. Rick and the others were apprehensive, with everything happening with Woodbury and recently losing one of their best fighters. Daryl was also their hunter, their tracker, and generally someone they all relied on.

        You explained to them that you were traveling with some people to Atlanta but they left you behind and you'd been on the move ever since. "I'd be glad to sleep outside if it makes you more comfortable." You said to Rick. "I can leave in the morning. I just really need somewhere to sleep."

        Rick studied you for an uncomfortably long time before he asked, "How many walkers have you killed?"

        "Walkers?" You asked. You'd never heard that term before.

        "The dead." He clarified.

        "Oh... I don't know, really. A lot."

        "How many people have you killed?"

        "None." You said honestly. "But there is one person I might beat to death if I ever see him again."

        "Why?" 

        "He left me stranded, surrounded by the dead."

The Next Morning

        Rick let you sleep in a separate cell block. He let you know you'd be locked in for a the night but that he'd come get you in the morning to talk. You didn't really care. You just wanted rest. 

        When he came and got you that morning you were offered a warm meal, which you gladly accepted. You made sure to give them the majority of your antibiotics as a show of gratitude. 

        Meanwhile, deep in the woods, two rednecks were hashing it out. Name calling, shoving, whatever it took to unleash all the pent up frustrations they had between each other.

        See, in all that time Daryl spent with Rick and their group, he began to find a side of himself that was suppressed with his brother around. The only person to ever make him believe he could be good was taken from him before they made it to the quarry. Merle, on the other hand, only represented everything that Daryl was trying to put behind him. Merle was capable of hurting good people or looking the other way instead of helping someone in danger. If only Daryl knew some of the things Merle had really done.

        "There was a baby!" Daryl defended as Merle laid into him for risking his own ass to save a family on a bridge.

        "Oh, otherwise ya woulda just left 'em to the biters." Merle retorted.

        "Man, I went back for ya. Ya weren't there. I didn't cut off your hand, neither. You did that. Way before they locked you up on that roof. You asked for it."

        "You know what's funny to me? Hmm? You and Sheriff Rick are like this now." Merle said, locking his two fingers together. "I bet you a penny and a fiddle o' gold you never told him that we were plannin' on robbin' that camp blind."

        "It didn't happen!" Daryl snapped. "And we woulda never had to if ya didn't let the truck run out o' gas! And my girlfriend wouldn't be dead!" Daryl's chest was heaving as his eyes stung, threatening to spill fresh tears at the thought of her. Merles eyes flashed something Daryl couldn't quite decipher.

        "It didn't happen 'cause I wasn't there to help you!"

        "When we were kids.. Who left who then, huh?" Daryl frowned.

        "What? Huh, is that why I lost my hand?" Merle rasped.

        "You lost your hand 'cause you're a simple-minded piece o' shit!" 

        "Yeah?!" Merle lost it. He grabbed Daryl by the shirt. "You don't know!"

        When Daryl fell to the ground, his shirt ripped down the back. Merle froze. His chest felt tight as he stared down at the gruesome scene left on Daryl's back from years of abuse at the hands of their father. "I -- I didn't know --"

        "Yeah, ya did." Daryl's voice cracked as he pushed himself to his feet. "That's why ya left. But (Y/N), she never left. She was always there, man. Always. She was the one who saved me. She protected me. Not you, man!" He wiped a tear as he took a breath between heated words. "We were gon' run away, gon' get the hell outta that town and get married, maybe start a family. I don't know, and I never will thanks to you!"

        He did blame his big brother for the loss of his love, but not in the way that he should have. He blamed Merle's clumsiness, carelessness, and negligence. He had no idea that Merle trapped and abandoned you.

Later

        Daryl went back home to the prison. Merle couldn't stand too watch him leave, so he followed. Guilt was starting to eat at him, gnawing away at his insides, mouthfuls at a time. He almost felt nauseous hearing about you and what Daryl had planned with you. He tried to imagine his battered baby brother in a nice little house with a wife and kids. Hell, he even tried to picture it for himself, but the image wasn't clear enough for it to seem possible. All either of them had ever known was violence and loneliness. That was why they needed each other. That was why he had to get rid of you.

        You had just finished a tour of the prison. Rick told you that you could stay for a while, but he didn't know if he trusted you as one of them. He shared a little about a rival community with a crazed leader. You understood. You never expected to stick around, even if they offered. You couldn't see yourself trusting anyone after what Merle did to you.

        You were sitting in the cell you slept in the night before, sharpening your machete and thinking about the things that you couldn't change. You heard distant voices echoing from the other block. It was some sort of confrontation from the sound of it. You snuck over to the cellblock where everyone stayed and peeked around a corner. Glenn and Maggie were blocking most of your view, but they seemed to be the most pissed off. Rick was off to the side trying to mediate.

        "You can't let him stay. Not after what he did to Glenn!" Maggie demanded.

        "He goes, I go."

        You stopped breathing. That voice sent chills up and down your spine. 

        "Okay." Rick held his hand out, attempting to set forward a solution but the room fell silent as you stepped into view. Merle noticed you first. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

        "Well, I'll shit bricks." He murmured in disbelief.

        "(Y/N)?" Daryl breathed, almost inaudibly. Your eyes were welling with tears as you stood just feet away from the man you loved.

        Daryl dropped everything and ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up. You couldn't even hug him back because your arms were trapped under his. All you could do was let out something between a giggle and sob.

        "Daryl." You whispered. Your body felt so perfect against his, just how he remembered. Then, it dawned on him. He set you down and turned to look at Merle, a blend of betrayal and fury flooding his eyes.

        "You said she was dead!" Daryl growled. 

        As everyone around you watched the scene before them unfold, they felt clueless. Daryl had never mentioned you because it hurt too much to bring up. Your feet began moving before you could even think. One second you were standing beside Daryl, then you blinked and you were inches away from Merle, rearing your fist back and striking his jaw with a force you didn't even know you were capable of. Merle stumbled and dropped to the ground holding his face. He moved his jaw around a little before he glared up at you.

        "Okay. I deserved that." He accepted.

        "Yeah, you did." You spat. 

        "Hold on. Someone care to explain what the hell's goin' on here?" Rick spoke out.

        You turned to Daryl, as if it was he who answered the question. You didn't care to share with the class. Daryl needed to know.

        "When we got separated in the woods.." You began, taking a breath. "Merle and I found a cabin. We hid there, waited for shit to blow over, and we were supposed to meet you back at the ruck. Merle figured you'd wait for us there."

        "And I left her." Merle admitted from behind you. You glanced back at him momentarily. You were surprised at his accountability.

        "In a closet." You added spitefully. "The place was surrounded. Took me forever to get out of there and even longer to get back to the truck. By then, you two and the bike were gone."

        Daryl's nostrils flared with rage. His fists were balled up so tight his knuckles turned white against his tan skin. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. He was so pissed, so hurt. The weight of the revelation had weighed him down so heavily that his boots felt like they were nailed to the ground. Otherwise, he would have lunged at his brother and beaten the teeth out of his skull. All that time Daryl spent in pain, mourning the loss of someone who wasn't gone. All because his brother didn't like her.

        "Why." Daryl growled.

        "The bike only fit two, man." 

That Night

        You sighed contently as Daryl traced little circles over your shoulder. Once it was decided to leave Merle in a cell, and everything had been explained to Rick, you and Daryl retired to his own cell to enjoy your reunion in private. He was laying on the bottom bunk, one foot crossed over the other as he stared into space, enjoying the feeling of your head on his chest and your arm and leg draped over him.

        "I missed you." You whispered, breaking a long, comfortable silence.

        "Mm." He hummed. "I mourned ya every day. I shoulda gone back."

        "Don't do that. We're together now. Don't blame yourself." 

        "Shoulda never believed 'im. I knew how jealous he was. Thought he'd get over it." He confessed. You smiled softly and nuzzled up closer, taking in a whiff of his sweaty scent.

        "Me too." You agreed. "But he left me with my bag. He didn't want me to die. I think he was afraid if only two of us fit on the bike you'd leave him behind."

        "Nah. Woulda had your sweet ass ride the handlebars." He teased, twirling a finger through your hair. You giggled, then you paused.

        "Wow. I think that's the first time I've laughed since we got split up." You realized.

        "Sure ya didn't find no boyfriends along the way?" He joked. He always did that when things felt too heavy between the two of you. You rolled your eyes, not that he could see it.

        "You say that like I've had a lot of those. We've been together since we were like, twenty." You laughed.

The Next Day

        Merle and Michonne had disappeared. You learned that the leader of the opposing community -- the Governor, as they called him -- wanted Michonne in exchange for peace, but Rick refused. Merle had likely taken her as a peace offering since he knew what the Governor was capable of.

        You and Daryl left to search for him. He took you to a spot where they had previously convened for negotiation. The two of you did a brief sweep of the area before stumbling across some walkers. You each took one down after another until you were left with only one. You froze when you registered what -- or who -- it was. 

        A sob immediately escaped Daryl as he fell backwards. You blinked back tears as you crouched down behind him and pulled him against you, rocking gently as Daryl wept. Merle's dead body clumsily pushed itself off the ground and onto its feet. You stood first, hoping to put it down before Daryl had to do it himself, but Daryl was quick to push past you. He violently shoved the corpse. It sumbled back, but it walked toward him again. Over and over Daryl shoved what was left of his brother as he cried. Tears were freeling spinning down your cheeks. 

        When Merle's body fell on its back, Daryl crawled on top of it and plunged his knife into its skull over and over and over until he collapsed.

        You wanted to intervene, to console, to be his rock, but something told you to let him get it out. He needed to. So, you waited until Daryl's blind rage simmered down and placed an assuring hand on his shoulder.

        "Wanna bury him?" You whispered.

        Daryl shook his head.

        "Okay." You relented. You glanced around your surroundings and noticed a patch of wildflowers off in the distance. "I'll be right back." You squeezed him gently before jogging over and gathering each and every flower in the patch. When you walked back over to where Daryl was hunched over Merle, he looked up at you with wet, red eyes. When he clocked the flowers, he gave a single nod and stood up beside you. You split the flowers in half and handed Daryl a bundle. The two of you placed them each individually around Merle's corpse.

        You thought back to a conversation you had with Merle the night before, when you couldn't sleep and went out of the cell to get some water.

        "Take care of my baby brother, will ya?" Merle's voice echoed through the quiet block.

        "I always have." 

"We'll take care of each other." Your vice cracked as you spoke. "Promise."

        "Promise." Daryl whispered.

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[thefandomdirtymind]

could it be a request from Sanji? where he is the reader's protector because she also sank on the ship and survived with him? And when Luffy offers him to join his crew, he tells him that he's not going to leave without her? I am in doubt if I want them to be a couple from the beginning or to use the best friends to lovers?

A/N IMPORTANT:  HI awesomemikaus ! Thank you for your request ! I choose the Best Friend to lover trope and give it a jealousy twist, I really enjoy working on this even if that was kinda challenging due to a lot of dialogue and dancing around the already existing scene. I hope you will like it and you will send me other request !

Shoutout to : @alienstardustwrites !

Better late than never

OPLA - Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

Many situations in life could push people to become close. A mutual friend, a job, a common interest or like in the case of Sanji and you, a major tragedy. 

The abordage by Zeff crew alongside the sank of the ship, as you were both children would have scarfs people way more tougher than you. But, luckily you had each other, keeping you sane and safe while you were stuck on the damn rock in the middle of the sea.

Again those days, as you were both working for Zeff at the Baratie. You would wake up in the middle of the night after your recurrent nightmare, searching the hand of Sanji for reassurance, just like when you were still lost at sea, laying against each other. Of course, as you grow up and are now safe in the security of your own room, you would calm yourself by just looking around you. But, some nights, when the nightmare took a turn for the worst. Sanji had many times, without a word, welcoming you in his bed, holding you until you could fall back to sleep.

Reciprocally, the blond cook would also often reach for you, particularly after a frustrating fight with Zeff or when his own nightmare caught up with him. Those nights, as he inserted himself in your bed, his whole body shaking against you, you would turn yourself, caressing his hair until he relaxed enough to finally close his eyes, haunted by horror you know he survived before you arrived in his young life.

As for the kitchen, your close relationship, often mistaken, had brought few interrogation and funny situations among the crew. Among other things, many bets on when the staff will find you finally making out and when, or an initiation for the new hire consisting of trying to ask you out, pushing the protective instinct of Sanji to often scare the crap out of many new cooks.

“ Sanji, this one was just trying to be nice “ You protested, rolling your eyes as the poor new cook who’s just complimented your dessert returned to his station. 

“ No love, he was flirting and trust me you deserve better than that “ He replied, finishing his own plate. 

“ Should I go tell the same thing to the blond you had spotted at table eight? “ You playfully asked.

“ Oh mon coeur, don’t be jealous, you know you’re the most important woman in my life” He laughs, kissing the top of your head before heading to the heating lamp.

Letting escape a small laugh as you roll your eyes because of him for the second time. Even if you know it was the truth, you couldn’t stop yourself wondering  for how long you will still be that important to him. 

After all, you had eyes and had been perfectly able to see that your best friend is perfectly attractive and with the flirty mouth of his, one day, one of those ladies will respond favorably to his sweet talk. Then what. 

Of course you had tried, one of those nights when you were safe between his arms, to share with him your fears. But, half-asleep, his thumb doing a small circle in the middle of your back, he kissed your forehead before encouraging you to sleep. 

“ You’re out of the line ! Go serve the tables. Out ! “ You heard Zeff shout. 

Turning your head, seeing Sanji unhappily removing his cook uniforme, you sigh, sharing with the man a compassionate gaze as he passes the door to the dining area. 

—

You didn’t expect him to come back with such a large smile on his face, nor having such an acid and strange feeling in your stomach when you heard him talk highly about the ginger angel he was serving. You had seen him inflating himself over some woman before, but not like that, not with that look on his face. 

Without realizing, your mood became sour and your answer was more short and sharp than usual. 

“ Y/N how much time before the eclair are ready” 

“ They will be ready when I say they will be ready Patty !” 

“ Damn girl, I hope your pastry is sweeter than you because for once I enjoy more Sanji than you right now” The blue haired cook replied, passing behind you.  

“ Fuck you Patty ! “

The blond cook had too had his own taste of your temper, having his own full blow as he was entering the kitchen at the end of the shift. 

“ Hey Y/N did see the face of Zeff when I gave him the I Own You note” He laughed, not noticing at first your gloomy attitude. 

“ Don’t notice no, must have been too busy, you know cooking and covering your part. “ You stiffly answered. 

“ Y/N are you okay ? Did you have a fight with Zeff or Patty ?” Sanji asked, concerned by your attitude. “ Jamie is at the bar today should we go take a drink. Or, I can mix you one here if you want“ He offered, trying to reach your hand in reconfort.  

“ No, i’m fine and I’m neither in the mood to been overprotected or had a sad party above a drink “ 

“ Y/N…what happened ? “ Sanji asked, now really concerned.

“I’m fine I tell you ! You, go take that drink , find that gorgeous perfect ginger angel and Let me breathe “ You end up shouting, exiting the kitchen. 

Hesitating to chase after you, his own humor darkens. Sanji ends up smoking alone at the small table of the kitchen, sharing with the new chore boy his old dream about finding the all blue, while you will finally have the good word to describe it in your novel. 

“ So that girl earlier was your friend ? “ Luffy kindly asked. 

“ Yes, my best friend even if the word is weak, she is way more than that for me” Sanji replied, memories filling his mind as the white smoke danced before his eyes. 

“ Oh so you and her…are like soulmate or lover?“

“ Damn If I had a Berrie every time I heard that” Sanji laugh” Y/N and I are…We are…it’s complicated “ He finally exclaimed, finishing his cigarette. 

“ I don’t do complicated but you should join my crew ! “ 

“ Join your crew “ Sanji chuckle “ Y/N and I are like a package deal chore boy, I would never leave her behind “ 

“ Bring her with you, she seems fun ! “ 

“ Well, she is, when she’s in a good mood “ He replied, his gaze fixed on the rotative door of the kitchen, his mind fixed on you.  

—

That night, as you were trying to sleep, you heard the familiar sound of your door open and softly close,before feeling the bed bend under the mass of another occupant. 

“ A Nightmare Sanji ? “ You simply asked. 

“ No, more a concern keeping me awake. You seem really upset today” 

“ That’s nothing “ You brush away, keeping your turn back to him.  

“ The chores boy has offered me to join his crew “ Sanji confessed, chuckling a little but still serious. 

“ So you leaving ? “ You asked, your heart falling in a pit in your stomach, a sour taste filling your mouth.

“ No, Zeff needs me, needs us…but I admit I had thought about it for a moment. Finding the All Blue Y/N, but I can’t, I own the old men our lives ”

Turning yourself around, meeting his clear blue eyes, you gently inserted yourself in his arms.

“ You don’t want to talk about today ? “ Sanji insisted, his arms adjusting themselves around your lying form. 

“ No, I had a talk with Jamie, it was enough, now I just want to sleep and forget today, all of it” You replied, your eyelid becoming heavier, the reassuring warmth of his body putting you gently to sleep. 

“ What, Jamie? Why did you come talk to me ? “ 

“ Sanji, please “ You pleaded, your head filling the crook of his neck trying to find a comfortable way to sleep.

“Do you want me to leave ?” He strangely asked. 

“ No, please stay, i’m really comfortable “ 

“ Goodnight Y/N ”

“ Night Sanji “ 

—

The next morning was for Sanji, one of the strangest of his life. Waking up by your side wasn’t new for him, but, as you were still asleep, the light of the sun illuminating your features beautifully, he advanced a hand to caress your hair. Scaring away the new cooks  who try to seduce you and shut down bets about your romantic life was always fun and game, after all you were way too good for those wannabe cooks. So,why he couldn’t stop to think about you and Jamie, and why he felt so uneasy and angry about it.

Leaving a kiss on your forehead before heading to his own room to change. The strange feeling following him like a cloud,didn’t dissipate, even when he was keeping himself busy helping with the morning prep. He soon regretted, as the day became even more unusual, ( stitching up with Zeff an unconscious swordsman with moss hair)  and dangerous ( Jumping in a fight with Arlong and his fishman attacking the restaurant. Keeping an eye on the kitchen to make sure you were safe ), to not take a moment more to keep you against him while he could. 

But the most difficult of all was his own personal battle with Zeff. Why the stubborn old man couldn’t see that his place was there with you and him. 

“ Little eggplant, for how long will you hide your head in the sand? Staying here is abandoning your dream and if you don't take a good look in front of you you will miss the best treasure here. “Zeff argued, watching Sanji angrily collecting the plates.

Anger bubbling like lava into his stomach, the pile of dirty dishes in his hand, trying to keep himself busy even during the verbal fight, Sanji faced his mentor. 

“ You need us Old man and you don’t know what you talking about “ He replied, his contradicting feeling flashing a sweet vision of your sleeping self.   

“ I know what love is little eggplant, you can play the friends card all you want, but I know she’s the one who'll keep your nightmare away. When she will have a partner, little eggplant, do you think they will allow you in their bed ? “ The chef asked, knowing perfectly where to push his proteger to make him move. 

“ She would never leave me behind “The blond said, his lips a tight line, trying to ignore the invasive thought that, just yesterday, you had preferred talking of your problem to Jamie than him. 

“ She will not, but a mermaid like her deserves to be loved and cherished, little eggplant. If  you don’t, somebody else will. You will not be able to keep her to yourself forever. Take her with you, treat her right and find the All Blue.If it’s my permission you need, go, she’s in the kitchen “ 

“ Fine ! “ Defeated Sanji shouted, putting down the piles of plates, before kicking a chair,  heading for the kitchen. 

You were indeed where the old chef had said, cleaning slowly your station since every cooking activity had been shut down since the attack.

“ Y/N love, make your bag the old man don’t need us anymore, we will find the All Blue. “ The blond cook said, gently taking off your hand the dishcloths.

“ What...what’s happened ? “ You asked, confused. The last time you had seen Zeff and Sanji was after the Fishmen had left and the old chef hadn’t said a word about kicking them out.  

“ We will take the offer of the chores boy and leave this place “ He simply answered, collecting his knives. 

“ Sanji...I think it’s better if I stay here “ You confessed,every fiber of your body protesting against the choice you made. 

“ What...Y/N “ Sanji stops,facing you, his heart skipping a beat. “ It’s our dream…” 

“ I know, but those days I...Sanji I can do it anymore… watch you flirt with all those women ,wondering ,which one will be the one who will fascinate you enough to take my place. That ginger girl will be lucky Sanji.” 

“ Nobody will take your place, Y/N, please I need you “ Tears rolling of his eyes, his heart arching as the words of Zeff making more and more sense “ I can’t do it without you “ 

“ Sanji, you’re the best cook in all the east blue you…” You sadly smiled, your own tears rolling on your cheeks, but your encouraging speeches had been quickly cut by his warm lips against yours giving you the longest due kiss of existence, his hand cupping your face. 

“ No, I can’t because nothing makes sense without you” He answered, his arms embracing you. “ If you stay I stay, if you go I go. I’m really late I know but, I love you, I think from the time on that damn rock, when you were just a little girl in a torn dress to now. Je t’aime Y/N “ 

Emotions were colinding in you like an avalanche as you reach for his lips, smiling uncontrollably against his mouth. 

“ Better late than never “ You whispered between two kisses. “ I love you too. But I swear if you call me Madam or one of those generic nicknames you used, I kick your ass.” 

“ No worries, I had a better one for you Mon amour “ Sanji laughed, kissing your cheeks. 

Lost in your own bubble of happiness, you didn’t hear the double door opening until the intruder shouted. 

“ CREW, THE BOSS MAN WINS THE KISSING BETS WITH THE LOCATION - IN THE KITCHEN IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING PASTRY !- “ Patty shouted, returning without another word in the dinner room. 

Bursting in laughter, holding you thigh, Sanji meet your gaze, the unanswered question floating around you. 

“Sanji, let’s find the All Blue together” You said. 

—

As the Merry Going  was slowly leaving the Baratie dock,  Zeff and your colleague shouting goodbye and advice. You couldn’t believe you were finally off to write your novel and travel the world, Sanji by your side. It had taken you a long time to finally see and admit your feelings to each other but now that it was done, you couldn’t wait to live that next chapter of your life.

“ I have talked to Luffy and we have a room for ourselves, our own bed. “Sanji happily said, taking your hand. “ No more nightmare night and I can’t wait to wake up by your side everyday” 

“ Me too” You simply responded, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. 

—

BONUS: 

Few years later, as Zeff was opening a letter you had sent him from the Grand Line by special Seagull post, a small card fell on the table. In the photo, a little girl, not much older than one year old was holding a whisk, laughing, his characteristic almost white blond hair covering one of his eyes, and your cute nose already distinct in his tiny face. In the bottom of the card, you had written Zelinda (Vinesmoke) Y/L/N . 

Crushing under his thumbs the fat tears of joy menacing to roll on his cheeks, Zeff takes the picture and puts it on the message board, his old heart full of love for his two love birds.

---

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[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 9)

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic)

Word count: 4k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of sex, Taylor Swift reference (?)

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

The drive back home was quiet. Dean was apprehensive about going back to the house but Y/n had put her foot down and told him she'd spend the night in the car than let Adeline anywhere near Samuel. She didn't trust him anymore.

"Uhm I only have one guest bedroom." Y/n said entering the house. Sam and Dean trailing in behind her.

"I'll stay here." Sam said pointing to couch on the living room. "The doors broken and I'm not sleepy anyway."

"I don't need the room either." Dean said looking at Adeline. "I'll grab a chair for your room. I need to make sure you two are safe." Y/n didn't argue. She was too tired.

"Can you watch her while I clean up?" She asked Dean who nodded taking Adeline from her arms. The little baby was already off to dreamland.

The two brothers sat beside each other, Dean was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Sam got up and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge handing one to his brother.

"We need to talk." Sam said sitting back down. Dean looked at his brother wondering what he wants. "What more do you need to make up your mind?" Sam asked his older brother. He seemed angry.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean said making Sam want to punch his face.

"I could punch you right now." Sam glared at him.

Dean's phone rang in his pocket and he tried to fish it out from his pocket so the ringing doesn't wake Addy. He pulled out his phone saw the caller ID.

"It's Lisa, could you hold her for me?" Sam rolled his eyes and took his niece from him. Dean walked a few steps away and then answered the phone.

"Hey, uh everything okay?"

"You tell me, Dean, are you okay? You said you'd be back by morning." Lisa asked softly.

"Yeah we uh... kinda ran into trouble." Dean replied vaguely.

"Are you okay? Who's we?" Lisa was worried.

"Me, Sam, Y/n and Adeline."

"Y/n and Adeline? Are they okay? What happened?"

"They're okay...now. Sam and I we got here in time."

"Dean." Lisa sighed.

"What?"

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Yeah I'm aware but it'd be nice if you'd elaborate." He chuckled.

"You're being an idiot, you're suffering and you're making them suffer. They're your family, they need you. And you need them just as much."

"Lisa.." Dean started but she interrupted him

"Dean, Adeline needs her father, i know how y/n feels, its hard watching your child grow up without a father, nobody would know better than me." She spoke softly as if talking to a child. "Think about Addy, Dean. It'll scar her for life knowing her father didn't choose her, when he clearly had a choice." Dean turned and watched his daughter sleeping in his brother's arms. The line went silent for a few seconds when she called his name.

"Yeah I hear ya."

"Think about Y/n, she loves you, you're crazy about her. I know what you're doing, Dean. You're deflecting, running away. It's not going to get you anywhere." Dean sighed knowing she's right. "Ben and I are safe Dean. You made us move, we started a new life, we're happy. its about time you do the same. Chase your happiness."

"You're right I guess." Dean let out a breath. "I don't know what to say."

"You could say thanks." He could hear the smile in her in her tone. "And do all of us a favour and stay there."

"Yeah, thanks Lisa." He smiled and hung up.

He walked back towards Sam, and huffed while plopping down beside him.

"What's up?"

"Uh Lisa kinda kicked me out." Sam gave him a bitch face which clearly said, im-not-in-the-mood-for-your-shit. "Well she told me I'm an idiot who's making everyone's life miserable."

"I'm not sure she said that but I totally agree with her." Sam replied.

Before Dean could reply Y/n emerged from the hallway into the living room, she looked fresh but tired. Her hair was wet and she was wearing a loose t shirt and some shorts.

"I'll take her." She said gesturing towards Adeline. "Sam, some of your clothes are in the guest bedroom, you can freshen up." The aforementioned man nodded and looked at his brother with a we'll-talk-later look. She watched Sam leave and turned to Dean. "You can use my bathroom, if you want. I'll order something."

"I'll wait till Sam comes back. Not leaving you here alone." Dean replied watching her as she ordered food.

After Sam came back, Dean went to shower, he didn't have his clothes with him so he had to make good with Sam's clothes. Which were a bit oversized for him. After dinner Sam promised he'd clean up and insisted Y/n retire to her room. Adeline was sleeping soundly in her crib.

"I'll be there in a minute." Dean called out behind her, feeing the need to reassure her. God knows she needs it. She nodded and left wordlessly.

"So what exactly did Lisa say?" Dean filled Sam in with conversation he had with Lisa earlier.

"I don't know how someone like you ends up bagging such wise women." Sam wondered out loud. Dean glared at his younger brother but didn't comment on it. "So what you gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You want to me to go in there and tell her that the woman I lived with kicked me out so I need her back?" Sam swore he could throttle his brother and he even moved his hands to wrap around his neck but stopped himself.

"Is that how it is?" Sam asked and Dean immediately shook his head. "Then her exactly how it is! You idiot." Sam rubbed his hand over his face. His brother might be a genius when it comes to monsters but he's a nutjob when it comes to feelings.

Y/n watched Dean's silhouette enter the room and drag a chair beside the bed. It was completely dark except for the moonlight peeking in through the window.

"You really don't have to." Her voice quiet in the dark, he stopped his actions as he heard her voice. "That chair would be uncomfortable. Get in the bed."

Dean didn't say anything but got under the covers beside her. Ten minutes passed in silence and again Y/n spoke up,

"Dean I'm trying to sleep." He looked at her in confusion.

"I'm not even doing anything." He replied.

"The cogs in your brain are too damn loud. Stop thinking." Y/n murmured. Dean sighed shifting on the bed. "Talk to me." She said propping her head on her elbow.

"It's.."

"Nothing." She completed. "I've heard that before." He peered up at her face, her expressions unreadable.

"I don't know where to start." Dean said staring at the ceiling.

"Whatever comes to mind." Dean took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I'm sorry." His eyes flickered to her face. She was patiently waiting for him to continue. "I am so sorry for being a mess. I..I ruined us, I was a coward. I'm sorry for hurting you. I know keep saying that, I keep trying to push you away because i want to you to be safe. I hate that I couldn't protect you or Addy." Dean felt himself tearing up.

"Dean, you keep pushing us away, why do you think its the only way? Maybe if you hadn't left we could've been safe. You could've protected us. You can't keep assuming you being with us is a bad thing unless you try, how bad could it actually be? I don't think anything could be worse than what happened today."

"I know that now, I just love you so much. I know I don't deserve to ask anything from you but if you could give me another chance, I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you."

"What about-"

"They'll be fine." Dean answered before she could even ask. "I am done running, I want to own up to my mistakes. I wanna be with you, and Adeline, where ever you two are. I want to save you, from every bad thing out there."

"Dean, you don't need to save me," she whispered looking at him. "But would you run away with me?" She grinned at him. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

He smiled at her. "We could do whatever you want, I'm okay with everything as long as you're mine. We could take it slow if you want."

"We've already wasted so much time. I don't want to take it slow. I know you're it for me." His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips. He pressed his lips against hers, they just as soft as he remembered. Their lips clashed against each other, tongues fighting for dominance. She pushed herself up to straddle his waist but he pushed her back on the bed, hovering above her.

"As much as I want to," he breathed heavily. "You're hurt."

"Dean."

"Baby no. I promise I'll give you whatever you want but just heal for me first." She nodded and he pecked her lips laying beside her. "Sleep now." He placed a kiss on her forehead.

The events of the day finally caught up to her and she was drifting into deep slumber. The next morning she woke up she half expected the bed to be empty but when she opened her eyes, she was met with bright green eyes already looking at her.

"Good morning." Dean smiled.

"Morning." She snuggled closer to him. She was more relieved than she'd like to admit.

"You sleep good?" She hummed in response wrapping her arms around his torso. He chuckled pulling her closer.  It was suspiciously quiet and Y/n wondered how Addy hadn't woken up yet or in the middle of the night. She shot up her position on the bed and winced when she felt pressure on her stitches.

"Hey what's wrong?" Dean asked. She didn't answer and walked towards the crib which was empty.

"Dean, Addy." She gasped, tears brimming her eyes.

"Baby calm down, Sam has her." Dean told her and she walked out of the room sighing in relief when she saw her daughter sitting on Sam's chest and slapping his face with quite force if she may say so. "See she's okay." Dean said wrapping his arms around her from behind. She nodded relaxing in his arms. She turned her face to kiss him and he didn't hesitate to kiss back.

"Are you two always going to be this gross from now on?" Sam's voice made them pull away.

"Yes." Y/n replied.

"I'll go make breakfast." Dean said walking into the kitchen but Y/n pulled him back and kissed him, tongue and all. Sam made puking noises. They pulled away and Y/n smirked at Sam and he rolled his eyes at her.

"I think Addy and I should go to the park. I don't want to sit here and watch cheap porno." Sam sassed.

"Aren't you brutal these days, Sammy." Y/n pouted at her best friend.

"He actually is." Dean yelled from the kitchen.

"What so now you two are going to gang up on me?" Sam scoffed playfully.

"No, but Sam something is weird about you. And no I'm not talking about your height." Y/n replied with a smirk.

"Try being surrounded by dumbasses all the time." Sam retorted. "I am just tired." He rubbed his face, still holding Adeline firmly. "Do me a favour and pack your stuff." Sam added.

"What for?"

"You're not staying here, not anymore." Dean said coming out of the kitchen. "Breakfast's ready."

The three of them walked inside the kitchen where Dean has sit up food on the counter. Coffee, waffles and eggs. Sam poured himself as cup of coffee, Adeline still in arms who was now biting and drooling over his shoulder.

"And who decided that?" Y/n asked taking a sip of her coffee.

"We did." Sam shrugged.

"Sam we've had this conversation before, I told you Addy isn't going to grow up in this life. I want her to be normal. I am out for good." Y/n said with a scowl on her face.

"And that's how it's going to be." Dean replied. "Just not here, we'll find a new place for us. You're out and no one's dragging you back, I promise." He added softly.

"I liked this place." She pouted. Dean let out a laugh and kissed her pouty lips.

"We'll find an even better place, okay?"

"One moment of peace." Sam hissed. "Is all I ask for."

"Suck it up, buttercup." Y/n teased.

"Cmon Addy, let's go somewhere we're loved." Sam said to the baby who just stared at her uncle.

"Aye gigantor, give me my baby." She said making grabby hands towards him. He rolled his eyes but place Addy in her arms nonetheless.

"By the way... I forgot to ask." Sam started. "Why were you half naked when we found you?"

Y/n choked on her waffle and avoided looking at either of the men.

"You okay?" Dean asked handing her a glass of water. She took it gratefully and nodded. Sam raised his brow at her and she wanted to murder him right there.

"Uhm you see the moment he came here I knew he was a shifter."

"How?" Dean asked.

"Because he came in as Sam and i had just gotten of the phone with him and Sam told me there's shifter in town collecting his babies." Y/n replied making the other to nod, urging her to go on. "I assumed he didn't know the relationship between us, he just came here because he saw you coming here so I thought..." she trailed off awkwardly.

"You thought that you'd seduce him." Sam replied with a grin, ready to tease the wits out of her. She glared at him in return.

"Hey, not my fault the XY chromosome is stupid like that, be it a monster or human. I took my top off he got distracted enough for me to stab him." Y/n replied defensively. The two men laughed at her words.

"That might actually be true." Dean added shaking his head.

After breakfast the three of them packed all of y/n and Adeline's things and stuffed it into Sam's car. They had Sam run to store and get a carseat for Adeline since y/n didn't have a car and never needed one. After strapping in they drove to their destination. But had to make a quick stop at Lisa's to get Dean's stuff and obviously his other other baby, The Impala. It was quick but a pleasant meeting.

"Oooh I missed baby." Y/n said walking over to the Impala and sitting in passenger's seat.

"Hm she missed you too." Dean replied getting behind the wheel after strapping in Adeline. "I've got three of my best girls here, aint I a lucky man?" Dean marvelled at the sight.

"Even after years, I'm still competing with a car." Y/n sighed playfully.

"There's competition, sweetheart." Dean looked at her lovingly. "No one can take baby's place." He added playfully.

"Dean Winchester, you're annoying" She swatted his arm lightly. He pulled her in a for a kiss.

"Don't worry baby you're my number one." He mumbled against her lips. The ringing of Dean's phone made them pull apart.

"Are you two done making out in the car because I'd like to get there before dark." Dean heard Sam's irritated voice from the phone. He just chuckled, hanging up he revved the engine to life and they drove off.

A knock of the door made Bobby look up from the book he was reading. He wasn't expecting anyone so he grabbed his gun before walking towards the door. He aimed the gun and then opened the door. He rolled his eyes and put the gun on the table beside the door. It was Sam and Dean.

The old man went back inside and the other two followed. Y/n was hidden behind their tall frames so he didn't see her. The three of them went inside. Dean carried the carseat in which Adeline was napping.

"So what do i owe this pleasur-" Bobby stopped mid sentence as he saw y/n, a few cuts and bruises littered over her face.

"Heya Bobby." She hugged the old man.

"What happened?" He asked and they filled him in. "All that happened and you couldn't give me a call?" He said frustratedly. "Are you three ever going to let me live peacefully.?"

"I don't think so, no." Y/n chuckled. Sam and Dean nodded their head along with her comment.

"Oh dear, you're the only sane person in this family." Bobby said picking Adeline from her car seat.

"Yeah just about until she doesn't start walking on her own." Dean smirked. "Insanity is in the genes, Bobby." He added sarcastically.

"Out of my sight." The old man replied.

"Don't worry about that, we'll go house hunting tomorrow." Y/n said excitedly.

"What you didn't learn your lesson this time?" Bobby asked rolling his eyes.

"All I want is Addy to grow up in a normal house and a normal life and that's not gonna happen in a house filled with guns and thousands of lore books." Y/n said exasperatedly, gesturing to all the books around her.

Nobody spoke after, an unsaid agreement was made. The next morning y/n and Dean went to look for available houses. They agreed to stay in Sioux Falls, Dean insisted it's safer to be close to Bobby's, just in case something happens when he's away.

"I can't believe it." Y/n whispered as she and Dean signed the lease of their new house.

"Can't believe what?" Dean asked.

"This, us, all of it." She replied looking around the house.

"I know baby, feels surreal." He walked towards her and kissed her. "But this is us, now."

"Yeah. You think Sam will like it? And Addy?" Y/n asked him with hopeful eyes.

"They'll love it." He wrapped an arm around her.

A month after moving in their new house, it was peaceful. This was the closest to being normal Dean felt. He was being the most amazing boyfriend to y/n and even better father to Adeline. One morning Dean decided to wake his girl with kisses and breakfast in bed, y/n groaned pushing him away.

"Five more minutes, D." She mumbled. He hovered above her and peppered her face with kisses. She blinked her eyes open. "I could get used to this sight." She smirked dragging her nails across his bare chest. He chuckled as she pulled him down and purred in his ear, "I think you owe me something, now that I'm completely healed." Dean let out a laugh and nipped at her jaw and dragged his nose along the column of her neck, leaving soft kisses.

"DEAN." Sam burst into the room and the older brother jumped off of the bed. Y/n was clothed but still pulled the covers to her chest.

"Sam what the fuck?" Dean growled at his brother.

"Uh I found a case.." Sam replied sheepishly.

"You found a case.." y/n drawled and her eyes landed on the clock beside her bed. "It's six in the morning." She groaned.

"Yeah I had a long night." Sam replied. "People are dropping like flies, Dean. We have to go." His words held urgency and Dean sighed.

"Can't you wait for like two hours or something?" Dean asked irritation lacing his voice.

"Dean people are dying in really weird ways." Sam pressed.

"You should go." Y/n spoke from the bed.

"Baby.."

"Dean.." He shrugged in defeat.

"Alright I'll meet you by the car in 20." Dean said to Sam who nodded and left the room.

"You go get ready and I'll check on Addy." Y/n got up and pecked his lips pushing him towards the bathroom. She walked to the crib placed in they their room, she still wasn't comfortable leaving Addy alone in the nursery. She watched her sleep peacefully. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and she melted into the embrace.

"You've been staring at her for like ten minutes, it's creepy, sweetheart." Dean murmured in her ear.

"Shut up and get your ass moving." She replied playfully. "I wanna lock the door and sleep some more."

"Too eager to get rid of me?" He smirked.

As if sensing her father's departure little Adeline woke up from her slumber and started wailing loudly. Dean immediately picked up his baby in his arms and hushed her while gently rocking her. "Daddy's angel woke up to say bye huh?" That didn't make Adeline feel any better and Dean didn't feel like going anymore. "Awe baby I'm sorry." He cooed. "What do you say we let Uncle Sammy go on his own?" Dean suggested.

"Dean.." y/n said in reprimanding tone. "I know it's hard but we'll be here when you get back, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and kissed Adeline's head. "Daddy's gonna be back before you know it, be good for mommy okay angel?" Y/n took Adeline from him and followed out to the door. Dean opened the door and turned around, "you be safe. Anything happens you call me or head to Bobby's okay?"

"Yes don't worry about us and focus on the job, don't die okay?"

With one last kiss, Dean walked out of the door. Y/n waved at Sam who was impatiently waiting by the car. She closed the door and double locked it once they drove off.

The day went by just as how it goes usually. It was around nine pm when Dean called her. She answered the phone almost immediately, eagerly wanting to know all about the hunt. As Dean filled her in with all the adventures the brother's went through, she listened eagerly. She missed hunting, she missed the the feeling of adrenaline pumping through her veins but all above that she loved Adeline. And she wouldn't risk anything happening to her.

"I'm just glad you two are okay and the hunt went well." Y/n said as Dean finished speaking.

"Yeah. Can't wait to be back with you and Addy." He replied. He paused for a minute he spoke again. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

"For what Dean?"

"For giving my dumbass another chance. For putting up with me over the years. For loving me. I can't ever make up to you for hurting you how I did but-"

"Dean, it's all in the past. I forgave you. Even if it may be a little selfish on my part but I want you. I've always wanted you. So just forget about it." Y/n replied, assuring him that they're way past whatever happened.

"I don't care if you're being selfish, or if you want to use me. Just know that I'm your problem now." Dean chuckled. "I'm at your disposal. I love you."

"No chick flick moments, De." Y/n giggled over the phone and Dean rolled his eyes at her even if she couldn't see. "But I love you too. And I miss you too much, so hurry your ass back home." Dean let out a laugh at her commanding tone.

“I’ll be home soon. You take care of yourself. Kiss Adeline goodnight for me.” Dean replied before hanging up.

Things have finally changed. For better.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@suckitands33

[whatspastisprologue-blr]

Memnoch the Devil gives me some of my favorite Lesmand interactions, even though, as is the case with all the books, I have to keep Assad Zaman's Armand in my mind because he just *is* Armand and so whenever he's described in the book it's honestly jarring to me.

Like, when they first see each other again and Lestat is genuinely happy to see him? And notes that Armand's voice "had no meanness in it at all". And basically calls him hot and then says he's "good to love". And then they hug each other! Willingly!

"We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me, rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms. His gesture wasn't tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could have backed away. I didn't. We held each other tight for a moment. The cold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard."

And then Lestat playfully ruffles Armand's hair! Which Armand doesn't mind. In fact, he smiles! And then playfully shoves Lestat back (actually, it hurt him) to show off a little. After which, we get this:

"I can't remember anything bad between us." I said.

"You will," he responded. "And so will I. But what does it matter what we remember?"

"Yes," I said, "we're both still here."

Armand laughs again and kisses Lestat a couple of paragraphs later, seemingly just for fun. And then, in this chapter (this is all just one chapter, guys), Armand basically gets to play Lestat for Lestat, in the sense that he gets to tell Lestat the exact same arguments that Lestat used to help Armand get free from the CoD. Both of them admit it.

Oh, yeah, and actually, Lestat wasn't expecting to see Armand! That was a surprise. Armand showed up (with David, ew, but maybe it'll be Daniel on the show) because he's worried about Lestat!

And then we get this hilariously petty exchange:

"Around this Dora, I've thrown a protective light. None of us can touch her."

"That goes without saying. I won't hurt your little friend. You wound me." He looked genuinely put out.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know. But I know what blood is and innocence and how delicious both can be. I know how much the girl tempts me."

"Then you must be the one to give in to that temptation," said Armand crossly. "I never choose my victims anymore, you know this. I can stand before a house as always, and out of the doors will come those who want to be in my arms. Of course I won't hurt her. You do hold old grudges. You think I live in the past. You don't understand that I actually change with every era, I always have as best I can."

(Seriously, AMC, give us this scene! Lestat warning Armand specifically, not David, to not hurt someone he cares about but also entrusting this person to Armand's care despite how it turned out previously. And then Armand being salty about it because jeez, Lestat, that was like, so long ago I can't believe you'd bring that up!)

Also, "I can stand in front of a house as always, and out of the doors will come those who want to be in my arms." Made me think of this:

Anyway, then we get to see this:

"Lestat, if you need me--" Armand said. "If this being tries to take you by force!"

"Why do you care about me?" I asked. "After all the bad things I did to you. Why?"

"Oh, don't be such a fool," he begged gently. "You convinced me long ago that the world was a Savage Garden. Remember your old poetry? You said the only laws that were true were aesthetic laws, that was all you could count on."

"Yes, I remember all that. I fear it's true. I've always feared it was true. I feared it when I was a mortal child. I woke up one morning and believed in nothing."

"Well, then, in the Savage Garden," said Armand, "you shine beautifully, my friend. You walk as if it is your garden to do with as you please. And in my wanderings, I always return to you. I always return to see the colors of the garden in your shadow, or reflected in your eyes, perhaps, or to hear of your latest follies and mad obsessions. Besides, we are brothers, are we not?"

A few paragraphs later, Lestat tells Armand (and David, but hopefully Daniel in the show), "I love you both."

All that in one chapter! I just wanted to share it because I feel like other great Lesmand moments get referenced a lot, such as Armand's line from Blood Communion:

"Fool," he said again. His voice was roughened now by emotion he couldn't suppress. "I have always loved you," he said. "I have loved you more than any being in all the world whim I've ever loved. I have loved you more than Louis. I have loved you more even than Marius. And you have never given me your love. I would be your most faithful counselor, if you allowed it."

And, like, that's an epic quote. I love it. But there's more to their relationship than all the bad things and this one quote!

I want to see Lestat do his part to destroy the CoS, including his "Gentleman Death" speech. I want to see Armand's attack on Lestat, him pleading to Lestat to let him accompany him and Gabrielle (promising to be Lestat's servant if that's what it takes), and Lestat rejecting him, partly because of their past and because he knows Armand needs to figure himself out apart from anyone else. I want to see Lestat entrust Nicki to Armand and then get the letter of how Armand chopped Nicki's hands off. I want to see the torture leading up to the play where Lestat is forced to watch Claudia die. I want to see Armand push Lestat off the tower. Because those are pivotal moments in their relationship, too! In particular, Armand attacking Lestat is basically why Lestat never pursues the sort of relationship that Armand wants, even though I would argue the love and affection is there, and that Lestat himself might wish differently at times.

All that pain and horror and tragedy, and then they both agree they can't remember any of it, and that even if/when they do, it's water under the bridge. "You shine beautifully, my friend." "I love you [.]"

Forgiveness is, for me, one of the most important themes of the Vampire Chronicles and, in my opinion, the Lesmand relationship is one of the best examples.

[poomphuripan]

what are your thoughts on ming seeming not very emotional in that sex scene of ep 7?

hi nonnie (❁´◡`❁)

i think you probably mean this NC scene in ep 8 right?

actually i had a little discussion with @clowncroccharms about this scene in ep. 8 this week so shoutout to them first for making my gears turn whenever i think about this adaptational change.

so i think it's really interesting that they cheekily brought back that 'sneezing during orgasm' as the final straw for ming to confirm that joe 2.0 is definitely related to joe 1.0 somehow. but i wouldn't say that this particular scene was ming actual realization that joe 2.0 is joe 1.0. i felt this entire episode corresponds more with chapters 75 to 85, with this sex scene corresponding most closely to chapter 80, where sex is just one of the tests ming had for joe 2.0.

In the beginning, it was just like usual, a silent, unilateral venting sex act. Joe was still like an ostrich, concealing his face and emotions. Ming still didn’t utter a word as he forcefully thrust into him. Ming slammed his body with such powerful force that Joe’s head almost hit the headboard. He had experienced Ming’s abilities and strength in bed a long time ago. But at that time, both of them enjoyed it. They often did it throughout the night, satiating themselves. But now, this was for Ming to vent his desires and emotions. Joe merely took it as a job, never complaining. It’s good that this deal is settled to each of their satisfaction. However, something is oddly going on with Ming today. Whether it is intentional or unintentional, he’d touch his body a few times. These touches were like… like he is feeling him out. The areas that Ming touched were all his (older Joe’s) sensitive spots. Although he’s in a different body, he’s come to realize that he is still not immune to these touches. Very soon, he started to feel a different kind of sensation. He instinctively felt that Ming is trying to test him; that he is doubting him. This hasn’t just been once or twice; he just didn’t expect Ming to choose this method… Joe tried hard to control himself from making any sounds but Ming seemed to be doing it deliberately by prolonging his thrusts, very slowly entering and then very slowly pulling out, completely shattering his willpower. For the first time, Joe felt pleasure, making him endlessly terrified. He suppressed his body’s reaction but could not resist the increasing turbulent waves of intense pleasure. Ming also became unusual, his breathing becoming particularly heavy, as if he is trying to repress something. Joe voiced hoarsely, “Enough… you’ve had too much to drink.” Ming turned a deaf ear and continued to change the angle of his thrusts. It is the first time he has the desire to penetrate this body and the feeling is actually this good. It is as if the person beneath him is the one who had been constantly on his mind. At this time, how could he stop? He didn’t care whether it is his drunken delusion or what it may be, he just wanted to grasp firmly onto this current feeling. For the longest time, he had not felt this kind of satisfaction. Both of them are caught in an unprecedented state of ecstasy. Besides desires, there was nothing on their minds. In fact, who they are actually having sex with became insignificant. Joe felt like he is on the verge of drowning to death. He clutched onto the bed sheets tightly, withstanding the thrills of passion that seemed to have separated from his body a long time ago. In this moment, he couldn’t tell which body he is in, whether it is his past life or this present life. This kind of familiar feeling invaded all his memories, causing him to forget where he’s at. Or it could be said that whichever body he was in, at this moment is no longer important.

of course, the series did take the initiative and shuffled things around, making this event right before joe & ming learns that the body of joe 2.0 has been discovered so i actually don't consider that that scene in this week ep as ming's realization of joe 2.0 being joe 1.0, it's more closer to 'ming aggressively accuses that joe 2.0 must be joe 1.0 while joe denies it profusely'.

all gifs courtesy of @jimmysea

and honestly if you look at it from ming's perspective, he might even have just thought that joe 2.0 was actually joe 1.0 who had plastic surgery to look completely different so i don't really think the news/realization has actually hit ming like a rock yet in that moment. not to mention that right after him trying to accuse that joe 2.0 is his p'joe, he receives the news that they've discovered joe 1.0's corpse... i mean can you imagine how insane the thoughts in his head must be... that news is probably going to mess with his crazy theory of joe 2.0 being joe 1.0 as well so i understand why he seems... not very remorseful at this point (ep 8) of the story...

but not to fret because this week's ep 9 is already the moment everyone has been waiting for where ming starts begging on his knees for forgiveness so i can't wait for the actual realization scene where ming figures out how joe 2.0 is truly his joe 1.0 because the remorse definitely hits much harder after these two have seen joe 1.0's corpse face to face.

i hope that answers your question nonnie \(￣︶￣*\))

[lazyofficer]

HERE IS WHY SHIRLULU IS A LEGITIMATE SHIP -PART 1

Warning: I'm not a writer and English is not my native language. So kindly bare it or DM me about it. Criticism is welcomed not hate.

I always wanted to post a detailed analysis of  Shirley X Lelouch  relationship and will post in parts due to Tumblr restricted on images. 

Fun fact- I started watching Code Geass with all the spoilers (deaths) and was fully expecting to be part of the Cclulu or Kalulu fanbase (because they are popular), but as I continued watching, I couldn't understand why Shirlulu had a minor fanbase and was ignored when their feelings were so obvious. Needless to say I became a Shirlulu shipper.

Let's start -

Shirley and Lelouch loved each other.

While Shirley's feeling are so obvious.

Lelouch's feelings are hinted throughout the series (both direct and subtle hints), which are often ignored as filler or brushed off as "guilt" for killing her father (which is not the case). 

There are people who dislike Shirley just because she is not "useful" like other girls. Let me tell you it's called a business deal and not love if you are going to choose a person based on their "usefulness." 

Let's start with Direct hints

R1 Stage 14 -

although the whole episode is dedicated to Shirlulu and their relationship. I'm focusing  only on the bits right now.

Lelouch, being dense when it comes to love, didn't realize his feelings until he lost her. Lelouch really cherished her presence in his life.

When I first watched CG , I really didn't expect that Lelouch would say such a romantic line especially for Shirley ( the ship so unpopular) and I repeat NO ONE would say this for a platonic friendship.

I was suspicious of Lelouch's feelings but this episode made it crystal clear that's its mutual , it's just Lelouch didn't realize it before.

Honestly, I would love to see them bicker and laugh it off after patching up

R1 Stage 12 & 14 -

IIrc, Shirley is the only girl whom Lelouch kissed back.

Personally I don't think he kissed her back due to guilt over killing her father but more like doing anything he could to comfort her.

He could have kissed Kallen if guilt was the reason but he only let her kiss him.

R1 Stage 14 -

"Any sin you commit is mine to bear" is the love language of Lelouch. If we consider Lelouch's personality.

He is not type to buy flowers and chocolates and he is the type who would do everything in power to hide the evidence of murder and going far to even take the blame for it.

Ranked as one of the best anime hugs and only hugging scene in code geass series. The way Lelouch pulls her to hug is everything

R2 Stage 12 -

Shirley felt Lelouch was lying about his feelings for her. His immediate response was a hard " No". Once he realized what he blurted out he tried to cover it up.

The he reason why he played innocent was because he is too busy and cannot afford to be in a relationship. He doesn't want to be neglectful boyfriend to her because doesn't deserve it.

This alone should be a proof that Shirley's feeling are reciprocated.

It's because of his feelings he wants to keep her at distance so that is safe.

R2 Stage 24 -

Lelouch was arguing with Schneizel about how people struggle against sadness yet still seek the future.

The first scene that played was Shirley's death, symbolizing that Lelouch's struggle against sadness was Shirley's death and how he still he seeks a future.

R2 Stage 25 -

Lelouch was dying, the first person that came to his mind was Shirley (after it was just chronological order S2-S1), and his last being his childhood with Suzaku and Nunnally. Special people in Lelouch's life

Many people chose to ignore this moment but this one is undeniable proof that Lelouch never moved on from Shirley

[justyechan]

Choso x FTM!Reader

For my trans kings! 💋

Warnings: angst, comfort, slight smut, FTM!reader, top surgery mention

It was Friday night and you couldn't be more relieved, not only because it meant "break from hell for two days" but also because it was "movie night with my beloved boyfriend Choso."

When you left work you stopped by for snacks for the night. You felt your phone vibrate, it was a message from your boyfriend. "On my way :)." You smirked and without further ado you hurried your step towards your place.

You arrived and took a quick shower before getting everything ready. You really missed your partner, you didn't see each other very often due to the irregular schedules of your jobs, so you made the most of the weekend.

Not long after, Choso would arrive and help you finish what was missing. You both bluntly snuggled between the blankets on your bed, that night it was the black-haired man's turn to choose the movie.

The first forty minutes were normal, you didn't know what kind of movie was until you realized it was a romantic one. It seemed a little strange to you, your boyfriend wasn't really into romantic movies, according to him they were very dramatic and unrealistic. It didn't really bother you, you even thought it was cute since he was trying something new with you. But you wouldn't deny that the idea of ​​seeing something of that genre made you nervous.

Everything was relatively fine until a sexual scene began, the protagonist's partner began to undress her and pass his lips over her abdomen, stealing sighs.

Your cheeks turned red and you turned slightly to look at Choso, your muscles tensed a little when you saw how he was already looking at you for you don't know how long, and just like you, with his cheeks red and clearly embarrassed. He leaned towards you slowly, taking your hand.

“Y/N....”

His deep voice resonated in your ear. Chills ran down your spine and soon you felt another of his hands cup your face to kiss you. At first you let yourself go, feeling somewhat needy after days without feeling any touch. He took off the blankets that covered him and sat on top of your lap, moving his hips back and forth as he lowered his kisses to your neck. You were trying to stay calm by playing along with Choso thinking that things wouldn't go that far, but you were alarmed when you felt his big, cold hands go under your shirt. You broke away suddenly, scaring the black-haired man.

“I... I don’t think I can,”

“Why not? We’ve talked about this before. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

A lump formed in your throat, the words caught somewhere between your heart and your lips.

“It’s not that simple.”

You shifted your gaze to the blankets, as if among them you could find the courage you needed to express your feelings.

You glanced down at your body, the mirror in your mind reflecting every insecurity you tried to hide. The scars, the lingering doubts, the fear that his touch might come with a moment of hesitation and disgust—it all felt like an insurmountable wall between you.

“Choso, I just don’t want you to look at me and feel disappointed,” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I don’t want you to think I’m not enough. After all I'm not... a real man.”

“Fuck, stop saying that.” Choso echoed, his voice low and firm. “Y/N, you’re more than enough. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

But your heart twisted with the weight of his words. You couldn’t shake the fear that clawed at your insides, whispering lies about your worth. The pressure to conform to expectations, to fit into a mold that felt impossibly rigid, left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Y/N, look at me,” he urged, lifting your chin gently. When your eyes finally met his, you could see the sincerity etched in every line of his face. “I would never feel disgust for you. You matter to me.”

“It’s hard to believe that,” you admitted, the crack in your voice betraying the turmoil within. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Choso said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “We can take our time, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the weight of your fears pressed down on you. You wanted to believe him.

“What if I’m not what you want?”

“You are exactly what I want,” Choso said, his gaze unwavering. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait for you. I’ll never rush you into something you’re not ready for.”

His words enveloped you like a warm embrace, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into the comfort of his presence.

Your heart was beating at an unknown speed, you had never felt that someone loved you with so much intensity, so much tenderness, that they accepted you just as you were. Living for so long in fear of rejection had made you believe you were unworthy of love. And that was an idea that constantly tormented you, especially when you felt alone and just wanted a kiss.

The idea of ​​a significant other seemed silly to you, not all people would have someone special to complete them and making them believe they would find their person seemed cruel to you.

Until the black-haired man came into your life to change it. Choso made you feel those butterflies in your stomach that everyone was talking about since you saw him.

Stupid butterflies.

They just made you remember how in love you were.

Little did you know that your future boyfriend was also fighting the rebel butterflies in his stomach.

You gently pressed your foreheads together, closed your eyes and allowed the silence of the moment to surround you. The tips of your noses clashed subtly, seeking comfort in each other, snuggling to the sound of your heartbeats.

The black-haired man gave you a smile that melted your heart.

And you knew that if you were by his side you would be fine.

You slowly pulled away, took a deep breath, and directed both of your hands to the edges of your shirt. With a little hesitation, you took it off, revealing the scars from your surgery top. You shivered as you felt the cold air hitting your skin and Choso's attentive gaze.

The black-haired man ran his fingertips through those darker areas carefully, caressing everything in his path, observing carefully as if he were recording every part of you in his mind. As if every imperfection of yours was perfect for him.

“You are so beautiful...”

It was going to be a long night.

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #12: Localization Milestone and Key Art

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, a timeloop RPG, which is also the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!). You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!!

LET’S GET TO IT. This month has some localization news, as well as a breakdown on key art! What’s key art? Where do you use it? Can you eat it? Read and find out.

The first pass of the Japanese localization is done and implemented!!! You can play the whole game in Japanese from beginning to end now!!!

The next step now is the localization QA, where the localization team plays the game and makes sure the Japanese script works in context. The team got the script in an excel sheet and I tried my best to give context for scenes where I could, but playing through the game themselves allows them to get The Most Context. All Of The Context. So they can make changes to their localization so it can be the best!!!

That’s it for news. Other things are chugga-chugga-chuggin’ behind the scenes as well, and I can’t wait to share it all with you all!!!

Today’s topic-since-I-don’t-have-much-to-talk-about is: key art!

“Adrienne what on Earth is a ‘key art’” This above is the key art.

More generally (and keep in mind this is my layman self talking, I’m sure you could get a better answer elsewhere, but also you’re here, so you might as well learn something huh???), key art is The Big Art that games (and, I assume, other mediums???) use to show off their style and visuals in things such as store fronts, articles, and other such things. It’s Mario jumping in a cool way with his lil star buddy while the planets are behind him. It’s Kratos and Atreus on a boat. It’s sad Siffrin in the foreground, surrounded by stars, while his friends are having fun in the background. It’s The Art!!! It’s the first thing people see about your game!!! It needs to be cool and represent your game!!!

Here’s some examples of the key art being used for Steam store assets. Itch.io is very kind and asks for like 2 assets, but Steam asks for a whoopin’ 30 assets, all with different sizes and orientations, so it means one of the biggest things your key art should be is MODULAR AS HELL. From a massive 1440x3160 vertical banner to an itty-bitty 231x87 horizontal button (called a capsule, it’s the small banner above, and since it’s usually the first thing you see about a game it is THE MOST IMPORTANT ASSET), your key art needs to be ready for anything!!!

For the prologue, I did not plan for this very well. I learned pretty late in development that store assets for itch.io (and later, Steam) were gonna be a thing I should worry about, so I ended up deciding to use the title card art. Which, like, it worked out.

BUT! I had to redraw Siffrin to make sure their hat and body weren’t weirdly cut out, and had to remake the pixelly gradient like a thousand times for each asset to make sure it wouldn’t hide Siffrin’s face. And that’s without mentioning the hell I went through to make sure the massive title logo would fit. Why did I think “START AGAIN START AGAIN START AGAIN: a prologue” was a good title. It was so hard to make it fit in its entirety every time (because, of course, Steam asks you to show the logo in its entirety in every single asset). Why did I choose this title (I’m a Kingdom Hearts fan and my heart is rotten and thinks long titles are funny)

So since I went through hell with START AGAIN’s store assets, for ISAT I made sure to think about the key art way ahead of time teehee.

Every so often I become an absolute genius so I only had to sketch the key art once, as you can see above. You don’t need to understand it because I do and it’s all that matters. Teehee!

Here's the rough illustration! I made it to block out the shapes, and figure out where that dang logo would go. Once again, reminder: if you have text of any kind, figure out where it goes in the rough stage. Future you will thank you. I also had Siffrin look directly at the camera in this rough stage, and then figured. That it would look sadder. If Siffrin looked emo-ly to the side. I do like the look at the camera though. He Is Looking

To talk about The Meaning very quickly, I wanted to show Siffrin front and center, since the whole story is about them. And I wanted to show the whole party, but clearly separated from Siffrin- Siffrin is stuck in a time loop, feels completely apart from them, and I wanted to show that in the key art! With the expressions too- everyone else is happy or engaged in something, interacting with each other, while Siffrin is in his emo phase. And also stars everywhere. Because of course.

Here are all the layers I used- I made sure to draw them on a vector layer in Clip Studio Paint, which means the lines never become pixelated even if you zoom in a lot! As a side note, the full file for this is 4000x3000, which I thought would be too big, but is actually just the right size for all those dang assets.

I also made sure that Siffrin would look the most detailed, since I knew that while everyone could fit for the bigger pictures, for the itty-bitty small ones (or the extremely horizontal ones), I would only show off Siffrin’s face. MODULAR!!!!!

In the end this key art worked pretty well to make the store assets, but if I could talk to past me I would tell them. Make the circle bg taller so it’d fit the more vertical assets. And find a way to leave more space for the characters in the background. I had to remove them/rotate them/zoom them out very often because Siffrin hides them too much because Siffrin is just too dang big. But that’s still manageable, past me. You did a good job past me

So, TLDR, from my experience, what you need to keep in mind when making your key art is:

-make sure it has enough layers to be able to move things around as needed, but not so many layers that you become lost

-fun art that represents your game and its vibe well

-cool everywhere, but able to get by if you zoom in on one thing (which usually for ISAT’s assets is Siffrin’s face)

-able to work in a vertical and horizontal format and at many different sizes

I hope my key art made people interested enough in the game to try to find out more!!

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

[5ummit]

2024 in GIFs

Post your favorite and most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months)

Tagged by @ex0rin ❤️

At first I didn’t think I would be able to do this challenge because I thought I hadn’t made very many gifs this year but apparently I posted 40 sets! There were definitely two main phases (Dune Part 2 and TROP S2) with a couple months in between where I didn’t make any, but overall not a bad year for gifs and this was a nice opportunity to look back through them all and appreciate my own hard work.

JANUARY (2)

Popular (287 notes)/Favorite: What If…? Season 3 Trailer It’s funny, I started 2024 with this episode (at this point only a teaser trailer) and ended the year giffing the same episode after it was finally released. Full circle!

APRIL (11)

Popular (6571 notes): Feyd-Rautha/Paul Parallel I like this one a lot but it still bothers me so much that I couldn’t get their strides to sync up perfectly. I tried SO hard but no matter what I did the timing was always just slightly off.

Favorite: Now Kiss w/ Live Chani Reaction This scene out of context is still incredibly funny to me.

Honorable Mention: The Slap April may've officially been The Month of Dune but I can't leave out the scene that I’ve been wanting to gif for ages and finally developed my skills enough to make look half decent (the lighting and camerawork in this scene is a nightmare).

MAY (4)

Popular (2114 notes): Feyd-Rautha’s Heart Eyes for Paul

Favorite: Kiss the Ring I'm obsessed with that bratty stomp.

AUGUST (1)

Popular (654 notes)/Favorite: Sauron’s Coronation Even though there’s no choice here since it’s the only gifset this month, this shot in particular is still one of my favorites of the whole series.

SEPTEMBER (11)

Popular (7214 notes): Mean Girl Sauron

Favorite: “Pain… must be something you enjoy” Not the best looking set I’ve ever made but I’m actually pretty impressed with how it turned out given the criminally dark lighting I was working with. Fortunately the subject matter makes up for any technical shortcomings.

OCTOBER (9)

Popular (1052 notes): Adar/Sauron Betrayal Parallels

Favorite: “Look what you have done to yourself” It was so hard for me to choose my favorite gif from this set for this post because I love every shot in this scene.

NOVEMBER (1)

Popular (301 notes)/Favorite: Assassination Attempt My brutal ruthless cringefail babygirl, I love him so much.

DECEMBER (4)

Popular (652 notes): Deep Cover Mode

Favorite: The Winter Soldier vs Obadiah Stane Best episode of the season by far and one of the best of the whole series imo. So happy that it ended up being worth the wait.

I don’t know who else to tag since I don't know many giffers but if you’re a giffer and you see this consider yourself tagged!

[yourimagines]

Hi! Can you write a story about Nate’s press conference where killshot is throwing hands with Jorge

Could be Nate’s or killshot story. I love to read both

Sure, I choose Nate for this one.

Safe

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: Swearing, Blood and a little bit of fluff

Y/N POV

Today was the day for Nate’s press conference for his upcoming fight with Jorge. “But you stay close to the rest okay? I don’t want them to get close to you, mama’s.” Nate wasn’t happy that I was tagging along with him, he called it stupid. “I will, don’t worry about me.” I said as I gave him a peck on his left cheek. “I always worry about you, these guys are nuts y/n.” He stretched his arms and walked over to the others. “But you’re crazy too mr Diaz.” I teased him as I followed him to the group.

Chris was a bit nervous as both of the group came together for the press conference. “I don’t trust them.” He said under his breath as the arrived at the scene. “Me neither, he’s a bitch.” Killshot said. I looked over at Nate, who was already watching me. “Nick, take her with you to our seats.” He said while his eyes never left me. “Sure, come on y/n, it’s about to start.” Nick nudge my arm and guided us to our seats. “Here you go.” He pointed at the seats and we all sat down, ready for them to start.

Nate POV

The whole press release was bullshit, he kept on yapping about bull crap so I had enough. Chris stayed to promote his fight as I walked off stage. “Someone get her out of there.” I was looking at the crowd, people were getting nervous, ready to throw some hands. “Yeah…I get her.” One of the members walked off and yelling starts on the stage. People all got up from their seat, yelling as well. “If she gets hurt, I fucking kill him.” I mumbled under my breath as Chris walked off the stage. “We need to leave man, a brawl will happen if we don’t.” I nodded, knowing y/n was with the other. “Let’s go back to the trucks and wait there.”

Y/N POV

It happened all so fast, a fight broke out right next to the stage. People all jumped up and started to yell. “Get behind me.” Nick said as another team member showed up. “The fuck!” He yelled at Jorge team, Jorge saw us and tried to walk over. “Y/n stay out of this.” He pushed me behind him as well as they start to move forward, trying to hit Jorge. I was looking around, being aware of my surroundings, trying to find an escape. “Bitch!” Nick and Jorge start to fight, hitting each other hard as Jorge dragged Nick down with his dreads. As that happens I got pushed down by someone from Jorge’s team, trying to hit some else close to me. “Ouch!” A elbow hit my head and I immediately covered up my face. “Hey! That’s Nate’s girl! Stop!” A journalist yells as he tries to push those people away. “Come!” He wrapped his arm over my shoulder and pushed me through the fighting crowd.

I was on the other side of the parking lot, the guy checked my small wound/cut above my eyebrow. “This will sting, I’m sorry.” I nodded and he carefully cleaned out the cut. “It looks clean, you don’t need to see a doctor but you need to take care of it.” He placed a plaster on it and smiled at me. “Thank you.” He nodded and helped me up again as I was sitting in the back of his trunk. “No problem, can’t watch how these idiots injure a lady, especially not Nate’s girl.” I brushed off my jacket and took out my phone. “Thank you, care to wait till they pick me up?” I asked as I quickly texted Chris where I was. “Sure, they won’t hurt me right?” I laughed and shook my head. “Nahh , I don’t think so.”

Nate POV

I was furious as Nick and the other came back without y/n. “What do you mean she was just gone?!” Nick shrugged his shoulders. “I got my ass beaten by that fuck, when it was done she was gone.” Chris was looking down at his phone, totally ignoring us. “She’s safe, I know where she is.” He said as he tucked away his phone. “Let’s go get her then.” I was angry, angry at them and at myself. “If she’s hurt….man you better run.”

I saw her waiting at somebody’s truck, looking at the guys camera. “Nice photos, you took them while they were fighting?” The guys nods proudly, showing her some more photos. “Well the camera man never gets hurt.” She joked lightly. “Y/n.” Chris said as we walked closer to her. She looks up and jumps down from the trunk. “Hello guys.” She immediately walked over to me, wrapping her arms around me. “You okay?” I whispered in her ear. “Just one scratch above my eyebrow.” I took a look at her face and saw a plaster, right above her right eyebrow. “I’m okay, he helped me to get out.” She pointed at the guy. “Thanks.” He nodded and pointed at her. “She has one scratch but keep an eye on her, she got trapped between two guys, probably hit her more than once.” I nodded and gave the guy a hand. “I will, thank you.”

Y/n POV

Nate was angry, angry at Nick and angry on himself. “Sorry.” I mumbled against his shoulder as we were going back to the hotel. He was holding me, traveling his hand down over my arm. “I’m not angry at you, mama’s” he placed a soft kiss on my head and looked back out of the window, probably beating himself up that this happened to me. “I’m okay, I got out before the real damage was done.” I laid my head against his chest and smiled at him, he sighs and closed his eyes.

Nate was talking to a guy who was filming him and asking some questions about the press conference as team Jorge joined us in the hallway. Nate started to yell at them, causing the rest to join him. I was done for today, the adrenaline rush was gone, pain started to come up. “Let’s go over there.” He said as he tried to marched his way over. Chris was following him closely as he was yelling as well. Hotel security walked up and held them off. “Don’t, go to your rooms guys.” Nate was yelling again and walked back to me. “Motherfuckers.” I had enough, done with the loud noise. “I’m going to our room if you don’t mind.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m coming with ya, don’t trust these motherfuckers.”

Nate POV

She was lying in bed, wearing a shirt of mine. “You okay? Need some painkillers?” She slowly shook her head. “No…I’m okay.” She nestled herself in the bedsheets and closed her eyes. “You sure mama’s?” I carefully checked on her, touching her forehead slightly to feel is she heating up or not. “Yeah…just tired.” I nodded and went to take a shower to reflect on what happened today.

She was asleep when I joined her, looking soft and peaceful. “I’m sorry that Nick is an idiot, he was to suppose to keep you safe…” I whispered to her as I carefully wrapped my arms around her, spoofing her from behind. “I’m okay Diaz.” Her sleepy tiredly voice answered me back. “I know….I just want to keep you safe.” She tiredly turned around and laid her head down on my chest, while wrapping her legs around mine. “You already do that.” She had a lazy smile on her face, her eyes closed as she nuzzled her head against my chest. “I love ya.” “I love you too Diaz.” She fell asleep in a few minutes, leaving me awake for a few hours, thinking about us and how stupid Nick was for not keeping her safe.

[sombredancer]

Asian dramas and relationship dynamics (Pt.2)

There are my favorite familial and (supposedly) non-romantical dynamics as a list.

Brotherly love

Drama: The Untamed / 陈情令 Characters: Wei Wuxian & Jiang Wanyin Screentime: Secondary

My favorite brother couple! They tore my heart into million pieces and it's still broken. There is jealousy and love and difficult moral choices between them. Wei Wuxian is an extraordinary man, as the main hero should be. He is brave enough to go against the rules if he feels it's right thing to do, also he is ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good and hides all of his pain tightly inside. Jiang Cheng is a mere person. He is not strong (or insane) enough to put everything on the line, because he shoulders responsibilities for his sect. Although they love each other, Wei Wuxian is ready to die for the truth and chooses to fight if fight is inevitable. Jiang Cheng tries to go the path of "minor evil" and sacrifice his sense of justice in order to save as much as possible. The both views are OK and each goes the chosen by himself path and bears consequences of this choice. Consequences are awful. They are traumatizing. And, what is the biggest pain of mine, they never discussed it. They never found out about sacrifices they both made for each other. They never found out that they still love each other as brothers.

Drama: My Journey to You /云之羽 Characters: Gong Shangjue & Gong Yuanzhi Screentime: Secondary About these two I wrote two posts here and here . In a nutshell: one is carrying the responsibilities for everything and anything, strictly follows the rules and teaches his younger cousin how to live this life. The little cousin is yandere, who is obsessed with his older cousin, has no conscience and does his best to make his cousin's life better. I like this unusual dynamics: they both love each other and care for each other on the same level, even if one of them is yandere.

Master-servant relationship

Drama: Word of Honor / 山河令 Characters: Gu Xiang & Wen Kexing Screentime: Secondary I like this type of dynamics when servants become someone more than just servants to their masters. Chinese drama makers love it and use it a lot, but this scene was so powerful that made me cry. Beautiful transformation from a servant to a family member (unfortunately, post mortem).

Seeking out love

Drama: Fangs of Fortune / 大梦归离 Characters: Li Lun & Zhao Yuanzhou Screentime: Secondary

Once Li Lun and Zhao Yuanzhou used to be boyfriends. Then they broke up for reason not really understandable (at least for Li Lun), but Li Lun can't get over it and tries to get attention of his ex friend back with pretty villainous means. Him not being able to leave this situation and to move on will be the main reason he will die in the end.

Drama: Word of Honor / 山河令 Characters: Xie Wang & Zhao Jing Screentime: Secondary

Zhao Jing adopted a very skillful and absolutely ruthless killer as his son. The killer is self-confident and does his job playfully, but his weakness is his passionate desire to be loved by his adoptive father. He feels that Zhao Jing just uses him for his skills and will throw him away as soon as his adoptive father will not need his skills anymore, so he even paralyze his adoptive father to force him being always near. He ends up not being capable to choose his life over his father's and dies with him. A very sad type of addiction with "A little mermaid" type of moral: you can bring the whole world upside down, but if one doesn't love you, one will not, no matter what.

Drama: Painted Skin 2020 /画皮 Characters: Wang Sheng & Xiao Wei Screentime: Main In this B̶L̶ version of Painted Skin Chinese legend the fox demon is male and wants to get one of the humans that brought him home. But humans love each other, no one is interested in a fox demon, so he makes them pay for their previous kindness with blood, sweat and tears. In the end the demon gets a human heart, feels something (e.g. how hard it is to be a human) and makes up one more lie, giving to the soul of the man he wanted for himself a strand of his own hair instead of human's wife's hair in order to meet him in another life. The same moral as in the previous drama. The same sadness.

Also you can see: Asian dramas and relationship dynamics (Pt. 1) Asian dramas and my favorite types of characters Asian dramas and Love tropes Enemies to Rivals/Lovers recipe

[choppersconfirmedkills]

Push & Pull

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi! Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Angst (i’m sorry)

Warnings: there’s a bit of a makeout scene in the beginning, the rest I can’t give away without spoiling the story so be warned

A/N: It really was supposed to be fluffy at first but... it was too tempting. I based the Title off a KARD song. Also if the consensus demands it I’ll write the part two I’ve been planning for this. Feedback is really appreciated for this! I worked hard on it and I’m actually quite proud of it!

Summary: What happens when the reality of your secret relationship comes crashing in, and the fear peaks out from amongst the rubble.

AKA You push him away and he tries to pull you back in.

You could taste the desire littered across his tongue as you both consumed each other. His hands grabbed at the nape of your neck desperate to pull you closer to him than what was physically possible. You were clinging on to each breath as your mouths moved as one, refusing to let the other go. He was your safety net, the one thing you felt too selfish to ever let go of, even if it meant taking him down with you. Not that the galaxy would ever let you two find peace. It was tumultuous and violent, and there was no escape, not for any single inhabitant. But for the two of you, there was no hope. Your little secret was doomed to explode from the start. 

He was a soldier and you a Jedi. There were countless things wrong with whatever this was, yet you could never seem to get enough, until now. If attachment and love were forbidden, then how was it so easy to fall into this in the first place? Especially when the man in front of you looked to be carved by the stars himself. Was this supposed to be what temptation was like? Painful and gut-wrenching but deliciously so. And how were you supposed to let him go?

“Mesh’la,” he breathes out. Effortlessly, like everything else he does. “I think I lost you back there. I only noticed because it’s kind of hard to make out with a durasteel wall.” You chuckled, looking into the warm irises of the man you’ve grown to love. It broke you, seeing that look of pure adoration in his eyes because you knew that in a matter of time, all you would see is misery within them. You tried to keep every bit of fear you had inside, instead choosing to relish in the unbridled happiness Rex brought you, but there is only so much a person can take before the dam breaks, and it finally did. A lone tear sinks down your cheek accompanied by a sniffle, the only signs you’re willing to let peak through, but it’s plenty enough to worry your beloved Captain. His calloused hands moved to hold your face and wipe the evidence of your turmoil.

“Cyare, talk to me. What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours?” He moved to press a chaste kiss to your temple, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. A cascade of sobs echoed across your quarters accompanied by soft hushes and words of encouragement, as he held you tight to his chest, rubbing circles into your hip bone.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could muster out in between your sobs, trying desperately to regulate your breathing.

“For what?” He asked, his gaze continuing to bore holes in yours, the concern ebbing off him in waves.

“For loving you,” you choke out. You were sure he wasn’t able to make any of it out between heaving, sobs, and snot-filled sniffles. But judging by the silence and lack of movement in the room, he was a bit shocked by your confession.

The silence that passed was agony as you watched those gears turn in his head as he was trying to make sense of it all. You watched as the facade of this hardened man started to crack and crumble above you. He was slowly starting to understand the connotation of your words and where this conversation was headed.

“Why?” He asked finally letting out that agonizing breath you had assumed he had been holding in.

“I just-” You took a breath, it coming out far shakier than you would’ve liked, “I can’t do this to you. Not anymore. I have been incredibly selfish with your feelings, knowing of the consequences that are destined for us. You deserve so much more than that.”

He was still frozen in his place, so you just decided to continue. “I’m sorry Rex. There’s not much hope for either of us with the lives we have led. I love you.” You stared at the stars countless nights, wondering, dreaming of this moment. The moment you finally put it all on the line and told him you loved him. But the last option to ever grace your thoughts was that you told him while you were doing this. You expected the moment to be filled with kisses and warm hugs and the only feeling that could be felt was love. Not this. “But that’s not enough. That will never be enough when this, us, is bound to break and shatter in all the worst ways possible.”

“And how is that guaranteed in your eyes? With the way you are talking, it sounds like we have no choice but to surrender to it. To run away and cower in fear. But how do we know for sure things are going to blow up in our faces? Shouldn’t we be allowed to be happy?” You were angry. Not at him, but at all this destruction, death, and violence that promises no reprieve, and yet he still chooses to hold on to the hope that one day it will. That one day this war will be over. When you know that there’s no way the galaxy could ever find peace.

“Because Rex” You screamed, your heart pouring itself out through your voice. “You are a Captain in the Grand Army of the Republic and I am a Knight of the Jedi Order. Someone catches one whiff of us and you’re court-martialed and I’m removed from the order. I could possibly live with that, but the punishment for you is not something I could live with. Rex, they would kill you.” 

“You don’t know that,” he sighed.

“But I do, which is why I know we can’t do this anymore. Not with a cost this high,” you let out one last shaky sigh before you moved to the door. Finalizing your decision in ending your happiness and going back to the shell you once were, by command of the Jedi.

“You can’t leave,” he gritted out through barred teeth, “You made me a promise when you first came to our command. That we are a team.” He shot up from his position on shaky legs, all of his emotions evident in his stance, “And that we get through things together. You can’t make this decision on your own. You promised.” It was hard to catch that last bit, it was barely a whisper. 

“This is the only decision to make, can’t you see Rex? We have no other choice.” You saw it. For the first time ever, your hardened but warm and loving Captain finally broke. Relinquishing the control he’s tried desperately to cling to since his inception, a tear falls down his cheeks. Something you’ve never seen before and it breaks your heart even more.

“What I see is you being selfish!” Those words hit you like a gut punch because he was right. You were being selfish. But it was all you could do to keep the one thing that makes you feel human, safe. You were taught nearly your whole life to avoid emotions and attachments, and because of it you nearly functioned like a droid. Your only focus was to do what they told you to. Then Rex came along and gave you a reason to fight, to feel, to exist. And the idea of losing him in this endless battle of torment was something you couldn’t stomach.

“I’m not a droid, Cyare. I make my own decisions, you can’t make them for me.” He was yelling now, even though his volume wasn’t ridiculously loud, avoiding unnecessary attention. It was still his choice of words and how he said them that made your knees buckle. There was an overwhelming feeling to fall to the ground and melt but you needed to be strong and get out of this, for both your sakes.

“I have never once compared you to that of a droid. You are fully capable, but I can’t play games with your life, Rex. You are the most important thing in my life.” You let out a sob, one of many since this debacle began, but one that fully conveyed just what you were feeling at that moment.

“Please, just stay. We can talk this through, what you’re feeling. We don’t have to leave it like this.” He put your face in his hands again, kissing you while he still shook in fear. One that was a silent beg, to not let go. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks, “I don’t know how.” You opened the door knowing that once you take this step there was no coming back, and took one last look at the man who meant everything to you.

“Please,” he cried. And with that, you left. Abandoning the only bit of freedom you ever had.

[pascaloverx]

Invisible Bonds: The Power of Destiny

Author's Note: This fanfic contains possible strong language and explores themes of unconventional love. The relationship between the protagonists will be handled with sensitivity, without explicit scenes. If there are explicit scenes, readers will be warned. This fanfic focuses on the reader's relationship with Jungkook and Taehyung, separately.

previous chapter final epilogue

EPILOGUE (TAEHYUNG'S VERSION)

Karaoke night with the boys is just what you need now that you're single. That's right. You and Jungkook couldn't make your relationship work. But at least you preserved the friendship. But tonight it will be just you, Yoongi, and Hoseok.

"Are you sure you want to waste your couple's night keeping me company?" you ask Yoongi and Hoseok as you finish closing the door of your apartment, which is no longer in the same building. Living next to Jungkook while he's dating other people seemed too hard.

"Sweetie, you're not a bother. Namjoon asked me to tell you that you're invited for afternoon coffee at his place tomorrow. I know you've been avoiding everyone since your fallout with Jungkook, but I won't let you distance yourself from us," Hoseok says as he waits for you to close the door. Yoongi is beside Hoseok, gently holding his hand.

"I think we should tell you that Taehyung will be at karaoke too. He's been sad about the divorce, and we thought it would be a good idea to bring him along to sing a bit. Who would have thought that the first to get married would be the first to divorce in the group? But we should have guessed that he and Haewon wouldn't work out. Soulmates aren't always destined for each other," Yoongi says as the three of you head down the stairs to Yoongi's car. Hoseok lightly smacks his arm.

"As if you know how to deal with soulmates. You ended your bond with your soulmate and will never know if you would have preferred staying with her instead of me," Hoseok says, a bit annoyed. They started dating when Hoseok gave up on finding his soulmate, and Yoongi seemed to really like that idea.

"My experience and Taehyung's are exceptions. Namjoon and Jin are married to their soulmates. Jimin is dating his. And you two don't even know if you weren't soulmates yourselves. But let's get to karaoke, and try not to act weird around me and Taehyung. I know he and I had a brief romantic relationship, and I avoided him while he was trying to work things out with Haewon. But you don't need to act like it's a big deal," you say as you get into the car. They look at each other as if they have no idea what you're talking about.

"What songs are you guys going to sing tonight? I was thinking of singing something by Beyoncé. But I think I need a drink before deciding," Hoseok says, changing the subject as you head to the karaoke, with Yoongi driving.

"I don't know about Yoongi, but I'm going to get drunk and watch you guys sing," you say as you watch the route the car is taking.

"No, if I'm singing with Hoseok, you're singing too. Everyone's singing, even if it's just one song. Got it?" Yoongi says as he parks the car. You arrive quickly. From inside the car, your gaze meets Taehyung's as he stands at the entrance of the karaoke, looking well-dressed. There's something shining about him when your eyes lock.

"You took your time getting here," Taehyung says as soon as you lock eyes. Yoongi and Hoseok are in front of you.

"It's Y/N's fault, she took forever to choose what to wear today," Yoongi complains as Hoseok gives him a stern look. You feel a bit embarrassed.

"Easy to blame me for being late when you guys picked me up almost an hour after we agreed," you say as everyone enters the karaoke. You notice Taehyung standing a bit apart from the group.

"How are you doing?" Taehyung asks, inviting you to sit beside him. He looks at you with sweetness.

"I can't complain. I definitely tried to find my happy ending but it didn't work out. Since then, I've just been searching for peace," you reply with a touch of sadness. Taehyung seems to empathize with you.

"What's the point of having peace without company?" Taehyung asks as you settle into your chair. You look at him as if you don't have an answer, which you really don't.

"You can't force anyone to stay by your side. All you can do is try to be happy on your own," you reply, trying to convince yourself that you should feel content alone.

"Sometimes we're alone because we missed the chance to be with someone," Taehyung says, and you meet his gaze. It's clearly an indirect reference to you. Or rather, to both of you.

"We had to give a chance to people we thought were our destiny, only to realize they were just passing through our lives," you say, trying to justify your separation. You ask the karaoke bartender for a drink.

"And what if I want to give us a chance now?" Taehyung asks, taking a sip of his drink almost like it's water. You take a sip of yours.

"Don't you think it's a bit late to give us a chance now? Doesn't it cross your mind that there might not be any feelings left between us?" you question him, feeling indignant. Does he think it's that easy to pick up where things left off?

"I spent two years convincing myself that you would be happier without me. That we would be better off apart. But the truth is, being with you was one of the best moments of my life. And I really tried hard to be happy without you," Taehyung says, looking at you as he declares his feelings.

"So why did you wait until now to say this? It's been at least three months since you got divorced, and only now you thought to tell me you still wanted me?" you question him, but Taehyung's words are certainly having an effect on you.

"Hey, not to interrupt the lovebirds, but you're at karaoke, not at home. Go sing and stop arguing about your love life," Yoongi says, handing you both microphones. You and Taehyung exchange glances, then stand up to sing. Someone chose 'If the World Was Ending'; a duet. You both sing as if you were singing to each other. At the end of the song, still looking at each other, it feels like Taehyung can see into your soul. Your hand almost touches his.

"I didn't know if you would take me back. Or rather, finally accept me. You chose Jungkook. I respected that, just as you respected my attempt to reconcile with Haewon. But I think we both know our destinies are intertwined," Taehyung says as you two step outside the karaoke. Discussing this in the middle of a crowd seems foolish, and Yoongi already seems to have run out of patience for you two.

"Let's try again then. You and me," you say as you both stand at the exit of the karaoke. Taehyung smiles but seems a bit hesitant.

"But I don't want to just date you. If you want to try with me, you have to know that one day, I want us to get married. Or at least commit to living together until old age," Taehyung says, as if making a solemn promise to you. In that moment, a flashback of all your good times together passes through your mind, from when you first met as university students to when you realized you were more than friends.

"I want to try, knowing what it means for both of us." You step closer to Taehyung, hoping he will take the next step. Then, Taehyung kisses you passionately. You feel complete, as if you've found the missing piece of your happiness.

END

[icarusmonsoon]

healed wounds, mended hearts pt I - rafe cameron

rafe cameron x reader

PREVIEW: You and the Cameron were friends from childhood up until you choose to socialize with the pogues. Though Sarah never minded, you and Rafe's friendship ended way long ago up until you both unexpectedly reunited on the kook families new years eve party. That was two years ago though, you don't remember exactly when things have changed drastically. With you and your friends fighting to get what's rightfully yours. A seemingly neverending treasure hunt.

You and the pogues snoop into the Cameron's cargo ship, wanting to get Sarah and the cross back. But something unexpected happened, and you were left with the person you hate the most because that was the only way to safe you.

Healed wounds, mended hearts PART 1

Part II

NOTE : It was only after i rewatched some clips of the scenes that i realize the ship in season 2 was actually not that big….lmao so please just imagine it being a pretty big cargo ship so the deck is pretty high up with a small chance of survival when someone fell overboard Anyway, hope you enjoy! ALSO i didnt proof read this so sorry if there are any mispronunciations or grammatical errors

***

You reached out to get ahold of a metal piece, a single part of the ship to hold your body up. The humming sound of the engine bombed through the air, followed by the neverending sounds of waves crashing the body of the ship. How ironic is it that something that has very little convenient on a normal day could be the sole thing that is preventing you from meeting death.

Your heart is beating heavily that you can feel it on every parts of your body. Sweats crawled down your skin and you can feel it against your palm, the one having a hold of the broken piece of railing. Shit. You can feel your lungs tightened as fear engulfed your whole body and your limbs starting to weakened by fear. Its hard not to panic when you are only seconds away from meeting your end.

You felt your hand starting to slip, your hold loosen each second passed without knowing what to do. Your mind brought you the image of your mom, the only person you can't live without, of how worried she must've been not knowing where her missing daughter is. You dont want to die, not today. Tears blurred your sight, and though shaky, you tried to call for help again, and again, and again. You have stopped for a while as it requires so much strength with no replies at all. You reckon everyone is busy with their own fight. With a shaky breath, you call out. "Somebod-"

"Y/n!" Just before you can finish your sentence, somebody called your name, their voice muffled by the roaring sound of the ship. You recognize their voice. "JJ? J im right here!"

You felt a hand tightly grabbed ahold of yours, pulling you up until your whole body is secure on the deck. Your face hit a warm and slightly damp hard surface, and you can feel a hand holding the back of your head. JJ hugged you tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around your head and waist. "Fuck, Y/n. I've searched for you everywhere. How the fuck did you even get there?" You can hear the slight panting in his voice.

You shook your head in response. You can feel your tears blurring your empty gaze, looking straight into the endless deep blue ocean as your cheek leaned against his chest. The sky has darkened, tinted with hues of orange and pink. Such a beautiful sight when seen from a very different circumstances. You wonder when everything is going to end, whether you and your friends will even meet the end of this treasure hunting adventure at all. One moment you almost died, falling and drowning overboard. What's next will always be unexpected. "I dont- i dont know J, one minute i- one" You inhaled sharply, feeling your throat closing with shock and heavy breaths.

"You're okay bug, you're okay" He lulled softly against your ear, his hand rubbing circles on your lower back. "I was there with you, and the next thing i knew i was fighting one of Ward's man on the edge of the ship. He bring me down with him, i managed to kick his ass off though"

JJ pulled away from you, both of his hands now placed on your shoulders with concern written all over his face. "You killed them?" You raise your shoulders. "Yeah? Maybe? I dont know J he went down to that fucking ocean"

A small smirk creeped up his face, one that is psychotic enough when you think about it. "Thats my girl. Woo!" He said, both hands shaking your body slightly.

"J, wheres everyone else?" You asked, snapping him out of distraction which was followed by the realization in his ocean blue eyes. Oh my god, this guy.

"Yeah..yeah. Everyone else. C'mon follow me" He dragged you through steep stairs and wet floors, looking back at you every once in a while to make sure that you're fine and right behind him. At times you can feel his thumb rub the inner side of your wrist. That gesture is so very not him, the unfamiliarity weirdly moved your heart. It's a whole different side of this boy you knew, and you reckon that is what the realization of potentially dying could do to a person.

You both stopped at the sound of metal clashing against metal, you can feel JJ's left arm backing out, moving you to stand right behind him pressed against the wall as he touched your left side. Butterfly erupted from your stomach, but you ignored them as you stared dirtily at the back of his head. This boy saved you once and think he's the master knight. "The fuck are you doing? Let's go J the clock is ticking!" You hit his shoulder, shout whispering behind him.

"Shh! You hear that? That's Rafe Y/n. Hes fighting someone" Your heart dropped at the mention of him. Your childhood friend turned into the villain in you and your friends's story. You both walked slowly towards the scene, deep down anticipating for the worst. The hallway ended, the floor no longer covered by the shadow of the wall. You felt exposed, not having something to cover you both from whoever is in front of you.

Up there you see Pope fighting Rafe over the cross, and on the other side you see Ward's men coming to help him. "Pope watch out!" You screamed as you shove JJ out of your way. One of them is coming for Pope with a piece of machete-like metal while he was busy fighting Rafe. You shoved the bearded man from the side with your back, you both stumbled to the floor with a heavy thud. Pain traveled down your back from the impact, but you heard the weapon cluttered to the floor. Out of instinct, you quickly crawled to get them just a few feet away from your hand. But the man seemingly thought of the same thing, as you both raced to grab the machete.

Something grabbed your legs and pulled you back just when you were inches away from the metal, but you were able to shove the handle, making it slides far enough so the man. If you can't have it, no one can.

Something kicked you on the chest as you twisted your body upward, your eyes meeting an unfamiliar vague pair of dark eyes. You wheezed, your chest burning with pain and shock that it hurts to even breathe in the ocean air. But the man stumbled back when someone punched him, reeling him away from your vulnerable state.

"The fuc- Cleo?" You realized it was really her. "No time to chat, distract them while Pope takes care of the cross" she said while ducking away from a punch. You nodded, eyes scanning your surroundings and noticed that JJ was nowhere to be found. Rafe was still coming at Pope, but the cross was already tied up. Your gaze went to the other side and you saw Cleo struggling to take down both of Ward's men. Fuck it. Pope can deal with one man.

You jumped on the back of one of the guy and hit the side of his head with your elbow repeatedly, with one hand tightening your hold on his neck. You released your hold from the guy, but managed to blow a hit behind his neck before he passed out.

You clutched your side as something cold pierced through your side. A pained gasp escaped your lips as pain quickly erupted from the wound, and you felt yourself fell backwards as your limbs weakened.

To be continued..