#''i hurt everyone but i never thought of harming you'' to ''die with me'' to lxc accepting death to jgy pushing him away and saving him. OO

[watercolorsam-arts]

Saw Sonic 3 tonight…. Holy Shit

I have a lot of thoughts, and a lot are really good, I had a blast watching it and I will be going to see it again.

I do however have one “complaint” I guess? Spoilers under break

I need to talk about Maria. But I want to start my little rant with *I did not dislike how Maria was handled in the movie* I quite enjoyed everything she was in. As a stand alone story in the movies, it was awesome (and personally seeing the movies as a sort of au makes the most sense for me). But I want to talk about how one character decision changed a significant amount of Maria and Shadow’s story. (Among other thoughts and things I noticed)

Maria was not explicitly stated to be sick,

It actually seems like she wasn’t sick at all.

Which I feel takes away a lot from Shadow’s creation/discovery.

Shadow in the games was created to be a cure for Maria’s N.I.D.S (Neuro-Immune Disorder Syndrome) his excess chaos energy was a byproduct of being created using Black Arms dna. He was never meant to be a weapon, he was meant to heal.

Maria cared for Shadow beyond just “this will cure me” she and Gerald saw him as himself. He might have been just a cure to Gerald at first, but Maria saw Shadow, not a weapon, or a cure, or an alien, she saw Shadow.

G.U.N saw a weapon, which is why they had to take him, and cut down anyone in their way.

By removing Maria’s sickness, you don’t have any reason for the Ark to exist, and you also don’t need to “create” Shadow. Shadow had to be dropped into the story (kinda literally as he fell from the sky) for him to have a reason to be there.

Maira and Shadow’s relationship in the movie doesn’t have quite the same impact. It even feels kind of… generic? I guess? That the “child” character doesn’t see the “monster/weapon” as one and befriends them. Maria being there isn’t nearly as justified as in the games. “Her grandfather brings her everywhere” and I get why, but still. Even if there was one line of “she gets sick easy, so the professor wants to keep an eye on her.” Instead of just “yeah they go everywhere together”. (Once again, I didn’t hate the version of their relationship in the movie, this is just a comparison to the games)

Maria not being off world also takes away from Shadow’s motivations. Maria wanted to see the world, she wanted to meet the people, and experience everything! She cared so much about a place that would cause her harm just by existing there. No matter what happened, she believed with all her heart that the people of earth deserved to live life to the fullest, even if she couldn’t. So when Shadow gets reminded that he was meant to protect and heal, he chooses to save the world Maria cared so much about.

Movie Maria’s death feels like she was caught in the crossfire for no reason, which, in its own way, has a big impact on Shadow’s arc. She had so much life to live, she was his sister, she didn’t have to die, which fueled Shadow’s hate.

Movie Shadow’s motivations for saving the day are different from game Shadow’s. His motivation is fueled by hate, and hurt, and by love. He hesitates when he hurts Tom after mistaking him for the General. He hurts watching Sonic live a similar horror to what he did. Just like Sonic has to learn, no one wins with revenge, everyone just keeps getting hurt, and he might have wanted to hurt them, make them pay for what they did, he doesn’t want to hurt. He still chooses to heal, and to protect. Maria haunts him in the way a dead star still shines for us, guiding him even though she’s gone, to show love instead of hate and hurt.

They’re both executed phenomenally, and both work in their respective stories, personally, I prefer how the game handled it, but that’s just me. And it’s so interesting to see how different yet similar the two are. The main take away is that all movie Shadow knew was that he was a weapon and chose to actively go against that, while game Shadow knew he could heal as well as hurt.

I will forever cry over the “they’re children!” Line, because… yeah… Shadow and Maria were children, who should have never gone through what they did, I need to hug them and put them back in their blanket fort with a new movie and some snacks.

And this is less of a movie/game comparison, but more so the representation of Maria’s illness. A lot of the time, we see Maria as full of life and energy, but various media like Gerald’s journal, dark beginnings, and the Shadow Campaign in generation has told us she doesn’t always have it that good. She has days where she can barely move, or she’ll need a mobility aid, or she’ll be incredibly sick even with the Arks gravity and atmosphere. Chronic illness’ don’t always impact you the same every day, but you’re still ill, even if you can’t see it, and Maria has become pretty good representation for that, which makes me kinda sad that it was dropped for the movie.

(I feel like my ramblings don’t make sense towards the end? So I think it’s a bit more just, thoughts about the movie and the game. Thanks for reading this far btw :) )

[meanbossart]

What are your thoughts/takes on Astarion's relationship with sex? How does that reflect on his relationship with Drow?

(Obvious disclaimer: this is just my opinion, and my goal is always to entertain myself - never to argue or be the most correct about canon interpretations or themes.)

Hm. So, something that I find very unique (and frankly, overlooked!) about Astarion's previews experiences, is that when speaking specifically about his M.O for luring marks for Cazador the majority of the encounters he seems to have had were not, primarily, "negative".

They weren't positive either, of course. There is no way around it: having sex against your will is rape. But in his case, the perpetrator was never inside the room. From the way he speaks of the people he slept with, he seems to hold a mixture of contempt and pity; but never anger; from the way he speaks of and with Sebastian, it even seems like, sometimes, perhaps in the early days of those 200 years he might have even allowed himself to indulge in small, brief attachments and hopes. Then, as fatigue settled in and the permanence of the situation hit him, I'm sure the motions became mechanized at best and agonizing at worst.

But I think whatever harm the experience has done to his sexuality or self-value, it's damage struck him tenfold in the concept of object permanence. Imagine it: throughout the course of two centuries, you are not allowed to form a connection with a single person who isn't damned to die later the same day. You never see the same face twice. You are never allowed to progress past impersonal first encounters. Astarion says he wants to be seen and known, but a reality that hurts almost more than being invisible is that there were probably thousands of people who would have loved to do that. But you ruined them as much as they ruined you.

I wholeheartedly believe that he was sick of sex, and that for decades to come there will be times when he still turns the lights off during the act, or, ideally, just says No Thank You and moves on, but the hypothetical that really haunts me is that other thing: the almost pavlovian association between sex and looming demise. That people are going to be taken away from you, so why bother being present?

This is a feeling he struggles with sorting through and vocalizing. And in turn, DU Drow often is under the assumption that this is all about sex, and about whether he truly wants it or not. This is yet another small theme in A Novel Experience but, in summary, for a while he still doubts Astarion's own agency to initiate or participate in it - this reduction of the issue as a matter of physical touch, while the big picture is much more complex.

And this does not always externalize in the far more palatably tragic "woe is me, everyone I love leaves" way. Sometimes Astarion still catches himself thinking of the ones he loves as disposable, and acting with due disregard for their lives like it's second nature.

But back on subject: he can have, does have, and likes sex. By finally being allowed to form a friendship and rapport with a sexual partner for whom he does not feel the need to perform to, he can finally enjoy the silly, the awkward, the gross and even the subpar aspects of sex with true intimacy; the anxiety sets after the fact, as he wonders about what comes next once you're out of his sight.

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ A FOOL’S MISTAKE — “It’s not like him to be so careless.” -> Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 1.2k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, injured Dan Heng, fluff, comfort, affection, reassurance, cuddles, kissing, indirect confession.

Sprawled across your bed, Dan Heng lays there, scrunching his brows when your hand rubs over the wound he received while with the crew. He was sent back to the Astral Express, advised by Himeko to rest for the remainder of this trip. You’ve been here for a while and are accustomed to everyone’s mannerisms, but even an outsider could tell how frustrated he was for letting his guard down so easily. It’s not like him to be so careless.

���I swear I saw you. You were there.” He grunts, his fingers creasing your sheets with the force he grips them. The ointment coats the damaged skin, aiding repair and prevention of infection.

Whatever he experienced out there has led to a set of delusions. He keeps repeating the same words as though he is in denial about the truth.

“I’ve been here with Pom-Pom the entire time. I haven’t stepped foot off of the Express since our last mission.”

“I tried to—”

“Himeko said you ran straight into the enemies. Mr. Yang called you back, but you didn’t listen to him. Whatever hallucination you had wasn’t real, Dan. I’m okay. I never left the Express.” You speak softly, attempting to calm him from his frenzied state.

“…” His eyes fluttered, releasing his clutch on the sheets. His index finger trails down the length of your arm, searching you for any wounds.

“I’m fine, I swear to you. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like that.”

“It knew how to get to me then.” He mutters, leaving his hand flat on top of yours. “I thought you were going to die.”

“It was a cruel trick. You know the others wouldn’t let that happen so easily though.”

“Hallucination or not, I wouldn’t let you go like that. I couldn’t just watch it happen.”

“In future, please don’t rush into a hoard of creatures for me without double-checking with the others. You’re worried about me dying, but you could’ve been seriously hurt if that fight wasn’t wrapped up quickly.”

“I’m a fool.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m the only one who was unable to resist their manipulation. That hallucination. Everyone must have seen a different one.”

“You were just worried for my safety. I’m sure if anyone else witnessed one of us in danger, they would have had a similar reaction. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

A shaky exhale left his lips while his fingers locked with yours. His thumb brushed over the bumps of your knuckles, grounding himself from the extensive shock his body underwent. He remembers that day when he swore he would never let anything harm you, how you will always be the first one he saves. There was never a moment you doubted him, fully aware of how willing he is to throw away his own life if it means you get to live. 

“I got you a change of clothes when I heard you were hurt. I had to search through your closet, I hope you don’t mind.” You sheepishly push a fresh set of clothes towards him—the ones you usually catch him lounging in while working in the archives late at night.

“No, not at all. Thank you. I’m glad that you’re the first person I saw when I woke up.” Discarding his sombre expression, his lips twist up slightly. A subtle twinge of colour spreads across his face, scooting you aside while he sits up.

“Is the bandage too tight? I can loosen it a little if you’d like.” You glance at his bare torso, eyes lingering on his abdomen for longer than you’d like to admit. Something was alluring about him in your perspective, something that others may not see. 

“It’s fine. I appreciate the effort you put in to take care of me.” He stands to his feet, turning his back to you as he changes his attire.

When fully covered, he returns to your bed. Propping a pillow against the headboard, he pulls a blanket over himself, seemingly getting himself comfortable. It appears that he plans to stay here for the remainder of the evening, something he knows you won’t protest. Pulling you into his side, your head collides with his shoulder, a shared spell of laughter illuminating the darkness that was once cast in your room.

“I need to tell the group chat you’re okay. They were worried sick about you when you fell unconscious.” You reach for your phone, snapping a picture of the very alive Dan Heng beside you. 

Within a few seconds, multiple notifications flood your screen, mainly March and Pom-Pom, the usual dramatics when something like this occurs. Himeko sends her best wishes while Mr. Yang writes a small lecture. He doesn’t mean any harm by what he said, it’s the instinct of being a parent—he will always look out for you all, whether you like it or not. 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Dan speaks up when you turn off your phone, capturing your attention.

“Don’t be. All I ask is that you don’t die without me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Weaving his arms around you, he held you close in an embrace, the only sound filling the room being your mingled breaths completely in sync. It’s no mistake that out of everyone on the Express, Dan’s strongest connection is with you. You’re the one he turns to when he feels no one else would understand his woes, you accepted him and his stoic ways into your life without trying to change him. For that, he’s grateful. You understand that not every issue can be fixed with a smile, a snack, or a nap.

Shifting his hand from the small of your back, he pushes your chin up. You grin at him, eyes crinkling as he stares back at you. The outline of your lips is a shape he learned how to trace, now able to reconstruct it using his memory when not presented in front of him.

“I’m glad you joined the Express. Travelling through the stars together is romantic when you view it the right way. I wouldn’t want to experience that with anybody else.”

Sealing his sweet speech, he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Allowing him more space, you open your mouth slightly. Dan adored every inch of you, being granted permission to be so affectionate was merely a blessing. The heat radiating from his palms made your skin clammy, a stark contrast to his usual cold hands. 

Pulling away, your saliva remains at the corner of his mouth while he beams at you, his eyes half-lidded. His chest heaves, your lips more pronounced from the puffiness. The look in his eyes speaks words that he is not yet ready to admit, and you understand them all. When the time comes, he’ll tell you properly in the way he has planned. 

Developing an attraction to you felt like a mistake at first, he didn’t want to let you down and paint himself to be someone he’s not. However, you proved to him that you can handle all of his issues and emotions. Every flaw he possesses you manage to see the beauty—memories which used to haunt him don’t dare reside in his mind when you’re nearby. You ease the pain placed upon him.

[declareqenius]

some would sing and some would scream

summary: your girlfriends are two of the best mob bosses in the city. you and natasha were out for a nightly walk, both feeling restless as you awaited wanda’s return from a business trip. it was going well, until someone got the jump on both of you. 

pairings: WandaNat x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, knives, being tied up, stabbing, passing out

a/n: hey guys! here’s another one. i have no idea how mobs work, which is probably a good thing, but i hope it makes enough sense. second part, anyone? let me know what you think! wanda is barely here but is mentioned throughout. 

Part 1 | Part 2 

It’s been days since you and Natasha have seen Wanda. Days, maybe a week, since you were both taken by the henchmen of an enemy family; the Celestials. They have nerve, you’ll give them that, but you know as soon as Wanda and the rest of your family finds your location, they won’t know what hit them. 

The metal chair is cold against your legs and the restraints around your wrists are digging uncomfortably into your skin. You know the more you struggle, the worse it will be, but you need to at least try. There are cuts on either cheek and one gash on your thigh- which is exposed because you decided to wear shorts that fated day. You started regretting your decision yesterday because they kept their torture room freezing, and although you reside in New York, the cold has never been- and never will be- your friend. 

Natasha sits next you in a chair identical to yours. Her restraints are different, though, and it’s obvious the Celestials know how big of a threat she is. She’s continuously struggled to get out of them and your heart pangs in your chest because part of you knows it’s because she hates seeing you hurt. 

Your girlfriend is safe from cuts and gashes and it’s all due to them wanting to get under her skin. They know of the relationship you share with the two powerful mob leaders, and they’re trying to use it to their advantage. 

Natasha doesn’t break easily. Neither does Wanda. Everyone knows this, including you, but Nat barely lasted ten minutes when Najma- the leader of the Celestials- started dragging the knife across your thigh. She begged her to take her instead, but Najma was quick to assure that any torture you faced would be dragged out. 

“Nat. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Your firm voice cuts through the thick silence and leaves no room for argument. You’d stopped struggling five minutes ago when you realized it wouldn’t help, but Natasha kept it up and the redness around her wrists started to worry you. 

“I need to get out before they come in again. Need to get you untied.” Her voice is gravelly and preoccupied, and her plight is obvious. The only thoughts swarming her head are about getting you out of there unharmed. 

“And then what? You fight them off with nothing and we die trying to escape? We leave Wanda alone? She’ll never forgive us for that. We have to think about this, Natasha.” 

You’re honestly surprised how calm you were, considering the situation. But you know Wanda is on a murderous rampage and Natasha is going through anger induced anxiety at the mere thought of either of you not making it out of this, so you’re left being the reasonable one. 

“I am thinking about this, Y/N!” 

Her chair clangs to a halt as she stops struggling with a frustrated huff. You know that if the two of you weren’t in the hands of your family’s greatest rival, then your girlfriend would let her tears flow free. The only sign that she had any intent of crying before she remembered where you were was her red nose. 

“I’m thinking about it,” she says defeatedly, yet firmly. “Najma is going to come back any minute and she is going to harm you in unimaginable ways and I can’t stop her because I’m tied to this stupid fucking chair.” 

“Natty,” you say softly, “look at me, please?” 

God, you wish you could reach out and touch her. It takes a moment for her to find some semblance of composure so she can look you in the eyes instead of staring guiltily at the gash in your thigh. 

“Listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me,” you start, waiting until Natasha subtly nods her head to continue, “You aren’t going to tell them anything. No matter what they do to me-” 

“But-” 

“No. Listen. Whatever they do to me, I need you to grin and bear it until Wanda gets here or you have a secure plan to get us out. It’s going to be painful for both of us, but I’m a big girl, I can handle it, okay?” 

“Detka, I don’t know if I can-” 

“Natalia. I knew what I was getting into the moment you and Wanda told me what you did for a living. I knew it would happen eventually. There’s only so much protecting my knights in shining fedoras,” you give her a gentle grin at your joke, “can do. I need you to promise me. No matter how much pain I’m in. We need to wait it out. That’s all we can do right now, my love.” 

Natasha looks like she desperately wants to argue again, but you both know she’s only got so much fight left and she needs to save it for when Najma comes back. You try not to imagine what the leader of the Celestials has in store for you; which ways your body will be bloodied and scarred, but it’s hard when Natasha’s brain is going a mile a minute and the blood from the gash on your leg won’t stop dripping down your thigh. 

“Do you remember our very first date?” You ask, a small smile on your face as you look up at your girlfriend. 

“Malysh-” 

“Nat, please. I can’t sit in silence.” 

She sighs and looks away for a moment. To compose herself. You fear that sentence nearly sent her over the edge, but a moment later she nods. 

“Like it was yesterday. Wands and I had thirty minutes to clean ourselves up after having gotten back from taking care of something. We were so worried we were going to be late, and so we texted you that work held us up for longer than we anticipated. You were so patient with us. You still are so patient with us.” 

“Have to be with you two. Who knows what kind of trouble you got into when it was just the both of you parading around. Someone has to keep you in check, make sure you have something, someone to come home to. Both of you.” 

“And we cherish every moment we get to spend with you, detka.” 

Natasha says it so sincerely and it pushes you over the edge. Your eyes start watering and while it’s not a full-on sob, your tears do fall because you know where Natasha’s mind has gone. Where it has been this entire time. 

Then, it feels as if all the air in the room is sucked out. All the love you felt from Natasha moments ago is gone when you see her face switch to one you had only seen a handful of times. Your girlfriends try to keep you out of the business as much as they can, but you were still privy to some things. Natasha’s expression looked distant and blank, and you hear clapping from the far right corner of the room. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you keep your features neutral. 

Najma. 

“Aw, how sweet. Quite a show you both put on. If this were reality television, my family would be rooting for you. Little lovebirds. It’s a shame your other girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sure it would spice things up.” 

“If she were here, you would be dead already,” you snark. 

“Dorogoy-” Natasha starts in warning, but Najma is quick to cut her off. 

“It’s okay, Ms. Romanova. She won’t be able to... joke around much once I’m done with her. I must say, I have been quite lenient and I am a sucker for a love story, but I fear it is time to get some answers. So, every time you refuse to answer one of my questions, your little girlfriend here will endure some kind of pain. Haven’t decided yet. Won’t decide until that moment. Whatever feels right, I suppose. Nod to let me know you understand.” 

Natasha nods. 

Your eyes bore holes into the side of her head and you hope she hears your pleas. Your reminders. 

“Good. We’ll start off easy, then.” Najma takes her knife out of her boot and slowly walks over to you. She places the tip on your upper arm. The way she’s looking at you, as if you were a turkey to be carved instead of eaten and enjoyed, chills you to the bone. 

“What is your name?” Najma directs the question towards Natasha. 

“Natasha Romanova-Maximoff.” 

“Hm. That’ll do. What is your wife’s name?” 

“Wanda Romanova-Maximoff.” 

These were all answers that Najma knew already, and you’re unsure of why she’s wasting time. Not that you’re complaining. The more time she takes to interrogate Natasha, the more time Wanda has to find you both. The only name Najma shouldn’t know is yours. Natasha hasn’t once used it since you’ve been kidnapped, and you figure it’s for a reason. Your only family is the one you were welcomed into when you officially became Wanda and Natasha’s girlfriend, but your name not being out there kept you safer. 

“And what is your girlfriend’s name?” 

There it is. 

You glance at Natasha, fully aware of the knife on your arm but deeming it safe enough to move the slightest amount. Natasha’s eyes catch yours and you don’t have to plead with her this time. Her decision was made the moment her green eyes met your own. 

Keeping your name a secret gives both of you a better chance when Wanda breaks the both of you out of this place. 

So, when Natasha moves her eyes from yours to look at Najma, you prepare yourself for the pain. 

The redhead doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Najma knows it isn’t a question she’s going to answer simply by the blank determination written across her face. 

“Very well then,” the Celestial leader says, bored as she drags the knife slowly across your upper arm. 

You stare at Natasha the entire time. 

Natasha stares at your arm, and you know it is her way of punishing herself. 

As if being locked in a freezing room with no way out wasn’t punishment enough. Your girlfriend forces herself to watch as one of her foes marks your body with their knife. Their torture. 

It makes her angry and she clenches both her jaw and her fists to keep herself from pulling on the restraints, having learned her lesson twenty minutes earlier. 

Wanda will never let her live this down. 

You’re glad it’s not Wanda with you. She would have been able to kill everyone by now, but if they had put special cuffs on her and made her watch as they tortured you, you know she would have given everything up to ensure you lived. 

You appreciate how much your girls love you, but the family wouldn’t have been able to take that kind of hit. So, you’re glad it’s Natasha who is with you, and maybe you’ll get the chance to reiterate that to Wanda someday soon. It will surely keep them from biting each other’s heads off while you’re recovering. 

“Next question.” 

You can hear the Cheshire Cat-like grin Najma wore as she placed the knife in a different spot on your body. This time, your thigh, about two inches higher than the first gash she gave you. 

“Where is the Mind stone?” 

Again, Natasha doesn’t answer and you audibly keel over in pain when the knife creates an identical gash to the one that came before it. 

Again, Natasha watched the knife slide across your thigh. 

“Hard eggs to crack, but I have only just begun.” 

Now, Najma is in front of you and you barely have enough time to process the cool metal of the knife being dragged down your face. Your breathing is heavy, but you muster the most spiteful expression you can. 

“I would really hate to see this beautiful face marred, Natasha. It would be such a shame. She could pose for those magazines. I hear it is great work, but enough small talk. Maybe I won’t have to mar your beautiful face, my little paaltoo.”

You decide then that you only like Urdu when Kamala speaks it. 

“All Natasha has to do is give me the location of the Mind stone and your pretty little face will go unmarked. Don’t worry, it will only hurt a little bit. It’s more of a... reminder for your lovers.” 

Even if your girlfriend’s face remains neutral, you can tell she’s seething on the inside. You glance at her for a moment and you know that you need to stall more. Enough for Wanda to find both of you. Nat can’t do anything but not answer Najma’s questions, and eventually Najma will tire of the game she’s playing. Who knows what that would look like? You doubt she would kill you quickly and undermine the work she’s already done on you, but if Najma doesn’t have something to quell her violent hunger, you don’t know what will happen to you or Natasha. 

So, you have to keep Najma entertained. Interested. Piece of cake. 

When you know that her focus is on Natasha’s expression and not your “pretty little face”, you send a guilty look to your girlfriend. Better to ask for forgiveness later. Then, you muster up all your courage and remember all the times you’ve seen Wanda and Natasha interrogate people, and you speak.

“What makes you think Natasha will talk? You’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t said a word. Maybe she doesn’t care about me as much as you think she does.”

“Mm, you’re not going to get me that easy my little paaltoo, I hear how she speaks to you. How she looks at you. And how she seethes every time my blade runs across your delicate skin. The love this woman holds for you is insurmountable. Don’t think me a fool.” 

“You picked the wrong one.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Blood runs down the side of your arm and thigh and you’ve long forgotten how to feel the searing pain. 

“The wrong girlfriend. You should’ve picked Wanda. Natasha is tough to crack but she’s been through a lot. Wanda, though? Wanda has a heart of gold and the sight of me in danger would have had her spilling all of her secrets. Or it would have sent her on a murderous rampage and we’d be out of here already, but you never know. All I’m saying is that Wanda would have given you so much more than Natasha ever will.” 

Your nonchalance must have been jarring to both the women in the room, and you’re certain that Yelena, your best friend, would have been proud of you. 

“I’m holding a knife to your face and you have the audacity to judge my methods?” 

Najma pierces your skin with the point of the blade and it almost makes you laugh. 

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You would lose leverage over Wanda and Natasha. You wouldn’t give that up so easily.” 

“And what makes you think I couldn’t find something else they hold dear to them?” 

“You would be searching for the rest of your life.” 

It’s a big statement. Words that probably hold a lot more weight than anything you have ever said before, but you’re aware of what you mean to your girlfriends. How all of you balance each other out in ways that no one expects upon first meeting the three of you. In fact, you’re so certain of your feelings for them and vice versa, that if you make it out of this alive, then you’re going to propose to them. 

Wanda would absolutely kill Natasha if you didn’t make it out of this alive. Guilt would eat both of them up, but better one of you makes it out than neither of you. 

Another slash of the knife on your cheek and you can feel the sting of the blade as Najma follows all the way through with a flick of her wrist. 

“Natasha, tell you girlfriend to shut up.” 

“I’ve never listened to Natasha.” You’re a bit of a brat sometimes, it’s true. “Besides, I’m going to bleed out soon anyway. Then my lovely girlfriend won’t have anyone to talk to. That would be such a shame because I’m a gem.” 

You decide then that you’ve stalled long enough, and really all you did was give your already gushing wounds time to bleed even more. The light headedness is starting to catch up to you and you sincerely hope that you’ve done enough. 

Najma doesn’t pay any mind to your talking, probably realizing what exactly it is that you were doing, and instead she focuses on Natasha again. 

“I will ask one more time.” 

This time Najma positions the knife in front of your stomach and you don’t know if she’s going to stab you or cut you, but you’re not sure she knows either. Frantic green eyes lock onto yours as you get a good look at Natasha. Your eyes are calm as you try memorize everything from the way her braid sits on the side of her shoulder to the perfect shape of her lips. Fear pulses through you and you know that somehow it is not entirely your own, but you shake your head all the same. 

You will not be the reason your family falls. You will not be the reason that Wanda and Natasha have no home to go back to. 

“Where. Is. The Mind stone?” 

Nat’s eyes are pleading but yours remain blank and you know she has to bring forth years and years of training to look away from you and instead at Najma. So the woman holding the knife can see the defiance in her eyes along with her lips pursed in a straight line. Natasha isn’t going to say a word. 

The knife plunges into your left side and you don’t scream, you aren’t going to give your captor that satisfaction, but the sound you do make is enough to have Natasha looking away and a single tear rolling down her cheek. To your confusion, though, Najma doesn’t withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade inside of you and brushes off her hands before grabbing you by the chin so you can look directly in her eyes.

“Don’t breathe too hard, my little paaltoo, otherwise a vital organ will be caught and I would so love to torture you more later.” 

With that, she lets go of you and walks out. You think that having to look into that woman’s eyes was worse than any of the torture she’s inflicted on you. 

“Natty,” you breathe, voice worn and your eyes wanting to shut already. You’ve never been stabbed before and the pain plus your other wounds is too much. 

“Detka, I’m so sorry,” Natasha’s voice breaks and your heart aches for her. 

“Shhh. Don’t apologize, my love.” Breathing is starting to get really hard. “Natty I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything, malyshka.” 

You know Nat is desperate to keep you talking. Keep you awake. Alive. You don’t want to give up just yet. Wands will be here soon, you can feel it. 

“I think,” your head lolls to the side for a moment, “I think I only,” you breathe in and out, “like Urdu when Kamala,” you swallow because your mouth feels really dry all of a sudden, “speaks it.” 

“Me too, detka. Me too.” 

You can feel yourself fading, and you don’t think the knife has hit anything vital yet, but maybe a nap would help lessen the pain. Just a quick one. 

Your head lolls forward and it jostles the blade a little. You can hear Natasha’s panic, how her voice wavers and breaks as she addresses you. 

“Detka, baby, you’re doing so good for me, love. You’ve done so good. I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little longer. For Wanda. Please, baby. Need you to stay awake.” 

You blink your eyes open and muster enough strength to look up at her. 

“I’m so tired, Natty.” 

“I know, baby. I know, but I need you for just a little longer, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can, Natty.” 

Breathing hurts and blood is sticky. Your head once again droops forward.

“Please. Please, Y/N!” 

Natasha’s cries are suddenly drowned out by the door opening. You assume it’s Najma, because even in your drowsy state, you didn’t miss the fact that Natasha screamed your name. 

But then there’s an explosion and you’re able to open your eyes just enough to see swirls of scarlet red surrounding the room. You can’t hang on any longer, but you hope that Wanda and Natasha will forgive you as you finally let your eyes close all the way and your body slump forward in the metal chair you were tied to. 

The last thing you felt was Natasha’s hands on you, trying to wake you up, and the last thing you heard was Wanda’s agonizing screams.

[fenrysmoonbeamswife]

Some rando tiktok comment that made my eye twitch: "I love Feyre and Lucien's friendship and want them to be best friends forever. He's not to blame for her suffering but he should have done more, she would've done anything to help him."

*deeeeeeeep breath*

All of this is disproven in the text. Lucien was willing to die for Feyre, multiple times, while Feyre literally has a quote ignoring all of that and only praising Rhysand, you know, the guy who abused/s her.

Lucien was also a victim of Tamlin yet he still stood up to him for Feyre while she actively used him as a pawn and put him in harms way with Tamlin.

Lucien stuck with her and even went through the Autumn Court knowing he could be killed. Then when they finally got to the Night Court, Feyre left him tired and hungry and in soiled clothes so she could *checks notes* have sex.

She gets him to come to Solstice twice and doesn't get him a gift either time, but he brings one for them both times

For whatever reason he is supposed to put her first always, go to extreme lengths for her, stand up to their abuser, and more. And even when he does do all of this, it's dismissed and ignored. Nevermind that she never once considers him, considers if he is okay after UTM, considers him as a victim or that he might be suffering too. I actually do like Feyre but she can be extremely self centered and frequently fails to consider anyone outside of herself or the Inner Circle throughout the series (Lucien and Nesta being huge examples)

The only thing I can think of that she has done for him was hurting Ianthe and even at that it was implied that she only intervened after thinking of how Rhysand was hurt in a similar way, not because of Lucien

She allows everyone else to treat him like dirt and violate his thoughts without even blinking, and for some reason it's perfectly okay that she found new friends but it's not for him? After she basically abandoned him he managed to find these new friends and her response was to mock him and bully him?

But sure, Lucien could do more and Feyre is the perfect friend. Please.

It's also crazy that in ACOMAF Feyre calls Lucien out for "not doing more to stand up to her abuser" yet she's in the exact same position now with Rhysand and the Inner Circle. Except with Lucien she was blaming a fellow victim, now she's in a worse position stuck with her abuser and his lackeys and she doesn't even seem to notice

And don't get me wrong. I don't expect Feyre to be a better friend, I don't even expect them to stay friends or particularly care if they do because I think Lucien deserves better. And Feyre doesn't owe him any specific behaviour or treatment but to say that she's a better friend or would do anything for him is a complete and utter joke

[writingescapades]

Another aspect of Rafayel that I like is how his character depicts trust. Trust is weird. As humans we do easily trust people. For example, you trust that your coworkers will do their work. You trust that stranger you pass by to not harm you. Similarly, Rafayel trusted the MC. Not just because she saved him but because she was there. When he was stranded, he said he thought he would die until she came along. There is always, always, the high possibility that your trust will be broken, but we always trust first.

But, when that trust is broken and when we are taught to be wary of people, we end up using trust as both a weapon and shield. We still do have to go around trusting people, but we cautiously trust. We never fully give our complete trust. We watch others for the slightest hint of their true intentions in order to run away before we get hurt.

I love how Rafayel depicts this complex relationship with trust because he really does want to trust MC / player but he can't. It's not just because of their past. Rafayel's hesitation speaks to another fact, we're not really taught how to trust people. And since every person is different, gaining someone's trust and feeling trust is difficult to define.

I also enjoy his back and forth behaviours around trust because it's not easily gained. There isn't one action or one saying that makes a person completely trust another person. At least not for everyone. MC / player can't just say "I love you" for Rafayel to think "Oh, I wholly trust you now". He questions and challenges these cello-tape solutions, and in that process, he develops, or is attempting to develop, an understanding of what trust means to him.

I lot of the dialogue he speaks in his tender moments, I often wonder if there is an echo, like Rafayel is advising himself. For example, when he tells the MC / player to rely on him more and not be perfect around him, I feel he's also telling himself to do that to the MC / player.

I'm rambling, but I just enjoy how the devs decided to play with trust in Rafayel. It's not just your standard, all humans are evil and incapable of goodness except that one person who is only capable of goodness trope. It's, how do I trust someone even if they carry the potential to hurt me? And this is something all humans struggle with, which makes Rafayel's journey all the more realistic.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

(Small, frivolous rant incoming, apologies)

One thing I wish the Destiny fandom did more of was dabble in the utter horror this universe holds, especially when it comes to portraying the vile atrocities committed by many of the cosmic level characters.

Destiny‘s T rating holds it back so much in my opinion (but it still manages to lay down excellent foundations for horror and more mature themes!!) and I really wish there was more fan works that explored the unimaginable tragedies that occur in lore!!

When you really dwell on the scale of many of the disasters that happen in lore, it really dawns on you just how sinister and monstrous many of the larger villains are. Antagonists like Eramis are much more grounded, certainly not saints though, but some of the antagonists we have encounter are truly odious in their behaviors, even if they are deluded into thinking what they are doing is correct (like the Osmium siblings ravaging whole star systems in pursuit of the sword).

For example, it’s no secret that I LOATHE the Witness like no other. This wicked entity has me fighting bile at the mere thought of it and I truly think the way it delivers cruelty with such a sense of compassion and righteousness to be the most stomach wrenching form of being baneful. I could not think of an entitlement more deplorable than the Witness‘ and it’s existence is a travesty that has caused irreparable harm that spans EONS.

Yet, in my experience, I never see much content that taps into the horrors experienced by those touched by the Witness and its pawns, such as the Noesis and humanity during the collapse. There are INCREDIBLE artistic and written works that tap into the psychological horrors of exos and the unethical hell Clovis was putting people through, but not as many on the more cosmic horrors from what I have seen!!

This may just be a me thing and the personal reasons why I want the Witness put under a hydraulic press speaking, but I often see plenty of depictions of the Witness being uncharacteristically soft and having deeper feelings towards its disciples, but works about its vengeful rage, simple mindedness, violation of the autonomy of others, and predatory grooming are quite barren.

I wish to see just how HEINOUS it is displayed in all its turpitude and how it leaves a festering rot on everything and everyone it touches. I love the Witness because it is so evil in it‘s actions and my heart SINGS any time I see people tap into the trauma it causes, especially for characters like Rhulk or Savathûn!!

There is so much room for exploring just how vast the Destiny universe is when you decenter perpetrators in stories and focus on the incomprehensible number of victims.

Destiny genuinely has a character running around with the title „The Final God of Pain“ haunting people and refusing to permanently die, but there is only so much a T rated game can do and I feel like Destiny enjoyers can go beyond what’s in game in such creative ways!! Just thinking of the fall of Torobatl has me going „Wow, I’m actually so sick to my stomach, I need to honor Caiatl and really capture the pain of such an event!“

The latest lore on the Qugu? My chest HURTS.

Some of the hive experimentations? The hive in general? Hell is not hot enough for what the Witness lead them into.

But you know what they say, be the change you want to see in the world! Create the content you want to enjoy and promote the content you do enjoy!! I wish to dabble into the darker areas of lore, and of course, promote Witness hatred any chance I get!! Hopefully I get more time to write about these things and really value the work the Destiny writers have put into portraying such strong feelings of loss time and time again!!

And also!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read The Garden‘s Witness by Titanmaster_117 !!! ESPECIALLY THE FIRST CHAPTER, I COULD RANT ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF PROSE ALL DAY, IT GENUINELY MADE ME CRY!! PROMOTE THE CONTENT YOU ENJOY ALL DAY, EVERYDAY!!

But this is just something I’ve been thinking for some time now. This isn’t condemning anyone in the fandom or saying there is an issue, just a desire I would love to see (and hopefully fulfill if I ever get back into writing for Destiny!) If you guys have any recommendations for Destiny works that are horrific, focus on themes of loss and devastation, or hate on the Witness, feel free to mention them so other people can find them!!

Not enough Witness hate going around for my liking… this looks like a job for me.

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 3

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Part 2 here // Part 4 here

Warnings: 18+, negan masturbating, negan being all sweet and protective

A/n: I thought this would be the last part, but it was so long I had to break it up. Part 4 will be posted soon!

Negan’s POV: 

I waited all night for her but she never came. Hopping back on my bike, I drove back to the sanctuary the next morning. I spent the next few days drinking in my room and missing her. Trying to give her space was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

Two of my wives came to check on me, and I rudely dismissed them. And told them to kick rocks, for good. I wouldn’t even be able to get my dick up with anyone else but her. This girl has me wrapped around her goddamn finger and I don’t even know her name. 

I sat on the couch, closed my eyes and imagined her face. Our night together. How I fucked her through her little shorts. I imagined her lips between mine and the little sounds she made as she scratched my back. Fuck. 

I rubbed myself through my pants, imagining myself between her legs before I got impatient and pulled my cock out. I spit in my hand and began stroking it, focusing extra on the tip. My head pressed against the couch and I groaned, jerking my dick faster. Fuck, fuck fuuuuck. 

"Boss, we've got a problem." Fucking Simon. 

Tucking myself back in my pants, I walked over and flung the door open, clearly annoyed with an extreme case of blue balls. We walked towards the back exit quickly while Simon filled me in on the situation. 

“Rick and the rest of them are outside." Simon explained. "He said he only wants you.” 

“Of course he does.” I chuckled before walking out onto the balcony. “Well, what a nice surprise. This better be good Rick. I was right in the middle of something.”  

Her silky black hair caught my attention almost instantly and I couldn't take my eyes off her. She stood beside Rick and my heart sank for two reasons. I couldn't let her get hurt in the middle of all this. And what the hell was she doing? She couldn't seriously want this.

I leaned next to Simon's ear and whispered. “Make sure everyone knows that one is off limits." I nodded towards my girl. "If anyone harms a hair on her pretty head, it'll be the last thing they ever do."

Your POV, earlier that day: 

“We go in quick, and we don’t leave until Negan is dead. Understood?” Rick’s voice sounded far away and I realized my mind had been wandering the entire time, not able to concentrate.. Or accept Rick’s plan for Alexandria to go after the Saviors. I couldn't lose someone I...

Care about… again. 

“Y/n?” Rick asked, tilting his head at me. 

“Yes, understood.” 

The ride over took ages it seemed like. My head rested against the window of the truck while I watched the sun slowly start to disappear. I should be thrilled. This is what I’ve wanted for so long - to get revenge. 

So why did I want to save him?

“I dunno if I can do this.” Daryl’s focus remained on the road as I spoke. “I know you don’t understand it, but there’s good in him. I’ve seen it.”

Daryl scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“I just don’t wanna see anyone else die, Daryl.” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Some people deserve it.”

“And we don’t? Think about all the ones we’ve killed.”

“Not the same.” Daryl mumbled. 

“But it is. That’s the world we live in now. We do what we have to to survive. We’re all… psycho murderers, really.”  

“Listen to yourself. What do you think Glenn would think about you defending the man who killed him?” 

I sat quietly for a few moments, focusing my attention back on the clouds. “I think he’d be proud of me.” The gravel suddenly rumbling beneath the truck let us know we were getting close to the sanctuary and Daryl pulled over, parking near the others. 

“You’re either with us, or ya aint. But you need to hurry and decide.” Daryl warned before he quietly exited the truck and met up with the others ahead. 

I owe them for everything they’ve done for me. Everything they did for Glenn. I closed my eyes before hopping out of the car and quickly caught up with the rest of the group. Daryl gave me a nod and the rest of the tread was quiet. I tried focusing my mind on anything but Negan, disassociating to the best of my ability - a skill I’ve perfected over the past few months. 

“Negan needs to surrender. This has to happen now. This is the only way.” Rick’s voice rang through my ears as I stood near him, shielding myself with the metal that stood between us and the Saviors. Peeking out, I watched Negan appear behind the railing, an arrogant smirk forming on his lips.

“You’re gonna make me count?!" Rick shouted. "Okay, okay. I’m counting. 10….”

Negan eyes traveled to mine and his gaze softened. I stared at him, silently begging him to surrender while Rick counted. He studied me as if he wondered if I wanted this. 

Of course not. Surrender, goddammit. 

I watched him lean over and whisper something to Simon while his eyes were still on me. Simon nodded and took out his radio, signaling something to the others that I couldn't hear. 

The sound of Rick's gun cocking distracted me, and without thinking, I jumped in front of him, pulling the gun with with me. A bullet went straight through my foot, but I barely felt it.

I heard Negan cursing in the background amongst all the other chaos transpiring. Walkers were filing in now and everyone eventually scattered. I limped as quickly as I could, trying to escape before my feet lifted off the ground. I quickly realized it was Negan and he rushed us to an empty trailer nearby, shutting the door behind him when we made it inside.

“Oww.” I groaned, limping over to the wall and sliding down it. I pulled off my bloody sock and shoe and cringed at the bullet hole in my foot. The pain was starting to set in now.

“Shit.” Negan grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet above and kneeled down, wrapping my foot. “The hell were you thinkin' darlin'?.”

He looked up at me, slightly grinning and I rolled my eyes. He finished wrapping it up, kissed my forehead, and sat next to me on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His hand rested on my thigh protectively and I wanted to reach for it and hold his hand but I couldn’t. We both sat in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke.  

“You never came. I waited on you all night.” 

My heart ached at the thought of him there alone. “I told you, Negan. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“Yet.. you just took a bullet for me.” I could hear the cocky smile through his voice. 

“Why did you want to meet?” I asked.

“I guess I thought maybe if we went back to our place, you’d see me differently. The way you did that night, and I’d actually have a chance to win you over.”

When I looked over at him, I saw the man he was that night. Before I knew his name and all the horrible things he had done. I replayed everything in my head - the steam from his shower, our deep talks about our old high school days, his wife Lucille and how her death broke his heart, and how he read to me. And then I remembered him in between my legs, but stopping before it got too far because we were both tipsy.

How could the same man who bashed someone's skull in be the same one the had enough decency not to take advantage of a woman? I wanted so desperately to believe in the man he was that night - for that to be the only version of him. 

“Listen baby, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have." His voice was lower than usual when he spoke. "I get that you don’t wanna see me anymore and I’ve gotta learn to be okay with that. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of your brother’s death.” He leaned his head against the wall. “Fuckin' stupid of me to think this could ever work, huh?” 

With every word he spoke, my heart broke into smaller pieces. If Negan would have died today, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life for not going back to the cabin and meeting him that night. As difficult as our life would be together - for so many reasons, I can’t live without him. 

“Negan..” 

“Yeah?” His hazel eyes met mine and he looked like a sad puppy that I desperately wanted to comfort.

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

He nodded, clearly hurt and I watched his eyes fill with tears before he looked down. 

I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to say. “But I love you. And I want to find a way to make this work.”

His eyes darted back and forth between mine before his hand cupped my face and he kissed me all in one motion. I've missed his lips so much. His mouth was gentle, like he was scared to break me, but I wanted him to, so I pulled him closer and opened my mouth slightly. His tongue slipped in and collided with mine, making me see stars. After a few moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against mine. 

“I love you so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. I’ll never disappoint you again.”

“I know.” And I did. I believed him. Gunfire in the distance quickly snapped us back to reality but we held each other, neither of us willing to let go first.

"Negan, I've gotta go back with them."

"No. Stay with me at the sanctuary until we figure out a plan? I'll take care of you and-"

"We can't. You can't stay here, Negan. It's not safe, they'll come back for you. Rick won't stop until you're dead."

"Then I'll kill him first, doll. Simple."

"No. You're not killing anyone else - none of my people. I can't lose anyone else. The only way everyone survives this is if you surrender."

Negan scoffed. "And then what? Be a goddamn prisoner and Rick's little bitch for the rest of my life? Not gonna happen, darlin'."

I sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Hey, you're not giving up on me already are you?" Negan's hand rested again my cheek as he urged me to look at him.

"No.. no, I just, I dunno what to do."

"We've got all night to figure it out, doll. We don't have many options. There's no way you're going back to Alexandria on that foot. Come on." Negan stood, holding his hand out to me and I took it. "Stay close behind me, baby."

I nodded, gripping the back of Negan's shirt as he kicked the door open, flinging a few walkers in the process. I helped as much as I could, stabbing a few with my knife as Negan worked our way through the crowd.

Luckily the sanctuary itself seemed untouched. The walkers were only outside in the yard while a couple of guards secured the entry to the sanctuary doors. They opened them quickly as Negan and I tumbled in. His hand wrapped around my waist, helping me walk with my hurt foot.

We could hear Simon and the others around the corner. Turning the corner, Negan whistled his favorite tune and I watched in awe as the rest of the saviors bowed before us.

"I bet you all thought I was dead, huh?" Negan chuckled. "Here's a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have -“ He paused, leaning into you. "Hell’s your name darlin’? You never told me.” You whispered your name in his ear and giggled. He turned back to the saviors, finishing his speech. "I have y/n, and my nut sack? Is made of steel. I am not dyin' until I am damn good and ready."

What a dork. My dork. I thought, looking up at him as he spoke.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a honeymoon to get to. No one knocks on my door. Simon, you're in charge. Don't make me regret it."

Simon nodded and Negan lead us down the hall to a large door at the end. He held the door open for me as I walked through. A bachelor pad of the apocalypse. Exactly what I imagined. I smiled at him and he returned the gesture, flashing his white smile before he walked towards me and immediately wrapped me in his arms. My head rested against his chest and I felt his heart beat. For once, I felt safe.

Part 4 here. If you’ve read this far, thank you. 🥹💗

tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174

[fatkish]

Could you do a Aizawa x suicidal daughter please?Sorry if this is too dark but I’ve seen some of your other works about stuff like this and it makes me feel seen I guess thanks :)

(Sorry Anon, I know that you specifically asked for an x daughter reader, but I feel that this is a topic that happens to a lot of people so I decided that I would make it Gender Neutral since everyone could used a little Dadzawa every now and then. If you want me to make one specifically for a Dadzawa x Daughter Reader then I’ll do that.)

Father Aizawa x Suicidal Reader

If I was Happy

TRIGGER WARNING: The following contains mentions of suicide ideation, self harming thoughts and feelings and other potentially triggering things. Please be advised and refrain from reading if this will trigger you.

You hadn’t always struggled with these kind of thoughts and feelings, or maybe you did. Maybe you had these thoughts before, but it had felt like so long, you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel this way.

You didn’t understand why you felt so horrible about yourself or when it started but you knew that originally, you didn’t think this way about yourself.

As these horrible thoughts ran rampant in your mind, thoughts of how you’re worthless, maybe you’re fat or you’re too skinny. Maybe you’re ugly or you have acne. Maybe your nose just doesn’t fit your face, or you have oily or greasy hair that you just can’t get rid of. Maybe you heard people who made fun of you and their words made you bully yourself worse than they did. Maybe you hated everything about yourself and you couldn’t take it anymore. Or maybe the state of the world was too depressing and you didn’t want to be a part of it. Whatever the case is, your world grew darker as you turned on yourself. You became your own worse critic. But still, you didn’t let anyone see the truth, especially your amazing dad.

And maybe that’s when you finally got the idea. The thought that maybe you should die.

You couldn’t remember when the last time was that you didn’t have these thoughts. It’s like a demon came inside of you and decided to poison you, making you hate yourself and everything that you were.

It hurts. It hurts to live like this. People can say things like, it’s selfish to kill yourself. Or killing yourself isn’t the solution. That you’re only hurting the ones that love you, but if those people really loved you, then wouldn’t they want your suffering to end? Why would the people that love you want you to suffer? Aren’t they the ones being selfish? You wouldn’t force an animal that’s in pain and has little to no quality of life to continue living just because you love them. Right? That’s inhumane. So why must you keep living if you don’t have any quality of life?

These were the kind of thoughts that plagued you late at night. You tried your hardest to live on and not let anyone know that you were suffering, especially your dad.

Your dad was amazing. He’s the best father you could ask for. Maybe he isn’t perfect, but you never once doubted his love for you. You knew that one of his best friends had died when he was in highschool. You know that it severely affected him. He might not be the most affectionate person in the world, but he doesn’t have to be. His eyes and smile say it all.

One night, you couldn’t take the thoughts anymore. You decided that you would write a letter and explain to your dad why you killed yourself and tell him is wasn’t his fault. You loved him so much, he’s always been there for you. But you know how stressful his life is and you just can’t fight off the part of you that believes you’re a burden to him. Your dad doesn’t need anymore stress especially from you. So you write a note and decided to do something special for him. You wrote, played and recorded a song for him.

(Play song above or play on YouTube)

Dear God, please, hear me out

I know it's been a couple years

Since I've reached out and said hello

I bet You're wondering

Why I keep

Obsessing on and stressing all the little things

When I should be

Living life and soaking up the memories

I know I've been selfish, I have

No excuse to give you, it's true

Hanging by a thread's how I live

I don't know why, but I feel more comfortable

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames, acting like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

As you played the song and sang, you didn’t know that your dad had come home. He knew that you had been learning to play instruments from Hizashi but he didn’t realize you were this good. He started to walk up the stairs and as he listened to the lyrics, his heart began to hurt, as he wondered why you sang this particular song, and with such emotion too.

Yeah, been this way so long

It feels like something's off when I'm not depressed

I got some issues that I won't address

I got some baggage I ain't opened yet

I got some demons I should put to rest

I got some traumas that I can't forget

I got some phone calls I been avoiding

Some family members I don't really connect with

Some things I said I wish I would of not let slip

Some hurtful words that never should of left my lips

Some bridges burned, I'm not ready to rebuild yet

Some insecurities I haven't dealt with, yes

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a lonely soul

And the last to admit I need a hand to hold

Losing hope, headed down a dangerous road

Strange, I know, but I feel most at home when I'm

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

Your dad listed outside your door as he took in the words and began to worry and hope that you were just going through an edgy phase but with his experience, and his gut, he knew that is wasn’t just a trivial thing.

Don't know what's around the bend

Don't know what my future is

But I can't keep on living in

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

If I was happy

If I was happy

As you put down the guitar and walked up to the recording device you spoke.

“Dad, I know that you’re probably upset… no… you’re definitely upset and I’m sorry for causing you this pain, but I just couldn’t keep living like this. The pain is never ending and I don’t think it ever will. You’ve been so great to me all these years and I love you so much… I … I’m sorry. I know it hurts and I don’t ever want you to blame yourself for what I chose to do. I’m sorry I hurt you and you don’t ever have to forgive me for taking my own life, I know I won’t forgive myself for the pain it’s causing you. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent this… I love you… and I always will…”

You couldn’t continue as your tears overflowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. As you fell to the floor with your face in your hands a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a strong chest. Through your crying you could hear the crying of another person, and through your tears you saw the familiar black shirt and white capture scarf that belonged to your dad.

As you cried you wrapped your arms around your dad and continued to cry into his shoulder. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as he held you tightly, afraid to let you go.

“I’m so sorry that you feel this way but please don’t do anything drastic, please. Baby I love you so much and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You mean everything to me and you’re the reason I come home every day. You’re my world and my everything. So please… please… don’t kill yourself or hurt yourself anymore. I don’t think my heart could take it”

Aizawa cried as he spoke softly into your hair as he held you. He remembered the day he first met you in the hospital. Your tiny newborn body was so small, your little hand could barely wrap itself around his pinky finger, but you held his hand for the first time. Your tiny little hand held onto his finger as tears spilled down his cheeks as he took in the sight of his newborn child. He feel in love at first sight as he held your tiny body. He vowed to protect you and be there for you no matter what.

And you opened your eyes and looked into his. You were his whole world. The only things that existed in the moment were Aizawa and his newborn child. To him, you’re everything, you’re what he fight to come home to, you’re his reason to live and survive even the most gruesome and brutal fights. He’ll never give up and he’ll always come home to you. After all, that’s the promise he made you when he first met you.

As you both pulled away and looked into each other’s teary eyes, you smiled and laughed.

“What’s so funny”

“You’ve got snot on your shoulder… I’m so sorry”

You apologized but couldn’t help but laugh at that for whatever reason. Your dad just smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you.

“You do realize I changed your diapers when you were a baby right? You puked on me, shit on me, there’s no body fluid that you haven’t already gotten on me” he smiled as you laughed even harder at the image of a younger him covered in baby vomit with a grossed out face.

As you both laughed and he told you stories of you as a baby, he remembered everything he loved about you.

“I love you sweetheart, I always will. Tomorrow, we are going to the hospital to get your mental health evaluated and whatever happens, I promise I’ll be there for you, okay”

“Okay”

You gave you dad one last hug before cleaning everything up and you decided to take a bath before bed.

Part 2:

[starrynightarchive]

luffy saved sanji, nami and the entire crew in a way. everyone knows this. everyone talks about this. but what people don't talk about enough is this: luffy saved zoro too.

now here's the thing right. zoro might not have had any ongoing struggles that were keeping him up at night. no one might've harmed him physically or mentally for a long time. the last wound of his that never closed up right is kuina and that happened a decade ago. in many ways, he's fine. he is. is he?

the thing about zoro is that before luffy, he has been running on spite. on anger and determination and sheer fucking will. and i must say, spite is an excellent motivator. but it's also really fucking tiring. it's hard to make it stay because ultimately, you run out of fuel. your body was never made to house that much anger. fire burns bright, but it burns. and zoro has been burning for a long time.

this is how he keeps the fire going. this is how he stays spiteful, angry, hurt. he digs into the wound kuina left at nights he finds himself sagging under the weight of the responsibility he carries. he pushes his fingers into the flesh (you promised kuina) and twists (you told her you'll become the world's greatest swordsman) and he bleeds.

(you promised.)

enter: luffy.

I'm going to be the king of pirates, he had announced and zoro had felt a pang of longing because that was his dream. luffy wasn't carrying a life someone else couldn't live with him. he was not running on all things red and furious. he beams, bright and sunny and so incredibly real that zoro wants to avert his eyes and says, do you want to fight them with me or do you want to die here?

of course he joins his damn crew.

here's the thing right. luffy saved him not from his enemies, not from his own mind. he saves him like this: rubber arm wrapped around his waist and flinging him around. sheepish laughter that follows a shamelessly unapologetic sorry, zoro. he saves him like this: he lets him walk into the jaws of death when he challenges mihawk. he doesn't stop him. because he will never stand between him and his dream. because he is so certain he will get back up. because he is so certain of his strength, of his tenacity, of him.

the first thing zoro says after kuina defeats him for the last time is, kill me. because he has tried so hard and it still wasn't enough. it would be a honourable way to go- to die trying to achieve your dream. but after mihawk cuts him up, he doesn't say, kill me. he cries. he cries and he says, i will never lose again. is that okay with you, king of the pirates?

he makes an other vow, this time it's to a boy he barely knows. and he knows he will keep it, because he is waiting for him. he thought zoro would come back. and so he would.

luffy saved zoro by straightening the fingers that have been clenched into fists for a long time. he tells him he will achieve his dream. he tells him he's the best and he says it like it's just another fact, another truth of the universe. luffy saves zoro by showing him that it's so much more fun to chase something because you love it, see?

now, wado doesn't feel like chains weighing him down. it just feels like the comfort of an old friend. now, he burns brighter than ever but not with spite. his fire is warm, now, just like his captain. he has his nakama to protect. he has a love that waits for him outside of this dream that seems larger than life.

luffy saves zoro by holding his hand and dragging him out to the sea with that wild laugh of his, saying, look! isn't this so much better?

and it is. it is.

[writeyouin]

I love your writing so much! Honestly you need more credit. Could I get a request for a medic femme that died while saving another bot on a mission and their s/o (Rodimus, Rung or Whirl) had/is having a funeral service? Thank you so much and I hope you have an awesome day 💕💕

MTMTE / LL Bot X Reader Drabbles – Funeral

A/N – Hey, this was a long time coming, so I hope you’ve had many good days in the time you have waited for this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

RUNG

Rung thought he knew what heartbreak was.

He has been around for a long, long Yet, he never felt old until now.

He has seen friends come and go. The deaths of so many people he knew, but he wasn’t close to any of them, or rather, not as close as he could have been.

He never lost an Amica Endurae, or worse… a Conjunx, until now.

So many of his therapy sessions revolved around him comforting other bots through the worst losses imaginable. He has seen this before, known what it looks like, and felt the related compassion, but to go through it himself? Nothing can compare to this feeling of emptiness.

You were a medic. You followed the rules. You really believed it when you said: “Do no harm.”

Rung had seen you do commendable things. You even had to be dragged from a DJD bot once because you refused to distinguish between any bot that needed medical care.

It was Ratchet who had dragged you away, knowing that you were wrong and that the bot wouldn’t be thankful for your help; he would have killed everyone around him as soon as you brought him back online.

You had cried for weeks after that, letting Rung comfort you over the loss of a prospective patient.

For you to die when you weren’t even fighting- For another bot to murder you while you were trying to resuscitate a fallen friend- It was unspeakable.

Rung removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, overcome by grief and tears.

He vented a few puffs of air through his systems and tried to compose himself, surprised when he felt a servo resting gently on his back.

He looked up to Drift, who nodded grimly at him, eyes alight with understanding.

Rung nodded back, replaced his glasses and stood up.

He would cry as soon as this was over, but first, he had to give a eulogy in your name as was his duty. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

RODIMUS

“You know kid, it’s okay to- Hell, to anything! Scream, cry, break something. Please!” Hound begs. He wishes that he wasn’t the one who had to tell Rodimus but he was there when you… When Rodimus’ Conjunx Endurae died.

Upon hearing it, Rodimus didn’t say anything. He sat down against the wall and looked to the floor. It’s like he hasn’t heard a word that Hound said, but Hound knows he did. Whether he’s processing it is another matter.

“Rodimus, I-”

“How did it happen?” Rodimus asks quietly, clutching at his knees hard enough to make dents.

Hound likes telling stories. He likes to tell bots what it’s like on Earth, about the best places he’s visited, hell, he even enjoys regaling the crew with his best fights, but this? The story of your death? He doesn’t want to recount it. It’s too painful for Rodimus to hear.

Instead, he shakes his head, “I don’t think-”

Rodimus shoots up, enraged and shouting, “HOW DID IT HAPPEN?! TELL ME. HOW DID-” His voice breaks as the coolant starts pouring from his optics, “How did (Y/N)- Why did it have to be (Y/N)? Why? WHY?”

Rodimus is being irrational. They both know it, but Rodimus is hurting too much to be reasonable, and Hound isn’t going to argue.

Hound hugs Rodimus, feeling awful for the young bot. He doesn’t exactly answer the full truth of what the DJD did to you for getting in the way of their mission, albeit accidentally since you didn’t know who the bot you were treating was, let alone that he was on the DJD’s list. Yet, without answering the full question, Hound gives a half-truth. “I couldn’t provide enough cover fire.”

That much was true, but Hound wasn’t the only bot with you. It had been Drift to call a tactical retreat, and by the time everyone had looked back, you weren’t with them. You had stayed with your patient, till the very end.

They went back for you, of course they did, but they needed backup and their communications with the Lost Light had gone down over a cycle prior.

When they found your body… Hound felt sick at the memory. Sufficed to say, there wasn’t much left to find.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hound says, and he repeats the words over and over as Rodimus clings to him. Rodimus is also stuck on his mantra. “It should have been me. (Y/N) was too good. It should have been me.”

By the time your funeral rolls around, Rodimus is a disgrace. He doesn’t attend the funeral. He hates such events. Instead, he sits alone in his room, crying. Some people come by to try and coax him out, but he ignores them all.

He can’t bear to be around anyone.

Now, after the funeral, he hates himself. All he keeps thinking is that he should have gone. He should have been there, and now it’s too late.

WHIRL

When Whirl is told about your death, there are bots on standby, waiting for the inevitable rampage.

Sure enough, it happens but at first, they leave him to it, seeing as Whirl is only destroying the furniture and given the circumstances, that’s reasonable.

Then, Whirl devolves into a shoot-the-messenger mindset, running at Rodimus with a knife he’d concealed in one of his subspaces.

Rodimus does little to defend himself. Frankly, he’s also in shock by your loss, and losing any crew member, especially one as sweet and kind as you takes a heavy toll on him.

But, that’s what the other crewmembers were for, and even though Rodimus never called for backup, they ran to defend him.

It takes Whirl a very long time to calm down, and he only does so because there’s nothing to destroy in the brig.

Whirl feels like shit. On the last day that he saw you alive, the two of you had been in an argument which he had started.

And even though he had been a complete aft, you still put your arm on his shoulder-plate to try and apologise, even though the argument hadn’t been your fault. Then Whirl shrugged you off and told you to join the slag heap.

He’d felt you sigh at that, but you somehow managed to put up with it. You told him you loved him, and to take care of himself, and- and that you’d be back soon.

Whirl can’t apologise for the things he said. Worse, he hadn’t even meant them.

The only reason he’d picked that stupid fight with you was because he was terrified of losing you.

That morning, you had brought up the subject of performing the Conjunx rites with him, and Whirl had this feeling of dread. Dread that you would be trapped with him, and by extension that he wasn’t good enough for you.

So, Whirl did what he always did. He fucked everything up and tried to push you away, even though he always wanted to be with him.

Then you had gone to work and- ARGH! Whirl didn’t want to think about how you died. You were gone and there was no bringing you back!

Still, that’s all Whirl can think about. He spends the next few cycles alone, stuck replaying the stupid argument in his head and wishing he was dead.

When Ultra Magnus has security cautiously let Whirl out, Whirl doesn’t bother to fight.

There’s no point.

Besides, he won’t do anything to jeopardise attending your funeral. It’s all he can do to make it up to you.

So, when the day of the funeral arrives, Whirl makes a speech, and for once, everybody listens to him. No hatred or derision, only sorrow.

Whirl speaks about your character, strength, and how in a perfect world, this wouldn’t have happened. He lists your greatest medical achievements, brings up your proudest moments, and shares some of his private memories of you.

Ultimately, Whirl gives the perfect eulogy. He had to. He owed you that much. It’s the only way he can think to apologise to you.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO LET ANYONE CARE ABOUT THEM *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i don't need your help.

i can handle myself.

everyone leaves.

you can't do this alone.

whatever they did to you back then... i'm sorry. but i'm not like that, and i won't abandon you like they did.

you've got bigger things to deal with.

i've been alone all my life. it's nothing new.

don't come over. i can handle it.

please let me care about you.

would you just stop?

i'm used to this.

i tried to help you.

whatever they said about you, they were wrong.

i'm not worth dying for.

suit yourself. you'll regret it tomorrow.

i'm not putting anyone else's life in harm's way.

people care about you. people want to keep you safe.

i don't want you to get hurt over me.

if you die, it'll be my fault.

i love you. you're worth fighting for.

i'm not gonna just sit here and let you do this by yourself.

i'm not worth it, okay?

i don't want you to die.

leave me alone.

this is nothing new.

thanks but no thanks. i don't need your help.

i can't lose you again!

don't make yourself an island.

don't you understand? i can't lose you!

you're not patching this up alone. let me help.

i'm not used to this. being cared about.

you'll just suffer because of me.

i'm not like the rest. i won't leave you.

everyone leaves. maybe it's better that way.

i can handle it just fine, thanks.

i don't need your advice.

stop pushing me away. it won't work.

this is all i've got left.

i'll get over it!

it's better if i just go alone.

let me protect you.

i'll just keep coming back, you know.

it's easier to make people hate me.

if something happens to you, i'll never forgive myself.

i've already lost so many people.

i can patch this up myself.

you've obviously got more important things to deal with.

everyone i love ends up leaving me one way or another.

what if something happens?

this wasn't supposed to go this way.

stop risking your life for me.

i work better alone.

it's safer to just stay away from me.

eventually you'll see i'm not worth it.

every single time i let someone in, they end up disappointing me.

trust me. i know this for a fact.

just leave me be. i'll figure this out myself.

you should go.

you're all i have left.

people around me are always getting hurt.

it's better if you just leave me here.

i can't trust anyone. not anymore.

why do you keep fighting for me?

you have no idea what this is like.

i know you think i'll leave, but i won't. not now. not ever.

you matter to me. i'll say it a thousand times until you understand.

please just let me take care of you.

i work alone.

that won't work on me.

no one's ever really loved me before.

you need help.

so that's it? you're just gonna push me away again?

what's it gonna take for you to realize i want to be here for you?

i don't want to see you hurt.

you can't just push away everyone who loves you.

you'll never be able to beat this alone.

you expect me to just sit here?

i love you, goddamn it!

you want to be alone? fine. be alone.

i'm not strong enough.

i really thought i could help you. turns out i was wrong.

i wish you would listen to me.

i came all this way to help you, and this is the thanks i get?

you are worthy of love, you know.

how many times do i have to tell you? i'm fine!

stop pushing people away.

it's easier to just make you hate me.

i don't hate you. i could never hate you.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Nanami losing it completely when (y/n) gets severely injured at Shibuya

Shibuya Arc scenarios that live in my head rent-free pt.lll

Part l with Gojo and Geto here Part ll with Toji here

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: After receiving a message with your location, Nanami rushes to your side, showing no mercy with the man who laid his hands on you.

Warnings: I literally shed a tear while writing this so be prepared, sooo much hurt, comfort at the end, you wanted this and I wanted it too this is one of my favorite fics I have ever written

His gaze is empty as he stares down at the bloody shell of his friend. Severely injured by multiple blade slashes, completely covered in his own blood, his life hanging on a thin thread.

“You have some nerves…”, he mutters.

Nanami clenches his hands into fists. Whoever did this will pay for it with his own life, he will make sure of that. But right now he has to get his friend out of here, provide him with better medical treatment, check on the other assistants, make sure that they are alright, eliminate whatever is responsible for Ijichi’s condition. What if that thing hurt the others too? Fuck, how the hell did all of this happen? And where the hell are you?

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

His heart sinks when reality starts to hit him.

You.

You were also stationed here. After all, you aren’t a jujutsu sorcerer but a skilled combat fighter with impressive powers. You were right here, right here with Ijichi.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His strong arms lift Ijichi’s numb body up with ease, thoughts racing. If something happened to you, if these fuckers harm a single hair on you…

He runs as fast as he can, fueled by nothing but thick fear and all the emotions that wash over him like a wave. He might lose it all. His friend, everyone else, you. The love of his life, the only woman who truly fascinates him, his best friend. And he hasn’t even told you all that. No, Nanami never shared his feelings with you, not when his fear of losing you is so great. But right now, with the death of his friend in front of his blank eyes, it dawns on him.

After this night, he might lose you forever.  

“Please be alright, I’m coming for you (y/n).”

-(y/n)'s POV-

Your whole body burns like a thousand fires, blood soaking your black suit. Everything aches, you feel like fainting, your sword lifelessly lays on the crimson floor. Is this really how your life comes to an end? Through the hands of someone like him?

“You fucker”, you spit out along with some blood, fists still ready to hit him again.

“Huh, why so rude? I’m just playing a little”, he replies sweetly before beating you in your guts again, his blade narrowly missing you.

It can’t go on like this, you can’t take any other hit. Your puny figure lands on the floor harshly, body desperately screaming at you with every fiber.

But you can’t stop now. After all, Nitta and all the other assistants are relying on you. Right now, you have to be your own hero.

“Standing up again? I’m starting to get bored to be honest. Why can’t you just die already?”

One moment of inattention. One second of giving in to your pain is enough for him to stab his blade through your shoulder, slicing your flesh open with ease. You see stars, the overwhelming pain that starts to radiate through your entire body simply takes your breath away. All you can do is stare at him with wide eyes while a silent scream escapes your lips.

You’ve had so much planned. Damn, you wanted to finally confess your feelings to him. Nanami Kento, the man you admire more than anyone else on this planet, the man that showed you there’s still class, who gets on his knees when talking to you, who makes sure you feel save whenever he’s around. God, how much you love him.

Your face hardens in determination. No, you can’t die without at least telling him once about your true feelings towards him.

With a swift motion you steady yourself again before kicking him with so much force that he crushes into the wall backwards, laughing hysterically.

“Finally you show me what you’ve got!”, he screams out in please while you pant hard.

It’s obvious that you don’t have much left, hanging on a thin string. The amount of blood you’ve lost due to your countless wounds is critical, you don’t need Shoko to know that. If help doesn’t arrive soon, you’ll die right here.

You could call him. Nanami’s number is just one swipe of your finger away. You could call him and tell him where you are, that you’re in big trouble and that you need him just like he told you.

“(y/n), if anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate and call me. I can’t afford to lose you. Promise me to look after yourself.”

He stared so intensely at you back then, his words made your heart skip a beat. But you can’t call him. After all, Nanami is on a much more important mission with countless life relying on his broad shoulders. It would be selfish to expect him to save you while so many people are dying.

“I’m sorry, Kento”, you mumble to yourself, voice nothing more but a fade away whisper.

No, don’t cry right now, don’t let the enemy see that you suffer. Nanami wouldn’t want you so feel this way. Stand your ground one last time, fight back as hard as you can.

One last distress signal. One last way to warn and protect the rest of the team.

“I’ve told everyone where you are, moron”, you shout at him, a maniac grin plastered on your face.

“Ow, how nice of you! Then I’ll hang your body up uhm…right there so they can see you when they come here!”, he remarks with sparkling eyes.

“I’d love to see you try”, you bark back.

-Nanami's POV-

“It’s (y/n)’s location”, Nitta huffs while Nanami bandages Ijichi up and Nobara is busy contacting help.

His heart stops for a second. This means you’re still alive and able to use your phone. But why would you send your location?

“She must have found something…”, Nanami ponders out loud.

“Do you think she needs help?”

Nitta’s voice echoes through his mind. To be honest, he doesn’t care about why you shared your location. All he wants to do right now is find and save you.

“You both stay here with Ijichi. I’ll go looking after (y/n).”

“Can I-“

“No”, Nanami immediately interrupts Nobara’s request.

“You stay here and wait for aid.”

And with that, he’s gone again, following your location blinking on his phone. Please be safe, please smile at him like you always do when you see him, eyes lighting up and making his heart melt. God, just be save.

His feet carry him to your location with ease but let him stop abruptly at the trail of blood in front of the building you are positioned in. Nanami feels like throwing up, the worst scenarios flooding his mind while he stares at the crimson colored floor. He should have accompanied you. No, he shouldn’t have allowed you to come to Shibuya in the first place.

With his head still spinning, he storms into the building and his world stops.

There you lay, in a puddle of your own blood, completely covered in bruises while a man raises his blade against you, just about to sink it into your precious body.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

That voice. That all too familiar voice that brings tears to your eyes. Is he really here? Did he get the notification? A single droplet rolls down your cheek while your hazy gaze meets his. He looks so different, absolutely threatening.

Nanami rolls up his sleeves and walks towards both of you. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, his aura almost suffocates you. It is clear that he’s absolutely furious.

“I’ll tell you one last time. Back off.”

“Or what?”, the man above you challenges.

“Or I’ll make you regret that you were born.”

His voice makes your blood freeze. As if in slow motion, Nanami loosens his tie and wraps it around his hand.

“Huh, you’re not wearing a black suit, but I guess I’m still allowed to ki-“

He isn’t able to finish his sentence. Nanami’s fist rushes forward in god-like speed, slamming the man off you, through the window, into the next building.

“I’ll be right back. Hold on, sweetheart”, he mutters.

With one last glance at you, he steps out into the cold night, only inches away from losing his temper completely. Who does this man think he is to lay is hands on you and his friends? This is unacceptable, this is unforgivable. Nanami will make him pay for every minor wound conflicted on your striking body, he will make him regret his whole life before ending it.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

It isn’t enough to only kill him. No, every single one of these fuckers will pay for what they did today. For killing countless assistants, for almost ending the life of his friend.

But most importantly, for hurting the love of his life.

“I don’t know!”, the man hollers at him, trying to slice him open unsuccessfully.

Nanami stares at him with dead calm eyes while he tries to hit him another time, his patience slowly starting to fail him.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?!”

His hands are clenches into tight fists. One more word. One more word of nonsense coming out of his mouth and he’ll kill him.

“I don’t k-“

Enough. One punch is enough to send that fucker through the next window.

You can’t help but admire the way Nanami walks up to him, his forearms flexed in a way you have never seen before while his broad shoulders seem to crush you with his confidence. He looks absolutely threatening, like a menace.

The blond-haired man tries to escape, but in the matter of seconds, Nanami grabs his ponytail and lifts him up.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

You hold your breath, eyes wide open by the sound of his voice. This isn’t the Nanami Kento you know, the tender man with cool temper that never loses it. But oh, at the moment you feel like he’s possessed with the way his muscles flex underneath his shirt, the look on his face so furious that you have to swallow.

“I told you, I don’t kn-“

Another hit and the blonde lands on the ground, a dumb smile plastered on his face. You know that look all too well, he has planned something…Where is his blade?

There it is, on its way to slash Nanami open. You don’t hesitate. Despite the way your shoulder screams at you and begs you to stop, you grab your sword and throw it, deflecting his blade deftly just before it reaches Nanami while crying out in pain.

“You little bitch, stay out!”, he screams at you.

Nanami snaps. He grabs his throat roughly, chocking him without any mercy.

“You have some nerves, calling her a bitch when I’m standing in front of you. How dare you to even talk to her, to lay your hands on her body? On my way here, I found several of our assistant supervisors dead. That was you, wasn’t it? And now you dare to raise your voice against my girl?”

“I-I’m sorry”, the blonde stutters.

It happens faster than your tired eyes can follow. One last blow of Nanami’s fist sends the man out of the building, out of sight. This killed him without any doubt. Your eyes begin to water uncontrollably when a wave of relief washes over you. Despite all the blood you’ve lost, you’re alive. Nanami is here, he saved you.

“Don’t stand up, (y/n). You’re losing a severe amount of blood”, Nanami’s calm voice instructs before he kneels down in front of you.

“Kento”, you whisper his name like a prayer, tears rolling down your cheeks as the pain becomes unbearable.

“I know, sweetheart. You did really well, I’m so proud of you. Without your selfless efforts, he would probably have claimed even more victims. I still don’t call it good that you didn’t inform me about this situation.”

His hand caresses your bruised cheek gently, making you lose it completely.

“I didn’t want other people to get killed because you were busy with me”, you cough out.

“(y/n), no matter how critical the situation is, I will always look after you. You are the greatest treasure of my life and I…”

“I love you!”, you cry out, pressing your head against his head.

All these countless nights of dreaming about him holding you, all the stolen glances, the pondering. You just can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the blood loss or the immense pain that seems to speak out of you, but you’ve had enough. Fuck getting rejected or losing him because of your dumb feelings, you need him to know.

“I love you too, sweetheart. When I saw you laying here in your own blood I felt like dying myself.”

All you can do is stare at him through glossy eyes. Did this words really just leave his mouth? Of all the possible answers you imagined for this moment, “I love you too”, definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Let’s talk about this later, shall we? I need to get you out of here, you need medical attention”, he continues.

“I will pick you up now, okay?”

His hands glide under your knees and back, lifting your aching body up with ease and pressing your frame against his chest.

You groan out, hand cramping around his shirt.

“Thank you for saving me. And for loving me.”

His heart skips a beat, the lovely look on your distressed face almost making him forget how to breathe. How is it possible that a perfect human being like you loves someone like him? His arms wrap themselves tighter around your body.

“Don’t thank me for that, sweetheart.”

He will never let you go again. Not at Shibuya, not anywhere else.

[scar-lie]

Omega Pt. 10 (Natasha}

Summary : Discovery why Omegas died after breaking the bond

Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega ! Reader

Warning : nothing I guess

Word count : 1,024

{OMEGA PT. 9} {OMEGA PT. 10} {OMEGA PT. 11}

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"So, it seems everything is perfectly fine; all the test results come back normal, but her body is probably adjusting to the medications that we're giving her, which explains why she's still weak and having shortness of breath, but overall, everything is fine,” Cho said, making the team sigh in relief.

While everyone is relieved, you're fighting for consciousness. You're asleep, but you could hear their muffled voice, and you can't move your limbs. All that makes you cry, prying that no one will hurt you.

“Wait, Y/N’s crying? ”Pepper frowns seeing your single tear run down following a few tears, making everybody look at you.

“Is she awake? ”Natasha asked, worried that you're feeling helpless and all you could do is cry.

“It's probably the sedative; it's wearing off.” Cho, look around, seeing everybody surrounding you.

“I think it's best if we could give her more space when she wakes up; we don't want to overwhelm her.” Everyone agreed. Some sat on the couch, some needed to leave because they got a call for an emergency mission, and some stayed standing, not far but not too close.

And since one of your pups keeps crying, Pepper takes him in her arms, lulling him to sleep while singing a lullaby while the other one is peacefully sleeping.

You groan and slowly gain your strength until you open your eyes, looking around, getting scared, and feeling helpless by the number of them around you—6 to be exact—but you're no match for them all. Your eyes went wide, and your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach when you saw Pepper holding on to your pups.

"No, please... do-don’t take him,” you plead, sitting down on the bed. The distress quickly overwhelms Wanda, so she cautiously approaches you, showing you her hands.

“Hey, hey, no one's taking them from you, Y/N/N, I swear we're your family; we will never do such a thing,” Wanda softly said, but your eyes never leave your pup.

“My pups,” you whisper, so Pepper walks towards you with a small smile, followed by Yelena, who took your other son to show you, and then the nurse carefully rolls the incubator next to you, making you tear up.

“He's such an angel, a crying baby, but he's cute,” Pepper whispered, handing you the pups, and then Yelena sat beside you.

“And he's a good one, always sleeping, and such a bubbly baby boy, just like that munchkin,” Yelena shows you, making you tear up while admiring them.

“And here's she; she has some complications, but overall, she's fine; she just needs to be monitored.” Yelena points to the side, making you look at your daughter.

You gulp, afraid to see your daughter in such a condition, but you scooch over the edge of the bed, winching in pain.

“Careful, you're not fully healed,” Cho warned you, but you didn't budget. Sure, you're lowering your walls, but you keep your guard up in case one of them surges forward and harms you and your pups.

Sure, you still haven't gotten your strength back; you can barely move around, but that doesn't mean you will not fight them; you would rather die fighting than let things happen.

The interaction melted the teams hearts but not Natasha; it broke her heart just by the thought of you getting worried that everyone would hurt you or the pups, making her think that something is not right.

So she shook her head, biting her lips and getting some fresh air, going to the rooftop to clear her mind and a little quiet place to think, plus the fresh air lightly blowing through her face makes herself calm, relaxing her muscles while looking at the beautiful view of the city that slowly succumbs to the night fall, making the lights of everything in the window glow, adding to the beauty.

On the other side, everyone is afraid and gets panicked when your breathing is getting slower and slower, your monitor shows that your body is in distress, and the beeping sounds are slowly dying.

“Get everyone; you can get here ASAP,” Cho shouted to the nurse, who ran out to seek some help; she didn't know what's going on, checking every single sign of what could be the cause of bradycardia.

In every second, you can feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and your body feels like you're carrying a boulder until you lose consciousness while looking at your precious pups.

Someone had to bag you; your shallow breath makes everybody worried, even Cho, who gave you some shots of medicine, and when Natasha came back, everybody’s eyes were on her.

“It's Y/N,” Pepper stated, and Natasha quickly looked at you, but something changed again, and this makes Cho wonder when suddenly your heart rate is slowly getting back to normal.

“Oh my god...” Cho whispered, standing on the chair, pen and paper on the table in front of her.

“What? ”Yelena asked anxiously

“Stop bagging her and Natasha; can you come closer to Y/N? ”Natasha had a frown on her face but obeyed. Your heart rate went up, but still not enough to meet the normal vitals.

“And can you leave the room for a few seconds, please? ”Natasha stopped on her track and saw that Cho had something in her mind that needed to be confirmed, so she left and ayaw your room a few feet.

“And in the room again,” and that's when Cho figures it out, so she quickly writes something in her notebook, making the team wonder what she discovers.

“I get now; that's why Omega has been dying all these years,” she whispered, smiling to herself at the new discovery.

“Well? What is it? ”Tony asked, walking forward and anxiously waiting to see if the formula that they’ve been working on is working.

“It's all about the scent or the presence...”

[knavesflames]

“Promise”

Just a little thing about Clervie and Arlecchino that lowkey apart my heart thinking about it. Again, very sorry if this is not good!! Am new to writing things down other than in my notes sooo bear with me as I get better pls 😩

Contents: angst, the tiniest mention of self harm. It isn’t graphic, it is mentioned in passing only once, and very vaguely, but thought I’d put a TW anyway🥰

Word count: 2453

Writing under the cut!!:D

At age 9,

Peruere sits in the garden, holding the small box. The lid is open as she places a small lumidouce bell next to the spider. The lumidouce bell will die and wilt underground, but at least the spider won’t be lonely, she thinks.

“Peruere!”

The loud childish voices rings out in the garden once again. A sigh leaves Peruere’s lips. She isn’t in the mood to talk to the person she secretly calls sunshine. Looking down at the splayed out body of her pet spider, her lip quivers. Once, twice, before a tear falls onto the wood of the makeshift coffin. The dread rising in her as she sees her hands changing doesn’t go unnoticed, but she pushes it down. ‘What is that? Why am I changing?’

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sunshine once again, the voice now muffled with chewing.

“I brought cake. Want some?”

Peruere’s now charcoal hands take the cake, pausing as the sunshine (or Clervie, but Peruere prefers sunshine) takes it from her hands and places it on a leaf in front of the small grave.

“You must know spiders don’t eat cake.”

“Yeah, I know! They can’t eat cake here, but in spider world they can.”

Her voice is almost irritating to Peruere, who is only trying to be angsty and sad. But how can she be sad when the sunshine is right there?

“Clervie, I want to sit in silence.”

Clervie can’t help her eyebrows furrowing before she sits down with a small thud.

“I’ll sit with you, then.”

Peruere sighs as her eyes, eyes that are unlike any others in the house of the hearth, glance towards the sunshine. She doesn’t persist. Secretly, she’s glad for the company. Clervie smiles back as she plays with the small patch of lumidouce bells.

“I don’t care that you’re different. I think you’re cool.”

Her eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing before she responds.

“Why? I’m completely different from you.”

“I like that. Even our teddies are different. I think everyone being the same is boring. They won’t be the king because they are all the same. You will be king one day, Peruere. Can I sit with you when you are?”

Peruere feels just a small amount of dread at those words. The words that remind her that one day, she indeed, will have to do what Mother says and fight to be king. Something is off about Mother, she thinks. She is too kind, too caring. She doesn’t like it. Not just because she doesn’t deserve it (that’s what she tells herself in the mirror before she sleeps), but because Clervie, the sunshine, is falling for it. In that moment, she makes a silent vow to protect the sunshine always, even if it is cloudy.

“We can be king together.”

“Do you promise? I don’t want to be left behind.”

“I promise.”

At age 11,

Peruere and Clervie, the sunshine and the moon, sit in a deserted part of the house of the hearth. Their favourite part is the room with the wide window, where they sit and stare at the sky, talking about their dreams. Or rather, Clervie talks, Peruere listens. Though this time, the roles seem to be reversed. Next to them, a tray of medical instruments. Scissors, bandages, gauze, disinfectant. Peruere sits, her blackened, gentle but clumsy hands tying a bow on one of the bandages. The look on Clervie, I mean, the sunshine’s, face was much brighter than ten minutes ago. This is the first of many times, unbeknownst to them. Peruere speaks softly.

“What happened? Your wrists looked like they got hurt.”

“Nothing, Peruere.”

Alarm bells ring in Peruere’s head. Clervie was never this closed off, not with her.

“Did you do this to yourself? Like Céline? She got upset at herself so she hurt herself. I don’t like that, tell me you didn’t do that. It’s dangerous, Clervie.”

Her eyes, shining black, filled with worry. Her hand grabs the sunshine’s, giving it a little squeeze, encouraging her to talk.

“No, that isn’t it. I argued. With Mother. I don’t want to fight everyone to be king. I want to be friends with everyone, I want to eat bulle fruit with everyone. Why do we have to fight?”

“I do not like it either. I want to run away sometimes. Do Mothers always argue with their daughters?”

“I don’t know.”

Clervie’s hands, still trembling from the adrenaline, push open the window. They stare at the stars for a while, before her voice rings out once more, soft, quiet, always optimistic.

“I heard that in Snezhnaya, coloured lights dance in the sky at night. When we grow up, shall we go see it together?”

Peruere wonders if they’ll ever go and see it, or if it’s just another empty promise. Just like how Mother promised her spider wouldn’t die, how the fish she caught wouldn’t be eaten.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

At age 13,

The sun shines. Both the actual sun, and Clervie, Peruere thinks. Her fingers are splayed out on the picnic blanket, the wet paint on her nails shining in the light when her fingers twitch. Painted black, like her skin on her arms, and red, the colour of the lipstick they stole from Mother a few weeks ago, the colour of Clervie’s hair. She makes a noise of satisfaction, secretly looking at Clervie through her fingers. It looks like she’s looking through prison bars, she thinks. But Clervie is the sun. If anyone should be in prison, it’s her, not Clervie. She doesn’t like the way she thinks about Mother, but Mother harms the sunshine. Her sunshine. Her eyes widen, just slightly as she realises that maybe feeling so warm and fuzzy inside whenever she sees Clervie isn’t exactly a usual way to think of people. She doesn’t feel that for anyone else. She stares a bit longer. How the red of Clervie’s hair reminds her of the burning sun. Of the fire in the lounge of the house of the hearth. Fire is good, she thinks. She could protect her sunshine with fire. In a split decision, she takes the red nail polish in one hand, a strand of her white hair in the other. Snow and blood. Blood on snow. Those colours seem to be awfully present in her life as of late, and her heart begins to twist as she thinks of what it means for her future. Before she can think any harder, Clervie’s giggle cuts through her thoughts.

“What are you doing, silly?”

Red paints on the snow coloured hair.

“I’m like you now. I have red hair. That way, we will stay friends forever.”

“I like you too much to leave you, silly. It looks good with your hair. The red. You should paint it every day, and that way, you can—“

Words are cut off by clumsy lips meeting clumsy lips. Only for a second, a second that feels forever. Peruere’s cheeks flush the colour of the painted strand as she mumbles apologetic words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I-“

“It’s okay. I liked it. I want to do it more. You should still keep the red strand. Promise you will?”

“Yes, I promise.”

At age 16,

Mother has been increasingly cruel, to both her and Clervie. Especially to Clervie. How could someone be so evil to someone so kind is something Peruere cannot fathom. She despises seeing Clervie cry, to hear her quiet sobs at night. Her eyes are always bright, always happy. If not for her own sake, for Peruere’s. But the sun has been hiding lately, hiding behind clouds and avoiding words. The red strand of Peruere’s hair, once painted every day with nail polish to match Clervie’s, now permanently dyed, retouched every eight weeks, hidden under most of her hair to avoid Mother’s wrath. And now? They stand in the field, Clervie, facing Peruere with resigned eyes.

“You know it’s the only way. Mother will kill us both if you are not king. Have you not noticed the children disappearing?”

“I have. It does not mean your life has to end. You cannot take your life—“

“No. That will not satisfy Mother, and you know that. You must do it.”

Hate, fear, dread and sadness twist Peruere’s gut so hard she feels as if she will throw up. She fight the urge to retch at the very suggestion that she dulls the sunshine she has grown to adore so.

“I cannot. I will not. You cannot ask me to do something like that.”

“You must.”

She hates that Clervie is right. She hates that Mother is so twisted and sick that this is the only choice. She begs anyway, something she told herself she would never do.

“Please. We were supposed to go to Snezhnaya together. To see the coloured lights in the sky. There is no ‘we’ without you.”

A chuckle is heard, the familiar chuckle that lights up Peruere’s heart, the chuckle that feels like it’ll reverse her curse entirely. She can’t deny the sadness she hears in it though, especially not when she sees a tear slip down Clervie’s face. The sight brings tears to her own eyes and she looks away, unable to stare at her any longer. The longer she stares, the harder it will be. She knows this, but her eyes move back to her anyway.

“You will look at the coloured lights, and you can trust I will be there in them.”

“No! This is not fair.”

“You know I’m right, Peruere.”

“And I hate that you are. You’re always damn right. Stop that.”

Another chuckle is heard behind tears.

“I plan to.”

“Don’t joke.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you have to do this.”

Peruere feels like her breath is being sucked out of her, like she can’t inhale enough and yet, exhaling is impossible. Her brain is telling her she has to. She has to give the sunshine a merciful end, lest Mother give her a far worse fate. But her heart is screaming. Tears drip down her face, her body wracked with silent cries. Her hand goes to the hilt of the dagger she always carries.

“But I love you. You are my sunshine.”

“I love you, too. And so I will always be here when the sun is shining. I am not afraid.”

“I am.”

Peruere is not one to be scared. She never has. But now, her hands are clammy, she feels a sweat gathering. She feels her heart thumping in a completely different way than when they share small kisses and giggles. She feels like she’s killing herself instead of her love. The dagger is unsheathed now, the blade glinting with every tremble of her hand. Oh, God, there it is again. That smile, the one that melts Peruere every time. Images flash in her mind of every time she bandages Clervie after an argument with Mother. Images of what could happen should Mother take Clervie’s life into her own hands, and before she can think twice, the dagger has pierced her skin. Clervie’s clothes are staining with blood as red as her hair.

“No. No, no— please. Clervie, you can’t. Why did you tell me to do this?”

Red ‘X’ irises stare into blue ones. A beautiful bluey green, one that Peruere has always admired. Has always adored looking into. Not now. Not while she watches the life drain from her eyes. Watching the sun burn.

“You will make a great king.”

“Stop that.”

Anger boils inside Peruere, anger like she has never felt before. She swears she will kill anyone who threatens to hurt the ones she cares about. She won’t let this happen again.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Clervie’s soft words fill her ears for the final time before her body drops to the floor with a thunk. Peruere stares down at her, anger filling her so greatly, she becomes blank. She decides she will never feel again. She will never love again. The sun was a star, but the sun has burned and died.

“Do you promise you will be with me in Snezhnaya? Promise?”

“..Clervie?”

She is met with only silence, and the sound of the lumidouce bells waving in the wind.

At age 28,

Arlecchino walks through the halls of the House of the Hearth, watching stoically as the children play, as they watch the two children perform their magic show. She calls out, her voice strict, unfeeling.

“Meet in the dining hall when you are finished. Dinner is served shortly.”

Met with a chorus of “Yes Father”, she nods, satisfied, before turning away. Her heels click against the tiled floor as she walks through the halls, her hair flowing in her ponytail behind her. She takes the long route, avoiding the west wing of bedrooms, something she has avoided for many years. Her footfalls come to a stop as the sun hits her as it shines through the window. She feels a tug at her heart, and she clenches her fists tightly before sighing, turning quickly on her heel. She walks with purpose, walking past the many bedrooms until she slows, coming to a stop in front of the bedroom door she has kept locked. The ring of keys in her pocket makes a sound as she pulls them out, and she listens to the way they jingle as she unlocks the door and slips inside. She blinks back heartache as she stares around at the room. It has been well preserved, it looks like it’s still very much lived in by a sixteen year old girl. She goes about, dusting the surfaces in silence, cleaning up any signs that it hasn’t been touched in such a long time. She opens the window, watering the lumidouce bells that sit on the windowsill outside. She stops by the bed, where two teddies sit— one pink with a white ribbon, one black and white with red ‘X’s for eyes. Her hand, now black with darker patterns all over from how far the curse has advanced, softly pets the pink one, swallowing down a shaky breath. Her nails, painted red and black, like they always have been, gives a gentle scratch under the chin.

“Good morning, Clervie. The children are doing well today.”

Her hand slides into her pocket, pulling out a small, gift wrapped box, placing it by the teddy.

“Happy birthday. I told you I would not forget. The sun is shining brightly, and the colours in the sky at night have been vivid lately. You would have found them beautiful, I am sure. I would have loved to look at you as you stared at them in wonder.”

The birthday gift joins another 11 on the bed, each one in different phases of aging. She stands again, smoothing down the bedsheets before placing a small kiss on the pink teddy.

“See you next year, Clervie. I promise.”

[lost-in-lamentation]

hii I love your writing!! I know this request is quite angsty and hard hitting but I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something for mammon where the reader never lets him see his pact mark on their body even though he keeps asking to. after a while it’s revealed that the reason for that is because the mark is on their hip and they actually have visible self harm scars on there. maybe with some comfort towards the end?? you can totally ignore this if you’re uncomfortable with it, no pressure at all! ♡

a/n: hi !!! so first of all, thank you so much for the kind words, and second, thank you for trusting me to write this!! i tried my best to do such a request well, and in the end, i hope i did it justice.

content: you don't allow mammon to see his pact mark on your body, and when he uncovers it, he quickly understands why.

mammon × gen!reader (you/your).

WARNINGS: implied self harm, scars along hips/waist area. reader has a breakdown at the end. DO NOT READ if you are uncomfortable with any of these topics!

hurt/comfort.

mammon hates it.

he hates the way you willingly flaunt your pact marks with his brothers. perhaps he wouldn't hate it so much, if it wasn't for the fact that you refuse to show him his. mammon's golden pattern, hidden away from prying eyes, including his own.

mammon can't bear it.

he can't bear the way you brush away his hands when he tries to feel for the mark himself, even though he sees how everyone else can have fingers trailing your body along their own patterns. your eyes glitter their signature colour when fingers ghost over their pacts, but he's never been granted that privilege.

and he hates it.

"c'mon MC, you've told everyone else where theirs are. what's so different with mine?" mammon whines at you from his spot on your bed, an elbow propped up on his crossed legs as he rests his chin in his hand.

you sigh loudly, exasperation clear as day. "it's on my body."

"i know that much!"

"then stop asking." your chair creaks as you turn your shoulders to face him, eyes slanted in annoyed demeanor. "have you ever thought about the fact that i don't want to show you?"

the words feel like a knife that's been thrown into his heart; a steady pain that resurfaces each time he breathes. "but you showed all my brothers theirs."

"yes, and i won't be showing you yours."

the knife moves down, completely slicing his heart open. his words die in his throat, mirroring the way he can no longer feel his heart beating. mammon's head slips away from his hand, hiding his face away from you. you realise then that mammon didn't deserve something so harsh, but before you can muster an apology, mammon is out the door, slamming it behind him as he leaves.

you hate it.

you hate the way mammon looks at you when you deny his request. perhaps if you actually showed him his golden seal, he wouldn't be so upset; but with it being so close to your scars, you can't risk mammon becoming more upset at the marks that are from you, and not him.

you can't bear it.

you can't bear to see him drift away from you, refusing to even spare you a glance when you call him from across the room. you know that it's your fault for pushing him away in the first place, but the thought that you loved him too much to let him go was one that you never had come to terms with until now.

and you hate it.

mammon's standoff with you lasts no longer than 3 days, and you are the first to break the ice. in the dead of night, he hears shuffling outside his door, followed by a set of muffled knocks. when you appear on the other side of the door, mammon debates closing it on you. but then he sees how your hands tighten in anxiety, playing with the hem of your jacket as you wait for his answer. mammon continues his silence, but unlike before, he opens his door for you, stepping to the side to make way for you to enter. he watches as you find your favourite spot on the couch, curling up in the corner between the cushions and the armrest. a sigh passes his lips, but he sits next to you anyways, handing you a blanket before tossing the tv remote into your lap. "here. pick a movie," he says quietly, his gaze following your movements as you pick up the remote.

"sure." the sound of your voice has mammon twitching. it's been days without you, and even though he can play it cool, he's never wanted to pull you close this badly. he stands firm against his sin, refusing to give in to his desires. at least, until the movie plays for some time.

his movements are cautious as he turns to face you. mammon tests the waters first, lifting a corner of the blanket that surrounds you. when you make no move to stop him, mammon inches closer, throwing the blanket around his own shoulders instead of placing it back down. the second born stops there, wary of the boundaries that had been built in the last few days. then he catches you shift your eyes from the screen to him, shoulders turning to face mammon as you whisper your approval.

mammon wastes no time, looping an arm around your waist as the other hooks onto your neck. he feels you sigh against him, and he wonders if it's relief or something else until your own arms wind around him in return. "i'm sorry, mammon."

at your touch, he can feel the pieces of his heart slowly mending back together. mammon holds tighter, his nose burying into your hair for a second before he pulls back to look at you. "...s'okay, human. i get it." and although brief, mammon notices how your eyes glow golden when his hand drops down from your waist onto your hips. he holds his tongue, throwing his signature smile at you as he pulls you down to lay next to him. luckily for him, you don't realise that he hovered over the mark, oblivious to the fact that he now knows where it is. although curious, mammon keeps quiet, coaxing your head towards the crook of his neck. "get some sleep for now. ya look tired," he whispers, scratching at the base of your chin as you let out a long yawn. humming contentedly, you tuck yourself into his chest, breaths evening out as you drift off to sleep.

when mammon confirms you've fallen asleep, he props himself up with an elbow carefully. he knows there's a risk of you waking up at what he plans to do, but he has to see it at least once. mammon moves lightly, the pads of his fingers unnoticed by you as they lift up the hem of your shirt. just barely visible are the edges of his pact mark, giving a low shimmer the closer mammon gets. ever so softly, mammon brushes over your skin, feeling the way the pattern heats up under his touch. he marvels at how it looks, how it feels; but then he sees another mark trailing up and through his own. he moves the waistband of your pajamas down ever so delicately, and he finally understands why you refuse to show him anything.

the scars are littered across your hips, dragging all the way up to your waist before fading. mammon can't help himself from tracing them, unease settling in his bones as tries to count them all. he considers not telling you about his discovery, but before he can pull his hand away, you jolt awake, shouting as you scramble away. "wh-what are you doing?!"

"nothing, i just-!" mammon stops in his tracks. you're trembling in front of him, arms wound tight around yourself as you cover yourself in his blankets. a part of him wants to run away from the topic, to pretend he saw nothing, but he knows you all too well. if he doesn't ask now, he won't get the chance again. mammon sits up straight, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. "that's why you wouldn't show me? cause you did all that to yourself?"

you keep your gaze lowered, refusing to look in mammon's direction. "... are you mad?"

mammon can feel his heart cracking again at your voice. "i'm not mad, MC. i'm..." he reaches a hand out, leaving it to hover in the empty space between the two of you. "i'm sad. you could've told me, i would've-"

"i didn't want you to hate me."

the sound of your crying fractures mammon's thoughts, and before he knows it, he's wrapping himself around you, chin resting atop your head as you grip onto his shoulders. "dumb human. how could i ever hate you?"

sobs break out of your chest, a weight that you had grown accustomed to living with slowly disappearing. you press further into mammon's hold, a desperate attempt to sear his warmth into you. a gentle hand on your back trails up and down your spine, grounding you as you struggle to find your breath again. guilt ravages through your veins, making you shudder and quiver against mammon's chest. around you, his arms tighten, and you can briefly hear the muffled whispers that come from him.

"i'm not mad. i'm here."

your body aches from being so tense, chest heaving when you turn your face up to look at mammon. another sob echoes from within you when he cradles your face softly, tears collecting in the palm of his hand.

"i'm right here. you're safe."

the thought itself has you unraveling at the seams. you had hidden your scars for so long, never even stopping to think about the possibility that mammon would accept them. and yet, here he is now, encasing you in his grasp, holding you as if he can he protect you from such thoughts. and for a fleeting moment, you think that it might be possible.

"i've got you. i'm not mad." mammon waits for your eyes to fall shut again, and when they do, his lips brush over your forehead. he shifts you in his lap, moving your head to rest against his chest. the steady pounding of his heart keeps you from spiraling as you feel his fingers tracing over your scars. "it's okay. i love you."

your tears continue to fall, but they no longer hold the weight they used to. mammon draws slow circles into your sides, lulling you to finally get some rest. you exhale in relief, pressing yourself further into his embrace. "i love you too," you whisper, blissfully unaware of the way mammon struggles to keep his composure.

adoration dances in mammon's sapphire eyes as he gazes down at you. he knows that there's a lot more that needs to be talked about, but for now, he's perfectly content with you sleeping in his arms. mammon places a delicate kiss to the crown of your head, a silent plea for you to love him like this for just more than one night.

a/n: this was supposed to be shorter but i took a long bus route today

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡