#I get some of the hate surrounding that character. I get it from the standing point of people who have actually genuinely experienced--

[redroomreflections]

Sorry For Your Loss

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: What if WLWD met TLH but even more tragic?

Note: I was fighting my sleep to write this. Enjoy and don't hate me lol

Warning: Super angst, mention of drunk driving, major character death.

ONLY READ IF YOU LIKE PAIN

Note: I’m too excited for my flight in a couple of hours. I was itching to write when this came into my head. 

The house feels suffocatingly quiet, an eerie stillness settling over every room. The absence of laughter and playful shouts from the children creates a palpable void that echoes in Natasha’s heart. It’s too quiet. The walls, usually vibrant with the sounds of life, now seem to absorb the sorrow that hangs in the air like a heavy fog. The television flickers in the background, casting an unnatural glow across the room, but no one is watching. It’s just noise—an attempt to fill the silence with anything, but it fails miserably. The news anchors drone on, their voices muted by the weight of grief that envelops them.

The clock ticks ominously in the background, reminding everyone that the funeral is only an hour away. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers and the faint smell of coffee that no one seems interested in drinking. The cars would be arriving soon. Six children and a host of in-laws—how would they all fit into the designated family car?

Chase, your older brother, paces restlessly near the door, glancing toward the driveway. “Where’s Natasha? We need to get going,” he mutters, frustration seeping into his voice. No one has a real answer. They can feel the tension thickening around them, a shared anxiety that clings to the group like a shroud. Melina rises from her seat and walks toward the master bedroom, her hand poised to knock when Natasha emerges from the house's shadows. Her face is fresh and unreadable, an expression honed by years of practice in concealing emotions. The light from the doorway casts a soft glow around her, but her eyes betray nothing—no hint of the storm roiling within.

“Is everyone ready?” she asks, her voice steady yet distant.

Melina pauses, taken aback by Natasha’s calm demeanor. “We’ve been waiting for you. The car will be here any minute,” She replies, her tone softening. Natasha nods and walks past her, her steps silent against the hardwood floor.

"Where are the boys and Paige?" Natasha takes a headcount of the children in front of her. There are several but a few of hers are missing. She spots Cara cuddled into her Nana's side.

"They're upstairs," Peyton announces lowly. "They're refusing to come down."

"What do you mean they're refusing?" Natasha's eyebrow quirks.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Tasha," Yelena pipes up from her spot on the couch.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her sister and turns on her heels, climbing the stairs with determination. She ignores the pictures lining the walls. She doesn't bother looking at your photos. It hurts too much. The house feels cavernous and hauntingly silent, the absence of laughter amplifying the thud of her heart as she approaches the children's rooms. She can feel the tension coiling in her chest.

At the top of the stairs, she glances down the hallway, her mind racing with thoughts of what you would say in moments like this—words of encouragement, perhaps a reminder that it was okay to feel vulnerable. But today, she is the rock, and she cannot falter.

“Boys! Paige!” she calls out, her voice firm yet gentle. “You need to come downstairs. It’s time.” She waits, hoping for some sign of movement, a response that might break through the cloud of grief surrounding them.

Silence.

“Please!” she adds, softer this time, her heart aching for them. She thinks of how you would have approached this, with warmth and understanding, coaxing them out with stories or gentle humor. But those tools feel out of reach for her right now. The air in Paige’s room is thick. Natasha stands at the doorway, taking in the sight before her: Luke, just three years old, is perched on the edge of the bed, his tiny legs swinging rhythmically as he absentmindedly fidgets with his loose tie. Beside him, James, eight and usually so full of energy, sits slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the floor, his tie hanging loosely in his lap.

Paige sits in the center, the picture of a little girl trying to be brave. She wears a sleek black dress that flares slightly at the waist, her hair intricately styled in braids adorned with delicate black clips. But it’s the hot pink sneakers on her feet that draw Natasha’s gaze, a stark contrast to the somber attire they all wear. They were the last pair you had bought for her, a small gift meant to brighten her day, and now they feel like a painful reminder of the joy that has been snuffed out.

Natasha's heart aches at the sight, a wave of grief crashing over her. She wants to break down and cry, to let the tears flow freely, but she holds herself together, knowing she must be strong for her children. The weight of their loss presses heavily on her chest, and she feels a knot tightening in her throat.

"Hey, what's going on?" She kneels before them.

“We are not going,” Luke answers first, his tiny voice filled with defiance, his brows furrowing as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“No. We are staying,” Paige declares with an earnestness that stabs at Natasha's heart, her small body taut with determination.

James pulls at the collar of his button-up shirt, a look of sheer discomfort painted on his face. “I’m not wearing this,” he complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Why not?” Natasha asks, her voice cracking just a bit, betraying the emotion she’s trying so hard to suppress. “You all look so beautiful.”

James shakes his head vigorously, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t want to look beautiful,” he replies, his frustration spilling over. “I want to stay here!”

“We don’t want to say goodbye to Mommy,” Paige supplies, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and painful.

“No, no, no,” Luke utters his agreement, kicking his feet against the bed, each thump echoing his dissent. “I want Mommy to come home!”

Natasha feels the tears pricking at her eyes as their innocent cries pierce through her heart. “I know, I know,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “But this is how we show her we love her. By saying goodbye.”

"But why?" Luke asks, tears streaming down his face as he becomes increasingly upset.

Natasha sighs, her heart breaking for her young son. "Because that's what happens when we love people. Sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Remember where I told you Mommy is?"

Luke sniffles. "With the angels."

"That's right, baby. She's in a place with lots of love. But we still have to say goodbye." Natasha strokes his cheek softly.

"Will she be okay?" Paige looks at Natasha with wide eyes, her chin quivering as she struggles to keep her composure.

Natasha smiles weakly, her eyes misty. "Of course, she will. And we will too. Because she'll always be with us, right here," she places her hand on her heart, a gesture that was so you, and one they were familiar with.

"I already lost two Mommies now," Paige says solemnly. "It makes me sad."

Natasha takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "I know, my love, but your mom will never be gone. She's always going to be right here with us." She taps her chest again. "If you really don't want to go I won't force you. I will, um, I will see if we can get one of the neighbors to come and stop in. Whatever makes you happy. Where's Charlie?"

"She's already downstairs," Paige says quietly, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I, um, gosh. I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say right now." She admits.

"But you always know what to say?" James tilts his head. "Are you sad too?"

Natasha swallows, fighting back tears that threaten to spill. “I am,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly. “I would like to say goodbye to your mommy because it brings me closure. It gives me peace.” The words feel heavy on her tongue, laden with the weight of the reality they all face.

James looks thoughtful, his small brows knitting together. “Will it help you feel better?” he asks, searching her face for answers.

“I hope so,” Natasha says gently, placing her hand on his leg. “It’s important for us to honor her and remember all the good times we shared. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s also okay to remember the happy moments.”

“Like when she taught me how to ride my bike?” Luke pipes up, his voice brightening just a bit. ���And we went so fast?”

“Exactly!” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with love for her children. “And all the times she read you stories before bed. Kissed your booboos. We can share those memories today.”

Paige perks up slightly at the mention of stories, a small flicker of interest sparking in her eyes. “She always made the best pancakes, too,” she adds, her voice softening.

Natasha nods, grateful for the direction of the conversation. “Yes! And how she would let you pick the toppings. Do you remember that one time she made a huge stack and put ice cream and strawberries on top?”

“Yeah!” Luke giggles, his laughter a small, bright note in the heavy atmosphere. “And then I spilled syrup all over my shirt!”

"Exactly," Natasha breathes. "She's the reason we have all these memories. It's not goodbye forever. I promise. And she will always watch over us. It will never be goodbye." She reassures. "Just a see you later."

Paige seems to think about it, her expression contemplative. She looks down at her pink sneakers and then back up at her mother, a question forming on her lips.

"Can we tell everyone a memory at the funeral?" she asks quietly, her voice wavering.

"Of course, you can," Natasha says. "Everyone will love to hear."

"Good. Because Mommy loved stories."

"She did."

"How about you go and find your sisters and I'll help your brothers finish getting dressed," Natasha suggests. "The car should be here soon."

"Okay, Mama," Paige slips off the bed and makes her way out the door.

Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly as she turns her attention to her sons. She does Luke first and he doesn't put up a fight. He's quiet the entire time. Her youngest is still processing the grief.

Natasha moves to James. "Hey, kid. Let's get you looking good for Mommy. Do you want your black shoes or not?"

"Can I wear the ones Mommy bought for me too?"

"Of course, baby."

"The spiderman ones?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go get them."

James runs off to the closet and Natasha turns her attention to Luke. "We're almost ready. How are you feeling?"

"Sad."

"I know."

“Mama, is Mommy sad?” Luke asks, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“What do you mean? Is she sad where she is?” Natasha asks, her voice gentle but steady, hoping to guide him through his thoughts.

He nods slowly. “She probably misses us so much. That’s what she always says when you go on vacation.”

Natasha feels a lump rise in her throat at his words, the reality of your absence cutting deep. “You’re right,” she replies, brushing a thumb over Luke’s cheek. “I know she misses you. She loved you so much, and I know she wishes she could be here right now.”

Luke looks down, the sadness etching deeper into his young features. “Will she come back?” he asks, his voice trembling.

Natasha swallows hard, knowing that this is one of those moments she wishes she could shield him from the harsh truth. “No, sweetheart. She won’t come back. But she’ll always be with us in our hearts, in our memories. And we can talk to her whenever we want. We just have to think of her and remember all the love she gave us.”

Luke furrows his brow, contemplating her words. “Like when I think about her making pancakes?”

“Exactly,” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with pride for her son’s understanding. “You can always remember those moments. They’re special.”

Just then, James returns, a pair of Spiderman shoes in hand. “Can I wear these?” he asks, excitement creeping back into his voice despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Of course, baby,” Natasha smiles, relieved to see a spark of joy return to his eyes. “Let’s get you looking sharp for Mommy.”

As she helps James with his shoes, Natasha reflects on the gravity of the day ahead.

"Mama, why do there have to be drunk drivers?"

"I don't know, buddy. I really don't." Natasha attempts to focus on getting his feet in his shoes.

"That's what killed Mommy."

"Yeah. It is."

"I don't understand."

"There's a lot in this world we will never understand."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, life is cruel. And unfair." Natasha begins. "Sometimes people make bad choices that they have to live with."

"What if they can't live with it?"

"Then they can't change it. No time machine can turn back the clock. All we can do is remember your Mommy for the kind, loving, warm, funny, and brilliant woman she was." Natasha says.

"And how much she loved us."

"Yeah. She really did. And she was proud of all of us."

"Did we make her happy?"

"Very," Natasha nods. "Now, are we all ready?"

"Yes," James takes a deep breath just like you practiced.

"Good," Natasha exhales. "Let's go then. We can't miss Mommy's funeral."

Luke is the first to grab her hand. He squeezes her fingers tightly, the small gesture conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. James joins in, holding onto her other hand as they descend the stairs together.

"I did Charlie's hair," Cara offers as they meet at the bottom of the stairs. "She was a little upset about it but I did it."

"Thank you," Natasha murmurs, squeezing her daughter's shoulder.

The doorbell rings, breaking the fragile calm.

"It's here," Melina announces, her voice thick with emotion. "Time to say goodbye."

As they gather by the front door, a heavy silence settles over the family, the enormity of the moment weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Natasha feels her heart racing, the tension coiling in her chest like a spring, ready to snap. She feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness settles in her chest. The warmth of Luke and James's small hands in hers provides some comfort, but it feels inadequate against the crushing weight of grief. Even with her family surrounding her, she feels more alone than she ever did when she was a spy or on the run, moments that, in hindsight, felt almost thrilling compared to this void.

The door swings open, and they step outside into the cool air. The family car awaits. Melina moves to help the younger ones, but Natasha remains still for a moment, staring into the distance as a rush of memories floods her mind—laughing with you in the kitchen, planning birthday parties, marking anniversaries that now feel like distant dreams.

Her heart aches at the thought of the anniversary circled in big red on the kitchen calendar, a day they had planned to celebrate together. Now, it serves as a painful reminder of the life that was supposed to be, a future now out of reach. The promise she made to you—to keep your family together—echoes in her mind, a vow she knows she must honor despite the challenges ahead.

“I can’t do this alone,” Natasha whispers to herself, though the words feel heavy and hollow. She hasn’t slept in her own bed since you passed; the sheets still smell like you, and the thought of facing that emptiness alone is unbearable. Her appetite has vanished, save for the muffin Cara brought her this morning—an attempt to nourish herself that felt almost futile.

“Are you okay, Mama?” Luke asks, his innocent concern snapping her back to the present.

Natasha forces a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just thinking about how much your Mommy loved all of you.”

James looks up at her, his face serious. “We can make her proud today, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha responds, her heart swelling for what felt like the millionth time today. “We will make her proud.”

As they approach the car, Natasha feels the weight of her family behind her, their collective grief palpable but also a source of strength. She knows she has to find a way to keep moving forward, not just for herself but for all six of the children depending on her.

mentioning that this is completely au and purely au and not real.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

‘the black bastard of the wall’ moniker is the exact opposite of the ‘white wolf’ moniker and this perfectly highlights the irreconcilable differences between book Jon and show Jon

[ectoplasmer]

i love my boyfriend i love my boyfriend so mych he is so soft and warm and comfy and pretty and

[sunnymoonxx]

❝here i blur into you❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train.

warnings: english is not my native language, reader also has a twin and has a similar situation as osha, reader is a bit paranoid, lot of foreplay from qimir, teasing, fingering, cunnilungus, vulgar terms,

now playing, acquainted by the weeknd

He smelled like sandalwood, filling the air every time he passed you by or handed you a plate of food. For the first few days, you ignored it, letting it brush against your nose, your thoughts concentrating on how to get out of the island or how to kill him without breaking the code. But after nights and nights of sleeping in the same cave, sharing his space, and smelling him in every corner, it started to drive you crazy.

You lost your nerves last morning during your hand-picked breakfast when he strolled into the cave after his morning swim, water still dripping from his hair, the smell punching you in the nose, leaving you dizzy and breathless. You didn't know where you wanted to go, but as you picked up your things and bottle of water, it wasn't your main concern.

The smell itself didn't bother you. He bothered you. You knew exactly what game he was playing. With your sister, he played the role of a big brother, older protecter that she always wanted and wished for. With you, his mask dropped, revealing a charming seductive character. Every time he handed you something, he towered over you, gazing into your eyes so intensely it made your knees shake. Or when he walked towards you, he took his time, his eyes going up and down your figure until they fixated on you, staring at you until he came so close you could feel his breath brushing over your face. The slightest touches of his hands, the knuckle strokes, the skin contact when he healed your wounds.

He was trying to seduce you, knowing your weaknesses, just so you'd turn your back on the jedi and stay with him. As a padawan, desire was one of the forbidden emotions, alongside hate, anger, and fear. You never felt the touch of another, not one you desired.

His act had its way with you. You didn't deny it, but it was just a role for him. A mask he put on whenever you were close. You wanted to know the real him and maybe even try to help him. Instead, you were met with lustful eyes and breathtaking smell of his. A few days ago, you returned his gaze when he spoke to you, to try to read his thoughts and emotions. You only saw the colour red.

After you stormed out of the cave, leaving Qimir wondering, you kept walking around for about thirty minutes before you found yourself surrounded by smaller rocks, standing ankles deep in a hot sand. It wasn't that far away from the cave but far enough to get away from him and his sandalwood smell.

You dropped your bottle and some spare clothes on one of the flat rocks, letting yourself fall on your ass, letting out an anxious breath. You had no idea what you were going to do, how to act, or how to survive the upcoming days. You were certain Sol was going to find you and save you. You started to think about Yord and Jecki. You weren't that close to Yord, even in your padawan days. Jecki, you knew from afar, but she always had a soft smile on her lips. Your heart ached for them, feeling guilty even if there was nothing you could do.

You sat there for hours, staring at your dirty shoes. You were frozen. You needed to train. You were sure there was going to be time when you would have to protect yourself against Qimir and his brute strength. He killed Yord with his bare hands. As long as you would attack his hands first, you'd be safe.

You found a branch, pictured it as a lightsaber, and started repeating over and over fighting methods you were taught by your master. You held up till the sunset, and when the sun rose again, you picked up the branch and started again.

You didn't bother with breaks. You kept going till your knees gave up, and your arms fell by your side. Your chest rose up and down fast as you sat down, the branch falling metres away from you. You rested your head against the closest rock, daring to close your eyes. You were away for almost a day, with no food, just water to keep you company. You slowly started to regret leaving so impulsively, but you had no idea what you would do if you'd stay another minute around the intoxicating smell of his.

You had to fall asleep, your body reacting to the unknown sound earlier than you. Trying to compose yourself as you rubbed your cheek, painful and red, from resting against the hard rock. You picked yourself up, turning around to find where the sound came from. It didn't take you long, for Qimir revealed himself, appearing just a few metres away from you, a bag around his shoulder. He took you in, scanning your body like he was searching for any weapons or injuries. He found nothing, only a thin branch right behind your feet.

"You could at least take some food." he broke the brooding silence and your mutual staring contest. His voice was soft, small tug on the corned of his lips. He wore his usual beige shirt, transparent to his muscles. You shook your head, trying to focus on something else than his forearms as he put down his bag to take out the stuff he brought you.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, holding steadily your position, scanning his every move. He took out all the food to put them on the rocks in front of you, gently, making sure not to drop anything. He didn't forget to bring you fresh water, new clothes and a lightsaber.

Lightsaber.

You took a quick step back at the sight of the lightsaber, your ankle meeting with a rock. He brought a lightsaber. He was going to kill you now. You were sure of it.

"It's for you," he read your mind, making himself a place to sit next to the food, lightsaber at the opposite end of the food row. He tilted his head, softly smiling at you. "The tide is going to end by tomorrow," he said, his eyes set low, eyebags underneath. "you could disappear."

"What do you want?" you asked, attitude and hidden fear in your voice. Why was he helping you. Why did he inform you about the tide and possible escape. Was he planning something?

"For you to eat," he smiled, his teeth showing up for a second. "I have no desire to hurt you or let you die of starvation." His hands rested on his lap, his eyes soft and gentle, morning sun reflecting in them. He was beautiful in this light. But you shook that though away.

"What's with the lightsaber," you pointed with your head to the weapon, not daring to move, feeling his eyes burn into your skin.

"I made it for you," he replied quietly, looking over at the saber. You flinched when he slowly stood up, walking towards it to pick it up, holding it so the handle could be in your direction. He was close, too close to your liking, a small circle of rocks surrounding you two. "Figured you'd want one." he purred, taking slow steps towards you, not breaking his gaze at you. Like he was waiting for you to run, taking in every detail of you.

He stopped at arm length, lifting the lightsaber to you. You didn't move to take it and just stared at it. It was small compared to his hand, plainly black.

"How long is it since you've held one?" he asked, almost in whisper, looking down at you with curiousity. You didn't answer, forcing to look away from the saber, mirroring his intense gaze. You tried to read him again but failed. You were too tired to even see one small thought. He took a step closer, instinctively you wanted to take a step back, but the rock behind you made you stumble, Qimir's arm catching you sharply, pulling you back up.

He was so close now that the saber handle was touching your ribs, his breath tickling your face again, the sandalwood, again, penetrating the air. You tried to move away, pushing against him, but he didn't move an inch. He looked like a marble statue against the light.

"Take it," he growled, shaking with the saber a little. When you still didn't move, he took your hand and placed it on the weapon, his grip strong and tense. "Turn it on," he moved even closer, the head of the lightsaber pushing against his abdomen.

Turn it on.

You repeated his words.

Turn it on and get it over with.

Only you couldn't. You tried to force your hand to move, but like someone froze it, it was paralyzed.

"I'm not like you." You managed to let out, breaking your neck to look up at him. "I don't attack the unarmed."

"When did I attack the defenceless?" he asked, still holding your arm firmly, keeping you standing in one place. His hair fell like a black curtain around his eyes that stared into yours, awaiting an answer.

"Jecki," your voice broke at the memory of her. She had no reason to be there. She should have been safe at the temple.

You heard him take a deep breath, his fingers slightly amplifying the pressure around your wrist. "She attacked first,"

"She was a child." You raised your voice, trying to move away from him but as much as you wanted he didn't let you.

"Your Master brought her there. He knew the risk." He replied, his voice soft and calm with no hints of remorse.

"What do you want?" You cried out, furrowing your eyebrows. You wanted to scream at him, punch him, fight him, erase the stupid smell he had that drove you crazy and confused your thoughts.

"For you to eat," he repeated, stupid smile dancing on his lips. For a second, you wondered why he wore a mask to hide his beautiful face, but you quickly erased it. With the final push, he let go of your arm and stared at you as you made your way towards the food. You devoured embarrassingly quickly, forgetting about the claim you weren't hungry. All the time he stood there, watching you carefully.

When you finished eating, you took advantage of the bird that took Qimir's attention for a moment to hide the fork and knife behind your belt. It was stupid, but it counted as something. You could sharpen it using the rocks and use it when he'd attack you in your sleep.

"Why won't you kill me?" You asked after you finished your plate, reaching for the water bottle. You felt his stare. Everywhere. At that point you didn't know if he was still playing the role of a whore or he just had a staring problem. Both options made you nervous.

"As I said, I have no desire to." He smiled, kneeling down to squat. He slowly started rolling up his sleeves, the scars on his arms now more visible than ever. His long, thick fingers were wrapped around the lightsaber, his other hand now hanging in the air.

It was useless talking to him. It was obvious before, ridiculous now. You nodded, accepting you won't get any honest answer out of him.

"Thanks for the food, you better get going now." You slowly stood up, your stomach full and warm. "Time for your daily swim." you added, hoping he'd leave you alone till tomorrow when you could swim to the other side and leave this abandoned island.

You didn't hear him letting out a chuckle, his dimples showing. "I can take one here," he pointed at the calm water in front of you, guarded by gigantic rocks.

Great.

"Do whatever you want," you murmured, trying to convince yourself you're okay with his presence. Naked presence. You saw him the first few days, where you followed him every morning, not trusting anything he said. He invited you to join him every time, and every time you didn't say anything, just stood on guard, scanning and taking in every movement he made.

He was well built, with big arms, strong back, and powerful legs. Was he stripping in front of you as a part of his act, or was he just that unbothered by your presence. You hoped it was neither. You rather got tricked than ignored.

"Okay," you heard him murmur, walking towards you for his clothes. You flinched, taking a big step away from him, finding the lightsaber lying in the sand. As he slowly made his way to the water and started to undress, you took the lightsaber in your hands, feeling it, remembering the last time you held it.

You started your routine again, this time with your lightsaber, the branch left lying in the sand. You were well aware he was watching you, motivating you to show off and not to embarrass yourself.

Minutes ran by before you heard a splash, Qimir walking out of the water. You didn't even think to turn around, but your body decided for you. Your head tilted his direction, your eyes going up and down his figure. It wasn't the first time you saw it but this time you saw it from a clear view.

Suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing the saliva forming in your mouth, your heart aggressively punching your ribs.

Focus.

You quickly turned your head back, hoping to remember what you were doing before you scanned his form. You wondered if it would hurt, or would it be pleasurable.

You felt shame thinking about these things, but you never received an answer. The Jedi around you never answered, and those outside you didn't trust.

The unknown heat overtook you again, you had to close your eyes to regain your focus. Instead, The Force directed you back to him. His grin fixated his lips as he put on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself. Water droplets falling from his hair to his shoulders, his muscles forming themselves against the skin-tight robe.

Opening your eyes, you took a glimpse of your lightsaber, unaware of Qimir slowly approaching you. You practised your movements, your hand twists, and leg work. You had to get used to the weight of the lightsaber after years of not touching one.

You stopped yourself from turning his direction when you felt his touch on your shoulders.

"Keep your shoulders back," he whispered, forcing your shoulders back into their correct position. You froze, now only focusing on the warmth reflecting of his body. He bent over so his lips could reach your ears, and his hands travelled down to your biceps. "Your elbows up. You have them too low." he simply added, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pressed your legs together, unaware of your need.

You listened to him, tho, keeping your shoulders and elbows in the position he moved them. His hands didn't touch you fully, only tickling the surface of your skin, but it was enough to make you burn.

"You need to spread your legs," he added, hearing a small smile while informing you. You fought the urge to turn and hit him in the face with the lightsaber handle.

When you didn't listen, he forced his knee between your legs, forcing them apart.

"So you don't fall over," he whispered against your ear, the little hair on your neck standing up.

"I didn't ask for help," you uttered, bitterness in your tone. You wanted him gone, but not for the same reason you did yesterday. For the reason that he made you have physical reactions without touching you. Having to press your legs together because of his voice. Feeling your skin burn by feeling him pressed against your back.

"You obviously need it," He smiled against your earlobe before pulling back just to let his hands fall onto yours, checking the way you hold your saber. He fixed the placement of your fingers, his breath on your neck erasing all of your thoughts. His warm wet chest pressed against your back, his breath tickling you. Your ass pressed against his abdomen. It was all too much for you. You shouldn't be feeling this way.

Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he was charismatic and soft when he wanted to be. But he wield the power of the dark side. He couldn't be trusted. You were scared the dreams you were having so often might become true.

"Use your thumb," he woke you up from your thoughts, pushing himself against your back as he held your hands. His voice was low and dark. "Place it on the top to hold it steadily. That way, it won't slip out of your hands, and you won't have to use strength to keep it in place." Even the way he talked and taught you almost drove you over the edge. You knew that's what he wanted and fought hard against it.

"I know how to hold a lightsaber." You hissed, shaking off his hands. Regretting it as his hands found its way to your lower back, pushing in, you had to hold back a moan,

"Straight posture." he simply said, ignoring you, leaving his hands on the back of your hips. You focused on taking deep breaths, hoping the heat between your legs would go away.

Almost as if he felt it, his hands moved from the back to the front, tickling the exposed skin of your stomach. You wanted to cry out, his touch driving you insane. You wanted to do something and, at the same time, nothing. You wanted him to take you, but you also wanted to drive the lightsaber through his skull.

"You won't fight anyone without a straight posture," he emphasized, pushing his fingers into your stomach, holding you in place.

"I've fought many people without you before." you replied angrily, a small moan leaving your lips at the end of the sentence as he moved his fingers lower, under your belly button.

"And did you win?" he mocked you, whispering into your ear. His hands right above the place you used your fingers while wishing they were his.

You were done with his stupid comments and mockery, pushing against him to turn and punch him, but he didn't let you move a muscle. He was too strong.

"What do they teach you," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "They don't teach you how to stand still or how to hold a lightsaber. Only how to surpress your emotions to become a hollow shell."

"That's not true," you argued. "We are taught to control our emotions, to feel them but not to let them get the best out of us."

"So why do you supress what you really want?" his voice turned into whisper again, his thumb making circling motion on your lower stomach. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew you were about to give up.

"Why do you shy away from your desire?" he added, using little to no strength to bring you skin to skin to him, feeling his length on your lower back.

Accidental moan left your lips. You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, wishing he didn't hear that. But you weren't that stupid.

"It's the path, path to the dark side." you stumbled over your words, feeling his fingers go lower, right above the belt of your pants.

Fuck.

"Then stop me," he whispered, his index finger going slowly underneath the hem of your pants. "Stop my hand. I'll let you." he added.

You didn't move a muscle. Only rested your head against his chest and let your arms fall by your side, lightsaber falling into the sand. You wanted him, and he wanted you. There was no reason to fight it. That was a problem for your future self.

"Tell me," he purred, his right hand painfully slowly maling their way to the hem of your panties. "Has anyone ever touched you like this?"

He was mocking you, playing with you. He knew no one ever had. You didn't count. "No," was your simple answer, wanting to dig yourself a deep hole in the ground and bury yourself in it.

"How does it feel?" he asked, his fingers finally reaching your wet bundle of nerves, slowly starting to circle your clit. You grabbed his arm out of shock, digging your nails into his skin. It felt too good. You were dripping wet, it was too easy for him to find your weak spot.

"As a Jedi, you can't even be with the people you love," he murmured into your ear before starting to leave small kisses down to your neck. "Can't give them the pleasure they deserve."

His fingers started to go up and down your clit, always stopping right before your entrance. You wanted to start begging for him to take you, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already have. You didn't pay attention to anything he was saying, only focusing on his fingers driving you crazy, making it difficult to keep a steady stance.

"What kind of life is that? Hmm?" His sloppy kisses and his fingers teasing your core themselves, almost had you falling over the edge. You were so touch deprived you were surprised you didn't cum when he touched you for the first time.

"Qimir," you cried out, wanting his fingers inside of you already. The first time, you said his name out loud. And he listened. His fingers stopped their movements, deserving an annoyed groan from you. He took them out of your pants, placing them on your waist to circle you so he could be face to face with you.

He didn't say anything before he bent his legs, kneeling in front of you, letting the sand swallow him. He looked up at you with pitch-black eyes, hinting on your pants. You understood, taking your time but nodding, letting him take off your pants and underwear.

The urge to cover your face and run away was strong, but the feeling of his mouth on your clit was stronger. You cried out hard, grabbing his hair as he dipped his tongue between your folds. This is what the Jedi deprived you of. You wanted to scream.

Qirim's tongue moved with rhythm against your dripping cunt, his fingers holding you still by your hips. Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on them every time he moved his tongue, teasing your entrance.

"Fuck," you hissed, your knees bending. Qimir quickly caught you, not stopping assaulting your clit. "Qimir, please," you begged. You weren't sure what you were wishing for anymore, but his name in your mouth felt almost as good as his tongue felt between your folds.

Your arms moved from his hair to his shoulders, holding yourself steady when his hand left your hip to put them between your legs. You caught a glimpse of his face when you looked down. Lustful dark eyes, messy hair, sweaty against his forehead, his nose and mouth covered in your slick. The view itself almost had you cumming on his tongue. So when his fingers joined the game, pushing inside of you, betwen your walls you let a pornographic moan. You were alone on this island but if someone was on the other end, you were certain they could hear you.

His fingers moved fast, in and out of you, spreading and curling inside of you. He was gentle with you at first but as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge he threw all the respect out of the window, fucking you mercilessly with his thick fingers.

If his mouth and fingers had you screaming his name you wondered how his cock would feel.

"Qimir, I'm- " you cried out, wanting to warn him, but he felt it. The way your walls started to contract, crushing his fingers inside of you. His tongue kept circling your clit, adding to the pleasure. You were sure you formed new scars on his shoulders as you came hard around his fingers and tongue, failing to catch your breath and keep your legs straight and strong.

He held you for a few minutes as you rested against him, his lips still glossy with your wetness. Without thinking, you bended over to press your lips against his, tasting yourself, mixed with the flavor of him.

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

[grandline-fics]

hi could i request something for zoro law shanks and mihawk to them harming their s/o from an enemies devil fruit power like they got possessed/controlled and when the sitstuoon was handled they gain consciousness and realize what they’d done? thank you have a lovely day !!! i love your writing 🫶

DESCRIPTION: They hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit

WARNINGS: angst, descriptions of injury, hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Zoro, Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Luffy, Ace, Sabo , Crocodile, Kid

WORDS: 2,782

A/N: haven't done some angst in a while so heres some. hopefully you liked what I came up with for this request.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

ZORO

The last thing Zoro remembered was his opponent managing to get within touching distance, a stupid move he’d thought but then they dropped their weapon to slam their hand against his chest. It felt like he was drifting asleep, his limbs were becoming heavier and his vision with blurring and darkening. Before all his consciousness slipped away the words of his opponent echoed in his head. “Find your Captain and kill him.” He should have laughed at that ridiculous order, should have told them they’d regret the words from even passing their lips. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was only darkness and the absent feeling of his fingers tightening around the hilts of his swords, ready to take up the hunt. 

He didn’t know how long had passed, but slowly the haziness began to lift and Zoro began to process his surroundings. If he felt like he was waking, why didn’t he feel rested? Why did he feel sore and tired. His fingers flexed and he frowned to only feel one sword in his hand. Zoro blinked and looked around in confusion. He no longer stood in the room he had been in and his opponent was nowhere to be seen. Instead he was now standing at the top of a staircase, his gaze drifted to the bottom of the steps and his heart stopped in terror to see your limp form lying there with his sword pierced through your stomach. 

It was all a blur after that, racing down the steps and yelling as loud as he could for Chopper. Zoro remembered crouching near your form with hands shaking for the first time in a long while. What was he to do? What had he done? Was this how he’d lose you? He felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. 

The next thing he knew he was on the ship, a day later and sitting at your bedside wishing for you to open your eyes. He glared at his hands as he replayed everything. Being told that he was like a man possessed, set on finding Luffy to kill him. How you intercepted him and drew his attention long enough to fight while the others tried to find a way to snap him out of whatever power was controlling him. They’d been just a little too late it seemed. It sickened Zoro to see the bandages around your form, knowing the damage that lay beneath them. If it hadn’t been for your own skills he would have certainly killed you.

“Stop…” Zoro’s head snapped up to see you weakly turning your head to stare at him. The pain was evident in your eyes but he was shocked to see you weren’t looking at him with the hate he deserved. Sluggishly you placed your hand on his. “Stop beating yourself up for this…it’s not your fault.”

“The hell it isn’t.” Zoro growled getting to his feet but he couldn’t bring himself to step away from the bed or remove himself from your touch. “Those wounds are my doing. I nearly lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I stopped Sanji from being the one to fight you. It was my decision and I held my own against you. You only won because I didn’t know the stairs were behind me.” 

Zoro knew what you were doing. If he voiced any pity for you and your injuries or blamed himself it would be an insult to you as a fighter. With a long sigh he sat down again and curled his fingers to tightly squeeze your hand. Leaning down he pressed a long kiss against your hand, his good eye slipping closed when your free hand settled on his head. Zoro found it comforting and shocking that even with what you’d endured because of him, there was no hesitancy in your actions. Even with the pain you were in, keeping him calm and reassured came to you so naturally. “I swear I will spend the rest of my life proving that I’m a man worthy of your love.” He vowed vehemently against your skin.

LAW

As a doctor Law was very good at severing emotion from his work especially when it came to performing surgery that one moment of hesitation could mean certain death. This however was something he didn’t think he’d ever have to do. His hands shook as he tried to force his mind to focus and separate his feelings but it was impossible. It was you, heavily injured and slipping closer and closer to the brink where not even he could save you. He knew what needed to be done but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his hands were tainted, that he shouldn’t have the right to touch you ever again. After all it was his fault you were in this state. 

He’d gotten cocky when he was fighting a rival group of pirates and in that moment one had gotten the better of him and used that weakness to retreat, leaving Law to turn on his crew. He saw those closest to him as frightening enemies and he attacked with the intent to kill which was evident by the injuries he’d given you. Had you been anyone else, if you hadn’t been as strong as you were the attacks would have killed you. Law couldn’t help but shudder at the thought. For now he had to keep every ounce of his mind on you because he would not lose you, he couldn’t. 

When you woke, the pain and heaviness on your body was unlike anything you’d felt before. More importantly you felt fear. You were alive and as you looked around the room you saw that you were alone. You knew how serious your injuries were and if you were still breathing and Law wasn’t with you, had he don’t the unthinkable? Had he used his ultimate ability of his Devil Fruit to grant you life while extinguishing his? Just as you were about to get out of bed and find someone the door opened and relief flooded you to see Law enter. 

Now knowing you didn’t need to worry you sank back against the pillows and let out a small breath only to groan when the action caused pain to flare in your body. Immediately Law was at your bedside and at first you were going to smile but it faltered when you saw the coldness in his eyes as he checked you over. Doing only what was needed of his as your doctor and nothing more. Your eyes zeroed in on the surgical gloves he was wearing. When you opened your mouth to speak, he got in there first, cutting off your attempt. “Save your energy, you’ve only just woken up. Now that your condition is stable, I’ll let one of the others take over for your general care.”

“I refuse their care.” You answered immediately, you might have almost died but that wasn’t going to kill your stubbornness. When Law looked up to glare at you, you smirked in satisfaction to see his ‘heartless and distant’ facade had slipped momentarily. “I only want you or no-one at all.”

“No you don’t.” This time Law’s voice was hollow, the shame of what had happened finally coming to the surface.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” Your tone softened but the force of it was still there. You needed to reassure him that you didn’t hold him accountable for when he was under another’s control. Reaching forward you took his hands into yours and pulled off the gloves, smiling to finally see his tattooed hands exposed. “There that’s better.”

“What I did-” Law began to protest but stopped when you lifted his hands to lightly press a kiss against his knuckles. How could you show such adoration to his tainted hands?

“You saved my life.” Your answer was simple but clear that you would speak no more about it. “Come and lie beside me, you know I can’t sleep without you.” Law gave a small, shaky smile and settled down beside you with the utmost care so that his actions caused you no discomfort whatsoever.

SHANKS

“You really don’t remember me?” The barmaid pouted playfully at Shanks as she set his drink in front of him. He kept his expression its usual one of friendliness and gave a small shrug to the woman and shook his head. He was an explorer and adventurer, he’d visited countless islands and met many many people. To remember every single person was practically impossible, even for him. “Aw you’re going to make me cry.” The woman was joking of course and for Shanks it was a relief that his lack of memory didn’t cause her any genuine upset. Quickly his gaze flickered across the crowded bar to meet your stare. 

You only grinned in amusement at the attention he was getting. He was a handsome man and it was a daily occurrence that people would throw themselves at him but the outcome was always the same, he’d let them down gently and it was you he’d share his bed with. Still though outside of the long term members, not everyone in the crew knew about the two of you and you were both content with that. “Can I refresh your memory?” Shanks blinked and watched the barmaid slide into the open seat beside him. “I think once I tell you, your life will change completely.” 

Shanks had to admit, that was an interesting opening line and he wasn’t really one to back down from a statement such as this one. So he smiled and gestured for the woman to continue. The barmaid’s eyes lit in excitement and she leant forward, her hand settling against his wrist and the second her hand made contact, Shank’s body became rigid as he peered into the woman’s eyes. “Three years ago you killed the love of my life. Now I’m going to teach you the pain of such a loss. Kill your lover or if you don’t have one then the member of your crew you care for the most will do.” Simultaneously the woman stood and left the table the same time that Shanks’ gaze locked onto your form again. 

When Shanks finally came to his senses, the crew were back on the open seas all of them knowing that their Captain had been under the influence of a Devil Fruit. As the last thing he remembered came to his mind, panic set in and he hurried to find you, fearing that whoever that barmaid truly was had succeeded in making him do the one thing that he’d sworn he’d never do; cause you any sort of harm. Finally he came to a stop in the doorway of the medical room. His heart sank to see you lying in the bed, bandages visible and he dreaded to think what lay beneath them and your clothes. Worst of all was the thick band of bruises around your throat. While he felt sickened at what he saw, he could only find some small sense of comfort that he hadn’t taken his sword with him to the tavern that night otherwise he might have truly killed you. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Hongo told him softly before leaving and closing the door behind him. Alone, Shanks approached your bedside.

“Oh, love what did I do to you?” Shanks sighed tiredly and heavily, flinching when your eyes opened and you looked at him calmly. 

“Not…you.” You managed out, your usual cheerful and soothing voice came out as a painful rasp. Shanks sighed, of course you wouldn’t blame him. It was the woman and her unnerving ability that did this. 

“I was careless though.” Shanks told you, becoming deadly serious which was a rarity. “That’s not going to happen ever again. We’re going to track that woman down and show her and the world what happens when they dare to target the one I love.”

MIHAWK

You knew Mihawk was a force to be reckoned with, the very first time you’d met your now lover had been an intense fight so you had firsthand experience at how formidable an opponent he could be. However after all those years you’d never expected to be pursued by him so seriously again and it didn’t seem like seducing him or appealing to his better judgement would work in this occasion. You’d both suspected that a few new recruits to Cross Guild were actually spies and had been proven right when you’d confronted them. Together you and Mihawk had taken down most of them but one managed to escape by using their Devil Fruit on Mihawk who was closest. Simply telling him “I’m not your enemy, they are.” While pointing straight at you was enough to make the swordsman set his sights on you. 

While you were strong you knew you had no way of taking him on in this intensely determined state. After all you’d seen this man slice a ship in half from a measurable distance away, you weren’t going to risk getting too close. Your only tactic was to keep your distance, block and defend if possible and hope there was a time limit to this annoyance of an ability. 

As you ran down the street you looked back to see Mihawk was still hot on your heels but it was a relief to see he wasn’t targeting anyone else. The last thing you wanted was for your lover to snap out of this state and realise he’d killed anyone who was an innocent bystander to it all. At least if you got hurt you had enough strength of will to endure it. You felt something change in the air and you turned sharply to see Mihawk reeling back to launch an attack and you recognised that stance all too well. You swore at the position you’d found yourself to be in. To lessen the force you had no choice but to throw an attack of your own and brace yourself.

Mihawk had never felt shame as a swordsman, not until he was finally in control of his body again to see the destruction of the surroundings caused by his attack clashing with yours. When he saw you lying bloodied amongst the debris of what was once a building he felt like never lifting his blade again. Hurrying to your side he felt only some consolation to see your chest slowly rising and hear your faint heartbeat. Taking you carefully into his arms he set for Cross Guild’s base and was for once glad of the amount of money Crocodile put into hiring the best doctors for the group. However the second he had you handed over to the medical team, he retreated to his room. It was because of him you’d been brought close to death, to sit by your bedside seemed like he was making it about him when you were to be the priority. Besides he wasn’t a healer, he would have just gotten in the way. 

When you’d finally woke and asked for him, the task of refusing to visit fell to Buggy as messenger. You rolled your eyes, you’d expected no less from your lover. He might have seemed like a mystery to many, but to you he was an open book. So you decided to sluggishly pulled yourself out of your bed and set about continuing your work. By the time you made it to your room and looking through bounties Mihawk appeared, angered that you were up and out of bed. 

“Are you trying to reopen your wounds?” he snapped. 

“Don’t worry yourself about it.” You replied, forcing your voice to sound light and unbothered but the strain of moving so soon was taking its toll. “A building fell on me, no big deal.” You shrugged and regretted it, letting out a gasp of pain. 

“It very much is a big deal.” Mihawk spoke through gritted teeth as he took a few steps closer, while you continued to look through the papers in front of you. “Please go back to bed.”

“Only if you stop blaming yourself and stay with me when I ask to see you.” Finally you looked up to Mihawk and smirked to see he was finally in touching distance. You knew your actions were drastic but you had to be sometimes to snap him out of his worries. Mihawk let out a long sigh and gently took you into his arms, relishing the simple feeling. He would never risk losing you again, even if he had to destroy all of the Marines to make sure you stayed safe.  

[chitra111goddess]

VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES ♡

(Can apply to any planet placement)

⚡️Ashwini women always stand out to me with their creativity especially in acting , they rly know to embody the character they're playing to the fullest even irl it may be easier for them to shift thro different identities or alter-egos just for funsies

⚡️There's smtg about purva phalguni women , they're gorgeous but for some reason I noticed they get hate esp from other women like they're called fake or pick-mes or they make up stories hmm

⚡️Purva ashadha women are so inspiring like they're always the ones to be teaching or preaching or saying smtg inspiring/motivational. They're beauties with soul and a mind of their own ! If u know a purva ashadha better take notes 📝

⚡️Magha women love wearing black and something about their looks or style is unconventional/gothy, it suits them

⚡️Uttara-phalguni women are so headstrong bruh and they have this leadership aura about them, they're gonna do what THEY think is right. Like other sun-ruled nakshatras they easily get attention

⚡️Mrigashira women love the push & pull , cat &mouse game, they either attract this dynamic or they create it themselves. There's also smth about Mrigashira and obsession 👀

⚡️Jyestha women embody the wild feminine archetype imo, when evolved theyre truly empowered and have this idgaf energy. people may be threatened by their power or skills. Their voice or the way the speak is commanding and naturally charismatic

⚡️Swati/ardra and their eyes 👁👁 most captivating eyes imo I'm in luv

⚡️Purva bhadrapada women seem to attract or be drawn to men with dark nature or men who carry trauma ? Or they know how to bring that out in a man

⚡️Dhanishta women love dancing and they appear to be friendly or have many acquaintances but very little people they relate to. Popular girlies

⚡️Rohini women feminine energy is undeniable , something about them feels innocent yet erotic. They just give off this juicy fertile vibee lmao💦 unlike jyestha which is more dry (not in a bad way its just different 💀)

⚡️Anuradha women are secretive as hell even if they tell u shit don't think u have them all figured out. there's so much to unpack with them , they're generally intriguing complex characters

⚡️Most bratty nakshatras are mrigashira and chitra lmao

⚡️Revati women are pretty privilege girlies also they're master manipulators 👀 they know how to use their femininity to get what they want

⚡️Pushya women have big MOMMY energy. they seem/look mature. They're either the ones taking care of others or others take care of them

⚡️Uttara bhadrapada women have dualistic nature they're either the sweetest ppl u know or ur worst nightmare depending on who theyre dealing with 💀they're like a mirror projecting and reflecting back ur inner self back at ya (Pisces energy) also don't forget the karmic saturn influence.. u don't wanna mess w them or any other saturn ruled woman

⚡️Viahaka women go through intense ups and downs , starting from their good girl phase then they snap and go wild then they mature/become spiritual

⚡️Chitra women secretly (or not so secretly) enjoy drama , they're either the ones caught up in it or they play the role of the "judge" where they can solve conflicts between others. Somehow they're surrounded by it.

⚡️Don't underestimate krittika women especially when it comes to survival 💀 these women can be dangerous and will stab a bitch if they rly had to (whether its for defending loved ones or them surviving) their symbol is 🔪 after all and taurus/aries gives them that survival instinct

⚡️Ardra women can make great poets/song writers , their creativity and inspiration stems from their own 'tragic' experiences

⚡️Punarvasu women remind me of that quote "home is where the heart is" they always end up coming back to their origins and what they feel in their heart

Lemme know ur thoughts & what I should make next

[obae-me]

I have been asked to expand on the MC with trauma scenarios, and you know what, I need the comfort, so let's do it! (No these are not based on myself, I don't know what you're talking about....)

Also I've seen a ton of people's responses to the last one and just know that I am spiritually patting you all on the head and wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders.

--

MC with ~Trauma~ PT 2!

Imagine an MC who has been mocked, berated, or criticized for their joys and hobbies. They don't do those things anymore or go to great lengths to hide them.

They never share their writing or their art with anyone. They are surrounded by demons and angels much more talented than them. The thing that they felt they were moderately talented in is below average compared to these beings... Everything they create is hidden in secret digital folders or kept in notebooks under their mattress or tucked in secret spots on their bookshelves.

They never sing or dance or play their instruments. They almost avoid the music room altogether. It's almost too painful for them to think about. If they attend a dance they just stand off to the sides... They don't participate in karaoke. They don't hum to their favorite songs.

They hardly cook, or garden, or read, or edit, or color, or knit, or crochet, or embroider, or anything else that they might enjoy.

Imagine some of the nosier brothers not realizing the pain that hides behind their passions and either playfully spying on them or digging up their secrets. Their hearts are fully destroyed when their human breaks down in tears. Now, every single day, every character encourages them to do what they love and giving them private time and space to do it in a place where they feel safe. They all hope that maybe one day MC will feel comfortable enough to share what they love with them but they will never pry it out of them, and all the while giving them the support they need behind the curtain.

Imagine Satan, Levi, and Mammon grouping together and creating a PowerPoint presentation. With Satan's organizing skills, Levi's technological know-how, and Mammon's morally grey skills of espionage, they gather all the characters together and teach a class on what to do and not to do around MC. Things like having a clear voice in text messages to keep them from having anxiety. Or not slamming doors, not entering their room without knocking, reminding them to drink water, knowing when to give them time to breathe etc. Everyone takes it seriously (some might say too seriously), including Belphie who didn't even sleep for a second during the whole thing.

What about an MC who takes on too much and never says anything about it? At first, Lucifer, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree Diavolo, are pleased that they've found a human with a strong work ethic and a love for responsibility. Little do they know that while part of that might be true, they are doing it because they are non-confrontational, a people pleaser, or try to prove their worth through success (or all of the above). They burn themselves out and forgo their other needs to conserve all their energy for the work that's been given to them, and it's not until it becomes a serious health issue that anyone really notices. They all take a blow when they come to know how much they had been pushing a human beyond their capabilities. So they tell MC to do less, not expecting the human to try and convince them that it wasn't an issue, maybe even apologizing for failing. Now they all have to keep an eye on MC and make sure they don't take things too far, and make sure that MC knows that their worth isn't tied to how much gets done in a day and they don't think of them any less for taking breaks or time for themselves. And maybe they all learn to take care of themselves a little more for it too. Especially one work-a-holic demon known as Pride.

How about an MC that hates the way they look? No matter what that might be. Body size, shape, height, skin-tone, skin-color, scars, blemishes, freckles, etc. What if it was drilled into their head since they were a child that they were not beautiful? What if they can't look into the mirror or take any photos of themselves without feeling sick? How about being around a demon like Asmo? Maybe resenting him, maybe avoiding him, maybe wishing they were like him. It probably would hurt Asmo to see someone hating themselves and their body so intently. Maybe it's because it reminds him of himself. Maybe they both have to sit down and rethink what beauty really means? It's a long process for both of them.

All of them work with the human with their image and not in a shallow way like trying to deny the things they have and who they are. They find ways around pictures, because there are more ways to keep memories rather than selfies and commemorative photos.

Or what if:

Beel: *In MC's room.* Alright, we'll just do some basic stretches.

MC: Okay, just tell me what to do.

Beel: Well, if you want, you can put on some music to make it more relaxing.

MC: Music? *Looks a little nervous.* If you want...

*MC then turns some music on their phone on the lowest setting and sets it on their bed.*

Beel: Um...you can turn it up more than that if you want.

MC: Louder? Really?

Beel: Don't you think it's a little quiet?

MC: Oh...um...okay... *turns it up by one more click.* Is- Is that okay? I can turn it down again.

Beel: *Opens his mouth, confused for a moment before shutting it again. In the quickest second, he's in his demon form.* Who do I need to find?

MC: B-Beel?!

[oblique-lane]

"Just a bunch more biblical paintings then I'll go back to drawing yaoi" Or you can do both, renaissance style, Michelangelo or Raphael I honestly forgot who drew those naked men on the Sistine Chapel's ceilings ok bad joke aside: I'd love hearing more about your headcannons, specifically about the childhoods of the characters (ranging from the mercs, to Miss pauling, the Administrator, hell anyone you have ideas about!)

Childhood headcanons... How did you know I've had something about that on my mind? Alright, let's talk about...

Little Sniper

(Lots of trigger warnings ahead, check tags!)

Mundy was obviously an unhappy child. When I imagine the surroundings he grew up in, I see miles and miles of empty landscapes, dry yellow grass, unkept barns destroyed by rust and a deep choking sense of loneliness.

The closest neighbour woul be so far away you better bring a bicycle with you if you want to visit. School and Church were the only places to go, which were also very far away. No kids his age nearby. And even if there were peers at school, no one wanted him anyway.

Mundy was "weird", he didn't quite understand other kids' jokes, didn't get what was so fun about what everyone else enjoying to do; he was weaker, always loosing in close fights; he didn't even look very local for whatever reason. Even if he tried to get along with someone, it either ended up with him being ostracized or with him experiencing the greatest boredom imaginable. And the kids quickly picked up on his "difference", making him an object of bullying.

It started with making fun of everything Mundy does, his habits and speech patterns, his morals and ideas... Which wasn't anything too big for him but it was still very annoying and upsetting, he grew to hate school very quickly.

Coming home being exhausted from this kind of socializing, no one would really comfort him. Being very little, he used to tell on his bullies to his parents, telling how hurt he was by their words... And it would only made a mess in his family.

Overreactive mother: "Poor baby, I'm so sorry, I'll tell their parents to stop being mean, my little little baby, maybe we can go homeschooling..."

And a strict father: "Are you a man or what? Yeah, he will end up a bloody baby if you keep spoiling him like that! Suck it up! Of you can't stand for yourself, no one will. At this pace you'll end up a nobody, with no home nor respect from the world".

Mundy didn't want to be neither a baby nor a disappointment. He figured that sharing his feelings with parents wouldn't be that good of an idea, they won't understand anyway. And also that he must fight somehow.

If he can't win in close fights, he thought, he could hit them from a distance: throwing small rocks at the bullies from up the tree...

–He was punished for that. For some reason, every time Mundy fought back, he was scolded by the elders, who for some reason always believed the bullies that HE was the one starting the fights. They forbid him to fight back. He closed his feelings shut and stopped paying attention to almost everything around him.

Why was it like that? Why was he so different from other kids, why couldn't he understand them? Why couldn't he understand anyone in this world? The world was a mess of unspoken rules and suffering, overcoming oneself, pain; he couldn't fit in. He was always on the wrong even if he didn't do anything. He felt like an outsider everywhere he went.

Sometimes he wondered if he was born into a wrong family or that he wasn't a human at all. Looking at the night sky, he was thinking about aliens, maybe they would come to him someday and take him to the planet he truly belongs, being accidentally swapped at birth. Maybe then he will be happy, he will leave this sickening place and finally start living. He thought about dying, too.

He started to spend a lot of time in the forest any chance he got. He was alone here, unwatched, somewhat free. It was easier to breathe here. He was alone but it didn't feel worse than being with those people. He played by himself. He started to believe that he actually liked loneliness.

As Mundy and his peers grew older, the kids started to become more and more savage, thanks to the hormones and age crisis. Bullying intensified as those kids started to feel the need to assert themselves. Mundy was maliciously beaten (he fought back as much as he could and even win sometimes, but the beating only got worse each time). They used any chance to humiliate him.

And each time after that Mundy would take the knife or his father's shotgun and go to the forest to take his anger on animals, "hunting", since he couldn't do anything to fix the root of the problem.

He would hunt for something small, like birds or feral rabbits so he could butcher them and cook on fire to eat. At moments like this he felt like a beast, and somehow it was the most pleasant state for him to be in.

There were no words available to form his pain into, so the pain came through violence. The more violent his abusers became, the more violent he was at his "hunting". The more he felt his father's gaze piercing him with disappointment, the sharper his knife movements would get. Sometimes he would let the bodies to just rot like that, completely butchered in a very non-culinary way.

(Maybe someday he would lure one of those bastards to the forest and kill him the same way and blame it on an animal attack)

And at some point... His classmates would came up with something that would cross all the lines of forgivable. Somewhere there was the peak of what they could do. Something beyond.

There wasn't a known way to him to deal with that. No known words. Everyone would be so grossed out of him if they knew. He was beyond disgusted with himself, too. What was the point of living now?

That day he would shot a wild boar, take his machete out and cut it open, butcher it the way his father would when they wanted a pork dinner for the night... And reached to its heart.

The heart is where the love is stored, right? That's what people say when referring to this "love" he'd never seem to know. A dark read bloody organ that feels like sponge inside of thin rubber. There's something about this that Mundy lacks. He has a heart too, it's pulsating inside him, but for some reason it was unable to produce the "love", a very necessary fluid for a human body. He wondered if it's sweet. He wondered if he was even able to taste it.

He took a bite... And realized what he was doing.

He was, indeed, a monster.

When he went back home, later than usual, he would be met with his father's gaze. He was always throwing gazes, for every occasion, Mundy was used to feel small and guilty under them. But this time... It felt somehow much more personal. More disturbing.

His father looked at him as if he was a dirty little creature, a rat, a maggot. He looked at him the way one would look at a criminal who wronged their whole family. He looked at him like he knew.

His father didn't say anything that day and it wasn't brought up ever again.

Mundy was indeed a monster who was utterly terrified of this though. He didn't want to be one. He made a promise to himself that everything he does will be morally justified, he promised himself to become a good... decent person. He would earn his place in the world, even if his father, everyone else denies it.

It gets blurry at this point. Sniper doesn't really remember his life before about 17, when he was finishing school and starting to work on his sniper licence. For some reason he always knew he would be good at shooting and killing. When remembering his home, Sniper would recall the smell of grass, mother's cooking, the warm sun, and a steady life he had. He knew it was boring, but it still somehow felt like home. Home he felt was lost somewhere he didn't remember.

Either way, he was always a loner.

[yoditopascal]

Like A Prayer (Part 2)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: I wanted to get up to the part where you finally meet Logan but it was too long 😭 and I ended up deciding to split the chapter up. In the mean time I hope this enough to tide you over. <3

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts, @blooket-scares-me, @amararosesblog, @talanyra, @spideybv28

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

Wolverining is Hard

When you come to, your arms are tightly secured behind your back. Sitting up you try to take in your surroundings as you wiggle around trying to free yourself. The room you’re in is dark with a metal table and a singular chair in the middle and smelled strongly of disinfectant.

Just as you felt like you were making progress with your restraints, really you had just dislocated your hand, a door opens up on your right flooding your vision with a blinding light.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Came an accented voice, it sounded British. Just as your eyes had started to adjust to the light you were harshly hoisted up to your feet and dragged away into another room before being dumped unceremoniously at the feet of a pair of red and black boots

“Pookie you’re alive!” said Wade dressed in a new and improved Deadpool suit. Where did he get that? You thought to yourself. “I thought these TVA fucks ate you or something!

Helping you to your feet Wade pats you on top of the head before gesturing between your restrained hands and a guy holding what looked like a giant remote in his hands.

Rolling his eyes the guy snaps his fingers and you’re manhandled again as your restraints are roughly yanked off.

Taking in your surroundings you notice you’re in what looks to be an office with office workers and a floating platform above it. On the platform, where you all were standing, are a bunch of monitors all showing different scenes of you and your friends.

“Where are we Wade? What is this place?” You asked confused as you rubbed at your sore wrists, getting closer to him.

“You, baby girl, have just been upgraded to first disciple! Congratulations!” He said jokingly, just as he was about to say something else he was interrupted by an accented voice, the same one you had heard before.

“As you can see Mr. Wilson your friend is alive and well mostly well.” Said the man from behind Wade with the British accent, he eerily reminded you of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Frowning, the man watched you with a disgusted expression as you flicked your hand popping your wrist back into place as you sucked in a breath in pain. You had definitely dislocated it earlier.

“Now as much as I hate to cut the reunion short it’s time for her to go back home.” He said snapping his fingers again, suddenly you're surrounded by men in body armor again, one reaches out quickly to grab you but you stumble back into Wade who pushes you behind him.

“Wait wait wait….you’re just gonna send her home? To die?” He turns to ask the man behind him. He could feel you pressed against his back, like you were trying to get under his skin. You were scared and he couldn’t blame you, you still had no idea what was going on.

“Die? What are you talking about?” You asked looking back and forth between the man and Wade until a gloved finger fell on your lips silencing you.

“Shush child Marvel Jesus is talking.”

“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing his hand away.

“You can’t send her back Paradox.”

“Oh I can and I will.” The man, Paradox, had said as one of his armed men came up to him handing him one of those electric baton stick things you had seen earlier. You immediately tensed up, as he started to approach you with it, not knowing what it would do to you on contact.

“No wait wait wait please just hang on a fucking second!” Wade shouted, it was one of rare times he got serious and it made your hair stand on end

“What now Mr. Wilson?” Mr. Paradox asked, groaning dramatically, as if all of this was just a giant waste of his time

“W-what can I do to fix it? The timeline?”

Timeline? What the fuck was happening? You thought confused as you looked back at Wade again as he stared down Mr. Paradox

“Nothing unless you can bring Wolverine back to life in the next,” he says nonchalantly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world as he checks his watch “96 hours. But that’s impossible to-“

That little bit of information was enough to get the cogs in Wade’s brain turning as he hatched a play.

“Say less, I’m on it like a car bonnet!” Wade said cheerfully, you had no idea what the fuck that many but whatever it was Wade had set his mind too it and once his mind was set nothing was going to get in his way.

“Mr. Wilson-“ Mr. Paradox had started to say but before he could get another word out, Wade lunges forward and headbutts him full force, breaking his nose on contact, knocking him out as he snatched up the strange remote device Paradox had had in his hands.

Before you could even blink, Wade grabs you, scooping you up into his side, right under his armpit, as he opens up another one of those orange portal doors and jumps right through it with you.

The other side of the portal opens up midair and you crash land in the middle of a frozen forest. The ground and trees around you, covered in a powdery dusting of snow as a harsh wind blows over you causing you to shiver slightly, as you go to sit up you find yourself unable to move as a sharp pain shoots up your right arm.

It took a few moments to realize Wade had landed with you, more like on top of you it seemed, until you heard him groan from your back.

“I gotta get better at opening those things.” He groans, getting up.

“Sorry sugar lumps, we didn't really stick the landing there.” He said stretching his sore limbs as he gestured to your arm. It was bent at an awkward angle behind you, most definitely broken. Standing to your feet you grab at the injured appendage, popping it back into place with a loud snap and a yelp before it has a chance to heal wrong

“Ok Wade I’ve had enough of this Leon and Helena bullshit-“ you panted out still reeling from the pain of your arm.

“Ha! Resident Evil 6 humor!”

“Enough! Please just tell me what’s going on?!” You finally snap as you pull your cardigan around yourself in an attempt to block out the cold. Wade looks you over as if contemplating what to say next before he groans, running a gloved hand over his mask.

“Ah shit where do I even start?” He says as he sits down on a pile of rocks that had a makeshift stick x on top that looks suspiciously like a grave, you chose not to comment on it, as he begins to explain what had transpired over the last hour.

Apparently he was Marvel Jesus, you still didn’t get that part, and your timeline was dying. How? You weren’t entirely sure but Wade kept mumbling under his breath about some “Aussie fuck stealing his thunder from down under”, and that Mr. Paradox guy, who’s in charge of those TVA bastards that kidnapped you and Wade, was in charge of overseeing it but instead of letting it die out naturally over the next hundred years or so was going to speed up the process and now Wade only had 96 hours to fix it before everyone you knew and loved died.

“Which is why we’re here!” He said cheerfully pulling two shovels out of nowhere. Looking behind him to see where the shovels had intact come from you missed as he took a sip from his newly acquired ‘I Like Me’ mug through his mask before tossing it. “Grab your shovel jelly bean, we're hunting a Wolverine!” He said tossing the second shovel at your feet as he pulls the makeshift x grave marker from the pile of stones and starts to dig.

As soon as he said that you felt your stomach drop to your ass. That was a grave behind him, and it wasn’t just anyone’s… it was the Wolverine’s. You were digging up Wolverine to save your timeline?

“Holy shit.”

To say you idolized the guy was an understatement. When you were a kid you had all kinds of Wolverine comics and stickers, hell you still had a pair of Wolverine underwear to this day. Digging up his grave after all this time, after all that he went through in life just felt…wrong.

“You can cream your spinach later, right now we need to see if widdle Wolvie is really taking a dirt nap or not.” Chunks of dirt flew through the air as Wade kept digging, completely absorbed in his task.

“Wade this is-“ Not right you wanted to say. You start feeling your anxiety bubble up in your chest. “I can’t-!”

The sound of his shovel hitting something metal, adamantium, stopped you in your place. Tapping his shovel twice more to make sure he had actually hit something and that it wasn’t just his imagination, Wade looked over to you before turning back to what he had found, wiping away the dirt, he stared down at the now exposed decaying metallic skull of the Wolverine.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Wade stare at the corpse for a moment, lost in thought, before he raised his shovel over his head and bought it down on Wolverine’s skull over and over again, not stopping until he got even frustrated and snapped the wooden handle over his knee, no doubt breaking it in the process.

“Damn it! Son of a bitch! Fuck! Motherfucker! My world is fucked!”

He screamed, throwing the pieces of the shovel and swinging his arms as he punched at the air. It had been a long time since you had seen him this serious, albeit the last time you were quite literally dying, and it was honestly terrifying.

Your stomach sank even further at his words. Hugging your arms to yourself in an attempt to make yourself smaller you slowly approached Wade just as he was pulling the adamantium skeleton fully from the grave, dragging it over to a downed tree as he propped it up to sit cross legged by him.

“That was weird. I’m much calmer now.” He says with a chuckle, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the corpse. “Look, I’m not a man of science, but you seem incredibly passed away. But it’s good to see ya.” he pats the corpse on the knee causing you to wrinkle your nose up in disgust as bile rises in your throat. You’d seen Wade do a lot of strange shit over the years of knowing him, but exhuming a grave of a fallen hero and having a one on one with his dead body was a whole new world for you.

“I gotta be honest, I’ve always wanted to ride with you, Logan. You and me, getting into everything. Just fucking shit up. Can you imagine the fun, the chaos, the residuals?”

You didn’t even want to know what he meant by that as you crept up next to Wade, kneeling down by his side.

“G’day, mate? There’s nothing that’ll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of metal cash.” Wade placed a finger under the corpse’s chin making its mandible move up and down as if he was talking to him, you put your arm on his to get him to stop but he just kept going as he moved to hold his masked head in his hands.

“No, no, no, no, uuuugh!” He groans dramatically as he throws his head back, thumping it on the tree trunk behind him. “He had to get all noble and die for real. God damn it! We coulda really used your help right about now Hugh.”

“Wade,” you said softly as you reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, “we’ll figure something out, there’s got to be another way right?”

Wade’s masked face turns to look at you, deep in thought, before the sound of multiple approaching footsteps pulls him out of his head. Pulling you until you were tucked between him and the tree truck, he peeks over the tree before ducking back down just as fast, cursing under his breath.

“Wade Winston Wilson! You’re under arrest by the Time Variance Authority for too many crimes to count, come out!” Came a booming voice over the chill of the air. You and Wade look at each other for a moment as if deciding what to do.

“This is your last chance! Throw out your weapons and come out peacefully!” The voice said again as he and a bunch of other TVA agents began to surround you.

You look Wade in his eyes again and nod, knowing he’s going to have to fight to get you both out of there. Looking around himself for anything you could use to defend yourself, his eyes land on the adamantium skeleton sitting nearby and he gets a horribly morbid idea.

“I’m not gonna give you my weapons! But I promise not to use them.” He shouts back as he turns back towards you, placing a hand on your head. “Ok Nugget you know the drill.” He says so that only you can hear.

“You go right, I go left.” You nod your head towards the tree line in the background on your left.

“Good girl.” He pats you on the head one last time, tucking baby knife into your hand. “Maximum effort.” He grunted as you both stood, jumping into action. You break to the left as fast as your feet can carry you just as Wade jumps over the tree trunk pulling Wolverine's body with him.

Hearing rapid footfalls following close behind you try to pick up the pace, your lungs burning as you run, just as you reach the woods a gloved hand reaches out tangling itself in your locs before yanking you backwards. You hit the snow covered ground with an audible thud. Your head ringing and vision blurred from the impact. Just as your eyes were starting to clear, that rapid thumping noise from before came back with a vengeance.

Shaking your head to clear it you try and get back up to your feet until a black boot, steps down on your shoulder harshly. Above you stood a TVA agent, his stick pointed right at you as he glared down at you. Just as he began to lower it, you pulled baby knife from your boot, stabbing it as hard as you could through his foot.

He screams in pain as he stumbles backwards falling on his ass as he goes to pull out the knife. Scrambling back up you yank the knife from his foot before embedding it in his exposed neck. Pulling the knife back out again the fall back on your ass in shock at what you just did. You killed someone and hadn’t even hesitated. Sure you had see your fair share of people dying, thanks mostly to Wade, but never had you actually been the one doing the killing.

Before you have a chance to wallow anymore to yourself, you hear a body thud next to you and jump.

“My bad!” Wade calls as he smacks a TVA agent across the face with something that looked suspiciously like a metal femur, shattering his helmet and mostly his face on impact. “Wolverining is hard!”

“Wolverine was a hero and the only thing worth a shit to ever come out of Canada!” Shouted a voice from in front of you two, it was the same guy from before, the one who you tackled through the portal earlier, and he looked pissed. Before he had a chance to say anything else a katana goes bouncing off the ground and right through the guy’s mouth.

“Get my country’s name out of your fucking mouth.” Wade said as he walked up to the still standing body, pulling his sword out of his mouth. “And my sword, gimme that.”

Cleaning off the blade with his sleeve, Wade looks you over, checking you for injuries, something he couldn’t break himself from doing, no matter how much you told him you could heal, before pulling you to your feet.

“We gotta find us another Logan, an alive one.” He said looking around himself assessing the overall damage.

“How?” You question still trying to quiet the pounding in your head, it was starting to fade out now, only being a low murmur at the point, but it still made it hard to focus.

Pulling something from his belt, Wade holds up the remote looking device he had stolen from Mr. Paradox earlier between wiggling fingers.

“This my dear bestest pal is how.” He said opening it up and hitting a few buttons. Another orange portal opens and you stare at it in contemplation, nervousness grips your stomach as you think about what the two of you would get into on the other side of the portal. Wade goes through first holding out a hand for you from the other side. Swallowing down rising anxiety, you take up his hand following him through.

On the other side of the portal the atmosphere is much warmer, you're both in a club, a nice one at that, surrounded by other people as they mingle and converse by the bar.

“Logan I’m gonna need you to come with us!” Wade spoke over the music. Looking around the room, you wonder which of these people he was talking to, none of them really looked like a Wolverine to you.

“Who’s asking?” came a familiar voice from the bar. Turning to look to see who it was that said that, you were shocked to see a guy, about your height, with a crazy hairy torso, wearing a tight fitted black v-neck.

His face definitely screamed Wolverine to you but there was something about this man that just struck you as off.

“Look at this little Mary Lou Retton. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes, you did, comic-accurate short king.” Wade cooed to him from your side in a baby voice as he crouched down dramatically.

You frowned up as Wade as he mocked him, definitely planning to ream him out later when you, yourself, was the same height as the man he was making fun of. This Wolverine stares at you, recognition and another emotion in his eyes, that you weren’t sure of as his nostrils flared and they took in yours and Wade’s, no doubt horrific, scents. Just as you were about to tell Wade that this Wolverine would work, another orange portal opens up behind you and he dragging you inside with him.

“Cue the fucking montage, baby.”

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this."

paper rings,

premise. there's nothing more memorable with a paper ring and a promise.

characters. all dorms.

includes. gn!reader

cw. topic of marriage.

note. you know those ring pops? yeah, those but paper rings.. I am listening to taylor swift right now so basically mc is proposing

heartslabyul

in a very flabbergasted way he's less than proud to admit. riddle isn't able to do anything other than stare dumbly at the item you're offering so casually, awfully aware of the steaming warmth on his cheeks and frantic beating of his heart. his throat feels awfully empty from the way he can't even say a thing from how shocked he was. there's practically steam flushing out of his ears when he looks away and scolds you for being way too early. (maybe he's implying that it might be better for a later occasion.)

trey hasn't exactly pondered on the topic of marriage a lot. why would he? he's living a pretty good life. surrounded by his close circle, being able to excel and enjoy the thing he loves, having a decent academic standing. what more could he wish for? apparently marriage. just the notion had him whipping up deserts in his head, specifically for a wedding and he's suprised at how serious he's being at it. even his parents are getting a shock from how he insists to do the wedding cake commissions himself for some 'practice' he says.

receiving the shock of the year certainly doesn't come by a lot but cater supposes he can't exactly avoid the thing forever. consider this the most shocking he's ever gotten because you'd know from his frozen face and the smile that dropped into an open gape. right after he breaks into this goofy grin before giggling somehow ominously. you should expect cater to basically advertise your proposal, posting it all around social media with barely container excitement. you'd think he'd throw it away after he's done taking pictures but he's hidden it deeply in his closet.

ace trapolla ponders on whether he should just slap your hand away like when he'd probably do but for once he's silent. staring at the ring with such intensity that you took the initiative to joke about his out of character face. so, ace huffs and playfully rolls his eyes at you. to be honest, his usual self would definitely push your hand away because he thinks it's a joke and it's funny but the thing is. it's not. oddly enough, it's somehow serious to him and he literally hates it! stop making it serious to him he's gonna contradict himself after making disgusted faces to couples.

he had never felt such honor before. sure, deuce is pretty flustered. face tinted in pink but he's feeling like he just recieved a medal right now.. so proud would be a better word to describe his feelings. deuce just watches you slip the ring into his finger after he had nodded slowly. you don't know if you should be concerned or laugh at the way he never took his eyes off it. speaking of his eyes, they could be comically quiet sparkles in it from how amazed and proud he seemed.

savanaclaw

compared to leona, ace's stares is like a cat to a well.. lion. leona just stares at you pointedly, glancing at the ring once and you swear something strange flashed in his eyes for a moment. you aren't given the time to venture too deeply into it as leona had already retreated back to his previous position and seemingly going back to sleep. you just shrug and decide to leave him to it. leona's ears twitch, picking up a rustle of paper in the grass. right behind him then your retreating footsteps. he just lays there, staring at nothing then turning to his back. the ring is over there. and he's currently fighting his inner self whether or not he'll test if you got his finger size right.

ruggie doesn't skip a beat and immediately leans in closer without warning, only to take a real good look at the ring you've made. he whistles and makes a cheeky comment about its just how he liked it. actually, it's true. as much as ruggie liked shiny things this is the little things he prefers and he lowkey just fell in love a little more. so, if you don't mind at all! he'll take the ring to keep to himself. since you did make it for him there shouldn't be any problem. don't worry, if you guys do actually end up getting married there's a chance he'll do it with paper rings. strange as it is.

his face holds a contortion of seriousness and 'seriously?' don't get him wrong. jack is quite stupefied by your gesture, don't you know that rings are often associated with the topic of marriage? you're literally proposing to him and you're doing it so casually?! oh please. in all seriousness actually he'd actually like that but he fears he might accidentally tear the whole thing into shred by accident. it's funny on how such a big, muscular man could treat something like paper so fragile. done like a true tsudere he turns pink, furrows his brows and loud away.

octavinelle

with the growing silence that azul thought of as awkward, he quickly clears his throat in hopes of clearing the.. atmosphere. if it weren't to the wake up call he snapped into, he definitely would've dropped the cup he was holding by his faltered grip. he puts on a smile that was more wobbly than he preferred but he can't really comment on it since it was currently his best. anyhow, he flicks his gaze down the ring and gestures for you to place the ring in his palm. he won't accept it, atleast not now but he will. when he would be able to provide for the two of you for a better life. until then he'd keep it in his safe when he's ready.

there's nothing more in-character for jade than a wide, kind of ominous grin. it's like he's teasing you non-verbally just from his face expressions itself. raising a brow and nudging you, with that grin still present on his face. jade says something about you being too impatient for marriage but he'll gladly adjust to your,,, preference. should he call you his fiance now? yes, the whole time he's been teasing you. not at all phased by your bold proposal. if not, he seems a little too pleased about it.

fully intent on glomping you. floyd wastes no time lurching forward and basically glomping you with a flurry of giggles, looking like he's high on cloud 9. 75% of the time he was just full of giggles as he continuesly stays clingy to you for the past time, and the rest muttering about getting married. don't be suprised if the whole school knew at this point because he kept saying "shrimpy and I are getting married. hehe." a lot and he doesn't even know how loud he actually is being.

scarabia

being the sunshine he is everyone would expect kalim to be the happiest. and he is, you can tell from the brightest perk up he does and the bright, happy grin-smile he does right after. he looks like he can barely contain the happiness from bursting out. unlike any other of the guys, kalim probably thinks of this as a serious thing and doesn't think it's a joke at all. he doesn't even hesitate with accepting the ring and promises he'll make you one himself too. why would he buy you a different, expensive one when you gave him something so priceless?

jamil can't help the furrow on his brows. he probably looks disgruntled and bothered by you right now but it's quite the opposite. him, you're giving him paper rings? to him? it's not that he hates the notion, he thinks it's secretly cute but why him? there's probably a thousand other people wanting to receive one from you but yet you're here offering him a fragment on your love and you already stole his heart. he guesses no amount of ordinary can make you ignore him. it feels like a crushing responsibility to be the one chosen by you but he doesn't feel pressured at all.

pomefiore

in hindsight vil should be offended by your audacity to give him a paper ring out of all things! most people would probably sell their souls to purchase one imbedded with the most expensive kinds of crystals and gems. but he can't help but feel.. he isn't sure, pleasantly suprised? you never fail to dazzle him even if your ring isn't sparkly to compare to him but he does remember his dad speaking about how not everything should be all about the price. sometimes, it's the thought that matters and if your thought was to marry him he'd gladly do.

besides everyone else. rook is the most appreciative by your gesture, he doesn't have a problem practically singing how much enchanted you've made him by this alone. go on prefect, shall you do a play? he'd absolutely rejoice if you went along with him, going on your knees to recreate a real proposal and he'd say it was the most magnifique performance he's proud to ever taken apart of! by morning and day everyone notices how much more joyous he's been, sparing the ring made of paper in his finger that he wears literally every day. but they don't wonder too much, strange and rook in the same sentence fits quite well.

between the entirety of pomefiore, epel certainly has the least graceful reaction, with the loud scream, mind boggled eyes and all. if not for the etiquette lessons rook had drilled into his memories, epel would have taken you for the shoulders and started shaking you frantically, wriggling your brain cells into oblivion. but he just resorted by sparing you his mercy and just keeping his hand curled into a fist by his chest. epel is torn between 'what do you mean by this?!' and a firm 'I do'.

ignihyde

my boy idia's reaction is the most predictable and prominent. when I say predictable, most of the time he's just on the verge of a breakdown at unexceptable things and prominent by the increasingly passionate flame that his now pink (previously blue) has. I mean when is it not pink when mc is involved really? idia is of course, having a crisis because WTF?! that was literally so cute that he's gonna have a cardiac arrest. someone please sedate him... consider idia a fan of paper craft because you started receiving a bunch of origami stuff, ranging from paper flowers to cranes. even ortho is suprised at the sudden motivation to pick up a hobby.

when you told ortho to wait when you forgot something he definitely didn't expect you to come back with a bunch of flowers made out of paper for him! the boy is singing praises for you as he clutches the batch happily. almost like he's cradling a child. you bet ortho is gonna make some sort of artificial liquid to drown the flowers into so that the paper doesn't get worn out or crumpled. he will certainly keep it safe for years!

diasomnia

akin to childish joy. malleus hums pleasantly. he doesn't think that this is a fake or anything at all, though he was sure that he'd be the one to propose first.. oh well, it's a nice thing. you never fail to suprise him child of man. he stares at you with a smile playing upon his lips and crinkled eyes, almost like he is in a trance. do you think he'll tell you that he quite literally just fantasized your future in front of you. (💀) goodluck cause man's obsessed and he's definitely not letting you take anything back. it's final. (no take backs 😡 <- like that)

giggles but atleast it's more mischievous and less ominous than jade's. lilia likes to see what kind of look you'd have on your face if he reacts differently. he's kicking his feet up, giggling and shi'. he acts like he just got serenaded by a high school crush, and you are technically his high school crush. might tease you into fluster instead but it all depends on his mood. it's pretty hard to fluster him you know and before you can do it it'll be the end of the world. (promises you that he'll be the househusband if you do get married and doesn't pay mind to your sweatdropping and horrified look.)

screeching like it's the end of the world. sebek probably woke up the world next to this one from how much bullshit he just started spouting, loudly if i may add. bullshit because everyone knows whatever he's spouting isn't even true and he's just saying it to convince himself.. sebek what do you mean the idea is preposterous? didn't you have a crisis last night because you couldn't sleep with a certain somebody in mind? silver is literally exposing him and sebek is calling him a traitor. he's never gonna vent to silver ever again, period.

to be honest maybe silver actually has the most normal reaction. he's just; oh wow, that's beautiful thanks. then goes back to sleep but this time he's been blessed with a dream of a future with you. he just doesn't spare an over the top reaction and prefers to cherish what he has now. which is what he's currently doing, he loves you and he doesn't want to wish for anything more until you're fully ready.. we love a respectful, consentual man. of course he keeps the ring but so that it won't get in the way of his work

[basicbunnyboo]

Bird Behaviors

An Adam x Reader Ramble

A.N. - Hello hello, my dears. I got bored in my chemistry class so here’s some brain rot because I love looking into how a character’s animal nature can affect their daily life and I might go into a full psychological rant about a few later but anywizzle-

Cw - Pushy coworker (doesn’t go into detail) / pissy Adam

Just Adam Being Part Bird (Not Really)

Wing Flapping (Whenever he finds something stupid hilarious that he wants to share, his wings usually flap behind him.)

“Hey, hot stuff!”

You sighed, looking up from your phone to look at whatever he wanted to show you now. It was usually a random rock or something shiny.

“Look, look, look,” he walked up next to you, his wings shifting behind him, “it’s a dick, right?”

You gave him a look.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, but it is, isn’t it?” He shoved the rock in your face as you looked it over. It looked more like a heart, but knowing him, he wouldn’t agree.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

His wings flapped behind him as he grinned wider, “Right? Fucking called it. Lute said it looked like Missouri. I knew you’d agree, babe.”

You smiled at his childish antics, “Yup.”

Preening (Despite what you might think, he takes good care of himself. He’s the face of his band after all.)

“Adam, I got the-“ you paused at the sight. Adam was bent in a strange way, his wings fully unfurled, as he tried to reach a spot by the base of his wings, “Fucking ass why are you so damn-“

He paused, then fell, cursing.

“Fucking hell, gimme a damn warning, bitch,” he huffed. He sat down on the couch, arms crossed with his wings half groomed.

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah,” you stood behind him, “sit up.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Up, Adam.”

With some more grumbling, he obliged.

Beak Clicking (Adam has this weird habit he does every time someone tries to flirt with you.)

“C’mon, just one? I promise to pay and everything,” they pleaded. Your coworker had been asking for a date this past week. You repeatedly told them no, but they didn’t seem to get the hint.

You, of course, told Adam. Something you were regretting now that you saw him standing menacingly behind them.

He kissed his teeth, “So, you’re the one who’s been annoying ‘em, huh?”

They turned around, not expecting Adam to be there, “Oh, uh, hey, A-”

“Don’t ‘hey, Adam’ me, bitch,” he looked them over, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing? They said no, so leave.”

“I, uh, yeah, okay.”

Fluffing (He gets cold easily. And he makes it very well known)

“I don’t wanna,” he whined.

“Look,” you put on a jacket, “it’s not even 60 degrees. You’ll be fine.

“Nuh uh,” his wings formed a very fluffy cocoon around him, “I’ll freeze!”

You pinched your nose, “Adam, I need to leave.”

“But I don’t want you leaving me.”

“Then come on!”

“It’s cold,” he pouted.

You have to admit, seeing his cute stupid little face surrounded by his wings made you want to just stay and cuddle.

He knew that, of course, “C’mon. I’m cold, you’re warm, just cuddle me, bitch.”

You raised a brow, making him pause.

“Uh, please?” He gave you that damned look.

You sighed, already taking off your jacket, “I hate you.”

He had a smug grin, “Love you, too, hot stuff.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

[lilacxquartz]

Please, Don’t Go | One Shot

Fem!Reader x Yandere Shoko Ieiri

ABOUT: Shoko has lost almost everyone close to her, so when you turn up half dead in the medical bay, she decides that she wants to keep you forever. Once she fixes you up, of course.

TAGS/THEMES: Mild yandere, she’s very protective. Oral sex, everything is consensual. Basically porn/smut with a little plot. Slight warning for light violence, but it was to set up the scene. Fem!Reader x fem!character.

WORD COUNT: 3k

“This is fucked up,” you said as you leaned against the rails, huffing out a puff of smoke—your eyes bitterly staring off into the distance.

“Right,” Shoko agreed, lighting up her own stick as she joined you. Her arm brushed against your shoulder, offering idle comfort as you both surrendered your gaze of the fiery red sky.

At least you were getting one last sunset out of tonight, before you’d have to assist on the mission. You didn’t want to go, you weren’t strong at all. But you were called in to fulfil your duty and you had zero rights to refuse.

“Think I got a chance at all?” you sighed, throwing the cigarette to the ground and rubbing it into the concrete with your shoe.

“I want to say you do,” she sighed, her demeanour stiffening just a little, she was tense and it showed, despite being neutral in the way she carried herself—her uncertainty was finally slipping through the cracks, “but who really knows.”

“Encouraging,” your response was sarcastic and you smiled, but you swallowed down dread as you did so. Your eyes watered just a little as you felt dizzied from the prospect.

Fighting a special grade cursed spirit? You didn’t stand a chance at all. Your presence to the scene was likely just fodder; a distraction to keep it at bay for a split second as those who could hold their ground on the battlefield scrambled to form a plan to contain it.

You felt sickness rise within you next, some type of festering nausea that swelled within your core. Your head hurt as you struggled to retain focus.

You really didn’t want to go.

You wanted to live.

“If you’re able to, try to survive at least a little,” Shoko spoke up after a painful moment of silence.

“Hm?” you hummed, suddenly grounding yourself.

“I can put you back together, I think, if you manage to keep your critical areas in tact,” she said, her voice ripe with care, “I’d really hate to lose another friend again. It’s just so… lonely.”

“I mean, I’ll try?” you half scoffed, half laughed. You didn’t want to die for certain, you’d do your best to be one of the lucky few who would only meet at the verge of death and not at their final end.

“Good,” she said in a somewhat scolding tone. “You’d better.”

***

By the time you got to the scene, everything was more or less in shambles.

You managed to make it through the waves of the dead, leading a trail as to where you had to go like a matted pile of flesh, blood and bone. You sighed as you knew that you were likely the next in line to be paved into that ill-fated road, your body shuddering as you approached a presence that you could even bear to witness.

It saw you from the very moment you entered the scene, a mile or two away. You could feel its invading eyes linger and seep into your soul as the stare pierced you, as if warning you to not take a step closer lest your life would end.

You dared approach it anyway, understanding your duty to fulfil as a sorcerer. Even if you were to topple and succumb immediately, then that had to be done—your life was only mere, slight in comparison to the others that you’d have to save in the surrounding area.

You thought back to Shoko’s request.

To your promise.

You’ll try to drag this one out, to buy the minds plotting for victory some time, but you’d also try to not meet your immediate end if you could help it. You didn’t want to leave her entirely and utterly alone, because whether or not she saw you as what you saw her back as, it felt all simply too cruel to condemn her to such a twisted fate.

The special grade taunted you from the moment you faced it, its eyes eluding contempt mocking you as it locked its sight onto your body. It was objectifying almost, his mouth—drooling, salivating at the sight; you felt hunted, like a deer walking into the belly of the beast rather than towards the forested horizon that promised safe escape.

Its voice deep and trembling, echoing within your body’s core as his words shook you, you could feel it vibrate against your throat as your skin prickled with goosebumps, enveloping your very being.

What happened next was quick—brief, sudden and swiftly done, you weren’t even properly conscious to bear witness to the horrors done unto you within the limited amount of time that you had. All you could understand was that you were standing at one point, then smeared against the asphalt the next.

Your body burned and it ached, bones stuck in unnatural places, bending as though to just barely snap, kept in by pure miracle alone. Your eyes felt dry, as if sand filled your waterline, to even blink, feeling as though you’d crumble.

It was a waiting game to bleed out, to wait for death to come and claim you. Your eyes darkened, your body numbed.

Your attempt didn’t even make a dent, but it wasn’t in vain.

You did your part, now it was up to everyone else.

***

You awoke some time later in a bed, so warm and plush and comforting—was this a hallucination? Perhaps your mind was allowing you to live out your final moments in a dream, how nice of it to do so, if it was truly that.

You felt everything you could, the smell of clean laundry and the sensation of cool air wisp against your raw skin, enveloping it with comfort. You laid against soft linen, hearing the gentle hum of someone familiar in the background, the smell of tea drifting to your senses as the comfort continued to build.

You pinched yourself to ensure this was real and much to your surprise, it indeed seemed to be. Every feeling was correct and your body was put back together, but how—and why were you back so soon? Were you really back so soon?

Your eyes drifted around the room again, scrolling from side to side as you tried to figure out where you were. You weren’t a corpse rotting outside against the pavement, but you weren’t quite back at the campus either.

This felt personal. From the scent of incense burning by the window, velvet smoke drifting into your nostrils as the wind carried the scent inside. Your body was intact, fingers clenching and brushing at the warm bedding that your body laid upon.

Through the door entered a familiar face; her eyes so worn and tired, dusty hues of exhaustion settling on her face. Shoko’s complexion wrinkled a little, the extensive work she put through to keep you in one piece likely taking a huge hit out of her very being.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up after a while,” she sighed, her hip dipping against the frame of the door. Her fingers latched onto the handle.

Just how long has she spent doing this?

“How long was I out for?” you croaked, your own voice surprising you. You sounded so stiff, so tense. Your words barely made it out of your throat.

“A week, almost,” she said, walking inside of the room and scanning your body on the bed. The way that she did so seemed expertly crafted, as if studying her own handiwork with fixing you back together.

Her eyes seemed dark though, there was something beyond that caring gaze, something not exactly sinister but not quite good either. It was all surely subtle though as she soon corrected her stance, relaxing her posture as she sat along the edge of the bed.

Her hand trailed over to you as you initially thought it was out of affection, only for her to tighten something that looped around your arms instead. Your eyes snapped to the confines she placed around you, realising that your ankles were bound too.

How did you not notice this?

You supposed that you were out of it when waking up. Your mind still wasn’t in a correct place.

“Hey…” you softly said, your mind finally catching up now that you didn’t feel so groggy.

“Don’t struggle,” she hushed you, her fingertips now dancing against your lips as though to silence you, “please, don’t struggle for me.”

“This your idea of being funny, then?” you asked, trying to keep things light in case that this was all some strange joke.

“It’s my idea of keeping you safe, be grateful,” she sighed, her body leaning in over yours as though to find comfort in your frame, you groaned just a little as you didn’t quite feel entirely healthy just yet.

“You’re serious?” you frowned in response instead, feeling her painful comfort as she refused to budge. You tugged along at the confines, finding that they were oddly strict and your body felt a little too weak to protest properly.

“Everyone just keeps dying. Do you know just how close you were to following them?” Shoko simply asked, sitting back up once again. She wasn’t joking as much as usual, her words carrying extra weight as she stared you down with those tired eyes.

“But you’ve fixed me, so I won’t go anywhere-“

“Correct, you’re not going anywhere, but I’ve also done something stupid. Something I maybe shouldn’t have,” she said as her expression tightened, a look of pure regret.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re categorised as killed in action, I put the paperwork through to confirm it. You won’t be returning.”

“You did what?” your tone shifted to something confused, you didn’t understand where this was going any longer.

Your mind reversed just a few seconds back—you focused on something small she just told you, it stuck out so painfully sore in the slew of words she otherwise fed you:

(You’re not going anywhere.)

You were supposedly marked off to be dead.

Her face and the way she looked so stiff told you that she was being serious, but even then, you refused to register it as such, maybe this was all elaborate. It wouldn’t be unlike her to be so deadpan and scarily authentic just for her to tell you that it was a joke all along—you begged for her to tell you it was one after all.

But the punchline never came.

“I don’t want you to go out there again and get killed,” she defended, immediately jumping on the backpedal.

“So you told them I died so that I wouldn’t go back?” your voice raised a little.

“You were dead on the table when they sent an assistant, or close to it. Then I just… patched you up on my own terms once they were gone. Everyone’s too busy for a proper funeral anyway.”

“Shoko…” you sighed, your head falling back flat against the pillow. Your eyes glued to the ceiling above you as you processed her insanity.

“You’re not leaving me,” her tone darkened, her voice carrying something spiteful almost—you’ve never heard her speak this way, “you won’t be like them, you won’t die and leave me here all alone—but look, I’ll keep you safe.”

“And what about when I inevitably walk out of here alive?” you sighed.

“You won’t,” she hushed you. “You’ll be alive, I mean, obviously… but, you won’t be leaving.”

“So, your plan is to keep me inside forever then or what?”

“If I have to,” she seemed to conclude that this was it anyway, based on how she promptly sat up and got up to walk back out of the door.

“Shoko…” you persisted, still feeling weak from the battle, your body aching for recovery. Thankful that she brought you back, but otherwise wary of what she kept promising you.

“I’m bringing you something to help you recover, but only once, so be good for me and actually eat up,” she said, demanded almost. Her command was laced with utter care, her will begging for you to comply and live for her sake, if barely your own.

She came back after that moment, her hands cradling a tray as she slid it over to you in silence as you struggled to sit up to take it on. On it was a cup of steaming tea and some okayu to help you recover.

You weren’t all that fond of rice porridge, but you did suppose that you were her patient and you needed to eat something simple, something healing.

You ate it as you were told, your body yearning to recover as you did so. The warmth of everything settling in your stomach, keeping you warm and comforted and satiated to boot.

Her weary eyes watched you as you ate, as though relaxing at the sight of you replenishing your health. She held against your side of the bed, her eyes slowly closing as you finished up your meal—suddenly fluttering open when her ears met with silence, the sign of you completing your meal.

“Thank you,” you said, unsure what to say.

She didn’t respond, yawning as she carried the dishes out. You could hear her back meet the surface of the door, the dishes clanging against the tray as she settled against the floor, as though grounding herself right outside the room.

This wasn’t like her… to struggle at the sight of you. There wasn’t a single unserious thing about her going on for once and it was brutally striking to see.

Maybe you did need a break though.

Maybe you could give in for just a little bit.

Perhaps she would even heal too.

(But she wouldn’t. She refused to.)

***

It took about another month of soft exchanges between you and her gently protesting for your freedom. She’d let you use her shower—bathroom. She’d let you breathe fresh air on her balcony, to hold your hand when you’d stumble just a little, whatever damage that special grade did seemed to be permanent.

Something not even her reverse cursed technique could fix.

“You’re almost better,” she would say, monitoring your progress through it all, logging every single thing she possibly could to hurry up your recover, “but you’re still staying with me.”

“You’re never letting me go?” you would then ask, warming up to it just a little. You almost wanted her to promise you it, your mind surrendering to her will.

Her responses would be similarly rooted along the same vein, it would be either a never or some other long and distant time before she could let you out of her sight, always returning you to your confines when she had to go somewhere.

The aftermath of the fight left you permanently weakened, or at least that’s a state you assumed you took on after it—your mind lingered at the possibility that this was done on purpose, but that idea bordered on insanity so you let it go.

(Unless?)

You’d sleep with tight restrictions, the concept of freedom beyond the packed little flat a slowly fading pipe dream. She would often be back with takeaway or some booze, ready to share something familiar and comforting with you as you would slowly get better and better.

You’d watch movies with her on the sofa, be with her as she filled out even more paperwork for both of your slowly dying out allies, you’d sit there in painful silence as if to reminisce about the company that was no longer existent.

But as you got better, all your good health did was sicken her—you quickly understood it as obsession, a burning innate desire to keep your life ongoing and close.

Today was a day that Shoko finally allowed you a gentle freedom, the confines finally releasing from your slumber as she now felt confident with your loyalty.

“You’re staying for me, aren’t you?” she purred, her hands tracing lines against your wrist, leaving behind affectionate shivers.

“I suppose...” you finally warmed up.

“If you leave me like that again though, I’d just get you back in that little state.”

The threat was muffled as she had promised you such a thing in a hushed whisper. Just loud enough for it to register with you, but quiet enough for it to slip by you had you not been paying attention.

Your hunch was slowly being proven correct, even if she didn’t admit it directly to you. Your weakened state was likely a fabrication, an attempt of deception and dependency.

But you somehow didn’t mind.

The idea grew on you and you were tired of just barely surviving each and every single time. Whether it was cowardice to think in such a way or not, you didn’t quite care anymore.

“I won’t leave,” you promised her and slowly, her calmer and more carefree side seemed to show once more.

“Yeah?” her tired voice asked.

“Of course not.”

“You’d better not.”

The silence that brewed beyond that point was almost loud, somehow. Your breathing meshed with her own as her tired eyes found comfort in your own—your state relaxed her, a piece of company that wouldn’t succumb to the unforgiving lifestyle you’d both found yourselves entangled in.

“So, let me take care of you,” Shoko said after a while, her voice suddenly relaxed once again, just like how she used to be before work got the better of her, “let me make you mine.”

You didn’t reject her this time, unlike the first time that you did so many years ago. You felt some sort of dependency linger, wanting for her to care for you and to give into her emotional demand.

After seeing near death so clearly, you wanted for her to promise you life again and again.

As such, you found your body feeling heavy as it relaxed, your heart rate fluttering as she crept closer, her soft hands pressing their palms and sweeping over your face, cupping your cheeks as her lips slowly moved towards your own.

She then connected the kiss, leaving an aftertaste of bitter coffee as she continued to press herself down, your tongue reacting to her own as it entered your mouth, pushing it from side to side as you exchanged a kiss.

Slowly, her hands brushed down your body, to your shoulders, neck and chest; her feel was intricate as the touch leftover lingered on areas you had a positive reaction on—nothing was forced, you wanted this, you wanted her back. Especially right now.

For her to comfort you, to soothe you.

Her lips trailed down as her hands explored your body, planting a path of kisses down your neck and past the middle point of your chest. Slowly, her hands slid down to your hips, her mouth following in pursuit as she made it past your stomach, down to your hip line and then just beyond.

“You’ll let me take care of you forever,” she said, not even asked. It was a demand.

You nodded as your breath shuddered, her eyes locking with your own as she received unspoken confirmation that it was okay for her to continue.

In her pursuit, she drew the fabric of your shorts off and slid your underwear off until you were completely bare. Her eyes scrolled around your sex, taking in the sight of you delicately and then drifted back towards your face, just as if to give you a heads up in advance—that this was going to happen, that she would make you feel good if she could help it.

Silence followed as yet another inaudible agreement was forged; her fingers parted your folds as her face pressed inwards, the feeling of her tongue immediately seeking out and meeting with your clit. The muscle flicked and circled the nub as you felt your thighs tighten, repeating only motions that drove out reactions. Slowly but surely, she got both a taste of you—and what you liked.

Your back arched in the bed as the pleasuring sensation began to build, feeling a rising wave of bliss that tingled within your stomach and finalised at a breaking point—your breathing shallow, your voice emitting higher pitched gasps caught on and off in the back of your throat.

Your hips rolled against her tongue with rising pressure, her hands holding against the sides of your thighs as she continued to feverishly suck on your clit—alternating between that and teasing the now swollen bud, sending you over the edge if she could help it.

The bedsheets tore as your nails clawed against them, ripping fabric in the heat of the moment—your body slowly beginning to tremble beyond a controllable limit.

You continued to rock on her tongue, grinding on pure instinct alone as the rising sensation now begged for violent release; you couldn’t hold yourself in any longer as your hands sought comfort as she offered you her own, interlocking your fingers into place as you squeezed—almost, almost—!

Shoko was nearly out of breath too as she brought you over your limit, your insides coiling as your peak neared its end, it was sudden and intense as the pressure reached its threshold and finally, your body succumbed to a final release.

Your breathing stifled, sharp breaths cutting through your lungs as the waves finally rolled through. Your inner legs tingled as your body finally gave permission for an end to manifest, toes curling and your grip relaxing, your mind blanking into bliss.

It was over—yet you felt it all linger after, your breath slowly coming back to you as you let the pleasure ride out a final time.

Her fingers trailed towards your warmth to play with you after, although gently as sheer delight formed in her eyes as she felt just how wet you were and just for her. She swirled two fingers inside as she finally pulled back and laid her head just outside your thighs.

It didn’t take her long to climb on top of you after, using your body as a source of comfort, making her bed right on your frame.

“You’re mine forever,” she whispered as she tightened her hold around you, her tired voice letting out one final yawn, concluding her intentions, “I’m never letting you go.”

It was then that you didn’t mind all of a sudden.

You wanted to stay, after all.

With her. For her.

[uriekukistan]

alright i've been seeing so much megumi hate recently, and especially after the new chapter (not on here, mostly twitter youtube and tiktok), so as president of the megumi defense squad, here is my dissertation defending him against the bum allegations.

i've seen a lot of people comparing megumi's situation to yuuji in shibuya, and saying that megumi should be able to "just get up and keep fighting," so i'm going to tell you why this is not a fair comparison, and give some context on yuuji's "recovery" from shibuya that i feel people are missing when they say this. this is quite lengthy, sorry in advance

i. fundamental differences in the ways in which yuuji & megumi view saving people

yuuji wants to save everyone. he wants to save as many people as he can because of what his grandfather said to him on his deathbed. this is what kickstarted the events of jjk. if yuuji hadn't felt this way, he never would have eaten that finger to say some guy he met an hour ago, which is another point. yuuji cares for people easily. he threw his life on the line to save megumi immediately after meeting him. he mourned junpei, who he spent all of a few hours with in total like he had known him for years.

this is very different from megumi, who both does not get attached to people easily, and does not care to save everyone. he only cares to save people he deems worthy, and as far as we know, this list consists of only tsumiki and yuuji. its even unclear if he feels this way about nobara or gojo, despite them also being relatively important in his life. as you can see, when he thinks about saving people by his conscience, the only two characters shown are tsumiki and yuuji.

this is why he sometimes gets some criticism for not doing a half-assed job as a sorcerer, but i think its important to remember that he does not actually want to be a sorcerer, only doing it out of necessity to keep tsumiki from the zen'in clan. the times where we do see him taking things seriously are when yuuji and/or tsumiki's lives are what's at stake.

so in shibuya, after watching his own hands slaughter innocent people, and watching nanami and nobara die, yuuji is able to keep going because there are still more people who need to be saved, and he wants to save everyone. in contrast, megumi has watched his own hands kill one of the two people that he cares about saving, and severely maim the other one, so what is there to keep fighting for, given the way he views the world?

and i think it's also important to note that megumi has not been aware of his surroundings since sukuna v yorozu, so saying that he should get up now to save yuuji is not reasonable because he doesn't even know yuuji is there.

ii. the environment yuuji was in in shibuya vs the environment megumi is in right now

now none of that is to say that yuuji did not also break down and want to give up in shibuya, because he absolutely did (actually, im not sure if this is canon or just my theory, but the reason he did not switch back with sukuna at the detention center was because he wanted to give up), but the circumstances were way different

within minutes of watching nanami and nobara die, todo & nitta were there to encourage him and get him back on his feet (most of that was due to todo, but nitta was also telling yuuji not to lose hope).

meanwhile, megumi has been alone for over a month now, save the few seconds in 251 where i'm pretty sure he didn't even know yuuji was there, with nothing but his own misery to keep him company. sukuna took over his body and killed tsumiki with megumi's technique on november 16th. the shinjuku showdown takes place on december 24th. that's over a month stewing in guilt and mourning with no one to support him at all. that makes it a lot more difficult to bounce back quickly like that.

iii. more context on yuuji

even after todo's little pep talk that gave him the strength to get up and finish mahito off, yuuji didn't just "bounce back" and stand up to keep fighting in the way people think he did. in the days following the shibuya incident, he was really directionless, probably a bit reckless, because he genuinely didn't know what to do with himself, and didn't know if he even deserved to be alive. in my personal interpretation of yuuji immediately post-shibuya, if it weren't for choso, he would have likely lost his life, as he just showed a lack of self-regard in those days following. just one example:

it's not until megumi shows up again that yuuji finds a direction to go, and even then, he's operating with the mindset that once everything is over, megumi and tsumiki are safe, and gojo is unsealed, he will die and stop causing trouble for everyone.

so again, i think the megumi/yuuji comparison as a way to hate on megumi is not fair, both because there are important differences in the way they think and their situations, and because yuuji's reaction post shibuya isn't quite as resolved and strong as people make it out to be. this is not to say that yuuji is not strong! he absolutely is, just to point out that he, like megumi, was/is also lacking the will to live, and there's nothing wrong with that! wanting to give up is a completely reasonable reaction to being in this situation as an ADULT, let alone at 15 years old.

if you've made it this far, thank you for listening to me ramble 🙏 pls let me know any of your thoughts as well, i'd love to chat about this!

[widodiangelo]

Technically, they weren’t supposed to be in each other's cabins.

But after fighting in two wars in the last two years, Chiron had decided to let some things slide. And so the Poseidon cabin became the go-to meeting place for the older campers: mostly the seven and company.

As a result, the cabin had slowly begun accumulating various comfort items and was morphing into a strange college dorm room-thrift shop hybrid. There was an old, peeling leather couch Jason and Leo had dragged out of the big house a few weeks ago, surrounded by random folding chairs and an assortment of beanbags Nico had totally not shadow traveled in from an ikea in the city. There were two and a half mini fridges (two working, one broken), a strange assortment of video game consoles the stoll brothers had provided and quite a few puzzles.

Since he and Nico had started dating, Will found himself hanging out in Percy’s makeshift common room more and more. That evening, he had just finished a sing-along session with his siblings at the campfire and was making his way across camp to the cabins. The warm summer air was filled with the smells of campfire smoke and sea salt drifting from the shore. A calm smile on his face, Will strolled up to cabin three with an extra s’more in his hand.

The interior was lit up with fairy lights and a blue lamp in the corner: cozy and inviting. Leo and Piper sat in some beanbags, playing some sort of card game. Jason and Percy lounged on the couch, throwing blue jelly beans into each other’s mouths (or at least tried to) while they yelled at the video game on the large tv screen that sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall because someone had forgotten to steal a stand. Nico perched on the edge of a crusty armchair, a controller in his hands and gaze focused on the screen before him. 

Will stepped through the door with a soft wave, which Annabeth returned with one hand from where she was braiding back Nico’s hair as he played. Jason popped a jelly bean in his mouth as Will sat down at Nico’s side. “Holy shit. Nico, you’re sub 6 minutes and you’re already at Lernie? What even is this build?”

Nico smirked, not taking his eyes off the game, but leaning into his boyfriend as a hand carded around his waist. “I told you Grace, Beo is bugged on mirage shot. It’s totally OP.”

Percy tried to catch the blue projectile Jason tossed at him, almost falling off the couch in the process. “Yeah but even with the bug I’ve never been able to make use of hunter’s mark like this before. How are you even doing that?”

Nico shrugged, the silver chains that dangled from his ears glinted in the moonlight. “Practice.” He replied, taking down a hydra head in one blow.

Will took a bite of his s’more and squinted at the screen. “What even is this?”

“Hades.” All three boys replied, and Annabeth snorted. “It’s a Greek mythology game.” She supplied with a roll of her eyes. “Nico’s the main character.”

“I am not the main character.” Nico retorted, eyes never leaving the screen. He mumbled under his breath as the screen shifted, “fuck stupid room 34 witches. Dammit.”

Percy tilted his head in thought. “Actually Nico, you kinda are. I mean Zag is the son of Hades, his main weapon is a sword, you both look like you belong in a hot topic ad–”

“Fuck you, Jackson.” 

“I said what I said– oh shit smoldering air? No way!”

Jason almost choked on his food. “Dude you’re gonna go sub ten at this rate.”

Will glanced at Annabeth. “Do they always sound like they’re speaking ancient greek when they play this game?”

Annabeth pulled the hair tie around her wrist off with her teeth. “Yup. Hate to break it to you, your boyfriend’s a nerd.”

Nico scowled. “Am not.”

Will pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Oh you totally are.”

“Listen Solace– HA! 9:58!” Nico jumped up and tossed the controller on the floor in victory, flicking off the animated Hades he had just defeated. “Get fucked, dad.”

Will watched him fondly. “Of course you would be good at the greek mythology video game where you get to kill your father.”

Nico dropped back down on the chair and slipped into Will’s side, taking the s’more his boyfriend offered him with a grin. “I’m nothing if not on brand.”