#i'm so close to self destructing and just

[thetadispatcher]

"The best I have as of right now is what happens to Vincent when he hits the threshold, what programs run, the code, everything. I've been picking apart everything in hopes of identifying the hidden self destruct program, and to see if what Vincent experiences that prevents it can be applied to other androids. So far I've had little success, but at least there is hope as I feel Vincent is proof of that." It was just hard to pick apart the panicked code received from the AP700 as most of it was just meaningless or needed to be stung back together.

Peter glanced at Strasky who was busy transferring the images he'd need to the nearby computer. "I suspect as much." His counterpart reminded him more of something from a zombie movie then a living person, and he really didn't want to find out if his comparison was any sort of accurate. He didn't even want to know why the other man smelled so strongly of salt water, the smell seemed to have permeated into his very being and become a part of him, something which definitely didn't happen naturally.

"Some don't start out in such a way, but I have learned to forgive what a deviant did when they first turned, as it can be overwhelming and difficult to suddenly be able to feel emotions." He'd heard how some had killed their owners well in a state of being overwhelmed by their emotions, usually the change was brought on by them having finally had enough of their former owners mistreatment of them. So he could forgive them if they did something that would be considered illegal as it would technically be classified as self defense even if the humans didn't like it.

"Uh, yes, that's correct. We think he had been watching Dan when the DPD took him out on assignments and then just decided to follow him home one day." At least that's what Dan suspected happened, and Peter felt inclined to believe the PL600 as he would have a better idea of what happened then he would.

"His reasoning is usually wanting to be stronger mainly. And yes, I have upgraded him as he wants, but nothing close to what I did to Dan as I promised him I'd never do that to another android." He did the best he could without breaking his promise to Dan, even if he knew that wasn't what the android Bishop wanted he had hoped it would be good enough.

"I'm gonna guess you got a little too close to Vincent for his liking. He doesn't like strangers getting too close to Vincent well he is working, and seeing one that looks like him probably upset him more then usual." That was the best guess he could make without asking the android directly, but he felt pretty sure he was right as it seemed to match the past behavior he'd witnessed.

"Our constructs are programmed to shut down once they reach their critical state. Perhaps this project might shine some light on deviant behavior as well and I'd be glad to review any of your findings at a later time." Willow offered, "And your discretion is appreciated."

"You wouldn't like the story anyway." Rook added.

"Consider this conversation confidential for the sake of everybody involved." Bishop stated. He found it amusing that even Nines seemed to be fine with threats on Kamski. At this rate, he would have to assume androids naturally deviated the moment they learned about this guy.

Or perhaps there was something about that city that made artificial intelligences acting up. Bishop didn't like the fact Willow was smirking.

"Don't worry yourself." the cyborg replied, "I've been a deviant for a good while now."

No, he didn't like that at all.

"So he just showed up and started asking for what, upgrades?" Rook asked, before glancing at Bishop, "That sounds just like you."

He wasn't going to humor that. "Has he mentioned the reason he requires those parts? I would like to know why I was attacked."

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ ⿻ ･ I DESIRE THE THINGS THAT WILL DESTROY ME IN THE END ( part ii. )

THERE'S THIS SOMETHING INSIDE YOU THAT'S ROTTING AWAY & YOU FEEL IT ALL ALONG.

ଓ.° ・ shalom ･ rahu ･ dreya ��� uni. path to nowhere. quote cr : sylvia plath. haruki murakami. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i.

❀⋆˚࿔ shalom

& THE WORLD HAS ALWAYS BEEN A CRUELTY, A COLDNESS AND WRATH ENVELOPED IN ONE'S EXISTENCE. ISN'T IT TERRIBLY LONELY, BEING THE HIGHEST OF THE HIGH? IN BIRTH, MEANT FOR GREATER THINGS, BUT IN DEATH, MEANT FOR THE FALL.

to survive brutality, shalom learns that one must become brutality themselves : play up the weakness and vulnerability in a granted madness, an abandon, return it tenfold, and emerge as the victor. such is the nature of one's life, a fated downfall, this belonging in the elites, and so she learns cruelty like it is a close friend, a lifeline, a becoming.

the strings that fall from her fingertips attach themselves to another, the control in her hands, this puppet show a never ending tragedy and game. lies and deceit are all she knows, all she is familiar with, and kindness is but a wary stranger. this is her survival, and you would be wise to understand that.

because you are the one at the end of those strings, after all. you and so many others, bound by these invisible ties : how they embed themselves, bury their claws into your limbs, your mind, and your heart. what a poor thing you are, she thinks, but there is a gentle smile on her face. she believes you should be pitied, so deeply and dearly so, but she feels little sympathy, and in truth, you are the one who pities her.

"you are more a tool than a person." you begin, and you cannot help but shiver at the feeling of her fingers tracing your skin. "you've told me that so many times before, but you never seem hurt, knowing that you exist only for someone's benefit, knowing that you can only live for someone else and not yourself."

she smiles. it is a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it is as cold and gentle as her touch. her fingers trace your jaw, then trail down your neck. how easy it would be for her to wrap her hand around, squeeze ever so gently, slowly and softly, until she stole your breath.

"does it make you sad, little lamb?" she hums in amusement. her fingers move once more, thumb grazing over your bottom lip as she leans forward the slightest bit. "do you feel sad for me, the one who controls your every action?"

another step forward, a closing distance between two people who were never meant to amount to anything more. another smile. it is genuine this time, almost gleeful in the most subtle of ways.

"don't forget who you are, little lamb. you are just as much of a tool as i am."

❀⋆˚࿔ rahu

BUT THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN INNOCENCE LOST, HASN'T THERE? IN THE DEPTHS OF LOYALTY, THERE IS FATALITY, AND IN RIGHTEOUSNESS, THERE IS THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SOUL. IT IS WRETCHED, THIS DECAY, BUT CALL IT SACRIFICE, AND THEY'LL PROCLAIM IT AS SOMETHING HOLY.

the rising fool knows of sacrifice in the most horrid of ways : the loss of another, the sight of splattered crimson across the barrier that served as the one thing to separate her from life and death, and the path to self-destruction to an awakening that was never meant to be hers.

it is not a life to live, but it is hers, and it is nothing of a burden. not to her, never to her. this is what she chose, this is how she lives, and this is all that she is and will ever amount to be. in each waking breath, she fights and fights, the sword and shield, and even in the haze of amnesia, she cannot escape the hauntenings.

"you're safe. no one will ever hurt you, not when i'm by your side." she tells you, and you believe her. but beneath her eyes, there is fury, outrage, and when you look closer, you see a desperation in the desire to know that she is worth something, that she means something to someone.

you take one step closer, hand cupping her cheek as your thumb traces over her scar. it is a gentle touch -- careful, afraid, as if you could easily push her too far into the brink of fury, lose her in the madness of mania.

"i know you will." you answer, but she notices the way your voice wavers, and there's a shift in her expression, a lowering of her guard, the slightest baring of a rotting heart. "but i need to know, rahu--" you pause, feel the words on the tip of your tongue, "was it worth it? everything that you've become, everything that you gave up?"

she sees your grief, accepts it whole, yet she does not understand it entirely. she doesn't understand why you grieve for her, for her past, why you would torment yourself because of another's choice. but she looks at you, wonders if she mirrors that same look of loss that you can never hide from her.

she leans slightly into your touch, seeks the strange but welcome warmth you have always given her. she has always known her answer. it will never change, even in the knowing that she may succumb to the mania.

"it is." she responds, and she feels the way your hand begins to tremble. "it'll always be worth it. there's no other way."

❀⋆˚࿔ dreya

& THE DRIVE FOR DISCOVERY AND DIVINITY IS ALSO THE DRIVE TO DAMNATION ; IT WILL LEAD YOU ASTRAY, LOST LAMB. BE CAREFUL.

in the eternal nightmare, there is no peace to be found. such is the nature of nightmares : horrendous, harrowing, hideous. this landscape is not one you know, the constant shifting in the atmosphere unsettling, illusions past both frightening and disturbing. the dissea is filled with mania and corruption, and somewhere, there's a higher being, an entity, that is filled with a want for more. it'll consume, overtake, and it'll laugh in the face of good and evils, because it knows it has won.

it is too easy to get lost in this labyrinth. too easy to get lost in the haze of it all.

too easy to get lost in something that isn't yourself.

you see it : these flickers of memories, of confusion, of fascination, of the downward spiral in loss of identity and autonomy. you see how dreya's determination dwindles into something akin to desperation and doom, and you cannot reach her. not always. but there's something meant for the saving, and even if she may be gone, even if she isn't entirely there anymore, you have to try.

so you do. you follow the phantoms, try to make something out of nothing, because you can sense her. it's a chase, it's the long run -- and even when you think you've managed to allow her to regain herself, suddenly, it's over, and the cycle repeats again. but you never give up. you can't.

so you keep going. you keep going and going, until you find yourself face to face with her. you can see the corrosion in the figure before you. you can see the corruption, the fading of a brilliant mind, and in the fog of her eyes, you can see a distant memory of what was.

"you've come back." the words are soft, gentle-- and if you listen carefully, there's an uncertainty, almost. a questioning. "are you here to take me back home, my guide?" a kindness somewhere in the abyss.

you force a smile, and there is a devastation in the traces of it. because you'll try, you will, but you know that she can never go home. she's too far gone now, the mania infused in her being.

"yes, dreya." you tell her, and you cannot hide the sorrow in your voice. "it's time to go home."

❀⋆˚࿔ uni

BUT THE SUN CANNOT SURVIVE WITHOUT THE MOON, JUST AS THE DARK CANNOT THRIVE WITHOUT THE LIGHT, & IN THE DEPTHS OF REFLECTION SOUGHT, THERE IS SOMETHING SO LONELY LINING THE CRACKS OF MIRRORS RUINED.

there is something missing, something destroyed, something WRONG in this fragmented heart : desolate in frozen solitude, filled with a crying grief and semblance of betrayal. how it grows colder and colder and colder with every beat, every sickening pulse that fills her with a forsakening untold. even the sweetness that lingers on her tongue turns into some kind of poison anyway, but bitterness is all she knows, so she indulges in something that will slowly ruin her from the inside and out.

BUT IT'S ALL MADE OF POISON IN THE END, ISN'T IT? all made of something fake, something wanted and desired and yearned for, something born from superficiality. how fickle this all is, the wanting to mold yourself into someone made for the spotlight. there is too much deceit in this world, and seldom is there purity with exception of those she dares trust.

but you-- you, she does not understand. there is something so innocent about you, something she recognizes, and she cannot tell whether it breaks her heart or makes it beat all the more. you recognize her pain, her despair, and she is quick to blame your genuineness on something mocking, something feign. but it is very much real-- always has been, and somehow, it almost breaks her, the glass cracking slowly and surely, until the mirror shatters, until it reveals the sorrow beneath the surface.

she cannot do this. it will hurt all over again, and then she will be left alone, just as she has been for years too long.

"it's alright, uni." you murmur, and in the way you gently offer your hand, there is heartache. "i see you. it's alright."

no, she cannot do this, she thinks. this will hurt all over again-- but what if it doesn't? what if you see beyond the reflection? she stares at your hand, then your eyes, and in her gaze, there is a quiet hesitation, but a quiet relief.

slowly, she places her hand in yours, and how it trembles in the subtle of ways, but you hold it until it stops, until there's trust found in the little distance between your palms.

[sneebl]

i will never !!!! fucking!!!!! be someone's number one!!!!!!

[mozzaremi]

[shannonsketches]

lays on the floor do you guys ever think about how in ResF Bulma falls for Vegeta's fake-out with Freeza and both she and Yamcha are worried about Vegeta's villain fake-out strategy in Champa and Beerus' mini tournament and how it's only been a couple of years since the Buu saga and how Vegeta straight up stopped using that strategy after that tournament

[pergaminaa]

I love how Manon cares for her Thirteen??? In Queen of Shadows when she wanted to know more about the valg and everything she went to Ghislaine because she is the one with the knowledge and just-- I love how she knows where each one of them excels and she doesn't think herself too high and mighty to seek help from others? Sure, she won't do this with anyone, but her Thirteen are literally her family and she trusts them to a great degree.

There is just something about her seeking Ghislaine's help and sitting there listening to her explain the history of the world. It was a small scene but it revealed so much of her character like from that you can easily tell that she isn't like the Matron at all because the Matron would never do that to anyone who she deems is beneath her. First, it was Abraxos, then this scene in Queen of Shadows and we can already see that Manon is not quite as she paints herself to be.

[butchlifeguard]

mandatory reporting for therapists and shit is quite honestly so fucking stupid. if you (non objective observer) think someone might be dangerous based on thoughts they're having don't hesitate to let the state know :)

[todayisafridaynight]

hi its "almost died as an infant" aoki stan anon again. im still thinkin about what to say medical wise BUT U GUYS HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD ABT HIS DEATH like im already frustrated with the "redemption by honorable death" thing that the game keeps doing (east asia has such high suicide rates i dont think its a very responsible narrative to continue telling in general tbh) but especially for a disabled character who had every right to feel vulnerable and betrayed and get a little evil. hes not Right but hes very Understandable and relatable. but then he still chose to live on and face the consequences (ARGUABLY HARDER AND MORE RESPONSIBLE. A GOOD EXAMPLE AND EXPECTATION TO SET especially for a POLITICIAN) and then they kill him anyway with some fuckin BULLSHIT EXCUSE and i feel like its partially because nobody can be bothered to put the effort into continuing a compelling and morally grey disabled narrative and it. hurts to be cast aside like that. especially after they made such a big deal about ichiban being a NEW protagonist/saga with a NEW identity and then. you still just gave me nishiki 2.0. you retold me the exact same story and used a blatant asspull to FORCE it to be the same story and give ichiban a dead brother figure to lament over for the next 5 games???? rgg i thought you wanted him to be different from kiryu???? sigh. it better be a fakeout and he resurfaces perfectly fine in a few games like kashiwagi or else i'm going to start scaling the walls of the rgg office and dismantling it piece by piece

hey howdy. can we call you MAS (medical aoki stan) ima call you mas cause i'd like to hear *mas from you haha gottem

BUT YEAH NO YOU'RE RIGHT. like i joke that ichi and aoki were kiryu and nishiki 2.0 but at least with nishiki, his death was like. .2% more valid while aoki's it's like..... rage. anger. death. i hate it here. this was so fucking stupid there was literally no need for this other than to fill a quota and try to make a "ichi really is the heir to kiryu's legacy" statement. LIKE ICHI IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE NEW FACE, GIVE HIM SOMETHING DIFFERENT- LET HIM KEEP HIS BROTHER SO THEY CAN PURSUE THE FUTURE TOGETHER THIS TIME

it's especially more upsetting regarding aoki as "being cast aside" because we can discern that was a huge thing for him and was a big reason why he turned out the way he did- being seen as useless or something that could easily be disposed off, so for the narrative to do just that right at the very end when it looked as though it was promising him a better future is just so...... rgg you're always so close but not close enough im going to strangle you

[ariaste]

listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

[mrs-lockley]

this whole day i have been on the verge of tears

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

big fan of how we're just both tryin to piss each other off (n gettin annoyed that it's not workin)

I'm sure this won't end horribly! (for me)

[nightingale-prompts]

Saving Batboy

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It was as though he was being led through the city. Dick seemed to know exactly where he should go next as he drove.

Dick turned off his location as he closed in on Joker's location. If anyone had doubts about what would happen tonight they knew now. The clown dies tonight.

Batman never did it because he knew there would be no coming back once he crossed that line but he was not Batman.

Tim knew the moment Nightwing's symbol disappeared that he had found Joker's location. He knew he could track him still based on where he was before but he held off. The last time Dick crossed the line and killed the Joker, Tim was there to stop him. In the time since Tim had grown to regret it. Especially after Jason's return. He should be avenged after everything that happened.

Tim never put much thought into what happened when he was kidnapped just like Danny. Joker Jr was just a nightmare and everyone pretends it didn't happen. His past self doesn't exist to him and the gaps in his memory are better as they are.

If Dick was really going to finish this then Tim wasn't going to stop him. Bruce's code was his code alone. What of the Robins that suffer for it? What about his kids that he loves to the point of self-destruction if they die?

It was clear to Tim now. Batman isn't strong enough to kill Joker. If he can't handle it, someone else would.

Maybe Dick just cared more. Or maybe he had seen this happen too many times to sit by and let it happen again. The cost be damned.

Tim took a deep breath. He knew it was a bad move but he shut down the bat computer. No one could locate each other for the next 10 minutes. Enough time to give Dick the lead he really needs. All the comms are down and no information can be shared.

Tim looked up and saw Alfred putting down a cup of tea for him. Tim felt like a child caught doing something wrong under Alfred. But Alfred nodded wordlessly before turning to leave. He cast a forlorn glance at Jason's robin uniform before ascending the stairs.

****

"I was hoping Batman would come for the little bat. Oh sorry, I mean the boy." Joker mocked holding Danny by the back of the neck.

The teen's body was limp. His silver locks stained a rusty brown from dried blood. Blood covered his back and legs. If there had been any doubt if the wings were real there is none now.

"…" Nightwingwing said nothing. His fist clenched.

"You know I debated skinning him next. That fur of his would be a lovely shawl. It's so soft. But it looks like I won't have the time now." Joker provoked, running a hand through the boy's white neck fur.

"Get your hands off him." Nightwing demanded, his eyes locked on Danny for any signs of life.

"You know I am so curious what he was doing here. I was about to build a new trap here for fun when I stumbled upon this little guy here. Practically gift-wrapped. Did he run away from you? Just like you did from good ol'papa bat." Joker's smile widened sickeningly "This all feels so familiar, doesn't it little bird? Are you going to finish what you started?"

"I'm never letting you hurt my family again." No witty one-liners. No games. This bad joke ends today.

****

Batman had scoured the area. He memorize the last location Dick was before the system went down. He wasn't these kids' father for nothing he knew what they were doing.

When sound came back he had already made it to the abandoned factory. The comms rang back to life as the sounds of crying came through.

"Nononono…please no. Wake up. Please wake up." It was Dick's voice. "It's okay. I'm here now. So just wake up. We need to get home soon. Your favorite show will be on soon. WAKE UP! YOU CAN'T DIE!"

Batman bolted to their location and found Dick hovering over Danny trying to resuscitate him.

His son looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I can't hear his heart. He's not breathing." He let out a shaky breath. As distressed tears ran down his cheeks.

Bruce knelt next to them. Danny didn't react to the pressure on his chest. The pain should have at least caused an involuntary jerk if he wasn't too far gone.

Bruce signaled Dick to move back as he checked Danny's pulse again. Nothing. And he wasn't breathing. Bruce looked at his son. Deep down Dick probably knew.

"I'm sorry. He's gone." Bruce said simply as he took off his cloak.

Danny looked so peaceful. Like he was sleeping soundly. Bruce hated that his own suspension had been the thing that had prevented him from having a relationship with his own grandson. He felt foolish to not realize that of course Danny and Batboy were the same. It was a brilliant disguise. But he'd never get to say this to the boy.

Bruce wrapped the boy in his cloak.

"Come on. We'll fix this." He told Dick, carrying Danny for him.

The journey back to the manor was silent until.

"I'm sorry." Bruce said.

"Don't. Just Don't. He's my son. Its my fault." Dick rasped his voice scratchy from crying.

Bruce felt a bitter sting. That was exactly what he felt when he lost Jason and what happened with Tim. When Damian lost his life. These pains didn't go away.

When they arrived back in the Batcave Bruce laid Danny's body on the table. The others were notified about what happened and had already gathered.

Barbara looked like she had bawled her eyes out as she hugged Stephanie.

Damian had pressed himself close to Tim as the older brother told him that it was going to be okay.

The new hole in the wall was clearly Jason if his bloodied knuckles were any clues.

Cassandra paced the floor deep in thought. She was moments away from starting a new crusade.

Duke stared off into the distance. His anger boiling under the surface. All he could think about was the number of lives ruined by the Joker and even in death he took another.

Dick stood still as a statue. Thinking about if Danny could be brought back and even if he was his wings were gone. What if he was gone for good? Could he live like that?

Never had he understood Bruce more than in that moment.

Bruce braced himself for what would come next. He had a plan to bring Danny back at any cost.

But suddenly a sound broke through the tension.

A sneeze.

A fucking sneeze.

It came up from under the cloak.

Everyone snapped to look at the body hidden under the cloak. It shifted under the heavy black blanket groggily and yawned. Then Danny jumped up twisting to feel his back.

"What happened!!" He yelped.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

[danceandsing]

I want healthy love that makes each other better and not in horrible pain. whatever this is not that. and I'm so terrified.

[purgatoryandme]

SVSSS Crack Angst Liushen

It's been joked about in the fandom before: Liu Qingge never stood a chance with Shen Qingqiu because SQQ's kink is pretty men acting weak and pathetic. And now I'm spinning my wheels about the sheer crack angst potential that contains. Just imagine, on the day SQQ goes to self-destruct, LQG is trying to convince him not to like his old reliable self, and totally fails. And eternal vinegar jar Luo Binghe, who /knows/ what SQQ is weak to, says in bitterness during a fight over the body one day: "If you wanted him to listen to you, you should have cried more back then." LQG's earnest ass would so not be able to resist taking that to heart. Like wow, it truly was all his fault for trying to be SQQ's reliable defender - obviously his Shixiong wouldn't listen to that. Hadn't SQQ helped him and paid such close attention to him whenever he was in trouble? Wasn't he helpless to ignore LQG when he was in trouble? He should've cried more back then.

When he inevitably gets transmigrated back to the Lingxi caves and their first meeting, he manages to cry just a little, thin-faced as he is he's still so grateful to have another chance. And it WORKS! SQQ can't help himself - he sticks around after the Qi deviation and fusses and takes care of LQG. And the gap moe once LQG gets too embarrassed to tolerate it anymore? When he's destroying every demon that invades the sect, turning to SQQ with fierce eyes that seem to say, "See??? I am big and strong!!!" Is too much for SQQ's coquettish personality. He can't NOT tease LQG to death. And at peak embarrassment it gets juuuust a smidge easier for LQG to tear up a bit. He hates it, he loves it, it's WORKING and he can see young disciple Luo Binghe absolutely boiling over with jealousy so he can't STOP, right????? And if he occasionally faces off against plants or monsters that make him look particularly vulnerable, it's not really lying to SQQ, is it???

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Three

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis (no smut though yet), pregnant reader, kinda gruesome details of organ taking/trafficking, self-destruction if you squint, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is a scheduled post; I just recently lost my cousin so I may not be able to be active here for some time but I’ll for sure check in once in a while. Happy reading! I hope you're all having a good time.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

⧗

After Natasha had taken care of Strange, her focus immediately returned to you. Seeing your unconscious form, her heart broke as she frantically searched for something to cover your exposed stomach.

She found a blanket and tore it into a small piece and she gently draped it over your stomach, her hands trembling, staring at your wounded stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, whispering words of apology.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice choking with emotion. “I should've listened to you last night, if I knew you wouldn’t…you wouldn't…” Natasha gasped for air but still trying to hold back a sob, she finally looked at your face. She held your hands and pecked a kiss all over it.

“I could've lost you, detka. I can't let that happen…I’ll never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“Everything's going to be okay. You, me, and our baby,” she smiled at the thought, wiping some tears on her face, “We're going to be a happy family.”

Tony landed with a heavy thud, the suit's thrusters kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris. Bucky quickly joined him, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. A doctor's body lying on the floor, unrecognizable as its face has a lot of holes in it.

He started to move towards you and Natasha, but Natasha's steely glare made him stop in his tracks.

Yelena tried to approach her sister and offered her help but Natasha ignored her as well. The expression on her face was cold and distant, her only priority was getting you to safety. She carried you in a bridal style and the rest of the team watched, unsure of what to do, as Natasha carried out of the room and started heading onto the Quinjet.

⧗

Steve and Tony spoke quietly to each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Tony couldn't provide any concrete answers, but he did share one unsettling detail. He projected a hologram display, showing the scans of the doctor's body. The bullet holes were highlighted in red, showing exactly where each of the 21 shots had landed. The lone bullet in the shoulder was also indicated by a separate red mark.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the tiny screen. “21 bullets to the head and one in the shoulder.”

The team winced as they took in the information, their gazes shifting to Natasha, who was still holding your hand in her lips.

Tony shrugged, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he said. “I've done my fair share of blasting people in the head too.”

The team started to look your way, their gazes shifting towards your unconscious body and Natasha, but then they quickly averted them when they saw Natasha glaring at them. They scrambled to look busy, trying to avoid her disapproving glare.

In an attempt to look as if they weren't just staring at your unconscious body and Natasha sitting close to you, Sam awkwardly broke the silence by pointing at the glassed windows of the Quinjet, “Wow, a bird.”

His words hung awkwardly in the air, only to be met with Natasha's continued glare and the team's collective facepalm at his failed attempt to diffuse the tension.

⧗

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, the team immediately got up and was welcomed by Clint as the door of the Quinjet slowly opened. He already knew what happened and he was on leave since Laura just gave birth to their third child.

He walked towards the bed where your unconscious body was laying.

“Hey Nat.”

She didn't answer, but as soon as Clint touched the bed to help her get you out the Quinjet Natasha swiftly pulled a gun and pointed it towards his head.

“Nat…” Clint called, the team became frozen in place at the sight.

“Don't touch her.” She said her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yes, I'm not touching her. I am touching the bed,” he offered a logical argument, his tone gentle as he tried to diffuse the situation. He immediately but slowly moved his hands away from the stretcher you were in and put them in the air where Natasha could see.

The room's tension rose even more as the team started calling her out.

“Romanoff.” Tony called in a warning.

“Natasha.” It sounded more authoritative coming from Maria.

“Natasha, calm down.” Steve’s voice joined the fray, calling out gently.

“Back down! No one gets to touch her!” Natasha furiously exclaimed.

Natasha's grip on her gun tightened further, she pushed the tip of the gun on the back of Clint’s head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

A ripple of tension ran through the group everytime Natasha spoke. The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavy, and the team members instinctively also tightened their grip on their own weapons.

“No one’s gonna hurt Y/N, Nat…please.” Clint reassured pleadingly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

And with that a loud thud echoed through the Quinjet with Natasha’s unconscious body laying on the floor. Yelena, her sister sulking at the corner with her hands clenched into fists pointed towards where Natasha was and her widow's bite smoking.

“Izvini, sestra.” (Sorry, sister)

⧗

Dr. Cho launched into her report, clearly concerned about the oversight. Wanda, Steve and Bruce were in the medbay with you.

“So no one noticed the bleeding on her head?” the doctor repeated incredulously. The room fell silent for a moment, and then Steve spoke up.

“Natasha wouldn’t let us near her.”

“Yeah,” Bruce confirmed, “She came before the team, I prepped the stretcher and she immediately snatched it away from me, not even letting me help her.”

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the two about what happened. She couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated with Natasha's behavior, which had led to your current situation. If Natasha had just been a little more cooperative and let the team help her help you, you would've been fine and awake by now. Instead, you were lying unconscious in the medbay, not sure when you're going to wake up.

“And no one knew that she's pregnant?” Dr. Cho added that made the three wince in guilt, how could they not notice? You live in the same place for god's sake, in the same compound.

Wanda was particularly hard on herself, her face filled with guilt. She’s your best friend and you two had spent so much time together, she felt ashamed that she didn’t notice anything different about you, especially since the two of you are inseparable when Natasha was away for 2 months.

You always had a morning walk together, gets to shop together, you two always watched sitcoms together and trained together. Wanda could only remember a moment when she had accidentally hit you in the abdomen during combat training, and you had collapsed on the floor laughing at the witch. You were for sure pregnant at that time and Wanda could only wince at the memory hoping that hit didn't affect her growing niece at your stomach

And the fact that she covered up for you made her want to let the ground eat her, what if she just let JARVIS figure out that it was you who was pregnant? This wouldn't have happened to you…

“Don't worry, Y/N is stable" the doctor said reassuringly, “and she should wake up at any moment. However, we can't say for sure when that will be.”

She looked around the room, meeting the worried gazes of the team members who's nodding at her words.

“I’ll get her an ultrasound later which should give us more accurate information. For now let's give her body a break. And I need Romanoff here as soon as possible.”

⧗

Natasha tossed and turned in her sleep, distress written all over her face. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat at the bed, she took the place in where she was; it was your shared bedroom. She can feel her brain pounding inside her skull but still, she immediately got off the bed as the first thing she thought was you, she found herself frantically walking down a dimly lit hallway, approaching a closed door at its end.

As she neared the closed door, she noticed a soft glow and a bed with a woman laid out on it, bathed in a dim light. The sight invoked a pang of uneasiness in her, but she couldn’t shake the compulsion to get closer.

Natasha continued walking, drawn to the woman on the bed like a magnet. Each step seemed to echo loudly in the silent hallway, but she pushed onward until she was near the bed.

With a heavy heart, Natasha makes her way to the bedside of a woman who lies there lifeless and unseeing. Her eyes, hollow sockets staring into nothingness…

Her eyes scanned the woman's body, taking in every detail of the horror.

The ribcage splayed open like a grotesque butterfly…

The heart and lungs are missing, leaving a gaping hole…

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

The redhead's gaze lingers on the woman's lifeless hand, before her eyes widen in horror. She recognizes that hand, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she starts to panic.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she spots a manila folder beside the bed, within her grasp. With trembling hands, she snatches it up and flips it open, gasping as she scrolls through the contents.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Natasha gasped in horror, she flips open the file, page after page of personal information and photographs spill out of the folder, painting a detailed portrait of your face and body. Each page she turns reveals more information about you, and with each turn, her heart drops further into the pit of her stomach.

This body that is lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and a baby taken out of it…

Is your body and your child. Her child.

“No…”

“No, no, no,” she gasped, “Fuck no!” She threw the folder away and your body was already gone in the bed.

She immediately shot her head around when she heard a faint cry of a baby, but as soon as she turned she saw a shadow of a woman carrying a baby.

She knows it was you only by its figure…

Your voice reached her ears, filled with desperation as you called out to her.

“Natty, love? Can we talk?”

“Help us, Natasha.”

“Natasha, please talk to me.”

“Natasha!”

“Natasha! Wake up!”

“No!”

Natasha jolted awake, the loud call of her name immediately took her away from the depths of her dream. She panicked as she found herself surrounded by the darkness of your shared bedroom. Clint was holding her and she immediately ripped herself away from him, her movements sharp and agitated.

“Hey,” Clint's voice was gentle, a calming presence amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “Natasha, breathe,” he urged, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder but Natasha flinched, “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“Where's Y/N?” Natasha demanded, her voice husky and rushed as she moved away from the bed ignoring her best friend's concern for her because clearly, nothing is fine.

“Nat,” Clint circled the bed to get to Natasha and she immediately got into defensive form.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” He asked, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And that's when the memories came rushing back, flooding her senses with a torrent of emotions. She remembered the weight of her gun in her hand, the cold metal pressed against the back of her best friend's head and the team trying to calm her down. The last thing she saw was your stretcher above her.

Natasha's breath hitched as the memories overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle under her. She reached out to grab onto the bed, her legs weak and unsteady. She had come dangerously close to losing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Natasha's voice shook as she apologized over and over again, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. She felt Clint's arms wrap around her once more, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He tightened his grip on her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. “Shh,��� he whispered, rubbing small circles on her back with his hand. “It’s okay. You're fine, Nat. You're safe here.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath as she tried to collect herself. “Where's Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Clint, where is she? I need to see her.” Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for answers.

Clint could see the desperation in her gaze and knew exactly what she needed, you.

“You'll see her alright?” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But right now I need you to rest.”

Natasha was about to refuse, she needs to see you now, but she knew better than to fight with her best friend. She needed to rest, to get her strength back before she gets to see you again. She nodded weakly, allowing Clint to help her up.

“You shower, get some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food over. After that you can see your girlfriend.”

⧗

Natasha worked diligently, her eyes alight with a soft and caring glow as she arranged everything on the bed. She had brought out all of your favorite blankets, each one softer and more comforting than the last. Her eyes landed on the strawberry plush, and her lips curved into a soft smile. She remembered how you had squealed with delight when she had won it for you at the basketball booth at a carnival.

“Hey Nat, you ready to go? Dr. Cho is waiting for you.”

Natasha startled at the sudden interruption, blinking as she tried to shake off her thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Did she ask me to bring something? Does she want anything? Food? How's Y/N?” Natasha continuously asked as she put the blanket and pillow on a bag.

But Clint only muttered, “C’mon,” not wanting to break the news himself to her best friend. He’ll let Dr. Cho do the job on answering that.

Natasha felt her heart beat faster with each step as she and Clint made their way to the Medbay. She could feel her hands trembling, but she clenched them into fists at her sides, trying to keep her composure. As soon as she entered the medbay, she saw Dr. Cho and Wanda by your bedside. Her eyes immediately went to your unconscious form on the bed, her worry deepening. Why aren't you awake yet?

She felt Wanda's intense gaze on her and Natasha immediately put her face away from her direction, gripping the bag she brought. She couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort of the witch’s presence.

Dr. Cho, as if reading the room, asked Wanda and Clint to give them privacy.

When the two left the medbay, Natasha finally allowed herself to breathe. The witch's intense gaze had made her uneasy, adding to her worry about you. She let out a long sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Dr. Cho.

“How are you feeling, Romanoff?” Dr. Cho started.

“I’m fine. How is she?” Natasha immediately asked as she put the bag down at the side table of your bed.

Natasha's eyes lingered on your unconscious form, she carefully held your hands and a sudden flash of her dream returned to her mind.

Your body lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and your baby taken out of it…

She immediately shut her eyes to remove the thought in her head, the urgency she felt in the dream now mirrored in the real world.

“Romanoff.”

Natasha's gaze snapped to Dr. Cho at the sound of her name, quickly trying to mask her panic with a cool, calm expression. She took a deep breath, her voice coming out steady and collected, “Yeah? H-how is she?” she asked once again.

“Y/N suffered a blow to the head, causing significant trauma. There's no way to predict when she'll regain consciousness...”

Natasha's brow pinched at Dr. Cho's words. The idea of you being unconscious, possibly for an extended period of time, weighed heavily on her. She searched for more information, “Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“A light one.” The doctor pointed out, correcting her.

“And the baby?”

Natasha's gaze shifted from your face and to the printed ultrasound image Dr. Cho handed her, she shakily reached out to get it and her other hand never leaving yours. Her features softened as she took in the small, blurred figure on the paper. “So that's our little one?” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.

Dr. Cho nodded, smiling gently at Natasha's reaction. “Yes, that is your baby at 12 weeks. As you can see, the limbs are well-formed and the baby's major organs have started to develop…”

“Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!”

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Natasha winced as Dr. Cho pointed out the tiny head, spine, and other features of the developing fetus to her, explaining that these details were visible at this stage of pregnancy. Natasha tries her best to listen attentively, but the memories are trying to get back in her head.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“You didn't know until now did you?”

“Oh, that's a shame.”

“You are a bad mother.”

“Romanoff, are you sure you're alright?” Dr. Cho asked, worry written all over her face as she noticed Natasha drifting off once again.

“Yeah,” she answered dismissively, “There's uhm uhh…a cut on her stomach—”

“It's all patched up now.” The doctor said reassuringly, not letting her finish.

“Can I uhm…can I have some time with Y/N alone?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I’ll leave you two now.” Dr. Cho tapped Natasha's shoulder for comfort as she retreated to the medbay.

Natasha swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as she finally, finally felt like she could breathe freely. It was just the two of you now and that's what she needed. The machines beeping in the background seemed to fade into the distance as Natasha's gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

She was acutely aware of the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept, the gentle curve of your belly where your little bean settled.

“Detka, I need you to wake up now…” she said as she gently removed the blanket you had and replaced it with the ones she brought, which is your favorite one. She now pulled the strawberry plush and laid it beside your pillow.

“I need you to wake up so I can make it up to you.” Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as Natasha brought your hands to her lips, pressing a tender kiss before resting it gently on her cheek. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of your skin against hers before falling into slumber.

⧗

You slowly blinked your eyes open, your senses still groggy from whatever they put or injected in your body. Your left hand was wrapped around by a figure, holding it close as they slept sitting up right next to you on the bed.

Your right hand snatched the nasal cannula out of your nose and the IV lines that are connected to your forearm. Slowly, you pulled your left hand out of the tight hold of the figure sleeping beside your bed. You started to breathe hard, finding some support for you to stand up.

Natasha's eyes snapped open as she felt the bed movements and the warm hand she's holding is now out of her grasp.

“Baby? Hey…”

She felt alarmed hearing the machine beeping continuously and the oxygen out of you. You snatched everything that is connected to your body and now slowly moving away from the bed.

“Detka,” she called again, holding her hands out even though it's your back facing her.

But you didn't hear, there’s this loud thumping in your ears, you can feel as if someone is hammering your head, and the only thing you can see is a blur. Nothing is clear and you’re feeling numb.

You continued to move until your feet felt the cold tiled floor and that's when you lost consciousness for a second. You can only feel a warm body catching you, you locked eyes with the emerald ones before you feel your body taken out from her embrace.

⧗

Natasha paced back and forth outside the medbay, her mind racing as she waited for word about you. She was still reeling from the events that had led to this moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled into her bones.

“You deserve it.” Wanda’s words cutting through the air like a knife. “You're the reason why she's there.”

“Whatever is happening to you right now, you deserve it.” She spat, Natasha now sat outside the medbay, her hands over her head as she faced the floor. “I am one blink away from invading your mind, to see what happened but I respect Y/N so much. You deserve everything that you feel right now, every guilt and shame. You deserve what's happening to you but my best friend doesn't deserve to be there!”

She could only bite her cheek, shutting her eyes as if she's not hearing the witch, but she could feel the heat of Wanda's words as they washed over her, stinging like a slap in the face.

Natasha and Wanda both turned their attention to Bruce as he stepped out of the medbay, the tension between them dissipating in an instant. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and Natasha immediately stood, her heart thumping on her chest wanting to hear about your condition.

“How is she?” The two redheads asked in unison, Wanda can only roll her eyes.

“She's awake now.”

Wanda didn't waste a second moving inside the medbay, walking past Natasha and Bruce.

“She's stable for now,” Dr. Cho informed Natasha who was left outside the medbay, “she just disassociated when she woke up earlier.”

Natasha nodded peeking over the doctor’s shoulder to get a sight of you but she can only see Wanda sitting beside your bed.

“Hey…how are you lyubov?” Wanda asked her fingers grazing yours.

“I feel weak,” you mumbled but gave the witch a soft smile, you managed to hold her hand that made Wanda sob. “Hey, I’m fine Wanda.”

She held your hand tightly and brought it to her cheek, “You should be, you really should be.” You hummed as you wiped the tears that streamed down to her face.

Natasha stood just outside the medbay entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you and Wanda interact. Your eyes flick towards her and you can read her lips muttering, “Hey,” to you.

“I want to rest for a bit.” You said, immediately avoiding Natasha and the witch noticed the tension between you and your girlfriend.

“Sure.” Wanda was about to stand to leave when you held your hands up, “Stay, Wanda. Please.”

Natasha could read the situation clearly, you didn't want her around. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut because all she wanted to do is to hold you and pepper you with kisses, take care of you. But she did notice what you want and it's not her, so she respectfully stepped back, retreating out of the medbay. The coldness in her chest had deepened into an ache, but she pushed it down as she always did.

For now, she’ll give you what you need but she will never stop trying and making it up to you.

⧗

Dr. Cho informed Natasha that you are now discharged and can leave the medbay anytime soon.

Right now, she's supposed to be sitting right next to you, apologizing or…begging for forgiveness, peppering you with kisses or cuddling you. But instead here she is walking alone to your shared room. Natasha had held back her tears as she walked towards the room, but the moment she stepped inside, the floodgates opened. She couldn't hold back any longer. She let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, Natasha surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. She couldn't contain her anger and frustration to herself any longer. With a roar of rage, she began to pummel the walls of the room, punching it with all her strength.

Eventually, Natasha's frenzy subsided, and she steadied herself against the wall, forehead resting against its cool surface. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in your embrace, feeling your arms wrapped around her, holding her down and keeping her grounded like you always do.

“You cannot be like this,” She whispered to herself. “You have a wife and a baby on the way to look up to. You cannot…you cannot be like this.” She repeated, as if trying to drill the words into her own brain.

Natasha slowly turned back, surveying the room with keen and puffy eyes. Without hesitation, she removed her jacket and top revealing her gray sports bra and started deep cleaning everything. Something that will occupy her for a while besides she doesn't want you to come back here with a messy and dirty room, though you always make sure that your shared bedroom is clean, both of you have tasks on what to do, on who's gonna do this or that, clean this or that. Actually it's you who gave her tasks, Natasha can be careless and a messy person at times but with you, it all changed.

Natasha started to take off the cover of the pillows and replaced them with fresh, clean ones from the closet. She then moved onto the bed sheets, pulling off the used ones.

After that Natasha moved to the bathroom, checking every corner, she pulled out the trash and some stuff scattered at the counter. When she opened the cabinet she was welcomed by a pregnancy test, not just one but three tests with two lines showing in each one.

Natasha picked the three, studying each one carefully before setting it back down again at the counter. She wondered if this was the thing you wanted to talk about before the mission. She clenched her jaw remembering how she treated you that night.

A call on the door pulled Natasha out of her thoughts. She retreated from the bathroom, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal Clint standing on the other side.

“Hey, here's the flower you asked me to get.”

Natasha smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful bouquet that Clint had brought for you. “I know you asked me to buy roses, the pink ones which is Y/N’s favorite but I saw these chrysanthemums and carnations. I bought this for Laura when she was pregnant with our Nathaniel. You should avoid-strong smelling flowers. Y/N’s sense of smell might be a little bit sensitive now.” Natasha listened intently as she had seen how Clint handled being a father of three. How he was able to protect her family while being an Avenger so might as well take her best friend’s every advice.

“You might wanna do some research. It's gonna be a lot but I know you two can do it.” She nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Mood swings, Nat,” Clint chuckled as she warned Natasha, “It's gon’ be a hell of a ride.”

“Oh yeah it is, even though she wasn't pregnant yet it was a rollercoaster already.” She smirked remembering how she handled your mood swings during the course of your relationship.

“Oh Nat, now it's gonna be a whole new level.”

After a few more words of farewell, Natasha went back inside the room, and placed the flowers gently in a vase beside your shared bed. She filled the vase with water from the bathroom sink, letting it flow over each bloom as she arranged them.

Natasha settled on the couch after putting back the vase beside the bed. She put on some headphones as she lost herself to some music. An automatic vacuum hummed quietly in the background, gliding smoothly over the floor and picking up any debris.

Natasha indeed took Clint's advice, she was reading and researching about the changes that were happening to your body and what to expect during the course of the pregnancy. You're now in your 12th week and she read that during week 12 of pregnancy you’re wrapping up your first trimester and the odds of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester.

She took notes and made a mental list of things to expect.

“Your baby is only as big as a passion fruit but is growing and developing.” Natasha read to herself.

“Baby bump’s first appearance depending on the body type, food cravings, weird food cravings,” Natasha murmured, she continued, “Dizziness, mood swings, sore breast, heightened sense of smell,” She hummed, remembering her best friend's advice about sensitivity of your smell.

Natasha did a double-take as she read the last item on the list.

“Spike in sex drive?”

A knock on the door interrupted her researching and reading and she quickly put her headphones down, turning her attention towards the entrance.

She opened the door to see you standing there, a strawberry plush in your hand, and Bruce behind you carrying the bag of blankets she brought in the medbay. Her eyes widened slightly but she quickly composed herself, her expression softening as she took in your face, “Hey.”

You took in the sight of Natasha, your mind being in a haze. She is dressed in a gray sports bra and matching sweatpants, headphones clinging on her neck. Her arms were flexed like always and you could see the details of beads of sweat on her defined abs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

Natasha, noticing your gaze on her, quickly took the bag from Bruce. You walked past her already and went inside the bedroom.

“Dr. Cho will check in on her periodically.” Bruce informed the redhead.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

You sat at the bed slowly, noticing the new sheets of the bed and the flowers, the smell of it invading your nostrils. You caress the softness of the sheet while the strawberry plush sat on your thighs.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Natasha asked as she closed the door. She put the bag down where you put your dirty laundry.

“Baby?” She called again, “You know you can't avoid me forever.”

“Yeah, like you did me the other night?” you replied with a dry tone.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you and Natasha bit her lower lip in contemplation. Without hesitation, she immediately removed the headphones from her neck and walked in your direction. She gently knelt in front of you, placing the plush beside you as she took both of your hands in hers. Her bright green eyes searched for yours.

“Baby,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “I'm sorry.” She paused, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “Please, I was out of my mind that night,” her voice is becoming shaky this time. “It was the stupidest thing I ever did,” she continued, the regret evident in her expression. She swallowed hard, squeezing your hands gently. “Please, forgive me detka? I promise it won't happen again. I’ll take care of you, cook for you, buy you gifts, whatever you want baby, just—just forgive me.”

You actually stopped listening when she said “I’m sorry” all you could focus on was her arms untensing and tensing with each movement of her hands gently gripping your own. And the smell of the flowers were now gone as your girlfriend’s cologne, which was your favorite cologne of hers, started to envelop your senses. You don't know why you're being like this.

Natasha watched as you yawned, “I'm sleepy,” you slur.

“I uhh…alright baby,” She immediately let go of your hands and stood up, hesitating for a moment. She gently guides you as you lay down to your shared bed, putting the comforter all over your body and handing you the strawberry plush.

“Sleep tight detka, I’ll be here,” to her surprise, you hummed in response as you snuggled the strawberry plush close to you, a small sound that filled the air between the two of you and it made Natasha's heart jump. She took that as a good sign and she will for sure do anything to earn your forgiveness.

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