#“Usually I just have terrible survivor's guilt” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years

Note

*warning extremely angsty request* I apologize in advance. I am a gremlin who thrives on angst.

Could you write something for WandaNat x reader where instead of Nat, it’s reader and Clint on vormir and r sacrifices herself? And when he gets back, Clint has to tell Nat… and then after they defeat Thanos, Nat has to tell Wanda…

Like honestly just break my heart with it 😭

Authors note: Ask and recive friend. Prepare for angst galore, I hurt myself writing this 💔

Word count: 5549

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Alternate Ending

You're awakened the same way you had been for the past five years, by your surviving girlfriends sobs. Hopefully this would be the last night she suffered like this. You quickly sit up and pull her into you, her shaking arms wrap around you to help ground her.

“It’s ok baby. It was just a nightmare, I’m here” you whisper as she tucks her face into your neck

Ever since the snap and witnessing Wanda disintegrate in your arms the Russian was petrified of losing you too. She had nightmares every night of you also disintegrating, leaving her completely alone. Yelena and Wanda were gone, and after losing his family Clint practically was too. You were all she had left, her lover and her rock. Her heart and mind simply couldn’t handle that fear.

She sniffles and you can feel her warm tears against her shoulder, “I have to relive watching our lyubovʹ(love) get dusted only to watch the same happen to you. Over and over again.”

“I know. They always feel so terribly real.”

Her brows furrow as she looks at you, “You have nightmares about it too?” A stupid question she knows, I mean why wouldn’t you. You’d seen the same events she had, you were the one holding Wanda. But in all these years you’d never said anything to her about them so stupidly she assumed that you were spared the heartbreak and fear.

You nod, “I do”

Her brows furrowed further, “Why did you never tell me detka(baby)?”

“Mine aren’t as bad as yours” you shug not wanting to admit to how your survivors guilt usually had your friends and lovers dead bodies blaming you and you were worried that she would agree, “They aren’t as frequent”

“That doesn't mean they don’t matter. You're struggling too, you should have told me so I could help you. Be there for you, like you are for me.”

“I didn’t want to add to your worries or stress.” you explain, “You mourn for Yelena and Wanda, you lead the remaining Avengers, you have nightmares every night, you look for hope everyday. I couldn’t add to that.”

She shakes her head, “I'm your girlfriend, I’m supposed to take care of you. I’m supposed to help you through things. Please don’t hide from me.”

You sigh, “You're right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes search yours, “It’s ok detka(baby). Just no more secrets ok? Isn’t that what you told me when we first got together.”

You smile at the memory. Sometimes, with everything that's happened it felt like decades ago instead of only eight years. Then your heart sinks, and your expression matches your grief. How had the two of you only had Wanda for a mere three years. It wasn’t fair.

“Y/n?” Nat cautiously calls, obviously sensing the change in the atmosphere

“I miss her” you answer, tears dripping down your face

“I do too. So much.” She releases a shaky sigh, “But thanks to Scott and Tony today things might change”

You nod, “I hope so.”

She snuggles into your hold once more, “We’ll get her back. We just have to”

Hours later the team had assembled and the time had finally come. You were all going to get the stones back, and the ones you’d all lost. Time to reverse the snap. Time to bring everyone back.

Natasha walked beside you, hand in yours as you and all the other heroes approached the large pad in the center of the room. She sent you a loving glance and a smile as Steve went over everyone's roles one last time. She was to accompany Rhodey and Nebula to Morag in 2014, while you and Clint were to go to Vormir in 2014. While you were each excited to see space neither of you could deny the lump of anxiety and worry for the other you each had in your chests.

She gives your hand a squeeze once Steve finishes talking, urging you to turn to her. Her eyes search yours as she cups your face, you give her a smile as you lean into her touch and bring your arms around her waist. Your lips meet hers in a gentle kiss, her forehead rests against yours once she pulls away.

“Be careful detka(baby), please.” she pleads

“I will be, Clints got my back.” you reply, glancing over at him to see him giving you two thumbs up, “We’re getting them back Tasha. We’re getting her back. I promise, whatever it takes.”

She nods before pulling you in for another kiss. This one fueled with more emotion than the last, “Whatever it takes. I love you so much”

“I love you too baby.” You reply, hearing the machine begin to power up, “I’ll see you in a minute”

The trek up the mountain was harder than you and Clint had anticipated, but finally you had reached the top. You had expected to be alone, however that was not the case.

“Welcome” You both turn, weapons drawn to face the creature who spoke, “Y/n, daughter of Edith. Clint, son of Edith” Your brother spares you a glance “You can consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the soul stone”

“Oh good.” you reply, “Tell us where it is and we’ll be on our way”

You follow as he leads you to the cliffs edge not far from where you previously stood “What you seek lies in front of you. In order to take the stone you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul.”

The two of you ponder over his words, both pacing as you stare at the cliff. You understood him. You knew one of you must die to get the stone, afterall Thanos came here with his daughter and left alone. And now it appeared Clint would be doing the same.

You wanted nothing more than to return to Natasha. To hold her in your arms, tell her how everything would be ok and bring Wanda back. But you couldn't do that at the expense of your brother. His wife and children needed him, you couldn’t do that to his family. Natasha and Wanda needed him too, he was their best friend and mentor. You couldn’t do that to so many people.

You stop your pacing, and his by grabbing onto his hand. He quickly turns to you and can read your face like a book, “No. Don’t you dare say it”

“Clint” you sigh, “Thanos left without his daughter. A soul for a soul. It’s the only way”

“You don’t know that! There has to be other options, other ways!” he shouts

You shake your head, “There isn’t”

“Why not?! Because the floating shadow said so!?” he counters, “We don’t even know if we can trust him!”

“Why would he lie?” you question, “He's the keeper of the stone. He has nothing to gain by withholding anything from us”

Your brother's brows furrow as he looks away into the distance of space. He's quiet for a few minutes trying to come to terms with the whole idea.

“If we don’t do this, billions of people stay dead. Laura, Cooper, Lila, Nathaniel and Wanda among them”

Finally he looks back at you with tears in his eyes and nods before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “Tell Laura I’m sorry. And make sure the kids don’t hear about what I've done.” he asks, “And tell them I love them”

You shake your head, “You’ll tell them yourself”

His answer comes in the form of a gasp as your knee meets his gut, knocking the wind from him. You desperately run for the edge, glimpses of your two beloved redheads flash through your mind as you go, and you can’t help but smile. This was for her, for Wanda.

The sound footsteps bring you out of your thoughts and you tumble across the cold stone with your brother. He manages to pin you down, looking at you like you’d lost your mind.

“Let me do this!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows

He sighs, his gaze softening as he looks at you, “I can’t do that. I can’t. You're the only family I have left and I’ll be damned if I’m about to watch you die.”

Before you can say anything he's pushing you down again before he's sprinting off. You know he’ll jump before you reach him so you ready the grapple Natasha had given you for the mission, she had wanted you to be prepared and have anything you might need.

You sprint after him, aiming the device. He turns before jumping to see you catching up and quickly jumps. His victory is short lived, you collide with him mid air and attach the grapple to him. He barely manages to grab onto your arm.

“Son of a bitch” you mutter, looking up to meet his gaze, “Let me go!”

“No!” he shouts, “What about Natasha!?”

Your eyes shut tightly as you think about your girlfriend. Her warm embrace and kind heart. Her fiery hair with the blonde ends and her deep green eyes. Her soft skin and her plump lips. Her radiant smile and her lovable laugh.

“She needs you Y/n! She's already lost so much, losing you would kill her! You can’t leave her alone!”

You open your eyes again, “She won’t be alone. She’ll have Yelena and Wanda and you back.”

“She needs you!” he counters, “She loves you for godsake! You're just as important to her, don’t you know that!?”

“Of course I know that!” you fire back, “But we all agreed to do whatever it takes and I promised her we would get Wanda back so if this is the only way- ”

“It’s not the only way! Let me do this instead” he begs, reaching his other arm out or you

“I can’t do that. I let Thanos get past me to Wanda and Vision, this is my fault and I’m going to make it right.”

“It's not your fault. Everyone needed to do better, we were all to blame.” he replies, “I've done terrible things since I lost my family, if anyone deserves to die for humanity it’s me.”

You give him a sad smile, “Your children need you Clint. So does Laura. My girls will need you too.” You pause to collect yourself. A few tears escape down your face as the realization of you never getting to see your beautiful Wanda again sinks in, “Promise me you’ll take care of them. Promise me you’ll tell them I love them.”

He shakes his head his other hand mere centimeters away from yours, “Please don’t do this”

“I have to. I love you big brother. Tell my girls they meant the world to me” you push off the cliff with all your strength, smiling to yourself as your arm frees itself from his grasp. Your brother's shouts are drowned out by your memories, Wanda and Natasha voices coming through clear as day before you hit the rocks with a sickening thud.

When Clint awakes in a pool of water he frantically looks around for you, his baby sister. He's hoping and praying it was all a dream or hallucination. That the image of your body lying so many feet below in a pool of red was some cosmic joke. But deep down he knows it isn’t. He knows you're really gone. The weight in his hand confirms this when he opens his grasp to see the soul stone. He angrily shouts as he punches the water. Tears roll down his cheeks. Truthfully he doesn't know how he's meant to face Natasha now, without you. But he returns to his timeline nonetheless.

The heroes look around at each other sharing large smiles at their success, until Nats eyes fall on her best friend. He's soaked to the bone, a look of despair on his face and now she sees that you're not beside him.

“Clint, where's Y/n?” she asks, barely above a whisper. Deep down she knows the answer, but her heart can’t bare to accept it

His tear filled eyes meet her concerned ones, “I’m sorry Nat” he chokes out

She shakes her head as her feet carry her to him, “Where's Y/n!? Where is she!?”

“She's gone, Nat. She sacrificed herself for the stone.”

Natashas world stops for a moment as her brain attempts to process his words. To help her realize the truth Clint brings his hand to eye level and opens it to reveal the stone.

“A sacrifice was needed for it. She wouldn’t let me- ” His explanation is cut off by a scream. A primal one full of loss and sorrow.

“No!! No!!” she shouts before shoving Clint, “You were supposed to keep her safe! You were supposed to bring her back to me!!”

Steve quickly walks closer, ready to intervene is necessary. But Clints gaze keeps him at bay for now. “I tried Natasha. I tried so hard but she…she was determined to do whatever it took to keep her promise of bringing Wanda back”

“No. I didn’t mean….” she says as she furiously shakes her head. Clint attempts to hug her, to show her it wasn’t her fault that you had taken those words to heart and that you knew she wouldn’t trade you for Wanda. Your survivor's guilt had simply been too much to bear, but she resists his embrace and pounds her fists against his chest.

“I trusted you!!” she screams at him, “You took my heart with you and you returned without it!!” Her tears blurr her vision as sobs shake her and in her grief she doesn't realize she's implying she wishes her best friend had died instead of you.

Her knees give out and Steve manages to catch her before she hits the ground, “My Y/n, my detka(baby), please! She can’t be gone! She can’t leave me!!”

“I’m so sorry Natasha” the soldier replies holding her as she sobs

Clint's guilty face comes into her view once more, “I'm so sorry. If I only could switch places with her I would. She…She said she loves you. You were her world. Wanda too”

A cry rips through her so hard that even Steve shakes, “I didn’t mean for her to trade herself for anyone! This isn’t what I wanted!!”

“It’s not your fault.” Steve tries to reassure her, looking to the archer for help

Clint nods, “She knew that's not what you meant, believe me I made sure of it. But she blamed herself for not stopping Thanos, for letting him reach Wanda and Vision. To her, this was how she could fix things.”

“Who’s going to fix me?!” the Russian shouts back, angry at you for leaving her. She fully collapses in Steve's embrace and Tony finally makes his way over. He lets his hand run through her hair in a comforting manner he has seen you do hundreds of times.

He doesn't want to ask this next question but he knows he has to, “Where is she- her body?”

Natashas body freezes. In her panic she hadn’t even thought to ask that. Why wasn’t your body at least brought back to her? Why did he leave you there

Clint shakes his head, “Gone. Like she was never there”

Natashas heart clenches. You were her everything these past five years and her loving girlfriend of eight years, but now just like Wanda, she had nothing of you. Her nightmares became a reality, and she would trade anything to be back in bed with you.

“I want my Y/n, please I want her back. Someone bring her back!” she pleads to the universe rather than the people that surround her. No one knows what to say, or if there is anything that could comfort her.

Thor breaks the short lived silence, “Why are we putting Natasha through this?” he questions, making everyone look at him, “We have the stones, we have all of them. So why can’t we use them to bring Y/n back?”

Clint shakes his head, “That's not how it works. The deal was a soul for a soul.”

“When I said whatever it takes I didn’t mean this.” Steve says feeling guilty, “We don’t trade lives, that's not what we do”

“Not even one for billions?” Tony questions, making the Russian glare at him, “I’m sorry Nat. I’m just being realistic. If losing one brings everyone back then I think the trade was worth it”

“But we don’t even know if this will work. Her sacrifice could be for nothing.” Bruce decided to add in

“Stop! Just stop!” Natasha begs as she pushes herself to stand, "I just lost the other half of my heart, the only half I had left…so don't fucking argue about her death being worth something!! Don't you dare!"

The room goes silent as Bruce, Tony and Steve refuse to meet her gaze. Clint still holds the stone in his hand, afraid to let go of something that tethered your presence to this world.

"I have nothing now. No little sister and no girlfriends, so if this doesn't work….you can consider me one of the casualties." She chokes out before quickly leaving the room

As soon as she's gone Clint's legs give out. He hits the ground with a sob as he continues to clutch the stone. The memories of the event play over and over in his mind….how could he have let you slip through his fingers. Steve crouches next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder so he knows he's not alone.

"It wasn't your fault either"

"Like hell it wasn't!" He shouts through tears, "She was my little sister! I was supposed to keep her safe! But instead I watched her die!"

The Captain sighs, "It was an impossible choice. One that shouldn't have had to be made….I'm so sorry"

Somehow, despite being blinded by tears, Natasha had made it back to your shared bedroom. She hesitates at the door, not quite ready to let your absence sink in. It had been so hard for you and her to come back to this room after Wanda died, how was she supposed to face that grief a second time? How was she supposed to face it all alone?

Finally she forces her shaking hand to open the door and she rushes inside to collapse on the bed. She cries as she takes in how empty the king sized mattress now feels without anyone to hold her. She grabs at your pillow, pulling it in against her chest. The smell of you surrounds her then, like it would if she had been curled into your chest. And for a brief second it's almost like you're there with her like you were this morning, talking about Wanda. She had a chance at coming back, even if it was a long shot the chance was there. You didn’t have that however. You were gone. Grief hits full force then and she screams into the pillow.

You were never going to hold her again. Never going to calm her after a nightmare and sing her back to sleep. She would never hear you laugh, hold your hand or feel your lips ever again. Never again would she see you looking at her with a tender gaze, nor would she hear you tell her how much you loved her. And if Wanda came back, you wouldn't be there to greet her. What was she supposed to tell her?

She screams into her pillow, struggling to breathe as her chest heaves due to her hyperventilating. Her hold on your pillow tightens, the fabric of the pillowcase threatening to rip under her intense grip. She more than likely would have continued to spiral like this, had her phone not began to ring, American Pie filling the silent room.

“Natasha” the familiar voice calls out, “Sestra(sister), are you there?”

“Yelena?” she asks, a mix between a sob and a whisper

“What's wrong, what's happened?” she asks, hearing the brokenness in her tone

Tears fill the redhead's eyes as she realizes what this means. If Yelena was back that meant everyone else had come back as well. That meant your sacrifice had achieved something. That meant…Wanda.

“I uh, it's too much to explain over the phione. Can you meet me at the compound as soon as possible?”

“Of course. I’ll pack my bags and fly out at once.” she replies

Suddenly Natasha can feel the ground beneath her begin to shake and an explosion sounds, “Actually, make the flight for tomorrow. I gotta go deal with some things”

“Yeah, ok. Go kick ass, I’ll be there.”

“YA tebya lyublyu(I love you)” she rushes to say, not wanting to go another second without her little sister knowing that

Yelena pauses for a moment, not used to having her older sister be so open with such things, “YA tozhe tebya lyublyu(I love you too)”

As soon as the phone hangs up Natasha is bolting out of her room and through the compound. Not only to find the others to tell them what they did worked, but to also figure out what was causing everything to shake.

She doesn't need to wait long to receive her answer, as she looks out the large windows she sees an all too familiar ship in the distance. And there, approaching the compound in his armor and holding his blade is her worst nightmare.

“No, that's not possible. He can’t be here. He died.” she mutters to herself as fear fills her. She can’t lose Yelena and Wanda again. Not after just getting them back, losing you in the process.

“Natasha!” Steve yells, gaining her attention and she knows she's needed for battle. He can’t win again.

Dust and rubble settle around her as she looks around the battlefield, and if she's being honest things don’t look good. Tears build in her eyes as fear of losing a second time washes over her. She lost you, and it might not even have been worth it.

Steve stands, tightening his broken shield on his injured arm with a grunt. She quickly joins him, standing by his side as she reloads her guns. She's ready to die by his side if it manages to stop him and let Wanda and Yelena live, besides that wouldn't be terrible would it? Because at least then she could be with you once more.

They're about to charge The Mad Titan, but a small crackle in their comms makes them freeze. They stop moving and remain unearthly quiet as they focus on the sounds, trying to decipher if what they just heard was true.

“On your left” Sams voice tells them

They both watch in awe as multiple portals open behind them. Warriors of Wakanda, the Asgardians, sorcerers, and all of their teammates that had once been lost now pour through them. They both smile as a few tears fall from the Russians eyes, then their attention falls back on their enemy.

“Avengers!” Steve shouts out

“Assemble!” Natasha finishes

The battle commences and Natashas sole focus is on keeping the enemy from gaining any ground and grabbing the stones until a wave of red magic catches her attention in the distance.

She runs towards the area, heart in her throat as she prepares to see her girlfriend for the first time in five years. Any alien that gets in her way meets a quick demise, she won’t let anyone get between them. And when she finally finds her, seeing her there in her red jacket, her heart almost stops.

“W-wanda” she whispers, almost afraid to say her name out loud

The other redhead feels a familiar presence and spins around, “Tasha!”

The Russian stumbles, nearly falling to her knees as she runs into the arms of the other woman, “You're back. You're really here.”

“I’m here malysh(baby), I’m home.. Wong told us how long we’ve been gone….I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you and Y/n have been through.” Wanda takes a moment to look around for you, thinking you’d be right behind Natasha to greet her, “Where's Y/n?”

She shakes her head, tears cascading down her cheeks as she lets out a sob, “She….she's gone Wans”

Natasha looks at her, thinking loudly about what happened letting her see everything. Wanda sees the conversation Nat shared with you that morning in bed, she sees the speech Steve gives and then the conversation Nat shares with you before the time heist. And then she sees Natasha witness Clints return. She sees, hears and feels how Natasha handles the news that your broken brother relays to her. She hears how the other heroes comment on your sacrifice. She can’t bear to see more.

“No!” she shouts, clutching at the strong arms that hold her as tears stream down her face, “Not our lyubov'(love)! Not Y/n, please!”

Natasha holds her closer, letting Wanda fall apart in her embrace for a brief moment. Until the sound of the battle around them brings them back to reality. She hears the purple man bark some orders and her expression hardens. She pulls back from Natasha, scanning the surrounding area for the monster responsible for all of the pain and suffering Natasha and you had gone through over five years. The monster responsible for taking you from them. She's going to make him pay.

Her eyes begin to glow red, swirls of her magic building around her arms and legs as a growl takes over her features. Before Natasha can say anything the witch is gone, flying in the direction of the so-called conqueror. The Russian quickly runs in that direction. She knows she probably isn't much help in a fight against someone like him but there was no way she was going to let Wanda fight him alone. She couldn’t risk losing her again.

Wanda lands in front of him, dust and a mist of her magic forming a cloud around her. She eyes him angrily, full of hate and rage. He eyes her curiously, not seeing her for the threat she is. Natasha manages to catch up in time to see red energy swirling in her girlfriend's hands as Thanos smirks at her.

“You took her from me. From us.” she venomously tells him, her accent heavy in her anger

He scoffs, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“You will.”

He charges her, wildly swinging his blade at her, but she uses her magic to block every hit. He takes a few steps back, bringing his blade up and over his head before swinging it down towards her. She stops it with her magic, holding it there as he struggles to gain control of his weapon. Before he can even blink she's snapping his blade in half and sending him flying backwards. He quickly stands only to be engulfed by red tendrils of magic that hoist him into the air.

Natasha watches in awe of her girlfriends sheer power as she begins to crush the armor Thanos currently wears. Sounds of it crunching and him grunting in discomfort are all the two women currently hear, the rest of the battle is simply background noise as they relish in his suffering. The Sokovian shouts as she lets her powers ramp up and to his horror his own armor begins to squeeze the life from him. He can feel how it tightens around his chest and neck and fear overcomes his features as he realizes how strong she truly is. He opens his mouth, ready to call his troops to action, but he doesn’t get the chance to do so. In one swift movement of her hands, his armor folds in and crushes his ribcage with a sickening crunch. When she's sure all life has left him she lets her powers fade and his body hits the ground with a thud.

The battle around them slows as the children of Thanos attempt to regain their berings after witnessing what they thought to be impossible. The Mad Titan lies dead, defeated by mere humans. Humans who still have the six Infinity Stones.

“Get the stones! We make them pay for this!” the woman shouts

The heroes frantically look around to see which of them has the gauntlet only to find it in the possession of their resident genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. His gaze lands on Natasha and her eyes widen as she recognizes the look of sheer determination on his face. She watches in horror as he begins to remove the stones.

“Tony! Don’t!” she shouts, making everyone else's attention go to the man as well

He smiles at her, “One for billions Romanoff. It’s worth it.”

“Tony!” Steve shouts as he rushes towards his friend. But it's too late. The stones attach themselves to his armor, forming a new gauntlet and as he looks at the faces of his friends that surround him, he snaps.

The army around them turns to dust as Tony collapses onto the ground. Pepper, Rhodey and Peter are the first to surround him, but they're quickly joined by Steve, Natasha and Wanda.Everyone manages to get their goodbyes in to the beloved men before he passes and the rest of the heroes honor his sacrifice by kneeling in silence.

Nearly two weeks after Tony's funeral, three women find themselves in a cemetery in Ohio. They gather under a tree with pink blossoms, around a newer headstone. It reads: Y/n Barton. Sister, girlfriend, Avenger.

At its base rests a small plush hawk with a picture of you and Clint, a bouquet of flowers beside it indicates he was here recently to see you. He likely hadn’t wanted to stay long, not wanting to risk facing Natasha and the guilt about his failure to save you, or risking Wanda seeing his thoughts which have been of your death on replay.

Yelena lights a small candle for you before brushing a few stray leaves off the picture of you and your two girlfriends. When she's satisfied she places her hand on the stone before standing and walking over to where her dog Fanny waits by her truck. She knows the other two women will need a moment.

Natasha moves off to the side and rests her forehead against your cold stone. Tears fall down her face as she lets her fingers trace the carving of your name. All she can think of is your face. How you had smiled at her that day, for the last time. How you had kissed her so softly yet fiercely. How your hand felt in hers before you said your goodbyes.

Wanda sniffles as she places a small plush bear next to the photo of the three of you. Its fur was the same color as your hair and it was holding a heart that was your favorite color. She knew you had to have it….you would have loved it.

“Why?” Natasha croaks out, “Why did it have to be you, detka(baby)?”

“You should be here with us. We miss you so much lyubov'(love)." Wanda adds as tears roll down her cheeks

Fanny watches over the two women, whining when she knows they’re upset and Yelena looks down at her dog, “I know. I don’t like seeing them so sad either. But without Y/n, I don’t think they'll ever be the same.” The dog looks at her, tilting her head as if asking a question, “You would have liked her.”

A few minutes go by and the two redheads know it's time they go. They like visiting you, well, your headstone. But they know it isn’t healthy for them to stay too long here, dwelling in their sadness.

“I love you” Natasha mumbles, her forehead still against the stone, “I love you so much. I don’t know if I told you that enough these past five years, but I really hope you knew. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you were suffering with so much guilt. I should have taken better care of you, should have been there for you. I’m so sorry”

Wanda brings her forehead to the stone then too, “She knew Tasha, and this wasn’t your fault. You were both suffering and you both did the best you could”

“Well my best wasn’t enough was it! She left us!” she shouts, overwhelmed with guilt of her own, “She left us Wans.”

“Oh Natty, this wasn’t your fault my love” Wanda says, quickly wrapping her up in a tight embrace, “This wasn’t your fault”

“Why did she leave us Wan?” the Russian asks, sounding more broken than ever

“She…she wanted to bring me back, and she thought that was the only way to do it.”

Natasha shakes her head, “There had to be another way. Because having one of you without the other, it's not right. It's not how it's supposed to be.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Wanda agrees, running a hand through her girlfriends hair

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

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coltermorning · 7 months

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 7 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Overwhelmed by a nightmare, you finally feel something other than emptiness, but turning it on Arthur has consequences.

Author’s Notes: Chapter seven of this one. More notes at the end.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Seven: The Sweet Burn of Anger

Word count: 2835

Your parents stood over your shared bed, so large that you were terrified. They were giants, nothing like the love you knew. And when your mother swiped a hand across the too-big sheet, the bed turned to dark, choppy water. She missed clutching you, but the waves from her movement swallowed you whole. You couldn’t breathe. You were dying, panicking as you went deeper and deeper and were falling, moving fast. Much too fast. Then the ground appeared beneath you. You finally found your voice as you started screaming.

“Hey! What- it’s okay! You’re just dreaming,” you heard. You pulled your head above water and found that you were inside a tent, a lingering scream still on your lips. A real one. You had been screaming in your sleep.

Arthur knelt above you, poised somewhere between concern and weariness. You were shaking in his grip, a cold sweat on your skin, the fear so real that your heart was hammering against your ribcage. It was paralyzing.

“It’s okay,” he said. You could barely comprehend it. “Just a dream.”

He was above you. Just like they had been. You found the will to move and forced yourself from his grasp and rose, so quick that he couldn’t even protest before you were outside, ankle deep in snow. Right. It had stopped you the evening before, coming down so thick that travel was useless. The first snow of the year.

You stopped and looked to your feet. Grounded. Something about all that coldness packed against your boots was grounding. You stayed there and relished in it, not caring that it burned with cold.

“You okay?” you heard. You didn’t turn to look at the man. Your mind was still reeling too fast to respond.

You rarely dreamt. And screaming someone else awake because of some sick thing your mind had twisted together had you burning hot with embarrassment.

“Hey.” A hand landed on your shoulder and you shrugged it off, not able to face him. “You should get back to the tent. It’s too cold out here.” When you didn’t answer, he sighed. “I’ll build a fire.”

You listened to his retreating footsteps in the snow. Good. You let out a long breath, watching it fog the air with warmth between the still-falling snow. It really was terribly cold. So cold you knew you would need to get more layers from somewhere. You were usually better prepared, having lived in one of the coldest places on earth, but you’d lost everything miles behind you. Everything.

You had been so distracted with Arthur’s new reputation and that harrowing interaction with the two strangers that you hadn’t been thinking about what had happened to you. You’d thought it was a brief lapse of relief. Now you were realizing it was denial. A refusal to think of what you needed to be thinking of. Because if you didn’t…well. Your mind had proved what happened when you didn’t. You had woken up screaming for the first time in your life. Actually screaming. That poor man hadn’t agreed to this part when he chose to take you all this way.

You fell to your knees, the cold biting through your pants. You didn’t care. You let it.

After long enough that everything had gone numb, you heard the cracking of firewood. Then, “Get over here, nameless. Come eat something.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. But that word—nameless…it stirred something within you.

“Don’t make me make you. I will drag you over here if I have to.”

Sure he really would, you stood, brushing the snow off your pants. “I’m not nameless.” Your voice was hoarse. Whether from screaming or the cold you weren’t sure.

“You don’t give me your name and you are. Now come eat. It’ll warm you up.”

Reluctantly, you obliged. Your body was coasting, taking you through the motions. Trying its best to keep you upright when you were a mess of fear and sadness and embarrassment.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you as you knelt as close to the fire as you could without burning in it. You ignored him.

“Here,” he offered, handing you a cut of meat. You hesitated a moment before taking it, your mind keeping you a few seconds behind. It was still reeling with that dream, how real it felt to fall. You tried your best not to dwell on it as you took a bite, nearly having to remember how to chew.

“Hell of a dream, making you scream like that,” he said.

You met his eye then, gnawing off another bite like a starved dog. He had some kind of nerve. He was like that though—so nosy that he didn’t care if it got him into trouble or not. Really, you wouldn’t normally mind telling him about it, no trouble suffered. But this was…

You looked back to the fire, focusing on the meat you ate, the heat burning against you, anything but that dark water. Drowning and falling and dying all at once.

“Just sayin’,” he went on, about to speak again. Only something about him pushing, something about that dream, something about his new name for you and how much it got under your skin, it all collided together. Before he could get another word in, you felt anger begin to bubble up within you, hotter than the flames at your front.

“Don’t.” You leveled him with as cutting a glare as you could, needing to get your point across. He looked…surprised. Or maybe amused. It only made you angrier.

“I don’t want to talk. How hard is that to understand?”

To your disappointment, he didn’t look offended by this. He stood, the jab bouncing off of him as a carelessness entered his voice. “Fine then. I’ll just let you freeze out here next time, shall I?”

“Fine,” you shot back, going back to eating, making a point not to look at him.

To your annoyance, he chuckled low, turning to go back to the tent.

“All right then, nameless.”

That was it. You rose, gaining on him so fast he spun around to meet you, not quick enough to block your hands meeting his chest and shoving him. He stumbled back a step, but that infuriating smile never left his face.

“Awe, what’s the matter? I touch a nerve?”

You were shoving him again by the time he caught your hands.

“Quit calling me that,” you spat, tearing your wrists away from his grip. “And learn how to keep your damn mouth shut.” You shoved him again on the curse, making him laugh harder. He didn’t budge this time, infuriatingly strong.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart.”

You were wrong about the nickname. Nameless made you angry, but sweetheart made you see red. It was so much worse.

You flew at him then, all hands and arms and gritted teeth. He stumbled again but kept his feet, not doing a thing to fight back, that smile never leaving. Every hit landed that he didn’t flinch away from made you madder and madder until you finally slapped him across the face. Hard.

You stepped back when he hesitated, thinking you had finally done something to warrant a reaction. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to hit you back, to storm off, what. You just had to get this anger out of you, the sting of it like poison inside your gut.

When he met your eye with a fire in his own, you had half a second to regret slapping an outlaw before he was on you. He knocked you back and pinned you to the ground before you could so much as react. The burn in your side flared when the snow met your back, but you didn’t care. You were too worried about his sudden aggression. That is, until the nearby fire flared across the man’s face, revealing not a grimace but a smile.

“Like I said,” he taunted. “Gonna have to try harder than that.”

“Get off me,” you spat, starting to squirm to get loose. It was no use—his hands had your wrists, his knees pinning your legs down.

“Make me,” he said. “I doubt you can. Matter fact, this may be a good lesson for you. Make sure you can win a fight before you start one.”

“I don’t want to win,” you said, exasperated. Couldn’t he see that? You wanted your anger out. Yet it, your fear, your grief, they were all swallowing you whole.

“That so? Just wanna hit me, huh?” he asked, still stubbornly unwavering in his grip. “All right then, hit me.”

He let your hands go, sitting up. Before you could think not to, you swung at him. He blocked your hand with ease.

“Never said I would make it easy on you.”

You roared you frustration and sat up, making him back away when your hand went for his face a second time. He blocked it again. And again.

“Try at least,” he urged.

“I am!” you screamed, gaining on him as he kept backing away.

“Try harder.”

His smirk made you snap. As he was still on his knees, slightly unbalanced in the snow, you let your anger take over and leapt. He went crashing to the ground with you on top of him, and before he could shove you off, you scooped a handful of snow into your glove and slammed it against the side of his head. He recoiled from the blow then rolled over quicker than you could get away.

“Playin’ dirty are you?” he grimaced, pinning you beneath him again. Only this time, he reached for the snow and threw it all over you. It was blazing cold, so cold you sucked in a breath.

He went to do it again, and you finally found your strength—you were quicker than him. You leaned up, and when he made to pin your shoulders back down, you slipped your knee out from under his leg and thrust it upward, the hit landing right between his legs. He cried out in pain at the impact. You rolled out from under him and stood, watching him coil in on himself. You felt guilty then. Finally, something other than anger. And with that thought, the anger began to slowly thaw back into the emptiness you had grown so familiar with until you were walking away, leaving him wallowing there so as not to feel the need to go apologize. He didn’t deserve it anyway.

He was an idiot. A right idiot, picking a fight with you. He knew better. He had just been relieved, finally seeing some kind of reaction out of you other than sadness. It had been why he pushed in the first place, asking about whatever had made you wake up screaming like that. He thought you’d been making progress. He’d thought wrong. He had really been wrong trying to fuel your anger. Lying in the hard snow with enough pain to last him a damn month, he saw that now.

Arthur rolled onto his back, looking up at the stars and the snow and letting out a long breath. He probably owed you an apology. He had forgotten, for a careless moment, that you weren’t just some other camp member. He wouldn’t have done that to any other stranger he hardly knew, so why had he done it to you? To someone so wrapped up in grief you couldn’t even function? Shame pooled within him at the thought.

“You moron,” Arthur whispered to himself. Anger never lead to anything but trouble. He knew that.

With most of the pain finally subsided, he pushed onto his feet, glad for his bulky coat. It had kept the cut of the cold out. He walked over to where his hat had fallen, brushing the snow off on his pants before landing it back on his head. It was still throbbing from that hit you landed on his ear. He would have to keep that in mind if he ever had a mind to fight you again. As easy as it would have been to win, he had only been kidding around. You had been going for blood like some cornered animal. The slight ring in his ear proved that.

Arthur spotted your boot prints in the snow and headed for them. As much as you probably didn’t want to see him, he had to make sure you didn’t run off for good.

To his surprise, you had stopped close by, leaning against a tree and watching the snow. Your arms were crossed, and by the way you didn’t turn when you heard his approach, he got the message loud and clear. His presence wasn’t needed or wanted.

He almost didn’t say anything, just glad you hadn’t gotten mad enough to leave. But he owed you an apology. A big one. “Hey,” he said, coming to stand beside you. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry I did that.”

You didn’t answer, still turned away, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t used to people being so quiet around him. Normally, he craved a single moment’s peace. Now it felt like punishment.

“I shouldn’t treat you like I do the others,” he went on. “I just forget sometimes that you’re…” He was blanking on what to say that wouldn’t offend you, but you cut in before he could finish.

“No, it’s actually…kind of nice.”

That was the last thing he expected. “Huh?”

“Treating me like I’m normal,” you said quietly, still not looking at him. “Everyone else tip toed around me, would hardly say a word. I get why but it’s…it’s just nice to be treated like a human being. You’re the only one who does.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Especially since picking a fight wasn’t quite considered normal behavior. Certainly not polite behavior.

You went on without meeting his eye. “I’m sorry I…I shouldn’t have let all that out on you.” You let out a shallow sigh. “You just made it damn easy to.”

He held in a laugh. He was pretty good at that. In fact, fights normally seemed to find him by regular circumstance. Nothing he wasn’t used to. “That I did,” he said, turning to join you in watching the weather.

It occurred to him why all this had come up in the first place, remembering that splitting scream you let out. He would let it slide for now. But he would do everything in his power to distract you from that kind of grief. He had felt it before and knew how heavy it was. So he spoke. “Guess nameless is off the table then?”

You shook your head, your gaze falling to your boots. If it weren’t so dark, he would be willing to bet you wore a smile.

“Anything’s better than sweetheart. Don’t ever call me that again.”

He chuckled, turning away so you couldn’t see the sudden heat on his face. He began walking back to the tent, for some reason feeling a little boyish as he said, “Nameless it is.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, after a moment, he felt something small and compact collide with his back, sending snow flying. He stopped dead. He couldn’t very well let that slide.

He already had snow in his hand as he rounded. “You’re on woman.”

The two of you were back in the tent after a snow fight long enough to leave you winded. It was fun if not exhausting. Maybe enough for you not to dream again.

Your emotions were all over the place today, that was undeniable. You hadn’t felt anything apart from emptiness in a long time until now. But as you laid there listening to Arthur’s steady breathing, the man asleep before he could even shed his snow-soaked coat, you knew you had been wrong before. It wasn’t denial making you forget your parents enough to wake up screaming. It was distraction. You hadn’t felt as giddy as you were throwing snow at Arthur since before your parents had even mentioned a trip. Distraction was a good thing. It was foreign and strange, but it was good. Any lapse in what you normally felt was a good thing, no matter if the memories returned in dreams or not.

You laid there in your thin bedroll, glad for the quiet the snow provided, wondering if this was what healing looked like. It was an ugly thing but a necessary one. When you had ever come far enough to see that, you weren’t sure. So very different from the girl who stubbornly refused this trip at all. You smiled at the thought. Your parents would be proud. It was the first time truly feeling that, believing that, and the peace it brought finally let your exhaustion give way. Slumber followed soon after.

_________

End Notes: Oooo he likes herrr 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter eight is here.

tag list: @tommys0not0beloved @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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heavencasteel420 · 2 months

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Okay. I’m gonna be a hater.

I’m not against St4ncy because of the association between their first time and Barb dying. If they were good together and she really wanted to be with him, then I wouldn’t be rooting for her survivor’s guilt to keep that from happening.

I’m also not against St4ncy because of the S1 graffiti, per se. From a writing perspective, I think the show over-egged the pudding by making both Jonathan and Steve do such shitty things to Nancy in S1. I believe the creators were mainly trying to make certain things happen plot-wise (there needs to be a photo of the demogorgon, the teen confrontation needs to be immediate and public so Jonathan and Nancy can end up at the police station) and trying to foreshadow Steve’s heel-face turn by making his objections to the photos more reasonable, and they did a clumsy job of it. And I think it’s basically fine for the creators, having realized that this was all too much, to quietly drop it. Such is the nature of multi-season TV. Realistically, it’s wild that Steve and Nancy would get back together a mere month after all of that, but, unless a shipper actually says stuff like “it’s not that bad that he would do that, because he was understandably upset” or “it was just vandalism,” I’m not going to assume that they’re chill with the graffiti.

That being said, the whole “Steve’s feelings were hurt because he thought he was being cheated on and he’s young and it was all Tommy’s fault anyway and he apologized” vs. “Jonathan had no motivations other than intrinsic badness and his youth is not a factor and his apology doesn’t count and his terrible home life is not only not an excuse but a justification for Steve’s tenuously connected shitty actions” thing has soured me on large swathes of Steve fans across the board. I’ve seen too much of the so-called real-life justice system to find this attitude anything other than disturbing. But this isn’t exclusively a St4ncy shipper problem. If anything, they at least usually like Nancy enough not to act like she’s somehow at fault for the photos because she forgave Jonathan later (???) or put her “cheating” on Steve on the same level as the guys’ worst S1 behavior.

My main reasons for disliking the ship (in an exclusive endgame kind of way; I’m cool with Stoncy most of the time and I think they canonically had some good times together) are way more subjective. The first reason is that Jonathan is my favorite and St4ncy shippers invariably don’t like or get him. This is predictable, although not inevitable; Jancy shippers don’t dislike Steve so uniformly, for example. So obviously that’s not gonna work out.

The second reason is that I just don’t find the things people like about their relationship very romantic or desirable. He’s protective of her, but that mainly seems to involve trying to keep her from doing things she believes she has to do or retaliating against others in ways she finds distasteful. There’s not a lot of awareness of her perspective. He wants to be with her “no matter what,” with no consideration for the obstacles, but those obstacles seem to include “what she wants” and “what they are both like as people.” I’d get it more if he was like “I don’t know what the future will bring, but I’d like to give this a chance in the short term” or “listen, I can figure out what to do with my life in Boston as well as anywhere else,” but instead he just does not seem to know her at all or be thinking about what they would do as a couple in the immediate future. After a point, that’s just being in love with the idea of being in love.

Also—and I am not trying to be catty here—I think it’s kind of silly to compare his romantic dreams with Jonathan having reservations due to trauma, poverty, and family obligations. That’s not so much a testament to Steve loving her more as it is an indication that he is relatively unburdened by material concerns. He may be broke, but he’s not dealing with entrenched multi-generational poverty. I’m not saying these things to suggest that Nancy would be wrong to break up with Jonathan—sometimes love isn’t enough—or that Steve is less deserving of love because his life is easier, but I am saying that Steve was kinda born on third base here.

I am not convinced that Steve would do “anything” for Nancy! Nor do I think that he should! That is not a good or sexy dynamic in an equal romantic partnership to me! They should both have other principles and goals of their own! (Also. Is the guy who wouldn’t revise his college essay in S2 really gonna move to Boston for her? I think he’s changed, sure, but not in that particular way.)

#anti stancy #just dumping this all here #I’m trying to be more positive #but in order to be positive we must sometimes Bitch

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stars-and-cows · 6 months

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I'm sad so more of my "It was just a nightmare au"

Okay so we'll take my boy Byakuya as the target

I don't really have a full backstory for him like I had with Celestia but I have the image of the person he would be after the dream.

He is selfish and only gains-motivated. He isn't a person to get terribly traumatized by the things he did in the nightmare, like Celestia, but he isn't ruthless either. He's a teen who grew up only knowing power and money.

I think he would mostly be worried about how his classmates perceive him. But not in the "I want them to like me" kind of way but more of a "it's a pain in the ass if they hate me". So he is mostly bothered at how nobody will talk to him or do anything he asks them to.

But he is already a traumatized person. He was traumatized way before the nightmare. Growing up in the house where his worth was determined by his actions and love wasn't guaranteed. He grew up as a person who can't see people, and himself, beyond their actions. He is usually the last person to know how HE is feeling about HIS problems because of how he was never taught how to process emotions. (I'm projecting)

So he definitely cares. He is sorry and he would like to apologize to his classmates. He just doesn't know it yet.

I think Makoto as the ultimate hope would help Byakuya work through his emotions. Makoto has incredible survivors guilt and he also feels like he was useless when it came to the prevention of murders.

Byakuya, being calculative as he is, sees the facts above feelings. He saw how much Makoto managed to piece everything during every trail. And, though he wouldn't admit it, knows they all would get executed if not for Makoto.

"I know I could do more, do better, do... Something!" Makoto said as the tears started to run down his face

"You did enough" Byakuya answered without thinking "You did so much. You practically carried us through those trials. Without you... We would be dead" He finally admitted. Mostly to himself than to the other boy. And before Makoto could speak he continued "And even if you didn't, at least you didn't actively hurt anyone. You don't need to blame yourself for the irrational things you didn't do while experiencing what was basically hell. At least I wouldn't, from your perspective."

Yeah so Makoto would be basically the only person that spoke to Byakuya normally. Well except Kiyoko. They just understand each other pretty well and are just grateful to have each other around. Byakuya, because Makoto is the only person that speaks to him. And Makoto, because he feels like Byakuya is misunderstood and wants to say thank you for helping him in the trials.

(I might put Naegami as canon in this au but I dunno for sure yet)

#I love Byakuya so much #I mean mostly my headcanonned version of him #He's such a comfort character for me #ANYWAY NEXT IS TAKA #danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa thh #danganronpa au #danganronpa byakuya #byakuya togami #danganronpa makoto #makoto naegi #danganronpa togami #danganronpa naegi #naegami #It was just a nightmare au

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princeescaluswords · 2 months

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I've been thinking about Munroe and wondering what about season 6 could have been different if her supernatural trauma was related to the nogitsune and the oni instead like in the hospital attack. I think it would be make her hatred of the pack a bit more compelling because they, especially Scott, actually did choose to save and protect Stiles regardless of the danger to other people and they could do something interesting with Scott and Stiles' guilt over it all. I also feel like it would be more believable for her to have supporters if they were other survivors who saw what they thought was the sheriff's son do something terrible and then have it completely covered up.

Do you think that's something that would have worked? How do you think it would have played out?

I think that your musings are inadvertently neglecting a very key part of Tamora Monroe's story. Unless I am mistaken (and feel free to correct me if I am) you're arguing that if her trauma had been directly connected to something the pack chose to do rather than something that they failed to stop, it would have made more of an impact. I agree that it would have certainly made her hostility toward the pack more personal.

However, I consider the fact that it wasn't due to a specific decision is vitally important dimension to her story. As usual, I'm going to preface my remarks by making it clear that Monroe is a villain, and my exploration of her motivations should not be taken as approval of her actions in any way.

To me, the central premise to Tamora Monroe's story isn't that she experienced trauma. A lot of people in the show experienced trauma and reacted to it in ways both good and bad. No, Monroe's fury arises from the way the main characters reacted to her trauma. She may have completely recovered from the damage the Beast did to her. She may have mourned the friends she lost on that school bus. What she can't accept is how unimportant the reaction made her seem. Something terrible happened to her but it was a side effect, a background detail to a trap made by a monster for others she saw as monsters.

In a bit of clever meta-narrative (with a bit of clear social commentary thrown in), Monroe existed as a minor victim, an extra designed, as T. S. Eliot put it, "to swell a scene or two." Her words to Corey in Said the Spider to the Fly (6x11) establish not only things about Corey's character but also hers.

Tamora: Look, I understand the need to keep up, to be recognized or noticed. Everybody feels invisible sometimes.

What Monroe went through wasn't given any importance. The bodies in the school bus were bait and afterwards, they were carted away never to be mentioned or dealt with again. If she hadn't survived, no one would have given her a second thought.

But she did survive, and even though she did, she still wasn't given enough importance -- enough value -- to be told what really happened to her. She figured it out on her own, and that is where her anger comes from. Her life didn't matter. That type of dismissal can be enraging, and she takes out that rage on those who she sees as acting that way in Raw Talent (6x12).

Monroe: I'm sorry. I should've told you. It's wolfsbane.

When I first heard that line, I was confused. Why would she say that to a werewolf she was hunting? However, it's clear on reflection that this line speaks directly to her motivation. Wolfsbane is dangerous to werewolves, so she should have told Brett that there was wolfsbane in the lacrosse ball, just as the Beast was dangerous to her, and she should have been told about the Beast. She is claiming an eye for an eye.

Her speech to the Sheriff in Werewolves of London (6x17) is also worth analyzing.

Monroe: Understand each other. Do you wanna know what I understand, Sheriff? Do you wanna know what I see in your little show and tell?

She speaks passionately because this is what should have happened way back after she survived the Beast. She should have been allowed to understand what was happening. She should have been listened to, but she didn't have any power. Only now, when she has power, are the people responsible willing to talk. She'll say that exact thing to Scott in After Images (6x13). Now that they're listening, she's going to do the talking.

Monroe: I see a sheriff unable to control the violence in his own county. A county he's sworn to protect. I see the same sheriff in way over his head. And not ready to believe the truth that's been staring him in the face for years.

It's clear that she thought she feels that people like the Sheriff were operating under false premises. They were supposed to keep the monsters away from people who couldn't protect themselves.

Monroe: I was told I was the victim of a wild animal attack. A bear. I was lied to. You lied to protect them over us.

The attack itself doesn't matter as much as the disregard. She was treated as a second-class citizen as opposed to monsters who can heal from stab wounds in a matter of minutes and grow claws and fangs at will. She was made to feel invisible, powerless, and unimportant.

Until she wasn't. Until she had enough power and enough followers to make them treat her differently.

So, what pushed her into become the woman who callously ordered Edgar the Werecoyote disposed of as trash? Well, she wouldn't be the first woman in Teen Wolf manipulated and used by a particularly selfish man to further his own ends.

Gerard: Someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you, but also someone who recognizes raw talent when he sees it.

Gerard had obviously been studying Monroe and figured out what I argue up above. It's not the wounds, it's the lies. It's the ignorance. Notice how many times during Season 6B Gerard emphasizes Monroe's importance or emphasizes how much she needs to learn, or emphasizes that this is what happens when the supernatural is unchecked. He's honed in on her psychology and uses her as a tactical advantage, one he's more than willing to discard once she's outlived her usefulness. Just as he did with Kate. Just as he did with Allison back in Season 2. It's the same thing -- take their feelings and twist them into action.

Monroe fit into Teen Wolf perfectly.

#tamora monroe #sheriff stilinski #gerard argent #teen wolf meta

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coffeeandbatboys · 7 months

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The Open Door (Poe Dameron x fem!pilot!reader)

Following a failed mission that you were commanding, Poe tries to help you cope with your awful emotional state.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, angst, terrible coping mechanisms, thoughts of worthlessness, survivor's guilt.

You were the only one who made it out. For two weeks you were declared dead. And you were the only one of your team alive.

Poe was crossing the hangar at a dead run to reach you, but you were so out of it you barely noticed him wrap his arms around your shaking form.

"Leia just told me..." He lifted his hand which came away bloody. "Oh, baby."

A you could bring yourself to do was cry into his shoulder.

"They're all dead, Poe. All of them."

Over the next few weeks, you started to drink more and more. At first, it was to dull the physical pain. But it quickly turned into your emotional coping mechanism. You'd borderline pushed Poe away, leaving him to watch you descend into a dark place.

And it was about time he did something.

He found you in your usual seat at the cantina, crying on the table.

Wordlessly, he sat down across from you.

You looked up with red eyes. "What, here to lecture me, flyboy?" You snapped.

"No, as your husband, I'm not going to lecture you. I'm intervening."

You scoffed and took another drink.

"Yeah whatever."

"Where did my wife go? Because I haven't seen her in weeks."

"I'm still you're wife, you idiot."

"No, you're not. Not until you put the bottle down and talk to me."

You stayed silent for a good minute, staring at the floor.

"Then I'm going to need a shoulder to cry on."

After returning to your shared quarters, you sat on the bed.

You took a deep breath. You really didn't want to rehash this.

"Ever since...you know. I've had this guilt. That I wasn't good enough. I haven't even been able to face my mom. I don't think I'm strong enough to."

"You're the strongest person I know."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel absolutely worthless. As a soldier, a person in general. And as a wife."

"No, baby. Please don't talk like that. I still love you. We all have that one traumatic thing that happens and we feel terrible. But you're strong. If you let me in I can help you."

"I..." You hesitated and tears welled in your eyes. The problem was coming to a head. "I don't know how. I've gone to far, Poe."

He reached out to hold your hands. "Just cry, babe. Let it out."

In that moment, you let out a cry that began strangled, and then developed into a full on wail. Poe's heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Pulling your head against his chest, a few tears slipped from his own eyes.

Maybe you wouldn't get better tonight.

But there was always tomorrow

#poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron fic #Star wars #Pie dameron x wife!reader

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mymistakewriting · 3 months

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Howard 'Chimney' Han headcanons & thoughts

Let me start this post out with a heads up because I'm sure something I say here is going to upset someone. I've seen how divided some of this fandom is on Chimney. NOTHING I SAY HERE SHOULD BE TAKEN AS ME BASHING A CHARACTER. I have several opinions on Chimney. My opinions and feelings on Chimney are VERY complicated and I'll do my best to explain them all.

And now, let me begin with the question posed to me by @happilylovingchaos

Heritage: Because he lost his mother so young and he stayed in the United States instead of returning with his father back to South Korea after her passing, his exposure to his heritage was limited (and rather tainted) despite another family taking him in. Because of this, I'm very sure his feelings towards his heritage is complicated - he's proud of where he comes from, he'll happily answer questions or discuss it if people want to hear it.

I do fully believe he intends to make sure Jee-Yun is aware of and connected with that portion of her heritage, he does still hold it close even if he doesn't feel as connected with it himself. Additionally, I think he uses the language pretty fluidly, kind of like how Eddie occasionally slips in a Spanish word, Chimney slips in a Korean word or phrase when he thinks it matches what he wants to say more. That said, I don't think it's something he uses often.

Other: For all that the show frames Chimney as the funny guy who takes nothing seriously, ESPECIALLY when paired against Hen, I don't think he is. He's not the comic relief, he's not the guy that's always joking around. And I see that misconception a lot in the fandom as well. He definitely uses humor as a coping mechanism, don't get me wrong, but he's usually the one balancing Hen's more wild ideas. He acts as her balance - her savior complex versus his need to stay well within the bounds he's been given because he knows and has seen what can happen if he oversteps those bounds for even a moment. Better read as her savior complex versus his survivor's guilt.

He's not fit to be a full time captain. He did passably well as interim captain in the show, however he has the tendency to focus on the wrong things and he tends to freeze when he's under pressure and asked to make the calls. If he worked on that, he'd make an amazing captain. Personally, I think he should be paramedic in charge for a-shift at some point. He'd thrive in that position. However, to do so would mean he would have to take a step back from the rescue (firefighter) portion of his job to focus more on the medical side and I just can't see him doing that.

He does owe Buck an apology for punching him during the situation with Maddie. But not because it was uncalled for. Yes, he shouldn't have hit Buck because frankly, I'm half sure at the time Buck didn't know where the hell Maddie was, it was just another time that she'd up and ran away like she always did when he was little. However, in the situation? I understand why he did. He shouldn't apologize because oh he hurt Buck and Buck's everyone's favorite - he should apologize because it was a moment of high emotion and they both should have communicated better. He isn't a terrible person for reacting as a worried partner who wasn't being told the truth. It was just a shitty situation. For everyone.

This one is just fun. He's the reason Buck trained Ravi the way he did. Chimney certainly didn't give Buck an easy time during his probationary year, and Buck took that to heart. He's tough enough to handle the job because of how Chimney helped train him in his mind, so of course he paid it forward. I'm pretty sure Chimney got a laugh out of the stories when Hen told him.

Chimney handles being the partner of a domestic abuse victim beautifully. He knows that sometimes, things are going to happen that trigger a memory or reaction that don't make a whole lot of sense. The fact that he's been shown to roll with the punches and let Maddie make the calls on how fast they do something? Beautiful. I adore their relationship SOLELY for Chimney's side of it and how considerate he is of the fact that he hasn't been there, he doesn't understand everything she's been through. But he still tries to make sure she knows she's safe and loved and valued. He is exactly the kind of partner she needed after what she lived through with Doug.

#kieran talks #911 #chimney han #911 chimney #tw: mentions of abuse #I still have thoughts about him but none of the rest want to be put to words so a part 2 will happen eventually.

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avatar-saiki · 1 year

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Comforts from the Attic Club Sandwich Pt. 2

Read Pt 1 here

CW: mental health issues, depression, survivor guilt, suicide ideation

POV: Belphegor

Minutes passed, the tension in your brow easing, the rhythm of your breathing falling steady the further you sank into slumber.

Wordlessly, Belphie scooted back a little and laid down, pillowing his head with his arm. “The alcohol helped them fall asleep quickly, which is good, but…”

“We should still talk to them in the morning,” Beel finished quietly, tucking them closer into his chest.

So protective.

“Mm…” Belphie closed his eyes, “Yes, I imagine we should.”

“I… Belphie what do I say?”

“I’m not sure… I’m thinking myself.”

Your gentle breathing stretched in the silence between them.

“Do…”

Belphie cracked open an eye, his brother looking down at you with…

“Should I have said something sooner?”

Beel…

He sighed and closed his eye again, “It’s impossible to know what to say in the moment. Don’t beat yourself up about it, Beel.”

Beel quieted again, but it wasn’t hard to sense that he was ruminating.

“What matters is you want to say something now,” he continued, keeping his eyes closed while muted colors of your dreams played behind his eyelids. “That alone is better than nothing at all.”

“But if I’d said something sooner… maybe they wouldn’t have—“

“Beel, it doesn’t matter,” he cut in, sitting up on his elbow. “You can’t stop humans from doing what they want to do, you know that.”

“I know but,” He held you closer, his eyes glossy. “Belphie, binging is my vice and I didn’t see it. I promised to protect them, and I… I didn’t—“

“Stop it.”

He’d realized the words came out harder than he’d meant when Beel winced.

“But Belphie—“

He reached up to touch your temple again, gazing at your peaceful face.

“You’re right,” he admitted, “we messed up, Beel.”

Beel closed his eyes, a tear falling across his face onto the pillow.

“What do we do?”

What indeed?

It seemed so strange that he be the one asked that.

He watched the gentle rise and fall of your body with every restful breath.

“Well…”

He caressed your temple again, the fondness in his chest making his throat start to hurt.

“They’re still here, so we can do something.”

“True… sleeping it off is good, right?”

He nodded, “Sleeping it off is very good, the mind can be such a terrible place.”

Beel quieted somewhat, seemingly lost in the gentle rhythm all the same.

Then he asked, “Should I try to fall asleep now?”

“If you can, that’d be nice. You’ll have to sleep for the both of us.”

“And you’ll watch over them all night?”

He nodded and settled in to lay comfortably beside you. “Yes, all night. But that’ll mean…”

“…my rest won’t have much effect, I know. My energy will be lower than usual.”

“Which means you’ll have to eat more,” he said with a wry smile, “you know what happens when you eat a lot.”

“It’s okay, I have Fangol practice tomorrow anyway and I can work out a bit more before coming home.”

He chuckled under his breath, “All that sounds horrible.”

His brother’s gentle laugh eased his worry, even if it was shallow.

“Maybe, but if it helps you help them, then I want to. Especially if it’s all I can do.”

“I still can’t understand why you’d think you’re doing nothing,” he muttered. Did he really not see how comforted you were in his arms?

“What’d you say? I didn’t hear that.”

“Nothing, Beel,” he hummed, focusing his attention inward again as the colors began to darken. “Just go to sleep now.”

“Will you wake me if you need to?”

“Of course~”

“Okay.”

After some hesitation, his brother finally began to relax, his hold around you secure. Clearly your protector wasn’t about to let you sleep alone tonight, no matter the dangers or worries in this or any of the Three Realms.

If only…

No.

There was no need for such thoughts right now.

Now was the time to focus on keeping your inner demons quiet so the mind could rest. If nothing else, he could do this. Giving you the peace of mind to sleep well into the morning, even after the alcohol worked its way through your system and cleared the muddiness of your thoughts.

Beel wanted to stay, to be there when you woke, but after resting he was starving for something to eat. It wasn’t hard to excuse him, especially after staying awake for so long. Luckily, your mind didn’t resist his influence much, so keeping the turmoil inside at a steady roll hadn’t been too hard. He’d even found time to snoop around your room, confirming no other hidden bottles could be found.

After eating, Beel returned with a charger for his DDD and a few snacks for both him and you.

“I told Lucifer they’re not feeling well, and that you volunteered to watch over them today,” he said under his breath, glancing at you still curled up on the bed. “Will you tell me if things change?”

“Yes, yes,” he said, taking everything and turning away from his brother. “Would you quit worrying so much? I won’t leave their side.”

He hesitated, glancing between him and you again, then finally nodding before turning to leave. “Okay, just call me or- well, yeah. Just call me if you need anything. I can pick up something on the way home too if they want it.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll be sure to ask them when they wake up.”

He looked at you one final time, then shut the door, leaving the two of you alone.

Belphie sighed and sat down on the floor, stretching out his legs and staring up at the ceiling while he ate what Beel had brought. Of all the times he’d made excuses to avoid getting out of bed, and now here he was, watching over you while you slept.

How funny.

When was the last time he’d put in so much effort?

He closed his eyes and nibbled on a cracker, reminiscing in the colors he’d seen in the hours prior. So much darkness… how could he have ever—

“Beel?” you croaked, sitting up slowly. “Belphie?”

“I’m here,” he said, leaning back to offer a sleeve of crackers to you. “Want a snack?”

You blinked dazedly, staring at the package. “Where’d Beel go?”

“He had to leave, but I’ll be here today,” he said, standing up. “Do you want some water?”

You nodded, taking the sleeve of crackers out of reflex.

Well, at least you took them.

He picked up the glass off your nightstand and sat at the edge of the bed, offering it to you. He watched as you gingerly accepted it and drank it down, not speaking again until you’d finished at least half.

“How’d you sleep?”

You glanced away immediately, curling inward.

“Good…”

He smiled, “That’s good. Did you have any nightmares?”

“… No…”

“Good,” he smiled wider, reaching over to steal one of the crackers. Then he laid across the bed on his side, “Sleep feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You said nothing, leaving him to break the silence with the snap of taking a bite.

That was fine~ it wasn’t as if he expected you to say or do anything.

He closed his eyes, content to sit in your presence for as long as you needed company, even if it might not be his company you preferred.

Only when he’d stolen his third cracker, did you speak up again.

“When’re you going to ask me about what happened?”

“Mm… never?”

The bed shifted and you leaned back against the wall, your legs and arms tucked close as if you were trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Please don’t lie to me. I know you’re waiting to talk.”

He paused midbite, watching you with nothing but curiosity.

“What makes you think I’d force the conversation?”

You glanced at him skeptically. “Why else would you still be here?”

He shrugged and sat up, wiping crumbs off the bedspread.

“Who says I need a reason to want to be here?”

“Belphie, you stayed up all night for me.”

“Yeah, and I chose to do that.”

“Yeah, but—“ Your voice faltered and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Forget it.”

He chuckled and scooted backward to sit against the wall near you, stretching his legs out again.

“We do have a pact, you know, it’s not as if I have a problem with you using my powers however you need.”

You sulked, saying nothing and hugging yourself instead.

He sat quietly, lacing his fingers together with his hands in his lap.

“I’ll admit, you are a little strange,” he said after a while, watching you through his peripherals. You’d flinched, but said nothing, so he continued. “I can’t imagine many humans that’d have pacts with me or my brothers and willfully not use them.”

“I’m not going to waste someone’s time just because I’m too pathetic to live,” you muttered under your breath and he chuckled.

“That’s a bit absurd, don’t you think? We’ve all committed to pacts with you. That means we want you to use our powers.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you imagined using your powers to help some pathetic human sleep through the night,” you said sarcastically, “Such a great use for the Avatar of Sloth.”

“I’m so glad you agree,” he said, mildly amused, “I almost expected it to be harder to convince you.”

You didn’t say anything again, quietly frowning at nothing.

He probably shouldn’t find it amusing, but your stubbornness was interesting at the very least.

“Blocking nightmares isn’t that difficult, really,” he said, idly counting the leaves on a stray branch that stretched up above your bed. “I wouldn’t mind if I had to spend my nights like that for a while.”

Silence answered, so he carried on.

“Beel’s helpful too, having him around makes it easier.” And it was obvious you felt safe with him, an added benefit. “If you were okay with the two of us, I’m sure I could manage—“

“I’m not going to ask you to do that,” you said, voice starting to show signs of breaking.

“I know,” he said, “but you could, if you wanted. And even if you don’t,” he shrugged, “I’m still saying I’d do it anyway.”

He would’ve taken your silence as some form of acceptance if he hadn’t heard you start to cry.

“B-Belphie, I…” you reached up to wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I don’t… I don’t deserve… I didn’t…”

“Hey…” He crossed his legs and turned his attention to you, “Don’t start that again. I already told you that you can’t decide what you deserve.”

Tears began to well, “B-But I—“

He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter the excuse. Beel thinks you deserve him, and so do I. In fact, I—“

“I don’t deserve a second chance,” you blurted out, catching him by surprise.

“I don’t…”

“Of course you don’t understand,” you cut in, hugging yourself and leaning forward, laughing without feeling. “No one would, it makes no sense. But- Belphie…” You hugged yourself tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Tell me… tell me I don’t deserve it.”

He… had a guess at what you meant, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t think of what to say. Instead, all he could think to do was sit there and look at you, unable to find the words to put to the feelings in his heart. The way… seeing you like this… made him…

You sat up straighter, the smile on your face not reaching your eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder if you were doing me a favor that day,” you said quietly. “Things would’ve been so much easier if I hadn’t gone back…”

He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten again.

“Maybe… but… then you wouldn’t be here.”

You glanced at him with a dry smile. “Aren’t you listening? That’s the point.”

He frowned, “Then I don’t really like the point you’re trying to make.”

You laughed without feeling again, and it made him feel unwell.

“Beel was upset,” he said quietly, remembering the distance that’d stretched between them since he’d returned. Without your help, he might not’ve been able to repair his relationship as quickly as he had…. “Mammon too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said wryly, “Same with Asmo, Levi, Satan, and I think even Lucifer too, but so what?” You held up your hands, pressing your lips together as if it’d hide your defeated smile. “I can tell myself all day someone cares about me, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts inside my head.”

“So then you drink to forget,” he said, “Or drown out the thoughts until you can’t hear them anymore?”

You caught a broken laugh in the back of your throat, coughing while you reached for the glass of water.

This feeling…

“It feels almost… wrong,” he said quietly, holding his ankles while staring at the bedspread without fully seeing it, “… to admit I’d… be upset if you weren’t here too.”

“That’s bold of you,” you said dryly, “it must be such a luxury to look back and still somehow feel that way.”

“It is,” he said sincerely, ignoring the bitter undertones to your words. “And I know it is.”

You glanced at him warily, but he only shrugged with a small smile.

“What? It’s not like we both don’t know what happened or what I did.”

An awkward silence stretched between the two of you again, but he was content to let it grow. It gave you time to think and nibble on a few crackers.

Eating was good for you.

Even if it was just a little bit right now.

When you’d finished your water, he held up his hands, drawing idle circles in his palm.

“You know…” He focused his attention on the motions, eventually drawing colorful runes that began to glow against his skin. “Without you, I don’t think I’d be as close to my family again.”

“Without me, you wouldn’t have been divided in the first place,” you muttered under your breath.

He chuckled, “No, but then it would’ve been some other human. This time, we got you.”

You grumbled quietly, watching him draw.

He didn’t have much in mind, only really focusing on the way you made him feel and the colors he associated with those thoughts. The gentle golden sunshine that was your smile, the easy pinks of a sunset that offered your rest and comfort. Deeper violets and blues in the ways you soothed his soul, cooling pains he’d never known were burning until he’d felt relief.

“It hurts me to hear that you don’t value your soul,” he said quietly, collecting each wisp of color, letting them swirl around his finger in a rainbow colored mist. “It really is beautiful.”

You watched wordlessly, the colors reflecting in your eyes, then bowed your head.

“What’s so beautiful about a soul that doesn’t want to be?”

“Mm… I’d hate to answer a question with a question, but why would a soul want mercy for the one who snuffed it out?”

You tsked and turned your face away. “That’s a stupid question. It doesn’t take a genius to know you and your whole family will still be around long after I’m gone. It only makes sense to help make sure you all stick together.”

He couldn’t help smiling, amused again.

“You say that like it’s a normal way to think.”

You turned to him again, annoyed. “It is a normal way to think.”

He laughed, “So, it’s fine to show me mercy but not yourself?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

“That’s different. Don’t equate the two.”

He rolled his wrist around, swirling the mist until it began to dissipate, raining sparkles of magentas and gold upon your bed.

“Then explain to me why I can’t.”

You frowned again, mildly frustrated, but said, “Well, for one thing, breaking up a family when I don’t even like who I am most the time seems really fucking selfish and stupid.”

He laughed, then covered his mouth. “I didn’t mean for that to slip out. Continue, please.”

You glanced at him, then sighed and bowed your head, holding the glass between your hands. “It’s okay, you can laugh. I know it’s ridiculous to say I hate myself, but,” tears began to prick your eyes again, “but it’s how I feel.”

“Mm…” He leaned his head back against the wall, gazing up at the tree again. “Hate… hate is something I understand more.”

“Yeah… I would think you would.”

The dryness in your tone made him chuckle again, and he glanced at you. “But I projected it outward, while you seem to wish to keep it inside. Why is that?”

You shrugged without looking up. “What reason is there to hate someone else? I’m the one who’s failed.”

“Mm…” He looked thoughtful for a moment, “and yet I’m still drawn back to the unthinkable idea that you tolerate me enough to entertain conversation,” he chuckled to himself, “not to mention that of the two I’d think many people would condemn outward hate more than inward, if not most.”

“Yeah, well, they can condemn whatever the hell they want,” you muttered, finally scooting toward the edge of the bed to get up.

“Did you need something? I could get you more water,” he said, moving off the bed with ease and meeting you on your feet. He reached for the glass, “Here, let me.”

You hugged the glass to your chest. “You tell me why now.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Tell you why about what?”

“Why do you care?” You said, cutting him off just as he was about to answer, “And don’t say it’s the pact. Nothing I do should be any of your business.”

“Well that’s unfair,” he teased, reaching up to twirl his fingers through his hair coyly. “You just forbade my preferred answer.”

You nodded, “Yeah, so give me another one. Tell me why you’re really doing this, Belphie, whatever it is.”

He gazed at you, the redness in your eyes and darkness swirling in your soul. The glass hugged to your chest as if worried he might snatch it away. Is that what Beel had seen yesterday?

Someone so lost and defensive…

He closed his eyes and held his arms out open, showing he had nothing to hide.

“I can’t pretend I don’t care most about Beel and my brothers,” he said, “and as much as I hated it at first, I know you’re important to them.” The fear inside began to eat its way into his heart, but he tempered it down. “If it makes you feel more at ease, then look at is as a way of me repaying a debt.”

You said nothing, and he took the opportunity to take the glass from your hands.

“I’ll be right back~” he said, but you caught his arm just as he tried to pass.

“Wait.” You weren’t looking at him, but your fingers pinched his sleeve tight.

“Tell me what it felt like,” you said, voice just above a whisper.

His expression softened, and he lowered the glass.

“I’ll tell you anything, but I don’t think you need to hear that.”

“Please,” you insisted.

He sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“I was afraid. Afraid of losing them again, afraid of losing Beel. Afraid I’d see…” He tightened his grip around the glass, his own eyes starting to sting. “Well. You know the story by now, there’s no point in me going over it again.”

You held his sleeve fast.

“You hated for a reason,” you said hollowly, staring at the floor. “Even if it was a wrong one, at least you had one.”

He smirked, “So having reason is enough for you?”

You looked up into his eyes, your own still somewhat lost in between reality and memory. “It’s better than none at all.”

He hummed in thought, then sidestepped around you. “As much as I think it’d favor me to agree with you on that, I’ll refrain.”

You looked back at him, eyes tired and sad.

“You might’ve hated, but even a farmer will shoot at a coyote after their cattle.”

He paused at the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Just what exactly were you trying to say?

“I’ll be right back,” he said again, “Do you need anything else besides water?”

“No,” you said quietly, sitting down on the bed’s edge.

He nodded and left, only to return a few minutes later to find you in the same spot staring at nothing again.

He set the glass down and took a seat near but not too close.

It was quiet again, and you weren’t moving. The sickness in his chest that’d been rising and falling throughout the night was returning again, growing harder to ignore with no excuses to keep it down.

“I wish he’d saved her,” he said quietly, feeling your eyes on him but refusing to look at your face. “She didn’t deserve to die… and she could’ve done so much more if she were alive.”

Yes… he’d thought about this often, even after talking it through with Beel, it wasn’t something he could let go of so easily.

Lilith…

His throat tightened, eyes starting to sting.

If she had been the one to survive, what more could’ve been changed? How much happier could everyone be?

He’d been wrong.

So terribly.

Horribly.

Wrong.

“Belphie… are you…?”

He forced a quiet laugh, feeling so pathetic. Even now in your deepest lows, you still sensed something was wrong and opened up your heart.

“It’s funny,” he said quietly, “I sometimes wonder if there’s any universe out there where he did choose her over me. I wonder if they’re happier there. If she would’ve joined Diavolo or helped establish RAD.”

He reached up to rub his eyes, the burning rising and hurting in the back of his throat.

“I know there’s possibility of times where I’m not here anymore,” he said, “I don’t need Barbatos to show me that.”

You said nothing, but somehow the silence was comforting. It wasn’t the coldness of rejection, but a gentle want to understand.

So many reasons to adore you…

He coughed to clear his throat, rubbing his eyes roughly and looking away again.

“I was prepared for this to be one of those times. I was ready for it to be the end.”

He glanced at you, the human randomly chosen to join RAD and somehow became such an important part of his family.

His eyes began to sting again.

“You’re why I’m still here,” he said, “Without you, I would’ve been executed.”

Your expression was already starting to shut down again, the instinct to dismiss his words kicking in. “Yeah, but—“

He stood up again and put a hand on his chest.

“I must not’ve made myself clear when I offered you the pact before, so I’ll do it again.” He met your eyes, standing firm. “Whether you want your own or not, my life is yours to use however you see fit. If you need something to hate,” he put both hands on his chest, “hate me.”

“But—“

He shook his head, speaking over you. “If you need someone to listen, someone to protect you, someone to help you sleep…” The burning made it so hard to speak, it felt as if his throat might close. “Please… let me help you.”

“Belphie…”

He looked into your eyes, his vision starting to blur.

“Look, I don’t care about how you feel about me, but I won’t not care about you. Don’t make me do nothing again.”

“Belphie…”

“If it’s all I can do, for the rest of your days…”

Please, just let him help.

“Don’t…” His words fell quiet.

“Don’t make me… do… nothing.”

“You wouldn’t really do that for me… every night…” your voice was timid and small, the protest weak.

He smiled tentatively.

“Nothing would make me happier. We could even use the attic. The bed’s larger, and I’ve set it up to be a comfortable escape.”

“Humans don’t live forever, but that could still mean quite a few years watching over me while you could be sleeping.”

He chuckled and shrugged, “With Beel’s help I can manage just fine, and it’s not like I don’t sleep during the day anyway.”

You went quiet again, ruminating while staring at a fixed point on the floor, gingerly drinking from the glass. Then, you gazed up at him in a thoughtful way.

“Is Beel necessary?”

He tilted his head, mildly confused by the question.

“Excuse me?”

You stood up, taking your time and absentmindedly tugging at the covers in a halfhearted attempt to make your bed.

“If I need something from you, does Beel have to be there too?”

“Well… in theory no, but depending on what it is it’d probably work more in your favor if he was around.”

You nodded with a small smile. “I figured as much.”

“Why?”

You turned to face him, eyes tired and red but clear.

“Because, despite just waking up, I feel exhausted.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled dryly, “me too.”

You met his dryness with a smile of your own, “And the attic sounded kind of nice…”

“It’s quieter up there,” he agreed, “I have a black out canopy around the bed, and blankets cursed to feel both heated and weighted.”

“Mm…” your expression betrayed your fatigue, “that sounds amazing. Could we go?”

“Sure, but Beel’s…” Not going to be able to settle down for a midmorning nap. “I could call Satan and see if he might be able to come home early.”

You looked at him, confused. “Why would you call Satan over?”

“So you don’t have to be asleep alone around me,” he said as if it were obvious, gently taking your glass and gesturing for you to follow him out of your room.

But yet again you grabbed his sleeve, staying rooted to the spot while waiting for him to look at you.

“I don’t need protection from you.”

He smirked, “I dunno, past actions would say otherwise.”

You frowned and pinched harder, this time unknowingly pinching him.

“Belphie… do you think I don’t trust you?”

He had no real response to that other than an expression that very clearly asked if you were joking.

Color touched your cheeks and you glanced away, grip loosening a touch.

“Maybe I don’t trust you with much, but I… I know you don’t want to hurt me right now.”

“I rarely ever do,” he teased mildly, reaching around to gently touch your lower back to encourage you to start moving.

Only when the two of you had reached the stairs did you speak up again.

“Thanks for staying with me today.”

“Of course,” he said with ease, leading you along. “Though, I will admit there’s a high chance I would’ve stayed home anyway.”

You laughed softly, the sound comforting and a touch more genuine.

It made his heart feel warm.

He opened the door and stepped aside, letting you walk in first before he shut the door. You only hesitated a moment before the temptation of the bed won over and you crawled into the covers, sighing contentedly when you were snuggled in.

That made his heart feel even warmer.

He walked around to the other side, kneeling on the edge and gazing at you curiously.

“Before you fall asleep, can I ask something?”

You peered up at him, tired but wittiness returning. “You just did, but you can ask me something else too.”

“Oh joy,” he rolled his eyes, enjoying your soft laughter at his annoyance “how generous of you.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, settling in to lay on his side facing you. “Anyway, was I supposed to be the coyote or the cattle?”

“Huh?”

Judging by the blankness in your expression, you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Your little analogy,” he said, “I don’t know if I understand who I was supposed to be.”

“Oh,” you blinked, then laughed as the memory returned. “No, you were supposed to be the farmer.”

“I was? I thought you were the farmer.”

“No,” you giggled, “I think I was the coyote.”

“You think? How do you not even know what your analogy was supposed to be?”

You giggled again, “I don’t know! The coyote might make sense, but why would you think you’re the cattle?”

He huffed, rolling onto his back. “Never mind, clearly it wasn’t as meaningful as I thought.”

Your soft laughter was a welcome treat compared to the sobs he’d heard yesterday. Was anything he’d done or said helpful? Would any of it make any sort of difference?

Would you maybe, finally, let him help you in some way? Make use of his pact and the life he’d given to you?

A life…

He closed his eyes and exhaled a gentle sigh.

…that he didn’t deserve.

To be beside you now, to see the light you bring.

You scooted closer, reaching out to touch his arm, feeling for his hand.

He took it willingly, thankful for the darkness that shrouded the two of you.

It didn’t matter if he’d ever truly understand the reason, all he knew was for a chance like this to even exist was gracious enough alone.

And he couldn’t discredit your mercy.

Because…

He squeezed your hand.

You should hate him.

Not yourself.

You squeezed in turn, the gesture weak as you succumbed to the comforts surrounding you.

So there was only one answer for him, then.

Whatever life you may lead, he was committed to protect it.

A lifetime of sleepless nights was nothing.

“B…Mm…” you hummed, drifting off to sleep.

He turned, just able to make out your face despite the low light. Face relaxed, breathing slow. No nightmares for now…

He relaxed further, rolling onto his side to face you again and reaching up to gently cup your cheek.

“I’ll protect you,” he promised, speaking just above a whisper, “whatever I have to do to keep you safe, I see that now…”

It’d taken him far too long to learn, but…

He touched his forehead to yours, letting the comfort of feeling you there ease the ache within his soul.

“You’re too precious for me to do nothing.”

#obey me shall we date #obeymeshallwedate #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me #fan fic #reader insert #angst #hurt comfort #depression #suicide ideation #mental health issues

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peachy-panic · 2 years

Text

Contract’s Eve

The night before his contract with Jaime is set to begin, Sebastian reaches out to an unexpected ally for wisdom.

Another short one. Look, I’m getting better at the concept of drabbles! (If you’re looking for context on this one, we meet Ezra here).

WARNINGS: The usual BBU/BBU-adjacent warnings. Alcohol mention. Survivor discussing their personal experience with past trauma.

Sebastian goes through the better part of a bottle of wine, plays through several videos of soothing ambient sounds, and stares at his ceiling for approximately forever before he finally caves and picks up his phone.

It rings four full times, and he is about to hang up and follow it with an apologetic text about an accidental misdial when a voice breaks through the other end.

“Hello?” Ezra says.

“Oh. Hi,” he says. “It’s me. Sebastian. Um, Tate. Sorry, it’s…”

“Two in the morning?” Ezra finishes for him. Sebastian flushes guiltily, but there is no anger or accusation in his tone. Overall, there is a practiced neutrality in his voice that makes Sebastian shiver.

“Who is it?” He hears Sam rousing the background, over the rustle of sheets.

“It’s Sebastian,” Ezra says. “Go back to bed.”

“Tate? What does he…?”

“He’s fine. It’s for me. Go to sleep, Sam.”

There is a faint, unintelligible grumble, followed by what sounds like a quick kiss, and then it’s just Ezra again. “Hold on. Let me step outside,” he whispers, then after a minute of silence, “I’m here. What is going on?”

“I’m…” Panicking? Completely out of my depth? Making a huge mistake? “Having trouble sleeping.”

True, if not a bit avoidant.

There is a soft sound that Sebastian thinks might be a chuckle on the other end of the line. “I gathered that,” Ezra says. “I don’t suppose I might have any good guesses about what could be keeping you up.”

“It’s possible the events of tomorrow could be factoring into it,” Sebastian tries for lightness in his voice instead of the absolute free-fall panic he feels in his chest. “Who’s really to say?”

Of course Ezra knows about it. The whole group knows about it, and they haven’t been shy about their opinions. Aria required some convincing, but eventually came around. Sam just watches him with this silent look of judgment that feels somehow more aggressive than actual words. And Julian… Well, if they aren’t currently on speaking terms, it’s not as if they were braiding each other’s hair and sipping rosé together before.

“Is there something specific you’re worried about right now?” Ezra asks. “Something you’re hoping I can ease your mind about?”

Tell me I’m not a terrible person for doing this.

Tell me it’s not selfish to want to bring him here.

Tell me how to do this, please.

“I don’t want to hurt him.” The simple confession deflates him, and there is a long enough silence that follows that Sebastian assumes Ezra might have already reached his limit with his bullshit, so he surges forward. “Just… inadvertently, I’m… I’m so afraid I’m going to do something to hurt him, and I think–” Oh, god “–I think he might actually trust me? Just a little bit, maybe? And, fuck, I’m so fucking terrified of breaking that trust, I don’t even know what to do with it.”

Another long pause, and then Ezra asks, “Have you, by chance, had a drink tonight?”

Oops. “Maybe?”

“Mm,” Ezra hums. “I think,” he starts again, “that hurt is going to be an inevitable part of this.”

But I don’t want it to come from me, he wants to whine back at him, but even he can recognize the sentiment as selfish. “I would like to lessen it, then,” Sebastian tries instead. “As much and wherever I can. I just want to get this right.”

When Ezra speaks again, there is an edge, but also a level of restraint, to his voice that Sebastian hasn’t heard from him before. “You have signed a contract that grants you temporary ownership of a human being,” he says, every word slow and measured. “There is no right way to do that.”

Guilt curdles in Sebastian’s empty stomach. He grips the phone tighter, letting his eyes slip shut. “Of course,” he says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“I know what you meant,” Ezra stops him. There is no anger in his tone, just a firmness that Sebastian finds oddly grounding. “And I know your intentions are pure. But I think that is important to keep in mind.”

Sebastian nods, then closes his eyes and clears his throat when he remembers he can’t actually see him. “Yeah. Okay,” he said. “I just… There was never a good way to go about this, I know, but I really hate how things played out. I was rushed into having the conversation with him, and he was rushed into giving me an answer, and I… Obviously, I’m glad I could secure his contract before someone else could, but I’m also so very aware of every way I could fuck this up, and I’m going into this blind, and he is already so–”

“You’re not.”

Sebastian pauses, blinks. “Not what?”

“Going into this blind,” Ezra says. “Judging by this middle-of-the-night conversation, it’s safe to assume you know how to pick up a phone. I’ll be here on the other end of it whenever you need to call.”

It takes a minute for that to sink in. “You… really? You want to help me?”

There is something of a long suffering sigh on the other end of the static, but Sebastian doesn’t think he’s misreading the hint of fondness.

“I know everyone has made their opinion known on this decision of yours, and I am not without reservations myself,” Ezra says. “But for the record, I think, at the heart of it, you are doing a kind thing for this boy. And I think, ultimately, you will do right by him. Of course I want to help.”

Rarely does a sentiment catch Sebastian off guard enough to render him speechless, as opposed to his usual reaction of word vomit. But Ezra’s reassurance slips over his shoulders like a weighted blanket, and Sebastian relaxes back against the couch with a breath of relief.

“I… Thank you,” he says, finally.

Ezra gives a noncommittal hum. “Look,” he says. “I know you are afraid. But I need you to understand that, no matter how strong that feeling is right now, it doesn’t hold a candle to the fear that he is going to feel tomorrow, walking into your home.”

Sebastian scans over the darkened living room, trying to picture Jaime here, in this space. It’s hard, and it’s surreal, but in less than eight hours, it’s happening.

“I have been in that position,” Ezra continues slowly. Sebastian goes still––he has never heard Ezra speak outright about his experience in the system, and he feels like this bit of honesty, of trust, deserves the utmost reverence. “Many times, over many years. It never got easier. Every time was frightening in its own way. If I can do anything––anything at all––to make this a little bit easier on him, I will. I want to.”

He’s not really sure when he decided to start crying, but a tear slides down his cheek before he can blink it away. “Ezra. You’re a really good person, you know that, right?”

“I am just a person,” Ezra says after a prolonged beat of silence. “That is all I have ever wanted to be.”

TAG LIST: @whumpervescence @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump @nicolepascaline @anotherbluntpencil @hold-him-down @crystalquartzwhump @maracujatangerine @batfacedliar-yetagain @thecyrulik @van-whumps @finder-of-rings @melancholy-in-the-morning @insaneinthepaingame @skyhawkwolf @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @mylifeisonthebookshelf @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-world @inpainandsuffering @cicatrix-energy @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @extemporary-whump @the-whumpers-grimm

#Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Ezra Lyle #BBU #like bbu adjacent?

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raspbeyes · 9 months

Text

Alright imma say it

It totally makes sense why everyone would be more upset over Kaito's death than Kokichi

Idk why theres this sentiment that Kokichi's desth was unfairly overshadowed by Kaito BUT YEAH NO HARD DISAGREE literally none of those remaining classmates would have any reason to show compassion for kokichi over kaito

Shuichi: as he is mc/player character his perspective matters most, so ill say the most on him. Sorry to saiouma fans (dw i do think the ship is cute but honestly works better under different circumstances for the two) but Shuichi has spent more time with kaito. After Kaede's death, it is Kaito (in Kaito's questionable way) who helped get Shuichi's willpower back. Kokichi says as much in ch 4. With shuichi being a very sensitive detective, he needed that pillar of support from kaito, one kokichi, while providing help in trials, doesnt give emotionally. Sure u can argue bias on Shuichi's part, but it is Kokichi's plot in ch 4 that caused him and Kaito to have a falling out, injured and captured Kaito in a bunker, and is the reason Kaito becomes the blackened Shuichi is forced to exposed and now watch be executed

Maki: Self explanatory af, but kokichi exposed her talent to everyone to have her be isolated due to kokichi's own distaste for murderers, regardless of maki's intent. Kokichi is the one who fucked around in ch 5 with her feelings, making her harbor guilt over supposedly killing kaito. It's his plot that gets Kaito killed off as blackened so yeah dont expect sympathy from her

Tsumugi: while idk if confirmed whether Kokichi had gone off Tsumugi's script, if that is the case, Tsumugi would 100% frustrated for kokichi messing up her plotline. Shes devoted her life to dr and has been a writer in numerous prior seasons. To have some kid try to attack the mastermind directly by messing with the game would to her feel like infringing on the game's intended entertainment. Besides, if everyone else hates kokichi, it's best for her to go along with it to blend in

Himiko: there def is a weird dynamic between the two, with himiko falling for exisal kokichi twice which is weird ... but yeah no overall himiko has a negative opinion of kokichi. While he did indirectly help her releasing her bottled up emotions in the end of ch 3, it's Kokichi’s way of doing things, meaning it usually comes off as rude. Pretty sure what Kokichi (and Gonta to an extent) caused in ch 4 is unforgivable for himiko, since literally everyone liked Gonta. Himiko out of everyone believed kokichi was the mastermind, feeling great despair once he revealed the truth of the outside world. While not specific, himiko is more of a case of kokichi's general creation of distrust in others. In contrast, kaito is uplifitng to himiko, being the one to defend her in ch 3 when tenko's death was ignored and moving the group along during ch 5.

Keebo: keebo admittedly has the most sympathetic view of kokichi after the trial, alluding to his "hopeful" nature and such, as well as his logical understanding of kokichi's motive. But generally, kokichi is just robophobic to keebo for the sake of pestering keebo, as well as asking invasive questions (do robots have di-?)

Kaito: without getting into kaito and kokichi's relationship/rivalry, kaito id argue does have the second most sympathetic reflection on kokichi, providing the group with Kokichi’s last words. Tho he does doubt them, mentioning he believed kokichi's plan wouldnt work (i personally hc that as just bluff to make shuichi feel better tho). And since its kokichi who blackmailed him into the plan, kokichi is in a sense responsible for Kaito's death so he'd probably wanna focus on making Shuichi and Maki feel better

Kokichi is my fav dr character but ngl he's a little shit to the remaining survivors. While i as an audience memebr feel terrible for him, im not upset or shocked by the characters' disinterest in his death

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 shuichi #drv3 kaito #kokichi oma #drv3 kokichi #drv3 maki #drv3

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 2 years

Note

Ok. With that wandanat angst, you know, the one that broke my heart and left me in tears, can you do an alternative ending one where Steve takes the stones back, and after he returns the stone, y/n comes back. And she walks to the grave where they are all standing at the end, and she does THE WHISTLE, you know the one I'm talking about. There reactions are up to you. But Steve is there behind y/n to explain.

Please🥺 and I love your writing so much

Authors note: everybody say a big thank you to @mutlifandomloverblog for mending our broken hearts 💖

Word count: 6479

Warnings: Angst, happy ending

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Original angst ending

“It’s ok baby. It was just a nightmare, I’m here” you whisper as she tucks her face into your neck

She sniffles and you can feel her warm tears against her shoulder, “I have to relive watching our lyubovʹ(love) get dusted only to watch the same happen to you. Over and over again.”

“I know. They always feel so terribly real.”

You nod, “I do”

Her brows furrowed further, “Why did you never tell me detka(baby)?”

“That doesn't mean they don’t matter. You're struggling too, you should have told me so I could help you. Be there for you, like you are for me.”

She shakes her head, “I'm your girlfriend, I’m supposed to take care of you. I’m supposed to help you through things. Please don’t hide from me.”

You sigh, “You're right, I should have said something. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes search yours, “It’s ok detka(baby). Just no more secrets ok? Isn’t that what you told me when we first got together.”

“Y/n?” Nat cautiously calls, obviously sensing the change in the atmosphere

“I miss her” you answer, tears dripping down your face

“I do too. So much.” She releases a shaky sigh, “But thanks to Scott and Tony today things might change”

You nod, “I hope so.”

She snuggles into your hold once more, “We’ll get her back. We just have to”