#building up inside me i feel so miserable. and i can't even cry or scream like i have been the past few days because my parents are back

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hey! Hi

I love your work too much I love Mai'tuiudh too much 🥹

If you don't mind, could you do an mlm with a reader who has problems with selfharm and his Yautja tries to console him even though he doesn't understand why his boyfriend hurts himself?

I have been feeling bad these days and if you do it would be a huge consolation 😞 Sorry if I don't know how to express myself well, English is not my native language 😔

A Battle Mai'tuiudh Can't Fight For You

Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, thoughts of suicide, relapse of self-harm, comfort, happy ending.

Summary: Away from prying eyes, you wallow in your sorrow. By yourself. Mai gone. Fresh cuts on your arm. A relaspe.

Word Count:2108

Author Note: I just want to say that if you or anyone needs an ear to vent to, you're more than welcome to. I'm not just a writer but a friend to anyone. I'm here for you. Anyone.

P.s. Don't fret, your English is amazing. Works perfectly for me. If you are wanting more, just let me know. I'm one message away.

P.s.s. Happy Thanksgiving! Here's the second one I'm posting today

Masterlist

Ao3

In the lonesome apartment, tucked away in the tiny bathroom, you sat on the cold, unforgiving floor. Dried, salty trails of tears have evaporated long ago. Time has been a blur. You’ve been stuck inside of your mind since the start of this day. Thoughts running rampant. Thoughts you had to get rid of.

Everything wasn’t fine. No matter what you told yourself. No matter how many times you thought of it, repeating it in your mind. Just hoping that saying it so many times would make it true. But, your wish never became a reality.

It started as a steady decline. Friends seeing you pull away from them. Family hearing from you less. Coworkers seeing you slack in your work. Did anyone help? Did anyone grab your hand and lift you up? To guide you softly back to a safe mindset? No. None of them. Your work grew worse and worse. People screaming at you for messing stuff up. Your friends complaining about never seeing you. Family not taking the initiative. They all left you to be barricaded in your meek bathroom, blood dropping to the floor.

This was the only way of relief you could find without ending it all. You didn’t have the balls to do that. You’ve been so good too! You’ve had dealt with troubling times before. Past scars marring your skin. You’ve been clean! Until today. Your relapse. The day you sought a blade from the kitchen and sliced through your healing skin.

And fuck, it felt good. It released everything that has been building up. All the anguish, the heartache, the pain. Every slice cutting through the past marks to create new ones in their wake.

Your head thunked against the drywall. The sobs that once shook your fragile body had left, left you feeling meek and even more miserable. Both nostrils were plugged up, snot running down. Your throat ached and was dry. Here you were, the mate of a power species. Pathetic and useless to him. Despite the feeling building inside of you to cry all over again, you have long lost the energy to do so. Instead, you just stay on the bathroom floor.

Dried blood stuck to your fresh wounds, staining the linoleum floors dark red. You didn’t even have the energy to get up and wash yourself from the mess you created. No, you just stayed there, limp and wanting to be lifeless.

The bathroom door slammed opened, nearly splintering from the force. A new hole smashed into the wall. You couldn’t even lift your head to see who just about demolished your door. A second didn’t past when you felt hands, hot palms, grabbing at you. Clicks and chitters sounding from an alien tongue you didn’t register in your mind.

Then, you were lifted up, over the tubs edge, and place inside the off-white tub. Cold water touched at your toes, finally forcing you to rouse. You whined and tried to weakly climb from the empty bath. But, a firm grip on your shoulder was all it took to keep you there. Finally, you lift your head to find the alien mask of your mate. His biomask covering his face as he fretted over you.

For a moment, you just stared and realized he was calling your name. All you gave in return was a low hum and going lax. The only thing you wanted to do was lie there. A hand cupped at your face, forcing your head back up to look up at your mate. His free hand pulled at the tubs connecting to the cover and yanked the thing off. It was discarded to the side.

Mai’tuiudh leaned in close. His bright eyes dirtied with fret as they darted across your face then down at the marks on your arms. Chitters and even light whining produced from his throat. Once he had your attention, he released your face to grab a washcloth close by. With it, Mai’tuiudh wet it and began to wash away the blood.

New, unfortunate pain rose inside of you. You squirmed and tried to break free from the unrelenting washing. Mai’tuiudh didn’t have any of it. His voice hardened, though he was speaking in rushed Yautja. At this point, he hadn’t realized what language he was in, just flipping to default at the sight of you bloodied and out of it.

You go lax once more, lazing in the tub, warm water running over your toes. It pointless to fight. You weren’t anywhere close strong enough to fight against him. Useless. Can’t do anything right. Not at work. Not with your friends or family. Not even with your own lover. How can he even look at you without disgust? Just a weak little thing who has to hurt themselves to feel better.

A fresh, hot, single tear rolled down your sticky cheek. Your name is called again. You’re staring at the off-white tub when you hummed in answer. A clawed finger gently picks up your chin, drawing your attention back up to your mate. But you couldn’t look him in the eye. You weren’t good enough for him. You’re a fucking male like him but couldn’t even compare to a quarter of his strength.

Two fingers pinched at your cheeks and slightly shook your head. Mai’tuiudh called your name once more. He didn’t understand what was wrong. For the moment though, he wanted to know who hurt you, who hurt his mate. He’ll hunt them down, tear their skull and spine from their body, and present it to you. A sharp snarl sounded from his chest. Yet, you gave no notion that you even heard him.

His years have taught him virtue and patience. So, he returned to cleansing the slices to your arms. The wounds… Mai’tuiudh found strange. They were purposeful but didn’t look to be aiming to kill. The amount of them as well. Mai’tuiudh couldn’t come up with one conclusion: torture. Someone wanted to torture you. But he couldn’t scent anyone else. Just him and you.

Dislodging the pack on his back, Mai’tuiudh brought out his medical supplies. In your dazed mind, you weren’t paying much attention to him. Not until a blinding, stinging pain raced up your arm. You about shot out of the tub and out the door if Mai’tuiudh hadn’t grabbed you. He forced you to stay but you didn’t stop. So, he had to take drastic actions.

Carefully, Mai’tuiudh climbed into the tub to trap you with his size and legs. This freed up his hands to continue working on the wounds on your arms. Despite the hoarse cries and squirming you did, nothing worked to throw the hulking Yautja off of you. Soon, the pain just dulled to the back of your mind as he slathered the blue paste on your skin.

White, sterile bandages were wrapped around your arms. Mai’tuiudh climbed off of you and stayed knelt by the tub. A hand came to rub his thumb on your cheek bone, soft purrs pouring from his throat. Unlike usual, you barely even reacted to the sound you loved so much.

Mai’tuiudh couldn’t help the whine when he realize he hadn’t won you over. Determined as ever, he scooped your laxed body from the rub and carried you over to your bed. He wanted to make you as comfortable as possible; despite wanting to take you to his ship, though shared with his hunt brothers. He knew you wouldn’t be able to rest easily there.

Thick, comforting covers were draped over you. Warm, muscular arms were wrapped around you, securing you to a chest you were familiar with. The purrs vibrating throughout your body.

After a long, silence-filled time, Mai’tuiudh spoke up. “Who hurt you?” his voice gruff with tension. The fact someone had hurt you while he was gone made him feel uneasy. His mate, wounded, on the verge of Dhi’ki-de – walking death. It had his heart clenching at the thought of loosing you. He didn’t understand how this could happen.

But you didn’t respond, again. With a grunt, he sat up and brought you with him. You were maneuvered to sit in front of him, facing the Yautja. Your head was bowed to blankly stare at the blankets on your bed. You name was called. “I asked who hurt you?”

The words entered your brain, rolled around for a bit before you shrugged. How weak would he think of you if he knew the truth? He’s seen worse, dealt with worse. And you couldn’t handle something that he could brush off. Pathetic. Weak. Meek. A little bug in his way.

He grunted with frustration again. Both of his hands were placed on your shoulders and he shook you to gain your attention. You raised your head to look him in the eye this time. “Who hurt you?” He was adamant. You had to admit that. And he wouldn’t stop until you answered him.

“Me.” Mai’tuiudh blinked. You? You hurt yourself? He shook his head, confused. His tresses swaying with the motion. Both of his hands cupped your face and wiped away tears you didn’t know had fallen. “It was me, okay?”

“Why?” It was the only word he could come up with. It didn’t make sense. If you hurt yourself, that makes you a target, makes you more susceptible to being hunted. You would be seen a prey, weaker so predators could kill you. So why in Paya’s name would you hurt yourself on purpose?! He whined, brows furrowed.

You released a deep breath and let him hold your head up. “Because.” He didn’t want to hear about your problems. You were useless to him, nothing more than an annoying fly. You didn’t know why he stuck around? Is this how he plays with his prey, his food before a hunt?

His brows fell into a deadpanned look. He grunted and shook you again. “Why?” he bit out harsher, hoping it would get you to open up. He knew oomans were more emotional then his own species. This wasn’t something he was used to but surely read up about after he realized he had fallen for you.

You tried to ducked your head in reaction but he held steady. He wasn’t doing to give up easily. This is a hunter, born and bred to wear down their prey. “I’m useless,” you spoke in a voice that he barely could catch. His head jerked, puzzled on why in the universe you, his mate, would think of such a thing! “I can’t do anything right. Everyone hates me.”

His spine tensed at your words. The feeling to dig his claws into something grew inside of him. Someone had planted those vile thoughts into your susceptible mind. He snarled, hands growing firm on your face, then yanked him towards his face. He pressed his forehead against yours and made sure you were looking at him.

“Who hurt you?” he asked again. His English wasn’t strong. He didn’t know how to ask why you thought that way or who told you that. So, he just repeated his words from before.

Mai’tuiudh say the frustration grow in your tired eyes. “Me! Mai’tuiudh. I hurt myself. I cut myself because it feels good! It dulls the ache in my chest. Makes me feel something besides all of this sorrow!” you screamed at him with hot, fresh down your face.

Then, it hit him. Wei mo’wei-te. Great sadness, his best translate he could come up with. This sorrow you feel is internal. Yautja have emotions, despite being able to hide them so well. They feel happy, angry, sadness. All of it. Maybe in less physical displays, but they still do. This sadness. He’s heard of it before, from Elders or Hunters who could no longer hunt.

To take a Hunter from the hunt was worse than thei-de. Like… like cutting the wings off of a bird. Leaves feeling this sadness that was hard to heal.

But it was possible. His brows drew together, determination filling his veins. His mate would not suffer this sadness alone.

“What you need?” Mai’tuiudh asked, ready to scour this plant or others to cure this sadness.

You couldn’t believe his words. Instead of turning away in disgust at how weak you’ve become, he stays like a sturdy statue at your side. For the first time, your sobs are from the sorrow that filled your hollow body. You launched yourself forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, face buried into his neck.

Mai’tuiudh understood what you needed.

Him.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #Mai'tuiudh

[roonotrue]

Cult of the Lamb: Redemption Chapter #1

(((TW: Mildly graphicly written suicidal thoughts and ideations - DON'T READ IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE)))

Pain - Narinder

Narinder didn't realize how much it would... Hurt.

To be free.

His arms hurt, his body hurt, and his head hurt.

As a god, he had never felt pain like this, which was the first of many signs that he was no longer divine.

And that terrified him. His arms hurt so badly he couldn't move them, and for a moment it felt like the ghosts of his chains still held him in place. His head ached from the light of the sun stabbing through the window of his home, into his light-sensitive eyes.

He can't move. His whole body feels like lead against the soft bed below him. Blankets weigh even heavier on top of him, adding to the feeling of being restrained. He wants to thrash around and escape from under them, but his limbs cramp up with every attempt he makes to move them.

And the jolt of fear that surges through him at that realization makes him want to scream out in agony and terror.

But centuries of captivity have taught him the uselessness of struggling. Have taught him patience. So he clamps his jaw shut and keeps his eyes sealed closed. Trying to listen.

He only just joined his usurpers cult as a follower yesterday, the adrenaline from their fight hadn't even left his system and suddenly the damn Lamb was showing him to his own private grand shelter, set up farther away from the other followers for 'safety purposes.' Whether the Lamb meant for him or the rest of the cult he still isn't sure.

He didn't know how to respond, he was tired. So very tired. He had never felt tired before, but this mortal body... He secured the shelter as soon as the Lamb was gone. Barricading the entrance, and windows, sealing himself inside before allowing himself to collapse into the bed and rest.

Now he's not sure how much time has passed, just that it is daylight, and that the adrenaline of everything that's happened has now left this newly mortal body of his in shambles.

Freedom. He had wanted it so bad, and now he has it, but it's nothing like he had hoped.

He is angry and miserable, he wants to scream and cry, and he wants to go back in time and wring that lamb's neck when he has the chance instead of handing over the crown to the filthy traitor. He feels like a fool, powerless, and afraid.

Trapped by something even worse than the chains his siblings had used on him. Pain.

Speaking of the Red Crown's new wearer, as if summoned like a bat out of hell, a banging on the dresser Narinder had shoved in front of the curtain door to prevent any other pathetic followers from wandering in, or worse the said lamb.

"Narinder! It's breakfast! Well- lunch, you missed breakfast, I tried to have Noon bring you some food, but they said you did... Well, this." Narinder can only assume they're referring to the barricade.

"Leave me be, wretched traitor, I have better things to do than mingle with your pathetic following over subpar mortal slop." His voice almost cracks when he tries to shift his weight to lay on his back mid-sentence.

Thus he remains on his side facing away from the entrance, his back to the sound of the lamb's voice. Something that causes a trickling of unease to build in his mind, which he tries his best to ignore for now.

"No-can-do! At least, not right now, you need to eat! You're mostly mortal now, and even if age can't kill you, starving sure can!" There's a nervous laughter in their voice as they continue to stand outside.

The Lamb could easily get through the barricade, with his fucking powers that they stole. So why they aren't just barging in with no respect for their former god and master's privacy or personal space, he has no clue.

"Starving? How pitiful do you think I am? 'Mostly mortal' or not, I will survive without food for a day. Now leave me alone." He's not sure that even if he wanted to, he could claw his way out to get food. Or that his violently churning stomach could hold it down.

His whole body feels like it's slowly spinning from the splinting pain of his head and he's certain that if his stomach wasn't empty he'd have puked by now.

"Okay, listen, I get that after everything that's happened, you want to be alone, and I'll leave you alone! After you eat something, because, sure, a day won't kill you, but when was the last time you ate during your godlyhood? I'm willing to bet never, at least not during your time chained up, and that can't have translated well to your new form." Nothing has translated well to this new damn form, and it makes him snap.

"What part of leave me alone don't you understand!? I'm not eating even if you shove it down my throat!- Ack!" He hisses and tries to, in a burst of anger-fueled energy, shove himself around onto his back.

Instead, the effort sends a cascade of cramping through his back and down his arms.

His body spasms and curls in on itself and he grits his teeth trying to stop the whimpering from escaping his lips. He sounds pathetic. He is pathetic. Fates save him from the humiliation of the lamb having heard his pain at least...

"What was that about!? Are you okay in there!?" 

It's like the universe hates him.

That's the only real reasoning he can come up with. Fate, the universe, and everything in between literally hate him. And for what? Wanting to be more than what everyone told him he was?

He calls bullshit. Fate is bullshit, and the universe is bullshit, and everything in between is bullshit.

He wants to bury his head under his pillow and stay there until time itself brings this whole world crashing to an end.

"Narinder? Do you need help? If you don't answer I'm coming in!" Once more the Lamb is banging on the dresser-made door.

"I'm fine! Go away! Don't make me tell you again!" The threat comes out strangled and weak.

Still, there is a long moment of silence. For a moment he lets himself hope that the usurper has done as he's asked, and left, but with no footsteps away to confirm this, he knows they are still out there. Perhaps carefully debating their next sentence.

"... I know I'm the last person you want to see, let alone accept help from, and trust me when I say right now the feeling is mutual, but Narinder... If you are in pain... Or you're sick and that's why you're not eating, please, just tell me... I'm only trying to help." Help?

Help?

"I think I'd rather lie down and let you kill me before I let you help me." The words are barely a hissed whisper, but he knows they hear him.

There's a sharp inhale and a frustrated groan. Along with footsteps pacing back and forth before they suddenly stop and respond again.

"Fine! But news flash One Who Waits! This is going to be a hard adjustment for you! And if you want to go through it alone and make it all the harder, then fine! Be alone! Stay in your shelter all day, every day, and starve! See if I care!" They shout at the door.

Sounding angry, and fed up.

"That's what I'm planning on doing!" It wasn't, but with the pain making it hard to move, it is now.

"Fine!" And he can hear them storming off, hooved feet kicking at the ground at random intervals as they do.

...

It's true. He'd rather suffer here alone than accept that traitors help.

You betrayed them first.

He saved their life! His pathetic Bishop kin would have executed them if he hadn't given them a new lease on life.

And all he asked was for a cult in his name, for them to free him from his chains, and return the crown to him.

And kneel and accept being sacrificed to you.

All of this... This pain, this headache, the dampness in the corners of his eyes that he's trying so hard to not let spread down his cheeks... It's all their fault.

They should have at least killed him. Why couldn't they at least finish the damn job? That pathetic, traitorous, coward. Keeping him alive just to suffer.

Surely they've done this on purpose? This was some twisted way to prolong his agony as if being imprisoned for thousands of years by his own family wasn't enough torture.

Damn them. Damn them and every last one of their dead kin.

He would rather starve. Starve to death and at least go on his own terms. Hell if he had the physical strength and a sharp enough tool he'd turn it on his wrist right now. The Lamb probably won't even come by to check on him for a long while after that spat.

So at least they would have a small respite before the cursed creature maybe resurrected them.

But no, his whole disgusting body was failing him. He would have to die the slow way.

In a sick way, he's curious about it. What does hunger feel like? Heket complained of it often, even while she was eating she would be complaining about needing another meal prepared. The Goddess of Famine knew hunger like no other.

But the concept was foreign to Narinder. He ate sometimes when he was a god. The feeling was strange. Things tasted good, like fish, but they served no other purpose than to satisfy his tastebuds.

His stomach never longed for anything. Never ached in hunger pangs, never churned with nausea from eating something bad...

His mortal body... It will wither without food. His stomach will concave as he loses weight, and he'll become weaker, sicker, and lethargic. His skin will stretch over his ribs and bones making him look like a skeleton with fur... A horrific sight, befitting of the former and rightful God of Death.

A true testament to his fall from power, into a form as tragic as this, that decays at the mere lack of sustenance for a few days.

Or more. How long will it take? He wonders.

For his organs to start failing. His heart will go first, and the rest will quickly follow, having strained for so long to keep him alive... What will be the last thing he sees? Probably darkness. The light is too bright in the daytime for him to bear keeping his eyes open.

That's okay. He's never been afraid of the dark.

Kallamar was. He was scared of a lot of things though. Including him.

Heket wasn't. Nor Leshy. The two slept like logs at night, while Narinder would wander awake with Shamura- being nocturnal beings by nature.

Sometimes...

Sometimes when they were both still little, and Kallamar had a bad day and was scared to go to bed, Narinder would sneak into his room, and distract him. Annoy him really, but deep down, he thinks his older brother appreciated it. Not being alone.

It only lasted a few years though, just before the squid reached his teen years and became completely insufferable.

...

What would they all think of him now? Preparing himself to rot from starvation... Would they think him weak for accepting such a defeat? For giving in to this mortal body's suffering and allowing himself to perish in such a pitiful way...

Would they want him to live? No. No, they wouldn't...

They'd enjoy this... Seeing him turn to skin and bone. Watching him suffer in too much pain to even move, much like when he was chained.

It isn't until the light starts to fade and he can open his eyes finally that he realizes he failed.

And now the entire spot where his head rests on his pillow is wet with tears.

In the darkness, he can only really see what's in front of him. His head refuses to lift itself up or move without pain.

He is staring right at a window, the red curtains are closed, and it's blocked off with a turned sideways dark wooden table, but moonlight peaks in from the sides and top.

There is a side table. With a vase of Camellias in the corner. Just like the one Baal used to wear on his robes.

...

In the end, they all died for nothing, didn't they? The lambs, the Bishops, Aym, and Baal...

Everything he was trying to do... All of his elaborate plans...

They've all amounted to nothing.

It's then that another knock, soft and gentle rings through the room.

"Narinder? I want to... Apologize. I lost my temper earlier. It's just... Difficult to be nice to you. I mean, you... You know what? It doesn't matter right now. I've decided, that if you don't want to accept my help, I can't force you to. But, I still don't want you to starve, and I don't think you want to either so... I'll just leave some food out here for you. I don't really know what you like, but it's a fish bowl... Will that do?" The Lamb.

Narinder is thirsty he realizes, because when he goes to speak his mouth is dry, and he has to choke the words out.

"Fine... It's fine..." He calls, and he can hear them hesitating.

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

"No." He responds much more firmly this time, his voice still gravelly.

"Right... Well, I'll bring breakfast tomorrow."

And they're gone. Footsteps softly fade away like a ghost in the night floating off to find a new victim to haunt.

...

Why couldn't they have just killed him?

~~~

The pain is still there when he wakes up again, and his mouth is disgustingly dry. It is early morning, and the light is not yet intolerable though, and he will take that victory for what little it is.

It smells like it rained last night.

Something about that makes him feel better.

Despite the oily feeling of his filthy fur, matted with blood and dirt. Despite his body still cramping with the phantom chains tightening around them like a serpent choking the life out of its prey.

Despite everything the smell of fresh, chilly damp air... Refreshes him.

He feels lighter. Cleaner. Content.

He takes a deep breath and for a moment... Everything is... Okay.

He opens his mouth, trying to breathe in the humidity of the air, hoping it will help with the soreness in his throat.

"I thought you hated the rain?"

"I don't hate the rain, I hate getting wet. My fur gets all heavy and takes forever to dry, and if I use a towel, it makes it all poofy, and the others tease me."

"I see."

"But I like watching the rain. And the smell of rain... It smells... Like the sky's cleaning the earth. Making everything as good as new again."

And then... Everything comes rushing back to him.

Like an anvil falling onto his chest, and it's hard to breathe as he chokes on a loud, surprised sob. Tears invade his eyes, flowing down his face onto the pillow.

Nothing is okay. That peace he felt... Just a cruel trick of his mind, making him forget.

A momentary respite before the world came crashing back down on him. He can never be content again. Never be okay or at peace.

He is angry. Frustrated. Grieving. Confused about what he's grieving. Their deaths? Their souls are trapped eternally in a hellish limbo, re-living their deaths so that they can feel the same pain he had felt for thousands of years... That's what he'd wanted.

For them to suffer.

And yet still his chest hurts and his lungs are heaving, and his cries are so loud he has to turn his face into the pillow to muffle them. Why does this anguish for his family that turned against him haunt him now?

It must be this body. This pathetic mortal body with its hyper-sensitive emotions, and non-existent pain tolerance. It's done nothing but weigh him down, dragging him below the waves.

Drowning him in sensations, feelings, and emotions he doesn't understand. Suffocating him in pain, and grief that he can see no end to. This form betrays him at every turn and it's not even been 42 hours.

At least he thinks it hasn't been.

Most of his first day is a haze, he remembers sleeping through the pain for the most part. Then arguing with the Lamb through the barricade. Then sleeping again.

After of course, contemplating his inevitable starvation. And after speaking to the lamb again...

"Can I ask again if you're okay?"

They're going to bring him breakfast soon. He doesn't know if they'll come inside and set it down or just leave it on the ground outside for him.

Would he even be able to go get it?

It's now that he starts to realize some of the pain has subsided. Everything is still cramping, and his head still throbbing, but with the smell of the rain and the growling of his stomach...

He's able to turn onto his back and only has to stop for a minute to grit his teeth and breathe for a moment. The fur around his eyes and cheeks is still wet with tears, and his chest is still heavy. He tries to focus on the smell of rain, but it does little to ease his thoughts.

All it does is remind him of simpler times.

Before the pain, and the headache, and the nausea, and the humiliation of defeat still burning through his veins.

It's getting brighter in the room, and he's able to take a deep stuttered breath as his eyes close to block out the painful light of morning. He should get the sniffling under control before the lamb gets here.

The last thing he needs is for that malicious sheep to know he's been crying- because Narinder knows that the damned creature is too old to still be considered a lamb. Has been since before the bishops ever went to execute them, but he knows his siblings never cared for technicalities.

Hell at some point they probably even started enjoying committing mass genocide of all sheep to prevent his freedom. Rams, ewes, and lambs, none were spared. All precautions taken to keep him locked away... They must have hated him so much to turn so ruthless. To become feared monsters, rather than beloved gods.

All to keep him caged.

By the time the sun has risen and the room is painfully bright, like clockwork, the lamb is knocking on the 'door' of the shelter.

"Narinder? Are you awake? I still don't know exactly what you like to eat, so I brought you a mixed meal. I see you didn't eat the fish, so I'll throw that out I guess..." They call, and he struggles not to groan.

He had kind of wanted that fish. He liked fish and it's been a long... Long time since he's had the chance to eat any. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't fucking move.

And he was still standing strong on not asking for help from his usurper.

He could move a bit more today though. He could at least try and sit up and eat... Then again, he doubts he'll be able to move the dresser out of the way to grab the food.

He could ask the lamb to bring it inside as a plan B. That doesn't count as helping him. Right? But does he want the lamb to see him in this state?

Absolutely not.

So he's back to plan A. Starve.

Sounds good enough for him. Or at least it does until his stomach decided to growl obnoxiously loud.

"See! I knew you were hungry! Please, just come take the damn bowl, I don't want to leave it on the ground, the bugs or birds might get it! Or Theeno. He steals food a lot. I'm working on that." So they are going to make another fight out of this.

"I'll come and get it when I'm ready! And if your damn follower tries to nab it then he can expect my claws across his face!" He hisses, and the Lamb lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"You're getting on my nerves, Narinder, can I at least just come in and set it down?" Hm. An opening for plan B... He still doesn't want the Lamb to see him...

He's buried mostly in blankets and pillows, so if he tosses his aching body back towards the window, he doubts the Lamb would truly get a good look at him...

And then your back will be exposed, clear as day for a second knife to find purchase.

He tries to shake away the insecurity, and it's not hard when his stomach growls once more. What's the worst the sheep could do? Kill him? It's what he wants anyway.

Is it?

He just barely holds in a painful groan as he turns back onto his side, curling even further into himself as he does.

"Fine. But I'm not getting up, move the dresser yourself." He calls, only mildly breathless, as he tries to steady his breathing again.

"Great! I was kinda gonna come in anyway if you didn't respond." Oh, if he could move...

He might take his chances trying to wring their neck.

Instead, he clenches his teeth to keep the anger from seething out and keeps his ears tuned into the sound of the dresser being easily shoved aside, the sound of wood grating against wood.

"Okie-Doki, I'll just put this right here. That okay?" He can feel their black beady eyes on him, with their burning red pupils.

"Whatever, it's fine. Make sure you put that dresser back on your way out." He grumbles, flinching only slightly when hears the lamb step closer to him.

At the clear sight of said flinch they stop moving.

"Of course. Anything else you need? Are you okay? I was thinking about building a few upgrades onto your shelter since you clearly don't plan on leaving, and I can see having to use the bathroom becoming a problem in the near future. And bathing."

Right. Of course, this body is going to need to use the bathroom. And even when he was a little godling, he needed to bathe regularly. He hasn't had a bath since before he was imprisoned.

Poor Aym and Baal. standing beside a god that reeked of blood and death for all that time. He had grown jaded to the stench of death, but he was still aware that it must not be pleasant.

"Do whatever you want, so long as you don't disturb me." It would make it more convenient for his solitude, and prevent him from having to bite the bullet and ask for help to be carried to the outhouses- because he was not going to shit himself anytime soon.

God or not, he had to keep some of his dignity intact.

"Right, no disturbing your wallowing, got it. I'll set to those renovations ASAP, I'll even do them myself so none of the followers accidentally annoy you and get killed." He snorts at that. Almost laughs.

"Wise decision."

And like that, his dresser is being pulled back into place, with what sounds like little to no effort.

...

His stomach growls again.

Now to get this body to sit up and eat...

... This is going to take a while.

#cotl #cotl lamb #cotl the one who waits #cotl narinder #cult of the lamb #cotl fanfic #cotl fandom #cult of the lamb fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[ex-furry]

here we go

#coming back to this post like an hr later cuz i don't wanna make a new post but i am not doing well ✌ like at all. i just have so much #building up inside me i feel so miserable. and i can't even cry or scream like i have been the past few days because my parents are back #and they don't get it. i feel like my emotions are never taken seriously and saying that sounds so stupid but. idk i just feel like people #irl. my parents. dismiss my emotions so easily. if i'm angry it's funny if i'm sad it's funny. it's heartbreaking. i just want to be able to #have emotions without being mocked. i want people to take me seriously and i know it's hard to take a person like me seriously but #i wish it weren't. and i'm upset about so many things that math assignment was just the cherry on top and i couldn't stop crying after that #and i know that once i start having to commute my depression is just gonna get worse and it already is because it's my second semester here #and i'm still going through ''transfer shock'' but it's been an entire semester so i don't know if i can even really call it that. #transferring has ruined my mental stability. like i couldn't have gone straight to a 4-year but i wish i had but realistically things would #be the same or worse even because i'd be at UT. and things were kind of like this at my cc honestly like i was very alone i don't think it #was this bad but it wasn't like i had more than one person i talked to when i was on campus. now i don't talk to anyone. even in breakout #rooms on zoom. earlier i thought about that time in a journalism zoom where i got put into a room with three girls who already knew e/o and #it was just miserable i felt so awful. but it's always been like this so it'll always be like this won't it. junior yr was when i realized #that i orbit around others and no one has ever orbited around me. i realized that i'm the kind of ''friend'' you only talk to when you have #to or when you have nobody else to talk to. the friend you only talk to when they happen to be around. you never reach out to them. #and that sounds guilt trippy whenever i say it and i don't mean for it to it's just the reality of the situation. it's always been like that #i've been on a decline ever since i realized that and i've tried figuring out what it is but i think it's unfixable because it's just me #that's how it has to be for me because it's never been any other way and i'm almost 21. and that's been the main motivator i guess in my #depression and suicidal ideation. that's what ruins everything. there's almost no coming back from it. but i get it i understand that i am #hard to be around and embarrassing. i've always known that. i went on an orchestra trip in 7th grade and it was the last one i ever went on #bc it was miserable. i was rooming with three or four girls who were friends with my friend but they never seemed to like me so it was just #awkward. they invited me to play cards in the hotel but i knew it was just bc they like felt bad so i said no and when we went out to like #the mall and aquarium and stuff i stayed out of every picture. either i was the one taking it or i was standing to the side. they did #photobooth pictures together and i was standing outside of it and this woman asked me why i wasn't ''in there with my friends'' and i was #like. i don't know how to explain my insecurities about this but i just knew i didn't belong in there. esp because i was only rooming with #them because i had nobody else to room with. and that's just one thing but it's a running theme in my life. an example of a constant #and i don't necessarily care abt that incident anymore like it still hurts but it also still happens. i was meant to exist by myself #and that fucking sucks. and because of that i cannot think of a single reason to stay here. and i've been so mad at myself recently because #i am still here and i just shouldn't be. there's nothing here for me except pain from these things and i wouldn't really be hurting anyone #by leaving. not to sound guilt trippy. i should just do it. i have to

[sicjimin]

🧱 Blossoming Room 🧱

— alternate universe story 🌌

A.N : hello, here we go with the part 2 ~ actually I picked this from my old emeto prompts. You must have known which one. But i hope you like this :]

TW : emeto, mpreg

Yoongi has been feeling happy these past months, and he's elated because happy dad means happy baby too right? It's not grand things that make him happy, let's just say he has been enjoying his pregnancy .. quite much.

To be frank, pregnancy still sucks, and now with him reaching 6 months, actually everything just sucks more. It's getting hard for him to even tie his shoes or just pick something from the ground because of his bump. He got frequent backache and how his feet were swollen. And not to mention his mood swings. But he still managed to not be miserable and feeding his baby with serotonin is because of his neighbors.

Yes. Park Jimin.

He makes everything easier. Maybe he should thanks to the landlord for this thin wall, because ever since that day Jimin helping him with his horrible morning sickness ... he just had been there.

It started slow, sometimes the younger would put his tea in a bottle, along with ginger pops in front of his door. He would sniffle and grunts all the way from the bathroom after throwing up his breakfast because someone ring the bell. Then he would find that plastic bag complete with a little note, a simple thing like, "I hope this will help" or "I hope the baby won't be too hard to you today:) " or as strong like, "I hope this could lessen your nausea, for now, i will come over later! :D"

And Yoongi would be lying if he says the attention didn't make him blush.

Now they have progressed so far. The younger would come over at least three times a week just to hang out, cuddling Yoongi when he feels needy, massaging his back after a tiring day doing works or just simple things like bringing his craving on their movie night.

Jimin just— like a fresh air to him. He could change his bad day being a grumpy pregnant male into a happy one just by being in his space. Like today.

—Today starts for Yoongi on the wrong foot.

His mood has draped to 95% the moment he woke up with familiar nausea. He groans into his pillow, his right hand automatically graze over his bump, hoping that the baby would stop making havoc in there.

He parted his lips, as he trying to count his breathe. Still hanging on a hope that this might only be a fluke, that he didn't have to throw up his dinner right now.

No Yoongi you're not gonna throw up you're not gonna throw up you're not gonna throw up you're not gonna—

A gush shooting up his throat as his stomach clenched. He threw his hand over his mouth. He felt another stronger wave of nausea hit him right after that. His hands were grabbing the sheets tightly and pulling them as hard as he could, but it can only do so much as the urge to vomit just become stronger and stronger.

At the time his stomach hitched again, Yoongi give up. Succumbing to overwhelming nausea as he scrambles from the comfort of his bed and runs to the bathroom.

He almost cry when he didn't make it to the toilet. When his stomach decided to lurch and throw up all of his dinners on the tiles of his bedroom floor. He gasps when vomit stops pouring from his mouth. The sight of his dinner morphs into a beige puddle under his feet just sending him into another round of heave. A bigger stream of vomit than before splattering against the tiles beneath him. The sounds of retching coming from him are loud against the silent room.

'"Uurrrkk-", he retches again , his body bending further almost touching the floor as vomit is falling down to it. Yoongi tries to pull himself up but his hands are slick and his whole body trembling. He feels weak, and tired from all of the vomiting that took place. It hurts his back to move so much. So he stayed there until his stomach stop sending his dinner up and leave him dry heaving. Yoongi tries to catch his breath, he's panting heavily as he looks up to the ceiling, tears streaming down his eyes.

"Fuck."

He cries some more, holding onto his stomach. He feels disgusted. Disgusted because of vomiting, making a mess that he also need to clean up after this, and how some of his vomit even splashing to his feet. He lets out a quiet sob, wiping away his tears.

He hears a knock on the door.

He doesn't answer, he knows who it is. He knows that it's Jimin. But he didn't have it in him to answer, not when he still have vomit all over his feet and mouth, with tears stained cheeks and snot dripping from his nose.

Jimin knocked again.

"Yoongi hyung, are you okay?" He heard the younger say, worry clear in his voice. Yoongi let out an unsteady exhale through his nose, his head bowed. "Yeah i'm okay", he croaked out, half yelling so the younger can hear him.

" I bring you breakfast, can i come in?", the younger asks. Yoongi sniffled. "Just let yourself in", he yells again as he tries to move his body from his earlier position. He needs to clean up.

" Hyung—", Jimin cheerily says as he walked in but it morphs into a gasp when he sees the older state, "Oh gosh, hyung are you okay? Did you just vomiting?"

Yoongi breaks.

"I'm sorry this is so gross ..", he cries out, as he rubs his eyes furiously. Jimin puts the breakfast on the bed, and walks over to where Yoongi stands.

He gulped as he see a big puddle of vomit on the floor.

" Hey hey, it's okay hyung. You're not feeling well", Jimin says softly, rubbing Yoongi's shoulders.

Yoongi sighs, looking at the younger. Jimin was looking worriedly at him, but there was nothing Yoongi can do. He was beyond embarrassed.

"Are you feeling better or do you still feel like throwing up?", Jimin asks as he guided the older to the bathroom. He helps Yoongi sit down on one of the stools in the shower tub.

The elder shakes his head, " I feel better"

"Okay then, get a shower hyung, i will clean the bedroom", Jimin says while putting his hand on the elder's shoulder reassuringly.

" No no no", Yoongi quickly said as he grabbed onto the other's wrist. " Let me clean that, oh gosh, that's gross i can't make you clean up my vomit like that", he says frantically.

" Oh no, hyung, please just take a shower", Jimin says. " You don't look good and you'll definitely puke more if you do this", Jimin says softly and gently rubbing circles with his thumb on Yoongi's wrist. " Just please let me clean, okay? I can do this", he smiles.

Yoongi looked at the younger for few seconds. And eventually nodded "Fine".

Jimin smiled brightly and nodded. " Okay"

🧱 🧱 🧱

"Do you still want to decorate the room?", Jimin asks, resting his head on his arms as he looks at the older that munching tangerines he brought.

" Yes? Isn't that why you come today?"

Jimin scoffs, stealing one of the tangerines that Yoongi had peeled, gaining a glare from the latter, "Ooh you only want me when you need something", Jimin says dramatically, " Ouch, i'm hurt hyung"

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he chuckles. " Yes, yes, whatever"

They both sit in silence while munching.

" So what should i do first?", Jimin asked, nibbling on one of the tangerine slices.

"I think we can divide the job, i can paint and you can build the crib?", Yoongi said.

" Wait, we? You're gonna do it too?", Jimin asked, raising a brow.

"Of course? This is my baby room?", Yoongi answers in confusion. " Well yeah..", Jimin starts, " But you're pregnant hyung. Isn't it will be tiring for you?"

Yoongi chuckled as he shakes his head, "It's fine Jiminie, i want to do it. I won't push too hard"

" Okay then, what should we start with?", Jimin says as they walked to the said room.

🧱 🧱 🧱

Yoongi's mood draped by 70% in only 20 minutes after they started. They have been in complete silence as Jimin is too busy flipping the manual books and Yoongi has been busy with rolling the roller to cover the wall with baby blue colors.

The smell of paint starts to make him nauseous. And his hand, his back, start to hurts.

Yoongi set his roller down and stood there leaning against the wall. "I'm getting dizzy...", he says, rubbing his temples. Jimin immediately looks up. His eyes widening in surprise as he stares at Yoongi's face. " Are you okay..?, Jimin asks worriedly, walking over to Yoongi.

Yoongi swallows. "The paint making me nauseous", he groans, rubbing his hand over his bump. " Can we switch? I will build the crib"

"You sure? You can go rest hyung, I will continue this", Jimin hesitate.

" Noo..", Yoongi pouts, "I can't let you do all of this alone. It's fine, i can build the crib instead"

"But—"

"—Please", Yoongi begs.

He watches as Jimin huffs "Alright but if you're not okay then you go rest, okay?

"Deal"

Jimin nods and goes to the abandoned roller, picking up where Yoongi left off. The two continue with their conversation while they work. They talk about everything. Jimin's colleagues, the old lady downstairs that always greets them in the morning with her cats, and even Yoongi's friends antics.

All this little conversation successfully distracts him from the earlier urge to vomit. But of course, it only could do much, as Jimin goes on and now almost half of the wall has been covered in paints. The smell of it starts filling the whole room.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to ignore the smell and how it makes his insides churn.

"and how dare she gave me the wrong report hyung! if i didn't check it back i would have got scolded by other departments!", Jimin rants, but it all went like a static buzz in Yoongi's head.

All he could think is how he want to puke so bad. How his breakfast want to—

Before he know it, his stomach churned, sending the contents of his stomach inside his mouth in a violent fit. He quickly clamped his hand and burst running from the room. Throwing himself over the sink as he vomited. His pancake earlier splattering all over the sink.

He gasps, before another stream pouring out from his throat, and his stomach churning painfully with every wave of his sickness.

" Uurrrkk-"

"Hyung!", he heard Jimin scream and pitters patters of his foot running towards him, " Oh gosh, are you alright!? Shit", he hears Jimin mutters before he felt the younger's hands on his back, rubbing his spine soothingly.

Yoongi let out a shaky breath as he feels someone rubbing his back. Tears prickle his eyes from embarrassment.

"Stupid paint- uurrrkk", Yoongi chokes out in between heaves. Jimin hushed him softly.

After what seemed like a very long time of puking, Yoongi finally stopped, panting heavily from the pain that still lingered deep in his stomach. He slowly lifted his head from the sink.

" Are you feeling better?", Jimin asks carefully, placing a hand on the elders' forehead. He lets out a small whine.

" A bit", Yoongi whispers as he closes his eyes.

Jimin smiles sadly at him, "Told you, you should've sat pretty and let me do the job", he chuckles.

" No no, i'm fine. give me a second and let's continue", Yoongi sniffles.

"Are you sure hyung?", Jimin asks again.

Yoongi sighs. "Yes, i'm ok now"

"Okay then", he says, before moving away, trailing from behind back to their work. " Gosh you're so stubborn hyung"

"Shut up"

Jimin chuckles as he back to paint. And so is Yoongi.

More than an hour later, they finished it, with Yoongi has become grumpy as the latter keep needing to running back and forth to throw up as the smell still affecting his stomach badly. Until Jimin had it done and bring the trashcan for him to throw up, placed it near the older sits, as Yoongi was still too stubborn to let go of the nursery.

"I'm so tired", Yoongi grunts. " Please tell me why do i decide to do it from the scratch not calling some people and pay them", he rumbles. Pout prominent on his lips as he fanning himself from sweats.

"Of course you're tired. You're more like doing a marathon, running back and forth from the kitchen to throw up and back again", Jimin sighs in sympathy as he walks back to the elder and plops next to him on the couch, handing him a glass of water that Yoongi accepts gratefully.

"Here. Drink," he said.

" Thanks Jiminie", Yoongi says after drinking half of the glass.

"Usually it only took me 15 minutes to build something", Yoongi mumbles after swallowing the last of the water, taking another sip of it before placing it on the table.

"Yeah, that's when you're not pregnant and not throwing up every 15 minutes", Jimin teases, " But you did a great job hyung. It looks pretty good", he adds, tone softened by the end.

Yoongi smiles, cheeks turning slightly red. "Thank you"

"You can brag to your baby later when they were born", he mumbles, "Oh? Have you know the gender?", Jimin says, changing the topic.

Yoongi shakes his head, " I haven't. Although i thought i might have a guess, I haven't known the gender yet either", he replies, " I guess it will just be a surprise"

"Are you excited?", Jimin asks as he eyeing the older that now fondly rubbing his bump. He was still quite pale and still looking very weak. Today must be tiring for him.

" I am", Yoongi says softly, smiling, but for some reason it didn't reach his eyes. Jimin bites his lips, straightening his spine. "Hyung .."

Did he asks a wrong question?

Yoongi chuckles, facing the ceiling as he prevents the tears that filling his orbs to not fall.

But of course he fails.

"I just .. sometimes i wish i didn't have to go through this alone, you know? like, I should have been decorating that room with my husband. Not .. no offense Jiminie .. but not with my neighbor's next door. I should have been excited maybe for the next control to know my baby gender but...", he huffs, wiping his cheeks that already dampen with tears, chuckling again, " Gosh, how many times i have been crying today. Stupid hormones", he breathes shakily. "I'm sorry you saw me as a mess, again"

Jimin reaches for the other's shoulder, caressing it soothingly. "I'm sorry for asking that hyung .."

Yoongi turns to look at his boyfriend, "No no, it's fine. Really..", he insists. He looks so small. So small, his cheeks puffing up when he inhales too deeply as his eyes water again, " And you don't need to be sorry...you can ask me anything... I know you've been dying to know, right? shoot it"

Jimin bites his lips, "No .. you've been sad enough today. The baby must—"

"He didn't want it", Yoongi cuts his words. Jimin gasps quietly.

" What?"

"My partners .. no, my ex-partners. He didn't want it", Yoongi chuckles bitterly, fiddling with Jimin's sleeves. Jimin frowns.

" Why wouldn't he want it?"

"Because it would ruin his perfect heir's image. This is not even our apartment. I bought it on my own so I can get out from his house and not owe him anything", Yoongi answers bitterly. "He even said that i manipulate him, saying that i might sleep around and want to trap him for his money or something"

Yoongi chuckles when he sees Jimin's hand tighten into a fist. "Calm down Jimin-ah, i'm over it"

Jimin calms down, brushing his blonde locks with his fingers. "I'm glad hyung. That asshole won't even get a chance to ruin your life further", he grits out. " Call me if he ever trying to get back to your life i will kick him out. What an ass-"

"No foul words! The baby, Jimin", Yoongi slaps him lightly as he chuckles. "Thanks Jimin. For caring", Yoongi says, "You make everything more bearable, you know"

And as expected Jimin brightens up, face becoming a little pink. But he tries to hide it with a scoff as he pushes his hair off his face. "Dont get sappy on me hyung"

"I should thank the landlord to make the walls not thick enough", Yoongi grins, enjoying how the blush on Jimin's cheeks getting darker.

"Whatever", Jimin huffed, pushing Yoongi playfully on his chest before getting up. "Do you want icecream? You have been vomiting a lot and building the nursery must be tiring for you"

Yoongi laughs, "the baby says they want a vanilla one!"

Is it the ice cream or is it Jimin, all Yoongi knows is his mood has been increased by 100% now.

Jimin plops back to the couch, handing him one of the spoons before he digs in. "A heir, hm?", Jimin hums as he scoop the icecream, " If i were you i would have robbed him first"

Yoongi chokes on his icecream, "Jimin!"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!yoongi #caretaker!jimin #and again another mpreg fic

[lacharcutiere]

still [sawamura daichi]

1,6k words

previous | masterlist | next ➪

part eight of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. you can only put these things off for so long.

JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4).

tings // fluff, a little bit of angst, kinda suggestive at the end ?? // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to taglist ! minors dni.

☾𓆙𓂻

— JAPAN, SUMMER 2024.

the summer passes like this: you and daichi laughing too loudly in busy restaurants and train cars; having arms around each other in the back of taxis on the way home from clubs; making instant udon at three a.m.; walking up and down the neighborhood a hundred times; laying silently side by side and not needing to say anything. it's a routine, it's familiar—it's home.

a couple weeks before you're set to head back to new york, daichi asks you a question as you lay next to him on a blanket in your driveway, staring up at the stars.

"have you decided what your plans are after college?"

"i'm gonna come back here."

"i thought you wanted to go to grad school? you can do way better in the states, especially with a degree from columbia."

you roll onto your side so you can look at him better. "i know. but i've been away too long already. i miss you."

he gives you a little smile. "but i'm right here."

"right here is pretty fucking far from america."

"hm."

"hm."

that's the end of the conversation.

— 2 AUGUST 2024. 23:09 JST.

everything happens the exact same way it has for the past three years: he takes you to the airport. you try hard not to cry; you say your goodbyes. check-in, security, buy some candy to eat at the gate. board the plane. sixteen hours later, you're in america.

one thing was different, though.

when he said goodbye, his lips touched yours.

you don't stop thinking about it for weeks.

☾𓆙𓂻

— AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 2024.

slightly relieving is the fact that amid thesis writing and too many classes and working an internship under one of your professors (that one's nice, it even earns you enough to get a small apartment a few blocks from campus), there proves to be little time to be spent missing daichi.

you finesse your schedule to fit weekly facetimes on friday evenings (new york time) and shoot random texts back and forth about your day between classes and during meals, and without much space for anything else, it's enough. good things are worth waiting for, anyway.

— DECEMBER 2024.

but then winter sem break rolls around and there's no school so it's back to having too much lonely alone time with your thoughts. you write daichi a christmas card and drop it off at the post office. it's early this year, but oh, well.

☾𓆙𓂻

a week before christmas you receive a call from an unknown number. the phone speaker crackles when you accept the call.

“hello?”

“hey.” the voice on the other end is bright, smiley, accented. it’s tōru.

“tōru? what’s up?”

“i’m outside,” he says, “come down and meet me?”

you’re a little confused, but you decide to humor him. “uh, okay, give me a minute… do i need anything?”

“bring a coat, it’s cold out. i’ll be waiting down here.” the call ends.

a few minutes later you push through the doors of the building to be met with a brisk wind and tōru standing by a payphone, grinning.

“do you have your subway pass?”

you feel inside your pocket for it and nod.

“good,” he says. “come on, we’re in a hurry.”

“where are we going?”

“downtown.”

“ohhkay?”

he laughs. “‘s not anything you won’t like, promise.”

you follow him into the nearest subway entrance, lost in thought as you push through the barrier and step onto the train. it's only when he nudges you and says, "this is our stop," that you realize you've been looking at the ground the whole time.

tōru notices how absent you seem to be and asks, "are you okay?"

"i would be if i knew what was going on," you respond.

"yeah," he says, leading you up the stairs and into the terminal, "yeah, i think you will be."

you're in grand central. tōru asks if he can borrow your phone for a second. when he hands it back to you, he doesn't say anything, just takes you by the arm smiling widely and leads you into the fray of commuters that fill the station.

"tōru!" you groan, "can't you just tell me where we're going?"

"magnolia," he replies simply.

"we came all the way here just for coffee?"

"mhm."

"tōru!" he stops walking and turns back to you, trying and failing miserably to stop grinning for a second. "what the fuck?"

"come on," he says, "you'll like it."

"we've been here before! what's so special about—"

"you'll see."

☾𓆙𓂻

coffee in grand central is surprisingly good. it's also surprisingly expensive. ah, well, it's new york. new york has much more to offer than just overpriced cafés.

such as... this. such as a laughing man that leads a remarkably pissed-off looking girl by the arm, towards this stupidly good, stupidly overpriced café.

the pair are weaving through a stream of people, almost there, and then they're there, and the girl is looking much less agitated now. she looks somewhere between crying and wanting to run in the opposite direction. thank god, she chooses the former.

he loves you. so much.

☾𓆙𓂻

"daichi?" you mean it to be a scream but your voice cracks a little and it comes out airy.

he has the exact same look on his face that tōru's had this whole time. "hi."

"oh my god, what the fuck?"

"you said it was lonely, tōru told me maybe it would be nice for you to have a date for new year's, i had some extra money saved up. so i came."

"you— what?" you look back at tōru. "you planned this? just? last minute?"

"nah," daichi laughs, "no, i meant to come visit you for christmas a while ago. i already had tickets and everything, i was gonna tell you but then i got your card and figured it might be more fun if it were a surprise."

"oh my god." that's all you can think to say.

— CHRISTMAS 2024.

you can't even explain how good it feels to wake up and walk into the living room to find daichi asleep on your couch on christmas morning, how good it feels for it to not just be you. the whole time he's been here, though, you've forced yourself not to think about the fact that he's going back home in a week and a half, forced yourself not to do anything just yet. soon, though. just a few more months.

☾𓆙𓂻

when he wakes up, you're making coffee for the two of you.

"merry christmas," he says, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. he places a card on the counter in front of you. "open it."

its message is simple.

you do as it says.

"i, uh, haven't gotten you anything yet, but—"

"daichi," you laugh, "it's okay. and um, i may have also not been able to get you anything. also because i didn't know you'd be here."

"wait, wait, i'm not finished."

"okay?"

"what do you want to do after you're done this year of school?"

"i already told you," you say, "i'll move back home."

"no, what do you want to do? you want to go to grad school, right? continue studying here?"

"no, i just want to stop waiting." you sigh, a little frustrated. "i don't wanna have to keep putting this off, it's been—"

he cuts you off. "i'll be here."

"huh?"

"i'll be here. or wherever."

"i don't get it?"

you've always loved the way daichi's nose scrunches up when he smiles. "you're the one planning on studying more, not me. not immediately, anyway. i'll go with you."

"daichi."

"what?"

"you're fucking joking."

he laughs; you look so confused right now. "i'm not. promise."

"i don't even—"

"hey."

"hm?"

"think you can handle long-distance for five months?"

"uh—" you inhale sharply. "yeah."

"good," he says, "then we don't have to keep putting this off."

it's been five months since you last let your lips touch his. it still feels just like the first time it happened.

— 31 DECEMBER, 2023. 19:36 EST.

he tries not to let you pay for dinner, but in the end, you slip the waiter your card while daichi's in the bathroom. it's his birthday; it's your treat.

and after dinner, there's that new year's eve party that tōru's been going on about. it feels good, so good, not to be there alone. it feels good to watch the broadcast from downtown and count the seconds to midnight as daichi's arms are wrapped around you from behind. the clock reaches zero; daichi kisses you hard. you're both drunk on champagne.

you watch him smile across the room at tōru, who's got his girl on his arm. the two of them look happy, too. everything is warm.

— DEPARTURE: 3 JANUARY 2025. 08:15 EST.

daichi's asleep next to you when the alarm on his phone goes off. you'll miss not waking up next to him for the next five months, but at least that's all it will be.

he makes faces at you in the mirror as you both brush your teeth; keeps trying to tug your sweater off when you get dressed. you spend these thirty minutes laughing with him until it hurts. the two of you take the subway back to grand central; make out in a corner of the terminal while he waits for his train to jfk international to arrive.

"see you in may."

— 21 JANUARY 2025.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi fluff #daichi angst #daichi series #daichi smut #kinda #haikyuu series #literally not even like in a romantic way bc thats not how this story goes #but #tōru is best boy #pls he's literally??? so sweet #imagine if boys like this were real #anyway #THIS IS ALMOST DONE ITS THE SECOND TO LAST PART #TECHNICALLY THE LAST BC THE NEXT ONE IS THE EPILOGUE #OMG #ALSO OOPS THIS IS LATE BUT UM IT'S LIKE TWICE AS LONG AS MOST OF THE OTHER PARTS #SO UH YEA

[giorno-plays-piano]

Cry Little Sister Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, non-consensual drug use, sex pollen, non-con, both reader and Peter are adults, kinda slight incestuous undertones (the characters aren’t related, though).

Words: 2805.

Summary: Your adopted older brother is not as nice as he seems, but no one is willing to believe you.

Part 1

__________

"No, Peter... s-stop." You moaned, half-asleep still as you felt somebody snuggling closer to you from behind. "Go away... No."

The boy beside you only hummed contentedly, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck and clinging to you. God, how did he sneak into your room? You not only locked it, but also moved your wardrobe to block the door. Even if Peter could somehow force the lock, how did he move back the wardrobe without waking you up? It was impossible.

Yet here you were, laying on the bed with your older adopted brother holding you like a big toy. Although you knew it was wrong and you had to push him away, strangely, you felt too groggy to move as if you simply couldn't fully wake up. What the hell was happening?

"You feel so soft." Peter's voice sounded gentle when he caressed your belly through the fabric of your pyjamas, trailing little kisses down your neck. "I want to sleep with you like that every night."

You groaned in response, trying to move his hand but failing miserably. "Ohh, fuck off, Peter. You're my brother."

"Yeah, and you should let your older brother do as he pleases." The soft murmur made you suddenly moan while the boy started slowly massaging your breasts, pressing his thumbs to your nipples and drawing a loud sigh from you. "Yes, like that. I'm gonna make you feel real good, baby girl."

You opened your eyes and moved away a little from him as you felt Peter letting go of you, but he just crawled down, separating your legs and getting in between, pressing his nose to your crotch covered by your pyjama pants. His warm breath made you squirm, but his hands on your thighs held you in place, making it impossible for you to escape. What was he doing? Before you had a chance to ask him, Peter pressed a kiss to your mound and rubbed his face against it. Was he moaning?

You reached out to his head and attempted to push him away, but it felt like you had no strength left in your body. For some reason, waking up this morning seemed almost impossible.

Peter had already tugged the elastic of your pants down, licking his lips at the sight of your bare pussy in front of him and leaning closer to have a lick. You mewled at the pleasant feeling of his wet tongue on your skin. Shit, it was so good.

Gently sucking your clit and touching it with his teeth just a bit to make you shiver, Peter used his fingers to caress your folds as you quickly grew wet, your breath becoming ragged. What would your parents say if they saw you two like that?

"Peter, please, stop." You whispered to him, pleading the boy to stop. "I'll... I'll tell dad."

For a second he detouched himself from your pussy, licking his lips and letting out a chuckle. "I bet he's gonna be happy you finally have a decent boyfriend."

You clenched your teeth as Peter returned to eating you out. Shit, it was so good. He was so good, licking you, sucking, kissing, making you go crazy with his tongue dancing in between your lower lips and then sticking it inside your core while you grasped your pillow in your hands, moaning like a fucking slut beneath Peter, your lovely older brother who kept stalking you even when you moved out from your parents' house and went studying in college. Oh no, no, it shouldn't feel so good, it shouldn't f-feel...

"Aaaahh!" You let out a high-pitched whimper, feeling you were getting close and bucking your hips. Suddenly, Peter stopped, flashing you a grin after he kissed your clit. "No, please!"

"You want to cum, sweetheart?" He cooed lovingly, rubbing circles on your mound while you tried riding his hand to finally reach your orgasm. "I'm so sorry, but you have to say you love your dear brother if you want to cum. Will you say that, dear?"

"N-no, I can't." You shook your head, keeping your eyes close and whining as the boy withdrew his hand completely. "No, Peter, please, I need to cum, I need to!"

"I know, sweetheart. You gotta say how much you love me and I'll make you cum." His taunting whisper was making you even more wet. "Want to cum on my tongue, dear? Want me to lick your pussy clean, huh?"

You bit your tongue, hoping the pain would make pleasure fade away, but the boy only smiled and kept teasing your clit with his fingers, watching you shake your hips again when you tried to make him speed up. Nevertheless, he refused letting you come before you said the right words, and with that delicious pressure building up so fast he made you go insane.

Next minute you couldn't take it anymore, pressing his head to your crotch and whining, "I love you, Peter! I love you so, so much!"

His devilish green made you want to straddle his face as the boy snuggled closer to you, his two fingers getting inside your aching core while he sucked on your clit, speeding up more and more while you moaned on the top of your voice. It was so good, so tender and sweet as Peter kept eating you out while his other hand was on your thigh. Your legs felt numb, and suddenly the tension inside of you broke as you cummed, screaming his name and grasping his dark disheveled hair.

You cried out your bliss when Peter kept drinking you juices gushing down your thighs, pinning you to bed. He licked you clean, smiling and kissing your lower belly as you were slowly coming down from your high, staring at the white ceiling above you. Oh shit. You let him eat you out, and you weren't even sure you didn't want it.

"You could ride my face every morning if you wanted to." Peter murmured to you, getting up and clinging to you. His kiss felt warm, and you could feel your own taste on his tongue. "I love eating out my little sister's pussy."

"Peter, you're gross." You grunted, closing your eyes and pressing your head to his chest. "Stop saying that like we're related."

"Isn't it more fun that way?"

You sighed, feeling the boy dropping a kiss to your forehead. Everything was odd, starting from the way you woke up and finishing with that weakness you still felt, unable to move. That bastard did something to you, right? Oh God, having him visit you was a really bad idea, and you cursed youself for believing Peter's words he would do no harm to you.

Well, technically, he didn't.

"Do you wanna fuck?" He murmured, rubbing himself against your lower belly and kissing the top of your head. You looked at his slightly pink face, knowing you don't have enough strength to push him away. "Come on, sweetheart, I wanna have some more."

"You're out of your mind." You answered and felt so damn good when the boy kept rubbing his cock against your swollen clit.

"I'll fuck the shit out of you sooner or later anyway." He chuckled darkly all of a sudden, his lips on yours before you could protest. He loved seeing you like that, a boneless mess beneath him, warm and unable to fight him. Cuddling with you like that before having sex was the best thing he could ever have, he thought, clamping your ass with his hand and deepening the kiss.

Shit, were you growing wet again? You had just cum.

"Wait, wait, Peter." You inhaled loudly when he let go of you. "Why are you doing all this? We've agreed if I play your little sister, you'll be good to me."

"That was when you were in school."

The thick, already leaking with precum tip of his cock was slowly entering your throbbing pussy as you whined, Peter's arms preventing you from moving away again. Shit, he was serious. He was going to fuck you.

It was easier to take him after such an intense orgasm, but still a bit painful, and the boy stilled, letting you get accustomed to his length while he was kissing you feverishly. A coil was tightening in your belly again, your body growing hot. Damn, you adopted brother was having his way with you, and you just layed there, moaning and unable to move. Why did it feel good? Why did your body welcome him?

"You're such a good girl." He cooed, and you tightened around Peter, drawing a quiet moan from him. "See? There's nothing scary. When I make love to you it feels so nice, right?"

You groaned at him, irritated, but bit your lips when he moved inside you, forcing you to clench the bed sheets. He was right, it felt so good to have him inside, rubbing the sensitive walls of your pussy as Peter pounded into you, watching your expression change. It was making you even weaker, forcing you to feel yourself so small and helpless with him on top of you, his gaze dark and receptive. It was making you feel like all you wanted was to be taken care of, stop protesting, and relax while Peter was making love to you, looking at you so possessively and lovingly at the same time. God, what was this boy doing to you? Why did it feel so good?

"Tell me you love me." He suddenly asked, pressing himself closer to you and kissing your face. "Please."

He sounded so needy, biting his lips as he stared down at you. For a second you felt pity for him, snuggling closer to you and asking you to give him at least a little love. Sighing, you twined your arms around his neck and reached out to him, pecking his lips. The boy stilled on top of you.

"I love you, Peter." You said quietly, looking into his deep dark eyes, still refusing to believe you were going to say it. "You scare me, but I think I do."

For a minute you just stayed like that, staring at each other's faces and feeling your warm bodies touching. With his arms on your pillow, Peter wasn't forcing you to stay beneath him anymore, yet you didn't move, watching him, your gaze hazy. When you blinked, you suddenly saw his eyes watering and realized Peter was crying.

What?

He turned his head away immediately, but it was too late as you furrowed your brows at him, laying your hands on the sides of his face. Why was he crying? In the middle of having sex? Was it one more of his tricks to make you pity him or something?

"Peter, look at me." You demanded as you turned his face to you, watching his eyes getting red as tears were streaming down his face. He didn't say a word to you, but you thought he looked... ashamed. Unwilling to show you this side of him. Confused, you gently wiped his cheek with your fingers, unsure of what to say.

As he couldn't bear looking at you, the boy clinged to you, hiding his face in your pillow and slowly starting to move despite still crying a little, and you squirmed beneath him. You couldn't stop him - not that you wanted to do it at this point - but wrapped him in your arms, trying to give him some comfort. Did you do something wrong? You had never seen his eyes wet before except that time when your father accidentally stepped hard on his foot.

"Shhh." You cooed softly at him as Peter slowed down his pace a bit. Caressing his hair as if he were a little boy, you kissed his cheek and heard him sob. Oh dear, he was really crying. "It's okay, Peter. I don't like things you're doing, but you're my family. You will always be."

"Don't you like it?" He whispered as he thrusted partically hard, and you mewled, biting your lower lip. "Like that?"

Moaning, you closed your eyes as he sped up again, kissing your face with his swollen lips, his balls slapping against your pussy with a lewd sound. You didn't know what he had given you last evening, but this thing made you so much more sensitive you couldn't stop mewling, melting from his touch, wanting Peter to do it more, your head still clouded.

"Peter, ahh!" He was becoming more and more relentless, kissing you, hiding his tears. "P-peter, I like it... I like it so much... but it's not right." His tongue tentatively danced with yours as he deepened the kiss to keep you quiet.

When you orgasmed again, the boy kept thrusting down as he chased his own release, growling lowly at the feeling of your sweet pussy tightening around him. Soon he finished too, freezing on the spot as you milked him dry, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing heavily. Despite your worry that he finished inside, he coated your thighs with his hot sticky seed and groaned, finally falling down on your bed.

You spent a few minutes in complete silence, listening to each other's heartbeat slowing returning to normal.

"I thought you didn't care." You whispered to him when Peter cuddled with you again, his hands caressing your back. Your gaze travelled down your body as you looked at his cum glistening on your skin.

"Of course I do." He said, averting his eyes. "I know what you think of me, but I do care about you."

There was desperation to his voice as the boy hid his face, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You thought he was hugging you like a kid. God, were you seriously warming up to him? Peter was still creepy as hell, and you were pitying him now.

You sighed, burying your fingers in his soft hair and closing your eyes. You had no strength left to try proving something to him - or yourself. You would think about it later, you decided. Now you only wanted to rest.

In a minute or two Peter had finally let go of you, and you felt cold without him by your side as you shivered, covering yourself with a blanket. The boy smiled at you, taking a pack of napkins from your table and snatching a pair. Then he returned to you and carefully put a blanket aside, gently wiping his seed from your thighs. You didn't expect any aftercare, but, apparently, Peter could be way more considerate than he seemed.

"What are you going to do after?" You asked, eyeing him with curiosity.

"Mm? I'm going to return to bed and sleep with you for a couple of hours." He smiled, and you rolled your eyes.

"I mean what are you going to do after that? Do you think you could keep this a secret from mom and dad?"

His smile became even wider, and the boy chuckled, leaning closer to kiss your belly.

"Not sure about dad, but I think mom knows about you and me. Like, she knew from the start." You really wanted to smack his head to wipe that stupid smirk from his face, but his gentle kisses made you too comfortable to react like that, and you simply gave him a pat behind the ear.

"I'm not buying it, Peter. She would never let you do this to me."

"Well, maybe she doesn't know about this yet. But she had definitely accepted what we feel for each other."

"Peter, you're mad. You're my older brother."

"Adopted older brother, that is. Biologically speaking, we're doing nothing wrong."

As he grinned at you, throwing used napkins into a bin and getting back to bed, you just sighed loudly. He was damn impossible.

However, it felt so good when he leaned to you again, covering both of you with a blanket and murmuring something quietly in your ear while you relaxed against him. His warm little touches here and there were pleasant, and you involuntarily pressed your lips to Peter's temple, making him grin.

"You do realize once I return to normal I'll try to kill you for all this?" You asked tiredly and yawned, getting yourself comfortable on the bed. "What did you give me?"

"Don't worry, it was perfectly organic!" The boy hurried to explain and you shushed him, asking him to be quiet as you were slowly drifting off to sleep. "The effects will wash off soon, so you'll have a chance to murder me in cold blood when you wake up."

His gentle laugh was the last thing you heard before you finally fell asleep, your head on Peter's chest as he caressed your hair lovingly.

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskaty @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

#dark peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spider-man #yandere #tom holland

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Blue, escaping the life with Anti was never going to be a clean ending. I wish you guys could have had a clean slate to build your new lives off of, or at least revert to how things were before, but the fact is, life's not like that. It doesn't matter that you don't want to hear that change takes time, or that you need professional help, or that you can't take care of your family while neglecting yourself: all those things are true.

You can either dig your heels into the ground and insist on drowning in your own self-hatred, or you can admit that you're scared, and accept some help to leave some of that behind you, even if it's just a little. You don't have to pretend to be Marvin, you don't have to continue as Blue. But you need to let go of some of the stubbornness of each identity to move on and become whoever you feel that you are or who you can be.

Whatever the case, we can't force your decision but at least THINK on what we're saying before blindly rejecting it. We care about you, even if you sometimes don't.

It was never going to be clean.

Chase cries in the pews of the Jewish building - he doesn't know if it's a synagogue or a temple or just a communal place - where he's wanted to take Henrik for weeks now. He didn't plan to be crying when he imagined it, of course. But it was never going to be clean.

It was always going to be Jackie's screaming in the middle of the night and an ugly burn on Chase's hand. It was always going to be JJ talking to a monster who is no longer there and a blank stare in Henrik's face. It was always going to be Blue's fury and a bottle of antidepressants.

"I wish he had taken Dok and run like he said he would," he sobs into JJ's shirt. "That first night he tried to run. In Norway. We were in Norway? I just remember him trying to take Dok and go. I wish he had escaped that night. Then the two of them would still be okay. Not like this. Not like this, this isn't right, it's not how it's supposed to be. At least they could have gotten away. But he stayed for us, I remember, I remember that much. The beach... we were on the beach... I don't know how long ago. Just not like this."

He's the only sound in the whole of the little building. It's not the most impressive religious building Chase has ever seen. There's an open area with some fold-up metal chairs and plastic tables and a rickety old piano, and then a partition before the area with the pews and the set-up in the front. The sign on the door says the building is open to visitors but warns that there are always cameras watching, and services are Saturday at six with a community dinner afterwards, thank you very much. It smells like styrofoam and Pinesol. JJ holds Chase in the pews, hugging him wearily. Henrik stands in the corner of the building, tracing his fingers over a glass box holding a huge scroll inside.

"Blue just needs some time," offers JJ, trying to pull away enough to sign clearly, though Chase refuses to let him go. "Henrik too."

"He's so unhappy," cries Chase. "I hate it, I hate this."

It was never going to be clean. It was always going to be ugly as fuck and messy and miserable.

Fuck, even if they were still with Anti, things would be even worse.

"He was going to cut my voicebox out," weeps Chase, stammering so hard he's not sure JJ can understand him. "Didn't he say that? He kept touching my throat. Said I didn't need it cause we can all sign. I didn't need to talk to anybody but you and him. We were going to be pets. He would have killed the others. It took me too long. It took me so long. If I had fought sooner, they wouldn't be like this. Still messed up, yeah, but not this much. Not this bad. I should have fought for all of you sooner."

He lets it come pouring out. The ugliness. If Blue won't express it, he will.

It was never, never, never going to be anything other than this. Because "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is bullshit and all Anti did was hurt them. Now they have to come clawing their way back out of the traps he laid in their heads. Maybe they'll be a little stronger, in some ways, but they'll also be scarred up and vigilant. It's traumatic in the same way grief is - it never really stops hurting. You just learn to deal with it better. Every day, if you can, you learn to deal with it better. But some days you just go falling back into the abyss, and you have to start climbing again.

He kisses JJ's head fervently, one time, two times, again, because he needs to, because he loves him, because he's sorry. JJ lets him. He smooths tears from his face and just holds him, for a long time.

Someone's playing Clair de Lune in the other room. Chase covers his mouth, realizing he's been too loud. Maybe they won't judge. Not in a place like this.

Long, deep breaths. Long, deep gasps for air. He starts to calm down again. Jamie smells different than he used to. Different than Dapper, who usually smelled like chalk and old mattresses and copper. JJ smells like green apple detergent and cinnamon toothpaste and coconut shampoo.

"Sorry," mumbles Chase, realizing he's gotten snot all over his new shirt, and JJ just shakes his head and presses their cheeks together, rubbing on him like a cat for a second.

"Do you think he's thinking about it?" asks Chase, sniffling. "About whether he's going to get some help or not? About if he's going to be able to get past this?"

JJ nods. Chase nods back, headachey from his crying, and squeezes JJ's ribs.

"Don't know how to make it better," he confesses weakly.

JJ draws away to sign, wiping more of his brother's tears away as he goes. "It's not your job to make it better," he says. "If there's anything you can do for him, he needs to let you know. But it's not your job to keep anyone happy. Not anymore. Just you. Just work on making you happy."

"But I want you all to be happy."

Jameson grins and draws him back into a hug.

"Together. We'll work on it together. It won't be pretty... won't be clean. But we keep working on it."

[mother-snake]

Zzzzzzz zzzzz *shoots awake* fuck. How many days has it been? Uh well..... I'M BACK!! And with more Janus angst too!

----------

Ok so. What if after all the mistreatment from the sides (light and dark. Both are dicks to him. Light sides emotionally and Dark sides physically) Janus just runs away. He doesn't duck out, he doesn't need their pity but he just leaves. The others don't notice.

And the thing is. Thomas only does self care when Janus FORCES him too, so when he leaves thats when the others notice that he's gone based on the fact that Thomas is working himself to the ground.

So they go to his room, to find a completely white room in the place of a black and yellow one. There is nothing in the room, at all. It's just a white box with a name plate on the door.

The sides decide that Thomas does need Janus (even if they don't want him there) and they go after him. After checking every part of the mind they leave for the imagination. After hours of searching, they find Janus! But not like you would expect.

Janus is dressed in light flowy cotton, he has a yellow flower crown and his pet snake around his shoulders; singing while hanging some sheets on a clothes line. They approached Janus carefully -thinking that it might be a trap but Janus is next to a cottage with a garden and many many flowers- they end up behind him and Logan lightly taps him on the arm.

Janus turns and is a bit shocked to see the others but he quickly regains his composure and puts on a polite smile and offers them some tea.

The others hesitantly accept and Janus leads them inside of the cottage. It's small but quite cozy with bookshelves everywhere and flower vases and theres a window seat and a chess board by the door and the other sides don't like it. They feel like this is a trap, Janus never seemed to like any of this stuff before.

Janus gives them the tea and they start to try to convince him to come back.

He refuses.

They ask why.

Janus said he was tired of being mistreated, miserable and forced to be something he wasn't. Janus is not going back.

This can ether go 1 of 2 ways

1) the other sides realize what they had done to Janus and accept that they have harmed him and the only way to make him come back is to show him that they love and care for him

Or

2) the others are ferious. How dare Janus do something like that? If Janus wouldn't come willingly they would make him come back.

They change his room back to what it was but it has chains to attach to his ankles to prevent him from leaving the room. They make Janus change back into his old clothes. They put a lock on his door so that only they can open it. If Janus refuses to do something willingly they force him to do it -via torture, blackmail, empty promises, harming one of his snakes ,etc.

Janus becomes a prisoner in his own room.

That continues for a few months. Scars replaced every bit of empty skin and Janus has lost so much weight he looks like a skeleton. Thats when he decides that he's done with everything.

Patton comes into the room to drop off his meal. Only to scream when he sees the body hanging from the ceiling. A note sits by the knocked over chair.

You always painted me as the villian. I said I didn't want to be one only for you five to turn into a villain. I never wanted this; I wanted to live in my cottage with my snakes, alone and away from all of you. I would say that I'm sorry. But I'm not. Just happy to get away.

~Janus Sanders

P.S. Don't bother trying to save me, A bottle of sleeping pills, a knife and a noose prevent that sorta thing.

Patton lets out another ear piecing scream as he drops the letter. The other sides burst into the room to see Patton balling his eyes out, a very dead Deceit and a blood stained letter.

One by one their souls fill with guilt.

Roman wishes he gave Janus another chance

Logan wishes that he could've been there for him

Patton wishes he was a better father

Virgil wishes he could apologize

Remus wishes he didn't make a monster out of a friend.

They all wish that they'd just left the poor snake like side alone. In his cottage. With a yellow flower crown.

They wish it even more when Thomas doesn't have a filter anymore.

Even more when Thomas outs a friend.

Even more when Thomas can't lie and say that he's happy.

The others can't tell Thomas what they did, the poor man has tried to summon Janus thousands of times but they know that the summon will never work.

The colour yellow makes them cry. The sight of a snake in the sunlight makes them want to jump off a cliff. Soon, Thomas pieced it together and the sides told a story. A honest story.

Not like they could lie anymore.

----------

Huh, so this is what happens when the angst builds up in my brain..... Hope ya like it Jessie! ❤💛❤

um. OW?! MY GOD DAMND HEART?? this... oh god... all of it thank you.

thank you once again for destorying my heart. i cant cry from the angst as someone is in the room im in. and once again like diffusion. you have an AU very simmilar to something i have. only its logan and janus who leave.

(this made my day. thank you!!!)

#tw suicide #sander sides #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #tw capture

[kuroshitsuji-scenarios]

Hmm since I can't think of any scenario, would it be alright if I just say a prompt one-liner statement? Haha :(( so hmm how about "But we are no longer just 'dating', because I've already committed myself to you." idk maybe modern sebastian and s/o??¿ heehee if that's fine uwu thanks so much!! 💕

This is wildly out of control from the beginning to an end, enjoy my imgination!

The very least thing you expected to see when arriving to the address Sebastian lived at, was to witness the utter chaos and destruction in his apartment. The open front door allowed you to peek inside from the corridor and notice broken furnitures, devastated kitchen counter and the sofa, seemingly cut thoroughly multiple times until the white balls of the filling scarreted around the room like a freshly fallen snow.

You couldn’t truly comprehend what did the image in front of you meant and what could possibly happen there to cause such a huge amount of damage. Prehaps someone has broken in, prehaps they were looking for something particular, prehaps they did not find it and escaped with nothing, leaving the mess behind. Prehaps Sebastian was not there when it happened, prehaps he managed to run away before they hurt him, prehaps, prehaps, prehaps…

Gulping at the ball which formed in your throat, you pushed the door slightly, carefully looking inside the apartment and listening to even the tiniest noises which coud mean that the burglars were still there—most likely dangerous, armed and not hesitating. The silence, though, proved that there was nothing to be afraid of, not anymore, only the peaceful blows of the wind sliding over the broken window, which was partly laying on the carpet in the milions of small pieces.

What if they hurt him—or even worse? You never doubted Sebastian’s abilities to take care of himself, your boyfriend was quite skilled in the martial arts, after all, but they could have guns or knives and he was most likely not expecting to get attacked in his own home. It was supposed to be your evening together, the wonderful time spend in a restaurant on eating delicious food and drinking until you would feel tired. When he was two minutes late, you started to worry. It was not like him to be late, never, and it could only mean that something truly important happened.

Important or terrifying.

Eventually, you decided to check on him in his own home, to make sure that he simply forgot or had some other place to attend to or that it was all just a simple misunderstanding, something you could laugh off soon. And yet, there you were, the dreadful silence from his apartment being more than a proof that it was the latter reason for his absence.

With trembling hands and jaw clenched tightly, you slipped inside the room and slowly closed the door behind yourself, eyeing the interior and looking for the intruders only to find nothing but the leftovers of what was once his property. The books, the magnificent collection of his books was now of the floor, thrown away like a trash, just like the colourful bottles full of various, centuries old alcohols splattered on the carpet. Even the weird but somehow adorable cat figurines, which were once placed on the shelf, disappeared under the overwhelming chaos. Nothing seemed to be stolen, just stepped upon with the complete lack of respect.

You were taking next steps carefully, not wanting to destroy more than the whole apartment already was, noticing the cuts on the wallpaper and the dark stains on it, as if someone was trying to even burn this place to the ground but the fire did not grow fast enough to consume it all. Who could have done that to him? It could not be any mistake and Sebastian, although bringing the jealously in the hearts of many, did not have any foes—or at least none you would know about.

Every step further, your heart was beating louder and louder, pulsing in your ears with the repetitive thought that Sebastian was still there, lifeless in his bedroom with the sharp blade sinked deeply between his ribs or even worse, the bullet in his head or…

Suddenly frightened, you stood still and listened to your surroundings, fighting the urge to cry, scream or puke from the amount of terrible emotions burning your insides. You did not want to witness him dead, laying on the bed of satin with open, dull eyes staring right at you in the very same place you were once making love, where you were sharing sweet kisses and stealing each others’ breaths in the symphony of your beating hearts. It could not be true, he must have run away while he had the time and the apartment was all empty now, not a single soul at the abandoned battlefield.

Sebastian’s bedroom was, too, hidden under the veil of darkness and the first sight was enough to prove that this place was not spared either. The bed was broken in half, the feathers covering almost every surface, so white they were almost glistening in the contrast with the wood. Looking at the tips of your own feet, you noticed that some of them were laying next to you, fluffy and delicate, and just when you were about to rise your head again and move forward to the bathroom, you noticed that one of them was nowhere like the others.

On the contrary, it was as black as the night, that is why you did not see it at first. Intriguing, considering the fact that the white ones were once stuffing the pillows and you have never seen any black ones nearby—especially not as long as your forearm.

That was, when you heard the rustle and immediately looked at its source, only to find a large frame, hiding deep in the corner, covered with darkness like a second skin. The creature, whatever it was, had its back facing you or at least that is what you thought, considering the lack of any visible eyes. Was it the reason of this whole mess and the tears which were now running down your cheeks? Was it the reason Sebastian did not come for you? Did it kill him?

Its voice was quiet and soft when it spoke, not causing you to jump in fear and sounding more like a calming whisper in your own head.

“I truly did not want you to see me in such a poor state, my love.”

You blinked, confused, but before any sounds managed to escape your mouth, the creature continued.

“Actually, I was hoping that I will make it before 8 p.m., just like I promised. Prehaps I am getting old, after all…”

Another flutter and more feathers fell down on the floor, ink black and much longer than any animal you have ever heard of could lose.

“Sebastian…?” you whispered cautiously. “Is that you?”

“Due to the very unfortunate event, yes. And I beg you, for everything dear to you, leave.”

For a moment, you stopped breathing, only to exhale deeply when the first thoughts of this completely surprising evening were starting to get to your mind, processing slowly but surely. Sebastian was safe and sound and it was all that mattered.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, slowly taking a step closer to him, until you stopped in the middle of the track after hearing the hiss coming from his direction.

“Stay back.”

The curtains were flowing on the wind, bringing the smell of the night sky to your nose and reminding you of an upcoming winter.

“Do not come any closer. Please.”

“What is going on…?” All the bottled emotions seemed to start taking over when you felt the warm tears on your skin once again. You could not understand anything what was happening right now and it felt like a horrible, neverending dream, a nightmare you could not wake up from. “Tell me what is going on.”

Sebastian remained silent and it hurt you more than a slap on the cheek. You were so lost, so scared and you needed answers, right now and there. You loved him, after all, and you could never possibly just leave. Building all your courage up, you wandered to him, avoiding the broken glass and the dark feathers, this time not hearing any kind of objections from him. When you were barely few steps away, you noticed that the strange creature disappeared and there, in the shadows, was indeed, your Sebastian, sitting on the floor with a bloody dress shirt and the tie hanging miserably at his neck.

At this point, he was not a lesser mess than his apartment.

He looked up at you when you approached him and slowly kneeled next to him, looking for any kind of fatal wounds.

“I am so sorry, my love” he muttered barely audiably. “I swear I did not want you to find me there, especially not now.”

“Who did this to you?” Seeing his familiar face made you bolder and caused the unknown fear to slowly fade away. “Goodness, you can not just leave it like that, you are bleeding!”

“It is just a scratch, it really is,” Sebastian emphased the last word when he noticed that you were already willing to stand up and call an ambulance. “I will tell you everything if you promise me to calm down and not do anything reckless.”

“Since when is calling the help reckless?” you asked, but his serious gaze was enough to remind you about his words. He was not dying, that much you could tell and if he wanted to explain to you what was the meaning of all of that, then maybe you should allow him to. It is not like you could easily explain this all to the police either.

“Do you promise?”

“I do,” you nodded and the corners of his lips twitched in a faint smile.

And so, he did told you the truth—both about him and the creatures sent to kill him in the name of the almighty. You were listening to him without interrupting, staring at his pale face and lips which were speaking such a weird words. With every passing moment, it felt more like a dream and less like a reality, especially since the time around you seemed to stop only to allow you to listen to him—the real him, someone you had, apparently, did not know until now.

Finished, Sebastian waited for your answer or any kind of reaction. Fear? Disgust? Anything would be better than your blank stare and the dreadful expectation. Prehaps he has made a mistake by telling you all of that, maybe your mind was not ready for all those revelations and yet, it felt right to finally be honest with you. Whatever will you do with this informations was not his concern anymore.

“I should tell you to leave now once again,” he stated. “But goodness, I am so selfish and I can not help but want to beg you to stay. Despite of all you have heard of, stay by my side, because I have never met anyone as significant as you. What I showed you before, since the day we met, was not a lie, not even for a moment, but simply an untruth. And if you were as honest with me, as I am with you now then please, stay with me a little bit longer.”

“Always a silver tongue, huh?” you commented and Sebastian could not tell whether you were mocking him or not. It was the shine in your eyes and your cold fingers, now slowly entangling with his which showed him that you did not plan on running away. “Maybe I am selfish, too, but it seems like now we are no longer just dating, because I have already committed myself to you, utterly, wholly and completely.”

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis imagine #sebastian #scenarios #demons #queue

[ma-gic-gay]

A few hours, two kisses, and one nap later, he begins plotting his escape. It mainly consists of signing a discharge form and then hunting down Cyrus. Then, he'll kill him. Fairly simple, and does provide a good distraction from the chaos his personal life has become. His business/mob life has been fairly normal, no new competitors yet.

"What are you planning?" Carly asks, looking up from the iPad she's probably planning Morgan's return from the dead party on.

"How long until I can get out of here?" Hospital rooms inspire him to run very far away from them. They keep him cooped up, they're boring as all hell, and there's really no choice as to who can walk in at any given time.

"Probably tomorrow," she answers and he groans. "It's not the end of the world, Jason. It's one more night in a hospital bed." Debatable. It's a whole twelve hours, minimum.

"Or I could just sign my discharge form now and break out of here."

"No, you need to stay at least for tonight. Break out tomorrow."

"I don't want to."

"Just let them monitor you. Sleep. You won't be able to do much out there anyways. I'm pretty sure the doctors are going to tell you to relax and take it easy, which means taking a short leave of absence. Brando can handle it for a few more days."

"There could be a takeover-"

"Not without any talk. Come on, if I thought there was any threat, I'd be breaking you out of here myself," she reminds him. "Take a nap."

"I'm not sure that's the best decision." Actually, it's more time that he'd be a suspect in Cyrus's murder (that, rest assured, he will commit) and more time Cyrus gets to breathe the same air as him. "Stop the thoughts about it being unsafe because you're not going to be able to do anything. You're recovering from surgeries and a gunshot wound."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing everything," he responds, fidgeting again with the stupid IV. He'll break that thing out of him if that's what it takes.

"I'm sure you are, but stop pouting. Sleep. Take a nap. Enjoy your break from reality for a day or two and just relax," Carly reasons. You know it's bad when Carly's being the reasonable one.

"This isn't pouting, it's captivity."

"No one's holding you captive."

"I'm being forced to be in a room against my will. This could be a hostage situation," he says dramatically.

"Well, as cute as your pouting is, you're spending the night. Take a nap. Enjoy it," she smiles. "Oh, and by the way, you're not killing Cyrus."

There's a lot to take in there but we'll start with the obvious: "I didn't even say I was planning on it."

She rolls her eyes, "You didn't have to, I can see the plan formulating in your mind. No murder. Cyrus will live for the rest of his miserable life in prison without you sending someone to rough him up or kill him."

Sometimes it's a shame how well she knows him. It genuinely sucks sometimes because she can read him like a book. No matter how successful he is at hiding everything from, well, pretty much everyone else, she just rolls her eyes and lets him know exactly what he's doing. Half the time, she knows before he does. The other half, she's informing him it's normal to express your emotions.

"I don't think he should even be able to walk around," he admits, struggling somewhat to voice the hatred he feels for the other mobster. "I've wanted to kill the guy for years, ever since I laid eyes on him. Going after you, kidnapping and raping you as some sort of sick revenge against me was the last straw."

"It was stupid to go after me and he'll pay. For the rest of his life, he'll be in prison. Solitary, you said. He can't run his business in solitary. Cyrus will never be able to hurt me or anyone else again," Carly says, grasping his hand and squeezing it. "He's a piece of shit. I look forward to the day he's in jail, serving his sentence. But it's probably going to be a few weeks."

"Which provides plenty of opportunity-"

"He lives. You're not going to jail because of him, Jason. Cyrus isn't worth it, alright? I don't care if he dies tomorrow. If you go to jail, I'll have to break you out of there myself and that probably won't go too well," she laughs at that. "So, save us all the paperwork and don't kill him. Besides, I confronted him."

She- confronted- "You did what? Carly, that is a man who could kill you and threatened to! He's very much capable of keeping that threat! Did you want to die?"

What inspired her to go confront her kidnapper/rapist? What made her think that was the sane thing to do while he was unconscious in a hospital bed?! She could've died and he can't have that happening because it'd be his fault. It's also such an ugly thought he can't stand to think of it. Carly cannot die.

"I brought guards, I threatened him, I yelled and screamed, I also cried for a while," she summarizes. "And to answer your question, I don't have a death wish. There's children I have to take care of and I'm not done complicating your life yet. I've got at least ten more years left in me."

"You confronted a man who could kill you."

"With guards, Jason."

"That doesn't make it okay! Carly, you can't act like there wasn't a good chance you could've died! You can't reason with people like Cyrus, you can't go in on your own."

"I. Brought. Guards."

"And they could've died too. He took out a whole group of them once, an entire warehouse of the Novak crew."

"You're acting like I didn't know what I was doing! I knew exactly what I was doing and it was either that or wonder if you'd live to tell me I'm being stupid again, Jason. Which choice would you have made?" Carly asks, tears building up in her eyes. No, he's mad, don't start crying. That'll make him sad. No crying, Carly, please don't. "I'm not so unknowledgeable when it comes to the business, you know."

"No, but you don't know how the business works. Things like that, impulsive things, they get people killed! They're the things that cause people to die and not the type you can come back from. You can't be doing things like that and pulling stunts like threatening Cyrus. He has nothing left to lose, which means he has everything to gain. If he can kill you, which is what he wants to do, that'll be a win for him and a final way to get back at me. That's what he wants and you're playing right into it." Jason exclaims. Emotional outbursts are rare for him, which probably made the point more clear. He hopes so. Losing her-

That's a thought almost too painful to bear thinking of.

"I was worried you would die! Jason, I couldn't spend another hour in this room or getting harassed by Sam. I needed to do something, make some statement," Carly argues and he shakes his head. Does she not get it? She could've died.

"And you couldn't go to work at the Metro Court? You had to go and confront a man who wants you dead almost as much as he wants me dead, Carly! It was stupid. You could've died."

"I was safe-"

"You don't get it! Doing that, no matter how many guards are there, isn't safe. I don't care if you had the place full with guards, he wants you six feet under and he wants me even further. What if he shot you? What if he hurt you? What if he killed you?" Emotions just seem to flow out of him like water does down a river at this point, anger and hurt and worry and sadness all combined into one.

"He didn't-"

"Not this time. Next time, he could. You could've gotten hurt or killed or shot at and I'm not going to be the reason for that."

"Well there won't be a next time."

"How can you be so sure about that, Carly? You don't control him. He's his own person; he does what he wants, exactly when he wants, exactly how he wants. And he could've hurt you."

"Every single time you agrees to one of those meetings with him or left to go, seemingly, anywhere, I thought the same thing. He's tried to get to you a million times. But you didn't die."

"I didn't die because I'm aware of the intricacies of the business! You're not and, as much as I'm grateful you're not, I can't have you running around picking fights with people who want you dead, who want me dead."

"Do you want a fake apology?" Carly snaps. "Do you want me to pretend like I didn't know that? I'm all too aware of the fact that everytime I leave the house, I could get shot at and die or that everytime I see you it might be the last time because of your line of work. I am intimately familiar with the anxieties of waiting in a hospital room to see if you're going to wake up or not from yet another injury. You're acting like it's my first day as someone who cares about people in your line of work and you're wrong. It's not. I knew damn well what I was doing and I know you would've done the same if they'd shot me."

Well. He didn't think of that. Anger sort of half drowns inside of him, flopping but still very much there at her beyond dumb move. "You're right. I would've killed him if he'd shot you or hurt you. But that doesn't make that you get to go out and pick fights with him because you're worried. It means you've got to be careful, stay in groups. It means-"

"Don't tell me what I should've done."

"What would you like me to do, congratulate you? Congratulations, Carly, you could've died! You could've died and if I woke up to that knowledge I don't know what I'd do."

"You'd keep surviving. Probably throw yourself into the business even more, to a point I don't think it'd be healthy." Carly shakily says, clearly having thought about it. "You'd tell Donna all about me when she started to forget I existed."

"You've thought of this?" Jason asks, incredulous. "You've thought about what I'd do if you died?"

"When we thought you were gone, I thought about what you would've done if roles were reversed."

There's a solid 20% chance she's pulling at his heartstrings right now to get sympathy and it's working. 100%. She could be completely playing him and he'd believe it at this point.

He hugs her as best as he can in the hospital bed. "I wasn't dead. You're not dead, thankfully. But you can't take risks with your life, not like that. Your kids need their mom. People need you. I'd miss you."

"How nice, I sobbed myself to sleep for weeks because you were gone and you'd miss me." Tugging at the heart, yet again.

"Oh come on, Carly. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah I do."

It's a strange bond they've got (and a strange life he's got), but at least they can count on one thing: their friendship. Hence why kissing and stuff can't mean anything or complicate things. They've been in each other's lives so long, if they dated or something and it went south, he doesn't know if they could bounce back. And that's a terrifying thought, that they could be,,, not friends.

To be continued after I change my tampon and sleep because I'm fucking tired :)

@ryleighjosephine

[junipersgarden]

metanoia 0. | Prologue

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

SUMMARY: After Tony Stark’s sacrifice to save the world, Y/N and Peter make a promise to one another.

WORD COUNT:  1754 words

WARNINGS: Angst, crying/ sadness and a funeral 

[NOT MY GIF] 

...

After the Battle of Earth - October 2023

...

Silence.

Even with every single hero that fought in the battle against the Mad Titan all in one place, complete and utter silence embodied them all as they stood in remorse and sorrow, mourning for their fallen avenger.

Tony Stark.

That name had many names, is known by many and will single handily be named as one of the world's greatest defenders; the man who sacrificed his life so that his loved ones and that the Earth could go back to the way things were, the ways things were meant to be even though he wasn't going to be there.

The Avengers had won this battle this time but at what cost?

You still couldn't get the image out of your head; a tarnished battlefield, Thanos's army disappearing one by one, the genocidal warlord turning to dust and Tony.

"And I... am.... Iron Man." Tony breathlessly let out and letting all of his strength go into snapping his fingers, the one desire and wish on his mind, hoping the stones will go by his will. Just once.

You wanted to cry to him, scream or just anything but even if you did, Tony knew the sacrifice had to be made, for you and for the ones around him.

You took small, staggered steps towards Tony, reaching and praying the universe would show him mercy, that everything could be okay and normal.

Through misty and weak eyes, you spotted him kneeling on the cracked ground, determination in his eyes, staring straight into the eyes of the enemy.

But as close and and as far away you were from him, the familiar snap of fingers rang through your ears.

"Tony-" You croaked out, fear burying itself inside of your subconscious, mind building unwanted thoughts and concerns of the worst, you tried walking toward him, still weak from the fight but a bright, piercing white light blinded your vision right before you could make it to him.

A hand on your shoulder startled you and you were brought back into the reality you wished wasn't real.

Turning around, your eyes met with none other than Peter Parker's soft, puffy chocolate brown one's. His eyes weren't full of innocence and happiness as you were used to seeing them

Peter gave a sad but yet comforting smile to you, afraid if he were to say something he would just choke up so he didn't.

His miserable smile somehow comforted you; he always has been able to make you feel secure and safe even in times where it seemed like nothing could overcome whatever you were going through.

But despite it all, Peter was your life-line, the one thing keeping you sane from all this madness.  

Without him saying anything, you knew what he was asking you; the pained and concerned expression over his face.

You couldn't answer him though. All you could do was emit stingful tears and cross your arms around you, clinging onto yourself so tightly.

As Peter inched closer to your side, you looked up and saw how much agony he was in and your heart shattered even more just by knowing how close Peter truly was to Tony.

Hesitantly, you started leaning into Peter because his face and body was screaming 'Y/N I need you.' so you took the opportunity and laid yourself into his right side, a sense of relief and a ripple of reassurance rushing throughout your body as he allowed you to fall into his.

Peter jolted slightly when he felt you but he responded as quickly as you acted, automatically snaking his arm around your waist, hugging you firmly to assure you that you're not alone and that he is there for you when you need him.

You could easily tell that he was thinking from the way his eyes stared so intensely at the ground; he's been in this position so many times from his parents to Uncle Ben and knowing Peter, you knew he was blaming himself, wishing he could of done more to prevent this but both of you knew there was nothing anyone could do to stop Tony.

The light startled you so much that you stopped straight in your tracks and your arms enveloped over your eyes to protect them from it but as soon as it appeared, it vanished.

Standing tall and in your masked suit, you noticed a piece of dust landed on your arm, the dust like substance you were so familiar with when yourself faded away from Thanos's actions.

Observing the area you saw that one by one, the numbers from Thanos's army decreased as his troops began to disappear from existence.

Everyone looked around at the enemy disintegrating away into nothing, looks of triumph and reassurance that shone on each Avenger's face; after 5 years, they had won the battle.

But with this victory, all you could do was worry about Tony; he stood frailly before loosing all his strength and leaned against rubble, sinking down in defeat.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, it's going to be okay.

With all your intrusive thoughts swarming and attacking you, growing bigger and bigger by the second, you spot War Machine followed by Spider-Man aid his side.

"Mr. Stark?" such a weak voice calls.

Now that voice you know too well. That's the same voice you've heard explain to you the homework due, the same voice that argued with you for hours about Star Wars, the same voice that reminds you of the better days.

"It's Peter."

Oh god...

Peter Parker; you always knew he was meant for something greater in this world but you never would of expected him to be Spider-Man. It never occurred that sweet, innocent Peter had experienced all the perks of being a superhero or that he knows what war truly is like and the consequences that come out of it.

Yet here Peter was, kneeling in front of his idol, whispering words of support and sympathy.

Before thinking your instincts kicked in and your foot rose from the ground, you were sprinting toward your best friend. Feet harshly stomping on the Earth's ruined terrain, breathing heavy from the burning in your throat from the despair inside of you.

You ran across the planet in a matter of what seemed like a life time and finally came to a halt when you saw Tony; his skin like charcoal, pale and lifeless eyes stare straight into your soul causing you to loose balance and fall on your knees.

Peter jumped from the noise of machinery scrapping the ground and turned to you. His face is bloody and bruised and has no glow like it always did before; Peter feels numb and nothing just like you are.

You looked into Peter's scared eyes and swiftly pulled him away from Tony and into a crushing hug as he cried into you.

He can't see me. With a mask over your face, he doesn't know who and what you are; no one does, not even Tony.

Give me a sign he is okay please.

But no sign is given; Pepper is now by his side and for a second, a brightness sparks in Tony's eyes when he sees her but dims just as quickly.

The look in Pepper's eyes and the nod of approval gives it all away and with the revelation that this is fact is real and better yet happening right in front of you, with nothing you could do to stop it.

Peter, you and everyone looked at Tony, filled with remorse, knowing that it was the last time they would see him friend but yet, he was a blur from all the tears that surrounded their eyes.

"We're going to be okay." Pepper assured him.

No we're not-

"You can rest now." Her voice trembled slightly as a subtle smile swept across her face, planting a final kiss on Tony's cheek.

Tony didn't say anything after that; he gently grabbed Pepper's hand and guided it to his heart and kept it there, arc reactor so small, so broken and so quickly departing.

Everyone around him stood to a standstill; the planet stopped orbiting, their hearts stopped beating but yet, their sorrows and tears began.

Say something Y/N.... say anything to him this is it.

But no courage or strength could even make you stutter a final goodbye and closure to him; he was already gone.

"He loved you, you know that... right?" Peter broke the silence.

You once again came back into reality and saw that now Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Steve and Morgan had placed themselves on the dock and all were standing together in remembrance.

"He loved you too Pete... and was as equally proud of you as well."

Peter gripped you tighter after your statement and you felt a teardrop soak your black dress.

He's been through so much already; who knows when he'll break. Jesus Christ Peter needs a break...

"Y/N?"

"...Yes Peter?"

"I-I know you weren't there when he- passed but just p-promise me that you'll stay by me... please? I just need you and you're the only one remotely close to my a-age who was close to To-"

"Peter." You huff out and interrupt his rambling, "You're my best friend, I'm here for you and I hope- no I know that you and I are going to be okay as long as we stick together."

"Just Y/N p-please promise me-"

"I promise you Peter. I'm not going anywhere."

Peter loosely released his hold on you and as you look up, you see his smile; oh boy that smile you've longed to see for a long time but you notice he is pointing his pinkie at you.

"Pinky promise Y/N?"

You can't help but actually and genuinely giggle at him by his child like antics but it all disappears when you notice again his puffy, bloodshot eyes full of worry and regret.

"I promise." Peter interlocks his pinkie with yours and for the first time in a long time, you both smile.

Hopefully Ned and MJ can help me with Pete... May and even Happy too; he needs support; he can't be left alone.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man... what is everyone going to do to him after Tony's gone... will they look to him?

And what about me and being Saviour? No one knows not even Peter.

I can't let Peter know I'm Saviour; it'll ruin him...

I won't let him find out.

#peter parker #peter #parker #peter parker x reader #x reader #spider-man #spiderman #spider-man x reader #spiderman x reader #tom holland #tom #holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #tom holland imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #avengers #tony stark #saviour #y/n #mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #midtown