why do they all fucking look crazy. Like bro. I always forget like just how bad it is.

This is an abnormally ugly old man. We’ve been desensitized to thinking this is normal, IT IS NOT. I’ve never seen another old person look this decrepit

request:

note: nowhere near my best work. i found it really hard to write this due to lack of motivation so im going to consider this a scrap.

does anyone have any mental health requests? i can see if i can write them :p

warnings: character death, angst. kinda cliché. feels rushed. sorry its bad :/ not proofread, any mistakes are mine.

🏷: @c-is-writing sorry fren this one sucks

. . .

you tried to warn her, scare her off into never getting close to you by being as mean and cruel as you could possibly be, but that never worked out with natasha. if anything your acts of self defense only drew her in closer.

even when you told her you were bound to die and spending any time with you was a waste didn’t turn her away. all that followed was morning breakfasts and afternoon walks in the middle of new york.

natasha knew, she just wasn’t ready. all the years spent around you never quite prepared her for the one thing she should’ve already accepted.

it was only a matter of time before the side effects of your powers started to kick in. all your life you’d hoped to live past thirty-five like the miracle stories you’d heard about. historically, other x-men with your disease had lived to be well into their sixties before finally passing.

but that just wasn’t the case for you – not when you were twenty seven and coughing up blood from your lungs.

natasha wiped your mouth before tossing the used tissue into the trash. she brushed her fingernails into your hair, placing a kiss above your eye.

“how can i help you?” she analyzed your body, doing her best to hide the hurt she felt at your weakened state.

“just stay.”

natasha kissed the palm of your hand, “always. do you you need anything right now though? water? juice? a snack?”

“wanna lay in bed with me? i’m cold.”

she nodded, resting her head on your chest. your heartbeat was slower than the day before. the few thumps it made reminded natasha of all the soft mornings she’d spent waking up to you next to her. her mouth trailing down on your breast flashed briefly through her mind. then it was the feeling of holding you as your forehead rest against her chin while you slept peacefully. those were her favorite mornings to wake up to.

unfortunately natasha knew days like that were only coming to an end. you could hardly walk on your own, your hands were shaky and mostly, you were tired.

“i wish there was a cure…” you caught her mumble despite her not wanting you to actually hear it.

“someday, natasha. for now just think about how cool i was before getting sick. my powers were so much better than captain america’s stupid shield.”

the redhead hummed in agreement. “yeah, they were. i just wish your powers didn’t end up poisoning your body like they’re doing now.”

“nat-” but she didn’t want to hear it, instead focusing her mind on something more positive.

“y/n?”

“yes, darling?”

“what’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

she watched you ponder for a moment. “i don’t know. i’ve already done so much in my lifetime, you know? i’ve helped saved the world three times now, i’ve rescued a bus of children from getting caught in the middle of train tracks, i’ve been to outer space, i’ve toured just about every tourist attraction you can think of… i guess the only thing i haven’t done is get married.”

“do you want to get married?”

“it’s the only thing i’ve ever dreamed of, natasha.” you whispered, fighting the tiredness settling in your eyes.

“well then it’s settled, sweetheart. we’ll get married next week.” she confirmed.

“when i was kid i used to daydream about having a wedding. marrying the person i loved most seemed so impossible to me, but here you are. consider me the luckiest person in the world.”

natasha nuzzled her face into your neck. “did you have a certain wedding style in mind?” you scrunched your nose, giggling at the memory you had as a kid.

“when i was little i always wanted dogs at my wedding. i still want that. everything else is secondary.”

“dogs. got it. oh– what kind of dogs? big pups or small ones?” natasha asked, pulling out her phone to type everything down in her notes app.

“all dogs are welcome, just as long as they’re nice to each other of course. i do want a black and tan beagle mix there, that’s the only other ‘requirement’ i’d want for the perfect wedding.”

“gotcha.” you watched her type everything down before falling into silence. she circled your tummy with her index finger.

“we’re going to have the perfect wedding.”

but next week never came.

three days after your conversation, natasha woke up to you already gone. she held your funeral instead of the beautiful wedding she’d planned for.

grief settled in her heart permanently. it wasn’t something you’d want for her, she knew that, but you weren’t here to tell her otherwise.

natasha found the dumbest things to be upset over. two months after your death and she still found it hard to look at dogs. and even if she knew it was stupid, dogs still brought tears to the ex assassin’s eyes.

all it did was remind her of the fact that she couldn’t fulfill your dying wish. the only things that remained of you were pictures and videos, some clothing and a journal you tucked away from her while you were still alive. natasha only knew now that it was full of everything you loved about her, something she’d never be able to repay.