request request request request ughhhhhhh i love you diejager
part two to dark! reader x markarov? Im just addicted to them, your honor- ill take anything you give
Cw: DARKFIC, dark!reader, Makarov is a simp, treason/backstabbing, tell me if I missed any.
Note: I'm not e4xactly sure which one you mean, but uh... I'm gonna assume it's the simp Makarov one.
Makarov watched you jump from one roof to another, your lithe body carrying you with grace that he couldn’t fathom having with the lack of training regiment in his life. With his wounded leg, the bullet you generously gifted him in the thigh kept him from chasing you on both the ground and roof, but where he lacked finesse, he outdid himself with his number of followers. While his work was more local, his home was the biggest country in the world, men and women separated by capitalistic thinking, families broken in two and loving couples forced apart. He had what you never thought of: a large organisation.
Small and comfortable, that’s what you’d once told him. A smaller group was easier to control than a large one, world-wide like his. You had a select few around the world that you deemed trustworthy, and he had hundreds and hundreds of men at his disposal. The sole reassurance of his hand helped him relax, to calm his pain and horror as he watched you slip away from him. He would find you once more, healed and back in shape, he would find you again and finally convince you to come back to him —he would always welcome you back with open arms.
So Makarov stood there, straining against his failing strength, an arm slung over Alexei’s and another pressed to the wall, wistfully staring at your figure, growing smaller and smaller by the second until you had completely vanished from his eyes. Despite all he knew, Makarov couldn’t help sighing in disappointment, feeling his body grow exhausted from your sudden break in and his efforts to reel you back in the same way your eyes seemed to capture him.
The next time he saw you, he was staring up the barrel of a gun —your gun. It was a familiar desert eagle, the notable features of silver vines gleaming brightly against the matte black of it’s body. it was the one he gifted you less than a year ago, the prettily crafted weapon he’d commissioned for you out of love and devotion. It was such a pity that you decided to use his gift on him. Though he wouldn’t complain, you were standing right in front of him.
Makarov smiled at you, a small, but giddy one. he couldn’t help the happiness that seemed to bubble out of his abdomen, a light feeling that mixed adjectivally to the adrenaline pumping in his veins.
“Hello, darling.”
You stood proudly in all your glory: drop-dead beautiful, cunning, sly and simply ingenious. Draped in black and and red, donning the colours of his organisation, you looked as unstoppable as he felt boisterous, swoon by the use of his colours. Yet he knew this was a trick, using his infatuation of you to your advantage by using and wearing things he’d considered his at one point. He knew the moment he saw you glance at him with that devastating smirk of your, turning the corner with a steady stride to tempt him to follow.
He knew, but he didn’t care.
“Will you come back? ”Makarov babbled on, wetting his dry lips. “I miss you, милая.” [Darling]
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I've watched aliens come out of people and a man decay into a fly and tentacles go everywhere and eyes bleed and heads explode without too much flinching but I cannot for the life of me get myself to watch a scene from an animated film about a man and dog being drowned for blackmail how the fuck does this even work
for someone who's been sensitive their entire lives about violence and gore and death on screen and whose parents' were concerned about me watching any film like that even into my adolescence because they knew how much it bothered me and was often told by kids when I was at school that they didn't want to involve me in activities because they knew it would scare me (to this day I feel they made it sound worse than it actually was but I can never confirm that because those places shut down even before I was an adolescent) and that I knew I cried easily and wasn't hugely aware of many dangers and used to hang out by myself or with kids younger or older than me and some of them told me it felt weird, I want to believe this persistence in torturing myself is because of the indignation I have at how much I was reminded of how sensitive I was growing up and I wanted to believe I could get past this and prove something
which now that I think about it, I can be okay with graphic special effects but when it involves parallels of my own trauma and triggers such as men being angry and passive aggressive (such as I can handle watching the thing with people exploding into aliens with blood everywhere but when r j starts getting pissed off and ordering everyone about even if it's justified, I fucking just can't), I have a fucking meltdown but still want to get through it and torture myself despite how much worse my mental illnesses get because I don't want to be reminded of the hypersensitive crybaby that people abused me for or felt an obligation to constantly protect even though I had no fucking idea why I was so fucking sensitive in the first place
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