#and yet you keep killing. you keep destroying. not because it helps anyone or anything

[thermodynamic-comedian]

when i was created the universe did not give me the patience necessary to become an artist simply because it knew that the world wasn't ready for my magnificent ideas. such as "tma except it's ultrakill" or "tmagp except it's cruelty squad"

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After being captured by The Ghoul, he had dragged you through the hot desert of the Wasteland. You were so thirsty, and you’d do anything for a drink of water. And you meant anything. Tags: Smut, Practically No Plot, Humiliation, Begging, Spit, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Thigh Riding, Biting, Hate Sex(?), maybe OOC The Ghoul but I think I got it right, Not Beta Read, there's still consent because i can’t write severe noncon Author's Note: i had so many “why am i writing this” moments yet i still finished it i’m so sorry. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this thirsty in your life. 

Scratch that, you don’t think anyone’s ever been as thirsty as you currently are. 

Even though you had no saliva left to swallow, you tried anyway, your throat feeling like sandpaper. It caused you to cough, earning a disgruntled noise from the ghoul currently holding you hostage. 

The Ghoul. Infamous bounty hunter and the cruelest person you’d ever met. Of course, you only found out who he was after he captured you. You’d never even heard of a ghoul until a few days ago, your sheltered life in Vault 14 withholding information about the surface to you. 

You wished you were back home, suffocating as it was. At home, you wouldn’t be forced to walk countless miles under the boiling Wasteland sun. At home, you wouldn’t have a lasso around your neck, preventing you from running off. And even if you did manage to somehow escape the rope confines, you’d seen how accurate of a shot he was. He’d kill you before you managed to keep a foot away from him. 

You glanced back at him, The Ghoul, who had his sawed-off shotgun casually trained on you. He seemed unaffected by the heat, by the sun beating down on your faces. His hat made sure of that, and you supposed that you didn’t have to worry about sunburn if all your exposed skin was melted by radiation.

It had been hard, looking at him at first. After spending your entire life surrounded by “normal” humans, it was a shock seeing him for the first time. You’d seen burn scars before, sure, but never this severe, every inch of him covered in them. Of course, that wasn’t the most off-putting part. That had to be the complete lack of nose, an empty socket where the cartilaginous appendage should be. 

It unsettled you deeply, but you found that you couldn’t stop looking at him, a sick part of your brain enjoying it. You didn’t dare delve into that part of your mind right now, though, your current circumstance is significantly more important. 

He had stopped you in Filly, and after a brief discussion had decided that he was taking you with wherever he was going. You had no say in the decision, and even when you fought and kicked and screamed he still managed to get you bound. A few people tried to help, not because they cared about you, but because they had also wanted to get their hands on a “Vaultie”. Apparently, you were worth something to them up here, a commodity of sorts. It made your skin crawl. You’d gotten firsthand experience, then, of how good of a shot The Ghoul was. 

How you longed to be back in the stuffy Vault, working as a teacher to those kids. As annoying as they were, at least they weren’t currently threatening your life, or making you walk to who the hell knows. You’d take that over this any day. Hell, you’d take latrine duty with overflowing toilets every single hour over this. 

You fixed your attention back in front of you, the endless stretch of sandy dunes in front of you broken up by partially destroyed houses and skeletons of buildings. Your feet were in incredible amounts of pain, every step feeling like you had fifty pounds of bricks attached to your ankles. And that thirst, never ending, overwhelming thirst you felt nagged at you, consuming every thought of yours. You’d take anything to drink now, even that definitely radiated puddle you’d passed hours ago. Or was it minutes? You couldn’t tell.

You knew dehydration had long since started affecting you. You were no longer able to form sweat, and you were certain that your body was slowly cooking from the inside. You were almost certain it would be a better fate than whatever The Ghoul was leading you towards. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until you felt a sharp tug at your throat, nearly toppling you on your ass. You heard him chuckle as you steadied yourself, and you shot him a glare. Even faced with death, you weren’t going to let yourself be treated like this. “We’re stopin’ here,” he gestured to a dilapidated building to his right.

You had been surprised when he spoke the first time, not expecting a southern drawl. You’d never heard an accent like his before, only ever hearing them on the Holotapes your Vault would play for movie night. You’d also believed them to be fake, or to have died out with the rest of humanity. You had to admit, the one good thing to come out of this whole experience was hearing his voice. 

Momentarily confused as to why you were stopping, your eyes focused, and you realized that the sun was half set. You’d learned rather quickly that it was suicidal and stupid to travel across the Wasteland at night, after an almost perilous encountered with what you assumed to once be a bear. You’d barely escaped with your life, climbing a tree until the creature grew disinterested and found new prey. 

You almost wished it had torn you apart then. 

Apparently you were taking too long, and you felt another tug at the rope, pulling you closer to him. “Ain’t got all day, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The name was anything but sweet, saying it with so much condescension that it made you flush angrily. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Grumbling something under your breath, you stormed past him, another low chuckle leaving him. “Nothin’ good is gonna come from that mouth on ya,” he threatened, waving the gun at you in a go on motion. 

The shifting sand nearly caused you to stumble as you ducked into the house through a window, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the low lighting. Holding your breath, you listened for anything else in the house besides the two of you, and when you were met with only your heartbeat, you continued further in. 

Entering what used to be the living room, you saw a large couch, still in relatively decent condition, and luckily free of decomposed bodies. Any wood furniture, however, had already decayed, leaving only fragments where they once stood. You realized that if you were to sit on the couch, it would probably crumble under the weight.

The Ghoul entered behind you, and you made your way down the hallway, checking each room for anyone or anything that could do you harm. The first room was a bathroom, sand filling the bathtub like it was water. Out of desperation you almost tried to turn the handles on the sink, lift the seat of the toilet, do anything for a drop of water. But you refrained, not willing to stoop to that level yet. But you could feel that you were close. 

The next room was a large master bedroom, completely destroyed from when the bombs fell. Sand covered everything, and the walls had practically caved in, leaving you exposed to the outside. There was no where you would stay there willingly tonight. 

The third and final room was also completely devoid of life, but the empty crib in the middle of the room had you gasping, and you heard the click of a gun behind you as The Ghoul prepared for anything. You quickly shut the door. “Nothing, sorry,” you managed to croak out, and you heard him scoff.

However, you saw that he did manage to catch a glimpse of the room before you closed the door, and in those still human eyes you saw something flash through them. Sadness? Longing? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but you sure as hell weren’t about to ask him about it. 

Living room it is, then. Heading back to the original room, you watch The Ghoul sit on the couch, right in the center of it. It held, surprisingly, but you could hear the wood groan in warning. Spreading his legs, you watched him tilt his head back, a content sigh leaving his mouth. 

If you had the energy to blush, you would’ve as you watched him, finding yourself having to look away. Maybe dehydration was messing with your brain, the way you thought that was attractive. What the hell was wrong with you, you thought. 

Thirst quickly chased those thoughts away, and you attempted to lick your dry lips, your tongue mostly sticking to them instead. You were about to go explore the bathroom until you remembered the rope around your neck. 

Like he could read your thoughts, you watched him regard the lasso in his gloved hand. “You gonna run off on me if I take this off, sweetheart?” 

You shook your head, excited to have the irritating rope no longer chafing your neck. “You’ll kill me before I could,” you responded, voice barely a whisper.

The Ghoul barked out a laugh. “Damn right I will.” He considered your response for a moment, and you fully believed that he was going to keep it there. That was until he stood, almost inhumanly fast, approaching you with long strides.

Holding your breath, you felt his tug the rope off your neck, those eerily human eyes never leaving yours as he did. You flinched when you felt one of his leather-clad fingers brush over the irritated skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, mostly because of fear, but also for another reason that you refused to name. 

With a satisfactory smirk, he looped the lasso back onto his belt. You quickly exhaled when he stepped away, eliciting a coughing fit, which was dry and only irritated your throat more. Fuck, you were so thirsty. 

The Ghoul sat back on the couch in that same lounging position, and you debated sitting on the floor in front of him, but you feared that if you rested now then you’d never get back up. You watched him set a lantern on the ground, the weak oil based contraption the only source of light in the entire room. You didn’t ask why he didn’t start a fire; you also learned to not do that early on too. 

So you remained standing, even though your feet screamed for relief. You ignored them, shifting to try and alleviate the pain slightly. Rubbing your neck, you could feel that he hadn't once taken his eyes off of you, and it was making you increasingly unnerved. “You gonna stand there all night?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.” You tried to sound defiant, but it came out more like an airy noise.

“Suit yourself, then.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of getting comfortable on the couch. “It’ll be a long night for you, that’s for sure.”

Swaying, you leaned your back against one of the barely-standing walls, screwing your eyes shut. You occupied your thoughts with memories of home, trying desperately to ignore the pain. You were mostly successful, that was until you heard the sound of a canister being opened. 

Curious, you opened your eyes back up, nearly falling to your knees when you saw him drinking from a circular canteen. You must’ve made some noise, because he was now smirking at you. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and you watched a droplet of precious water trail down his scarred chin, dripping onto his dusty clothes. 

“See somethin’ you want, sweetheart?” He was unabashedly cocky with his tone. 

You son of a bitch, you thought, glaring daggers into him.

“Now, now, no need to be like that,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “Just tell me what ya want.”

He wanted you to ask for it. He wanted you to be at his mercy. Groaning, you rest your head back against the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone as much as you hated The Ghoul. Any humanity left in him had been stripped away, leaving behind a cruel excuse of a human. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the way your heart continued to patter in your chest as he stared at you expectantly, that cocky attitude doing things to you that would leave anyone who knew you horrified.

“I…” you tried to talk, but your voice proved to be too scratchy. Clearing your throat as best you could, you tried again, ignoring the way he looked at you like a predator would his prey. It was similar to the bear from earlier, but you’d take that now over the ghoul in front of you. “I need water.”

He tsked, crossing a leg over his lap. “And here I thought you Vaulties were raised with manners.”

It took everything in you to not just snap at him, but that would leave you without any water. “I need water, please,” you gritted out. 

The Ghoul shook his head disapprovingly. “Shame,” you heard him mutter, before he was slowly pouring the water out onto the floor behind him.

Sheer panic tore through you, and if you were able to form tears, they would be in your eyes. “Wait, wait, wait,” you pleaded, your voice cracking and breaking, and you lunged forward. The click of a gun had your blood going cold, but he at least had the decency to stop pouring. You held your hands up, taking a few steps back.

Registering that you weren’t going to attack him, he lowered the gun, but he still kept it on his lap. If he had any eyebrows left, you’re sure one of them would be raised, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” you stammered out, keeping your hands in the air. “I just… Can I please have some water? Please, I-I… I need it. I’m begging you… please.” You wondered if he could even make out your words. 

You watched his eyes travel up and down your body, and he cocked his head. “Are you?” You made a confused noise, and he chuckled lowly. “Are you beggin’ me?”

One problem that you always had at the Vault is that you never knew when to shut your mouth, and what you said next certainly made it clear that you hadn’t learned yet. “You want me to get on my knees, then?” You had meant it sarcastically, and you immediately regretted it when his eyes went dark. 

You heard the creak of the couch as he planted both feet on the ground, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His guns barely stayed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to care. “Now that you mention it… yeah.”

Humiliation warmed your cheeks, and you nearly let your pride stop you from sinking to the floor, but then you saw the way the canteen hung precariously in his hand. Damn it all. Taking a deep breath, you lowered yourself slowly, unable to look at the man, not wanting to see his victorious reaction. The sand shifted beneath your knees as you rested on them, but you could barely feel the relief your feet finally felt.

“Can-”

���Closer,” he cut you off gruffly. “And I want those eyes on me.” His voice had turned husky, and you realized he was enjoying this. Were… were you enjoying this too? You honestly couldn’t tell.

Wordlessly, you obeyed, shuffling forward until your knees bumped into his shoes. Your ears burned worse than they did out in the sun, and you wished it would just explode and incinerate you right now. “Eyes up, sweetheart,” he practically purred. 

You took a moment to prepare yourself before you were looking at him through hooded eyes. The brim of his hat cast a shade over his face, and you could only see the hungry glint in his eyes matched with a predatory smirk. Oh, he was loving this, and you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze, heat pooling in your belly that was quickly doused by shame. 

“Can I please have some water? Please? I- I’m really thirsty and… just a bit. Please.” 

His grin grew more as you begged, and you sagged with relief when he brought the canteen closer, no longer dangling over the back of the couch. “See, that ain’t so hard now, was it?”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself apologizing, for what, you weren’t quite sure. You weren’t too upset about it, though, especially when he brought the canteen to your lips. 

“Head back,” he ordered, and you did, your neck straining at the angle. You swore you heard him groan when you parted your lips, never breaking eye contact with him. The water was disgusting and acidic, but damn if it wasn’t the best thing you’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. He poured it into your mouth, and you desperately swallowed every single drop, the dryness in your mouth and throat instantly being quenched. 

But it wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t help the disappointed noise you let out when he ceased the pouring. “More, please,” you found yourself whining, any remnants of shame tossed out the broken window you’d climbed into.

“Manners, Vaultie,” he growled.

“Thank you, thank you,” you repeated like a mantra, and The Ghoul let out a pleased hum. Thirstiness still clung to you like a second skin, but you felt better than you had moments ago. Some of your energy had returned, and you felt like you were no longer in the grasp of death. 

“You want more?” He asked, and you immediately nodded.

“Please,” you whispered, and you saw something almost wicked pass over his features. 

“Don’t worry,” you felt one of his gloved hands sneak around your back, collecting a handful of hair and tugging, forcing your head back even further. You cried out, a mix of shock and pain. “You’ll get more. Just keep that pretty mouth wide open, just like that.” His normal drawl had turned into an almost rasp, and you shuddered. 

You watched as he took a swig for himself, but he didn’t swallow, keeping the water in his mouth. Confused, you closed your mouth, but as soon as you did you felt him pull hard at your hair. Obediently, you opened it back up, a shaky exhale leaving you.

If he had a nose, it would be currently pressed up against yours. He adjusted so that he was practically towering above you, and man did the angle kill your neck, but you didn’t dare complain. With increasingly widening eyes, you watched as he slotted his mouth above yours, not touching, but you could still feel the heat from his body. 

You nearly flinched when you felt the water hit your mouth, fighting every instinct that told you to shut it. The act was filthy and degrading, but you’d be a liar if you said it wasn’t getting you incredibly aroused. Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming suffocating; it hadn’t even felt this bad when you were outside. 

As he sat back on to the couch, his lips glistened in the dim light, stray remnants of water still coating them. As you held the water in your mouth, he frowned disapprovingly. “Do I gotta spell it out for ya?” He shifted forward again, grasping your face. “Swallow.” 

When you did, he let go, tapping your cheek lightly. “Atta girl,” he cooed, and you sputtered, cheeks growing warm. Shifting where you sat, you tried and failed to relieve some of the tension in you. You thought you were subtle in your movements, but his sharpshooter gaze locked onto it immediately. 

He laughed, a mix of surprise and condescension in one. “This gettin’ you turned on? Maybe you ain’t all that innocent, Vaultie.”

You eyed the half-hard tent in front of you. “I’m not the only one,” you grumbled out, and he laughed again. 

“I ain’t the one on my knees, sweetheart.”  Scoffing, you watched him lean back again. You expected him to say something, do something, but he simply watched you with anticipatorily. Something shifted in the atmosphere, and you realized he was putting the situation in your hands, wordlessly asking you how far you were willing to take this. 

You needed this. You needed him, as bewildering as it was for you to admit to yourself. 

Desire running deeper than that for water coursed through your veins, and you nodded. “More.” You both knew that you weren’t fully talking about the canteen in his hand. 

“Good answer.” Before you could even register, he was gripping your face again. Fingers pressed into your cheeks harshly, opening your mouth back up. Taking another swig, you expected him to repeat what he’d done last time, but you were startled when you felt his lips on yours. 

It was a strange kiss, his closed mouth against your open one, but it didn’t stay like that for long. His lips pulled apart, and without needing further prompting you swallowed another precious mouthful of water. You could feel that bastardly smirk against your mouth, and if you were anywhere near being able to create a coherent thought you would’ve said something. 

But you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was like you were caught up in some haze, but you were sent out of it when you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth. You’d kissed a few people, sure, but never like this. It elicited a startled noise from you that had him pulling back an inch, and you had to fight yourself to not chase after his lips.

“Never had that before?” He chuckled, and he found your following silence an adequate enough answer. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He didn’t even give you a moment to react before he was crashing his mouth back against yours. It was all tongue and teeth and it had you moaning, and you felt the grip on your face tighten. Your head spun, and you tried to keep up with his movements, but you ended up just letting him take over, moving his mouth against your however he’d like. 

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth, and your hands shot out, no longer able to just keep them idly in your lap. You found purchase on his thighs, the sinewy muscles tensing under your touch. But the grip on your face tightened more, almost incredibly painful. Your eyes shot open, alarmed, and a pained noise left you. 

He had pulled away again, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths, but he was glaring down at you. “You better watch those hands.” Even though his voice was husky, the threat didn’t make you any less terrified. 

You were confused, and you watched his eyes trail down to his lap where your hands were. Unable to move your head, you had to strain your own eyes to look down, and sheer dread washed over you when you saw his gun still in his lap, your hands a mere inch away from it. 

“I- I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” you gasped breathlessly. “I didn’t know! I- I’m sorry! Please.” Out of all the times you’d begged and pleaded tonight, this time had to be the most genuine. Immediately retracting your hands back to your lap, you awaited his response tensely. What you failed to notice was the way his eyes darkened as you groveled, his pants growing tighter.

His gaze returned to your face, and out of the corner of your eye you watched as he moved the gun from his lap into his hand. You half expected him to point it at you next, but you let out a very audible sigh of relief when he set it on the couch beside him. It was completely out of your reach now, but he could still easily grab it. 

He loosened the grip on your jaw, still holding it, but no longer digging into your flesh painfully. “I won’t stop you next time,” he growled, and it took you a second to register what he was saying: he won’t stop you next time because you’d be dead as soon as you began to reach for it. 

You nodded as best you could. “Good,” he’d lost the threatening tone, but his voice was still gravely and raspy. “Now, where was I?” His eyes flicked down to your lips, and you sure they were swollen and shiny. “That’s right.”

Like nothing had happened, he returned to his ministrations, teeth grazing your bottom lip again. You hesitated when you set your hands back on his thighs, gaining more confidence when he didn’t stop you. In fact, he was actively encouraging your explorative touches, a pleased noise rumbling his chest as your fingers trailed up his thighs. 

Another swipe of his tongue and a particularly harsh bite had you gripping onto him, barely able to find purchase on the thick material of his pants. You desperately needed air, but he held his grip on your jaw, seemingly unaffected by the issue you were having. Did ghouls need to breathe? It seemed like they didn’t, because he had yet to tear his mouth away for air once as he first kissed you. 

As your hands reached his belt, it was then he finally tore away, a groan leaving him. Sucking in as much air as your lungs could handle, you ran your touch across the prominent bulge. You felt the hand on your jaw go lax, falling to his lap. “You gonna take care of that?” He was giving you another out, giving you an opportunity to stop you from doing something you could regret. 

Rationally, you knew you should stop here, and pretend like this didn’t just happen. You knew the version of you from the Vault would do that. But this new part of you, exposed to the Wasteland and the savagery of the surface world found that you wanted to continue. Besides, you were probably going to end up getting killed in the next few days; why not have some new experiences before your time was up.

You didn’t respond, you simply began to undo the buckle of his belt. You couldn’t get the thing off of him, so it just rested open on his thighs. “Oh, you’re filthy,” he chuckled, spreading his legs even further apart while leaning back against the couch. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see what that mouth’s good for.”

This also wasn’t your first time in a situation like this. You’d only ever done it once, but you apparently weren't too terrible at it, as he frequently requested for a second time, but you always turned him down. You kinda wish you hadn’t now, wishing you had more experience now, but a part of you knew that this was about to be incredibly different from anything you would’ve experienced in the Vault.

With hands that you prayed weren’t incredibly shaky, you pulled down the zipper of his pants. He kept his eyes locked onto you the entire time, darkening even more as the unzipping noise hit his ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, no matter how hard you wanted to. Something about his expression had you locked in, and you shifted again. 

“Don’t let me stop ya,” he rested his arms along the backside of the couch, and you realized you’d just been sitting there. Steadying yourself, you slipped your hand into the confines of his pants, underneath the waistband of his briefs. You heard him let out a small hiss when your fingers brushed over his cock, and you desperately wanted to hear him make more noises like that.

It took a bit of maneuvering before he was free, head brushing against his navel. The skin was pocked like the rest of his body, which you were expecting. What you weren’t expecting was how long he was, much longer than your previous encounter.

Before you could let nerves disarm you, you moved closer to him. Bracing your hands back on his thighs, you kissed his tip, and you heard his hiss again. Sneaking your tongue out, you ran it up his length, pressing another kiss when you reached the top. “Don’t tease,” he growled, tangling his gloved fingers back into your hair. 

When you took him into your mouth, he let out a noise that sounded like a laugh and a sigh, the grip on your hair growing painful. It didn’t deter you, rather it drove you wild, and you took as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you had to stifle the urge to gag. Taking the rest of him in one of your hands, you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks. 

You couldn’t see the way his eyes locked onto his cock leaving and entering your mouth, but you could hear the small grunts he made in tandem with the movement of your head. He kept his hips surprisingly still, but his fingers were somehow getting even tighter, as if all of his restraint was being poured into his grip, and it was on the verge of snapping. “You can take more.” It wasn’t a question, and you felt his press down on the back of your head when you had him fully in you.

Startled, you tried to make a noise, but the vibrations just went straight to his cock. He groaned, louder this time, and he didn't let up. “Relax,” he bit out, and you tried. You really did. Taking as deep a breath you could, you forced your muscles to relax, your hands going back to his thighs. Tears sprung to your eyes as you really tried not to gag, but a garbled sound still left you as he pushed himself further down your throat. 

“Fuck,” he drawled out, “just like that.” It felt like five years had passed before your nose was finally pressed into his skin, his cock fully sheathed down your throat. Tears dripped onto his skin, but he didn’t seem to feel them. Your scalp stung as he lifted your head up, and you took in a shuddering breath, your lungs screaming for air.

You didn’t have a long reprieve before he was shoving you back down again, and even though the intrusion wasn’t new it still caused you to make an awful noise. It took him pulling you off again for you to realize what he was doing; he was fucking your mouth, using it for his own pleasure like you were just a toy. The realization had you moaning, the discomforts becoming an afterthought as he chased his pleasure, your own growing. 

Your Vault-Tec suit was becoming unbearable arousal tightening in your core, and you snuck a hand down between your legs, trying to touch yourself through the thick material. It didn’t help, but you still tried anyway, desperate for any sort of relief. The Ghoul laughed, not letting up the way he moved your head. “Oh, sugar, is suckin’ my cock gettin’ you bothered?”

Your head spun, the new nickname and the crude words making you dizzy, and you let out what you hoped was a confirmatory sound. He only huffed in response, and you could tell that he was starting to get close to his release. His hips had started to buck, albeit slightly, and his groans had turned to unintelligible moans. 

He cursed again, and you were barely able to glimpse his head roll back, hat hitting the ground. He didn’t care, continuing to fuck your face, and you desperately ground against your hand. “So good, fuck,” he panted, and you let your eyes flutter shut.

They shot open when you heard him moan your name, but you had little time to appreciate the way he said it. He pressed down hard on the back of your head, holding you there, your nose pressed flat against his body. A plethora of curses fell from his lips as he came, his cum spurting deep down your throat. 

He let go, hands falling to his sides, and you removed yourself, coughing and gasping for air. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your jaw aching, but it was the best pain you’d ever felt. He stared at you with lustful eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. 

Holy shit. You were tired, but you wanted more. But you weren’t expecting him to do anything else tonight. This wasn’t a partnership; he’d gotten his release. You’d need to deal with it on your own. 

So caught up in what you were expecting, you gasped when you felt his lips graze the corner of your mouth. His hand cradled your cheek, leather growing damp, and you felt his lips brush the tears that had fallen on the other cheek. You realized he was licking your tears away, and when he registered that you noticed he chuckled, muttering something about not wanting to waste water. You let out an airy chuckle in return, still not fully wrapping your head about what had and what is transpiring. 

“Guess one good thing came from that mouth,” he teased, referencing his earlier threat. He tugged you up, and you stood with knees shaking like a fawn. You’re certain you looked like a mess but he either didn’t care or really enjoyed it. 

You really had no idea what was going to happen next. You observed him with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help the bewildered look when you saw him stroking himself, still rock hard like he hadn’t just come. He chuckled when he saw what had caused you to react. “One good thing ‘bout bein’ a ghoul,” he rasped. “Stamina.”

His own raked down your body, honing in on the way your thighs pressed together, and they flicked back up to your own. “Take it off.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, the zipper on your suit quickly becoming undone. Even though the air was hot, it still felt nice against your hot skin. He didn’t blink as you undressed, eyes clocking in every new inch of exposed skin. Tugging it down your shoulders and off your arms, you let it fall to the ground, the material pooling at your ankles. 

Left in only your bra and underwear, you kicked the Vault-Tec suit off your feet, and you stood there, unsure. “All of it,” he continued, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

As you reached for the clasp of your bra, you watched him lean forward slightly, eyes watching you like you were the most delicious meal he was about to devour. Tossing the garment beside you, you reached for the waistband of your underwear. He raised a hand, making your halt, your fingers barely looped under the band.

With two fingers, he gestured you forward, grinning when you complied easily. His hands batted away your own, and you felt he begin to peel it away himself. He was almost eye level with your navel, and you felt his breath caress your stomach. It was like he was unwrapping a present, the way he ripped it down your legs, and it fell around your ankles like the suit. 

You were hardly able to kick it away before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands bracing against his still clothed chest. The couch made a very audible noise, on the virgo of collapsing, but neither of you seemed to hear it. One of your legs straddled his thigh, your bare center pressed against his pants, no doubt soaking the material.

 “You’re wearing too much,” you found yourself commenting, and you felt him chuckle. He took his hands off your waist, holding them in front of you so you could clearly see him take off his gloves, tossing them by his gun. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, realizing that that was all you were getting from him. 

You weren’t complaining, though, when his bare hands touched you for the first time. Along with the marred skin, his fingers were calloused, years and years of harsh life, fighting, and shooting making them so, but they were the best things you’d ever felt touch your soft skin.

He seemed to be having similar thoughts, humming appreciated as he felt your body, fingers dancing up your sides. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you sighed as he continued his exploration upwards. Worn hands cupped your breasts, fingers toying with your perked nipples, and you unconsciously pressed your chest forward. “Look at ya,” it felt like he was mostly talking to himself, “you ain’t gotta mark on your body.” You felt his mouth graze your breasts, lips ticking you as he spoke. 

You jumped when his teeth made contact with the delicate skin of the top of your breasts, and he chuckled. Moving lower, he took one of your nipples between his lips, his hand making sure the other one was receiving the same attention. His tongue flicked, sucked, and the occasional nip had you crying out, jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. One of your hands settled on the back of his head, the other sneaking back between your legs.

With that surprising speed, he caught your wrist, not even tearing his mouth away from you. You let out a noise of complaint, and you could feel him grin. His hands left your breasts, settling back on your waist, and you felt him begin to rock you back and forth on his thigh. With every rock, your clit ground against the tensed muscle, and you let out small moans, small waves of pleasure crashed through your body.

When he felt you begin to move on your own, he let go, returning his touch to your breasts, playing and massaging them as you got off on his thigh. His mouth trailed up your body, leaving a trail of small kisses and ginger bites, your once smooth skin now slightly indented. Having been worked up for a while, you felt that you were growing close to release, his ministrations bringing you closer. 

He was at your neck now, and he bit particularly hard at the thick tendon there. He laughed when he felt your hips begin to rock harder, and you felt his tongue smooth over the bitten skin. “I-” you tried to speak, but an airy whine from your throat cut you off. Your thighs were trembling, and you could feel the damp patch that had formed on his pants, but you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed right now. 

“You close, sugar?” Not trusting your voice, you nodded instead. “Fuck, yeah you are. C’mon, let me feel ya,” he groaned, mouthing at your neck. 

It only took a few more rolls of your hips before you came, his name tumbling from your lips as a loud cry, pleasure igniting all your nerves. Your stubbed nails dug into the back of his head, and he growled. Your whole body was trembling as you rode out your high, only ceasing the movement of your hips when it became too overstimulating.

A shocked laugh left you, and you slumped forward. That seemed to be the last straw for the couch, the furniture collapsing beneath the two of you. It nearly caused to tumble off his lap, but you felt his hands secure under your thighs. He stood, holding you like you weighed nothing, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his body. 

He eased you to the ground, the sand digging uncomfortably into your skin, causing your back to arch off the ground to avoid feeling it. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out when you watched him shrug off his jacket, tucking behind you wordlessly. These small glimpses of humanity you’d seen from the Ghoul, like when he saw the crib, or when he gave you a way lead you to believe that maybe he wasn’t as bad as you originally believed him to be.

Well, you still hated him, and you were still his captive, but you realized that he wasn’t a complete monster. It was moments like this, where those high walls he’d built to survive in the Wasteland began to crumble, and you could see glimpses of the man you assumed he once was.

He didn’t give you much time to reflect, though, because his lips were crashing against yours, and all thoughts disappeared. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his cock pressed against your folds. He didn’t press in though, and you whined against his lips, moving your hips as best you could to try and get him to move. “Whatdya want, sweetheart?” He murmured, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. 

“You,” you gasped out.

“I’m right here,” he chuckled a bit, and he still didn’t move.

Groaning, you ground against him again, trying to get him to just push himself into you. He groaned, yet he still didn’t move, his resolve stronger than you anticipated. “Fuck me, please,” you choked out, and you could see him smirk in satisfaction. 

He didn’t respond, and you felt him press into you, sheathing into you with a single thrust. Similar noises of pleasure escaped both your mouths, and your fingers wove into the fabric of his shirt, desperately trying to find something to grip onto. He stretched you out so well, and you gasped when you felt his hips press against you. He was so deep inside of you, father than any other person you’d taken to bed, and it overwhelmed you in all the best ways.

“Sugar, you feel incredible.” You babbled something in response, and you hated how proud he looked. He didn’t give you time to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin and your cries of his name filled the room, and you swore if you gripped any tighter on his shirt that it would rip.

Small puffs of air tickled your neck with every thrust, whispers of your name hidden in the gasps. Fingers dug into your waist, most likely going to leave marks in the morning, your once smooth skin littered with marks of him. You couldn't see what your body looked like right now, but you had a pretty damn good idea, and the picture you visualized in your mind had you clenching around him, causing him to falter, albeit it only for a second.

Despite the slight overstimulation you were feeling, you could feel another orgasm begin to form, slowly but surely. Letting go of his shirt, you grasped at his face, pulling back up for another breath-stealing kiss. You were so caught up in the way he continued to thrust into you and the way his mouth slotted against yours that you failed to notice the way one of his hands left your waist. 

You broke the kiss with a startled yet pleased nosed when you felt his fingers begin to work at your clit, rubbing fervent circles into the sensitive nerves in time with the thrusts of his hips. “Cum on my cock, sweetheart. C’mon,” he groaned out, and your head hit the ground, barely softened by the jacket and the sand. 

His name had turned into soft pants, unable to form a coherent thought as he relentlessly fucked you. The added stimulation brought you closer to the edge, and you tried to let him know you were getting close. “Go ‘head, lemme feel ya,” his accent had been cranked up to a hundred, and in any other situation you would’ve found that funny. 

With a final cry of his name, you came again, your vision going white as you temporarily spaced out, the pleasure too overwhelming. When you came to, he had pulled out of you, leaving you empty and shivering. You watched as he stroked himself a few more times before he came all over your stomach.

It was only the sound of breathing in the room now, both of you just staring at each other as you calmed. Relaxing on his coat, you watched as he stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he did. Closing your eyes, you focused on your breathing, jumping when you felt a cloth on your stomach, wiping away his release from your skin. 

He didn’t say anything, tossing the cloth to one of the corners of the room when he was done. He placed your clothing beside you, before sitting and resting against the collapsed remnants of the couch, head rolling back. 

Groaning, you broke free from the post-orgasmic haze you were in, sitting upright. Both pleasure and pain still lingered in your muscles, making your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Slipping on your undergarments, the dampened fabric of your underwear was incredibly uncomfortable, but you gritted your teeth and ignored it. After putting on your bra, you debated putting on the Vault-Tec suit, but the idea of putting it back on made our overheated body cry. 

The Ghoul watched you as you redressed, thinly veiled desire and interest flicking in those eyes. You were now sitting upright on his jacket, and you got up onto your knees, freeing the garment and holding it in your arms. Scooting towards him, you held it out to him with shaking arms, almost like a peace offering. His eyes didn’t leave you as he took it, setting it beside him.

Before you could decide that it was a bad idea, you sat down next to him, shoulders brushing. If he was surprised, he did a good job of hiding. Exhaustion returned, and you felt your eyes begin to flutter close, head bobbing as you struggled to stay awake.

It was your turn to be surprised when you felt him pull your shoulder down, resting your head in his lap. You were even more surprised when he draped his jacket over your shoulders, the material thin enough to not overheat you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze, staring at the half-standing wall in front of him.

“Rest. We’re leavin’ at sunrise.” His voice was hoarse, back to that commanding tone from earlier. 

Getting as comfortable as you could, you let your eyes shut, sleep beckoning you. You had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow, but as you felt his fingers comb delicately through your hair, you knew that he was no longer going to be following his original plan for you.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Can I request a fic where Astarion reacts to GN!Reader who always helps him but refuses to accept his propositions please?

 CW: Dead Dove- for the people who can’t think for themselves and make a decision, no I am not adding specifics to my tags and I don’t have to. You know what game you are playing and you know Astarion’s back story. Put on your big kid pants and get over yourself- if the worst thing that happened to you today was that a fanfiction had a vague CW (which is also not a requirement for anything, it’s common courtesy. You don’t see CW on every book with dark themes, do you?) then you have a pretty damn good life. I’m not paid to write these fanfictions- if you want me to change how I tag things, then start sending me money or 🖕🏻 your bitching isn’t welcome here

I hope you enjoy!

Astarion doesn’t know much about freedom and normal sexual relationships. In fact, he doesn’t know shit about normal relationships period. His entire world is people taking advantage of his body and his lack of freedom- hands scraping at his skin and taking from him.

 You, on the other hand, have thwarted every attempt he has made to please you sexually. 

 You roll your eyes at his pick up lines and his nicknames, you flirt back, but you never take it further when he asks. He asked you to spend time with him in his tent the night before- his plans to seduce you had been destroyed when you brought Lanceboard, he tried to get you to put it away, you suggested he is afraid to lose, and he had to prove that he is definitely not afraid to play Lanceboard with anyone! Especially you- who he was certain he could beat. It ended up being five draws and you won at the end, but it was the most fun he has had in a long time. 

  It’s been three weeks of traveling and his plan to wrap you around his pinkie finger has gone abysmally. Yet- you keep helping him. 

 You aided him in killing the Gur, give him blood as he needs it and make sure everyone knows you support and trust him. The rest of them have the right idea not to, but it warms something deep within him to know you genuinely do trust him. It shouldn’t- you are a means to an end. 

 And yet- here he is, sitting next to you at the campfire and just enjoying your company as you tell him about one of your many adventures before you were swiped up.

 You, the busy body of the group, are exceptionally well traveled and you have been telling Astarion about all the places he needs to see- Evereska, Neverwinter, Althkalta, Waterdeep, Candlekeep- the list goes on and on. 

 Astarion swears he could listen to you talk forever and then some, but it also makes him feel poorly about himself. 

 He has absolutely nothing to offer outside of sex and yet, here you are, offering to take him all around Toril at the end of this journey. 

 “Why?”

“Why what?” You look stunned by his sudden disruption, “why do the people of Daggerford like Cheddar over Mozerrella? I’m honestly not-“

“No- why do you want me to stick around?” His voice comes out more harshly than he intended, “you refuse every proposition I have given you- I haven’t even begun to show off my usefulness and-“

“Usefulness?”

 His eyes snap to yours and you look sad- heartbroken even. Astarion doesn’t need your pity! He doesn’t need more from you when he has already taken so much.

“Well of course,” he scoffs, “you provide me with food- literally- and you talk to me all the time and you spend time with me and ask me what I like and about me-

“And you always help me,” he says uneasily, “and you never ask for anything in return.”

 The silence feels defeaning. 

“I really like you, Astarion,” you say softly, “and I know the importance of finding one’s self and Cazador stole that from you. I also know you think the only positive thing about you is sex and that’s why I refuse to have it with you.

“If- if we have sex,” you look away, embarrassed and red in the face, “I want it to be because we both genuinely want to and we want to enjoy each other. You don’t owe me anything for my kindness, Astarion, I told you we would get this figured out together that day on the beach and I meant it.

“And if you never return my feelings,” you say quickly, “I entirely understand and that is okay too- I would still love to show you the entire world if you want to continue traveling with me after all of this,” you wave your hands wildly, “has been taken care of because you’re my friend- I hope you may consider me yours one day too.” 

 Your smile is so beautiful and sweet. He could fall into you forever and then some. 

 It takes him and you by surprise when he leans forward and leaves a hesitant peck against your lips. 

“I- I would really like to travel with you,” he whispers, “a-and consider your feelings and friendship returned.”

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1692

Chapter 27:

The coven gasped, some looking behind them at the cracked glass windows, but everyone quickly focused on you; the source behind everything.

Your hands were glowing white, fingers curled into tight fists in a useless attempt to contain your anger; to control yourself, but your magic kept flowing wild.

"No!" You exclaimed, your voice coming loud across the room. You freed your hand from Rio's and pushed her to the side, not allowing her to keep you back any longer. "You were supposed to be a descent mother and protect her!"

You stood in front of the coven, your chin held high as your eyes held this darkness within them; a look not even Agatha had ever seen on you.

Evanora flew closer, and as her eyes fell on your form, familiarity flashed across her face. Her gaze was hard, and her lips formed a snarl.

"You!" She pointed a ghostly finger at you. "This is your fault. You were supposed to kill her back then. That was your responsibility, and yet you refused, forcing my coven to take the risk"

Your hands shook. "I was a child!" You argued. "I didn't even have my first bleeding, and yet you dared to ask me to kill your own child!"

Agatha looked at you with wide eyes, never knowing this little piece of information. She never knew that her own mother had approached you, asking you to take her down

Back then, you truly were a child; no older than 11. You had been close to Agatha, and yet she was surprised that you so openly refused to acknowledge or follow Evanora's orders.

After all, that woman had allowed you to reside within the grounds of her coven and even invited you in different coven rituals.

One would expect you would do anything to thank the woman that kept you sheltered and part of a coven when all the other witches would have kicked you away.

Yet, even then, you refused her. Even then, you chose Agatha over anyone else. Even then, you believed Agatha was kind in her heart, and she was not the monster her mother saw her as.

"This was what you were created to do!" She so openly and harshly reminded you. "To exterminate evil contaminating the purity of witchcraft, " Evanora continued. "This was your responsibility "

By now, your magic was seeping through your clenched fingers; glowing bright and flowing up in extended branches. The blood red moon was glowing behind you, its haunting light entering through the cracked window as your emotions started to get the best of you.

"It was your job as a mother to help her!" Your vocid grew even louder, tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as frustration was building up. "You were supposed to nurture and guide her. To show her the right path. Instead, you tricked her on her very own birthday! You used her loyalty to you and tied her to a post, ready to execute her the day she had just turned 18!"

There were a few faint gasps from the coven who did not know the details of that fateful night. They didn't know the true darkness hidden behind the 'salemite masacre'.

But you knew, for Agatha told you everything. You knew it was her birthday. You could still remember how happy she was; ready to be fully initiated into the coven.

You remembered how happily she thought her mother had finally softened up to her. You remembered how you tried to persuade her not to go, fearing Evanora had no good intentions.

And, of course, you remembered how the same night she had come to you; shaken and on the verge of tears. You would always remember as she told you what happened and how her coven was dead because her powers protected her during her execution.

"You should have acted like a mother. Not the selfish, ignorant, prideful and disgusting cruel whore you truly were" you added, leaving Evanora no place to argue. "You. Failed. Her!"

The windows were suddenly destroyed, pieces of glass falling inside and causing your coven to yell and surprise and faint fear; taking steps closer to avoid the shower of glasses your magic had brought upon everyone.

"Shouldn't we stop her?" Teen asked, staring to worry that your magic would drop the whole cabin on their heads.

"I don't think it's wise to interfere," Jen suggested, eyeing your raging magic carefully.

"This is only a fragment of how explosive moon magic can be," Lilia commented, passively informing Alice and Teen; the most clueless ones.

The tears that had gathered at the edge of your eyes had long dried up, your gaze so cold and threatening that even Evanora floated a step back.

"I dare you, Evanora Harkness," your voice sounded deeper, less humane. "Dare to try and even touch Agatha and I swear on the name of the Divine Mother that I will tear your dark soul into so many pieces that no one will ever be able to bring you back"

Rio let a low whistle, looking at you impressed and proud; if not, slightly turn on. You had never used that voice of yours before, and now she truly wished to hear it again.

She had been unaffected by the destroyed windows, having seen first hand what took place when you truly let go; the consequences of anything alive and not that was unfortunate enough to get caught in the blast of your magic.

She might not be able to harm Evanora as a ghost, but you could. It was a blood full moon, the veil so thin that the purity of your powers could cause harm on a restless soul.

Though it was unclear even to her if you truly knew that or were simply bluffing; trying to keep Evanora away from her daughter.

At the same time, Agatha was looking at you in silence. She knew of the nature of your powers, of how volatile they could be, but even she was impressed by the show of power.

That dark, inhumane tone made her hair stand on end, in a good way. The way your hair moved from the wind and force your magic was causing as it glowed white all around you was a sight she would never forget.

But above all, Agatha felt proud and genuinely thankful for having you by her side. The way you once again defended her without a moment of hesitation, ready to stand between her and danger; ready to support her when she truly needed.

If she had not developed feelings for you all those centuries ago, she definitely would have known.

And as Agatha noticed Evanora floating further back, careful of your swirling magic; she grabbed her chance to head for the wooden stairs and join her coven.

Yet, before her socked foot could leave the last step of the stairs; a voice spoke up, and by the triple Goddess, Agatha had started to hate listening to her.

"We have to go." Jen said, making everyone look at her. "There's no flood here. There's no fire. The only danger to us in this trial is Agatha Harkness." She explained, doing her best to avoid your sharp gaze or focus too much on your glowing powers.

Immediately, Agatha lost the grip on her usual mask. "Take me with you." She said but saw the looks Jen and even Lilia gave her. "Don't. Let me. Please. Don't go!"

Teen put his foot down. "We can't leave her here. No, no."

"Take me with you. Please." Agatha's voice cracked as Jen started to walk further and further back. "Don't leave me with her. I can be good. Please!"

Your heart felt like being broken into a thousand pieces at hearing that begging tone again. You heard that inner child that was betrayed and abandoned by her family and coven once...

Now about to be abandoned again by the witches she had thought as her coven.

You turned your body sideways. "You leave then!" You barked at Jen, doing your best not to move your hands for you knew your magic would blast the potions witch. Though with her attitude, you truly felt tempted. "If you think this will save you, go! I am not leaving her"

Hope spread warmth across Agatha's chest, hearing how strongly you were willing to stay. She looked at Rio as well, seeing her nodding and agreeing with you.

None of her two lovers were willing to leave her trapped with her mother; forever tortured by being possessed and in pain by the ghost of the woman that birthed her.

Before Agatha could truly enjoy the moment, Evanoda made her move.

The ghost had taken advantage that your attention was not on her, and she took over Agatha's body. She knew, after all, you would not be able to stop her that way.

You would not risk harming Agatha, not even when possessed, and Evanora was ready to take full advantage of that.

"Agatha!" You exclaimed, seeing her once again possessed and mentally cursing yourself for not keeping your eyes on the sneaky ghost.

"Leave her alone!" Alice shouted and started to shoot her red and yellow fire magic at Agatha, the power slowly pushing away the ghost from within the body.

You grabbed your chance, and once Evanora was fully out of Agatha's body, you unleashed your gather magic at her.

A thick beam of white light was shot at her with intensity. Evanora screamed in pain, and her hands spread to the sides like a cross while your magic started to crawl over her ghostly form; only to burn it in an ethereal show of power.

You panted faintly and lowered your hands, the ghost of Evanora having faced the full fury and power of your magic; paying the ultimate prize.

After all, you were not a woman who went back on your oaths and promises; especially one serious enough to invoke the moon godess.

Yet the moment of joy and victory remained short as you took notice what was happening close to you.

"Alice, no!"

"Knight of Wands"

"No!"

[iloveyanderes]

Even more sagau and/or yandere ideas!

(realizing now i'm straying from the yandere side but it’s still there so its fine)(also heads up I will be posting the whole collection onto my ao3 account hellomelon8

1.my personal favorite, it’s a sagau idea where arlecchino picks up a random child who ends up being the creator, nobody knows at first so arlecchino thinks she’s just picking up some random ass child she found in the woods. When brought to the house of the Hearth the houses luck suddenly increases tenfold, the enemies stop being hostile, actually becoming rather friendly and help them out a lot. So many rare plants and herbs appear around the house, sickness vanishes, it was all so weird. At the time arlecchino hadn’t though it had anything to do with the child as she brings so many children to the house, all with their weird quirks and actions, trouble and blessings. But then one day the child gives her a flower-which arlecchino secretly keeps because well all know the dad of year secretly cares about her children. after 1 week the flower does not wilt, not 2, not 3, not 4. It nevers wilts again, but yet again arlecchino brushes it off.

But then one day the child gets a papercut and a droplet of golden blood falls out. Then all of a suddenly arlecchino realizes; ‘holy shit, this is the creator’ and now has to protect her child from a bunch of weirdos who are obsessed with the creator in such freaky ways.

2. Platonic Yandere Papa Neuvillette with a baby dragon reader, finding baby dragon reader while they were still in there egg. As we all know Neuvillette spoils that baby rotten as he had actually found another member of his race. I’ve seen all those fanarts why dragon Neuvillette is hugging someone with his entire body and i’d imagine him doing that to baby dragon reader, also when a mama cat corners her kitten and holds the kitten down while giving them a bath is what i’d imagine him doing. Neuvillette would be fiercely overprotective, even more than he is with the melusines. I’d imagine baby dragon reader would be very annoyed by this, especially when they’re trying to sleep and neuvillette is just towering over them. Overall it’d probably be like the relationship of a baby cat and an adult cat who have a bond.

3. Yandere fontaine trio x female dazai reader, reader also grew up in the house of the hearth and ended up committing so many violent crimes at a young age due to the previous head’s influence. Then one day one of the reader’s friends die and she completely changes her attitude, instead trying to kill herself while commiting good deeds as some sort of atonement. Meets lyney, lynette, and freminet. They become yander and are constantly trying to stop the reader from killing herself. Imagine reader sulking from a failed attempt at suicide not noticing the three idiots who had just narrowly sabatoged there plans.

4.another sagau-ish idea except it involves twins and a classic manhwa plot(ashtarte cough cough). Where a prophecy comes that a pair of twins will be born, one with powers of light who’d lead teyvat to greatness and the other with the power of darkness who’d destroy teyvat. I’d also like to throw reincarnation into this, you get reincarnated as the twin people perceive as ‘evil’, treated awfully and thrown into the abyss in hopes the abyss will just kill you while your twin (someone who also is reincarnated-who treated you awfully in your past life and was a bully) lives in luxury as they’re worship as a ‘savior’ so naturally you team up with the abyss, use your powers of ‘darkness’, team up with snezhnya, kill your twin and then take down celestia along with all the other archons as some sort of revenge. Ah, the villain reader. classic

5. Travelers aunty reader anyone? Aunty reader who took care of lumine and aether after their parents died. After a while the twins insisted that they wanted to travel on their own so the reader let them(then they immediately got trapped in teyvat) 500 years in the future aunty reader is super worried and goes down to teyvat to find the traveler. Of course the traveler is nothing short of relieved when they finally finally find someone they trust. So basically platonic yandere traveler traps there aunty down in teyvat with them because they miss her so much and who knows? Maybe other people might become yandere?

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey can I request a wanda x fem reader where wanda and reader are dating and wanda knows this sweet side of the reader but one day the avengers go on a mission and need reader’s help because she is a CEO of a company bigger than stark industries and she is all badass and destroys whomever the avengers need destroyed.would love nat, tony and reader friendship.

The CEO

Summary: Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1440

a/n: I’m sorry I don’t know how to be intimidating

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

“He’s not giving us anything.” Natasha walks into the room, where Wanda and Tony are watching the interrogation room. “He keeps asking for his lawyer.”

“Can’t you like,” Tony imitates punching sounds, “do that to get through to him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “At the end of the day, we don’t have hard evidence he is the behind the organization.”

A particular organization has been tormenting the Avengers for a long time now. They’ve started attacks against people and buildings, destroying many important properties and killing people. Yet, they have always hidden any possible leads.

Until now. They finally caught someone, Mr Blight. The group’s clean up crew made a mistake and left evidence on site, bringing the Avengers to him.

After bringing him to the compound for interrogation an hour ago, they’ve gotten nowhere. He’s smart, he knows what they can and can’t do, which is why they have to think something different before they run out of time.

Wanda stares at screen, deep in thought. “Where did you say he worked at?”

“He is one of the owners of the Blight Industries.” Tony glances at the file they have on him. It’s a thin file. “Do you know him?”

“I think his company works with Y/N’s company.”

“Miss bubblegum’s company?” He frowns, looking at the man though the monitor. “Really?”

“Oh, this’ll be fun.” Natasha grins. “She can help us, right?” She turns to Wanda.

Taking out her phone, Wanda starts texting her girlfriend. “Uh, yeah. I think she could help us.” She mumbles, a bit unsure on bringing her into an Avengers mission. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Wanda and Y/N have been dating for two months, they’re still in very much their honeymoon phase, neither really talking about work things. However, Natasha and Y/N have been friends for a long time. She actually introduced the couple to each other. She also still continuously reminds them of this, taking great pride into making their relationship happen.

“Oh, yeah. She’ll be able to crack him.”

Tony and Wanda both frown. “Am I missing something here?” He points at Natasha. “How will little miss sunshine help us?”

“You’ll be in for a treat.”

Tony pushes Mr Blight forward when the elevator comes to a stop. He is already looking nervous, he recognizes where they are. “Wait.” Tony looks around the building. “Why did neither of you tell me Y/N is the CEO of the biggest company in the US? I’ve been trying to get a meeting with the boss for ages about Stark Industries, but I always get a negative answer.”

Letting out a short laugh, Natasha leads them in front of Y/N’s office. “Maybe your company isn’t that important.” She mumbles, throwing him a look. Knocking on the door, she opens it for Mr Blight when a faint come in comes from the other side. “Don’t shake too much, she can sense fear.” Natasha whispers with a smirk when he walks past her.

Wanda furrows her brows, moving in front of the window. The blinds are mostly shut, but she can see inside the room through a small crack. Natasha and Tony move next to her, the latter being a lot less inconspicuous about snooping.

“Natasha, care to tell us how she’ll help us?”

“She breaks anyone who walks into that room.”

Y/N is working on her computer, completely ignoring Mr Blight walking into the room. He closes the door behind him, slowly making his voice towards the table.

He clears his throat, but Y/N pays no mind to it. “Should I- sit? Or, maybe..”

“What do you usually do when you walk inside someone else’s office, Mr Blight?” She finally lifts up her head from the screen.

Nodding, Mr Blight sits down to one of the chairs. He lays his hands on his lap, though he can’t stop moving them.

“We have been business partners for a long time, have we not, Mr Blight?” Y/N sits on her office chair with the perfect posture, her hands laying on the table. The look on her face is neutral, but terrifying.

Mr Blight clears his throat before answering, so Y/N wouldn’t hear it shake. “Yes, we have.”

“So,” sighing, Y/N shakes her head, “imagine my surprise when I hear you’ve made an enemy out of the Avengers.” She tilts her head, making Mr Blight gulp. “Do you understand how this looks like to my company, that I have worked so hard to build from the ground up?”

“I- I understand, Miss Y/L/N.”

“See, I don’t think you do.” She stands up, leaning closer to him. “You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved by not telling the truth.”

“Respectfully, Miss Y/L/N, I have spoken the truth. I have no ties w-“

“Have you?” Y/N interrupts him. She stands up properly and turns her monitor to face Mr Blight. “You’re aware that I know everything, correct?” He nods. “So, what you’re telling me is, if I open these files over here,” she points towards the files shown on her monitor, “there will be nothing about you deciding to join the organization two months ago?”

His eyes widen. He tries to hide his expressions, but nothing goes unnoticed by her. Mr Blight opens his mouth to say something, anything to save his name, but nothing comes out.

“On the second of September, you made a donation to a charity, which then send out that money to a third party.” She reads through one of the files. “You’ve been making consistent visits to Washington DC once a week, in the guise of visiting family. However, I remember you telling me your family move abroad last summer, is that right?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“But, what Mr Blight?” Her voice raises a notch. She stares him down, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you have some other excuses? Or lies perhaps?”

He shakes his head in defeat. “I will talk to the Avengers.” He mumbles. Y/N raises her brow, waiting for something more. “And I will tell them everything.”

Y/N smiles, expressing him to stand up, which he does. “A pleasure. Remember to tell Blight Industries we aren’t working together anymore before you get locked up, would you?” She shakes his hand when he doesn’t know what to answer, before pointing to the door. “You may leave.”

Mr Blight opens the office door, getting grabbed by a SHIELD agent and pulled away. Natasha, Tony and Wanda stay behind, stepping into the office.

“Hi!” Y/N has a wide smile on her face as she waves at them. “So glad to see you guys. I hope I was able to help.” She kisses Wanda before hugging Natasha.

Tony is looking at her with an indescribable look. “You, are a fraud.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N frowns, tilting her head to the side.

“That!” Tony points at her. “You did that while talking to Mr Blight and looked scary, just like witchy woo over here when she does her thing, and now-“ he moves his hands around her and Wanda, “now you look like a cinnamon roll.”

With a grin, Natasha throws her hand over Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “She has been my secret weapon for years. You don’t understand how many people she has broken.”

Wanda stays quiet as she listens to the conversation. She has only seen the sweet side of Y/N, but she isn’t necessarily disappointed by the other side either.

“I think I like you even more now.” Tony pats her arm. “Now, do you think we could talk about a collaboration between Stark Ind-“

“No.” Y/N states. “There’s a reason I always tell you no.” She smiles sweetly at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I still have work to do.”

“Thank you for your help, I’ll see you later.” Natasha grabs Tony’s suit and pulls him away from the room, leaving Y/N and Wanda alone.

“Hi.” Y/N smiles.

“Hey.” With a brow raised, Wanda stares at her. “That was different.” She mumbles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist. “I kind of liked it.” Using her magic, she closes and locks the door.

“Oh, really?” Y/N grins, her arms going around Wanda’s neck. She giggles as Wanda starts kissing her neck while pushing her backwards. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Wanda lifts Y/N, so she’s sitting on the table. “I have some time.” With a smirk, she goes right back to attacking her neck.

[novantinuum]

mmmmmmm. messy ass ramble thoughts ahead. this is not coherent, it is 1am, you have been warned.

so i've been thinking about that "i can fix anything! i can just keep messing up and fixing things forever, and you'll never have to know or think about any of it!" line during steven's lil manic panic moment in the ep everything's fine in the context of like... og SU episodes

this whole lil manic slip is one that's like... it seems a little extreme for him as a character at first, when one looks at the situation on surface.

but i think it really does shed a LOT of light onto one of his deepest fear. the same fear he's harbored for a good damn deal of the show.

"i didn't wanna hurt anyone!"

this moment comes just a few eps after the S3 finale 'reveal' of rose shattering pink diamond. in that final scene of the season, steven gets 'confirmation' from garnet that this happened, and seems to accept it for what it was- a difficult decision made amidst a treacherous war.

but also, he Doesn't.

because he's the legacy rose left behind. because each and every day he's growing more into his power. because now, with this reveal of rose's decision to shatter on the table, he's putting each and every decision he makes under a microscope.

he had no choice, he claims. she wouldn't let him help her.

he had no choice. it was self defense.

but is that true?

isn't that the same thing his mom probably told herself before ending a gem's life forever?

even though she poofed bismuth and holed her away for suggesting the very same idea??

rose became a hypocrite... so what if HE becomes the hypocrite, too?

see, with steven... i think it's really easy in the main show to sorta... observe all his actions on the mere surface without considering the deeper tickings of his psyche. like... take lars being brought back to life. from audience POV, that's a good deed. steven just saved someone with his magic! positive moment.

but genuinely... i think this was one of the worst moments of his entire life. i think he's still haunted by it- by the fact that he can just "fix" people in that way. and i think fixing jasper's shattered gem only made the specter of that day worse.

steven believes his role is to be the Shield.

the protector.

the one who is willing to do whatever it takes- even up to turning himself in for a crime he didn't commit- to protect his family and his friends.

and like, we all know that it's not steven's FAULT that lars died. BUT- he still died while under steven's protection.

and so the same way steven blames himself for "hurting" bismuth, jasper, and eyeball, he blames himself for killing lars. mentally, he Takes Responsibility for his death. yet another tick mark in the box of horrible "mistakes" he's made, yet another tick mark landing him just a little closer to the rose he's desperately trying not to become.

and worst of all... it's a mistake he "covers up."

because his tears are able to bring him back from the dead entirely.

and years later he realizes this is true for gems as well ;-;;;

so yeah, i absolutely think lars' death was also at the back of his mind when he said that line at the beginning

what steven saw in the depths of his mind as he was panicking there was him slipping down a slippery slope of violence that he couldn't escape from

first, causing harm to other gems and calling it self defense...

then, letting your friend die protecting YOU when you're the one who should be protecting him and facing NO consequence for this misgiving because you bring him back to life

then, expressing anger so visceral it can shatter floors, destroy whole rooms, flip vans. out of control. inexcusable.

then... outright shattering a gem in a duel while training to hone that anger. once again, facing NO consequence because you bring her right back.

then, that sudden, terrifying thought of "what if i shattered white diamond"

like, steven has absolutely no framework by which to separate his actions from genuine desire or just plain abstract thought.

he has no framework by which to understand the beautiful tool of adding a "man would it be fucked up or what-" to the beginning of those sorts of intimidating, dark musings.

he has no framework by which to understand the complexities of his trauma, and the way in which genuinely fighting back against someone he once called an enemy might feel empowering- instead, it would seem he's disgusted in retrospect with how deep he pressed into that fight, how much a part of him ENJOYED it, all because of the horrid destination it led to.

anyways at this point steven thinks he has now become the Hypocrite like his mom, and that he's just destined to hurt everyone around him forever but never be punished for it and Ouch

this post has no end, these were just ramble thoughts, the end. goodnight. i am sleepy and need to prepare to make Wig tomorrow bc OH boy i am con crunch.

yeehaw .

[imtryingbuck]

Too Late part two

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader. Fem!Reader x Conrad (whoever you picture)

Summary: part two of Too Late

Word count: 2,613

Warnings: angst. fluff. lies? Steve makes an appearance. 

Part 1

Masterlist

Now in the two years since she had left she finally felt at peace, she found herself.

~~~

For close to a year Conrad would visit Y/n in her little sanctuary that sat alone in the woodland area, for those months Y/n didn’t trust him of course she didn’t he was a member of Hydra, the bad guys who spend years and years destroying the goodness that was James Buchanan Barnes, destroyed and killed those that didn’t bow down to them and abide by their rules.

And while yes Conrad decided not to put a bullet in her head like she had asked for him to do, choosing to open her eyes to the betrayal, he chose to give her a second chance in life he was still the guy apart of a terrible organisation.

Even though she didn’t trust him she did have to admit that she appreciated his help, appreciated his company. Every time he visited he brought supplies and food for her, he even showed up once with a van that had a ray of different livestock in the back so she could start a little farm up like she had wanted to do.

Y/n tried, she really did try to not get too comfortable with Conrad but he was just so easy to talk to about everything and anything, she appreciated that he never once mentioned Steven and his betrayal with Natasha. She hated how funny he was, she hated how much she missed him when he left to go back to the monstrous organisation that was Hydra. Hated how he occupied her mind when he wasn’t there helping around the house fixing things and only accepting a nice cold glass of homemade lemonade from her.

She definitely hated how much he looked so attractive when he chopped fresh firewood for her.

She especially hated that.

It wasn’t fair, he was supposed to be the enemy yet he had treated her better in those few months than anyone had ever.

It had been exactly four months, three weeks and two days since Conrad had last been to visit and she hated it. Though she had the many animals to keep her company she had to admit she was kind of going a bit crazy.

Molly the cow would look at her like she was insane when Y/n would be perch upon on the wooden little stool that Conrad had made for her, talking to the cow as she milked her. Y/n swore that one time the black spotted animal rolled her eyes at the woman once.

Y/n walked into the pigpen fussing over the month old piglets that were the most precious little things she had ever laid eyes on. When her leg was knocked she looked down to see Grumpy, named perfectly for his grumpiness, she patted him on his head telling him to hold on for food, chuckling lightly when he snorted in response. The moment she finished putting the food in the trough she heard the unmistakable sound of a car coming up the gravelled driveway.

Nobody had ever come up to where she lived apart from…

“H-he’s back” she mumbled to herself before dropping the bucket with a clank and running out finding herself nearly tripping over her own foot when she had to turn back around to shut the gate of the pigpen.

Running to the front of the house she saw the same car Conrad always came in, her eyebrows pulled together when she saw two figures sitting in the front, as the car got closer her heart started beating faster as she noticed Conrad and another figure she had come to know because of Steve.

“Y/n-“ Conrad shouts as soon as he gets out of the driver side door “-god I’ve missed you” he jogs over to her and wraps his arms around her frame, pulling back when he notices she doesn’t hug him back but is staring at the other person who stands by the car. “I can explain everything I promise”

“It’s nice seeing you again Y/n.”

Two sets of eyes moved back and forth as Y/n paced around in front of them. One was nervous the other didn’t care about her reaction, well lack of one. Conrad went to speak but the other person in the room shook their head.

“Y-you lied-“

“I didn’t lie-“

“You didn’t tell me the truth!”

“Because I couldn’t, I’m sorry Y/n”

“It’s true Y/n. He couldn’t tell you the truth”

The truth being that Conrad was never a member of Hydra but a SHIELD agent. He had been undercover for four years. There were a handful of agents that were sent undercover and Conrad was one of them, the plan was to take Hydra down from the inside.

From what Conrad had said that it had worked, they had successfully captured members of Hydra one by one.

“Bu-but your meant to be the enemy”

“Yet you trusted him”

Y/n’s eyes squinted at the man sat next to Conrad “I understand that I’ve got real bad judgment when it comes to trusting men Fury”.

“I understand your confused but to be honest Conrad never lied to you-“

“I’ve been thinking he’s the bad guy from the moment he kidnapped me!”

“And yet you trusted him enough to let him come into your home”

“I-shut up. Okay so why are you telling me now?”

“I’ll let him fill you in on that. I’m going to go, it was nice meeting you again Y/n, truly. Goodbye”

Y/n watches Fury stand up fixing his trench coat before nodding to both of them then leaving. Taking the car with him. Leaving with a promise, promising her that Steve doesn’t and will never know that she’s alive.

Conrad’s eyes never moved away from Y/n, patting the seat next to him sighing a breath of relief when she sits. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth about me, I wasn’t allowed to.”

“No I understand, sorry for overreacting”

“You didn’t-“ he chuckles “I missed you”

“I missed you too”

“So I erm I-I told Fury I want to retire and he’s accepted it, bu-but I was wondering i-if you would have me, here I mean”

“You want to say here? With me?”

“I haven’t got any family anymore a-and I feel happy here”

Conrad hated the silence that followed, he was about to tell her that it didn’t matter, that he would still come to visit, that he was sorry for overstepping when she finally spoke.

“We’ve got piglets. They are the cutest things ever, want to come look?”

“”We”?”

“Well yeah you live here now so…”

He moved so fast wrapping his arms around her, bringing her into his chest. Mumbling thank you over and over again.

In a way Conrad went off script when he took Y/n from her shared apartment with Steve, it was Hydra’s plan all along. The plan was to find a way to destroy Captain America. They had heard from a Hydra agent that was undercover with SHIELD that America’s golden boy had a girlfriend but was cheating on her with the black widow. The plan was to use Y/n as a way to get Steve to stop destroying their ‘hard work’. They were going to blackmail him, telling him that they won’t tell Y/n about his straying ways as long as he did what they said.

It was foolproof as the double agent told them that Steve was in love with Y/n.

Even though he had been cheating on her with someone she thought was her friend.

But Conrad knew that Hydra would hurt her just to get Steve to break. And that wasn’t something he could stand by and watch so he told the team he had been in charge of that he had gotten word that it was time to go ahead and kidnap Y/n. He did have to admit that it was admirable that she put up a fight against ten men who were ten times bigger than her, he hated it when Mitch punched her.

Due to having eyes on him he had to act as if the tears that were coming out from her pretty eyes wasn’t bothering him when she watched her boyfriend and friend sleeping together. When the Avengers showed up he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as Steve tries to make a pathetic attempt at explaining his betrayal. He did have to force himself to stifle the laugh that tried to make its way out when Natasha had tears in her eyes hearing that she meant nothing to Steve.

Conrad’s heart clenched at hearing that she was pregnant because she had already asked him to kill her, a thing that he agreed to do even if he didn’t want to. But hearing that she had lost her unborn baby made his heart clench even harder.

Getting her out of the rundown facility was easy as his team were to focused on keeping their eyes and guns trained on the Avengers. Getting her to the farmhouse that sat alone in the middle of nowhere was easy even if she was driving him mad when she kept asking him where he was taking her.

Fury found out that it was Conrad that had ‘killed’ Y/n a few months back when he had to meet the man to talk about how the progress was going. Fury was angry. He had met Y/n a handful of times he thought she was sweet, nice, definitely didn’t deserve to have her life to be ended the way it was. That was until Conrad told him the truth.

For the four months, three weeks and two days since he hadn’t seen her it had drove him insane he wanted so badly to reach out to her and let her know that he was thinking about her, that he was definitely coming back to her. Fury made him go no contact with her until the dust settled around them.

Conrad begged Fury not to let Steve know about Y/n being alive or where she was, Nick wasn’t a stupid man he knew that Conrad had clearly grown fond of Y/n. Finding out what Steve had done, he gave the man pacing around in his office his word. Steve would never find out.

“Con! We’ve got a runner!” Y/n screamed trying to chase after one of the pigs who decided to make a run for it. “She’s coming your way”

“I’ve got eyes on her! I’ve got her!” He cheered picking up the animal, who actually sighed in defeat.

“Shes so fast it’s unbelievable”

“I know, she was on a mission to get away” he laughed placing the pig back down into the pen.

“Her mission fail- what?”

“I love you”

“I love you too”

“Gimme a kiss- wait…”

It had been two years since Conrad had joined Y/n at the farmhouse after retiring, in those two years Conrad had confessed his feelings for her, he understood that she probably needed some time since how her last relationship had ended so he was completely shocked when she jumped into his arms and kissed him. Through them two years they lived happily in complete ignorance of the world around them.

“What?” Following Conrad’s eyes looking up at the sky she frowned. “That’s one of SHIELD’s jets Con…”

“I know. Stay close to me okay”

“Obviously”

They watch in silence as the jet lowers on the field just at the back of their home, the door comes open and the ramp begins to descend. They share confused glances at seeing no one making an appearance, when someone finally stands in the doorway Y/n gasps.

It’s been four years to that day since she last saw him. Those four years weren’t kind to him honestly. His hair was longer and he was even sporting a beard. He looked bigger in muscle though his face was slimmer, his once bright blue eyes were now sunken and dull.

“H-how did he find us?” She whispered unable to move her eyes away from him.

Steve Rogers had found them.

And unfortunately was now making his way down the ramp.

Since Y/n had her eyes trained on his approaching figure she didn’t notice the rest of the Avengers making their exit from the jet. Even Loki and Bruce were there.

“You-you made out that you’ve been dead for four years and yet here you are shacking it up with the enemy” his voice was deeper than it use to be.

“How did you find her?” Conrad asked standing in front of her, not liking the way Steve’s eyes moved up and down her body.

“You let me believe that you was dead baby, for four years I’ve-“

“What are you doing here?” She cut him off.

“Fury. He’s not as sneaky as he thinks.”

“Why are you here Steven?”

“I want you back” Steve states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not happening. Leave all of you”

“Baby I made a mistake-“

“Don’t come any closer Rogers. I mean it” it’s now Conrad’s turn to interrupt him. Steve cocks his head to the side and laughs. But does as the other man says.

“He’s Hydra baby-“

“He was undercover for SHIELD. Please leave now”

“Is that what he told you?”

“It’s what Fury told me. Leave”

“Just come home okay, I can be better please baby I love you”

“I’m already home. Tony, Bucky please get him gone”

Bucky looks at her with an unreadable expression on his face “it’s nice to see you again Y/n/n. Come on Steve she’s happy here let-“

“No. No because she isn’t. She can’t just run away and pretend she’s dead-“

“You was cheating on me Steven. With my so called friend as well. I’m happy here, I don’t want you anymore”

“Natasha meant and still means nothing to me baby, it was a mistake, one that I want to make up for. Please just come home”

“I don’t care, I stopped caring about you and her a long time ago. I won’t ask-“

“Just come home!” Steve shouts cutting her off.

“She is home! Just leave and move on”

Standing there Steve shakes his head slowly before looking back up to Y/n. “D-do you really love him?”

“I do”

“Does he make you happy?”

“He does”

Nodding, defeat and acceptance written on his face. “I really am sorry for everything I did Y/n, I-I never wanted to hurt you, I’m sorry truly.”

Leaving Conrad’s side she walks closer to Steve, standing in front of the man who she loved so much, the man who broke her heart. “I forgive you Steve, I’m happy now. Conrad is a great person and he makes me happy”

“I’m glad. I-I’ll always love you Y/n. Goodbye” Steve says before walking backwards and turning around to walk up to the jet. Everyone all except Natasha nods or waves to Y/n before following their captain.

Watching the jet leave Conrad moves closer to her wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You alright my love?”

“I’m more then alright, come on I’m starving and let’s not forget I am eating for two”

Hand in hand with Conrad she walks into their farmhouse seeing the positive side to seeing Steve again, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

At first Steve cheating on her was the worst thing that ever happened to her, but now four years later she was finally happier than ever before with the man who loves her and their unborn baby.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @vicmc624 | @capsbestgirl77

[shortkinglogan]

Comparing Wade and Logan's healing factors

I keep reading fics that seem unsure about how their individual healing factors work and differ so I'm making this post to help clear it up for anyone who cares (if you just wanna make stuff up for fun more power to ya)

Let's start with

Logan

As far as what he can heal from, it seems as long as there is a small amount of his genetic code, and as long as it gets enough energy, he can regenerated from just about anything.

He needs tons of calories to maintain the healing factor normally.

He can even regenerated from just a skeleton and it only takes a few minutes to happen.

He isn't seen reattaching limbs but I'd assume this is possible under the right conditions, for the same reasons Wade can do it.

There's also the rest of his abilities that are directly effected by his healing factor.

Without the admantium on his bones, his healing factor isn't constantly working, and his senses and instincts become more powerful, making him more likely to go feral. He also cannot regenerated the admantium because it wasn't a natural part of him to begin with.

Feral Logan is like a mental state he regresses into, he has been without the admantium and still not fully feral, seemingly because he has some people to anchor him, though he is still more animalistic like this. He can even be pulled back out of that mental state by just the scent of someone he cares about.

Wade

His healing is very similar to Logan's, yet also very different.

Wade also can regenerated from just a drop of blood if it can get energy to do so, for Wade, instead of an energy crystal thing, it's Logan's energy, growing off him like an ear on a mouse.

His healing factor works about as fast as Logan's as well able to regenerated quickly when needed. Unlike Logan though, Wade has been seen reattaching limbs instead of just growing them back, but it makes sense both could do it, Logan just keeps getting those dismembered limbs thrown miles away or destroyed so he didn't get a chance as far as I know to do the same as Wade.

Now this i see being weirdly interpreted and I feel like I know what's going on.

Its not a "dying factor" it's still a healing factor, it's just weird because of how CANCER works. Cancer is not dead cells, it's mutated constantly growing cells, so a healing factor would not pick that up as something to kill off or heal from, so wades cancer just spread until his entire body, skin bones and all, are nothing but cancerous cells, and stopping the cancer stops the healing because it stops the cells from regrowing, this, stopping his healing (of he wasn't made of cancer he may still be able to heal even if the cancer was stopped)

What his healing factor is constantly working on however is the effects of all this cancer on his body, he probably experiences a different organ failing on him and regrowing almost every day. So what would happen if he had no cancer to make his healing factor constantly work? Could he go feral too?

Short answer no, in fact, Logan's feral state is more because of his other abilities than the healing factor, I feel like a Wade without the cancer would be like Nicepool, not in constant pain and trying to cover it up, not mentally unstable due to many brain tumors, and doesn't really have a reality hole in his brain.

Also in the comics at least, not MCU Wade, he is cursed with immortality by Thanos cause he was jealous Wade was with death romantically, so he literally cannot die, and the healing factor is no longer even a real player in his inability to die.

So in conclusion

Their healing factors work basically in the exact same way, just has a different effect on each of them due to their respective personal traits (cancer brain vs animal brain)

Neither is better than the other, they are equals, at least until Wade starts mackin on death and becomes immortal.

You just can't kill them without starving them first, and even then we know Logan will eat himself (and feed his flesh to Wade) before allowing either to starve.

Side note, they definitely can age (or at least, Logan does, Wade being immortal and all can't now) even with the healing factor, it doesn't stop aging, but it does make him able to live WAY longer than any normal human. Gotta give some love to old man Logan.

If anyone thinks I've missed something or has theories for things that aren't solid confirmed that differ from my own please lmk! 💙💛

[ronearoundblindly]

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle. 

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties.  For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor 

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank  canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out. 

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

[thatfreshi]

Hiya, I love your writing style! This is more inspo than a request -- but you know how there's posts floating around about how Astarion's disdain for heroics and good-alignment characters is really a reflection of his feelings about no one ever helping him or rescuing him? What if Tav worked that out and said, "I'm sorry I took so long" -- or something to that affect 👀👀

I imagine this takes place in act two, but before you meet Araj

tw - gore

Recommended Song: Your Power - Billie Eilish

You woke up to a startled shout in the camp, somewhere to the left of your tent. You're not necessarily a heavy or light sleeper, but this would've woken anyone up. There was a fight somewhere, and soon after you realized the shout came from Astarion. Sure he could be mouthy, but loud? It's not really his thing. You grab a knife from beside your bedroll, off to investigate the sudden kerfuffle. When you get there though, Astarion has handled the camp intruder, who is now lying dead on the ground. He doesn't notice you at first as he investigates the stranger's bags, looking to see if he had anything of importance.

"Are you alright?"

Your voice sends shivers up his spine. He's not used to kind questions, at least ones without poor intentions.

"No, I am dead and splayed all over the grass Tav. Shame you didn't help me fast enough! Guess you're not so great at playing hero all the time."

At first, you read this as his normal shitty banter, but there's a spite behind his words, bile.

"Did he-"

"Nope, didn't do anything, I am fine! You may go back to sleep now and dream of all the damsels in distress you haven't found yet."

You take a couple steps closer, worried about how closed off he's being, worried he's hiding something from you. Although, that wouldn't be rare of him.

"Oh what, you think I didn't kill him? Do you need to double check? Here's some proof."

Astarion then plunges his dagger into the chest of the dead man a couple more times, clearly tense. He doesn't unhand his blade after, and simply meets your eyes.

"I can handle a spare rogue. Now, leave me be."

Anxiety bundles in your chest.

"I... you seem unwell."

He scoffs.

"It's you that's made me so unwell, so if you want to sit there and be concerned, perhaps you should look in the mirror."

Where was this coming from? You take a couple more steps, and he turns his blade on you, standing to meet your stance.

"Lower the dagger Astarion."

"Or what? I've been through hell already, what can you do?"

"I don't want to hurt you, and quite frankly I don't know why you'd want to hurt me. I've only ever protected you, assisted you in how many fights, helped you how many times!"

"And that's precisely it. You pass along a silent helping hand, sit there and listen to my woes, pick me up off the ground when I'm wounded, and for what?"

You're taken aback. What kind of question is this? Who would ask something like that?

"Because I care!"

"No. Because you want something from me. That's how it always goes, right? I fall into some peril and a kind creature says, 'oh you poor thing, I'll keep you safe,' and then suddenly I am trapped. No, you won't fool me. Kindness is a means to an end, and I will not be that end again."

Your argument has now woken up everyone in the camp, a few souls rubbing their eyes and wondering why you're yelling this late.

"What would I want from you Astarion? We all want the same thing, the tadpoles gone, the Absolute destroyed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I don't know how you don't see that!"

"Then why sleep with me at the party?"

He has now officially aired your business out to the entire camp, but no one says anything. You think about the question, wondering what he could possibly mean.

"I... I slept with you because you offered and I thought it would be fun, and-"

"And what? Because you wanted to hold something over me?"

"No! Because I... because I think I'm falling for you."

Astarion is frozen for a moment, because you seem like you're being genuine right now.

"You know I've used those tricks on everyone in the book, right? Thousands of people have gotten the 'I love you' spiel, you're not special."

A few tears come to your eyes.

"No, it's not that. You say pretty things, sure. But there's something about you, your voice, your eyes... you're, comforting. And when you said you wanted to have sex I figured it might be my only chance to be that close with you, because you're so damn guarded. I guess I was right."

He sheathes his dagger.

"I know you're not used to people being nice, but I like being nice! Especially to you. I know you're trying to keep yourself safe, I don't blame you, but what's the point in freedom if you don't try to use it to live a little?"

Astarion meets your eyes again, tearing up a little.

"The second I drop my guard, I'll have the rug pulled out from under me, the other shoe will drop Tav. I'm not going to take the chance that you're that other shoe."

You try to close the gap between the two of you.

"But wouldn't it be so freeing to just try? You know I see it right? Those little smiles that cover your face when you think I'm not looking. Why can't we just try?"

You try to reach out for his hand, and he hesitates.

"It would be so easy for you to use me."

"I'm telling you I won't, I promise."

"Promises are often empty in my experience."

You try to catch your breath, wiping the salty streaks off your face. When you're ready to give up and tell him to forget you ever said anything, he takes your other hand in his.

"But maybe... just maybe you're right. Trying, it does sound nice to try."

You hold yourself back from squeezing his hand, not wanting to scare him off from the interaction.

"I know you think my whole do-gooder thing is a ploy, and I'm sorry that you've been lied to, but not everyone promising salvation is out to get you. At least I'm not, and I'm here now. I'm here now."

For so long, you wanted to reach out to his heart like this, feel something real with him. You go to wrap yourself around him slowly, and soon after, he reciprocates the embrace. Astarion doesn't say anything, and just sobs into your shoulder. You move your hand to his hair.

"You're free now, it's okay."

The audience hasn't seemed to leave, shocked by the rather tender moment they've witnessed from their tents. You catch a glimpse of Wyll crying a little at the scene. When Astarion removes himself from your side, he wipes at his eyes.

"So now what? Emotional vulnerability isn't really my thing you know."

You both laugh a little.

"Whatever we want I guess, whatever feels right.

"And if I... don't know what feels right?"

You smile.

"Then we'll figure that part out together."

[angelixcute]

⋆˚࿔ 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊 𝑻𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒊𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒊 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ :

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ! ── .✦ : 𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙧, 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙈𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙊𝙤𝙘 𝙔𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞, 𝙉𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 !, 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni was a renowned demon slayer, known for his unparalleled skills and unwavering determination to eradicate all demons that crossed his path. But behind his stoic facade, Yoriichi harbored a dark obsession with { }, a young demon slayer who had caught his eye during one of their missions together.

{ } was oblivious to Yoriichi's twisted affections, believing him to be nothing more than a mentor and ally in their fight. But Yoriichi's feelings for { } ran far deeper than mere admiration or camaraderie. He was consumed by a possessive love that bordered on madness, willing to do anything to keep { } by his side.

As the days passed, Yoriichi's obsession only grew stronger, his every thought consumed by { }’s beauty and grace. He watched from the shadows as { } trained and fought, his heart aching with longing and jealousy whenever they interacted with other demon slayers. Yoriichi knew that he could never truly possess { }, but he could not bear the thought of anyone else laying claim to the object of his affection.

The scent of cherry blossoms hung heavy in the air, their delicate petals swirling around the crimson-clad figure of Yoriichi. His eyes, usually bright with a gentle warmth, were clouded with a grief that mirrored the storm brewing within his heart. He had watched you for what felt like an eternity, his heart aching with a love as fierce as the sun. But you, his beloved, saw only the simple kindness in the eyes of the village blacksmith, ignoring the passionate gaze that followed your every move.

You were a radiant light, a burst of sunshine in his world. Your laughter was like music to his ears, and your touch, a flame that ignited a fire within him. Yet, his heart was a desolate wasteland, barren and unyielding, for your affections belonged to another.

“𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙩����𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚.” Yoriichi was not a man of violence, but the thought of losing you to another gnawed at his soul. He had seen the darkness within himself, the cold, unyielding heart that could be unleashed if he were pushed too far. He would protect you, he vowed, even if it meant destroying the world and everyone around you, because without you, there was nothing left to live for. His own brother betrayed him, he was alone, you were all he had and he’s unwilling to let you go.

He became a phantom in the shadows, a silent guardian watching over you. He would stand hidden behind the blossom trees, listening to your laughter. He would watch you from afar, his heart breaking with every smile you bestowed upon the blacksmith.

The sunset was beautiful today, so your lover decided to take you on a walk to enjoy it together. You had already seen it during your mission but still appreciated the gesture, finding it sweet.

The forest was silent, the trees towering around you like silent sentinels. He followed, his breathing and footsteps made no sound in the dense forest, a skill he had honed over the years. While you and your loved one were talking and having fun, he was watching you both from behind a tree, silently observing both of you with his amber eyes.

Yoriichi could feel the jealousy rising up inside him, his eyes narrowing as he continued to watch you interact with the blacksmith. He couldn't help but feel a pang of anger and possession as he observed you two together. He wanted you for himself, and the sight of you with someone else was making him incredibly frustrated and irritated.

You had forgotten something back at your hut and made your way there. As you left your lover, Yoriichi's eyes followed you intently. The moment you were out of sight, he took the chance to sneak closer to where the blacksmith was. His silent footsteps made no sound, and he stayed hidden behind a tree, watching the man carefully.

Yoriichi's heart was racing with a mix of jealousy and possessiveness. He was trying to understand what you saw in the blacksmith, and why you were with him instead of him. He clenched his fists, trying to control his emotions, but the sight of you two together burned in his mind.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

Yoriichi's heart was pumping faster as he watched the blacksmith with a cold, calculating gaze. He had already made up his mind to eliminate the man who dared to take you away from him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing and calm his emotions. He slowly approached the blacksmith, staying hidden in the shadows. The man was completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby, completely defenseless and unsuspecting.

Yoriichi's eyes gleamed with determination and a hint of dark satisfaction, as he closed in on the blacksmith. He continued to move silently, his steps light and stealthy. The blacksmith was still blissfully unaware of the impending danger, focused on his work.

Yoriichi's hand went to his katana, drawing it out with expert precision. The blade glistened in the dim light, ready to fulfill Yoriichi's dark purpose.

Just as the blacksmith was about to turn around, Yoriichi struck with the speed and precision of a snake. In a flash, he had reached the man and cut through his back, dealing a fatal blow. The blacksmith collapsed to the ground, motionless and utterly dead. Yoriichi stood there for a moment, staring down at the lifeless body of the man who had been with you. The deed was done, the threat to his claim on you eliminated. Yoriichi's heart was still racing, but this time with a sense of satisfaction and relief.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him, they came to a sudden stop, just as Yoriichi was about to turn around he heard your horrified gasp.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠." He said calmly, his voice betraying no emotion.

He observed your reaction to the scene, watching as the realization dawned on you. Your horror and shock were exactly what he had expected, but a part of him also felt a strange sense of triumph. He was now free to claim you as his own, without the blacksmith getting in the way.

“𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚?!” You shouted, desperately trying to keep from crying as not to make the situation even more stressful.

Yoriichi approached you, his steps unhurried and deliberate. He came to a stop in front of you, looking down at you with a cool, almost impassive expression. "𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚," he said calmly. "𝙃𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙨."

"𝙐𝙨?! 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙪𝙨!” You screamed, trying to make sense of his words.

Yoriichi's eyes narrowed at your words, his gaze hardening. "𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜," he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙨. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙮𝙚𝙩."

You would have already drawn out your sword by now but unfortunately you didn’t have it on you at the moment. Not like that would make much of a difference, after all he’s leagues ahead of you in strength. You had no other option other than stay with him or run. You chose the latter.

Yoriichi’s eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly turned and ran. He had not expected you to flee, and he was momentarily taken aback. He quickly recovered from his shock and immediately gave chase, his long strides catching up to you in no time. Despite your attempt to escape, his years of training and experience made it almost impossible for you to outrun him.

Yoriichi easily caught up to you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. He spun you around, firmly pinning you against the nearest tree. He pressed his body against yours, trapping you effectively. He looked down at you with a mixture of possessiveness and determination. His burgundy eyes bored into yours, a fire burning within them.

"𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜," he said in a low, blunt voice. "𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙬."

“𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙢𝙚, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝!” You retorted, attempting to break out of his hold by continuing to squirm. “𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚- 𝗠𝗻𝗵?!’

Yoriichi had grown tired of your resistance and decided to take drastic measures. He abruptly cut off your words by forcefully pressing his lips against yours, silencing your protests with a scorching, possessive kiss. He could feel your body stiffen in surprise, but he didn’t let that stop him. His grip on your wrists was firm, trapping you against the tree while his lips moved against yours with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, claiming your mouth as his. He was determined to make you his, whether you wanted it or not.

You tried pushing him off, successfully breaking the kiss but not getting away.

Yoriichi allowed you to break off the kiss albeit with great reluctance. His expression darkened at your attempt to push him away, his grip on your wrists tightening to the point of pain. He leaned in closer to you, his voice low and dangerous.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩," he said “𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚. 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 ."

You felt yourself slowly loosing consciousness, your worries fading away as well as Yoriichi’s voice, everything going black.

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 11/?

Warnings: 18+, fluff, and suggestiveness

*masterlist*

That fluttering feeling in your stomach was unnerving. It happened whenever Azriel was near you. You’d managed to avoid actively garnering interest in anyone for decades, and you’d forgotten what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. After a couple of days of contemplation, you determined that whatever you felt for Azriel was better than having feelings for Tarquin. You rationalized that having feelings for Azriel wasn’t the end of the world, he was a good friend who was there when you needed him. You were sure anything you felt for Azriel would die off since you were friends, nothing more.

Confusing feelings aside, you were thankful for Azriel for never mentioning your conversation by the river. He saw what you felt was bothering you, so he shut his mouth and gave you some distance. While slightly upsetting, avoiding the topic was a gift, it gave you the chance to pretend you never admitted your fondness for the Illyrian.

At first, Azriel was nowhere to be found and then he was suddenly everywhere. It didn’t help that you were now hyper-aware of him whenever he was in the room. You would be on the training ring with Cassian and Nesta and all of a sudden, Azriel was there needing to speak with Cassian or doing some combat training. It took incredible willpower to ensure your eyes don't wander off to Azriel’s sweaty and muscular form. You’d walk into the kitchen looking for a snack and Azriel would already be there making something for himself. You’d sit with your coffee and try to lose yourself in a book, when you looked up, he was gone but a plate of what he made was placed near you. 

The two of you barely talked, the only words you spoke to each other were greetings and goodbyes but Azriel’s gaze was heavy. You felt this cool caress whenever he spotted you, this always threatened to make your cheeks turn red because you had no idea what Azriel was thinking.

On the other hand, Azriel oscillated from pure joy to deprecating anxiety multiple times a day. When you told him that you liked him, he almost shot up into the air in glee but then he remembered his sobering reality. You still didn’t want a mate and you looked like you were about to hurl after your admission. This was not what Azriel fantasized, he imagined the minute you realize your feelings for him, you would jump into his arms and he’d declare his feelings for you.

In the few weeks, you spent in the Night Court, you had regained your usual weight and your muscles were more toned instead of sinewy. That golden glow had yet to make an appearance but it was miles better from when you first arrived. 

He was giving you space but he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to talk to you and be near you. Nesta told him that you had asked Cassian to train together and Azriel burned in jealousy. There was no reason for him to feel like that but he hated the idea of another male coming into close contact with you, even if it was his mated brother. So every time you trained, Azriel was there too, keeping a close eye and making sure Cassian wasn’t pushing you too far.

You were fighting well for someone who was recently injured, Cassian was so impressed that he didn’t have to hold back. With Feyre and Nesta, he had to be mindful not to go too hard but with you, he was having fun and used you for a proper workout. The two of you were practicing hand-to-hand combat and you were destroying him, raining down punches and kicks in a flurry. Cassian gleamed with sweat and he could barely breathe but that didn’t stop the competitiveness, when you met his eye with a cocky smirk, Cassian launched an attack.  

At first, you were able to defend but Cassian was determined to beat you this time. He was throwing everything at you, and finally, with a disorienting punch, you were thrown off before a hard kick to your chest sent you flying. You land on your back with a thud and it takes a second for you to catch your breath. You see a grinning Cassian approaching you on your peripheral only to see Azriel’s towering form take over your vision. 

He kneels and gingerly helps you sit up. “Are you okay?”

Your head was swimming but you weren’t mad, instead you started laughing. It’s been a while since anyone has knocked you down while sparring. 

You stabilized yourself in his arms. “I’m fine! Cass and I just got away with the training.” Laughter halted when you saw Azriel’s grim face, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

He gave Cassian a withering glare and the usually tough General wished he could disappear into the shadows. 

“What the hel were you thinking, Cas?” said Azriel as he thoroughly looked you over. “From now on, I’ll spar with you.”

Your jaw went slack before gaining control of your body. “Oh– there’s no need. I’m fine with Cassian. He’s the general and I wouldn’t want to impose on your du-”

“It’s fine!” chirped Cassian. He should have expected Azriel to act like this if you ever got hurt. “He’s the spymaster, he’s sneaky and will teach more than I could at this point.”

You looked between Azriel and Cassian with a lifted brow. The General was biting the inside of his cheek hoping you would just say ‘yes’ so he could avoid Azriel’s deadly glare while the shadowsinger’s eyes were practically begging you.

“Okay,” you sorely got up from the floor. Shaking out your limbs, you got into a defensive stance. After eyeing Azriel’s glistening tan chest, you went for the attack.

***

Your first spar with Azriel broke the tension, and everything returned to normal. Neither of you mentioned what happened by the Sidra or the night he spent sleeping next to you and you wanted to keep it that way, it’d be easier to forget about your feelings if you ignored it. Your twisted logic surmised that exposure therapy was what you needed. The ultimate goal was to be around Azriel without feeling those butterflies in your stomach.

Since the two of you were finally interacting normally, the inner circle could breathe a sigh of relief no longer having to deal with a broody Golden Warrior and shadowsinger. Rhysand and the others knew something transpired between you but no one dared to ask what happened. Family dinners were much more pleasant whenever you joined in on the banter. 

Tonight’s dinner was full of complaints, Cassian had to deal with the war camps and he always had stories to tell at the end of the day. Rhysand and Feyre were frustrated with the task of finding Bryaxis, Rhysand, and Azriel’s contacts had no idea where he could be. Remembering your short conversation with the death god, Amren suggested that you could help find Bryaxis. Azriel bristled at the thought of you near the creature again, biting his tongue when you enthusiastically offered your help.

The next few days were relatively uneventful and you were thankful for it, since Amarantha’s wrath you haven’t been able to relax and do nothing. Back in Dawn Court, there was always something for you to do but here, you could breathe. You and those who lived in the House of Wind had adapted into a routine, you had melded seamlessly into their lives; it didn't feel like you’d only been there for a few weeks. 

Every night you ended up in the library with some sort of drink in your hand and a companion who you’d sit and read with until it was late and eyes were fluttering close. Sometimes Nesta, Elain, and Mor would join you but they always went to bed early, leaving you alone with Azriel. At first, you were afraid of spending more time alone with him but you thought of it as good practice to teach your body not to react when he was nearby. You had your designated spot on the loveseat while Azriel stretched out on the couch across from you. The House was rowdy during the day so it was nice to spend time with your friend. Half of the time spent in the library was the two of you having a quiet conversation and the other was spent absorbed in the books.

Nesta had lent you a stack of romance books from her collection, and you were flying through them. You might not want to be in love yourself but you liked reading about fictional people falling in love and having tender and fiery moments. The book in your hands had you slyly looking behind to make sure no one could see the pages. The love interest had wings similar to the Illyrians whose wings were extremely sensitive when touched. Your gaze flickered to the male in front of you, your eyes looking directly at the membranous leather illuminated by the fireplace. Clearing your throat, you flipped a page and tried hard to focus on the story. It was going well until the character's blonde hair began to morph into inky black hair with similar features to Azriel. 

You bit your lip trying hard to think of someone else, but the image had already been branded into your imagination, even thinking about Tarquin didn’t help. The scenario in the novel was getting steamy, you imagined it would be hard to do but it was so outlandish that heat flashed through you at the thought.

No amount of magic was fast enough to cover the scent of your arousal. You looked at Azriel hoping he hadn’t noticed but it was too late. He was already smirking.

“What are you reading?” said Azriel, his voice low. “It must be fascinating.”

You sat there stunned, you’d never heard his voice that deep, and you’d never heard him purr.

It took everything in you not to stutter. “None of your business, shadowsinger.”

His demeanor had changed, his hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as if he was restraining himself. You looked at him curiously and then it hit you, his musky scent of cedar and night. Attempts of deep breaths to collect your thoughts were a bad idea because now you were hypnotized, the musk and woodsy smell of you and Azriel intertwining together. 

“It’s one hundred percent my business if I’m going to sit here for the next hour with you sitting there blushing and smelling like that.“

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

Azriel’s smirk stayed as he sat up and fully faced you eager to hear what you had to say.

“The love interest in the book has wings and he and the main character are attempting to have sex in mid-air. It’s so ridiculous they ended up crashing into a mountain, I'm just glad they did it in an unpopulated area. The only logistical way of that successfully happening is if both people had wings and even then, I’d imagine it would be difficult to do…” 

You cursed yourself as intrusive thoughts of you and Azriel in that compromising position filled your head. You stomped it down and saw an amused smile on his lips, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. 

Azriel clicked his tongue and his eyes bore into yours. “That does sound rather arduous and inconvenient. Couldn’t they wait?”

“I guess not, desire is desire.”

He shook his head, “That wouldn’t do it for me. I’d need a hard surface to lay my lover down.”

The Shadowsinger held his breath, he couldn’t believe he said that but he couldn’t help it.

“Agreed, it’s hard to have some control when you’re up in the air.”

Azriel leaned forward, and he found himself actively holding himself back from reaching for you. Your scent of rich lilacs and morning dew made him feel intoxicated. “What do you know about control?”

Instinct moving you closer, you met his gaze with the same intensity, feeling his cool gaze trace your lips and cheekbones. Gods, you wanted to reach over and take him on that chair. The thought of you straddling and having Azriel beneath you made your breath hitch.

“I know enough that I like control and to be controlled,” you said softly.

You swear a rumble was heard from Azriel’s chest. He wished he could cross over and kiss you but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that.

“How peculiar, I like control too… although I don’t know how to feel about being controlled.”

No longer thinking straight, you grinned wickedly at the handsome man before you. “You should try it sometime, it may be euphoric for you, something you may end up liking.”

The two of you sat in silence, gears turning in your head while you fought internal battles. The air inside the library was thick, hot, and reeking of you and Azriel. Combined with your magic, it was making it hard to breathe. Azriel refused to touch you first, he could smell that you wanted him but you had to be fully onboard, and he knew you weren’t there yet. 

While Azriel restrained himself, you were screaming at yourself for wanting this. You could scent that he wanted you too but you couldn’t make him a fling, he already meant too much.

You broke eye contact first, your arms feeling like lead as you reached for the stupid romance book. The faerie on the cover had feathered wings, their familiarity jolting and reminding you of the unusable ones glamoured on your back. Azriel was still looking at you with blown eyes, the hazel barely peeking through. He could not believe the two of you had admitted those things to each other.

You bit your lip as you slowly gathered your belongings scattered around the library, an air of embarrassment hanging in the air. This interaction was going to put a rift between the two of you and you wanted to avoid that, things were finally feeling normal. 

Without thinking, you turned to him once again. “Azriel,” you said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He blinked, your clear voice pulling him from the heated trance. “I have some tasks to do for Rhys but I’m free in the morning.”

“At sunrise, I’ll meet you on the balcony. You’re going to help me fly.”

Surprise flickered in his features but a genuine smile made its way to his face. “Whatever you wish, little dove”

***

You woke up just before the sun rose, slipping into leggings, a backless long-sleeve, and a jacket. You trudged over to the kitchen where Azriel was waiting for you with a light breakfast. The anxiety of flying had quelled any awkwardness about last night's conversation with Azriel, you were radiating with nervous energy and he noticed. In an attempt to distract you, he told you that he had learned how to fly past the appropriate age, his days in the cellar had stunted his growth in many ways. Talk of his past fully woke you up, heart-wrenching at the thought of little Azriel being deprived of a childhood.

You clung onto his neck, his warmth easing your worries as he flew directly to a discreet spot. He told you this was also where he gave Feyre flying lessons. When he placed you on the ground, you realized that your friends hadn’t seen the horrible scars on your back. 

“Azriel… you haven’t seen my back or wings yet… the skin looks bad and the left wing healed a little strangely.”

He smiles softly, “Look at who you’re talking to, dove. Your scars will never scare me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took off your jacket and slowly turned. It’s only been a few months so the scar was still red and angry. Azriel stepped closer and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“It looks that bad, huh? 

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No. It just makes me think of all you’ve had to endure.” Without thinking, his scarred fingers traced the jagged lines, his warm hands leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Dove, you’re stronger than you think. Let me see your wings.”

He stepped back and then you unglamoured them, hissing at the weight and strain of your wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Azriel tells you to flex them out and bring them in, let the wings get used to moving again. While doing your exercise, Azriel saw what you meant by your left wing looking a little different, some feathers growing crooked but it was barely noticeable. Your white and gold feathers were still as beautiful as ever.

You were struggling since your back hadn’t moved specific muscles in months. Once Azriel was satisfied with your warm up he told you to practice lifting off the ground without any aid from jumping or using your legs. You strained but managed to rise a foot off the ground, gaining confidence, you kept trying and lifted off 5 feet in the air. 

Azriel thinks you need a big push so he brings you to a large landing 10 feet in the air. Never in your life did you think you’d be scared of heights but there you were trembling at the 10-foot drop, the spymaster looking small from your vantage point.

“Lift off and then slowly fly down to the ground. You can do it!”

You looked at him warily. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it made you gasp, it was earnest and you wholeheartedly believed him. Four simple words but in that moment, you knew you could trust him with your life.

Emptying your mind, you lifted off and shakily made your way down to Azriel with the grace of a five-year-old Peregryn child. Azriel let out a cheer the moment your feet touched the ground, his excitement making you smile. 

“Do you think you can do that someplace higher?” he said pointing to a larger cliff nearby. 

Fueled with how well you’ve been doing, you agreed. In no time, you were up top and Azriel was waiting in the bottom. Taking a deep breath, you lifted off and tried hard to fly gracefully. Your wings were flapping hard and about halfway down, a muscle contracted, and nerve pain shot out from your back. You let out a yelp and then began falling, Azriel was quick enough to catch you before swerving into a tree.

He carefully placed you on the ground and your hand immediately went up and glowed, trying to detect what had happened. When you couldn’t find anything wrong other than temporary muscle spasms, you ground your teeth together. Frustration coursed through your body making you burst into tears.

Azriel’s eyes grew wide, he was never good with crying females and now he had no idea what to do with his bawling mate.

“Are you okay?” he asked shakily.

You raised your hands to gesture to yourself and the world. “No, I’m not okay! I’m a fucking failure and everything is going wrong!”

Your outburst took Azriel aback. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I’m the High Lord’s godsdamned second, I should be in Dawn taking care of my court but I’ve made so many mistakes my cousin had to send me here to sort myself out. On top of that, I’m a Peregryn who can’t freaking fly because of some stupid mental block. How pathetic can I get?” 

The tears don’t stop coming and you cover your face, mortified that Azriel was seeing you cry like this. Weeks of built-up frustration had finally found its release, you sobbed until your breaths stuttered.

Azriel couldn’t stand hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. He watched you crumpled on the ground and his heart clenched at the sight. “No...” he whispered as he lowered himself to your level. He took your hand and gently pulled you to sit up. Azriel slung an arm to support your sore back while one hand stroked your cheek. “You are anything but pathetic. You were doing so well and I pushed you too hard today, we shouldn’t have done that last drop. I’m so sorry, dove.”

“Don’t be sorry, Az,” you blubbered out. “I checked and nothing’s wrong with me. I’m sore but it was all in my head.”

You leaned against his warm chest as the words sank in. Azriel’s large hands rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing you into a calm state, your breathing slowly matching his. Cool wisps stroked your feathered wings and your lip twitched, Azriel remembered that Peregryns loved getting their wings stroked.

“This mental block…” you began, “I’m scared of losing my wings. Aside from my sword, my wings are all I have left of my father. It’s so stupid but I hid my wings for fear of losing them. I feel foolish because my Peregryn soldiers aren’t part Fae like me. Like you, they can’t retract their wings and here I am complaining about feeling vulnerable.” 

Azriel continued to smooth your skin, his touch leaving tingles. His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes looking at you with so much intensity you couldn’t understand it.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

He vehemently shook his head. 

“No,” his hand traced the scar on your cheek. “You’ve lost so much and all you do is give. No one blames you for acting like this. Let’s end today’s session and pick it up when I come back from my mission. I told you I'd help you fly again and I would never break a promise.”

You merely nodded and let Azriel hold you close as he flew to the House of Wind. He landed gently on the balcony and to your surprise, you see the inner circle eating their breakfast. You bristled at first, wondering if you should glamour your wings but Azriel’s little smile and comforting hand on the small of your back stopped you. You nodded towards your friends and made your way to a chair. The inner circle did their best not to gape at the sight of your wings or the partially hidden scar on your back. They notice your red blotchy eyes but no one says anything when they see Azriel discreetly shake his head, asking his family not to bring it up right now.

You remain quiet during breakfast, your mood slowly improves with every joke amongst your friends. Once the meal was over, Cassian had managed to successfully rope you into the ridiculous banter, your eyes shining with tears of laughter. 

Nesta was brave enough to bring up your wings, she called them lovely and you drew them out a bit to show more feathers. Cassian who was finally able to freely look at your wings burst out with words that sent everyone into screaming laughter.

“So, whose wingspan is bigger?”

The group had decided the age-old question was finally going to be answered. Amren cackled with glee when the House provided a tape measure on the table. Mor squeals in excitement and one by one, she carefully measured every winged fae’s wingspan. From smallest to largest, it went from Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, you and then Azriel. Upon hearing the results, Azriel’s eyes snapped to his brothers and then to you with a wicked grin. You rolled your eyes because the Peregryn’s must have the same thought about wing size and male bodily appendages.

The lord of bloodshed growled in dissatisfaction, insisting that everyone gets measured again. His pout grew when he realized that Azriel did have a bigger wingspan than him. Cassian was never going to hear the end of it.

He looked over to your white and gold feathers and his frown deepened. “If the Golden Warrior was a male, that’d mean her manhood would be more grand than mine.”

This sent everyone into hysterics, Rhysand was howling in laughter as Feyre clutched your arm, making you double over. Azriel was shaking his head but even he couldn’t help reacting to Cassian’s comment. 

As the merriment died down, Rhys and Azriel looked at their watches, their faces growing serious at the thought of the Shadowsinger’s mission ahead. Azriel disappears into the shadows only to emerge a minute later dressed in full Illyrian leathers, his chest, and legs strapped with weapons. 

Waving you over to the balcony, Azriel towered over you, the playfulness from earlier was long gone. Something in your heart twists and you suddenly feel nervous for Azriel.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that…but Rhsyand will fill you in later.”

You peered inside to look for the High Lord only to find everyone had left, leaving you and Azriel alone. 

Eyeing the glinting hilt of Truthteller, you lift a brow at him. “Will you be okay? You’re armed to the teeth… are you going to need back-up?”

His heart leaps at the thought of you worrying about him. “I’m just being cautious, it’s a quick reconnaissance trip. I’ll see you by lunch tomorrow.”

Your mouth twists, something didn't feel right even though there was no reason to feel like that. Azriel was more than capable of a reconnaissance mission so you smiled up at him and wished him luck. Feeling bold, Azriel grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze before swiftly turning around and taking off from the balcony.

Your fingers tingled and warmth seeped onto your face as you watched his figure grow smaller against the cool blue sky. It was odd but you found yourself looking forward to seeing Azriel safe and sound back at the house. You startle when your thoughts about Azriel are interrupted by an obsidian claw knocking on your mental shield. Leaving a crack open, you let Rhysand’s voice fill your mind.

“Meet me in my office… Thesan and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

a/n: I am so so sorry for the long wait. life has been crazy and I hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading xoxo

taglist: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit, @fightmedraco, @annamariereads16, @gorlillaglue25

[buttercupshands]

Chapter 419 Analysis or "How to make allies not pawns" a helpful guide from League of Villains (part 2)

This is now a second part of Tomura character analysis.

With chapter 419 being probably our last time seeing Tomura for a while, since we need to learn what happened with Aizawa now is time to remember that not only bad things exist it Tomura's life.

Warning of spoilers to the whole manga to the point of chapter 419! All of the warnings from My Villain Academy side of manga are applicable

So like... mentions of death, killing other people, manipulation, emotional abuse and many more!

This is Part 2 - See here for Part 1 of this depressing mess

With AFO being so sure that he knows better and actually controlled every single part of Tenko's life creating a Symbol of Fear without any redeeming qualities or even hope for saving after he destroys him. There's one thing that AFO still doesn't understand about Tomura and never did - and that's his allies, or the League of Villains that he created.

Even Kurogiri, being a Nomu who's views do not stray from what AFO thought was important didn't exactly understand what did Tomura think about his allies quick to assume that he thought of them as pawns all the was back in the Training Camp arc. With Tomura making game examples to explain the situation, he still didn't think of LoV as just pawns on a desk, like AFO does.

At the time of USJ arc there weren't many people Tomura called this, which could make you wonder how much it was just AFO's plan rather than Tomura's with him never worrying about those other villains yet getting so worked up over losing Nomu not only because he was strong enough to defend him from All-Might, but treating his defeat as something that must be avenged.

And that was long before Stain even entered the picture, the first of three people who greatly affected Tomura's view of his own motives alongside AFO's manipulation of literally everything else.

Tomura was terrified of fighting All-Might seconds before this and yet as this goes on it's becoming more noticeable - Tomura doesn't care for his own fear or worries as long as he's fighting for someone else's good. Not so different from how Izuku is ready to disregard himself for the sake of others, resulting in many injuries and being so close to dying so many times.

It never was a secret that Tomura is highly dependent on others to keep himself from losing confidence, or even will to fight, getting either too anxious to continue without anyone's reassurance.

And while AFO's "help" was mostly given only with some kind of lesson as we saw in "Tomura Shigaraki: Origin", with AFO literally sitting there, saying how Tenko is weak for not killing but showing some restrain instead suffering himself, never actually helping or comforting him. Only offering what he deemed nessesary for his own plan of making Tenko kill those thugs not caring that he's feeling sick from those hands.

But in USJ it's not AFO who's there with Tomura, it's Kurogiri, who was shown to still have some care that Shirakumo had that even Aizawa and Mic couldn't argue that it's similar to how Shirakumo couldn't just leave a kitten in the rain. No matter the responsibility that it would bring with taking a little one in.

A helpless little kitten that didn't get the help it needs from anyone else. Sounds way too familiar.

This never was a direct order from AFO other than he needs to "tend and protect" for Tomura, which can mean anything from just looking out when Tomura's sick, or protect him from any tread like someone trying to kill him.

Not helping him getting over his anxiety to fight or helping him and guiding him to do better as a leader of the League calming him if it got out of control. Which is somewhat opposite to the way AFO deals with Decay and Tomura's temper - letting him destroy anything even the hands that he gave him, just offering new ones when he succeedes and never really caring for his pawns, he can always get new ones.

And surely not asking if Tomura's well the first thing while talking to Heroes.

Which then leads us back to how Tomura never viewed anyone that he chose as pawns calling them his allies, with the word '仲間' which can even be translated as friends in needed context, but usually used as comrade or ally when Tomura says it. And the same thing is usually translated as "friend" when used by Twice.

In any case Tomura never once doubted his allies since he saw them as reliable, even if his first meeting with Toga and Dabi went so wrong that Kurogiri had to stop them from killing each other.

Up to the point of Training Camp AFO describes as him teaching Tomura to be independent which was at that point too far from the truth than he thought. If Tomura begging for AFO to leave with them is any indicator he actually was even less independent after All-Might almost caught them, making him doubt his own worth as a leader. Even if AFO's defeat finally let him think and wonder about himself and his past.

AFO believed that Tomura just knowing how to recruit people would suddenly make him great at using those new "pawns" which was proven wrong by Overhaul no so long after that. Showing how Tomura believed the same thing AFO did as well, fully trusting his judgement of anything including himself, all the while parroting what AFO says without fully understanding what it means.

Only after losing both Magne and Mr. Compress arm does Tomura slowly start making progress in becoming someone more than AFO tells him to do. Even if as we see in part 1 it used Decay as the ground to make it stable since he believed it was his quirk. And yet.

Even if Tomura didn't simply instruct his allies how to choose who to recruit, he never blamed them for it. On the opposite, when Twice was hard on himself after bringing Overhaul to them Tomura just looked at them for the first time without a hand on his face, or even on himself at all, showing how he trusts them as much as he would trust himself and believes that they can do it.

Taking off hands of his family would mean not relying on the conflicting feelings that they bring into the picture, something AFO would very much dissaprove, since he was now like an equal to everyone in LoV instead of being above them. He

And with this instead of making them blindly trust his decisions and following him from fear or adoration like people had been following AFO or Overhaul, he instead was an equal to them both in failure and victory that wasn't even all that guaranteed yet.

Each one of them had their own somewhat selfish goal that just seemed like they were just using each other without any worry being each other's pawns. Or maybe that's just how AFO would see them.

Yet it doesn't explain why did Toga care for Twice's trauma response of not having his mask on, since he already did his part and all that they both needed to do was done. But LoV was never about following orders or giving them, expecting for the pawns to follow without question. It was about a leader of the group that would stand up for his allies while allowing them full freedom, except when they needed to also accept that something is needed to be done for their own sake.

Like following Overhaul for a while all for cutting off his hands leaving him with nothing. Did that sound like something reasonable to do? No! They literally lost their chance at having sushi instead of just living at some abadoned building all the while occasionally searching for money or food, stealing and killing just to survive all while Tomura was just... waiting.

Nothing was really stable at the start of what we call My Villain Academia and yet no one from the LoV left while their state was... bad at the very least. No matter how AFO was teaching Tomura he was still left mostly waiting for something to happen rather than doing something to change the situation himself.

Sure, Tomura now was a famous leader of League of Villains that suddenly needed to be stopped rather that underestimated like before. But that was in the future, now LoV was laying low on funds and slowly Tomura showing his face became the norm, with him usually never wearing hands around LoV.

And with Tomura becoming more and more comfortable around LoV, the LoV itself was becoming more like a place that had one core value that accepted anything else added without anyone wondering about the past of others, like Compress said. Just some selfish people, who still followed their own needs first.

And yet somehow Toga, who joined just because she loved Stain and disliked how life was too hard found her place in the LoV alongside Twice who just needed to be trusted and trust in return. If Tomura only followed what AFO deemed to be the best way to lead no one would actually feel like they're accepted in the LoV as much as they were.

Goal or no goal Tomura succeeded even without having the whole world at the palm of his hands by just never pressing anyone to actually follow him - if they wanted to they could've just left here and there, but since they chose to follow he did what he thought was the obvious best - let his allies do what they wanted.

Which was okay for someone like Toga or Dabi who were either already comfortable by just being allowed to be themselves or being free to plan their own things for their own goals.

But not exactly that for Spinner. Who was instead literally searching for someone to show him what to do, not so different from Tomura, who still only followed whatever 'his Sensei' deemed worthy for him to look into, like letting Kurogiri go find unknown "power" that AFO left along with contact with Doctor.

And while Spinner was not fine with still being hollow even while following Tomura pretending that it's the same thing as following Stain... all it took for him to look differently at how exactly was Tomura thinking was the last real "barrier" that there was - Tomura basically spilling his whole backstory and motivations mostly for LoV to listen to, since Doctor was just testing Tomura's will all according to AFO's plan.

And after that it didn't took too long for Spinner to now follow Tomura, even if it was still not the time to really see the 'warped horizon that was waiting for them'. And yet in times where Tomura still showed some doubt over his decisions - that one old trait of his showing up like it was always at the back of his head not so different from USJ, only thing changing that Tomura got better and better at not letting his emotions control him so easily.

Since the price of that would literally be lifes of his allies.

And neither that or using their emotions to his own benefit was ever in his plans, contrast to AFO manipulating Tomura to do just that. Letting his emotions consume him completely just for his own goal and for his own sake. But as a person who was so familiar with this Tomura still was adamant at NOT allowing something like this to happen to his friends allies.

Effectively creating a bond between all six of them, including Toya that in the end kept them together until the very final arc, with Spinner keeping what Tomura would've thought and with him waking up and calling Machia to get LoV first and foremost Spinner did understand their's leader wishes, as well as Twice's who literally died for his friends.

With all that happening in the War arc the moment AFO returned with both being in control of Tomura's body and just abadoned anything that Tomura would care for like leaving Mr. Compress and Machia behind just to punish him for not getting OFA or not even caring to show any actual respect for Tomura's wishes. Instead showing how little he actually cared for anything but his own good.

But while AFO made so many pawns that he could change like gloves at any given moment, threating them and manipulating them with his power and quirks, Tomura only had 6 allies who stayed after AFO was caught and who were willing to die just to live the life they wanted.

And AFO couldn't give them that.

Even if Decay isn't Tenko's quirk and even if he has so much guilt for killing without it being a little bit justified by it...

LoV still followed him as a person who allowed them to live as they please and so what they want, not some all-powerfull overlord but an ally and a leader who had his flaws and fallings.

[youre-a-total--poser]

Hey i was wondering if you write about mental illness? If so could you write a fic where Nat(mother figure) starts to notice that the teen reader isn’t eating as much and is losing weight. So she she confronts the reader and reader denies it and as weeks go by nat is trying to make reader eat but reader says their is nothing wrong with her. Also reader goes to school and peter also starts to notice so he tells nat cuz she is like the readers mom so then nat has enough and tells the team and they have an intervention and help the reader. I was thinking that the reader would be like an orphan and joined the avengers at 12 cuz they were a widow that nat recused so nat is like a mother figure and you can decide if peter and her are love interests. I totally understand if you dont want to write this it would just really help me a lot. Thanks!!!

Let Us Help You (Request)

Warnings: Eating Disorders and all the things relating to that Age: 15 Word Count: 2,050 Requests: Open Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything Requested by: Annonomys on Tumblr. I hope everything is okay my messages are always open if you or anyone else wants to talk. Date: 19/11/2023 A/N: I'm back at least I think I'm back I haven't really decided yet. I had a lot of stuff to deal with from starting college and life that I wanted to deal with first.

Sorry if this is terrible it's the first time that I've written anything in months so just bear with me while I get back into it.

I've opened the requests again so if anyone sent in a request from before can you send it in again

Masterlist

---⧗---

From the age of two, you were taken away from your parents and were trained in the Red Room. Up until the age of 14 killing, pain, fighting and hunger were all that you knew that was until Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova destroyed the Red Room and rescued you and the other girls who were there.

Since you were the youngest Natasha didn't know what do to with you so she ended up taking you back to the Avengers compound with her.

An agreement was made and they allowed you to stay with them. Everyone was nice to you and they tried their hardest to get you to open up to them but nothing really worked the only person who actually succeeded was Natasha.

She understood exactly what you went through since she went through the exact same thing. She helped you through the nightmares and the panic attacks.

After many months Natasha discovered that your parents perished in a terrible fire and you were an orphan now.

You were sad when you heard the news but not enough for it to have a major impact on your life since you couldn't even remember them besides it's not like you were alone you had Natasha and all the other Avengers taking care of you.

---⧗---

It was nearly 3 years since you were rescued from the Red Room and you still weren't used to your newfound freedom. You were living in a space place, had access to unlimited food, were allowed to go outside whenever you wanted and you even attended school.

Because you were allowed to eat whatever and whenever you wanted you gained quite a bit of weight. You planned to gain weight but not as much as what you were now and it wasn't until that when you, Steve and Sam went on a run and you couldn't even keep up with Sam anymore you knew that it was time for a change.

You didn't tell Natasha or anyone else about your new weight loss journey because you knew that they would tell you that you didn't need to lose any weight.

You started looking online for the most effective diets for teens but they all looked like they would be too much work so you decided that not eating and training all the time would be the quickest way to lose weight.

---⧗---

The first 2 days of your new weight loss journey went by fine. You pretended to be late for school so no one would question why you were only eating half a slice of toast. You didn't eat lunch at school then Natasha asked what you wanted for dinner you told her that you ate on your way home from school

It was going on 7 pm you made your way down to the gym and told Natasha that you were bored as an excuse to join in with hers and Steve's training session.

You originally thought that the weekends would be much harder to skip meals but after you forced yourself to eat two slices of toast so no one would question anything you told Natasha that you were going to Peter's so you both could work on homework together.

You were at Peters's for hours and when his aunt asked if you wanted to stay for dinner you told her that Natasha was taking you out for dinner later and when you got home you told Natasha that you had dinner at Peter's

---⧗---

A few months have passed and things obviously have been terrible maybe not all terrible but the majority of it has been.

---⧗---

It has finally become noticeable that you have lost so much weight and girls at school have been giving you compliments about how good you look. Those compliments instantly cancel out all the bad stuff that has been happening. Lying to your friends and family about what you're eating, all the headaches and dizzy spells, collapsing when you went on a run with Steve and the most embarrassing one of all when you passed out in gym class.

You only made it halfway through the school day before you had to go to the nurse since you had a bad headache and you were feeling so dizzy.

The school nurse phoned home and Natasha came and picked you up

You were told that Natasha was here and you made your way outside and over to her car. She didn't look happy maybe because it's been nearly every day for weeks that someone has had to come pick you up halfway through the school day.

She's been so distracted with work lately that she hasn't actually noticed that you haven't been eating and you've lost so much weight no one at home has really noticed and if they have they haven't said anything.

Before you could even get fully in the car she started interrogating you.

"What going on?" She asked.

"Nothing." You responded while putting on your seatbelt.

"Well, it must be something otherwise you wouldn't be asking to come home early every day. Just because I've been busy with work doesn't mean that I don't know what you've been doing"

"It's nothing." you sighed.

Natasha shook her head and then turned off the engine. "we're not moving till you tell me what's going on with you."

You covered your face with your hands. "honestly it's nothing please just take me home I'm tired and everything hurts."

She was going to say something but stopped herself then turned back on the engine and drove you home.

As soon as you got home you went right to your room got changed and went to sleep.

---⧗---

While Natasha was waiting for you to wake up from your nap she was sitting in the common room with her laptop on her lap working on mission reports.

A figure appeared next to her and she thought it was you at first but when she looked up it was Peter.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Ms Romanoff," Peter said nervously.

"It's okay Peter," Natasha said closing her laptop. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, I just came here to check on Y/N. My Aunt made her some soup since she's been skipping lunch every day at school and she's probably not eaten anything today."

"She's been skipping lunch?" Natasha asked standing up.

"Yeah, and I don't think that it's just lunch whenever she's over at my house she always makes excuses about how she can't stay for dinner."

It broke Natasha's heart when she heard that the young girl who she saw as her daughter was doing this to herself. Natasha wished that she could take these last few months back and notice what was going on and help you.

"Thanks, Peter, I'll go check on her," Natasha replied then headed to your room.

She quietly sneaked into your room but you were still asleep. She saw your phone lying on your bedside table and started looking through it something that she had never done before and thought that she would never do but it was the only way that she could get answers.

As she looked through your phone there was so many app that was meant for dieting and calorie counting, lots of YouTube videos about dieting and countless Google searches about it too.

Natasha started tearing up she knew that she had to do whatever she could to help you before it became too late and she really hoped that it wasn't already too late.

---⧗---

When you woke up it was nearly 6 pm. You went downstairs to get some water and noticed that everyone was in the common room like they were having some sort of meeting.

"What's going on?" You asked walking closer to everyone.

"Come sit down," Natasha said patting the empty spot beside her.

You sat down beside Natasha and instantly felt everyone's eyes on you.

Natasha gently took your hands in her and held them tightly. "We just want you to know that we're not mad or disappointed we just want to help you," Natasha said softly

You looked around at everyone's concerned faces. "Okay," you replied, still unsure of what exactly was going on.

"Sweetie I know that we I mean that I've been busy lately and I haven't been around much to notice what you're going through," Natasha said

"What are you talking about Nat? I'm fine, I don't have any problems," you say quickly, hoping to brush off her worries and hide away from the situation.

"Sweetie, I know it's hard, but you don't have to lie to us. We know that you're skipping meals. There's no denying that something is going on, and we only want to help you get better."

"I'm not lying, Nat! I'm just busy with school and essays and don't have time to eat like I used to. I don't have any problems, I don't need your help, leave me alone!" You shouted while standing up.

Natasha stands up and takes hold of your hands, them very tightly. "We know you've been struggling, and we're here to support you through this. You don't have to keep pretending or hiding from us, we just want to help."

Tears started forming in your eyes "I want to stop but I can't those girls at school think being thin is cool. They started becoming my friends when I started losing weight. I don't want to lose them as friends."

"Y/N you shouldn't be friends with people who made you do things like that to yourself you deserve better friends," Wanda says.

"just stop you all don't understand what it's like to be a teenage girl in high school." You shouted

You went to walk away but wanda grabbed your arm "Y/N, we may not have the same exact experiences as you, but that doesn't mean we can't help you. We've been through a lot and know how hard it is to deal with challenges and trauma, and we want to be there for you and help you through this. You don't have to go through this alone, and we're all here to support you."

You tried to hold the tears back, you tried to stay strong so that they would forget all of this and you could go back and hide in your room but you just couldn't any longer the feeling was building up inside of you desperate to get out and it all came out at once.

"It's all just too much! I can't handle this anymore, I'm so tired of fighting. I'm so tired of being in pain and feeling like I'm never enough. I don't know how to stop, I just want the pain to go away."

Natasha wrapped her arms around you and held you tightly. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get you the help that you need and everything is going to be okay I promise." She said softly

---⧗--- Nearly a year had passed and things are better than they've ever been. You have been going to therapy and support groups and though at first, you thought that they would do nothing to help you they ended up making such a huge difference in your life. They would give out special rewards for weight gain and they would bring in people who were going through what you were going through and they would talk about their experience and what helped them be the person they were today.

With every single person that came into talk, you felt so inspired by them and you knew that change can become possible and it did.

You were also invited to be a speaker and you hoped to also inspire other kids.

You were also moved into a different school which made you much happier. You made so many new friends who cared about you and not about your number on the scale or your dress size.

The only thing that you missed about your old school was being there with Peter. Even though you still saw him every day after school it was still strange not to see him in the classroom but it didn't matter your friendship was as strong as ever and that was all that mattered.

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer reid x gn!reader

Summary: Spencer is struggling with his addiction after being kidnapped by Tobias Hankel.

Warnings: indirect mentions of drug use and brief mentions of ptsd.

You had never imagined yourself here, pleading with Spencer Reid to open up to you. You knew of his discomfort with expressing emotions and being vulnerable around others, and you respected his boundaries. But now, Spencer’s concerns were the least of your worries. You felt guilty that you hadn't paid attention to the signs sooner. His mood swings, the dark purple bags under his bright eyes, his normally full of life gaze, now dull and lifeless.

But that was to be expected, right? Everyone had been there to witness Spencer's abduction, but it seemed that they decided to walk away as soon as he began to destroy himself. Perhaps it was a lack of care, but you liked to try and tell yourself that it was just that they couldn't stand to watch the young genius slowly kill himself.

"Spence..."

You take a moment to compose yourself, a steady breath and determined resolve pushing back against the weight of your trembling voice and misty eyes. You blink back tears that are dangerously close to falling.

"I know you think people don't care, but we do. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself anymore."

You turn your head to the side, determined not to let any tears fall. As you look back, Spencer looks particularly vulnerable this time, more so than you've seen in months. His gaze carries a hint of glassiness in his beautiful eyes, and his lips quiver as though he might speak, but he struggles to keep himself together. He almost appears to you like a little boy this moment, the sight almost enough to melt your heart.

"I know that at first it felt good, great even, you felt like you'd found a solution for the pain, a way to numb it to make it bearable... but then it stopped working, so you thought you'd up the dosage a little so it would have the same effect it did the first time, then you realised that you couldn't go more than a few hours without it, because after a while the feelings came back. I... I can't say I know how you feel because I don't, but I have seen what addiction does to people spence. And I am terrified, I am paralyzed by the though of you doing this to yourself. I know it's selfish to ask this but please! For me, stop."

There have been countless situations where you had to plead desperately with unruly culprits to give up their weapons and release their innocent captives. However, they were a walk in the park compared to begging the love of your life to surrender the very thing that was slowly killing him whilst simultaneously allowing him to stay afloat in the rampant storm of his thoughts.

"I’m struggling." The words barely escape his lips, almost a whisper as he keeps a stoic exterior. Yet, as he tugs at the sleeve of his blazer, you notice the subtle signs of inner torment. His body language says it all. He's barely holding himself together in this random hotel room, trying his best not to burst into tears.

"It's okay, it's okay to struggle. It's okay to ask for help. Please, let me help you." You beg, your voice laced with desperation as you make the request. You really, truly mean it; you've never felt as impassioned as you do right now about anything else in your life.

Note: this was just a super quick little one shot? (Can I even call it that?) I just wanted to share it because I love writing as well as Spencer Reid. I just wanted to say that if anyone is struggling with addiction of any kind that you are not alone, and that asking for help is the bravest thing you can do, it doesn't make you weak for wanting to get better.