#Profession; Sniper

[mini-hellagur-with-arts]

Halloween... It was that time of the year again. And also Natalya’s birthday. She was treating it a day like any other. Almost as if it didn’t matter too much to the Ursarine.

She just came back from a mission and was making her way towards the cafeteria to get herself something to eat and drink before going to sleep. The poor girl somewhat looked dead inside.

#Natalya #Profession; Sniper #Open Interaction

[soggyzogg]

Wholesome sniper content based off of a real photo of a wildlife photographer having this happen to him. I like to imagine either after sniper retires from being a merc or maybe just as a side hobby he practices photography. I know he used to be a big game hunter but I like to think the reason he decided to switch professions is he found that he likes animals more than people.

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 headcanons #tf2 hcs

[lycheedr3ams]

Okay. I just had to tell you that the emotionally unavailable König piece stays on my mf*ing mind. I don't know how but you managed to stir a dragon or corrupt me, I don't know, I need therapy I know but I feel so addicted to that drabble. I've read it over and over again.

Like, the little details how he treats you purely professionally when you're not fucking, how he wraps himself with that condom every single time and doesn't even feel bothered, how he chooses solitude (or someone else who knows) over you whenever he wants, how he doesn't seem to even feel much of anything besides the occasional lust?! It's DEVASTATING and I'm frothing at the mouth. I need help haha

Oh and even the pic at the top, that lonely ethereal unseen message "I dream about kissing you often". Wtf dude. Jesus Christ.

Brilliant. I'm just. Out of words. That drabble is art, thank you for sharing ❤️❤️‍🩹❤️ (Also please wish me a speedy recovery)

i think you have just melted my heart❤️❤️❤️

it is a huge compliment for me when people say they reread my fics. this ask has given me inspiration to do a drabble of the situation from könig's perspective.

warning: this may break your heart too...

part 2 of Relapse

part 3

TW: mentions of NSFW below the cut, self-hatred, könig being kinda toxic, brief brief mention of self harm, mentions of canon-typical violence, obsessive!könig, MDNI and just block me atp

the moment könig laid eyes on you, the task force's incredibly skilled - and beautiful - sniper, he hated you. or rather, he hated how much he was obsessed with you. he wasn't stupid; he knew how all the men on base would stare at you, the way they'd talk about you as you walked by, not even realizing how good your ass and hips looked in your uniform cargo pants. but unlike most guys on base, he saw more than just your curves and feminine charm: he saw a soldier who gave her all to get to where she was, a soldier who dedicated her entire being to her profession and was damn good at it.

unlike him, you never so much as moved a muscle when you lay prone with your sniper rifle. you never fumbled while you reloaded or looked around anxiously, fiddling with a knife so your hands never felt empty. you interacted with others with ease, never seeming to second-guess your words or demeanor. you were the best shot on the task force (don't tell ghost, though), you had the best concentration, and you were irreplaceable. sure, könig was irreplaceable too: no one had his aura, his physical prowess, or his intensity that made enemies flee the moment he saw them. but to könig, that didn't matter: you were everything he could never be.

he knew - thought - that he had no chance with you. you were secretly desired by almost every man on base, so why would you choose him? the jittery and intense newest addition who was just a little too tall, who fidgeted a little too much, and whose accent, he thought, was a little too thick to be alluring. but he also just hated you. hated to see a little woman like yourself literally living his dream of being a sniper. he was usually assigned to guard you when you lay prone while sniping on a mission, and when könig was sure you weren't paying attention, he would glare angrily at you, staring daggers into the back of your head. his eyes would lazily take in your body, but not in a lustful way. könig hated how still you could lay, how you could just concentrate simply on what was through your scope rather than what was in your mind.

but könig couldn't deny the part of himself that just simply wanted to take you. despite how much he hated your skill, he couldn't deny your soft curves, your pretty smile, or how you always wore your favorite perfume when off duty. many nights when könig lay alone in his room on base, he would furiously jerk off the thought of you while clenching his teeth in self-hate, absolutely disgusted with himself for desiring the person who was everything he could never be. könig also hated the way he would come so hard to the thought of forcing you on your knees, making you take all of his throbbing cock in your mouth, fucking into your throat roughly, punishing you for being the soldier he could never be. he loved to imagine the tears that would spring in your eyes at the burn of his thick cock stretching your throat. but worst of all, könig hated himself for wanting to ruin such a pretty little thing like you.

that was, until you began talking to him. the first time you approached könig, you said you were curious about his knives. he froze, thankful that his sniper hood hid his almost blushing cheeks and agape mouth. but könig couldn't help the excitement of your question. someone was interested in something he liked? with quiet, jittery movements, he quickly took out one of his favorite knives from a pants pocket and shoved it almost right in your hands, talking about it wildly in german before you looked up at him with a confused smile. he blushed under his hood and began to speak calmly and quietly in english about his favorite knife that you now held in your small, soft hands. even when you handed the knife back to him after learning all about it, the warmth from your skin lingered on its cold hilt. könig's eyes widened slightly when he felt just how warm it was, and he couldn't help but wonder what other parts of your body were just as warm, or even warmer.

könig began to grow more and more at ease the more you approached him. the night that your conversation ended up with you naked on his bed, he truly thought he was living a dream. the way your soft, feminine curves lay on his bed in his room, how you looked like an absolute goddess surrounded by his knives and guns lying around, was mesmerizing to him. his hatred of you be damned, könig needed you. so he took you just like you wanted and craved.

but even though you had willingly spread your soft, wet folds for him, könig could never bring himself to voice his desires for you. so the next time he saw you in the hallway, his eyes widened as he slowly approached your form, unaware that he was behind you. könig tried to open his mouth to say something - anything - but his mouth went dry and his throat tightened. so instead, he decided to gently cup your waist as you walked past, and went right towards his room. you smiled to yourself and followed him. könig was grateful that no words were needed between you two.

but despite how much he loved being able to be so close to you, to touch you, to be inside you, he could never allow himself to get too close. könig would've rather slit his own wrist than kiss your glossy, warm lips. you were a succubus, he was convinced. if his lips touched yours, he would have been yours forever. and that was something he could not have, no, not with how his hatred for you still lingered in the back of his mind. but the way you'd look sad about his lips never touching yours would make his heart twitch, just a little. some nights könig was so desperate to feel your skin on his tongue that he would gently lick your neck or your breasts, just to get a taste. but könig was used to living without the things he wanted.

there were many nights when könig was too deep within his darkness to reach out to you. he couldn't bring you down into his self-loathing spiral, or show you his weaknesses. on the nights he walked by you without even acknowledging your existence, he simply couldn't bring himself to look at you. if he did, he knew he would budge instantly and gently touch your waist once again so he could take solace in your warm, soft walls. but no, he would rather drown himself in the abyss of his heart than bring you down with him. you had things to live for: friends, family, incredible skill. but könig only had his guns, knives, and a large hand to wrap around his aching length. he never slept with another woman on base. but you were not to know that.

even more so, könig took to the box of condoms like a lifeline. if he kissed you, you'd have his soul. but if he allowed his cock to be fully surrounded by your warm, wet walls? no, no. you would've tied him to you for eternity. that was something that könig could not have, no matter how much he wanted it. he always made sure that condom was on perfectly, making sure that not a single inch of the skin of his cock ever completely touched your walls. even when he would tease the tip of his cock on your clit, there was a layer of thin plastic separating you. (he just loved the way you would gasp and blush when he did that). könig would never allow himself to truly take absolute pleasure in you, no matter how badly he just wanted to fill your womb entirely with him when your legs were pried open perfectly against his broad shoulders, with his sweaty forehead pressing into the mattress.

but as your relationship - if it could be called that - went on, könig realized that he never hated you. he only hated himself for never being able to be the person he wanted to be. you were everything, and he was nothing. you were caring, friendly, warm. but he saw himself as distant, cold, and aloof. sunshine could never reach the deepest, darkest caves under the earth, he thought. what could könig even say to you now, after you two had been with each other time and time again? what could he possibly say to the woman who unknowingly ripped apart old wounds he thought he had stitched? what could he say to the woman who achieved everything he could not? what could he say to the only woman who had ever shown him kindness, the only woman to have ever let him touch her, hold her, fuck her? so, könig opted to only ever say things to you that were necessary to work with you. he could never treat you poorly, not after the way you unknowingly healed the very wounds you created for him, not after the way you welcomed him into your body like he was an extension of yourself.

it was easier for könig to pretend that you weren't somewhat emotionally dependent on him. he could never pluck the flower whose roots were shallow. he was a monster enough as it is, but to just trample and rip up an innocent and beautiful thing? even he couldn't bring himself to do that. so, könig tried to water you in the only way he knew how, but he guarded his life-giving waters from your fertile womb, and only ever teased you with the nutrients you needed. it was enough to make you come back for more whenever he asked for it, but he couldn't allow himself to take advantage of you, too much. könig wanted to see you grow and blossom, not to be the one to dry you out and wither you.

so könig chose to edge you with his affection whenever he chose, and hoped that you would understand. he hoped that you wouldn't grow tired of the balm he offered you on the nights that he was able to crawl out of himself; the balm that was covered in blood and semen and tears.

#konig fic #cod mw2 #konig smut #konig imagine #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig headcanons #konig #asks #answered #sad girl hours #konig art #cod konig #konig fanfiction #konig x you #konig modern warfare #konig fluff #konig angst #konig x reader smut #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig x you #call of duty #könig smut #könig cod

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? (König x F!OC)

Part 3/3 of Valkyrie

(Part 2 here)

(Part 1 here)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters. 

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi. 

The first thing she noticed was the combat dummy in the corner of the room. There was no light in the ceiling, only a small table lamp on the floor next to his bed... Which was really only a thin mattress placed on the floor with a meticulously tucked bed sheet on it. There was no furniture to speak of except for the tall gun safe and some bland table where he had a kettle and a half-open bag of bread lying next to a toaster. There was a small fridge under the table, and deposited there on top of it, out of direct sight, a simple knuckle duster.

Piles of books lay on the floor next to his so called bed, and she was pleasantly surprised: he didn't strike her as a bookworm type of guy. She briefly caught sight of a few titles, mostly nonfiction: he had volumes on rifles and combat sports like krav maga and escrima, along with some German books about hunting, knives…— and there were knives all over the place: hanging from a lone hook on the wall, lying on the table, next to a pile of books, next to the mattress. Probably hidden ones, too, but where in all this minimalistic scarceness, she couldn't tell.

He didn't have a television. There was no computer, not even a laptop. She wondered how his officers got in touch with him, for it was dubious that he even owned a phone.

"This is where I sleep," he introduced his apartment, waving a hand in a vague gesture that said It's not much, but it's home.

She didn't know whether to feel pity or terror. She was relatively sure she was the first girl to set foot in here. The red flags were all over the place, but she only felt a tug near her heart from the realization that this guy was lonely. Like really, really lonely. Potential school shooter who grew up kind of lonely.

God, why did she have to have a soft spot for lunatics like him...

"Would you like some coffee?"

He turned to look at her, and she felt tightness in her chest from that drained, sad stare. He had been so carefree, so giddy, but all of that was gone. She had seen it in the pub already, the moment she laid eyes on him, that something was terribly wrong. She wondered who was the one responsible for making this man lose his goofiness. Shed that lovely, inculpable nature that made him singularly him. Whoever it was, she wanted to smack them in the head. Hard.

Without his gear and mask or even that black face paint, he looked more human. There were no barriers between them, no profession stamped on him: he was simply…him. But the intensity was there, always there. He was an outrageously tall, athletic man, and teeming with latent violence.

She wasn’t intimidated by that, per se. She had fired her rifle alongside dozens of big, dangerous men. Menacing men. It was something else, something essential in this man's character that made her feel a little on edge.

If her mother could see where she was now, in a dark flat filled with nothing but weapons and white bread and a towering, introverted dynamite stick of a man, she would probably deem the situation more dangerous for her than Russia and Brazil combined.

"No thanks, I'm good."

He ran his fingers through his hair, which was much longer than 8 months ago. He still had that side shave, but the light ash curls on top were unkempt and fell partly on his forehead.

"Or tea? I think I got tea here somewhere… "

And there he was: that adorable, silly man she had fallen for.

If nothing more, she would make it her mission to at least get him to smile.

She shook her head slowly before walking to him and grabbing two fistfuls of his black t-shirt. He straightened like someone had called ten-hut, making it clear that she wasn't the only one who felt like a tightly coiled spring. But someone had to make the first move. Someone had to do something.

He had shaved a day, maybe two ago, and the stubble that dusted his chin and the top of his upper lip was only a faint shadow, but still coarse enough to sting her skin as she got up on her toes to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and bent into it. He didn't touch her, wouldn't reach for her, just opened his mouth against hers and moaned. Like a tortured man about to break.

"Mh- I've thought about you every day," she whispered, still clinging to his shirt, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. "Every damn day…"

"Meine kleine Walküre…"

"I thought I would go mad at some point."

I didn't know who you were, I couldn't come back to you, I knew nothing about you.

"I know."

He knew.

He knew the slow descent into madness, the craving. The mornings that felt like waking up in a limbo. The nights that only sharpened the pain.

And of course he did.

"You kept me alive," he said as his erection pressed against her, and her mind was flooded with memories of the grey room, the bleak light in the ceiling, the ropes biting into her wrists, the way he fucked her like they were both going to die the next day.

And she realized that he was real. He wasn't a schizophrenic dream or an erotic nightmare. He wasn't even a soldier; he was a man, a person.

He was a real, actual person under that hood and face paint and tactical vest and ammo pouches. He had an apartment and dirty socks on the floor, and he drank lager, and he had toast and a toaster, and he owned relatively normal clothes.

And right now, even though her panties were soaked, she didn't want him inside her.

"I'm a bit nervous," she said, stiff and near the point of breaking into a cold sweat. He caressed the small of her back and shoved his crotch against her even more eagerly.

"König, please… Could you just… hold me?"

He stopped and swallowed, and his hands traveled back up.

"I will do whatever you wish."

"Perhaps we could lie down? And just… hug, you know?"

"I'd love that," he said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic.

His sheets smelled of him, and she felt the cold sweat intensify. Her stomach sank, and she was glad that she was lying down because her feet wouldn't probably carry her at this point. He laid himself down next to her and gave her his pillow. It was a lovely gesture, but she felt like she was lying down with a murderer. Which he was. Which she was. They both had killed, her confirmed body count reaching 23 when she had left the SpecGru. His count was probably much higher...

She snuggled closer, tucked her head under his chin, and let him hold her. His whole body was tense, but he eased into the embrace after ten or twenty breaths. Cuddling usually came after the sex; after the release of stress and tension, and right now, they were both like teenagers in an empty house with the parents gone. Sweating with the jitters of coming to know how the other person's body felt like.

She dragged a leg over him at some point, and he sank his own between hers, and they just breathed each other. She wondered how they must look, her small form and light blue jeans and white shirt swallowed by all that black he wore. A fair little lady cuddled by a dark giant. A giant who everyone could tell, just by the clothes he wore, was either an employed soldier or a crazy militarist. And she liked that. She fucking loved that he didn't disguise himself as an ordinary civilian. Unlike she did, and she felt like a liar... along with feeling tired of pretending that she wanted the next bachelor when all she really wanted was a guy like him.

Finally, her nerves calmed down, and she could hear the silence of the room, the sound of his breathing, could feel the warmth of his arms around her.

"This feels good," she told him.

"This feels better than anything," he answered.

He seemed peaceful too. All that shifting around had turned into deep breaths and a steady heartbeat. She caressed his back, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek more firmly against his chest — how many times had she dreamed of this moment? She inhaled him, and the scent aroused different memories this time, making her feel like a balloon drifting up to the ceiling.

"I like you, König." She squeezed him against her. "Like, a lot."

He squeezed her back and announced: "I love you."

Her mind went blank and then screamed error.

She wriggled out of his grasp, propped herself on her elbow, and looked down at him. He stared at her like a dog waiting for a treat from a well-done trick.

"You can't say that, König."

His long, pale lashes batted a few times, and a vertical wrinkle appeared between his brows.

"No, you... You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. It's just that..." She pursed her lips, bit her lower lip, and placed a hand on his chest. "We barely know each other."

His eyes darted from her lips to her eyes, confused. "But I already know I love you."

How could she argue with a man who looked at her like that? Who looked like a dog being scolded for things he didn’t know he wasn't supposed to do…

I went to therapy because of you.

We met in a fucking bunker where you were asking politely if I would co-operate in you raping me. Fucking co-operate…

And you looked like Death…

"König… Baby, I don't even know your name."

He wrapped an arm around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer.

"Julius."

He said it from the back of his throat, it rolled off his tongue and ended in a soft hiss, and she felt lighter in the head by the minute.

Julius, like… Julius Caesar.

Or July. June and July.

This was so fucked up…

"Can I taste you?"

The wintry eyes looked at her, begging.

"Let me taste you, June. Please…"

Oh God… Yes, please, yes.

"Umm. Sure.."

He moved immediately, and she was almost thrown to lie on her back while he reached for her jeans to take them off, his large hands clumsy and cold against her exposed skin. She raised her hips to help him as he pulled them down, trying to stifle a giggle that was bubbling inside at seeing him so keen on giving her head. The pants got stuck on her ankles, and he tugged them off one leg at a time, causing one sock to come off and the other to come halfway down. And he just left it there, being too preoccupied with getting back between her legs to reach for her panties.

She thanked herself for having put on the smaller, black brazilian knickers instead of some comfortable, worn-out hipsters. And that she had shaved...

He was much more attentive with this piece of clothing, sliding it down like he was opening a gift. And when he took the panties off and still left that lonely sock unattended, crumpled, and forgotten, she couldn't help but snicker.

"Was?"

He looked at her with a perplexed smirk, clueless as to what was so funny — but smiling just for the sake of having made her laugh. The black underwear looked tiny in his hands as he placed it next to the bed.

She remembered how he had left her socks on in the bunker, too, perhaps because he was in a nervous hurry. Or perhaps because he didn't want her to feel cold.

She bent her leg and took it off herself, throwing it somewhere behind him.

"Nothing. Except that you're officially the cutest."

He ran a hand through his hair again. That bashful, boyish attitude made her realize just how much she had missed him. His gaze flicked to her eyes, darted between her legs, flew to examine the floor… and she could see the tent in his pants even though there was little light in the room.

"And now the shirt," she rose to seated and raised her hands up, making it clear what she wanted him to do. He wasted no time pulling it over her head but froze when he was met with the black, laced bra, the only barrier left between him and her complete nakedness.

As much as she wanted to, she didn't tease him by making him figure out the mechanism. She reached for the clasp, and he leaned slightly back when she took it off with little ceremony and threw it on the floor with the rest of her clothing. When she grabbed his hand to bring it to her breast, he looked like he had stopped breathing altogether.

"Everything good?"

"Perfekt," he said, looking terrified.

"Come here," she pulled him by the neck all the way down to lay on top of her. He supported himself on his elbows while his hands came to cradle her head. He was tense again, and she wondered whether the cuddling had been a bad idea — he had relaxed too much and was now overstimulated.

The whole body on her was rigid, but his mouth was soft and warm as he kissed her — so greedily that her legs began to ride up along his sides. When he moved to wolf her neck, her weakest spot, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he finally melted against her.

"I dreamed of you," he breathed against her skin, making her eyes flutter open and her pussy clench around nothing. "Every night…"

Through the euphoria of his accent and lips, she deciphered that what he actually meant was that he had masturbated on thoughts of her. And she had done the same: stroked herself night after night on thoughts of him telling her how tight and good she felt around him. It was downright sinful how many times she had reminisced the high-pitched sighs, that vulnerable look he had when he shot his cum inside her.

"Did you ever think of me?" He asked with a frail voice.

She had gone on a few dates, had a few fucks. Ended up feeling disappointed, and even more lonely. Dirty and sad — like she was cheating on him…

"If only you knew just how much," she whispered to the ceiling above her.

He brushed a trembling thumb over her cheek and buried himself even deeper in her neck.

"Shit… Ist das dein Ernst?"

She loved it when he spoke German. And hated how most of the time, she couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying.

"June... Du machst mich verrückt."

"What are you saying, silly…"

"You drive me crazy."

He was so… present, devoted. So unlike the men who almost screamed "Score" when they got this far. He was saying stupid, lovely things that didn't sound at all like a yucky romcom, not when they came from him. He ripped her clothes off because he wanted to please her, taste her... And had no trouble pressing against her while having his own clothes still on — those black pants that would get stained if he continued to grind against her drenched pussy like that.

"You'll drive me crazy too if you don't finish what you started..."

He chuckled and resumed giving her those tiny kisses that only left her wanting more.

"Don't worry, little one." He planted a last kiss on her collarbone before diving down.

"I'm not -"

The rest of the sentence turned into a gasp as his lips swept over her sternum, her nipples, sent shivers across her stomach as he trailed down, down…

"Yes you are," he muttered against her mound, going further down still. Like a man with a purpose.

Hot air hit her as his tongue swept through her folds, first pointed and quivering, then flat and hungry. Her hand shot out to grasp his hair, those stupid, adorable curls that drove her to the brink of insanity.

"Mmh," he moaned in her pussy, pressing his lips against her and opening his mouth. She didn't have time to worry about the bite of his stubble, for he pushed his tongue out. Either he had an excellent memory, or then it was beginner's luck, but he hit just the right spot as the hot, wet tongue plunged slightly inside her.

"Oh - fuck.. "

He got the cue to the full, shoving even deeper, sweeping arms around her thighs to pull her against his face. He decoded her within minutes with a combination of flicks, sweeps, and thrusts. She opened her legs wider, felt herself open like a flower, felt the juices leak out while he was at it like a tried and true engine. So tireless that it sent her thighs quivering. They never did that — at least not with anyone else. It was his unique talent to make a mess of her. If he proved smart enough to apply fingers, she would lose her goddamn mind.

"You are dripping," he informed from among the sloppy sounds she was perfectly aware of. "Like a honeycomb…"

What was it with this man that nearly made her cry?

He kissed her with devotion, almost like he was kissing her lips. The languid pecks and slow nips soon turned into french kissing as he applied tongue again. Her fingers curled into his hair on their own accord and pulled. She could feel his mouth open into a grin before a soft huff hit her.

"Heh…" he kissed her again, "Gierig.."

"What does… ah -.. that mean?"

She could’ve cried from frustration when he slowly got back up to his knees. His lips and chin glistened with her - and he was grinning adorably. That earlier naive cuteness made such a comeback that she had a hard time catching her breath.

"Greedy." He licked his lips. "You like it?"

She nodded a few times, many times, and the impish, pussy-drunk grin of his only widened.

"Gut."

He made a move to return down there, looking like he had received the best assignment ever.

"König… Uh, Julius?" She pronounced it like July, and he corrected her immediately.

"Julius."

So husky and sweet from those soaked lips — like music.

"Julius," she rose back to seated, thighs still trembling, and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Could you take this off?"

He reached back with both hands and pulled it off, leaving his hair all tousled once the fabric was drawn over his head. She vaguely knew what to expect, but the amount of muscle still made her gawk like a goldfish.

The man was like a roman sculpture. Not an artificial, overly shredded fitness type of thing, but a man who used his body like it was meant to be used. The light brown hair between the plates of his chest was simply irresistible. She placed a hand on it, and he looked down, fascinated by what she was doing. She ran her fingers through the soft, sparse hair, trailed the breath of it all the way down to his navel. The muscles there rippled at her touch. He was ticklish… and some stupid part of her brain squealed at the discovery.

She wondered whether he had been touched before, whether he had been touched much at all. He had an ungodly shoulders to hips ratio, and a broad, toned physique, which alone should've made women want to crawl all over him. Perhaps he had walked through life half invisible because he wanted to stay that way - in hiding. And suddenly she felt special, outright exceptional... for having been chosen, having been granted access to him. His world.

He trusted her. It should've been a compliment, even a turn-on, but she felt like she didn't deserve it. And it was too late to turn back...

Looking up to his eyes which were fixed on her, expectant and dark, her fingers dropped to his pants, curled under the waistband, and gave it a tug.

"And everything else, too."

He sat back on his legs, opened the belt, undid the zipper, and stood up to take his pants off. From where she was looking, he was like a god, the muscles on his thighs bunching as he switched his weight from one leg to the other to yank his pants down and socks away. When he was finally free of those clothes, he grabbed that monster between his legs with one hand, lifted it, and stroked it absentmindedly while looking down at her, all hungry. Possessive...

Car lights flashed through the window and painted shadows on the wall, on him, painting him with blue and black just before he descended upon her. She greeted him with spread legs and open arms as he got down, carefully, like a man preparing to pray. With his hand still wrapped around himself, he guided the tip to her folds, brows knit together like he was on a serious mission that required all his attention. She reached a hand to grab him too, and it was like a dream, the way they directed him inside together.

Her inner muscles welcomed him home with a greedy pull, not bothered by the stretch that only felt fucking delicious.

She pushed him further in with her legs, wrapped around his hips like a starfish around prey. He was forced to fall on his hands, and he exhaled like someone easing into a hot bath, blowing air from the raw sensation — although he was dipping into somewhere far better than that, she presumed.

She noticed a scar on his neck as he exposed his throat, half-lidded eyes drifting closed with pleasure. Her hand rose on its own will to touch the white protrusion, fingertips caressing the spot where someone had tried to finish him and failed.

And she knew that she didn’t want to spend her life without this man.

Didn’t want to spend a day without him anymore.

He flinched at her touch, looking like he was the one being fucked and not the other way around. Her touch was a reminder that someone had gotten too close - way too close. And had probably paid the full price for their insolence.

“Baby…” she whispered, and his head dropped with a broken sigh, hanging heavy against his chest as he slid in and out of her. It was supposed to be a homecoming, a sweet reunion, but he was shaking and sobbing, grunting between the thrusts.

She knew he was repeating the words in his head, the words he thought she didn’t want to hear.

Fuck it… I love you too.

It was a deafening declaration in her head, one she couldn’t snuff out, one that only got louder as he thrust deeper, pressed against her, and moaned as he buried his face in her hair.

“You feel so good… taste so good,” he said, “smell so good…”

Having the biggest, baddest mercenary of a rivaling military contractor between her legs, sighing how good she was, might be reason enough to seek therapy — but it was also the one thing she knew would send her straight to heaven.

And it was too much.

He was too much. She didn't want to cry, and she didn't want him to hold her, to slide in and out slowly, fondly, lovingly. Just the way he was doing right now… She wanted to drown the blooming intimacy, she wanted him to shut the fuck up and fuck her.

More than anything, she wanted to escape the feeling that she belonged here, with him.

“Please… just..”

“Talk to me, Engel.”

Shit.. It was a purr.

“I need you harder.”

He only slowed down, confused.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” she said, hating herself for tearing apart the one thing she loved most about him.

But he did as he was bid, upping the tempo, going deeper, breaking her in all the ways she wanted him to. Needed him to.

"Like this?" The voice was abrupt, metallic, almost freezing. It didn't belong to a man, it belonged to a soldier executing an order.

“Yes…”

He was looking at her, and this time it was her turn to avoid the gaze. She already knew it was filled with confusion and hunger and sadness. She looked at his muscles at work, the ridiculously large cock disappearing into her, she looked at the scars... That scar, the one that screamed that not only he was lucky that the weapon had missed by an inch. That she should count her blessings, too.

At some point, he grunted in frustration and moved to throw her legs over his shoulders. He could pound inside even deeper like this, and it didn’t hurt at all, even though she felt a strange warmth pool somewhere deep in her abdomen.

He fucked her on that thin mattress and all she could think about was whether he would offer her tea or coffee after, or bring her toast to the bed.

“Harder..”

The sheet started to come off, the slick sounds bordering on pornographic, his chest getting covered in sweat.

God, she made him sweat. She wanted to wash him after, smear him with whatever stupid shower gel he had in his apartment that reeked of loneliness, a fragrance she knew more than well.

She wondered if he would want to cuddle again after they had showered together. Or cuddle before, so she could inhale his scent, the full brunt of him. If she could stay for the night. Fuck…

“Harder.”

He dared to whimper, dared to look at her all helpless. But obeyed.

Shit, he felt good. Too good. Too fucking….

"Wait..."

She was about to come, but something was different.

"Wait-"

Something was wrong and right at the same time, the thickness and length pressing onto something unusually delicious. It left her shaking, caused her to feel full to the brim. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he wouldn't relent with the thrusts, but he had to soon enough, for she burst, literally, with wetness that spread through the sheets under them and caused his cock to fly out of her with a gush of moisture.

Oh jesusfuckinggod… -

He was between her legs, cock bouncing up and down. It was sheened with an insane amount of natural lube, and he was looking down at what she had done.

"What happened?"

The innocent question, the humiliation made her cheeks pang with heat.

Take a deep breath, calm down, calm the fuck down..

"It's…"

It's called squirting, you adorable big puppy. You just made me fucking squirt.

"It's a woman's orgasm but times ten?"

She wanted to add Jesus Christ I'm sorry, and it's a good thing, trust me, but she didn't need to.

"I… made you do that?"

She nodded, and another wide grin slowly spread on his face. He adored the scene, amazed and eyes sparkling like it was Christmas morning and he had walked up to see that there were presents under the tree.

He reached for his cock to insert himself back inside, but she jerked away.

"No, wait… It - it might happen again," she stuttered a warning. She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to take the risk. This kind of thing had never occurred, even if she knew what it was. Even envied those who had had the experience. But for the love of god, why did it have to be him out of all men who got to witness it when it finally happened…

But he only looked even more reckless. Almost wild.

"So let's do it again!" He was so excited that his voice spiked up a few notes.

"But your sheets…"

"Nevermind them," he huffed, ecstatic, and crawled forward. He pushed inside, fast and luscious, and she knew right then and there that it would definitely happen again.

He began to ruin her with a frenzy that was almost eerie. The rhythm of slick sounds told her enough, told her that he pistoned her with a pace that would soon drive her insane.

“You’re a fucking fantasy, June,” he groaned, the darker parts of what made him a ruthless professional soldier leaking through.

"Oh God," she breathed this time, deciding she could feel ashamed later. "It feels so fucking good…"

"I'll be good to you, Engel, I'll be good," he grunted as he continued to fuck her brains out.

She cursed and moaned and wailed, letting all his neighbours know that the big, quiet soldier boy was good at what he did. Fucking best. And she knew she should've said her prayers when her eyes rolled in her head and she started to see white.

It didn't take longer than a second or two before it happened again, this time with a force that nearly made her snap and split in half. More than a few squirts hit him as he pulled out. His jaw hung open like he was looking at fireworks.

“Huh -mh, yeah,” he wheezed, sounding dazed. “Verdammt - scheiße…”

She was writhing, crying, shedding actual tears — grabbing the sheet next to her head with one hand and beside her thigh with the other. Her legs were spread like she was on display, her thighs shaking like the muscles there had been permanently damaged. Kate had been more right than should've been legally fair…

"Gott, du bist schön," he commented on the sight while stroking himself, eased by the fluids all over his cock.

She thought about helping him, but couldn't get up, couldn't even move her hands, could only pant and shudder as he milked himself before her to a quick release.

He threw his head back and almost roared, and the only thing on her mind was the phrase saddest people cum the hardest as his seed shot out in generous spurts, hitting her almost in the face. The first gush already ran down her neck by the time the second fell, a thick rope of cum landing on her breasts, the rest on her stomach.

Something twisted in her stomach when she realized he had called her beautiful one moment and proceeded to cover her with cum the next.

Men…

But it was so fucking good that she only wanted to raise a hand and spread his seed all over her. He was breathing heavily with a softening cock in his fist, the last of the cum dripping to join the mess she had made.

"I hope you got a spare one," she looked at the destroyed sheet between them.

"Yeah," he panted still, half-lidded eyes looking at her up and down like he was piss-drunk and about to pass out.

She patted the space next to her, and he collapsed there, staring at the ceiling, probably trying to remember his name. She took his arm and raised it to wiggle herself under it and against him.

It felt good, being glued to him like this… Naked and spent and sweaty. He shifted, turned to face her, and took her in his arms as they both lay on their side, breathing heavily. She was pressed against the damp hair on his chest while his cum trailed little pathways between them.

"Please tell me you're mine, little Valkyrie," he whispered in her hair. He inhaled deeply and exhaled fully, like he had been in the thin mountain air and only now got enough oxygen again.

"June, I want you and no one else."

Oh, honey… it's just the mind-blowing sex talking.

It was pillow talk and hormones and trauma and all that shit. She was now 110 % sure that he had lost his virginity in that bunker. He wasn't the first nor the last man who thought they had fallen in love with a woman, not realizing what they had really fallen for was sex.

"I love you, June. If you don't want to hear it anymore, I won't say it. But it's true."

"Look…" she sighed.

This was so fucking awkward...

"Have you ever been in love before..?"

"No."

"Listen. I like you, you're a nice guy. And I want to get to know you, really, I do…-"

His breath had shallowed — far too much. The large chest beside her heaved, and she could both hear and feel his heart thumping. He shifted away from her, and she snapped her mouth shut. Slowly, she raised to look at him, and the sight drove a fucking lance through her heart.

She didn’t really know what a panic attack was, but was fairly positive that he was about to have one. He was laying on his back, big palms against his head, and he slid them over his eyes, trying to hide from her. His breathing was getting out of hand by the minute.

Fuck… Why did she have to fucking ruin everything?

"Hey, baby. It's alright. Everything's all right, just.. Breathe. Or talk to me…?"

He balanced on the edge of hyperventilation, still holding his head with his hands, eyes squeezed shut and that beautiful face distorted into agony and pain.

"You don't… want me."

Ice seeped into the pit of her stomach.

"Yeah, it's true I've never been with anyone. I was too shy. Ich habe nie bekommen, was ich wirklich will. Alle lachten und nannten mich Schwul… Und das war nicht das Einzige- mmh."

He was sweating from the German confession she understood but a few words of.

The only thing she caught was something about everyone laughing at him. People were horrible sometimes… or usually. People were vile, they were fucking bullies. But even if he was a bit too kind, a little too eager to please, and socially more than a bit on the awkward side of things, she had thought it a miracle that anyone would pester someone of his size. But exclusion and words could hurt too.

And she felt like an asshole.

She was good at bringing down strong, beautiful things. She liked to drag them through the mud. She was talented at taking aim at the most vulnerable parts and pulling the trigger... But he was already there. He was looking at her from a pool of blood and shit and tears. And she was not the only one who got traumatized in that box made of cement. She was not the only one who had had it rough growing up. From what she could tell, he had had it much worse.

"June, you feel so good that it hurts."

Shit…

Her stomach burst with golden fireflies, a warmth that spread to her heart, her whole chest. Ice and gold and fire mixed together, and she knew it was dangerous… He was dangerous. He was the most frightening thing she had ever faced.

She reached to brush his chest, feeling clumsy, like a child. A total amateur when it came to these things.

"You feel good too," she whispered. "So good. I'm just- I'm scared. It's scary."

She put her arm around him and pulled, then yanked when he wouldn't move. He turned, and she took him in her arms. His head pressed inelegantly between her breasts as she gave him a hug that she hoped would deliver all her affection.

He almost trembled in her arms, and the stabbing, burning feeling in her chest wouldn't stop.

"You really stole my heart, you know? Right from the start."

A breath of warm air crashed against her skin as she slowly stroked the back of his head and whispered in his hair.

"And I've thought about you ever since. It's ok if you want to say it. If that's how you truly feel. But please don't say that I don't want you. Because that sure as hell ain't true."

"...Ok," he muttered in her tits — a quiet, damped breath.

"König, could you just give me some… time? Just take it slow, if that's ok with you."

She refused to say his real name, knowing she wouldn't be able to lie anymore if she did. That she was just as far gone as he was, and having a radical acceptance moment about it. Even her therapist would’ve been proud… Or not. But she really didn't give a fuck.

She released her death grip on him a little, and he slowly raised his head to look at her. It was oddly charming that he was looking up at her and not the other way around.

"Take it slow. Ok. I promise I'll be good to you."

She tried her best not to burst into tears. She tried her very best to keep her hand steady as it caressed his hair, his neck, his back.

"You're so sweet."

She moved to kiss him, a pure cinematic kiss that was unhurried, exquisite, and just the kind of starved that told her he was the one.

"Anybody ever told you how sweet you are?" She whispered in his mouth and could feel how the muscles on his stomach contracted.

"Nein," he rasped back, voice so low that she nearly didn't recognize it belonged to him. He was getting hard again, too.

"Well, now you know," She kissed the top of his nose. She wondered if he had the kind of skin type that was full of freckles in summer.

"You're sweet," he said, the warmth of his words melting her like snow in spring, "like.. cotton candy. Or Apfelstrudel."

"Did you just call me a Strudel?"

"It's a dessert," he explained.

"I know it's a dessert, you… bear," she sputtered with her lack of words.

"Is that the best you can do?" He hummed against her lips, laughter barely a breath away.

"No. But it's your fault that my brain stops working."

He rolled partly on top of her again, his scent hitting her like a drug. The stubble scratched her skin, over and over again, as he kissed her, added tongue, sucked her lip, pressed against her like she was dying and he needed to give her mouth-to-mouth CPR asap.

When he withdrew, only an inch, she was breathless again. And he was smiling.

"Could you say it..? Please, just once. That you're my girl," he pressed his forehead on hers, his eyes betraying all the things she had no courage to show. He was many things, but he was certainly not a coward.

"I'm yours, King. I'm your girl."

"And I'm all yours, June."

She closed her eyes, savored those words, relished the feeling of commitment that was completely novel to her.

"When will you head back?"

"I… cannot tell you that."

She wondered how exactly she was supposed to go home with the knowledge that he would be out there in the field, changing mags amidst grenades and bullets.

"Soon."

"I gotta text Kate that I'm staying over. So she won't worry…"

"You'll stay for the night?"

He sounded so delighted. Excited. Like a dog wagging a tail... She wanted to crush him into another hug and cry until she felt raw.

"Yeah, if you change that sheet.”

She got up, walked to get her jacket, groped through the pockets — and her fingers caught to something small and bendy. Magical thinking or not, it felt like fate, and her lips curled into a small smile.

She found her phone, sent a text to Kate, then put it on mute, shoved it back into the pocket, and twiddled the plastic toy for a moment before closing it inside her palm.

When she returned to him, she had to do a double take. He looked so wiped out - so thoroughly drowsy and content - that it made the gold melt and spread inside her like fire.

"I have something for you."

He rose to his elbows, and she crouched beside him, took his hand, and dropped the small, olive-green toy soldier in his palm.

"It's my lucky charm. Had it on me on every mission."

It had a short key chain attached to it. She wondered whether he would tuck it inside his pocket, or if he would keep it on a table beside his bed. Or attach it somewhere, to bring him luck as it had brought to her. Even on that mission when KorTac had taken her as a prisoner. Especially on that mission…

"Can I ask something in return?"

"Anything."

She looked for it, found it on the floor, and picked it up.

"Can I have this?" She held up his black t-shirt and then brought it to her heart, grasping it tightly with two hands like a plush toy. "It smells of you," she explained, although it must've been obvious why she wanted it. The impact of her request on him was a swelling erection that twitched as he watched her, lips pursed tight, brows drawn together. He was blinking rapidly, trying to dry the tears that had started to form.

"Of course you can, Liebling."

"I can wrap myself in you even when you're away."

A miserable little groan escaped him as his lips tightened even more. She placed his shirt down and crawled back to the bed next to him.

"The downside is that it might stop having your scent in it," she pouted a lip, "but you can always bring me a fresh one when you come back, right?"

His sigh was heartbreaking.

"I can't help it, June."

"June, please don't take this the wrong way. I ask this question because you need to address it someday. Now… Is there any part of you that enjoyed it?"

She had thought of him every fucking day for the past 8 months now. She had thought of his hands, his cock, his puppy eyes, and most of all, that sad, abandoned look he gave her right before she turned and left.

"Did you like him?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"This is a place where you can safely say whatever is on your mind."

So what if it didn't make any sense? Who the fuck cared anyway?

Fuck it.

Just fuck it.

As if it was going to get any better by not saying it. Nothing could be worse than those months without him.

"You know what… I can't help it either. And I don't wanna take it slow."

---

"You've been kinda up lately."

Zero munched on whatever was on the menu today — König hadn't really paid mind to what it was.

"Leave went well?"

All eyes turned on him, and he was glad of the hood.

If only they knew just how well…

It had been the best leave ever. She hadn't stayed just for one night; she had stayed for three.

They had gone to see a new Marvel movie, and her kisses had tasted of popcorn and lemonade in the dark theatre. Half of the movie rolled past without him noticing what it was about. She had wanted to go to a sushi restaurant after and make him try all kinds of weird rolls — she had practically fed him with her own chopsticks, wanting to see what kind of reaction he had to each bite. They had gone to that pub for another round, and he had made her taste different types of beers, and when they got to pilsner and unfiltered witbier, she had stuck her tongue out and made a face. "You drink piss in Austria?"

They had gone to the gym, and he had taught her how to do a power clean, and she had insisted on staying in front of him when he did squats — for the purpose of giving him a quick kiss every time he did a rep, she informed him. He was supposed to do a series of 8 but ended up doing at least 12 reps, even with all that weight on his back.

He had shown her his favorite scope, detached it for her inspection from the SAKO he had in the safe. She said it was cool, but she knew a few better ones. And then she looked at him with a mischievous grin and said he should be fingering her instead of gun parts.

They had made love several times a day, just unhinged sex, until he felt soft in the head. Sex in the morning and sex in the evening, and sex at night when the other had woken up, too excited to sleep. They had showered together and done it there, too. He had dried her with his towel and carried her back to bed, all wet and giggling and soft and so sweet he had no words for her, neither in German nor English.

They had ordered takeaway on the last night, and he had watched as she ate it straight from the box, wearing only - and only - one of his shirts that looked huge on her. He had eaten her out not shortly after.

She gave him his first blowjob in the hallway of his apartment, just before he had to leave. He had almost missed the plane. Only when he was running to the gates that were already closing had it occurred to him that perhaps that's what she had aimed for.

And when the plane finally took off, he was blanketed by everything she said. That he was an adorable dumbass and her big boy and a gentleman and how good he was in bed, and that she would count the days to when they would see each other again. And that if he got killed, she would come and raise him from the dead and kill him again for daring to leave her.

"Ja, I got that pint. And the… girl."

"König got laid?" Fender nearly choked on his spaghetti.

Zero gave a hearty laugh, and König felt his cheeks grow hot under the mask.

"That's my man!"

He felt a slap on his back and Conor's eyes on him from across the table but didn't care.

They would eventually get interested in the toy soldier attached to his rifle, dangling from a key chain. The token bestowed upon him... her blessing. Physical evidence that she was real and had left with his shirt and now slept in it.

A reminder that he had a home to go back to.

#könig fanfiction #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig imagine #mw2 smut #my fics #könig x oc #könig #könig x female oc

[zarla-s]

Spy has a real antipathy towards sniping as a profession, which is interesting since he’s not the one who’s being sniped generally, being cloaked or disguised 90% of the time. His teammates however get sniped a lot, especially Heavy and Medic. Maybe he’s a little indignant on their behalf, I don’t know. I know I’m grateful to Spies when they take out Snipers for me/my Heavy, haha.

[patreon]

#team fortress 2 #heavy #medic #spy #sniper #z art #z comic #moments later they were backstabbed #never let your guard down for an instant! #snipers! [shakes fist] #i like spy being a team player #this isn't accounting for sniper throwing jars of pee at him which understandably would make anyone resentful

[2-dsimp]

Danny The Boss:

Oh no. Not only is his darling a fabulous cosplayer they’re also top of the line assassin too. Get this man an ambulance because right now he was about to pass out from his hyperactive imagination of you in the wifey fit from Spy x Family. He actually has those costumes in his sacred closet and he’ll downright get on his knees and beg for you to be the Yor to his Loid.

??? The Enforcer:

You’ve brought out his inner cheerleader since now that he’s discovered that his little spark fire is a cold blooded killer. You bet that he’s gonna cheer you on like the big supportive golden retriever that he is. He’ll shower you with praise for every single name you’ve taken off the map.

Bjorn The Strategist:

For being the smartest one in the room it was ironic how he had no clue of how you were already in the business until you outright told him. The news left him baffled as he sat in his chair with the cold cup of black coffee spilling from his cup until it ran empty. He was the literal embodiment of “Wow…I need to a minute to think about this” I guess those rose colored lenses he wore for the cute barista of his really did make him blind.

Yujin The Hacker:

He actually brought the topic of you being a bounty hunter up to you and bombarded you with all sorts of questions with an excited catlike grin on his face. One day he was absentmindedly stalking you on all social media until he came across something that was a telltale sign that you were in a similar profession. He was literally bouncing off the screens of his pc monitors at the fact that you two shared something in common. And he couldn’t wait to gossip with you about it!

Koji The Medic:

He knew right from the moment he saw that his darling nurse was oddly skilled with his tools. For every “patient” that came in he couldn’t help but be impressed with how well you handled even the rowdiest of the bunch with such effectiveness without breaking a sweat. He just decided not to mention it as it wasn’t necessarily a topic he felt that needed to be addressed as it wasn’t any of his business.

Moros The Torturer:

He couldn’t help but be the mother hen he was and fret over you every time you went out on a mission. He’d constantly worry about how you were doing once you left him to his own devices. It was so bad that he was stuck in autopilot mode the whole entire day until you came back. Even while he was on duty torturing his clients targets as they screamed in agony from him pulling off their nails. All he could think about was wether or not his sunshine ate this morning.

Ossian The Sniper:

Once he found out that you were also a contracted killer from having a stakeout outside your house. Spying on you from his sniper lenses only to find you cutting at dead body and disposing it within a vacuum bag. He’d make sure to stalk you during your mission making sure not to get caught as he headshoted anyone posing a threat to you. Silently cheering you on with a sweet small smile on his face and a fist pump from a distant building. As he gushed over how badass his crush was.

#Danny the boss #Ossian the sniper #Koji the medic #Moros the torturer #Bjorn the strategist #Yujin the hacker #The enforcer #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere hitman #the hacker #the torturer #the boss #the strategist #the medic #the enforcer #yandere headcanons #yandere content #yanderecore

[teacupcollector]

Playing With Soaps Hair

Modern Warfare II Masterlist

A/N: This was mentioned in 'The Art of Misdirection' Part 2 so I thought I would go into more detail.

A/N: I am in no way a hairstylist or cosmetologist (If that is even the right profession I have no idea xD) So my hair cut knowledge is limited lol Summary: You find out Soap likes his hair played with.

You quickly found out that Soap likes his hair being played with after attempting to cut his hair. It was a Saturday morning so they weren't needed for training or anything else that day. You and Soap were in the Mess snacking on peanut butter that they managed to trade when Soap let out a sigh.

"What's up?" You ask as you take a sip of water trying to wash down the peanut butter you had just consumed.

"Nothin' really Misdi, I just need a haircut, but I don't like the barber at this particular base..." He says.

You chuckle. You had been sent on a mission with Gaz included to a Base in Germany. You have made a few friends while you have been here and have heard the rumors behind the heavy handed barber on base.

"I could do it for you if you'd like." You say with a smile.

"We can sneak in when the guy is on lunch or something." You say, your smile turning into a mischievous smirk. "I like the way you think Corporal." Soap says with an equally mischievous smirk while winking.

You got the schedule from a big guy in a sniper hood. He seemed nice so you made sure to give him the rest of your peanut butter stash for when this job is done. You have Soap sit in the chair while you get the clippers ready. When they are ready you put a cape over the front of his body to prevent hair going all over him "Are you sure you don't want to let it grow out a bit?" You ask as you plug them in and turn on the power. "I'm sure. This mop isn't the best." He says with a sigh. You turn him toward the mirror and run your hand through his Mohawk. You sigh. "That's unfortunate... You should be known as 'conditioner' instead of 'Soap'" You say as you start with the sides. "You want a two right?" I say referencing to the clip size. "Mhm... And why 'Conditioner?'" John asks as he closes his eyes. “You have the softest hair that any women would want to grab.” You say as you move to the back of his head. He nearly moans in delight. You continue to run your hands through his hair to adjust his head on occasion. You just happened to look up to look at his face. You see him wiggle his eyebrows. "Are you saying you want to pull my hair? Kind of sensual don' ya think?" Your face goes bright red. "Misdi goin' all red on me? Do I need to talk to the higher ups?" He says in a teasing tone.

"S-Sorry Sargent I'll do pa-" "Calm down I am only joking... No paperwork needed." Soap continues to smirk. You grumble under your breath as you change the clipper size to a three. You begin to shave the top of his head and he hums in delight. You smile slightly and begin to hum to yourself. You see him looking at you through the mirror. "How do you know how to do hair?" He asks and you laugh nervously. "Big family... People need hair cuts." You say with a smile. You finish the top of his head and get the blow dryer to get all the loose hairs off. "There you go! All set!" You say with a smile before. "I would have rinsed your hair or something bu-" "Want to feel me up some more?" Soap asks with a smirk.

You scoff. "No... I wanted to water board you..." You say as you put the clippers back and wipe them down with some form of disinfectants. "Don't worry babydoll you can play with my hair all you like." He says as he stands up and removes the cape. You grab a broom and dust pan. As he is walking to the door you trip him causing him to face plant into the door. You burst out laughing. That is until you hear the sound of stomping footsteps coming within the building and heading toward your direction. "Shit lets go!" You say, but you make sure to trip him again which ultimately got him caught. That is when you run into Gaz. "Why are you all out of breath?" He asks. "N-No reason! I uh... I need to go see a guy about some peanut butter. His name is uh King I think." You quickly look behind you to see a not so happy Soap. "SEE YOU LATER!" You exclaim as you run toward your barracks to grab said peanut butter.

#mw2 2022 #cod mw22 #soap mctavish #john mactavish x reader #gaz mw2 #kyle 'gaz' garrick #konig mentioned #konig mw2 #Fluff #modern warefare 2 fanfic #modern warfare 2 #mw 2 ficlet #ficlet #modern warfare 2 ficlet #x reader #x gen z reader #x ofc reader #x oc reader

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Hello! this is based on an OC, but may you write about Medic with a cloned child OC? I always thought of him as a mad scientist type, so I’m sure he would’ve figured out how to do that. He basically raises this clone as his own kid, and they’d be a late teen / young adult by the time the events of TF2 happen

The OC is a girl but honestly you can make it gender neutral if you’d like!

Sorry if it’s too specific, but TYSM!

Medic & Child, Cloned reader HC

A/n: This is one of my fav reqs of all time ngl Requests are open!!

Summary: You're Medic's cloned child, headcanons. Words: 636 Request: Yeah

I like to think you’re a clone based on him, or atleast a clone made in his image. One medic is enough to create chaos and things like that, just imagine another person who's almost a 1to1 of him, pure chaos. 

Your first day being alive, he took you in his arms and was like “it’s alive!” just as Heavy and Spy walked in to ask him if he wanted to go grab a beer. They were absolutely terrified, Spy just cloaked out of there having the day Scout was born in the back of his mind.

That left only Medic, you and Heavy there. Heavy was shocked and Medic just held you up looking at him; “Isn’t she so cute!!” While you looked alarmingly similar to him with his grin on your face.

Others found out like ten minutes after that and soon everyone was just looking at you with no clue of what to do.

When Ms. Pauling found out she almost died on her spot. “There’s no way Medic is suited to even have a dog, let alone a child!” 

Nobody gave af, she soon came around to like you too. 

Medic is 100% your father figure (That’s rather obvious) but so was Heavy, they’re like your dads.

Sniper, Engie, Demo and Soldier are like your uncles (That doesn’t include Spy because he’s def a wine aunt, and so is Ms. Pauling). While Pyro and Scout act more like your siblings. 

Medic showed you the ropes and soon you were as capable of doing batshit crazy things like him. He was so proud!! 

Archimedes loves you, always resting on your shoulder doing simple things like staying with you and Medic during operations on other Mercs. 

When you were a less capable child everyone basically coparented, of course Heavy and Medic were like your parents the most but everyone wanted to take care of you so they followed a schedule of who has to babysit you and when. 

Once you grew up to actually be independent, mercenaries were terrified to realize how similar you are to Medic, you were the same person, with slightly different looks, you even wore the same glasses he did. 

When the events of the TF2 mercs splitting happened (Referencing the comics rn if someone didn’t know) you went with Medic, the change impacted you way more than it did him, you really missed everyone, they were like your family. 

Once he started to work with those blue guys you were cool with it, they underestimated you but you showed them that you’re just like your fellow dad, insane. 

Medic showed you all the modifications he made and you showed the modifications you did before you both laughed it off like the silliest thing one can do. 

When everyone got back together you were way older than you used to be, but fortunately you remembered everything. 

When Medic told you about the fact that you were a clone you were very interested and didn’t care, like at all. I mean you’re basically him, so it was more interesting than scary or sad.

He helped you in acquiring 9 souls from some suckers just like he did! (Can’t believe all mercs gave him their souls lmao) 

Sometimes you operate on the Mercs when he’s somewhere else, at first they were very unwilling but soon it showed that you were just like him in this profession (which isn’t the ideal tbh)

Everyone showed you something, so you were really multiclass, leaning heavily into being another medic (shocking, I know)

Overall a 10/10 father, sure he has some loose screws but isn’t that normal? You two are the most chaotic beings even the devil can’t contain.

#requests open #request #medic #tf2 #hc #tf2 hcs #ms pauling #spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 comics #tf2 x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 engie #medic x reader platonic #platonic #please request

[missclementinex]

Old books and whiskey.

Bffs to lovers, asexual!reader, reader has undisclosed autoimmunity, fluff, grump/sunshine, ptsd, nightmares, language, kissing, fem!reader.

718 words.

It was pouring cats and dogs out as Billy peeked out the window of his bookshop, people milling about inside, looking at books, and enjoying coffee. There was a low hum of conversation, and the shop smelled like coffee beans and cookies.

And then you appeared.

You were running through the downpour, bursting into the bookstore with a newspaper over your head, soaked through. It was not good for your autoimmune. “Billy—“ You said, eyes alight with excitement, as though whatever it was, was worth going out into a storm for.

“Little bird, why are you out in the rain? Do you wanna catch your death out there?” He said, voice hard as his eyes narrowed, taking in your soaked appearance.

“Bought you somethin’, Billy goat.” You said quietly, tossing the newspaper in a garbage can. It had done no good.

He grabbed your arm, dragging you up to his apartment where he lived above the bookshop, telling Curtis to watch the shop. “Billy—“ you murmured, following him into his apartment, and then his bedroom while he dug through his dresser, tall and wooden with his dog tags hanging off the side, along with his medals of honor.

A reminder he was a fighter. A survivor. There was a gun on the dresser, old habits die hard, you figured. Your scout sniper specialist.

It was surprising to see him in such a gentle, and quiet profession, after all the death and blood and violence he’d seen.

You remembered him drunk one evening as you both laid in his bed. “I’m just some asshole who thinks he can have the good things in life. All I’m good for is killin’.”

You’d pulled his head against your chest, fingers scratching his scalp. “I love you, that’s all that matters. Thorns and all.”

His fingers had dug into your hips, and he ended up having several nightmares that night, and you woke up to him leaning against the headboard with a gun on his lap, but he’d settled when you sat up, and rested your head on his shoulder, pinky curling around his, bringing him back to reality.

He threw a sweater at you where you stood at the door. “Put that on, little bird.” He said in a low voice, eyes burning into you, betraying his worry. You whined but obeyed, beginning to remove your dress as you shivered realizing just how cold you were, and Billy left to give you privacy.

You came back out to the living area afterwards, with wet hair and bare thighs that had rain water dripping down them. Billy swallowed, even though he knew you weren’t sexual at all, he still found himself wanting to enter a relationship with you, despite your asexuality. He’d felt more intimate with you at times, than the sexual encounters he’d had. You filled some void he’d had since childhood that sex had never filled, though not from lack of trying.

Intimacy with you was more important than sex.

You flopped down on the couch, unaware of the train of his thoughts. “Got you this,” you said eagerly, thrusting the object in his face.

It was a whiskey glass with the title Dorian Gray on the front, he looked at the glass closer, and saw book’s opening lines around the glass. People rarely thought of Billy, rarely remembered things about him, and your gift had him turning to you, and tangling his fingers in your wet hair, and pulling you closer, kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and eventually your mouth in a close mouth kiss, the feeling of you smiling at his lips was intimate.

His cheeks burned pink as he pulled back, breathless. His eyes were dark, and fathomless.

“Do you like it, Billy?” You asked, fluttering your eyelashes at him, pinky curling around his finger. You did that ever since the first night he’d had nightmares. You’d done it to soothe, knowing touch was difficult with Billy.

“Yeah, little bird, I like it.” He husked, burying his nose in your hair, smelling rain and your shampoo. He loved you, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

But for now, he allowed himself to be happy, content even.

Not everything had to be complicated. It was simple, he loved you, and that was enough.

x

@e-dubbc11 @aoi-targaryen @kayhi808 @danzer8705 @nerdyreaderpapi @vaguekayla @snowkestrel

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

[highwayorgantrade]

I Can't

Pairing: fem!reader x John Price

Request: "hey whore  can i pls have a fic where price saves the reader's ass and then professes his love but like in a captain price im a hard ass way thx stinker butt” by @quizzyisdone

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, cursing, brief mentions of torture, Price being a dick.

Author’s Note: 

quizzy I could've seen this coming a mile away, but wait! am I now attracted to him? reader's code name is echo.

Being in the hospital was embarrassing.

Well, it was embarrassing for you. You weren’t the type to mess up that badly. For days, the only people who spoke to you were nurses, doctors, and the occasional psychiatrist. It was frustrating, listening to your company whisper about you, and it only added to the frustration of allowing yourself to get hurt, and even worse: get saved.

“Isn’t that Echo? I thought she wasn’t able to get caught.”

“Looks like I’ve caught you.” You felt your heart stop when cool metal pressed into the back of your head. Ice ran through your veins, and your hands froze on the sniper rifle that was positioned in front of you.

You had every advantage point, your high-caliber scope could catch even the most minute details from the cliff. Your mission was simple, and it was one you had done a thousand times before: Protect Task Force 141.

“Go ahead, kill me.” You finally responded, indignantly. In reality, you just wanted the fear that struck your heart to leave. Whoever it was, you knew they wouldn’t let you go. You wanted this situation to be over, as soon as possible. Your communication device crackled to life, and Captain Price’s voice came in, causing your anxiety to worsen. Please, Price, don’t say anything confidential.

“Echo, status?”

Instinctively, your hand reached toward the walkie, and you were met with a shocking crack across the back of your head. White spots blinded your vision, and a buzz settled in your ears, loud enough so you could barely hear John’s voice again. 

“Echo, please confirm status.” He instructed, sounding a bit more aggravated, like you had gotten distracted by the flowers, and not by an enemy holding you at the wrong end of a gun. 

“Tell him you are fine.” The voice behind you spoke, and you felt blood begin to drip its way down your face and neck.

“Are you going to hit me again?” You taunted weakly, but stiffened when you felt a boot on your back. “Fine.”

You held the side of the walkie, and waited.

“Price, this is Echo.” You took a deep breath. “Price, I’ve been made, don’t say anything-.” You didn’t even hear the butt of the gun meeting the back of your head, all you felt was a ripping pain, and a burning anger before your vision was overwhelmed by darkness.

“Privates Andrés and McDonough, do you get paid to gossip?” John’s harsh voice cut through the silence, and pulled you back to reality. The men didn’t even respond, all you could hear were their boots quickly walking away from your room. Finally, he appeared in the doorway of your room, crowding the frame. A scowl was apparent on his face, and he barely looked at you before casting his eyes to the wall behind you.

“You look upset.” You noted, and to be honest, you were a little annoyed he was mad at you. 

“Upset doesn’t cover it. You were completely unfocused.” He hissed, and anger ate at your throat.

“I’m alive. Everybody’s alive. The mission was successful. Do any of these sentences sound incorrect to you?” You knew you shouldn’t be like this, that you should be grateful he found you. His fist clenched, and he finally took you in. 

“I’m so glad that the bare minimum is enough for you, Echo.” The strained venom in his voice was obvious. “Do you know? Do you know what you looked like when we found you?”

“I had decided to take a nap, so I didn’t have time to look in the mirror.”

At this, Price stiffened, and you knew you hit some kind of nerve. In lieu of responding, he walked over to the door of your room, and shut it quietly. His back stayed turned to you, and you prepared yourself for him to yell at you for your insubordination. 

“You looked like you were already dead.” Price whispered, barely audibly, and your heart softened. “You were pale, and the way they put you in that car was like they were carrying a body.” He turned back to you, but his gaze was cast at the floor. “Gaz had to check for your pulse, I couldn’t… I didn’t want to. Do you know how many men I killed getting to you?” John’s voice cracked, and he sat down on the bed next to you.

“I still don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. If it was such a hassle, why even bother? Why did you even come here to visit me? Nobody’s talked to me in days!” Bitterness poisoned your voice, and you gripped your sheets, a brand new headache introducing itself.

“Because they feel bad! We all feel bad!” He barked, standing up again. “Echo, I can’t-.” He cut himself off, running a hand over his facial hair.

“You can’t? You can’t what?” You pushed. “You keep saying ‘I can’t, I couldn’t,’ what can’t you do?” You matched his volume as defiance reared its ugly head.

“I can’t think about what it would be like without you!” John yelled, slamming his fist against the counter, causing you to jump. “If you had died, who would take your place? Who would sit in your seat at the bar? Who would get your bed?” John didn’t allow you to respond before he continued. “Echo, if you had died, it would be like there’s a puzzle piece missing! How dare you ask me why I saved you, why do you think!”

He paced while he rambled, staring at you desperately, begging you to come to your own conclusions. “I’m looking at you in this bed, I saw the way you flinched, and every single person that made you like this, I want their blood on my hands.” A coldness creeped into his eyes, and you had finally decided: enough was enough. You needed to know exactly what he was trying to say, because so far, it has fallen on deaf ears. 

“Price, just say it.” His shoulders dropped, and you saw his lips twitch as he tried to form the words.

“I couldn’t live with myself if you never knew how I feel about you. How I see you.” He spoke slowly, like his words would break you. “You are… The single bright spot I have. Your jokes over comms, the way you smile when we meet after a complete mission. When you try to mimic my accent, everything you do, every word you speak, it’s painful knowing you’re not mine.”

Price’s long-winded confession rendered you speechless. You thought back to every time you noticed his gaze lingering on you longer than the rest of the Task Force, but the way he acted toward you gave no indication of his feelings.

Of course, that’s not to say that you haven’t thought of him that way - you’ve wasted a lot of time fumbling over your words around him, taking longer to answer questions because you just got too distracted by his voice, or the way he always made direct eye contact with you. You remember the nights where you would stay awake for hours, overthinking your interactions with him for that day. Or that one time he adjusted your hips for you when you were practicing in the field. 

“Please.” He took your hand in his. “Please just tell me to leave, and I will never talk about it again. Everything will go back to normal.”

Your chest tightened when you thought about the implications. Would you have to keep your relationship a secret? What would happen if it wasn’t a secret? No matter the question, the only answer in the back of your mind was that you didn’t care.

“Don’t leave.” You found your voice, and it cut through the hanging silence. “Please stay.” Price stared at you, searching for any sign of hesitation or regret, and when he couldn’t find any, he cupped your jaw with his hand, thumb tracing over the edge of a bandage, and he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“If you ever endanger yourself like that again, there will be severe consequences.” He whispered against your skin, and you smiled, all previous anger and frustration long gone. 

“John,” He pulled away from you at his name, and he sat back next you. “Do we keep this a secret?” Your voice was small, and Price’s ensuing laugh made it seem even smaller.

“Task Force knows.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I might’ve complained a lot, and Soap caught on first.” 

“And Soap has issues keeping his mouth shut.” You confirmed, rolling your eyes.

“Correct. How much longer do you have to be in here for?” He looked around at the hospital room, like he was just noticing all the machines and the sounds. 

“A few more days, but at least the coffee isn’t terrible.” You shrugged, resigned to your fate. John groaned, and he pursed his lips, considering the situation.

“Alright.” He sighed when he stood up again. “Coffee date it is, then."

#john price #captain price #john price x reader

[mini-hellagur-with-arts]

@midst-anima​

It was just an ordinary day for the former ranger of Kazimierz as she was preparing things for a little bonfire tonight as she hated being behind the walls of Rhodes where she didn’t much belong but it was what it was and she was grateful that she had a roof underneath her head and a warm bed to rest upon.

After setting up her little camp,she would sit down on a big rock and relax. How she enjoyed the nature,making her think of the good old times back in her hometown where she would hang around with the other wardens.

#Meteor #Profession; Sniper

[3-dsimp]

My Masterlist 🖤

Requests are OPEN✨

This is an 18+ blog only!!

MDNI/AGELESS BLOGS you will be blocked.

———————————////——————————

My other blog @2-dsimp is meant for everyone so check it out if you’d like!

(Just an FYI some of the links below will direct you to my main blog. because I’ve yet to transfer all the nsfw stuff on my main over to my side 🔞 blog.)

———————————////——————————

NSFW I write for✨

———————————////——————————-

Genshin impact

The real Yandere Malewives of Genshin

Obey me

Yandere! Diavolo🔞

JOJO Bizarre adventures

Demon slayer

Yandere! Akaza 🔞

Undertale

Your Boyfriend

BHNA  

Drider! Shinsou! doodle

Perv! Ghostboi! Izuku🔞

Perv! Harpy! Shiggaraki! 🔞

Perv Harpy! Shigaraki art 🖼

Zombie! Shinsou! 🔞

Bunny hybrid! Denki!🔞

Scarecrow! Hawks!🔞

Scarecrow! Hawks pt2 🔞

Cat hybrid! Amajiki! 🔞

Haikyuu

Tokyo revengers

Yandere! Shark hybrid Mikey

JKK

AOT

General kinks/Other

overstimulation 🔞

Cockwarming 🔞

Smonophillia 🔞

Breeding 🔞

Cockworship 🔞

Praise 🔞

Degradation 🔞

Cum inflation 🔞

Supermanning🔞

Impregnation🔞

Bondage🔞

Sensory deprivation🔞

Mommy🔞

Non-con🔞

Yandere Hitman Squad

How Hitman squad reacts when someone hurts their S/O

How the hitman react to you being in a similar profession as them

How the hitman react to you throwing it back

Poly! Enforcer + Torturer 🔞

Poly? Hacker + Sniper🔞

Poly?! Boss + Strategist

Picrew hitman 🖼️

The Boss

The Boss short 1 🎨

Boss + Enforcer + Hacker

The Boss with influencer S/O

The Boss reacting to your favorite cosplayer

The Boss with an darling who went dead silent on social media

The hacker 🎨

Hacker shorts 1🎨

Hacker chats 💬

Hacker with clingy S/O 🎨

Hacker cuddles 🎨

Hacker: Milkies? 🔞

The Torturer

Torturer chats 💬

Torturer chats 2 💬

When He sees your ex harm you

Random hcs

Random hcs pt2

Torturer + protective darling

The Medic

Medic with elf S/O

Medic chats 💬

The Strategist

The Enforcer

The Sniper

Yandere monster gang

The poltergeist

The Archdevil

The incubus 🎨

The Devilbat 🎨

Yandere Spin-offs

The Hero

Hero random hcs

Adonis with hero darling 🔞

Adonis lusting over his heroling 🔞

The husband 🔞

Your husband short 1 🔞🖼️

The vilian

The photographer 🔞

The goth

The nerd

The jock

The delinquent

The model

The pervert

Yandere Zodiac Mafia

The Dragon

The Rooster

The Rat

The Goat

The Tiger

————————————-

MYTHERIALS AU ✨

————————————-

#yandere haikyuu #yandere jjk #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere bhna #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere aot #yandere demon slayer #yandere genshin impact #yandere undertale #yandere obey me #smut central #yandere oc #bhna smut #mha smut #tokyo rev smut #kny smut #jjba smut #haikyuu smut #aot smut #genshin smut #obey me smut #jjk smut

[puella-1n-somn10]

🕊️Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Team Fortress 2: Medic and his Witch Form🕊️

word count w/o intro text: 10,651

(Over...two...months...of writing; thank FUCK I've managed to get this all down right on time for Halloween!)

This has been a long time consideration, and, according to one of my last few polls, ya'll really wanted to see how I would interpret Medic's witch form! Well, after a long-time wait, here's the rundown of how Medic's witch would look like in my mind!

Before we start, I highly recommend that you look at the list of trigger warnings present in the tags; the Team Fortress 2 universe, both in-game and outside of it, is no stranger to gruesome elements, so I strongly urge you to take a long look at them before proceeding. If any of the mentioned makes you uncomfortable in whatever form, look away now for the sake of your own health.

As expected, spoilers for Madoka Magica, Kazumi Magica, Tart Magica, Magia Record (especially the anime), and the Team Fortress 2 comics ahead! We are going to talk about one of the many stingers of the Puella Magi universe, after all! On top of that, there will be mentions of Heavy x Medic x Engineer, so if the ship doesn't sit right with you, I must sincerely apologize in advance; it is recommended to click away from this post if said ship is not your cup of tea at all.

With all that being said, let us begin with this mess of an analysis/ficlet post!

-The Wish, Possible Powers, and Soul Gem-

"Oh ho hoh! I have been in zhe wrong profession. I must learn zhis magic!"

Let's be blunt here for a second- he's already laid waste to whatever concept of "morals" present within the human consciousness that would prevent him from furthering his medical and experimental endeavors, and he's done so much without the use of an incubator's powers; from granting his teammates invincibility to bringing them back from the clutches of death. Ludwig's immoral, sickened mind, coupled with his medical skills and treatment of the human body as an art canvas, has allowed him to play God.

On the other hand, though he did align himself with the opposing Classic team for some time within the comics, he explained to the newly-resurrected Sniper that it was purely for financial reasons, and that he never harbored any ill-will towards his teammates. In fact, it would be safe for us to assume that he, in his mind, genuinely cares for his team, and made it one of his missions to turn them into unstoppable killing machines- into gods. He cherishes his fellow mercenaries...albeit in his own twisted, inhumane, and silly way.

Building upon the above, it is also clear that Ludwig is a responsible pet owner and genuinely cares for his doves, especially Archimedes. Yes, he does resort to using animal organs - especially the exotic kind - when fit in order to further his experiments and enhance his teammates' performances, but the contrast between that and his care for the birds is kind of a testament to how he treat other humans - especially the classic team - vs. how he treats the mercs and others close to him. For goodness' sake, he's put Classic Heavy's demands on a back burner and allowed Sniper to escape while he was too busy reviving Archimedes! Ludwig does have a heart and the capacity to care, but not much in terms of morals, if at all.

Wow, he would definitely get along with Alina Gray, huh?

So, right off the bat, it wouldn't be farfetched for Medic to be curious over Kyubey's wish-granting skills; he did make a deal with the Devil himself on two separate occasions within the official Team Fortress 2 comics (though the initial deal's conditions is still unknown to us), after all. How he came to figuring out the existence of the incubators is anyone's guess at this point due to his unpredictable nature, but, in my opinion, it can range from old folklore surrounding the species or simply finding out that one of the mercs had already contracted (my personal bets are either Heavy or Solly). I recommend going off the walls with this one; for all we know, he could have managed to detect spikes in magical activity around the base/island and forced himself into the world of Magi, Witches, and wishes- all the while a certain little bipedal fiend began to showcase an equal amount of interest in him for reasons we are going to dive into soon.

On to the main topic of his wish, it's quite simple, really; it would be related to his hunger for power/knowledge and furthering his research/scientific endeavors; promptly dissipating whatever is limiting his experimental pursuits (maybe even financial, as presented to us in the comics).

Another possible wish that he could have made might be rooted to the bonds he had formed with the mercenaries and the surprisingly deep respect he had shown to each one them on numerous occasions. Such fascination towards his teammates is even presented to us within the beta version of Meet the Medic, where he made his goal of enhancing them and turning them into beings akin to the divine as clear as daylight. I won't deny the fact that this man just keep on finding out new ways to break both the Hypocratic Oath and Geneva Conventions with each passing minute - and it's usually for his own amusement -, but he also seeks to sculpt each mercenary into the best versions of themselves not just as a testament to his own prowess, but also because of his fascination towards them; he just likes those goobers around him and sees the mercs as his fellow pals.

With all that being said, I personally don't believe that whatever power he gained as a result of these wishes would be on a similar caliber as his canonical healing skills; after all, even without Kyubey's interference, he has shown to be exceptionally skilled in his craft to the extent that he had deemed himself to be a god on multiple occasions- and none of them were without reason. Instead, I believe that the core theme of his new magical powers relate to limits- whatever barriers that prevented him from unlocking his and the rest's full potential, and fully dissipating them. Perhaps he can manifest organs, transfer them at high speeds, all the while making his surgeries a little easier for himself. The option of him being able to create little animated "familiars" of his own from the remains of both ally and enemy alike is also there. If you guys have better ideas, please don't hesitate to share; I'll have to admit that this coming up with wish-related powers is a personal weak point of mine, and I will be accepting any and all criticisms coming my way.

Finally, to close this section and move on to the next, I would also like to discuss the matter surrounding his soul gem, and how I would personally interpret it. I am unsure if what I am going to say next has been backed up by canon or not, but a nice detail that I have noticed whilst looking into the soul gems present in canon is that they often correspond with the eye colors of their respective magi; which brings to mind the idea of eyes being the windows to a person's soul. Even if it's not a mandatory rule for when it comes to designing a Magi (especially when we take Nagisa Momoe into account), we can still see this metaphor being at play on numerous occasions throughout the Madoka canons, and where else is it more evident than within Kazumi Magica and the Magia Record anime?

Putting it briefly, aside from just looking at their soul gem, another indicator of a magi's slip into witchhood is by looking into their eyes during their final moments; Michiru Kazusa's sclera turned completely dark as her pupils began to shift into scribbles, and Kuroe - poor, sweet Kuroe - had the same corruption her soul gem was undergoing being displayed from within, you guessed it, her eyes.

So, while I do believe that red could be a nice color for Ludwig's soul gem, as it would also correspond with him being on the RED team - as presented to us on the cover of Fight Songs -, I can also see that a striking blue could also fit our crazy bastard.

As for the emblems present on his soul gem's egg form and its shape upon transformation, I'm gonna be honest; this is gonna be a little more complex than the color part - especially with the soul gems of Tart Magica and Magia Record in mind -, but I will do my best to summarize it to the best of my abilities-

To make this easier for my sanity's sake, the red cross he is already associated with in-game will be present as the emblem on top of his soul gem, though the the one on the middle would probably be based on either his bonesaw, the Ubercharge, a realistic heart (as a tie-in to how the Ubercharge works), or his doves instead. The actual shape his soul gem take on upon transformation, on the other hand, would resemble a large, anatomical heart placed on the center of his chest - connected to the rest of it and his shoulders through glass arteries and veins - due to its sheer size; usually, a magi's soul gem is only large enough to fit within the palm of their hands, while Medic's could be as huge as his curled-up fist or even an ostrich's egg.

The cause behind this peculiarity will be thoroughly explained soon enough, but, for now, let us close this chapter up and move on to the next...

-Descent Into Despair-

Before we kick off this angst fest and start hypothesizing, we're gonna need to take a good look at the nature of the soul and how this ties into the existing similarities shared between Kyubey and Ludwig- yes, this will get wild, especially if you're in only one of those fandoms from the outside looking in, so it's best for you to buckle up, hon, 'cause we in for a fucking joyride.

According to multiple religious and philosophical texts, the soul is a vital, non-physical part of a human being; it is an individual's very core of existence. The soul isn't exactly abstract, per se, as it's believed to actually exist between the lines of this plane of reality and that of the intangible world, and that each person has a unique soul that is distinctly theirs; it is, by definition, metaphysical- that person is the soul, as much as the soul is them.

Despite the limitations placed upon us by the very nature of the soul, it can be treated as a tangible and even physical object within both the TF2 and PMMM canons; in the latter case, Kyubey was able to turn them into magical gems for the sake of both efficiency and "incubation" - the goal of turning his victims into despair-riddled witches that spread the very misery they are drowning in -, all the while, in the Team Fortress universe, they are treated as nothing more than organs that can be removed and then reapplied at will by the very hands of, you guessed it, our very own Ludwig Humboldt for the dual purpose of conning the Devil out of the ownership of his soul and, in turn, extending his own life span.

This brings us back to the very moment where Ludwig made his wish with Kyubey; as presented to us via both Sayaka Miki and Homura Akemi, the process of making a wish and establishing a contract with Kyubey is proven to be quite the painful procedure, as they were able to feel their souls being pulled right out of their bodies by Kyubey in order to remold the very cores of their whole existence into these magical jewels known as Soul Gems; shining with the wishes that bind them to the life of a Magi until they inevitably reach their grisly ends.

Medic, of all people, would absolutely be the first to know exactly how painful it would be to have one's soul be forcefully ripped out of one's own body; he had already done so to 8 other people before grafting the extracted essences into himself. As result of this forced amalgamation, the size of his soul gem would be, as already stated, much larger than average. As for Medic himself and his reaction to his accumulated souls being turned into this grand artifact of magical potential, he would be in a state of shock, awe, and perhaps even a tinge of conflict - from the pain alone, he knew that his souls were tampered with; extracted and reforged -, but they were miniscule when compared to the wave of amazement that washed over him as he held the newly formed symbol of his status as a magi in his hands, shining a brilliant red with the wish he made with the white devil before him.

If Medic had to be honest, he would say, without a shadow of a doubt, that the incubators sure knew what they were doing; despite the tinge of bitterness regarding his souls being torn out of him, it was undeniable that having his life essences be turned into an all-powerful jewel was rather efficient, especially when stranded within the chaotic, unforgiving battlefield. Besides, this deal not only granted him what he desired most in life, but it unlocked a whole new world for him to explore; the realm of the witches.

After his first witch hunt went off without a hitch, he looked at his soul gem...yes, it had dimmed a little, and, according to his newly-formed, four-legged acquaintance, its brightness reflected what magic he had left; the very power he had gained from their infernal deal. This knowledge, combined with the grief seed taking in the impurities he had accumulated, had sparked inspiration within him, and, inevitably, that little glimmer turned into a raging, uncontrollable wildfire.

As his lips curled into that deranged smile of his, he arrived to the conclusion that he needed to research both his soul gem and these otherworldly monsters. Oh, was he was ever-so excited; a whole new world of possibilities had unveiled before him! He knew he had to learn more about these witches, for they were prime candidates for new observations and experiments...

Besides, if things were to go awry, he would have his backup plans as safeguards. He looked at the large jewel on his desk, its light reflecting on his glasses, with a look of complete confidence- after all, he was Ludwig Humboldt, the RED team's medic; he had already played the classic team like the money-hungry fools they were, defied all known laws of life, death, and nature on the regular, and bested the Devil in his own game! What bases of morality and human decency were little more than etches on the wall to him, and he was willing to go above and beyond to ensure his own and the rest's survival.

He cackled; oh, there was no need for any worries, my friend! Whatever that may come to pass, he shall find a workaround. So, with his lips curling into that toothy smile of his, he went to work-

Just like clockwork, it didn't take long for his signature obsession to dig its talons; day by day, he would salvage what parts of these unfathomable creatures and bring them back to his infirmary- even going as far as to capture their familiars and the smaller witches to bring back. After all, killing these wicked creatures outright would just cause them and their barriers to fade away, so he had to think of workarounds in order to harvest as much useful parts of them as he could.

All that, and that is without even getting into the details of the bargain he had made with the little pale ferret- why, that rascal Kyubey could be considered a new good friend of his in his eyes! He had even experimented on the bipedal fiend, and the Incubator held no grudge towards the quack doctor (hence how he came into the knowledge of his entire species and the fact that they were a hivemind). Back on topic- yes, the contract in itself was agonizing, there was no denying that, but at least he had gained a myriad of benefits from their mutual agreement.

Yet, as the saying goes, the higher they soar, the harder they fall.

Within every enforced law and in every deal made, loopholes were an inevitability- Ludwig and Kyubey knew that all too well as the roles of the recipient and contractor respectively. Time and curiosity have worked hand-in-hand in order to nurture their individual experiences and wisdom surrounding this unwritten rule of the universe. As several blazing days turned into howling nights, Ludwig's intrigue towards the limitations set before him as both a mercenary and a Puer Magi grew; his souls being turned into a singular, portable trinket was effective, yes, especially with the magic he had gained and his more than impressive healing abilities making both jobs a lot more easier, but, of course, so much could go wrong in the long run-

Ah, and these witches- at this stage, he had accomplished what many had deemed to be either impossible or far too risky; lining up the walls of his laboratory, amongst the butchered appendages and organs of their kin, were the captured forms of smaller witches and familiars- some were still struggling to be set free, while the others have resigned themselves to their fates. Whenever Ludwig wasn't on either battlefields or experimenting on his teammates, he would be slicing and chopping these poor souls away- trying to see how they functioned, or even analyzing their individual reactions to his little tests. Each of these curse-driven monstrosities' very existence brought forth a cluster of enigmas that only Ludwig could unravel, and the answer to these riddles must be tied to the very core of these beings- whether we're talking about how they would function as a living organism...or their grief seeds.

Besides...in his mind, there was nothing wrong with getting a few more benefits for yourself, was there? So long as such a possibility could help him continue on with both his life and work without any worries over the unknown, he was willing to take that chance. He was more than willing to rise up in the face of these hindrances- even if it took nearly pushing his soul to its breaking point, or unleashing what horrors mankind is not ready for once he manages to crack open a grief seed, he was certain he would find his way through this maze.

Unfortunately, his trickery of the devil himself had rendered him too confident. This unassuming little creature was no devil.

The further he descended down the inferno, the more barricades he had encountered on his way; wounding and injuring him to no end. Even with his soul gem on the edge of shattering, the grief seeds he had gathered were torn apart, watching as his own teammates neared their own limits as he caught up with them during their own witch hunts- the result was the same; he needed to research this even further. The fact that the two objects were apparently made of the same material had led Ludwig to several hypotheses - even coming close to the truth himself -, but, let us be real here for a second- if he did manage to figure out the truth behind the witches, which, logically speaking, he would, would it even come close to bothering him?

In fact...who was to say that, by learning the origins behind these creatures, that he wouldn't embrace the corruption of his soul gem? That he wouldn't lay his old vessel to waste, and treat his ascension to a higher plane of existence as a new experience for him? If that wasn't the case, then wouldn't he also inadvertently boost the process by going through meaningless hoops in the attempt to prevent his pre-written fate?

When looking at a man like Ludwig, a man already too far gone, only cold insanity and sadism irradiated from him- possessing an uncaring glee over the prospect of being able to experiment on the less fortunate souls who got in his way. His insistence on carrying on with his research came to the shock of almost nobody; such was his habit, and the mercenaries got used to his antics over time- yet, as time passed, his grip on his frustrations, desperation, and ever-growing drive continued to waver; everything about this new perspective on life filled him with a sense of wonder, even the countless roadblocks he had encountered still gave him a sense of awe...

His soul gem was as large as it was powerful, yes; it would take a larger accumulation of filth in order to actually affect him in any way or manner, and the reserves of magic he had- oh, how brightly must his gem shine when at its peak! Yet, one must consider at what point will the accumulated filth become...irreversible- how, at a certain threshold, the process of gathering up enough grief seeds to make sure it stays at its brightest at all times will yield more drawbacks than prospects of restoration? That the net value of the magic restored will inevitably hit zero if not the negatives?

How many times must this cycle repeat itself in order for the magi to inevitably give up on keeping their own soul completely pure at all times?

Ludwig still managed to keep his magic reserves somewhat afloat; though his cheerful and friendly mannerisms haven't wavered a bit, he couldn't keep his attention away from the developments that were unfolding before him. The experiments he had conducted on both his soul gem and the grief seeds he had gathered up did not help at all; further damaging and tainting his core only to satiate his own curiosity. He saw no issues as darkness slowly consumed his soul gem- it was simply another phenomenon to experience and document, no? It wasn't like it was hurting him or anything- if anything grim were to occur, he had his backup plans...if he could find one that actually worked...

No matter what Ludwig did, it appeared that his core was strictly bound to this jewel; he wasn't able to separate the souls within it, and, no matter how many times he would place another soul within him, it would just fade away as soon as he reached for it- purifying his soul gem in the process and leaving Ludwig as hollow as he was before the tests.

...He needed to study this further.

Ludwig's worries and starvation for answers gnawed at him. Within his glass heart, shades of ebony and crimson danced around one another, with only a small glimmer of light flickering through the veins existing to provide any form of luminescence, and his eyes-

Mikhail felt a lump on his throat as he gazed into the medic's soul through them- his once bright, fear-inducing blue eyes were beyond bloodshot, and, by his life, he could have sworn he saw the particles of his overheals float amidst the chaos. Still, Misha gulped down his worries as he placed the sandwich on Ludwig's desk and expressed his concerns over his health- to which the doctor thanked him - for both the meal and his considerations -, and assured the Heavy Weapons Guy before him that it was really nothing to flutter his feathers over, in his own words.

It was all going to be worth it soon. He knew it.

Tensions within the RED base grew with every passing day, and nobody sensed it more than Mikhail and Dell Conagher; though Ludwig would insist that he was alright - that it was all a part of the usual routine - and how close he was to a breakthrough, the two couldn't help but look out for the well-being of their medic. For the last few weeks to come, the two would keep a close eye on him- checking on the guy every now and then - as much as they could -, and making sure he hadn't completely lost himself.

His answers were becoming more cryptic as time passed; no matter how much Dell would ask and express his concerns, Ludwig would still act nonchalant, even as his eyes continued to darken with and his health evidently took a nosedive. This was no need for the concern, my friend; he continued to promise the engineer that it was all working out fine, and that he'll be okay once it's all over. Dell still kept his guards up; worried that, one day, Ludwig's gonna go completely off the rails- his and Mikhail's resolution to keep that man safe grew with each conversation they had with him. Something just ain't completely sound here, and he'll have to be there for him when that time comes.

What a hollow vow.

Days blurred with one another in Ludwig's mind. Each passing second held little to no significance to him anymore. No, he had to continue on with his hunts- he needed to. His doves looked at him with worried expressions; the lab was a mess, with papers and feathers scattered everywhere, the lights burnt out, and Ludwig himself slouched on the chair- illuminated by moonlight, and still carrying that damned gem.

And...he was never as satisfied as he was right at this very moment.

He looked down at his beaten-down, darkening soul gem- it was all worth it, no? He gazed into the flickering crimsons as though he was in a daze. He was exhausted, unable to get up on his feet, but he didn't mind that at all. His team will understand soon enough...

The light within his soul gem went into a frenzy- he smiled from ear to ear, for it was finally time; the hour of revelation had dawned upon him. Like a grand supernova, it collapsed into itself.

Ludwig tilted his head backwards, still fascinated by what was happening before him even as all life escaped his eyes. He embraced the corruption consuming him, and, with a crack and a flash of bright light, the entire RED base was sent into chaos.

-The Witch's Nature-

In short, this is tied to the personality/aspect of a magi that did them in; what drove them to slip into despair with their skulls cracking wide open upon impact. To provide a few set examples; Homulilly's was Self-Sufficiency (closing herself off from others as both Moemura and Cool Homu), Oktavia's was to Fall in Love (the infatuation with both Kyosuke and the ideal of a Magical Girl marked poor Sayaka's end), and Candeloro's was inviting (Mami's coping mechanism to deal with her loneliness- and the irony of her dragging innocents into the life of a magi). It can also reflect the intent behind their wish (Sayaka and Madoka) or how they would cope with the life of a magi and the responsibilities that come with it moving forwards prior to their demise (Mami, Kyoko and Homura).

Unfortunately, it is rather....difficult to describe the traits and convictions that cause such complex characters to do what they have done in a single sentence, much less a word or two. For all anyone would know, any of the mentioned above - cause of their wishes, how they cope, and what finally marked their ends - could have been driven by a multitude of a magi's traits and goals, and Ludwig was no exception.

To make this easier on everyone, myself included, I have divided most of the traits that have pushed Lud over the edge into separate segments. The suggested natures listed below are in no particular order; one can fit the bill more than the other. Though I have chosen only one of them for the witch card, ya'll are free to reinterpret it with any of the other suggested natures.

Desperate

Cunning

Wonder

Sadistic

To Experiment

Observant

Curious

-The Witch's Appearance-

"I have a bird head! You're dominated! We're both having a bad day."

This might either be the most fun or the most agonizing segment of the entire thing. As a matter of fact, aside from his descent to despair, this part took me the longest to conceptualize, and it's still not 100% complete in my eyes, oh dear oh me-

Right off the bat- the witch has to be gruesome. I am not placing heavy emphasis on this one just because this is Medic we're talking about and how we're all aware of his...peculiar views on his job and the human body, but it's also due to the aforementioned souls he's surgically implanted into himself prior to contracting. Let me state this again- before managing to find and ensure a contract with Kyubey, the man had already managed to turn the abstract concept of a soul into nothing more than an organ that can be grafted into himself; that ferret's nifty trick is no longer special.

To showcase exactly why the topic of Lud having multiple souls is so integral here, we have to recall that, throughout the Puella Magi canon, we have witnessed witches fusing with one another via various means; it has been stated that Walpurgisnacht was a singular witch who fused with others over time, and Kazumi Magica's Hyades Daybreak was an artificially-created witch born from the fusion of multiple soul gems. You could argue that Madokami is another such example thanks to Homura's resets and wish having her as the main focus; thus binding her to multiple iterations of herself across numerous timelines (as is it made clear to us with Madokami's transformation sequence in Magia Record).

The point being is that not only is Medic's witch's stupidly powerful, but I doubt it would be pretty to the eyes; unlike Madoka, those souls weren't originally his, and the way that he fused himself with said souls is thanks to his, let's say, bizarre surgical skills, and not due to whatever logic is behind the witches' ability to fuse with one another. Think of the core of his very being as an amalgam; whether he's retained his original soul from the Devil's ownership upon contracting or not is up to you, but the idea still stands nonetheless. It wouldn't just be some Frankenstein-esque monstrosity with stitches, additional appendages, and mismatched skin, either; the organs representing the souls he had stolen are there for all to see just beneath his unassuming, reliable, and even charming exterior.

Now that we've gotten some key details written down, we are going to have to examine his role, self-image, history, and the impact his actions had on the rest of the team in order to actually, well, design the bastard's personification of obsession and despair; these four elements are crucial for when it comes to designing a decent witch that would not only fit in the world of Madoka Magica, but also drive home the idea that these witches were once Magi themselves- with their own dreams and goals.

We'll kick this off by looking at Ludwig's role in the canon of Team Fortress 2; he is the de-facto healer, but he's less interested in actually helping the ill and is more into the idea of tinkering with the human form- going as far as to use animal organs for his whack scientific endeavors for the goal of satisfying his curiosity. His healing abilities are also stated to be side-effects of his knowledge regarding human anatomy- even the Medigun wasn't initially supposed to be healing the mercs, according to the lore provided for us.

While on topic, I should also bring Medic's gameplay onto the table; though he is one of the weaker classes when speaking in terms of strength, making sure your team's medic stays on the map for as long as you could is crucial. Think of him as the king piece on a chess board; once your doc out of the picture, not only will your team start to drop like flies, but you'll lose some of that sweet, sweet Uber time. There is a reason as to why Medics tend to stay around the more resilient classes rather than glass cannons like Scout; survival and defenses.

Next up, we'll talk about his self-image and how he is perceived by the rest. As we can tell, he takes much delight in his work and his experiments on other human beings- he doesn't see anything to worry about his interests and the peculiar way he goes about it, no matter how extreme it is. Obviously, the man's not in-tune with the concept of human morality- going as far as to see these unwritten rules of humanity as nothing more than roadblocks on the way of his life.

In spite of his...screws being more than loose, as I already stated above, it isn't like he sees his fellow mercenaries as lesser beings when compared to himself; he does like them, albeit in his own amoral, gory way - he wouldn't have granted them the power of invincibility otherwise, among the other feats in modern science he had accomplished in order to save his team's asses -. Yeah, he does experiment on them, but, at this point, that's just how he says "hello"- and, when compared to what he did to the Classics, the adjustments made were for the active benefit of his team (...most of the time).

From all this, we can tell that his witch is on the more dangerous side (AS IF THE EXTRA SOULS DIDN'T DO THE JOB?)- with a dash of grace, of course; a reflection of his friendly exterior hiding away his twisted interests and "job"- and, fellas, he adores his work. He holds no regards for the safety of his patients and how outlandish his experiments are; he already kept an enemy Spy's head alive in a fridge, for corn's sake. Nonetheless, he is still a competent doctor- more than competent, in fact; when given the right tools, organs, time, and budget- death is no more than a small hurdle to him. He also genuinely cares for his fellow mercs, even going as far as to call them his friends; maybe that's how the witch will see his own familiars? What if he also tries to smile, joke around, and sing lullabies as he cuts open his human victims?

By looking at this being, only unfathomable, suffocating dread surrounded you- for you were in the presence of he who holds the thread between life and death. This creature before you- no, that isn't right...this deity looked down upon his next patient; surrounded by the lifeless husks of his familiars and their victims, he was rather annoyed over the prospect of having his work be interrupted, but he was also more glad that a living being had wandered into the operating room. Yes, he knew it now; a sadistic sense of glee beamed from the monster as he knew that the next medical trial will be a lot more interesting than he had expected.

Finally, to wrap things up, we glance at his history. Now, I am going to give you guys the heads-up in advance, because not only will this segment be composed of speculations for the most part, but we will be discussing themes of ethn1c gen0c1de. If this topic is in any way triggering, scroll down to the part where we talk about either the latter part of his design, his barrier- or just skip right to the Witch's Card. Clicking away from this post altogether is also highly encouraged.

Much of Ludwig's history is currently kept wrapped under shadows- we were told of Mikhail's, Tavish's, Jeremy's, Dell's, Mundy's, and even Jane's lives before they joined RED/BLU and partook in the Gravel Wars, but, aside from the enigmatic Pyro, Medic was the only one whose backstory was never clearly given to us. All we have to go off of are the bits and pieces peppered across the official website(s) and several official cosmetics-

We all know that he was native to and lived in Germany "during an era where the Hippocratic Oath had been downgraded to an optional Hippocratic suggestion" until he had escaped it by hijacking a catering van during a prime minister's wedding for reasons currently unclear to us - it has been speculated it was due to him having stolen a man's whole skeleton, but he had stated that he lost his medical license soon after the incident -. In the Two Cities update, one of the signs present in Rottenburg, his hometown, was that of a pharmacy advertising a number of...odd products, one of which being Baboon Hearts (leading to the speculation that his name has to be Humboldt- as it was the name of said pharmacy and the confirmation that Medic descended from a line of mad scientists like himself). We also know that he had found and then adopted his doves, namely Archimedes, as he escaped via grand theft catering van.

These should be all he scraps we were given in regards to Ludwig as a character outside of his job and the mercenary business, right? Weeeeeeelll....not quite. There is still one more jigsaw puzzle we should piece together, and, when combined with the time period TF2 takes place in, it does not paint a pretty picture of his life prior to becoming a mercenary. Folks...

We have to talk about Ludwig's Jewish coding, and the implications it has in regards to his backstory when combined with the timeline of the Team Fortress universe.

Though it was never explicitly stated to us, several aspects of Medic do shine a light towards this specific direction; to make this easier for us all, I'll just be listing down the evidence present across the canons of both the game and the comics-

The theme song of his bird, Archimedes, that plays during his surgery on Heavy in Meet the Medic is Klezmer music- Yiddish folk music

His pronunciation of "Danke Schon" is the Yiddish way

In the Gargoyles and Gravel comic, he was dressed up as the openly Jewish Albert Einstein for Halloween

The most damning of all, Valve's insistence that Medic is NOT a N-zi; especially with how fanmade cosmetics that portray him in such a way are often taken down almost immediately

Now, I do understand the fact that Ludwig is far from a saint, but...you have to understand the sheer, vile evil the N-zis and their ideology embody- and, unfortunately, he was also another target for their venomous rampage. Add in the fact that it was at full swing back when Lud was a young adult and he probably witnessed the rise of the heinous ideology when he was a little sap, and...there is no way I can say this lightly-

Ludwig had lived through dark, heinous years. Maybe he's always been this crazy, maybe what was left of his sanity had shattered to brittle pieces thanks to what he and countless others were forced to experience- perhaps he was already insane, but the slaughters and oppression were a whole other degree of evil to him; of course, until the writers at Valve say otherwise, all this falls upon how you personally interpret Medic as a character and how he coped with his backstory.

Though this is all just simple speculation based on what bits and pieces of the man's background we were given officially, it does bring into question what Lud had experienced outside of his medical endeavors. Besides, topics surrounding the second world war have already been explored in the world of TF2- Heavy's backstory is one example, where he and his family were sent to a gulag following the imprisonment and execution of his father, a counter-revolutionist; they only managed to escape once it had burnt down. The trauma of the experience still lingers within Mikhail, as was shown to us in A Cold Day in Hell, so such a backstory for Ludwig is not out of the realm of possibility.

With all that in mind, one must wonder about the kinds of thoughts that were running through Ludwig's mind during that time, and place his escape from Germany under a different light. I must, once again, repeat the statement that Ludwig is not a good man, but did that justify whatever he possibly went through? He even went as far as to crash a political figure's wedding in order to flee; was it because of the hilarity factor TF2 and Medic as a character are well-known for - namely after he stole that dude's skeleton -? Or was there another aspect at play- one of utmost urgency? After all, leaving one's home country for good has got to be a difficult decision- he didn't even return to Rottenburg when Grey Mann took over, implying that, unlike the rest, he didn't have anything waiting for him back home...

Ah, it wasn't like it mattered to him nowadays, anyway; nay, he dared not to think about it any further- all that mattered to him now were his research...his experiments...

So, with all the complicated stuff set on the table, let's move on to the simpler bits of a witch's design- the glue that tie all these bits and pieces together!

Where do we start? With the Magi's own design, of course! After all, Oktavia's knightly theme didn't just come from Sayaka's desire to become a hero/Kyosuke's knight in shining armor, and don't get me started on Homulilly's final form. I am certain that there are other witches that would also help get the point across, like Charlotte, but let's not extend this segment too much.

Upon taking a closer look, we can see that Ludwig's design invokes the imagery of a dove - just like how the little nubs on Nagisa's hat are reminiscent of mouse ears (and we all know how her witch form looks like) -, especially with the ends of his coat resembling a dove's tail feathers. Several cosmetics of his that are present in the game also boost this specific theme of his, especially the Blighted Beak mask, the Wings of Purity, and, of course, the infamous Medimedes bird head.

Of course, this might be a reference to the doves in his lab - there we go, simple as that -, but I don't think that's all there is to it; remember, for an amoral, crazed man like Medic, he is still represented by holy themes, much like any other healer in most media. When you think of a healer, you think of a person who swore under the oath of not doing any harm, and have devoted themselves to the life of pacifism...everything that Medic is not. In fact, Medic himself invokes the fear of being before the almighty; how small and utterly insignificant we are in his eyes, and that, to a being with a mind like Ludwig's, our lives are in the palms of his hands to toy with.

Ah, sacricore and holy themes- don't we just love them? The idea of a savior is definitely written down; a brilliant being with evidence of the slaughter staining his hands. Doves are also gonna be heavily referenced- what kind of Medic-related design are we working on if we didn't give him a pair of wings or two?

As a matter of fact, who is to say that the witch isn't a mad, humanoid-ish dove? With his crooked, bright smile and unfeeling red eyes being hidden by his aura and brilliant, white feathers? You think you might be in the presence of a god of hospitals and medicine, and he even approaches you with such a cheerful demeanor; happy to see a patient stumbling into his lab! That is, until you see how red the ends of his feathers are, how wide that smile is under that plague mask of his, and his eyes...

Hang on- is this a plague mask to begin with? As your eyes finally focus...you can see that it is jutting out of his skin- it's not a mask, but a part of his skull.

Next, we are going to focus on the magi's weapon and what powers they had prior to witchification; now, I am aware that their weapons and their powers are not always reflected in their witch designs - coughs coughs, Kriemhild and Homulilly -, but it does appear to be an "either/both/neither" case for when it comes to analyzing and designing them - I mean, just look at Ophelia -. Besides, Team Fortress 2 is a combat-oriented game, so it would be of great disservice to the game if I did NOT incorporate the main vessel in which you would use to bludgeon your enemies to smithereens with.

Once more, the Medic's main shtick is healing and granting your team a wide number of buffs depending on the medigun equipped; the Kritzkrieg grants a 100% crit chance upon activation, the Vaccinator provides immunity/reduced damage against several damage types, and don't get me started on the number of buffs a Medic can grant their team alone in the Mann vs. Machine mode. For now, we'll just be focusing on the classical Medigun, and how it grants invincibility to both himself and the person he is healing upon activation.

As seen in Meet the Medic, this was possible due to the adjustments made on each of the mercs' hearts- or, what replacements they have received in place of said organs, considering that even HEAVY'S had burst from the pressure caused by his medigun's rays. It is shown to us that the heart begins to pump at an accelerated rate upon activation, likely to spread the influence of the medigun at full power through the subject's veins; turning them into a bulletproof behemoths ready to turn the enemy team into a pile of mush.

From this alone, we can pinpoint the idea that hearts are an important motif in his witch's design. I'd also wager that he'd also possess powers that aren't unlike the functionalities of his medigun; allowing him to heal himself, his familiars, and even other witches at close proximity- bloodthirsty, erratic mercenary or not, he is still the team's doctor. Once the witch starts glowing red, you only have a few seconds to either find a weak point as soon as you could or make a break for it.

To further build upon this theme, attached to his back, not looking too dissimilar to how his medigun backpack, are vials filled with fluid that each resemble the lights of a soul gem at its limit. Within them, he stores his victim's souls, blood, guts, and organs for future usage. How did they get here? Why, with his other appendage hidden inside his forearm; resembling a combination between a saw and a needle. It is easy to use a surgical knife, yes, but some patients are...less than cooperative.

Before we unveil the finalized-ish idea for the witch, I should also take a second to talk about his hypothetical barrier and possible witch's kiss/warlock's whisper. It is true that the most powerful witches in-canon don't exactly need to hide in their barriers - case in point, Walpurgisnacht, Kriemhild Gretchen, Hyades and Shitori Egumo -, but, if we go by the concept art pertaining to Kriemhild Gretchen, we can see that they do have labyrinths they call their own. Even Walpurgisnacht has a pocket space she calls her home; it's the none other than the monochrome hallway Madoka was running through during episode 1, as confirmed by the PSP Game. If neither Walpurgis nor Kriemhild were exempt from this rule, then it shouldn't be surprising to see that this also applies to Ludwig's witch.

As stated in the January 2012 issue of Dengeki Playstation, a witch's labyrinth represents "the magical girl's mental landscape before they became a witch"; Oktavia's was a concert hall- resembling the one where she would watch Kyousuke play the violin, Candeloro's a tea party for one- representing how she would cope with her loneliness and the fact that she arranged her meetings with Madoka and Sayaka as tea parties -, and, according to the aforementioned concept art, Kriemhild's barrier is an obsidian and magenta void full of floating furniture- specifically those of her and her mother's rooms.

From these examples, we can assume that the barrier represent core memories of the magi before they fell into despair, and are either tied to the reason behind their wishes or how they coped with their lives after contracting:

Madoka had a healthy family life in comparison to the other members of the holy quintet, and it is thanks to the environment she was raised in that she ended up becoming the merciful, selfless girl that we all know today

Everything about Homulilly's barrier just represent how much Madoka meant to Homura, even if she didn't exactly see her perspective 1:1; as such, the rundown state of Mitakihara City not only represents her time loops and how it is the setting for all her time loops, but also how she failed to protect Madoka in the end and to grieve the normal life they could have had- had it not been for the universe and everything it stood for standing against them (it might also foreshadow the choice she had made at the end of Rebellion; trapping her team and the rest of the city in a gilded cage so that the incubators will not have a chance at hurting Madoka ever again)

Nagisa didn't have much of a social life outside of school, her run-down home, and visiting the hospital where her mother was at- and it is within that hospital that she proclaimed that she was done with being the perfect daughter to someone who barely deserved it; that it was her turn to take control

We can even tell that Sayaka watching Kyousuke's concerts was such a pivotal moment in her life because of how this specific memory was shown to us at least twice during the series; when she explained what happened to him and the cause behind her wish, and as soon as her soul gem had reached the point of no return- albeit for a split second.

Of course, this is not necessarily a strict rule to follow for when it comes to designing and deciphering witch labyrinths; H.N Elly's barrier resembles a snow globe in composition - according to production notes -, Charlotte is having a tea party with a doll in which both of them are unable to respond, and...I am not 100% sure on what to make of Ophelia's barrier- though I will come back to it later. Barriers don't have to be based on actual locations that are significant to the magi's life; rather, they can be manifestations of their desires prior to witching out- Elly wished to preserve a happy memory that gave her a shred of respite in the midst of the stressful life of an idol; and the tea party symbolizes the relationship Nagisa craved from her mother, that she was the timid one of both parties- silent as a doll, and how ultimately hollow that wish is- in the end, it's just a toy; it cannot respond to her even if she could speak, nor could it comfort her.

Unsurprisingly, I can see that Ludwig's barrier could be an infirmary...no, that can't be right; after all, Ludwig does what he does not out of compassion for the sick, but because he could. He seeks to change and perfect the mercs; turning them into unstoppable killing machines forged by his own hands and mind. He usually does all this to satisfy that itch in his mind and the excitement whatever results he gets from these surgeries bring him. It looks like a place of respite for one's health, but it is a death trap, first and foremost.

As a reference to his escape from Germany, maybe Ludwig's doves are still flying around the barrier; blood and feathers staining the floors and hallways, and themes of uprooted trees are peppered in as paintings and ruined potted plants. This represents the panic setting in and high speeds of the van, on top of how he came to discover and adopt these feathery companions of his, while the uprooted tree symbol suggests that he has nothing waiting for him back home in Germany; the other mercenaries went back home after the events of Rings of Fired (sans Pyro and Engie) except for Medic, after all. Maybe he was just lucky(?) enough to immediately land a job amongst the classic mercs, or perhaps...he just couldn't go back "home", not after everything.

Going back to the canonical barriers for a sec, one part of when it comes to designing a proper labyrinth is that, sometimes, a person can sway your heart so much they could change the trajectory of your ideals and influence the way you look at both your actions and the world around you.

This is most evident in Ophelia's barrier, as seen to us in Madoka Magica Portable; though it's hard for me personally to decipher exactly what it is, there's a fuck-ton of symbolic elements literally swimming around there, including musical notes floating from the ground and into the air. I don't think I need to specify exactly what said notes represent here.

Since there are multiple rooms within a barrier that can serve different functions, perhaps there's an outdoors segment where the magi first end up in; a frigid winter wonderland threatening to turn this labyrinth's visitors' limbs into unfeeling, darkened blocks of frozen meat falling off their bones. The only salvation from this bitter cold is to enter the interior segments of the barrier, and, even then, you are still not at all safe; his familiars are still on high alert- whenever they aren't "looking after" the other patients present -, and the infirmary in of itself is nothing more than the lure of an anglerfish- fooling the humans who have stumbled into it and punishing them to a fate worse than death.

The conveyor belt stretches through the halls of the labyrinth and leads right to the center; the operating room. There, the doctor awaits either his next batch of organs - human or otherwise - or a new patient. Ah, how everything runs smoothly; the bloodshed, the violence, the screaming- such fine melodies, they nearly compelled him go and play a tune on his "bone" saw at this very moment.

Another small detail that I want to pepper in is that there are the sounds and vibrations of a heart beat that echo through the halls of the labyrinth's interior sections. Perhaps there are slices of lavish wedding cakes (the van), pretzels (Germany), and all manners of bread (the mercs and that bread monster) that are being served in the canteen- and, before you ask, no, I would not recommend eating them. I know I already said that hearts are a core theme of the witch's design itself, and maybe the canteen thing is a bit too farfetched, but, hey, a nice detail is a nice detail.

Finally, so we can wrap this whole segment up already, we'll discuss the details of his witch's kiss/warlock's whisper. Now, Witch Kisses in-canon are...weird; they hold less consistencies than the witches themselves and their barriers, so it is hard to draw out the necessary similarities needed to create a decent design. Some witch's kisses are tied to the witch's type (Uhrmann, Homulilly), designs (Oktavia, Elly), and their grief seeds (Kriemhild). Sometimes, I have no idea on what they represent at all! (CANDELORO) I'm just gonna go on a limb here and just...wing it.

-BADUM TSS-

Okay, okay, that was horrible, I'm sorry. Indeed, wings will be a key theme- specifically 6 of them; not only are they reflective of him being a dove, but also to boost the holiness theme he has going on and to symbolize his earlier deal with the devil. In the middle of it, a clawed, red hand grabs on to an anatomical heart; whether he is handing it out or taking it for himself is unknown. Upon closer inspection, one can see that it is affecting the victim's veins, causing the area around the whisper to turn into a deep, glowing red; remember how the ubercharge works, people.

Finally, finally, after two months of hard work - two months of AGONY -, we have it; the moment we have all been waiting for...

-Witch Card-

Asclepius, the Warlock of Reconfiguration. His nature is wonder. A revolting, mad avian who conceals his sickened mind with the appearance of a plague doctor, and a charming, silver tongue. Upon gathering up those who would become the volunteers and patients for his latest medical trials, his very own ward begins to choir and hum with every slice and stitch made on his victims' bodies; readjusting and mutilating their forms to fit what piqued his mind at the hour.

The leftover organs are then either stored for his future endeavors, swallowed whole by the warlock in order to improve upon his own self, or are kept alive - perhaps even conscious - within his barrier as a testament to his prowess; eternally trapped and wailing for the liberation of death.

-Familiars-

Galatea. Servants of the Warlock of Reconfiguration. Their duty is to worship. The warlock's beautiful creations- the culminations of his medical curiosities. Right out of the operating tables, they would test out the enhancements blessed to them, and continue to be of good use to the warlock by defending his infirmary and the operating room. Those who cross paths with the Galateas will not see a hint of hesitation- they are willing to keep the bloodshed around the labyrinth ongoing for the sake of their doctor, even at the cost of their own lives.

Though the warlock prefers the blank slates that are the humans who get admitted to his infirmary, he would still pick apart at and experiment on his Galateas, whether in order to fix them, enhance them using the organs of his victims, or to salvage as much of their parts as he could- perhaps in order to rebuild them in the future.

(Familiars are said to be "projections of a magi's heart before they became a witch"; as result, their duties can range from directly serving the witch - the Holgers representing Sayaka's desire to be in the center of Kyousuke's attention, and the Anthonies are tasked to care for the roses Gertrud cherishes from the bottom of her heart -, to becoming obstacles to all, sometimes even to the witches themselves - the Klarissas' only task is to dance around Oktavia, Anja's stated to have been separated from Albertine, and dare I talk about how the Clara Dolls represent Homura's self-loathing over her inability to save Madoka? -. It isn't uncommon to see that a familiar can be based on significant key figures in the magi's life, especially if they were either related to the wish they made or the cause(s) behind their despair.

These buggers here symbolize Ludwig's love for not just mutilation, but also reinventing the way his teammates' organs function- and, as I mentioned before, his deep trust in the mercenaries. He also compared himself to the divine on numerous occasions and is followed by multiple holy motifs in spite of his little deal with the devil going on; he was even followed by a choir and his doves flying behind him as soon as he stepped into the battlefield in Meet the Medic.)

-

Hubris. Servants of the Warlock of Reconfiguration. Their duty is donation. Bound by their hauteur and the broken bones of their bounties, these pathetic prisoners of the warlock have been chained and are treated as nothing more than livestock by both their master and his other servants. Watching their own organs and other body parts be pulled apart from one another before regenerating once more for the continuation of this cycle has drained all hope of ever escaping their punishments from their eyes- not with these atrophied limbs and sore boils.

Their stringy, rotting flesh provide little to no sustenance for neither the warlock nor his other familiars, and are too fragile to use for his medical trials - hence the need for human patients -. Nonetheless, they are bound to these spare operating tables, awake at all times, as the claws of the other servants pick apart and toy with each and every one of their fibers. The warlock finds humor in their agonized howls.

(They resemble misshapen versions of the TFC team - barring their own medic -, since we are going with the assumption that he took their souls rather than those his own teammates. Why I went with the idea of the classics themselves becoming his familiars is and are not just projections of how Medic saw them during his time working with them is due to how both Walpurgisnacht and Hyades Daybreak had their respective original forms re-manifesting as their own familiars.

Yes, Cheavy gets the worst of it.)

-

Archimedes. An old friend of the Warlock of Reconfiguration. His duty is attendance. As he glides through the bloodstained halls of the infirmary, this dove, whose pristine feathers have long since been soaked with a deep crimson throughout his master's countless trials, would not only take part in the warlock's surgeries as the role of a willing audience, but he would also stand by and even assist (Asclepius) - all the while satisfying his own morbid, sickened curiosity -. Of all familiars, the warlock treats this one with the most respect, understanding, and fatherly affection.

(Not a familiar that looks like the bird, not a familiar that is inspired by the bird- it's the fucking bird itself.)

-Inspirations-

In-game:

His doves, and the fact that Archimedes was a WEDDING DOVE before Medic found him

Him hijacking the chancellor's van during his wedding in order to escape Germany (and eventually finding then adopting Archimedes who was within it)

His silver tongue clashing with or weirdly complementing his deranged personality and actions; would it translate into his witch looking more humanoid, among other traits? Well...

His usage of animal organs to compensate for the fragility of human organs might make the humanoid aspect of his witch sort of moot

His bonesaw and how he plays it like a violin (non-conventional musicals?)

The Vita-saw

Ubercharge

Him playing cosmic systems like a damn skipping rope to his advantage (reviving Sniper and having multiple souls sewn into himself in order to scam the Devil out of their deal). This does not work with Kyubey, like, sir, your surname ain't Kaname, if memory serves me right

The Blighted Beak cosmetic; its Vibrio Cholerae style specifically, as it would better fit Inu Curry's art style

Medic's gameplay in both the vanilla game and the V-Script Zombie Infection mode

"And no wonder! For even the devil disguises himself as a being of light." - His association with themes that are considered "holy" and "good" in Meet the Medic and several of his own cosmetics...yeah, no need for me to go into detail as to how ironic this all is

Outside Influences:

The Greatest Living Show by Itoki Hana and Toby Fox (wow, I have an addiction to Itoki Hana's songs, don't I?)- evident especially with the heart beats in his barrier

Repo! The Genetic Opera

German fairytales- especially with how some of them revolve around mortals dealing with otherworldly beings

-Closing Statements-

To be completely honest, I wish I was able to actually draw this shit and not make ya'll read through this drag of a document and leave the gist of it up to your imaginations. I also have to apologize for how rushed it is near each segment's ending; I initially wanted to publish this around the start of October, but it was far, FAR from finished by the time it rolled around.

This has been a wild 2 or so months; constantly looking up references and refining the concept time and time again along the way, and it is still not perfect (especially with how the description of the warlock's appearance), but, overall, I am very happy to have managed to deliver it during spooky season.

I should also give a huge thanks to @bluethepearldiver! Not only did they support me incredibly so throughout the process of writing this in ways I cannot write down so easily, but they've also helped me with the names of his familiars and that RAW line ("Unfortunately, his trickery of the devil himself had rendered him too confident. This unassuming little creature was no devil.")! So, please, do give them the support they deserve ;0;

Once more, I am more than willing to listen to suggestions and criticisms; I'm aiming to not just improve upon Asclepius, but also the other mercs' witch forms when the time comes (I even have a concept for Scout's)! Do not be afraid to send an ask or even tag me regarding the matter- I'll do my best to reply (if Tumblr gets its head outta its ass and does its job notifying me for once)!

Thank you all so, so much for reading all this! I appreciate any and all engagements and feedback coming my way.

#team fortress 2 #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica #Medic #Medic TF2 #TF2 Medic #PMMM Witches #Fanmade witches #Fortress Magica #Heavy Metal Fest #Heavymedic #Engiemedic #HeavyMetal #witching hours #Witch archives #Crossover Witches #Blog post #Chat Room #no beta read; it is 2 am so I will die like Mami #READ THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR #READ IIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT #TW: Gore #TW: surgery #TW: Cannibalism mention #TW: animal death mention #TW: Religion mention #TW: Genocide

[marshmcore]

Hooray, more knife party hc shenanigans!!!

Sniper, an absolute loner, workaholic, and a son of seemingly disappointed parents (and awful biological parents) craves validation. He’s clearly skilled and strives for the best with his work and most likely doesn’t get recognized for it. I see that with “Meet the Sniper”, he really tries to sell the cool professional persona, even though he’s being paid to sit for hours and piss in jars before he takes the shot (especially after arguing with his dad on the phone). I can see other mercs not taking him as seriously as he shows to be.

Spy with his aloof, stuck-up, closed-off, and passive aggressive personality, authenticity doesn’t show easily. Even when he attempts to BE genuine (ie expiration date), it’s treated as a joke. 90% of the time he keeps sincerity to himself. I think he has the capacity to care, but nothing and no one (except for Scout’s Ma) is taking it seriously as he would like. I totally see his sincerity in his positive voice-lines.

Those two compliment each other (I can see it go in a “codependency” route lol), and they can start healing when they practice what they need. Sniper would be receptive to Spy’s compliments, because he could use some external reinforcement. In turn, Spy would be able to notice his delight, and realize that someone can appreciate his effort in unmasking the persona his profession made. Also, it would ease up the tension since he doesn’t have to suppress what he’s feeling about someone.

Funni points if it takes Sniper 3 years to realize where all Spy’s compliments are coming from, because he can be an oblivious workaholic like that. And so it forces Spy to be more overt with his compliments. Aaand it makes him want to open up more to him, so it gets challenging (hilarity ensues). AND he becomes more flirtatious so that he gets through his thick skull. Angst points if Sniper never notices or it’s all a farce and Sniper can never-ever trust anyone again or Sniper is simply not interested LEL.

Also here’s what that cropped blurb says:

-If Sniper likes someone enough, and they compliment them, that shit is gonna replay in his mind :)

-loyal dog energy :)

-Aims to impress and please them (after said compliment), if he likes them enough (A LOT)

Edit: I can see these two unmasking whatever persona their careers made when they get closer. As Sniper feels more confident, he’ll show off more of his suave, sax-playing side. Spy will be not only emotional, but also attuned, grounded, and warm. They’ll surprise each other as they go on together, and itll be just a whirlwind of new emotional experiences for the two. ACH HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #knife party #sniperspy #tf2 headcanons #old man yaoi #bloody suit #marsh stuff #this more like same faction hc #how do you think this would work in a cross faction situation #pls tell me im curious #shoot me with a stray bullet bc i love primitive dog snipe #he can be such a loyal dog its cute ;_;

[bingusmode]

Trial by Fire

Pyro x Female Reader

AN: your class is called “Assist” in this

“Have you guys every noticed how creepy Pyro is?”

Scout drew another card as Spy took a drag from his cigarette, barely casting Scout a glance.

“The unstable psychopath that we’ve been colleagues with for years? Yes Scout, we’ve noticed. How observant you are”

Demoman barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. Nearly tipping out of his chair, Engineer being the one to stabilize him.

It was a calm night at base, a rarity in their profession. While Scout, Spy, Solider, Demo, and Engineer played cards. Medic and Heavy were lingering behind them, discussing the differences between Russian and German literature. Sniper was settled in a cracked, leather chair, hat over his eyes to catch the sleep he often didn’t get.

“Go Fish!” Solider slammed an Ace on the table.

“Solider, we’re playing Texas hold ‘em, not Go Fish,”

Engineer handed Solider back his card, him being the only one at the table to had enough patience for the merc at the moment.

“Go to hell Spy, that’s not what I meant,” Scout snapped out, trying to lean over and see what hand Demo had.

“Then pray tell, what do you mean?” Spy glanced at Scout, smoke billowing from his mouth.

“I mean, every time Assist is around, so is Pyro. He followers her like a lost puppy”

Spy paused, shifting his eyes to the far corner of the room.

Assist wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. Just playing on her game boy, while Pyro loomed behind her, watching her play.

Spy narrowed his gaze before looking back at the hand he had, Shifting his card around.

Engineer drew another card, clearing his throat to speak.

“Now that you mention it, it’s pretty rare that I’ve seen Assist alone…”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! He hasn’t left her alone since she got to base”

“What? You suggesting he’s got feelings or something?” Engineer quickly slapped a hand over Demos mouth, glancing up to make sure Pyro didn’t hear.

“Keep your voice down, the last thing I wanna do is piss him off…”

Thankfully Pyros attention was still focused on game Assist was playing.

Spy sets down his cards, a royal flush.

“So what if he does or doesn’t have feelings? Frankly I would like to know less about our firebug colleague”

Engineer, Demo, and Scout reluctantly fold. Solider slams down another card.

“Go Fish! Final offer!”

Engineer pulls Solider back again, getting him out of Spy’s face.

“I agree with Spy, no need getting in his business”

“I disagree”

Engineer jumps at Medics sudden appearance behind him

“I apologize my friend, but I think it’s rather interesting…why don’t we test Scouts theory”

Demo stands up abruptly, grabbing his bottle of hooch

“I’m out, enjoy killing yourselves”

While Spy counts his winnings, he turns his attention towards Medic.

“And how would you go about such an experiment?”

Medic grins, pushing up his glasses

“Well…”

Trial 1:

“A check up?”

Assist looked confused, she had just gotten hers at the beginning of the year. Behind her, Pyro tilted his head

“Yes yes, just the standard checkup. Blood work, psychical, making sure your bones are in the right place”

“Why wouldn’t my bones be in the right place-“

“That’s why you need a check up,”

Assist looked wary, but knew it’s probably best to trust the good doctor

“Okay, I guess if it’s necessary…”

“Excellent! It will be quick, no worry”

Medic rushed her into the medical bay, Pyro tailing behind her.

“Ah ah, I’m sorry Pyro, you must stay out here. Doctor - Patient privacy, you understand.”

Pyro stared blankly at him before taking a seat in the waiting room.

Hands clasped and eyes ahead.

“She’ll be back out in a bit”

Medic smiled before going into the medical bay himself.

3 hours, Assist had been here for 3 hours while Medic checked to see If any of her bones were missing.

“Doc, I’m not trying to doubt your expertise but-“

“Almost done! These X Rays can be hard to read”

In reality, he was keeping an eye on the timer. Hours had passed and it was time to see if his theory had been right.

“Done! All good, no bones are missing”

Assist hops off the patient table, making her way to the doors with Medic behind her.

“Didn’t know it would take so long”

“Bone medicine isn’t an exact science, it takes time and effort”

Medic opens the door for her and just as he thought, there sat Pyro. Sitting in the exact position he started in.

Pyro jumped up once he saw Assist, having a complete change in demeanor.

“Mmmp! Mhmm Mphm Mhm”

“Doc says I’m all good, but I’m starving”

Medic watched as the two walked off, Pyro talking animatedly with his hands.

Very interesting indeed.

Trial 2:

Assist sprinted through Two Fort, hands filled with metal to give to Engineer. She glanced behind her to the Blue Scout that was tailing behind her.

She gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder. While she was sneakier than Scout, she definitely wasn’t faster. His footsteps got louder behind her and she felt him grab her scalp and yank her down to the floor.

“Fuck!”

Assist hit the floor hard, the metal she was carrying clanging down around her.

“Sorry doll, if it’s any consolation, I won’t bash in your pretty face”

“It’s not you dick!”

Assist hissed between her teeth, preparing herself for the uncomfortable feeling that came with respawning.

Cloaked with a butterfly knife raised was the Red Spy, ready to attack.

He stopped once he saw a flash of red and felt the warmth of flame thrower.

The Blue Scout screamed and crumpled to the floor, twitching as the flames consumed him.

Pyro stood unmoving and unwavering until the Scouts body was nothing but ash.

“Mmm Hhpmm?”

“My head hurts…”

Spy watched as Pyro helped Assist to her feet, gathering up some of the metal she dropped while he did so.

“Hmmm Hphmm”

“But I need to get these to Engineer-“

“Mphm!”

“Medic is probably busy-“

Pyro put his hand on the small of Assists back and gently pushes her forward, holding the metal she collected for her.

Before they leave the room, Pyro turns and looks right at the spot where Spy stood.

It felt as if Pyro was looking right at him.

Spy ignored the shiver that went down his spine as the pair left, making a mental note to avoid the arsonist for the day.

Trial 3:

Another successful job meant another long ride back in the van. Night had fallen and Engineer was plucking at his guitar strings as everyone unloaded. He tried not to look at Pyro and Assist, the former sleeping on her friends shoulder.

Everyone but them two knew about this “experiment” and Engineer wanted nothing part of it. He preferred to stay out of trouble and not charred.

The van came to a gentle stop once they were back at base, Heavy making sure to make the least amount of noise possible to not wake up Assist.

Engineer watched as everyone left the van in a drowsy state, all expect for Pyro and Assist. Pyro looked motionless, Engineer couldn’t gauge if he was asleep or awake.

Either way, he couldn’t just leave them in the van.

Cautiously, Engineer approached, moving to gently touch Assists shoulder to wake her up.

A gloved hand caught his wrist before he could do so.

Engineer looked into the black void that was Pyros mask.

He swallowed before gathering his nerve to speak.

“She can’t sleep here tonight Pyro, you know that,”

Pyro just stared back at him

“She’ll be sore tomorrow when she wakes up…”

After a few silent moments, Pyro let go of his wrist and gently shook Assist awake.

“Mmm? Back already?”

She stood on two shaky legs, stretching out, Pyro following suit. Assist bid Engineer Goodnight as Pyro helped her out of the van, guiding her in her half asleep state.

Engineer was left in the van, alone with his suspicions and the night critters

Interlude:

“In conclusion, he is not a sociopath like I thought, but something else entirely. His feelings towards Assist prove it”

Medic cheerily declared, hands clasped behind his back,”

Spy twirled around a cigarette, leaning back in his chair

“And what do we do with this information?”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,”

Scout piped up, putting both hands on the table. His face sporting a smile that went ear to ear

“We’re gonna tease the hell of him”

“Lad, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Demo took a swig of his drink

“He’ll make s’mores over your corpse”

“The bastard has a crush, and I’m not supposed to tease him? What is this? Summer camp?”

Spy flicks ash in Scouts direction

“Whatever you do boy, leave us out of it. I have a feeling Pyro is onto us”

Scout laughs

“No way, I’m not missing this golden opportunity”

Spy flicks his lighter closed

“I look forward to speaking at your funeral”

Trial 4:

A hand slammed itself on the table, almost spilling Assists drink. Pyro being the one to steady it.

Assist let out a sign before glancing up, not please to have their dinner interrupted

“Can I help you Scout?”

“You. Me. Dinner tomorrow”

All action in the cafeteria stopped as all the attention turned on them.

Engineer covered both of Solider and Demo man’s mouths. Medic leaned forward on his elbows, curious to see how this would turn out. Heavy said a quick prayer for Scout while Spy huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know we’ve got something between us, so let’s make it official,”

Scout leaned in closer while Assist leaned back to maintain distance.

Everyone wasn’t watching Scout, but Pyro to see his reaction.

Nothing, so far it was nothing, Pyro sat still and stared at Scout, his expression unreadable.

“…no, I’m good Scout, but thanks? I guess?”

A collective sigh of relief swept through the Cafeteria, no murder would be committed today.

Scout shrugged and backed away

“Hey babe, it’s your loss”

Never once did Pyros gaze leave Scout, like he was hunting him.

Medic looked disappointed if anything

“I’m surprised Pyro didn’t do anything, I was hoping for more conclusive results”

Spy passed a cigarette to Medic, then his lighter

“Be grateful we don’t have to mop blood off the floors”

End of Experiment:

Thwip Click

Thwip Click

Scout turned in his sleep, the unknown sound starting to drag him away from his unconscious state

Thwip Click

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing at the clock reading 3:00 am.

Scout grumbled and went to go back to sleep but the light in the corner of his room made his blood run cold.

Thwip Click

Pyro was flicking his lighter on and off, staring right ahead at Scout. Repeatedly making the flame spark and extinguish.

“Heyyy Pyro, watcha, watcha doin buddy?”

Thwip

This time, the lighter stayed on as Pyro stood to his full height

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just teasing you know?” Scout started to sweat, realizing now that his actions do have consequences.

Pyro took one step closer

“I won’t do it again okay? I promise I’ll leave her alone, just please don’t hurt me”

Scout begged, and Pyro stopped in his tracks.

Click

The lighter went out, leaving Scout in the dark. He searched blindly for something to defend himself with, but before he could. The door opened and Pyro left, leaving Scout unharmed physically but not mentally.

At least now he knew better than to mess with what belonged to Pyro.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 pyro #pyro x reader #x reader #pyro x you

[cbsxreader]

I asked my best friend what the tf2 mercenaries' names and professions were

Scout

Name: Arthur

Profession: Hunter

Soldier

Name: Casper

Profession: Soldier (Bullseye)

Pyro

Name: Edmund

Profession: Saves cats (It's cus I didn't want to make it too obvious with the flamethrower...)

Demoman

Name: Uldis (It's a very latvian name 😭)

Profession: Pirate

Engineer

Name: Rudy

Profession: Builder

Heavy

Name: Eric

Profession: Bank Robber

Medic

Name: Artis (Again, bit of a latvian name...)

Profession: War leader. (I am not making this up i swear and i'm sorry in advance-)

Sniper

Name: Arthur

Profession: Agent

Spy

Name: Zigmund

Profession: Robber (they said that he steals stuff)

Some of these might be better if I had chosen official images for some of them and that's why they threw my friend off but anyways..

(Psst I did this twice: another one)

#I JUST NOTICED WHY IS ENGIE SO SHORT COMPARED TO THE OTHER JPGS #tf2 #team fortress #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy