#let me know if something is terribly wrong!

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Azriel 

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 

“Azriel?” 

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 

“What?” he choked out. 

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 

Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 

~~

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 

Useless. 

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 

And he had told you that he had one. 

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 

You felt his breath at your arm. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.” 

“For how long?” 

“You slept for a day and a half.” 

“And you stayed the entire time?” 

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You remember what I said?” 

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 

You shouldn’t have asked. 

~~

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 

“How much time?” Azriel strained. 

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 

You removed your hand from his. 

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst

[wolfish-trickster]

You made your choice

Gojo x fem!reader

Part 2

Previous part

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: you asked Gojo who is more important to him, you or his bestfriend. He indirectly chose and now he's experiencing consequences of his own action (probably for the first time in his life).

Warnings: bad grammar (possibly), typos, angst, very little comfort

Taglist: @ilovebattinson @catobsessedlady @abcdefghijklmmopqrstuvwxyz @nanao4k

A/N: I recomend listening to this song while reading (was listening to it while coming up with the story, the song and the story aren't exact copies of eachother but the vibe is about the same) and to those who know me THE LINK IS SAFE TO CLICK I DIDN'T LINK IT WITH WHAT YOU THINK I SWEAR. Enjoy the reading 😊

"Hey, can I come over?"

"Dude, you were just here!"

"I know, I know. But I need a shoulder to cry on."

"Damn, that bad? What happened? You and Y/N had a fight or...?"

"Can I just come over?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Geto Suguru has had a lot of weird moments with his best friend, but that phone call certainly was...something. No explanation, no joking around, just straight to the point.

About fifteen minutes later he heard his front door open.

"Satoru, did you learn how to teleport or something? We live an hour away from eachother," Geto joked before he could even turn around and see the state his friend was in. Disheveled hair, dry lips, red eyes. Something terrible must've happened.

"It's Y/N," was all Gojo said before he sat down at the dining table.

"Figured that much," replied Geto and took a seat next to him and waited. He knew Gojo. That man can't shut his mouth to save his own life. He'll spill everything sooner or later.

Gojo let his head fall on top of Geto's and sighed. Geto patted his fluffy white hair and kept on waiting. Good thing was they both sat right across a big window. Geto could count pine cones on the nearby trees while he waited for Gojo to open up.

It didn't take long.

"Y/N left."

"WHAT?!" Geto pushed the white head off of his shoulder and took Gojo by the shoulders. "What happened? What did you do?" He stared him in the eye.

Gojo just blinked. "I don't know! I don't think I did anything wrong," he looked oit the window again. A squirell jumped from one branch to another.

Geto rolled his eyes and turned Gojo's face back to his. "Satoru, people don't just up and leave. You must've done or said something that hurt her feelings. What did I tell you about comunication being-"

"Being the cornerstone of a good relationship, I remember," he put his hands on Geto's cupping his face. "We did talk. And I thought we came to a mutual understanding. Then I offered to cuddle with her and went to shower but once I walked out she was gone. All her things too..."

"Wow," Geto let go of his friend's face, "what a bitch."

"Right?" Gojo agreed and leaned back on his chair so far it was threatening to fall. "I don't understand. She never complained before, never said anything, then all of a sudden she pulls a stunt like that, throws a scene, slips into her selfhating thing again-"

"Wait, she what?" Geto asked confused. He has met you enough times to know you were very cheerful and life-loving person. What was Gojo talking about? Selfhatred?

"She has these moments,"he explained, "thinks she's too fat, then not curvy enough, thinks she's too basic to be with a guy like me, so on. When it happened the first few times i comforted her but even after all those years she still thinks of herself as less than and I'm too damn tired of it. I thought all of those negative thoughts would go away the first time I assured her I love her no matter what," he crossed his arms on his chest and looked out the window again. "I'm starting to feel like she's doing it for attention."

"Listen Satoru, maybe she's just extremely selfconscious and people like her need reassurance like that. Besides if she was really doing that for attention she wouldn't leave withoit a word. She would leave hints for you to find her and come beg her on your knees or something."

Gojo chuckled. "Suguru, you've got to stop watching Shoko's telenovelas."

"I'm a slut for drama."

A phone rang.

In a speed of light Gojo pulled out his phone hoping to see your lovely face. The screen was black.

Geto pulled out his ringing phone and picked up. "Well well, speak of the devil," he smiled.

Gojo couldn't hear what him and Shoko were talking about. He could only take hints from Geto's facial expressions and his occasional answers.

"What do you mean you have to cancel it? Oh. Okay. I understand. And did she tell you what-" his eyes got wide. "But wait, that's not- I didn't- Actually he's right next to me."

Gojo tried to get closer to hear what they were talking about but Geto jumped up and walked across the room.

"Okay. Okay, i'll ask him. No, that's fine. Alright. Take care, both of you. Bye," he hung up. Then slowly turned around to face Gojo now standing opposite him.

"Now you'll tell me exactly what had happened between you two. You said she caused a scene, what was it about?"

His mouth turned into neutral line, just like when you started this whole mess. "She asked me to stop seeing you. Can you believe that? Trust me, if I told her to stop seeing her friends all hell would break lose."

"Isn't that what happened when she asked you?" Geto pointed out the obvious double standard but Gojo wasn't listening.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? She wanted me to spend more time with her. Like, what does she want me to do? Make me and her morph into one being?"

"It is true that you've been spending a lot of time with me," Geto held his chin between his fingers in a thought. "But I don't get one thing. If you being away from her this often was a problem for her then she must've shown signs, not encourage you to come and spend time with me when she was too busy herself."

"About that," Gojo nervously played with his shades. "I might've over-exagarated that."

"Don't tell me..." Geto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She wasn't always busy when I came here."

"Satoru!" He half shouted. "You always told me she was too busy and couldn't come! Why would you lie?"

"Because i felt trapped!" He yelled back. "I felt like I couldn't even breathe. Yes, being around has brought me so much joy but I missed the thrill of being free. Just being with you and Shoko and doing whatever. Now I just feel like I'm chained to something that I kinda want away from but also not," the entire time he spoke he was pacing back and forth. "I just wanted to feel like the old times."

"So in other words you miss the feeling of being single but you also like the benefits relationship gives you," Geto concluded. "I thought you were better than this."

"And I thought you would understand," Gojo turned his anger against his best friend who was calmly standing in the living room. "But wait, I forgot, you have no one," he mocked.

"Damn right I don't. Which makes me even more pissed off when I see how you treat your own relationship! Have you got any idea how much I envied you for having someone waiting for you at home and welcome you after a long day? Or just someone to be there for you in general?"

Gojo got silent. He didn't know. Geto never showed it.

Geto took it as his chance to try speak some sense into Gojo. "Listen, you only feel like this because you've never been in a relationship. Feeling trapped is normal, I think. What's important is that you love her and you're capable of changing to get her back, right?"

Gojo was just looking at him.

"Right?" Geto said a bit more panicked.

"I don't know!" Gojo exclaimed and Geto facepalmed. "I don't know how to choose between her and you."

"Is that what she asked? For you to choose between her and me?"

Gojo shook his head. "No, I think she just wanted me to spend less time with you."

"So she didn't out right prohibit you from hanging out with me, she only asked for you to stay with her more often," Geto was slowly but surely getting the whole picture.

"Something like that," Gojo shrugged.

Geto sighed. "You royally fucked up Gojo Satoru."

"No, really?" sarcasm dripped from his words. "I still think I did nothing wrong. She has no right to aks me to spend less time with you."

"She does actually. She's your girlfriend of what, three years?"

Gojo nodded.

"Three years and yet you place her beneath a best friend. How would you feel like if she had to choose between her best friend and you and she went for the friend?"

Suddenly, Gojo looked like it finally hit him. "I'd feel...terrible," he sat down on the chair. "But... but I didn't tell her I would choose you. Both of you mean so much to me."

"On the same level or a different one? Satoru, understand that the love for a friend and a love for a lover are two separate kinds of love. You not being able to distinguish between them caused you to be in this mess."

Geto walked over to where Gojo sat and towere over him. He put a reassuring hand on his wide back. "Let me ask you this: what do you want right now? To be with her?"

Gojo stayed silent. He didn' know what he wanted. He hated the fact that he can't have both a friend and a lover. Choosing one would mean losing the other in Gojo's eyes. He can't afford that. Not when both of his most treasured people made him so happy.

Geto took his silence as a no. "You know what I think? You didn't want to have her. You just wanted others to see you have her."

His words cut like a knife. Why? Why do his loved ones have to be this cruel? He only looked up from the floor to his best friends almost black eyes. His own baby blues were watery. A lump took place in his throat. With a horror he realised how weak he feels. One half of him already packed her things and walked away, he can't let the other half do the same.

"Do you hate me now?" He whispered, affraid if he will speak any louder he would cry.

Geto took a while. Then shook his head. "No Satoru, just dissapointed."

Gojo nodded and looked back down to the floor.

Few minutes passed. None of them said anything. After Gojo was completely sure he won't fall apart he spoke up. "Do you think I can fix this?"

"Hmm," Geto hummed and pulled out a chair to sit opposite him. "Fixing means returning to its original state. I don't think things will go back to normal."

"But, I don't want to lose her. I know I don't!"

"Then you must set your priorities straight."

"But-" Gojo looked into Geto's eyes again. "That would mean I will loose you and that's equally as bad."

Geto shook his head. "You won't loose me. I'll still be here. You can still come over and we can still hang out. It just won't be like before."

"And that's what I don't want," Gojo mumbled and crossed his arms again while leaning into the backrest.

"Truthfully, if I had a girlfriend as amazing as Y/N I would spend a lot of time with her and not you."

Gojo swore he could feel his heart crack. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs, "that it's only natural to pick your lover over your friends. Not always, of course, but often enough."

Geto lifted his head to see his friend pale as a ghost, his skintone could now rival with his hair. He immediatelly regreted what he said. "But as I said, even if that was the case, even if you chose her as your top priority, which you should've as a good boyfriend, then it wouldn't mean I would cease to exist. And if I get someone in the future and I do the same you won't cease to exist to me either. You are my best friend, Satoru," he placed a hand on Gojo's shoulder, "and no girl will ever change that."

Gojo's ocean blue eyes let some tears slipped. He realized that his best friend is right, as always. Geto will always be there. And sure, even after he gets busy in his own life and won't have time for Gojo and his antics anymore, that wouldn't mean they would change into strangers to one another.

Gojo quickly wiped his tears and nodded. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't want tk fix this. I want to evolve this. I want her back. I want to learn to love her again. Properly this time."

"You sure about that?"

Gojo nodded.

"Even after she won't forgive you?"

"Why wouldn't she? She's smart. She will understand. Besides, how can you rehect the best man in the world?" He forced out a chuckle.

Geto shook his head. "Arrogant and full of yourself as always."

"Yeah, what can you do..."

Geto's phone buzzed again. But this time nkt from a phone call but a message. Geto took out his phone, gave it a short glance and put it back into his pocket.

"Was it Shoko?"

Geto shook his head. "Just my reminder. Me and Shoko planned to go see a movie."

"Oh, is that what you talked about canceling?"

Geto nodded. "Y/N knocked on her door and asked to stay a few days. From what Shoko told me she was a mess."

Gojo slumped forward on his chair and hid his face in his hands. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

Geto hummed. "Do you know what this is callled? Consequences. Hurts, doesn't it?"

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk fanfic

[the-californicationist]

Hiii

First of all I wanted to thank you for your amazing fics 🤩. They have become a part of my life and I can’t live without them anymore 🥹💖

Secondly, I wanted to ask about a fic if you would consider. 🫶

Price is injured in his thigh and we are a medic. When attending to the wound the tension rises and a little bit of teasing from our part? 😌

Also, Price can’t take us like he wants because of the wound but we can do 69?

Or maybe something more thrilling! I know you are the greatest in ideas and writing! ❤️‍🔥

Thank you a loooot. (*＾3＾）/～♡

Do No Harm

After being shot in the leg, Captain Price is put on strict bed rest by his medic: you. When he threatens to break your orders, you decide to use your rank against him.

AO3 Link

TW: female reader, face fucking, hurt/comfort, come play

When the captain got shot, all hell broke loose. Ghost and Gaz retaliated swiftly, and the bomb that Soap rigged to blow the enemy encampment was more than a little overkill. The four of them had shown up back at your makeshift base, sweaty, bloody, and exhausted. 

“What happened?” You asked the tall lieutenant, searching his face as he removed the skull mask, looking for signs as to how serious it was. 

“He took a hit to the thigh. Dead bloody center,” the tall Brit rolled his captain over, the latter of whom let out a torrid string of curses and shouts, nasty enough to make you blush. 

You inspected the wound, but his clothing was in your way. Ripping your scissors out of your chest armor, you set to cutting him out of his trousers, and you tried not to let the panic get the best of you. 

The truth was that you were keeping a secret. You were sleeping with their captain. You and John had broken a series of rules (and furniture) over the past four months, enjoying each other in the most primal, carnal way. Every night that he was on base, he sneaked into your medbay, aching with something other than pain and searching for his cure. 

You knew it was wrong. It was so far beyond protocol that you wouldn’t be surprised if they court martialed you when they found out, but you didn’t care. You were addicted to him. When he was away for too long, you crawled through the hallways and out into the common rooms with a slick problem between your legs. Something only his fat cock and filthy mouth could solve. 

He was terrible with you. Nothing was off-limits. He used you like a toy, and his fervid want was enough to burn you alive. In the darkness, his grasping hands and hot breath scorched your skin, searing across your belly, pinching your nipples, playing in your lips, all for the express purpose of making you come. It was his favorite thing. By the sixth, the seventh, when you were begging him to squeeze his pulsing rod inside of you, pleading in whispered cries for him to fuck you, he would chuckle with a dark joy. Teasing you, calling you his pretty little plaything, reminding you that you were fully at his mercy. 

It was hard to see him like this, but you were good at your job, and luckily, the bullet had gone right into the muscle. No broken femur, no arterial damage. Your predator would live to hunt you another day. 

“I need everybody out. Come back in an hour,” you commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gaz replied, leading the others out of the clinic to debrief and regroup after a hard night. 

You sliced through his canvas pants, slipping the shears through the fabric to reveal his bare skin. He never wore any underwear, which you were always quick to rib him for. Then, you inspected the wound. They had packed it in the field, and as you removed the dressings, more and more blood pooled out of the hole, obscuring your view. You worked as fast as you could, administering as much anesthetic as you had on hand, knowing that it wasn’t enough. He was doing everything he could not to writhe in pain as you threw stitch after stitch. 

“Jus’ wanted to get me alone, didn’t ya?” He teased you through gritted teeth. His voice was weak, but he was feisty, which was a good sign. 

You smiled down at him, joking around,

“You know it. But, you’re lookin’ a little worse for wear today, Captain. Might have to get my fix somewhere else.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, grabbing the side of the table hard enough to make the metal frame whine when you hit a nerve with your needle, “Another man lays a fuckin’ hand on you, and he’ll wish he hadn’t.” 

“Can’t have you reopening this wound, John. I worked hard on these stitches.”

“How’m I gonna sneak in to see you tonight?” He looked up at you with softer eyes, a youthful gaze on his face. 

You pitied him, winking cheekily, 

“Might just have to keep you here for observation.”

His whole body relaxed then, relieved in a way you hadn’t expected. You had just been kidding around, but his reaction made you change your mind. If he felt better with you in your clinic, you’d add it to the orders. The last thing you needed was your headstrong man limping through the base just for a chance at some action. 

You finished up, cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, wiping down the rest of him as best you could. He was filthy, and the water in your bucket was full of sand by the time you were done. But, he still smelled like the sun and his sweat, and it was enough to make the animal part of your mind practically salver at the idea of how his skin must taste. The saltiness, full of his pheromones… you chastised yourself for even thinking about it. 

He was finally asleep, full of morphine and exhausted from his ordeal. Gaz popped back in, and you told him you’d be keeping their commander overnight. You thought you’d gotten away with your little game, but there was a knowing glint in the sergeant’s eye that told you he knew more than you thought. 

You tried not to stress about it. His men were loyal to him, and you knew they wouldn’t rat you out. But, still. You made a mental note to be more careful in the future. 

Your bedtime routine was short and easy. You slipped into some shorts and one of John’s abandoned tee shirts. Luckily, it looked like everyone else’s tee shirt, so no one was the wiser. You could always say you stole a larger one from the supply room. But, it smelled like him, and you slept like a rock when you wore it. 

You climbed into bed, and before you could even think about going to sleep, the ache between your legs reared its horny head, coaxing you to touch yourself, disguising itself as a tingle, an itch that needed to be scratched. As soon as your fingers pried apart your soft petals, you discovered the truth. You were soaking wet, and your core was hot like molten lead, giving your digits no resistance as you played with yourself, slipping them in and out of your slick folds. 

You heard a noise escape from your throat against your will, and you tried to hold it back, rolling your eyes from the slam of pleasure that rushed to your head. You were dizzy with want, and even though you tried to quiet the sound, you could hear your own wet flesh popping and sluicing with more and more of your precome, preparing you for an encounter you knew you couldn’t have. 

You came quickly, and without much warning, clenching down on nothing, biting your hand to keep from screaming for him. You peeked over your shoulder, and luckily, he hadn’t woken up. You thought about how nice it would feel to have his big body curled against you as you crashed into a deep slumber, the scent of your wet hand and his old shirt mixing together and lulling you to sleep. 

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, it was still dark. Your eyes darted over to the clinic table, and John was… missing?

You sat up with a start only to find him fully naked at the end of your bed, getting ready to crawl in beside you. 

“John!” You hissed, “What are you doing? You can’t be walking around.”

“Gotta have you, love. I’m so hard, it hurts.”

“You were shot in your fucking leg, Jonathan Price. Let me see the dressing.”

“Quit fussin’ over me, girl. C’mere,” he covered you with his body and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to lay beneath him, flat and vulnerable. He set to pulling away your clothes, making quick work of it, sighing raggedly when he felt your naked body beneath his own. 

But, he was in pain. You could see him adjusting and readjusting, trying to figure out how he could fuck you like he wanted to, unable to find a solution. 

“John,” you whispered, feeling his mouth on your neck, “We can’t. You’re going to hurt yourself. Don’t make me order you to stop.”

“I’m your commander,” he breathed, threatening you with his teeth, leaving a bruise on your sensitive skin. 

“Don’t…” you gasped as his fingers found your gooey center, “Don’t confuse your rank for my authority, Captain Price. You’re under my care.”

He glared at you, coming to a pause, leaving his fingers in you to play in your hole, gently pulsing in and out, teasing you just enough to keep you on the edge, 

“You want me to stop? Hm?”

The more he teased you, the more hot slick collected on his hands, sticky and clear, covering his fingers and making him harden with every moment. 

Then, he took a sharp breath in through his nose, and paused, hiding his grimace in the crook of his arm. You canted your hips, removing his hand from you, fed up with his defiance, 

“John, that’s enough. If you make me restitch that wound, I will have to do it without drugs. We’re out of anesthetic.”

“Please, love,” he held you close to him, letting you feel his hard length as it rolled against your tummy, making a trail of precome across your skin, “I need you. I’ve missed you so bad. Lemme fuck you. Put my cock in you.”

“Hold on,” you shifted your body so that he would turn on his side. Then, you lay opposite him, your head laying at the foot of the bed, bringing you face to face with his swollen, hungry cock. 

In this position, you could suck him off, and he wouldn’t need to use his thigh. 

You licked your lips, trailing them across his cockhead, collecting his salty pearls of pleasure and wearing them like gloss, suckling from his tip as softly as you could just to taunt him further. 

“Ahhh, fuck…” His sigh was delicious. All of that pain and all of the stress that had made him so tense rushed out of him, making his skin pebble with bliss. 

Without hesitation, John bent his head, pulling your hips to his open mouth, and wrapping your leg under his arm, eating your pussy and groaning with a lurid, feral pleasure. 

The feeling of his soft lips and scruffy beard against your sensitive skin flung you into a spiral of pleasure. You could feel his warm tongue prodding and exploring through you, greedily splitting you to get to your hot, honeyed center. 

You wanted more of his taste, so you went to work, stretching your jaw to accommodate his girth, taking him deeper into your throat, using your tongue to trace a wet circle around his head when you needed to catch your breath, teasing him just beneath his foreskin. When you did, his cock throbbed for you, egging you on, eager to drip its load into your mouth. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Gonna make me come,” he threatened. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers dip back inside of you. He was aggressive with his fondling, shoving two of his thick digits deep inside of you, curling them cruelly to press upon your most pliant, responsive spot. 

As he fucked you with his hand, he let his tongue lap against your clit, making you whine around his dick, muffled by his shaft. You felt his hips begin to thrust forward and back, desperately fucking your throat, getting closer and closer to releasing his orgasm inside of you. 

You couldn’t wait to taste him. You wanted him to use you. You didn’t want to hurt him, but the truth was — as hungry as he was for your body — you needed him just as badly. 

You felt your body begin to tense, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he would have you coming on his hands. He kept his pace, knowing your favorite rhythm, humming to himself as he devoured you, sucking up every drop of your wetness as if he’d never drink from your tight font again. 

Your toes curled, your legs tried to close in on themselves, stopped by his body trapped between them, and something snapped inside of your core, letting loose spiraling sparks of pleasure, breaking you apart over and over, only for each gentle lick from his tongue to put you back together. 

“Mmhm,” he praised you, “Good girl. Just like that. Rub your come on my mouth.”

You did as you were told, no longer in the driver’s seat when it came to your body, fully trained to submit to his will. You shamelessly smeared your pussy across his bearded jaw, humping lewdly against him, all for him to whisper gratefully between licks, 

“Yes, more. More. Give it to me. Fuck my mouth, love. Fuck, I love it. Fuck…”

All the while, he was thrusting into your mouth, deeper and deeper, choking you on his hardness. But, you let him. You allowed him to use you, holding onto his hips for dear life, breathing in every gap that he left, gasping for air, feeling yourself getting dizzy. 

“Are you ready for me?” He groaned, peering down at you between your bodies.

You moaned something you hoped sounded like a yes, and he turned his full attention towards you. You felt his fingers leave your pussy, only to wrap themselves through your hair, sticky and messy, making a strong, merciless grip at the base of your skull. 

He fucked you in earnest, then. It was gratifying to hear his satisfied grunts, and as you felt his cock swell even more, you knew he was about to come. Your mind wanted air, but your body wanted his load. You wanted to feel it slip into your  throat, hot and milky, pouring down your neck like a salacious prize. 

Finally, he went stock-still, and the only thing that moved was his cock. It throbbed inside of you, shooting rope after rope of heavy come down your tongue, painting your mouth white. 

He removed himself from you as quick as he could, pulling your head back up to your pillow, bringing you face to face with him, whispering in an animalistic tone, 

“Lemme see it, pretty girl. Open up. Let me… ahh, yes. That’s it.”

He dipped his finger into your mouth, gathering up his own orgasm onto the tip, smearing it around your lips like he was putting on your makeup. 

You were panting, gasping in the air you so desperately needed, and you tried not to swallow, gathering up as much of his foaming fluid on your tongue as you could, sticking it out for him, showing him what a good girl you could be. 

He took more of it onto his hand and dipped down between your legs, painting your swollen folds with his spend, mixing your come together like some ritual. 

You couldn’t help but whimper. You were overstimulated and raw, and he shushed you, bringing his hand back up to play with your soft nipples, 

“Shh, it’s okay, love. It’s okay. Kiss me.”

You felt his mouth crash into yours, and your own heady taste invaded your senses, folding in with his, making your body roll itself against him, begging him for more. 

“Leg already feels better. C’mon, love. Give us the go ahead, hm?”

“I will tie you to this bed, John Price. Don’t test me,” you looked up at him before laying your head on his furry chest, breathing when he breathed, watching his hairy belly rise and fall. 

“Promise?” He chuckled, pulling you closer and holding you there all night, unwilling to compromise, claiming you in every way he knew how. You dozed against him, sated and happy, wondering how long you could keep a secret this good. 

Sorry for the wait! Work is hellish right now, but as soon as this semester is over with, I'll be posting more. Thanks for letting me know your thoughts.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #john price smut #captain price mw2 #oh captain my captain

[lu-sn]

Arm has a top-secret file that he keeps on a separate partition of his hard drive, locked behind three different password walls. It’s a list of all of the main family’s bodyguards, ranked by how likely they are to be the mole.

(It’s top-secret because he’s not supposed to be looking into this. Chan explicitly ordered him not to.)

There’s a handful of people Arm doesn’t even bother putting on the list. Pol, for one. Pete. Erika. Chan.

By contrast, every single one of Kinn’s personal bodyguards, past and present, is a prime suspect. Kinn’s had a notorious streak of bad luck lately. Four murder attempts in four months cannot be a coincidence.

Ken is just aloof enough that nobody seems to know what he’s up to on his off-days. This rockets him straight to the top of Arm’s list, tied with Big, who has fallen so far out of favor with Kinn that Arm can’t help but wonder if Kinn is doing it on purpose.

And then there’s the name directly under those two.

“Be honest,” he says to Pete one day. They’re sequestered in his armory, but he keeps his voice low: there’s no harm in being careful with matters like this. “Do you think there’s any chance Porsche is the mole?”

Pete is silent for a good, long moment.

“You live with him,” Arm says. “You’ve been on more missions with him than me. If anyone here knows him best, it’s you.”

“There are reasons to suspect him,” Pete says slowly. “A lot of his missions have gone wrong. He didn’t stop that girl from attacking Kinn in the bathroom. The casino stakeout was a mess. The diamond auction was worse.”

“But…?”

Pete sighs. “I don’t know. He’s young. He’s made a lot of mistakes, but he’s improving.”

Arm stares forlornly at his list, cursor blinking innocently next to Porsche’s name. “Pete, I can’t clear his name just because he’s young.”

“No,” Pete concedes. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “But he’s kind, too. He’s principled. He won’t betray people he cares about.”

“And that’s enough? You trust him?”

“I do.”

The knot in Arm’s chest jerks tighter. “But… he’s so likable.”

“Ohhh, right, he’s nice. Never mind. Death by firing squad.”

Arm smiles, sheepish.

“Okay,” Pete says. “So you think he’s tricking us?”

“Shit, Pete, I don’t know,” Arm splutters. “Isn't it possible?”

“I don't think so. Porsche isn't like that.”

Arm considers this, then plops his face into his hand.

“Did you want me to say something else?” Pete says, faintly amused.

“Yes,” Arm groans.

“Why?”

“Because…” Arm trails off.

Because the security of the main family rests on his shoulders. Arm cannot afford to be anything other than objective; he needs to leave Porsche on his list.

But the problem is that Porsche barreled into their lives and immediately made Khun Noo happier than Arm had ever seen before. The problem is that Pol hasn’t been this comfortable around someone since Arm himself. The problem is that Arm vaguely remembers being carried home from Hum Bar by an equally drunk Porsche, who took off his shoes for him and tucked him into bed and grinned brightly over his shoulder before staggering out the door.

The problem is that Arm is biased.

Pete, on the other hand, is the most level-headed person Arm knows. Leaving Porsche’s name on his list wouldn’t feel so terrible if Pete agreed with it.

“I wanted you to give me a reason to keep him on here,” Arm mumbles. “I feel bad. He’s our friend.”

“You’re doing your job,” Pete says sincerely. “There’s no shame in that. But…” He reaches over to pat Arm on the shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with trusting your gut. If you think he’s innocent, leave him off.”

Arm mulls over this. Then he pokes Pete in the side. “I think I trust your gut more than mine.”

Pete lets out a laugh, incredulous, and pokes Arm back.

-

Later, Arm highlights Porsche’s entry with his cursor and drags it to the bottom of the file. Then he pauses. His hand hovers over the delete button.

He thinks about Pete saying, I trust him. He thinks about what Pete didn’t quite say: you should trust yourself, too.

He hits delete.

-

#kpanniversary2024 episode 9 + prompt 9: trust

#this one's for all the armpete girlies out there #(looking straight at dreamy) #brought to you by me thinking about how arm and pete show unconditional trust for porsche #and how curious that is given the state of the main family at that time #kinnporsche #kpanniversary2024 #arm kinnporsche #pete saengtham #mine: ficlet

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of injury, death, human trafficking.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: It was the final showdown! And you died.

A/N: We begin to wrap everything up :(

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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You crawled back toward consciousness with the unsettling sensation of deja vu. Bright lights, pain in your abdomen, the sound of machines incessantly beeping. You tried to pull the covers over your head, but your left arm didn’t seem to want to move.

Well, that was new, anyway.

“The fuck am I in the hospital for now?” you murmured to yourself. “One miscarriage wasn’t bad enough?”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” came Tony’s shocked voice from your bedside. “One fucking what now?!”

You slowly opened your eyes. “Uh… hey, Boss. How’s it going?” You glanced over at Tony; he looked terrible, eyes red rimmed and puffy. “What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve been crying?”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? You had us all scared half to death, Kiddo. Pretty sure it took ten years off my life when word came in that Carthage fucking shot you. You know, you were clinically dead for seven whole minutes?! Longest seven minutes of my life– even longer than the Seven Minutes in “Heaven” I spent with Alice Seymour in 7th grade.” Tony shivered.

You blanched. “Seven minutes? Holy shit. I’m sorry, Tony.” You weren’t sure why you were apologizing; you hadn’t shot yourself, after all, but you still felt awful for making him worry.

Tony came to sit alongside you on the bed. “Hey,” he began, taking a hold of your hand, “you have nothing to be sorry for. At all. You warned us from the beginning that Carthage was rotten. We should have done a better job of protecting you from her. I should have done a better job of protecting you.”

“It’s not your fault, Boss,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “None of us could have realized how far gone she was until it was too late. Where is she, anyway? On a one-way trip to The Raft, I hope?”

Tony looked away from you, toward the door of your room. “Not necessary,” he said. “She’s dead.”

You sat up quickly, wincing in pain at the tugging in your abdomen as you did so.

“Easy there, Kiddo,” Tony said, helping you get upright. “You had major abdominal surgery just a few days ago; you’re gonna pull your stitches.”

You let go of Tony’s hand to gingerly prod at your stomach, flinching as you came into contact with the heavy gauze that concealed your incision. Looking back up at him, you asked: “What do you mean, ‘she’s dead,’ Tony? What the fuck happened?”

Tony cleared his throat and poured you a cup of water, as if needing to busy his hands while he considered how to go about saying what he had to tell you. “We pulled up in the Quinjet probably only a few moments after you were shot,” he said, handing the cup to you. You took it gratefully, not realizing until that moment how parched you’d been. “Barnes was holding you in his arms, just sobbing, and… God, Pocket, there was so much blood. We thought you were done. I’ve never– I’ve never seen him like that before. He wouldn’t let go of you. Cap and Point Break had to hold him off so we could get you into the jet’s onboard Cradle; he just didn’t want to be apart from you. Kept screaming it was all his fault, he should be the one who was dead instead of you. Can’t say that, in the moment, I disagreed. We ended up having to sedate him.”

As Tony spoke, bits and flashes of the event came back to you– Bucky offering himself to Jade in exchange for your life, seeing his lips on hers, the sensation of Jade’s bullet ripping through your flesh. 

“Once we got you stable, we went back out and found Carthage’s body. I’m not one hundred percent sure what happened, because Barnes still won’t talk about it, but, well, her neck was snapped.”

You blinked in shock. He’d killed her, for you. When it mattered, when it truly, truly mattered, he’d picked you over her. “Wow,” was all you could get out.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed softly.

“Where is he, Boss?” you asked, looking up at him desperately. You needed to see Bucky right away, needed to thank him for saving your life, to apologize.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve been kind of keeping him away,” Tony admitted reluctantly.

“Why?!” you asked, hurt and shocked. “Why would you do that, Tony?”

Tony looked at you defensively. “Because he admitted what he did to you, Pocket. How he hurt you, again, and again. All of it. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t going to let him come near you after everything he’d done. It was his fault you were in this mess to begin with. He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. If he had stayed away from her, been faithful to you from the beginning–”

“Tony,” you interrupted, putting a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Please trust me when I tell you that the situation is a lot more complicated than it appears from the outside, okay? I’ve… I’ve seen things, things that showed me how badly she manipulated him, got into his head. I’m not saying he’s blameless,” you were quick to add when Tony opened his mouth to protest. “He’s got a lot to make up for– I know that; I’m just saying that the party who bears the most responsibility is dead. I want to see him. Please. I owe him my life.”

Tony pursed his lips as he assessed you, mulling over your words. “It’s against my better judgment,” he finally said, “but it’s your call. I’ll send him in.” He stood up, leaning forward to kiss the crown of your head. 

“Tony, wait!” you said, before he could go too far. “The missing women. The strip club. What happened with them?”

“You did good, Kiddo,” he said with a smile. “Once we got you outta there, we were able to retrace your location to find the Hydra base where they were keeping you and get into their files– they kept records of every woman they sold, who they sold to, and where they went. SHIELD’s already picked up several of the buyers and identified the key players based on what you’ve been able to get us. We’ve been able to recover seven of the women so far, but Nat’s optimistic we can track down even more.”

You let out a shaky exhale. Seven women, saved from trafficking, with your help. “That’s amazing, Boss,” you said.

“And as for the club, Kozlov’s been arrested on a slew of charges; don’t anticipate he’ll be breathing fresh air anytime soon. And your buddy? Dimitri? He was real happy to start cooperating with us if it meant he didn’t go down with his boss.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief, a weight being lifted off your shoulders. They weren't going to be able to hurt anyone else, you thought to yourself. You’d help make sure of that. Maybe you could make your amends to Chloe, after all.

An idea came to you then. “Boss,” you began, “how much money’s in my swear jar now?”

Tony gave you a bemused look. “Kind of a weird time to be asking about that.” He pulled up his phone and touched the screen several times before letting out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned, Pocket. You certainly have quite the potty mouth– there’s almost half a mil in there!”

“I’ve sworn half a million times in the last twenty months?” you asked, incredulous.

“Do you doubt it?” Tony answered, grinning.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” you said with a smile. “Do me a favor? Take that money and divide it up among the surviving women, okay? They’re gonna need resources for a fresh start.”

“That’s real generous of you, Kiddo,” Tony said, giving you a fond smile. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best,” you half-shrugged, grinning back at him. “Gotta pay it forward, right?”

Tony nodded, then turned toward the door. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of,” he said. “And I’ll send in Barnes."

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Oh, and if there’s one thing this entire ordeal’s taught me,” he said as he put his hand on the doorknob, “it’s that life is short. I’m gonna ask Pep to marry me.”

“Tony!” you exclaimed, delight coursing through you. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”

Tony smiled at you. “Be flattered, kiddo. You’re number two to know.” With a wink, he was out the door.

You closed your eyes, smiling to yourself. Tony Fucking Stark was finally settling down. You honestly thought you’d never live to see the day. Fuck, you almost hadn’t. You felt a dull ache in your left arm. It had been strapped down in a sling to  your torso, preventing you from moving it, and you had the sinking suspicion there were probably pins holding the fracture in place. You were certainly in line for a long road to recovery.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[zeldasnotes]

HI ! I saw your Sexy notes part 3 and i have an embarassing ask to ask . I have lilith in cancer but my breast are ugly couse they are small and my nipples are inverted ( yes, such thing exists ) I am super embarrased by them. I feel deformed and ugly and I am terriflyed to be seen naked even by a doctor let alone a lover . woman on porn AND on movies have pointy nipples - and that makes me feel even more as an ugly freak . So i want to ask is it becouse my lilith is in the 10 house? i dont know what this house deals with but is it couse of that that they are ugly? or is it becouse my chiron is in the 1 and that makes me have an ugly body ?(even tho i have read chiron in the 1 is about insecuritis related to the face or the whole body counts ?) i do have venus in the 8 but thats useless ! i just wonder couse one astrologer told me - with such placement (chiron 1) your lesson is to be kind to others and give them confidents and thats how you will heal... but i am confused ok i am kind to people , give compliments to others ,everyone tells me how amazing and kind i am , i am uplifting others BUT i still see myself as physically ugly- how the fuck me been kind to others is gonna make me feel sexy and pretty ?? like makes 0 sense ...sorry i dont wanna sound rude !!! - i just dont know what i am doing wrong? thank you for your notes tho , gives interesting information and its also you have a great unbias opinions and also you do all kinds of topics and that so fun and refreshing ! sorry for the terrible ask i will understand if you dont respond couse shit that is one weird ass ask (sorry again)

Hi! Ive seen a lot of Cancer Liliths be insecure about their breasts so I think its that placement making you extra insecure about that part. And then the Chiron 1st house makes you extra insecure. Chiron 1st house doesnt give an ugly body but it can make you insecure about your body. Venus 8th house is also one of the placement that makes you less likely to see your own beauty. Its actually scary how some placements can make someone see themselves different than how they really look. Ive seen so many people with the placements you just listed who felt insecure about themselves about certain features while others saw them as beautiful.

Lilith seems to have the same effect on the body part that rules the house it sits in. I have Lilith in the 8th house and I always felt insecure about my genitals even tho none of my partners commented something bad about them. My sister have Lilith in the 4th house and she had a boob job, my best friend had Lilith in the 9th house and she hated her legs.

And almost 90% of the women in the adult industry had their breasts and genitals done so dont ever compare yourself to them. But I know its hard not to😭💜

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #lilith aspects

[epiclamer]

The scientist shivered against the cold breeze of the air-conditioned laboratory, their white coat was barely enough to keep the hairs on their arms from standing on end.

Just a few more hours and then they could sleep. That’s all they had to keep telling themselves.

Keys jingling in the doorway spooked them out of their stupor, shooting to their feet and away from their work. At the entrance stood Villain, backlit by the bright hallway lights streaming behind them and into the lab.

Scientist could feel the sweat beading on their forehead when a moment ago they were fighting the frigid air. Villain’s presence always seemed to have that effect on them.

“You can leave now, you know? You don’t have to stay here.”

I won’t keep you here. Is what they truly meant, but phrasing it like the scientist had a say in the matter made them feel a little bit better.

Both of their gazes fell to the chain that had recently come off the scientist’s ankle. When the villain had first kidnapped them two months ago, they weren’t even allowed to leave their chair. Now, however, the villain was practically inviting them to leave.

“T-That, um, new poison you wanted? It’s almost done, I just need a few more hours tonight—”

“I won’t kill you.” The villain raised an eyebrow, gaze piercing through the researcher in front of them, picking them apart piece by piece, layer by layer. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Scientist swallowed, it was loud enough that their gulp could be heard bouncing off the thin walls of their workshop. “I-I thought you wanted this poison done by tomorrow for your big fight with Hero.”

The criminal took a step towards the other, dragging a finger down the edge of their work table as they did. “That poison was just a thought—a rough draft. It’s not even supposed to exist, it shouldn’t even be possible.”

They were standing almost nose-to-nose now, the scientist could feel the villain’s minty breath ghosting the bow of their bottom lip, which they bit down on to try and stop it from shuddering. Something about the villain’s eyes stole the breath from their lungs, something about their tactile fingers always seemed to catch their wandering attention.

Something about the villain was in itself completely mesmerizing.

“Go home, Scientist. You have people waiting for you, you have a family, friends, even the police still scour the city for a clue to your whereabouts.”

Wrong, the villain was terribly wrong. They had no one to go back to, no home, no spouse, no kids, no friends, no coworkers. And the police had ended their search three weeks ago, they had seen the delcaration on the news headline.

Scientist didn’t exist anymore. They didn’t exist anywhere outside of this very lab.

Villain cupped the researcher’s hands in their own, taking them gently and holding them firmly. “Go home.”

If their stomach wasn’t exploding with butterflies, Scientist probably would’ve bolted for the exit the second the chain had come off. Instead, they were frozen to the spot, lost in the eyes of the city’s top criminal, and silently begging to never have to leave their side. As their colleague or as their partner in crime, Scientist simply craved the attention, the praise, that came effortlessly from the villain’s mouth at the sight of the scientist’s work.

They had worked many jobs throughout their various degrees, yet nobody flattered the scientist like Villain did.

Truthfully, it was intoxicating. Scientist never wanted it to stop—even if it meant working for the ‘bad guys’.

“Just let m-me finish this for you— please.”

“I don’t want a peace offering, I’m already setting you free. No strings attached.” The criminal shrugged, letting go of the researcher’s hands and pushing their own into their pockets.

Scientist was crudely greeted by the cold air on their skin once more, but they did their best not to show their disappointment. “I-It’s not that—”

“Then what is it? Because I can’t have you stay here any longer without a proper excuse.”

The scientist always hated when people got stern with them, still they managed to mask their wince of fear and carry on, the words sticking to their throat. They had reasoning, but it was still up to the villain to decide if they would accept it or not.

One deep breath and two seconds of solid eye contact and the researcher felt like they were going to pass out from the stress. Their whole body was drenched in sweat, maybe the villain could kill them to save them from this embarrassment. On the other hand, maybe the villain would say yes.

“Villain.” Another deep breath. “I want to work with you.”

#ahhh #olivesss mmmmm #my wife hates olives #i love em #mmmmm #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #scenarios #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes #villains #heroes x villains #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #villains x heroes #scientist #mad scientist #scientist x villain #villain x scientist #whump #whumpee #kidnapee #villain whumper #whumper

[reccyls]

Surprise Bag 2024 Story (Prologue)

The April Fool's story from 2024. This is only the prologue, as the continuations are sold as story sales that I will not be purchasing. I do still think it is very funny, though.

The premise is a bodyswap, Ellis <> Jude and Elbert <> Alfons

Ever since I became a Fairytale Keeper, I like to think that my tolerance for the extraordinary has increased.

However, this latest happening in Crown far surpassed anything I had ever experienced.

"Jude": Good morning, Miss Kate. I'll make you happy today too.

Kate: ...Jude, did you... hit your head on something?

"Jude": Hm? Nope, I'm perfectly fine. Haven't hit my head on anything.

Kate: What happened to your usual terrible attitude?! Did you catch a cold? Are you injured? We have to go to the hospital now--

"Ellis": Tch, the hell is this?

"Jude": Ah, Jude. "Jude": Huh? Jude, why are you me?

"Ellis": I should be the one asking. Why the hell are you me?

Kate: Wha? Huh??

"Elbert": Ahha! Something terribly amusing seems to have happened, hasn't it?

Kate: Alf- Eh, Lord Elbert? Kate: Wait, so then is that 'Alfons' standing behind you...?

"Alfons": ...When I looked in the mirror, I became Al.

"Elbert": Being able to look at oneself from the point of view of an outsider truly is fascinating. "Elbert": Oh yes, El. Do speak more energetically. It's unsettling to hear myeslf sound so glum.

"Alfons": ...More energetically? ...I'll, try... "Alfons": ........Ahha.

"Elbert": I suppose that's my mistake for asking you to be more energetic.

Kate: Wait, just hold on a second. So what's happened is... Kate: ...Jude and Ellis, and then Lord Elbert and Alfons have swapped bodies!? Kate: What kind of ridiculous situation is this...!?

"Ellis": It's that goddamn doctor bastard's fault. I'll kill him.

---

Gathering the remainder of Crown, we questioned Roger about the circumstances. He let out an unrestrained laugh.

Roger: My bad, my bad. Who'd ever think that the results would pay off this quickly? Aren't I a genius?

Victor: Now's not the time, Roger! What did you do to cause this adorable- excuse me, very troubling situation?

Liam: Victor, you're not hiding your true feelings very well. Your words and face don't match at all.

Roger: I had the thought of swapping a cursed person with a normal person. That could lead to the curse transferring, couldn't it? So I was doing some research.

William: Your unquenchable thirst for knowledge is admirable indeed. But if that were the case, shouldn't you be experimenting with a cursed person and a normal human?

Roger: It'd be pretty dangerous for us if something went wrong while I was experimenting on a normal person, wouldn't it? I thought I'd test things out on these guys first.

Harrison: Just what do you think we are? We die just as easy as normal people, you know.

"Elbert": Let's toss that musclehead four-eyes into the Thames.

"Ellis": Yeah. Fix some stone weights to him and it'll be over quick.

Kate: Stop, stop! Don't say things like that wearing Elbert and Ellis's faces!

"Jude": But that's pretty amazing, Roger. I never thought that medicine like this could exist.

Liam: ...Jude being all soft is- nope, that's just weird!

Roger: Don't worry so much. Once I've collected enough data from you lot, I'll whip up an antidote. Roger: ........Once I've got an antidote, I can start testing on the others.

Harrison: ...You just said something awful, didn't you?

Roger: Don't know what you're talking about.

"Elbert": You're acting like you're in any position to bargain about turning us back? Pardon my French, but go die.

Harrison: Yikes... Uh, Liam? Hey, Liam, hey. Did he fall asleep?

"Jude": Sorry, I touched his head. I was curious about whether I could use Jude's power or not.

Roger: Huh, so the ability stays with the body. I really am a genius after all, aren't I?

(This isn't helping anymore...!)

Kate: A-anyway! Please make that antidote as soon as possible, Roger! Kate: ...Geez. What are we going to do if Her Majesty hears about this?

Roger: Well, I might end up getting fired... Roger: ...So it's up to you to watch over the lot of them to make sure nobody else finds out about this, little lady.

Kate: Huh? ...Roger? Wait!

"Ellis": Tch... Fuck it. Let him get kicked out.

"Jude": Ah, Jude, my body isn't used to--

"Ellis": *cough, cough*... Ellis. First thing we're doing is to start training so you can at least handle one cigar.

"Elbert": Hmm... with a face like this, I could get away with doing pretty much anything, don't you think?

"Alfons": ...Kate, is this spoon beautiful?

Kate: M-my poor sanity...!

#ikemen villains #my translation

[locklyle-for-a-long-while]

“But now…”

Lockwood is so vulnerable in this moment.

He’s responding directly to what she said just before she stormed away from him and into their house:

“What does it even matter if we end up stabbed, or dead at the bottom of the Thames with nobody left to care?!

This doesn’t feel like winning.”

He stood there stunned, watching her go.

Hours before, he had stood in the same spot near a different taxi, watching her stride towards him in the same blue dress with the wind in her hair. She was a vision. He smiled despite himself.

“So it’s just us”

“Is that alright?” He had asked, as she held his gaze, her smile warming him thoroughly in the chill air, his heart pounding as he held the cab door for her.

There was no smile for him now.

And it was all his fault.

After showering off the river and putting on a fresh set of clothes, he’s had a quiet moment to think about what she said in anger… and how right she was to say it. She has the truth of the matter- he put them in terrible danger and they only barely survived the night. He was so reckless and careless and utterly foolish. The self loathing voice in his head threatens to take over as the weight of it settles on his mind. She’d be right to leave him, to hate him and never forgive him, he thinks, and the thought almost breaks his heart. Self loathing collides with a sense of desperation— she can’t leave me …I need her… I’ve fallen completely and desperately in love with Lucy …and I can’t—I mustn’t— screw this up, …if I haven’t already. He takes a slow breath and gathers himself, mentally rehearsing his apology before finding her in the kitchen.

He struggles through the apology… it’s not enough. The words feel like they’re falling flat and sound hollow in his ears. He moves closer, unsure if that will help but compelled to be close, drawn to her as always.

“I just wanted to say, don’t give up on us— please”

She drops the butter knife and it clangs to the plate.

He knows he’s got it wrong- he’s barely half way to the truth. He moves closer, compelled to see her and desperate to look into her eyes. He turns his body to her, she hesitates, still and waiting.

“Or, what I really should say is… don’t give up on me.”

Now she turns to him, and he’s grateful for it. Though her expression is unreadable, she gives him strength to show her his darkness. It’s her strength now that compels him:

“To be honest the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.

And really no one would have cared.

But now…”

Is almost a question he poses, it’s so tentative.

There’s so much unsaid after those two words, and he has to believe it’s enough and she already knows the rest:

But now… Now I want to live. Because of you, Lucy. You came along and gave me something to live for.

But now, maybe someone would care if I ended up at the bottom of the Thames. I didn’t dare to think you cared about me, Lucy… but then you went and told me so. It was just before we went into Winkman’s auction earlier that night.

I was frustrated and rash and I said “when my time comes I don’t plan on leaving anyone behind who’s going to stare at that door every night, wishing I would just walk through it one more time”

And then you stopped me in my tracks:

“Well you should have never let me in, or George, because now it’s far too late.”

And that left me speechless.

So yes, I can say something as profound and crazy as “but now…” because I dare to believe you, Lucy. I have to try to believe you, to believe that I matter to someone. To two people even, my best friends that I love dearly and one that I love so deeply that it terrifies me.

“But now…”.

Silence. I have no more words. And I hope it’s enough.

I can only stare into her eyes, totally at her mercy, waiting for whatever she might say next …fully knowing it can break me. But what else can I do. I’m wrecked for her. And I’m a complete idiot and we both know it and she’d be right to reject my apology, to reject me. I stand with bated breath, looking into her beautiful eyes not daring to hope for forgiveness.

“Grenadier guard or policeman”

I exhale.

A wave of relief floods through my chest as the tension I didn’t know I held is released. I struggle to stand composed, this close to her while I’m taken by a flood of gratefulness and love for this fierce and brilliant girl who has —and forever will have— my heart.

#locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #locknation #renew lockwood and co

[ivantillz]

find me;

ivantill, 4.1k, inspired by this post by @ivanttakethis Ivan returns - alive - after round 6 despite all odds but something is different about him. Wrong. Till is on his own to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

Till didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling – that wasn’t quite true; he had an idea. He was numb. He thought he’d been numb, before, but after watching Ivan die… now he knew what true numbness felt like.

He might not have expressed it enough, looking back. Just how much he appreciated having Ivan around. Maybe, he hadn’t even known yet how terribly empty this place would feel without him.

And now he would never get to tell him. He would never even get to talk to him again.

It was over, and frankly Till was too tired to keep fighting. It didn’t matter. His next opponent was Luka and he wasn’t naive enough to think he could win.

Strangely, he felt an odd sense of calm alongside the numbness. He was ready to go. He was ready to see if the aliens were truthful about this one thing, at least. Was there much of anything after death or just eternal darkness?

Nothingness?

Maybe that really would be better. To feel nothing. Be nothing.

Till heard a familiar bell; it was dinnertime. He curled up tighter, hugging his knees and closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry.

-

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he was finally jostled awake. He blinked, once, twice, eyes having a hard time adjusting to the brightness of day.

When he lifted his head, he was met with the face of a girl about his age, dark hair and dark eyes. Unassuming. He was pretty sure he’d seen her around once or twice. They’d never talked.

“I thought you might, um.” She was wringing her hands nervously. Till shouldn’t care. He had given up caring about anything, especially whatever she was struggling to tell him.

He sniffed. “If you have nothing to say, please go away.” He just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleeping was the only time he didn’t feel completely hopeless. At least in his dreams, he wasn’t alone.

“I know we haven’t talked much or anything,” she continued, speaking just a little too fast, “but I thought you might want to see this. You, um. You were close to him, right?”

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t need to.

Till didn’t even bother answering. He just blankly stared at her. Apparently, that was answer enough.

“You really need come see this,” she said again, this time with more urgency.

Till frowned. He should just ignore her. He didn’t want to entertain whatever game she was playing.

“I’m serious,” she was fidgeting again. “Please.”

He could’ve ignored her, but he didn’t. Even now, he supposed his curiosity had a way of getting the better of him. Standing up, he winced when his back cracked and his knees popped.

She smartly didn’t say anything and just led the way. Till followed slowly. It was only when she stopped abruptly that he finally looked up, barely avoiding running into her.

“Hey,” he barked. “Watch it!”

She stepped to the side, opening her mouth, probably to retort, but he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

There, in the middle of a small crowd, was Ivan.

He didn’t even know what to focus on first – his hair, brushed back with a small clip on the side to keep it out of his face. His clothes, pure white and pristine. The smile on his face, warm and sweet.

But none of that mattered, really. Nothing mattered but the fact Ivan was here.

Ivan was alive.

Till didn’t even wait to see if the girl had anything else to say; he rushed past her and joined the crowd, pushing people out of the way. Some of them glared at him, some yelled, but he didn’t care.

He needed to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He needed to know Ivan was real.

When he finally reached the center of the crowd, he let out a shaky breath and just stared. Ivan was really there, standing right in front of him with a confused tilt of his head and an unnervingly polite smile.

Then Ivan opened his mouth and asked possibly the dumbest question he could:

“Are you okay?”

Till felt anger rush to the forefront of his many conflicting emotions, red hot and burning. “Am I okay?” he repeated in disbelief, and suddenly grabbed the collar of Ivan’s shirt. Ivan blinked, but didn’t move to stop him. “You seriously think you can do all that and then just ask me if I’m okay?”

Ivan stared back at him with a familiar blankness before suddenly he was smiling, soft and kind, “I’m sorry,” he said, and Till couldn’t remember ever hearing him apologize, before. “I don’t know what I did but I assure you I didn’t meant to upset you.”

He reached up and gently touched Till’s hands, still clutching his collar.

“If you would let go, maybe we can go somewhere private and talk.”

Till blinked, once, twice, before suddenly letting go like he’d been burned, his hands curling into fists at his sides “You don’t know what you did?” he repeated, slowly, icily. “Is this some kind of sick joke to you?”

His heart was thumping in his chest too fast, too hard. He felt like he was struggling to breathe.

“I really don’t,” Ivan replied softly. It was unnerving, hearing him talk like that. “But I’m assuming I did something to hurt you, and if I did, I really am sorry.”

Till bristled, fists tightening. He could feel something wet in both palms of his hands; blood, maybe, from where his nails were digging too deep.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked, terrified of the answer.

Ivan smiled again; it was too sweet. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Okay.” Till swallowed, forced his hands to relax at his sides. “Okay.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, he turned and ran.

-

For a while, he isolated himself and just tried to figure out what had happened. Maybe some kind of head trauma? That would’ve explained the memory loss, maybe, but Ivan was acting like a completely different person.

Before he had seen Ivan again - before he had gotten confirmation he was still alive - he had gone over all the things he wanted to say to him, good and bad.

Now he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. He avoided even crossing paths with Ivan for the first few days but then he realized something:

Ivan was avoiding him too. Not on purpose, it seemed, but somehow that realization was even more terrifying.

He used to do anything to get his attention - steal his things just to return them, start trivial fights, ask him to teach him about music (he never paid attention). Now he barely looked in his direction most days, too distracted with the handful of other contestants who were seemingly glued to his side.

Before, he hadn’t had any friends. Not for a lacking of trying - many people wanted to be friends with Ivan - but he had never even bothered trying to act interested.

Eventually they had stopped trying, of course, but now that had changed. It was like people could smell he was different, and they were right.

To make matters even worse, Till had overheard a few of Ivan’s conversations with some of the contestants. He wasn’t sure if Ivan meant it but when they would flirt, fluttering their eyelashes, pouting a little, Ivan would seem interested, smiling coyly.

That was possibly the most obvious sign something was very, very wrong.

Ivan didn’t do friends - not beyond what championship he had been able to forge with Till and Mizi, possibly Sua (before) - but he certainly hadn’t flirted with others.

He hadn’t even flirted with Till prior to their round, despite seemingly having some kind of feelings for him. Or maybe he had, but in unconventional ways. He certainly hadn’t been obvious about it.

(He wanted to talk to him - the real Ivan - understand what he really felt, but now he couldn’t. The Ivan of now apparently felt nothing for him.)

Could a head trauma do that? Till wasn’t educated in that kind of stuff; some of the others were, the way he was interested in music, but even they hadn’t had many chances to explore it with their limited resources. So when he asked, they simply apologized and said, honestly, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He was grateful for the honesty but it had brought him no closer to figuring out what was going on, or how to reverse it (if that was even possible. He really hoped it was possible.)

-

Till finally reached a breaking point after Ivan won round 7.

(Since nobody had expected him to survive, and it was unprecedented, they had decided to add two new contestants to the lineup; one to go up against Till and one to go up against Ivan, extending the season to 9 rounds overall. The finale would make history as - for the first time - three contestants would go up against each other at once. Till really didn’t care about dissecting what that meant for them, in the future.)

Obviously he was glad he had won - he had been watching the broadcast with bated breath - but he had won by singing a new piece. Till felt an odd sense of comfort, hearing his voice again (maybe the only thing that hadn’t changed) but then he had started to pay closer attention to the lyrics.

And it was wrong. All wrong. Since when did Ivan sing of birds flying through clear blue skies, free and fearless? Of requited love, sweet and true?

It might’ve been his voice, but those weren’t his words. Something was wrong. Ivan was here, but he wasn’t.

Then finally Till made a realization. It was a working theory, of course, but at least it was a start.

-

It started with Till watching Ivan even closer (something he didn’t think was possible). He started to slowly notice other details that were wrong.

Just little things. Things that might not have been noticeable to other people. Like the way Ivan’s laugh was a little off (slightly too high-pitched compared to before). The way his eyes were brighter, now, but somehow lacking life at the same time.

Till realized he reminded him of a doll. Too happy. Too polite. Even Mizi - sweet as she was - hadn’t been nearly as perfect. It was unnerving.

Once - still testing his theory - Till had even spilled his soup on him during dinnertime. Just to see. Ivan had barely spared him a glance, a polite smile. “Don’t worry,” he had said before disappearing to change.

He returned with another white shirt. Laughed with everyone else at a joke that was objectively not funny.

That was when Till was certain he was on the right track. They had done something to him. It wasn’t surprising, in a way. They had experimented on Till many times before, after all, but this was different. This was Ivan; the pride and joy of the season.

It was risky to mess with him, but he supposed if it was that or his death, the aliens had weighed their options and decided this was the better outcome.

And truthfully, it had worked out for them. Ivan had gotten even more support than ever after his latest round; brands were lining up to work with him, he had a new interview being published almost every week.

But Till wouldn’t be so easily satisfied. Even if this Ivan was easier to deal with. Even if he smiled more. Till missed tussling and rolling around in the grass with him. He even missed the times Ivan would steal his things just to return them a few days later.

He missed Ivan, his friend, and possibly something more, one day. He still wasn’t sure; wouldn’t be until they could actually talk about what had happened on that stage. But either way, he would find a way to snap him out of this.

-

Easier said than done. Now it was hard to even get a moment alone with Ivan, seeing as he was always surrounded by people.

Finally Till did what he had to do (and he wasn’t exactly proud of it): he pretended to be hurt, and Ivan - this new version of him, at least - couldn’t resist the bait. He helped him to his room and stood there, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Till pretended to massage his ankle.

“Thank you,” he said, and a part of him meant it.

Whether or not this was the Ivan he knew, he still didn’t like him looking so lost. It was jarring, compared to the easy confidence he usually carried himself with. Before and after. The confidence had always been the one consistent thing across both versions of him, although it had certainly manifested in different ways.

Ivan smiled then, looking more sure of himself. That smile - bright and full as it was - still didn’t manage to quite reach his eyes. Till knew this was it. He had to take this chance and find out a way to reverse whatever they had done to him, if that was possible.

(It had to be; he didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.)

For now he just had to keep him here with him, separated from all the others.

“Can you sit with me for a second?” he asked, and Ivan didn’t even hesitate before joining him on the bed that felt more like a concrete slab with a blanket over it.

He even sat politely, hands together in his lap, back a perfectly straight line. He was still smiling. “Did you need anything else?”

Till hesitated for a moment, mentally scrambling for an excuse to keep him here longer. “My ankle really hurts,” he blurted, “even worse than before.” He paused, biting his lip, still thinking. Then he thought of it, the perfect excuse. “Could you maybe look at it?”

“I’m not sure I’d be able to tell you anything,” he replied despite already moving to the floor. Till watched, heart pounding in his chest, as Ivan gently touched his ankle, lifting his foot a little.

He should’ve prepared a bit more, maybe, because his ankle was perfectly fine. No bruising, no cuts. Still he winced, frowning. “It’s sore,” he said, pointing to a random spot. “Around here.”

Ivan nodded, softly running his fingers over the spot with pursed lips.

Till knew he should’ve been thinking more, formulating a plan. He couldn’t just keep Ivan here forever looking at his ankle, and he was no closer to finding out what the aliens had done (or how to reverse it.)

Until he saw it:

A ring, perfectly discreet, around Ivan’s finger. It wasn’t quite silver but an odd hue that nearly blended into the color of Ivan’s skin. Like he - or someone - hadn’t wanted others to notice it.

Till felt his heart beating a little faster. There was no way, right? Surely it couldn’t have been that easy. All these weeks - all this pain - had been caused by a ring?

“Your finger,” he said, voice thick. He hoped Ivan wouldn’t notice; he didn’t, seemingly, still focused on Till’s ankle. “Where did you get that ring?”

Now Ivan looked up. For a long moment he just stared before finally he blinked, once, glancing down at the ring around his finger. “It was a gift.”

Till nodded slowly. “From who?”

“I - ” Ivan stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he idly spun the ring around his finger. “I don’t quite remember, it seems.”

Till knew this was it. He was onto something. He slid off the bed to join Ivan on the floor; Ivan gasped, just a quick breath, gesturing at his ankle with eyes full of concern. Till didn’t know if it was real - his concern. He didn’t know what was real anymore but in this moment he liked to believe it was, as unfounded as it was.

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “I just, can I - ” How did he ask for this, he wasn’t really sure. Finally he gave up and just grabbed Ivan’s hand.

Ivan let him, even as his eyebrows furrowed again, watching as Till gently turned his hand in a few different directions. It was a simple ring, no stone or decorations. It was loose enough for Ivan to spin it around his finger with ease, but too tight to fall off by any accident.

“Do you mind…?” he asked as his fingertips brushed the ring. Surely it wouldn’t be so easy, but it was still worth a try.

Ivan blinked; there was something lost in his gaze, almost like he wasn’t quite seeing. Then suddenly he was pushing Till back with enough force he yelped as his back hit the edge of his bed.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, icily, as he stood and turned toward the door.

It was all wrong. The Ivan that had been, here, for the last few weeks would’ve never reacted like that. So aggressive and cold. That was when Till knew there was no other option: that ring had to go. Whatever was going on, it was clear the aliens had put in some kind of safety measure to keep Ivan from letting anyone take it off.

Whether or not it would magically fix everything was unimportant. It was a start, at least. Till scrambled back to his feet and grabbed Ivan by the arm, yanking as hard as he could. Ivan stumbled, for just a second, but it was enough for Till to get the upper hand he needed.

He spun them around and pushed Ivan onto his bed; he fell with a huff. Before he could fully recover, Till was on top of him, pinning his arms down by his sides. Ivan had always been stronger than him but thankfully with the element of surprise and whatever adrenaline was coursing through his veins it seemed he had managed to subdue him.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked; his voice no longer had that icy coolness to it, but he was obviously still not happy.

Till squeezed his wrists, hard. “I know you don’t remember me or - or what happened,” flashes of that night on the stage, painful and sharp, played through his mind, “but I know you cared about me and I don’t know if you knew at the time how much I cared about you too.”

Ivan just stared up at him, unblinking. Till took a shaky breath.

“I wish I had let you known, before that night.” His eyes burned but he forced the urge to cry back, swallowing thickly. He needed to focus right now. “Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have done what you did. Maybe we could’ve found another way. You had always been the smartest out of any of us. If anyone could’ve done it, it was you.”

Ivan finally blinked, his mouth pressing together into a thin line. Till couldn’t spend too long wondering if any of this was getting through to him. He just had to keep talking.

“Instead you felt like the only way to save me was through sacrificing yourself, and - ” It was too late; his eyes watered, blurring his vision just a little. “I was so mad at you, at first. I was so angry I was sick. You - ” Till paused, shaking his head, hard. “You had no right to do that. To decide for me what I needed.”

He paused, took another shaky breath. Ivan still didn’t say anything.

“I missed you so much, Ivan,” his voice wavered with each word. “I thought I was never going to see you again and I was so numb. I realized I cared about you, more than I ever realized and - and you weren’t even here for me when I needed you the most.” He sniffed, squeezing his wrists even tighter. “You selfish asshole.”

Finally Ivan opened his mouth to say something. His eyes looked shiny, glistening. Till didn’t even bother waiting to see what he had to say; he surged down and slammed their lips together so hard their teeth clanked together, sending a jolt of pain through his jaw.

Ivan made a small noise in the back of his throat. Surprise, maybe. Till used the moment to let go of his wrist and feel for the ring; as soon as he found it, he yanked it off without hesitation and threw it across the room. He heard the distant clattering and then Ivan was kissing him back with fervor, taking his face in his hands.

Till felt something warm in his chest - hope - as he shifted, deepening the kiss. He was almost afraid to stop, afraid that he’d been wrong and nothing would be changed. Afraid he was kissing a stranger, not the Ivan he knew and desperately needed back.

But finally he had no choice; he pulled back and stared down at Ivan, eyes half-lidded, mouth wet and swollen from the aggressive kissing.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please say something.”

Ivan blinked, some clarity seeming to return to his eyes. His tongue poked out, licking at the corner of his mouth where there was just the smallest spot of blood, probably Till’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment Till felt the world stop. He had failed. But then Ivan’s hands were at his sides, holding on gently. “I never even considered how you would feel.”

Till sniffed, waited. Didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.

“I can’t even lie and say I thought you wouldn’t care.” Ivan smiled, a small thing. It was nothing like the fake smiles he’d been giving for weeks now. “Because you’re you, and you care more than you let on.”

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Ivan smoothed a hand down his back, trying to calm him.

“But one of us had to die up there, didn’t they?” Ivan’s hand stopped, low on his back. He let out a soft sigh. “And it couldn’t be you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat, almost too big to breathe. “You kissed me,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment. “You asshole, you kissed me and then left me here to try and pick up all the pieces by myself.”

He wasn’t really angry.

“And you just kissed me,” Ivan said, slowly. “Good way to distract me, hm?”

Till couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let things go unsaid between them, not after everything. What if something happened again? What if this was his only chance?

“I did use it as a distraction,” he admitted, but then, “I’d been thinking about it for a while.”

Ivan’s hand twitched against his back. “You had this plan for that long?”

“No,” Till answered truthfully before leaning down a little; their noses were only a couple inches from touching. “You should’ve told me, Ivan. Given me a chance to decide what I really wanted.”

Ivan stared back at him, unwavering. “You wouldn’t have chosen me,” he said with a confidence that sent a pang through Till’s chest, and maybe he would’ve been right, once upon a time, but things were so different now.

They could never go back and change the past, as much as Till wanted to, but the least he could do was be honest with himself moving forward.

“Maybe not back then,” he admitted, because he wasn’t fond of lying and it felt important to be honest here. “But I’m not the person I was back then, am I?”

Ivan gazed up at him with an intensity that made him shiver. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose you aren’t. Because you never would’ve gone through this much trouble for me, before.”

“I always cared about you, Ivan,” he replied, softening his voice, needing him to hear it. “I think I just didn’t know how much.”

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. Till didn’t know what he was going to say, but that was okay. He wouldn’t push it. They had a lot to figure out over the next few hours - like how they were going to hide Ivan breaking through whatever the aliens had done to him, or if they even could hide it because Till didn’t want to risk putting the ring back on, or even where they stood as friends or more - but for now none of that mattered.

Ivan was back, he was here with him, gazing up at him like he used to, when he used to think Till was never looking (and he wasn’t, most of the time, but not all the time.) And Till knew he would do anything to ensure he never left him again.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #ivantill fic #alnst till #alnst ivan #mywriting #thank u op for giving me permission to use this idea #bc this is my fav ivantill fic i've written yet

[salmon-bagel]

Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

#tf2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you

[maxphilippa]

Is nickloon toxic? And even if it was would that necessarily be a bad thing?

Okay anon I have like 4 posts explaining their relationship and why it isn't toxic/why it needed to happen, you can find those on this masterpost (I'd recommend also reading the Nickel's and Suitcase's ones to better understand their friendship), and listen

I actually love toxic ships when there's love on them or there are such topics as miscommunication, both parts not knowing the harm they're doing to eachother, or one of the parts having good intentions but acting horribly, etc, etc. But a toxic ship only really works (to me) when you have something to care about and there's actual love there. Man, I ship Nickcase, and those guys were terrible for eachother on s2, but I see the appeal on how tragic they are and how meanwhile it was really fucking bad for Suitcase, Nickel did have good intentions on protecting his friend from someone who he thought was dangerous, and really fucking wants to apologize to her and make up for everything. Nickel changed a lot and he was never intentionally malicious on his behaviour towards Suitcase AND Baseball, he meant well, and when he realized he was on the wrong, he immediately made sure to start working on himself and letting go of the walls he built. Nickloon isn't toxic. They're actually one of the healthiest friendships on II and one of the ones with the most communication, Balloon wanted to be on good terms with this guy and Nickel changed because of both Suitcase and him.

So like. Liking a toxic ship isn't necessarily bad. You can explore the dynamic and if there's genuine love there you can make it tragic too, but honestly there are toxic ships that are fucking boring and there isn't anything to care about and are just. Abusive. And completely misses the point of the characters. And mischaracterizes them terribly to the point it doesn't even show their actual story. And they just suck. (coughcoughYouKnowWhatShipI'mReferringTocoughcought4c0miccoughcoughcough). But Nickloon isn't toxic, but you can still explore and study their arc together to understand why Nickel was like that, and why they actually needed to happen.

#ii nickloon #max answers

[katlyntheartist]

Knuckle series is out!! Any thoughts? Does it affect your Jojo and Gang au?

Spoilers for the Knuckles series people! Avert your eyes children!

First, let's talk about the things I liked:

- Sonic and Tails were great for as little screen time as they had. And Maddie trying to be patient with Knuckles while also not strangling him was great, haha. As someone who worked at a Daycare, I related to her dealing with kids like Knuckles and Maddie's facial expressions when she was grounding Knuckles were on point. Also THEY HAVE A PLAIN BED FOR TAILS AND A TRUCK BED FOR KNUCKLES AHHHHH!!!!!

-Pachacamac is a Jedi Force ghost? Alright then. I don't know much about this character outside of Sonic X but I thought that he was fine. And Christopher Lloyd does a great job as usual.

-Wade was not terrible. I like how he has some character growth through the series and at the end he isn't a master warrior/fighter. He's still a goofball but now he's thinking things through and using what he has and his current surroundings to his advantage in a fight, and isn't just hiding and waiting for Knuckles to save him. But him breaking out of the cage in episode 4 was a bit ridiculous. What was that cage made of, cardboard? He really should have broken his hand or something.

-I liked the villains but I wish that we got to see them more involved in the story, especially the buyer. Who was menacing for about five minutes and then was crushed to death like, dang 0-0

-NANA WHIPPLE AND KNUCKLES SPINOFF SHOW PLEASE!!

-Knuckles was the best part of the show. He's the strong tough warrior but with a big heart and good intentions, though a bit misguided at times. Idris did a great job, nothing new there.

And now let's get into the things I didn't like:

-The show is %70 Wade bowling story and %30 Knuckles adjusting to earth and his backstory with Pachacamac and his tribe and his connection to the master emerald and everything else that the show should have been about. The Wade sub plot takes up so much time that we don't get to explore Knuckles. I wished that we had gotten to see him learn to appreciate and call Earth his new home instead of him just accepting it at the end. It just felt so rushed.

-Episode four wasn't awful but I didn't care for it. Also you can NOT show us the Flames of Disaster from '06 and not have Silver or Blaze show up. You can't do that >:(

-Knuckles and Maddie didn't get to have a heart to heart conversation which is what I and many others thought that was what the show was building up to. Also he never gets in trouble for running way and we never cut back to seeing Maddie or Sonic and Tails realizing Knuckles is gone, or even Sonic and Tails trying to cover for Knuckles. I get that the CGI was expensive and voice actor and actor schedules might not have worked out for it to happen, but my point still stands.

-Wanda was useless and you could have cut her out and lost nothing. Don't get me wrong, the actress is good but she feels wasted here. Her character is so annoying and serves no purpose other than to be mean to Wade. And why do we have to have the "siblings who hate each other but make up at the end" cliche? I would have liked Wanda more if she was nicer to Wade from the start and if they had a fun sibling bond with each other. Also if she was able to actually use her skills as an FBI agent to at least hold her own against the gang when they attack Nanna Whipple's house. Also the dad needed to be more comedically villainous, he was too generic.

-Like I said the villains here are fine but the Buyer's whole character is to just show up, have a cool robot fight, and die. We don't get to see him be a threat to Knuckles at all, he just appears for the climax and then is offed in a snap. And the two agents were fun but a lot of their dialogue was graining.

-And that leads me to the main problem with the series. The writing. I'm aware that the writers for the main movies didn't work much on this series, except Jeff did do the first episode. Which is why it's the best one. There is no balance between the jokes and the emotional moments. The show is so focused on trying to make you laugh every five minutes that it sacrifices genuine emotional growth for the characters especially for Knuckles. You know, the whole reason for the show existing in the first place. It suffers the same problems that the live action Ton and Jerry movie had, where the main stars weren't allowed to be the main stars of their film. All of the screen time there went to the human characters who weren't interesting or just plain annoying and mean.

And the dialogue for the show teeters back and forth between actually funny/well written and being dangerously close to obnoxious. And kids shows having jokes all the time isn't a problem. Rottmnt and the Lego Movies are both kid properties that fire off a joke every minute but they knew when to cut back and let the emotional moments shine. The jokes in the Knuckles show felt more like they were pandering to four year old's then actually trying to be funny and the emotional moments felt kind of forced.

I don't want to give any of the writers or anyone who worked on this show a hard time. I can see that everyone worked hard and had fun with this. And I had fun too. There were some good moments between Knuckles and Wade and even a few jokes that got me. But the problems I listed above are just to hard for me to ignore. If you liked the Knuckles series then great for you! I'm happy you were able to have a great time! But for me it was just ok.

Not great. But not bad either. 5/10.

Now, about this affecting Jojo and Gang. I think what I'll do is have comic take place a month after the Knuckles series. And use my AU to focus on Knuckles getting accustomed to Earth and learning to call it home. Basically my AU will do what the Knuckles series didn't.

#katlyn talks #knuckles spoilers #knuckles tv show #knuckles series

[wolves-in-the-world]

thinking about how the one time eliot masterminds something, it's because the circumstances are dire and we don't actually see it happen; how he says he plays chess and nate believes him but we don't ever see it or hear about it again; how we don't even see his most basic fighting skills until they're needed and he has to drop the cerebral and nonthreatening grift he was using in front of the team. and I don't know what to think except that in some ways he's just as secretive as parker is, we just don't see it because on top of that he's this very believable gruff-but-sorta-amiable person who meets up with his vet buddies and goes on dates and cooks for his team.

#not heading anywhere particular with this just. #with parker we see the warehouse and the multiple addresses and it's all shown to us in a way to draw attention to her caution #and how much she trusts the team regardless by letting sophie figure out the combination #and we have to assume that eliot has safehouses too but the show never even flirts with the idea of showing us. #he's secretive in a way the story allows and glosses over. #the difference between him and parker is that he pretends hard to be normal and she either can't or doesn't. #once again reminded of the ship dynamic 'there is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me.' #like. I sort of love that we don't see eliot's discussion of the kidnapping. what he figured out and how they'll handle it etc. #because just like in the pilot it's including the viewers in his grift #and this time it's the grift he resorts to most around people who know his job #the one that says he's violent and simple and not especially bright. the one that leads people to underestimate him. #power negativity applied in the best way for a hitter's career. #it's a grift we see multiple times and we're only barely shown the edges of it. #I would still kind of love to see more. because once again #it is fascinating to me that you can watch the entire damn show and still believe the grift of it. #eliot #leverage #hi I've been ignoring tumblr to get writing done and I keep having thoughts. it's terrible.

[flibbetygibbetsbro]

Idk if this is accurate, but isn't the Elven population MUCH smaller than the human population? So I bet if you looked at actual statistics rather than generalizations, crime rates of two species would be much more similar than what the elves like to pretend

#something that has been bothering me #let me know if I'm terribly wrong lol #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc #kotlc fandom #flibbety gibbets what a thought

[lemongogo]

vash w this hairstyle is literally so cute.. .. wolfwood matchies or smt T__T

#litearlly dont talk 2 me i saw the knives panel again and smashed everuthing inmy room and set myself on fire #am i wrong 4 thinking that he shouldve had a little more time.am i wrong for thinking this guy.having lived in terrible fear #his whole life 4 what he thought could happen 2 him. to his brother. DID happen 2 his sister #should be able 2 experience some happiness and comfort for once #like yeah the guy killed hundreds of thousands SUREE ok.AND??? let the guy breathe a little #BAHAHA no i think i do still agree w the ultimate ending of him using the last of his energy 2 generate that apple tree #its sweet and i do like the sentiment it was just. Too.soon after it was literally right after #and im like coughing and hacking and wishing.that he and vash couldve spent those few months living (somewhat) peacefully #and secluded.before everything that happened #i guess there is a bittersweet tinge to knives dying before vash woke up / could say gbye but idk.i just grieve 4 this guy #even if a clean redemption isnt like #feasible in a sense U KNOW!!!!!!! but then again i dont think. satisfying endings have to be clean cut and perfect #like he doesnt have to be redeemed i think. not everyone needs Redemption as it exists in its current form #&& i do think that even after all he did.comma.he wasnt entirely wrong?like you cant rly blame him 4 rejecting coexistence #based on the way plants have historically been treated (assuming he also telepathized with exploited plants after the great fall) #though not to say that his decisions/methodology is right ykwim #and i know yeaa yeaa there was a lot of hypocrisy in how he used the other plants 2 amass power #ok this is literally getting too convoluted there r so many conditional aspects to this but long story short i do thnk he deserved. #a little something at the end;______; even if just 4 me to see art of them together post-final arc . #< me dragging my knuckles in the sand w open wounds or smth #sry vash post turned into knives sadblogging EHAHEHA but its like the nature of this^ guys life anyways LMAO #trigun spoilers #trigun maximum #trigun #vash