#then I'm not even gonna think about doing it for even a second

[kamospeach]

plot: richboy!gojo takes his cute girlfriend golfing

content warning: exhibitionism, very nasty, pervy rich boy gojo mix, gojo is the biggest horndog ever, girly girl reader, established relationship, cunniilingus, fingering, missionary, public asf, they get caught, tad second hand embarrassment, cowgirl, dirty talking, breeding, implied blowjob, very nasty

peachy's yap: idk how i came upon this idea but it makes me wiggle my toes. posting to distract y'all from the fact the thukuna fic is gonna take me a while

you weren't exactly sure how you ended up getting your guts rearranged on your boyfriend's golf cart. you do remember being in his bed as his head laid on your stomach. while your fingers lazily ran through his white fluffy hair.

the two of you had been insanely bored for the last three days. you were both back home from college, and your parents had the audacity to go on a trip together, leaving the two of you alone in satoru's gigantic mansion for a whole week.

you weren't overly excited to see each other either, you went to the same school for fucks sake. this summer was a bust, suguru was in italy, shoko was with her girlfriend's family, and you two were... there.

"toruuu," you whined lightly pulling at his hair to get his attention. he groggily lifted his head to look up at you. forcing his eyes open after your fingers lulled him to sleep.

"yeah, baby?" he asked, chin resting on your stomach as he tried to keep his eyes open. he was failing terribly by the way. you had finally come up with an idea, knowing gojo would be all for it.

"remember how you said you wanted to take me golfing?" you asked, and gojo jumped up as if he had never been asleep. he quickly walked off to his closet, grabbing what you assumed was the golfing outfit he bought for you, probably well over a year ago. just as you suspected, he walked out with a pleated skirt and cropped polo.

"i've been waiting for this day for a year now," he laughed to himself, throwing the clothes at you. "i'm about to go get dressed." he giggled, running off to the closet. an hour later, the two of you were on his golf cart off to the private golf course in his very own backyard.

"i can't believe you made me wear this short ass skirt." you huffed arms crossed and gojo had the nerve to just laugh. the skirt was so old you didn’t even fit into it anymore. your ass peaked out but gojo reminded you that the course was private.

"i didn't make you do anything, i just gave you a sense of security." he nodded to himself as if that was the smartest thing he had ever said. you shook your head at his statement, not even bothering to argue with your strong-headed boyfriend.

when gojo had finally taken you to where you would play, he got off the cart. you watched his every move not understanding a damn thing he was telling you. all you did was admire how mouth watering sexy he looked in his richie rich get up. a black short sleeve polo that unironically matched yours, and beige slacks.

this fit was almost more attractive than his workout compression shirt. the way his arms bulged under the cotton mesh as he slipped on his gloves, or how his big muscular thighs were visible through his pants, and the veins in his arms were protruding due to him pulling the gloves on.

"get up, girl, you ain't think you were going to sit there the whole time, did you?" he asked, reaching his hand out for you. you grabbed his hand, stepping down off the golf cart, following shyly behind him. he handed you the club, standing behind you. "hold it here," he instructed.

he was hard and he shamlessly pressed it against your barely clothed ass. you didn't acknowledge it, knowing that it was best to breeze past it. so you let gojo show you where your hands were supposed to be, and you listened. he even helps you get a little power in your swing, the ball flying a solid 10 feet in front of you.

"i did it!" you giggled, turning to look at gojo who blinked in disbelief. and when he saw the seriousness on your face it took everything in him to hold back a laugh. "what? if i didn't do good, show me how it's done."

"alright," he said, grabbing the club from you, walking the short 10 feet to grab the ball. you stood back watching his big swing and the ball fly across the course. your jaw was practically on the floor in shock that he was so good at it. "that's how it's done."

"no fair toru... you're good at like everything," you whined, and gojo scoffed.

"don't do that, y/n, it takes practice." he pecked your lips, helping you get in the cart so you could go to the ball that was all the way in timbuktu. on the ride there, gojo had the bright idea to play strip golf.

the rules were simple, however, many tries it took for you to get it in the hole, was as many pieces of clothing you had to remove. you weren't confident in your abilities, but you were determined. how hard could it be? every other challenge you did with gojo you won.

well... except this one.

it took gojo all of 4 tries to get the ball in, and it took you 27. which resulted in gojo shaving it down to 6 since you didn't have 27 pieces of clothing. so all gojo had to take off were his socks, pants, and shirt. for you, that was your socks, shirt, skirt, bra, and panties.

"toru i'm butt ass naked," you said as gojo basically got a strip show from you. his eyes never left your body for a second. drooling over you like a virgin who had never laid eyes on a woman's bare body.

"and fine as fuck." was all he said grabbing you by your waist so that you were standing between his legs. he kissed along your neck moving his kisses to your lips. the kiss was heated and urgent, gojo was needy and wasn't afraid to admit. "i need you, so bad."

"wait... baby? right here?" you asked, and he nodded, not questioning it or hesitating. he didn't say much, he just picked you up and placed you down on the backseat of the cart. pushing your legs to your chest, giving you a knowing look, but you didn't obey. "t...toru, hold on a second." you said breathlessly making him deadpan.

"hold em," he said, and you sighed, grabbing the back of your legs, holding them up and open. gojo dropped to his knees, not even caring about his knees digging in the mud. his focus was on sending one teasing swipe of his tongue up your slick folds.

he hummed at the taste of your essence on his tongue. he was so sure he could use your slick as honey for his desert. so sweet he needed a glass of milk to wash it dow-

"toru!" you yelled at him for the third time, knocking him out of his trance. once he came back to reality, he dove into his lunch. his tongue lapped at your juices and teased your poor delicate clit.

sucking and spitting and licking and slurping, it was a mess. he even began to finger your tight cunt with not one not two but three fingers. digging his unnaturally long digits to the deepest parts of your pussy being sure to stimulate that spongey spot inside of you.

moans were spewing out your mouth as your hands ran through his damp hair. pulling at the white locks, your eyes to the back of your head as you delve in the pleasure. you were quickly coming upon your climax, and gojo knew it too. and not because you were violently squeezing down on his fingers. no. but because you were chanting it out as gojo finger fucked you with no mercy.

"cumming i'm... m'cumming toru fuck fuck fuck so close." you babbled and he smirked pulling of you puffy clit with a 'pop!' this was his entertainment watching you squirm as you creamed all over his fingers.

"cream on my fingers so i can clean it up for you," he tells you and you do just that as you cum violently. your eyesight is blurry as you see gojo looking down at you with a shit eating grin. he doesn't say anything as he slips out his fingers licking them clean just as he said he would. "so fuckin' perfect," he mumbled pulling your hips closer to him.

he pulled his boxers down, stepping out of them. his angry red cock slapped his navel leaving a string of sticky precum behind. his hand gripped the base of his cock slapping it against your clit. he chuckled watching your body react to him. he wasted no time using his thumb to push his cock head in line with your entrance.

"fuck." he grumbled from the feeling of your tight entrance trapping his tip. he fought the urge to cum right then and there. he pushed himself the rest of the way into you, bottoming out with nothing on his mind except you.

"s...shit toru you're too deep," you whined and he grunted pulling halfway out and slamming back into you. all the wind was knocked out of you as you gasped for air. followed by a moan that could probably be heard back at the mansion.

"so wet, squeezing down on me so tight," he hummed enjoying the feeling. after waiting for you to finally be ready, his hips snapped into yours. his pace was feral and needy as moans and groans flew from his mouth. his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you sloppily, spit spilling out of your mouths. rolling down your cheek and onto the bare skin of your chest.

that was one of the many things you loved about gojo, he was not afraid to moan. which only encouraged you to moan and whimper louder. it wasn't like you had to try very hard with the way he dug in your guts. so here you were, finally remembering how you got in this position. strip golf, never ever again, you thought to yourself.

while gojo was relentlessy fucking into you, his hips stilled. you were about to protest until he held his finger up to his lips. you quickly closed your mouth as well, hearing someone talking.

"today was supposed to be my day off, but mr. gojo asked me to tend the garden today." the person who you figure was the gardener said. gojo leaned down, covering your body with his.

"same, he asked me to clean the pool." the pool cleaner added. there was a line of trees next to the two of you, and it sounded as if they were behind them.

"my ass is out." gojo whispered in your ear with a light chuckled. you swatted his arm, light telling him to hush, but that only got him started. the motions were small, but you felt the way his hips ground into yours. the way his pelvis stimulated your clit and his dick pulsed in you.

"i guess we better get back to the mansion," another worker said, and you whimpered from the feeling. it didn't seem like they were really planning on going back. but eventually the footsteps got further away and you both loosened up. he quickly picked you up and sat on he seat instead.

"ride me... please?" he practically begged, looking up in your eyes. his bright blue eyes burning a hole into your face above his shades. you nodded shyly, always getting bashful when it was your time to be on top.

you wasted no time riding him slowly, teasing him with your deathly slow pace. his large hands gripped the fatty flesh of your ass holding on for dear life. his head was thrown back, jaw clenched as you squeezed down.

"you're driving me crazy," he grumbled lifting you and fucking up into you like crazy. your hands grabbed his forearm, begging him to slow down. "you gonna stop teasing me now?"

"m'sorry i'll stop i will," you whine and he eased up letting you take control. with your feet planted on the side of him, you began to ride him this time faster. the disgustingly loud 'plap, plap, plap' of your skin slapping was turning you both on. pushing you closer and closer to finishing.

you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. the way he licked his lips and bit his lower one to muffle his groans. it just made you desperate to press your lips and steal a kiss from him. but gojo was two steps ahead of you, noticing the way your sight was trained on his lips.

he leaned up, forcing his tongue down your throat. the two of you kissing sloppily swapping spit as your bodies were conjoined. one of his hands left your ass to reach between the two of you. using two fingers to rub your clit sending your body immediately into overdrive.

"close," you mumbled against his lips to which he simply mumbled 'mhm' against your lips. it didn't take much his pulling away from your lips to whisper a gruff 'cum'. even if he hadn't said that you were bound to cum right there and then. "fuckkk...!" you yelled your cream coating his cock and collecting around the base.

"m'right behind you baby shit i'm cumming." he groaned loudly as he shot his warm loud inside you. filling you up completely, not even bothering to pull out. he thrusted up into you a few more times being sure to stuff him cum all the way into your womb.

"you were right toru... the thrill of getting caught makes you cum harder." you huffed and gojo nodded.

"i told you years ago." gojo smirked, kissing your forehead, leaning back as you climbed off his lap. "you'll clean me off, won't you?" he asked, giving you those sickeningly effective puppy eyes. you didn't verbally comply, but he knew when you got on your knees, assuming the position. just like gojo earlier, not caring if mud would get on your knees.

"are we sick?" the poolboy asked the gardener who shook her head his fingers stuffed in her mouth. "fucking to our boss's son and his girlfriends moans."

sidenote: 

gojo’s hair was damp from thinking he was in high school musical 2, playing with the water and sprinklers, trying to make you laugh. 

[yugsly]

I think you should do a little more research on the development of YIIK and it's developer :(

So here's the thing- YIIK and it's developers (just two brothers) have been the targets of nasty hate campaigns and misinformation since the launch of the original YIIK in 2019. Since the very beginning- it barely had a chance to live before people deeply mischaracterized things. People perpetuating rumors based on random things folks were saying on the internet, not fact checking anything. Can you imagine that? Working on a passion project for so long, only for people to dunk on it and lie? A game made by just two young people, trying to make art? A pretty substantial part of the targeted hate was because the game was calling out a certain type of guy -a privileged, entitled gamer drunk on nostalgia to put it the most simple- and so, people didn't like that the game was making them look in the mirror- many didn't even understand that. They didn't get it, so they attacked anything they could. A lot of the hate was spread by people who hadn't even played the game. They just took these posts and ran with them. They didn't bother to form their own opinions. A lot of the "rumors" are addressed in this interview. I recommend you read it! On the internet, it's incredibly easy to buy into misinformation for the sake of "justice". To feel like you're doing good for "warning others". But you really, really, have to take a second look at what you're spreading around, what you're repeating. At times it can be correct to spread warning, but other times can be extremely damaging and traumatizing. This is one of those cases. It's really really sad to be honest. Over the past couple of months I've gotten to know Andrew (one of the two devs), and he's great. I was genuinely so disgusted to hear what had taken place when they both put their game out there. It's sad and horrifying. In today's internet, dunking on things, calling them out, has become social currency in a way. I think we need to be really careful about that. It's up to us to stop misinformation. This is the last time I'm gonna comment on this 'controversy' I think.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Wake up (part 2)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky will not abandon you unconscious while hoping for answers about what viciousness is running through your body. After all, Hydra always takes everything a person has to offer.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past; Bucky is going through some emotional shit here; Hydra; vomiting; seizure; guilt and self-blame; medical setting and distress; grief; PTSD; anxiety; panic attacks; so much angst

Author’s Note: A second part to Wake up has been the winner of my poll, so here we are. I’ve been sticking with the angst of the first part and I'm not gonna lie, this might have been the hardest thing I’ve written so far. So, please read the warnings before diving in and be beware that this does not end well. (I really don’t believe that all hope’s lost but read for yourself) But I actually do like how this turned out despite it hurting me so much lol. Let me know what you think ♡

Angstober Masterlist | Masterlist

Bucky Barnes has lost a lot in his long life.

He has lost pieces of himself - some torn away violently, others slowly dissolving in his grasp no matter how hard he tried to keep them.

It was torturous and agonizing, prolonged over time, creating empty voids where something complete once used to be.

He has lost the weight and warmth of his own limb, his left arm stolen from him under the most excruciating circumstances, only to be replaced by a piece of metal that messed badly with his nerve endings.

His body bears the evidence. Scars marrying his flesh, muscle and sinew replaced by cold and unfeeling vibranium.

His mind has suffered even worse. Memories shattered, rewritten, erased. A name that once meant something - James Buchanan Barnes - reduced to something foreign, something he had to claw his way back to.

He has been unmade and remade too many times to count, his identity fractured into a thousand pieces. Each one holds remnants of the pain, of orders barked in languages he barely recognizes, of faces he was forced to forget the moment they fell.

His past is an open wound that never quite heals, no matter how much time passes. He has lost friends, family, freedom - every tether to the life he once lived.

But he survived.

Somehow, despite the things Hydra did to him, despite the decades of blood staining his hands, despite the decades of his limbs moving to another brain, despite the guilt slithering through his veins and dragging its nails down his spine. He survived.

He fought his way back. For you. Because of you. You helped him get himself back.

And that’s why this loss - your loss - would be different.

He doesn’t even acknowledge this with dramatics, doesn’t try to make it sound noble or poetic. It’s not something to be proud of. It’s just the truth. A certainty.

If you leave him, he will not survive. He would not even try.

A simple fact that is not simple at all.

It’s the most devastating, soul-crushing fact of his existence.

Because if you never open your eyes again - if those beautiful, expressive eyes, the ones that soften whenever they land on him, the ones that twinkle like stardust only for him because you love him so much - stay closed forever, then what reason does he have to go on?

If he never sees that smile again, the one that makes his knees weak, that makes his chest feel too small to hold everything he feels for you - the smile only made for him because you love him so much - then what point is there in taking another breath?

If you never wrap your arms around him again - never squeeze him so tightly he can feel your affection seep into him, warming the coldest, most forgotten parts of him, because you love him so much - then what is he supposed to do with himself?

If your lips never touch his again, never press against his skin, never ghost over his own in those kisses that steal his breath even if it is a simple peck, or if you end up breathlessly clinging to each other, all because you love him so much - then he might as well have nothing at all.

And if your voice - your sweet, adoring, and grounding voice - never speaks those three words again, the ones that leave him on this world, the ones that remind him that despite everything, despite all that he has done and all that he has lost, he is still capable of being loved - if he never gets to hear those words again, then there will be nothing left of him.

Because without you he is just a man with too many ghosts and too little purpose. A man trying to walk on broken legs, reaching for something, grasping at something, hoping for something, that will never be found.

He would not survive it. Not again. Not this time.

Bucky doesn’t remember the run to the med bay.

It went so fast but also way too slow.

Moments before, he was in your shared room, shaking you, begging for you to wake up, and then, he was barreling down the hallways, your body limp in his arms.

His boots slammed against the floor, his breath coming in ragged rasps. His grip around you was so tight that if you had been awake, you would have told him to ease up, that you weren’t going anywhere with that soft and gentle voice of yours. But you weren’t awake. It was only him.

He doesn’t remember how many doors he crashed through, doesn’t recall how many people shouted his name as he stormed through the compound like a man possessed.

All he could focus on was you, your weight in his arms, the unmanageable silence coming from you. It was too quiet. Too still.

You were and still are the only thing in his focus. The only thing in his mind.

The moment he bursts into the med bay, Bruce is already moving, eyes wide behind his glasses as he takes one look at Bucky’s desperate face - at you - and points to the nearest examination table.

“Put her down. Now.”

Bucky hesitates for only a second.

“Barnes!” Bruce snaps, voice sharp.

And Bucky moves, his hands trembling as he lowers you onto the cold metal table, his touch lingering longer than it should have, afraid you will leave him the moment he lets go.

Then Bruce is there, hands on you, tilting your head, checking your pulse. Bucky feels something inside him snap.

Bile surges up his throat, hot and acidic, and before he can stop himself, he staggers backward, barely making it to a medical waste bin before his stomach heaves violently. His whole body shakes with the force of it, his metal hand clutching the edge of the table so hard it groans under the pressure.

He only hears someone - Tony - mutter behind him. “Jesus. Alright, Barnes, maybe you should-”

“No.” His voice is hoarse, sore. He doesn’t even look up, just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body coiled so tightly he feels like he might snap in half.

He is not leaving.

He doesn’t hear whatever else is said because Bruce is calling for Dr. Cho, his voice tight, controlled but urgent. She appears within moments, already shrugging into her white coat as she assesses the situation with a practiced eye.

“Tell me everything,” she demands, moving beside Bruce as they work over you.

“She was exposed to something - some kind of airborne agent.” Bruce says quickly, Bucky not able to get a word out. “Came back from the mission fine, but then-”

“Then she wouldn’t wake up,” Bucky rasps, his voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He forces himself to step closer again, his fingers jerking at his sides. He wants to touch you, needs to touch you, but Bruce has already started attaching monitors to your chest, your temples, your wrist.

So Bucky can only stare at your unmoving face, and his gut contracts dreadfully, twisting like a wrung-out rag. A breath flees his mouth in a rough gust.

Because you are lying here, looking as if you are fading further away by the second.

Bucky is grateful that no one is paying him any mind.

Every ounce of attention in the room is on you, and that’s exactly where it needs to be. No one spares him so much as a glance, and hell, he is thankful to be ignored.

Because if they looked at him, they would see the way his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Even the metal seems to be quivering, the nerve endings in his shoulder acting up. They would see his chest rising and falling too fast, his breaths sharp and strained like he is moments from shattering into something unrecognizable.

But none of it matters. Because you are still lying there, too still, too limp, too silent, too pale against the stark white of the medical bay’s harsh lights.

The color has drained from your face, your lips slightly parted, your breathing faint but regular. It’s the only sign of life you give.

Your head remains tilted unnaturally to the side, strands of hair sticking to your cheek from the moisture of Bruce’s sensors as they gather data, searching for something that might explain what the hell is happening to you.

Tony is somewhere behind him, speaking hurriedly into his earpiece. “Yeah, well, tell me something useful, here, Fitz!” His voice is sharp, frustration a part of it, but there is something else there, too - something too close to fear. Bucky doesn’t hear that in Tony often. “I don’t care what Fury’s saying - no, I don’t care - just get me those samples analyzed faster.”

There are agitated voices somewhere to his left. Steve and Natasha. Steve is trying to get to him. Bucky knows it without turning around. He can feel his best friend's presence, hear the urgency in the way his boots scruff against the floor, the way his voice lowers as he mutters something to Natasha, arguing. But the redhead doesn’t budge, Steve doesn’t reach him, and Bucky is left standing in place, barely keeping himself upright.

Bruce and Dr. Cho are working in tandem over your body. Bruce adjusts the monitors, his fingers hovering over your wrist for a moment, measuring something by touch alone. His jaw is tight, his usual steady hands moving just a fraction quicker, his eyes switching between the data on the screen and your unmoving form.

Dr. Cho is settling up and IV, her hands deft as she inserts the needle into the delicate skin of your forearm. The bag above you fills with something clear, something Bucky doesn’t recognize, but he trusts her. He has to. She murmurs something to Bruce, and he nods, glancing at one of the monitors before adjusting the oxygen mask now resting over your face.

“We need a full toxicology scan,” Dr. Cho says, voice firm but calm. Something Bucky can’t manage right now. “Start running a metabolic panel and check for neurotoxins. If this was airborne, we need to know if it’s still in her system.”

Bruce is already moving, tapping rapidly at a tablet screen. “Her vitals are stable, but they’re low - lower than they should be. She’s there, but barely.”

Bucky’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms, he is sure even the metal will have marks. His head is spinning, everything outside of you irrelevant to him. There is too much movement, too many sounds, too many people talking, but none of it matters because you still haven’t moved. You still haven’t opened your eyes.

His bones feel like they are collapsing. Like a house of cards caught in a slow fall.

And Bucky swears that if you don’t wake up soon, he won’t be able to breathe at all.

The waiting for results is maddening. He is hardly moving, hardly breathing, only able to wait for someone to say something that will make sense of this.

Bruce is the first to speak. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, squinting at the tablet in his hands like maybe if he looks at it long enough, the numbers will rearrange themselves into something different. Something fixable.

“There’s nothing,” he says, voice quieter than before. Stunned.

Bucky blinks, his body stiffening. “What?”

Bruce glances at Dr. Cho, but she is already busy studying the results on a separate screen, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Nothing toxic in her blood,” Bruce continues, carefully neutral. “No neurotoxins, no foreign substances - nothing that should be causing this.”

Bucky’s insides lurch, churning like a sea under a violent storm. He tilts his head forward as if he misheard, his mind running. “No. No, that’s not-” He gestures uncoordinatedly to where you still lay, unmoving, breath slow but there. “Look at her! There’s gotta be something.”

Dr. Cho finally speaks, measured but voice set. “Medically speaking, she should be awake.”

Bucky got shot in the chest once.

He still doesn’t know how he survived. It hurt like hell.

But those words are the bullet that will tear through his heart, make him crumble, kill him.

Should be awake.

Should be awake.

But you fucking aren’t.

“You’re saying she’s fine,” he grits out, his tone steely, voiced with something dark. The same darkness that knots deep in his belly. “But she’s not moving, not waking up, not-” His voice breaks, and he presses his mouth closed so tightly to make a sound stop from boiling up. His head shakes vehemently. “There has to be something.”

“Bucky-” Bruce tries, but Bucky doesn’t let him finish.

“Check again.” His voice is lower now, dangerous, but everybody surely hears the desperation in his tone. “Check again, check everything - you must’ve missed something.”

Bruce exhales, rubbing his temples. “I’ve run the tests twice-”

“Damnit, then run it a fucking third time.” Bucky’s voice rises.

“We’ve checked everything. There is nothing wrong-”

“Then why isn’t she waking up?” Bucky roars, and suddenly, everyone in the room is dead silent.

Tony looks between Bucky and the doctors, his expression grim. Steve, who had edged closer, takes a careful step back, but looks at Bucky warningly, yet still utterly sympathetic. Natasha has just the slightest sheen over her eyes herself, but tries to keep her composure. Sam is standing in a corner, watching without a single remark. That’s new for him.

Even Bruce and Dr. Cho pause for just a second, eyes falling to him.

Then Dr. Cho exhales sharply, snapping her gloves off with quick, almost harsh movements. “Everyone out. Now.”

Tony raises a brow. “You kicking us out, doc?”

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “You’re all in the way. We need to focus. Here are too many people. This won’t help us and it won’t help her.”

Steve hesitates but eventually nods, throwing one last glance at Bucky and at you before stepping out, Tony following behind. Natasha slips out almost quickly, searching for a place to be alone. Sam leaves without a word, expression stony. The room empties.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

“Bucky,” Bruce says, softer now, as if he is speaking to a wild animal, careful not to startle it. “You should go too.”

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Dr. Cho frowns unpleased, crossing her arms. “You’re not helping her by being here. You’re just getting in the way.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bucky grinds out, planting his feet like a goddamn mountain. His breathing is too rough, his pulse too high, but he doesn’t have time to care. The only thing he cares about is not to leave you.

Dr. Cho lets out a breath through her nose, but she doesn’t argue further. There is no time to fight with a stubborn ex-assassin who looks like he’s one wrong word away from losing his mind.

“Fine,” she relents, turning back to Bruce. “Then stay out of the way. We have work to do.”

Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Guilt sits in his chest like something rotten. It is an anxious tangle of nerves and dread and agony that curl in his stomach, inescapable. It’s as if his body is rejecting him all over again.

It feasts on every nerve and every cell and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws, hollowing him out from the inside.

He let himself believe that you were fine. That this is just his paranoia, just his need to keep you wrapped up, shielded from every possible danger - the worry he always feels for you, the way he clings so much.

But your chest rises and falls so slow and mechanical, and it’s not right. Your color is drained to the point that you look ghost-like. It’s as if your body is just pretending to be alive. As if it’s just waiting for something, stalling.

You look like you are already knocking on death’s door.

And they try to tell him there is nothing wrong.

The words make his scull vibrate with rage, but even more so with fear. Such a gripping and burning fear. His pulse is a single beat he can feel all along his skin.

Because what if there really is nothing? What if there is nothing to fix and you are already half gone?

His hands are trembling so hard, not even forming a fist can stop it.

He should have brought you here sooner. Should have forced you here the second you got back, should have ignored your reassurances, your sugary and alluring voice telling him that you feel fine and that you love him and there is nothing to worry about.

But he did worry.

He did have that awful, gut-deep feeling, a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong. But he convinced himself that it was just him. That you are fine. And you would be fine. And this was nothing. And there was nothing to worry about. That you would wake up and smile that soft smile at him and wish him a good morning, honey. You sleep well? with your endearing morning voice and all would be fine because you would be there and awake and with him and in his arms and the sun filtering in would illuminate your body and make you gleam in your ethereal glow and he would tell you you look beautiful and you would giggle and you would kiss him and you would tell him you love him and he would repeat it a thousand times over and-

He wants to throw up again, feeling the nausea rise. He wants to undo whatever led you here, wants to rip apart the universe until he finds the moment where he should have acted, should have saved you, should have known better.

Because things like that happen to Bucky Barnes.

The voices are there. Bruce and Cho speaking in hushed and clinical tones, words slipping past his ears. He hears them. Knows they are saying things that should matter. Should mean something.

But he can’t focus.

Because the only thing his brain registers, the only thing anchoring him to anything right now, is the slow and rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

It pounds in his eardrums, in the space behind his eyes, sinks beneath his skin. Unchanging. It should be a comfort. A reassurance. But it’s not.

It sounds too artificial - as if it’s the machine keeping you here instead of your own will. Instead of you.

His heart seems to try and outrun a fate that has not been decided yet. His hands flex and curl, doing nothing else. He is so helpless. Drowning in the air, like a scream caged behind his ribs with no way to escape.

Bucky is not a man who would ever think about praying.

But for you, he would sink down onto his knees and beg, beg until his lungs give out, plead until his voice dies, and him with it.

He wants to move. Wants to do something. But all he is forced to do is watch. Watch the way your body doesn’t stir, the way your lips remain slightly parted, breath scarcely there. You seem asleep in a way that isn’t right.

Bruce says something. He doesn’t catch it.

Dr. Cho responds, sharper this time, with a note of urgency in her tone. But Bucky still can’t process the words.

Because the beeping is the only thing.

The only proof that you are still here.

The sole factor preventing his thoughts from plunging into a darkness he can't drag his way out of.

The sound of your heartbeat, manufactured and distant, is the only thing between him and utter ruin.

And then it stutters.

Just for a second. A fracture of a hesitation, a hiccup in the mechanical pattern.

But it is clear.

And Bucky’s breath seizes, every nerve ending in his body lighting up under a fire that might just burn him to the ground.

Another stutter.

He lunges forward without thinking, knocking something over in the process, metal clattering against tile. Bruce shouts his name, Cho curses, but Bucky doesn’t hear anything.

Because something is happening.

The beeping stutters again. Then again.

Then your body jerks. A sudden, unnatural motion, like a puppet with its strings, yanked too hard. Your chest arches up, limbs jolting, fingers curling in on themselves like they don’t belong to you anymore.

The heart monitor lets out a rapid sequence of beeps, the steady pattern broken, discordant - like a song ripped apart note by note.

A seizure.

Bucky doesn’t even have time to feel the utter terror pumping up his belly and rushing up to his face in less than half a second, only that it is propelling him forward. He doesn’t care that Bruce and Cho are already moving, doesn’t care that there are hands trying to hold you down, voices shouting instructions.

He drops to his knees by your head because his legs won’t hold him up anymore. His hands reach instinctively - one cradling the back of your head, the other threading into your hair, gripping almost too tight, as if he can keep you here just by holding on. He never should have let go in the first place. Another thing to hate himself for.

“No, no, no, baby, baby, please-” His voice is wrecked. Shattered and gravelly, rasping against his throat like it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. The words barely make it past his lips, broken things gasped between strangled sobs.

“Stay with me, doll. Please. Please, don’t- don’t do this, you don’t get to do this, not to me, not to me-”

His breath is failing him, catching on every desperate syllable, every plea. His chest aches and caves under the panic and horror, he can’t hold himself up properly anymore. His forehead presses against yours, his tears hot where they land on your skin, his entire body shaking against you.

He is crying, saying things not even he understands. His voice is a single crack, a sound so undone it doesn’t sound human. He begs and begs and begs, but you continue to cramp.

A sob rips through him, brutal and loud, and he sucks in a desolate breath between the wreckage of his words.

He doesn’t know the way Cho and Bruce are working frantically, doesn’t hear the sounds of other people in white coats hectically running around.

All he knows is you.

And the way your body seizes beneath his hands, the way your face remains slack, the way your breath catches as if your body itself is deciding whether to keep you here or let you go.

Bucky grips you harder and presses his lips to your temple in a way that is almost rough.

“Stay with me,” he whimpers against your skin, voice not even a real whisper, hoarse and thick with cries. “I can’t lose you. Won’t survive. I won’t survive.”

You gasp.

Your body stills. Limbs falling back onto the hard table with a sharp clang.

And his world is falling apart, into itself, collapsing, crumbling. His eyes fail, not showing him the whole picture anymore, burning his vision away and replacing it with cruel pictures. He falls into an abyss so deep he won’t ever meet the ground and the reprieve of shattering into the floor-

Beep.

A single note.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s rhythmic. It’s there.

Your heart is still beating.

The sound sends a shockwave through his chest, his heart, his core, him. It rattles his ribs.

Bucky shudders. A deep, guttural sob rips through him and he buries his face against your hair, his arms wrapped so tightly around you it’s as if he’s trying to fuse you to him, trying to force the universe to let him keep you.

He chokes on a sound, nothing more than a shattered breath. His body sags, overwhelmed, drained, but his hands refuse to loosen their hold on you, careful of the cables attached to your body.

The chaos of the room dims just slightly, shifting to more focus.

“That-” Bruce analyses in a clipped tone. “That wasn’t just a seizure. That was an autonomic collapse. Her body just shut down.”

Bucky is still swimming in the aftershock of nearly losing you, he can’t comprehend anything other than the smell of your hair and skin.

“That’s not possible,” Cho considers, voice low, but there is just the tiniest hint of concern in her voice now. “Not without something triggering it.”

There is shuffling around him - machines being adjusted, readings being analyzed. But Bucky stays right there, forehead pressed to yours, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones as if you were made of glass. “Come back to me,” he breathes, pleading. “Please come back, please. I can’t- I can’t do this without you. Can’t do anything without you. Y/n, please!”

Bruce releases a breath somewhere nearby. Bucky lost all his senses.

“I need to see the chemical breakdown of that gas - now,” he instructs.

“Come back. Come back to me, baby, come back,” Bucky croaks out, still not addressing the two discussing your situation, his voice rough and barely working. His lips don’t move from your temple.

Cho’s hands move over the tablet, scanning your vitals. “Her body didn’t just react to it. It adapted to it. And now-” She pauses, face tightening as she processes the data. “It’s waiting for something.”

Bucky heaves up a breath, a sick and swirling tension writhing in his stomach like a nest of snakes. “Waiting for what?” he finally acknowledges.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up, something apologetic and utterly pained behind his eyes. His voice is careful. “A command.”

Silence slams into the room like a sudden, vicious drop in pressure.

Bucky grows cold. The sickening sensation in him spreads. His hands tighten around you in instinctual protection.

Fucking Hydra.

“This wasn’t just some toxin or experiment,” Cho continues, flipping through the data, her expression darkening. “This was programmed. Her nervous system - her brain - it’s been put in a dormant state. Not a coma, not unconsciousness. Something else.”

Bucky is shaking his head before she even finishes speaking. “No. No, she - she’s right here, she’s breathing, she-”

But he can’t deny it. Can’t ignore the chilling, creeping terror worming around his spine, despair festering it. Because he knows this. Knows the way Hydra takes people and twists them, programs them like machines, like weapons, like him.

His stomach sinks, drops, falls - down, down, down. Falling into the abyss. Never to land. Never to return.

Nausea rolls over him in sick ways. But he can’t let him heave it up again. Because therefore, he would have to let go of you. And he will not do that.

“It’s got to be some kind of activation sequence,” Bruce says grimly. “A failsafe. Whatever was in that gas, it did something to her. Put her into a kind of-” he pauses, carefully glancing at Bucky, “-standby mode.”

Bucky’s jaw is hard, it would hurt if he could feel it. “Then wake her the fuck up.”

“We’re trying,” Cho snaps back, stress sharpening her usual calm tone. “But this isn’t just a medical problem, Barnes. It’s neurological. It’s programming.”

Bucky flinches. His fingers tangle in your hair and he tucks you impossibly closer. “She’s not a machine,”he spits out, voice shaking, harsher than he means it to be but not able to change it. “She’s not like-”

He stops himself. The words She’s not like me nearly escape, but he forces them back down his throat, though it burns.

Bruce and Cho exchange a look.

And that’s when Tony speaks up from the corner of the room - seemingly having allowed himself to come back inside - voice resolved, hard. “Then we need to figure out what the hell they were trying to turn her into.”

No. Please, god, no. Not her. Not you.

Bucky is unaware of his movements, of the way he is clutching you tighter, the way his body trembles, the sting in his throat from how ragged his breathing has been for the last couple of however long he’s been here already.

He can’t keep you from this. Can’t protect you from something that has already taken root inside you.

Just like it did in him.

His vision is a hot fog. The room nothing but a smear of sterile white light and moving shadows, the voices of Banner and Cho turning into indecipherable noise as they scramble for answers.

Tony is heading to his lap to probably run every scan known to a man on that goddamn gas. Steve is speaking too. Where did he come from? Since when is he here again? But Bucky doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen.

Because you are still motionless in his arms.

They are talking about activation sequences. Standby modes. Neurological programming. They’re using all these terms, these medical, scientific explanations - but none of them are saying what it really means.

Hydra did something to you.

Hydra put something in you.

And if there’s one thing Bucky knows, one thing that has been burned into his very being, it’s that Hydra does not give. It does not take halfway. It does not leave things unfinished.

They only ever take everything.

And only with a little bit of smoke in the air, you have been exposed to for mere minutes.

A rough, strangled sound makes its way up his throat, and it takes him a second to realize it’s even coming from him. A horrible, cracking noise of grief and rage and devastation. His fingers dig into the warmth of you, your neck, your back, your thigh, needing to feel you, needing to have you here with him even though his mind is screaming at him that all the parts of you he had are gone already.

But he won’t accept that.

Shaking fingers card through your hair, pushing damp strands away from your face, his metal hand cradling your cheek.

His voice is an aching whisper. “You’re stronger than me, you know that?” His breath shudders over the words, his quivering lips brushing against your forehead, lingering there. “You always have been.”

His thumb gently strokes over the hollow beneath your closed eye, his jaw clenching hard as he takes in the deep stillness of your body. His chest tries to draw in air but is constricted.

He can’t see you like this. You are never this still. Never motionless. You live in the moment - in bright, uncontainable energy.

“You’ll get through this.” Each word drags thickly from his throat. It hurts so much. Everything hurts so much. “I know you will. You always do. You always pull me with you, too.” His laugh is soft and hollow, broken like the man he is in process of becoming again. “Even when I didn’t want saving, you just-”

He swallows hard, squeezes his eyes together, and takes a deep breath filled with your scents. But it mingles with the sterile smell of that moisture and clinic. A tear slips past his lashes. Another follows.

“You never let go.”

His head bows, his forehead against your temple, a shallow gasp slips from his lips.

“And I won’t either.”

His flesh thumb presses lightly to your neck, enough to feel your pulse. He hears the beep of the monitor but he needs to feel it.

“I’m right here, baby,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He presses his lips to your temple, to your cheekbones, to your forehead, your nose, everywhere he likes. Everywhere he has to. He lets himself feel the warmth of you, the thumps of your heartbeat against his fingers.

Another tear slips past when he presses another strained whisper to your skin.

“I’d go anywhere with you. I’d follow you to the end of the world. But you gotta wake up, baby.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice finally meets his ears, but it sounds too damn soft. As if he is talking to a wounded and aching creature.

As if he expects Bucky to break. He might. He will.

Bucky snaps his head up, and the look on his face must be something terrible because Steve actually takes a step back.

“You think I don’t know what this means?” Bucky growls, his voice a debris of sound. His hands shake so hard against you, he can’t even hold you as tight as he wants to anymore. And for the first time in his life, he hates the warmth of his flesh. Hates that the metal doesn’t run through both arms, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel this overpowering helplessness.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel human enough to understand what it means to lose.

Maybe then he could just return to be the machine he was supposed to be all along.

He already feels himself going back to him.

“She’s not like me,” he snarls, voice catching on the words, breaking them apart. “She’s not going to be like me.”

No one answers him.

No one says no, of course not, she’s going to be fine, we’ll fix this, we’ll wake her up and this will just be another nightmare we all wake up from.

Because no one knows if that’s true.

Bruce’s fingers move over his tablet. “Whatever Hydra did… it’s not finished yet. We need to be prepared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky’s voice is lethal, pure steel dipping into panic.

“It means,” Bruce hesitates, glancing at Steve for help but the blonde doesn’t seem to know better, so he continues. “We don’t know in what state she is in. This could have done anything to her-”

A low, animalistic sound rumbles from Bucky’s chest. “Then we stop it.”

Bruce looks at him, eyes trying to soften, but he seems too remorseful. “We don’t even know what it is yet.”

“We stop it,” Bucky repeats, harsher this time. Because the alternative is something he can’t think of.

He sways, a choking sense of deja vu inching up his spine. He knows this feeling. He’s lived this feeling. That moment, the harsh, dizzying drop into nothingness, when you realize you don’t know yourself anymore. That you never really did.

And now, Hydra is doing that to you.

Cho stiffens suddenly, eyes rapidly moving across the screen in front of her. “Wait - something’s changing-”

Every muscle in Bucky’s body locks as his gaze snaps to you, his breath stalling.

Your fingers. The barest twitch. A tiny, nearly imperceptible movement against his chest.

But it’s there.

Bucky sucks in a breath so sharp it burns. “She’s-”

Before he can finish, your entire body spasms intensely.

Alarms shriek. Machines stutter to life. A sharp, erratic beeping floods the room.

Your scream tears through the space. Guttural and fervent and wrong.

Bucky’s blood freezes mid-flow, turning to shards of ice beneath his skin.

Because you are screaming like you are dying.

And suddenly, everyone is rushing around. Bruce and Cho are lunging forward, Steve is cursing under his breath.

Bucky can’t move.

Frost crackles through his veins, leaving only numbness behind.

You continue screaming. It sounds like it’s affecting your vocal cords.

There is winter inside of Bucky.

His arms tighten around you, his body moving on pure instinct, pressing you to him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he gasps out, not even sure if you can hear him, but he can’t help it. He cups your face between his hands, hoping to still the way you thrash around and bump your head against the metal beneath you. “I’m here. It’s me, baby. It’s Bucky. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But your screams don’t stop.

Your hands claw weakly at your own chest, at your throat, as if trying to get something out, as if your own skin is suffocating you. Your nails leave scratch marks on your collarbone.

And Bucky loses it.

“Do something!” he yells, his head whipping around to Bruce and Cho, his voice shredded with desperation. “Help her!”

Bruce quickly injects something into your IV, Cho adjusts the monitors as they beep wildly.

But Bucky doesn’t see any of it.

He only sees you.

His world narrows down to your face, to the way your lips part on a strained gasp, the way your body shakes in his grip, the way your screams turn to whimpers and then stop altogether.

Then, your eyes snap open.

Bucky stops breathing. Stops moving. Only stares agape.

Your gaze is on him, wide and glassy and soaked in terror.

But you look at him in a way you never looked at him ever before.

You look at him like you are not yourself anymore.

You look at him like you don’t know him.

You look at him like you don’t recognize him at all.

“Without you, the world means nothing to me.”

- Emily Brontë

[yanderedrabbles]

This is a thought I’ve had ever since i read your yandere outlaws story: what if you (try to) run away with one of the outlaws…could you even do that…. Would the poor guy even survive if you two get caught

Which of the yandere outlaws would run away with you?

CW: noncon, violence, knife play

You can't exactly ask the boss to run away with you. He's got responsibilities, authority. His men rely on him. If he wasn't the boss though? Yeah, in that case his loyalty would stretch very far at all.

The gunslingers absolutely would. But is it really a good idea? Without the boss around, there's no one keeping them in check. How much tighter will their grip be, with no one to scold them for the bruises?

They're the type to make you earn their help, and then force you to keep paying off that favour for the rest of your life.

"Mighty dangerous thing you're askin' pretty."

"How you gonna compensate us for our trouble?"

The wrangler absolutely wouldn't. Which is a real pity, since he's probably the only one with the skills to evade tracking. But he's also loyal to a fault.

"I wish I could beauty, but there are some debts that can never be repaid."

The kid, hmm. Yes. Maybe. It depends on how much time they give him. The outlaws know he's still soft, so I don't think they'll leave him alone with you for too long. He's young and guilty. You can definitely manipulate him.

"I'll...I'll do it. Just don't tell anyone, 'kay?"

The second in command, the man who claims to love you. You'd think all it would take is batting your pretty eyes and asking him to take you away from all this. And you'd be partly right. If it was any other gang, he'd be gone with you by morning.

But despite all their flaws, these outlaws are his brothers. He owes the boss his loyalty.

He's also a practical man. He knows it will be considered a betrayal. And the boss isn't one to let that slide. Even if he did make it out with you, he'd spend his whole life looking over his shoulder. And what kind of life is that?

"No. You belong here. Nowhere else."

But let's ignore all of that and assume you do manage to run away. How will the outlaws react to you and the traitor?

The boss will shoot them. It doesn't matter who. And then he'll bend you over the nearest thing and fuck some sense into you. Rough this time. Not holding back. You've proven kindness is wasted on you. Anal probably, dry and unprepped.

You realise for the first time exactly how thin his patience is. How cold and terrifying his anger. He'll be clipped and curt the entire time. "Move it." "C'mere." "Suck it." No sweet pet names this time, no treating you like his little girl. You want that softness? You're going to have to earn it back.

The gunslingers will make a game of it. Say whoever finds you gets to have you all week. They'll kill the traitor slow. Maybe leave him out for the ants and coyotes. And then they'll tell the boss you need to be punished.

They're the kind of bastards who'll slap a knife against your pussy just to see you shiver, scrape the tip against your inner thighs. Never drawing blood but always getting oh so close. 

Double penetration too, until you're too cock drunk and hurt to even think about running.

The wrangler is the one who can track you down the fastest and also the first one to figure out if you're plotting something. He won't tell the others. He'll just follow you and come out of the dark like a ghost. Shotgun levelled right at your heart. He won't kill the traitor, but the cold glint in his eyes shows you exactly how close he is to doing it.

When he gets you home, he'll make you sleep in his bed. So if anyone mentions your absence, he can say you were with him.

He won't be angry with you. Instead, he'll just hold you. His chin on the crown of your head as you sob into his chest.

"I'm sorry beauty. But there really is no way out. Wherever you run, I will always find you."

If it's the boy who finds you, it's a toss up. He might let you go, might remember how much you cried that first day. He might still be a good person at heart.

Or, he might see this as his opportunity to finally earn the rest of your body. That's what the gunslingers said, remember? If he wants to fuck you, he needs to earn it. And what better way than to bring you home?

The second in command almost never gets angry, but this time? He doesn't even bother with a gun. He kills the traitor with a knife. Rips his throat out and leaves him to bleed out on the desert sand.

He's explosive. Grabs you by the jaw and throws you against the wall. Kisses you before you can fall, ripping your clothes off with one hand. He's the worst of them all when it comes down to it. His anger making him twice as cruel and thrice as callous.

He fucks you with the other man's blood still splattered across his face.

"You wanna be like that? Don't like it when I'm nice? Fine."

He'll fuck you dry, his hand around your throat the entire time. His lips just the tiniest bit away from yours, just watching the fear and the tears. Revelling in them. When you're done, he shoves you down on the bed.

"Open your fucking mouth."

He'll make you suck the blood and come off his cock, pulling your hair so hard it gives you a migraine.

He'll grab your jaw so hard the bones ache, and yank you up to his lips.

"I'll fucking kill you next time."

You believe him. 

[mourndust]

⋆｡𖦹°‧ safe heaven.

side notes — basically after she's injured she has nowhere to go but your place. ex!girlfriend sevika, i always see fics where she's is a psycho ex but i actually think sevika is a lone wolf turned puppy when her heart melts, take it or leave it.

masterlist! // requests open ! 2.5k words.

18+ mdni, men go away, thigh grinding, titty love, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, slight degradation/dumbification blink and miss it, ass play, spit, there are descriptions of a 'wound', but i'm no doctor sorry if you are, blood and injury descriptions, this is kinda filthy i'm not gonna lie but also angst and sad? dunno mixed feelings sadhorny# tell me your thoughts? stop being only a liker and fucking be my mutual ty.

it’s not fair she’s so into you.

makes her weak cause she has to surrender to you in the end, no choices allowed cause she knows, deep down, it's not going to stop as much as she'd like it to. not when you're grinding on her leg like that, when you're coating her skin with your arousal so deliberately, you make her look down just to find out the wet splotch in your underwear getting bigger and bigger with each roll of your hips, the moans filling the air of your living room — sevika has no use but to let you get off from something so simple as riding her thigh, mainly ‘cause it's a personal need too.

"you're takin' good care of me, aren't you sweet girl?" now usually, she does a better work staying away from you, avoiding you as much as it's possible; but it gets difficult when she knocks on your door at three in the morning, bleeding out and capable of tossing her pride aside in no time, whatever cost it may bring. "lift up your shirt and let me see those pretty tits, i deserve to see more of my girl."

well fuck, when did it get so personal?

must be when you have told her not to come near your street several times, a non-spoken rule she respects until she has nowhere to go, opening the door so damn mad she thought you were going to kick her out for a second cause she can help but be a damn flirt around you, leaning into the wall even when she's bleeding — seeking for your attention.

it's always like that when she gets too attached to someone, as much as she tries to avoid it she ends ups carrying them too close to her heart: silco in the moment, crazy ass jinx, that damn kid who’s always following, she gives loyalty like dog, so it's suffocating. cause you don't kick her out like she secretly wishes to, but instead, you push her inside, helping her walk to your sofa as you kneel between her legs, bitching about not being a doctor, about not being able to help her as you look at the cut closely.

and sevika knows she shouldn't have come to see you cause you look so damn inviting it's annoying, alluring with those big eyes you give as you look up to her, the concentrated face as your fingers shake over her skin, helping her out like she asks you to, shivering under her words of encouragement when you're sewing her skin back together after five minutes of pure whining.

it’s safe to say it slowly consumes her, your breathing against her sore skin. does things for her, half delirious for the amount of times she's been trying to excuse herself by saying she's dizzy from blood loss, a fucking lie you can tell already — “stay there for a while” she asks when you finish, cupping your face in the palm of her flesh hand, thumb rubbing against your cheek, tracing the outline of your lips afterwards "there's not a single thing you do wrong huh? not even stitch me up on a lonely friday night."

“what are you doing?”

“you know damn well what i’m doing, bunny. i miss you," everything's so fast after that, her voice is husky as she speaks, playing with the strands of your hair, twirling it in her index finger, relishing the sensation of you close to her once again — "i miss you. fuck i miss you so much it's burning me alive."

it's an old habit, it's enough to make you crumble cause you're allowing her to make you sit on her leg, gasping as the cold metal of her mechanic arm holds you down while the other caress your side without a rush: she has nowhere to be but there, with you on her lap.

you'd like to be difficult now, play hard to get even, but it's so right in the moment, like you've been craving it for weeks you don’t dare to say a single word — "you're going to pull out your stitches like that" you mutter instead, voice raspy when she's moving your hair to the side, sucking on the skin of your neck until she's sure it will leave a mark behind, reminders of all being real. "sev-"

"i can handle pain, i don't care" sevika fully believes it, squeezing the skin of your waist. she missed having you like that — "don’t make up excuses, just tell me to stop. tell me if you want me to leave, cause i won’t do it on my own."

it’s tempting, yet you cannot say it as you stare at her, at her gray eyes, the new haircut and the blueish scar in her cheek: you want her there. "you’re injured, you’re not going anywhere like that."

“no,” she shakes her head in denial, not quite the answer she expected to hear — “tell me you want me to stay cause you want me to, not because of a wound. because you miss me too.”

greedy bitch. she’s enjoying every second of it, knowing damn well she got you under her skin already, that she can get out a response from you every time she puts a finger on your skin. “you know i miss you."

fuck her pride. fuck anything else but the taste of your lips, the sounds you make when you enjoy something too much muffled against sevika’s hungry cavity. it’s almost feverish as her tongue rolls inside your mouth, squeezing your cheeks as she stoles the air from your lungs, your heart racing by the seconds.

that’s how you got to that point at least, cause she's kissing you dumb for a moment and the next one she's holding your ass with a tight grip, pushing you against her just to make you remind her about her stitches, her recent wounded state, but in all honesty she's not really listening to any bitching, no; sevika's deeply lost in her senses, the sight of you getting messier with each one of her kisses, the scent of the bubble-gum induced taste in your mouth mixing up with her own saliva — the engulfed moans that somehow makes you look needier than you already are.

and you're not telling her to leave, not receiving any complain as her flesh hand tugs on the fabric of your shirt like a fair warning that you already know what it means, you're not being rational cause you miss her deeply, so much time needing her you cannot help but give in, even when you'd call yourself insane sooner or later.

"i miss you," it's like a poem sevika wishes to hear over and over again, how you, very much like her, are being thrown at a constant state of aching. "i miss you a lot, and it's not fair. keeping me around like this-"

your hand rest over the stitches you covered with gauze, and fuck, she must be damn tripping, cause you're straddling her lap, shirt riding over your stomach giving her the damn royal treatment and you have the decency of being careful with her, gentle.

no. she does not want to be in love, not ever again, but she's betrayed once again as her silent big heart is choking because she's seeing you again, falling apart like you used to, taking the privilege of something so private for herself, surrendering to an act of pure war and love cause that's what she came for in the first place, you.

"don't move. i can do it for us both," do you have any idea of how difficult it gets for her? with you speaking like that? "please. don't bleed out on my couch. need you alive tomorrow, don't move much."

"you're takin' good care of me, aren't you sweet girl?" — your hips began to move against her tight and it's like you want to show her how much you love grinding on her leg like a fucking puppy, how you missed the pleasure she can only bring, how you been missing her."lift up your shirt and let me see those pretty tits, i deserve to see more of my girl."

she lights the cigarette you were smoking cause she don't want to piss you off, enjoying the simple pleasures of life cause she loves it when you take control, giving you space to remove your shirt only to let her see you fully, the sweat going down your skin, the movements in your waist as you try to ride her better.

hell of a show.

and even as you try to muffle your moans, it's pretty impossible when your underwear sticks to your pussy cause of the stupid amount of arousal that now stains the fabric, the constant contact with her pants that being so sensitive makes you docile, compliant to any of her wishes, the hungry look she gives you comfortably seated, the weight of sevika's gaze traveling from your half lidded eyes down your chest until between your legs, a triumph half-smile on her lips as as the smell of your apple tobacco fills the air.

"you're dripping in my pants baby, can't wait f'me to take them off?" she asks, and her fingers create this line as they touch from your neck to your mount, stopping over your breasts, kneading them in her whole hand — "can't be this wet just for riding me bunny, i haven't even touched you yet. do you miss me that much ma'? miss being my pretty whore?"

she knows where to touch, where to kiss as if she forgot about the damn pain in her sore muscles, like the entire world narrows down to you. the cigarette consumes on the ashtray as she leans to suck on your already hard nipples, tongue roaming from one to another, tugging and biting at her will before you make her breathing hitch on her throat — "stay with me tonight."

it's a bad idea, but your hand guides hers down to your cunt and it's physically impossible for sevika to say no to you, deny your wishes cause she's so down to give you whatever you need, an invitation that makes her chest full of pride as she makes your underwear to the side, quickly coating them with clear gush as they slide between your soaked folds.

"vika-" whatever you might say dies in your tongue, gets lost in the air as two fingers come up to your swollen clit, sensitive already against her touches that do not go past the necessary, a back and forth motion that pushes you tantalizingly close to the edge — "baby."

"want to you feel you through my pants," your hole is clenching around nothing, forcing you to move as her mechanic hand shoves you against her leg. "be good and cum all over your pretty underwear."

your body shakes involuntarily, cause it only takes her muscular thigh, dirty words and her fingers on your clit to make you act up all desperate, a loud moan escaping your lips when finally reach your much desired peak, watching in awe how you disintegrate for a moment and everything seems to become meaningless.

"i cannot touch you with these on," sevika mutters seconds after, not close to having enough as she pulls on the string of your soaked underwear, unusable now as she makes you stand between her legs before she's all over you, struggling to keep the hands to herself as she hugs you, gripping the curve of your ass to pull you against her, face resting right over your waist as your hand caress the black strands of her recently trimmed hair.

you’ve heard it before, the advice you tend to ignore: she’s no good for you, she's no good for you as she makes you turn around, coaxing you with praises only to have you bend right over the waist, when she makes your underwear fall to the ground and you're leaning to bare yourself to her eyes only.

and it makes sevika salivate, needy at it's worst when she can notice your wet folds, the way you're dripping down, creamy white right in your untouched hole, messy and asking for more. your clit’s already puffy, pushing her to just touch, make you beg for more so she's weak, weak as keeps you there, showing your ass like it was all her's to take, warm and pliant as she plunges two fingers inside your needy cunt, slowly making room for her thick digits until she’s stretching you open.

your legs shake as sevika's fingers sink inside, and she's so eager to see, the zaunite finds herself moving to have a better view of the traces of your already wet cunt sticking to her hand, of your pussy already twitching, sucking her back in.

"look at this" the woman trails off, drunk on the sight of you spread in front of her eyes, the bliss when you're looking at her from over your shoulder with a cheeky smile that will stick on her memory — "makin' space for me s'good bunny, can you hear that? the sounds of your cunt taking me perfectly?"

there's no time for answering cause sevika's taking, too high on you, on the reactions of your body as she spreads you open, kissing on your ass cheeks before her face's there and her tongue is pushing against your pucker hole, gathering a good amount of saliva to spit on it.

"mmf-please," you loudly whine "m'gonna cum-"

sevika wants the moment to linger, make you cum over and over again but she cannot stop when she's seeing the transparent color of her saliva mix up with your arousal as her fingers fucked you at a much faster pace now. her nose darts against your skin, and she has to help you stand when she's licking your rear so eagerly, circling the ring, teasing you with focused licks, pushing dangerously against your tight hole.

and the sight of it is nasty, blush creeps upon your neck as her mechanic arm grabs your hand to place it in your back, the slam of her own fingers almost irritating her as they make you move forward with each thrust, far from her mouth.

sevika’s oblivious for a second. it's not her fault either way, cause you cum right in her fingers, panting out your ex-girlfriend's name as your body goes limp and she has to take you right in her arms cause you cannot seem to hold your own weight.

it’s imposible to think about the stitches, and more importantly — about the fact that she cannot stay by any means. no when you're always better off without her in the picture.

could it get any better in her safe heaven?

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

Throwing my hat in the ring here bc I've honestly weighed in on far more volatile discourse and i also feel like yammering about this.

Coming into 9-1-1, almost everyone I spoke to and everything I saw told me I would NOT like Tommy. He was rude, he was terrible to Buck, he called Buck "Evan," he walked out on a date, he made mean comments, etc.

I did take this with a grain of salt, because I rarely conform to fandom consensus on characters, pairings, plot lines, etc. (Destiel was my NOTP in SPN and I do not like Ada at all in RE, for example). I'm perfectly happy to have opinions that don't line up with everyone else's because I'm here to have fun for myself, not for anyone else. (Putting this under a cut because it got LONGGGG)

Then I get to 7x03 and see Tommy again for the first time since s2. and he is a BLAST. He's grown, he's not posturing or repressing himself. He oozes confidence off the bat and is INCREDIBLY fun (the MOUTH STATIC??? HELLO???). He has this dry wit that I fall in love with immediately ("well, unless you feel like swimming back, that's all we've got." "because we're flying into a hurricane. probably all gonna die anyway.") i am EXCITED. i am also reallyyyy confused, because THIS Tommy would have to do a complete 180 in personality or how he treats Buck for me to suddenly have the vitriol for him that's so common across the fandom.

7x04. I am smitten with how Tommy acts through the tour of Harbor--leaning reallyyyyyy close to Buck, the charming teasing lilt to his voice, his little smile. Eddie shows up and Eddie and Tommy become besties. I love this too--they would absolutely get along like a house on fire, and there's INSANE chemistry between Tommy and Eddie immediately. I don't personally like them taking a chopper to Vegas (my Eddie would never set foot in a helicopter willingly unless it was for someone he loved, like Bobby and Athena the episode prior) BUT they 110% fucked on that trip and I will not hear any arguments otherwise.

We're skipping over the buddie of it all bc this post is about Tommy. The kiss???? The fingers under Buck's chin???? (THANKS LOU) The SOFT look on his face the entire time???? I'm immediately sold. Bucktommy is immediately a new fave and I'm excited to see if I like Tommy more than or just as much as I liked Taylor.

7x05! The date. AKA instant desire to douse myself in bleach from second-hand embarrassment. I know this is where a lot of people soured on Tommy, but when I reached the end of the episode I honestly couldn't understand WHY it soured people so intensely and immediately. That date was a DISASTER for multiple reasons, but I don't think Tommy was WRONG for leaving. Buck was nervous the entire way through (implied by Tommy's line assuring him nobody was looking at them) and it's his first date with a guy, so who can blame him? His line about being an ally was uh. Yikes. But they had already eaten and were getting the check, so obviously dinner as a whole went pretty well considering the scene opens with them both content and joking around a little bit. Obviously Buck couldn't have foreseen Eddie showing up. And I don't BLAME Buck for losing his head and overcompensating--he's not even out to Eddie yet, not even sure what his sexuality means for him himself yet, it's totally in character for him to panic and stick his foot in his mouth.

I don't blame Buck, really, I have empathy for him. BUT I also don't blame Tommy. Tommy is comfortably out, we don't know what his last relationship was like, and no matter how much he UNDERSTANDS what Buck did, it still had to hurt to be there and basically be outright friendzoned in an effort to be hidden. I don't care how you spin it, the situation absolutely sucked for both of them. People get really really mad about the closet comment, and it's not a moment I particularly enjoy from Tommy, but I understand why he said it. That kind of dry poking is in character, and I truly don't think he MEANS to OUT Buck, I think he's just hurt and lashing out a little bit (which, for what it's worth, we have seen EVERY character lash out WORSE than that). If I was Tommy, I would have left after dinner instead of going to the movies too.

People get really mad about Tommy leaving Buck alone on the street. When I first heard that he did that and how MAD people were about it, I was picturing Tommy pulling over in the middle of nowhere somewhere and leaving Buck stranded. That would have also made ME mad, so it was what made sense to me as what had to have happened.

And then.....Tommy just.....got his own Uber? And left Buck on the well-lit, populated street literally in front of the doors to the restaurant? After being really honest with Buck that he likes him, but he's not sure Buck's ready to be out with a guy yet. People also didn't like that but I thought it was fair? It wasn't Tommy telling Buck Buck's feelings. It came across more to me as Tommy looking out for Buck and speaking from a place of experience as a gay man much further along into his own journey. He doesn't say it but from what he said about being under Gerrard and coming out when he went to Harbor, I'm sure TOMMY had his own growing pains just like that.

Honestly, I think a lot of the anger about leaving Buck on the street comes from the fanbase having a lot of women. If Buck was a woman and Tommy left him there, then yes, I would not trust Tommy as a love interest at all because it would mean he wasn't at all concerned for fem!Buck's safety. But if I take me being a woman out of how I look at it, it's not really an issue? Buck is a cis white male, he's broad, he's 6'2". It's not impossible for him to get attacked, of course, but it's significantly less likely, and he's standing on the sidewalk directly in front of the restaurant doors. Buck's also a perfectly capable adult; it was their first date. Tommy had truthfully no obligation to take care of Buck, and Buck has a phone and his own agency. He can get himself his own Uber.

At this point, I'm more intrigued than anything by fandom's gung-ho hatred of him, because Tommy hasn't done anything black-and-white undeniably egregious. I watch the rest of season 7 and I love him the whole time. He genuinely cares for Buck and while I had anticipated hating that he called Buck "Evan," I actually loved it. Lou gave it such an affectionate inflection that it's very endearing, and his use of "Evan" feels natural and sweet, not the forced-intimacy awkward that I was expecting considering that's how it felt with Ana calling Eddie "Edmundo."

I get to 7x09/7x10. People don't like the "enjoy it while it lasts" comment at the awards ceremony. I get to the dinner scene where they talk about fathers and the 118 as a family and Tommy says "god, I hope so" to the idea of Buck having daddy issues. Both of these things have been pointed out to me as horrible moments.

Neither line makes me hate Tommy. The daddy issues one I find exceptionally fun. At this point, and as I watch s8, I am more or less convinced that fandom hates Tommy for three different reasons: he's not Eddie, they don't understand his sense of humor, and they don't trust Buck to look out for himself.

I will be the first to say i ADORE buddie. AND bucktommy. And buddietommy is the FIRST OT3 that has INSANE chemistry and subtextual backing in canon. Every scene where the three of them are together, the three-way chemistry is off the charts and they fall naturally into what really feels like a poly dynamic, PARTICULARLY in Masks where they're two boyfriends tag-teaming teasing and taking care of their third boyfriend, Buck.

But like I said, I think fandom's hatred of Tommy comes from the fact that he's NOT Eddie. Buck is bi in canon, hooray! Except....they give him a boyfriend that's not Eddie, disappointing buddie shippers. Buck has romantic scenes with someone that's not Eddie. Buck kisses someone that's not Eddie. Etc. To me, people hate Tommy so much the exact same that they hate Taylor and Ana (every love interest tbh, but Taylor, Ana, and Tommy get the most hate and bashing), because none of them are EDDIE.

I also think the fandom doesn't understand Tommy's sense of humor or how he shows affection. It's fanon that Tommy is Italian. I totally adopt that headcanon, because in MY Italian-American family (AND on my Irish/Scottish/French-Canadian/Portuguese family on my mom's side) do you know how we show love? We break each other's balls. We tease the shit out of each other. I tell my dad he's so full of shit his eyes are brown. There's a written list on the inside of the cabinet of the words I have pronounced horrifically wrong. My dad's cousins have the SAME dry, deadpan delivery that Tommy does.

My friends and I ALSO have this kind of humor. It's ALSO how we show love to one another. I have never read a single line of Tommy's as being malicious or rude or as him not liking Buck, because to me it's CLEAR that he's joking and being affectionate. (And also, the fandom puts words in his mouth....Tommy did NOT call Buck gross in Masks. Buck SAID he knew Tommy THOUGHT he was gross, and Tommy DENIED that and tried to explain himself. Also Buck's line "my own boyfriend won't even kiss me" is followed immediately by Tommy saying "that's not true.")

The dinner scene after Bobby's heart attack made sense to me. Tommy gave Buck space to say how he felt (and i think the "your dad is alive" line came more from a place of Tommy NOT having a parental figure in a captain. I don't think that was meant to be dismissive, I think that was a misunderstanding) and honestly, if MY boyfriend made a joke about daddy issues during that conversation I would have loved it. Sometimes humor is the best medicine.

That also rolls into my last point--people don't trust Buck to look out for himself. The fandom loves Buck, for good reason, but they also baby him. Buck is a grown man. Yes, he has abandonment issues and PTSD. He probably has anxiety and he definitely has ADHD. But...none of those things mean he can't speak up when people do things he doesn't like? People get so annoyed with the daddy issues line and with Tommy telling Buck to put the screen away like it's dismissive or infantilizing.

First of all, I have (undiagnosed) ADHD. Sometimes having someone outright tell you "okay that's enough of that, go [do a task or transition to something else]" is HELPFUL. Tommy was literally sleeping on that stupid most-uncomfortable-looking couch just to be downstairs with Buck, he clearly cares about him. When you care about people, sometimes it means a little tough love. It wasn't infantilizing when MY irl friends would be like "you've had enough to drink" or "i'm making you dinner." Sometimes we ALL need some of that decision-making taken away from us. And also? Buck doesn't listen to Tommy. In the morning they talk about Buck staying up too late. It's not like Tommy got mad and took the laptop and FORCED Buck to bed.

Second of all, with the daddy issues joke. I love Buck. I do. He's one of my favorites. And yes, Buck can successfully hide SOME of what he feels. But that man is an open book 90% of the time. His heart is on both sleeves and his pants legs. If you say or do something he doesn't like, he's NOT shy about showing it (which we just had confirmed AGAIN in 8x09). If the daddy issues joke BOTHERED BUCK, his face would have fallen. He would have gone quiet. He would have left the table. Even if he didn't say it to Tommy in the moment, there would have been some indication that HE PERSONALLY had an issue with what was said. Instead he's giving Tommy a little smirk and intense heart eyes the whole time.

Not to mention, BUCK BRINGS UP DADDY ISSUES. He STARTS IT by saying "So maybe we both have daddy issues," while one of his eyebrows quirks and he gives this little almost shit-eating grin. If you're going to be MAD at the daddy issues joke, you should be mad at BUCK if you're gonna be mad at anyone, because he STARTED IT.

I won't get into how I feel about the breakup bc it's not relevant to this post really, but yea. I personally love Tommy, Bucktommy was Buck's strongest relationship imo (only a touch stronger than Bucktaylor), and my personal belief is that Tommy gets far more hatred than he deserves. (Talking about his growth from the Begins episodes is also a different post, but he grows DURING those episodes and also is clearly a better person from what we see in s7/8)

[acmeangel]

♡ You and Levi are both in the Survey Corps. You have a nightmare, and Levi tries to comfort you.

♡ SFW

You wake up choking on air, body tight and rigid with the aftershocks of a nightmare you can't quite shake. Eld, Oluo, Gunther, Petra—they were all there. You feel like your mind is coiled around your entire body, from your skull to your feet, wound so tightly you might snap at any second. The room is still, dark, except for the faint moonlight dappling in through the window. Your heartbeat is a chaotic thing, it feels like an entity separate from yourself, slamming against your ribs, and you know—instinctively—that you're not getting back to sleep anytime soon. Because that's how this always goes.

So, you move, because your mind feels so heavy that it could break the bed itself. The floor is cold and rough beneath your bare feet as you cross the room, fingers tightening around the glass of water left untouched on your desk. You drink, but the dryness in your mouth persists. You notice a few drops of water that have escaped your glass and landed on the desk because your hands won't stop shaking.

You hate the way your body refuses to be controlled by sheer willpower. The way it remembers what you try to forget.

A chair creaks behind you.

"Tch." The familiar click of Levi's tongue slices through the thick, dry air. Was it always this dry? You shake away the thought as his voice rings out. "Third night in a row. You wanna tell me what the hell's going on, or is this just your new routine?"

He's exactly where he always is—sitting in the chair in the corner, arms crossed, eyes sharp despite the late hour. He's been doing this since the first night you spent together. Never in the bed, never fully relaxed, always just a little on guard. You've never asked him why.

You exhale through your nose. Slow. Steady. You need to be steady. "It's nothing."

"Mmh. Nothing's got you pacing around at this hour."

You don't know why you'd even bothered lying to him—the truth was written plainly across your face, written in the beads of cold sweat that rimmed your forehead.

"Go back to sleep, Levi," you murmur, trying to keep your voice smooth as you grip the glass so tightly that the pads of your fingers start to hurt.

"Not really an option when you're stomping around like a damn horse. You should at least learn to be quiet if you're gonna be up like this."

You almost laugh—in other circumstances, you would've. But it gets caught in your throat like an insect in a web.

The silence stretches. Levi watches you, expression unreadable, waiting. You wonder if he sees the way your shoulders have tensed up, the way your knees are locked, the way your eyes are glassy and distant, caught in the tormenting area between past and present.

"I'm fine," you say, quieter this time. "It was just a dream."

"Just a dream." He says it flatly, like he's testing the words.

You know what he thinks about that. That nightmares aren’t 'just' anything. That they’re the past creeping back in with serrated teeth and clawing hands. They're the scent of metallic blood, the sounds of anguished screams, the crunch of Titan's teeth around flesh and bone. And they don't let go until you force them to.

Levi exhales, long and slow. "So. Tell me."

Your throat tightens. You know you shouldn't test his patience, but the thought of telling him everything, of the coil snapping—it's too much to withstand. So you say: "No."

"Y/N."

You shake your head. He waits a beat, then moves—steady, unhurried, the way he always does. He stands, steps toward you, stops just close enough that you can physically feel his presence.

And maybe that’s why you snap.

"It was them," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "They were there again. All of them this time. I—"

Your breath shudders out as if you're drowning and gasping for air. Levi says nothing, but you see it. The way he shifts his posture, the way his jaw clenches like he’s biting back something sharp.

"I couldn’t do anything," you say. "I watched them die, Levi. Over and over. I just stood there. And... And I don't even mean just in the dream. I... I can't stop thinking—"

"You didn’t just stand there."

You release a breath that’s almost a laugh, but it tastes sour on your tongue. "I didn't save them either, so I might as well have."

He doesn’t argue. Levi has never been the type to feed you empty reassurances or give you a big, warm hug that says 'everything's going to be alright'.

Instead, he says, "You tried. You did what you could. Made the decisions you had to make. Like we all do."

Your fingers curl into your palms. "It’s not enough."

Levi watches you. His gaze is steady, unreadable, but you can feel it burning into you. Then, finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate.

"It never is. But it has to be. The alternative is that they all died a shitty, pointless death."

It's not a comfort. Just a fact. A truth you’ve both learned the hard way.

You nod a feeble nod and the tension from your body releases, just a bit. You set the glass down, the one you've been clutching the entire time like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. Levi doesn't move, but he stays there, close enough to catch you if you need it. And for the first time tonight, your body stops shaking.

The silence between you shifts. It's not so heavy, not so dark and bottomless and cavernous—it just exists. Levi tilts his head slightly, his eyes flickering over you for a moment. Then he jerks his chin toward the bed.

"Come on."

You hesitate. "I'm not—"

"Just get in the damn bed, Y/N."

He doesn’t wait for you to protest again. He just moves, making his way back to the chair—only this time, he stops. His eyes shift to the mattress, then back to you. He watches as you slowly lie down, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. And then, without a word, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. Not close. Not touching.

You instinctively hold your breath, as if the faintest sound or movement will make him change his mind. "Levi, you don’t—"

"Go to sleep."

You feel him shift slightly, settling into the bed with his full weight, his body flat next to yours. There's still a distance between you—a careful, meticulous choice. But he's there.

Minutes pass. Then, Levi exhales softly in the secret of the dark. You hear the quiet rustle of fabric as he shifts again. A slow, subtle movement—an accident, almost. And then, just barely, the faintest brush of his hand against yours.

You don’t move, and neither does he.

Sleep doesn’t come easily. It never does. But now, at least, it doesn’t feel so daunting.

Masterlist

Requested by @beautiful-is-boring

taglist: @leviykwim @wittyjasontodd @veilsofroses @houseofcrying @velvetyshu (message to be added!)

[x-ang3l-x]

- You sure your not a virgin? (E.W)

cw: mean!readerx loser!ellie, high school bully x ellie, degration, porn with some plot like really really mean, virginity mocking, enemies to lovers, hate sex, homophobia, d slur used,!NSFW, mdni.

A/N: This is based off a script from scriptbin which I also think is an audio on soundgasm- If I find them i'll add the links <3

reblogs appreciated

"I'm gonna go look around, I'll catch up with you." I slur before making my way out of the bar area and into the arcade. I walk into an overstimulating sea of lights and sound and geeks slouched over some consoles spending their wages on video games. I silently wished to myself we would had gone somewhere where I could've taken someone home tonight, but I don't think that's going to happen at the barcade.

I have a couple spare tokens in my back pocket, I fish them out and relecantly sigh as I find some random shitty game and stroll next to it. Theres a girl sitting on one of the stools. I couldn't really make out her face under the strobe lights, but I could make out a malnourished figure hunched over the arcade game, her nose buried in the screen. Auburn hair shagged just at her shoulders, glasses peering off the tip of her nose.

I strut up to her and wait a few moments for her to look at me. She doesn't. "Anyone sitting here?" I ask reluctantly

The girl does not turn her head, but responds. "Isn't it obvious?"

Okay, well fuck it. "I'm sitting here anyways. Whatcha gonna do about it?

"As long as you leave me alone, nothing."

God this bitch was blunt. For a moment she started to remind me of somebody I once knew but I brushed the feeling off before I continued. "So, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be going out to like, real bars?"

"Isn't this a real bar?"

I scoff. "This is barley a bar. You don't even have a drink."

"I'm not here to drink."

"You know what, I’m feeling charitable today, how about I buy you one?" For a brief moment the girls hand on the joystick faulters before continues her game.

"It's okay, don't waste your money."

"Yeah, come on, you pick. Whatever you want, baby I’ll get it." I seductivley say with a slight tilt of my head. The girl fails to conceal a small chuckle and softly bites her bottom lip when she does.

And I can't even lie, it was fucking cute.

But I still couldn't shake the feeling like I knew her from somewhere.

"Hey.. can you look at me really quick?" I ask. She pretends to not hear me. "C'mon, even I know you can pause that. Turn your head." I'm met with a bewildered expression plastered on a pretty face. Pink, pouted lips, huge glossy eyes staring at me from behind her glasses. "You look familiar." I mumble.

Wait, hold on a second.

"Nooo fucking way."

No way this girl didn't know who I was the second I started talking to her. This theory was solidified after she flushed beet red right after I said her name.

"Ellie Williams. Oooh My god, how have you been? You look- You look great, actually, seriously."

Ellie doesn't say anything, just silently staring at me with her mouth slightly agape. "What, can't take a compliment?"

"Didn't you like.. bully me? All of high school?"

Okay, yeah, that is how I knew her. I tormented this poor, friendless, loser every day for four years straight.

"Well..I mean, yeah, I did. But that's high school, literally no one cares about that!" I laugh. Well, except you, obviously."

Ellie scowls at me. "Whatever, see you haven't peaked since then."

"I'll actually have you know that I'm getting a promotion next week, so suck my dick."

"Promoted to what? Bosses least favorite?"

"Whatever, dyke." I cross my arms and give her a bit of an evil smile. "Least I’m not spending my Friday night playing fucking video games from the 80’s."

“70’s, actually”

"70's, actually!" I mock with a lisp.

Ellie just keeps glaring me down and spitting rebounds out. "I don't see you holding any high scores."

"Yeah, because I grew up, Williams. Let me guess, you spend every single Friday night here making sure no one takes away your precious fucking numbers on a screen."

"And what did you grow into, scoring bodies?"

What is wrong with this bitch? "Did you just call me a slut?" I dour.

Ellie stands up, seemingly prepared to walk away from the conversation. "Yeah, I did. Gonna do something about it?"

I also rise, meeting her height and overpowering her skinny frame. "Okay, you know what, fuck you and fuck this attitude that you have. I don’t need some fucking loser who hangs out at an arcade every night because she can’t help but have a little pity party because they were too fucking nerdy for anyone to like them telling me that they’re somehow better than me!"

Ellie doesn't walk away, she just lets out an offended grunt before eyeing me up and down. I decide that maybe it's time to have some fun with this. Just like back in high school. How I used to berade the girl every single second I could get to, and how i'd catch her holding back a smile as I did so.

"You know, I bet your sorry little ass that I could fuck this attitude right out of you."

Ellie's head whipped up, eyes meeting mine and holding a glimmer of hope. "W- what?" she stuttered.

"Aww, that got the little loser blushing." I say striding towards said blushing mess. "What, does this dumb little dyke get wet when some mean bitch tells her they could ruin her?" I lower my voice and place my lips next to her ear, barley grazing it as I spoke. "I bet you probably get off on that sort of shit, pervert."

I swear to god I could hear a moan in the back of Ellie's throat as I challenged her.

"Wanna put your money where your mouth is?" She whispered.

My breath hits her ear hot and hard."Fucking...Yeah. Yeah, I do think I can put my money where my mouth is. What, are you trying to get me to take you home with me?"

I'm only met with a shit eating grin spreading across her face.

"I'm gonna fuck that look off your face- let's go nerd."

___________________________

"I take it that you like my bedroom?" I ask as I lead the victim into my room. "Sorry that I don’t have a bunch of geek shit on the walls, I normally bring cool people over."

"To sleep with?" Ellie asks.

"Yeah, so?" I respond. "I’ve only slept with a few of them, so what? Least I’m not still a fucking virgin like you"

"I- I'm not a-" she starts, tripping over her own words.

I kick my shoes off and Ellie follows, watching my every move as though I was about to murder her. "Yeah fucking right, You don’t have to lie and tell me that you’ve slept with someone, I can tell you haven’t."

"How can you tell?"

"How can I tell? How can I tell?! I can tell by the way you’re shaking in your fucking shoes right now, bitch. Look at you. You don’t know whether to piss your pants or go blind." And I wasn't lying, the girl seriously was fucking pissing herself right now. Cute, but awfully pathetic. "It’s okay hun, everyone is nervous their first time! But it’s not like you’ll be doing any of the work."

Ellie lets out an awkward laugh."W- why?"

" I invited you over here because I’m gonna fuck that snarky, know it all, superiority complex right out of you....

... only if you really want me to."

"Do you want me to?" I ask, my hands softly feeling around her belt buckle. I get myself as close to her face as I can, inches away from shoving my tounge down her throat.

"Yes.." She softly whispered against my mouth, leaning in to kiss me before I pull back.

"You can be louder than that. I know you’ve got some big words in that head of yours, fucking use them."

"Pleaseee, please mommy please fuck me- fuck all this goddamn attitude right out of me- please."

My palm lightly slaps her cheek. "Good girl." I praise before kissing her, our lips interlocking and quickly moving into a deep passionate movement, our younger clashing against one another as she desperately maoans into my mouth. "This your first kiss, loser?" I ask as I pull away, latching myself onto her neck. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" And by the way she moans I can tell she does.

"You like when I kiss you neck... what about when I bite it?" I mumble before sinking my teeth into her flesh. She lets out a pornogroahic moan, head snapping up as she bites her lip to hold back another one. "God, listen to you... I could listen to you whine all day."

"Please..." Ellie groans against my skin.

"What was that?"

"Please touch me.."

"You want me to touch you...down here?" I say before lightly tracing my finger over her clothed slit. Ellie bucks her hips up in pleasure, trying to get more. "Keep still. I think I’d rather have you beg before I even think of laying a finger down there."

Ellie only reponds with incoherent phrases and moans as she tries to plead with me.

"My god, you are one desperate little loser, arent you? I'm not touching you until you beg for it like a little depraved loser."

"Please, please, I need you so fucking bad, my pussy needs you, I- I'm so wet- please.."

"That’s just not good enough, dyke. C’mon, you know I’m out of your league. And yet here I am being kind enough to stand in front of you. You should be on your fucking knees for me-" And in not even one second Ellie has immediately dropped to her knees and is softly pleading as she looks up at you with such sad, begging eyes.

"Woah, okay, taking that literally I see. Hm, I don’t know. I don’t think I should forgive you so easily, not with how much of a fucking brat you were being.

That being said, it is nice to see that you know your place. Begging me to touch you, It’s reallyyyy cute."

At this point Ellie looked like she was going to cream her pants, whimpering and panting like a fucking dog in heat. At any moment in looked like she would start humping the ground beneath me. "Your sooo pretty" is the only thing to come out of her mouth.

"God, you’re such a fucking loser. But you have such a pretty mouth, it would be a shame not to put it to good use.." I take a handful of her hair and pull it down so she could look at me better, admire me better.

"I'm gonna make you a deal, i'll let you eat me out." At this Ellies face radiated. "And if you do an especially good job, then maybe I'll touch you. If you don't- your not gonna fucking come. Okay?"

Ellie's head vigorously nodded up and down in acceptance, excitedly staring directly at my pants as I pull them down, revealing my glistening wet cunt to her. "You like my pussy? Quite the view isn’t it, nerd? You got me wet. Be proud of yourself.

And once I concluded with that scentence Ellie dived in, her tounge licking a stripe from my ass to my clit before stopping to softly suck on my bud.

"Oh- oh my fucking god.. fucking work that mouth whore.."

Her tounge lapped at me hurriedly, like it was her last meal. Like she was a woman starved. Maybe her malnourished figure was just a physical representation on how much pussy she was eating. Zero. Until now of course, until now where I have to tell her to slow down for a minute because she has no patience, just greedily slopping up my pussy juice like the stupid gay bitch she is. "Look at me, some fucking nerd is getting my fucking legs shaking. Guess anything really is possible, isn’t it?"

"Stupid fucking loser."

And with that I pulled her head off of my pussy, right before I could reach my climax. "Aww, look at that poor face. Did you want me to come all over your face? Poor girl." I fake pouted.

"Too bad, slut. But don’t worry. You did a good job, you get to make me cum while I fuck you. Oh, that made you smile, didn’t it?" Ellie shakes her head again without saying another word.

"Take your clothes off then, slut."

Ellie was sprawled out on the bed, pieces of baby hair clung to her sweat covered skin as she despratley moaned like the whore she was.

"Hollyyyy shit, your soo fucking right, brat." I breathed out as I shoved one finger and and out of her hole. "Look at you, squirming from just one finger. Your such a pervert."

Ellie can do nothing but agree, nodding her head and moaning. "More- please, I want more-"

"Hm? Touch you? You want me to touch you here baby?"

"You want me to just rest a finger on this pretty little pussy?"

"Wow, you’re eager. I guess you want me to touch it more?"

And with every single phrase you used meant to humilate her, Ellie simply build up her orgasm more and more. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.." she mewled.

"How does my hand feel, nerd? It feels good? It feels sooo good, I know." I can't help but laugh a bit maniacally as I thrust another finger inside her. "I wanna hear you say it."

"It.. feels.. so.. good..

.. so. good."

My fingers rapidly fuck into her cunt over and over again, making a mess drip down my hand. "What a pathetic little pervert.." with that comment Ellie's pussy sucks my fingers in so well, I can tell the phrase really got to her.

"Don’t pretend I didn’t feel this pussy twitch. You do love it when pretty girls are mean to you, don’t you?"

Don’t you?

"Yes-"

"God listen to that...You’re such a desperate loser. A desperate loser having the time of her fucking life. You’re sure you’re not a virgin, dyke?"

"Oh, god, that got you going didn’t it? Look at those hips move. You must really like it when some pretty girl makes you do whatever she wants. Is that what you want? To just do whatever pretty girls tell you to do and have them make fun of you? "

"What a stupid little dyke. I think that’s exactly what you want."

"Aren’t you glad you ran into me?"

"Fuck, me. You’re a loser, but my god are you one good girl."

And with that she snapped, coming completely undone as my fingers were completely drenched with her fluids, but I wasn't going to stop yet, I just couldn't.

"Maybe it���s not just any mean girl. Maybe it was me. Just me. You’ve probably wanted me to screw the brat out of you for such a long time. You’ve wanted me to fucking use you. To own you. Is that it baby? Is that what you want?"

Say it. I know you want to.

----------------------

a/n wait i lowk rlly like this

[h0neybane]

MAGIKEY (TWST AU) BY @quartztwst !!

im going to PASS AWAAAAYYYYY IM SOSO TIRED. BUT ITS DONE. but anyway, more on evelyn...

Evelyn [Magikey User "Luna Luceat"]

“Hurry up, I'm gonna pass out."

Evelyn is an 18 year old girl and has been a magical girl for 4 years, since she was 14. In her magical girl form, she comes off as mysterious and aloof... but she's really just thinking about going home. She has occasionally breached the top 10 of Magical popularity rankings, but she mostly tries to keep to herself, vanishing immediately after her work is done. Oftentimes, she finished things so quick that the public is unaware.

A quiet, sleepy girl who is jaded from her years as a magical girl.

Status:

Mental/Emotional Strength: ★★★★☆ (She's hard to crack since she's used to her job, but her constant exhaustion can become a vulnerability if left untreated for too long.)

Physical Strength: ★★★☆☆ (She's moderately strong as her staff is fairly hefty, and she does swing with it sometimes.)

Stamina: ★★☆☆☆ (This girl is tired as FUCK LMFAO. She uses her little floating platform to move because she doesn't want to actually run.)

Strategy: ★★★★★ (Evelyn is very calculated with her moves as her goal is to get the job done as fast as possible to go home and SLEEP.)

Strengths: Evelyn is very experienced and keeps a close eye on all of her teammates, making sure they can operate effectively. She is especially strong during the nighttime in a full moon.

Weaknesses: Evelyn is constantly exhausted because she only works during the nighttime as that is when her powers are most effective. A daytime attack would leave her extremely vulnerable.

Evelyn lives with her little brother in their childhood home. Their parents are usually overseas on business trips, so they don't see them in person very often. Evelyn's brother is aware that she works during the night time, but doesn't know that she's a magical girl.

Evelyn grew up very sheltered, being homeschooled by tutors hired by her parents. She was very lonely and she didn't really speak to her brother. She accumulated a massive amount of hobbies to pass time, one of those being gazing at the moon on her balcony, wishing for something to change.

Her wish was granted the night of her 14th birthday, with her magikey falling into her hands after gazing at the moon for the nth time. She eagerly and naively accepted, thinking that this was everything she hoped for.

Unfortunately, she soon came to realize that the nature of her abilities forced her to be sleep deprived if she wanted to do anything much outside of being a magical girl. After her second year of being a magical girl, her enthusiasm fully died, and now she just tries to get by until she can go home. (she still really likes her outfit though, LOL)

After a shift as a magical girl, Evelyn will usually rush inside a convience store, grab snacks, pay and bolt home. She hates staying for overtime even by 5 minutes... though, she's willing to grab some stuff for her brother if he asks for it.

Evelyn is technically enrolled in theMagikey Training School, but she rarely shows up to classes. If she does, she's usually sleeping in them, though she doesn't mind a chance to show off once in a while. The instructors tend to leave her alone whenever this happens, as they're aware of how hard she works.

She does try to be nice towards her juniors though. She fetches them treats once in a while.

uncharted lore territory!! i didnt watch madoka magica or anything so idk if this fits in at all so im warning in advance lol. this is adjacent to evelyn's ACTUAL lore within the original canon twst, which is why it's here. i will make a separate post explaining further later on

Evelyn has a secret. One that isn't her being a magical girl. She has not told crowley, nor any of her magical colleagues, and she does not intend to— at least not for now. However, this secret does leave her susceptible to... negative feelings.

tag list!

@taruruchi @honeyedpearcrushh @boopshoops @scint1llat3

@h2llish @viperbunnies @buttholesparkles @oya-oya-okay @cheerleaderman

@qsoap @angelwishess @jadelover69 @skriblee-ksk @lychee-face

[icearts]

Nobody is talking about how Angeal and Sephiroth are exact opposites in EC and it's making me unwell so I'm gonna dump it.

Have some pictures of their 2D renders for fun

Prepare yourself, this rant is a little long (but don't worry there's visual aids)

There's more obvious tells out there, like their body language and overall postures, Angeal is generally more open and Sephiroth is generally more guarded.

However, notably, this carries into how they hold their weapons throughout all of their appearances, even in Crisis Core

Fair warning, my source is multiple Google articles so prepare for some inaccuracy and uncertainty. Feel free to correct me.

Sephiroth carries his sword in an ox guard, which has the purpose of intimidating your opponent while also having the sword protect your vital organs.

Angeal's sword is held in a plow guard, which operates a bit like a fool's guard (I actually thought it was one at first), making yourself look more open to attacks to Provoke an enemy into coming in. Unlike the fools guard, the plow guard gives you a quicker maneuverability to strike first once the opponent comes in.

This is really important for their fighting styles, as Sephiroth is quick and deadly, meanwhile Angeal (i think the game refers to his character type as a Provoke Tank) always stands somewhat in front of Seohiroth and tries to draw in hits, acting as a shield. They have the sword and shield dynamic

BUT ITS ALSO RELEVANT TO THEIR PERSONALITIES you see Sephiroth acts cold and bitter, trying to keep people at arm's length, especially raw after EC Part 1 where he and his past friends had a Not Great Time (I won't give the recap sorry it'll take too long and I'm laser focused rn). Anyways, Sephiroth, much like his stance, tries to intimidate people into staying back. He will not let himself look vulnerable to attacks.

Meanwhile, Angeal is more open and friendly, taking Sephiroth's briskness and impoliteness in stride. He's open and welcoming even when Sephiroth's defense is his offense.

They're also both well trained with swords, so they can probably infer a lot about each other's personalities through how they hold their blade. Angeal seeing Sephiroth as someone who is guarded and closed off, avoiding getting hurt by being the first to lash out. Sephiroth views Angeal as being too open and vulnerable, and may even have a presumption that, like his fool's guard, Angeal is baiting Sephiroth into getting close enough that he can attack him the second he's open. It's good shit.

Next up: the weird purple-vignetted dreams they get in EC

So there's some spooky shenanigans going on in this story. I have my own predictions as to what's going on, but for future's sake, at the time of writing this is am only 2 chapters in. I'll try to be more direct to context and then provide my future game predictions at the end. Cool? Cool.

So we know based on canon that Sephiroth's dream isn't a memory, or an event or anything like that. So by process of elimination, Angeal's is the same way. Plus

Little confirmation here that Angeal always felt unable to care for his parents, which hurts me so bad btw. Anyways, analysis time.

Sephiroth fantasizes about being cared for and reassured. He wants to know what it's like for someone to love him unconditionally, he cannot even imagine the possibility. This dream shows him exactly that, his mother making him food and telling him she's always been there for him and they've always has this. In the dream, he believes it although is confused by conflicting memories. She's momentarily able to convince him that he is cared for and loved by her. In reality, he's never met his mother (her name isn't Jenova either, but that's a story for another day).

Angeal fantasizes about being to care for others. He wants to help his village, create a strong community, care for his parents and make it so they do not have to work so hard. He wants everyone to feel safe, secure, and rested and he is willing to carry all of the work on his shoulders to the best of his ability. His dream shows him doing exactly that, which based on the falsehood of Sephiroth's dream, means it's a false memory and he never was able to care for his parents for whatever reason. Really hopeful the game will tell us soon. Maybe he did try but it wasn't enough. Maybe he was weak because they didn't have enough food. Who knows.

Also, for context, Tetsuya Nomura (FF7 director) did confirm that Angeal's father has a chronic illness and died shortly after Angeal joined SOLDIER, after having worked himself to death. So Angeal dreaming of these memories of helping his dad to support his grateful but guilty mother is likely very much influenced by a sense of grief or guilt.

Then in the next chapter, these dreams happen again.

The Banorans obviously either did not make this promise or did not act on it, seeing the state Angeal's family is in in Crisis Core, his dad having worked himself to death when he was a young recruit and his mother being in a very grief-stricken and detached state.

So this plays into how they view the world. Sephiroth longs for someone to protect him from the world he's observed to be cruel and cold. He mentions this in dialogue talking about how they world views anything different as a monster. Even SOLDIERs to which Angeal promises himself that he'll help Sephiroth see that people are not all like that.

Sephiroth is jaded and distant to protect himself, as he thinks the world will turn on him in a moment's notice. Angeal, however, holds an optimistic worldview. He believes people want to help each other and everyone wants to help each other to the best of their ability.

So they're very much opposites, but they're also exactly what each other needs. Angeal needs to feel needed and helpful, protecting people who trust and depend on him. He is friends with every SOLDIER, able to recognize them at a first glance (ironically he does not do this for Alissa but I may wait to share my theories about her). Sephiroth is guarded but secretly longs to be cared for. See where I'm going with this?

So based on how these dreams are going, they're definitely being influenced by some kind of force or another. Personally I think it's Jenova itself, as Jenova has the power to do this and to transform things into projections of loved ones in order to garner their trust (much like Kadaj does in The Kids are Alright). My prediction for where the climax of this story is gonna go is that Angeal is going to have to protect Sephiroth from these visions, and Sephiroth learns that unconditional love can come from friendship and camaraderie, not just maternity. It's gonna be great. I have entire scenes mapped out in my head about this.

They're a sword and shield, Sephiroth being quick to strike and Angeal always being there to defend. It's one of my favorite dynamics ever. Their appearances also contrast, most notably in their hair color.

They both have a resigned acceptance about the implausibility of their fantasies. Sephiroth does not have a mother to care for him, and Angeal cannot save everyone. The foil of their dynamic is so magnetic it hurts. I will scream if I see Angeal make pumpkin soup for Sephiroth in the future.

My rants getting distracted so I'll cut it off here. Merry Crisis

[consultingfujoshi]

everyone else is giving their take on this so I feel as if I should too. I am angry about burt and irving now having two almost-kisses and them still finding a reason for them to never close that gap. like, yea it makes narrative sense that neither of those scenes contained a kiss, it's compelling even, if I view it objectively I actually love that because I care deeply about these characters and want them to be written realistically and with nuance.

but I am not gonna sit here and pretend that I'm fine with how this compares to the straight couples that have had so much more this season. if burt and irving's story existed in a bubble where markhelly and all the rest didn't serve as points of comparison I don't think I'd be half as upset at the way this ended. I'd be able to appreciate the impact of their being unable to kiss TWICE now in different universes because of forces outside of their control without looking across at every. single. other. couple. who are all straight. and going. why do they get that and we don't. why is it only the gay couple that have to be written "realistically" where they're still not ready to kiss. why can allowances and indulgences be made for dramatic effect for EVERYONE except them. I don't know if it's intentional homophobia, or queerbait, or if they're really just that squeamish about the idea of two old men kissing each other, but the double standard is there no matter the motivation behind it. and when you combine that with irving's innie being effectively killed off four episodes into the second season, and now his outie potentially written out of the show too, all I'm saying is it becomes hard to give them the benefit of the doubt.

we're all aware john turturro may not return for another season and that's why they felt the need to wrap up irving's two storylines somehow so they weren't left on a loose end should he decide not to come back, and I get that, and I'm glad there was some sense of finality to it, but then why not allow us just this one thing. just one moment of indulgence. because it might actually be our, and their, last chance. would it have killed them to just let them kiss this one time if there was a chance we'd never see them again, a chance they'd never see each other again. the truth is, no, it wouldn't have been hard at all. but they still made the decision to withhold that. because they can't allow us or them even the most basic kindness whilst handing the straight couples everything on a silver platter.

I'm not gonna get into the pacing issues of their relationship this season, how we jumped from them shyly asking each other out on another date to burt carrying out the hit on irving, how there feels like a missing scene in between those two events, because that relates to a wider problem with the structure of the show itself that is beyond the scope of this criticism. but i think it's telling that rather than giving us that extra time with them, they took a whole episode away from our main cast where even cobel got to kiss a one off male character that we will never hear from or see of again, and the supposed flagship romance of season 1 can't even get that. at what point am I allowed to call that thing in the corner that looks, acts, and talks like a duck a fucking duck?

if it sounds like I'm bitter, and jealous, it's because I am. because whether or not the double standard is intentional or not, it's still there. and I really did think a show that was able to present such special, compelling, meaningful queer characters would be a little more self aware about the message they're sending. and it fucking sucks that this has become just another show where I have to swallow my frustration and accept that they're not writing this for me. I and my fellow queer audience will never be the priority. even now we are still begging for scraps

[collectivephilosopher]

ARCANE WASTED POTENTIAL (PART 6)

(An analysis of Arcane's missed opportunity and what could have been. The title might be a little confusing but since I've started by it, I've decided to stuck with it to avoid anyone feeling gaslighted :p)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

About Vi and the enforcer.

To be frank, I'm not against the idea at all. I knew she was a cop in the game so I figured she will be too in S2.

Didn't think they'll botch it but sure.

I made a post asking for anyone's opinion about Vi becoming a cop, specifically in act 1:

See the post here

And from there I can take some points as to most people's problem with this topic.

1. It could work but it was not handled well. I thought people would be against the idea altogether but I was wrong.

2. Vi's shift to my sister is gone was not shown/too fast.

3. Vi feeling sympathy for the councils makes no sense. And if the point was that she was feeling sympathy for Caitlyn instead, it still not believeable enough that she would wear the uniform of her oppressor.

As for me, mostly I agree with this reblog.

It would be believeable that she was guilt tripped into joinning the enforcer in act 1.

I do like the fact that Vi looked awkward and clearly doesn't really want to wear an enforcer outfit in episode 2. That character point was fine. The problem is whatever happened that leads to it.

1. The Jinx part

I agree that it's so jarring that Vi so quickly decided on her sister is gone. Even if this is a character trait (however you want to spin that), we need to see what lead Vi to this conclusion. Aka not having it happened off screen.

You can say Vi stopped seeing Jinx as her sister in the end of season 1 but like... why? Jinx never said they're not sisters anymore. Jinx just said they both have changed.

Even so again, I need to see the innerworking of Vi's mind. Show me her lamenting about Jinx, thinking about her sister for once because all the scene before that is Vi looking at Caitlyn and looking sad/guilty (which I will discuss more in the next part).

2. The councilors part

This is yes, I agree too. Why the hell is Vi feeling bad about dead council? Just in S1 she watched Jayce (accidentally) killed a child and her reaction was showing Jayce her knowledge about the reality of the shit happened in Zaun. She's aware of the councilors' doing. Like, it doesn't have to be her, just look at other Zaunites. No one gives a shit about the councilors dying (they give too much no shit in fact that it became another problem which i will not discuss here) and from episode 4 we know that Zaunites will jump at the chance if they have the strength like Jinx.

Mind you, Vi ending up in stillwater is because the councilors wanted a pound of flesh for Piltover (whether Marcus' doing or whatever lead to that).

"Oh she's feeling bad for Caitlyn not the councilors."

Okay but still not enough. Not enough for her to suddenly think her sister is gone, not enough for her to accept the badge. And it was true. Vi rejected the badge.

Until like, the memorial attack. I don't really get Vi's line of thinking here.

First, she really should be stoned that pilties have funerals and a fucking memorial. Second, I guess she feels bad for that one crying child...? Third, she accepted the badge because caitlyn said,

"Everywhere I slice it, if I go after your sister alone, one of us comes back in a box. It's all coming apart."

So what Caitlyn is saying is basically if she goes after Jinx alone, either Jinx or she will die. And she won't know which one will happen. And Vi's response was... I'll help you... to... what...? To make sure it's my sister who died instead...? I guess at this point she doesn't see Jinx as sister anymore... so... okay man.

3. The Zaun part

I need to see more of the grey too. First we're not gonna discuss Caitlyn's usage of the grey because I'm honestly tired of it. But I need to see how Caitlyn convinced Vi to do it to Zaun. Vi should know about the air quality down there. She grew up with it. But I guess the arguments is that they only use it against "criminals" and they "deserve" it. Y'know, if we ignore how gas works.

My quick fix to this is honestly? Just make Jinx go through with her promise of war. Make Jinx terrorize Piltover more. Make her bombed more enforcers daily. If the attack has not stopped, it would convince Vi more to stop Jinx. It would also help shaping Zaun's image of Jinx.

I don't usually bring League's lore but In Lol Jinx is the mad bomber that Zaunites have mixed feelings on. On one side she put Piltover on their place but on the other side, she also have hurt Zaunites too.

I'm not gonna talk too much about Jinx here since I'm gonna discuss about her in my next post.

And honestly about the entire Vi being an enforcer thing would've make so much better sense if the show showed us Piltover on interpersonal level. As in, showing us what it is like to be normal piltie, not just the high standing houses. The most we get is Jayce who was a toolmaker and Viktor who was a Zaunite living in Piltover. What about other piltovians? We were not shown them as individual but rather a system. And as a system, yes, they are in the wrong.

Enforcers too were only shown as monsters (in S1) and incompetent (in S2) except for caitlyn. We were never shown other type of people who joined the enforcer because let's be real here, they can't just be a collective group of monster.

And you know what? Thinking about that I can't think of any worst wasted potential than these guys:

First, why are they in the show if the show isn't going to expand more on them? I talked about how Isha's potential was wasted as narrative tool for Jinx's character arc but these guys are way worse because they don't provide any function for Vi's character arc.

The most they do is Maddie being Caitlyn's rebound and Noxus' spy. (But let's be for real, that happened just because the writter wants a "third person in a relationship" character to be hated on.

My poor sweet summer child was made to be hated and cheered when killed.

Oh hey it rhymed

Seriously we don't know their back story, their motivation as enforcer, their feelings, something that made them human. Scratch that, fish guy Steb doesn't even have a line.

Why were they even chosen to be in this super elite team? Hell Maddie was just a junior officer.

My quick fix to this is to just make them all Caitlyn's trusted friends or something. That'll give Caitlyn a motivation to choose them.

Imagine if these guys actually have a character. Imagine that they're actually super excited to hunt down Jinx because Jinx is this hot topic myth amongst the enforcer at the moment. Imagine if Loris joined the enforcer because he was from the undercity or knows someone from the undercity, or just someone close to him really, who were hurt by the mobs down there so he thought joinning the enforcer will make the undercity a "safer place". Imagine if Steb is actually Caitlyn's senior had it not been for Caitlyn's "DeCorATeD OfFiCer" thing and he had a brother who was falsely accused and was thrown in stillwater (SOMEONE would certainly relate to it) so now he joined the enforcer to reform the system but he's struggling. Maddie could openly have a crush on Caitlyn and her and Vi could bond together in that topic, idk. LITERALLY ANYTHING.

I honestly can't think of any other way of Vi's character to progress as enforcer (alright to be fair they did drop enforcer vi plot in the middle) without going with the Attack on Titan route.

Eren came to his enemy's land expecting to see devils. But he then he ate the same food as his enemies, sleep in the same bed and live in the same roof and he realized they're not devils but humans. Children who has been taught doctrines about their enemies. He understand that and still he chose to be a monster and kill all of them.

This could've been Vi's route. That she thinks oh not all of them is bad. There are normal people too like me. People who were working, struggling to make ends. People who are trying to fight, to make the system better.

Now with this information, Vi can then CHOOSE for herself (despite the maybe her rocky guilt tripped start as an enforcer). Whether she'll think these people don't deserve the grief and terror Jinx brings upon them OR she could even think of how these people, struggling as they were, still have ten times better lifestyle than Zaunite. And she can chose to go back to Zaun. But by then it'll be Vi's decision.

[littelovelunette]

can you do a fic where reader starts losing a lot of hair out of nowhere and her confident is completely gone and she thinks she’s the ugliest thing in the world and vi tries to help her through it

It's Just Stress, Babe

Vi x Stressed!Reader

"Baby," your voice was quiet when you stepped out of the bathroom, you had just shampooed your hair and dried it. The bathroom counter was as messy as ever, and the little tangles of your hair was everywhere.

"Yes?" Vi looked up from her phone, she was leaned on the wall when she looked at you with her curious blue eyes.

"Look," you stepped out of the bathroom, and started walking towards her, "I'm going bald."

"What? C'mere, let me see," Vi said, extending her hands for you to come but then suddenly you changed your mind.

What if Vi did see the hair loss and she decided she was moving out? Being with someone with nicer and healthier hair and leaving you to rot in the tangles of your own hair?

"No, I look ugly," you said and bolted back in the bathroom, locking the door behind yourself.

"What the hell are you even saying?"Vi scoffed, trying the knob but it was locked, "Come out, let me see,"

"I look hideous," you said, looking in the mirror, "I should probably start wearing a hat."

"That's ridiculous," Vi snorted, "Open the door, angel, I'll break it if you don't,"

"Don't you dare, we've been through two doors already. You broke the first one because you were horny and you wanted shower sex but I didn't and—" you started listing off your fingers.

"—and the second one because you were gonna get a toothache eating all those sweets," Vi finished the sentence for you, crossing her muscular arms, "Trust me, you don't wanna make this the third one labelled 'I got too insecure about my hair loss so Vi broke the door down to stop me from going on a self degradation parade'. Open the damn door."

"I hate you," You mumbled as you opened the door reluctantly.

"Whatever you say, princess, let me take a look now," Vi stepped into the bathroom, looking at the messy countertop. She grimaced.

"Already regretting openin' the door," you said seeing the expression Vi made at the mess.

"I'm gonna take all the locks out, I swear."

"You wouldn't."

"How are you so sure of that?"

"That's not the point!"

"Yeah, okay, okay, geez."

Vi looked at your hair, examining it with her slender fingers before taking a step back to look at your face.

"Your hair looks just fine," she said simply.

"No, it doesn't, look!" You flattered your hair to show her the barely visible forming bald patch.

"Yeah, well, you're just having hair fall, that's quite normal," Vi said reasonably.

"No, it's not!" You snapped, feeling the tears already appearing behind your eyes.

"Okay, okay, it's not," Vi pulled you close in a loose embrace, hand lacing through your hair lovingly before she pressed a kiss on the top of your head, "It's okay," she whispered, "It's just stress, okay?"

"Mhm..." You hummed.

"Look at me," Vi cupped your face with both hands.

"It's just stress, you're still so goddamn beautiful, okay?" Vi's thumbs rubbed your cheeks soothingly, a soft smile appearing on your lips.

"Mhm," you giggled a little, Vi smiled too.

"Good girl."

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

A quick look at the Splatoon 3 Version 9.3 changes!

(credit to Lewyn4k on bluesky!)

I'm a bit late with this one, all the Splatubers have already gotten their patch note explanation videos out, but this is a really interesting patch so I wanted to go through it and give my thoughts!

Let's start with the Main Weapon changes:

Sploosh, Splattershot Jr., Aerospray and Dapple Dualies have all had their shot velocity increased by 3%, which confers a slight range increase as well (because if your bullets travel faster they get further before they start to drop!). I don't think this solves any of these weapons' most pressing issues, but let's not look that gift horse in the mouth. Gift seahorse?

N-ZAP is now a little bit more accurate and moves a little bit faster while shooting, which makes it in line with the Mini Splatling in terms of strafe speed. Keep in mind that this value is multiplicative with Tacticooler, since it maxes out your Run Speed, so Zap's gonna be really zooming now!

Nova's had its' jump RNG decreased by 33%, which is a big change numerically, but I don't think it amounts to very much. Nova's still incredibly inaccurate as a baseline needs to hit five shots to kill, so t his doesn't do anything real for it, I think.

Big Swig's vertical flick hitbox is now slightly bigger. For some reason it used to have a more narrow vertical flick than the other Rollers, but this change should likely but it more in line with the rest.

Painbrush's delay between swings has been reduced by about 2 frames, which is a small but not insignificant change. While Painbrush can two-shot, it's much more likely to splat in three or even four shots due to its damage falloff, and with this buff those will now be 6 and 8 frames faster, respectively. This buff also means that painbrush paints better, too!

Mini and Heavy Splatling both had their charge time reduced by 2 frames for the first ring and 3 frames for the second for a total of a 5 frame faster full charge. Mini now gets a full charge in 27 frames (less than half a second!) while Heavy gets a full charge in 72. Additionally Heavy had its firing duration increased by 11%, which means it fires for roughly two and two thirds of a second. Some nice changes for weapons that were honestly pretty good already!

Splat Dualies' bullets are now a bit bigger making them easier to hit. This does not increase their paint or anything like that, and it does not affect your shots fired while sitting after a dodge roll. This is actually a reversion of a nerf they got in late Splatoon 2! Splat Dualies were already really good with a stellar kit in the form of Suction Bomb/Crab Tank, and I don't think this moves the needle much, but hey, can't complain!

Recycled Brella gets a paint buff and a 14% ink efficiency buff. "Slightly" is doing a lot of work here, because the actual increase is somewhere in the ballpark of 27%! Recycled paint was mediocre on a good day, so it's well deserved. The ink efficiency buff also means that it gets two more shots on a full tank, which combined with the painting buff means it might just get a decent amount of Specials, of which it has two pretty good to pick from. All in all a big win for Recycling fans!

Snipewriter gets its' second paint nerf, and while they didn't put a number here datamining's shown that it roughly translates to a 5% paint decrease. Not nothing, but it'll probably be fine, though this is not the only nerf the pen is getting this patch as we'll see in a bit.

And for the final Main Weapon change of the patch it's Decavitator's turn on the chopping block, the dash slash now takes 2 more frames to start, going from 8 to 10 frames, while its paint's been reduced by 12%.

I actually really quite like these changes because while I like Decav a lot it's always been a bit overtuned, and these nerfs reduce some of those aspects while still retaining the most fun and interesting aspects of the weapon, the big hitbox and high damage. This is a very good approach, I'd say.

There's no Sub Weapon changes this patch (boo! buff angle shooter and toxic mist already!) so before we continue to Special changes let's take a look at the points for Special changes:

Snipewriter joins Squeezer and Sloshing Machine in the 220p club, and S-BLAST is paying the price for its recent competitive popularity, having risen in usage quite a lot after the Ranged Blaster nerfs last year. Not much else to note here, I think.

So now, let's talk about Special Weapons, and this is where the juice is this patch.

Ultra Stamp had its thrown mode damage numbers changed around quite a lot, having its instant splat radius massively increased while its outer splash damage radius had its damage doubled. To show you what this means in practice, well...

If Ultra Stamp would paint your feet with its explosion, you get evaporated. This is a big buff, making thrown Ultra Stamps a genuine threat that you need to be on the lookout for facing a weapon that has one.

So is Ultra Stamp as bad as Trizooka now? I don't think so, and it's for a couple of reasons. For one Ultra stamp takes more time to activate and throw than it takes to get your first Trizooka shot out, making it easier to react to. It also can't arc around obstacles the way Trizooka bullets can with their weird spiraling trajectory. Also, you only get one shot, when you've thrown your hammer it's all you get. And the final nail in the Trizooka comparison is that, well...

Trizooka gets a major nerf this patch, essentially getting the reverse change of Ultra Stamp. Roughly the outer half of the splash radius was changed to deal 35 damage from 53, so the person using it has to be pretty precise to get meaningful damage onto people now. They also decreased the duration from 6 seconds to 5.5 seconds, so you've gotta get those shots out fast!

And finally, Triple Splashdown paints 11% more. This change is a help in Splat Zones in particular, as Triple Splashdown actually painted surprisingly little given the three explosions, but now it'll paint enough to flip some zones on its own with no Special Power Up. It's not as good for this as Reefslider since you have to actually be in the zone as you start the Special, but utility is utility!

While we're all done with weapon changes, there's still some Stage changes, specifically to Tri-Color Turf War stages specifically:

To demonstrate the layout changes, here are some images courtesy of diamcreeper24 on twitter and Inkipedia. Old layout on left, new on right:

These stages, Bluefin in particular, were some of most imbalanced in terms of attacker/defender win/loss ratio, hence why they got changes.

And that's the patch! Overall I like the changes, but I do hope that in the future we see a bigger focus on buffing weaker Subs and Specials, as the biggest problem a lot of weapons have is not that their Mains are weak, but that they are hard to justify because of bad Subs and Specials. That said the Ultra Stamp change is a good start, here's hoping for something similarly drastic for Wave Breaker,

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Enemies to lovers tom riddle prefect x gryffindor!reader prefect

I'm gonna do this in a headcannons style bc i want to

You two were rivals the moment grades started coming back in the first year and you both were tied for the top marks

Tom would always strive to be perfect. Always wanted to be the best. And with you sitting there right beside him with top marks, ohhhh, he hated that.

He would try sabotaging you, like adding a wrong ingredient to your potion, or distracting you when it was your turn to try a spell.

And once you caught on, you would try the same.

It didn't get any better throughout the years, even when you both became prefects.

You both had to perform a lot of duties together, like watching the halls after curfew and helping first years and even helping decorate the school for the holidays.

No matter what you two did, it was always snarky comments and insults thrown back and forth.

So, it really did come as a surprise when you were assigning detention to some 5th year and they started insulting you, specifically calling you a 'bitch' and 'asshole', that Tom came to your defense.

He never would call you any of those words, his insults were a little more mild, but a lot more passionate.

So when Tom heard the boy call you that, he didn't even think before stepping between you two and asking the boy to repeat when he said.

Within 30 seconds, the boy had points taken from his house, even more detention and walked off with his tail between his legs.

You just kinda stood there stunned for a moment before thanking him. He just muttered something about not treating a lady like that before walking away.

It took a few more months, and a long day decorating the Great Hall for the holidays together before he finally confessed that he didn't hate you, he just hated how you made him feel after some probing from you.

You made him feel inferior at times, or at least even, and he didn't like that. He liked feeling better. He wanted that after his childhood. He didn't want people looking down on him because he was an orphan. He felt he had to prove that he was better than them and he wasn't defined by his past.

He admitted he like how you never treated him different because of that. You never babied him. You treated him like an equal.

He'd never apologize for the things he did. But, you wouldn't either. You both were too prideful. So this was as close to an apology you would get from him.

You'd admit you liked the competition and he would laugh, teasing you for how typical that was of Gryffindors. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn't help the smile from seeing him laugh for once.

As you were both leaving the Great Hall after finishing decorating, the other prefects pointed out how you both went under the mistletoe. He refused to kiss you, but you pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked off, letting him play off how flustered that made him.

Maybe this was the beginning of something between you two...

Taglist:

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@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121

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@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer @cminoko

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed during the press conference on media day, australia - march 13, 2025 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, can I start with you? The switch to Ferrari has been huge news all winter. Can I ask you about your first race vibes? How different is the experience here in Melbourne now, compared to when you joined Mercedes in 2013; even when you joined McLaren back in 2007?" Lewis: "Good afternoon, everyone. It's good to see everybody. Yeah, naturally it's… I'm very, very fortunate I've had this amazing career in Formula 1, and starting with McLaren here in 2007 was an epic feeling, and then starting with a new team again with Mercedes was, again, incredibly special. I think this is very reminiscent, probably, of my first year. I think for all those years I've gone up and down the paddock looking and seeing the red garage, and now I'm actually in the red garage, so it's a real nice feeling." Interviewer: "Quick word on the car? Is it one that inspires confidence?" Lewis: "Yeah, so far I definitely feel so. The first few days we've had in running, obviously three days in the car, but difficult to know where we stand with everyone else. But we just try to keep our heads down and just focus on our job. Carlos was incredibly quick, Kimi was really quick. It was difficult to know who's where. Looks like it's going to be close between us all. But for me, I've been just itching to get going, I guess. It's been a long time coming, and to think that this is gonna be my first grand prix… One of those other firsts with the team. As I experience that all through the year, it's pretty… I feel very honored and very grateful to have the opportunity."

[time jump] Journalist: "David Croft, Sky Sports F1. Kimi, Lewis, Carlos, great to see you back again. Lewis, you're smiling and you're in red, and it just kind of looks good and it feels good, I'm sure. But every Ferrari driver feels the expectation and the pressure. How are you turning that pressure into pleasure? 'Cause you look like you're loving every second." Lewis: "Yeah, I mean, firstly I'm smiling just 'cause looking at this youngster here, you know, and just happy for him. He's doing so well and conducting himself so well. And taking that first leap and getting that first opportunity to be in Formula 1, it's so, so special, and I know how many years of dedication it would have taken for him to… Obviously he's starting four years earlier than I was. You're eighteen now, huh?" Antonelli: "Yeah." [laughs] Lewis: [laughs] "Yeah, jeez. So [laughs] it's just exciting to see, so that's what I was initially smiling at. And then the other part is, yeah, I don't… I've not approached this role with… I think just, always through the years, the pressure that I've put on myself has always been ten times higher than any other pressure that can be put upon me, and I think I've not joined this team and been made to feel any pressure. I have an expectation for myself; I know what I can bring, I know I can deliver, I know what it's gonna take to do that, and it's just getting your head down and working away. So I come with a very open mind, coming into this weekend. It is about getting into a season, it's about getting into a good rhythm. As I said a while ago, still learning this new car that's quite a lot different to what I've driven for all of my previous career, in the sense of the Mercedes power. Coming to Ferrari power, it's something quite new. Different vibration, different feel, differernt way of working. The whole team works completely differently. I was just sitting, looking at the race trace from last year, and it's upside down compared to [laughs] the previous ones. I'm, like, looking at it from what I've…" Sainz: [unintelligible] Lewis: "Same for you?" Sainz: "Yeah, I don't understand…" Lewis: "Don't understand it at all. I'm like… [laughs] So you're looking at things all in from a different perspective, which makes it exciting and challenging, so… This is the most exciting period of my life, and so I'm really just enjoying it and I'm so excited to get in the car tomorrow."

[time jump] Lewis: "I completely forgot what the question was." Interviewer: "What are your objectives for this season?" Lewis: "Yeah, well, I think… I mean, Carlos was answering it pretty well, so I was kind of following him, thinking he's taking all the words out of my mouth, really. I think, as he was saying, joining a new team, the sooner you can get to performing at the high level and getting results, the better, but inevitably there is a transition period and there is a foundation that's needed to be built. And I'm sure both of us, that's what we've been doing over the past couple of months. And the first half of the season really is kind of… It is that foundation building; those relationshpis, the trust you're building with absolutely every single person within the team that you get to work in. And it's not something you just step into the door and trust and respect is… Whilst respect is given, trust is something that's built over time. I think, for me, of course I mean the goal is to win and the goal is to take the team forwards. I've had some not so spectacular years, and trying to see if I can have a better year than I have the last three. And yeah, there'll be lots of factors which can add to that."

[time jump] Journalist: "More or less, this question is to Lewis: After a lot of attention and expectation that have been created in these days around you and the team, after this weekend, you will be happy if…?" Lewis: "Huh?" Sainz: [unintelliglble] Lewis: [laughs] "Yeah, it'll definitely help to be in the top ten. [laughs, reporters laughing] Well, I mean… I don't remember where I finished here last time. You guys won it. I don't think it was that great." Sainz: "You didn't win." Lewis: "No, I didn't win. You won. I know, you won. [laughs] Yeah, what would I be happy with coming away this weekend? I don't know. As I said, I don't have expectations. I just ultimately wanna come away knowing that I've given it absolutely everything and I've excelled in the way that I know I can, that I felt comfortable in the car, and just one foot in front of the other. So I don't know what that means in results, but of course we won't know 'til tomorrow whereabouts we truly stand within the top teams, but I'm hoping that we're able to compete for the top five, so [laughs] somewhere in that space."