#it sucks because i feel like part 7 was really expressive early on and then they kinda just have blank stare model faces by the end

[shoechoe]

The eyes and lips are definitely consistently my favorite part of Jojo's art styles. Very pretty. I always really like the detailed shots where you can see them in full quality.

There has always been a particular allure to me with the way faces are drawn in Jojo- especially the manga. It gives it a very serene and delicate feeling which is interesting for a fighting series. I'd even say this about parts 1-3 to an extent despite everyone being hulkish and otherwise hyper-masculine.

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part Two

Summary: Working with Logan means you have to accept constantly getting the short end of the stick; it means discovering things about yourself you didn't ever expect. Still, despite dealing with all of this, you two make a pretty good team.

PART ONE PART THREE

Warnings: bickering, graphic descriptions, canon-level violence, revelations WC: 8.2k - MASTERLIST

----

"Alright, you’ve slept long enough."

You're jolted awake by a rough tug on the covers, the sudden chill of the morning air hitting you like a slap in the face. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and you squint up at the figure looming over you.

Logan, with his perpetually grumpy expression, stands there with an annoyed look, as if your very act of sleeping is a personal offense.

You groan and sit up, the duvet still tangled around your legs, as you blearily glance at the small bedside clock on the rickety nightstand. The red numbers blink back at you: 7:00 AM. “Seriously?” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with one hand, your other still clutching the edge of the bed. “It’s way too early for this. Can’t I get a few more minutes?”

His eyes narrow, not even a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. He rolls his eyes as if to say, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ and crosses his arms over his chest. "You look fine to me," he says flatly, his voice dripping with impatience.

Throwing the covers back with more force than necessary, you let out an exaggerated sigh. The cold floor sends a shiver up your spine as your bare feet make contact with it. "What’s the rush?" you ask, your tone sharp with irritation as you glare up at him. "You’re acting like we’ve got a deadline."

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a telltale glint in his eye that betrays him. It’s subtle, but you catch it—a fleeting spark of amusement that makes you think he’s secretly enjoying riling you up. Suddenly he turns and heads toward the makeshift kitchen in the corner of the warehouse and pulls a piece of bread out of an ancient toaster, the appliance looking like it’s barely functioning.

Without warning, Logan flicks his wrist, and the piece of bread comes flying at you. The movement is so fast and precise that you barely have time to react. It’s only thanks to your heighten reflexes that your hand shoots out to catch the bread mid-air. You stare at it, bewildered, the heat from the toast seeping into your palm.

"What’s this for?" you ask, still confused and a little off-kilter from the morning's whirlwind of events.

He raises an eyebrow. "Fuck does it look like? Eat up."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth as you take a bite of the slightly burnt toast. “You know," you mumble between bites, "you could’ve just handed it to me like a normal person."

"Where’s the fun in that?" he shoots back, a rare, almost genuine grin tugging at his lips as he watches you chew. There’s a moment of silence as you both settle into the morning routine, the tension easing just a bit.

As you finish the toast, you can’t help but glance up at Logan, who’s now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression.

"You wanna know why I really woke you up so early?" he asks, his voice low and direct.

"Why? Because you’re secretly a morning person who loves watching the sunrise?"

Logan snorts, clearly unimpressed with your sarcasm. "No, because your fighting form is shit"

You gape, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "Excuse me?"

He doesn’t let up, leaning in a bit closer. "Yeah, you heard me. When we were fightin’, you were all over the place. If you’re gonna be any use out there today, you’ll need some pointers. So for a bit this morning, we’re gonna train."

"You woke me up early... to tell me I suck at combat?" You stare at him, processing his words. The audacity makes you want to laugh.

"You don’t suck,” he begins. “You just need to get better. And since I’m the one stuck with you on this mission, it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed."

You let out a sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Great. Just what I needed first thing in the morning”

“Think of it as a warm up.”

He doesn’t wait for your agreement. Instead, he just jerks his head toward the exit and turns on his heel, clearly expecting you to follow. With a resigned sigh, you grab your boots and tug them on as you hurry to catch up with him. He leads you to a cracked patch of concrete behind the building, a makeshift training ground that looks as rough as you feel. 

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

“Fine,” you say, squaring up.

In a flash, he lunges at you. Luckily, you dodge the first blow by sheer instinct, a sharp jab aimed at your ribs. The intensity sends a shockwave through your body, even though you managed to twist away just in time. It’s 7:00AM!!

Logan doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. He’s on you again, faster this time, his movements a blur as he swings a fist toward your head. You duck just in time, feeling the rush of air as his punch grazes past your temple. Jumping to the side, you try to put some distance between you and his relentless assault

"Faster!" he snaps, his voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. "You're movin’ like a damn slug. If this were a real fight, you'd be dead ten times over by now."

His words are irritating, but they only fuel your determination. Summoning the latent power within you, you leap back, opening a gap. You can feel it there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed. He pounces again, and this time, you’re prepared. Channeling you super speed, you begin to dart around him, moving so fast he can’t keep up. In one swift motion, you lift your leg and land a swift kick to his side.

Logan grunts, but still he barely flinches, spinning around to face you. His eyes narrow in assessment. "Not bad," he grunts, "but not good enough."

His claws extend with a shink before you can even respond, and he swings at you, slicing right up in your face. You try to dodge, but the tips catch your cheek and create a deep gash. 

"Are you trying to kill me?" you shout, frustration bubbling to the surface as you counter with a punch of your own, your strength amplifying the blow.

Logan blocks it with his forearm, the impact reverberating through both of you. You’re pretty sure you heard a few bones crack. He snarls, his eyes flashing with challenge and something else—maybe pride. If you want to be optimistic. 

"I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed," he retorts, pushing you back with a forceful shove.

Your anger blazes at his words, and without thinking, your powers flare up again. This time, your hands crackle with energy, a faint orange glow sparking to life at your fingertips. You lash out at him with a rapid series of punches, each one laced with your mutant energy. He dodges most of them, but a few land, sending sparks flying where they connect with his body.

"That’s more like it" he says. He advances, switching to the offensive, forcing you to backpedal. "But you’re still letting your emotions get the better of you."

"Maybe because you’re pissing me off, asshole!" you snap, your frustration boiling over as you land another punch, this time aiming for his chest. The impact sends him stumbling back a good five metres, but he recovers quickly, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Good," he says, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the pain. "Just don’t let it control you.""

His words barely register as your anger continues to rise, fueled by his constant ‘pointers’. You keep pushing, your attacks becoming more aggressive, more reckless. Logan meets each one with an attack of his own, his claws flashing as they slice through the air, blocking your every move. The tension between you is electric, the air thick with the energy of your growing powers and the heat of your rising emotions. You go at him again, harder this time, and that’s when it happens.

Something straight out of a nightmare. You feel a sudden surge of energy—hot and thick, like molten lava—coursing through your veins. It’s overwhelming, and before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, your hands begin to glow brighter, the orange light intensifying until it’s almost blinding.

“Whoa—what the—?” you murmur, staring at your fists in shock as they burn with an intense, fiery orange, like heated iron.

Logan should be scared. You clearly have no idea what this is or what you could do with it. Yet, he doesn’t back down; instead, he presses onward. “Stay focused!”

But the energy in your hands is overwhelming, a burning heat that demands release. You feel it building, pushing you to the edge of what you can handle, and by impulse, you swing at him, aiming for his midsection with all your might.

The moment your fist connects with his stomach, the world seems to slow down. The sensation is surreal—you can feel your hand sink into his flesh, the resistance giving way as if his body were made of butter. Heat radiates from your fist, searing through his skin and muscle with an intensity that you’ve never felt before. To your absolute horror, your glowing hand doesn’t stop; it punches right through him, emerging out the other side.

For a second, everything is silent. The world holds its breath as the shock of what you’ve just done paralyzes you. Your breath catches in your throat, a suffocating lump of panic rising as you stare in disbelief at the sight before you. The feeling of your hand inside him, of flesh parting and melting, is too much, too wrong.

Then, the silence shatters as you scream, the sound raw and filled with terror. You jerk your hand back, nearly stumbling as you pull away, eyes wide. Logan stumbles too, his usually steady form momentarily thrown off balance. His shirt smokes from the burn, a charred hole marking where your hand had been. The smell of burnt fabric and flesh hits you, making your stomach twist in nauseous fear.

“Oh my God, Logan!” you cry out, “I—I didn’t mean to—”

But to your surprise, he doesn’t collapse. Instead, he looks down at the gaping hole in his stomach, then back at you, his expression more impressed than anything.

“Knifey,” he grunts, sounding almost amused despite the situation, “that was one hell of a punch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, as the glow fades from your hands. “Are you—are you okay? I just burned a hole through you!”

He chuckles, though the sound is definitely a bit strained. “A little hot under the collar, maybe, but I’ve had worse.” He winces slightly as his skin begins to knit back together, healing rapidly thanks to his mutant ability. “Don’t worry, this’ll close up in no time. You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”

“But I… I could have killed you.”

“Nah,” Logan says, waving off your concern. “You’re not the first person to try and fail. Besides, I’m more impressed that you’ve got that in you.” He glances at his now-healed stomach, then back at you with a smirk. “Just maybe aim a little better next time, yeah?”

----

You’re fucking exhausted. He really put you through the ringer—pushing you further than you’ve ever been pushed before. Your muscles ache, your skin is slick with sweat, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. Logan, on the other hand, seems barely winded, though even he has a sheen of sweat on his brow, and a gaping hole in his shirt. 

Your hands are on your knees as you bend over and try to slow your breathing. “You… really don’t… know when to quit, do you?” you manage to gasp out between breaths.

“Well, you’re not gonna drop dead on me, are you?” He shoots back, not caring at all about your current state.

Shaking your head, too tired to come up with a snarky retort, you barely respond. “Not yet,” you mutter, trying to rub some life back into your aching limbs.

“Good. Now come on,” Logan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “We’ve got a job to do.” 

He steps away, heading back toward the warehouse, and you force yourself to follow, your legs heavy and protesting with every step. He moves with purpose, heading straight to a small table tucked in one corner, where a map lies spread out, weighed down by a few random items—a knife here, an old mug there. Not wasting any time, he leans over the map and traces a finger across several locations marked in red.

“Look,” he says, not bothering to wait for you to catch up. You step closer, peering over his shoulder at the map.

“We’re here,” he begins, pointing to a spot on the map that corresponds with your current location. “Your last few mutant encounters were in these areas.” He taps on the cluster of red dots. “We’re gonna hit these spots, see if we can find any leads on where they’re comin’ from.”

“Okay…” You follow. 

He stares at the pages for a brief moment longer, before looking up at you with a small smirk, like he know’s hes next words are going to piss you off. 

"Change of plans by the way. I’ll go on the roof, and you’ll stay on the ground. That way, the mutants will be able to find you."

You blink at him, your expression shifting from frustration to disbelief. "Pause. You’re using me as bait?"

"Yeah. Works better if they’re lured in by something they’re actually interested in." His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, the kind that shows he’s fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds but doesn’t care.

"Oh, great. So I’m just a distraction for you now? What happened to teamwork?"

Logan just shrugs nonchalantly in response, as if this is the most logical plan in the world, . "We’re still teamin’ up," he replies, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Just taking a different approach. Besides, you’ve shown that you can handle them," he adds, mocking your voice in a poorly done imitation, “26 kills, remember?’"

You narrow your eyes at him, now fully facing him and glaring daggers in his direction. "Handle them?" you echo, "What if I don’t want to be used as bait for some dangerous plan? I thought we were supposed to be on the same side here."

"It’s not like I’m asking you to walk into a death trap, bub. It’s just a way to flush them out. I’ll be right above, ready to help if things get too hairy."

"Yeah, that’s real reassuring," you snap back, "what’s next? Are you going to throw me into a pit of mutants and hope I manage to climb out?"

"I wish," he retorts, his voice tinged with sarcasm. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you just keep your mouth shut. The idea of being dangled out like a worm on a hook doesn't sit well with you, but arguing with Logan has proven to be as effective as punching a brick wall. Your muscles are screaming for rest, and your mind is a whirlpool of fatigue and annoyance.

"God damnit. Fine," you concede reluctantly, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the lingering soreness. "But if this goes south, it’s on you, jackass."

“Fair enough,” he says, grabbing a worn leather jacket from the back of a nearby chair and slipping it on. The jacket strains slightly across his muscular frame, the creases and scuffs telling tales of countless past encounters.

He then shuffles toward a cluttered metal locker against the wall, pulling it open with a screech of old hinges. Inside hangs an assortment of gear: knives of various sizes, a couple of handguns, and a coiled rope. Is this even legal? You think. He grabs a sleek, compact earpiece from a small shelf and tosses it in your direction.

"Keep that on," he instructs. "We'll need to stay in contact. If you spot anything—or if anything spots you—you let me know immediately."

You examine the earpiece for a moment before fitting it snugly into your ear. A short burst of static confirms it's operational. "Got it," you reply, adjusting it until it sits comfortably.

Logan equips his own earpiece before reaching back into the locker and arming himself with a couple of vicious-looking weapons, tucking them into concealed sheaths along his belt and boots. The familiar routine seems to settle him, his movements efficient and practiced.

He catches you watching him as he methodically puts on his gear, and instead of asking if you’re armed, he pauses and reaches into the locker. With a swift swoosh he pulls out a sharp, gleaming blade.

The blade is perfectly balanced, and when he passes it to you, it fits comfortably in your hand. As you inspect it, you notice the craftsmanship—sturdy, reliable, and razor-sharp. Definitely an upgrade from your usual gear.

Guaging your reaction, his eyebrows raise in amusement. "Better than your last weapon, ya think Knifey?" he says.

You glance up at him, unable to suppress a small smile as you give the blade an experimental twirl. Giving a brief nod, you tuck the blade securely into a sheath at your side, feeling a bit more confident. He nods back in acknowledgement, and then he checks his watch. The morning is slipping away, and the streets outside will soon be bustling with people going about their day—a perfect cover for the dangers you're hunting. Folding up the map, he stuffs it into his back pocket before striding toward the exit. 

----

Once you’ve entered a busier part of the city, he pauses, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding buildings with a practiced eye. He turns to you, his expression all business. "We'll start over on Fifth Avenue," he says, nodding toward a maze of streets that stretch out ahead. "That's where the last sighting was reported."

You shield your eyes against the glare, following his line of sight. The streets look deceptively calm, but you know better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

"Stay alert," he commands. "Don't make yourself too obvious, but don't be too subtle either. We want to draw them out, but not scare them off."

You scoff lightly, adjusting your jacket and running a quick hand over your gear to ensure everything's in place. "So act like a clueless pedestrian but also like a tempting target. Got it."

He gives you a pointed look. "Just be yourself," he quips, before he turns away and starts toward the side of the building. Rude, you think.

You watch as he approaches the fire escape, his movements fluid and sure. After a quick glance around to ensure no one's watching, he leaps up, grabbing the bottom rung and hauling himself up with ease. Within moments, he's scaled the side of the building, disappearing onto the rooftop above.

His voice crackles to life in your ear. "You ready down there?"

Taking a deep breath, you step out onto the sidewalk, blending seamlessly into the flow of pedestrians beginning their day. "As I'll ever be," you reply, starting to walk at a casual pace down the street.

The city unfolds around you, a tapestry of sights and sounds that are at once familiar and disconcerting under the circumstances. You weave through clusters of people, your senses heightened as you scan your surroundings discreetly, looking for any sign of unusual activity. Above, you catch fleeting glimpses of Logan moving along the rooftops, his silhouette a shadow among shadows as he keeps pace with you. Minutes tick by as you make your way toward the target street, each step measured, each glance calculated. The morning bustle grows thicker, and the air fills with the scents of street food vendors setting up shop and the distant rumble of construction work.

"Anything?" His voice buzzes softly in your ear.

You shake your head slightly, replying under your breath to avoid drawing attention. "Nothing yet. Just the usual morning rush."

"Keep moving. They could be anywhere."

You continue on, turning onto Fifth Avenue, and as you pass by a narrow alleyway, a prickle of unease runs down your spine. You pause briefly, casting a casual glance down the shadowed corridor. It's empty, littered with discarded boxes and a stray shopping cart, but something about it feels off.

"Logan, you see anything unusual around here?" you murmur, pretending to adjust your earpiece like they’re earbuds. 

There's a fleeting silence before he responds. "Hold on." You look up subtly, catching sight of him perched on the edge of a building, his eyes scanning the area with predator-like focus.

After a moment, his voice comes through again, lower and edged with caution. "There's a van parked two blocks down that doesn't seem to fit. Tinted windows, no plates."

You resume walking, heading in that direction while trying keeping your demeanor relaxed. "Could just be someone avoiding parking tickets," you suggest, though your instincts tell you otherwise.

"Shut up," Logan replies with zero hesitation, calling your bluff. "Stay sharp."

Approaching the intersection, you spot the van he's referring to. It's an unmarked, nondescript vehicle that seems deliberately inconspicuous—a little too inconspicuous for this part of town. Slowing down your pace slightly, you pretend to window-shop as you try to take in more details. The engine is off, but you can make out faint movement behind the tinted glass. "Definitely something going on there," you whisper, angling your body to keep the van in your peripheral vision. "Think it’s our guys?"

"Could be," Logan responds tersely. "Keep walking. Let's see if they follow."

Doing as instructed, you walk past the van and cross the street, risking another glance back. The van's engine has started, its headlights flicking on as it pulls out into traffic, maintaining a slow but steady distance behind you.

"Yup, they're following me," you report.

"Good. Lead them toward the park ahead. Fewer civilians there."

You spot the small urban park a few blocks down—a patch of green amid the concrete jungle, dotted with benches and sparse morning joggers. "On it," you confirm, quickening your pace just enough to be noticeable without raising suspicion.

The crowds thin out as you near the park entrance. Behind you, the van slows to a stop along the curb, and you can feel eyes boring into your back. "Logan, they're stopping," you inform him, subtly scanning your surroundings for any immediate threats.

"I see them," he says. "Three guys getting out. Can't get a clear look from here. Keep moving forward. I'll get into position."

You carry on down the path, resisting the urge to look back. Your senses are on high alert now, adrenaline surging through your veins and washing away the remnants of your earlier exhaustion. Footsteps echo behind you—heavy, purposeful strides that are too close and too focused to belong to casual park-goers, and you catch a glimpse of their reflections in a nearby puddle: three men dressed in dark clothing, their faces obscured by caps and sunglasses.

"Closer than I'd like," you mutter under your breath.

"Just a little further," Logan assures you. "There's a clearing up ahead. Better visibility."

A grassy open space surrounded by trees, currently deserted, comes into view just as he footsteps behind you quicken, closing the distance rapidly. You stop in the center, turning slowly to face them, and although you’re positively shitting bricks, you try to stay composed. 

The three men fan out in a semi-circle around you, their postures aggressive and eyes cold. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the one you think is the leader sneers, his voice oily and mocking. "Out for a morning stroll all alone?"

You force a casual shrug. "Just enjoying the fresh air. Is that a crime now?"

He chuckles darkly, taking a step closer. "Depends on who's asking. You look a little lost. Maybe we can help you find your way."

Your hand inches toward your concealed blade, fingers itching for reassurance. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm good," you reply evenly, eyes darting between the three men as you gauge their intentions.

"Don't think you understand," another one pipes up, his voice harsher, more eager. "We insist."

Before you can respond, the leader's eyes flash with a sudden, green glow, and you feel a sharp, invisible force slam into your chest, knocking you back a few steps. You grit your teeth against the pain, steadying yourself quickly.

"I think now would be a great time to do something," you murmur urgently into the earpiece, your fingers closing around the grip of your weapon.

"On my way," Logan’s voice comes through, and you can hear his breathing as he jumps through buildings.

The men advance, confidence oozing from their stances as they prepare to strike again. You draw your weapon in defence, not waiting for them to make another move. "Back off," you warn.

He laughs, a grating sound that echoes through the clearing. "Or what? You gonna stab me? Go ahead, try."

Challenge accepted. You aim the blade, and hurl it towards him. The target is on point, but inches before impact, it stops mid-air, falling harmlessly to the ground as the leader smirks, his powers deflecting the attack effortlessly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that," he taunts, his hands glowing with a sinister energy as he prepares to strike again.

Then, a feral roar cuts through the air, and Logan drops from the trees above like a force of nature, landing directly on top of one of the men and driving him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Claws out and eyes blazing, he wastes no time, slashing at the second man who barely manages to leap back in time, a gash opening up across his chest.

The leader's smug expression falters as he takes in the sudden turn of events. "Who the hell is this?" he snarls, recoiling slightly as Logan stands between you and the attackers, his presence an unyielding wall of defense.

"You don’t want to find out" he growls, his voice menacing. 

The other two mutants, momentarily stunned by the Wolverine’s sudden appearance, quickly regain their composure. The first one charges, his hands crackling with energy. But Logan is faster—much faster. He sidesteps the attack with grace, then drives his claws into the mutant's side, a deep, brutal strike that leaves the man gasping and crumpling to the ground.

The second mutant, seeing his comrade fall, hesitates for a split second before launching himself at you, clearly deciding that you're the easier target. Except you’re not. As he closes in, you speedily side step around him, a blur of motion as you reach for the blade on the ground. 

Once it’s in your grasp, you pivot around, and slash upward, slicing through his clothing, biting into his flesh. He lets out a strangled cry, stumbling back as blood blooms across his shirt.

"Think again," you snap, your voice cold and sharp, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You press the attack, your blade a barely visible with the speed at which you wield it as you force him back, not giving him a chance to recover. The leader, seeing his subordinates falling one by one, finally shakes off his shock and focuses his eyes at you. With a snarl, he raises his hands, the air around them shimmering. He thrusts his hands forward, sending a pulse of raw power hurtling toward you.

Feeling your power surge through your veins, heating your blood, your hands begin to glow with that familiar fiery light, the same power that burnt a hole right through Logan earlier that day. You meet the leader’s attack head-on, your fist colliding with the ball of energy. The force of the impact sends shockwaves through the air, and makes you grimace, but you hold your ground, refusing to be pushed back.

The mutant’s eyes widen in disbelief as he watches you deflect his attack. His confidence wavers, replaced by a creeping fear. "This wasn’t part of the plan," he mutters, staggering back as he desperately tries to summon more power.

"Don’t care," you retort, slowly stalking closer and closer. He tries to make a run for it, but you catch up to him easily, grabbing his arm, causing him to scream in agony as the heat sears through his flesh. 

Logan, upon discarding his now lifeless victim, approaches the leader in an instant. He grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly with one hand. The mutant struggles weakly, his energy spent, his body trembling from the burns and the wounds inflicted by your hands.

"You picked the wrong target," Wolverine growls, his voice a lethal whisper. He tightens his grip, his claws hovering dangerously close to the leader’s throat. "Who sent you?"

The leader gasps for air, his eyes wild with panic as he looks between you and Logan. "We were… sent to attack… ," he stammers. "Mind control… we were forced to…"

Your heart skips a beat as his words sink in. It’s confirmed: mind control. These mutants weren’t acting on their own—they were being manipulated, turned into weapons against you. "Who’s controlling you?" you demand, stepping closer, your hand still glowing with residual energy.

His lips part, as if he’s about to speak, but then his entire body seizes up. His eyes widen in terror, and you think he might be having a seizure. He tries to speak–to move his mouth, but no sound comes out, his expression contorting as he struggles against some invisible force.

"Oh God, something’s wrong," you say, glancing at him with concern. 

Logan lowers him to the ground, and crouches beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "What the hell is going on?" he growls, but the mutant can only gasp, his eyes rolling back as if in agony.

You can see the panic in the man’s eyes as he fights against whatever is controlling him. It’s clear that he wants to tell you something, but he’s physically unable to do so. The mind control is stopping him, choking off his words before he can get them out.

Desperation drives you to act. You drop to your knees beside the mutant, gripping his other shoulder. "You need to tell us where they are," you insist, your voice urgent. "Give us a clue—anything."

His body shakes, his teeth grinding together as he forces out a single, strained word. "T… tunnel…" he gasps, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. "Underground…"

But before he can finish, his body convulses violently, as if an electric shock is coursing through him. His mouth opens in a silent scream, his eyes wide with terror. Blood begins to trickle from his nose, his body seizing uncontrollably. You and Logan can only watch in horror as the man's life is snuffed out right before your eyes. His head snaps back, and just like that, his body goes limp, collapsing to the ground with a final, sickening thud.

Logan bends down to check his pulse, but you already know the answer by the grim expression that settles over his face. "He's dead," he says flatly, wiping his hands on his pants as he stands back up.

You stare down at the lifeless body, your heart pounding in your chest. "Damn it," you mutter under your breath. Whoever was controlling him clearly didn’t want him to reveal anything more. "They got to him."

Logan clenches his fists, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Looks like they’ve got failsafes in place. This wasn’t just a fluke."

"So now not only are we dealing with a puppet master, we’re dealing with a psycho fries people’s brains if they talk. Fantastic."

He shoots you a look. "You done complaining? Because we’ve still got shit to do."

"Complaining? I’m just pointing out that our situation sucks, Logan." You glare back at him.

He shrugs, clearly unbothered. "Yeah, well, whining about it won’t get us anywhere. We need to find another way to track down whoever’s behind this."

You’re about to snap back when your eyes catch on the van still idling at the edge of the park. "The van," you say, your tone shifting from irritation to sudden realization. "Think we can track it back to whoever sent them?"

Following your gaze, his expression softens slightly as he considers the idea. "Maybe. If we’re lucky, they didn’t wipe the GPS data. Could give us a clue where these bastards came from."

You let out a huff, trying to ignore the slight sense of relief that Logan actually liked your idea. "Well, let’s hope they’re not as smart as they think they are."

You reach the van and climb inside, the smell of sweat and metal thick in the air. The dashboard is cluttered with tech—nothing too advanced, but enough to suggest this van has been modified for more than just transport. A laptop is mounted to the dash, screens dim but flickering to life as you settle into the passenger seat.

He slides into the driver’s seat, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. "Let’s get this thing back to the warehouse," he says, "We’ll see what we can pull from the system. Might give us something solid to go on."

Not waiting for anything else, he just shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb, keeping his eyes on the road as he maneuvers through the narrow streets.

----

Back at his place, Logan grabs the laptop and other tech from the van, motioning for you to follow him as he heads to a makeshift workstation near the back of the warehouse. The setup is basic but functional—tools, weapons, and old electronics. 

Following him, you can still feel the adrenaline from earlier buzzing through your system. He sets the laptop down, and powers it up. The screen flickers to life, and he starts navigating through the van’s GPS system. "You think they’ll be expecting us to track them?" you ask, leaning against the edge of the workbench.

All you get in response is a grunt, his eyes never leaving the screen. "They’re not idiots. They’ve probably figured out we’d try to follow the trail. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this."

The screen fills with maps, coordinates, and location markers. Logan hones in on one spot just outside the city—a cluster of old industrial buildings with access to underground tunnels. He taps the screen, highlighting the location. "This is where the van’s been going. It’s our best lead."

You study the location, a sense of unease creeping in. "So, what’s the plan? We just storm in?"

He shakes his head, leaning back slightly as he thinks it through. "No. If we go in too soon, they’ll be ready for us. We need to play this smart—wait a couple of days, let them think we’re not doin’ shit.”

Recognizing the wisdom in his approach, you nod. "Alright, but what do we do in the meantime? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs?"

"We keep an eye on the place, see if there’s any movement. We prep, we rest, and when the time comes, we hit them with everything we’ve got. We’ll be bunking here for a few days.”

You look around the warehouse. In a day, this place has gone from some ugly dump to your new safe haven. Great. 

Logan moves to secure the van, checking the locks and making sure everything’s in place. As he does, he glances over at you, almost as if he can hear your thoughts. "You’re lucky you’ve got a bed—my bed," he emphasizes.

You shoot him a teasing look. "Hey, you offered. I would’ve taken the couch… but don’t offer that now because I’ve decided I like the bed."

With the van in place, the clawed mutant moves toward the small kitchen area tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. You watch him curiously, wondering what he’s up to. He pulls out a few ingredients from the pantry, setting them on the counter with practiced ease.

"Figured you might be hungry," he grunts, opening a few cabinets and pulling out some pots and pans.

"You cook?"

He tips his head back just enough to catch your eye. "Yeah, I cook. What, you think I survive on just beer and grumpy stares?"

"Wouldn’t be too far off," you snicker, leaning against the counter as he starts chopping vegetables..

"Sit down. This’ll be done in a bit," he says, focusing on his task.

You do as he says, settling onto a nearby stool and watching as Logan moves around the kitchen with surprising skill. He’s making pasta—something simple but hearty. The smell of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan soon fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh tomatoes and herbs. It’s strange to see him like this, in such a domestic setting, but you can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing.

"Didn’t peg you as the culinary type," you comment, unable to resist.

"You pick up a few things when you’ve been around as long as I have” he says, tossing the vegetables into the pan with a flick of his wrist.

When the meal is ready, Logan plates up the pasta and hands you a bowl. The aroma is mouthwatering, and you dig in eagerly, surprised by just how good it is. The two of you eat in companionable silence, the tension from earlier easing as you enjoy the food. You watch him for a moment, the normalcy of it all striking you once more. It’s a side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but one that makes you appreciate the depth of the man behind the gruff exterior.

As the night falls, Logan heads to his makeshift bed in the corner of the warehouse, while you make your way to the bed he begrudgingly gave up. 

"You sure you’re okay with the couch?" you ask, more out of habit than anything else.

Logan shoots you a look, already half-lying down. "You’re the one who wanted the bed, remember? Just get some sleep.”

You smirk at his gruffness, knowing now that it’s just his way. 

----

The next few days in the warehouse pass in a strange, almost surreal calm. The constant adrenaline of your life as of late takes a backseat as you and Logan settle into a routine that feels more like a bizarre kind of roommate situation than anything else. 

Each morning, you wake to the sound of Logan already up and moving, the metallic clang of his claws as he practices in the open space of the warehouse. You join him for training, and though the sessions are intense, they lack that certain edge of urgency. It’s like you’re both conserving your energy for the fight to come, knowing that the real battle is just on the horizon.

"You’re still dropping your left shoulder," he points out one morning as you spar, his claws swinging.

You huff, blocking his strike with your blade. "And you’re still grumbling like an old man."

He rolls his eyes, dodging your next attack with a quick sidestep. "That’s because I am an old man, Knifey. What’s your excuse?"

"Just trying to keep up with you, gramps." You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you press the attack.

In the afternoons, after you’ve both worn yourselves out with training, you’d find yourselves sitting on the edge of the raised platform that serves as Logan’s makeshift living area. The warehouse is quiet, the distant hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of metal settling in the walls. It’s in these moments of stillness that you start to learn more about Logan—not the Wolverine, the fierce, unrelenting fighter—but Logan, the man behind the claws.

He doesn’t talk much about his past; it’s clear that there are parts of it he prefers to keep buried. But every now and then, something slips out—a story, a memory, a glimpse into the man he used to be before everything went to hell.

One specific day stands out. The two of you are sitting side by side on the edge of the platform, the remains of a quick meal scattered around you. Logan is unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on his retracted claws as his hands rest on his knees. His usual tough exterior seems to soften, just for a moment, and you can sense that something’s weighing on him.

"You ever wonder what it would’ve been like… if things had gone differently?" you ask, breaking the silence. The question is vague, open-ended, but you know he’ll understand.

His expression darkens slightly, but he doesn’t look away from his hands. "Yeah," he says after a long pause, his voice rougher than usual. "Sometimes. But thinking about it too much… it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t make it easier."

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Weapon X… they really did a number on you, didn’t they?"

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and what you see in his eyes is old pain and hard-earned resilience. "Yeah," he admits, his voice carrying the weight of years of suffering. "They did. Turned me into a weapon. Made me forget who I was… who I wanted to be."

He pauses, the memories clearly painful to revisit. "They didn’t just mess with my body," he continues bitterly. "They messed with my mind. Took away my memories, twisted what was left until I didn’t even know my own name. I was nothing but a tool to them, somethin’ they could use and discard when they were done."

The brutal honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but feel anger on his behalf. "But you fought back," you say softly, more a statement than a question.

Logan nods. "They tried to break me, and for a while, they did. I was just… lost. But they didn’t count on me fighting back. Didn’t count on me surviving."

"They underestimated you," you say, listening intently, feeling a deep respect for the strength it must have taken for him to claw his way back from that darkness.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth, and for a moment, you see a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he says, a little lighter now. "A lot of people have."

There’s a fleeting pause, his words settling between you. It’s heavy, but you’re seeing a side of Logan that few people ever get to see, and you can tell that it’s not easy for him to open up like this.

Then, almost as if sensing the need to shift the mood, Logan changes the subject, leaning back on his hands as he starts to tell you about some of the more absurd things he’s witnessed over the years. "You wouldn’t believe some of the crap I’ve been through," he says, his voice taking on a dry, almost amused tone. 

He launches into a story that’s so ridiculous, so utterly bizarre, that you can’t help but laugh—really laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. The way he tells it, with that deadpan delivery and his signature gruffness, only makes it funnier.

"You’ve really seen it all, haven’t you?" you say, shaking your head in disbelief after one particularly outrageous tale involving a mutant with the ability to turn into a giant bird. "Seriously, how do you even get into these situations?"

Logan shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "It’s just another day in the life, Knifey. Weird shit happens when you’ve lived as long as I have."

His words linger in the air, and suddenly, a realization dawns on you. You’ve been so focused on the immediate dangers, the fights, and the missions that you haven’t fully processed what it means to be a mutant, to have regenerative abilities like Logan’s. If you can heal from almost any wound, if your body can recover from injuries that would kill anyone else… does that mean you’re going to live as long as he has? Decades, maybe centuries? The thought hits you like a freight train.

"Oh shit, Logan," you blurt out. "Am I going to be around as long as you? I regenerate too!"

Immediately noticing the change in your demeanor, his sharp eyes lock onto yours. "Hey, hey," he says, reaching out to steady you. "Breathe."

But it’s like a dam has burst inside your mind, the implications of what you’ve just realized flooding in all at once. "Logan, if I have these abilities… I’ll outlive everyone I know, everyone I care about…"

Your thoughts begin to spiral, the fear and uncertainty taking root, and suddenly the idea of immortality—something you’d never seriously considered before—feels more like a curse than a gift. You’re faced with the prospect of endless years, of watching everyone you love age and die while you remain unchanged.

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightens, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that brooks no argument. "Look at me," he says, and when you meet his gaze, the intensity there makes you freeze. "I know what you’re thinkin’, and yeah, it’s scary as hell. But you gotta keep it together. You’re not alone in this."

"But how do you deal with it?" you ask. 

He’s quiet for a moment, his expression hard as he wrestles with the weight of your question. When he speaks, his voice is deep, almost a growl. 

"It ain’t easy," he admits, his tone roughened by years of pain. "There are days when it feels like too damn much. But you take it one day at a time. You focus on the people who matter, on what you can do right now. ‘Cause that’s all any of us really got, no matter how long we’re around."

His words are meant to comfort, but the enormity of what he’s saying still feels overwhelming. "And when everyone’s gone?" you whisper, the thought of outliving everyone you love already eating you from the inside out. "What happens then?"

Jaw clenching, teeth grinding, Logan’s eyes hardening with a resolve that you can almost feel. "You keep goin’," he says gravelly. 

"You keep fightin’ ‘cause that’s what you do. You find new people to care about, new reasons to get up in the morning. The world keeps turning, and there’s always somethin’ worth fighting for. The people you lose, they wouldn’t want you givin’ up."

The conviction in his voice, the sheer will to survive, even after everything he’s been through, gives you something to hold onto. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the fear still lingers. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that.”

He meets your gaze. "You are," he says. "You’re tougher than you think. And you’re not doin’ this alone. I ain’t dying anytime soon.”

You nod slowly. "Yeah… we’ve got each other."

His hand moves from your shoulder to your back, giving you a firm pat, like he’s trying to physically drive the point home. "Damn right we do. And don’t go worryin’ ‘bout the future. One day at a time, got it?"

You manage a smile, the first real one you’ve felt in what seems like forever. "Got it," you whisper, feeling a sense of calm starting to settle in.

Logan seems satisfied with that. He’s about to say something else when he stops, gaping. He just stares at you, his usual tough-guy demeanor slipping for a second as he takes in the sight of you smiling—really smiling, something he probably hasn’t seen much of.

The words die on his lips, and for a moment, he looks almost… caught off guard. His eyes are fixed on you, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t noticed before, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"What?" you ask.

Logan blinks, shaking his head slightly as if snapping out of a daze. He clears his throat, quickly looking away, his gruffness returning like a shield. "Nothin’," he mutters. "Just… you’ve got a nice smile, that’s all."

You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The way he said it, so simple yet so sincere, makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

"Well, don’t get used to it," you quip. "I’m sure you’ll piss me off again soon enough."

Logan huffs out a laugh, shooting you a sideways glance, his lips quirking into a small smirk. "Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less."

----

A/N: The plot is really going to pick up from here on out!

----

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[lambilegs]

Lee who takes care of you after she comes home really late from work one night after unexpectedly being asked to stay longer and you’re just absolutely beside yourself because you have anxietyTM and were convinced something terrible had happened when she wasn’t home when she said she would be and wasn’t answering her phone

lee comforting you after she unexpectedly returns late one night (angst + hurt/comfort)

awe :(( this is so sweet and angsty I'm in love (tysm for the request!! I loveee angst and hurt/comfort, so this was so tender to write :''))

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

when lee enters the elevator in the bureau, bidding a farewell to agent carter, she immediately sags against the wall, her legs nearly aching. she hasn't had such a packed, tight-scheduled day like this in a while. she got in, and immediately, was flooded with photographic evidence and documents that she had to spend hours pouring over and making notes of. she took a short, twenty minute lunch break, which consisted of making coffee, calling you and eating a quick granola bar. after visiting the library and spending hours on even more research, carter then asked her to stay back to visit one of the victims' homes with him. of course, she wanted, and needed, to say yes, curiosity burning in her to discover more about the recently deceased man and provide answers for his family.

but, she's now weary to the bone. the urge to yawn keeps swimming up her throat, mouth wet with the drool from it and eyelids heavy. she forces herself to remain upright, walking cautiously through the parking lot, eyes scanning around. upon entering her car, she leans her forehead on the wheel, sucking in a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of the exhaustion so she can focus on the drive home. after squeezing her eyes open and shut, she finally starts on her way home to you.

upon entering her cottage, an unsettling feeling washes over her. she checks her watch -- it's late, sure, but you're usually up at this time, doing some work of your own or on the couch, watching television. but, her home was eerily silent. she quietly locks the door, slipping her shoes off and neatly placing them on the rack, before venturing further.

she calls out for you, her chest beginning to tickle with nerves when you don't answer. she silently makes her way to her bedroom, door creaking as she pushes it open. "babe?"

her breath hitches when she sees the state of you. you're curled into her blankets, eyes teary, mouth tight with anger. when she steps in, you practically glare at her, and the sharpness of your stare is enough to have her freezing in place. "what is it?" she asks, voice hushed, the teeth of worry beginning to sink into her gut and sending her muscles contracting.

you sniffle, mouth quivering, and she feels herself frown. god, you look so distressed, and at once, both betrayed and immensely sad. the complications of such an expression has her unnerved, and she tenses up, waiting for your answer.

"do you remember what time you said you'd be home, lee?"

immediately, it clicks, the memory of her call with you making its trail through her brain. in the footsteps, she remembers her words, promising to be home by 7:30PM. when she had just checked her watch, it was 10:28PM.

her eyes shift to the ground, shame coursing through her at the broken promise, fingers thrumming on her thigh as she tries to formulate a response -- anything, really, it just had to be the right response. you deserve that much. "I... I'm sorry. carter asked me to stay back, and I couldn't say no."

"well, did he also ask you to not call me?" you ask sarcastically, your words containing a bite that she isn't accustomed to receiving from you.

"no, he didn't," she answers truthfully, though part of her suspects your question was rhetorical. "that was my fault. it slipped my mind, that I had promised to be home early, that I should've called you." her voice lowers, thick with shame at her own irresponsibility. "I'm sorry."

your face softens, eyes drinking up the way she avoids your gaze, the way her voice sounds so small, losing the natural straightforwardness it usually possesses, and the movements of her hands clumsy, folding in on themselves. "I was just so worried, lee. you said that this guy you've been investigating has a violent history, and has made threats to the FBI. and I..." you breathe in shakily, fresh tears beginning to well in your eyes. "I was terrified something had happened. I tried to reassure myself, but I couldn't do it. everything in my head was panicked and was moving a mile a minute. all the possibilities of what could've happened to you felt even worse than just saying them out loud. and, and you didn't pick up."

she nods quietly to your words, wanting you to have the space to express what her actions caused. she knew you dealt with anxiety, and was well-aware of how her being an agent could impact that. yet, still, she managed to screw up. what is wrong with her? guilt latches onto her gut and tightens its grip, and she feels her fingers, slippery and clumsy, continuing to fiddle. "I understand. I'm really sorry, baby. I promise, it won't happen again." when she looks up at you, your lips part at the sight of her eyes sheen with tears, eyebrows scrunched together in determination. "it won't happen again. I'm sorry it did, though. I know the circumstances, and it was messed up for me to forget to call you again. and I'm just -- I'm sorry." she feels a tear slip down her cheek, and her hand flinches to wipe it away before deciding against it, not wanting to draw attention to it in case you missed the sight of it in the dim lighting. "I've just been so caught up in work, and this case, and just got lost in it today. and I was so tired, and carter asking me to help him was just so rushed that I didn't get to even think, and..." she falters, realizing she's rambling, trying desperately to explain herself and make this up to you. but, she knows no amount of excuses will ease your hurt. only her promise to do better will. "I'm sorry."

she swallows down the urge to cry, wanting to remain focused on you. but, you're quiet for so long, and the silence of the room causes anxiety to unfurl in her, the sudden feeling making her shift.

finally, in her peripheral vision, she sees you move, and tentatively looks up to find you sitting up in the bed, arms stretched out.

relief flushes through her, as welcome a feeling as a gust of wind on a humid summer day. she immediately walks towards you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and burying her face in your neck, arms clinging to you, desperate to feel your touch, your forgiveness. "baby, I..." her words catch on a broken breath, the urge to cry choking at her.

"I know," you whisper, hands combing through her hair. "I was just so scared. I tried to call, but you didn't pick up."

"I'm sorry," she says, voice muffled against your skin. "I was out with carter, but I should've told you." her arms tighten around you, and through that motion, you feel the guilt whirling inside her, the love threatening to spill from her lips.

"yeah, you should've," you say, pausing as a small sob bubbles up in your throat, tears beginning to leak as you remember the anxiety that had plagued you just minutes ago.

she hears it, immediately pulling away to watch you, mouth clamping shut, worry creasing her temple, as you start crying again. for a moment, she just watches you, devastation gnawing at her from seeing how pained you are. she should've done better, she knows that now, but the guilt is ceaseless. she never wants to cause you such worry, such hurt.

her arms wrap around your waist, long fingers drawing gentle circles into your back, as you weep into her chest, soaking through her dress shirt. she silently lets some of her own tears fall, paying no mind to them as she strokes your hair and quietly listens to your broken words and croaking hiccups, murmuring apologies into your hair, which still smells fresh from your shower.

"I-I'm sorry, too, for snapping," you gasp out through your sobs. "I was just scared and anxious, and it made me antsy and upset with you, but I know it was an accident. I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry."

something inside her softens at your apology, the earnestness of your words enough to comfort her. you taking a harsh tone with her always feels unfamiliar and unsettling, and to hear you take it back helps her more than she'd like to admit.

after you calm down, the hiccups slowly beginning to subside, she combs your hair back from your sweaty forehead and damp cheeks. her eyes, wide and earnest, explore yours and you nearly shrink under the intensity of the gaze. the feeling is moulded into a sweet longing when she presses her lips to your cheeks, softly kissing away your hot tears. "what can I do?" she whispers against your skin, her touch so light and delicate.

you shrug, voice still raspy from your cries. "just, stay with me. and, I don't know, can we hang out?"

her eyebrows draw together, face firm as she gives you a hard nod. "of course. I want to." she pauses, eyes glancing to your lap as she swallows. "you know that, right? I want to be here with you."

you nod, not trusting your voice. everyday, she eagerly greets you upon her arrival at home, and even on days when she's weary and drained, her head immediately lays in your lap, face nuzzling into your thigh. you know she wants time with you. despite her quietness, her actions show that. the way she almost always keeps her promises as to when she'll return, her consistent calls when at work, your long talks before bed. you know it.

she holds you for the rest of the night, turning on one of your comfort shows when you admit still feeling uneasy in spite of her return home. she makes each of you a cup of tea, bringing it to bed, and carefully placing it in your hands. she rubs your back, whispering gently, "I'm here, I'm home," (the words ease her as much as they do you, the comfort and safety of having someone to return home to making her overcome with emotion and gratitude) pressing kisses to your brow. but, she doesn't rush you, she never does. she just stays near you, ready to wait however long needed, so long as it meant you could breathe easily.

when you both fall asleep that night, you immediately sink into a slumber, the exhaustion of the anxious night wearing you down. she watches you for a while, brushing her knuckles against your cheek, a protective urge surging through her to stay up in case you woke up, for she knows how difficult it can be for you to rest easy on such nights. but, as her eyes get heavy, she curls closer to you, her knees lifting in her usual fetal position of sleeping. your hand lays next to yours, and she cups them, quietly kissing your fingertips. when your eyes briefly flutter open, heavy-lidded and bleary, she smiles, her stomach feeling like it will burst at the sight. "wake me if you need anything, okay?"

you lazily grin, nodding into the pillow. "okay."

she pauses, eyes searching yours. "I love you, okay?"

"I love you too, lee."

with the quiet confession whispered and lost into the night, you both sleep, minds, at least momentarily, at ease from the assurance.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Alright here's an explanation on the "Tobin is gay and into Gray" thing:

1) In an early conversation between him and Gray, Gray expresses wanting to fight for the Deliverance because it'll get girls to like him and he asks Tobin if he likes girls, which Tobin replies to with "they're... alright I guess?"

2) In his supports with Gray, he does indeed seem to be jealous of Gray for how he's actually chasing after Clair and has more of a chance, but the thing is is that... at that point in the story, Gray has no chance at all? Clair is just not into him at that point and it's painfully obvious. (But then again, Tobin is stupid so he might not be able to tell that)

3) When we get deeper into the source of Tobin's jealousy, it seems more like he's viewing it through a lens of his inferiority complex more than through that of an attraction to Clair. It's "oh it sucks how people like Alm and Gray have more of a chance with her than me because I'm just some normal guy, damn I kinda suck huh..." and not "oh it sucks how people like Alm and Gray have more of a chance with her, I really wish she liked me better because I am attracted to her and want to be with her."

4) circling back to the second point. Gray is the one pursuing Clair, not the other way around. There’s no proof she's attracted to him. Tobin made that part up in his head because he just thinks Gray is more attractive than he is (because he's attracted to him lol).

6) A second theory, if the whole "oh it's just Tobin's inferiority complex manifesting in the form of supposed romantic jealousy" It would make sense if the discomfort he was feeling seeing his best friend go after a girl was actually due to jealousy about wanting to be the girl rather than wanting to be the best friend.

7) In his A support with Gray he basically "accepts" (very easily mind you) that he doesn't have what it takes to succeed with girls and he decided to prioritize his friendship with Gray. Like yeah "bros before hoes" or whatever but the bros and the hoes are one and the same.

8)

oooh i see

[chibivesicle]

Trigun Stampede - Episode 7 - with a title like ‘WOLFWOOD’, I was expecting him to die.

Yet, he is still very much alive at the end of the episode.  He saved the orphanage - cue manga plot line to die.  However, this wasn’t his second showdown with Livio; can’t have him dying just yet can we?

As I’ve said before, and I will continue to say, the technical aspects of this series are top notch.  The smooth fight scenes, the great facial expressions, especially from Meryl in this episode.  Yet, the payoff from the events of this episode ring hollow to me.  But that is continuing on if the payoff is earned or not.  And with all that introduction of the Bad Lads Gang, we don’t even get to see B.D.N. as an older fan, I have to admit that was a disappointment, he was a good villain who added to the character dynamics and helped flesh out Vash’s character early on. But before that, I’ll respond to some comments on last week’s post - I’m always bad about getting back to comments on posts - apologies. ^^;;  One comment was on how Wolfwood and Vash don’t need to become friends since it is Wolfwood’s job to take Vash to Knives.  That is totally correct - however, the ‘98 anime and manga both make it a point that Wolfwood and Vash become friends as it adds to their character development. Wolfwood realizes his guilt and also finds peace with his decisions because he became friends with Vash.  And Vash respected him in both either by literally carrying his cross in the anime in the final showdown with Knives or by using his own life force/span to blow a hole in Knives’ ark just to show him Wolfwood’s dead body on the couch while looking very pissed off.  Either way Wolfwood’s own actions that result in his death spur Vash into action. Another comment was about how I’m guessing this season is 12-13 episodes - I’m going by the fact that a lot of anime now are split into two parts for a single ‘season’ and they pace them out this way e.g. Spy x Family, LOGH:DNT etc.  It just reflects a change in the animation industry instead of the 90s where they would contractually agree with a studio to make seasons that were either 24-26 episodes long in one go or as long as 36-40.  Hence the use of recap and filler episodes, though I personally feel that the original Trigun does not suffer from ‘pointless filler’, it was clever in the story and character development.  I haven’t been gleaning the Japanese sources with much vigor since I’m not that into Trigun Stampede to care that much.  I think a comment on one of posts mentioned it might be a current 9 episodes for this part from Studio Orange.  I care enough about Stampede to give it a college try and watch it but at this point, it won’t hold much re-watch weight when I could go back to the original or read the manga again and enjoy it.

The last comment was similar to the first one, and I agree as well that Wolfwood really is stuck between a rock and a hard place.  He has to suck it up and do what he’s told to prevent other children from the fate he and Livio have come to experience.  There is just so much we can discuss about this and I love hearing back from other people and the different ways to look at things.

Okay, onto episode seven!

The episode starts off with everyone panicking as the Sandsteamer is off course and under attack.  And it is heading straight for Hopeland.  Cue Wolfwood panic even further!  The map labels the Hopeland Orphanage but the dialogue indicates it is also a town.

Which is it Studio Orange?  Honestly, it would have been best to label it as the town of Hopeland and note it has an orphanage through context than making that the key landmark.  It reads oddly.  The original stated that the Church orphanage is located 300 iles from December according to Wolfwood.

Wolfwood has a lot of angst trying to figure out what to do, lashing out at the Bad Lads members and then goes back to fighting Livio while telling Vash to flee.

Again, the fight sequence between Wolfwood and Livio is brutal and the July MPs remark that the two of them are monsters.  It seems that Livio has some sort of built in regeneration system that we can’t see and Wolfwood decides he has no choice but to kill him.

While this is happening, the Bad Lads gang is raiding the Sandsteamer and not really doing that much honestly.  They are doing a hit and run.  No B.D.N. - personal sadness.

Instead of disguising themselves as Bad Lad members, it seems that one of the two of them sweet talked them to spare them to report for an ‘Outlaw’ magazine.  We have Meryl taking pictures of them as they pose during the raid.

Since Meryl is pretty quick witted, I’m guessing she’s the one who came up with the idea and Roberto is just rolling with it based on his  body language.  But hey, they aren’t dead!  That’s a plus.

Then Vash shows up knocking out all sorts of Bad Lads making his way to Roberto and Meryl.

The group briefly chat about why they are there as Vash thought they drove off back towards July on their own.  We have him using his gun as a blunt object along with his robotic arm.  I guess when he ran away from Wolfwood, his goal was to just knock out as many of them as possible?  It is unclear what his objective is other than this is the way the writers have him run into Meryl and Roberto.  This shows off that he’s ‘not human’ according to Roberto and they don’t explain to him that they are still following him either.

He then continues down the hall taking out more Bad Lads with his knock them out strategy.

We do see Vash do this in the ‘98 anime (and in the manga) in the episode ‘Hang Fire’ with his famous terrible song about slaughter and genocide but the crux of that story was him begging a father wanting to kill the man who raped and murdered his daughter not to.  He kicks a freakkin’ rocket grenade with his foot and takes out men with his long colt 45 instead of shooting them.

The action returns to Wolfwood and Livio.  We had more 2D flashbacks about them and Wolfwood is resolved to take him out by insulting him and pretending him like he does care.  Livio gets emotionally stunned and when he goes to shoot him at point blank range, his shot is knocked off course and destroys Zazie’s monitoring insect.

This is where he turns to Vash in shock, since this is one of the few times Vash has fired his gun in the entire series.  Of course it is to protect Wolfwood and Livio.

Vash keeps pushing him to try to find a way to connect with Livio and Wolfwood fights him until he can damage the weird mind control device on Livio’s face.  He pop back into awareness and realizes that Wolfwood is his older brother, Nick and it looks like they might get him.

But all of the brainwashing from the Eye of Michael kicks in and he staggers about pointing his guns at Roberto, Meryl, Vash and Wolfwood . . . before he snaps and shoots himself in the head and falls off the steamer.  Tis a flesh wound.  We know Livio will be back later.

Wolfwood is clearly concerned and looks over the railing and notices a car that he knows is likely Legato and others.  However, he doesn’t share this critical information with others and instead angsting alone for a moment.

It then reveals that Legato is in the mood for some monologue time to state that Wolfwood’s ‘lack of faith’ is an issue and in order to get him to serve Knives better they need to destroy everything he cares about; Livio and the orphanage.

Once Wolfwood no longer has these important connections, it will be no problem to control him.  [sighs] If you say so less nihilistic version of Legato.  In the last episode we already had Legato establish that this version of Wolfwood has a very strong will and attachment to others, he should realize that this likely will backfire on him. 

What is throwing me for a loop is that Legato is the ‘religious’ one in this version.  That was squarely Wolfwood’s thing in the manga and ‘98 anime.  He seems to (based on his dialogue) believe that faith in something is greater than emotions.  Yet, in this episode, we do get some actual anger from him in his voice as well as a more sinister facial expression indicating our bad boy has emotions.

The religious fervor continues with his mannerisms as he decides to force his hand, literally.  If the Bad Lads Gang, Livio and Wolfwood can’t do the job, then he will do it.

This does appear to be very tongue and cheek dialogue from him, but I’m disappointed.  I miss ultra-nihilistic Legato Bluesummers.  He seems to be going through somewhat villain motions, but is missing that sick and twisted edge that made him as creepy as fuck in the original works.  I’m also missing his Knives worship.  We have no indication that he’s a man craving validation from a person he’s obsessed with.  Granted, we didn’t get that early on either, but he made it clear he was there for Knives’ agenda.

What is his ultimate plan?  Trigger the ship’s ion cannon to fire at the city and plow into it as well!  Wow!  I’m sorry, this is again lazy writing.  We are going to have Vash info dump for once, stating that the Sandsteamer is a modified spaceship, it still has it’s ion cannon and it was used to clear large rocks back in the day.  And he knows how to operate parts of it and busts into all sorts of unused rooms.

Oh noes!  We need to make the drama 110%, Vash declares that they have no choice but to try to manually override things.  I would like to note during this entire course of events, Legato is just twiddling his thumbs thinking he’s done the job.  Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched man.

Vash decides he’ll figure out how to mess with the cannon and ask Wolfwood to break into some sort of area to try to manually hold it back?

When we see Vash using the cargo container cranes to pull force on the ion cannon, and the moon in the background, I figured this was the new version of the Fifth Moon in Augusta.  Since we don’t know if Vash can make his angel arm in this version, he’d blow a hole in the Fifth Moon with the ion cannon.

While Vash works on mechanically messing with the canon poor Wolfwood is having a melt down trying to do the impossible. 

Meanwhile, Meryl is in the control room for the ion cannon with the fire lever before her.

Roberto makes his move and tells her it is time to go.  They had a deal to pull out when it was too dangerous.  He found an escape vehicle and orders her to take it.

She looks serious and hesitant.

He reminds her what her job is and that she is not a hero and is just a normal person.  We can tell they are leading up to some sort of confrontation between the junior and senior reporters.

Poor Wolfwood is there pushing on a giant ion cannon losing his mind.  This plot point is bonkers.  I get this is sci fi and that Wolfwood can heal quickly but super strength wasn’t in his background right?  Or not that we’ve seen. 

The conflict boils over when Meryl takes her stand to not be passive or run away!  She calmly says she can’t abandon them and that she doesn’t judge Roberto for running either.

But the events at Jeneora Rock shook her to her core.  She can’t be passive and has been feeling frustrated since those events.  Meryl has guilt for not being able to prevent Tonis from being injured and she sees it as her fault that he lost an arm.

She declares that she’s staying right here in the chance that she’ll be able to make a difference.  Honestly, Roberto doesn’t have much to say back to her and thankfully, he doesn’t.

This entire sequence shows where Studio Orange kills it with her facial expressions.  They are good, incredibly good.  It also further shows that Meryl is also taking on aspects of Milly by caring about others and doing the ‘right’ thing to help out others even if it took her some time to get to this point.  Studio Orange - I give you one point for actual character development for her.

Vash rushes down to help out Wolfwood.  He tells him that he does have something he cares about and Wolfwood pretends to be obtuse while they strain to try to push the ion cannon.

We see it strain his robotic arm which cracks and sizzles with electricity as well.  He’s working it to the max.

This entire scene gives Vash time to talk to Wolfwood as he tries to connect and humanize Wolfwood.  However, the sheer physics of this is crazy.  Even with a special robotic arm, they aren’t going to make that much of a difference. Yet somehow, they are able to nudge it just enough that when it reaches maximum charge, Meryl discharges the cannon.

Based on what happens it appears that the wrapped cargo crane cables and the collapsing of the arms created enough of a counter force that once they hit the ground it was able to pull it back and out of range until the discharge was complete.

I know this is a sci fi series, but the physics of this had me feeling a bit whaaaa?  We’ve been sticking to more logical rules in this series; this was out of place to an extent.  Additionally, Legato, why weren’t you trying to counter them more?  Twiddling your thumbs I presume?  Feeling superior?

Of course the crisis isn’t averted yet!  Now, they need to stop the Steamer from colliding with the town.  Wolfwood wants to blow it up taking himself with it.  He vaguely taps into past Wolfwood’s need to choose the needs of the many as opposed to the needs of the few highlighted in ‘Escape from Pain’.

Yet, Vash gets him to stand down despite his vow that Vash can’t save people without hurting others.

Vash then sends Wolfwood to the engine room and he runs off to the plant room.  This was briefly shown in the last episode, so we know the ship is powered by an individual plant.

Wolfwood becomes Kaite, and using his ability to heal, is able to open the hot pressure release door.  We see all the other men sitting down looking at their hands and hot gloves unable to hold on long enough.

I missed the original plot point with B.D.N and the Sandsteamer.  With the inclusion of Kaite, we see how Vash is able to convince someone to not be hopeless and to make a difference.  It also leveraged the point that Kaite was small enough to climb to reach the release lever and it just takes a normal amount of human force.

It is through this nudging to action part that Vash is able to influence others to act, even when at times we know he’s being passive about the big picture for himself.

Vash then goes to the plant to get it to power down and stop the out of control Sandsteamer.  Like in previous versions, he places his hands on the tank and requests assistance from the plant.

The Sandsteamer comes to a stop just before hitting the town and Legato decides to give up for the moment.  He orders Zazie to retrieve Livio from the desert ground.

A sandstorm then appears, prompting Legato to ask if this is Zazie’s work which they deny.

The sandstorm moves in on the Sandsteamer.  This time we have a real sandstorm as opposed to the one that never happened in episode three and also contrasts with the town that didn’t see wind power twenty-five years ago.  I’m still not over the there is no wind in the desert plot point.

At the end of the episode the gang meets up to realize the only place Vash could be is the plant room.  We see him hand to hand with the plant.  The plants have lost their angelic design and instead look like the aliens from Avatar.  Well sort of - or elves.

Vash turns to look at them and his face reveals the plant markings where in shock Meryl states that Vash is - a plant?

The episode ends with him looking at them before it goes black and he passed out collapsing to the floor.  We have confirmed Vash’s plant identity.  It seems like they were going for the same look of shock Meryl had to the Trigun Maximum manga when he uses his angel arm to deflect a bullet from hitting Meryl and she loses it.

Summary of this episode and some main points:

1.) Our team finally scores a win.  Mark them one point in the W column! This was such a long time coming.  I don’t consider the victory of the Nebraskas to count since it was just a sign of the doom to come.

2.) Wolfwood is at least getting some humanizing points.  He’s been forced into a corner and finally stops to listen to Vash and back him up.  Though it is with some reservations of course. 

3.) Hope does hold out.  It is hope that saved Hopeland.  That is rather heavy handed Studio Orange!  But that is the kinda of don’t worry viewer we will hand feed you the cheese are what you are going for with this series.  And the ion cannon plot point - you know that they have to save the day with the paradoxical pacing in this anime. 

4.) Religious elements in this series utterly baffle me.  I don’t know where they are going with this.  It is clear they didn’t get the original.  I’m still sitting on an ask in my inbox about the religious element to the original series - it will require a longer reply than I have had time to do at the moment but it will come.  Mainly, since the Christian elements can be read multiple ways and it is rather open to interpret in that context depending on your own knowledge of the base material. My main vibe is that by making Legato the religious one it just seems - oddly confusing.  He’s a villain and does not have a moral dilemma that stems from his religious upbringing. I just don’t get why he’s the one reading the bible and going on about faith in some sort of higher power (Knives?) it seems OOC for him. 

Character notes!

1.) Vash - fired his gun to save Livio!  However, the rest of the time he used it to stun Bad Lads.  So booooooo.  What I’m really missing is that Vash is a skilled gunslinger.  We have almost no indication of his skills.  He was able to deflect Wolfwood’s shot and he’s had a few early on, but he’s not giving us his awesome tricks and skills.  That is all being carried by Wolfwood at the moment.  I felt it gave greater weight to Vash’s ability to use his long colt AND manage to not kill someone.  It really made his vow to not kill more obvious in the manga and original anime.  The series is called Trigun and it is about an infamous outlaw with a huge bounty on his head and is known to be an excellent marksman.

2.) B. D. N. or Brilliant Dynamites Neon - doesn’t show up!  Major disappointment!  I was expecting him to get into the mix with a Wolfwood vs. Livio and Vash vs. B. D. N. showdown; no dice. I was excited for that outcome when episode six ended. There was no high stakes gamble on a one to one showdown at the toss of a coin.  Which Yasuhiro Nightow loves characters flipping American quarters and half dollars btw. 

That look from Vash as he emerges from behind the rubble!

His carefully aimed shots that make their mark!

And then how B. D. N. saves him from being crushed by zapping the rock when he realizes how injured Vash is and also saves the day.

The absence of B. D. N. also highlights how Vash impacts the behavior of others for the better.  He always respects them and it shows that people respond to that.  Again, it gives Vash better and stronger arguments for his personal code of conduct.

3.) Meryl and Roberto - Our lone female lead carries her weight!  And is able to contribute to the win for our core group.  She shows character development, thinking of more than just her story and job and looking back on her resume which Roberto threw out the car window.  Is following through on making a difference!  I again think the animation for her facial expressions was top notch here. I don’t know who is in charge of her story boarding for expression but they need to be paid more.  Roberto is a sad sack.  Yet, I guess being a sad sack works in this episode.   He seemed rather passive this episode.  Not sure why.  Where is old and bitter uncle info dump?

4.) Wolfwood - doesn’t die upon saving the orphanage.  We have no idea if he’ll die after showdown number two with Livio.  I was expecting him to die with our episode title, but instead, Stampede leaned into this episode of the Wolfwood Show again.  I know he is a fan favorite and very popular, yet Studio Orange isn’t leveraging his character as much as they could and should be doing.  But since he’s now an atheist, his original guilt is lacking from the anime and manga.  He’s only now using the argument of finding the lowest number of casualties for the greater good.  Which seems late pacing wise and also OOC for him.

Or as my friend Merdopseudo says, he’s not Wolfwood, he’s Fakewood.  I agree that this character is not even close to him from the ‘98 anime or Trigun Maximum. Yet, suddenly, he’s starting to notice that Vash’s idea might work. And is willing to give him a chance - I guess after they stopped the cannon and that Vash got him to confuse Livio.  Those two events are enough for Wolfwood to feel that he owes Vash one and will follow through with his plan to stop the Sandsteamer.  Does it feel earned?  I dunno, maybe if you squint enough.  5.) Legato - got angry and is religious.  Right.  We see him raise his voice and get visibly angry and try to do things himself but at the same time, he doesn’t follow through fully.  Which means you failed man.  What happened to your dedication to sparkle motion? -er- I mean your dedication to the mission of Knives? I am bummed out, I wanted nihilistic Legato.  Was he so confident that he thought he could let things happen without keeping the pressure on Vash and Wolfwood?

6.) Livio - has an unhealthy younger brother relationship with Wolfwood.  He was almost able to snap out of it and it looks like he was brainwashed by Chapel in the very hard to see flashback about his job.  Using the trope of ‘I have to catch up to X character!’ is so over used and I don’t like it being applied to him in particular.  Minus one for generic writing Studio Orange.  Additionally, there is no indication that Razlo the Tri-punisher exists.  We can see that he killed people in the flashback but it is not enough information since it is through Wolfwood’s flashbacks in Trigun Maximum that we first get an indication of Razlo’s existence.  Wolfwood is the one who watches him and notices the disconnect and then doesn’t know what happens when he runs away.

7.) Zazie - present.  We get to see an insect pulled out of their mouth.  Better than a vagina I guess [shrugs].

And with that I’ve hit all the points that struck me.  The episode ends with a sandstorm and Vash collapsing.

I’m going to guess that the sandstorm is generated by the lone remaining Seeds ship that hasn’t crashed to the planet’s surface and that they were tracking events and located Vash there.  They will use the sandstorm to pull the core group onto the ship, Vash will get a new arm from the Doctor. He’ll also meet up with Brad and Luida on the ship.

We only have a few episodes left, but the crazy pacing continues.

[celestiancrown]

today on UGC 24/7 2fort, I had the unfortunate experience of dealing with one of the worst things I've ever seen happen in a game of TF2.

This couple was playing, and they were being uncomfortably sexual with each other in the text chat. We'll call them Kitty and Brayden. Brayden was also on voice, Kitty wasn't. People started expressing that they were uncomfortable, and Kitty immediately began claiming harassment. Brayden on the other hand started talking mad shit on the mic to basically everyone. It was sort of like a conversation you'd witness in a high school cafeteria.

Anyway, pretty early on in this Kitty looks at my steam profile picture and starts harassing me about how I will "never be a real woman" etc. Brayden quickly follows suit on the microphone. I put up with this for over an hour. Eventually everyone got sick of this to the point that they vote gagged him and he tried to bypass it and got auto banned. Only for an hour, but it's still cathartic to watch that happen.

This is not why I'm making this post.

Brayden had a custom spray (for those of you who don't know it is a custom image that you can apply to any wall or floor in the game, they're generally regulated by community servers not to have sexual material in them.). This spray was of Kitty's tits. Just a full on photo of them.

And they were letting everyone know. At one point Kitty challenged someone (who turned out to be 14) to take a photo and post it in the game as a comparison or shut up. This person was uncomfortable and ended up leaving because of how screwed up the whole situation was.

What makes this extra messed up was that Kitty essentially had no personality outside of being Brayden's accessory, and on top of this, said that she had turned 18 this year and was born in 2006. There is absolutely no telling when this picture was taken. I chance to look at Kitty's steam profile picture and was shocked to see her full on face as a selfie displayed in a custom text box.

Let me reiterate. This teenager, freshly an adult, was going around in a game requesting everyone look at this picture (and feeling very proud of herself), with her name and face displayed in her profile. Even though Kitty was vile and transphobic to me, I cannot help but be worried for her because if she's not aware of what she's doing that is major bad news for her. People can and will use that kind of thing against anyone who chooses to share it. I have absolutely no idea how old Brayden was. He had the maturity of somebody who is 16 but there's no telling.

Am I wrong for being worried about her? I don't know. She's an adult and she can choose to do that but she hasn't been an adult for very long and she's part of a generation that seems to struggle with tech literacy and the consequences of information sharing the younger they get. Ultimately neither of them said anything to me that I haven't heard before and none of it got under my skin because it was about as coherent as a teenager spamming the n-word at people in a CoD lobby. It sucked to put up with, but it's not really that big a deal to me.

What is a big deal is why this situation is occurring in the first place. Do they need validation? Attention? Confirmation that everyone knows that they're together? It just seems like a really counterproductive and possibly self-destructive way to display that.

I am really worried for kids that are becoming adults in the future. All of this just makes me sad.

[humansun]

How to be brave

Written May 31st, 2023 at 7:33AM

Isn’t it funny how we set our intentions in the early morning and witness ourselves do the complete opposite?

This morning, I went to the gym with two friends from high school and a million thoughts ran through my head as comments were made. My friend made corrections on my form and expressed judgement when I wanted to work out the same muscle. I like to leave my water bottle behind sometimes. To them, that seems to be weird.

My immediate feelings were hurt and frustration. I was sad, knowing that my friend doesn’t express these sentiments in the way she did if the other friend wasn’t around. In addition, I felt as though I was the person to bully and pick on today.

It’s really hard to feel like growing up, I’ve always been taken less seriously than others. I wonder, is it the way I carry myself? How I don’t set boundaries with other people? That I don’t act sophisticated? And I want to change myself in order to be treated that way. But no, most of the time everyone asks me not to change.

How can I not change when I am constantly treated with less respect? Am I taking this and blowing it up? Are other people viewing my emotions as a burden? Why don’t people ask me if I’m okay?

Feeling like the laughing stock sucks. Like really. It feels like you’re the one to be picked on because you don’t know any better. That you are doing things wrong and they’re doing things right. That sucks, because there are many ways people can do things and who are you to judge me.

Is it because I made her feel that way before? Is that why she’s coming back at me? And truthfully, I don’t feel safe bringing it up, because then I’d feel like they’d be defensive. Why can’t I advocate for myself? Why can’t I stand up for myself and say, “that’s not weird, people just do things differently”?

It’s painful to be the person to laugh at. At the end of the day, I’m certain they’re just worried about me, or care about me, because they definitely have no malice, but it still hurts to feel put down and feel like you don’t know any better.

There are a lot of things I’m reflecting on, and it’s difficult to use my awareness to convince myself of the truth. I think what I am feeling is an overflow of emotions, that everything logical does not process well in my mind. Logically, they are not people who want to hurt me, maybe their comments are what they know as communication. So I should understand and empathize with them.

For me though, it’s hard to even see into that and understand. I’m too busy trying to sort out why I feel so unbalanced and unfulfilled right now. To the point where it’s affecting my day negatively. My automatic reflex is saying to stop going to the gym with them and distance myself, so that I don’t have to experience that again.

Whereas, the other part of myself says to keep going and set my boundaries. If it happens again in the future, what will I say? I will stand up for myself since no one else will. I will say that there isn’t anything wrong with what I am doing, because it hurts me when you say that.

Why do people think it’s okay to talk to others like that? Like “shouldn’t you already know this?” energy. I hate that. I try not to make people feel like that, ever. Because I know that when people treat me like that it feels like shit.

I hate when people don’t take me seriously, which is why I have a whole act that I put up during work just so people can respect me. But the thing is, there should be people in my life who respect regardless of how silly I am. They don’t take me for granted and they value me. I feel disrespected, sad, and judged.

It’s so easy to make me the laughing stock. I hate being bullied. So much.

Written 9:31AM

I addressed my feelings to my friend, because it’s that age where going to someone else to vent is pointless.

I’m grateful that I could and I’m happy I took the time to write this morning. It helped me settle into my emotions and calm down a bit.

Moving forward for today, there’s quite a bit to do but it will get done.

P.S. Fuzzy mentioned yesterday night before I slept how time gets faster the longer we live and it makes me feel quite sad about existing. But that's okay! Onwards we will go.

[hamsterclaw]

Melt

A 7 hours AU fic. Read the rest here.

Taehyung's never been plagued by anxiety, but for some reason, life feels pretty stressful right now.

Pairing: Taehyung x F! reader

Genre: 7 hours AU, environmental lawyer Tae, PA reader, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Tagging: @notlivingsstuff, @reliablemittenmain. @jdecalcomaniajk, I hope this fits the bill, sorry for taking so long to get to it!

Taehyung admires your independence, but part of him wants to take care of you sometimes.

He wanders into the kitchen on Sunday morning to find you balancing on a stepladder, trying to reach something above the top shelf.

He grabs your hips to steady you.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks, annoyed. ‘I was right in the living room, why didn’t you ask me for help?’

You give him a look like he’s the irrational one.

‘I can climb a ladder, the baby’s not in my feet,’ you retort, tetchy.

Taehyung stifles a sigh and swallows his comeback.

‘What do you need?’

‘Wafflemaker,’ you say. ‘I was going to make us waffles.’

‘Sit. I’ll make waffles,’ Taehyung says, firmly.

Taehyung’s aware that he annoys you sometimes too, but today, he thinks you’re the annoying one.

You’re sitting at the kitchen island, yawning like you need to go back to bed, but you’d refused to the first three times he’d suggested it.

Your only current redeeming feature is the way your forearms are braced on the table, tantalisingly pushing your breasts up and together for his viewing pleasure.

Taehyung flicks waffle batter at you, and a large glob lands on the upper curve of your beautiful breasts.

He couldn’t have orchestrated it any better.

You look at him, wide-eyed.

Taehyung’s pretty sure you still have no idea, even after all these years, of how your wide-eyed expression melts him like a snowman in summer.

If he had a similarly effective weapon to use on you, he’d use it all the time.

You’re still looking at him.

You reach out and click the waffle iron off.

‘Fuck the waffles, Tae Tae. Let’s go back to bed.’

Taehyung’s already reaching for your wrist, tugging you out of the kitchen.

***

Taehyung glances at the clock on his office wall and is surprised to see it’s much later than he thought.

He picks up his phone, wondering if you’re in bed.

When you pick up, you sound a little breathless. He can hear traffic around you.

He sits up. ‘Where are you?’ 

You pause before answering. ‘I’m not sure, but I’ve been told there’s a metro stop around here somewhere.’

Taehyung’s voice comes out sharper than he wanted. ‘It’s late. What area are you in? I’ll come and get you.’

You pause, and he can tell you’re looking around, trying to find a landmark.

‘I’m far from home, Tae. I’ll just get a cab.’

‘I’m still at work. I’m out anyway,’ Taehyung insists.

‘It doesn’t make any sense for you to come and get me when I can just get a cab.’

Taehyung feels like throttling you, in a non-sexual way, for once. 

‘Just tell me where you are.’

You’re sitting on the edge of a square when Taehyung pulls up.

He gets out of the car, relieved to see you’re ok.

He wraps you in his arms and breathes in the familiar scent of your hair.

You’re wriggling against him, and the brush of your bump against his body makes him feel irritated all over again. 

‘You should have just asked me to come and get you,’ he scolds. 

He can tell his tone is too short by the way your eyes flash.

You suck in a breath, then to his surprise, your tone is soft when you speak.

‘Thanks for coming to get me,’ you say.

Taehyung parks in the underground car park to the apartment and turns to look at you.

You’re blinking awake, slowly. 

Taehyung says, ‘wait, I’ll get the door.’

He hasn’t got the door for you since the early days of your marriage, not the car door anyway.

He helps you out of the car. 

He can sense you looking at him.

‘You look really good in that suit,’ you say.

There’s a small smile on your face as you look up at him, close because your arm is pressed against his chest.

Taehyung wants to bundle you up and spread you out on your bed and make love to you until you’re whining his name in the way that makes blood shoot straight to his cock.

He helps you get your coat off.

You smile at him again, and Taehyung can feel his annoyance melting. 

‘Wanna take a shower?’ you ask.

Taehyung forgets to modulate his voice, and it comes out deep, low, when he says, ‘fuck. Yeah.’

You shiver slightly, and Taehyung’s dick twitches.

Taehyung follows you to the bathroom, nearly tripping over Jinx when she wanders in to see what’s going on.

She mewls and walks off.

Taehyung unzips your dress, and you step out of it daintily.

Taehyung doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing any versions of your naked body. 

His dick’s almost fully hard, and you haven’t so much as touched him.

As always, you’re aware of him. ‘So hard, Tae,’ you say.

Your hand curls around his cock, and Taehyung sighs at the feel of you.

You drop to your knees and take him in your mouth. 

Taehyung’s always thought he could die happily with his dick filling your mouth, slipping down your throat.

Your hand clasps his thigh, supporting yourself as you lick the head of his cock, your other hand closing around what you can’t fit.

Taehyung feels a tingle starting in his lower back, spreading down his legs. Your mouth is warm, and so fucking wet he’s barely a thrust away from spilling down your throat.

You moan, and he realises that you’ve taken off your bra. Your nipples are hard, pebbled in the coolness of the bathroom. 

Taehyung tangles his fingers in your hair. 

‘Let me touch you,’ he grunts. 

You look up at him, like you’re reluctant to let his dick out of your mouth. 

Taehyung fucking loves when you get like this. 

He taps your chin. ‘Stop before I spill all over your pretty face,’ he says, stern. 

There’s a flash of defiance in your eyes, but Taehyung’s not playing around now. 

‘Up,’ he says, voice hard. 

You get up, reluctantly. Taehyung kneels down and kisses your reddened knees. 

‘Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you can’t follow orders,’ he says, looking up at you. 

Your lips are pressed together in a pout, and he can sense a sharp retort behind them. 

He almost wants to provoke it out of your mouth so he has an excuse to spank you. 

‘What’s that?’ he asks, pretending he’s heard you say something. 

He presses your legs apart and licks up between them. You’re wet, he can see your arousal glistening on your inner thighs. 

Taehyung’s trying not to look at your body too much because if he does he’s going to come all over you. 

His dick is so hard it aches. 

You moan softly as he licks your cunt, and a spurt of pre-cum leaks out of his cock. 

Taehyung turns you around, presses you against the bathroom counter. He watches your face in the mirror as he slips his fingers into you, pressing, stroking, exactly how he knows you like it. 

Fuck. 

You look so hot, nipples peaked, tits bouncing as he fucks you, lips parted, whining his name.

He could cum untouched, pleasing you like this. 

Taehyung spreads your ass so he can see his cock sliding into you, the way you stretch to fit him. 

It’s his favourite view in the world. 

You’re crying his name now, and Taehyung curls an arm around you, under your breasts, over your bump, holding you flush to him as his hips slam against your ass. 

Your hand reaches back, landing on his own, braced against the countertop, and Taehyung weaves his fingers through yours as you cum all over his dick. 

He bites into your shoulder as he cums, and you squeal so loudly his ears ring. 

He slides his arm down, over your bump, holding you to him, kissing over the mark he’s made on your shoulder. 

‘You ok, baby?’

His voice comes out hoarse. He doesn’t remember making any sounds, too busy listening to you, but he guesses he has been, because his throat feels sore. 

‘Yeah,’ you say, reassuring. 

You turn around in his arms, and he holds you close. 

‘Let me run you a bath, love,’ he says. 

Your eyes are already closing, lids lowering. 

When the bath is ready, Taehyung goes to get you, but you’re fast asleep, naked under the covers, and he hasn’t the heart to wake you. 

Instead he climbs in next to you, turns out the light, and holds you in his arms until he drifts away too. 

***

Taehyung’s driving you to see your parents, and he’s amused by the way you’re trying to stay awake. 

To keep him company, you’d insisted. 

Taehyung’s been unable to convince you that he’d really rather you got some rest, because you’ve been looking pretty tired lately. 

He likes visiting your parents, they’re kind, although they’ve been a bit cooler to him since the almost-divorce, the infidelity. 

He’s almost forgotten all about Hana, it seems crazy to him now that he risked his marriage for her. 

You’re still the annoyingly closed-off, fiercely independent, confident girl he met at university. You act like you don’t need him half the time. 

Taehyung’s always been simultaneously terrified by your strength and devastatingly, completely in love with you because of it. 

He’s not sure he’s ever told you that. 

He promises himself he’ll tell you as soon as you wake up. 

You shift a little, head leaning against the window. 

Your bare thighs look so pretty where your skirt’s rucked up a bit. 

Your wedding dress had been so short that you’d fucked in the car on the way to the ceremony. 

Taehyung smiles at the memory. 

He’d spanked you for initiating the fucking that had made you late to the ceremony, and you’d retaliated by refusing to fuck him again until he begged for it. 

He’d lasted all of three minutes, because damn, your legs. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your thigh just to feel your warmth, and your thighs open for him automatically. 

The movement makes his dick pulse. 

He glances at your face in the rearview mirror, only to find you’re smirking at him, an extremely naughty glint in your eye. 

‘Pull over,’ you suggest, voice low. 

Taehyung pretends to consider it, but he’s already signalling, turning into a side road. 

He tries to make up the time later, but you’re still late to meet your parents. 

***

Your dad brings out an album of photos of you after dinner, despite your protests. 

‘Taehyung’s already seen all these, papa!’ 

Taehyung stops at a photo of you, around six, with your arm in a cast. 

‘Trampolining,’ you say, rolling your eyes. 

He flips through a few more, sees another with you on crutches, an endearingly awkward pre-teen with the same beautiful smile you have now. 

‘What happened here?’ he asks. 

‘Tennis injury,’ you say. 

Taehyung’s never taken you as a particularly clumsy or injury prone, in fact, he’s never seen you injured despite playing basketball in university, but there seems to be a lot of photos of you in casts, on crutches, and one particularly alarming one with stitches on your chin. 

What if your child’s the same? 

Taehyung knows he’s being irrational. 

He’s not an overly protective kind of guy, he’s always respected your ability to look after yourself. 

But it’s not just you anymore, it’s you and the baby. 

The more he tries to put it out of his mind, the more it sticks. 

You’re both his responsibility, and he isn’t sure he’s up to the task. 

In the car, after dinner, you put your hand on his arm. 

‘Hey, what are you frowning about?’ 

Taehyung wants to process a little more before he can talk about it, so he says, ‘I was wondering if we’ll have enough time for me to eat you out when we get home.’ 

Sex has always been a surefire way to distract you. 

It works both ways. 

You mull it over as you look out the window. 

***

Taehyung’s heading back from lunch when he sees your familiar profile. 

He calls your name, and you look around for him. 

Your smile is brilliant, beautiful, when you see him, and Taehyung feels a thrill at how pretty you are. 

‘What are you doing around here?’ he asks, wrapping you in a hug. 

You reach into your purse, and pull out a strip of plastic. 

Taehyung recognises it as another sonogram picture. 

His first reaction is concern. 

‘Did I miss another scan?’ he asks, worried. ‘Are you ok?’ 

‘They didn’t get a good view of little bean’s heart last week, so they told me to come back today,’ you tell him. 

Taehyung stares at you in disbelief. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demands. 

Again, you’re looking at him like he’s being irrational. 

‘What? It was just a routine scan, they didn’t say they were worried or anything.’ 

‘You said the scan was fine,’ Taehyung says. 

You wave the sonogram at him. ‘It was fine.’ 

‘I would have gone with you,’ Taehyung says. 

You seem to clock his displeasure, finally. 

‘I’m sorry, Tae, I just wasn’t thinking –’

‘I couldn’t make the last scan, but I would have made time for this one if you’d told me,’ Taehyung says. 

You stare at him, lips turning down. 

‘I’m sorry, Tae.’ 

Your stomach rumbles loudly. 

Taehyung raises an eyebrow at your guilty expression. 

‘Did you eat?’ 

‘I was running late,’ you say, reluctantly. ‘I’m gonna grab a sandwich before I go back to work.’ 

Taehyung glances at his watch. ‘Come on. I’m taking you to lunch. I’ll drop you off at work after.’ 

***

Taehyung looks up from the contract he’s reading when his secretary Sunghoon knocks on the door. 

‘Sir, it’s your wife.’ 

Taehyung can’t hide his surprise as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you. 

‘Did we have another lunch date planned?’ he asks, getting up from his desk. 

‘Nope,’ you reply. ‘I just wanted to come see you.’ 

You stop in front of him, looking up. ‘I thought about what you said,’ you say. 

Taehyung’s distracted by the red of your lips, the view he has of between your lush tits in the pretty jade green dress you’re wearing. 

‘Yeah?’ he asks, trying to focus. 

You lean forward a little, into his chest. 

‘Tae,’ you say. 

He’s letting you walk him backwards back into his chair, letting you push him down into it, letting you lean close because he can’t wait to see what you come up with next. 

You kneel between his legs and unzip his work slacks. 

‘Tae,’ you say, again. 

He hardens as you press kisses onto his cock, admiring him like you always do. 

You dribble spit onto him, getting him wet for you, starting the slow, tantalizing slide of him into your mouth. 

You take him so deep Taehyung doesn’t want it to end. 

He cups your head, and you move your lips on his cock, licking him like he’s your favourite treat.

You unbutton the top two buttons on your dress, and the sight of your breasts in a lacy bra that matches your dress nearly undoes him. 

Taehyung grunts as you pick up the pace. He reaches down to pinch your nipple, and you cry out and look up at him with your wide eyes, tears pricking the corners. 

He’s always been a sucker for your eyes. 

Taehyung bucks his hips, once, and cums down your throat. 

You swallow him down like a good girl, even showing him your tongue like you’re in a porno. 

‘Did you like that, Tae Tae?’ you ask. 

Sometimes you’re a smug little shit. 

And fuck, he loves you for it. 

Taehyung says, ‘Yeah, baby, you know I did.’ 

You’re buttoning your dress, easing him back into his pants with care, even kissing over the top once you’ve got him zipped back up. 

Taehyung helps you off the floor. 

‘I was thinking about what you said,’ you say, again, as you’re turning to leave. 

Taehyung looks at you, wondering where you’re going with this. 

You look almost shy. 

He’s already ready to agree to anything you say. 

‘I’m working late tonight. Can you pick me up, please?’

Taehyung looks down at your pretty face. He’s a goner for you, he always has been. 

It would be dangerous for you to know how wrapped around your finger you’ve got him. 

‘I’ll pick you up,’ he says. 

You’re not done yet. You put a hand on his arm, looking at him seriously.

‘I know you’ll look after us, Tae. There’s no question in my mind.’ 

And then you’re leaving, like you don’t know how you’ve just made him melt into a puddle on the floor, at your feet. 

©hamsterclaw 2022

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 7)

a/n: aaand part 7 is finally here! however i want to warn yall that we are nearing the end of NHIE, im planning on having one more part and i don’t think it’ll be any longer, so enjoy while it lasts! lmao as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 5.7k

warning: some slight violence? it’s the good kind, you’ll see lmao

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Sitting in your trailer you stare down at your phone longingly, rereading Harry’s last text.

“Miss you, hope everything is alright. Facetime when you’re free?”

You hate how your chest is aching at such a small and sweet thing. If you had the chance, you’d run into Harry’s arms without a second thought, but you are stuck in Atlanta while he is currently back in LA, feeling farther away than ever, in every sense.

It’s been three weeks since you left the city and parted ways with Harry. You hated it. You absolutely hated how he was looking at you and how you was about to cry in his fucking Range Rover as he was dropping you off at the airport. You tried to make it quick so you don’t get too caught up in the moment, but the moment he kissed you, it was over for you. For a split second you were ready to cancel on the whole movie and just stick with the plans you made before you got the role, but that wasn’t really an option.

Since that day, Harry has been very respectful of your will to keep some distance, he always checks in before trying to call to make sure you have time, he doesn’t text you about the most random things like he used to, maybe because you both are so busy, you basically live on set while he has left for his tour exactly a week ago, and you can tell he is trying his best to never even mention Levi.

The news that you’d have to work with your ex came as a punch in your stomach. Taiki contacted you himself to talk to you about his choice to include Levi in the movie. He has informed you that they all agreed on him at the end of the casting process, but he wanted to make sure it’s okay by you as well. What would have you said? You wouldn’t just start off a project with getting someone out of the movie before filming even started. You had no choice but to suck it up and say that it’s all fine.

Now you are stuck to see him almost every day and spend your free time with him as well since he is always the first one to show up when a little group of the cast is out and about. He has always been such a social butterfly, though now you wish he would just lock himself up in his hotel room and not show up until he is needed on set.

Levi has been trying. He’s been pushing on your nerves, always coming up to chit-chat, like there’s nothing weird or absurd about the situation, but there’s plenty. Seeing that the last time you two saw each other you threw a book at him and he threatened you to sue you if you dare to even say his name ever again. Your breakup was the definition of nasty while the rest of the world just noticed a quiet and uneventful parting, photos disappearing from Instagram and awkward smiles whenever either of you were asked about the other.

While you are all about being civil and professional, what he has been doing feels like he is trying to get under your skin, testing your patience with him, which is starting to run short.

For an outsider he is acting perfectly fine, even human towards you, but you know him all too well, you know all his little tricks and moves because you used to be an expert on the topic of Levi Hudson.

Huffing to yourself you get back to the text and type a quick reply.

“Still on set, I have two more scenes to film. Will text you when I’m back at the hotel xx”

You wish you could call him right away, you wish he was here with you and you wish you didn’t have to go back to set and face Levi once again. You really thought you’d get entirely consumed by work once filming starts and run short on time and energy to even think about Harry, but it hasn’t been the case. He is all you can think about, you always catch yourself wondering what he is doing, how his day has been or if he is thinking about you too. You cling onto your phone the moment they yell Cut! and frantically check if he has texted you. It’s taking a toll on you and you can only hope you’ll last until the movie is wrapped and you can finally join him on tour, just like you planned.

“Hey there,” Maya steps out of her own trailer when you turn the corner and she catches up with you quickly. “Wha’s up?”

“Just plotting how I can leave early,” you huff, making her laugh. You’ve become the closest to her, you right away bonded when you met at the table read and she caught you grimacing behind Levi’s back when you thought no one was looking. She came up and simply told you she doesn’t like him for literal no reason, he just has a punchable face and an alliance was formed right then and there.

“Oh Honey, let me know when you figured it out,” she chuckles, circling an arm around your shoulders as you both make your way to the set laughing.

Trying your best, you focus fully on the job on hand so you can leave as soon as possible, call Harry and go to bed. Today has been way longer than you would have liked and you just need to get away from set, despite how much you enjoy filming in general. Sometime during the taping Harry texts you that he is free whenever you are and will be waiting for your call and it just makes you even keener on leaving.

When filming is finally finished, you find yourself storm out faster than ever, already ringing up Harry as you are walking back towards your trailer. When he answers the call, his smiley face fills the screen and you feel your heart flutter in your chest.

“Hey! Done for the day?” he asks, seemingly eating something as he talks.

“Luckily,” you breathe out. “What are you eating?”

A blush appears on his pixelated face as he glances down and grabs his bowl, showing it into the camera. He is eating your pesto pasta recipe.

“I had a strong craving for it,” he shyly tells. “It’s not as good as yours though.”

“There’s nothing to do different about it, H,” you chuckle.

“I know, but it’s different when you make it,” he smiles and his words warm your chest. Just as you are about to tease him about being so corny, you hear your name being called out. Turning around you see Levi jogging towards you.

“Here we fucking go,” you mumble, not ending the call with Harry who is a little confused about the situation since he can’t see the intruder in your conversation.

“Are you heading back to the hotel?” he asks, catching up with you.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on sleeping in my trailer,” you answer with a frown.

“Wanna share a car?”

“Why would I?” you simply ask.

“What’s with the attitude, Y/N?” he scoffs as if he was an angel and deserved all the respect on earth.

“Why do you keep coming up to me?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice!” he snaps, but it’s all for the wrong reason. You don’t buy this shit, nice is the last thing he is trying to be and you know that for sure.

“No, you keep getting on my nerves and you know that! We don’t have to interact outside of set and I want to keep it that way, Levi!”

“Now you are being a bitch, Y/N.”

“Excuse you?” Harry’s voice is coming from your phone’s speaker and you suddenly realize that he is still there, listening to the conversation. You glance down at the screen and see his now angry expression on it.

“Who’s that?” Levi nods towards the phone with a frown, but then realization must hit him. “Is that Harry Styles you’re talking to?”

“None of your fucking business, Levi. And leave me the fuck alone.” Turning around you start marching back to your trailer that’s now so close, but once again, his voice stops you.

“You’re making a fool out of yourself, Y/N!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you snap back at him, one hand already on the door handle of your trailer, the other one holding your phone.

“If you think he wants more than just a good fuck and some publicity out of you, you’re delusional.”

“Fuck you, Levi!” you flip him off before walking into the trailer and shutting the door behind you.

With your back against the door you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, fighting with yourself not to go back out and kick him in the stomach. This is how it has been, he starts acting all nice, pretending like he is the good buy, but when he doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he is quick to show his real, asshole self he keeps hidden.

“Angel? You alright?” Harry’s voice brings you back from your thoughts and once again, you realize that he is still in call, staring from the screen with a worried expression on his handsome face.

Taking another deep breath you bring the phone up so he can finally see your face.

“Sorry you had to hear all of that,” you mumble, feeling way more tired than you were just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t apologize, it’s none of your fault. But I gotta ask, has he been this big of a dick since the start?”

“Kind of,” you sigh, walking further inside. You put the phone to the little vanity, propping it up against the mirror as you start washing your makeup off.

“Have you tried doing something against it? You really shouldn’t let him treat you like that.”

“I’m not trying to be the whiny star who gets someone kicked out. I don’t know what others would think if I told Levi is being a jerk to me, because he is fine with everyone else. Maya is the only one who knows about it, so I’m kind of stuck.”

“Then just punch him,” he suggests making you laugh.

“I wish I could.”

“Want to talk about it? I would love to listen to you talk about how big of a dick your ex is and about your hatred towards him,” he tells you, way too excited about the topic and it makes you chuckle.

“Let’s not talk about him, I get enough of him all day. But not enough of you.”

It just slips out, way too cheesy than you intended it to be, but it makes him smile so you don’t mind it.

“Is this your way of being casual?” he chuckles softly.

“Shut up,” you grin. “Tell me about your day while I get ready to leave.”

You listen to Harry tell you about his day in the smallest details as you clean your face, brush your hair out and change into your own clothes, finally feeling like yourself again. You’re talking even when you’re already in the car, but that’s when it ends.

“Talk tomorrow, Angel?” he murmurs, now lying in his bead, propped up against the headboard without a shirt on.

“Yeah. I’ll be off around five so just call me whenever your show is over.”

“Will do. Take care, alright? And… just hang on a little longer.”

“A little?” you huff. “There are still two more months to go.”

“You can do it. Text me whenever you want to talk, alright?” You just quietly nod, ignoring the ache in your chest. You want nothing else than to crawl into bed with him, curl up against him and never leave from under the covers.

“Good night, Angel,” he smiles sweetly.

“Night, H,” you sigh before ending the call.

An hour later you are already in your hotel room, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, lying in bed as you scroll through Instagram, aimlessly opening posts here and there. The explore page is always a mess, you like so many different things that Instagram sometimes can’t decide what to show you, but that’s just how you like it. Lately it’s been a lot of Harry on there, given the fact that you’ve often found yourself lurking photos of him when you were missing him more than the usual.

When a paparazzi photo comes up of him from yesterday, having lunch with Kendall Jenner you can’t help but feel the jealousy ignite a fire inside you. It’s not like you didn’t know they met up, he told you a week before it and even asked if you are cool with it, to which you said that you are not an official item and you’d never tell him not to see a friend, even if it happens to be an ex as well. After all, you were the last one to throw a stone at him since you are now working with yours, even if it’s a living Hell.

But after such a draining day, seeing him have a good time so far away from you with a woman who is not you, your opinion about the situation seems to be different.

You’ve never been that extremely jealous type and you are also very much aware that you have no right to feel this way, but… you do. Scrolling through the few paparazzi photos that has nothing odd on them, just the two of them sitting at a table on a terrace, enjoying their meal and then leaving in separate cars, you can’t help but tear them apart to the tiniest detail, your brain fixated to find the smallest thing that tell you that they have something more than friendship going on, when you also know damn well sure that there’s no such thing. Harry has talked to you openly about his friendship with Kendall, how they tried to make it work two times but both of them ended up the same way: they realized they are far better as just friends and that’s how they’ve been since then.

But because of the distance, your horrible days with Levi and your agonizing feelings about wanting to be with Harry but also not being able to, you find yourself letting out a silent cry as you close the app, but the pictures still haunt you.

Before you could even think twice, you are kneeling in front of the minibar you haven’t touched since you arrived, but now you’re determined to empty it out, paying extra attention to the alcoholic drinks.

You are well aware that it’s not how you should be coping with the situation on hand, but you don’t know what else to do. You were the one who told Harry not to make things official, there’s nothing you can do against the distance between the two of you and you are stuck with Levi for the rest of filming as well. You have no other choices but to somehow dumb the pain that’s been torturing you silently ever since you found out you got the role.

It’s nerve wrecking, because this role means so much to your career, you know it’s your big chance to be finally taken as seriously as you’ve always dreamed about, but does it worth it? If you lose yourself along the way and everything that’s been making you happy lately, does it still worth just to have an Oscar nomination, which is not even guaranteed, just a speculation.

It’s past one am when you run out of drinks, but because of the small portions, you are just buzzing, not really drunk. But it’s enough to make you lose your rationality and snatch your phone from the bed and open your text threat with Harry.

“I miss you. A lot, like a whole lot.”

You send the text before you could change your mind and for your biggest surprise the status changes to seen just a few moments later before the three little dots start dancing on the bottom.

“I miss you too, Angel. Everything alright?”

Harry knows you too well, you wouldn’t just text after you’ve talked on FaceTime before and you’re usually asleep by this time, since filming starts early in the morning usually.

“Do you really miss me?” you write back with a heavy sigh.

“You can’t even imagine how much…”

“Tell me. How much?”

“I’ve written three songs about you since we parted. Does that tell you how much I miss you?”

“Oh fuck!” you choke out, feeling your chest tightening. You don’t want to be in this hotel room anymore, damn the movie, Levi and the Oscar, you need Harry. Now.

“Can’t wait to hear them all.”

“There’ll be plenty more, Angel. Get ready for a whole album!”

The pictures with Kendall are long forgotten. Now you’re just lying in bed, rereading the texts over and over again until your eyelids get too heavy and you fall asleep, still clinging onto the device.

 ***

 After years of being an independent and strong woman you’ve always aspired to be, you find yourself only focusing on two men to keep your nerves stable enough to stop you from breaking down every other day: Oscar and Harry.

The possibility to win an Oscar is what you think of every time Levi is pulling on your nerves, working harder than the devil to make you burst while acting like a saint in front of everyone. His attempts of ruining your days every imaginable are getting worse as the time passes and when thinking about the Oscar doesn’t help, you reach out to Harry. You’ve felt terribly at the beginning when you kept calling him whenever you felt like screaming after an encounter with Levi, even apologized for it, but he made sure you know he doesn’t mind it, not even the tiniest bit.

“I’m happy I’m the one you come to for comfort. I like that you’re thinking about me,” he told you one night when you called him so late, but he still answered.

Today has been extra hard. Two weeks have passed since your little late night breakdown when you emptied your mini bar out and felt like leaving Atlanta as soon as possible. Luckily, the morning came with an ease, though the pain was still there, you just managed to bottle it up enough to make you keep going.

You’ve been on set since 4 in the morning, having shot some scenes during sunrise and you’ve been going since then. Now it’s four pm, you are desperate for a good sleep already, but you still have some hours to go before you can head back to the hotel.

It seems like Levi has made it his mission to make you cry today. His latest favorite thing has been throwing shade about fellow actors who end up being the talk of gossip sites because they’ve dared to go on a public date with another celebrity. So, just to be clear, he is shaming you for being all over the tabloids, people are still speculating about you and Harry and Levi doesn’t hesitate to call you out about that in a sugarcoated way.

All he has been saying all day is “I guess I’m just more careful about my privacy!” or “Everyone is different, but I like to be noticed for my professional success!” but your favorite was “I get it that women need more effort to stay relevant.”

You were shocked how no one else realized how sexist he was, but deep down you weren’t that surprised. Levi successfully brainwashed everyone to make them believe he didn’t think it seriously, when you know for a fact that even if it was just to piss you off, he really meant it. You were once one of those who couldn’t really see how wrong his beliefs are and now you can’t believe you used to ignore all these sexist comments, but now they make your palms itch.

“You know, you once were just like that. I still remember us being on the covers,” you snapped back at him before everyone left for lunch and it was just the two of you, but he just snorted, brushing it off.

“Hated it. Always felt like just a toy they like to throw around.”

You needed all your self-control not to laugh right into his face and then jump at his throat. Instead, you just watch him walk away and you are quick to fetch your phone from your bag to text Harry, but then you realize that he hasn’t texted you back in the past ten hours. Your last four messages are sitting not just unanswered but unread as well so you talk yourself down from sending another one. It’s odd, because he always tells you when he is about to be busy, but he didn’t this time and you wonder if you’ve said or did something that upset him with you enough to stop talking to you. But then you tell yourself that something must have just come up.

“Hey girl!” Maya calls out for you, already dressed in her own clothes since she is done for the day. “I’m heading out to lunch with Timmy, want to join? Please don’t say you’ll just order in and stay in your trailer!”

“Only if Levi is not coming,” you grumble making her chuckle.

“Don’t worry, it’s just gonna be cool people.”

You both take your car to the little diner close to set, you’ve been going there quite often, they have the best pancakes and that’s exactly what you need right now. Timmy is already there sitting at a booth, waving at you happily. Aside from Maya, he is the other person you’ve been quite enjoying spending time with on set, he is a genuine guy and helped you a lot professionally which was a huge boost along this rocky way.

All through lunch you notice that he’s been checking his phone a lot, but you don’t think much of it, he is a busy guy, that you’ve learned already. It’s nice to have some time away from set and you’re thankful that Maya and Timmy are trying their best to make you forget about Levi and that eventually you have to head back.

The three of you return to set about an hour later. When the both of them stick to your side and they keep asking if you are going back to your trailer, you start to suspect something.

“You guys alright?” you ask with a chuckle. “Where else would I go? I still have thirty minutes from my break.”

“Just making sure,” Timmy shrugs. “We’ll walk you there!”

“Yeah! Let us walk to your trailer!” Maya nods in agreement and you give them a glare.

“You guys are weird,” you mumble under your breath.

As the three of you reach your trailer you notice how excited they are acting and you are confused about what’s really happening, but it’s just until you finally throw the door of your trailer open and gasp at the person waiting inside.

“Hello, Angel,” Harry smirks at you, leaning against the wall as you completely freeze.

“Angel! Oh my God!” you hear Maya squeak behind you, but you can’t pay much attention to her or Timmy, because you are busy throwing yourself into Harry’s arm, who envelopes you into his embrace, lifting you up from the ground.

“What are you doing here?” you breathe out, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Should I not be here?” he jokes chuckling, his hands running up and down your back.

“Well, you are not supposed to, but I’m glad you are!” you chuckle and pulling back you kiss his lips, not able to hold yourself back.

“Thank your costars,” he mumbles nodding towards the door where Maya and Timmy are standing, grinning widely and proud of themselves.

“You guys did this,” you breathe out.

“Well, it was Maya’s idea, and then I was the one to message Harry,” Timmy admits, hiding his hands in his pockets. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“You surely succeeded,” you chuckle and turning back to Harry you hug him again, holding him tight as if he could vanish any moment.

“Alright, we’ll leave you two alone,” Maya chuckles before shutting the door and giving you some privacy.

“So how long are you staying?” you ask, arms circled around his neck.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time. I need to fly out late tomorrow.”

“You came here for less than 48 hours?” you gasp in disbelief. He has been on the road for weeks now, all the traveling has been hard on him, that you know, yet he still went into the trouble of flying here for such a short time just to be with you.

“If Timothée didn’t reach out I would have still tried to mess around with my schedule to come here. I know how hard it has been for you here, I wanted to help you.”

“Stop or you’ll make me cry,” you chuckle, leaning in for another kiss.

You spend the rest of your break cuddled up on your tiny sofa in your trailer, talking but mostly kissing, because you’ve been missing Harry’s kisses the most probably. When it’s time to head back to set, you need everything in you not to lock the door and just never leave, but your work is calling.

Walking towards set you find yourself lacing your fingers together with Harry’s, to which he smirks at you in satisfaction. You couldn’t give less shit about that people will think the rumors are true, let them! All you want is to be as close to Harry as possible.

As everyone is slowly gathering back, you lounge around the buffet tables with Harry and Timothée, just genuinely having a good time, right until Levi walks in and he freezes upon seeing you with Harry.

At first you are convinced he’s going to come up to you, but luckily, he chooses to keep his distance this time, saving you some stress about what would go down if the two of them were to talk. Harry has definitely noticed his presence as well, but he doesn’t say a word, just holds your hand tight, kissing your knuckles.

Harry sticks around the whole afternoon, watching you film scene after scene and the excitement in his eyes is priceless. He takes every opportunity to praise your work and tell you how amazing you are doing and it means the world to you since it’s the first time Harry is seeing you working.

Through the afternoon, you can feel Levi’s burning glare on you, but you try your best to ignore it. You can tell he doesn’t like having Harry around but you haven’t figured out if it’s because he is jealous of you and him or because now Harry has all the attention he usually has. Either way, he is a petty fucker and you are enjoying pissing him off for once.

When filming finally finishes at six you are one of the first ones to head out, eager to finally be alone with Harry in your hotel room and not be disturbed for the night.

“I would say to pick up something to eat on our way, but maybe we should just order room service, how does that sound?” he asks as the two of you are walking back to your trailer.

“Room service is gonna be perfect,” you smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Y/N!”

The voice calling out your name makes you growl in annoyance. The situation is all too familiar, Levi stopping you on your way back to your trailer with the pure intention of ruin your mood.

Oh for fuck’s sake,” you mumble under your breath before turning around. “What?” you snap back at him, clearly annoyed that he is here again.

“Hey, just… thought I would introduce myself to your friend over here,” he smiles as if it was the most natural thing, but you and Harry stand there, completely confused about how he can act so casual about him meeting Harry.

“I’m sorry, you what?” you question.

“Just wanted to meet Harry,” he tells again. “I’m Levi, nice to meet you,” he nods smiling, holding out his hand and you can’t hold your laughter back. Luckily, Harry is quick to react the best possible way.

“Are you really just gonna pretend like I didn’t hear you call Y/N a bitch the other day?” he asks, voice stern and surprisingly calm, however his hold on your hand is a little tighter now.

Seemingly, Levi is taken aback and you can tell he was convinced Harry wouldn’t bring it up straight to his face, but he did. He definitely just did and you are so happy about that.

“I’m, uhh—I don’t think you have any business in that, Harry,” he chuckles nervously, still trying to somehow dominate in the situation, but he is failing miserably.

“Oh, but I think I do. If you think you can just go around and call women bitches, you are in the wrong and if you ever have just one bad word for Y/N again, I’ll definitely won’t be this calm.”

The cherry on the top is the warm smile on Harry’s lips and your mouth hangs open at how bad he just burnt Levi. If you were alone now, you’d definitely jump his bones right away.

Watching Levi you see the exact moment when he drops the act and before he even opens his nasty mouth, you already know you’ll get another taste of his real self.

“What, you fuck her once and think she is the Queen of England who has to be treated with special care?” he scoffs and your stomach drops. Here he goes with the insults, buckle up!

“Excuse you?” Harry snaps back, clearly losing his patience with him.

“She is not that big of a deal, Styles. Might be a good fuck, but she is a fucking bitch in reality and you’ll see that soon.”

“I think it was just you who made her act that way and that’s entirely your fault, m’ friend. Anyone would be that way if they had to deal with you.”

“You know what? You two deserve each other, two low-life, attention seeker celebs, I just don’t get what people like so much about you. Especially about you,” he adds, eyes snapping to you. Your anger is boiling, he is dancing on your very last nerve and you have no idea how long you can last.

Harry then turns to you, a calm expression on his face, but his eyes tell you otherwise as he simply takes his rings off and places them into your palm, confusing you about what he is really doing.

“I’m sorry in advance, Angel,” he mumbles before taking a step towards Levi and with a simple but graceful move, he punches your scumbag ex.

You gasp as you hear Levi’s groan, his hands flying to his face while Harry shakes his fist off with a heavy sigh.

“Oh fuck, this feels better with a glove on,” Harry breathes out, taking a step back.

“You fucker!” Levi spats as he straightens up. He moves his hand from his face, checking it to see if he is bleeding, but it’s just some redness on his cheek.

“Don’t freak out, princess. You’ll just have to sit some more in the makeup. But Swear to God if you ever speak about her that way,” Harry warns him pointing at him, “You won’t be able to fix it with some powder.”

And with that, Harry grabs your hand and pulls you into the trailer, leaving a shocked and raged out Levi outside. As soon as it’s just the two of you, Harry changes from the confident, protective man to a frightened little puppy as he looks at you.

“I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t take it any longer. The way he was talking about you and I—“

He doesn’t get to finish because our lips shut him up with the most heated and passionate kiss you two have ever shared. It’s hard and messy, your fingers thread through his hair as he grabs your waist forcefully, yanking you against her tightly.

“That was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you pant against his lips.

“Yeah? So you’re not mad?”

“I’m only mad because you got to punch him before me,” you chuckle making him laugh as well.

“God, I have no idea how you could put up with him this long,” he breathes out, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m convinced that my nerves are made out of steel,” you joke pecking his lips two more times.

“I don’t even see how you could be in a relationship with him in the first place,” he huffs.

“I was younger and dumber. Don’t worry, learned my lesson,” you laugh, cupping his cheek in the palm of your hand, running your thumb along the soft skin under his eye.

“If I’m being honest, there’s one more thing that’s upsetting me about him.”

“And what is that?”

“Please don’t get mad at me though, okay?” he chuckles softly.

“Just tell me!”

“I’m mad… because he is able to say that he has been in a relationship with you and I’m not. It’s pissing me off, properly,” he admits and your heart skips a beat. “I know you said you don’t want anything official, but I just want to call you mine and—“

You cut him off for the second time now as you kiss him again, grinning against his lips. If he didn’t bring this up now, you would have for sure before he left, because there was no way you would have been able to say goodbye to him again without having all strings tied.

“Just to be sure, was this your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you smirk, your hands holding onto the base of his neck.

“Kind of? Yeah,” he chuckles softly.

“Alright, cool. Now let’s go back to my hotel room, boyfriend.”

You watch as his eyes light up and leaning down he kisses you again.

“Just so we are on the same page, was this your way of saying yes?”

“Kind of, yeah,” you nod, using his own words.

“Great. Okay, let’s go, girlfriend.”

PREVIOUS PART

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[loveofafangirl]

72 Hours

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader/You (no gender, race or body type described)

Synopsis: You are tasked with watching Zemo for the weekend while he assists you in providing tech support and intel to your teammates in the field.  *Sort of: Enemies to Lovers* *One-Shot: Not same “reader” as my other stories.

Word Count: 2.2K (sorry this is longer than I intended)

A/N: This is a request for @purebloodwitch, where y/n is part of the Avengers and used to taking care of everyone, but at Zemo’s safe house he starts taking care of her and she is uncomfortable at first. I hope this fits what you are looking for. I hope you enjoy it. 

3 days.

72 hours.

That's how long you had to suffer his company. You stare out the window, taking in the country view. The car was taking the two of you to one of his safe houses. You had wanted to go on the mission with the rest of your team, but you were the most organized and could most easily relay intel to different groups as you uncovered it. Plus, it had been decided you were the least likely to bring physical harm to him. Though, you weren't so sure at the moment.

You had been against Bucky's plan to release Zemo. You remembered the bombing at the U.N. and the fallout that began that day. You blame him for the Snap and the loss of so many of your colleagues. If he hadn't turned the Avengers against one another, maybe Thanos never would have collected all six Infinity Stones. Maybe no one would have vanished, tearing the world apart—twice: once when they disappeared and again when they returned. As far as you were concerned, Zemo was the catalyst that led to Thanos, the need for the GRC, and the rise of the Flagsmashers. Everything began that day at the U.N. 

You look at your watch:

71 hours and 26 minutes.

When you arrive at his safe house, he insists you let him hold the door for you. You had always stood on your own, caring for those around you. You weren't used to gestures such as these, nor did you want them, least of all from him. 

Your fists clench when he refuses to go in first. Reluctantly, you proceed, allowing him to hold each door for you.

"Would you like a tour?" He gestures grandly around the lavish apartment.

"No," you state coldly, ignoring his coy smile that seemed to dip slightly at your tone. "Just tell me where to set up."

"Perhaps by the windows," he suggested. "The panels are one way. You can see out, but no one can see in. It should give us a good vantage point to keep watch without being noticed." 

You begin moving the bags of equipment you brought.

"Allow me." Without waiting, he takes the bags from you and carries them to the area he had previously pointed out. 

You follow wordlessly.

"There you go."

You nod your gratitude, unable to bring yourself to say thank you to him.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. When I'm done setting up, you'll need to tell me everything you know about Project Typhon and get me the decrypted files you insisted that only you could access."

"Of course, I am at your service."

You keep an eye on him while working. You still couldn't believe you got stuck babysitting. Now your focus was split between the work and making sure he didn't get into any trouble. 

He moves about the kitchen, grabbing this and that. He returns with a tray in his hands containing a teapot, two cups and saucers, small sandwiches, and a tin of cookies. "I had the pantry stocked before our arrival."

You give him a curious expression.

"I did not want you believing they had been sitting for the years." 

"I'm good."

He pours two cups of tea, offering one to you. "You haven't eaten since early morning. Please, help yourself."

You breathe deeply, trying not to give in. You had packed some rations, but you hadn't eaten any yet. You hate how appealing everything looked. You begin reaching for it, but pull back, now convincing yourself it could be poisoned. You turn your attention back to your work after a quick glance at your watch. 

65 hours. 

The evening passes slowly. You juggle your Zemo-sitting duty with decoding his cryptic replies into useable intel to relay to the two teams you were monitoring while also keeping an eye out for any digital chatter that may hinder your mission.

"Why me?" You sigh to yourself, thinking back to how you had asked Sam that same question when he first told you this was your assignment.

"You're good with people, Y/N."

"So you're sticking me with him?" You pointed an accusatory finger over your shoulder to Zemo.

His head shifted to the side, "No offense taken. I understand the difficulties. If you allow me a moment to explain."

"You understand nothing," you chided. Your gaze narrowed to a glower. 

"Easy, Y/N," Bucky interjected. 

"You of all people—" Your head shook in disbelief. "I was there. I saw what he did."

"We need him. He's the lesser of two evils right now."

You crossed your arms, not sure that was true. 

Your thoughts drift back to the present. You check the time again:

63 hours.

Zemo lounges beside you, nursing a drink in his hand. "I surmised you would decline a drink like my own, so I brought you a coffee instead. I noticed you had a few over the past days." He gestures to the warm mug on the table beside you. 

The rich aroma captivated you as you breathe in its bold notes. You really needed it. Begrudgingly, you took your first sip. It is better than you expected. A hum of delight slips from your lips. 

Noting his growing smirk, you muster the strength, uttering, "Thank you." You surprise yourself at the sound of your tone. It was much more cordial than you had intended it to be. 

"It was my pleasure, Y/N."

The two of you remain in silence, except for the occasional exchange needed for the mission. You were so focused on the job you hadn't even noticed him refill your coffee cup until you picked it up, expecting to savor the last drops but found a full cup met you instead. 

He kept working, seemingly not looking for any credit. You didn't offer any, but you had to bite your lips back to stop a smile threatening to erupt. 

57 hours. 

You rub your eyes and stretch your arms. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. Don't even think about trying anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He stood as you made your departure. "Gute Nacht. Sleep well."

You walk away without looking back. You knew there were agents strategically placed along the perimeter so he wouldn't get far, but you still worried.

Warm sunlight streams in the window of the large bedroom, gently caressing your face. The mattress is so soft and amazing; it sucked you into its depths immediately, and you fell quickly. You nuzzle in the soft fabric of the bedding, not wanting to move. It was your best sleep in months, even though it was only for a few hours. You think to yourself that you could get used to this.

Your body tenses at the thought as you remember where you are. You jump out of bed and quickly get dressed. Your team is counting on you. You swipe your phone checking the time.

52 hours.

You head straight to your setup; your fingers float nimbly across the keyboard as you attempt to focus solely on your work. Your stomach growls, pulling your focus. The scent of bacon frying greets you. You turn toward the kitchen, and for the first time, notice Zemo.

He catches your eye. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? I've set the two places." Sensing your hesitation. "I can bring it for you as well."

You glance at your phone. No new communications from the team. No alerts from any of the traces you had set up. Nothing to keep you there. Before you know it, you're walking in his direction.

He moves around the counter, pulling out one of the high bar chairs for you. 

You sit, even allowing him to push it in for you, a warmth spreading over you. 

"Please." He gestures to the plate in front of you and takes the seat opposite you. "Enjoy." 

You nibble on a piece of bacon and let the taste linger on your tongue. It was just the way you liked it. He sips his black coffee, watching you enjoy the first bites. You cover your mouth, feeling self-conscious suddenly. You shake your head, trying to brush away the feeling as you question why you care what he thinks. 

Your phone lights up, but it's nothing important. You glance at the time 7:11. You try to remember why you cared. Your attention shifts once more to the man across from you; that was why. 

51 hours. 

The two of you go about the day. Zemo is more useful than you expected. He quickly decodes and unscrambles messages and relays them to the team. Like you, he thrives on analytics and strategic thinking. There were moments where you actually enjoyed the conversation that developed. 

A few times, your fingers brush against his while reaching for the same thing. He always offered his apologies with that smile that made you forget what he'd done that day.

Before you know it, he's bringing you dinner.

"Is it really that late already?" You question, glancing at the time. You accept the plate. "Thank you." 

You enjoy a pleasant evening together, sharing the meal he prepared for you. He was a great cook to your surprise. This was better than anything you had eaten at the Avengers compound lately. 

As the night lingers and you wait for your team to send you new intel, he tells you stories about Sokovia. Once, he mentions his son before pausing and quickly changing the topic. 

In your rush to label him as a terrorist because of that fateful day, you never listened to his reasonings. They didn't excuse his actions, but he wasn't the cold-hearted killer you had expected based on his military profile. He was just a man who lost his entire world. 

When you part for the evening, you gaze back, lifting your hand. "Good night, Zemo."

The next morning, you wake softly, breathing in the comfort of the bed. You reach for your phone; his file is still open from where you fell asleep reading it. You wanted to understand him. There was so much more than you gave him credit for. 

You realize you were wrong. He wasn't the cause of everything that happened. You were. Everything began not the day at the U.N., but that day in Sokovia, with Ultron, and with the Avengers. They had created Zemo; he was merely a product of their haste. They were the catalyst to their own undoing. He had just shone a light on it. 

You lie back thinking over the past two days—the conversations that you'd shared, the kindness he had insisted upon, even when you tried to care for yourself, and those small touches that elicited a feeling you couldn't understand. 

Your last day together followed much of the same patterns: sharing meals, breaking down and relaying intel, keeping watch.

You notice how at ease you are. Your body is calm with no tensions or worries. You hadn't checked the time since—well, you weren't really sure. A look of horror flashes on your face as you realize you were enjoying this—enjoying him. 

"What did I miss?" He questions, strolling in from his bath, still in his robe.

Your body flushes, and your eyes cascade over his form. Realizing what you had done, you turn away and clear your throat. "Can you please put some clothes on?" 

He shrugs and walks off. As soon as he turns away, you find yourself chewing your cheek as you watch him leave. "Snap out of it! The only thing that matters is the job," you scold yourself. 

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance, averting your gaze, and avoiding him as much as possible. When he wishes you good night, you don't reply, hurrying off as quickly as possible.

You hope to find reprieve in the quiet of your room in the comfort of the softest mattress you had ever known. However, you toss and turn all night, your mind restless with growing thoughts of him.

You skip breakfast, or so you had planned. When you didn't come out, he left it outside your door.

You pack up in silence, catching glimpses of his curious look. You know he is probably wondering what changed, but he doesn't pressure you.

As you leave, you take one glance back at the beautiful apartment.

He waits at the door, holding it open for you.

This time, you don't protest and even offer your thanks. A smile fills your face as he opens the car door too. 

Your eyes close, remembering all the good moments from the past 72 hours. Without thinking, you turn into him, brushing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." 

Your gaze lingers on his soft brown eyes longer than you intend. You feel trapped, unable to break away, but you don't want to either. You lick your lips, wanting more, but worrying what it would mean. You decide to go for it, but as you move to him, he's already there, meeting you halfway until he pulls you entirely into his embrace. His lips are warm and inviting. You feel the world around you melt away under his tenderness.

Your heart flutters when you finally pull away. "That's a one-time thing."

His head tilts to the side, considering your words, and then nods in agreement.

You get in the car, your gaze still focused on him, a devilish smirk forming on your lips. "Unless I decide it's not." 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 ; @valquiria3000​

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

NSFW Alphabet (N-Z)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female! Reader

Summary: A-Z of just smut (and some fluff).

Word Count: 1324

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male/female receiving), masturbation (male/female), overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, teasing, slight spanking, sex toys, cursing, language, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note: POSTING IN 2 PARTS! Because Tumblr won’t let you have more than 250 text blocks. Happy Birthday to Sam! I love how this turned out and I hope you all do too! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

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Credit @ chrishemsworht for the wonderful gif

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never ever do something that would hurt you in any way, shape, or form.

He had told you countless times that if there ever was something you weren’t comfortable with in bed or something was hurting that you speak immediately.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

That man could live between your thighs if he had the chance. At every opportunity, he would search for your core to nuzzle his face in it and bring you earth-shattering after earth-shattering orgasm with his master tongue.

Sam was close to bringing you to a third orgasm in some random room at the party the two of you were attending.

His mouth was sinful as he sucked on your raw and abused clit for how long you didn't know. You lost track of time how long you've been spread out for him on some random surface as he was on his knees. The short dress you were wearing made it easy for him to have access to all of you.

“I-I don't th-think I can d-do one mo-more baby.”

“Just one more. Just one more for me.”

“Shouldn't we go back to the party? People must wonder where we are.”

“I don't care. I don't like the food there. This here is much better. Now cum for me one last time.”

He wouldn’t say no to an offer from you in sucking him off. He just wishes sometimes you would have picked a more appropriate time to do so.

“Her? Now?” Sam questioned as you were on your knees trying to undo his pants. The two of you were at a party, and you had gotten the sudden urge to feel him on your tongue, so desperate to taste him.

You had pushed him into some random small broom closet. The crowns of people outside having no idea what was going on just a few meters from them.

“Yes now. Do you not want me to?” You asked innocently as you grabbed his dick through his underwear. “N-no, I want to. Please keep going… fuck.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he’s been angry and frustrated that day, it’ll be more rough than usual. You could feel him take that little bit of frustration out on your body as he fucked you hard and fast from behind.

Not that you mind. It was terrible to admit, but you loved those times when he got home from his day a little angrier. Your thighs clenching together in knowledge that he would handle you roughly in bed.

Your head was buzzing as Sam fucked you into oblivion from behind. He had gotten home frustrated and in desperate need to release some steam. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in your palms to keep you grounded from his abusive thrusts.

His palm continuously left harsh slaps on your ass cheeks as he fucked you deeply into the mattress.

It didn't take long for both of you to release. His hands held a tight grip on your hips as he fucked you just a tad longer after the orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there really isn’t time for foreplay and exploring each other, he has nothing against a quickie if one of you is in a rush.

“We don’t have time for this Y/N! We need to leave in 10 minutes.”

“10 minutes is more than enough, Sam! We just need to be very quick.”

The rush to get his pants down as well as your underwear under the dress down was immense as you only had a few minutes to bring each other pleasure before you had to leave for the fancy gala both of you were attending.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s up for exploring new possibilities in bed if that’s what you want.

New positions, maybe some toys that could be used to enhance both of your pleasures.

If you were game, he was as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You have sex almost every day. That man can last as long as he wants and is good to go for 2-3 rounds. You don't understand how in the fuck he does it. It's like a secret superpower he has. He mainly uses it to his advantage when he wants to tease you to the fullest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There won’t be that many toys that are used. Sam always says that his mouth, hands, and dick are the only toys that are needed in the bedroom.

Once in a while, he will ask you to fuck yourself with the dildo in your drawer while he watches intensely.

“Please, Sam, can you just come and touch me?” The drive of the toy inside yourself was good, but it would never please you in the same way Sam did.

“No, no. I want to watch. You’ll get me later. Now show me what you do to yourself when I’m not at home.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

There is teasing to some degree, but he mostly wants to get right on.

But those few times he does actually want to tease you, he’ll take his sweet time in doing so, driving you absolutely insane with need.

“No… please,” the pathetic plea for him not to deny your orgasm again was bringing a smirk to his expression.

“Shhh… I’m not done with you yet,” he said as his fingers were inserted in you once again to build you up. Was he going to allow you to let go this time? That would be left to see when the time came.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can be loud at times, but mostly he’ll just let out grunts and moans of your name on a repeated loop. It became more evident just as he’s about to finish inside of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sam loves drawn-out foreplay when he has plenty of time to spare.

He takes good care in preparing you and making you cum at least once before he’s even put his dick in you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Have you seen how he walks? He’s thick and long, and he knows how to make you absolutely crazy with it. The way he holds himself just screams big dick energy.

You’ve been together for years, but you still can’t get used to his length inside of you, and you doubt you ever will.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s always ready if you are. He’s not joking when he says he wants you 24/7, 365 days.

Even when the two of you are tired but still horny for one another, you will find a way to pleasure each other.

The two of you were laying on your sides, Sam’s chest pressed tightly against your back as his dick was driving itself in and out of your tightness.

It was early in the morning. The two of you were as tired as could be but the need to feel each other was intense.

It wouldn’t be long until the two of you released all over each other. On the bright morning, none of you would be able to hold on for long.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always takes care of you before his eyes close for sleep. Washing you, cuddling you, running a bath for the two of you to relax in.

He can’t sleep unless he knows you have been appropriately taken care of.

“Good night, sweet girl. I love you.”

Part 1 HERE

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

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[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hello, Em! I was wondering if you would mind helping me find my type? I’ve narrowed it down to the Si-doms (slight margin of error for the IFP types, but I don’t see enough evidence for Ne or Se to be sure), but from there I’m having a hard time determining which fits better. I feel weakest when I don’t have much structure, and at work, I can be a bit of a pain because I’m always asking for clarification on new tasks. In college, I always felt like the vague assignments where the instructor (1)

doesn’t actually tell what they want were the worst. Most people see me as the logical one in the group. I think part of why I’ve maintained that image is that most of my family (especially my mom’s side) has never learned how to deal with their emotions well, so they try to always joke or become sarcastic. I’ve always gotten along with my dad’s family because I never feel like I’m being used as some sort of verbal target practice. I’ve never been good with expressing how I feel and prefer to (2

show it through actions. Whenever I’m dealing with family, I’m always honest (or else just quiet), and even when I’m talking to someone I don’t know well, I have a hard time softening the blow. I try, but it’s not something that comes easily. I’m typically relieved when someone else can take over dealing with people because I hate having to deal with people when they get upset. I typically take a quick dislike to people I think are too dramatic, but as long as they’re nice I can get over (3)

it fairly quickly. One of my favorite things about my boss is that he always asks how I’m doing when I come in in the morning and he always willing to jump in and cover shifts if he thinks someone’s not feeling well. I also have a difficult time with people who jump into things without thinking. One of my major issues with my mom is that I sometimes feel like I’m having to constantly re-plan things around her last-minute decisions. One of the things that my dad always points (4)

out as a weakness is that I’m too nice to people. I have a really hard time saying no to people, and I can be really easy to guilt trip. I’ve been pulled into a lot of things I really didn’t want to do because someone else talked me into it. A few years ago, I went with a group to an amusement park, and I got dragged along on things that I hated, all because my cousin asked. Even on the occasions when I have stood my ground, it’s taken a huge toll on me to know that I’ve disappointed someone (5)

I’m often torn between what others say about me and what I actually think. Every time I rediscover MBTI I get sucked into this endless loop of trying to somehow make sense of all the things others have said about me, what I think, and how it fits into the system. I was trying to pick a college major, I was constantly asking others what they thought would be a good choice, because I genuinely didn’t know what I wanted. I knew things I didn’t want (marketing psych, which I felt were mercenary) (6)

but I was torn between what I felt I ought to do (something that helped others) and what I was really interested in (history). I never thought of myself as good with people, but most people I know tell me that I come off as very sweet and likeable. Maybe not warm, but approachable and unintimidating. I tend to come off as studying people and waiting to judge them, even though there are some things where I just say NOPE and it can take years for me to change my mind. (7)

I did that when I first met my sister’s now husband. I thought they were rushing things and I was pretty upset over how much my sister had changed after they met. I’m still warming up to him, but he seems harmless. I’ve never been one to share my feelings with other people, but it can be so helpful to at least see them written out. I typically will have a decent idea of what I feel, but writing it down helps me really understand it and see when I’m really just being silly. Thank you!! (8)

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

Hi anon,

This absolutely sounds like ISFJ; I would rule out the Fi-Te axis completely given the emphasis on what other people want and their opinions and I suspect the only reason you considered high Fi was the commonly-found, but in my opinion incorrect statement that Fi users are more private with their emotions.

Your conclusion of high Si seems right; you have difficulties with spontaneity and prefer clear, specific instructions, and prefer to observe before making up your mind though can be very slow to change it, and this post has a lot of very concrete examples.

As mentioned the strong emphasis on what other people want, at times to the exclusion of what you want, and placing a high value on social niceties seems clearly like Fe. Not all high Te users are sarcastic but I've found a lot of them (myself included) are at least very comfortable with it/don't mind a little verbal target practice as long as they can return it to sender. ISTJs (and other TJs) are also typically far more comfortable turning down requests from others and tend not to rely on others quite as much for personal decisions or self-assessment, especially since it sounds you're either towards the end of your college career or shortly post-college and would probably have at least some capacity to use tert Fi if you had it.

One thing I've thought about a lot regarding FJs and being "the logical one" is that I do think self-assessements are sometimes erroneous, but also, especially if you're in your early-to-mid-20s and especially if you have a more spontaneous friend group, an ISFJ very well might be the logical one. Maybe not in the academic sense of logical, but in terms of common sense and making decent life decisions, yeah, an ISFJ will probably outdo most ENTPs even if the latter's Ti is higher, because a lot of behaviors motivated by Si and Fe (caution, consideration for the feelings of others) are smart things to do in terms of like, living life. It's less "logical" than "reasonable", but that's a pretty nitpicky distinction on my part. Plenty of deeply logical people are actually wildly unrealistic, because people don't behave logically, so the actual reasonable thing to do is, well, behave like an ISFJ and take past behaviors and relevant context and how people might feel into account.

[mylittlesyn]

Chapter 1: May 25th 2020, June 12, 2020, & August 7th, 2020 (This fic is in a diary format with memory recollections(It's fine, trust me)).

Premise: Aquarela moves to San Diego from Chicago and happens to meet the CEO/CSO of the new biotech company she works at: Dr. Tobirama Senju. She first meets him in the parking lot, when he's experiencing car trouble. So, she helps him out.

TW: None for this chapter other than questionable boss-employee relationships which is pretty much the entire theme.

𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝔻ℕ𝕀

MasterPost

May 25 th , 2020

I know I suck at writing these, and I suck at keeping up with these things, but I just finished my first day as a post doc. The drive from Chicago to San Diego was long, but it sure as hell was fun. God I love my miata. Nothing like driving with the top down, feeling the sun on your skin, listening to some ska, singing at the top of your lungs, not a care in the world… Kiki got sick a bit, but she’s better now.

The real reason I’m writing is more about the job. It’s nice and all, people are nice, facilities are nice, the project is hella awesome… Like I’m going to be teaming up with some of bioinformaticists and using their gene expression data to look at potential targets for AAV. The director of this division says I’m on a ‘fast track’ to lead scientist. It’s kind of intimidating honestly but… This could be really good for me.

Also… They don’t drug test. So I won’t have to worry about using weed on the weekends or after work, and needing to explain why it’s in my system, which is a great relief. I used the excuse that I needed to know ahead of time so I could get written excuse from my doctors because ADHD meds will show up, which is true but… Yeah…

Anyways, went on a hella tangent… What I really wanted to say was the CEO/CSO of the company is insanely attractive. Like, look at him!:

Insert photo of Dr. Senju here eventually.

He’s got this hard look to him. I think he might be albino? He’s got this red tinge in his eyes, which might be from the blood vessels but humans with albinism usually have super pale blue eyes, but… Who knows. He’s a silver fox, but he’s only like 33? He built the company right out of his own postdoc and it kind of boomed within the 5-7 years it’s been up and running. His ambition… Fuck it’s attractive. Maybe the stress from building it all caused him to go fully grey so early. He’s also Colombian I guess? If I ever do meet him I’ll have to talk to him in Spanish. So far I haven’t met any Hispanics within the company which kind of sucks. Oh well, I already put my flag in the pencil holder at my desk. I’m sure they’ll find me eventually. Us hispanics congregate in herds, always find each other and then can’t be separated.

Mr. Dr. Bossman and I locked eyes, his mouth parted slightly when he saw me, then he looked away while clenching his jaw. Hopefully I didn’t do anything to piss him off when we locked eyes… I think I was just filling out some paperwork. His ears were red too, but he is rather pale… I’m probably just imagining things. Anyways, I’mma yeet.

June 12th, 2020

The past few weeks have been really busy, with a LOT of reading. Lit review… I still remember spending two months straight at the beginning for grad school just reading papers with Kiki by my side. (Kiki is my dog, for any archeologist in the future who discovers this. She’s a tiny schnauzer and she’s the sweetest, chillest, calmest thing ever and if I win the lottery I will make it my life’s work to clone her.)

Anyways, I’ve been reading about potential therapeutic targets. I had asked them what type they wanted, like for which disease. The dude was like: Just pick a department to collaborate with. So they have a cancer department, so I went with that. Tried looking for glioma targets, and after a lot of work with the bioinformatics team, we went with RB1. Which is kind of dumb because I could’ve just chosen that without needing to fill my head with soooo much gene regulation data. Seriously, that’s why I’m going out tonight. I need to be head empty for a bit. I mean I get why we chose it. It’s statistically speaking one of the most mutated genes in gliomas, and it’s mutated in other cancers so if the therapeutic use is successful, then it can be marketed to other areas. Still, feels a little like I wasted the past couple weeks.

Anyways, I’m actually going to look good when I go out tonight. I’ll paint my face with makeup and put on a pretty dress, maybe a sun dress, and I’ll go out. Maybe find someone to sleep with. I could use a good lay. I found the SCCA region thing here. I’m hoping to do a track day here soon and go autocrossing. Anyways, I’mma yeet and get ready.

August 7th, 2020

I told you I really suck at this kind of thing. I can’t keep up, but I’ve decided to not beat myself up about it anymore. I’ll write when I write. I’ve felt really happy lately. Also I’ve gotten really tan and my hair is kinda gold colored now because of the sun I’ve been getting. Good thing I’ve been wearing short shorts and a tank top so I don’t look like a farmer, but my stomach is sooooo pale compared to my limbs and upper torso. It’s a bit weird but, eh.

So I met the CEO/CSO. Dr. Senju. I was leaving work and I stopped on the way because he was in the parking lot with the hood up. He was waiting for a tow truck but it just turns out there was a coolant leakage. I waited with him while the engine cooled down and then put in some water. I ended up taking off my shirt to remove the cap on the radiator… The whole thing went kind of like this:

I walked to my bike, and unlocked it while bending over in my lycra shorts that started at the waist and ended just below my butt. The bottom of my ponytail tickled the exposed skin on my waist as my red tank top had ridden up my back. I took off my back pack and tossed it into the basket on the back of my bike. After I pulled out my aviator shades from my tank top and put them on, I hoped on my bike and started to make my way out of the parking lot, only to stop when I noticed someone with the hood of their car open. I pedaled my way over to the silver car and stopped in front of it. I got off of my bike that I built from junkyard scraps and put down the kickstand. Once I was sure the, perfectly functional bike albeit sometimes unsteady, was standing still I made my way to the other side of the hood where the owner awaited.

“Having car trouble?” I questioned with a smile as I approached the silver haired man. When he turned around I flinched, noticing it was the CEO/CSO of the very company I had just clocked out from. He was on the phone when he turned to me with an annoyed look on his face. I grimaced and shoved my hands into the non-existent pockets to then awkwardly cross my arms underneath my chest. I started to take a look at the engine on the Audi TTS that was still smoking some. I bet… I took off my sunglasses before I dropped down to the ground and stupidly placed my palms on the hot concrete as I peaked under the car. There was coolant on the ground. I quickly pushed up with a hop and slapped my palms onto my bare caramel colored thighs. When I turned to him again, I saw that he was on the phone, one arm across his chest, and his elbow resting on the back of his palm while he held up his phone to his face. His lips were tight and he was staring at me, though I had no idea what to make of his expression. “I know what’s wrong with the car, if you’re willing to wait a bit, I should be able to get it to where you can drive it yourself to the mechanic.” I announced to him as I inspected my palms. He hung up his phone and walked a little closer to me.

“You’re the new gene therapy addition, right?” He questioned as he slid his phone into his pocket. How he was managing to keep wearing that black turtle neck in this heat was beyond me.

“Yeah, I’m Aquarela.” I told him as I held out my hand.

“Dr. Senju.” He pronounced with a Colombian accent. So he does know Spanish… I started to get lost in those curious brick red eyes of his as I felt my lips part ever so slightly while our hands remained clasped. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away as he turned to the engine and my eyes followed as well. “So what’s wrong with it?” He wondered as he started to lean on the car bumper only to recoil. Everything is so fucking hot.

“I’m guessing you were sitting in the car with it idling for a while before you started to see smoke coming out from under the hood?” I guessed. He turned over his shoulder to look at me with furrowed brows.

“How did you…?” He trailed off as he folded his arms across his chest and looked back to the engine.

“You’re leaking coolant. You’ve probably been low on coolant for a while but it won’t usually leak if you’re driving. Plus when you’re driving, the cool air travels through the grill and helps cool the car while it’s being driven, so it’s less likely to overheat while driving as opposed to still.” I started to explain and he started to watch me as I continued explaining. “Given the size of the puddle, I’d venture to say that you’ve been leaking for a while which means that it should hold enough while you get to the mechanic, but we need to wait for the engine to cool down before pouring water in, otherwise it will just evaporate… That and there’s too much pressure build up to remove the radiator cap right now.” I told him while I opened the coolant cap. I don’t know that it actually helps release the pressure built, but I’d like to think it helps some.

“Shouldn’t I put coolant in?” He asked with his brows furrowed and jaw clenched… No red ears this time… Huh…

“Ideally yes, do you happen to have any on you?” I asked as I turned to face him. He studied my face for a moment before looking over to the engine, his arms still crossed. He was clearly frustrated.

“No.” He muttered.

“If you really want, I suppose I can go get some up the street. There’s a gas station a few blocks from here that probably has some coolant.” I offered as I shrugged. “It’ll take me a bit but we need to wait for the engine to cool down anyways.” I remarked as he turned to me with his eyes widened a smidge before he shook his head.

“You’re certain using water won’t damage the engine, correct?” He interrogated.

“It won’t reach below freezing and it’ll be fine as long as we fill it up. Just don’t go over the speed limit and you should be fine.” I smiled at him and the corners of his lips raised as he placed his hands into his pockets. “Should we go inside and get some water then?” I questioned while I rocked on my feet.

“Yes, lets.” He acknowledged. He was about to put the hood of his car down but I stopped him while placing my hand on his. His eyes snapped to mine as he looked over his shoulder, and I noticed his ears were red and his brows were furrowed again.

“Let the engine breathe a bit, there’s a cool breeze going.” I suggested, and he gave a quick nod. His brows unfurrowed and our eyes remained locked as my hand lingered on his. I pursed my lips and removed my hand as he shoved the one I touched into his pocket while he went around to lock his car. I went to walk my bike over to lock it back up again, although this time just the body. After putting my backpack on, I started to walk back into the building with Dr. Senju by my side. He slid his keycard through the pad at the door and held the door open for me before I walked inside. We then made our way past the lobby and into the elevator.

I rocked back on my heels and gripped onto the railing as if I were to start to work my triceps, but no… I just stood awkwardly because… Why not? Him on the other hand… Hands in pockets, standing up so very straight after he pressed the button of the floor my office and the lab I worked on was in… Did he know where I worked? That I’m aware of his office is a few floors up from me… “How do you know so much about cars?” He asked, trying to make conversation.

“My dad. He likes to race them and he got me into cars since I was about… 2?” I laughed as he watched my face with a raised brow. “There’s a photo of me holding the steering wheel of my dad’s Datsun 510 when I’m about two years old.” I explained and he scoffed while looking down with the edges of his mouth turned up. “I started to learn how to drive stick when I was about 8, could officially drive stick when I was about 12, started racing go karts officially when I was 11, then I had my first autocross race when I was about 17…?” I rambled as I stared at the ceiling of the elevator.

“Autocross?” He spoke and when I turned to him his brow was raised slightly.

“It’s when you race in a timed lap against other people. It was done completely legally.” I added quickly. “You could probably autocross your audi, should you ever want to.” I remarked with a smirk. “No prior car knowledge needed to participate.” I teased as my smirk grew into a grin. He pursed his lips for a moment and kept the edges of his lips turned up. “Or you could race mine… Or simply ride with me while I race…” I suggested while I elbowed him. He pursed his lips again… Was he trying to hold back a smile…? The elevator door opened and he cleared his throat once again before gesturing for me to go on ahead with his arm. I walked onto the floor and started to head towards the labs. I reached over for my lab coat but he stood close behind me and placed his hand over mine.

“I won’t allow you to go in there without long pants. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He spoke with such a deep commanding voice. His body wasn’t touching mine, but he was close enough to where I felt his hot breath against the outer shell of my ear and it all sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m just getting water… I’ll be fine.” I insisted.

“I understand you just got out of academia, but I can’t allow that here.” He demanded as his hand gently squeezed mine before letting go. My hand fell to my side and I turned around, stuck between him and the lab door. His height towered over me as I looked up into his eyes, getting caught in them once again while I waited for him to step aside so I could walk out. He stared back into mine and I could swear his eyes drifted to my lips.

“Dr. Senju… I…” I motioned to the area past him. He cleared his throat and he stepped aside while his ears turned red and blush crept onto his cheeks. I could feel my cheeks growing warm as my fingertips went up to touch them. When I turned back to watch him, I quickly ran to the door and poked my head through. “Ideally we want distilled water!” I clarified quickly as he was about to gather tap water into one of the pyrex bottles. He turned off the faucet and switched to the other one as I indicated and I backed out of the lab. I walked over to my desk and rested up against it as I waited for Dr. Senju… Tobirama… Which, I’m glad I didn’t call him that because clearly he likes formalities.

“That’s right, you’re Puerto Rican.” He commented as he snapped me away from my staring at running shoes.

“You say that like you already knew where my desk was.” I remarked with my head tilted as I straightened. His ears turned red as his eyes looked everywhere but to me. “Do you have everyone’s desk location memorized…?” I teased with a smirk. His eyes narrowed as he glared.

“I am simply observant!” He snapped which caused me to flinch. He huffed a deep exhale as he turned away and I could see his ears were red again. “I saw you sitting there when you first started… I have a good memory… Photographic.” He huffed before he motioned for me to walk ahead of him without looking at me. I stood up straight while a smirk grew and walked ahead of him towards the elevator.

“So, sabes español entonces?” I questioned as I pushed the elevator button to go down. When I looked at him his face was stonewalled and showed no presence of emotion whatsoever. The elevator dinged as it opened and we both walked inside and faced the door. I rested up against the elevator wall and crossed my ankles while folding my arms underneath my chest.

“Hablo español pero creo que deberíamos mantener esta relación, profesional.” He spoke with a stern, deep voice and a slight Colombian accent. His jaw was clenching as I peeked over at him and his ears were red… His ears turned red a lot. I straightened up and tightened my hold on myself.

“Have… Have I done something unprofessional?” I uttered and I started to feel some knots form in my stomach.

“Your attempt to walk into the lab without the proper safety equipment was quite unprofessional.” He remarked and I could feel the blood drain from my face as I stared at the elevator floor.

“I-I…” I sighed and when I peaked up at him I could see him staring at the elevator panel with no emotion in his face. I was starting to feel queasy. “Every lab has their own leniencies for safety given the chemicals used in said lab… Now that I know what the rules are here…” I turned my whole body to him as I stood up straight. “You have my word, I will never attempt that again.” I told him with certainty, hoping to salvage my job.

“I understand how things function in academia, but we need to be stricter here. You’re in industry now.” He clarified, finally turning to me. “Don’t forget that.”

“I hope you won’t hold it against me… I quite like this job.” I informed as I stared down at my feet as I clasped my hands behind my back and rocked on my feet.

“I’m glad you like it here.” He spoke with a soothing, calm… Deep… Dreamy… Voice. I could feel my cheeks turning pink again and I rested back on the elevator wall. “I do actually have plans for you here, so I’m comforted to know you’d like to stay for a while.” He mentioned while studying my face, which was turning redder by the second. “I read your dissertation you know.” He mentioned with a more off handed tone, but even I knew that a man like him would never mention something like that off hand.

“All of it?” I wondered.

“All 214 pages of it. How is ‘the best dog’ doing? Well I hope.” He wore the world's smallest smug smile and I, who usually don’t care or get flustered by what other people think at all… Was trying to hide my face because I was certain my rosacea had me looking like a tomato.

“She’s good. Enjoying being somewhere warm again.” I smiled thinking of Kiki, who was probably eager for me to get home. “Do you have any pets?” I asked, finally having the courage to face him again. Kiki, working her emotional support magic, even from home.

“No. I am quite fond of dogs, but I work far too much to have one.” He mentioned. “Your work… It was very interesting, that concept you came up with… Using microRNAs to silence the mutated gene, which is compact and tried, while also adding in the replacement gene… It’s ingenious really. How did you come up with it?” He rested on the wall facing me now, studying me like a slide under a microscope. Our eyes locked again and a soft smile grew on my face. This man who’s a genius… Wanted to know how I came up with my ideas… The elevator dinged open and he cleared his throat again as we both straightened while motioning for me to walk on ahead. I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, before walking alongside him to head out of the building.

“It might be a little unprofessional to tell you, but I assure you… I’m very open about it and I don’t mind talking about it.” I warned, but he didn’t stop me. Instead his brow was raised… He was intrigued. “It’s the double edged sword of ADHD… All of the out-of-the-box creativity without any of the ability to execute your ideas.” I explained with a smile before stepping outside and holding the door open for him. He gave a small nod and the corners of his lips were turned up. “The ADHD meds help with the execution, but dim the creativity… So once in a while I go on ‘holidays’ where I don’t take the meds for a few days-“

“I’m aware of what holidays are… My brother has ADHD.” He remarked as we walked over to his car. When we stopped at his engine, he turned on his heels and watched me for a moment. “You remind me of him some… You’re both very… Charismatic.” He commented before giving himself the world's smallest smile. I grinned before I took off my backpack and my tank top and placed it over the radiator cap, but it was still to hot too hold onto after a few seconds. “You didn’t have to-“

“It’s fine.” I told him while waving him off and throwing my tank top over my shoulder. “I work in these tank tops all the time, they’re used to some car grease.” I told him as I wiped the sweat off of my brow before looking at him. His eyes were wandering and his ears were turning red again before he faced away. Did he… No… I shook my head and crossed my arms under my chest, tugging at my sports bra some. “Anyways, I’ll take a day off when I’ve been hyper focusing and reading about a problem… That’s usually when the ideas come to me.” I mentioned with a shrug. He watched my face closely as I stared back at him.

“Is that how you came up with RB1 as your target?” He wondered.

“Yeah… It’s a versatile target… It just made the most sense honestly. We’ve got a baseline for our cell line now, so I’m going to start designing the vector insert soon.” I informed as I started squinting a bit, now that the sun was in my line of sight. I took my aviator glasses and put them on, now being able to see appropriately.

“I’d like to see your process if you don’t mind…” He mentioned while he was looking down at the bottle in his left hand. His left hand that had no ring… No Aqua… Don’t.

“I think I would… I’d get distracted too easily…” I gripped onto my bicep and shrugged.

“Yes well… Alright. If you change your mind, please do let me know. I’m very interested to see how you work.” He remarked.

“I mean… If you’re that interested, would you mind if I stop by your office if I want to bounce ideas off of you?” I questioned. “I don’t think that will distract me, although I might interrupt you, talk over you, or something else unprofessional while in that state, so I please ask that you don’t hold that against me.” I warned while waggling my finger and finished with it placed over my lips. He huffed a chuckle while shaking his head.

“Again, my brother has it. I’m well aware of what it can look like. Please, stop by my office as you want. I hope to grow this into an entire department… And I’d like you to lead.” He started with his itty bitty smile to then finish with that stonewalled face.

“No pressure…” I joked as he huffed another chuckle. I felt the cap of the radiator and turned it just a smidge to then wait as it hissed and I quickly removed my hand to then wipe it on my thigh. “Soon.” I commented. “So you’re close with your brother?” I asked while straightening.

“Yes… We are very close. It’s just me and him. Plus, despite being the older one, he needs someone to keep an eye out on him.” He clenched his jaw but I smiled at him.

“That’s sweet.” I blurted to then feel my cheeks turn rosy while his ears turned red again. I bent over the engine and loosened the cap some more and stopped quickly when it started to hiss again, leaving it be as I flung my hand back. Dr. Senju placed the pyrex bottle on the ground, came around, and snatched my hand to inspect my palm.

“Are you alright?” He questioned with worry in his tone as his brows furrowed as he held my hands in his.

“I’m fine.” I chuckled as I looked at my slightly reddened palm. He looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Nonsense with pressure buildup like that you could hurt yourself!” He snapped to then clench his jaw. My smile faded as I stared into his eyes that were looking closely at my palm. He’s so concerned… Yet he’s so angry… How amusing. “Does it hurt?” He muttered.

“No.” I insisted with another chuckle. He smoothed his thumb over it as he didn’t believe me and although it did sting a bit, it was nothing to cause me to flinch. He smoothed over it a few more times, and slowly the redness went away. My lips parted and I felt my cheeks turn red again. When his eyes caught mine, his eyes drifted towards my lips after a moment and he squeezed my hand. He cleared his throat and stepped back as he let go of my hand.

“Just, be cautious… Please.” He pleaded as his head whipped to look at the engine with his ears as red as my cheeks.

“Ok.” I whispered. The hissing had stopped so I finished removing the cap, bent over to grab the bottle, and slowly poured the water into the radiator. “So tell me more about yourself.” I demanded as a way to help break the silence.

“Such as…?” He questioned.

“Whatever you feel is professionally appropriate.” I teased, stealing a glance as I looked over my shoulder to see him narrowing his eyes at me as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“Well… I received my PhD from Stanford.” He mentioned.

“Oh I got rejected from there. They sent me a paper rejection… Paper! Who uses paper in 2015?” I shook my head and chuckled as I straightened once the bottle was empty. “We’re going to need more water.” I commented after handing him the bottle. He nodded so I put on my tank top again, along with my backpack, so we could head into the building to get more water.

“The tattoo on your shoulder blade… What’s the significance of it?” He was asking about my taíno coqui and the scripture underneath: Borincana aunque naciera en la luna. We walked into the lobby and I pressed the up button on the elevator.

“The words are in reference to a poem turned to song. Originally it’s about a Newyorican talking about how akin he feels to Puerto Rico, but to me it’s about how I was born in Florida and was raised in Puerto Rico. My dad was in the Coast Guard, so we were stationed in Florida when I was born, but I lived in Puerto Rico since I was 3 and it was the only culture I’ve ever known.” I shrugged as I leaned back against the elevator. I stole a glance from the corner of my eye to see his face emotionless as he nodded.

“And the symbol?”

“It’s a coqui. The Taíno symbol for it anyways. They were the native tribe that used to live in Puerto Rico before colonization.” I elaborated.

“My brother and I recently had our DNA sequenced, and now that Hashirama knows he’s 25% aboriginal… He wants to take a trip to Colombia to rediscover ‘our roots’.” He motioned with air quotes before he shook his head and huffed a chuckle.

“Recently? I had mine sequenced back in 2012… Pretty much as soon as I had the money to spare for the test.” I remarked with raised brows, surprised that the CEO/CSO of a bioinformatics company only just now had his DNA sequenced.

“Yes well, I should clarify.” He motioned for me to exit the elevator, so I stepped on ahead. “I did sequence my DNA ages ago, but I never gave emphasis to the genealogy aspect of it until Hashirama got his done.” He commented and I smiled as I watched him walk into the lab. I rested back up against my desk and watched him with my arms folded underneath my chest. When he walked back out our eyes met and locked as he slowly made his way to me. His height towered over me and his eyes broke to lower down to my lips, where mine drifted to do the same. I stood up straight and moved my hands behind me to clasp onto the edge of the desk, willing myself to hold back. “I got the water…” He whispered. That was just enough to snap us both back to reality. He cleared his throat and took a step back while he shook his head and I could see his ears turning red again as blush crept onto my cheeks. I chuckled some as a soft smile grew.

“Yes, I see that…” I hummed happily, giving him one last glance before heading over to the elevator as he continued to stare at his shoes. “So how much… Arawak is it in Colombia?” I was trying my best to recall my Puerto Rican history classes in high school.

“According to Hashirama’s latest fascination, the Arawaks are a broad term that include both your Taínos, and our Lokonos, which refers to the indigenous people of the Caribbean and South America respectively.” He spoke almost like he was reiterating from a textbook, which he mentioned having photographic memory… So maybe he was? I chuckled some before stealing a glance at him as the elevator made its way back to the lobby.

“It’s been a while since I studied this. I did a report on the Taínos in my Native American studies class in undergrad, but before that I hadn’t studied about the Taínos since highschool. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m a bit rusty.” I finished with a toothy grin as the doors to the elevator opened.

“You are forgiven.” He bore a small smile that made my heart flutter as we made our way through the main lobby.

“I’m honored to have earned your forgiveness.” I teased with a hand pressed to my chest as I walked backwards while watching him and pushed out on the door with my behind. He pursed his lips, likely trying to maintain his composed and stoic sense of self. I’m slowly catching onto your ways Dr. Senju.

“You are trouble…” I heard him hum under his breath, and I am so happy for my great hearing, so I can tease him further.

“I heard that.” I commented as I caught up behind him while we walked to his car. His ears turned red again and he was trying to avoid my gaze, so I simply snatched the bottle from his hands. I ran up ahead and started pouring the water into the radiator until it was filled, then I closed the cap, and filled the coolant section up to the full mark.

“Would you like me to take you home, so you don’t have to ride your bike I mean?” He offered as I closed the coolant cap and handed him the bottle.

“Nah, I like riding my bike… Feeling the warm sun on my skin.” I hummed happily as I looked up to the bright blue, cloudless sky. “Besides, then I’d have to drive into work the next morning and I don’t feel like paying for that expensive car park.” I shrugged to then look at him with my face scrunched while I shook my head. The corners of his mouth turned upwards and he watched me as I closed the hood of his car. I turned to face him and smiled. “You should be good to go. Just don’t idle in the car before it's fixed, and be more careful with speed bumps… Although I guess it could just be a valve… or a gasket… who knows…” I shrugged while looking at the car as I trailed off. “Anyways!” I met his eyes again. “I’m going to head home. My dog is waiting for me.” I told him with a smile.

“Thank you Dr. Juarbe. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to repay you.” He spoke as he stepped closer to me.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” I waved him off but he clasped onto my fingertips. His gaze held mine but it broke as his cell phone went off. He took a step back and cleared his throat, letting go of my hand as he reached in his pocket for his cellphone. “I’ll see you soon… I’m sure.” He spoke before he answered his call. I nodded and waved before I walked back to my bike to head home.

So that’s what happened. God is Dr. Senju dreamy… I’m not sure he’s really interested in me though, but if he is, he really doesn’t want to be. He probably isn’t though. I’m just reading too much into things. Ah well… At least I found out I have a good place with the company. And I get to burst into the Bossman’s office whenever I want! Not a whole lot that can get better than that! Anyways, I’mma yeet.

[misscorn]

Day 7: Future/Post Confession

I can't believe yet another @takaritsuweek has come and gone so fast 😭❤ everyone in this Fandom is so talented and im obsessed with the nostalgia content 💘 please enjoy my last one shot for this week ☺

***

Onodera Ritsu was being weird, which could only mean one thing: something was wrong and he wasn't talking to Masamune about it.

Masamune had really hoped that things would go smoother after Ritsu confessed, but that was foolish. Masamune was so, undeniably happy, but they weren't perfect people. Both of them still had things to work on, separately and together. One of those things was more readily relying on one another. So, Masamune was determined to find out what was wrong.

Ritsu just seemed a lot more...spacey than usual. And anxious. And maybe a little gloomy? Masamune couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew that he didn't like it.

Currently, Ritsu was over at Masamune's apartment, helping to clean up the dishes as the two of them had just finished dinner. Ritsu was at Masamune's place quite frequently and Masamune always brought up the idea of moving in together, but Ritsu hadn't quite come around to it yet, mostly because he knew for a fact that it would affect any work the two of them brought home. Masamune got...distracted easily and Ritsu tended to get swept away. So, for now Ritsu was content with a lot of sleepovers.

Once they finished cleaning, Masamune led Ritsu into the living room by his hand. He sat down unceremoniously on the couch before pulling Ritsu down with him and on to his lap, making Ritsu's face burn red.

I kind of hope he never gets used to this, Masamune thought, loving the sight of Ritsu's adorably embarrassed expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ritsu asked, trying to sound scolding, but he only succeeded in sounding nervous.

Masamune wrapped his arms around Ritsu's waist. "I just want to talk and I figured if I have you like this you won't be able to run away." Like how you love to do.

Ritsu couldn't even argue against that logic, but he made a displeased face anyway. "Fine. What is it?"

"Is everything okay with you?" Masamune asked.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine." Ritsu said dismissively.

"You just seem like you've had something on your mind lately." Masamune said. "Making me worried."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." Ritsu apologized immediately.

"Don't say sorry, there's nothing to be sorry for, I just wanna know if there's something going on." Masamune said, trying to sound reassuring.

Ritsu chewed on his lower lip nervously before he spoke again. "I guess I have been thinking a bit..." He started vaguely.

"What about?" Masamune pressed gently.

"Well, my mom's gotten off my back about An-chan, but not about settling down. She's been trying to set up matchmaking sessions, introducing me to daughters of friends of hers whenever I visit, sending me info about singles events." Ritsu tried not to cringe at the thought of going to one of those. "And I just...I think maybe it's time I tell my parents about you. About us." Ritsu said. "I mean, I know we only started officially d-dating not too long ago, but I feel like we're both kind of in this for the long haul." He laughed nervously. They've both been in this for the past ten years, after all. It was hardly too soon to let his parents be in the know. "So, um, it seems only right to tell them..."

"If you want to tell them then you should." Masamune said.

"You make things sound so simple." Ritsu sighed. "It could go really, really wrong, you know?"

"I know. But the other option is keeping it a secret forever. Which, you can if you want, but it might be difficult to eventually explain to your parents when they visit why you have a longterm male roommate and you both wear matching wedding rings and share a room and take care of a little girl who calls both of you dad."

Ritsu's face flushed at Masamune projection of their future together, his heartbeat picking up in pace. "You want to have a daughter?"

"Someday, I think it'd be nice. But we're not even past the step of me meeting your parents, so I don't think they're going to get grandchildren anytime soon." Masamune planted a quick kiss on Ritsu’s shoulder.

"W-Wait, meeting?! I was just going to tell them, I didn't plan on having you meet them yet!" Ritsu said quickly.

"Ritsu, this is your mom we're talking about. If you tell her I exist she will track me down and interrogate the hell out of me whether you want her to or not." Masamune deadpanned.

Ritsu groaned and slumped against Masamume, knowing that he was right. "Maybe I should just test the waters first? It doesn't seem fair to throw all of us in at once."

Masamune hesitated to agree, subconsciously playing with Ritsu's hair. "I want to be there." He said firmly. "I understand you're worried, but like you said, things could go wrong and I want to be there for you if they do."

"You're only one door away." Ritsu said.

"Too far." Masamune insisted, pressing a kiss to Ritsu's forehead.

Ritsu rolled his eyes, trying hard not to smile. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

"Mhm. Besides, I can't charm the hell out of your parents if I'm busy next door worrying about you."

"Oh, is that your plan? To be all cool and suave until they can't possibly reject our relationship?" Ritsu asked sarcastically.

"Yes, exactly."

Ritsu shook his head before he refocused and took a deep breath. "How's this weekend?"

"I can do this weekend." Masamune said.

"I'll invite them to my place for dinner and hopefully it will be totally boring and uneventful and they won't care about us being together at all."

"Yeah, the woman who has hounded you about marriage for over ten years is going to not care about you being in a romantic relationship." Masamune said sarcastically.

Ritsu groaned loudly.

Masamune chuckled. "What about your dad? How do you think he'll react?"

"No idea, which is honestly worse."

"We'll handle it." Masamune promised and sealed it with a kiss.

-

"I can't do this, I think I should call them and cancel, tell them I'm sick." Ritsu said as he and Masamune cooked dinner together. Technically it wouldn't be a lie since Ritsu was feeling pretty nauseous.

Ritsu had spent all day yesterday making sure his apartment was spotless and then earlier today he and Masamune had gone grocery shopping together since Ritsu’s options for dinner had been a little slim.

"Oh, yeah, tell your mom that you're sick, I'm sure that will make her stay away instead of making her want to come over more." Masamune said sarcastically.

"You're no help."

"I thought I was being a lot of help, unless you wanna cut the onions." Masamune said, not looking up from the cutting board where he was working on the veggies.

Ritsu huffed and turned away to sit at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands. He couldn't do this, he was such an idiot for ever thinking that he could. Introducing his parents to Masamune? He had never even mentioned liking men to them! And now suddenly he was going to announce that he had a boyfriend! There was only one way this could go: badly.

"Hey," Masamune said softly, abandoning his cutting station to sit next to him. "Its gonna be okay."

"You don't know that."

"I know, and honestly I'm kind of freaking out too. I don't think there's anything that could prepare me for meeting your parents. I want them to like me, I want them to think I'm a good fit for you because I know they're always going to be a big part of your life. Even if they can be a little overbearing, they love you, and it would kind of really suck if the people who loved you the most hated me." Masamune said. "But, either way I know that no matter what happens we'll still be together and for me that's enough." Masamune placed a comforting hand on Ritsu's knee.

"Even if my mom spends every single family gathering trying to drive you away? Even if she keeps trying to set me up on blind dates? Or, worse, tries to convince my dad to mess with your work?"

"Ritsu, the only thing your mom could do to keep me away from you is put out a hit on me."

"Don't joke about that."

"Oh come on, your parents don't have that many connections." Masamune said. "...right?"

"I really couldn't tell you."

"Jesus Christ." Masamune said, breathing through a laugh. "Look, the point is; we're gonna be okay."

Ritsu placed his hand on top of Masamune's and gave it a squeeze as he slowly nodded. "Okay...okay." He said. "Let's hurry and finish dinner then. My mom likes to get places early."

Masamune smiled softly and stole a swift kiss before happily helping Ritsu in the kitchen once more.

Eventually, there came a knock at the door. "I'll keep an eye on the food while you go get it." Masamune said. Dinner was just nearly done.

Ritsu swallowed hard and nodded, turning to leave the kitchen.

"Wait." Masamune grabbed his hand and kissed him quickly. "For good luck." He winked.

"Y-You're such an idiot." Ritsu scolded before quickly going to the front door and opening it.

Youko and Tatsuo Onodera stood side by side at Ritsu's door. Youko broke out into a smile and threw her arms around Ritsu before anyone could get a word out.

"H-Hi, mom." Ritsu smiled nervously as he hugged her back. "Hi, dad." He said to Tatsuo over Youko's shoulder as he was still being tightly squeezed.

"You feel skinny." Youko said as soon as she pulled away, pouting at her son. Ritsu was not surprised to be scolded instead of greeted, but he knew his mother meant well.

"Well, its a good thing I've invited you over to eat then. Come in." Ritsu said with a sheepish expression, attempting to play it off.

"It smells good." Tatsuo said.

"Ritsu, don't tell me you've left the food unattended for long." Youko said worriedly as they shuffled toward the kitchen.

"No." Ritsu's hands started to shake. "The foods being watched. Right now. B-by my b-boyfriend."

""Boyfriend?!"" Both Youko and Tatsuo exclaimed.

"How long has this been a thing?" Tatsuo asked.

"Oh...ten years or so..."

"Ten YEARS?!" Youko had heard enough, marching into the kitchen with her husband and son following not far behind.

"M-Mom, wait, maybe we should talk a little more-"

"You." Youko pointed accusingly at Masamune. "Are you my son's so called partner?"

"I am. My name is Takano Masamune, it's nice to-"

"Takano? I'm not familiar with that name. What's your family background?" Youko interrupted.

Masamune blinked, glancing between Ritsu and his parents, a little confused by the question. "Uh, my mother is a lawyer and my step father is a doctor, but I'm not on speaking terms with either of them."

"A boy with a troubled family history? Hardly seems like a good choice for a partner." Youko commented to Ritsu.

"Mother! That's incredibly rude!" Ritsu defended Masamune immediately. What was she even going on about?

"What do you do for a living?" Youko asked Masamune.

Masamune played along with her questions as he didn't know what else to do. "I'm the editor in chief for Marukawa Publishing's shoujo manga department: Emerald."

"Emerald? Onodera Ritsu, do you mean to tell me that you are dating your boss?" Youko said, putting her hands on her hips.

"I've heard about the great things you've done for Emerald, Takano." Tatsuo admitted. "But it does seem to be a conflict of interest to be dating a subordinate."

"I've been in love with him since I was twelve! Way before he ever became my boss!" Ritsu said quickly before a realization dawned on him. "Wait...these are the things you're upset about? His family and his job?"

"They're very important things to consider when picking a partner, Ritsu." Youko said. "You know, if you had told me that you were rejecting all those lovely girls because they were girls I could have been setting you up with perfectly charming and handsome men!" Youko pouted.

Ritsu wanted to laugh. And cry. And hug his mom and kiss Masamune and melt into the floor in total relief.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to object to any matchmaking sessions." Masamune jumped in.

Youko frowned sternly at him. "Just what exactly makes you worthy of my one and only son?"

"I know I'm not the kind of person that you would normally want for Ritsu, but I love him. I've loved him for over ten years and there's nothing that could ever stop me from loving him. I will always, always take care of him and make him happy and if there ever comes a day that I don't then please feel free to come back and snatch him away from me because just like you I think Ritsu only deserves the best. I will always be loyal, reliable, and honest with him. And, if you'd still like to join us for dinner, I can show you that I'm not completely useless around a kitchen."

Youko did not move, nor did her disapproving expression melt away, but Tatsuo stepped forward to put a hand on his wife's shoulder.

"So, ten years huh? That's a long time. Why don't you tell us how this all started?" He smiled as he ushered his wife to sit down.

Ritsu beamed, tearing up a bit.

"Well, I was in our school's library..."

[non-operator]

Hm also Yamato my beloved for the headcanon thing

Headcanon A: i think he would like building terrariums, and he'd be good at designing them :)

Headcanon B: this ties into another hc that icha icha is like a popular novel (albeit porn). yam reads icha icha; he initially got it because 1) he used to think kakashi was normal and 2) icha icha is popular so it /must/ mean it will help him figure out how to socialize normally with people

poor yamato 😔 at least kakashi has a person to talk about icha icha to?

Headcanon C: i think the most prominent part of yamato's memory of being a test subject is orochimaru checking up on him--and he feels guilty for not remembering the other kids, because he thinks as the only survivor he has the duty to remember them and help preserve their memory but he can't.

and this is bit convoluted, but i'll try my best to articulate it. maybe also because he only remembers orochimaru checking in on him (to see if he's alive or not), that is the only sign of 'care' he receives in his early memory, so he forms--not affection but some kind of relief at seeing another living person other than him (and the kids who are disappearing at a fast rate); it's the calming nature of stability and routine, probably. and then he's taken away without really talking/interacting with orochimaru, so he doesn't form any strong bond but there's still that impression. then under danzo, i think he's taught to equate fear with respect, and it probably doesn't help that he /still/ doesn't have a basis for what actual compassion looks like.

i think after he meets kakashi and leaves root, it still takes him a while to probably sort out his feelings about orochimaru and accept that what happened to him was terrible and orochimaru sucks ass

(i hope my train of thought there was understandable; i just feel like yamato doesn't really let himself actually feel negative emotions, even with people like he himself thinks are 'bad', you know? and even then, i don't think he feels with very black-and-white emotions; i think he has more muddled up ones and it's complicated, because he was a lonely child and even now as an adult still craves to fit into a community. and maybe it ties into why he doesn't like expressing emotions [especially anger because it's never really just anger] or reacting on them because they feel unreliable and unstable)

Headcanon D: this is obvious, but he never goes near orochimaru again and he goes to live with gai and kakashi and he becomes tree dad of team 7 and everyone in the village loves him and is grateful for his help during reconstruction after pain's attack and he's loved and he's happy

fuck you canon