#but ive had SUCH a hard time coming up with the design for him

[offorestsongs]

anyways. i may perhaps be cooking something

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[neros-left-pec]

playing infinity nikki with nero/dante/vergil

🥀 pairings: nero x fem!reader, dante x fem!reader, vergil x fem!reader

🥀 summary: headcanons for how this cute trio would react to you getting super into infinity nikki

🥀 warnings/tags: just fluff + probably OOC

🥀 author's note: i have really bad dmc brainrot but ive never even played the games (don't ask how this happened) LOL. i kinda see these as crack hcs since im not actually familiar with their canon personalities but i hope u can enjoy it regardless!

nero

you've been gone for a huge part of the day, so he starts looking around devil may cry for you. he finds you at your desktop looking VERY engrossed with what you're doing

doing his best to not alert you, he sneaks up behind you. it seems a cute video game has caught your attention, and you're playing dress-up...?

"Wait, each power lets her use a new dress? How does she change so fast?"

thinks it's ridiculous at first, but similar to Vergil he gets weirdly addicted to helping you pick the best scoring combinations

unlike Vergil, he is not very good at it. but he will try his best

"Okay okay, go with the lace gloves, TRUST ME. It's tagged as elegance which is what you need."

like dante, he is convinced he knows what he's talking about, but definitely gets pissed every time his outfits don't work out

"What the fuck, this is impossible! I thought this game was for babies!"

no nero, this game is not for babies. you need to lock in.

one day, you surprise him by coming home in an outfit eerily similar to one he had made for you in the game last week.

gets very visibly flustered when he sees you model it.

it suits you incredibly well and is very tailored to his tastes, since, well, he was the one who made the outfit after all!

he saves up a bit of money and takes you on a shopping spree. he must see you in more outfits

YOU GUYS ARE PLAYING DRESS TO IMPRESS IRL!!!!!

side note but i feel like he would go crazy if he saw you wearing black high heels. he loves black on you

dante

"So it's like dress-up... but with boss fights? Kinda kickass if you ask me."

he tries to help you pick an outfit but always makes the WORST combinations EVER. the outfits colors never match and he makes you wear ugly boots with a pretty dress or something lol

is convinced he is a master fashion designer

"Look at me, I'm adorable as hell!"

not really too interested in the game itself but he likes seeing how into it you get. you get very invested in the story and he finds it adorable. you have a simple heart and he loves you for it

asks you to show off your outfits

"C'mon, spin around. Pose for me, dear! ...Oh yeah that's very nice, I quite like it honestly. You've got some talent, huh?"

sometimes he thinks about how cute you would look in pastels and gets a bit distracted. his brows furrow, a soft blush dusting his cheeks as he hides a smile behind his hand.

with his mouth covered, it actually kinda looks like he's grimacing, which is hilarious. he'll often start daydreaming about you and get flustered. others will see him and think he's pissed off because of the tense expression. if only they knew about the big smile that was hidden behind his hand

vergil

he does not understand why you are stressing about losing a "style battle," whatever that meant

he stares at your screen with his arms crossed.

"So foolish..." FOOLISHNESS, Y/N. FOOLISHNESS----

watches silently. secretly enjoys watching you get worked up over something so silly

you ask him for styling advice and using the clothing stats, builds you the most min-maxxed outfit for the style battles. quickly learned the numbers have to do with if you win or not. however, he somehow manages to make them also look gorgeous at the same time (IF YOU PLAY INFINITY NIKKI YOU KNOW HOW HARD THIS IS). he does it to make you happy since you hate ugly outfits

after a while, he gets kinda into it

"No, that shade of mauve does not go with the rest of the outfit... Even the most untrained eye would know that a lady's shoes must match with her bag."

YOU STARE AT HIM....

he looks to the side and walks away.

damn him!

secretly makes a note to buy you a cute ensemble to wear to your next date

he will get rid of the price tags and fold them into your drawers so you happen across them

he will never admit he bought it but you know it was him

and of course, he buys you a bag with matching flats/heels depending on your preference :)

[jawllines]

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn’t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.” 

[cokoladasljesnjakom]

tag you're it

summary: shes a ruthless killer. she does not care if someone dies on her watch. her moves are like shadow. she is a shadow. once you see her, its too late. its not her problem. she cant complain, but what she can do is to complie. thats what is she made for. thats what they made her do. but once she escapes from their grasp, she searches for him. for her brother. but of course what goes around, comes around. and thats is when she meets him. the winter solider. and oh yeah the rest of the avengers.

bucky barnes x fem! reader

word count: 5.9k

a/n: sorry it took me years (a week) to write this down. i lost the motivation but the i got it back... somehow... anyways! shes here and im hoping someone is going to like it because my sleep schedule is fucked up so PLEASE LOVE ON HER! thank you for the reading! by the way if you cant tell this is SLOW burn... (GO READ SECOND PART RN!)

masterlist part iv

He escaped. The target had escaped. How dare he? He was supposed to be dead, not running, not hiding, not slipping through her fingers. Not from her.

Shadow stood frozen, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

The man beside her spoke, voice sharp and impatient. "We have to go."

She didn’t move.

When she still didn’t respond, he snapped, "Now. The mission is messed up. It’s over. He escaped. You failed."

Failed.

That word echoed in her skull like a gunshot. No. It couldn’t be. She didn’t fail. She wasn’t supposed to fail. Not now. Not ever.

She was designed to kill. To shape history with bloodstained hands. To make people suffer while they begged for mercy that would never come.

The ruthless, cold assassin known as Shadow was not supposed to fail.

And yet, the mission was compromised.

A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the black SUV waiting for them. Her boots scraped against the pavement, but she didn’t fight back. The realization of her failure was too heavy, suffocating her.

She slid into the car, staring blankly ahead as they drove away.

And yet—she couldn’t stop thinking about him. That man. The way he looked at her. Like he knew her. Like he had seen a ghost.

Something about him… it rattled her.

She tried to shove the thought away, but it clung to her, sinking into her bones. He wasn’t just another target. He was something else.

And she needed to know why.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at the safe house. Every step inside made her stomach twist. Not out of fear—but because she knew what was coming.

The footsteps came first. Slow. Heavy.

She forced herself to stand still, to keep her face blank.

Then, a voice. Sharp. Cold. Unforgiving.

"Mission report. Now."

Her mouth opened. The words should have come easy. The usual, precise details, the confirmation of success.

But instead, she asked, "Who was that man in the car?"

The slap came fast and hard. Her head snapped to the side, the sting blooming across her cheek.

Not the first time. Not the last.

"No one you’re supposed to know," the thick Russian accent said. But he was lying.

She could feel it.

"He was a mission, and you failed."

The words cut deeper than the slap.

She took a slow breath, but it didn’t steady her.

Her handler stepped closer, grabbing her jaw, tilting her face up to his.

"Now what do I do with you, hm?" His voice was mocking. "Do I throw you in that room for days? Let you starve? Break you? Or..."

He trailed off, laughing darkly.

She swallowed, not daring to move.

"Or do I wipe you clean again? Make you forget, all over again?"

Her hands shook. She curled them into fists.

Then, softly—so softly she almost didn’t hear her own voice—she whispered, "I want to be free."

The laugh he let out was cruel. "No, you don’t. You don’t get to be free. You don’t get to feel free. You don’t get to think about freedom."

He leaned in, voice lowering to a venomous whisper.

"You don’t get to know what it feels like to have a family."

Something inside her cracked.

Family.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Because she had a family once.

A mother she had killed. A brother she had nearly destroyed.

And now?

Now, she didn’t even know his name.

not even thinking a second Vasily, the man in front of her demanded told the siencetists in russian "wipe her and make sure she freezes to death. she doesnt deserve to live after all this."

one of the man that worked here took her carefully under her arms and wiped her clean. the look he gave her was soft. he was sorry for her. for everything she had to go through.

he never actually wanted to be the part of this, but his family was in the picture and he had a daguhter maybe younger than her but they were close in the age.

to think that this can happen to his daguhter made him sick in the stomach. he never wanted for anyone to experience this kins of torturement.

she was tired and her eyes wanted to close badly. she wanted to fight ot off, but she couldnt.

"мне жаль" and she really was. all she wanted was to feel free. to feel the warmth in her dreams in real life too.

"я не хотел потерпеть неудачу" she only spoke russian when she needed to but this time she felt like she wanted to.

the man looked at her and wanted to comfort her, to give her something to hope for anything at this point. so he jsut whispered "я помогу тебе сбежать" he looked at her again and smiled at her.

and for the first time ever, she believed it.

then the another group of men took her and put her to a cyro alone. and all of her memories of her brother and mother? wiped clean. they dont exsist anymore.

while in the room next to hers, stood the infamous assassin. the winter solider. before named james buchanan barnes.

his mission went suscesfull. he eliminated the targed just perfect. clear shot through the skull and no signs of blood.

by the time he killed the person and hide the body, he was ready to go back. to his "home." where he belonged.

the footsteps were louder than he expected. sitting in a chair and waiting for the man that made him do the mission, he stated at the wall.

"mission report." the american accent said.

"mission suscesfull. target eliminated." same answer same mission. over and over again for 60 years.

"well done solider." the voice called out. it was cold and mocking.

suddenly a young man busted through the door and said "mr. pierce!" and alexander pierce turned around facing the young man.

however the man continued "shadow... she failed in her mission. shes put back in a cryo."

rolling his eyes he said "of course she would. for gods sake you are stupid enough to put her to kill him."

the man stuttered "we- we thought she was ready for this mission and she shiwed the signs that she had it all under control."

pierce laughed and grabbed the man by the collar choking him slightly "she was supposed to kill that idiot in the best way possible. i have given to you plenty of time to do that AND YOU DID IT IN THE MIDDLE OF A DAY?!"

the man now in the air chokjng in his own breath said "w-we thought maybe she is going to do it. the-the perfect shot but he just ran away and dissapeared." the man softly cried "we are sorry mr. pierce.

watching closely the winter solider gripped the armrest on the seat and took a slow and steady breath trying to calm his racing thoughts.

while pierce trying to shake off the feeling having his hands on the man smirked. thats what he wanted to happen. he wanted to break her. to rip her apart. to make her suffer and to destroy her. all of her memories that she had, he was planing to rewind them back all over again just for her to remember the one spesific memorie.

her family. her mom. her brother. her previous life that she had. when she was peacefull. when she was just 10 years old. making friends and trying to live her life, until that night happened.

where she was taken away from it. mom. brother. her family and all of her memories.

turning around to face the man he told him while taking the slow steps "next time dont be so stupid. or i swear to god ill make you beg me to end your life faster than you expect me to." he leaned down to a mans height "understand?"

the man now shaking and noding "yes mr. pierce. i understand. "

smiling to himself and patting the man on the shoulder he turned to the winter solider and asked him "you see that solider? we just made a deal."

dissmissing the man he turned to the solider and spoke the next words "now solider... if you dont want for the same thing to happen to you... you'll have to do your missions perfect. not good not okay but perfect." then he narrowed his eyes at the soldier "understand?"

the winter soldier looking straight at the wall emotionless noded his head "yes sir."

patting the solider on the arm he turned around and told the siencetists to wrap it up and put him on the ice.

walking out from the room, pierce's phone ringed making him stop in his tracks and huff when he saw an ID's caller. and before he could say a word a voice interrupted him.

"we need you back." a thick, gruff voice called out.

then a sarcastic laugh followed from pierce "yeah well I was on my way to do something and you just interrupted me nick."

nick however replied in the same tone as before "pierce this is important. come back as soon possible. you have an hour and a half. see you there."

and then the line went quiet. pierce now looking at the phone scoffed and murmured under his breath "asshole." and went off to the shield compound.

using his super hearing the solider listened to the conversation making the information hard to understand. what did the man know? was he trying to do something? where is pierce going? is this another mission? but soon enough his thoughts were interrupted by siencetists leading him in the capsicle making his thoughts freeze.

while the man from far away watched what was happening, his promise still lingered in his head. for more than 14 years he watched the young girl and a man getting tortured by hydra. their memories getting washed away again and again. every time when there was a mission to kill someone they were the one who got to do that, without asking them if they really want that.

now finally he had a chance to do something good. even if his life was in a danger. thinking something like that could happen to his daguhter made him to do this. shadow was someones daguhter too. the solider too. they were someone and it was eating him alive.

creating a plan how to get at least her out the man walked out from the room and started to make a plan.

MEANWHILE

The summer heat was unbearable, pressing down like a suffocating blanket. Even inside the apartment, the air felt thick.

Sam had just gotten back from his morning run, drenched in sweat and starving. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, kicking off his sneakers as he walked into the kitchen.

At the same time, Max trudged in, still half-asleep, hair a mess, eyes barely open. He didn’t bother with a greeting—just went straight to the fridge and grabbed some eggs and ham. Living alone meant cooking for himself, and since he barely knew how to cook, breakfast was usually the same thing.

Sam smirked, watching him fumble with the pan. "Look who finally decided to wake up." Max groaned. "Can you be quiet for like... five seconds? Thanks."

Sam chuckled, leaning against the counter and taking a long sip of his orange juice.

That’s when Max turned, looking at him like he had just committed a war crime.

Sam frowned. "Why are you looking at me like I just killed someone?"

Max squinted at the drink in his hand, full of nothing but judgment. "Why are you drinking orange juice?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Apple juice is literally superior in every way."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "…Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Apple juice is better. You’re actually disgusting for drinking that."

Sam blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Because I like the texture? I like how thick it is, okay?"

Max visibly recoiled. "Jesus Christ. You’re actually insane." He shook his head in disappointment. "Like, actually brain dead."

Sam just stared at him for a second, then took another slow, deliberate sip of his thick orange juice. Max sighed. "I have lost all respect for you."

Sam smirked. "Good. Now shut up and eat your eggs." Max muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue further.

Sam let out a breathy laugh, still smirking. "What is up with you? You just woke up and you’re already walking on eggshells? Calm down, man."

Max didn’t respond, just finished cooking and dropped his breakfast onto a plate. Then, without breaking eye contact, he poured himself a glass of apple juice.

Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a slow sip—staring directly at Sam—before sitting down at the table and digging into his eggs and ham.

"There’s nothing wrong with me," he said finally. "But you? Waking up at—what?—5 AM? Running around like a lunatic? AND drinking orange juice?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

"That’s a crime, dude. A literal jail sentence."

Maintaining eye contact, Sam took another slow sip of his orange juice, dragging it out just to make a point. Then, without a word, he walked over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down with an easy, unbothered confidence.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved Max off like his opinion didn’t matter. "Anyway, when you’re actually awake—like, fully awake—and freshened up, because damn, you look like shit, man, I need you to be wide awake for the conversation we’re gonna have."

That got Max’s attention. He paused mid-bite, brow furrowing. "What conversation?"

Sam didn’t answer. He just stood up, stretched, and started walking toward his room. "You’ll see." And with that, he disappeared, leaving Max alone at the table.

For a moment, Max just sat there, staring at his plate, replaying Sam’s words in his head. 'What does he want? At 8 AM? Who even talks at this time?'

He sighed, checking the clock—8:07 AM. Way too early for anything serious. Still, something about the way Sam said it nagged at him. With a shake of his head, Max shoved the last bite of eggs and ham into his mouth and downed the rest of his apple juice. God, he loved apple juice. Seriously, he could kiss the person who invented that stuff.

Plate in the dishwasher. Bathroom. Fresh clothes. All done in 15 minutes.

Finally stepping into the living room, he found Sam already there, casually lounging like he didn’t just drop a cryptic bomb on him. Max narrowed his eyes. "Alright, dude. I’m awake. What the hell is so important?"

"I found the HYDRA base she’s in." A punch to the ribs. A fist squeezing his lungs. Max’s body froze. Then everything sped up. His heartbeat wasn’t beating anymore—it was slamming. Pounding so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. His breathing was off, wrong, useless. He tried to pull in air, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough.

The world cracked open. No—it collapsed.

Everything hit him at once, a tidal wave of too much, too fast, too loud. Sam’s words were still there, hanging in the air, but they didn’t feel real. They didn’t feel like words at all.

The fridge hummed. The clock ticked. Sam’s chair creaked. Too loud. Too fucking loud. His mind was screaming at him, Why did you let her go? You could have stopped them. His hand was small, too small to pull her away, but he should have tried harder. If he had just reached farther, if he had screamed louder, if he had done anything differently, maybe she wouldn’t have been taken.

Max’s breath hitched again. Why didn’t you save her? He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of that thought. The thought that had haunted him for years—that he hadn’t done enough, that he hadn’t been enough.

'If I had tried harder. If I had just been stronger.' He remembered the look on her face as they pulled her away. The way her eyes locked with his, desperate, begging. Please, Max. Please save me. And he couldn't. The floodgates opened. Her hand—small and desperate—reached out for him. She was begging for him to save her, and he had failed her.

Why didn’t you do more? Max’s throat closed up, and the panic rose again. His body was trembling, shaking in a way that felt so foreign, so uncontrollable, he couldn’t stand it. His chest was tight, but his hands were ice cold. He felt like his skin didn’t belong to him anymore.

And then, like a flood of dread that washed over him, the memories came crashing through—louder, sharper, heavier. He could still hear their mom crying. The desperation in her voice when she begged them to take her instead, to leave her alone. He could still feel her, right there, clinging to them, helpless, powerless.

Why didn’t I do anything? Tears burned his eyes. He wanted to scream, wanted to throw up. But no sound would come out.

His mind was a mess of memories and regret, spiraling so quickly that he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t catch his thoughts.

I couldn’t save her. I never could.

He wanted to smash his fist into the wall, punch something, anything, just to stop the overwhelming flood of emotions that were drowning him.

Sam’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline, but Max could barely grasp onto it. His hands were trembling. His heart was hammering. His lungs—his lungs felt like they were being crushed. "Max, breathe. Just breathe with me. Four in… hold… four out." The words were far away, muffled by the chaos in his head, but he latched onto them like they were his only chance of survival.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. Focus. Focus on something.

But the guilt was still there, clawing at his chest. He had failed her. He had failed his sister. If he hadn’t been so small, so weak, maybe he could have stopped them. "Maybe I could have been strong enough to save her." But he hadn’t been. He wasn’t.

I wasn’t enough. The guilt wrapped itself around him, tightening until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She’s still out there, Max, and you’re still sitting here like you can’t do a damn thing.

He felt the walls closing in, felt the air in the room getting thick again. God, just breathe, please breathe.

Sam’s words repeated in his ears, soft and steady: "We’re going to save her, okay? We’re going to do this together. But you need to stay calm."

Max wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the wall, to break something, to do anything to make the pain go away. But he knew if he didn’t calm down, if he didn’t find a way to fight the panic that was pulling him under, he wouldn’t be able to save her.

I can’t lose her.

Sam’s hands were on him, steadying him, grounding him. The steady pressure was like a beacon in the storm. But Max couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still going to lose her.

What if I don’t save her? What if I fail again?

I can’t fail again.

Slowly, his breath began to even out, but the guilt didn’t go away. It lingered, hanging over him like a dark cloud. He wiped the tears from his eyes, muttering to himself, barely able to keep his voice steady.

“I’m… I’m not going to fail her again. I can’t.”

Sam, seeing that Max had finally calmed down, let out a breath and leaned back in his chair. "You’re not going to lose it, okay? You’ve got me, man. We’re going to get her out. Of course, if you fuck something up while we’re doing it, then yeah, your ass is on its own." He smirked, hoping to get at least a flicker of a smile out of Max.

And somehow, it worked.

A small, tired smile broke through the tension on Max’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—the room didn’t feel as suffocating anymore. Air actually reached his lungs. It had been a long time since he’d had a panic attack this bad, and even longer since he’d let himself feel just a little bit okay afterward. But this? This was his life now. The panic, the overthinking, the feeling of his own breath catching in his throat like barbed wire. He had learned to live with it, even when it felt like it was killing him.

"What?" Sam raised a brow. "I got something on my face?"

Max furrowed his brows, taking a deep breath. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "No… it’s just…" He trailed off, trying to steady himself, trying not to slip back under.

His fingers twitched against his knee. His heart still felt like it was trying to break out of his ribs. "I need to find her, Sam. I have to save her—" the words caught in his throat. His breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a second, like that would be enough to stop the rush of panic creeping back up his spine.

Max blinked hard. His breathing was turning shallow again, too quick. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, desperate to block it out, but it was right there. The echo of his own voice, five years old and screaming himself hoarse: “Give her back! Please—don’t take her, take me instead!”

No one listened. No one ever listened.

Sam’s voice cut through the noise. "Hey—breathe. Just breathe."

Breathe. Just breathe.

Max opened his eyes, forcing a deep inhale, then another.

He nodded, wiping his hands against his jeans like that would stop them from shaking. “I can’t—I won’t lose her again.”

This time, Sam didn’t tease. He just nodded, serious now. “We won’t.”

He lifted his gaze to Sam, his voice barely above a whisper, but heavy, so heavy. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her, Sam.” His throat felt raw, like he had been screaming for years. In a way, he had.

“She’s reaching for me. Like—like I’m supposed to save her. Like I could have saved her.” His breath stuttered, his vision blurring. “And every damn time, I fail. I keep failing her. I keep failing Mom.” His hands curled into fists so tight his nails dug into his skin, but the pain wasn’t enough to drown out the memories. “I should have done something. Anything. But I just—stood there.”

His voice broke, and for a second, he thought he might shatter with it.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He gripped Max’s shoulder, firm and steady, like an anchor. “I know, man,” he said, his voice rough with something close to grief. “I know. But you listen to me—she’s still out there. And she’s alive.”

Alive.

That word lodged itself in Max’s ribs, sharp and relentless. For years, he had imagined the worst. Had convinced himself that maybe it was better not to hope. That hope was a cruel, twisted thing that only made the fall hurt more.

But Sam—Sam believed it like it was the only truth that mattered. Sam exhaled slowly, his grip tightening. “We’re going to get her back, Max. I swear it.”

Max stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. There was none. Just that unshakable, stubborn loyalty that had held him together more times than he could count.

Something inside him cracked, and before he could stop himself, he pulled Sam into a tight, desperate embrace. His body shook, but he didn’t care. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “For everything.”

Sam clapped a hand against his back, not letting go. “You’re my brother, man,” he said, quiet but fierce. “Always.”

And for the first time in years, Max allowed himself to believe it.

Not waisting a minute max asked sam with a glint in his eyes "So whats the plan genius?" and Sam replied with a smirk on his face "Thought youre never going to ask."

AT THE S.H.I.E.L.D’S COMPOUND -

Pierce stepped out of his car, smoothing his suit as he made his way to the elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor, his face impassive, but his mind was already turning. "World Security Council."

"Confirmed."

As the elevator ascended, he replayed Fury’s message. “We need to talk. Urgently.”

No details. No context. And that? That wasn’t Fury’s style.

Pierce exhaled through his nose. Was this about her? No. Couldn’t be. He had buried that truth so deep it might as well not exist. If this was just another pointless security briefing, he was going to be pissed.

The doors slid open with a soft chime. He stepped out, pushed open his office door—

And found Fury. Sitting in his chair.

Pierce stopped just inside the doorway, his grip tightening slightly on the handle before he let it go. “You make yourself at home in everyone’s office, or is this a special occasion?”

Fury didn’t react, just leveled his gaze at him.

Pierce sighed, letting a casual smirk settle on his face. “What is it, Fury? Forgot your password again? Or—” he gestured to his eye with a smirk, “—misplaced another one?”

Fury didn’t take the bait. “Sit down, Pierce.”

The humor in Pierce’s expression didn’t reach his eyes. “I am sitting, technically.” He leaned a hip against the desk, folding his arms. “Now why don’t you tell me why I’m here instead of wasting my time.”

Fury stood, slow and deliberate, crossing his arms as he took a step forward. His voice was calm, but heavy. “December 25, 2006.”

Pierce gave a slow blink, but inside, something locked into place.

“Ring any bells?” Fury asked.

Pierce tilted his head. “Christmas?” He let the word hang, feigning indifference. “What, are you feeling sentimental?”

Fury wasn’t amused. “That was the day we were supposed to wipe out a Hydra base.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Shut them down. Sabotage their entire operation. Make sure they never got back up again.”

Pierce kept his expression even. “That mission went south. Things happen.”

Fury exhaled sharply through his nose. “Things happen?” He shook his head. “A ghost tore through our team that night. She wasn’t even old enough to drive, and she damn near wiped us out.”

Pierce gave the slightest incline of his head. “And?”

Fury’s eye narrowed. “She took my eye. Almost took your life. And now—eight years later—she’s back.” He tossed a file onto the desk between them.

Pierce looked down at it but didn’t move.

“Over a hundred assassinations in those years,” Fury continued. “Then, last week, she tried again.”

Pierce finally lifted the file, flipping it open with practiced ease. The name staring back at him made his pulse slow, measured.

Y/N Harrison.

Fury spoke again. “Her target?” He let the weight of it settle. “Max Harrison. Her own brother.” Pierce barely reacted, but the air in the room shifted.

Fury took another step. “You know what doesn’t sit right with me?” He tapped a finger on the desk. “Why she just—vanished. Why there’s nothing on her for years. And now, all of a sudden, she resurfaces hunting her own blood?” He let the question hang, watching Pierce.

Pierce slowly closed the file. His grip on it didn’t tighten, didn’t betray anything. But inside? His mind was already moving three steps ahead.

Fury kept his eye locked on him. “I’m gonna find out why, Pierce.” He started toward the door. “And when I do—” he glanced over his shoulder, voice lower, darker, “—I hope you’re on the right side of it.”

The door shut behind him.

Pierce stayed still, staring at the file in his hands..The name on the page burned into his vision. He had erased this. Made sure she was nothing but whispers and smoke. But somehow, Fury had cracked the foundation.

Slowly, Pierce exhaled. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

A voice picked up immediately.

“Burn it.” Pierce’s voice was flat, emotionless. “Everything. Every file, every record. Fury’s onto her.”

The person on the other end hesitated. “Sir, that would mean—”

“That’s the point.” Pierce cut them off. His grip on the phone was steady. “Do it. Now.”

Silence. Then: “Understood.”

Pierce hung up, tossing the phone onto his desk as he leaned back in his chair.

He had spent years building walls around this secret..And now? The cracks were starting to show.

HYDRA’S FACILITY -

The man’s breath came fast and shallow as he hurried down the corridor, gripping the files like they might slip through his fingers. His hands were sweating. Not just from the heat trapped in the underground facility, but from what he was about to do.

He had spent years collecting this data. Cross-referencing. Double-checking. Piecing together fragments of information into a weapon sharper than any blade. And now, with one phone call, Pierce had ordered it all erased.

It was like setting fire to a masterpiece.

He swallowed hard as he reached the old terminal, its outdated screen flickering dimly in the dark room. The keys felt stiff under his fingers as he typed in his credentials. The system took longer than it should to respond, forcing him to stare at his own reflection in the black monitor while he waited. His heart pounded.

Then—there it was. The archive.

Decades of classified information. Projects. Identities. Secrets Hydra had buried so deep they shouldn’t exist. And soon, they wouldn’t. His hand shook as he moved the cursor to the DELETE ALL command. It was simple. Just a click. One click, and it would all be gone. His index finger twitched. He couldn’t do it. Not yet.

His eyes darted to the TRANSFER option.

A different kind of anxiety curled in his stomach. His rational mind screamed at him—this is treason. If anyone caught him, he wouldn’t even get the dignity of an execution. He’d just disappear.

But another voice whispered: It’s not wrong to keep a copy. Not everything. Just the important files. Just enough.

His breathing grew uneven.

His hand hovered over the mouse, his fingers tingling like they weren’t even his own.

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in. He had spent years building this database. Hydra had spent centuries constructing its empire. And he was about to erase it like it was nothing?

He pressed his fist against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then, in a sudden burst of defiance, his fingers flew across the keyboard. He selected a handful of critical files—the most valuable data Hydra had. The ones no one should ever have access to… but someone had to.

His pulse was a hammer in his ears.

The TRANSFER IN PROGRESS bar crawled forward, each percentage point making his stomach twist tighter.

Come on. Come on.

His foot tapped anxiously against the floor. The room felt smaller. His skin prickled with heat.

Then—TRANSFER COMPLETE.

He barely let himself breathe before shoving the drive into his pocket. He had what he needed.

Now came the hard part.

His hand clenched into a fist as he forced himself to move the mouse again. Slowly, hesitantly, he guided the cursor back to the DELETE ALL button. His finger trembled, hovering over it.

For a second, he thought about stopping. Thought about keeping it all.

But that was suicide.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he squeezed his eyes shut and clicked.

CONFIRM DELETION?

The final warning. A last chance to back out.

He hesitated.

Then, before he could lose his nerve—

CLICK.

It was done.

The screen blinked. The files—the ones he hadn’t saved—began vanishing before his eyes. Line by line. Folder by folder. Years of Hydra’s work, turning to dust.

His stomach churned.

He stood up too fast, nearly knocking the chair over as he grabbed the physical files and turned toward the door. His hand trembled as he swiped his keycard, the door locking behind him with a dull click.

It was over.

Or at least, this part was.

He forced himself to breathe, to swallow down the nausea curling in his gut.

He had saved something. A piece of history. And no one would ever know.

At least… that’s what he told himself.

From the shadows of the corridor, another man watched. Unlike the scientist, his hands weren’t shaking. He wasn’t nervous. He was waiting. Calculating. In his palm, he held a small device—a custom override chip. It wasn’t enough to crack the system entirely, but with the right access…

His gaze flicked to the scientist’s keycard.

That was the way in.

The man—Ivan—knew exactly what he needed to do. He had done unspeakable things for Hydra. Followed orders without question. But this? This was different.

This was about her. He was going to get her out. No matter what it took. His mind was already forming a plan when— "Тсс, Иван, что ты здесь делаешь?"

Ivan stiffened. The voice was sharp, laced with suspicion.

Turning, he found himself face-to-face with a lab technician. Thick glasses framed the man’s beady eyes, his white coat hanging loosely over his thin frame. He was watching Ivan carefully, expectantly.

Ivan forced a breath, pressing a hand to his chest like he was steadying his heart. “Ах, не пугай меня так.”

The technician didn’t flinch. He simply repeated the question.

Ivan hesitated for half a second—then exhaled sharply, feigning frustration. “Эээ, я хотел пойти поесть, но блокнот выпал у меня из рук.” He gestured vaguely toward the floor as if proving his point.

The technician squinted at him. Then, after a moment, he gave a curt nod. “Ну, ну… просто возвращайся. Ты нужен нам в лаборатории.”

Ivan nodded quickly. “Скоро буду.”

The technician turned and walked off, leaving Ivan alone once more.

He didn’t move for a moment, letting the tension bleed from his muscles.

Then, finally, he turned back to the door.

He still needed that keycard. Still needed to get to the files. And still needed to free her.

But first?

He needed a plan.

Back in the cold, sterile chamber, she stood frozen in cryo—locked in time, trapped in silence. No thoughts. No movement. No feeling. Then—a twitch. Just her fingers, barely noticeable. But it was enough.

If she woke up, there would be no alarms, no time to react. One punch. One snap of the neck. One second. That’s all it would take for bodies to hit the ground. No screams, no struggle. Just dead weight collapsing onto cold concrete.

Across the hall, in another chamber, he stood frozen too. The Winter Soldier.

Once, he was Bucky Barnes. A man. A soldier. A friend. But that version of him had been buried beneath blood and metal, his name carved away like it never existed. Now, he was nothing but a weapon. Cold. Precise. Controlled.

Orders were given. He obeyed. Targets were marked. He killed. No hesitation. No mercy. No questions.

And yet, something cracked in the programming.

It happened every time they crossed paths, even in passing. Just for a second. A flicker of recognition—something human clawing at the edges of their minds. A moment of clarity, suffocating under the weight of their conditioning.

They wanted to speak. To ask. To remember. To scream.

And then—the switch flipped back.

Their bodies locked. Their minds erased.

No hesitation. No mercy.

What goes around, comes around.

And soon, something was coming for them.

One mission. One mistake. One fracture in the system.

And when it happened?

No one would be ready for it.

TO BE CONTINUED...

the translation -

мне жаль - im sorryя

не хотел потерпеть неудачу - i didnt want to fail

я помогу тебе сбежать - i will help you escape / i will help you out

Тсс, Иван, что ты здесь делаешь - hey! what are you doing here?

Ах, не пугай меня так - ah dont scare me like that

Эээ, я хотел пойти поесть, но блокнот выпал у меня из рук - Uh, I wanted to go get something to eat, but my notebook fell out of my hands

Ну, ну… просто возвращайся. Ты нужен нам в лаборатории - okay, okay... just come back. we need you back at the lab

Скоро буду - i'll be there soon

[lostinlovingrevery]

He's Definitely Obsessed With You (Series)

Origins! Logan X Fem!Reader

Plot: You're an army nurse, deep in the trenches of the Vietnam jungles, doing everything you can to keep yourself together, and the infantry that come into your tent. One day a soldier you aren't familiar with is brought in, and you find out something about him that leads to the start of an important relationship between you both that changes the course of your lives together...

A/N: This is basically the plot of Origins, but with my own spin on it with a Fem!Reader! This is my first time EVER writing an X reader, so comments appreciate! I plan to make this a series, but I wanted to put out a prologue first. Okay, it's not really a prologue and more like a chapter, and ended up being super long because I started writing and then didn't stop, and prologues are short- but IT'S MY STORY AND I'LL CREATE MY OWN RULES. The prologue is just how reader and Logan meet! (PS, there's eventual smut...Soon as I figure out how write it without getting embarrassed) Also, I'm still figuring out how to format on Tumblr, so please don't mind any funky design choices. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes somewhere in there

Warnings: Reader POV only (for now) Reader is female, also an army nurse, also a mutant- but powers aren't specified, blood mention, medical stuff talked about (like amputations), injury descriptions, Vietnam war and slight politics mention, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies i just googled things but I tried! implied reader could be religious but honestly there's nothing concrete to that. The only description of reader is her clothes and that she has hair, and wears makeup (lipstick). Reader has a hard on over Logan (she has a cruuuush), let me know if there's anything I missed!

Word Count: 4753

Series Masterlist

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Prologue:

Rain rapped lightly along the top of the large tent, creating a soothing sound throughout. A radio, playing an american music station, played a rock song, of some new band slowly making a name for itself, sat nearby on a metal cabinet. Stacks of manila folders and papers were disorganized and spread, almost completely covering a desk. A clock ticks rhythmically. The tent was lined with cots, tables, ratty mattresses, IV stands, and small tables covered with empty food trays, water canisters, and paper cups filled pills. Some of the beds were taken up by injured men, snoring and groaning as they attempted to sleep, only slightly more comfortable here in the medical tent than out in the muddy, rainy trenches. It was monsoon season in Vietnam, and you were at your wits end with paperwork in the middle of a small but-not-that-small camp, set up not far from an American fire support base.

You were sitting at the desk, half asleep as you attempted to fill out another request form for medical supplies. Halothane, Methoxyflurane, Morphine, Penicillin - are common medicines that you find yourself constantly having to restock. Of course bandages, gloves, needles, saline, tubing, multiple surgical supplies, other things you find yourself low on often too, considering the amount of amputations, large and minor, that happen around here. The medical tent that you currently reside in was a revolving door of soldiers, both American and Vietnamese, as well as nearby villagers who come for aid after the American presence near their homes led to viruses they can’t combat on their own, or other unfortunate injuries if war breaks out in their village. 

You were simply an army nurse, this was not your usual duty to perform, it was normally left to the assigned doctor of the camp. Your job was to assist the doctor, take care of the patients, administer medicine, IVs, change bandages, wet baths, feed them, and hold their hands as they cry for their momma and to God. You were busy enough, and the doctor, Doctor Frank Jones, who you were assisting had got shot by a stray bullet when out in the jungle, and had to be taken back to the main base, and back to the States. Due to a communication failure, his replacement ended up somewhere else, and transportation wasn’t an option due to the fighting happening.

 Fortunately, Doctor Jones had seen potential in you and believed you would be an excellent doctor one day - something you wanted to pursue after your service was fulfilled. He became a mentor, helping you study and learn medicine, and giving you skills that an average nurse- even an army nurse- wouldn’t usually have. Now, it was just up to you, and a few young army medics - teenage boys who were given no choice in going to war, and their skills were found best in assisting injuries on the battlefield, but they were eager to help, and their light-hearted jokes and company helped relieve some stress for you, especially with the pain you watch day in and out. You didn’t always have the luxury of their help though, as when patrols went out, they required at least one of them to join. It leads you to have to order around other grunts who have no idea how to even measure the proper dosage of cough syrup for themselves whenever a serious injury comes in, having to give detailed orders on what to do- usually just getting you the supplies and medicine you need, as the grunts are typically too distracted and upset over their fallen brother to assist you in anything medical and complicated. 

With being the only medical authority in the camp- as well as the only woman- you were well respected and popular. Your compassionate personality, and comforting presence, as well as your “Take-no-shit” attitude, led to soldiers of this camp visiting you all the time, usually making up excuses like having a cough, or a splinter in their finger, just so they could have the pleasure of your smile and encouraging words. The CO here made sure that they all treated you with respect, as a woman- and a nurse, so you never once felt unsafe- or unappreciated. Besides, a good section of this camp is young boys, too nervous about their situation to worry about trying to flirt with a woman like you. You're more of a comfort figure in these parts than anything else. Despite the stress and worry you face in day to day life, in the middle of the war, you were just happy to be doing something. You weren’t exactly a supporter of this war, but the moment you saw young boys lining up to go to war, something in you made you fiercely determined to follow, and do whatever you can to make sure those boys can go back home to their mothers and fathers.

The Rolling Stones was now playing on the radio, this was a band you were more familiar with - one of your favorites. Your foot tapped to the beat of the song, as you checked off another item you needed to be stocked up on- and hoped the supply chain doesn’t hold out on you again. For some reason, they seemed convinced that you must surely be lying about the supplies and will not send you the full amount of what you requested, leading you to storm into the CO’s tent on more than one occasion and rant to him with a few unsavory words about the supply lines commander.  He always listens though, and does his best to get you what you can- which you can appreciate. 

“Hey turn that up-” You heard one of the patients call out, and she smiles, reaching to the radio and turning the volume higher. She looked up from the desk to see one patient in bed moving his foot with the beat of the song, and the other, who asked her to turn it up, raised his arm in the air, hand in a fist as he rocked with the song. “This is a good one, hadn’t heard this one yet.”

“It came out in 65’ dumbass.” the other called out. “How’d you not know it?”

“I’ve been here since 64’ asshole! Think we always had access to a radio?”

They all chided each other, making you laugh as you shake your head, turning back towards your paperwork, determined to finish it today so you can send it out. It was rare you get these moments of quiet, so you appreciated it when you could. Things could turn on a dime in a second, especially since the fighting was getting closer to where this camp was set, and you’re hoping that you would get some help before anything serious came. You were just starting to get absorbed in the letter you were writing to the CO of the supply line, something slightly passive aggressive, when one of the soldiers yelled to you from outside. 

“Hey! Nurse! There’s some guys coming this way! They got someone injured-” 

You looked up, dropping your pencil, and turning the radio down as you readied yourself, brushing the pants of your army fatigues to straighten it out, and rolling your sleeves farther up your arms. You watched as the flaps of the tent get pulled open, as two men carry someone resting on a cot. You didn’t like how quiet the man was being.

“In here-” You lead them to another section of the medical tent, ment solely for treating wounded, in an attempt to keep something sterile and clean- well, as clean as you can get it. The soldiers set the man onto the table that sat in the center of the room, small trays and medical supplies, as well as a large overhead lamp that provided lighting to give you a better view at what you’re working on, surrounded the table. 

“We got ambushed on patrol, fortunately he’s the only one that got hit, a VC jumped out of the grass and stabbed him. We got pressure on the wound, and he’s still alive- for now.” 

You nodded as you went to a basin to pull on some sterile gloves, and walked over to examine the soldier. He was handsome- you couldn’t help but noticed but quickly put that out of your mind. A full head of deep beautiful brown hair, and a thick beard framed his face. He looked older, possibly in his mid 30’s. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, as his teeth were gritted and eyes cinched shut in pain. A wave of sorrow hit you, as you never liked seeing people in pain, it hits you bad enough to wonder why you chose to go into the medical profession of all things. Nevertheless, you push through, and began working on removing the uniform so you can see if you can save this one. At least he wasn’t screaming.

“Whats his name?”

“Logan ma’am. He’s Private First Class.”  The private responds, voice professional, but quickly drops into something softer. “He’s a good guy, and smart, usually quick on his feet, its surprising someone ambushed him…” 

“Need any help ma’am?” The other private who brought him in ask.

“No, I got it, thank you.” You tell them as you grab some sheers and began cutting through Logan's army garments. “Just make sure others are alright. See if any of the boys out there need water.”

They nodded, saluting- leading you to roll your eyes- and left your section of the tent, just as you manage to cut off the white wife beater he was sporting underneath his army garments, giving you a complete view of where he had been stabbed. You breathed a small sigh of relief, the wound appeared in the part of the torso where nothing vital was located and you managed to roll him to his side- seeing the stabbing didn’t go straight through, meaning this guy had a good chance of surviving, assuming he doesn’t succumb to infection…

“Alright Logan,” You turned you head to look at the man, who was still tense, eyes squeezed shut. He was somewhat awake, with his breathing and the way his muscles contracted, but he didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on, you still felt it important to talk to whoever you were treating though. You had to hold the hands of many scared soldiers, and quickly have learned the right things to say when comforting. “I’m going to take care of you, and in return, you’re going to need to be strong for me here.” You say softly but firmly to him, hoping that he’s hearing you through the pain, as you went and quickly grabbed a wet cloth out of a basin nearby, squeezing out the excess water, and gently placing it over his forehead, in order to soak up some sweat, and provide some more comfort to cool his skin that seemed to be burning hot. You couldn’t help but note that you don’t recognize him- you wouldn’t have forgotten his face that’s for damn sure, if he’d ever came to visit you, which most privates in this camp has at one time or another. You shook the curiosity out of your head, you had to move quickly, fighting the urge to wanting to take in the details of his face- his very handsome face, and moved to focus back onto the wound on his torso. 

You started by slowly removing the packed bandages, examining the blood flow to make sure nothing gushed, but he really wasn’t bleeding much anymore- actually, it didn’t look like he was bleeding at all now. Confused, you began cleaning the area of the stab wound so you could get a clear view of what you were looking at. At first, you thought you were losing your mind, you had to been because what you were seeing…

It was as if the skin was growing back, the wound, going inwards seemed to almost pop out, before the skin stitched together, going through what the bodys usual healing process would look like- except doing it within a matter of seconds. Turning from a bright red inflamed wound, into a baby pink scar bump that slowly faded off, you couldn’t even tell anything had happen there- except from the blood stained around it. You were blinking in disbelief, mouth slightly agape, before it suddenly occurred to you what you were just seeing.

Oh

Oh shit-

He’s a mutant.

You looked at the man, who’s muscles seemed to be relaxing now, as he took deeper breaths, the sweat on his face began to dry and disappear. You weren’t sure what to do at this point, you’re so used to every minute counting to fix someone, and this guy just healed himself in seconds!

And by god, he was so handsome. You thought that already, got to stop thinking about that. Turning away from his face, you went to examine where the stab wound used to be, gloved fingers gently pressing on the area- before the soldier- Logan, practically yelped- and sat up rushed on the table, startling you even more so than him, as you jumped back, hands in the air in surrender- as if you did anything wrong.

He was panting, the cold wet cloth you had placed on his forehead fell into his lap, as he looked around with wide eyes, pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring, he almost looked animal-like in this state. He turned to look at you. His eyes took you in, and suddenly you felt embarrassed by your army clothes you were sporting, green cargo pants, and a green collared button up shirt, tucked into your pants, making you feel less than girlish in them, despite their comfortability, your forehead was covered in sweat, and your hair pulled back in a bun neat bun with baby hairs sticking out everywhere. At least you had lipstick on to give yourself a little bit of a pop in your plain looking outfit. That should be the last thing you should be worried about. 

“You’re okay-” You finally found your voice, holding your hands out to him, “You got ambushed, but you’re okay now.” 

He blinked, then let out a small sigh, his whole self seeming to relax, his expression turned more human-like, as he faced forward, then looked down at himself. His hand went over where he had been hurt- seeing that there was no longer any injury there, although something in his expression told you he could still feel it. He swallowed, jaw tensing, before realization struck him, and his head snapped to look at you. 

“You saw- You know, don’t you?” He asks, his voice was deep, but sounded a little dry and scratchy. Still, it was enough to make your knees weak. 

You turned, going to a cabinet that held medicines and various other supplies, but on the counter was a pitcher of water and a few glass cups. Pulling off your gloves, you poured a cup from the pitcher, turning back and handing it to him. 

“Yeah. I saw.” You say cooly, holding it out for him to take. He looked at you, his deep and should you think gorgeous hazel eyes felt like they were piercing your soul; as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head, which you wish you knew as well because his stare was making your brain fuzzy; then glanced at the cup and finally took it from your hand, your fingers brushing together, making your heartbeat just a little faster, and you could feel a small heat blooming in your cheeks.

Jesus christ, pull yourself together 

You thought to yourself. You cleared your throat while he took several swigs of water, dropping his hand with the cup to his side as he took a moment to breathe once more. 

“Got anything stronger?” He asks, his low and smoother now, quirking a brow at you. You smiled, 

“Sorry, anything alcoholic you may want to drink in here, I gotta save for the guys who can’t heal themselves within minutes.” You say teasingly. “Supplies are low enough already.” 

You could see a small quirk of his lips, in something resembling a smile. He was still tense though, his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at you again,

“Does it…scare you? Me being a mutant?” He asks, his voice low

“Um….No?” You responded, confusion on your face, a small shake of your head, “Why would it?” 

He seemed relieved- and surprised by that answer, his shoulders finally relaxing, and he took another drink of water, eyes closing as he finished the cup, and handed it back to you, where you set it back on the counter. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he sat up more confidently, bending his leg as he brought his knee up to his chest, and propped his forearm over it, and leaned back on his other hand, taking a few deep breaths as he lowered his head down, then looked back up at you, his expression suddenly stern.

“You gonna tell them?” He asks. You knew he was referring to the army. Mutants weren’t well accepted in the world- much less the US army. The American government is actually sitting comfortably in the capital and writing out bullshit laws on mutant regulations, rather than trying to figure out a solution for the war here in Vietnam. You, a mutant yourself, albeit your powers were easy to hide and conceal, you still feared of a day that someone somehow discovers your secret. You’ve heard stories of American soldiers revealed to be mutants being killed, due to some bullshit excuse that they “lied” about who they were, and couldn’t be trusted. Whether those stories were true or fearmongering to keep mutants hiding their true identities, you didn’t know, but you certainly weren’t gonna find out yourself. You definitely wouldn’t put another fellow mutant, just trying to survive like you, in any sort of danger like that, even if he could probably just heal if he got put in front of a firing squad.

You pursed your lips together. Then smiled. “No. I’ll keep your secret.” You say. “All it means to me is that I have one less person to worry about around here. I was actually wondering why I hadn’t seen your face in this tent yet before, and now I know why.” 

He softened at that, but his face quickly fell back into something more serious and stern once more, which you’re starting to think might be his baseline. 

“You okay?” You asked, your voice was soft, and sweet, and borderline angelic for a man like him, who’s been in wars almost his entire life- which you don’t know about that. “That probably didn’t feel good, what happened.” He nodded. 

“M’ fine….Thank you.” He grumbles lowly, looking down at his hands. “I heard about you- actually I-I seen you around. You’re the only nurse on camp?” He asked, looking back up at you, there seemed to be a bit of curiosity in his voice. 

“Yeah. I’m pretty popular.” You say, in a teasing voice, blushing at the thought that he’s noticed you. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, you are quite literally the only woman around, save for the women in the village not far from here.  

“Must be busy.”

“Oh… Nah-” You playfully wave him off. “Some days are so slow, I’m actually bored.” You say matter-of-factly, but you both knew you were kidding. Another quirk of his lips. You smiled softly at him, but there was a voice in your head telling you, that since he doesn’t need your help, you should probably get back to helping the ones who do. Not that you want to leave, he was so damn handsome, you could stare at him all day. It wasn’t just his good looks though, his whole self drew you in with just a few words, and you find yourself wanting to get to know Logan, because the look in his eyes told you that he was someone worth knowing. Or maybe that was just your hormones talking. There was just this energy between you both, some type of unseen connection. His eyes trailed down you again, this time fully taking you in, stopping at your chest, and for a moment you were about to be completely turned off by this man being a pervert, but he nodded towards it. 

“Your necklace?” He asked. You looked down, oh, you thought to yourself. You pulled the string of your necklace, lifting the small coin that it held, string carefully wrapped around it so it doesn’t fall off.

“It’s a prayer coin. A priest gave it to me.” You explained. “It’s the archangel Raphael. A protector, patron saint of medical workers, like doctors, nurses.”

“Like you?” 

You nodded. He examined it, before you tucked it back under your shirt. You usually keep it hidden, but it must have fallen out while you were rushing. Now it was silent again, and you both weren’t sure what to do or say. 

“Well….” You took a breath, you glanced down at his abdomen, and suddenly your brows creased in concentration. 

“What?” He asked, by your sudden change in demeanor. 

“You can’t exactly walk out with no injury. Those two privates were pretty worried about you.” You say, putting your hands on your hips and pursing your lips together. You clicked your tongue.

“I can figure something out-”

“No no-” You held your hand up and looking around the room. “Those privates brought you in, there’s probably an incident report written right now, not to mention I have to write a report on your injuries too-” you explained. “I mean, how are you gonna explain it if you walk out, completely A-okay?”

Logan shrugged simply. “I can think of something, it isn’t the first time this happened.” You rolled your eyes. Men. 

You rather not waste bandages on a pretend injury, but you need someway to get his injury to look believeable, thats when you spotted your answer. His white tank top that you had drop to the floor, it was good enough to wrap around him, making him look as if he’s been all fixed up from his stab wound. The shirts cotton texture looked similar to the pattern of a bandage, and was good enough, especially considering no one would be looking hard enough at his wound anyway.

After a few minutes of “fixing him up” with your solution to keep his regenerative abilities a secret, you stood back examining the fake bandage/shirt that you tore up and wrapped around his torso, using bandage pins to hold it in place. Then shrugged. 

“It’s good enough.” You say. “You’re not going anywhere anyway, so it’s not like you’ll raise a bunch of questions. It looks like you have an injury, it’ll match the incident and medical report. You won’t get found out.”

“I’m not going anywhere?” He raised a brow. 

“Nope. You were injured, which means I gotta keep an eye on you. So you’ll be sleeping here, and you’ll have to pretend you’re in pain, whining and moaning and all that. Give it your best performance.” You encourage. “Take it, not many around here get a chance to get a break like that.” 

He looked at you, pondering what you were offering him- well, you weren’t offering, he was going to have do it because you weren’t gonna risk him revealing himself as a mutant, which for some reason you were now more concerned about than he was. A small smirk appeared on his face, “That mean you’ll be waiting on me then, hand and foot?”

You smiled, “Don’t get ahead of yourself soldier.” You say teasingly. “You can stay in here a little longer, rest up, maybe shed some tears to make it look like you’re suffering tremendously.” You added a little flair as you brought your hand up to your forehead, pretending to faint, before turning and walking away to leave the room, now knowing you really needed to get back to work.

“I don’t think I need to shed any tears.” He mutters, but there was amusement in his tone though. “Hey bub” He called after you as you were about to leave the room, lifting the tent flap, but you stopped to look at him. “Why are you seen keen on helping me out? Making a plan to make sure people don’t find out what I am…Seems like too much trouble to go through for you.” He frowned. 

“Well…” You dropped the flap of the tent, “Us mutants gotta stick together, right?” Logan looked surprised at first, eyes widening a bit, and jaw slacking, but then a soft, genuine smile stretched across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaving you thinking that was a smile you never wanted to go without again. Smiling back at him, you winked, and turned back before stopping and looking at him again, “Plus, you seem worth the trouble.” You add, before finally leaving him to himself.

Maybe it was too much trouble. You could leave Logan to figure it out himself. You two didn’t know each other, you weren’t friends. Yet you, the compassionate self you are, and also slightly bull-headed, was not going to leave Logan hanging alone. Maybe it was the fact that you were both mutants that urged you to help him, let him know that someone like him out there has his back, even if he had many brothers at his side watching his back too. Or maybe it was because you felt an undeniable pull towards him- and him towards you. 

While he stayed in the medical tent with you for about a week, the standard time for stitches to stay in. While staying, you both got to know each other better. You found a deep friendship with Logan quickly, both of you having an understanding of each other, not just as mutants but as individuals as well. You were able to laugh, usually at his snarky remarks to the other privates and even his comments to the higher-ups, surprising you in how he likes to occasionally challenge authority despite how quiet and reflective he can be some moments. You saw him as brave, smart, and he was protective, always going first in patrols, and keeping an eye on the younger privates. He’d hid it well, rarely making it seen, but he had a compassion that made your heart swell, especially when you came across him comforting a young private who was homesick and scared. He had a good instinct that seems to attest to his mutation- which he later revealed the full aspects of it to you later on, claws and everything- which did nothing but fascinate you, leading to a full acceptance of him he hadn’t felt or seen in a long time. He’d visit you in late nights when he wasn’t assigned guard patrol, bringing you something to eat or drink, and you’d both quietly talk about your lives, and how’d you ended up there. He listened to you complain about the lack of supplies, and how you got into medicine in the first place. You’d learn of his brother Victor- another Private First Class there at the camp, who you quickly learned a distaste for after meeting him, and how old they both really were- leading you to bombard him with history questions, that he simply answered “I wasn’t there bub.” There was an unspoken yet mutual physical and spiritual attraction between you both, but before anything could have gone further in your relationship, down in the thick muddy jungles of Vietnam, you suffered a similar fate as your mentor Doctor Jones. A stray bullet having shot through your shoulder while you were out, attempting to help a young private who’s leg unfortunately got caught in a dirt trap. You were okay, but orders sent you home on a medical discharge, saying you fulfilled your duty to the States. 

You missed Logan, and you also found yourself struggling to find your place back in civilian life again, the stress and the trauma of the things you saw weighed heavy in your mind, not to mention the worry you felt over Logan's safety while he was still over there. The only thing easing your worries was the letters you wrote to each other, until one day his letters stopped coming, and your own got returned back to you with no explanation, leaving you in fear of the worst….

[captaincvans]

Love Letter (Wonwoo x Reader)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/N finds herself feeling like her gift for Wonwoo's birthday was far from good enough when she saw what Carats and other members got him.

Warnings: Mention of IV drips, fainting, and hospitals.

Word Count: 3330+

Author’s Note: Just a small piece of Wonwoo fic that was floating in my head for a while. I finally had the time to finish it. Comments/reblogs feeds a writer's soul! Enjoy~

She watched from the corner of the couch at the rambunctious boys, her heart warming at the thought that Wonwoo has such precious friendships in his life. He finally picked up her gift, having gone through most of them and seeing as how hers was the first one set on the table. Seungkwan passed him the big box first, and she was excited to see his reaction. She worked over time for the last few months in order to be able to afford the gift, but the effort was worth it, in her opinion. 

The boys hollered at the sight of the shiny Apple box, and Mingyu shouted. “Wait- wait- which one of you forgot that Carats already gave him a personalized Airpods Max?” Most of the boys shook her head, but she didn’t have it in her to tell them. Nobody put their names on the gifts so no one could tell who the gift was from. Her heart sank as Seungcheol took the box and set it aside, still thinking it was from one of the boys. In doing so, she watched her smaller gift fall on the carpet, underneath the copious amount of wrapping paper and tissue paper on the floor. 

“Don’t use that one- use the one you got from our precious fans,” he said, laughing. She admired their loyalty to their fans, but found her heart still sinking when Wonwoo nodded. She worked hard for the gift, and seeing it get tossed aside felt like her efforts were also being tossed aside. She knew Wonwoo still appreciated the gift as he was never the type to take what he’s given for granted, but a part of her wished she had given him his gift privately instead. Y/N noticed Mingyu pulling out his phone, telling the boys that he was going to start a live on Instagram. She took this time to slink back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Her relationship with Wonwoo was known to the fans, but she still wanted to respect the responsibility that comes with his job. If she were to do anything wrong, it would reflect poorly on him, so in order to avoid that she tried to live as quietly as she could. 

Y/N heard her boyfriend’s speech to their fans, thanking them for their support. She cleared up the mess of having to host 13 boys in the kitchen, and made her way back to the living room once she heard they were done their livestream. 

“Y/N, we’re going to go out for drinks, wanna come?” Seungkwan asked, motioning for her to join their group. He gave her a side hug before pulling her to sit beside Wonwoo, Dokyeom standing to make space for her. 

She looked at the mess in the living room, and shook her head. “I think I’ll just stay and clean up. You guys have fun!” 

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asked quietly beside her, not wanting to pressure her. 

“Yea. Go have fun with the boys.” She gave a short peck to his cheek, rolling her eyes at the hollering going on around her. As they all headed out, they each gave her a short hug, thanking her for hosting them. Y/N picked up her gift from the floor, looking at the designer items the boys had gifted her boyfriend. She knew that he wasn’t materialistic, and would’ve loved anything they had given him, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was lacking in her ability to spoil him. She had worked a lot of overtime hours in the last few months, having to go to the doctors for IV drops a couple of times because she was so exhausted. Luckily, Wonwoo was also busy with promotions, but it made her feel even emptier when everything was said and done. She sighed, placing the small box back on the couch and cleaning up the living room. The smaller box had contained a heartfelt card, an old MP3 player with a customized playlist she had created to represent her love for him, along with a Spotify code as she knew he would want it on his phone as well. While she was going around cleaning, she hadn’t realized the box slipping between the cushion of the couch. 

The next few days were busy as she decided to continue working overtime since Wonwoo was busy anyways. She felt like their relationship was barely hanging on the last few months because of his busy schedule, and the fact that she was working more than ever before in order to be able to afford his gift and hosting the get-together with his team. Woozi and Seungcheol had offered to help her pay for the party, but she didn’t feel right about it. She wanted to spoil them, and she didn’t want them to think that she was taking advantage of their finances like that. 

Wonwoo came home late at night after recording some b-side tracks for their repackaged album. He couldn’t even bother making it to his bedroom so he decided to crash on the couch. Once his body landed on the usually soft cushion, he immediately noticed a firm item in between the pillows. He dug around, finding a small box he remembered seeing at his birthday party a week ago. He opened the box, seeing the letter slipped out. 

To my WON and only,  Happy Birthday!! Please excuse my crappy handwriting, but I wanted to write down how much I love you and how much I love us. Two years ago we met each other, and my life would never be the same since. I am so thankful for another year to be by your side and I want you to know that no matter what I want to always be with you. My heart is so full of love, and yet I can’t express them with words so I hope you will feel all my love in the songs I’ve put in this mixtape.  Always yours ❤️

Just as he was about to play her playlist, his phone buzzed. It was Woozi apologizing and asking him to come back to the studio. He sighed tiredly, pressing the palm of his hands against his eyes. It was times like this that he missed Y/N’s touch, and how she’s always been able to relieve his stress with just a simple hug. He missed her so much. He opened the last message from her. It was her telling him about finishing work and going to the mall, and showing him what she had bought. It was the little, mundane things that Wonwoo appreciated in their relationship. Since they found it hard to meet up sometimes, she made it a point to send little updates about her day, and he would do the same. As he was reading through her messages, and the commentary on her video haul that she sent him, he noticed the time she had sent the message of leaving work. His eyebrows furrowed as she usually leaves work around 6 to 6:30, but the timestamp had read her messaging him closer to 8pm. He scrolled back through their messages, easily finding her little messages after work and they were all late. It wasn’t as if her morning messages came later either, they were all at the same early 6am as they had always been. His thoughts were interrupted, when Woozi sent another message asking if he was coming. Wonwoo confirmed that he was, and made his way back to the studio while thinking about what would keep his girlfriend late at work. She hadn’t mentioned any big projects or anything that could keep her longer, but perhaps she just forgot to tell him. He sent her a few text to ease his mind, maybe it wasn’t as a big deal as he had in his mind. 

Goodnight, baby I just got home from the studio, but Woozi asked me to come back to record more. I’m so tired and I miss you so much I noticed that you’ve been getting off work later than usual? Is everything alright? 

He pocketed the MP3 player, and went back to the studio where he crashed for a few hours after recording. It was a little before noon when Wonwoo woke up, opening his eyes to an uneasy-looking Dino, and he suddenly he was on alert. 

“Hyung-”

“Dino? What’s wrong?” 

“We charged your phone when you were sleeping because it was dead, and when we turned it on it wouldn't stop buzzing.”

Wonwoo felt his heart plummeting and beating miles per hour, he nodded in thanks and quickly took his phone from Dino’s outstretched hand. He realized a few more members were there, and they had halted the recording. It was easy to see why they were panicking, usually if it was an emergency amongst the members, there would be at least a few more members who would know, but this seemed like a personal matter. He unlocked his phone, seeing 10+ phone calls, and 30+ messages from Eunji- Y/N’s best friend. He skimmed through messages, bile rising from his throat when he saw the words 

‘Fainted… hospital… overworked…’ 

He got up quickly, catching the eye of all his members. 

“What? What is it?” Seungcheol asked worriedly. 

“Y/N’s in the hospital,” he said before rushing out. 

“Wonwoo!” Seungcheol called. “You’re in no state to drive. I’ll drive you.” 

Wonwoo nodded in appreciation, knowing that it was faster to get a ride from his members than wait for his manager. The ride to the hospital was tense, and Wonwoo was able to call Eunji back. 

“Eunji- how is she?” he asked once he heard her pick up. 

“She’s fine now,” she said with a small sigh. “They gave her some fluids, and they’re just looking over her now. Where were you, Wonwoo?”

“I’m so sorry. I was recording all night, and fell asleep.” He stopped when she spoke again. 

“Right. I guess it can’t be helped.” Wonwoo always appreciated Y/N and Eunji’s ability to not linger on things beyond their control, seeming always focused on fixing the problem. “Did you like her gift?”

“Gift?” 

“Yea- your birthday was last week, right?” When he didn’t respond she continued. “Y/N told me a few months ago that she was planning a birthday party for you and your team. She wanted to spoil you guys, and tried going all out- even buying you the Airpods Max. I’m guessing that’s why she’s here.” 

“What?” Wonwoo was still trying to process everything, and the anxiety of Y/N being in the hospital wasn’t helping him see the bigger picture. He needed Eunji to spell it out for him. 

“She worked overtime for the last few months to be able to afford your gift and the party. I mean she wasn’t broke by any means, but throwing a party for 13 guys can get pretty expensive. I think some of your members offered to split the cost, but she was worried that they would see her as someone too focused on money.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened at her revelation of what she went through that day. He remembered the comment Mingyu made about the Airpods, and how he had carelessly tossed it aside. He felt so guilty for not even considering the effort she put in that day. In a way the idol life had spoiled him as staff members were usually the one preparing their birthday events. He didn’t know how much they cost but he could imagine it was more than Y/N would’ve spent on herself. He wasn’t blind to the amount of effort she put in, rivaling the decorations that a team of staff would prepare for their birthday streams. 

“I didn’t know,” Wonwoo said quietly. “She never told me.”

“That’s our stubborn Y/N. She probably didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. Knowing her, she was probably overworking both at work and trying to make the party happen that she stopped taking care of herself. I would’ve thought she would stop doing overtime after the party though.” 

“I’m at the hospital now.” He turned to his leader. “Cheol-”

“Go. Text us if you need anything. We can come by-” he paused. “If she wants us there.” He felt guilty about that day, thinking about how hurt she might have been. 

“Thanks.” Wonwoo got to the room Eunji texted him, taking a deep breath before slowly opening the door. Eunji was sitting beside the empty bed, scrolling through her phone. “Where is she?” he asked, suddenly on alert again. 

“They took her for some more testing,” she told him, motioning for him to sit at the chair across from her. 

He shook his head, looking around the room, his need to see her making him restless. 

“I’m glad you’re here now. I know you don’t like to push her to talk, but she’s more like you than you think, Wonwoo.” Before she could say more, Y/N was wheelchaired in with her nurse. Her eyes widened when she saw Wonwoo, and she was about to reach for him when the nurse had gently helped her back on the bed. 

“Your tests are all done,” he informed her. “The doctor will be in shortly to discharge you.” 

“I have to take my leave now,” Eunji said as the nurse left them alone. “But call me if you need anything, alright?” She turned to both of them before picking up her bag, offering a supportive smile before taking her leave. 

“Y/N…” Wonwoo started, his voice cracking with how emotional he was feeling. “What happened?” Despite Eunji telling him the story, he wanted to hear it from her mouth. 

“I worked a little too hard, and fainted- kinda hit my head a bit so that’s why the doctors are doing all these test,” she answered him in a light tone. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Hmm.” He took the chair Eunji was sitting on, and brought it closer to her bed. “Why were you working so hard? I saw you’ve been working overtime.” 

Her eyes immediately shifted to her lap. “You’ve been busy so I wanted to keep my mind off missing you.” 

He knew she was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. “It has nothing to do with this?” he asked, pulling out the MP3 player from his pocket. 

Y/N gasped, thinking she had brought it home with her instead of leaving it at Wonwoo’s couch. 

“I read your letter. You got me the Airpods and made me a playlist- even putting it on this MP3 player you knew I would like. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I didn’t know Carats had already gotten you one…” she trailed off. “And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or make anyone feel bad.” 

He was about to put a hand on her head, but stopped when he remembered she hit her head. Instead, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I love it. I love you. You could’ve given me a plastic bag, and I would’ve loved it.” 

She chuckled at his words, shaking her head. “I was thinking…”

“Hm?”

“Maybe we could give the Airpods to your father? That way you can use the one Carats gave you, and father will be happy with the new Airpods?”

Wonwoo melted at her thoughtfulness, reminding him one of the many reasons he loves her. She made it a point to welcome his family with such open arms, including his team. “You don’t want it for yourself?” he asked, knowing she had always wanted similar headphones. 

She shook her head. “I think father would appreciate it more.”

“Alright. You can give it to him next time we visit.” He took her hand, placing it against his lips as he gazed at her face. “I don’t want you to be working overtime to buy me anything anymore, okay?”

“That’s not fair,” she argued, taking her hand back. “You-”

“I don’t care about money or materialistic things. I care about you- please? Can we do the handmade gifts from now on or something?”

She thought about it for a bit, pondering on  his suggestion. “You’ll only give me handmade things too?”

He nodded. 

“Deal,” she agreed, breaking into a grin. “You realize that’s gonna be harder for you, right?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head. “There’s nothing hard about spoiling the person I love the most.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” she said between laughter. 

His phone buzzed, and he checked it was Seungcheol who texted him. “Seungcheol just texted. The members were really worried.” 

“About me?”

“Mm.” He responded that she was alright now. “They wanted to know if you would like to see them?” 

“She nodded. “Today? Okay- maybe we can go bring food to them if they’re practicing?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “We’re not doing anything. You’re coming home with me, and they’ll visit us there, okay?” 

“I’m sure they don’t want to miss their practice.” 

He shook his head, stopping her. “Y/N, my team is my family.”

She nodded, not knowing where he was going with this. 

“And you’re now family so they’re your family too.” 

Before she could say anything, the doctor knocked on the door with a clipboard. He gave her the clear to go home, and Wonwoo called a taxi for them to take to his home. As they settled in to his home, Y/N gave Wonwoo the go-ahead to have the members over to visit. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Mingyu said, his face full of anguish. Seungcheol stood beside him, head lowered as if expecting to be scolded. 

She shook her head, putting a hand on each of the boys’ arms. “Don’t worry- you guys have nothing to apologize for.” 

“We didn’t mean to-”

“I know, I know.” She gave them both a hug. “It’s nothing, really.” 

Wonwoo gently pulled her to his side, leading her to sit down on the couch as if the few seconds of standing would be too tiresome for her. She sat in the center of the thirteen boys, feeling like she was finally a part of their little family they created for themselves. When the door rang for the food to arrive, Y/N was the first to get up, but before she could even move, Wonwoo had already gotten up and made sure she stayed put while the other members jumped up to get the door. In the end, Seungcheol and Mingyu had gotten the food, and set it on the table. 

“Thank you for the food, Woo,” Soonyoung said, the other members following in sharing the gratitude. 

He waved it off, knowing it wasn’t the first nor the last time he would treat his members. Being older than most of them, he felt a sense of responsibility in making sure they were treated well, and felt like he would be taking advantage of them if he didn’t cover their expenses from time to time. 

He took the bowl that was meant for Y/N, unpacking it and adding her preferred toppings. “Thanks, Woo,” Y/N repeated, taking the outstretched plate from his hands. He leaned over to get a side dish to put on her plate, and Y/N took the opportunity to give him a quick peck on his cheek. 

“Ehh! You guys are too sickeningly cute,” Seungkwan said, giving them a side eye. 

“Don’t be rude! I think they’re cute.” Dokyum scolded. 

Wonwoo prepared her food first, giving her the bowl before getting his own bowl. Minghao was on her right, and took some of the side dish in front of him, and placed it on her bowl. 

“Thanks Hao,” she smiled. This time she wasn’t watching the 13 boys from the corner of the couch, feeling like an outsider, but instead she finally felt like a part of their found family.

[jasperandhenryslovechild]

now that the shock of watching this trailer over and over and over again has worn down a tiny bit i need to ask, what the fuck is that hero costume and what does this mean for the preexisting canon dangerverse timeline

it is evident that these three costumes are NOT the same thing and it doesn't make me happy at ALL.

INDIVIDUAL BREAKDOWN/ELABORATION RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT

this one

is henry danger canon, like in the very last episode.

a muted version of the danger force canon one, with a fugly mustard hoodie with the strings tied so tight that it makes me question his breathing abilities and middle-schooler-who-just-discovered-what-mouse-is hair/j. he looks like he had to pull something together last minute unlike charlotte (curse me for cropping her out) who is literally THE COOLEST ONE HERE why is she not in the movie???? she is literally a fucking cyborg with purple hair someone explain this shit to me??? it's her superiority that allowed her to absolutely EAT THIS UP while henry looks like he just went dumpster diving

it's a vibe but it's also giving ramen noodles so im giving it a low 5/10 out of pity

danger force switches it up on us with this version

henry "we don't wear masks in dystopia, we're kinda above that" hart

this one is my favorite, it's cohesive and it goes together well. it's got the more grown hero vibe that ive always wanted to see in henry ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF HIS GROWTH AS A CHARACTER!! THE RETURN OF THE KID EPISODE IS LITERALLY ALL ABOUT HOW FUCKING DIFFERENT HE IS AND IM HERE FOR IT SO HARD!!! i will absolutely drop a df henry hyper analysis some day but for now this is what we've got

the shades of burgundy and washed out red throw it together well and i can totally see an explanation behind this costume vs the old one being a simple upscale/revamp. that jacket has pockets to hide weaponry, leather would probably be a lot easier to take a tumble in (+ the knee guards not shown in this picture and like the plastic covers on the sides of his legs that i don't know the name of, implies that he takes enough hard falls to need protection in these areas!), it helps camouflage well in dystopia because the 2 seconds of clips we've seen of that place show that it's pretty dark despite its bright neon flashing lights that give it an evil sanfransokyo at night sort of vibe. it's superhero-y, but it also doesn't have all those staple childhood iconic hero things either— if anything he looks kinda ashamed to be in a superhero show and that's okay/j

overall, 10/10 because it has nothing to do with the capitan man/kid danger brand, it shows henry evolving beyond that point in his life into his own entity after being so soley dependent on ray for his entire previous career in superhero-ing

now to address this fucking monstrosity we were given just a few hours ago

i want to preface this by saying i am not ungrateful. the things i am about to say come from a place of pure dissatisfaction yet constructive criticism. ive been waiting years and years for this movie and i will literally take an hour and thirty minutes of jasper and henry twirling in a circle and make 183829992 edits of it i don't care, i love henry danger sm and the movie looks pretty cool

this being said

dear costume team of henry danger the movie,

have you ever watched henry danger and or danger force? do you even know what you're designing for? be honest, did the producers hand you this stock image

and tell you to make it mean? because every time i look at this costume there is something else wrong with it and it PAINS MY EYES. it makes him look like a cartoony ass space crusader instead of a hero fighting crime one of the most dangerous if not THE MOST DANGEROUS city in the world.

let's break this down, shall we? head to toe motherfuckers.

only not complaining about the hair and it being slicked in the same direction it used to be because it's consistent throughout the entire trailer (unlike SOME danger force episodes... cough cough return of the kid....cough cough.......)

that mask. firstly, i have issues with there being a mask at all, because danger force establishes that there are no masks in dystopia. nobody moves a finger to try and put on a mask, henry even fights SUNGLASSES. those sunglasses ray forces on him to hide his identity are brawled against, he's clearly grown out of masks. putting him back in one puts him back in that kid danger box he's been working hard to build up and out of, a concept established throughout the entire finale of henry danger and further reassured in danger force.

and if you were gonna inarguably give him a mask for simple minded audience recognition, nickelodeon, the least you could do was make it a PRETTY MASK. red was an.. okay choice for the base, but making the silver SURROUND IT? BLACK OUTLINE???? you're trying so hard to be new and cool and it is just painful on the eyes instead. the black eyeshadow under it makes him look like one of those 2020 emo dsmp cc edits and it's just like a throwback to an era nobody wants to go back to. that face card makes him looks like he listens to believer by imagine dragons while chewing that magic bubblegum. his lips are PALE, SOMEBODY GET THIS MAN SOME IRON— OH WAIT, THEY WASTED THEIR SUPPLY ON THIS NIGHT REFLECTIVE SILVER MAKEUP THAT MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A STOP SIGN WITH A FLASHLIGHT UP IT'S ASSHOLE

then we move onto the base of the costume itself. firstly, the navy blue undershirt cut out to expose his neck says nothing to me. it does not make the statement you guys thought it would— in fact, it makes the whole thing look a pit incomplete? unkempt? it looks like theres something missing and with that black eyeshadow i think it's a thick silver chain SORRY IM DONE I'M OVER THE MASK

the vest over it gives me even more issues. you can't pull up with an audio of ray manchester going "you're not a sidekick anymore, you're a hero!!" and have THEIR FUCKING LOGO ON HIS CHEST. IT'S NOT RIGHT. ON TOP OF THE FACT THAT THE ENTIRE VEST IN AND OF ITSELF LOOKS LIKE IT WAS ROLLED IN DIRT AND HAS THE COLORATION PROPERTIES OF A DYING SEAL, THE LOGO BEING THERE AT ALL IS A MASSIVE ISSUE.

the entire POINT OF THE FINALE was that henry wanted to move on from his life as kid danger. he sacrificed himself and faked his entire death to thousands of people in order to become his own person. he had no life outside of crime fighting because he has no skills or traits outside of crime fighting— he gave up his entire childhood for it so naturally it's all he can gravitate to as he moves forward in dystopia. being a crime fighter once more is a punch in the face enough that he will never really escape who he once was despite the fact that HE GOT AWAY.

HE GOT AWAY.

in NO WORLD WOULD THE HENRY HART I KNOW AND LOVE PROUDLY WEAR THE SYMBOL OF THE VERY MAN THAT FAILED HIM. ray manchester failed him throughout his entire childhood— failed at giving him a normal kid life, failed at providing context and details before or even during the time he accepted the job— and yet here the movie is. he is wearing a rip off of his old costume in an attempt to leave behind who he was. that is ironic, that is HORRIBLE. because by putting him in this FUGLY ASS DOLLAR STORE COSTUME, not only are you retconning the evolution he's been working towards, you are denying him the right to become something greater than just kid danger

in the old costumes, the designs were different because he as a person was different. his entire character arc throughout the hd finale to now was just that, becoming different.

this is not different— this is just an older version of the ghost he's been leaving behind time and time again. dragging him back to his roots. there are millions of ways to drag him back to his roots in the movie itself because those roots will never free him, that is the entire point of him post henry danger and there's so many ways to show that. but changing his costume, one of the only parts of his new hero identity that he himself gets to choose, to resemble his old costume so similarly is just blatantly saying fuck you to the current dangerverse timeline and who that has made him out to be.

my final question is, what does that mean for everything else?

cause like, if the hd/df costumes are no longer a thing in the movie, what happened to them?? why did henry choose this bullshit over the FIREEE costumes in his past?? why would he ever do that to himself bro

and also BLACKOUT?? DO WE NOT GET AN EXPLANATION ON THAT???? BECAUSE EVEN NICKELODEON THEM FUCKING SELVES MADE A THEORY VIDEO ABOUT BLACKOUT BEING JASPER AND THEN WE PULL UP WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKER

LIKE GUYS I'M NOT GETTING IT ARE WE EVER GONNA GET AN EXPLANATION ON WHO BLACKOUT IS AND WHY HE WAS CAUGHT UP WITH HENRY— ALSO JASPER'S JUST TRANSFORMING RANDOMLY IN PUBLIC??? DOES THAT NOT NUKE THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF HENRYS MASK?????

i do have very good things to say about this teaser, do not let your eyes deceive you, but i also have these complaints that i don't necessarily need answered if not I just need them to be heard

if you've made it this far thank you so much for coming to my insanely long ted talk

[alwritey-aphrodite]

here’s my submission for the fall coffee house put together by @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno - im not gonna lie i have no idea where this came from but its the longest thing ive written in literal months so enjoy!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none :) except that i didn’t proofread lmao

You’ve always been a planner, always had goals for your future, dream boards and five year plans and a list of things to accomplish before you turned thirty. None of those ever included feeling so claustrophobic in what was supposed to be your dream job that you packed everything up and moved away and got a job at a coffee shop. Your life is far from terrible, and you’re quite happy with your choices, but you know if you were somehow able to tell past you where you would end up at twenty seven, she would have spit in your face.

The coffee shop you work at is wonderful, especially now that autumn is in full swing, because it’s almost absurdly cozy and warm. You’re able to wear whatever you want, craft playlists, design menu boards, and spend all day talking with regulars and newcomers alike. Even if it wasn’t where you imagined you would end up, you couldn’t be happier. Especially when an incredibly attractive single father starts to frequent during your shifts.

Isabel and Frankie Morales are nothing short of delightful. The pair of them are absurdly polite, which is especially adorable on the kindergartner, and Frankie is a generous tipper. Before, they had come in every Friday when he picked Isabel up from school for a cookie to split, but now that the weather has turned, they come in most days around two for hot chocolates. Most of the time they retreat to a booth, but on busy days, Frankie helps his daughter onto one of the high top stools along the counter before sitting down next to her, giving you the perfect opportunity to watch and listen to their conversations, still a little scared to actually speak to him beyond the small talk when you take their order.

Today, it’s raining, pouring really, and the shop is mostly empty, the students who normally hunker down for study marathons nowhere to be seen and even most of your regulars hadn’t bothered to show up, choosing to stay dry at home rather than brave the elements for their coffee fix. Your boredom grows with each hour that passes, but then the bell above the door rings to life, and Frankie and Isabel hurry inside, an umbrella trailing behind.

“It’s raining really hard,” Isabel says, trudging up to the counter and leaving her father behind to deal with shaking out the umbrella to keep it from dripping. Normally, she’s glued to her father’s side, but maybe she feels safer with the emptiness of the shop.

“Yeah it is,” you agree with the girl, trying not to laugh as she attempts to stretch herself tall enough to see you over the counter, and you compensate by leaning forward on your elbows, “I didn’t think you guys were going to show up.”

“We were already wet, what’s the worst that could happen,” Frankie says as he approaches the counter himself, umbrella sufficiently dry.

“And I really needed a treat,” Isabel adds, sounding so much like an adult trapped in a toddler’s body you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Don’t get her started,” Frankie mutters, and you laugh again, calming your giggles as Isabel clears her throat.

She launches into a story about recess and reading spots and lunch tables, and it’s hard to keep it all straight, but you nod along all the same, sympathizing with the exhaustion of being a little girl.

“That sounds rough,” you say when she finally finishes her story, and she nods sagely, causing you to fight against your giggles again, “how about I make you an extra special hot chocolate, hm? Would that help?”

“Yes please!” Isabel’s eyes light up, her little frown replaced with a gap-toothed grin.

“Same for you?” You ask Frankie, even though you know he’ll refuse.

“Just a black coffee for me, please.”

You ring them up for a small black coffee and a small regular hot chocolate, even though you give them both larges and you add flavoring and toppings to Isabel’s drink. Instead of slipping into one of the many open booths, they take a spot at the counter, and your heart expands to an impossibly large size. Handing over their drinks, you place a plate of cookies in front of them too. They’re all Halloween and fall themed, and you’d spent the better part of the afternoon decorating them with more care than necessary, simply because you had the time. Frankie starts to shake his head, but you’re one step ahead of him.

“Please, just take them. They’ll all go to waste otherwise, no one else is gonna come in.”

“You should take them, then,” he counters, not giving in.

“C’mon, I’ve eaten about ten of these bad boys today already, and I’ve got a box full of pastries set aside for when I leave. Take the damn cookies,” you’d normally never use that language with a customer, but it’s dead besides the two of them and you’re grinning so you don’t think he’ll take offense.

A smile blooms on his face even as he shakes his head at you, and he takes two cookies from the plate, one for himself and one for Isabel, who looks like the happiest girl in the world now that she has cookies to add to her ginormous hot chocolate.

It’s dark by the time they get ready to leave, and you feel a little awful, like you’ve kept them trapped with you when they could have a million things they needed to do all because you were a little bored.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” you say, a little sheepish as Frankie helps Isabel back into her raincoat, which is difficult because she refuses to part with the cookies you’d boxed up for them to take home.

“We should be thanking you, for the cookies and the company,” he counters, pausing in his struggle to smile at you. You smile back, but then Isabel is tugging on his sleeve and pulling him down to her level. She whispers at him, and they’re a little too far for you to hear, so you just busy yourself with wiping down the already spotless counter until Isabel clears her throat rather dramatically and you turn your attention back to the pair with a gentle smile.

“You know, these are a lot of cookies for only two people,” Frankie starts, and you’re getting ready to argue with him, thinking he’s trying to get out of taking them again when he continues, “maybe we should split them three ways? And we can make you hot chocolate for a change?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he means, but when he does, there’s no stopping the smile that overtakes you, and you’re so beyond happy you can’t even speak for a minute.

“I’ll be done here around six,” you reply once you can form words again, and Frankie’s smile is so gorgeous it threatens to eliminate that ability all over again, “if you’re not already sick of me.”

“I could never get sick of you,” he responds, and if you weren’t already a complete goner, you definitely are now.

[searchforahero]

do you ever see urself un-shipping adopted family members?

no hate btw,

nope probably not :] dicktim has dug itself a place in my heart and it is pretty solidly never leaving <3

usually when i write them they're not particularly brotherly tbqh, but i've been working on a dicktim/timives fic lately where ives is. Freaked Out TM by tim & dick LOL its not done yet but here is a section from it (under the cut)

(for context i fucked up the timeline so basically tim is living in gotham, the uncle eddie stuff is happening, jack just died, tim is going to school with ives, and dick has been in between gotham and bludhaven lately. do not think too hard about how little sense that makes)

Dick Grayson is weird, and definitely not Tim's brother. It's been about a month since Tim first left school with Dick instead of taking the bus, and Dick's been coming to pick him up once every week or two since. Tim's been kind of cagey about stuff like how they met and how they got to know each other. Ives knows that Bruce Wayne was looking out for Tim while Jack was in his coma, but he had thought that Dick had been out of town for most of that.

Ives honestly doesn't know a whole lot about Dick, other than what every Gothamite knows, an orphan adopted by philanthropist Bruce Wayne, much like his guardian, he's known to be a bit of an air-head, but left Gotham to pursue policing in Bludhaven. Other than that Ives doesn't know much.

This is the first time that Ives is actually meeting the man. He and Tim had been hanging out at his apartment (which Ives still thought was super weird, who lets their sixteen year old newly-orphaned nephew live by himself? Especially in Gotham), playing Halo and talking shit.

Ives is just about to take the win when the front door goes flying open and Dick comes crashing in, calling out "Timmm, I don’t want to stay at the manor. Can I crash here?" He freezes in the hall between the entryway and the living area, presumably because he spots Ives. Ives is pretty sure he'd been about to crash forward on the couch they're sitting on before he turned the corner and realized Tim wasn't home alone.

He straightens up and smiles at Ives, says "Hey man, you're... Ives, right? Sorry, I didn't realize Tim had a friend over. I'm Tim's brother, Dick." He sticks out a hand for Ives to shake, and Ives just accepts that he'll have to take the loss this round, so he puts down his controller and shakes Dick's outstretched hand. He has a firm grip, firmer than could probably be considered casual, and his palm is covered in calluses.

Tim scoots over so he's sitting at the end of the couch instead of the middle, and waves at Dick, greeting him with "Hey man, you want to play with us?" He turns to Ives, tilts his head as if to say 'that okay?', and what's Ives going to say, 'no'? So Dick flops down on the couch, with his back to the arm rest and his legs thrown over Tim's thighs, and grabs the third controller.

They switch to Call of Duty and Dick kind of sucks at it, and after a few rounds he tosses the controller onto the coffee table and announces "I can't get used to the buttons, you'll never make me an XBox fan Tim."

Tim turns to look at him, frowns, and says "You've gotta admit that the XBox has a cooler design, like what's the PlayStation but a big hunk of plastic? The XBox has style Dick. Style!"

"Who cares about style when the PlayStation has way more exclusives man? The XBox has Halo and..." Dick mimes checking a notebook, "And yep, says here, Halo."

"And Halo is a masterpiece."

Dick pivots, shoves Tim's shoulder, tells him "Stop making that face at me, I don't care how cute you are, I'm not buying an XBox for my apartment."

And that's... That's weird right? There's something distinctly off about the way Dick said that, about the way he called Tim cute, not like an older brother teasing his younger brother, but like someone who- Ives cuts off the thought by physically shaking his head. He's not going to go speculating on his best friend's family like a jerk, especially when Tim has already lost so much.

He tries to ignore it while they keep playing, but Dick keeps poking and prodding at Tim, now that he isn't playing he's all over him, until eventually he just straight up lays his head in Tim's lap and announces that he's taking a nap.

Ives looks at Tim for any indication that he thinks this is weird, but finds none. When Tim isn't giving the TV his laser-eyed focus, he's insulting Ives' skills or brushing a hand through Dick's hair.

Ives is relieved when his dad calls Tim's apartment and tells him it's time to head home for dinner, because with Dick in the room, even asleep, he just couldn't relax like he normally can with Tim. There's something about the man that put him off.

He tries to ignore it, he's clearly important to Tim, and that's what matters, that Tim is surrounded with loved ones and friends instead of being forced to face the enormity of what he's lost alone.

[walnutcookie]

Sorry if this has been asked and/or explained before but do you have a reason for who’s paired with who in Tower of Souls? Some make sense like Sprout and Cosmo since they’re talked about hanging out together in game, but then there’s ones like Shrimpo and Pebble that I don’t get as much, and wondered what your thought process for picking duos was

I had no real basis for how i picked them. some were based off of canon of course, but i mostly just picked pairs i thought would be interesting :P if you dont mind my yap i can explain everyone...

Dandy & Astro - pretty obvious why, theyre very very close friends in canon :] and on top of that i feel my headcanons make them a very interesting and conflicting pair

Sprout & Cosmo - do i need to say anything about these two LOL

Vee & Connie - connie was actually going to be paired with finn at first! Fun fact!!! since i thought they were both pretty silly and might be fun together. but a friend suggested vee and i thought that they could be more interesting

Pebble & Shrimpo - these two were. Mostly just chosen out of practicality. i chose them because theyre both pretty unserious characters and also since pairing shrimpo with anyone else would make it difficult for him to have a close relationship with his partner considering his Personality. pebble doesnt care about his yelling and his insults and shrimpo loves his buppy he is the one thing in this world shrimpo doesnt hate (though its still hard for shrimpo since he doesnt have a partner who can Communicate and so he still lacks the support the others have)

Shelly & Jone - Partially, i paired shelly with an oc because there were 24 characters at the time, though i hadn't counted razzle and dazzle as two until i designed them, so the numbers turned out odd and i made jone to compensate,,, but shelly wasnt just given the First come first serve treatment, i hadnt figured out all of the pairs when i stuck her with jone, i was just considering giving her a story where she was forgotten intentionally to cover up some incident. I didnt want to use a canon toon and kill them off or stick them in the basement like i ended up doing with jone, so i made an oc instead :]

Rodger & Toodles - also an obvious one, father n daughter. and my faves <3

Glisten & Looey - FUN FACT!!! ive mentioned this before but i was GOING to pair glisten with paris from the gen2 au. paris was going to be in tower of souls and be glistens brother instead of his replacement. but this was at the very beginning of when i was making the au,, i didnt want to add ocs in and i also really liked the idea of glisten and looey together because i feel like their insecurities are similar and they could bond over it (and then qwel added dialogue where glisten tells looey he hates clowns SIGHS. cruelty to me i promise theyre best friends.)

Teagan & Gigi - Chose these two just because gigi is a hoarder/gambler and teagan is implied to be secretly greedy in her twisted dialogue,, i thought itd be funny if they did some money-related stuff in tos lol. They dont talk about money in their class because arthur didnt want to make it about money but It Is Implied

Brightney & Tisha - I think their dialogue with each other is very neat and i wanted them to work together :] (ccough and i wont lie i think its obvious because i talk about how much i like lightbox i wanted to pair them together because i like the ship BUT ITS NOT. CANON IN TOWER OF SOULS WHATSOEVER. you can interpret them that way but their relationship is left intentionally vague 🙏 i just like their dynamic)

Poppy & Boxten - Another obvious one :] starter duo

Razzle & Dazzle - bro who else would they be paired with. I did consider making them one toon so that theyd both be paired with someone else but i decided id rather make them a pair

Goob & Scraps - also obvious. Sibling!!!

Finn & Flutter - Thought it would be neat to pair them together since theyre both nature-related :] and i think they could be silly together

Bobette, Ginger, Rudie, & Coal - i think its clear why these fellas were all put together to begin with i mean theyre all just the holiday toons but as to why theyre a quartet instead of a pair? I had already decided on putting all of the holiday toons in a group even before the update came out and coal was revealed, for a few reasons. for one i feel like it would be strange to have a holiday toons paired with a canon character since in regular dandys world like youre putting Bob who works at macdonalds together with Santa clause /j. i wanted to keep them all together and i also thought it would be cute if they worked at the gift shop since!! christmas!!!! If i had known we were getting 4, i provavly wouldve made two pairs, but i was under the impression we were getting 3 and so i had already decided on them being a group VDKBDKD

and yatta... doesnt have a partner yet ! Shrug

[phantasmatoucan]

Character ask game for mod Owl: I was gonna ask about Smitten, but I'm sure someone else will do that-

So how about instead... tell me about Skeptic. That fluffy bird-

THE FLUFFIEST GUY EVER

[Send Me a Character and I'll List Ask Game]

FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE HOW INTELLEGENT HE CAN BE, HOW HE CAN COME UP WITH A PRACTICAL PLAN THAT CAN HELP TLQ OUT AND MAKE IT WORK [including also whatever other voice was already there into his plan because im sure he knows he can't do this alone] BUT I ALSO LOOOOVE HOW DUMB HE CAN BE AS WELL AND NOT BECAUSE HES AN IDIOT BUT BECAUSE OF HIS DISTRUST OF OTHERS AND GETTING TOO MUCH IN HIS OWN HEAD THAT HE STARTS MISSING THE POINT OF WHAT THEYRE EVEN DOING, HE NEEDS ANSWERS NO MATTER THE COST, I LIKE TO THINK IF HE HAD SOMETHING LIKE RPG STATS HE WOULD HAVE THEM LIKE 20 INTELECT AND -2 WISDOM, HE HAS A HARD TIME JUDGING THE CHARACTER [in this case the princess] UNLESS HE CAN GUESS WHAT SHES TRYING TO DO, HE DOES CARE ABOUT THE PRINCESS, AFTER ALL HE CAME TO BE BY TRYING TO FREE HER BUT FOR HIM TRYING TO DECIPHER EVERYTHING THATS HAPPENING IN A LOGICAL MANNER COMES FIRST AND FOREMOST, ALSO I LOVE HOW HE CAN ADAPT AS WELL IF PUSHED ENOUGH BY OTHER VOICES, LIKE WHEN PARANOID TOLD HIM ABOUT THE SHACKLES BEING TO RUSTY AND HE GIVES IN INTO PARAS LOGIC, THE SAME WITH HERO IN THE DEN, HE CAN BELIEVE IN THIS HONESTLY ILLOGICAL THINGS BUT HE NEEDS A REASON TO BELIEVE, HE CAN'T JUMP INTO CONCLUSIONS WITHOUT QUESTIONING THEM ITS NOT IN HIS NATURE

LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEM

ERM.... ERM... ERM.............................. I DONT KNOW... I THINK MAYBE THE FACT THAT THE LINE WHERE HE SUGGEST GETTING THE HEAD OF THE PRISIONER AND BRINGING IT WITH THEM WAS CUT OUT AFTER PRISTINE CUT... BUT THATS NOT HIS FAULT HE WAS LOBOTOMIZED A BIT 💖

FAVORITE LINE

"Looks like we've seen through your lies at last, Mr. The Narrator. If that even is your real name." HES SO STUPID

BROtp

SMITTEN AND SKEPTIC ARE THE BROS OF BROS FOR ME, GREY BROTHERS MY BELOVED, SMITTEN HELPS OUT SKEPTIC TO UNDERSTAND OTHERS A BIT MORE AND DISCERNING HIS EMOTIONS A BIT BETTER, ALSO HELPING HIM OUT ON NOT GETTING FRUSTATED AS EASILY IF THINGS DONT GO HIS WAY AND SKEPTIC HELPS OUT SMITTEN TO THINK MORE ABOUT HIMSELF AND DOING THINGS FOR HIMSELF, NOT REVOLVING HIS LIFE AROUND THE PRINCESSES SO MUCH, AND THEN SMITTEN INVITES SKEPTIC TO A TEA PARTY AND THEY HAVE A GOOD TIME JUST HANGING OUT

OTP

IVE BEEN INFECTED WITH THE SKEPTUNIST AGENDA AND LET ME TELL U I THINK THEYRE... VERY CUTE TOGETHER ACTUALLY, SKEPTIC TRYING TO UNDERSTAND OPPORTUNIST MOTIVES WHILE OPPORTUNIST TRIES TO GET ON SKEPTICS GOOD SIDE AFTER ALL HAVING A SMARTY PANTS ON HIS SIDE WILL ALWAYS BE GOOD FOR ANY PLAN HE CAN COME UP WITH BUT SLOWLY THEY REALIZE THAT DAMN.... I KINDA ENJOY THE COMPANY OF THIS PERSON THE MORE I TRY TO GET CLOSER TO THEM, MAYBE THEY CAN EVEN BECOME PARTNERS IN CRIME....

NOtp

I ACTUALLY HAVENT SEEN THAT MANY SKEPTIC SHIPS SO I WOULDNT EVEN KNOW IF I HAD ONE LMAO

RANDOM HEADCANON

I THINK HE HAS ANGER ISSUES AS HES PRONE TO GET FRUSTRATED VERY EASILY, HE JUST HAS A CALMER WAY OF EXPRESSING IT BY TRYING TO LOGIC HIS WAY OUT OF IT BUT ITS HARDER WHEN HE ONLY FINDS DEAD ENDS, ALSO A HEADCANON FOR MY VERSION OF SKEPTIC IS THAT HE CAN FLY AT ALL BECAUSE OF THE POSITION OF HIS WINGS AND THAT HE NEEDS GLASSES TO ACTUALLY READ lol

UNPOPULAR OPINION

HAVENT LOOKED AT THE FANDOM LONG ENOUGH TO THINK OF THIS ONE, I HAVE NOT SEEN MANY PEOPLE TALKING BADLY ABOUT SKEP OR ATLEAST IN A WAY I FEEL LIKE IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE FOR ME LMAO

SONG I ASSOCIATE WITH THEM

GOLDEN NUMBER BY IYOWA [I PUT THE SUB VERSION BUT CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER SONGS IN THEIR MAIN CHANNEL THEYRE VERY GOOD, I ASSOCIATE THIS SONG TO HIM SPECIFICALLY THE LAST PART A LOT lol]

FAVORITE PICTURE OF THEM

SINCE YOU KNOW, THE VOICES DONT REALLY HAVE LIKE SET IMAGES OR DESIGN ILL JUST PULL FROM MY ART O21L3KR12R, U GET MY FAV PIC I DREW OF HIM

[trulyumai]

Personal Space? Never Heard Of Her!

Synopsis: You help the big boss (Jack), with every day tasks. He sees some forms missing from his desk and questions you. Jealousy ensues.

Pairing: Handsome Jack/You

Warnings: Murder (I mean it is Jack)

Available on AO3!

A/N: I know this is kind of a niche fandom, but Ive been obsessed with it recently! Enjoy the reading :)

“-Listen, listen, sweetheart, how many times do we have to go through this?” Jack's voice echoed through his office, you stood there just behind him with a frown marking your face. 

“Jack, I already said-” 

“Ah, ah, Mr. Jack pumpkin Mr,” Turning back to you he wiggled his long finger, tutting you lightly. 

“Mr. Jack,” You bit out, 

“The forms were already submitted. I told you the current marketers already came down for them. 

Squinting at you he plopped down on his chair, it groaned in protest as his heeled dress shoes rested on the oak desk in front. 

“Careful with that tone. I just like my things organized, is that so bad? I didn't know those shit brains were already on the new prototype,” Idly swinging his pistol it twirled between the man's fingertips, it would have been quite impressive if you weren't already mildly annoyed. 

Crossing your arms, pivoting one hip to touch the table, you relaxed your face. Somewhat afraid of the man, you didn't want to piss him off this early in the day. 

Afterall, you didn't dare think just how many assistants had come before you, shot and maimed  in this very room before you desperately enough took the interview for this (once in a lifetime) job.

The man rambled on, about the new gun designs, “Dumb ass,” bandits and the citizen who unfortunately ran into him this morning. 

“-Filthy fucking guy, how could he not see me coming! I was gonna rip his eyes out but who am I- '' Pausing all his movements halted, until he slowly, oh so slowly faced towards your direction once more. 

With still movements you paused too, wearily eying the man before he finally spoke up. 

“Wait, wait. Hold on, hold on, back up.”

Backing up a step you gripped one wrist with your hand. 

“No not literally you fucking- Your sentence. The researchers?” Frowning you traced back to your prior conversation 

“Yes, sir. The um, Prototype? They came in early, asked, well, demanded the papers. Said it was urgent.”

Sitting up Jack put both his gloved hands on the desk, gripping the corners until you heard the crinkling of his leather gloves. 

“They came. In my office, and you let them in?” 

Oh no. 

“W-well sir, they said- they demanded me to! Said you gave them special permission, made me walk ahead of them to open the door, and an-” 

A single hand was lifted, halting you to stop the rambling. The glass windows behind him showed the business of the city. Skyscrapers cascaded around the office, the clouds invaded the unusually blue sky and you wanted to run- run and bury yourself between the shiny buildings and fluffy skies. 

“What were these, shall we say, gentlemans names, hm?”

Distracted by the plethora of people on the streets you didn't answer, didn't even notice the man get up from his chair and place himself in front of you until his big hand squeezed the meat around your face. “Answer, pumpkin.” 

“The names? Um, Mordecai- I think and maybe ah-” The grip worsened, with increased pressure you felt the creaking of your jaw, the tightness on your skin. 

“S-Steven! That's it, I'm sure!” 

Eyes darting back and forth between yours he let go, switching to put his arm around your waist. 

“See? Was that so hard! Good job, sweetheart, really, that must have exhausted you,” 

His fingers skirted across your form, until his fingers danced at the hem of the blouse you wore. They lifted it a tad and met the skin with a warm touch, lightly gliding his fingers up down and as he hummed in thought. 

“Pretty sure those are downstairs guys. Let's pay them a visit! See what they have to say about personal space,”

Dragging you along, he pressed the elevator before leaning down on you, putting the side of his head to rest on your own. 

With a cocky expression he noticed your nervous form. “Don't worry, sweetheart- you tell Ol’ Mr. Jack, which one did the demanding and this will all be over soon!” His hand twitched on the opposite side. 

“Maybe we can even get some brunch after, I'm starving.” 

Nodding your head you held back a wince. 

The morning just started and there were already three casualties. 

What a morning in Pandora.

[tur11ngery]

Hiya hiya I’m curious on your thoughts on other 7n7 ships also have you heard of his business partner Noli and the beloved pumpkin?

other 7n7 ships r below the cut so im not clogging up everyones stream with a big wall of text :-)

7n7noli... the idea of a business partner in crime and the possible tension that could come from that is really interesting, but i dont know much about noli so im hesitant to say anything until more gets revealed. this is also affected by the fact that i dont have access to the discord server because of stupid phone verification stuff, so take it with a grain of salt.

outside of 7noli, they look so very cool!! i like their design and the fun little mask, and since malbear holds a very special place in my heart i already have a soft spot for them. :-)

im not sure whats up with the pumpkin???? i saw all the pictures on my twitter. the pumpkin looks So polite. Love the pumpkin (i think?)

1x7n7 (1x1x1x1 x 007n7) is a personal comfort of mine recently. i like their possible dynamics. i cant really explain this one besides hennghhg hackerzzz.... i think it's more like... rather than forcing their rehabilitation and betterment, they're kind of helping each other out. theyre not doing it for each other, but theyre discovering the truths of absolute love and learning how to love living... together. and also uhh smoochhhh

as is 777 (chance x 7n7 x 1337). i accidentally got way too attached to 1337n7 from one of my requests and now theyre smooching in my brain. chance and 007n7 are really cool to me because of chances thing with probability, and 007n7 and 1337 are kind of saving each other. 1337n7 are.. perfect complements, in a way. while 1x7n7 works in my head because they have so much potential to grow together, chance/1337/7n7 all complement each other in these hyperspecific ways.

i dont know about shedletsky/builderman x 7n7. sounds like a forbidden, secret thing. the admin and the hacker. could be really interesting, but it's not my thing personally, especially because theres the issue of the moral high ground when it comes to 7n7's rehabilitation. some opposition or opposing ideologies i think make ships interesting, but this is like... night and day. some might like it for its toxicity, though. i dont judge.

007n7 x elliot is a really funny idea. im not much for tragic doomed evil yaoi but theres a lot of mutual redemption to be had there that i like. that being said, it's a personal pet peeve of mine when people reduce 7n7 to either his son or his past rather than his constant state of turmoil and self-surveillance. i think this ship is hard to get right. then again, i think 7n7 and elliot are among the two hardest characters to 'get right' in terms of what a person would believably do or say with their background, along with chance.

007n7 x two time sounds sooo. intriguing, i guess? i dont know much about the church of the spawn, so i cant tell if two time would hate 7n7 for defying the will of the spawn or deify 7n7 for his power. possible fucked up dynamic to be had here. overall, pretty interesting.

john doe and 7n7 is not anything ive considered. i cant see any possible dynamic, besides 7n7 trusting himself to try to mend john doe and being conflicted on if he should and if he wants to help him bc he might remember his wife and all the attention is sooo nice. but i think 7n7 is more rational than that so... hmmm

mafioso and 007n7 is sooo funny in my head. mostly for the same reason i think pizzadebt is literally fascinating; mafioso is so abnormal. hes part of a massive mafia hivemind in my head. i like old man yaoi..... i had this fic idea a while back where 007n7 could see mafioso in the real world because of 7n7's dissociation problem. theyre cute. reminds me of the kiss painting by klimt.

if theres any i forgot, come into my askbox and yell at me. sorry for the ramble, but thank you for asking! you made my day submitting this :-)

[prentissluvr]

yay i'm so excited!! i think your writing is so warm and beautiful! right now ive been thinking about sam trying to figure out what nickname you like best. like you'll be researching a case and suddenly he'll look at you with a smile and say "what about honey? suits u" and you'd just melt right there looking into his soft eyes!! AAH he's so cute I literally need him 😭

-💐

ahhh thank you so so much darling!!

aHHH BESTIE OMGGG STOP I'M SO SOFT that is so so sweet and cute i'm crying :,)

i am a firm believer that sam calls you honey allll the time it's soooo so cute imo and so him <33 i think he sticks with pretty classic nicknames like honey and baby the most, and loves whatever else you ask him to call you. like if you have a nickname in a different language that you speak that you like, he tries so hard to match your pronunciation as perfectly as he can. if not he'll settle for you using the nickname on him instead hehe. ughhh but back to honey i'm just :,) crying that's such a cute little scenario. like he's not actually focused on his research, the sweet loverboy oh my god. like he's just mulling over pet names that might fit you that you'll like. because he actually adores calling you by your name. i don't think he's the kind of person where calling each other by your names is like oh no what's wrong they're not using my designated nickname. i think he has so much reverence and adoration for your name because that's you, that's his baby!! plus he loves to hear his name in your voice.

but he also finds simple pet names soooo sweet and lovely and loves to use them for you. it's just that you've only started dating recently! and he's actually had these pet names swimming around in his brian for ages, but he doesn't want to use them too soon or make you uncomfortable. so he's staring at some lore website thinking about how muchhhh he's been aching to call you honey all day (and week and month and maybe even year), but he wants to suggest it to you first to make sure you like it/you're okay with it. first, he starts with saying casually, "i'm coming up with nicknames to call you," to gauge how you feel about the idea. when you seem to like it (you're begging to find out what he's thinking), he decides he'll bring it up today

so when his gentle voice interrupts the sounds of clacking keyboards and motel ac, asking "how about honey? i think it suits you" you think your heart is ready to burst out of your chest!!! he sounds so sweet and hopeful as he asks, and when you look at him, you just about melt into a puddle on the floor when you see those pretty puppy dog eyes of his, silently begging for you to give a sign that you like it.

"it's perfect, sammy," you smile. his faces morphs into a full grin and his dimples pop out in all of their sweet, sweet glory, and there's nothing in the world that could have stopped you from standing right then and there and walking right up to him to plant a kiss to his pretty, pretty lips.

[thee-horny-thicky]

Tattoos and Tenderness

A/N: So I'm craving another tattoo, and I'm down bad for Sukuna, so I wrote this little one-shot. The reader is fem and described as having a forearm tattoo, but no other descriptions are used!

Sukuna wasn't a tender man. Even when he was as physically close as he could be to another person, plowing into them as he drew out orgasm after orgasm, he wasn't tender. Sex with him was always rough and aggressive, and he only allowed you to come when he was feeling generous.

However, something akin to tenderness blossomed in his chest as he stared at you. Your nude form was resting atop him, your fingers tracing the tattoos running along his chest. Your touch was gentle, ticklish almost.

"Did you have them when you were human?" You asked.

He nodded. "I did, yes. Scared the shit out of my enemies."

And the innocent people that he'd brutalized, but he'd preferred not to discuss such things with you. You knew of his title as the King of Curses but didn't know the things he'd done to warrant it.

Sukuna understood he was a monster. He was proud of it, even, but he didn't want you to view him that way. It was laughable. He didn't want the human girl he'd pursued on a whim to fear him. No, he only wanted your adoration.

"Did it hurt?"

"Like hell," he admitted, recalling the sensation of a wooden needle being driven into his skin thousands of times.

It had taken a ridiculously long time, and he’d been a bloodied mess by the time it was done.

You hummed, then pressed a kiss to the tattooed line above his nipple. A shiver ran through him at the feel of your lips on his skin.

"Did you cry?"

He tsked. "You ask a lot of questions, you know that?"

He might’ve yanked your tongue out if you weren’t so special to him. Instead, he found your inquisitive nature adorable.

You pouted. "I just want to know more about you."

Your word came out whiny, and he couldn't help but smile. It was pathetic, how taken he was with something so weak. You didn’t even have a cursed technique, able to see curses but unable to exorcise them.

"No, I didn't cry, pet," he said, deciding to humor you. "I barely moved. Did you cry when you got yours?"

He held up your wrist, examining the tattoo spanning across your forearm. The design was one of the first things he noticed about you. In his days women didn't dare mar their skin. It was a convention he never questioned until he met you.

You shook your head. "No, but we have tattoo guns. It’s different."

“A needle is a needle, no?”

“No, because an IV is different from a tattoo needle.”

He cocked a brow. “An IV?”

Having been sealed away for a millennium, he wasn’t up to date on all the advances made in the world.

“A needle used to pump medicine into you, old man,” you teased, giggling when he scowled at you. “You are old!”

“Ancient,” he agreed, grabbing ahold of your hips, and flipping you over, so that you were now stationed beneath him. “But you should respect your elders, little one.”

You gasped as he dragged one of his hard cocks along your slit, staring at him through your eyelashes. “Or what?”

He gave you a malice-filled grin, one that left many grown men quivering. You, though, just licked your lips, lust darkening your pretty eyes. You were excited by his roughness, solidifying that you were perfect for him.

 In one swift motion, he thrust into your heat, his cum and the juices from your previous orgasms serving as lubrication. You whimpered as he drove into you. He brought a hand to your throat and applied pressure, being mindful of his strength to not crush your windpipe. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, your grip tightening each time his dick grazed your cervix.  Drool trickled from your mouth, your eyes fluttering close as moans spilled from you.

His movements slowed as he admired your fucked-out expression, and he used one of his hands to brush back a strand of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You opened your eyes and offered him a smile, which he returned before planting a kiss on top of your head.

Sukuna wasn’t a tender man. Most people who met him could attest to that. Yet, he was willing to make an exception for you.