#I want to pick apart these characters so much

[angelremnants]

Stuck With You | S. Wilson

summary : The last thing you wanted was to be trapped in a room with a person you didn't know, much less be forced to team up with them. But thanks to your best friend's meddling, you now find yourself headed for a peculiar blind date, paired with someone who’s anything but a stranger. You swore you’d moved on. He said it was for the best. But maybe you were never meant to let each other go.

pairing : Sam Wilson x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), second chance romance, friends to lovers to kind of enemies to lovers?, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, forced proximity, angry/heated makeout, heavy feels and yearning, fluff and humor, truthfully two idiots in love, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 14.2k

author's notes : To celebrate the rise of our brand new Captain America and Valentine's Day, I wrote this little piece to pour out my appreciation for Sam Wilson who is, imo, an insanely underrated character.

This is also my entry for the wondrous @elixirfromthestars 's Cinema Writing Challenge, which I stumbled upon mid-writing this one-shot and found that I was going in a direction that could've fit this in a fun way. I referenced the "Why didn't you write me?" scene from The Notebook though in a lax manner, so I hope to have still respected the general guidelines.. This is my first time participating in a writing challenge, so please bear with me :')

Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Know that even if you're as alone as I am, your existence is greatly valued in this world. <3

(ao3 version)

⠀

Driving back to Delacroix was nothing short of a pleasant experience—just you, one hand on the wheel and the other idly hanging out the window with fingers slicing through the warm morning air. It was one of the few times you enjoyed driving, which is why you insisted on not having your chauffeur be the one to take you to your destination, preferring the solitude of watching the road stretch ahead like a ribbon of sun-bleached asphalt, flanked by swaying marsh grass and the slow-moving waters of the bayou. The old jazz station buzzing over the speakers only further enhanced the atmosphere, with the crooning trumpet blending effortlessly into the continuous murmur of cicadas in the background.

It was early enough that the mist still clung to the marshes, curling around the gnarled roots of cypress trees like ghostly fingers. The world shimmered gold in the pale dawn light, an untouched moment as the weight of the day settled in. You could also make out in your passing spanish moss draping lazily from the branches, swaying ever so slightly as if still waking from its slumber. 

You had always loved this route. It felt like a portal to another life, one that belonged solely to a place where your name wasn’t headlined in articles, where your every move wasn’t scrutinized by strangers looking for something to pick apart. Here, you weren’t the subject of speculation or the topic of gossip columns. You weren’t “the one from the titles” or “the name in the papers.” You were simply you.

The familiarity of it all only served to bring you back to those late-night drives after absurdly long college lectures, when the stress of exams and deadlines melted away over seafood and pleasant company, the briny scent of the ocean mixing with the fried goodness of whatever had been thrown together for dinner. It reminded you of sunburned afternoons spent on the docks, the sound of waves lapping against the wooden beams, of kids that you used to babysit laughing as they chased each other barefoot across the pier. Life was indeed much nicer in the olden days.

The docks finally came into view as you veered off onto the dirt road. You could see that the morning had already settled into its rhythm—fishermen hauling in their first catches, their voices rising and falling over the water while the low rumble of boat engines punctuated the exchanges in the salty air, mingling with the occasional bark of a stray dog nosing around for scraps. Seagulls routinely circled overhead and swept low whenever someone tossed a handful of bait into the sea. The scent of fresh fish, damp wood, and the ever-present Louisiana humidity all wrapped around you, strong-filled even at this hour.

And there was poor Sarah, up to her elbows in work as always.

She stood near a stubborn crate, her brows drawn together in frustration as she struggled to pry it open. The morning suns of July had already kissed her skin a shade darker and a streak of dirt ran across her forearms, evidence of a morning repeatedly spent wrangling supplies and fixing whatever had inevitably needed mending. She also had that look—the one she always got when something should have been done yesterday.

Pulling up alongside the dock, you stepped out of your fancy car, rolling your shoulders with a slow stretch. The thick and stifling heat settled around you instantly, encasing itself around your skin like a second layer along the faintest promise of an approaching summer storm.

“Didn’t know we were wrestling furniture today,” you called out while your expensive shoes thudded lightly against the weathered planks, the wood creaking ever so slightly beneath your steps.

Sarah huffed, blowing a loose curl from her forehead as the sheen of morning sweat glistened against her sun-warmed skin. “You show up just in time to save the day, as usual.”

You smirked, pushing up your sleeves. “That’s what I do best.”

Together, you pried open the crate with a loud crack, the wood groaning in protest before finally relenting, revealing neatly packed supplies of nets, ropes and a few spare tools, all stacked with military precision. 

“I swear, whoever sealed this thing had a personal vendetta against me,” she muttered, shaking her head.

You leaned against one of the weathered wooden posts, letting the briny breeze roll over you. The dock swayed ever so slightly beneath your weight, creaking in quiet protest. Out beyond the harbor, the bay stretched wide and glittering, rippling with the soft push and pull of the current. For a moment, there was nothing but the steady lull of the water, the occasional cry of seagulls, and the distant clang of metal against wood as fishermen worked their boats. A rare pocket of peace.

At least, that was the case until Sarah spoke.

“Sam’s coming home today.”

The words landed on you like how a stone would sink to the bottom of a river. 

You kept your expression carefully neutral, inhaling through your nose before exhaling slowly. “Fantastic,” you deadpanned, flicking a piece of splintered wood off your palm.

Sarah sighed, already bracing for the reaction she knew was coming. “I know you two don’t—”

“Like each other?” you finished for her. “Get along? Want to exist in the same hemisphere?”

She shot you a flat, unimpressed look. “I was going to say see eye to eye.”

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

Sarah crossed her arms, leaning back against the wooden beam beside you. The steady rise and fall of the tide lapped at the pylons below, filling the brief silence between you. “Are you ever going to tell me what really happened between you two?”

You hesitated. The problem wasn’t just Sam. It was everything that had happened because of him.

And worse—the things that had happened before. But how could you explain that to your best friend, who was also his sister, that before the cameras, before all of the unwanted attention, there had been a spark?

Befriending Sarah in college had meant stepping into her world, with frequent afternoons spent at the family’s restaurant but also evenings that bled into weekends. And with this eventually came Sam, who was at the time a cheeky guy too charming for his own good and with a tendency of getting under your skin in the most enjoyable way. The kind that your mama told you not to approach too much if you didn’t want to stray away from a good line of life.

You honestly wouldn’t have paid him much attention if not for the quick-witted banter, a push-and-pull that became something of a ritual every time you would come over. He would saunter into the restaurant under the pretense of bothering his sister, but his eyes would eventually find yours first, the corner of his mouth twitching upward just before he threw out some teasing remarks in hopes of riling you up. You would roll your eyes, fire something back, and somehow, without realizing it, you had begun to orbit each other.

It had slowly bloomed in the way where summer warmth shifts into the first breath of autumn—almost imperceptible until you’re standing in the midst of it. Eye contacts that lingered just a little too long. Making even the most absurd excuses simply to accompany you through your journey of going to college. A growing familiarity that turned into late-night conversations on the dock, where the world was nothing but the hush between you. There had been something easy about it, an understanding that neither of you ever had to say out loud.

And then, one fateful night—

A kiss was added to the list.

You could still precisely recall how it had unfolded. It had been one of those thick Louisianan nights where the land was quiet except for the gentle slosh of the tide against the pylons and the occasional chirp of cicadas hidden somewhere in the dark. You and Sam sat side by side on the wooden planks with your legs dangling over the edge.

He had shown up at the restaurant after closing, claiming he had nowhere better to be. You had scoffed, knowing damn well he could’ve gone to the arcades where he usually hung with his small band of friends, but instead, he’d lingered—elbow on the counter, tossing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth while Sarah cleaned up. When she suspiciously shooed the both of you out under the pretense of wanting to finish tidying the place in peace, you both ended up in your favorite spot and falling into conversation with the same ease you always had.

Strangely enough, that night was different.

It was felt in the way your knees brushed when he shifted closer, in the way your laughter had simmered and turned quieter, softer. It was the night where plans for the future were spoken of, and how you learned that Sam would soon leave Delacroix behind to join the Air Force while you were still figuring everything out.

“You ever think about getting out of here?” Sam’s voice cut through the quiet.

You smirked, tilting your head toward him. “What, and give up all the fine dining of your family’s home cooking? I don’t know if I could handle that.”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because there’s nothing more to do than eating fresh seafood and watching the sunset every day.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours. “Hey, you’re the one talking about getting out of here, Wilson. What, the dock life not glamorous enough for you?”

His grin was easy, but there was something contemplative beneath it. “I always knew I’d leave. Not ‘cause I don’t love it here, but... I want more. I wanna see what else is out there.”

Your smile faltered, just a little. You weren’t sure why the thought of Sam leaving sat uncomfortably in your chest. "You make it sound like you’re never coming back."

He turned toward you then, one leg kicking idly at the water below. "I’ll come back." His voice got fainter this time, lacking its usual teasing edge. "It’s not like I’d just disappear on you."

You arched a skeptical brow. "Awh, don’t tell me you’re going soft on me. You saying that ‘cause you mean it, or ‘cause you think I’d cry if you didn’t?"

Sam smirked. "Maybe both."

You scoffed, pushing at his arm, but he barely budged. "Please, you’d be the one crying your eyes out first."

"Uh-huh," he vaguely affirmed, unconvinced. "You could write me letters, you know."

"You gonna write back?"

"Every time."

You regained your smile at the answer, and it was when you turned to glance at him that you noticed that he was closer than before. You weren’t sure if he had leaned in or if you had, but your shoulders touched and your knees pressed together. He was close enough that you could see the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed and caught his eyes flickering from yours to your mouth and back again.

You had felt it coming before it happened—the moment slowed, stretched, and his tentative fingers had brushed yours where your hands rested between you on the dock. He was testing out the waters, and neither of you pulled away.

Without a word, he leaned in.

It felt like a kiss engaged between adolescents discovering intimacy for the first time. He was slow in his doing, as if waiting for you to stop him, but you didn’t. You tilted into him instead, your hand resting against his jaw upon the faint scratch of stubble he had grown. His lips were warm and coaxing, stealing the breath from your lungs as he deepened the kiss while his hand curled lightly around your wrist. The world beyond the two of you fell away, drowned out by the rush of your pulse.

It was the kind of kiss that felt like the beginning of a promise. But promises, as you had learned over time, were far too easy to break.

You thought that this kiss was supposed to mean something. Evidently, it didn’t to Sam.

Months passed without a sign, not a single mail in your box or a phone call. Then years came by, and silence continued to reign like a chasm.

The first time Sam Wilson came back to Delacroix after becoming the Falcon, it wasn’t for a homecoming or a celebration—it was for Sarah’s wedding. By then, he was no longer just the annoying little brother, the immature sod who used to throw shrimp shells at you when you weren’t looking. He was an Avenger. A hero. Someone whose face people recognized, whose name carried weight.

And you? You had built a life of your own. A business. A name that had nothing to do with anyone else but yourself. 

He had changed but so had you, and whatever had been between you had withered away a bittersweet memory, more sour than sugary.

The wedding had come and gone in a whirlwind of music and laughter, of his sister glowing in a way you had never seen before, of toasts and dancing under strings of warm lights. You had somehow ended up outside, trading the muffled sounds of celebration drifting through the open doors of the reception hall for the cold silence of the outside.

You hadn’t planned to talk to him. In fact, you had spent most of the days of his visit avoiding being alone with him, dodging him and whatever it was that lingered between you both like an unfinished chapter. But he still managed to find you anyway, stepping out into the night with that same infuriating ease as if nothing had ever changed.

“Did anybody ever tell you that you scurry away like a mouse?” he jokingly prompted, hands tucked into his pockets. “For someone who’s supposed to be the maid of honor, you disappeared pretty fast.”

You didn’t look at him, instead fixing your gaze on the rippling water. “Didn’t realize I needed a chaperone.”

“Never said you did.”

Stillness settled between you, cut by the cicadas humming in the trees and the warm breeze rolling in from the bay. He was watching you. You could feel it.

“You been good?” he asked eventually, almost hesitant.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Business still going strong?”

Another nod.

Sam exhaled a soft laugh. “Damn. You always this talkative?”

Finally, you turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest. “Well, what do you want me to say, Sam? That it’s good to see you? That I missed you?”

He blinked, caught off guard.

“You know what? I did,” you admitted, your jaw tightening. “I missed you when you left, when you didn’t write, when you didn’t call. But then you show up years later on TV with wings on your back and a whole new life, and I—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “Forget it.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Listen, I never meant to—”

The sudden burst of camera flashes cut through the dark like lightning. Movements danced from the shadows beyond the dock. Figures. A handful of people, cameras raised, lenses trained on you both.

Your blood ran cold.

The pilot turned, his expression shifting in an instant. He stepped in front of you, partially blocking their view. “Hey! Back the hell up.”

The damage was already done. Your name was already in their mouths, in their cameras, and in their notes. And by morning, the world would be talking.

You knew it wasn’t his fault. Not entirely. The blame didn’t belong to him—not for the cameras, the prying eyes, or the intrusion. But the continuous letdown, the unresolved past, the hollow promises left unanswered—it all boiled over.

Maybe it was the years of unspoken resentment. How he had left and never looked back, only to come home like no time had passed—like you hadn’t once meant something. Or maybe it was the fact that for one fleeting instance, the world thought you belonged to him like you selfishly wanted to back then when he had never even fought to keep you.

The fight was inevitable. Hurtful words, raised voices. Raw anger tangled with accusations you didn’t mean spilling from your mouth before you could stop it, among the ones you did. And to his credit, he gave as good as he got. You weren’t the only one harboring old wounds. You weren’t the only one who felt burned by your shared past.

By the time the shouting stopped, the damage between you was just as permanent as the damage done by the eye-catching headlines. Some words couldn’t be taken back, just as ties, once broken, could never be pieced together the same way again.

The next morning, as you predicted, the internet had been set ablaze with speculation.

The press was relentless, churning through the story like a wildfire swallowing dry earth. The Falcon and his Mystery Woman—Who is She? New Romance or Old Flame? Falcon’s Secret Love Life—Exclusive Details Inside!

It was absurd. Laughable, even. You had snorted at the first few articles, rolling your eyes at the grainy photos that painted a story far more dramatic than the truth. You and Sam barely tolerated each other. If anything, your history was a testament to mutual irritation, not some clandestine love affair.

But the laughter didn’t last because the headlines didn’t fade. Because the story didn’t die.

Because soon enough, it wasn’t just some passing tabloid gossip. It was everywhere.

Paparazzi began to linger outside your workplace, their lenses snapping up every movement as if they could capture something scandalous in the mundane act of you stepping out for coffee. Your inbox flooded with emails—some from reporters fishing for a statement, others from people you hadn’t spoken to in years, suddenly eager to "reconnect." 

Social media became a nightmare all on its own. Strangers dug through your past with eager, prying hands, dissecting old photos, analyzing every public interaction you’d ever had, and spinning theories about a relationship that had never even existed.

The worst part of your predicament was certainly work-related. Every handshake, every business meeting, and every new acquaintance suddenly all came with a question mark. Were they here for you or for the association? Were they interested in your work, in you, or just in the proximity you offered to something greater, to a man whose name counted amongst Earth’s greatest heroes?

And through it all, Sam had remained frustratingly unbothered.

"It’ll pass," he had dismissed with a shrug accompanying his words. "People move on when it comes to these kinds of things."

At most, he made sure you were surrounded by constant security and had some sort of secret service he was apart from watching over you in case malevolent spectators deemed it a good idea to bother you. While you were grateful for the protection, you had wondered if his lack of intervention to correct the situation with both words and actions wasn’t motivated by underlying factors. 

Ultimately, you had been the one left dealing with the aftermath. The one picking up the pieces and untangling the mess, sifting through the wreckage of your privacy. And that was something you could never forgive.

You slowly exhaled, massaging your temple at the exasperating memory. “Let’s just say your brother has had a knack for making my life difficult and I got tired of it.”

Sarah hummed, skeptical but wise enough not to press too hard. “He’s really not as bad as you think.”

You shot her a dry look. “Sarah.”

She held up her hands in surrender, lips twitching. “Alright, alright. I won’t push.”

Before you could say more, the sound of a door swinging open interrupted you. Then came the hurried patter of feet and the excited shout of your name before two small bodies crashed into you, all limbs and boundless energy.

You caught them both with a grin, stumbling slightly under their weight as they clung to you.

“You taking us to school today?” Cass asked, beaming up at you.

You ruffled his curls, feigning deep thought. “I don’t know... you guys gonna behave?”

AJ gasped, scandalized. “We always behave!”

Their mother snorted at the blatant lie while you laughed, nudging AJ’s shoulder. “Alright then, let’s go.”

Sarah shook her head, a familiar mix of amusement and exasperation on her face. “They listen to you better than they listen to me.”

“That’s because I’m the cool auntie. Right, boys?” 

Both of them cheered in agreement, to which she rolled her eyes and shooed you toward your car. “Go before I change my mind about letting you take them.”

You steered her children toward the vehicle, their voices rising in an animated debate over which of them would get to call shotgun and put their playlist to play for the drive. But even as you settled into the driver’s seat, their excited chatter filling the space around you, your mind remained elsewhere.

Sam was coming back.

And whether you liked it or not, you were going to have to deal with him.

⠀

⠀

The restaurant was already alive with the late afternoon rush by the time you strolled in with the boys coming back from school. Orders flew in, plates stacked high and the scent of fried seafood and rich gumbo diffused in the place. The kitchen bustled with movement—Sarah barking orders, cooks shuffling between stations, the sizzle of oil, the clang of metal on metal. Fortunately, you had worked enough shifts here during college to comfortably throw yourself into the chaos and fall into the rhythm with ease, balancing trays and dodging wayward elbows like second nature.

You had expected a busy night.

What you weren’t prepared for—what you could have gone your entire life without dealing with—was walking out of the kitchen, only to come face-to-face with the one person you had been dreading.

The door swung shut behind you, the sudden quiet of the dining area making the moment feel even heavier. Sam Wilson stood near the counter, arms crossed, an easy smirk already in place as if he hadn’t just been gone for years. The sight of his tall, broad and annoyingly self-assured stature made something stubborn coil in your chest. The golden glow of the setting sun slanted through the restaurant’s windows, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw and the slight curl of his lips, settling into the warm brown of his eyes with an infuriating sort of ease.

It had been years. But of course, of course, the first thing he did when he saw you was smirk and look at you the way he always did—like he was expecting a fight.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes flicking over you with the kind of scrutiny that made you itch to throw the nearest dish towel at his head. “They’re really letting just anyone work here now, huh?”

You scoffed, stepping behind the counter. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

“Hey, I actually own part of this place,” he shot back, leaning against the wooden bar. “What’s your excuse?”

“Sarah asked me to help,” you replied smoothly, grabbing a clean set of glasses from the shelf. “What’s yours?”

“Thought I’d check in, be a good brother and say hi,” he sassily answered. “Didn’t realize I’d be graced with your presence too.”

“Lucky you,” you deadpanned with a tight-lipped smile, brushing past him.

And to your luck, he followed you to the back, offering unhelpful commentary while you restocked supplies, then bickered with you while you both helped—or at least attempted to—his sister with the dinner rush. Arguing over everything with the soldier felt like muscle memory at this point, and it showed in the way he reached for the same things you did, your movements accidentally falling into sync. 

By the time things slowed down enough for dinner, you were already nursing a headache. It wasn’t until the pace had slowed and Sarah finally sat down with a plate of food after her kids were put to bed that the conversation turned against you.

“So,” Sarah stabbed a piece of calamari with her fork, looking at you with a glint of something announcing nothing good. “You seeing anyone yet?”

You nearly choked on your drink. Across from you, Sam let out a low chuckle.

“Oh, this should be good,” he mused, propping his chin on his hand and settling in like he was about to watch a show.

You shot him a glare before turning back to Sarah. “Not really.”

“Not really, or not at all?”

“Not. At. All.”

Sam let out a whistle, shaking his head in mock pity. “Damn. That’s rough.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. “Well, it’s kind of your fault.”

The smirk fell right off his face. “My fault?”

You didn’t waver, locking eyes with him. “I don’t know if you remember, but you kind of put me on the map. You know, with that whole ‘mystery woman spotted with the Falcon’ thing?” You waved a hand vaguely. “Hard to trust people when they might secretly be fans. Or worse, spies.”

The hostess hummed in interest, taking a slow sip of her drink. “That does sound inconvenient.”

Sam scoffed. "Oh, be real, miss fancy pants. You can’t be serious.”

“But I am,” you shot back. “Because of you, I have to second-guess every new person I meet. Even for business.”

Sam shrugged, looking way too entertained. “Could be worse.”

You raised a brow. “Would you trust random people throwing themselves at you if the roles were reversed?”

He let out a sharp laugh, cocky and dismissive. “Sure, after a small background check.”

You leaned forward, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, totally. It’s so much fun when I get approached because people think I’m some tragic ex or long-lost lover of yours. Or getting bombarded with people asking if I ever hooked up with the Falcon, or if I have ‘tea’ to spill on our ‘relationship’, or if I’m ‘jealous’ that you’re off saving the world and not wasting time.” You tilted your head. “That’s just peak entertainment.”

For once, the Avenger had nothing to say.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, and let’s not forget the weirdos who DM me saying they’d be happy to ‘fill the hole’ you supposedly left in my life.”

Sam choked on his drink, coughing violently. “What?”

“Oh yeah.” You pulled out your phone, tapped a few times, then held it out to him. “Here. Go ahead. Take a look at your legacy.”

He grabbed it hesitantly, scrolling through your inbox, his expression shifting from amused to horrified. “Oh, hell no,” he muttered. “What the hell is wrong with people?”

Sarah smirked. “Damn, Sam. Ruined her dating life and left her with internet weirdos. That’s cold.”

Sam dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, fine, that’s bad.” He handed your phone back. “But still, you could’ve just—I don’t know—ignored it? De-activate your socials?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just ignore the fact that I have to Google every guy I talk to just to make sure they’re not running a secret fan account for you.”

He burst out laughing, to which you childishly responded by throwing a fry at his head.

Sarah, watching all this like it was prime-time TV, suddenly perked up. “I might have a solution.”

You groaned. “I don’t like that tone.”

“No, no, hear me out,” she insisted, grinning. “I saw this thing the other day—apparently, there’s a place in town that does blind dates in escape rooms.”

You blinked. “You saw what now?”

“It’s a fun concept,” she continued breezily. “Two people, locked in a room, working together to get out. You don’t know who you’re paired with beforehand, and it forces you to communicate.” She took another bite of her food, then added, “I think you two should try it.”

You both turned to her at the same time. “No—” “Hell no.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You two are so dramatic. It’s literally an escape room—”

“With a blind date,” you interrupted with frantic gestures. “As in, being forced into a confined space with a random stranger and trusting them enough to help me get out.” You shook your head. “Not happening.”

Sarah gave you a pointed look. “You do realize that’s exactly what dating is, right?”

You glared. “Don’t make points right now.”

She turned her attention to Sam, who was still muttering under his breath. “And what’s your problem?”

Her brother shot her a disbelieving look. “You seriously don’t see the issue?”

“Nope.”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s way too risky for me to go in public and have my info given out to some company and get paired up with someone potentially crazy like her right here. Yeah, no way in hell I’m signing up for that.”

You turned back to Sarah. “Do you hear the way he talks to me? And you think I should be dating?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why I’m setting you up with other people. You both need a reality check.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Okay, ignoring the audacity of that statement—why an escape room? If I wanted to be locked in a room with a stranger, I’d call my internet provider.”

Sarah once again ignored your rebuttals. “It forces you to work together. Communication, problem-solving, a little trust—”

Sam let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather skydive without a parachute.”

“You literally have a parachute,” you deadpanned.

“Exactly,” Sam said. “Which is why I don’t need to go on some experimental dating hostage situation.”

Sarah huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. Let me put it this way—if you don’t go, I’ll tell Bucky you’re both too scared to put yourselves out there.”

You wanted to put up a bigger fight, if not for the very real threat of James Buchanan Barnes getting wind of this.

You had met him once, years ago, during one of Sam’s very unwelcome, very impromptu visits. You hadn’t even been expecting company that day, let alone a literal ex-assassin sitting at Sarah’s dining table like it was the most normal thing in the world. And to make matters worse, Sam had introduced you in the most obnoxious way possible.

“This is my sister’s best friend. She talks a big game but couldn’t win an argument if her life depended on it.”

And Bucky, with all the smugness of someone who absolutely enjoyed making your life difficult, had just smirked, leaned back in his chair, and smugly commented—

“Huh. Sounds familiar.”

You hadn’t even known him for five minutes, and he had already sided with Sam. Ever since, the latter had made sure to weaponize their friendship against you at every opportunity, regardless of the fast-growing amicability between his former partner and you.

And you knew that if Bucky found out about this, you would never hear the end of it. He’d be relentless. Casually dropping mentions of your lack of a partner into every conversation, even if the irony lied in him being in the same situation—though he’d probably argue that unlike him, there was a lack of trying on your part as well as the absence of an excuse as astronomical as being a well-known mass murderer with an insane past. And also probably betting money on how fast you’d walk out of the damn escape room.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

His sister’s grin only widened. “Oh, I absolutely would.”

You could already picture it—Bucky, smirking like he had all the dirt in the world on you and bringing it up at the most inopportune moments. Teasing you mercilessly every time you so much as glanced at your phone. Probably making some dumb comment like, “So, can’t find anyone to put up with you?”

Nope. Absolutely not.

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temples. “I so hate you right now.”

Sarah just smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

The Falcon groaned in desperation. “This is blackmail.”

She simply shrugged at the accusation. “I like to think of it as strong encouragement.”

"How long is it?” you finally asked, defeated.

“One hour.”

Sam groaned, tipping his head back. “Sixty minutes of my life I’m never getting back.”

The restaurant’s owner shrugged, too pleased with herself to care. “Think of it this way—worst-case scenario, you get out and never see the person again.”

The pilot grumbled under his breath before sharply exhaling after a long pause. “Whatever. But when this goes horribly, I want it on record that I called it.”

“Duly noted.”

⠀

⠀

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet as you gripped the wheel of your car with the force of someone actively trying not to commit murder. The drive to the escape room was supposed to be uneventful. Key words: supposed to. But Sam Wilson had never once encountered an opportunity for peace without promptly deciding to mischievously ruin it.

It started small. A shift in his seat, a glance at the dashboard, an exhale so faint you almost didn’t catch it. Then, before you knew it, his fingers were wandering, prodding at the glossy screen in the center console with an exaggerated curiosity that made your temple throb.

You gritted your teeth. "Stop touching things."

“Relax,” he drawled, ever the picture of unbothered arrogance. "I’m just exploring my environment."

“It’s not an environment, it’s my car.”

Sam clicked his tongue, grinning in a way that meant nothing good. “You got all these fancy-ass features, and you don’t even use ‘em? Shame. Really makes me question your judgment.”

“You’re about to question your life choices when I push you out onto the freeway.”

With all of your previous spouts, you should have known that issuing such a warning would only serve to encourage his childish behavior.

It started with him cranking the seat warmers up to their highest setting, slowly enough that you didn’t notice until your lower back was mysteriously drenched in sweat. He followed by playing with the ambient lighting, flipping through every color at an alarming rate until the inside of your car looked like a malfunctioning disco ball. But the worst, the absolute worst, came when he discovered your Bluetooth. 

A horrendous mix of static and Sam’s laughter blasted through your speakers as the system synced.

You gawked at him. “If you so much as—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the familiar bright and bouncy opening chords of Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus blared from the speakers, the bubbly pop song catering a stark contrast to the slow-building horror creeping up your spine.

Sam, entirely unbothered by your stricken expression, immodestly threw his feet up onto the dashboard with the air of a man settling in for a long, leisurely road trip rather than someone actively testing the limits of your patience. With the unrestrained passion of a performer standing before a sold-out stadium crowd, he threw his head back and belted at the top of his lungs, “And a Jay-Z song was on!”

You recoiled, grimacing as his voice cracked mid-note. But before responding, you reached over and smacked his legs off the dashboard, sending his sneakers thudding back to the floor. “Get your dirty feet off my dash,” you snapped.

Sam clutched his chest like you’d wounded him. “Oh, live a bit, woman. Damn, you really have no appreciation for the arts or my comfort?”

Your grip tightened around the steering wheel as you ignored his jab, leveling him instead with a flat, unimpressed stare. “This,” you slowly voiced with incredulity, “is the choice you made?”

“Hell yeah.” He nodded in affirmation, not even pausing in his off-key, wholly committed performance. “This is a certified anthem.”

“This is a cry for help.”

Sam gasped, scandalized. “You don’t like Party in the USA?”

“I do. I just don’t like you singing Party in the USA.” Without breaking your focus on the road, you lunged for his phone, yanking it from his grip with the precision of someone who had endured one too many of his antics. A dramatic click later, and blissful silence fell over the cabin.

Your passenger, however, was anything but deterred. He cackled, shoulders shaking, entirely too smug.

You inhaled deeply, willing the tension in your fingers to ease before you left permanent indentations on the wheel. “I swear to God, Wilson—”

“Hey,” he cut in, still grinning like a man with no fear of consequences. “Could’ve been worse. I could’ve switched it to romance audiobooks.”

“I will crash this car.”

The silence was short-lived. Like a cocky thief in the night, Sam moved with the precision of a soldier and the recklessness of a man who knew exactly how to test your limits. One second, the phone was in your grasp, victory assured. The next, it was snatched away with infuriating ease.

You barely had time to register the offense before the speakers flared back to life, the cabin suddenly swelling with the smooth, honeyed tones of a song that hit far too close to home.

"I see the crystal raindrops fall…"

Your eyes snapped to him, narrowing in slow, dawning realization. The Falcon, unbothered and wholly self-satisfied, leaned back against the seat with his arms folded behind his head as if he hadn't just detonated a nostalgia bomb between you. The smooth timbre of Grover Wshington Jr.’s voice accompagnied the melodious instrumental of Just the Two of Us, the saxophone bringing more than just nostalgia of a classic.

You knew exactly what he was doing. You remembered the easy rhythm of laughter between verses as you'd vaguely engage in a clumsy waltz, tripping over both feet and lyrics and pretending it was intentional. You remembered Sam’s off-key falsetto and your equally disastrous harmonies, along with the unshakable euphoria and certainty that no matter where life took you, you’d always end up in the same place.

But life had a way of rewriting certainties—the choices that wedged themselves between you was certainly proof of it. And yet, despite everything that happened, that song still had its hooks in you.

Sam, ever the instigator, drummed his fingers against the dashboard, slow and patient, like a fisherman waiting for the line to tug. When you didn’t react, he turned his head and elbowed you in your arm. “C’mon. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “I do remember.”

“Then sing.”

You scoffed, pretending it didn’t get to you. “Pass.”

His grin sharpened. “Boo, loser. What, so you can’t sing anymore? That’s crazy. Didn’t know losing your ability to sing was part of getting old and bitter—”

Your glare should have scorched him and wiped that insufferable smirk right off his face, but he only leaned in, fully basking in his role as an unrepentant menace.

"We can make it if we try…" He sang it pointedly, nudging you again with his elbow like an annoying kid brother. You swatted him away without sparing a glance. He did it again. And again. Until finally—

You exhaled sharply, grip slackening. “I hate you.”

But as the chorus approached, the words left your lips before you could stop them.

"Just the two of us…"

It was barely a whisper at first, something fragile and unintentional. But Sam caught it immediately and grinned just as quickly, victorious, before singing louder.

You rolled your eyes, but the fight was already lost.

“That’s my girl,” he cheered on, and before you could roll your eyes, he threw his head back and belted out the next line with all the fanciness of a Broadway performer.

By the next verse, you were both loudly singing off-key. He purposely overstated his notes, while you botched entire lines just to tease him. Laughter flowed freely between lines, busting through the barricades you'd both painstakingly established.  Sam, ever the dramatist, went full concert mode, wiggling his shoulders like an overenthusiastic backup dancer and pretending to hold a microphone as he crooned into his fist.

“No,” you moaned in exasperation between bursts of laughter as he hit an ungodly note. “That was—oh my God, Sam, stop—that is a crime against music.”

He only doubled down, adding unnecessary falsetto flourishes and pointing dramatically out the window as if serenading the passing trees. The harmonies were an absolute disaster. The timing was questionable at best. But for those few minutes, it didn’t matter. It was just you and Sam, the car, and the open road, voices colliding in the space between you.

It shouldn't have felt so natural, to slip into something that had been tearing around the edges for years. But for a brief while, it did—which was perilous, like plunging into still waters.

No matter how lighthearted it appeared, you were smart enough to understand that the political choice in this song was not only to reminisce about one of your favorite memories, but also to convey a hidden message, as the song still had meaning in its lines. “We can make it if we try”. It was a promise, one you had scarcely believed in with your whole heart before you had to learn to live without him. 

By the time the final note of the song was hit, the magic was broken. You cleared your throat and adjusted your grip on the wheel. You mumbled, "Still sing like a damn goat," since it was easier than admitting anything else.

Sam snorted. "You still talk big for someone who sounds like a dying cat."

Quietness regained its rightful place, this time more charged than before with the shadow of something lost between you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, head down, looking like he was trying to collect his thoughts—or just avoid whatever was about to spill out.

“Look, about everything that happened...” He hesitated, voice trailing off, before he tried again. “I didn’t mean—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to keep the ache from spilling over. “Honestly, I should’ve expected it. You’re always going to be tied up in something bigger than us. I get it now. I should’ve known better.”

The pilot didn’t respond right away but you still made out the sound of him breathing down his nose, betraying the turmoil that was spiralling in his mind. “I just—I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring what happened. I—”

“No.” The word came out before you could stop it, hard and final. Your lips twisted into a smile, but it was bitter, hollow. “You don’t need to apologize anymore. It’s not necessary. I mean, the Air Force is a big thing. And now with the whole Avengers thing…” Your breath hitched slightly. “You had big priorities. It’s understandable.”

The words left a bitter taste on your tongue, every syllable a shard of resentment you had tried for so long to swallow. “It’s okay. You don’t need to make up some excuse.”

Sam’s expression flickered, his features shifting subtly as he processed your words, but he didn’t respond. His silence felt like another slap in the face, the unspoken weight of his guilt settling over the car.

"It just hurt," you continued, the words uncontrollably tumbling out of your mouth, as if you couldn’t hold them back any longer. "You said you’d make time. That we could figure it out." Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on, your chest tight with the pressure of everything you’d been carrying. "But then... it was like I was just some side story to your life. I had to deal with everything on my own. You didn’t just leave me, Sam. You left me hanging in front of the entire world, like I was an afterthought."

You could see him flinching and opening his mouth to speak, but the reply stayed stuck somewhere behind his teeth for awhile. “I didn’t mean for it to happen that way,” he finally admitted, his voice tight with frustration, lips pressed into a thin line. “You have to know that.” 

You let out a dry laugh, bitter and edged with years of pent-up anger. "No," you spat, shaking your head. "I don’t know that. I really don’t. And now you want to apologize? You think a few words will make it go away?" You turned to him then with glaring eyes, the dam inside you breaking wide open. “But I guess I should’ve known better, right? You’ve always got more important things on your plate than me. And I was just dumb enough to think I could be part of it." You let out a shaky breath. "That’s on me, not you.”

Sam’s shoulders tensed, his fists clenched so tightly against his knees that you could see the tendons in his hands strain. "That’s not fair," he rasped.

“No,” you bit out with the bitter burn of years of disappointment. “What’s not fair is pretending everything’s okay now, like you didn’t leave me in the dust. You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to forget how much it hurt when you left me behind.”

Sam growled, his gaze snapping to yours with an intensity that could’ve burned brighter than the sunlight reflecting on the windshield. “I didn’t mean to do that. It wasn’t like that. If you’d just let me explain—”

But you were already shaking your head, a bitter laugh slipping out as you cut him off. "It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this again."

The rest of the drive stretched on in silence, bouncing on the precarious mix of unsaid words and the sharp sting of old wounds reopening. By the time you pulled into the parking lot of the escape room, your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, your body wound tight with the tension of everything you’d let out during the ride.

You almost yanked the car into park with more force than necessary, the engine’s rumbling metaphorically serving as a harsh reminder of how you were both still reeling from your slight altercation.

The door slammed shut behind you, but neither of you made a move to walk toward the entrance. The space between you felt wider than the parking lot itself. You weren’t sure what else to say, if there was even anything left to say. 

“You should go inside first,” you finally said, your eyes staying firmly on the building in front of you. “I still need to arrange a few things in the car.” You were making a conscious decision to create some distance, to not go beyond what you could navigate through the dangerous waves of this confrontation. “Good luck with your date… or, uh, escape game.” You gave a small, tight smile, though it felt more like a bitter farewell than any kind of encouragement.

Sam silently hesitated, his eyes searching yours, like he was about to say something—but the words never formed. Instead, he took a deep breath and gave a short nod. "You too. Good luck with... whatever it is you're gonna do, too."

Without another word, he turned his back to you and walked toward the entrance with stiff shoulders. His footsteps echoed against the pavement as he left you alone, marking said distance you were so adamant on implementing once and for all.

You didn’t watch him go. You couldn’t. Instead, you opened your door with a soft creak, the cool night air rushing in as you slid back into the driver’s seat. It felt like a strange kind of closure, the door clicking shut behind you as if you were signing the definite end of a chapter, even if nothing really felt settled. With a shaky hand, you wiped the stray tears that had fallen down your cheeks, quickly brushing them away like they never happened, like you could pretend they weren’t there.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. There was still the night ahead, the escape game to focus on, even if your heart wasn’t entirely in it.

⠀

⠀

The artificial chill of the air conditioning wrapped around you as soon as you stepped inside, abruptly differing from the lingering warmth of dusk. The area smelled somewhat floral, though not in a pleasant way—more like a half-hearted attempt to conceal the antiseptic, even clinical ambiance. The welcome space looked sleek and modern, with clean lines and soft, ambient lighting, but something seemed odd.

A trio of employees stood behind the clean counter, their demeanor courteous but impersonal. Their uniforms were clean, their smiles practiced, and their eyes assessing—not in a way that made you feel welcome, but rather processed.

"Just need you to sign a few things," one of them said, sliding a clipboard toward you with the kind of ease that suggested they had done this a hundred times before. Maybe a thousand.

You picked up the pen and skimmed the pages, your brows knitting together. Waiver. Consent form. Limited liability in the case of mild distress.

Everything screamed shady.

Even though you knew they conducted a comprehensive background check on their clients' criminal records—you knew because you boldly inquired beforehand—your gut twisted with disquiet, a silent warning you had long since learned not to ignore. But you forced yourself to exhale, suppressing the mounting doubt. Sarah planned this, and she wouldn't throw you into an underground horror movie scenario, right?

Still, the blindfold part? That was peculiar, to say the least.

“Standard procedure,” the staff member assured you in a smooth and clearly rehearsed tone. That didn’t make you feel any better.

But you weren’t about to back out now. Soundly sighing, you allowed them to tie the fabric securely over your eyes, and in an instant, the world went black.

A friendly but firm hand took you down what appeared to be a long corridor. Each step heightened the sense of disorientation, the absence of sight accentuating everything else—hushed murmurs in the distance, the continuous flaps of an air vent above, the dull pressure of the floor under you. Then a pause. The air became colder. A door opened, and you were gently guided inside.

The door shut behind you, and the person beside you vanished.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at the sides. The lack of vision made everything feel too much—the faint shuffle of your own feet as you shifted nervously, the way your breathing seemed louder than it should, the slight press of your pulse on your temples. How long were they going to leave you here?

The weight of the silence stretched, and so did the edges of your nerves. Finally, the door creaked open again. Your spine became rigid. Footsteps, slow and measured. The door clicked closed once more.

Someone was here.

You exhaled, forcing an easy tone into your voice despite the unease creeping up your spine. "So, uh… I guess this is the part where we introduce ourselves? Hi, I’m—"

A strange, loaded silence tightened around you like a noose, twisting in your stomach. Were they simply joking with you? Or was there something else going on here?

Your patience, already thin after the day's events, had fully frayed. Screw this. Against your better judgment, you reached up and ripped the blindfold off, blinking rapidly as your eyes acclimated to the room's dull, amber hue.

And there, across from you, stood Sam. A solitary rose danced between his fingers, whirling aimlessly, as if he had all the time in the world. His attitude was unreadable—calm and poised, but his eyes held something you couldn't quite identify.

"Oh, hell no."

Sam let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing his temple like the sheer force of his fingers could press back the headache forming there. “Unbelievable,” he sneered, shaking his head. “I should’ve known Sarah was up to something when she kept dodging my questions.”

You let out a scoff, dragging a hand down your face as the reality of the situation settled over you like an unbearable weight. “This is what I get for trusting Sarah with this. Honestly, I’d rather deal with Bucky’s endless teasing right now than… this.”

The veteran arched a brow, folding his arms. “To be fair, you did let her set you up on a blind date with a stranger.”

You leveled him with a look. “Yeah, and so did you!” You threw up your hands. “And we came here together. Did she seriously think we wouldn’t notice?”

He exhaled sharply, his expression caught between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “Guess she figured we’d be too busy arguing to put the pieces together.”

You scoffed. “Well, congrats to her, then. She got exactly what she wanted.”

Determined to put an end to this ridiculous setup, you turned toward the door, grasped the handle, and gave it a firm tug. It didn’t budge. Your pulse ticked higher. You tried again, more forcefully this time, but the door remained stubbornly locked.

Behind you, Sam sighed, the sound far too entertained for your liking. “Still locked?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, jaw tight. “Obviously.”

Before he could toss out another quip, the overhead speakers crackled to life, the static buzzing through the dimly lit room before a saccharine, overly cheerful voice filled the space.

"Welcome, lovebirds, to the Valentine’s Day Escape Challenge!"

Your entire body went rigid. Sam, standing just a few feet away, had stilled completely, his eyes narrowing like he was already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

"Over the next hour, you and your partner will work together to solve puzzles, uncover secrets, and—most importantly—ignite a spark between you!"

Your eye twitched. "The what?"

The Falcon was still staring up at the speaker, but you could feel the sheer amount of unspoken profanity radiating off of him.

"You have sixty minutes! And remember... teamwork makes the dream work!"

A mechanical clunk sounded somewhere in the room, and a timer flickered to life on the far wall, its neon numbers casting an ominous glow.

59:59. 59:58. 59:57.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, forcing down the overwhelming urge to scream, then turned to Sam. He met your stare, equally exasperated, equally resigned.

The room was an assault of saccharine love-themed aesthetics, as if Eros himself had suffered a violent, glitter-drenched demise. Heart-shaped garlands draped along the walls in looping chains, glowing pink fairy lights casting a hazy, dreamlike blush over every velvet-draped surface. A gilded vanity stood against one wall, its mirror smeared with cryptic riddles in waxy, crimson lipstick. The simulated fireplace screen let out crackled sounds, its flames flickering just a little too artificially, a cheap illusion of warmth in a space meant to seduce.

At the center of it all sat a small, round table, dressed in pristine white linen, set for two. A single wax-sealed envelope rested atop the china, like the final invitation to some grand, elaborate joke.

Sam let out a low whistle, slow and unimpressed as he took in the spectacle. “It’s like Cupid threw up in here.”

You crossed your arms, exhaling through your nose. “More like a discount wedding venue.”

“Either way, I already hate it.”

“Great. Common ground.” You stepped forward, plucking the envelope off the table, breaking the seal with a sharp tear. “Means we’ll get through this faster.”

Inside, a delicate pink card gleamed under the low lighting, its cursive gold lettering gliding across the surface like a whispered dare:

"To escape, one must first unlock the heart. Find the key, answer truthfully, and embrace the game."

You flipped the card over, your frown deepening. Blank.

“Well, that’s unhelpful.”

Sam leaned in over your shoulder, the warmth of his unwelcome presence creeping at your back. “Sounds like a load of nonsense.”

“Sounds like we need to find a key.” You tossed the card aside and swept your gaze across the room. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He followed at an infuriatingly lazy pace, hands tucked in his pockets. “You always this impatient on dates?”

You shot him a glare. “You always this obnoxious?”

“‘That a rhetorical question?”

You huffed, stepping toward the vanity. Its antique gold frame was chipped, and its once-opulent beauty weathered down to something just shy of decadent. Trinkets littered the surface—heart-shaped perfume bottles, a pearl necklace draped over a porcelain hand sculpture, and a plush teddy bear wearing a satin bow tie.

You picked up the bear, giving it a shake. Something rattled inside. Without hesitation, you grabbed the bow and pulled at it, to which the Avenger let out a sharp breath. “At least pretend to have some finesse. Poor guy.”

You turned, leveling him with a glare. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer I politely ask the stuffed animal for the key?”

His smirk was all teeth. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

With an exaggerated tug, the bow finally tore away, revealing a tiny brass key stitched into the lining. Triumphant, you held it up between two fingers, letting it catch the candlelight. “Hah. Suck it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded toward the oversized keyhole carved into the farthest door. “Moment of truth.”

The lock clicked smoothly, the door groaning as it swung inward to reveal the next part of your prison—a room bathed in deep red velvet, dimly lit by flickering candle sconces. A loveseat sat at its heart, a small pedestal beside it, where a single glass dome encased a perfect red rose.

You exhaled sharply. “Great. More romantic fuckery.”

Sam rolled his shoulders, his stance widening. “Starting to think this whole thing is just an excuse for people to make out in a locked room.”

You shot him a warning look. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, trust me, you’re really killing the mood.”

Your attention shifted to the plaque beneath the rose. The words, engraved in curling script, sent an uneasy shiver down your spine: "A promise once spoken, never fulfilled, lingers in the heart forever." You took a step back, exhaling a little too precipitously. “Alright. Where’s the next clue?”

Sam didn’t move. His gaze lingered on the plaque before flickering back to you. “That bother you?”

“Nope,” you said too quickly. “Just wanna get out of here.”

He studied you, and for once, he wasn’t all for the laughs. “You’re lying straight to my face.”

You stiffened. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” His voice was laced with the same exasperation you remembered from years ago—when things were different. When things were good. “You think I don’t know? You think I don’t see it?”

You pivoted angrily towards him. “See what, Sam? I told you everything already. You want to talk about how years later, when you came back, I was the one whose name got dragged through the dirt because some paparazzi decided I made a convenient headline?”

His jaw ticked. “You think I wanted that to happen?”

“Well you barely did a damn thing to stop it, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, so that was my fault?” His voice rose, heat sparking in his eyes. “I was trying to keep you out of that mess! You think I had any control over what the media did?”

“Maybe not.” Your breath came hard now, uneven. “But you had control over what you did. And you chose to stay silent.”

The room’s candlelight flickered violently, shadows dancing along the walls that suddenly felt like they were closing in on you, encaging you in this intolerable and toxic chasm of tug-of-war fight. Sam’s hands flexed at his sides. He looked like he wanted to grab something—grab you, maybe, or stop himself from doing exactly that.

“Say it,” he finally murmured, voice rough.

You swallowed. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is you’ve been dying to say since I walked back here.” His gaze burned into yours. “Go ahead. Get it out.”

The pathetic words escaped before you could stop them.

“You lied to me and I hate you for it.”

Sam flinched, but you pressed on, voice breaking on the edges. “You promised I wouldn’t just be some forgotten thing in your past. And you never even tried.”

His nostrils flared. “You think I didn’t want to?”

“Oh, please.” You let out a bitter laugh. “You were fine. You left, became a hero, and forgot all about me until you came back wearing a fucking jetpack.”

“You were never something I could forget.”

You felt something crack in your chest. “You don’t get to say that now, Sam,” you whispered.

He stepped closer. Then again. You barely realized you were moving too, until the air between you collapsed, the heat of his body pressing into yours, the tension a live wire sparking between your ribs. 

"Then look me in the eye," Sam rasped, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. "Look at me and tell me I’m lying and this doesn’t mean anything anymore. Tell me you don’t feel it—say the words, and I’ll walk away. But say them like you mean them." 

Your throat worked, but no words came. Because as much as you wanted to deny the allegations, you did feel it. The frustration, the anger. And beneath it all—the wanting, the aching. The bone-deep longing for something neither of you had the courage to claim when it mattered.

In an unfurling of sudden movement, his back hit the wall with a dull thud, but before he could react, you were on him, fisting the front of his shirt and crashing your mouth against his, engaging in a battle more than a kiss. It was akin to a wildfire—scorching, desperate, all teeth and heat, the culmination of every regret and every second wasted.

The pilot groaned into it, his hands flying to your waist, strong and sure as he hauled you against him. A sharp gasp left you at the feeling of his body flush with yours, but he didn’t give you room to think or to breathe. He spun you, pressing you back against the wall, his mouth relentless against yours, moving with a punishing, consuming intent—like he wanted to devour you whole.

Your fingers twisted further into his meticulous white shirt, attempting to pull him impossibly closer than you already were. He swallowed the sound that escaped you, deepening the kiss like a starved man, like he needed this, needed you, needed to make up for all the time lost.

His lips dragged over your jaw, hot breath ghosting against your skin.

"Still mad?" he murmured against your lips, voice thick with want, teasing even now, even like this.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, seizing it and savoring how his breath hitched at your doing, the way his fingers flexed against your waist. "Furious."

Sam’s breath stuttered against your lips, a ragged sound caught between a groan and something dangerously close to surrender. His fingers curled into your waist, holding you like he needed to anchor himself, like if he let go, you’d slip through his grasp and take the last shred of his self-control with you.

The kiss burned, devouring, each second unraveling the years of restraint neither of you wanted to acknowledge anymore. You felt the tension in the way he pressed against you, in the way his hands slid beneath your shirt, palms searing against your skin. Your nails raked down his back, dragging over hard covered muscle, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your fists as if you could pull him deeper into you, as if there was any space left between you to close.

"Tell me to stop," Sam gasped through the clashing of your mouths, the words nearly lost to the breathlessness between you. His request went ignored as his lips traced a slow, punishing path down your jaw, his breath hot against your throat as his hands wandered, gripping, relearning, claiming back what was once his for a brief instance. 

You tilted your head, granting him more access, shivering as he took it without hesitation, teeth scraping against sensitive skin. Your fingers roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt, the solid weight of him beneath your touch. It wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed skin, heat, the press of him without barriers.

Your hands found the first button of his shirt, fumbling in your urgency. One button slipped free, then another, the fabric parting under your fingers.

Until the door slammed open.

You barely had time to gasp before Sam reacted on instinct. In a blur of movement, he thrusted you behind him, body braced like a shield between you and whoever had just interrupted.

A pair of employees stood in the doorway, frozen like deer in headlights. One clutched a clipboard, the other a maintenance checklist, both staring like they had just walked in on a crime scene.

A heavy silence stretched between all of you.

"Uh…" The clipboard guy cleared his throat, his voice weak, almost apologetic. "This… isn't a private room."

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience clearly dangling by a thread. His chest still heaved with unspent frustration and the lingering burn of what had been seconds away from happening. He ran a slow hand down his face before fixing them with a dark, pointed look.

"Clearly," he said flatly.

The maintenance guy swallowed hard. "We—we knocked. Three times."

Clipboard guy shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting everywhere but at you and Sam. "Look, we know you signed up for it and all, but this is too much—you can’t stay here. We have to ask you to leave. Immediately."

The Avenger stepped forward, rolling his shoulders as he looked them up and down. The movement was subtle, but the effect was instant. Clipboard guy flinched. Maintenance guy tensed, suddenly looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"You saw nothing," he declared lowly. "And whatever you think you saw? No you didn’t." His gaze flicked downward, locking onto the phone peeking out of the employee’s pocket.

The guy scrambled to pull it out, hands shaking as he unlocked the screen. "N-Nothing there! See?" He turned it around in a panic.

Sam barely glanced at it before nodding, satisfied. "Good. Smart choice."

You bit your lip, caught between laughter and mortification as Sam slid an arm around your waist, steering you toward the exit with purposeful ease.

"Now," he continued, voice laced with something smug as he leaned in just enough for only you to hear, "if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere else to be."

His grip on your hip tightened as he led you outside, your pulse hammering in response, the rest of the world fading as the need he had ignited moments ago roared back to life with a vengeance.

⠀

⠀

The ride back to the restaurant was enveloped in a heavy silence—not the brittle awkwardness of unspoken apologies nor the tenseness of imminent confrontation, but a solemn, almost sacred quietude laden with things neither of you yet dared to name.

You kept your eyes fixed on the road, though the lingering warmth of Sam’s hand on your waist remained—a memory of intimacy that had evaporated the instant you stepped out of that room. The echo of what had nearly transpired clung to your skin like a phantom caress, simmering just beneath the surface, an unacknowledged secret shared between you.

When you finally reached the restaurant, the usual mix of clamors of conversation and the tinkling of glasses felt jarringly discordant against the subdued cadence of your thoughts. You both hesitated at the entrance, lingering in the threshold. After a long pause, Sam sighed deeply, his hand drifting to his jaw as if to smooth away the remnants of the night’s turbulence. “Go wait for me,” he ordered you, “at our spot.”

That command stopped you in your tracks.

Our spot.

It had been years since either of you had dared to approach it, much less mention it aloud. The old corner by the water hidden from the prying lights of the city, where you had once spent long, languid nights nursing cheap beer, debating everything and nothing, and watching the world settle into quiet dreams. Back when neither of you had been bold enough to risk shattering that fragile haven.

You searched his face, but his eyes were fixed beyond you, as if he were still uncertain whether the words should have been spoken at all. Still, you nodded.

The dock greeted you like a cherished relic from a bygone era. Weathered wooden planks stretched over dark, rippling water, the faint, distant glow of the city shimmering in its reflection. The air was crisp and invigorating, hinting at the encroaching chill of night and making you wish you had remembered to bring a jacket.

You sank onto the edge of the dock, letting your feet dangle freely above the water, your fingers twisting together in quiet contemplation. Time slipped by in muted anticipation until, at last, the sound of footsteps echoed softly behind you. Then, as if conjured by the very night, a presence settled beside you.

Without a word, Sam pressed a cold bottle on your forehead that burned as it met your skin, making you almost jump out of your place before you took the flask of whiskey—and set another beside him. He then unfurled a thick, timeworn blanket, draping it over both of you with a fluid, almost reverent motion.

The warmth of the blanket combined with the closeness of his body seeped into you instantly, chasing away the chill of the night. For a long moment, you simply sat there, the dock creaking softly beneath your weight, the gentle lapping of water against old wood composing a quiet symphony for your shared solitude.

You sighed, rolling the bottle between your palms. “So..”

One simple word laden with the totality of everything left unsaid, a distillation of years of longing, regret and the raw, unspoken truth of your intertwined past.

You exhaled slowly, tightening your grip on the blanket as though holding it could tether you both to this moment. This was it—the precipice upon which you both now stood. There was no turning away, no hiding behind silence any longer. 

“So,” Sam repeated, his voice tinged with playful mischief as he copied your idle toying with the cold bottle in his hand, “that was… something, wasn’t it?” 

“Ugh, don’t say something cliché like that. But yeah, that was definitely something for the books, I guess.” You managed a shaky smile, your words emerging in a hesitant cadence. There was a lightness in your tone—a mirth that felt like a delicate mask over the swirling emotions that both terrified and enthralled you.

The Falcon grinned, arching an eyebrow. “You know, if it weren’t for how noisy Sarah is, we might have savored it in peace.”

You chuckled softly, the sound both amused and rueful. “She practically narrated our every move. You know she loves her piece of drama.”

“Exactly,” he agreed in a playful tone yet laced with something deeper—a hint of regret, perhaps. “I think she made sure we were loud enough for at least the entire escape room to hear.”

You shook your head, still smiling despite the vulnerability threading through your laughter. “I guess sometimes a little noise is inevitable. I mean, if everything were hushed, we’d never have the chance to remember just how messy and magnificent it all was.”

Sam’s eyes softened as he took a slow sip from the bottle, the amber liquid catching the light. “Sounds like the perfect way to put it,” he murmured absent-mindedly. Your fingers moved on to fidget with the edge of the blanket draped around you, and Sam’s gaze frequently wandered to your flushed face, as if silently pleading for some unspoken reassurance.

“Ask me,” he suddenly requested, his voice both gentle and edged with a trace of desperation, as though he believed that the right question might finally untangle the knots of regret and longing that had haunted you both for so long. “Ask me the question you’ve been holding back.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, each beat echoing with years of missed chances and unspoken words. In a trembling rush of emotion, you blurted out, “What—uh, did you like it?” Your voice quavered, carrying the weight of the moment like a fragile plea.

Sam’s eyes shimmered with a mixture of relief and sorrow as he slowly shook his head. “No,” he replied, his tone soft yet resolute. “I mean—yes, but that’s not what I meant.” He paused, carefully choosing his words as if every syllable carried the gravity of the past. “Ask me the one you’ve wanted to ask for so long.”

A delicate tremor passed through you, and your breath caught in your throat. After a long, painful silence, you whispered, “Why didn’t you write me?” 

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against the dock, as if the night itself awaited his answer. Sam reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and slowly extracted a tightly knotted bundle of papers. Unraveling the thread with careful fingers, he revealed a stack of letters, yellowed with time and crinkled at the edges.

“I did write you letters,” he softly admitted, his gaze fixed on the fragile pages as if they contained his very soul. “That’s what I wanted to tell you for so long. Three hundred and sixty-five of them… one for every day.” His voice trembled with both pride and regret. “But you have to understand—the Air Force policy was tight as fuck. I couldn’t send them, and once I realized that, I… I knew you’d resent me for not keeping in touch.”

He paused, running a hand over the neatly stacked pages. “This whole thing took a toll on me—physically, mentally. I was drowning in obligations and fear, and eventually, I stopped writing because I thought maybe it was the only way to spare you from more pain.” His eyes darkened as he continued, voice barely a murmur now. “And as for the paparazzi… I thought that by not speaking, by keeping my distance, I’d protect you. If I wasn’t seen with you, they’d assume there was no connection—no real relationship worth prying into.”

A single tear glinted in the corner of your eye as you absorbed his words, each one a quiet confession, a secret revealed in the darkness. The letters lay between you like relics of a lost time—a testament to love, duty, and the unbearable cost of silence.

Your fingers trembled as they hovered above the fragile stack of letters, each page heavy with the weight of stolen years and unspoken regrets. The unsent words pressed against your chest as though they carried every moment lost between you, every silent apology and longing unfulfilled. You swallowed hard, the night air thick with an unspoken tremor that danced at the edge of every exhale.

“Tell me about them,” you professed, your voice scarcely more than a whisper carried on the breeze.

The pilot exhaled sharply, his thumb absently caressing the frayed edges of one of the letters as if it were a relic of his former self. “You really want to know?” he asked, his tone tentative, laced with both caution and the burden of truth.

You nodded, your silence affirming that, despite your uncertainty, you needed to hear every word.

For a long moment, Sam’s eyes remained fixed on the ink-smudged pages, the ghostly script of his past gazing back at him in silent testimony. “One of the first letters was angry,” he began, a wry, self-deprecating chuckle trembling at the edge of his words. “Not angry at you. Never at you. I was furious at the situation. I remember that first night in my bunk, where all I could think was how I’d have to let you down. I thought I should’ve fought harder, found a way to make it work. So I wrote it all down and thought that I would probably be out soon enough to give you them in person.”

His fingers tightened around the bundle, as if the letters themselves could anchor him to a past he both cherished and loathed. “I started writing about the small, absurd things—like how the coffee on base was godawful, the jibes from the guys when I apparently mumbled your name in my sleep—which I did not, to make things clear. I even wrote about an old couple I saw on television one day and how it reminded me of when you joked that we’d be arguing over directions even when we were eighty.” His tone faltered, growing quieter, more solemn. “And then there were the letters where I just… missed you. God, I missed you so much.”

Sam’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and his grip on the letters slackened, as though holding them was too painful. “And it got harder. Days turned into months, and I convinced myself that you’d moved on—that I had no right to cling onto us. But even then, I never stopped wanting you.”

He turned his gaze to you then, the glow of unsent confessions and quiet grief shining in his eyes. “And it shouldn’t matter anymore because it’s over. Or at least, that’s what I should believe. But it does. It always has.”

The wind whispered softly around you, stirring the fragile pages in his hand and carrying away echoes of moments lost to time. Your heart clenched, caught between the relief of knowing and the heartbreak of what might have been.

In one sudden, desperate motion, he reached for you. His fingers brushed your jaw lightly at first, then cradled your face with a tenderness that belied the cool night air. His thumbs, warm and steady, traced gentle arcs over your cheekbones—anchoring you both to this moment, to the years lost and the yearning that had bridged every mile of distance between you.

His eyes, dark and unwavering, burned into yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. “Hear me out, please,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent, as though the very thought of you slipping away again was unbearable. “I was a coward. I should’ve done better than that but I let fear, and everything else, win. I told myself I was protecting you, that I was doing what was best. But all I did was make it worse. I made you think I didn’t care when the truth is... I never stopped.”

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, but Sam did not wait for you to speak. His grip on your face tightened, firm enough to keep you tethered to him without causing pain.

“I love you.”

The words fell between you like fragile glass shards, the shatter of the barriers of years resonating with their fall. “Yeah, fuck this corny shit. I have loved you every single damn day since the moment I let you go. I know it’s selfish to say it now, after everything, but I just need you to know that I love you. And I’m so goddamn sorry that I ever made you doubt that.”

A shudder ran through you, and your hands clutched his wrists as if they were the only lifeline in your storm of emotions. Every syllable struck like a slow-burning flame, peeling back layers of anger, heartbreak, and longing until all that remained was the undeniable truth—him, you, and a love that refused to fade.

“Sam—” you began, but your voice cracked, the word lost to the tumult of your feelings.

It didn’t matter anyway, because before you could speak another word, he kissed you with the same fervor from earlier, as if he were a man finally allowed to feast upon the love that had sustained him in torturous silence. His lips met yours with a desperate ardour that sent shivers racing down your spine, his hands roaming to trace the soft curve of your neck and leading you to melt into the perfect fit of his embrace.

The world around you—the creaking dock, the ghostly remnants of past regrets—faded into insignificance. All that remained was the kiss, deepening with every heartbeat, as if he were trying to reclaim every lost day, every stolen hour of absence. And you, with equal fervor and need, returned his kiss. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if in that embrace you could mend the ruptures of time itself.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, your foreheads pressed together in the cool night air. “Please, tell me that wasn’t a mistake.”

Your fingers trailed slowly down his chest, grasping the fabric as if to hold onto the fragile promise of the moment. “No,” you whispered back, your voice tender and resolute. “This time it wasn’t.”

A slow grin spread across Sam’s face, and relief flooded his features like the first rays of the morning sun after a long, storm-ridden night. He swept you into his arms, lifting you clear off the ground to bring you closer, almost sitting on his lap. The world tilted delightfully as a rich, unburdened laughter bubbled from his chest in a way you hadn’t heard in a while, full of joy and the promise of new beginnings.

“You’re gonna make me lose my damn mind,” he crooned against your hair in a husky blend of disbelief and something infinitely tender, a softness that belied the wildness of the moment.

A breathy laugh escaped you as your hands instinctively clinging to his broad shoulders as if anchoring you both to the present. “You’re acting like I just solved every world crisis,” you teased, even as your heart pounded in its rhythmic cadence.

“Nah,” he replied, his thumb traced reverently along your jaw, as though memorizing every curve and line of your face. “Just mine.” 

A quiet ache formed in your chest at the way he looked at you, as if he still couldn’t believe you were real, as if he were etching every detail of you into memory in case the universe ever dared be cruel again.

Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, and with a voice steadier than you felt, you whispered, “I love you too, Sam.”

For a heartbeat, his lips parted as if to utter more, but before the words could spill, a familiar voice shattered the reverie.

“Hey, lovebirds! Dinner’s ready!” Sarah called from the restaurant’s back porch, her tone playful as she leaned against the doorway with crossed arms and a knowing smirk that practically screamed, took you long enough.

Sam groaned, tipping his head back. “Jesus, can I have one moment—just one?” he protested.

Laughing, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the warm glow of the restaurant. “Come on, loverboy, before she comes out here and drags us inside herself.”

The golden light of the restaurant melted away the coolness of the night, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. As you walked back to the shack, a spark of mischief danced at the edges of your lips. You shot Sam a sidelong glance, the playful glimmer in your eyes challenging him.

“Wait a second…” you drawled, narrowing your eyes and tilting your head. “Did you—did you quote The Notebook in your big, dramatic profession of love?”

For a moment, his grip on your hand tightened, and he faltered, pigment further coloring his cheeks. “What?” he managed, his tone caught between indignation and bashful amusement.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, pressing a hand to your mouth as barely contained laughter bubbled forth. “You did! That ‘it wasn’t over’ thing—straight out of The Notebook!”

His arm looped around your shoulders, drawing you closer with a quiet, playful threat. His large palm briefly covered the back of your head as he guided you forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Say one more word about that, and I swear I will stuff you so full of oysters you won’t be able to utter a single syllable for a week.”

You snorted. “Really? That’s your big intimidation tactic?”

“Ever tried eating twenty oysters in one sitting?” he shot back, arching a brow and letting his lips twitch in a smirk. “I don’t think so. Now, go sit down and eat before I make it happen.”

Grinning, you leaned into his side, feeling the easy warmth of his arm as it draped around you. After all the lost time and shattered dreams, everything felt achingly, irrevocably right. Perhaps the years apart had only deepened the truth: the time you thought was lost might, in fact, still be yours to reclaim, as you were fated to be stuck together no matter what.

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[bokutoko]

2/14

character: atsumu miya (timeskip!atsumu)

wc: 1.4k

cw: valentine’s day (barf), alcohol, cussing, kinda sorta uni!au (uni!reader x msby!atsumu), slight feelings of inadequacy (reader), they kith💋, atsumu thinks the L-word

pt. 2(ish?) to 7/11

Valentine's Day... also known as your least favorite day of the year (besides your birthday, but that’s a whole different story). The holiday made popular by monetizing the idea of setting aside only one day out of the year to show how much you love your partner, with all the godforsaken life-sized teddy bears and dozens of balloons, and all the mediocre chocolate and overpriced flowers. A cock of shit was what it was—someone should not be loved just one day out of the year. 

Of course, its only significance to you was being a milestone to remind yourself how painfully single you were.

But you weren't bitter. Not at all. Not. One. Bit.

The kicker, though? It almost felt like you didn't even want anybody. The mere idea of dating someone—a person you probably didn’t even know at the time and probably (not so) secretly a piece of shit—made you so nauseous that swearing relationships off altogether seemed more tempting as the days passed...

But alas, the small, hopeless romantic peeking through the rose-tinted lenses of your heart unfortunately held out for something beautiful one day... Maybe not for a prince, but a knight in shining armor. Maybe not a man to sweep you off your feet, but instead one willing to help you pick up the pieces when it felt like everything was falling apart at your feet. 

"Maybe I'll just die an old spinster.”

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Atsumu's Kansai dialect filtered through your headphones as you walked across campus to your morning class. He’d called, asking if you had any fun plans for the night, fully knowing you didn’t.

“There’s carnations and balloons all over campus. It looks like one of those my little ponies took a dump all over the place."

"But ‘m sure them carnations are pretty. Maybe you'll get one from a guy or somethin’."

"I think I'd rather die," you gagged.

A laugh filled your ears, and everything felt okay–what a nice sound to hear. But after feeling your heart do the thing, you quickly shook it off.

It was strange how for years now, it sometimes made you feel all weirdly warm and tingly when Atsumu laughed with you (even sometimes when he laughed at you).

It was best to not even entertain that notion.

"Well, gotta go, 'm at class," you sighed loudly for dramatic effect, "Maybe I'll go bitch to 'Samu later about my woes and personal vendettas. y’know, since you hate me."

Atsumu found himself smiling at your childish whining. "You mean ‘cause I'll be at practice?"

"Same thing."

“Fuck you too,” he grumbled with a scoff, not an ounce of actual annoyance in his voice, “Bye, nerd.”

A small smile made its way onto your face at his jabs. That was how it always was with Atsumu, ever since you two were in high school together. The both of you always shat on each other, knowing there was never any heat in your malicious words. It was nice, being able to feel safe with someone, to feel comfortable enough to be yourself and unapologetically bully your best friend.

As you prepped for lecture, your mind wandered, constantly circling back to your partner in crime. With every moment that passed, you quickly came to realize that Atsumu always only judged you a little bit with your (sometimes questionable) decisions, keeping it real with you while ultimately supporting you and being one of your biggest cheerleaders. Because all he wanted was to see you succeed. All he wanted was to see you happy.

You felt your face heat up just from thinking about him. 

For fuck’s sake—

While it was nice to attempt to delude yourself into thinking something could ever happen, you were easily able to convince yourself that this strange… crush was most likely unrequited.

This was Atsumu. Your Atsumu. He deserved the world.

And yet, you were just… you.

Time seemed to pass as slow as humanly possible: all your classes droning on, your exam sucking the life out of you, your professors assigning loads of busywork for the weekend ahead. The walk back to your cramped, overpriced shithole apartment was bustling with people: couples going on dinner dates, partners buying last minute gifts, and the occasional groups of galentines. Thankfully, your roommates all had plans with loved ones or already left for the weekend, so you had the entire place to yourself to sulk!

Turning the key and walking inside, you were slapped in the face with color. The common room area was decorated with a couple red heart balloons and… a pink “happy birthday” balloon floating around?

Your eyes honed in on Atsumu standing in the middle of the living room, holding another pink happy birthday balloon.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Y’have no idea how hard it is to find last minute stuff,” Atsumu sighed with a sheepish grin, "and I know it ain’t your birthday, but it was pink—a-and the color kinda matches, so…”

‘What was he talking about?’ he thought to himself, ‘oh god, please shut up.’

And the epiphany came crashing down upon you that maybe you never actually hated Valentine’s Day, you just wanted someone to love you every day, not just for one day of the year. You looked over to the chocolates on the counter and the flowers perched in a vase next to them—it was your favorite everything. On display before you was your favorite dessert, your favorite flowers, your favorite person—

“‘Tsumu…” you struggled to find the right words, “What is all this?”

He just shrugged, hiding the flush to his cheeks by scratching the back of his neck. “Ya’ve been all down in the dumps that you’re single ‘n shit, so i got some chocolates, some box wine, and ‘Samu’s hulu logged in so we can rot on the couch and watch anything ya want tonight.” 

Atsumu watched you break out in the biggest smile, almost splitting your face in two, and god, he knew he loved you.

You swiped a box of chocolates off the counter. “You know me too well.”

He returned your smile with one of his own, so handsomely crooked. “I know.”

As the hours passed, empty boxes of chocolates were scattered on the table, along with half-drank glasses from a second round of wine. The two of you devolved into sharing a blanket that was definitely too small for the both of you, resulting in you two occasionally tugging on it and grumbling, “gimme.”

“Woulda thought you’d have plans tonight,” you commented as an ad played on the TV, your voice attempting to sound as casual as possible.

He hummed, feigning nonchalance as well. “I do. I’m here, ain’t I?”

You actively couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you. “Be serious, ‘Tsumu.”

“What, can I not make my own kind of plans?” he huffed in reply.

“I meant a date, ‘Tsumu. Y’know, with a girl ya like.”

He hesitated, feeling slightly deflated by her response. “Yeah…?” His voice was uncharacteristically… soft. It may had just been the alcohol talking, but Atsumu wondered if the taste of your lips, now stained a soft pink, was any better than the vino you two shared.

The air in the room suddenly felt way too warm, and you could feel your face flush as you just silently stared at him, like you were some brainless neanderthal. You swallowed, only just now realizing how close the two of you were—no longer tugging on the blanket but practically cuddling. You felt the warmth of his thigh against your own, and you swore you could die right there on the spot, melting right into a puddle of goo. 

Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “Yeah.”

His eyes lazily bounced back and forth between yours, searching for something, and he let out a sigh. “Yer the smartest person I’ve ever known, but God, you can be so damn stupid sometimes.”

Before you had the chance to fire an insult back, you felt a pair of lips on yours, the movements gentle yet nervous. It was instinctual, bordering embarrassing, how fast you melted into the kiss. His tongue tasted of white chocolate truffles and red wine, the heady mixture causing you to let out the softest sigh in his mouth. Atsumu's hands gently cupped your jaw, his thumbs gently running along your cheekbones until his brain finally caught up to his actions.

He pulled away and watched you almost chase his lips, your eyes still fluttering with your skin bathed in the soft lamplight of the room. He quietly whispered, “Sorry, I–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, you dumbass. Just kiss me again.”

And you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

a/n: happy valentine’s day to all the happy couples and all the single people out there—single or not, here’s some atsumu to feed the delulu <33

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[ashen-char]

mikey madison characters x reader for valentines

notes: a little late, it hasn't been valentines here for two days at time of posting! just felt like it ❤️

amber freeman (scream)

says she doesn't care about valentines' day and she's being honest, she thinks it's stupid and a marketing ploy to sell chocolates and stupid heart-shaped stuff. BUT she will also get pissed off and not speak to you for days if you don't get her anything.

if you ask her to be your valentine, she scoffs and says something to the effects of "we're dating. of course, dummy. it's not like i have something better to do on that day...". as if she didn't clear her schedule specifically anticipating a date night. nothing huge and public though. you two are more chill, and she hates the vulnerability and mushiness of PDA. (though she isn't above making out in a corner of one of her parties). if you tried to go the traditional route of a huge rose bouquet and taking her out to a packed restaurant, amber would claw your eyes out. she wants it to be customised to you two, not "basic bitch energy"

she'd get you a cute horror themed plushy. that's ones of her favourite things about your relationship. you don't judge her about her hobbies and passions, letting her rant on and on, ever letting her show you wayyy too much of the stuff. at this point, it's a hallmark of your relationship, horror is something you two talk about to bond. the first gift is a teddy bear holding a heart in one hand and a knife in the other. the heart says "i can't BEAR to be without you"

the second is a bottle of whiskey she stole from her parents liquor cabinet. then a handwritten letter of all the shit she likes about you (read: things about you that don't piss her off. the reasons why you're more tolerable than everyone else in this miserable town. how you actually make it worthwhile to stay). amber tells you that she's been thinking about it and... she doesn't want you two to drift apart. it's mushy, and embarrassing, but she says she'll pick her college according to which places accept you. "where you go, i go, valentine." she plays it off with a wink, but you can tell that she means it. she can't bear the thought of being without you after all.

her favourite candy is 100% liquorice and black jellybeans and you'd get her a basket full of it (and dark chocolate). her ideal valentines date is to go to a drive-in movie theater deep in the woods to watch some corey slasher, making out in your backseat during the boring scenes.

max fox (better things)

she loves valentines but all her exes have been shit and either broke up with her around that time (leaving her to celebrate it with friends with a galentines thing) or completely forgot it. so max keeps her expectations low. she's half-expecting you to come with a card and a last-minute dinner reservation at a shit restaurant cause all the good places are all booked up.

if you ask her to be your valentine, you should make it a big gesture. get sam and frankie and duke involved, they'd love it (and see how much better you treat her). you get sam to distract max on a day out, pester her and make sure she doesn't have a clue that you came over and you're decorating her room. rose petals all over her bed, a sign that frankie helped you design with some lame pun that max will ADORE, while duke helps you set up all the candles. the pun is probably along the lines of "will you be valen-mine?"

for valentines', max's gifts would be hella creative and handmade and thoughtful. a painting of you that she secretly did while you weren't paying attention and just laying in her bed. a mug she made and painted herself, with one of your inside jokes etched on the handle. a scrapbook of all the pictures she's taken on your dates, filled with notes of her favourite memories on the sides. the cutest ones being a photoshoot session on your first date, where max stole a first kiss on the final pic. the two of you smiling big and excited, not yet knowing you'd make it this far and this long.

you leave her guessing the whole time on your date. at first, you get her to believe you're taking her to her restaurant and she complains that she already has staff meals there all the time. but nonetheless, she's already so giddy for what you've done by showing up and getting her chocolates (she loves the ones with the seahorses and seashells) and a gorgeous bouquet of tulips. she's sniffing her flowers the whole time, grinning in the passenger seat. she's being so sweet and adorable that you spill and tell her the plans.

you got concert tickets to her favourite band AND they're floor seats so you can be right in the pit. max practically screams, kissing you all over as thanks. she's glued to you the whole time during the show, and you get to sing the lyrics of the "best love songs" (max's words) right to your girl. max takes pictures all night, posting you all over her socials. snapping her friends bragging about how she has the best valentine ever and they should be mad jealous.

river (all souls)

it's hard for river to make days about her, to put her feet up and relax. when you broach the conversation about valentines, she'd groan and tell you about how jade got glitter all over the couch when she was decorating letters for her whole class. you'd tell her that you meant her plans for valentines. as in, would she be yours. as in, you already paid jade's babysitter for the night and the kiddo is totally on board (jade REALLY wants you two to have a romantic night. when river turns to her daughter, playfully betrayed that you two planned this behind her back, jade giggles and gives her a thumbs up).

as you two head to your reservation, river has to be assured and reassured that jade is alright staying home for your date. river isn't used to fancy food. or sit-down restaurants where there are hosts rather than one waitress going around addressing every regular by name. when she tells you that she feels out of place and awkward even though she put on her nicest clothes (a hoodie without cigarette burns!), you take her hand and run right outta there together.

instead, you two go on a late night walk. you share jabs about the passing people you see, the man on the phone clearly being cussed out by his girlfriend, the cheating scumbags who thought they'd get away with booking dates back to back. sharing a cigarette, you two are sitting on a park bench, river sighing and apologising that she's not the type of girl who can appreciate all this cute shit you do for her. she wants to be able to swoon, to allow you to pamper her or whatever. but it's just one day, and the stuff you do every day is better. you being around is better, the most romantic gesture she's ever known.

you hit the corner store together, hand in hand. river picks out hella snacks, especially candy to share with jade, and an unhealthy amount of monster energy. you pick out a valentines card that has some dirty joke in it and she snorts and kisses you hard in the aisles. you slip a ring onto her finger.

anora mikheeva (anora)

valentines is a busy day in HQ. divorcees, eternal singles, the heartbroken - it's the perfect place for those that wanna drink and stare at naked girls all night, forgetting what day it is. and ani likes it like that. she likes being able to hustle more outta these suckers, likes that she can offer an ear to their sorrows and convince them way easier to buy a dance.

you ask her to be your valentine simply. you're laying in her bed, curled up with her all naked and blissed out, cuddling but not asleep. she makes a joke about holiday rates until you realise she's serious. she's fully booked. ani presses an apology kiss to your lips, offering to hang out the day after or something. that she'll make it up to you by giving you double the orgasms next time - giggling when you get fussy because you don't want her offering sexual favours all the time!

because don't get her wrong, anora loves romance. she wants to be swept off her feet, she loves the big gestures, the extravagant or extremely meaningful gifts. it's time that's an issue. scheduling. she can't put her life on hold for it. cutesy shit ain't gonna pay the bills.

it's surprisingly easy to decorate her room while she's asleep. like usual, ani got home in the early morning, slipping on her eye mask and earplugs so the sun and occasionally passing train don't wake her up. vera lets you slip in - her boyfriend's there as well - and she's amused at the sight of the huge cardboard box of goods you're gonna spread around ani's room.

her favourite rom coms. her guilty pleasure binge shows. a cute stitch plushy due to her disney obsession. her favourite flowers - dark red peonies because roses are way too normie. most importantly, you make breakfast in their tiny-ass kitchen to treat anora so she doesn't have to rush the morning to get ready for work.

you'll fit in the time around her schedule. you're determined to make her feel special even when the rest of the world demands that she be this very specific person all the time, this jaded hustling girl.

you sit on ani's bed, waiting for her to wake up, a tray of freshly cooked breakfast in your hands. she wakes up to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes, the way mom always used to cook her as a kid. there's cut up strawberries shaped like hearts, whipped cream on top. on the tray is a tennis bracelet she's been desperate for after some of the other HQ girls were bragging about their sugar daddies gifting it to them. you worked hard, often picking up overtime, to be able to afford it. ani gasps so loud when she realises you went all out, hands clasped over her mouth as she shouts "you fucking didn't! oh my god! i thought i was being robbed you fucking asshole!" as she complains about how loud you were.

[nmhdreamscape]

stumbling hearts ✧ n.jm (valentine's gift series)

pairing | friend!jaemin x fem!reader

content | friends to lovers, fluff, jealousy, suggestive

word count | 647

request | jaemin + 13

notes | struggled a little with this one, hope it's okay!

you stumbled into your apartment with a laugh, stumbling over your heels as you entered your hallway. the alcohol had long worn, and you were now left with a terrible the pain in your feet, instant relief coming as you shucked them off. jaemin stepped into your apartment after you, shutting the door behind you. he had demanded he walk you home after your night out, wanting to make sure you got home safe in your inebriated state.

jaemin had opted to stay sober, he wasn’t really feeling it. that feeling only got worse as the night progressed, being subjected to watching you go off with every guy who had approached you. wishing it was him who had the courage to come up and ask you for a dance. wishing that he could get the chance to hold you like that. it all left a sour taste in his mouth that he knew would only be made worse with alcohol.

you had picked up on jaemin’s mood on the walk home, not greeting you with the same warmth and kindness he usually did. he was ignoring you, something that was very out of character for him. that resulted in most of the journey being spent in silence, that continuing as you entered your apartment. when you looked over at him, you saw how his gaze rested on you. at this point you were done, sick of his attitude. you needed to know why he was acting this way.

“you’ve been acting weird all night, are you okay?” you asked with your eyebrow raised. he didn’t even bother to respond, simply moving to put your shoes on the shoe rack next to the door. you let out a scoff, that catching his attention. he finally turned to face you, but still no response. you stormed over to him.

“you can’t just keep ignoring me!” you yelled, staring straight into his eyes. jaemin’s eyes fell to your lips before looking up into your eyes again. he was about to do something he would probably regret in the morning, but at least he could say he tried. gripping you by the waist, he pulled you into a kiss, lips pressing harshly against yours as he took you all in. 

you simply stood there in shock. had you hit your head on the way home? there was no way this was real? months of subtle touches, flirtatious comments and shameless pining had done little to get his attention. you had all but given up on the prospect of him being interested in you. and yet here you were. by the time your brain had caught up to your body, jaemin was already pulling away, much to your disappointment.

“watching you with all those other guys tonight, it was torture. it made me realise i just need to let it all out and tell you. i just... i want you, all of you. and that might be selfish, but i don’t care.” jaemin whispered, staring into your eyes as he cupped your cheek. your face lit up with a bright smile at this, hand coming to rest on top of his.

“you have me.” you reassured, squeezing his hand. “plus, they meant nothing. the guy i like wouldn’t dance with me, so somebody had to” you joked, rolling your eyes. jaemin looked down at you with his signature bright smile, still somewhat in disbelief at how things were turning out. 

“well, let me make it up to you then.” jaemin smirked, lifting you up off of the ground and into his arms. you let out a squeal, legs instinctively coming to wrap around his waist. he once again joined your lips in a kiss, whisking you off to your bedroom. he had thought of many different ways to make it up to you, and he couldn’t wait to show you them all. 

valentine's gift masterlist

[urprettylildoe]

𝓢𝓽𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 𝓬𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓭 (𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵)

yandere anti-cupid × (fem) cupid reader.

Synopsis: you bring couples together and he breaks them apart. A rivalry ensues between the two of you. And while Vexian seems hellbent on destroying everything you've built, we often forget how close hate is to love...or perhaps obsession is a better term.

Contains: yandere thoughts/behaviour, mentions of side character death, blood.

Note: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY ANGELSSSS ♡ Sorry this came out after valentine's day! I was so busy but here it is. (Wrote this to make myself feel less single) but anyway enjoy!

♡

Strange dreams had been plaguing your mind. And not just any dreams, ones of him.

Vexian, an anti-cupid — whose favourite indulgence was picking apart people's relationships, watching them crumble under the pressure. A heart made of stone, and a head even harder.

Then there's you, a cupid. The embodiment of everything pure and happy, the very person who fosters love. Too sweet, too gullible.

A match made in heaven, right?

You would dream of lips caressing your skin like silk, whispers of sweet promises fanning over your ear. It felt all too real each time you shot up, covered in cold sweat.

But, this couldn't possibly be true. How could it when he glared at you like you were dirt on his shoe?

A being born from evil could not be capable of such tenderness.

♡

A lazy yet smug smile adorned Vexian's lips as he watched the couple quarel. It was music to his ears, humans unknowingly dancing to his tune like puppeteers.

He doesn't remember the last time there wasn't a hole gaping through his black soul. It was a bottomless pit of hunger. It was only satiated when he fed on heartbreak and grief, and even then it would crave more.

Whether he liked it or not, he had grown addicted to his guilty (or not so guilty) pleasure of having power.

One obstacle stood in the way of getting what he wanted: You. A pretty winged thing who scurried around with a cute arrow and bow, desperate to give everyone a taste of romance.

Too selfless for your own good.

"You're wasting your time, y'know." Vexian drawled, towering over you. The air surrounding the two of you was distorted and sizzling; it pulled you in yet made you uneasy.

"How am I wasting my time exactly?" Your brows furrowed, a pretty pout on your lips that was adorably frustrating.

He could crush you under his foot like a bug, but he doesn't want to. The game is much more fun that way. The silver cracks that ran through his otherwise perfect skin practically glowed. "It's funny, trying to fix things that were bound to break eventually." A finger reached out to twirl a strand of your bouncy hair around it, his thumb rubbing it.

He continued, "Emotions make you weak. They cloud your judgement and do nothing but disrupt the so-called peace you strive for."

Holding your chin high, you attempted a glare that could only do so much to rival the crazed intensity in his. "It makes people happy, though."

"That could only do so much in the long run," his eyes crinkled. "And I can't wait to watch you realise that."

As quickly as he appeared, he vanished.

Back then, you didn't realise that there was something lurking in his eyes while he looked at you.

Perhaps it came from his desire to prove you wrong.

Vexian did everything he could to watch everything you built fall so graciously to the ground. He meddled into all of your relationship, hoping for a disheartened expression. The only thing on your face was a small smile as you continued aiming your arrows at each and every person.

Something fluttered inside of him. You were so fascinating, even more than the night sky he liked to stare at.

He recalled those evenings where he'd come to your place to discourage you, only to find himself in a trance..

The moonlight streamed through the window, bathing you in an ethereal glow. Your lashes cast shadows on your cheekbones as you slept.

And Vexian couldn't bring himself to hurt you.

Other evenings he'd watch over you while you were out match-making, just to quell the storm inside of him.

Perhaps it grew more wild as he left things on your windowsill.

The anti-cupid finally found something new he could study. How could your spells counter his own? What did you have that he didn't?

A new kind of beast awoke inside him. If love was so powerful, then shouldn't he get to experience it firsthand? That sounded only fair.

Yet, he didn't want any kind of love.

No, he wanted yours.

♡

Disappointment washed over you, replacing any initial excitement. Why didn't your arrows work? Why did it turn love into something unrecognisable, monstrous?

All the couples you worked so hard on matching ended up hurting each other. Jealousy would rear its ugly head into their lives, and so would obsession right after.

No, no, you could not fail. This was your one purpose, your true reason for living. If you couldn't fulfill your job, what would you do? Where would you go? What if-

"Hey, hey, relax."

That velvety, haunting voice sounded so deceptively sweet, prompting you to look up into his eyes. For a moment, you were almost fooled...until his hand on your shoulder snapped you out of it.

You wrenched out of his grasp, jabbing a finger into his solid chest. "What did you do?"

He hummed, "I'm not sure what you're talking about, baby." The pure amusement in his voice practically gave it away.

"You did something to my arrows, I-I don't know what it is but you're ruining love." Your voice sounded strained with distress. It could only make him croon. You always gave and gave and gave to those pests, but never got anything in return. He plans to fix that.

Tweaking your arrows was rather easy. A little dark magic here and there then it all fell into place, like a perfect puzzle piece.

Feigning sadness, he sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you'd like what I prepared for you. I just altered it a teeny bit to perfection. After all, shouldn't the feeling of it consume you?"

You flail your arms in wild gestures, "no, it shouldn't."

"Oh?" Then why did he feel that way when he looked at you?

Before he could utter another remark, his gaze drifted over to where you had been staring before he arrived.

A measly man. Was he another one of your projects? Yes, that must be it. It's probably-

You turned to follow his gaze and you stared at the human...

...with hearts in your eyes.

His body froze up. The world around him spinned and the air thickened around him, crackling. He couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything else except you.

How dare you love another? Go against your morals? Lovers didn't betray each other, you knew that.

Fists clenching, he recoiled from your form but you didn't seem to notice, too entranced by the pathetic man. The gears started to turn in his head, jaw clenched.

No one should have your love. You should've noticed him, whose love burned brighter than the stars. But no matter, he will have your love. Vexian will be back soon enough.

After all, Valentine's day was approaching, right?

♡

14th of February.

Romance, love letters, sappy confessions, dates, all of it was on this fateful day.

You had a skip in your step, wings fluttering behind you as felt giddy about your favourite holiday. You got ready — adding a pretty gloss to your lips and a clip to your curls. You wore a short, white sundress for the occasion.

Things were going to be a bit different this year.

It was time you finally rewarded yourself on Valentine's — maybe a cupid could have a chance at love too?

Fluttering around your house, you looked for your bow and arrows. Could have sworn you put them on the vanity-!

They sat proudly, carefully, on the small kitchen table. There wasn't any time to ponder as you reached for them.

A large hand enclosed around yours.

Your breath hitched as the other arm wrapped around your other side, trapping you against the table.

Warm breath fanned over the nape of your neck, "Happy Valentine's day, my love." Vexian pressed a kiss to your temple, making your chest tighten. What is he doing?

The lack of response on your behalf only encouraged him to continue, "thought I'd bring you a gift. What kind of lover would I be if I didn't, hm?" You had half the mind to call him out, if it weren't for the supposed present being thrusted into your hands.

A white rose, dripping in crimson.

Your ears rang as the thorns prickled your skin, sending golden blood running down your hands. "What- I-I-"

Vexian hushed, smoothing down your hair, "Shh, baby. I got rid of that pest for us, aren't you happy?" The flower dropped to the ground. Pest, did he mean-

No, no, no. Not him. Please. Your quiet sobs wouldn't come close to the turmoil twisting your very organs around.

"Don't cry, Y/N." He cooed lovingly, cupping your chubby cheeks and squishing them together as tears ran down in streaks. This was a nightmare. A terrible one.

You managed to sputter, sobbing, "what have you done?"

His chuckle sounded more like a rumble in his chest, dark wings mocking your tiny ones that he's come to love so much. "What have I done? I made sure no one stood between us anymore." That only made you spiral deeper and deeper, drowning in your tears.

Sigh. "Baby, I understand your hesitation. You fear what you don't understand, right? I do not love like you do. I love like the moon loves the tides—pulling, controlling, devouring.” a soft smile has the audacity to grace his lips, "but the way I see it, you wouldn't need to worry about my loyalty. The devotion I have is eternal, unlike that human."

"He didn't do anything to you!" You bawled hysterically, both because of your demise and the man's. Your shaky hands reached up to grab his, trying to pull them off of you.

"Oh, but he did. He took your attention away, and that alone is unacceptable." He peered into your frightened eyes at such a close proximity, "but enough about him, I want to show my real gift."

Raising his hand, Vexian snapped his fingers. And the world around you spun before collapsing.

♡

You could finally look around, but this was not your home.

The luxuries surrounding you were hard to ignore — walls made out of marble stones and intricate carvings, jewels and expensive trinkets littered the room and a heavenly view was cast outside. This location was too peaceful, too relaxing, too perfect.

Realisation dawned on you that this was no ordinary place, but a palace. You almost forgot about Vexian if it wasn't for his warm hands placing themselves on your waist.

"Do you like it here?"

A sniffle escaped you as your gaze flickered up to him, "W-where are we?"

He spread his arms wide open, a cheek grin making its way onto his features. "Home."

"H-home?!" You repeated a moment after.

"Home," he confirmed. "I made this world for you, for us. Time is a bit different here, but other than that, everything you desire shall be at your feet."

Your body flinches at the impact of his words. This guy expected you to go running into his arms, didn't he?

You whisper softly, "No, I won't stay. What about my life back there?"

"You're still thinking about those pesky humans? Your only purpose right now is to accept my love," he stepped forward, pushing you down on the golden, silk sheets of the king-sized behind, hair spreading out beneath you like a halo.

Struggling under his grasp, you yelled. "And what makes you think I'll actually stay here?" You expected anger, but it never came. His gentleness was a contradiction to his existence, so much that you couldn't believe this was the same man who hated Valentine's day with a burning passion.

Silver eyes gleamed under his tousled locks of black, "you will, one way or another." Slowly, he extracted a blade, shushing your protesting cries with a peck on the nose.

You screamed and thrashed, trying to get him off. "You monster, let go of me!" Hands clawed at his chest, trying to free yourself. It was all in naught though as he pinned you down.

He cut his own palm then did the same to you. Then, he interwined your hands together — silver and gold mixing — before leaning down to kiss you. You turn your head to the side, only for him to grab the back of it and force you to look him in the eye.

"I've waited so, so long to do this. M'not wasting my chances, my love." His lips suddenly smashed down on yours, the kiss speaking volumes.

You tried to break free, but the spell was strong. Your resistance grew weaker and more futile. It was a silence to your pleas. You could no longer flee.

He pulls away, pupils dilated. Finally, you whisper softly, succumbing to your fate, "you don't understand love at all."

Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiled adoringly.

"Then teach me. After all, we have all eternity."

♡

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

[in-som-niyah]

hiii i hope you’re having a good day/night!!!

saw your inbox was open, may i ask hurt comfort w jason with lines like “you know i would die for you” “but i want you to live for me” or something like that (u can ignore the lines if you like)

love your works ♥︎

a/n: we're gonna ignore the fact that this was requested a yr ago ok thanks

Your phone has been left in your purse of the past 3 days and you refuse to touch it until it rings the specific ringtone attributed to Jason's number.

The last you heard of him was when you fought for the millionth time over him coming home fractured and barely together. You're grateful he told you that he's Red Hood and he comes to you when he needs to be put back together, but every bruise on Jason's body would chip away at your resolve. Every bleeding gash a reminder that someone is out to hurt him, and he barely got away.

It came to a head when he promised, he promised, he wouldn't overdo it anymore, he'll walk away when the reward is no longer worth the fight. His boots collided with your floor and he stumbled into your bathroom. Blood seeping through the hand holding his side, a harsh groan and whimper as he collapsed onto your desk chair. Blood was everywhere. He couldn't even hold a breath long enough to apologize for it.

Of course you patched him up; you grabbed the gauze and antiseptic and needles and all of that. You cleaned, stitched him and did everything you're supposed to do. You did what you're supposed to do and still. Still he's almost dying in your room.

It ended in yelling, biting comebacks and clothes thrown into bags. Neither of you are sure how it happened, or what was said. All you know is that it hurts. It hurts so much. You've learned to lean on each other when things got heavy, but soft hands have sharp teeth it seems.

You know he would die for you, but you don't want a funeral; why can't he understand that his beating heart means more to you than a casket?

---

Three days.

Three days of nothing.

You haven't seen or heard from him. You were worried for your relationship of course, but also for his health; he has a tendency to be more risky when emotionally volatile.

Is he bleeding out somewhere?

Is he scared?

Is he as distraught as you are?

Too many thoughts for a mind too far into exhaustion. You needed to pull yourself together. Work had to carry on. You're a nurse, helping people is what you do. Get a fucking grip.

It took 6 nights for Jason to show up again. You never gave him permission to come into your shitty apartment in the first place, he never asked anyway.

This time he was standing upright, bandages still on, but the wounds were no longer bleeding. His eyes delayed meeting yours, favouring instead to look behind you and into our apartment, looking as if he'll find someone else lounging in his place.

You looked at him, but really his injuries and lingering bruises. Jason stood in your doorway helmetless, coming to you as a person rather than a character. You appreciated this, but stunned at the intrusion.

"Look at me." Jason starts.

His voice is low, gentle. Nothing like it was a week ago. It carries concern, consideration and fondness. Nothing like it was a week ago.

You dare not look at him. Under no circumstances will you tell him how bad the past six days were for you. You will not tell him how your cell phone is still in your bag. You will not tell him how you can't pick it up for any other ringtone other than his.

"Please"

Jason sounds like he's choking. He sounds like you're strangling him and sucking the air from his lungs. He sounds like the world is in limbo.

A small droplet falls to your feet. You instinctually look up, and regret it instantly. Puffy eyes weighed down by eye bags collected from restless nights met your gaze. Looking at Jason was a gut punch, a twisting, winding, gut punch.

You didn't notice your own tears, but you managed to close the door behind you before you were pulled into his arms. Injuries be damned, he would rip a thousand stitches before he deprived himself of how you felt against him. The smell of your deep conditioner, the feeling of your soft curls against his shoulder, the tenderness of your body, the warmth of your skin. He remembers now.

Jason remembers why he loves likes you. He remembers why he broke through your window the first couple nights. He needs you, and he's a fucking idiot if he continues to put flinging himself into danger over you.

Jason ends up sitting in your doorway, arms around you, fists curled in your clothes. He held you as if you would disappear. He held you as if you would draw all his breath from him if you pulled away. He would never, never make that mistake again. Nothing on this godforsaken planet, in this shitty city is ever worth more than you.

Just as quickly as they came, Jason's convictions to his lifestyle came crumbling down. If any of his enemies were to hold a gun to his head, right here right now, he would go without a fight.

Though words evaded him, he was an idiot if he didn't at least try.

"I'm so sorry" you sob.

"I love you too."

---

a/n pt2: so this came out so much more angsty than i thought so im sorry for that!! im finally on a roll where i feel motivated so i'm gonna keep writing hopefully <3 thank you so much for ur patience and such a great ask <3

also im an idiot and just ran with this and just realized that you wanted quotes instead of just a general concept AFTER the fact that i wrote this so... yeah 🙂, this is going well 🙂

Also, i think this fits intot he fem!black!nurse!reader AU that i may or may not have made official so theres that <3

[okaysonny]

Saw that your reqs are open, so I wanted to ask for a platonic one-shot, hope you don't mind! I have this headcanon where the reader is Daniel's younger twin who is mute and whose behavior is very much like Vasco's. Maybe that's why Daniel could understand Jay without a problem— because he grew up with us and knew exactly what we wanted before we learned how to write or even any form of sign language (and also why he seems very patient and a bit unfazed by his friend group's silliness, if I'm not mistaken-).

a/n: i like very much 😍 you can chalk their communication down to TWINK TELEPATHY but this is a better explanation

headcanons bc anon said in another ask they dm👍🏽

★ daniel knowing sign language because of his twin is saur cute...him picking up on little gestures when they were both small </3

★ in the beginning of lookism, he was lowkey a pos. (yelled at his mom + blamed her for his life) so with his mom working all the time, daniel has to take responsibility in minding them. thinks his sibling is a bit of a nuisance, especially because of that bubbly, enthusiastic energy that vasco has.

★ buuut, he doesn't realise how much his experiences - the sign language, the (although reluctant) patience and care - sets him apart. not everyone has those skills, even if he thinks it's normal.

★ there's this scene at the start where daniel yells at his mom for putting an egg in his ramen 😭 i see his twin giving a judgmental look after, and daniel feels guilty. still, he does have a what would they know? attitude.

★ when daniel was transferring schools, he felt bad about running away from his problems and leaving his mom by herself. so i also think he'll feel bad about leaving his sibling by themselves too. they'll be on their own when his mom is working.

★ he’d sit down and have this so...i won't be here with you anymore. you'll be fine, right? conversation. daniel ask a bunch of questions for his own reassurance, and they just nod at everything.

★ cue emotional moment where his twin suddenly hugs him...and daniel realises he'll actually miss them. he starts crying, overwhelmed by the thought of leaving everything behind.

★ as daniel goes through his character growth, his connection with jay makes more sense now. his understanding of jay’s nonverbal communication comes naturally because he grew up doing the same with his sibling! in a way, with jay's friendship, he wants to make up for those early moments when daniel was dismissive with them.

★ thanksgiving arc reunion (the first one) would be heart tugging! i can see his sibling's appearance changing slightly. maybe they sign something like i knew you’d be okay and he tears up all over again.

★ his twin is looking after their mom now. daniel is grateful and proud, it's something that he never did before he moved away.

★ i don't think daniel really reveals personal details to his friends? so if his sibling visits him while everyone's around...it would be really funny. if the twin is a guy, everyone's like why are there two of them? if it’s a girl, it’s…why is daniel in a wig?

★ because his sibling has vasco's traits, i can defo see vasco having these intense conversations with them through gestures and nods. vasco doesn’t question it at all — he just asks more questions, completely fascinated. everyone else is like ermmm wtf

★ JAY AND HIS TWIN INTERACTING WOULD BE SO CUTE!!! they’d be communicating with quiet excitement :') a heartwarming moment for both of them, realising they aren’t alone in their experiences.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so when the night falls, my lonely heart calls

type: arcane characters x reader

featuring: viktor, mel, jayce, vi, caitlyn, ekko, jinx

summary: how they spend valentine's day with you 💘 straight up fluff really.

a/n: a bit late because i was hanging out with my friends out of town and didn't get home to post this at a reasonable time. hope you guys enjoy!

divider used by @/saradika-graphics !!!

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VIKTOR

a date at the botanical gardens! :3

taking walks with you around piltover has always been one of his favorite ways to unwind, so spending the day in a calm, sunny, pretty spot just seems right

you guys are holding hands and exploring the vast expanse of greenery

there's an insect exhibit, and rumor has it they have cricket delicacies on a stick...

he'll teasingly ask you if you're brave enough to take a bite

if you go along with it, he'll do it too

takes the prettiest candid pics of you ever

the curse of a 'bf who takes the most awful photos of you' does not exist with viktor

he's a perfectionist, and you can never look less than, in his opinion

he shows you the photos later, all shy and nervous and you're losing your mind at how he managed to capture everything so beautifully

"it's easy. you're always beautiful to me. capturing a second of it is no trouble. i just wish i could live every frame of you again over and over."

back in your shared apartment, he's organizing the layout for the next chapter in his photo album of you

you've started your own filled with photos of him

you guys go through them at the end of every year to reminisce on memories

the night unwinds with a glass of sweet wine and reading together by the fire, eventually falling asleep all cozied up on the couch <3

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ MEL

spa day

facial, manis, pedis, the whole package

a day of pampering her beloved!

she wants you to look and feel your best

the best type of love can be self-love, after all

after the spa, she takes you to an orchestral concert featuring renown musicians from the city and beyond

she's booked you both your own private balcony where you can watch the performance from the comfort of privacy and plenty of courses catered to your tastes

there's a gift exchange at home to top off the perfect day

you'd been agonizing on what to get her

councilor medarda? the brains, beauty, and vision of success? what could you give her that she can't simply buy when she feels like it?

you ended up making her gift. a jar decorated with fairy lights and resin'd petals on the outside, and filled with handwritten notes from you

the messages range from cheesy pickup lines to affirmations of how much you love her, and reminders for her to take a break

you also put together a small folder of tickets

each ticket reads something like "movie night", "dinner of your choice, on me", "painting date", etc. etc.

whenever she feels down, she can just pick one and you'll drop whatever you're doing and spend the rest of the day dedicated to that, and to her

she loves you and you love her so much

it's sickening. tooth rotting, even. definitely acts of service and quality time here

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JAYCE

cooking together is a love language. sharing food that you've made together? hooray! how romantic is that?

especially if it's a cultural exchange of food

he's teaching you to make his mamá's birria tacos and rambling about parts of his childhood in the kitchen, helping her out

you're listening with a silly smile on your face

an expression of pure lovesickness

he's moving around the place with such ease, and the smell of comfort is heavenly

then it's your turn to walk him through something from your culture, and talk about your own stories associated with the dish/dessert/drink (whatever it is you wanna make)

me personally, i'll be making some bánh xèo (it's like a vietnamese crepe! very savory, very yummy)

half your plate is your food, and the other is jayce's birria tacos

cleanup can be dealt with later

right now, there's good food and better company to be have

it's a shared learning opportunity and serves to strengthen your bond :-)

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VI

she's picking you up from your house first thing

ready with a "good morning!", kiss on the cheek, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers

wrapped in paper, of course <3

if you have chocolates for her, she'll melt right then and there in your arms

or maybe even chocolate covered strawberries you put together yourself!

you two are heading right to the arcade

paintball gets competitive. and messy

go clothes shopping for each other after

it's a chance for her to indulge in something she usually doesn't, and you get the chance to spoil your favorite girl in the whole world

she appreciates that you love her style and who she is and doesn't try changing who she is. because of that, she trusts you to help style her

once you're both newly out in some new clothes and kicks, you guys hit the highway

windows down, blasting your favorite songs and singing along at the top of your lungs

i love vi, i wish women were real :(

she's my favorite alongside viktor. AUGH.

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ CAITLYN

what's the point of having money and an influential family if not to rent out places, like a whole bookstore? or a planetarium? a movie theater, even

all of the above, and more

maybe not in that order though

the bookstore is first. you both buy each other a book you think the other will like and promise to keep each other updated on your progress

the movie theater next

speaking of movies, i saw heart eyes with my friends yesterday! it was a great movie, i enjoyed it a LOT more than i initially thought

so glad to have been proven wrong

you guys watch some good ol' romance movies (10 things i hate about you, la la land, the princess bride, etc.)

planetarium! sick as fuck

you're spending the entire day wrapped up in each other and your shared interests

some warm tea and sweet kisses for the winding down as you're watching the sunset

sigh. oh to be in love...

she isn't a kiramman today. not captain, officer, on-duty caitlyn kiramman

she's just your beloved cait, caitlyn

the headstrong, passionate, and protective woman who has your entire heart

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ EKKO

in an opposite direction of caitlyn's, but no less loving

money can buy certain happiness but it's not always necessary

art date where you guys stay home and paint each other with the variety of art supplies he's gathered over the years

ekko's an artist through and through

his mural of vi in the alternate universe? oh i'm in love.

the paintings are getting hung up wherever there's space on your guys' wall because the space is FILLED with posters, artwork, memorabilia, magazine and news pages, etc.

it's a very creative living space

there’s also plenty of plants that litter the windowsills and ledges where sunlight can reach

you guys spent each day of february decorating each plant with something for valentine’s day

the cranes on your ceiling has been joined by spiral hearts

interior decoration could be so romantic. i’d want to do that with someone i love someday

a little walk through the city at night too, but on the rooftops

less people to bother you guys and the aerial view makes it more thrilling

don't fall

he'll catch you regardless

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JINX

you guys spend the day in her air balloon base

she's made you a gift basket!

it's filled with sketches and doodles of you

all colorful and wild and completely her style

she's stitched together a teddy bear plush too, having gone to ask vi and (reluctantly) caitlyn for help with it

you can see all the uneven bits and parts where the stuffing is too much or too little

but it's perfect

she even added a heart with her signature perfume sprayed on it too

like build-a-bear or something

funny, you also got her a gift basket

various gadgets and knick-knacks, and a new tool kit

some sweets you picked up a bakery

soft, fluffy macarons. tiramisu. a matcha strawberry cake that you share

it's a rare treat for a special occasion

cait also gave you some skincare when you went to visit her, so you and jinx had an impromptu skincare session, gossiping and talking about her latest project and relaxing together under the open night sky

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

previous | story masterlist | next

“What took you so long?”

Typical. You’d only just arrived five seconds ago, and Xeno was already making a fuss. You’d spent the better portion of the day running around to try and pick out something just for him, so you were really not in the mood to be snapped at.

You pressed your lips together, incapable of hiding your scowl. “My apologies, Prince Xeno. I was just out in town looking for a treat to bring along with me. I didn’t know what your preferences were, so it took me a while to find something.”

“You were… picking something out for me?” he blinked, eyes darting down to the box in your hands.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I was lucky enough to stumble across a patisserie. The lady working there told me you were rather fond of strawberry shortcake, so I brought a few with me.”

“Strawberry shortcake?!”

His tone rapidly spiked, and an excited glint passed through his eyes. Looking at him right now, he was sort of like a hyper puppy. It almost made you forget his previous rudeness. Almost.

“You’re welcome to help yourself once we’ve sat down,” you smiled.

Xeno nodded eagerly, grabbing the box out of your hands and taking long strides through the foyer. You followed behind him, trekking corridor past corridor, until he finally stopped in front of a door. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure how the royals managed living here. The palace was beautiful, there was no question about it, but it was just so needlessly massive. It must be so tiring having to walk all over to get where you needed to be.

It was a different room than the one you’d been in last time you were here, quite a bit bigger and with large windows that allowed for plenty of light. There was a tea set already laid out on the coffee table by the seating area, which would pair perfectly with the sweets you’d picked out.

“Grab a seat,” Xeno told you, and you happily obliged. It was a welcome respite after walking through town for hours.

He wasn’t paying much attention to you, much more in favor of opening the box and staring down at the pastries with a sort of childlike awe. It looked like the lady working the counter certainly hadn’t lied to you. It was actually rather cute how excited he seemed. You watched, a bit mystified, as he completely disregarded the cutlery beside him and popped nearly half of a whole pastry into his mouth.

“Pfft!” you couldn’t help but giggle, and immediately, Xeno was glaring daggers in your direction.

He flashed you an accusing look. “What? What’s the problem?”

“N-Nothing,” you chuckled. “I’m sorry for laughing. I just thought you seemed to be really enjoying it. You tried to shove the whole thing in your mouth…”

“They aren’t that big,” he insisted, growing a bit red in the face. “They’re easier to eat this way.”

“I suppose it just caught me by surprise. Do you eat like this when you’re in public as well?”

“You’re implying that I have no manners.”

“What? I would never!”

Xeno’s blush showed no sign of disappearing. You were probably being a little rude by teasing him, but it was the first time he’d ever let his guard down around you. You wanted to savor the moment for just a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t eat like this if there were other people around,” he scoffed. “But it’s only you.”

“Oh. Am I not important enough?”

“You know what I mean.” He paused for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “The first time we met, you seemed to be quite nervous. But now you’re more than happy to make fun at my expense.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you grinned. “I’m done now. I promise.”

“Are you?”

“I think so. Probably.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Maybe it was just your imagination, but he didn’t look as annoyed as he normally was, even considering your light banter. Those strawberry shortcakes were practically a godsend. Now that you aware of one of his weaknesses, you would most definitely be abusing it in the future.

Truth be told, you’d been kind of looking forward to having some of these desserts as well, but seeing the way Xeno kept scarfing them down with that innocent expression of his made it a little difficult to do so. Well, it was fine. If they made him this happy, you could leave him the rest.

Mid-bite, he glanced over at you. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

“I’m alright,” you politely refused. “I do like them, but I don’t want to steal your favorite dessert from you.”

“You’re leaving the rest for me?”

“Well, I did pick them out for you anyways. If I ever get a craving, I can just buy some for myself another day.”

“So I can have all of them?”

“Yes, of course.”

He looked even more pleased now. And was that a hint of a smile you noticed creeping onto his lips?

“This was a good choice,” Xeno said, and you realized that was probably the closest thing you would get to a thank you. It made you feel a little proud of yourself. Maybe he would be a bit nicer after this. You would bribe him with strawberry shortcake from now on if that’s what it took.

While Xeno continued stuffing his cheeks, you helped yourself to some of the tea that had been laid out. It was a delicious blend, though you’d expect nothing less from royalty. Although you were fairly hungry, watching Xeno eat with so much enthusiasm was satiating in its own way.

He eventually finished, and cleared his throat, his stern expression returning. It was a little difficult to take him seriously though, on account of the leftover whipped cream that had collected just above his lip. You considered telling him about it, but you didn’t want to embarrass him. It was also quite funny.

“I understand that you took the time to bring me something to eat, but try not to be late again in the future,” Xeno frowned. “You should plan out your day better so that these things don’t happen anymore.”

It appeared as though his good mood was only present whenever he was consuming strawberry shortcake. Duly noted.

“I will make sure that it never happens again.”

“Good.”

Xeno didn’t say anything else, and silence soon filled the room. Besides focusing on the little froth of whipped cream on his face, there was little you could do to keep from fidgeting uncomfortably. Although you knew that he was an intelligent, capable young man, you wondered how he’d managed to maintain his reputation given how terrible his social skills were. Granted, nobody ever described the Crown Prince as being kind and charismatic, but for the most part, they didn’t speak ill of him either. Or maybe they were just too afraid to.

You offered him a smile, desperate to fill the silence. “Um, Prince Xeno? I was hoping to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

“Well, forgive me if I’m prying too far, but I was wondering what you were trying to say when we met for the first time. You described your former marriage candidate, Annalisa Tybalt, as being filthy. What did you mean by that?"

You were honestly dying to know, especially since she’d glared you down the day of the engagement announcement and had most likely been spreading those rumors about you. She was clearly jealous of your position, you understood that much, but you wondered what she’d done so wrong that Xeno seemed to despise her so much.

“Oh,” Xeno scoffed, his nose scrunching up in distaste. “You’re asking about her. There isn’t really much to explain. I meant just what I said. She is a filthy, vile person. She came in that day wearing thick, pungent perfume that still couldn’t hide her nauseating scent. Her pretentious tone and even the look in her eyes… all of it was just disgusting,” he shuddered. “To be honest, I would really rather not talk about this any longer. I’m starting to feel sick.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

He was either lying and not telling you the full story, or he’d really been that repulsed by her. Come to think of it, he’d turned down countless marriage candidates up until now. You wondered if they’d all been given the same treatment as Annalisa, and if so, what made you different from the rest of them?

You wanted to ask, but you held back from doing so.

“There’s no need to worry,” Xeno mumbled, as if reading your mind. “I don’t feel that way about you. You wouldn’t be sitting here with me if that was the case.”

“Ah… yes,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I’m tolerable. Right?”

“Yes. You are.”

Oh, what a way he had with words. This was exactly the type of romance you’d been dreaming of all your life.

Xeno suddenly stood up, thankfully surprising you enough that you stopped from rolling your eyes. “Just a moment,” he said. “I think I’ll go bring out one of my chess sets. You will play with me.”

There was clearly no room for debate, but even now, you couldn’t keep from staring at his upper lip. The whipped cream was still there, bobbing in place every time he opened his mouth to speak.

“Um, Prince Xeno?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“There’s just… uh, what I mean to say is…”

“Well? Out with it already.”

You sighed and stood up beside him, then reached out to pick up the dollop of cream with your index finger. “There was some leftover from the shortcakes,” you said, holding up your finger so that he could see for himself. You then proceeded to lap your tongue over the pad of your finger, relishing in the feel of the sweet cream melting in your mouth.

“Yum,” you said simply.

Xeno was gaping at you, a violent blush rising to his cheeks. “Did—Did you just—?!”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t get to eat any, so…”

His lips moved soundlessly, incapable of forming any words. He turned away from you almost right away, muttering something under his breath while searching for the chess set in a clumsy, robotic manner.

You snickered, very pleased with yourself.

The rest of the meeting was predictable enough. After your little whipped cream stunt from earlier, he’d gone completely icy, refusing to make practically any small talk. You didn’t really mind it because it essentially meant that you’d won. You would never be able to forget that indignant, flustered look on his face.

When it came to chess, however, you certainly did not win.

Xeno was far too skilled for you to even stand a chance, and you considered yourself to be—for the most part—a fairly clever person. Needless to say, that didn’t stop him from beating you in back-to-back games. You wondered if you were even entertaining him somewhat, or if it was like playing against a toddler.

“You’re certainly mastered this game,” you remarked, a bit frustrated with your string of losses.

Xeno just shook his head. “There is always room for improvement.”

“Oh, of course. I just meant that you’re much better than I am. I will try to practice before the next time we meet up, so that I might improve a little.”

“You will need more than a bit of practice to hold a candle to me,” he muttered. He stared at you for a few moments, then let out a begrudging sigh. “But, yes… there is nothing wrong with trying to learn and better your skills. With some discipline, you can certainly improve. I’ve met far worse players than you before, in any case.”

Another compliment! Well, Xeno’s version of a compliment, at least. You would take that for now. In addition to acing Lucius’ next test, it looked like you were going to have to add improving at chess onto your to-do list as well.

“I’ve gotten quite bored though,” he shamelessly admitted. “You aren’t very good yet.”

“Ah. Right.”

“I think this is a good stopping point for today. I still have a lot of work to do, so you are free to leave now.”

And then he was practically shooing you, waving you off with the back of his hand. It sort of felt like a slap to the face, considering you hadn’t even been here very long yet and you’d spent half your day picking out his strawberry shortcake, but he certainly had a way of depleting your energy. It was probably for the best.

“Thank you for having me,” you said, bowing your head politely. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Prince Xeno. I hope you did as well.”

“It was fine.”

“Right… well, then. Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

You flashed him one last smile before stepping out the door, letting out a sigh the second it closed behind you. Great. He hadn’t even sent you off with any servants to help escort you around the palace. You were going to have to find your way around this massive place all by yourself.

“It was fine, he says,” you muttered under your breath. “Coming from the guy who was practically drooling over the strawberry shortcakes I brought him. And who nearly had a panic attack after I wiped whipped cream off his face with my finger.”

You spent the next few minutes quietly bitching about him, all the while trying to figure out where the hell you were going. A couple of times you did see a few maids leaving the rooms they’d been cleaning, but they turned the corner just as you were about to ask them for directions.

Come on, now. I may be directionally challenged, but I’m sure I can figure this out.

You let out a spirited huff, determined to find your way. Of course, five minutes later, you found yourself staring at the very same door you’d first come out of.

A chuckle filled the corridor. “Are you lost?”

You turned around, finding yourself face-to-face with Hyatt. He was smiling, the way he always did. You still weren’t all that familiar with him, but he’d been very nice to you the evening of the engagement announcement. He’d helped bring you food. Anyone who did that was a good person in your book.

“Hello, Prince Hyatt,” you smiled back. “Yes, I regret to admit that I am in fact lost. Would you mind showing me the way out of the palace?”

He frowned. “Hey, didn’t I tell you that you didn’t need to bother with all those formalities around me? Just Hyatt is fine.”

“Oh… okay, Hyatt. Could I please have a moment of your time?”

“You’re leaving already?”

“Well, yes. I got here a while ago to spend time with your brother.”

“And how did that go?” he mused.

“It was… interesting.”

“Ha-ha!” He quickly placed a palm over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Judging by your expression, it sure seems like it.”

You nervously glanced towards the door. “It wasn’t that bad. Plus, I brought along some strawberry shortcake and it was quite amusing to see how excited he was about it. I’d rather not go into detail about it right here, though. I’m worried he’ll hear me gossiping about him and get angry.”

“Okay, no worries. Just follow me.”

You smiled appreciatively. It really was amazing how completely different two siblings could be. Never mind their contrasting appearances, but even their personalities couldn’t be more polar opposite to one another. At first, you assumed that Hyatt was the one you’d be getting engaged to. While there was certainly no changing the past, you couldn’t help but feel like things would be a lot simpler if that was the case. Besides, no matter how thrilled your parents were about you one day becoming the Queen, it wasn’t exactly something you’d been dreaming of. You already led a good life. Between power and love, you would happily choose love.

“[Name]?” Hyatt frowned. “Is something wrong?”

You blinked. “Oh, no. Sorry. I was zoning out for a bit.”

“I guess my brother really did a number on you.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “It was just interesting, for lack of a better word.”

“No, there are plenty more suitable words, but I would certainly get in trouble if I was to use them.”

Hyatt laughed again, and you realized that you’d finally made it back to the main foyer. You let out a sigh, thankful that this tiring day had finally come to an end. You would enjoy a nice bubble bath the second you got home.

“Thank you for leading the way,” you smiled, bowing your head slightly. “I know you said to act less formal, but I’m sure you had better things to do than help me find my way back. I appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure,” he reassured you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Alright. I should be heading out now then.”

You started waving goodbye, but just as you were about to turn and leave, you felt a hand clamp down on your wrist. You glanced back at him, brows furrowed.

“Yes? Was there something else?”

“Ah, my bad,” he chuckled, quickly letting go. “I just had a sudden thought. I’m actually going to be free later this week, and I was wondering if you might want to go on a little date together.”

“A date?”

Surely you must have heard him wrong. He did know you were already engaged to his brother, right?

“Oh, maybe that wasn’t exactly the right wording,” he realized, contemplating what he’d just said. “I meant that I was going to be going out into town, and was wondering if you’d be interested in joining me. Just as friends,” he quickly added. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You weren’t exactly friends, either. This was only your second time speaking to him. He was clearly a very friendly person, but you weren’t sure if going out alone with him would reflect well on yourself and your family.

“I don’t know if that would be such a good idea,” you admitted. “I mean… even if it’s just to spend some time together and get to know each other a little better, people would talk. I am engaged to your brother, after all. I’m just not sure it would be proper.”

“But that’s exactly the thing,” he insisted. “We’re brothers. Why wouldn’t I want to be on good terms with my brother’s future wife? We’re going to be family one day. I don’t see what’s so wrong with it.”

“I guess so, but—”

“Seriously, I promise that you have nothing to worry about. Xeno wouldn’t mind, and my parents certainly wouldn’t mind either. It’ll be fun! So, what do you say?”

His big, blue eyes were staring at you so expectantly. You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. He was right, anyways. You were practically family. You’d definitely feel a lot more comfortable having a close friend around the palace as well.

“Alright,” you conceded. “But only as long as your family is okay with it.”

“You have my word.”

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[drownedinlavender]

i’d love to see your perspective on how other cartman-related ships could play out and dynamics !!

(stanman and kenman blinks at you sweetly)

(wanted for come off anon for this one :3)

Omg hiii, Lemon!! ヾ(˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶)

Yes, I love Stanman, Kenman, and Buttman!!! (hehehe what a tragic ship name lol) obviously not as much as Kyman since that's my OTP but I still find them very cute!!

Kenman is one of the most obvious ones on the list. They already have a great dynamic going on! Good examples of their dynamic are:

In the episode “The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs” when Cartman just casually suggests killing that one famous person and Kenny shrugs like, “okay.” as if to say, “I got nothing better to do, sure,” is SO funny to me. They both work really well together in the sense that they're both the more morally grey (apart from Mysterion where it seems Kenny really channels a strong sense of justice. When he's just himself, he's really down for whatever). In that aspect, I think Kenny would be such a ride or die for Cartman. They'd be partners in crime like they were in the episode “DikinBaus Hot Dogs.”

I also LOVE the aspect that Cartman is the only one that's ever remembered Kenny's deaths. (A lot of people speculate that it's because Cartman ate Kenny's ashes but, nah, Cartman knew about Kenny's deaths since before that). I think him knowing about Kenny's immortality would add such a great dynamic for the ship. Kenny could have someone he could talk about it with, someone that knows. And Cartman’s inability to take anything seriously would probably add to them having a lot of inside jokes about it lol. Kenny would feel alone and he'd be able to cope using humor.

I also love the fact that both Kenny and Cartman are the two boys in the show that have crossdressed the most out of all of them, and willingly, too. They have both chosen to play the girl in multiple times such as Cartman playing Bad Irene in the wrestling episode and Kenny being princess Kenny. So I think the two would LOVE getting together and critiquing Drag Race lmaooo they'd eat that shit up.

Buttman is the other ship that seems more obvious for Cartman since they already spend so much time together. There are so many episodes of them interacting. It's mainly Cartman just dunking on Butters and Butters getting back at Cartman like in the “AWESOME-O.”

I think an underrated dynamic to explore is that, from the whole Weiners Out debacle in season 20, it seems that Cartman has to keep Butters in check otherwise Butters is capable to become the new Cartman. This same theme also shows back up in Post Covid where Butters becomes a NFT scam trader. He and Cartman have a lot in common. Butters is also seen constantly dunking on others and backing up Cartman when he's being a dick.

I think Buttman would be so gossipy together lol. I think they'd love to talk about others for hours. They could make a very dangerous duo if they both team up and work together for a scheme but I also like the idea of Butters keeping Cartman somewhat in check since, even though Butters is also unhinged, he is less unhinged than Cartman by a long shot Lolol

Stanman is the one that people would least expect but I still totally love because of their dynamic! I find it very cute!

Cartman cares about Stan. Despite loving quarantine and wanting the pandemic to continue, he ultimately gave the Pangolin to the scientist so they could find a cure for Covid because Stan cried. All Stan had to do was cry and Cartman actually picked Stan over what Cartman himself wanted. He also helped Stan with the cows in “Fun With Veal.”

Cartman has also shown to want to be liked by Stan and to want to hang out with Stan just by himself without the others as shown in the episode where they broke the damn with a boat. Cartman looks up to Stan and sees him as the main character. Cartman was also shown to visit Stan at the farm to vent.

I think Stanman would be the most wholesome Cartman ship out of them all tbh. Just because if they were romantic, I could see it being from Cartman having a genuine crush on Stan and being, like, actually kind to him instead of such a little insufferable shit lmaoo. I think he would genuinely want to be liked by him so he'd be on his best behavior around Stan and Stan could easily stop Cartman from doing something in turn. He'd be able to tame Cartman more easily since Cartman actually cares what Stan thinks of him. I think because of this Cartman would be sweeter if they were dating and would be there for Stan during Stan’s depression. I think hed genuinely try to help Stan at least by giving him company.

Cartman has also been shown to love to write and produce music in multiple episodes like Stan so they could both write music together and I think that could be so sweet and romantic. They could both really bond over it.

And that concludes my long ass essay on Cartman ships between the main five 🤣🤣 omg dude I'm so sorry if I didn't even answer specifically what you asked akhsksjska I want on ramble with this one lolol

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

I spun the wheel and got lucky. Then my mojo left me and I spun the wheel again. And even though the prompts are all lovely, I only had enough mojo left in me for one. Lou. Lou Bloom. And because I don't know how to keep things short, this thing got bigger than I've planned. Oops. Happy Valentine's Day 💘

heart shaped weirdness - Lou Bloom x reader

tw: Lou cosplaying as a normal person 🥰 what else is new, mentions of masturbation, mentions of canon typical violence (no main character death, don't worry), mentions of the Black Dahlia murder, not beta'd we die like heros

wc: 1.5k oops

You suspect that he likes you. He’s not as harsh to you than he is to his other employees. He also picks you for those shifts when he’s out on the hunt. He picks you specifically to join him. He gives you gooseflesh all over, not in the sexy kind of way though.

If you could work tonight, Lou asked earlier, his voice so sweet it almost clogged your phone speakers.

“But it’s Valentine's Day?” You didn't exactly have a plan for tonight, maybe stuffing your face, maybe rubbing one out. Probably both, because god damn, spending Valentine's Day as a single was no fun and you had to treat yourself with the simple pleasures life had to offer.

And spending the night in a car with Lou, always chasing the next gruesome accident or crime? Definitely not a simple pleasure.

“If I recall correctly, you are single. So please, be ready at 8, It'll pick you up,” he chirped and you knew exactly how his mouth twists into one of those practiced smiles while he talked.

“Fine,” you surrendered and ended the call before he could. A Valentine's Day shift. Maybe there'd be heart shaped murders. Heart shaped accidents. Heart shaped shootings in bars. Ah yes, love was in the air tonight, you already knew it.

8 pm sharp you leave your apartment building, looking out for one of the vans you usually use for work. But there’s none. You look around and then you spot him. Leaning against the hood of his flashy sports car stands Lou. Kind of dolled up, like he just had a business meeting. Or a date? He lifts his hand and waves, one of those sugar crust smiles on his face.

“You look nice,” he says and you almost laugh. You are in your work attire: faded out jeans and a hoodie.

“The only thing nice about me is that I took a shower. But thanks.”

You get a scowl from him, a flash of a scowl, a little bit of the sugar crust smile crumbling already. “Cut the attitude. And work on your ability to accept compliments.” He holds the door open for you, the passenger door.

“I’m not driving?” You always drive. It was your job. Your brows pinch together and his lips thin into a line. More sugar is crumbling.

“Not tonight, and for sure not my car. Get in.”

He watches you climb into his car and his eyes roll in their sockets but he quickly wipes the annoyance off his face when you finally sit down and look at him expectantly. God, it was not easy with you. You were so… mouthy. It was as exciting as much as it was getting on his nerves.

This was supposed to be a nice night. He was really trying to woo you. He googled it. He even had the checklist jotted down in his notebook. ‘Pick them up, preferably with a nice car' - check. ‘Compliment their appearance’ - check. He is doing it correctly, the wooing. Why do you have to be so defiant?

“Lou?” You raise your brows, looking at your boss and wait for him to finally get into the car, too. You just want get it over with. There were leftovers from your favorite Indian place in your fridge. You could be masturbating right now. If it wasn’t for Lou fucking Bloom.

“Attitude,” he warns, scowling once more before he gets into his car as well. You don't know when, but at one point in your work relationship you learned that he hated it when you were bratty. And you were having a field day with being bratty since then. It comes easy, you are a natural.

Sometimes he lashes out when you go too far. But that was nothing the well calculated use of wet, wide eyes and a stuttered ‘sorry’ couldn't fix. He always caves in. That's why you suspect he likes you. Because he sometimes lets you pull one of his many strings.

When the engine starts purring and Lou pulls from the curb you look to the backseats. Nothing. No camera, no battery packs, no lighting.

You glance at Lou. One hand on the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road, one finger resting against the corner of his mouth. He is weird but tonight he is extra weird. Maybe Valentine's Day got to him. Heart shaped weirdness.

“Where's the equipment?”

“In the trunk.”

“Why?”

He turns towards you and forces a sugary smile on his face. “Because I put it there.”

A smartass attempt at being funny. You can appreciate that. It adds to his… odd charme.

“You're getting better with the jokes, boss,” you say and when he shoots you a look because of your sarcastic tone he catches you smiling. Genuinely smiling.

‘Make them laugh' - check.

There was nothing to do, no cameras to be prepped, no radio chatter to be deciphered. No smalltalk to be had because smalltalk with Lou was a painful thing. You already talked about everything smalltalk worthy before and it has left you feeling bare. Like he knew everything about you and all you knew about him was his name and his goal of being influential.

Sometimes he tries it again, the chatting, and asks you about your true crime fascination, your favorite murders and mysteries. But there’s only so much to tell, so much to talk about. You wordlessly agreed on only talking if it was necessary one night, after you squirmed under his never ending questions about food allergies, immediately followed up by the question how exactly the Black Dahlia was dismembered. Only to be topped off with a question about your menstrual cycle, because you seemed to be having PMS that night. You snapped at him, he snapped back. Trouble in paradise. Lou didn’t get what your problem was. He googled it afterwards. Turns out he was acting inappropriate. Bullshit. He was attentive.

The silence between you was somewhat comfortable tonight. Something is in the air though, this much you can tell. Lou reeks of that something. You can almost taste it on your tongue, this sticky something he is trying to hide behind his sugar crust grimace.

His smile seems to stretch with every mile adding to the mileage counter. Until he pulls into a quieter street. And then another one. And a last one. The engine dies and Lou turns towards you with a proud grin. The car parks in a quiet neighborhood, countless single story houses strung together like greyish-yellow teeth in the jaw of a skull.

He says nothing, he just smiles at you, proudly and boyish. The sticky something, this was it. Whatever it actually is. Heart shaped fucking weirdness, you think to yourself when you look at Lou.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says and somewhere down the empty street a dog barks.

You blink several times, your eyes finally narrowing, the confusion written all over your face. ‘Surprise them’ - check. Oh, he could check all of the boxes tonight, Lou just knew it.

“Wait here,” he says and scrambles out of the car, you have never seen him less graceful and more excited. And you have seen this man mighty excited. About blood and guts in places they don't belong. Maybe this was a good moment to start worrying.

But then he slides back into the driver's seat, a basket on his lap. The scent of butter chicken reaches your nose.

‘Get their favorite foods for a picnic' - check.

“You got me food?” That was… that was actually really nice of him.

“Obviously.” He rummages in the basket and produces cutlery and take away boxes, even napkins and a can of your favorite seltzer. You are stunned and his sugary smile gets even wider. “Do you know where we are?”

Balancing the food on your knees you look outside again. The only thing remarkable was a ‘no parking’ sign in front of the house across the street. You shake your head, still amazed by Lou’s surprise picnic.

“They found her here.”

“Found… who exactly?” Oh. Oh, he didn't. Or did he?

He nods his head when he sees the slow realization in your eyes. “The Black Dahlia. Right over there.” He gestures to the front lawn of that one house.

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes again. “Oh fuck off!” You shove the food container back into his hands and exit the car in no time. In the orange light of the street lamp you cross the narrow street, the dog barking again.

‘Take them to a secret place for an extra big surprise' - check. The wooing is completed.

Lou watches you for a moment before he gets out of the car, joining you while you examine a patch of grass like a dog, almost sniffing and digging it. God, you are so weird, he thinks.

“Best Valentine's Day ever,” you murmur and crouch down to place a hand on the ground. You look over your shoulder, Lou towering over you with his weird big bug eyes. He looks cuter now, somehow. “Thank you!”

“You're welcome,” he replies nonchalantly but his proud smile gives him away. There is another checklist in his notebook. 5 steps to get her to jerk you off. “Happy Valentine's Day, Lou,” he mutters under his breath, continuing to watch you. Like he always does.

Thanks for reading until the end. I will post this separately soon-ish. Happy Valentine's Day!!

[edit: you can find the fic here]

jake boys - valentine's edition

how are we feeling about another round of spin the wheel activities, dear Jake delegation? and yes, they are heart shaped and taste of sugar.

Rules:

spin this wheel and get your boy(s)

spin this wheel and get your date(s)

share your results in the comments or reblogs or tags, please sate my curiosity

let us know in the poll how happy you are with your valentine

(bonus points if you're feeling inspired and want to share your thoughts about your results, like people did here)

a huge shout-out to my baby @gyllenhaalstories who helped me with basically all of this. ilysm 💖

you can look up former community shenanigans here

Shamelessly tagging the crew (hit me up if you want me to stop annoying you):

@gyll-yee-haw @gyllenhaal-j @charliehoennam @cassiopeia-grimm @jennaajoseph

@davidayer @det-loki @gyllenflower @ascorpionstale

@anunusers @frozen-hearts-club @caffeineplusmypen @gyllencevans8 @greenparadiseperry

The crew=every blog that comes across my dash and interacts with Jake content. If we've never talked: hi! If you want to be part of the crew, dm me. ✨🫶🏻

divider: @saradika-graphics

[ghosts-and-glory]

Gonna be honest, no idea what that last asker was talking about when they said Narinder deserved purgatory more. The guy is messed up, don't get me wrong, but the sheep genocide was completely out of his control. There isn't even any evidence that he got locked up for anything other than inventing a way to revive followers!

Narinder is much more palatable than the bishops and the fandom tends to forget that making him pissy/angry all the time is actually pretty ooc (ESPECIALLY considering the time it took between updates). He liked you as a god, he was mad for a while as a follower, AND THEN HE SAID HE RESPECTED YOU AS A GOD BEFORE YOU EVEN FULLY FINISHED HIS QUEST LINE!

Tldr; Narinder isn't as bad as the bishops, torture is cringe unless it's character building :)

That cat spent a thousand years being punished, let him rest. He’s been punished for his betrayal, a thousand years of it. During the game his crime is trying to escape a prison that he would never be allowed out of. He’s given no opportunity to reform, no time to rest and no end in sight.

I do enjoy it when follower Narinder is a bitch, I just want him to be mean to me is that too much to ask?

I’m a chronic adhd rambler and I hate scrolling by long posts. More thoughts on Narinder under the cut.

I do think this bit of dialogue is telling.

If you resurrect he seems to imply that resurrection is what started him towards his betrayal. He points out specifically that that there are no other gods to stop you from playing with life and death, this action makes him see himself in The Lamb. His reaction to the funeral is more reserved. Maybe he’s disappointed, maybe he feels some level of relief that you wouldn’t repeat his actions, maybe a bit of both.

And there’s his dialogue after his defeat.

I was originally gonna say something about his murder dialogue but I got distracted by how fucked up he is. Narinder, baby, I know you’re the god of death but begging to die is not normal.

But yeah the point that he seems to respect the Lamb’s godhood kinda supports my game theory that the Lamb is more death than Narinder. At the end of his godhood Nari was corrupt, driven by revenge and power. Depending on your actions as the Lamb you are now either walking the same corrupt path as he did, respecting the natural order of life and granting rest, or a bit of both.

I do think its easiest to love Narinder out of all of the npcs in the game. Yeah okay he’s evil in that good tumbly sexler man kinda way but he’s also the character with the most content. He has the most dialogue, you meet with him the most, he’s got the hardest boss battle with unique mechanics. I get why he’s the fan favourite and why people like Narilamb, what gayer than being character foils? Nothing.

He’s my little meow meow and I’m mean to him cause I love him. Mwah.

[natashasbanner]

And another thing, these trials are all fun and games to Rio (obviously because there aren't any real stakes for her) right up until Agatha's about to get her feelings hurt. How very "still in love with my ex-wife" of her.

[sukibenders]

Racism and misogynoir are so apparent in fandom, especially when it comes to shipping because why is it when a white male, sometimes female but I see it more with the former, character is on screen with a love interest, particularly woc, especially if they're black, and even with all the emotional scenes or just moments where they look at one another in ways different from the rest, it's met with "No, they aren't dating/the show is not going to put them together" but let the other love interest be white as well and suddenly it all makes sense? Heck, the examples I mentioned above don't even have to exist between the latter for some to STILL go and believe this rhetoric (eg. some Jace and Helaena shippers because, even if these two only interacted with a dance but yet we see Baela console Jace, after he seeks her out, apparently it's to far fetched to believe that Jacela could be a thing?!)

Sometimes it could be a headcanon that, largely, would make sense (and oftentimes was birth due to lack of respect that the poc characters could have been given by the writers *cough* TVD *cough*), and yet you'd still have people dismissing it left and right and spewing hate. At a HEADCANON! And I'm not saying that just because the other person in the ship is poc that you have to ship them, I'm not, but it's very apparent to many poc fans in fandom that unless the characters are swapping spit and doing the nasty, the possibility of them being viewed in any romantic lens feels too much of stretch even though their white counterparts don't have to jump through the same loops.

[ruvviks]

it's been a hot sec since i've talked about cyberpunk and i was initially working on a fic that would tell the story of this whole thing, but i've abandoned it many months ago and cannot say when i'll be picking it up again SO! i've decided to instead make this timeline. sorry in advance for how much information is in this thing the cyberpunk extended blorboverse essentially refers to the story parallel to the in-game events of cyberpunk 2077 that @mojaves and i came up with. we don't really have a better name for it but at this point the term has been used so many times that i feel like everyone here knows what it is by now, but at the same time we've never really explained the full scope of what the story is by now (it's a lot sorry). so in an attempt to get you guys a little bit more up to date with it all, here's a semi coherent timeline that describes the core events of the story and every branching story that came out of it! for additional background information, you can check out the following posts (timeline 1 / timeline 2 / timeline 3) to catch up with the continuation of the in-game storyline that's referenced in this timeline, but it's mostly irrelevant to everything here save for a couple of referenced events that cross over between the stories. it all ties together very intricately sorry about that. don't worry too much about it i've included my taglist down below to make sure people who are interested won't miss this post, but feel free to skip over this if it's not your thing! won't be doing a lot of this kind of stuff in the future but i'm trying to get back to the cyberpunk roots so this is kind of like, a good starting point and reference point for later posts!

The story starts in early 2077 and is centered around Sebastian Vidal, gang leader of the Cobras and previous test subject of Arasaka Special Programs (the linked page is a lot of information but gives the most coherent overview of what the branch actually is). The current director of the SERPENT projects, Andrew Colton, and Dr. Alana Cartier, both want him dead, to tie up their last loose end before the rest of Arasaka can find out and shut down Special Programs once and for all.

Over the past months they’ve been hiring various assassins in secret, to try and get Seb killed; however, these assassins keep failing, and their latest attempt lies in the hands of Cassidy Shaffer, an ex-corpo turned assassin with a strong moral code and plenty of experience to his name. With little to work with, as his mysterious client doesn’t give out much information, Cassidy starts with what he thinks is gonna be a quick and easy job– but he ends up hunting after Seb for essentially a year.

During this year, the two men have a series of wild encounters that get more and more insane the longer it goes on; it includes, but is unfortunately not limited to, Cassidy biting off a chunk of Seb’s ear, the two of them running over the highway, the two of them getting handcuffed together and chased by the NCPD then hit by a car right in front of the hospital, and Seb sensually licking blood off Cassidy’s face after having stabbed him when Cassidy wanted to strike at a concert Seb is visiting.

All of it comes to a sudden stop when Cassidy learns his client has been lying to him the whole time, and since he does not appreciate lying clients he ends up jumping sides and teams up with the Cobras to do some cleanup duty in Arasaka Special Programs. He and Seb work together to go after a list of targets to get the still ongoing projects mostly to a halt, while remaining in the shadows themselves as to not draw too much attention their way; and during this collaboration they meet several people from their past, bringing back both good and bad memories.

One of these people is Hanan Chisaka, the Head of Security at Special Programs. She ends up becoming the next test subject of Project Cobra after the last successful subjects, Xavier and Gabriel Mason, end up escaping in the midst of the chaos of Hanako Arasaka’s capture in mid-2077. Once Seb’s best friend and Cassidy’s mentor, she’s now forced to hunt the both of them down; but in their final confrontation she snaps out of the controlled mode Arasaka keeps her in and runs away with them, effectively leaving Special Programs without any test subjects. Another one of these people is Reid Bennett, Cassidy’s ex and ex-coworker back at MaxTac. He still works for the corporation and has been on an ongoing investigation into Arasaka Special Programs; seeing Cassidy alive and well, working together with Seb no less, piques his interest and he continues to look further into the case, which will cause him to make a very big mistake later on in the timeline.

By September 2078, Seb and Cassidy have successfully taken down all their planned targets and retreat back into the shadows, leaving Special Programs with many losses and no test subjects. With the APEX program discontinued a month earlier (incident discussed in this fic, which is a continuation of the in-game events), and Hanako Arasaka recovered and ready to take the corporation back from the hands of her corrupt brother, Special Programs ends up having to retreat for the time being, and cook up a new plan in the background.

Special Programs by this point is run by Andrew Colton, Alana Cartier, and Kaida Akiyama, three players who have been in the game for a long time already in the SERPENT projects’ runtime. Colton and Cartier are married– Cartier used to be married to Seb and cheated on him for a good amount of time when he was still at Arasaka– but their marriage is starting to fall apart. Akiyama has had to watch over Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne for a while during his chase after the Mason twins, which ended up with the twins dead and Hawthorne going into early retirement (Arasaka doesn’t know the twins faked their death and Ambrose is now dating one of them lol), and xe is now determined to help Colton and Cartier get Seb back into Arasaka so the projects can continue.

Cassidy’s initial plan was to leave as soon as the collaboration would come to an end, but he has found his place with the Cobras and instead ends up officially joining them.The next chapter in the story is a more laid-back and easygoing chapter, in which Cassidy learns to be part of real life again, and in which Seb learns to let people get close to him again after spending years trying to convince himself he doesn’t need any help. Over the course of a little over a year (all the way to November 2079), the two grow even closer than they had already done, going on gigs together and, you guessed it, slowly but surely falling in love until they inevitably end up together at the end of it.

Not long after the two get together, Reid returns into Cassidy’s life. He wants to try and be friends again and Cassidy gives him a second chance, though this soon enough turns out to have been a mistake, with Reid trying to create distance between Seb and Cassidy and then going as far as trying to sell Cassidy to Kang Tao (one of the few corporations that have been hunting Cassidy down for a while now) in exchange for his own freedom from MaxTac (where he would have otherwise been stuck at for probably the rest of his life). Naturally, Reid can’t watch Cassidy get tortured for long and leaks his location to the Cobras, who find and free Cassidy and take Reid into captivity instead– he does not get killed, but instead has to sit out some time at a safehouse somewhere in solitude, where he gets to decide what kind of person he wants to be in the future.

This brings us to Elysium; a gorgeous spaceship which was supposed to be a relatively cheap escape from reality for everyone who wanted a refreshing break from Earth, but through Arasaka sponsorship has become just another cash-grab project to compete with the Crystal Palace– and considering the megacorporation has its greasy hands all over it, the secret labs in the spaceship are used for a series of very unethical experiments. Naturally so, it would be the perfect place for Colton to continue his SERPENT projects without the risk of Hanako Arasaka finding out and shutting the place down. He sends forces up to Elysium (obviously after his other attempts at relocating the project to space have failed tremendously, having lost contact with every single crew in the smaller Arasaka stations in orbit around the planet), but since he’s not there himself his cousin (one of the CEOs of Elysium), Maxwell Crane, unbeknownst to Colton, takes control of the SERPENT projects in space instead. From the earlier linked Special Programs page: “Project Eryx used the technology of previous projects, but took a completely new approach in the hosts it used; rather than focusing on the human psyche it attempted to create a new type of cyborg which would lack the humanity that caused previous projects to fail. The Cobra chips were no longer used and the software was instead installed directly onto the host’s mainframe. The flexibility of the new hosts– more robot than human, and in some cases the entire human aspect was lacking altogether– allowed for experimentation with highly advanced cybernetic enhancements and military grade tech and upgrades, turning the test subjects– dubbed ‘prototypes’– into dangerous, unstoppable killing machines.”

Things settle down for Seb and Cassidy, but this moment of peace does not last long. In January 2081 the two find themselves traveling to the spaceship Elysium, to investigate a curious situation in the laboratories– they’ve been hired by Arasaka without their knowledge and it’s a setup to get Cassidy killed and Seb back in Cartier’s control.

While in space, they learn that the secret labs have suffered an outbreak of the above mentioned prototypes. They quickly connect the dots and realize Special Programs is back in the game, and they work together with security guards Aubrey Valentine and Leon dello Russo to try and fix the situation before it gets out of hand. Obviously this fails tremendously and Elysium ends up on a complete lockdown after a ship-wide outbreak, which is eventually contained in late March of that year, with CEO Maxwell Crane dead, leaving only his wife Kinsley Osborn behind.

Elysium continues to exist and is rebuilt after the crisis, and Kinsley Osborn can now finally turn it into the retreat it was always meant to be. Previously, most Elysium employees were to be stuck in space for the rest of their lives; however, with Arasaka out of the picture they are free to leave as they please, which results in a gigantic cut in total employee count in the months that follow.

Seb and Cassidy return to Night City and take Aubrey and Leon with them. Aubrey reunites with his sisters; Becca, James, and Rikki, and soon after his return to the city he opens an LGBTQ+ nightclub called Bodytalk with them, found Downtown, City Center, in June 2081. Not only is it a fun place to hang out at, it’s also his main hub as a fixer, and he starts a collaboration with the Cobras to get business going between the gang and the club; and soon enough it grows into a large and powerful network of connections, which is the foundation on which the rest of the stories are built.

After this point in time, many many more things happen but it would take me another hour or ten to go into full detail of all of that, so instead here’s a quick rundown of some of the other things that Bodytalk gets involved in:

Reid Bennett is handed over to Aubrey and he starts working at the club, and he becomes a very valued employee as well as a good friend to many now that he’s no longer fucking insane

Kaida Akiyama returns from Elysium and shows up to Hanan’s doorstep, to ask for her help with getting out of Arasaka for good; much later on, xe starts working for Bodytalk as well, in an attempt to put xyr past behind xem and become a better person

Urban Dynamite starts performing at the club regularly, and it becomes their home base

Luna Serratos, Cassidy’s ripperdoc friend from all the way back to killing era, gets involved in the Harbinger case from Maelstrom (one of the gang’s most feared members); turns out the Harbinger is in fact Reuben de la Rosa, a by then 22-year-old kid who has ended up in Luna’s care with his friend Noah Telavera after the two got caught up in an explosion. She requests the Cobras’ help with getting Maelstrom to let Reuben go

Officer Michele Diaz from Militech (who used to be Cassidy’s boss) is demoted following the lawsuits after the Elysium incident, and her investigation into the incident in hopes to get her job back leads her to Bodytalk; she begins threatening them and sends the whole club and their allies into uncertain times

Many people get married. There’s so many fucking guys here we went a little insane with the numbers but there’s several weddings and there’s a whole polycule going on too feel free to send asks about this if you’re interested

Cobra Cybernetics releases a new line of cyberware, which is incredibly buggy and dangerous to the public; it’s brought to the club’s attention and it makes them realize that Luiza Vidal (Seb’s sister), who not that long ago asked them to kill her husband (William Colton (Andrew’s brother), CEO of Cobra Cybernetics), has gone missing; they now need to get involved without getting the news out that they actually didn’t kill William and that he is still alive somewhere, while also balancing out dynamics between Biotechnica (angry at Cobra Cybernetics for stealing their designs) and Arasaka (the actual reason why Cobra Cybernetics’ designs look like Biotechnica’s designs, because William stole designs from Special Programs after halting their partnership after the Elysium incident, but these designs had been stolen by Arthur Jenkins from Biotechnica even BEFORE that to be able to hijack the European Space Council’s cybernetics following the Frankfurt incident. Are you still with me)

Vitali Dobrynin (fixer and main character from the in-game events storyline and the continuation of it; Vincent “V” Mayer’s boyfriend) ends up visiting Bodytalk after meeting Aubrey at a Fixer Council meeting, which happens in late 2083; this essentially ties the two main storylines together, which means that yes, a lot of the characters from the two separate storylines end up meeting :]

Officer Ulysses Dimakos (used to work with Reid at MaxTac) is sent to investigate Bodytalk following the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and ends up teaming up with the club to get MaxTac on a dead trail in exchange for his freedom of the corporation

On top of the Bodytalk / Cobras centered storyline, there’s a couple of side stories that are still connected to the whole thing but are more of a standalone thing with only a few touching points to the rest of it all:

This obviously takes place a lot earlier because it’s already mentioned above, but Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne is tasked with chasing after the escaped Mason twins; naturally he lets them go and ends up going into retirement, and Xavier Mason later on ends up becoming Bodytalk’s part-time repair guy on account of knowing Kaida

Gabriel Mason ends up in a car crash with retired security specialist Ames Ortega, who was also in Elysium during the incidents there, and the two end up babysitting Ambrose and Xavier’s kids together while those two are helping Hanan with getting Kaida out of Arasaka (Are you still with me. Blink if you can hear me)

Mercenary Frankie Sayyad gets a promotion from his fixer, Vulture (real name Diana Crane, Maxwell Crane’s older sister and cousin of the Coltons), and becomes one of her Bloodhounds; he works together with Evelyn Harris, Nimue Nkuna, and Beckett Rydel, the latter being one of the very first test subjects of Arasaka Special Programs, and the four accidentally get themselves mixed into a mystery concerning their secretive fixer

Caleb Harris, ex-security at Biotechnica, ends up back at Club Bodytalk not long after the conclusion of the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and starts working for Aubrey; he is partnered up with Ramiel Al-Masri, a mercenary who has been working for Vitali Dobrynin for a while and has recently joined Aubrey’s mercenary roster too, and together they dive into a series of gigs neither of them had expected

Journalist Bodhi Shankar has finally found more evidence and information surrounding the mysterious cult gang Umbra and its so-called Prophet, Thiago Salazar; however, his antics have led to him accidentally becoming part of the gang himself, and he has to figure out a way to get Thiago to stop listening to the supposed deity that the gang worships known as Scintilla, before she makes him do things that will get many people killed

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[moeblob]

New OCs

(briefly, humans and supernatural beings have to team up for building better relations with each other and all the supernaturals can shapeshift and take on human appearances but also have their 'original form'.)

OK so I was GOING to draw fanart today - I had a fun idea and everything! But health anxiety (and anti-anxiety meds) wore me out so I kinda .... slogged through OCs as a treat to me. I am going to go to the doctor tomorrow so HOPEFULLY it's all okay.