#I’M A VERY PRIVATE PERSON. ( mutuals only )

[sungbites]

MARK LEE AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

pairing : bf!mark x gf!reader genre : fluff, est. relationship warnings : so domestic, self insert, crying, kissing, umm mark = best ever synopsis : headcannons that bf!mark would do wc : 1.7k a/n : this is the pure fluff as promised but its also a self insert :3

secretly selfish. mark was selfish but never in the way you would’ve thought. he was selfish in the way that he always wanted to be the person you talked to the most throughout the day. as much as he loved when you would tell him about the day you had without him, part of him wishes that you spent that day with him because he wanted to be with you all the time. the guilt of this selfishness eats him alive so he never tells you, and instead just acts all casual about the day you had without him but a part of you just knows how much he yearns for that. 

his attentiveness. mark had multiple ways of loving you, but there was one in particular. he was such an attentive person that he noticed every little thing about you. when the two of you first starting dating, you were in school and he noticed that you were always in the library day and night so because of that he got you a portable lamp so that you were never bothered with the lack of light. it was those little things that mark noticed that made you fall for him. from fixing your outfit for you to bringing you what you’re craving during your lunch break, he knew you like the back of your hand. 

there would be times where he would pick up on something that you weren’t sure you yourself knew. “you’re doing that thing when you’re upset! oh come on babe” he whined out, dropping his head in your lap as you two cuddled on the couch. you snorted and raised your brows, “i do not have a thing when i’m upset! you’re so dramatic” you teased, running your hand through his hair. he raised his head and looked at you closer, “you do, you do this thing with your eyes.. cmon it’s so noticeable” he said, making you furrow your brows. you shook your head and sighed. “stop making that joke though! my labubus are adorable” you groaned and mark only smiled, sitting up softly to position himself closer to your cheek, “whatever you want” he mumbled, kissing your cheek then your face all over. 

private but never secret. both you and mark were quite open people, so when the two of you started dating there was a mutual agreement to not make your relationship too public where everyone knew about you two. just public enough that everyone knew you were his and he was yours. it remained that way as you two spent more and more time together. occasionally when you would be out with friends, you two would hold your hands underneath the table, your intertwined hands in marks lap as he rubbed circles on the front of your hand. sometimes when you were walking in public, his hand would rest on the small of your back, signifying that he was still close by and right with you. neither of you were ever big on pda so that wasn’t an issue either. despite all these things, everyone just knew the way you looked at one another, grazed hands, and smiled at each other, that you two were together. 

gifts when you least expect it. it wouldn’t ever be a special occasion, but randomly mark would come home with a gift for you. it ranges from a trinket he saw at the convenience store or a necklace so expensive that it could buy a mansion. marks heart was very big, he was a very charitable man but to him, spending money on you wasn’t charitable but rather one of his rights that he had a privilege of doing as your boyfriend. 

you heard the apartment door open and close, signifying that mark had come home after his day out. “hey baby” he sighed, the smile in his voice clear as he made his way to the couch where you sat. you looked up at him from your laptop and smiled, scooting to make room for him. “have fun?” you said, watching as he sat down next to you. he nodded, kissing your cheek. he took a small box out of his jackets inner pocket, looking to you. you already knew and smiled softly, “you didn’t have to, you know that?” you watched him, the biggest smile on his face as he opened the box, revealing a ring with small gems. “yeah but, i wanted to” he mumbled, slipping the ring onto your finger, looking back up to you. “thank you” you mumbled, looking into his eyes. “anything for you” he mumbled back, leaning into you peck your lips. 

quiet nights. there would be days where both you and mark arrive home overstimulated and tired from the day both of you had. for you it would be work and for mark it would be the endless hours he spends in the recording studio. in those nights, the two of you would lead a very quiet night. you silently cooking dinner as mark kept you company, helping you whenever you needed it. he would clean up the kitchen and dishes afterwards as you run a bath for the both of you. the bath would be quiet as well, marks bare chest against your back as he rubs your arms, pecking light kisses against your shoulder. the night would end with the two of you in bed, limbs intertwined as he runs his hand through your hair, getting lost in you. 

“love you” mark mumbles, pressing a kiss on the top of your head as you moved closer to him, your head laying on his chest. “love you too” you mumble back, his soft snores lulling you to sleep. 

laughing at your dumb jokes. you could admit that you weren’t the funniest person ever and mark knew that sometimes you did feel insecure when no one laughs at your jokes. so when the two of you are out with your friends and you say a joke, he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. mark has a very contagious laugh so this makes everyone else laugh as well. you know that sometimes he just laughs because he doesn’t want you to feel alone but that makes it better because he cares about you so much to notice the little things. 

never wanting to be apart. mark and his closest friends would plan a trip atleast once every 3 month but it was always overnight and at least for one weekend. obviously he wouldn’t want to bring you around because his other friends wouldn’t bring their girlfriends since it was strictly only them. when this time came around he would constantly be texting you about anything since he hated being apart from you. you thought it was cute because you missed him as well but he was just so adorable. 

my love: they’re sending me chenle and jeno to the supermarket i can’t believe this  my love: i can’t even cook baby what do i do 

you: just help chenle get what he needs he’ll probably be cooking  you: or you guys could call jaemin

my love: wait ur right  my love: i miss u so bad baby  my love: they’re making me drive maybe i should just abandon them and drive back to town  my love: they can just uber 

you: babe don’t do that TT you: i miss you more my love  you: the cat we feed on the way home also misses u lots 

my love: :(((( my love: the resort place is really nice .. should i ask renjun to send me the link to the airbnb

you: why? if he booked it then you guys can just book again through him 

my love: baby come on my love: my girl deserves to be taken out and spoiled all the time 

you: focus on getting groceries idiot……. 

my love: we WILL bookmark it  my love: hope work is good, missing u so much 

you: work is work babe you: i miss u more  you: but i wouldn’t be opposed to the vacay 

my love: YESS  my love: don’t work too hard baby  my love: gotta go now, love u  my love: call tn? 

you: ofc and i won’t, love you more

my love: <333

hating when you cry. mark didn’t cry often, you weren’t sure when the last time you saw him cry but he always feels the urge whenever you cry. mark loves hard so when he sees you crying as if the world is falling apart to him his world is falling apart. it’s not like you cried often but he knew you were the type of person to pent things up and letting it all out so when that did happen it was a little messy. he wipes your tears away from your face and holds you close to him, letting you cry it out. he knows you need it so he never tries to stop it but instead silently gives you his comfort. 

writing poetry for you. there would be times where the two of you would be sitting next to each other doing your own respective work. in those times mark would slip you a small piece of paper, smiling as he watched you read it. he made music and at times he would be writing lyrics but sometimes he got too caught up in you and wrote small poems for you to cherish and adore as he does you. those poems could be on slips of paper or post it notes he leaves around the apartment but it reminds you that his love is everywhere for you to see. 

soft sweet kisses. marks love was sweet and warm, just for you. his kisses also followed that same feeling. he wouldn’t kiss you in public because he knew you didn’t like that but when the two of you are alone whether it be in the car or back at your shared apartment, his kisses were frequent. it could be a soft peck against your lips just for a quick goodbye or a slow and sweet kiss that spoke more than words ever could. he would hold you by your waist, soft lips moving against yours, smiling softly. those kisses leave your cheeks flushed and heart beating at a rapid pace. for some reason those kisses meant so much more to you than any words he muttered to you.

taglist : @kisseudoll @hyuckworld @lqfiles @ronniee-26 @aerifim @17ericas @polarisjisung @sunghoonsgfreal @ayukas @snwydoie @remtrack (bold cannot be tagged)

dream taglist

© all rights to sungbites 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost my works

[gojo-chan]

Fluff Alphabet with Kinich

Request from: @aventurine20

My first request!!! I’m so happy, feel free to ask requests anytime, though I have lots of exams lately so I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to write them

Anyway, this was very fun to write, I love Kinich (lost my 50/50 to Tighnari but okay) and I’m so happy to write for him; the title is self explanatory

Warnings: !!!spoilers for his childhood/character story!!! mentions of domestic abuse; I wouldn’t consider this angst though (the day I start to write angst, we’re all going to cry) and I didn’t sugarcoat his character; also mentions of Ajaw (he’s a menace so he’s considered a warning)

Enough of my yapping

Not my art: credits to 1eternalstar

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He loves how you can make him feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. How you allow him to show his feelings, or how you guide him through it

B = Bonding (what's your favorite mutual bonding activity?)

Eating fruits he cut up specifically for you, in a recluse area, away from people, while watching a beautiful scenery of Natlan unfold, is one of the things he prefers in the whole world. Preferably if Ajaw is in time-out

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Kinich doesn’t really care if he’s the big or the little spoon as long as he’s with you. One things he loves tough, if when cuddling, you kiss his forehead. This part of his face is usually covered so when you do it, he basically feels fuzzy, which he can’t really explain but he likes it

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

You two sitting by a bonfire, Ajaw in time out, stars shining bright… Kinich would be holding your hand in silence, no words would be needed to show his love for you. The heat of the fire would make his cheeks warm up… or maybe it wasn’t the fire after all?

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Expressing emotions can be a tough process for Kinich, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how to. He’s a man of few words, so he’ll definitely convey his feelings through other forms of affection like physical touch or acts of service

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Kinich‘s childhood wasn’t great by any means, and he is terrified at the idea of reproducing his father’s abuse on his own child. If you wish to have a family with him, it will take some reassuring but I wouldn’t say that it is necessary impossible for it to happen

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

His first reaction to a gift would always be to pay you back. With mora or a gift of his own. Even when you explain to him that gift giving doesn’t have to be an exchange, he doesn’t really feel comfortable with giving you nothing in return

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He isn’t a big fan of pda, so if you two hold hands in public, it would be rather discreetly. However, in private, hand holding is one of his favourite form of physical affection, because it’s not overwhelming

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He wouldn’t panic, he wouldn’t scream or scold you. Being a saurian hunter, Kinich knows the basics of first aid and how to tend wounds, so he’ll help you out as fast as possible. If the injury is caused by a person, on purpose, be assured that they will pay the price

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Let’s be real, the only prankster here is Ajaw. He’d try his best to make Kinich flustered around you, hopefully achieving to make him die of embarrassment

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Kinich can be a little awkward during kisses, especially for the first ones, so he prefers when you’re the one initiating them. If you cup his cheeks, he’ll put his hands above yours, if you don’t, he’ll grab your hands. It’s almost like to…ground himself

L = Love Confession (how'd they confess to you? how'd you get together?)

I feel like the one telling you how he feels about you would be Ajaw. The insufferable saurian would make embarrassing comments each time you’d be around Kinich, to the point where you could only notice the blush creeping up Kinich’s cheeks

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

One night, he came back late from a tough mission, sweaty, muddy and exhausted. He just crashed on the floor, too tired to take a step further. Yet even in his “disgusting” state you took care of him, you washed him, put him into clean clothes and cuddled him to bed. To him it meant the world

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Hurting you like his father hurt his mom is definitely a big fear of his. He’d be always careful not to scare you in any way or to be violent towards you, even playfully, it’s a no-no for him.

O = Obvious (how obvious do they make it that they like you?)

Again, the one making it obvious wasn’t Kinich, but his dear companion. The pixelated saurian is actually quite observant of Kinich’s bashfulness around you and would make it known to everyone present

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t really see Kinich using pet names, especially because, if he does, he’ll get teased until the end of time by Ajaw. Kinich wouldn’t probably understand the use of pet names, using your actual name over nicknames would be much more preferable to him

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

He likes to go on walks, missions or expeditions like you. Just exploring Natlan together and enjoying what it has to offer. He likes how you get excited about things that for him, are daily occurrences like Saurian playing together, or just Capybaras bathing

R = Romance (how romantic are they?)

I am not sure if Kinich knows what being romantic means, not that he had any clear examples of it at home. He’ll try his best to make you happy and show you his love though, even if it’s in a rather unconventional way like making sure you drank enough water or giving you some fruits he picked up on an expedition

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Trust is very important in a relationship, and Kinich is aware of that. He would be a bit reluctant to talk about things like his childhood and past traumas but once you two get close, he’d feel like hiding things away from you would only be detrimental

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

I don’t think getting with Kinich would take that much time, knowing how insistent his companion could be, you’d be aware of his feelings fairly quickly, making things actually easier for the both of you

U = Unique (what makes them unique?)

In a relationship, what makes Kinich unique is his way of showing love. Since he didn’t have a very good role model for the “correct way” of expressing affection, I feel like to him, little acts of service speak volumes rather than words

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? do they like to show you off?)

Kinich isn’t much of a show off, and would like to keep your relationship as private as possible. I don’t even see him vaunting you in moments of jealousy to be honest. If anything he’d like to keep you hidden, to avoid making a big deal out of your relationship

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He’d love to have you by his side during commissions, it could get lonely out there, Ajaw counting rather as a nuisance than a real companion, he’d be glad to have you with him. However, he wouldn’t let you fight a lot, especially if you aren’t as experienced as him, he’d be the kind to ask you to stay behind for your safety

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

With time, Kinich would be aware of your habits, how you respond to certain things in certain ways, in short he would know you quite well out of habit. However, reading emotions isn’t his best quality and even if you’re the one he knows best, it wouldn’t change that. So please explain him how you feel to avoid misunderstandings

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Big proposals, with a giant crowd staring at the couple? A nightmare to Kinich. He’d preferably propose in a calm area, maybe a spot in Natlan where you two go often to watch the scenery, to make it extra special

Z = Zzz (how do they act when they're sleepy? what's it like sharing a bed with them?)

If you want Kinich to be vulnerable, sleep is a pretty neat way of achieving it. If he’s exhausted enough, he’ll let you pamper him without even getting flustered, just enjoying it. So feel free to cuddle with him when he’s eepy, because he needs it

Masterlist

I wrote so much for this, I didn’t even notice

[words-4u]

mine again - p.c

pairing: andrew 'pope' cody x f!reader

wc: 1.1k

a/n: random fic because i'm currently watching animal kingdom because of my new fav dilf shawn hatosy and i'm obviously very into pope

it was a calm saturday night for you. you had the day off from the surf shop you own. with the heavy rainfall, you couldn’t enjoy your beachfront view as much but the cool breeze coming in from your back door made up for it. you planned on having a nice night in with yourself, you lit some candles and brought out your favourite wine. you’d thought about ordering takeout but opted for a warm home cooked meal for a change.

you’d only stepped out to buy some ingredients for dinner but when you returned you felt uneasy. some of your things were off kilter. your armchair moved slightly to the left, your coffee books opened. your tv, which you always turn off when you leave your house, was on.

with your heart beating a million beats per second, you drop your grocery bags on the kitchen table sneaking across to the cereal cabinet where you kept a gun always loaded.

some sounds were coming from down the hall were your bedroom was. this motherfucker is ransacking you.

taking the gun off safety, you take tiny steps down the hall. you slowly approach the open door to your washroom and cash a glimpse of a dark figure sitting on your toilet. you whip your gun in his direction. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you say through gritted teeth. your finger ready on the trigger. you were scared shitless but you didn’t want this person to know that.

the man lifts his head and your eyes widen.

“pope? what the fuck?” you exhale. you take deep breaths to regain composure slowly lowering your gun.

“you really shouldn’t leave that back door open,” he says casually going back to wrapping gauze on his arm. you place your gun down on the counter.

that’s when you really take him in. he’s all cuts and bruises. a gash runs down his forehead into his eyebrow. his knuckles all bloody.

“jesus christ, what happened now?” you keep your distance leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. pope pauses and looks at you like you should know the answer. “right… we don’t talk about jobs. we never have.”

“what are you doing here, andrew?” you exasperate. you haven’t laid eyes on him in months.

“oh, my real name. now i know i’m in trouble.” he joked trying to lighten the mood. he winced tucking in the piece of gauze he just cut.

“we broke up months ago. a mutual decision. remember that?” you wash your hands, drying them on a nearby towel and bend down to grab your other first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink. “you don’t get to just show up here any more.”

a whisper of a small smile appears on pope’s face because while you’re chastising him you don’t even realize that you jumped right into helping him like you have a hundred times before.

you make your way around him and sit on the edge of the bathtub. “turn,” you command an pope listens, rotating his body to face you. now you’re eye-to-eye with him.

“did I interrupt a hot date or something?” you could hear the smirk in voice as you looked through the kit for rubbing alcohol and your mini-stitches kit.

“you don’t get to know that information,” you say, turning to face him again. “now, stay still.”

you soaked a cotton ball, pressing it lightly on the cut above his eye. he winces in pain, grabbing your thighs. you didn’t think much of it, continuing to clean his cut. “why did you come here?”

“is it a crime to want to see you?” he says, eyes never leaving your face. you know this trick and you refuse to fall for it so you avoid making direct eye contact. 

“it is when you break into private property,” you shoot back, dropping the bloody cotton ball and picking up another. “so what was it this time? another bank? church? random houses?”

“had to fuck some guys up that were messing with j. trust me, they look worse,” he states. not looking proud of it.

“completely reckless,” you mutter.

“completely loyal,” he interjects. “it’s one of the things you love about me,” you were abut to correct him. loved, not love. but sitting here, with his hands on your legs, cleaning his wounds like old time, you felt it all come rushing back. 

you cleared your throat. “so how is lena?” one of the things hardest things to let go of when you and pope broke up was his adorable niece.

“she’s good. you should she see the pictures she draws. kid’s super talented,” you smile at that. she always drew you the prettiest portraits.

“i miss her,” you admit.

“and she misses you. come by and see her when you want. i’m sure baz won’t mind.”

“it’ll confuse her,” you say and pope makes a face. “me being around all the time when we… you know.”

you pick up the needle and thread it through the cut above pope’s eye. you feel his eyes on you the entire time. his hands start to move your legs and this time you shudder.

“did we make a mistake?” his voice tight and hoarse.

“i don’t know,” you reply honestly. “do you?” you pull on the thread, patching him up slowly. 

“yes,” pope states with a slow nod. “and also… i’ve tried to be with other women and it doesn’t work.”

you finish stitching his eye. your thumb slowly caresses it. his fingers dig deep into your thighs. you look down at his hands and then up at him. “what doesn’t work, andrew?”

“i-are you really gonna make me say it?” he asks.

you lift your eyebrows as if to say ‘go ahead’.

pope leans in and his breath fans your face. “I physically cannot be turned an by any other woman.”

you scoff and tilt your head at the man. “you can’t get it up and that's somehow my problem?”

“not the problem, y/n. you’re the solution," he says now grabbing on on to your hips.

"pope," you breath. your body growing hotter with each moment. he guides your willing body on to his lap.

"you know it. i know i just need to hear you say it," he says kissing up your neck.

"sa-say what?" you squirm. his hands making quick work of the buttons on your jean shorts.

"say your mine again," he leans back looking at you. eyes trailing down your face, fixated on your lips. your strong resolution crumbles and your eyes soften.

placing your arms on his shoulders, one hand combs through his reddish brown hair. "i'm yours, pope. always have been."

his lips inches away from yours, pope breathes into your mouth, "and don't you ever forget that,"

he catches your mouth in a searing kiss, one full of passion and haste. the kiss wild and messy like your relationship with the unpredictable man and for the first time in 3 months you feel at peace again.

[nyancrimew]

oo if we’re doing queer confessions i got a bit of a long one

first relationship, classic story of not realizing we were into eachother for the longest time, even after regularly kissing and cuddling for almost a year lol (calling him bf 1). went really well actually after we properly got together

after about a year or so, bf 1’s ex (not on any sort of bad terms INITALLY) (calling him bf 2) who was my best friend asks if we wanted to just be in poly relationship together since we all had confessed to eachother at once point and we say yeah sure we still all like eachother, it took bf 1 a few months to think over first which was fine by all of us, so we just continued all being close friends for a few months till then. few months later, he says yea sure that’d be fine and so we started trying it out since we had all been really happy with eachotehr up to that point

literaly the same exact night that happened, bf 2 changed his attitude towards me completely and despite being very good friends before this and loving eachother he started ignoring me and claiming he just didn’t have energy to do anything ever, while constantly showering bf 1 in overwhelming affection and hundreds of smaller things like that where i’d get left in the dust while he would get mounds of attention. he was just as unnerved by it as i was.

i was a bit dumb and so didn’t really act on this for a while despite realizing immediently it was weird, and after a few months me and bf 1 started talking about it privately and realized he was just flat out lying to both of us and expected us to like. not talk about it?? like super blatant things llike telling me he didn’t value sex in a relationship at all and didn’t want it with me while minutes later telling bf 1 that sexual intimacy is the thing he valued most and wouldn’t want a relationship otherwise

one of the worst thing though (atleast in terms of how much it damaged my understanding and acceptance of myself)) was despite him being nb (he/they) and even experimenting with being a girl for a while he started constantly hanging our own gender identities over our heads and sayin shit like “well i’m gay so if you start identifying as a girl i’m gonna leave” to me when i brought up to him, the first person i talked to it about, that i wanted to be a girl which stunted myself growth by years and similar things to bf 1 who was very openly nb (which, wow i’m relazing as i’m typing this how casually mysoginsitc he was, he made all sorts of “jokes” about how inherently disgusting traditionally feminine bodily features were)

after about a year of this (me and other bf were just too scared to leave, but we definently should of) he actually broke up with me , and tried to speak on behalf of bf 1 claiming they just both wanted me out of the polycule, also just a straight up lie as when i talked to him about it . after talking for a while and asking some mutual friends we figured out he told literally every single person a different, conflicting story and putting the pieces together we came to conclusion that he was just using me as a throwaway tool to get back together with bf 1 to squeeze himself in the relationship, and tried dumping me out so he could be monogamous with him only.

needless to say bf 1 dumped his ass less than a week later after we finally were able to decipher the literally 10 different conflicting stories, and this story actually does have a really happy ending!! me and bf 1 are still besties and kiss a lot while he found another much sweeter and nicer boyfriend, i got another girlfriend with a shared pet kittygirl shortly after that helped me through the whole thing and i’ve never been happier about my body image/self image and gender identity in my life. IM FINALLY A CUTE GIRL WITH A CUTE GIRLFRIEND WE MADE IT NYALL :3!!!

(and as a nice bonus ontop, the only time i hear about him now is from other people realizing how scummy he was and cutting him off, leaving himself to rot in a hole of his own making surrounded by people jus like him. feels great to be away from that whole toxic friendgroup in general. freedom.)

(anyway thanks, “but we stay silly :3” was a quote regularly said to myself during the recovery of all this )

yipppeeee, we really do stay silly!!!

[em1989ts]

five and reader know they’re falling for each other and they’re both super touch/love starved but also don’t know how to demonstrate and give it to each other ? basically two awkward losers in love

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

summary: you and five have always been professional, even though you're the closest partners the commission has even seen. once the two of you go back to 2019, you find out how to ease yourselves into the relationship you both know is just right

author's note: thank you thank you thank you sm for this request, i literally just saw it about three hours ago and it gave me immediate inspiration. this might not be super exact to what you were hoping for but i did my best to stick with it!

not proofread

You had Five had always been far too professional for your own good. 

The two of you first met when the Handler brought you both out of the apocalypse and shoved you into neatly steamed suits to begin your brand new lives at the Commission. 

You and Five were the only two people left alive after the world had combusted in 2019, yet neither of you had managed to bump into the other while you wandered around for forty five years.

Initially, there wasn't any trust between the two of you, as well as curiosity trapped in private thought bubbles. Both of you wondered what the other’s experience was like. 

Did they find it nice to have the world to themself? 

Did they have an easier time? 

Did they miss anybody? 

When the Handler officially made you two partners and sent the two of you off on your very first assignment together, it was definitely awkward. So many questions, so little bravery to make them heard. 

You wanted to ask him. You wanted to be friendly. Of course, the apocalypse life took a toll on you, so maybe you could bond over your unfortunately mutual experience.

But he looked so stern, so reclusive, so unwelcoming. 

He thought the same about you, with your shoulders turned in and furrowed brow. He thought you just preferred to be private. He assumed if you spoke about your past you would freeze or shut down. He didn’t wish that upon you. 

During that assignment, the two of you had to wait in a parking lot for your target to arrive. The mark would be dropped off in a rideshare vehicle up to an office building. Neither of you knew what rideshare was but didn’t think it really mattered. 

As you waited in a rental provided by the commission, you didn’t have the radio to fill in the silence, you just sat and stared. 

Until you finally decided, what would be so bad? 

“Hi,” you turned and looked at him, giving him a wrinkly smile. 

“Hello?” he responded out of confusion. 

The two of you had indeed talked before, but only once, at your initial introduction, only shaking hands and exchanging names, 

“How are you,” you tried to further the conversation with friendliness before he decided it was worthless and ignored you. 

“I’m quite alright,” he nodded, still not smiling but he turned toward you more, seemingly interested in conversing. 

A good sign. 

“And you?” 

Your smile grew a bit wider, “I’m doing just fine.”

This kind of conversation might be more commonly heard in a classic American diner, by two old friends in their elderly years, about to order their early bird special. But on this rare occasion, it was being said by two elderly assassins, at the start of the most valuable partnership in all of time. 

~~~ 

For years, the commission has waited for a team like this. 

After the two of you returned from your debut assignment, nearly missing your mark as you were so thoroughly invested about discussing your shared accounts with twinkies and their expiration debacle, the two of you immediately requested another task, which the Handler was thrilled to hear. 

Once that task was completed, you received another, and another, until you and Five were so caught up in each other's lives you were almost the same person.

For once, the two of you found someone who could truly understand you. You always felt supported and valued in each other's company. 

Somedays, when the work got hard, the two of you would take a well deserved day or two off from work, learning about each other's interests and aspirations, refilling your coffee mugs as you talked your day away. 

Eventually, the two of you had come up with a plan to try and save the world. What was the point in having time travel powers and only using them once? 

Of course, the two of you were scared, but with the support from each other and years of experience and preparation, you had faith in yourselves.

So you took on that last assignment to Dallas, Texas, where you would confirm John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Five’s journal was filled to the brim with math equations, one of which was believed to be the correct one to bring you back to his family in 2019, giving you enough time to stop the apocalypse. 

The two of you mustered up as much of your energy as you could and combined it into a glowing blue portal, where you could see a group of people standing in a courtyard. 

As you and Five pushed through, you could feel everything change, your clothes felt looser as you fell to the ground. 

Sitting up gave your head a spin, but once your eyes focused, they landed on a boy. This boy had dark, messy hair, with the same green eyes as your beloved partner. 

“We did it!” you were so overjoyed and proud of yourselves that you tossed your arms around him and encapsulated him in a strong hug.

He returned the hug with just as much joy, never feeling so gratified by someone’s actions. 

Even though the two of you had never hugged before, it felt so right. 

“Does anyone else see little Number Five or is that just me?”

The voice snapped the two of you out of your moment as you both turned your heads to the group of adults, staring at the two teens huddled together in the mud.

You both looked back at each other, then down at the close distance between you, and muttered apologies as you both let go with a flush. He quickly stood up, lent a hand to assist you, and the two of you headed inside with a couple feet between you. 

~~~

You didn’t talk much to his family when you were downstairs, you mostly just watched Five as he explained with little patience everything he decided his family needed to know at the moment. He did gain some valuable information, the date was March 24th, 2019, giving you eight days to figure out a way to save the world. 

You were currently standing in the middle of his room, not entirely sure what to do. You didn’t want to touch or disturb anything, you knew how he likes his things a certain way, so you just stood there and waited for him to return. 

He suddenly blinked back, trying to keep the skirt, sweater vest, blazer, tie, socks, and shoes all from falling out of his arms. 

“The only clothes we have here that’ll fit us right now is the uniform,” he said as lied each item neatly on his bed for you. 

“They’re my sister’s but I’m sure she won’t mind you borrowing them,” he turned to face you. 

You had only seen what his younger self looked like in his file at the Commission. Initially, you hadn’t seen the resemblance between the bright, sophomoric, superpowered child and the tired, sarcastic, coffee-powered old man. But now, it’s almost as though you can see Five’s past through his eyes. That old grump you know and love hides behind those green irises. 

Wait love?

You were snapped out of your daze when you realized his eyes were staring right back in yours. 

“I’ll let you change in here, I’ll be just across the hall. We can meet in the hallway when we're done,” he said, cheeks a little pink and avoided eye contact. 

You nodded and he blinked out of the room, but before you started changing, you looked around, taking in the atmosphere. You had learned a lot about his life here in the academy, but being here felt a little unreal. His storytelling made you feel like you were there in his memories, it was nice to now see what his life was like. 

When you finished getting dressed, you quietly stepped into the hallway.

Unaware of your presence, you watched as Five conversed with one of his siblings. 

“So who was that? Your little girlfriend?” 

“No, she’s my partner,” Five scowled, his back away from you. 

“Oh, like your life partner! You’re married! Yay! Ring the church bells!” his sibling said excitedly, waving his hands in the air. 

Five face palmed and turned to you, wide eyed and fully red in the face at this point. 

“You must be Klaus,” you awkwardly started, not really sure how to enter the conversation. 

“Yes ma’am, welcome to the family,” he smirked as tugged you in for a big bear hug before releasing you and strutting off without another word. 

Of course the two of you had dealt with romantic implications before, but back then you two were mature adults and could handle it professionally. Now, you were prepubescent teens who turned pink at the mere thought of someone they liked. 

But two of you stood there, silently watching in his direction until he turned the corner. 

~~~ 

It had been well over 24 hours since you had gotten any sleep. 

Since you landed in 2019, you have met your partner’s entire family, gotten coffee, been shot at, tracked down the nonexistent owner of an eyeball, found Five’s old apocalypse friend, and got shot at even more. Only during the second shootout did you actually get injured.  

Now, you were both dragging yourselves up the stairs of the academy to his bedroom. Him carrying Delores the mannequin, a kind, sophisticated woman, under his arm with the other around you to keep you steady. He himself was far too tired to blink, though he tried so hard to muster up enough energy every time he heard you wince. 

You were exhausted to say the least. Blood seeped through your fingertips as you held your hand against the graze the bullet left in your shoulder. 

Once you made it to Five’s room, he quickly set Delores down on the floor as he led you to sit on his bed. As soon as he blinked away, you fell back from your upright position and closed your eyes, unable to bear another minute awake. 

When he returned, you could hear him run over to the bed and lean over you, grasping your face in his warm hands.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded, “Stay awake for me, please.”

You had lost a good amount of blood from the deep graze, but you knew you wouldn’t die. You just really needed some rest ever since Five decided it was better to keep moving than take on Vanya’s offer to stay the night. 

Once your dazed eyes opened and met his, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek, before quickly moving back to the first aid kit he had grabbed and sorting through its contents, gathering all the materials he needed for your wound. 

He helped you sit back up so he could work. This wasn’t the first time one of you had to stitch up the other. In fact, it happened quite frequently as assassins. 

But it never felt like this. 

Usually you’d be making casual conversation, comfortable with the normality of the situation, and not thinking twice about it. This time however, neither of you spoke. He was focused on stitching you up as gently as possible, though he would catch you staring at him and watch as you looked away awkwardly. 

He smiled slightly as he worked. He had grown to care so much about you, but he was always worried he’d ruin what he had with you. Overtime, he had become so used to you being the only constant in his life. The only one he could trust to share things with. Overall, he enjoyed how he could be so comfortable around you, he never needed a guard up when he was with you, but he never knew if you felt the same. But something about now made him feel like he might’ve been onto something. 

“Hi,” he said quietly, breaking the silence. 

You looked up at him, only to see him finishing up your stitches with a knowing smile. 

“Hello,” you responded. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m better now,” you said, watching him as he carefully cut the string to your stitches. 

He carefully traced his finger over his work. 

“Tired?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” you yawned a bit, giving him a droopy smile. 

“Well, let’s get you to bed then,” he said as took off your shoes for you and placed them by the foot of his bed. 

After he helped you climb under the comforter, you waited for him to get ready to lay next to you but instead he stayed standing, with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“You can have my bed. I’ll just be across the hall,” he said, almost unsure as he made his way towards the door. 

“Wait.” 

He turned around expectantly, but you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. 

Would it be weird if you asked him to stay?

“I mean, it’s your bed. I- I can’t just take it-” 

“No, no, it’s okay-” Five started. 

“We could just, I don’t know, share it?” 

No one moved. Eyes wide. Had you gone too far?

On assignments, you always had two beds when you were scheduled somewhere for more than one night. That’s just how it always was. The only time you ever came close to sleeping next to each other was when you had to spend the night in the back of a van, but that was a whole different story. 

You didn’t mean to insinuate anything, you just meant that you wouldn’t mind sleeping next to him. You felt safe with him and it would’ve comforted you to know he was with you. 

Five understood just how you felt, and climbed in right beside you without another word. 

Sharing a twin sized bed meant the two of you were very close with not much room to roll over without risk of plummeting off the side, which you almost did when you tried scooting over to give him more room to get comfortable. 

The other thing you could grab onto to save yourself from falling onto your back was him, as he also grabbed you to save you from falling. 

The momentum pulled you snug into his chest, which made the two of you nervously giggle before you realize just how much you missed being so close to someone. 

You felt it initially yesterday when you first hugged him. But now, the warm touch of another human was all you wanted to know. Subconsciously, you buried your head in his chest as he nestled his above your head. He hadn’t felt this safe in so many years. 

You whispered goodnight right before you drifted away to sleep, your breathing regulating to a pace, letting him feel your chest rise and fall against his. 

He kissed the top of your head, whispering goodnight into your hair, waiting a moment to test your slumber, before he whispered once more.

“I love you.” 

~~~

[mattslvrxo]

hi everyone— over the past few days, i’ve been pretending to be friends with our “favorite” liar, @dollysturnioo (now known as @sturniolosdoll ). as many of you are aware, @nickssidewitch already made a post addressing this situation and raised several valid points about the dishonesty from these “NDA” accounts. but, the only person i got close to was dolly. our interactions began after a small, insignificant exchange in her comment section, which led to her dming me directly.

if you don’t know dolly, she’s been claiming that she’s secretly dating chris sturniolo and that she’s under a non-disclosure agreement (nda) that prevents her from talking about it publicly. but almost immediately after messaging me, someone she didn’t even know, she started revealing private details that she supposedly isn’t allowed to share. if you’ve actually signed a real nda, that kind of behavior is not just irresponsible—it could be a legal violation.

on top of that, she’s also made claims about matt sturniolo having a secret girlfriend, as if she has insider knowledge on their private lives. but again, these are serious accusations with no actual proof—just vague statements meant to make her seem more connected than she really is.

CONVERSATION IN HER COMMENTS:

as shown, our conversation was more humorous in tone. i played into the role of an overdramatic, emotional girl whos obsessed with matt as a joke (but i totally am obsessed lolll)

THE DMS:

this is where i formed the idea: become her “friend” and get information. i asked her to be moots, which eventually opened the door to a potential friendship.

DOLLY TALKING TO ME ABOUT DATING CHRIS:

which was odd to me because in the public comments (screenshot provided), she explicitly says she won’t answer any questions regarding whether she’s dating one of the triplets. yet, less than 10 minutes into our conversation, she tells me she’s dating chris. this is especially strange because she claimed she signed an nda—a legally binding agreement preventing her from disclosing that kind of information for six months. it makes absolutely no sense for her to reveal that to someone she barely knows, especially within a day of speaking online

NDA TALK:

here, she confirms to me directly that she signed an nda. regardless of whether that’s true, anyone genuinely bound by an nda—especially someone over 21—would understand how serious it is not to share that kind of confidential detail with a stranger online.

(referring to the triplets by saying clones)

INSTAGRAM INFO:

as we continued talking, she gave me a brief description of what she looked like..

while the description wasn’t very detailed, she did mention having blue hair—which isn’t super common—making it relatively easier to narrow her down. i spent about 30 minutes combing through chris’s following, mentions, etc. i sped the video up 100x since i couldn’t upload the full length, and i’ll include the clip below:

i blurred parts that could show my profile pic or my mutuals’ handles, but as you can see at the top, i’m going through chris’s following. not once did i find a plus-size girl with blue hair. it’s possible she doesn’t have instagram, but from what i saw, no one fitting that description is followed by chris.

MATT AND CHRIS BEING APART OF THE LGBTQ COMMUNITY AND NICK NOT BEING “COMPLETELY GAY” :

during a conversation about kinks and preferences, she said this:

this immediately struck me as off—there’s never been any indication that matt is a part of the lgbtq+ community. we all know him as straight. that comment alone made me question everything:

as you can see she also claimed that nick has slept with women, yet in this clip from one of their reaction videos: https://mega.nz/file/Xixy0Sxa#nl8deY6Aswttl7w1fr7IM_Wo4ZE--exOn322O4CQnSQ

(I put it as a MEGA link because I cannot add more than one video from my camera roll in this blog post ) he literally says he wouldn’t date a woman and even mentions not wanting to touch a woman at all. she did say that he would not date a woman, but she did mention him having like sexual contact with a woman. 

side note: just because she have the boys' “permission” to tell their sexualities to ppl doesn't mean that she SHOULD

MATT AND CHRIS BOTH BEING INTERESTED IN DOLLY:

she also claimed that she hooked up with matt at some point:

also, in this screenshot which, the person who provided me this will stay anonymous: https://mega.nz/file/TiIgkJhR#pbcPz0zX3scb8nkHiJrln9pqLU230AOak75ysMbLD5g

the account that claims to be matt says that theyre basically all in a poly relationship that includes: dolly, loopie, matt, and chris.

however, in their reading fanfiction pt. 2 video: https://mega.nz/file/OnwnkJxY#Lw5mQy9mBdJJRevtPEsp2HygeYHGYjeMOenIyUxE0ek

chris says he would never be interested in a girl who’s had any kind of involvement with matt.

so if she did hook up with matt, and now claims she’s with chris—and on top of that still says she adores matt (which she told me directly)—none of it makes sense.

ENDING NOTE:

lying about being under an nda isn’t just suspicious—it’s legally risky and potentially dangerous. ndas, or non-disclosure agreements, are binding legal contracts. if you actually sign one, breaking it can lead to serious consequences like lawsuits, fines, and long-term damage to your reputation. and if you’re lying about having signed one just to make your story seem more believable, that’s not only manipulative—it disrespects the real legal boundaries that people in the public eye actually have to deal with.

pretending to be in a relationship with someone and claiming to have signed an nda as “proof” is a major red flag. it shows a complete lack of understanding of how serious and private that kind of agreement really is. ndas are in place to protect reputations, careers, and private information—not to be used as props in lies to get attention online.

whoever is behind this account needs to understand that this isn’t just harmless gossip anymore. it’s misleading, it’s manipulative, and it’s disrespectful to both the creators involved and the fans who genuinely support them. at this point, the inconsistencies are overwhelming. multiple people have come forward with undeniable proof that this person is not who they claim to be, and it’s becoming clear that the story they’ve built is based on lies.

if the person behind this account has any respect for the people they’re talking about—or even just a sense of accountability—they should step forward and admit the truth. because continuing to lie when the evidence is stacked against you won’t protect you forever. it only makes the fallout worse when it finally comes.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @birlemsbae @elianamattlvr @sagesturns @adoreyousturniolos @sturnizolo @chrissturnslovergirlx @slvt4chrissturniolo @sturniolo-szn2 @matts-girlfriend @chrispleasure @sturns-mermaid @loverrgirl3 @chrisspussygang @kait123456789876543 @sturnsiolos0 @chrissv4mp @auttysturnz @chrizfavlilslut @chrissonnyangel @mattsweethart @mattsmatcha @mattscumdump @sturnitup @sturnshood @coolasice01 @munchingmini @sturniologlaze @sturnswiftie @sturn-baby05

[leclercdream]

maroon

this is the final part of maroon

✮⋆˙ when carlos breaks reader’s heart, lando is ready to mend it

✮⋆˙ ex carlos sainz x singer!reader | bestfriend lando norris x singer!reader | boyfriend lando norris x singer!reader

✮⋆˙ tofi talks: final part!! not very happy about this one but ive been really busy x

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

f1gossip

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and others

f1gossip: After a few weird comments on IG by Lando apparently he did score a date! YN and Lando were spotted today in Monaco having fun with some friends. As many of you have already seen they seemed pretty cozy together 😊 A mutual friend (private acc) posted the last picture on his story.

We don’t have pictures but a trusted source told as she saw them a few nights ago in a VERY expensive restaurant in Monaco.

tagged: yourusername, landonorris

view all 48 comments

user1: this is everything i dreamed of in the last 5 years

user2: they look so happy together :(

user3: wasn’t she dating carlos like 3 months ago?

user4: slut

user5: am i the only one that finds CRAZY that she is suddenly dating lando after ending a 3 year relationship with his best friend? lol

user4: paddock bunny behavior

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername just posted a story!

landonorris just posted a story!

[good riddance is all yours now]

[yourusername just released an album and it’s a masterpiece. go give it a listen. i love you]

yourusername

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername: thank you thank you thank you for the love on my new album!!! 🧚🏻‍♀️ i worked so hard on it and seeing your reactions, analysis, and just comments in general fills my with joy.

thank you landonorris for your support while writing good riddance, i love you 🤍

view 2739 comments

landonorris: i love being your muse!

oscarpiastri: here he goes…

landonorris: you know i think we should tell people which songs are about me

landonorris: dress, invisible string, new year’s day…yourusername: omg SHUT UP

landonorris: i love you i’m really super proud of you!

user1: lol lando

user2: i love the album so much! love the transition between songs and the story that it tells. amazing job!

yourusername: thank you!!! means a lot 🤍

user3: AOTY

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername just posted a story!

[go to spotify for a surprise x]

replies:

lilymhe: you are a better person than me lilymhe: i’d be posting nasty pictures to make the psychotic girlies mad yourusername: dw babe it’s coming!!!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

yourusername: got lovestruck

tagged: landonorris

view 2749 comments

landonorris: is best friends to lovers you favorite trope?

lilymhe: yes

landonorris: i’m so lucky to be loved by you. i love you

yourusername: mwaaaaah

alexalbon: FINALLY

oscarpiastri: peace 🤝🏻

lilymhe: i’m crying in my car rn

user1: drops an album, a surprise song and then THIS 🙏🏼

user2: god i’ve seen what you have done for others

user3: I LOVE THIS

user4: she is glowing :(

landonorris

liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris: she wrote a few songs about me and now i’m stuck in a relationship with her ig

(just kidding i cried while listening to her album and had to beg on my knees for a date, you are the love of my life)

tagged: yourusername

view 7294 comments

yourusername: you can have all the love songs you want 🤍

yourusername: pookie I LOVE YOUUUU

landonorris: ill cry again stop

danielricciardo: congrats guys! finally happened 😊

maxverstappen1: Please send me a thank you gift

user1: how is this on you maxverstappen1: I told him to ask her out 😎 landonorris: yeah yeah, thank you max 🙄

user2: i thought that after she broke up with carlos we wouldnt have to see her annoying ass again 🙄

this comment was deleted by author this user was blocked by author

user3: i’m so happy for you guys 🤍

yourusername: forever isn’t so scary with you :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist: @evie-119 @landossainz@noneofyallsbusiness @ladyblablabla @likedbygaslyy @softiecaro @1655clean@willowpains @lightdragonrayne @taygrls @chezmardybum @littlehoneyfreak @awritingtree @georgiaa-x-

[mattscoquette]

hi all, i wanted to make one final and formal apology before i go. i’ve been trying to stay off tumblr for the last few days, but i’ve been seeing a multitude of people saying they want me and the other former members of the tripouts gc to deactivate to show that we truly are sorry. personally, i don’t see the reason in that, i think deactivation makes it look like running from the situation. however, i understand why people would want us to deactivate - to show we are sorry and don’t just care about our image.

i’ve been back and forth with the idea of deactivating since yesterday morning. i always said if i ever left tumblr, i wouldn’t deactivate because i want to keep my fics and other writings up. i still agree with that, and for that reason, i’m not deactivating, but i’m abandoning this blog. i was planning to just private all my posts, but i felt like that is the same as deactivating. i can’t say for certain if i’ll return and post on a new account, but i can say with nearly 100% confidence that i’m done posting on mattscoquette. as much as i wanted to leave tumblr on my own terms, i only feel that this is the right thing to do. thank you to everyone who supported be over the last year, i truly took every kind word and compliment to heart. i’m so appreciative for the friends i made on here, whether we talked once or everyday.

before i fully get into it, i just would like to say i am so so SO sorry for how i acted. i didn’t handle any situation in a correct or mature manner. i’m sorry if anything i’ve said made me come off as disingenuous, or like im trying to push this situation off and blame it on association.

i shouldn’t have immediately come to my friends defense when the slur was first posted, even if i thought she was allowed to reclaim it. it was wrong, and i’m sorry. i deleted and left the group chat, so i don’t have any original screenshots, but i can say that i didn’t respond to the text with the r slur. although there was more than one conversation going on at the time, it still doesn’t make it right. it was a stupid mistake that should have never been said or posted. with that said, i’d like to make it known we didn’t call chris the r slur. i don’t think anyone should ever be called that word, joking or not. i can speak for myself when i say i love him, and his brothers, to death. i always joke around about them, but at the end of the day i always go back to them. i wouldn’t have been writing and posting about them for so long if i hated any of them the way tumblr thinks we do.

as far as the group apology goes, there was no ai used. we did check it through grammarly, and used that, which is often flagged for ai. but the original post was not ai, nor were any of my apologies post. i can’t speak for everyone in the group, but mine and the group account’s were not ai.

i would also like to say i’m sorry to anyone my actions or my friend’s actions may have hurt in the past. specifically to cherry (@luvs4matt) and the girls in the sturnholics gc. although i didn’t personally partake in any hate towards that groupchat, it was still given on behalf of a group i was in, and i’m sorry. i’d also like to say sorry to cherry and for the way i treated her, she is a minor and i publicly accused her of copying me when i should’ve handled it privately. it was immature and stupid, and i regret my actions greatly because she still receives hate messages in her inbox on my behalf. i feel terrible for how i acted and handled that situation.

i don’t want to say names either, but there are a few close friends who this situation and hurt greatly, and i’m so sorry to them. i never ever wanted to make friends upset, and i greatly apologize. alongside that, i’m sorry to any mutuals, followers, or ANYONE i have upset with both my actions and the group’s actions.

i will say, however, although i do own up and admit to all my mistakes, i find it very unfair there are people on here trying to run both me and the other members off the app. i’m talking specifically to the tripoutsweirdos account, and rose (@bernardsbendystraws). we made a mistake, owned up to it, and apologized. there is no need to make continuous posts of hate directed at any of us. i turned off my inbox because i was being sent multiple hate messages and threats. targeting people for a mistake that they apologized for is not only wrong and immature, but extremely damaging to the people who were directly affected by the situation at hand. fighting this issue with more hate doesn’t do anything but create more drama, and make tumblr less enjoyable. dragging this out and making it more than it needs to be does no help at all.

in the end, what’s done is done, and there isn’t anything anyone can do to undo it. the only thing is to learn from it, and improve behavior. i am a firm believer in your actions speaking louder than your words. i can say i’m sorry until i’m absolutely blue in the face, but i feel that apology won’t be accepted until there is a visible change in my character. i’m choosing to leave this account behind to show it isn’t about the “clout” or the “fame” one gains from sturntumblr. i still love the triplets, and love to write, but i can do that on other platforms or another account. as appreciative as i am for the space i created on tumblr, i think it’s best for me to leave it to rest now. i always preached about making my blog a safe space for everyone, and i’m sorry if i ever didn’t make it seem that way.

again, thank you to everyone who supported me, and to everyone who held me accountable in this situation. it gave me chance to reflect on myself and really think about how i present myself online and who i surround myself with. i love you all, and thank you for listening.

-rylee

[papayadump]

on going landoscar fic rec !! :]

equal machinery by anon | race engineer oscar/driver lando

“Did you know you get, like, actual stars in your eyes, or hearts, maybe, when you talk about racing cars?” “Sorry,” Oscar’s pretty sure he’s fucked the interview, “I’m not usually like that.” – I finally write Driver x Race Engineer Landoscar as an excuse to talk about racing.

so fun and interesting to read about how oscar sees his work, sees the cars, sees lando

astra ex machina by @ne0nyx | sci fi mecha pilots landoscar

“Don’t you get weird vibes?” “Weird vibes?” Oscar repeats, eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Like… I don’t know. Like there’s something we’re not being told, something we don’t know.” “It’s space. There’s always something we don’t know.”

Lando opens his mouth to argue… but nothing comes out. He processes Oscar’s reply.

Technically, he’s right. - Lando is a Mecha Pilot, and Oscar is his mysterious new partner.

GOD, FUCK, THIS FIC ,,, newest chapter broke my heart ,, the dread and anticipation is gonna make me throw up but im still in for the ride

i think i found a part of me beside you by @complementaryhalves | driver landoscar + teammate dynamics

The night before his first Australian Grand Prix, Oscar receives a weird racing tip from his manager. When the season turns desperate, he shares with Lando, and they begin to use it. After all, what's a little strategic mutual edging between teammates? Except, it turns Oscar's rookie season into a journey of self-discovery he hadn't quite anticipated: race after race, he'll fight a lot with his own head and heart, learn many new things about himself, Lando, and the world, and maybe find love along the way.

messy teammate relationship baby !! i need to reread this one its so gooddd. teammates who rubs together,,, uh,,, well lets see how theyll end up 😭

Call It What You Want To by @dearbongjae | college au + rich people problems

Oscar Piastri didn’t mean to start a school-wide scandal. But when his “fictional” love essay goes viral across campus and the entire media, everyone thinks it’s real. Which is awkward, considering the boyfriend in question doesn’t exist. Unfortunately for Oscar, being a Piastri means his private life isn’t personal—it’s business. His powerful, reputation-obsessed parents now expect to meet this perfect mystery boyfriend. And whoever Oscar dates? They better be someone who brings value to the family name. Enter: Lando Norris. Model. Golden Boy. Media darling. And currently, the center of a PR disaster thanks to a false dating rumor linking him to a problematic, tabloid-loving model and socialite. George, their mutual friend, sees potential when others see disaster. So he sets them up. Oscar walks in with a plan; Lando walks in with an open mind and a quietly hopeful heart. What begins as a mutually beneficial arrangement turns into something much messier, because falling for your fake boyfriend wasn’t part of the deal. And Oscar is very good at pretending. Until he’s not.

SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE ! asshole ish oscar and popular golden boy lando :]

ceruse + celibacy by @agustloves | tudor era + prince lando/servant oscar

“Every Tudor rose has its thorns.” During the Tudor dynasty in England, Oscar is cursed (or perhaps blessed) to be the servant for Prince Lando. From a poor life in Italy to sleeping in the room opposite royalty. He yearns to get his family to score positions with royalty too. The only issue is, the prince he serves is infuriatingly divacious. Yet beautiful. And complex. And they fall in love. In love and war. But an arranged marriage between Duke Jenson and Prince Lando changes everything in court. Will Oscar risk it all to save an ill fated Lando?

oscar being a caring asshole (?) to bratty prince lando. lando is equally a brat and a tortured soul and oscar is equally cruel and loyal to lando. the angst here is crazy. there are a lot of moments where i audibly gasped while reading.

while the eyes are on us by amilyame | hunger games setting

Twenty-three slips with his name. That’s all it took. "I present to you the tributes of District 10 for the 74th Hunger Games!" Helmut Marko’s voice rang out. Lando glanced again at Oscar standing next to him — straight, motionless, with an impassive face. A person who had chosen to be here himself. In the district, they said that the butcher Piastri's son's hand wouldn't tremble even when he needed to slaughter a young bull. I wonder, thought Lando with sudden grim clarity, would it tremble when the time came to kill a person?

shepherd lando and a butcher's apprentice ,, the shepherd and his guard dog ,,, what more does one need. ALSO love how the author adapted "oscar being a fanboy since long" here

Satellites by @fairielux and @mintraindrop | star wars au

The Force has led Lando and Oscar into Wild Space. To a planet named Kesh. Their sanctuary and a way to learn about themselves.

im a sucker for a good crossover (?) au ,,, it feels like the authors are having fun writing too <3

[sleepingdeath-light]

having a gomez and morticia-esque dynamic with his fem overlord s/o hcs ; alastor

requested by ; anonymous (15/02/24)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; alastor

outline ; “So good to have you back!

Can I request Alastair with an fem Overlord! Reader? Like they have a relationship similar to Morticia and Gomez Addams, especially when Mortica says “Don’t torture yourself Gomez, that’s my job.” Reader is just elegant and classy in a sense with her man 👀”

note ; there are some potentially (very mildly) ooc bits here and there for the sake of filling the prompt, but otherwise this is exactly what the outline requested as best as i could write it lol ^^

warning(s) ; references to canon-typical levels of violence, but mostly fluff!

the two of you are, to put it bluntly, a match made in hell — which is rather fitting as your first meeting occurred in hell itself shortly after alastor’s reign of terror as ‘the radio demon’ had first began

very few people are aware that the two of you are in a relationship, or that you know each other at all, and that’s simply because neither of you see the point in broadcasting your attachments and personal lives to the entirety of hell — your husband may be an egotistical radio broadcaster with a kill count that most sinners can only dream of achieving, but he preferred to keep his private life private and your marriage was just one of those things

(of course rosie is keenly aware of the two of you and teases alastor relentlessly, and lovingly, for how utterly in love with you he is — but he lets it slide because he knows she means well and wouldn’t dream of causing you harm)

but when you’re together it’s plainly obvious, even to those who don’t know you well at all, that the two of you are deeply obsessed with each other — that’s mainly down to your unusual, and yet somehow not at all surprising for the two of you, displays of affection which most would find deeply off putting

of course your alastor is a gentleman and can appreciate the more traditional romantic displays — he never fails to greet you with a kiss on the back of your hand and a bouquet of the finest flora hell has to offer, and he’s always ready to offer you his jacket if you complain about the weather — but it doesn’t just stop at those more ‘normal’ acts (something that you come to be more and more grateful for as your relationship progresses from courting to dating to something resembling marriage without all of the formal paperwork)

there are displays of affection that are more reliant on his more cannibalistic side, for one: diligently licking any and all of your wounds clean whilst earnestly complimenting the rich flavour of your blood (after dealing with whichever poor soul decided to go after you in the first place), talking cheerily about all of the ways he’d prepare your flesh if ever you let him (and listening with rapt attention as you discussed your own plans for any errant limbs or slabs of flesh that he may lose in battle), making sure to get to rosie’s cafè as early as possible to ensure that you only get the best of your favourite baked treats, and staring hungrily down at you as you gingerly wipe the blood from his lips and cheeks with your fingers and lick them clean in a way that most anyone else would find disturbing

there are shows of love that lean more into your mutual sadistic tendencies: kissing sweetly whilst the blood of your victims is still fresh on your skin and clothes, slow dancing to whatever song he’s broadcasting from his radio on top of the corpses of your slain targets, wistfully admiring each other as you rage and show your full demonic forms to anyone who dared to cross you (a precursor for plenty of compliments and private affection later on, i’m sure), and you stepping forward and coaxing him out of a violent episode by insisting that he should torture you instead with that sweet tone of voice that you know he can’t say ‘no’ to

there are acts that are a mixture of the three — such as you calling each other the sweetest pet names in a mixture of your spoken languages (‘love’, ‘cher’, ‘dearest’, etc.) before going on to say something truly monstrous that would have everyone else in earshot staring with a mixture of horror and disgust, or him taking you out to get your tailored clothes repaired since he so loves taking care of you after a spat with another (now likely very dead) overlord left your clothes torn in places and stained with all sorts of viscera

and, of course, amongst all of that you can guarantee that alastor is being nothing short of encouraging, adoring, and protective over you (read: quick to threaten anyone who intends to cause you harm into silence and slaughtering anyone who refuses to comply with that warning) and your honour as you go about your life as an overlord alongside him — he knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, but he was raised to be a gentleman and he’s certainly not going to stop being one just because he happened to go to hell

truly, it’s like the two of you were made for each other

[mazywrites]

'A FAVOUR' short pt2

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: lucy notices the phone number on the back of lockwood’s hand

THEMES: slowburn, enemies to lovers

REQUESTED BY: @that-choir-girl

WARNINGS: lockwood’s isn’t very nice, sort of similar to his relationship with kipps in the series. reminder that this is purely fictional, so if you don’t like how he is portrayed just don’t read it :)

NOTES: a very short part two to a series. i’m so endlessly sorry to the person who requested this for taking so long, i’m drowning in work at the moment. I’ve written a VERY long remainder to the series but for now i’m just posting this tiny segment so to help my own conscious lol.

here’s my masterlist not proofread yet || leave a comment below to join my taglist! requests are currently open but it may take a while for me to get around to them

My work is not to be reposted, copied, translated or used in any form without explicit permission from myself.

“Why’s there a number written on your hand?”

It was one of those rare nights where the house was quiet, bar the distant rumble of traffic from the main roads, or the buzz of the kettle every so often in the kitchen. The living room was littered with papers, books, and an array of pens, some laid out across the rug, and others strewn on the sofas. Lockwood sat closest to the door, sifting through a pile of forms. In opposite armchairs sat Lucy and George, each searching through works of their own. It had been a long few days, filled with endless research and trips to the archives in search of any hints about their latest case—a huge home in the countryside with a rather disturbing history in far too many ways. They’d been recommended to the owner through a mutual friend—and Lockwood was determined to prove his agency’s worth. After all, the local newspapers were doing anything but.

The question had sounded so absurd, so out of place that Lockwood hadn’t even realised it was directed at him at first. He continued, tapping his pen rhythmically against the table as he read through a newspaper cutting, pausing only when George called his name. He looked up.

Lucy’s brows were raised, her hand paused mid-motion as she reached for something across the battered brown coffee table. George’s dark eyes were narrowed, his face unreadable.

“What?” Lockwood’s response came out as a sort of croak, and could feel his face burning up as he recalled the question.

“The number,” repeated Lucy, and her lips tugged upwards slightly. “On your hand.”

Lockwood paused, and suddenly the collar of his shirt was painfully tight. He looked down at the pen tattooed on his hand, forcing his brows up in mild surprise in a desperate attempt to mask the embarrassment he just knew was visible on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he told them far too quickly, and mentally facepalmed. “It’s for a case.”

“For a case?” repeated Lucy with an air of incredulity.

“For a case, yes.” He tugged at his tie, loosening it in a bid to ease the discomfort he found himself facing. “Would you pass me that jug off the side, George?”

George wasn’t so easily distracted. He shuffled in his seat, pushing the frames of his glasses further up his nose.

“For a case…as in a client’s number? On your hand?” He glanced in Lucy’s direction, as if searching for some sort of support from her. “That isn’t hugely appropriate, Lockwood–you do know we have an entire book to store these things?”

This got a snicker out of Lucy, but Lockwood didn’t look as amused. His lips pursed, gaze falling as he shook his head, spinning his pen between his fingers as nonchalantly as he could manage, despite the eyes he could feel boring into him. “It’s nothing like that.”

Lucy exhaled loudly, sitting back in her chair too with a teasing smile. “None of our business, George!” She exclaimed airily, shooting the boy a grin. “It must be private.”

Lockwood tutted. “It’s not—“

“You’re right, Lucy,” agreed George, with an upward tug of his lips. “We wouldn’t want to pry.”

“I’ve just told you it’s nothing like that!” exclaimed Lockwood with an air of outrage.

The nerve of it! To associate him with her, romantically at that, was suffocating, as unbearable as the girl herself. He wanted nothing more than to elaborate, to tell them exactly who the number belonged to, exactly why on earth it was sprawled across his hand—but he knew Lucy and George well enough to know that it would only make them worse. How on earth would he describe what had happened, how he’d been booted out of a cafe, doused in coffee and to add to injury, held out his hand for the girl’s number—it was absurd, yes, but it was exactly what Lucy needed to tease him even more. He wasn’t going to give them that opening. He reached to loosen his tie yet again as George nodded with a tiny smile, returning his gaze to the book before him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lockwood.”

Lockwood cursed under his breath, throwing down his pen and rising from his seat with a sigh. Perhaps they’d both looked up again, no, they had definitely watched but all he cared for now was a cup of tea. He’d barely shut the door and crossed the hallway when he heard a fit of giggles, no doubt Lucy’s, from inside the living room. Lockwood huffed, rubbing at his temples in exasperation when his gaze fell upon the phone sitting on the stand in the hallway. He looked down at the phone number again.

Was this really necessary?

Or was he just going to look like a fool?

No. Lucy had been the one to bring up her name when he had mentioned that he couldn’t get them an extra set of hands. This was her idea. Not his own. He was doing what she had asked, right? Even if she didn’t expect him to actually follow through.

Yet he was the one who was going to make all the phone calls. How desperate, how pathetic he must look, going to the most jarring girl he had ever had the distaste of meeting, simply because he had no other choice. Was she sitting somewhere right now, smug, waiting to ruin his case when the time would finally come? It disgusted him to think of it, to know he’d have to endure her accursed presence, that judging, distasteful nose in the air, that quick mouth that jumped on his every fault. It was a death wish, if anything, to be willingly cooped up with her, but unfortunately, he was in desperate need of money.

It was the world’s way, perhaps, of getting back at him after he’d laughed, practically celebrated her sacking from Fittes. He had invited around anyone he knew, anyone willing to come—God, even Arif had popped in for a while— filled with a sudden sense of festivity, and he knew exactly why. Drinks, food- he’d planned it all over a number of hours. That day had felt as though Christmas itself had come early, like he had been successful without truly trying.

Yet here he was. Lingering by the phone in the hallway, debating how desperately he did need the money, and the reputation. It wasn’t even a question, and he knew it. Lockwood reached for the phone, and began to dial shakily the numbers on the back of his hand.

He raised the phone hesitantly to his right ear, his heart drumming a fast beat similar to the ringing of the phone line. Every moment of waiting only seemed to trigger his thoughts more and more.

Why on earth was she taking so long to pick up? It felt like the phone had been ringing for a lifetime! A surge of outrage shot through him; had she given him a fake number? Had he been made a joke of?

Oh, he was going to kill the damn girl.

“Hello?” Sang a voice in his ear.

Nevermind, he wasn’t going to kill her yet. Perhaps after the case itself, he’d have a fleeting chance to grab her, shove her down a set of stairs and bolt. Or maybe he wouldn’t need to- maybe she’d rusted over the months working as a freelancer. The thought spread a grin across his face.

“Hello?” The voice repeated again, time with an air of slight impatience. Typical. Lockwood cleared his throat. “It’s Anthony Lockwood…of Lockwood and Co.”

Oh God. He slapped a hand to his forehead, his eyes clenched shut, and there was an awkward silence on the other end. When it didn’t cease, Lockwood cleared his throat, recollecting himself. “You’re still up for the case I asked you about?”

There was a pause. “Yes.” Her voice had lost all the initial emotion, suddenly void of any feeling, monotonous.

Lockwood hummed in response. “Well then, two days time. Mapelwood Manor, just off Kent.” He waited for a response, but it didn’t come. “Be there by curfew. Don’t make us late.”

She scoffed sharply. “You’ve got nerve. Don’t set the place alight before I get there.”

It was Lockwood’s turn to feel disrespected.

“You know, L/n, you—“

Lockwood paused, cut off by a muffled, distant voice in the background. The voice was slightly louder this time, indistinguishable but certainly calling her name.

“If that’s all?” She spoke again, with an air of hurriedness.

“Yes.” Lockwood lowered the phone slightly, debating how to end the call. A farewell?

But the buzz told him she had already put down the phone.

“Did you say L/n?”

Lockwood jumped at the sudden voice of Lucy. He turned, and there she stood by the door of the living room , leaning against the frame in a way that suggested she’d had time to make herself comfortable. Lockwood scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I did, yeah. She’s, er—“ he tried to manage a casual smile “She’s coming with us to Mapelwood.”

Suddenly, his face was burning again. He headed into the kitchen for that cup of tea, but the footsteps behind him said she was close in pursuit.

“What?” Lucy asked, incredulous. “How?”

Lockwood didn’t reply, turning away to fill the kettle—or to hide his face.

“You asked her to come?”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice, Luce.” He said, jaw tight. “And besides, you’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Told you?” He could practically hear her grinning. “I didn’t tell you to do anything, Lockwood, I mentioned her name in passing.”

Lockwood leaned back with a sharp exhale, recognising the look on her face. “Don’t even–“

“You’ve been telling us for years that you hate this girl…” She smirked. “Yet you’ve gone and asked her to join our case.”

“Don’t make it weird,” he warned, brows raised. “We’ve got no one else, and we need the cash.”

Lucy raised her hands in mock innocence. “Of course. Nothing more.”

“Lucy Carlyle.” Lockwood straightened up, meeting her gaze seriously. “This is one case. Once it’s over, we never see her again. She can go back to whatever she does when she isn’t pissing us off.”

“Now that’s mean,” interrupted Lucy. “And she doesn’t piss us off.“

“Well, she’s mean.” Lockwood sat back again, crossing his arms. “And she pisses me off. Let’s just hope she doesn’t mess anything up for us.”

“She wouldn’t, Lockwood. Not everyone is as petty as you.”

“It’s not about being petty.” Lockwood shook his head. “She’s argumentative. Thinks she knows it all. Can’t follow orders either. I think she’s got issues, if i’m honest.”

“Reminds me of someone.”

Lockwood heard the door click shut behind him.

This wasn’t going to end well.

[rafesangelita]

what did cameronsbsbydoll ever do to u to make you block her? she’s takes so much inspiration from you only so that you can turn around and shut her out. what kind of person does that?

i told myself that i wouldn’t answer asks like these but my boundaries continue to be crossed when i’ve stated them multiple times in private so i really don’t care about how anyone feels anymore. to make things very clear, i didn’t just ‘shut’ her out, i had my reasoning and she knows what that is already. she’s still able to reach out to me through my side blogs, so she has a way to reach me if she needs to. now onto why i have her blocked..

not too long ago there was some stuff that was brought to light involving her being connected to a twitter account that supported israel and zionist propaganda. i saw the screenshots and acted accordingly to what i felt was right. not only that, but i was getting an influx of hate from people on her part saying that i, myself, was a zionist for interacting with her still, so i distanced myself and blocked her because i didn’t want people to think that i was okay with that whatsoever. that’s all. i’m sick of people calling me a bully for not interacting with her, and it really doesn’t help that she continues to answer asks about me knowing what they imply instead of just reaching out to me. i defended her twice just yesterday, along with sending her a screenshot of my response to a ask asking if it was okay that i posted it because it had her name in it, and to have a mutual of mine send me screenshots of the things she’s posting with my name in them is disheartening. all i’ve done over the course of the last month or so was delete and block anon hate mentioning her because i refuse to spread misinformation and fuel hate towards anyone. i’m not surprised that i don’t get the same decency or consideration in return. i’m over it and i won’t be talking about it anymore.

and one more thing about the whole ‘copying’ fiasco : all of my writings come from my own brain, i’ve never had to copy or draw inspiration (not that anything is wrong with getting inspiration from another individual) from anyone in order to sit down and write a fic. a lot of you (hate anons) have lost the definition of what copying is. if fics with the same tropes/content material are being published, similarities between works are bound to happen (she has yet to bring up anything involving copying to my personal attention, so what’s really the problem??). if you’re not putting together a side by side comparison with highlighted proof of lines and dialogue being the exact same, then you’re just talking to talk at this point.

[motherroam-rs]

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over (3/7)

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Chapter 3 - The time you needed to not be alone

previous chapter | next chapter (coming 29th June) | masterlist

Read on AO3

Series Rating 18+

Chapter summary: You think back to your old life in Madripoor when isolation begins to drive you apart from the team. You try not to let it get the best of you, but it always does.

Chapter 3 word count: 8,236 words (another long one)

A/N: Firstly, this chapter hasn’t been beta read, there may be mistakes and please let me know if you spot any!

Spending my weekend on the sofa writing this after crying all week at my work. As we have no confirmed dates, only a general guideline, I’ve decided to make up my own for when things happen!

Anyways here is the start of the angst chapters where reader begins to push the team away. I’m sorry in advance, I’m currently on my period and feeling angsty. A little less Bob in this chapter, but there will be more in the next one!

If you’re on any of marveltwt/lewtwt or even starwarstwt and you're reading this lets be mutuals there cause I just need more people to yap about bob reynolds with

Madripoor - July 1st 2026 - 11:16 pm local time (12:16 New York)

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

You slam down your half-full glass of coke, simultaneously tossing your bag to Zara who’s half-aware of what’s just happened from where she stands behind the bar, and you take off through the crowd. 

The air inside the club is thickened with sweat tainted perfume and your nose cringes as you push through the waves of glitter coated bodies, shimmering like sinful disco balls under the colourful lights. You only had one person in mind right now.

This was the last thing you needed tonight, some pickpocket stealing your purse from your bag when you were distracted. 

Maybe that was your own fault - you shouldn’t have been distracted by yet another supernatural or alien event in New York hundreds of miles away, lighting up the screen on Zara’s phone behind the counter. But you were. Now you were gaining speed across a sticky club floor and your heels bit into you with every single step to chase down the man fifteen feet ahead of you, who still had your purse in hand.

Because you were distracted.

A man to your right with luminescent eyes accented with a cat-like mask hisses at you when you push past him to reach the door. Most nights here were themed, last week you had entered to find the club transformed into a rather good replication of a palace, with everyone decorated in beautifully intricate dresses and suits, likely authentic crowns and tiaras on a few heads. 

If you had enough money, you could buy anything in Madripoor. 

Tonight's theme was a zoo, you guessed, with the main room of the club dressed up to be some sort of jungle or rainforest, but when you pass one of the private rooms you catch a glimpse of sand seeping out of the door, the walls decorated in muted yellow tones. It’s brief, but you catch the eyes of a woman covered in nothing more than zebra body paint, and ignore her inviting smile.

You didn’t want to ask Zara what kind of drugs were fuelling tonight's party, you weren’t interested in that, nor were you dressed for the occasion. 

“Thanks for doing your job.” You curse sarcastically at the doorman dressed as a tiger as you pass him, finally escaping the lust thickened air. It’s just as humid outside, heavy clouds threatening rain block out any stars you might be able to see on a night like this.

“Hey!” Your eyes land on the man, your new target, running with poor form. Under the streetlights you can make out that his hair is silver, clearly not a very experienced pickpocket to have such identifiable features. 

One plus of the club being so private was there was nowhere to lose him, it was situated directly on the waterfront, nestled amongst either empty warehouses, or ones used for the weapons and drugs trade. A glimmering gemstone in a pile of broken glass.

You knew how to run in heels, but these expensive ones had little give in comparison to the cheap ones you had gotten used to training and completing missions in over the years. You should be faster than this, should have caught him before he even left the club, but you quickly close the distance between you both regardless. 

He’s thin, more bone than muscle, so it takes far less effort than you’re used to for you to grip onto his leather jacket and push him against the closest wall with enough force for a loud metallic echo as he slams against the warehouse.

A clatter at your feet signals that he’s smart enough to drop your purse, trembling hands raising in surrender. How weak, not even putting up a fight was pathetic, he was-

He was just… a kid. Wide brown eyes were weighed down by heavy dark circles beneath them, flaky animal makeup tells you he clearly didn’t belong in that club.

You have no proof behind it, but lately you’re beginning to suspect one of the doormen was letting pickpockets in in order for a cut of the taking. You make a mental note to tell Zara your suspicions.

Pushing down everything you’ve ever learned, you drop your hands from his jacket, lip curling in a restrained snarl.

“Go home.”

He had to be no older than eighteen at a guess, shrinking back against the wall even after you let him go. You’re not even threatened enough to put you off bending down to collect your purse, open, but at least containing all the money from your job earlier tonight. A routine bounty, a cheating husband tied up in a hotel room a few streets away, polaroids of him and his mistress on the bed and a room number texted to the wife who hired you.

It was easy work compared to what you had spent years doing. At least you were the one directly being paid for it too.

“Don’t have one.”

His quiet admission makes your jaw tense, but you don’t look up at him, continuing to count the money you already knew was there.

It would be ignorant of you to tell him to not turn to crime, to not get in trouble, you know this. You know what it's like to be an animal caged up, to be hungry around others who dripped wealth and threw back glasses of champagne without a care in the world. 

Madripoor is a big legal grey area, it’ll be hypocritical to tell him otherwise… that’s why everyone who was here, is here.

You dig your heel into the ground, thunder echoing somewhere in the distance. It will start raining soon.

He’s still staring at you when you pull your eyes away from the purse. Your face remains unchanged but there’s a bitter taste in your mouth, some stale sense of recognition at the look in his eyes. You spent enough years seeing it in your own.

Maybe there was some part of you that was honestly good, that made you pull the notes from your purse, but you doubted it. No part of you was ever willing to do the right thing without motivation. Maybe you just wanted to feel less guilty. 

You offer two notes to him, high numbers printed on the corner of them and his eyes widen, not with greed, but surprise. Gratitude.

“Take this, there’s a hotel two streets over, you know the one with a french name with the creepy statues on the top?”

The boy nods, brown eyes flicking between you and the money, a scarred hand reaching up to take the notes. It goes against your selfish instincts to let it go.

“Ask for Lena, she should be working at the front desk but if she isn’t, tell them you need to speak with her, and that Amy sent you.”

The boy stares at the notes in his hand as you rezip your purse and grip it with newfound possessiveness, like a dog with a bone.

“And you’re Amy?”

“Sure.” You shrug. There’s one of many ID’s in your wallet and a duffle bag currently stuffed under your floorboards which has the name Amy on. All of them are skins that you could slip into and pretend is your own for as long as needed. Amy is nice, and kind, and has helped the owner of the hotel on plenty of occasions that favours are owed. 

Amy was the type to cash them in on some troubled youth in a dangerous city. 

He doesn’t say thank you, just stuffs the cash into his jacket, keeps his silver head down, and walks away. You don’t care enough to watch him go.

It’s barely a two minute walk back to the club, lingering at the door are two women painted to look like serpents who regard you with curious, narrowed eyes over their cigarettes. They know you don’t belong here with them, not cut from the same golden cloth, but you earned your spot in these walls, the owners know who you are, and that is enough in a place like this. 

You stuff your purse into your jacket as a car pulls up, more people dressed as an array of animals spilling out of its doors. You trail in behind them, making sure you shoot the dirtiest look at the bouncers possible on your way back inside.

Under the multicoloured glow of neon lights and writhing bodies, you don’t need animal makeup to feel like one amongst the rest of them.

Zara’s eyes are already on you before you reach the bar, wavy golden wig and eagle mask making her look fierce, like a true bird of prey, but you know too much of her personality by now to consider her as little more than a blackbird.

“Everyone else is lucky they don’t have enough clothes on to carry a purse, otherwise they’d be getting pickpocketed too.” You grumble as you take a seat to the corner of the bar, somewhere the lights won't flash on you and you could half shield yourself behind a fake palm tree.

“Did you hand his ass to him?” Zara asks, retrieving your bag from beneath the counter and passing it back to you, along with your half drank glass of coke, the ice now melted. You don’t care enough to ask her for another one.

The look you give her is self explanatory, confident, and it earns you a smirk. Zara didn’t need to know that you let him go, you can keep that secret to yourself.

You trace along the newly formed condensation on the outside of the glass, relishing in the cold droplets that cling to your skin, the heat is beginning to get to you during these summer months, even the rain is warm and suffocating.

“I’m starting to think the doormen are letting them in, that some of them are splitting whatever these pickpockets are taking, maybe it's…”

Zara’s face has fallen at your theory, her grip on the glass she was polishing turns shaky, only slightly. But it's enough.

She’s in on it.

“Seriously, Zara?!” You don’t need to lower your voice due to the loud music, but you do it anyway to avoid drawing any potential attention. Most of the time you didn’t care if people got themselves hurt breaking whatever rules there were in this city - only those cut out for the punishment would take the risk, but you knew Zara was not one of them.

Maybe she isn’t a blackbird, more of a magpie stealing away shiny things. You couldn't, and wouldn’t, judge her for it. You’d done far worse, but you could handle yourself, you didn’t have the same confidence in your feathered bartender.

Zara pouts at you, glossy red lips perfectly downturned beneath the beak of her mask.

“Hey, I didn’t know he was gonna go for you, promise!” She pleads, the wings on her costume curling around her arms as she reaches out to grab your clenched fish in assurance.

The closest thing you had to a friend in this city was going to get herself killed if the owners of the club found out. You’d met them only once, on your first week here when some group had refused to pay the club for a shipment of some trendy new party drug, likely synthesised in the underbelly of the city. 

You had been the fifth person they had sent after the group but the first to get results, you’ve never failed at any task given to you before, and you’re sure you’d die before you ever will.

A wad of cash and pills were waiting for you at the tiny apartment you were staying in that night, the latter of the payment had been quickly discarded, and the money went into finding a safer place in the city to live. Any cash after that ended up stuffed into the duffle bag, some false idea you could eventually leave here willingly, or that you might have enough if you ever needed to run - like before.

Zara clearly didn’t have those same self-preservation skills.

“Let me buy you a real drink to make up for it? It can be one of the top shelf cocktails, won’t even taste like alcohol - promise!”

“No.” You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to fight against the promise of an oncoming headache. She knew you didn’t drink, not in places like this at least.

“Just… give me your phone so I can watch the news again.” You unfold your hand, and she places her phone back into it.

You have to blink three times to make sure you're not hallucinating.

“What happened to New York?” The city had been black barely ten minutes ago, shaky camera footage had played tiny specks of people trying to run for their lives. “It looks… normal again?”

On the news there’s no sign of whatever attack had been happening before, no one screaming in terror, only what looks to be some broken concrete and construction damage before it switches to non-live playback. The screen was no longer playing shaky footage of strangers, but instead it now focused on someone in fitted, professional clothing. Someone you knew. 

Valentina Allegra De Fontaine.

It had been a few months since she last reached out to you with work, some of which you turned down, most of it you didn’t. She’s clearly nervous, but unlike most people she hides it well through practiced smiles and crowd pleasing jokes.

Zara’s next words are so casual that she could be giving you a weather update.

“Oh, that, yeah… you were gone for ten minutes and they announced a new Avengers team.”

The phone clatters on the marble bar top, your grip turning loose.

“What? What are you talking about? The avengers have been gone for like-” You do the mental math in your head, recalling the day the world crumbled to dust around you and rebuilt itself before your very eyes. The many weeks of tributes to Iron Man you had watched on the news with an empty chest. “Three years now.”

You never believed in much in this world, but a small part of you believed in them. People who weren’t like you. Heroes, ones who were truly good.

“I’m not kidding, look.”

Zara types something into the search bar before thrusting her phone back to you, a bright screen flooded with articles providing live updates on the new Avengers lineup, people already digging into each of their backgrounds within minutes. 

You couldn’t even focus on the screen to read past two names - Congressman Barnes and John Walker. A pop up stops you from seeing the other names, asking for a subscription to the newspaper so you can read the rest, you try to click backwards, but a buzzing sound from your bag makes you freeze.

The only phone you owned, and only one person had the number to it.

Zara, who has momentarily stepped away to serve someone, calls over to you without breaking her focus on the champagne she’s pouring. 

“Oh yeah, by the way, that brick you call a phone kept ringing when you were gone, you might want to answer it.”

You fish the item from your bag, where it had been zipped in a side pocket since its last use, half surprised the battery hadn’t died.

“I need to go take this, but hey,” You pause to face her, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. “Just… be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, you know me, always am.” She shoots you a cheery wink, a playful smile on her mouth, confident. You didn’t want to be the one to tell her what would happen if the owners found out what she was turning a blind eye to.

Breaking away from the hiding spot in the corner of the bar, you make your way through the crowd once more, couples kissing, some of them doing much more than kissing. You pass the same private room with the zebra painted woman, who was now straddling a man painted grey in an elephant mask, and quickly avert your eyes.

You weren’t averse to the act of sex, but you couldn’t fathom enjoying it so… hungrily. Not like the people here could.

In a last second decision, you pause before the doors, phone buzzing in hand when your eyes land on Zara, time slowing for a few seconds. 

You didn’t know at that moment, it would be the last time you would see her. Half leaning over the bar to flirt with a woman resembling a wolf.

And then, you walk out, leaving the thick air, glaring lights and booming music behind. 

Pushing through a crowd of new arrivals you grip the phone in your hand and catch a glimpse of the moon peeking down at you through the crowds. Your thumb presses the key with the flaked off green call symbol, and you raise it to your ear. 

“Why haven’t you picked up your phone?!” A tense voice greets you, not sounding as happy as you would expect for the woman responsible for bringing the Avengers back.

“Kinda busy, Valentina, and it seems you are too.” 

Your heels echo as you walk along the waterfront, passing the spot you had pinned the boy against one of the warehouses, only stopping once you were far enough that the doormen couldn’t hear you.

“Get your things.” 

The image of your duffle bag flashes in your mind and your mouth dries up.

“Is someone looking for me?”

You knew she had promised to keep people off your back, anyone who might come looking, and as far as you were aware that wasn’t something that had happened so far. Muscles are tensing beneath your skin, ready to run, to flee another city you hadn’t even attempted to make a home in after three years.

“No. You’re moving.” You could almost hear Valentina rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“Moving? If I’m safe, why am I-”

“There’s a plane waiting for you, it leaves in thirty-three minutes from the far airstrip outside the city. I've sent a car to get you there. Be on it.” Valentina gives you no chance to argue before hanging up. This isn’t one of her choice missions, it’s an order. Money could buy you a lot of things in Madripoor… but apparently freedom isn’t really one of them.

You know where she wants you to go, the same place she had flown you in after the blip. Somewhere you wouldn’t be tracked - but why? If you aren’t being hunted down by anyone on her radar, why does she want you out of here?

You remember the boy's eyes when you gave him the money… like you handed him a life jacket in a storm. Perhaps this was your own lifejacket, and you didn’t need to fight to stay afloat anymore. You didn’t trust Valentina’s intentions entirely, but you trusted her to keep you alive.

Raindrops are beginning to fall from the sky by the time a car pulls up behind you, the driver calling your real name. The one only Valentina knew.

The tainted water washes you clean.

The Watchtower - April 20th 2027 

You don’t know how to accept being vulnerable apparently, relying on machines and nurses and medication stronger than the jumbo bottles of ibuprofen.

If you refuse to take the medication by mouth, a syringe is injected into the IV line in your hand anyways, rendering your attempts at fighting the medical team useless. Three days have passed in a blur since your strange nightmare sequence after the nurses restrained you. By the time you had woken up fully, you were free to move.

‘She’s too weak to do any damage anyway.’ That’s what the nurse had said on your last evening in the medical bay of the tower, as if you weren’t there, dazed but still awake just inches to her right. 

It’s not like you would have been able to get out of that bed with the tube in your side during that time anyway. According to the surgeon who operated on you, the bullet had embedded itself in your shattered ribs and caused your lung to collapse from the pressure, so they needed to drain the air from your chest. 

He only tells you this after you threaten to pull it out for a third time and make weak attempts to push away the nurses checking the bandages so that two more are called to hold your hands down.  

Now though, you were alone. 

There’s no Yelena here cupping your face, no phantom ghosts with weapons beating you into submission, but also no imaginary Bob to hold your hand. 

It was a shame that was the only dream he had visited you in the three - technically, four - days since you got shot. Part of you wishes your brain was willing to allow you that comfort of fake Bob’s touch again, now that you were effectively isolated. 

Not that you would admit this.

Visitors have been deemed too ‘distressing’ by the doctor in charge of your care during those first few days, but that doesn’t stop Valentina from overriding that particular medical order this evening.

“You’re a walking PR nightmare, do you even care about that?” You almost died and her biggest concern was the magazines, of course. 

She’s pacing a hole at the foot of your bed as you watch her with disinterested eyes, her face red with evident pent up stress that’s been building from days of not being able to tear into you over getting injured.

“You’ve made this team look weak - how do you think every other criminal organisation will look at you guys now if any barely trained guy with a gun can take down an Avenger!”

“‘This team’?” If you had the energy to, you would throw up some air quotations right now. Her words burn you, having the effect of a red flag being waved in front of a bull.

“Didn’t realise you were on the team Val, since when does illegal human experimentation and attempted murder make you qualified to be an Avenger.” 

You don’t even sound like yourself, too bitter, too hurt, and you nearly choke on the words. 

They don’t seem to have the effect you even intended, because Valentina smiles and it’s sickly sweet. You could snarl and bite and bare your teeth all you liked, and it would only prove her point further.

“Clearly you aren’t ready to be back in the team briefings if you can’t play nice,” Valentina glares, arms folding like a stern not-so-motherly mother. She couldn’t technically stop you herself… but a whisper in the ear of the doctor would be enough to force you into a longer bedrest. 

Valentina takes slow steps over to the side of the bed you’re laying in, and bends down to your height, reminding you of a snake, or a lioness staring at injured prey.

“You know that all I brought you on this team for was a little balance to soften the lineup, just a pretty face I plucked out from an already employed stack of many options.”

A pretty face… just like you were before.

The worst part is that it’s the truth, and that’s an all too-bitter pill than you can manage to swallow right now. You aren’t special. There isn’t anything that made you deserving to wear the avengers symbol on your uniform. 

You keep your chin up, eyes narrow and steady, like the cuts from her words were a mere inconvenience, that’s all they are.

“So if you can’t be that, I will find a replacement, and I’m sure the rest of this team won't mind.”

It was no secret that every person on the team was prone to self destructive behaviour, no person of their sound mind would run into gunfire like you did, but it was gunfire that now landed you into this exact situation. 

It was your fault… were the rest of the team just as angry as her for your impulsivity?

Valentina leaves after that, ushered out by the arrival of the nurse coming to take your nighttime observations of your blood pressure and pain levels. Her words are still playing on a feedback loop for the next day, and somehow you feel worse. The wound in your side aches more, the failure of the mission makes the nausea intensify, and the pain medication suspends you in empty limbo. If it weren’t for the alarm going off every few hours as a reminder to take the damned pills, you would be sure that no time was passing at all.

-

“Good morning!”

Your eyes open robotically, adjusting to the room as you blink, momentarily forgetting where you are as the room spins around you. The painkillers must have thrown you into another dreamless sleep because sunlight is threatening to seep through the blind and one of the nameless nurses who had been in charge of you was making her way to them.

“No- Leave them closed.” The words leave your mouth a bit more panicked than you intend for them to.

“Right… light sensitive still?” You can pick up the sound of her tapping on a tablet, presumably updating the care notes.

Even the action of nodding makes you want to vomit. The pain from the bullet wound and collapsed lung was bad, sure, but this was the concussion from hell. Unlike the ones you had before, this one lingered even five days later now, barely kept at bay by the nausea suppressants and laying in a dark room.

“Hm, not unusual, sometimes concussion effects can last for several weeks.” Her chipper tone doesn’t help the delivery of this news to you.

“Great.” Your jaw tenses, sending a spike of pain through your temple.

You don’t fight her when she takes your arm to measure your blood pressure, clenching your fist quietly when the cuff squeezes on bruises.

“Sorry sweetie.” The nurse mumbles an apology when she removes the cuff and passes you two of your pills, one for pain and one for nausea. You take them without complaint, swallowing them down with a bitter electrolyte solution.

This is your chance to ask her, tapping away on her screen to update your care notes. You knew you only had about twenty seconds before she would leave to retrieve your breakfast from the cafeteria.

“Are there… any updates on when I’m allowed visitors yet?” You bite down once more and ignore the pain, praying you didn’t sound as needy as you did in your head. 

Out of the corner of your eye, her fingers stop moving and she looks up at you with a frown.

“Oh, well, from what I can see here that order was lifted two days ago when we moved you out of the medical bay.”

Oh.

“Maybe they’re just… giving you space?”

Or distancing themselves. 

Valentina was right. The team were probably still angry at you for fucking up the easiest hostage recovery ever, disobeying orders, and causing the whole team to look like a laughing stock to the public.

The only people you had seen since leaving the medical bay - aside from Val if she even counted as a person since she was practically half shark or viper - were the nurses who helped you shower and practice your physical therapy exercises when you weren’t silently glaring at them, untrusting after they had restrained you to a bed. 

Being alone was better than letting the others see just how weak you really were. 

After a few beats of silence on your end, the nurse speaks up again, a false cheery tone returning. “I’ll go get your Oatmeal, your notes say you didn’t eat your dinner last night, I’m sure you must be starving!”

When the door closes, confirming her departure, you feel sicker than ever.

You never had a problem with loneliness before joining this team. You were content to be on your own with a half friendly bartender who didn’t even know your real name after three years. 

Has anyone you know from Madripoor seen your face on the news? Laughed at a screen showing you in a team outfit knowing you didn’t belong in the lineup?

You try not to think of those times much anymore, the isolation in a crowded city, the work you put yourself through just to stay alive. It was easy to not think about all of it when you were surrounded by your team members, joking together on missions, fighting for a purpose and not your own selfish needs.

Today though, the blinds remained closed, blocking out the rest of the world to leave your room in this perpetual state of darkness that wasn’t too harsh on your eyes, and you have no choice but to think about all of it.

-

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner go half eaten, collected by a different member of your care team each time with a robotic ‘How did you like it?’, which you never reply to. You’re too busy making plans to return to Madripoor once the inevitable happens and you’re removed from the team. If the new owner of your old apartment hadn’t redone the flooring, you might be able to sneak back in to retrieve your duffle bag and your backup identities inside of it. Sure, it will be harder to go under the radar now when you’ve been a public identity for so long, but you have enough savings, legitimate ones, to buy yourself a remote life. You can deal with being alone if it were your choice… you can handle leaving-

You flinch when the tablet beside your bed buzzes. 

‘Evening pain medication x 2’

Was it that time already? 

You glance towards the blinds, seeing no light glow around the edges, the sun must have set already. You shuffle up the pillow and reach for the buzzing tablet, knocking something to the floor in the process.

“Fuck.”

The object makes a soft rattle when it hits the carpet, and you watch in annoyance as the small pill bottle rolls away, taunting you.

Come and get me.

You would have to ask the doctors if personifying judgemental pill bottles was a side effect of the medication inside.

Right - you can do this. Just remember your PT exercises, ignore the blinding pain in your ribs that almost makes you pass out every time you need to move, stand up without passing out, get the pills. Easy peasy.  

“Don’t, I’ll get it-”

You were about to brace yourself for the pain of sitting up when someone else is scooping the bottle up off the carpet. You had been so focused on doing it yourself, you didn’t even notice the sound of your bedroom door opening and a nurse coming in. 

Only, it wasn’t a nurse.

John, dressed in sweatpants and branded ‘New Avengers’ t-shirt, squints at the bottle, flicking on your night lamp despite his enhanced vision. Within seconds, it already makes your head hurt. Too much. Too bright. His voice only adds to it. 

If it were yesterday, before Valentina, before you were told any of them could have visited and didn't, you might have reacted differently. But now? You need to be alone. 

“Pain meds suck, I hurt my leg once playing football, it’s kind of a funny story,” John huffs a laugh, a practiced charming smile showing off dazzling teeth, “You see, there was this guy-“

It’s all too much, too grating on your senses, riling up your concussion. You just wanted it to stop.

“Just give me the fucking pills John.” 

The conversation with your teammate was dead just five seconds in. John’s smile falls, and he blinks in surprise at your unexpected tone. You didn’t mean to sound aggressive, but you still said it. 

You open your mouth to apologise, but nothing comes out, words dying before they even hit your tongue, and you grit your teeth instead.

“Jesus.” John mutters, placing the bottle in your hand, and you don’t miss the way his eye twitches at the shake in it. Weak. You were the weakest team member, maybe the rest of them were coming to their senses now in line with Valentina, nothing personal, you were just a liability. 

You’re quick to twist off the loosened cap, dumping two into your hand, and reaching for your half empty glass of water, flicking off the lamp first.

“We were gonna watch a movie, it’s Bob's turn to choose, he’s been wanting to watch Star Wars for weeks, but he said he thought you might like-“ 

“I’m tired.” You bring the glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the pills tainting the water as you swallow them down and place the glass back on your nightstand with more force than necessary.

You’re probably capable of getting to the main living area, it would take a little help in case you got dizzy, but you could do it. You just don’t want to. You can’t want to. Can’t be around a team of heroes that you had failed at being a part of. 

“Okay,” John's jaw tenses and he nods, turning his back to you. “I uh, I guess I’ll tell them maybe next week.”

Would you still be living here next week? Or would Val have you sent away.

You’re gone to the world before he even closes the door, leaving you in the dark void of your room, surrendering to dreams of years in lonely apartments in neon cities, quarter-full closets and empty picture frames.

You don’t even wake to the sound of the gentle knock on your door, a low and concerned voice calling your name through the wood. 

-

You’re staring at the time on your phone before you realise that you’re fully awake, far away from the places you dreamed of. 

There was a sound in the room that wasn’t the background noise of your TV. There’s something… gnawing?

You squint at the darkness, waiting for it to come to life as you pinpoint where the noise is coming from. Nighttime paints your room in cool, blue tones, so the orange hallway light is a giveaway that your door must have been opened, and you already know what the noise must be.

Slowly, you put weight on your good side to lean across the unused side of your bed, peering over the edge.

“How did you get in here?” Alpine blinks slowly up at you, caught in the act of chewing on the edge of one of your books she had knocked from your desk.

She meows up at you, beginning to purr when she spots you, and it’s hard to stay mad at her for more than a few seconds. 

On the floor next to her, with its corner chewed at is a book. ‘Origami for Kids.’ The pages of it were warped by rain, stuck together and useless, but you still kept it.

Christmas music and ice cold rain threaten your memories, and you blink them away quickly.

Alpine provides a distraction and jumps up to the edge of your bed, nuzzling her head against your arm as her claws begin to dig into your bedding.

“No, c’mon, your dad will be looking for you.” You groan at her, like she could possibly understand your reasoning that she’s supposed to be in Bucky’s room. 

As far as you were aware, she couldn’t open doors, although you wouldn’t put it past Bucky to train her to do so. You could swear you remember John closing your door fully, but maybe the pain medication was making you misremember.

She plants herself on your legs, and you sigh. Carefully you return to your half elevated sleeping position, pointing sternly in her face and she sniffs at your fingertip.

“Fine. Just one night, and that’s it.”

You fall asleep like that, hands buried in her fur, at least feeling a little bit less lonely. 

The Watchtower - 11th December 2026 - 10:49pm

“You okay?”

Bucky, the man who seemed to have a permanent worry line between his brows, turns his face at your approach. His broad frame is leaning against the metal and glass railing at the edge of the balcony, phone clutched tightly in his metal grip you almost worry the screen might break. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Which in Bucky language, meant that something was very wrong, and lately it was often the same thing. 

“...Is it Sam?”

You know he’s trying to sort things out with his friend, the new Captain America (much to John’s bitterness about Sam not needing the serum to hold the title), and if Bucky’s face right now was anything to go off, things weren’t going well.

“He’s setting up his own Avengers team, he uh… doesn’t exactly approve of this one.”

You rest your forearms against the chilly metal, fixing your eyes on the sparkling lights that were set up especially for the tower Christmas party that was ongoing in the penthouse behind you. Tonight, your stylist had settled on a simple black dress with a low cut, sparkling neckline, the skirt was flowy, stopping just above your knees, and was crafted from rich silk. One of a kind, and also terrible at keeping you warm the moment you stepped outside to make your escape from the party, as you often did.

Alexei was all too happy to dress as Santa and throw back endless vodka shots with the office workers from the other levels that rarely came into contact with the team. Professionals that wore stiff suits throughout the week had tried to buy you drinks and coax you into flirtatious conversation you were desperate to avoid. 

Unfortunately, your usual companion, Bob, had texted to let you know he’d be late and that he was out braving the overcrowded stores for some mid-december gift shopping. Bucky's tense jaw when he excused himself to take a call offered you an out from the party you were forced into staying for an hour, as per the team's agreement with Valentina to smile for cameras and sell the image of the new Avengers to a public who weren’t entirely buying into it five months down the line.

“That’s… not good.” You puff your cheeks out, releasing a cloud of air into the cold night. “Does Valentina know?”

“No.” Bucky pockets his phone with a huff, muscles straining against the velvet suit jacket he’d been dressed in by his own stylist. 

You wouldn’t be the one to tell Valentina, trusting Bucky to handle it. A small, selfish, part of you fears for the future of the team, for the home you were beginning to settle into.

“Look, it’s Christmas time, my first one actually, and that means you don’t get to be sad at Christmas.” Bucky turns towards you, more confused than angry about Sam now. 

“It doesn’t matter if he’s making his own team,” You place your hands on his shoulders, brushing off some lone pieces of christmas confetti that had settled there from a popped balloon. “What matters is that we still have a team, okay? You guys can still fix things.”

You aren’t good at comforting people, it’s not something that comes naturally to you, the words don’t flow easy or inspirationally. Bucky smiles all the same, understanding the sentiment you were clumsily trying to spell out, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he pulls you into his chest.

An upbeat, muffled christmas song plays over the rare moment of vulnerability between you. You’ve grown close with Bucky, it made perfect sense. The pair of you shared similar experiences of the world, it was only natural that a strong friendship formed out of thin air, similar to the ones you saw on TV and in the movies you could watch now that you could afford to have free time. 

But if this was what friendship was like… why did it feel different when Bob hugged you?

“Thanks, Doll.” Bucky grumbles, still half frustrated, but less of a grinch than before.

“Doll now?” You laugh, pulling away from his warmth.

Bucky's cheeks warm and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your teasing.

“God you’re so old.” You laugh, shaking your head at him. It was something you noticed, he’d slip into old terms on occasion, when he was less guarded.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” He laughs, and although you didn’t share that attraction to him, you could understand why women must have flocked to him in the forties, and why they still do now. 

The music from inside gets clearer for a few moments, a sign someone else must have joined the pair of you on the balcony, reinforced when Bucky straightens beside you.

He doesn’t look irritated though, in fact that half formed smile only grows and he nudges you with his elbow and gives you a nod.

“Think someone’s here to see you, I’ll see you later.”

You spin, turning to face the doors as Bucky leaves you standing there. 

Standing, red in the face like he’s been running, and in an expensive suit hastily put on and misbuttoned, is Bob. For the briefest moment, he’s frowning, and maybe it’s because he’s not under the intricate ceiling of string lights, but his eyes appear darker, unreadable. 

Bucky passes him, and you watch Bob’s face in real time as it corrects itself into a polite smile before he approaches you, his hands folded behind his back.

“You’re late.” You stare at him expectantly, eyebrows raised, but you fight back a smile at his evident nervousness.

“I know- Sorry-” He clasps a hand over the back of his neck, sheepishly fixing his hair into place. 

“You left me to the wolves.” You sigh dramatically as more people spill outside, but thankfully spread out in groups along the outdoor space, too preoccupied with their own conversations to notice you and Bob.

“Well… let me make it up to you?”

There's the smallest shake of his hand when he pulls something flat and shiny from behind his back, a silver bow on the centre of it.

“Is that a present?” You walk forward to meet him halfway, a smile brightening up your face.

“You’re supposed to save the presents for Christmas, Bob.”

“I know, I know- But it’s not anything big, I swear.” He hands it to you, clearing his throat when you take it in your hands.

The gift wrapping is messy, a sign he’s done it himself and you laugh at the sheer amount of tape on the back you have to tear at to open it.

Turning the item over in your hands, you read the title a few times and half notice him gripping the smooth metal edge of the balcony, knuckles turning white.

“Origami for kids?”

“I remember you saying you weren’t good at crocheting, or uh, drawing, and I was a bad teacher last time, so…” Bob trails off, unsure of your reaction and you clutch the book to your chest with one hand, your other finding his on the metal bar, warm against your own.

“I love it, thank you.”

You really did.

“Your hands are freezing…” Bob frowns, and he takes both of your hands in his own, larger ones, covering them easily. “Maybe I should have got you gloves instead.”

Bob, as he does with most things, does it without thinking. He’s so focused on warming you up that he’s pulling your hands to his mouth and blowing warm air on them whilst he rubs his hands along yours. It’s so casual, the way his lips brush against your fingertips accidentally, and he only catches on when the book drops to the floor from where it had been tucked beneath your arm.

“No, sorry I lost my grip-” You try to think of something else to excuse it when he drops down to collect the book for you and balances it on the thick edge of a plant pot behind him instead.

“Sorry- I… Here, let me give you-” Bob’s quick to unfasten the mismatched buttons of his suit jacket, already pulling it off.

“No, don’t take your jacket off-”

“I’m warm anyways, it’s fine.” Bob’s draping it over your shoulders, and you’re inhaling his cologne. It’s a new one, you notice. How on earth can you notice something like that? It’s not like you pay attention to what he smells like, no, not at all.

“Yeah but you’re gonna get cold and-”

“Can you stop being stubborn?” The slight laugh that follows his question reassures you that it’s safe to look up at him now, that it won’t be awkward that he just accidentally kissed the skin on your hand, but oh you couldn't be more wrong.

That’s it. Your brain has defied all laws of physics. It’s obviously grown legs and has run away because you’re just staring at him. 

But it’s not just at him in general, but at his mouth.

You’ve never thought about it before, not until his lips brushed against your fingertips just fifteen seconds ago. But now it’s all you’re thinking about. And now, some drunk asshole who works on floor fifteen was about to make it worse.

“Hey - lovebirds!”

A whistle from one of the groups that have blended into the background catches your attention.

The man tilts his chin at you with a smirk, his party hat sliding off the back of his head, and your brows knit together in confusion. Slowly, you crane your head up, and see exactly what the man was talking about as he’s pulled back inside by his wife.

No - there was no way. How didn’t you notice?

Directly above you, woven into the Christmas lights over the pair of you like a guillotine threatening to fall on your head, was mistletoe. 

“Oh- Shit, sorry, I didn’t see that there-” Bob’s floundering, eyes wide but he doesn't step back, face tilted up towards the offending object like if he stared at it hard enough, it might disappear.

Jumping off the balcony might be more merciful than living through this moment.

He’s still stumbling over hurdles in his sentences when he looks back down to you, buzzing with nervous energy.

In contrast, you’re oddly calm on the surface. You refuse to let it get to you, because the moment you do… then it means something.

You can do it… it doesn’t mean anything. Just grow up, you can do it.

You’re glad you agreed with your stylist on wearing heels, because you don’t think you can manage this without them. 

Unlike a few minutes ago, it’s your lips that find his skin now. Nowhere scandalous, just the smooth skin of his cheek. It lasts barely a second, only long enough for you to hear him stop halfway into taking a breath, a curl of his hair falling out of place to tickle your nose, and then you’re pulling back. 

You make the mistake of inhaling because his cologne hits you like a bullet, stronger than it was on his jacket, because now it’s mixed directly with how he smells and it’s stealing the air from your lungs, making you dizzy. 

Bob knows. He has to, because one of his hands grip your waist and even though you're in a dress and his suit jacket is draped over your shoulders, you can feel the warmth of it through the fabric as he steadies you.

Sometime along the months since the void taking over and the formation of the New Avengers, Bob’s convinced himself that he’s some loaded gun, a black hole that sucks in the light around him. He’s more like the sun to you right now, warm and soft against your skin when his fingers rest against your own.

It’s childish, like you're both school kids on a playground, it’s something innocent even though you’re both far, far, from it.

Your eyes linger on his throat when it swallows, thick and flushed red with heat, matching his face. 

Bob licks his lips, the tip of his wet tongue sliding out to wet the skin, shining in the light in contrast to the shadow he casts over you with his height.

“I…”

But then he’s leaning in, and maybe it's the orange glow of the lights above, but you swear for the briefest second there's something gold in his eyes. Molten, and warm, and you don’t deserve it. 

No amount of riches could buy you that.

It was in your head, you decide. So you break the glass around you, and take a small step back, looking down at your perfectly warm hands.

“We should go back inside, it’s getting colder out here.”

It has to be some questionable food that makes your stomach turn when his face drops, nothing else. The sick feeling that rises up has to be the result of that, it has nothing to do with the way he had looked at you moments ago compared to now.

“Y-Yeah… wouldn't want you catching a cold.”

Bob gives you a tight lipped smile before leading you back inside, but it does nothing to warm the icy feeling in your chest when you return his jacket back to him without a second glance, your perfume clinging to it like a tiny part of you that didn’t want to let go.

Taglist for series/Bob Reynolds works (please let me know if you would like to be added):

@superrslut

[aeriikiessss]

⋆˙⟡ A Night to Remember

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

TAGS: mutual pining, prom!au, fluff, romantic tension

A/N: listened to “a thousand years” by christina perri and suddenly wrote this :’) this is kinda short but enjoyy

DIVIDERS: hyuneskkami, anitalenia

PAIR: hwang in-ho x reader

You were getting ready for your dance as your flowing off-shoulder gown in soft lavender and white tulle, layered with dreamy ruffles that shimmered like a fairytale cloud falls down and trains down to the stairs, Your curled black hair shimmered with white tinsel and crystal pins, crowned by a silver flower piece—magical, radiant, and perfect for prom. It felt like everything went slow as the background fades—lights turn on you as you walk down the ball aisle. Everyone watches your graceful walk down through as if you had a wedding ceremony as you walked down through the aisle.

Though, everyone already had their dance partners as you stood there in the middle of the crowd as you looked around at the fancy, flowery, white and cream colored decorated of the ball. You felt a sense of loneliness as you put your head down, frowning that no one has asked you for prom since you were very quiet and had a lack of communication with anyone, except for a particular person, Hwang In-ho. You wondered where he was, probably dancing with someone and that made you even feel more down and had a sense of envy that he was probably dancing with someone and not with you.

As your eyes wandered around, you stumbled upon him, realizing that he also had no one to dance with. He wore a crisp white tailcoat suit, adorned with layered silver chains and detailed buttons. The sharp lapels and lace-trimmed cuffs gave it a regal, vintage touch—elegant and striking, like a prince from a bygone era. His hair perfectly slicked back with a strand of his hair on his forehead—his facial features being debonair and striking through the light of the venue. He saw you through the crowds and smiled as he walked over.

“Oh, hey..” He said, tensing. “Oh, hey…You look..” You stop for a moment, thinking about what you were about to say, “Handsome.”

His face brightened up and smiled at you, “Thanks, you look alluring yourself too.”

You smiled softly as you glanced away briefly before meeting his eyes again. “So, um… I suppose you don’t have a dance either?” Your voice was gentle, tinged with a hint of nervousness, and you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, trying to steady your racing heart. “Oh, yeah, i don’t…I’m not the type to ask out first but..Well, you know.” He says, looking at you as if you put him in a trance with your ethereal, and alluring beauty. “I guess you look perfect to be my partner for prom.”

Heat rushed in your face as you tried to find words but you were literally at loss for words, “I- uh..Wow. A guy like you? Asking me out for prom? I- i could never..” Your voice with a visible tension as your hands trembled for his answer. “But im not even kidding when i say that. I mean, i saw that you have no dance partner and so do i.” He replied, handing out a hand to you. You both stood there in a room full of dancing people as everything fades except the two of you—The music swelled around you, but it may as well have been silence. For a moment, the entire room—its glittering lights, chattering voices, and swaying bodies—blurred into nothing. Just color and sound in the background. Faint. Distant.

Then finally, it hit you. You nodded, unable to find words. The crowd didn’t exist anymore. The lights dimmed to a warm haze. Even the DJ’s slow ballad felt like it was playing only for the two of you. He stepped closer, his hand gently finding yours, the other resting lightly against your waist. You could feel the tremble in his fingers, the same kind of nervous excitement pulsing in your own chest. Time softened. Breath slowed. You moved in rhythm together—not to the music, not to the beat, but to something more private. A language only your eyes, your touches, and your unspoken hopes could translate. The world hadn’t disappeared. But it had stepped back, just long enough to let love have the spotlight.

You both danced as if you two were under the moonlight, everything around you fades away except for the voidness and the magical spotlight for the both of you, The music was slow, delicate—like soft rain on a quiet night—and your bodies moved to its rhythm without needing to think. One of his hands held yours gently, fingers interlaced, the other resting lightly against the small of your back. Your free hand settled on his shoulder, trembling just slightly with the weight of the moment.

You swayed together in time, a slow step to the side… then another… as if the whole world had slowed to watch. Your eyes met now and then—a flicker, a glance—like a question lingering between heartbeats. Every so often, his thumb brushed the back of your hand in a comforting circle, grounding you. There was no complicated choreography, just quiet closeness. Each movement was fluid, unhurried—step, pause, breathe. A soft turn, the rustle of fabric, the faintest smile shared in the dim lights. When he guided you gently into a spin, you let yourself go—not out of confidence, but trust.

And when you settled back into his arms, closer than before, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest—not quite matching the music, but perfectly in sync with yours. Your steps slowed even further, barely more than a sway now, like the two of you were dancing inside a dream. The rest of the world had already disappeared, blurred into lights and shadows. All that remained was the soft warmth of his hand in yours, the gentle weight of his touch at your back, and the closeness of his gaze. He looked at you like there was no one else in the room—like there hadn’t ever been.

His hand gave yours a subtle squeeze, and when your eyes lifted to meet his, everything stilled. The music, the movement, your thoughts—all quiet. “I’ve been wanting to do this,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the melody. And then, slowly, carefully, he leaned in. You didn’t pull away.

Your heart caught in your throat as his lips brushed yours—feather-light, almost unsure, like a question he hoped you’d answer. And when you tilted your face just a little closer, your answer came in the way your lips met again—warmer, steadier this time. You kissed like you were still dancing. No rush, no show. Just rhythm and feeling.When you finally pulled back, your foreheads touched, your breath mingled, and his smile was small, awestruck—like he couldn’t believe that kiss had actually happened. And still, you kept swaying. The dance never stopped. The song faded into its final chords, and the lights dimmed just enough to make the world feel quieter, more intimate. But neither of you stopped moving. Not yet.

You stayed there in his arms, swaying gently in the silence, as if the music still played somewhere between your heartbeats. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “That… might’ve been the best dance of my life.” You laughed, barely louder than a whisper. “Mine too.” A few more moments passed — no rush, no need for words. Just the warmth of shared breath and the steady rise and fall of two people who knew something had changed between them.

Finally, he took a step back, still holding your hand. “Come on,” he said with a smile. “Let’s make the rest of the night ours.”

And as the lights flickered into something brighter and the next song began, you realized: The night had been unforgettable. But it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the world—that you’d remember forever.

[daistea]

Can i request general relationship headcanons with lycion? (I hope you aren't overwhelmed with requests, I love your writings)

Thank you love! !

This was fun, I haven't gotten to explore Lycion much but I really enjoyed coming up with these!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Lycion would be a great partner because he’d be your best friend. He isn’t really romantic in the traditional sense, honestly he couldn’t care less about that stuff. A relationship with Lycion is based on comfort and vibes and mutual acts of service.

He’s generally pretty laid-back and playful, but there are definitely moments when he gets worked up— those moments usually concern him being offended at someone critiquing his decisions. He’s pretty defensive over his decision to get into ancient magic and change his body, he would prefer you affirm him rather than try and change his ways. 

Which means that when he runs off to join an illegal fighting tournament, please don’t freak out. He knows what he’s doing and it’s genuinely just for his own ego and pleasure. 

I get the feeling that he doesn’t like being worried over. 

I also get the feeling that his near-obsession with his appearance results in him only expecting praise for that. And he loves praise for his appearance and his beastman body and his hair. However, when you actually dig deeper and praise his personality and show a desire to love every single part of him, he kind of tenses up and doesn’t really know what to do with that. He’s not opposed to it, but it’s very new to him. 

If you’re in an established relationship where he’s assured that you love him, he’ll accept your concern. Still, if you try to stop him from doing what he wants, he’ll just ignore you– unless it’s super serious, of course. He does not consider being mauled by another beastman a serious situation. 

Despite his tendency to be reckless, Lycion is also a natural caretaker for those he cares about. (Him watching over Fleki while she trips, etc.)

He’s not a worrier, he’s pretty practical and looks for solutions rather than freaking out over the details or lecturing anybody on their decisions. 

He’s rather independent. I feel like a relationship with Lycion would have a lot of understanding and equality— that remains unspoken, though, because it’s just how he naturally is and he doesn’t need to make a big speech about how he respects your autonomy to do stupid crap if that’s what you wanna do. As long as you survive the stupid crap and come back to him, he’s fine. 

I feel like Lycion would have insight into the lesser known parts of Elven culture. The illegal markets and the underground fighting scene and the tribes that live deep in the forest– the ELF CANNIBALS I can’t believe Kui just mentions that elf cannibals exist and then never talks about it again. 

Lycion is pretty worldly and experienced, overall. Imagine him having a sheltered partner, he would constantly tease and push your boundaries. In public, he’d wrap his arms around you and bite at your neck right in front of everyone, then laugh lightly when you get flustered. 

Lycion would whisper a lot. You’re with a group of people and he just casually lays an arm over your shoulder and whispers what he’s thinking about the people, their outfits, something they’ve said, gossip, etc. Or he’d whisper about how much he wants to whisk you away and go somewhere private. 

If you ever want to curl up next to his beastman form and take a nap in his fur, he would gladly oblige. He isn’t stinky like a dog and he keeps himself well groomed. 

I’m not sure how he’d react to being brushed… It might feel like he’s literally a dog, then. But hey maybe he’d like it. Don’t know. 

I do believe that if he trusted you enough, he’d let you mess with his hair. Brush it, braid it, put it up in fun styles— It’s very intimate for him, a vulnerable moment and a gesture of love. 

It’s canon that beastmen do adopt the traits of the monster soul they’ve taken on. (It’s mentioned that weretigers take on feline traits and become quite antisocial). I believe he’d have a better sense of smell and hearing. He’s generally quite carnivorous. His ears twitch when he hears things, which all elves do to an extent, but his ear twitching reminds you of a puppy. He tilts his head. Sometimes you can imagine a tail wagging when he’s happy. 

Actually, when he’s in his beastform and he sees you, his tail does wag. He can’t help it. 

Other traits include fierce loyalty, practicality, playfulness, self-confidence, and defensiveness. Despite his laid-back personality, he does have the tendency to be combative at times and will not hesitate to tell someone what he thinks of them. 

Sorry but Lycion is a bit of an exhibitionist. Not in a perverted way, he just likes to show off. He wants you to watch him fight. He wants you to notice him. He’s a little obsessive about it, actually. Think about it, his dysmorphia made him so distraught that he would get beat up almost as a way to punish himself, like self-harm. He didn't care about his body or his health to the extent of heavy drinking. Now that he has the body he wants, he isn’t punishing himself anymore, he’s proud. And it’s important to him that you’re proud too. Look at him go look at him rip someone’s limbs off look at the form the muscles the teeth just look! 

One comic mentions that he got pissed when he was taken out with one punch by a werebear. Pouty angry Lycion laying face down in your shared bed as he complains. He requires your attention, please. Also he might just track down the werebear and challenge them again— then get knocked out again. Enjoy finding your boyfriend lying unconscious in the street! What fun. 

I love the comic of him picking Fleki up while they’re running away and then letting her ride on his back as he transforms. Imagine him doing that with you. He would be comfortable manhandling you while in his beastform, picking you up like a rag doll or even biting the back of your shirt with his teeth and carrying you around like a puppy lol 

What if he’s a biter… What if he bites during intimate moments. He might even just bite for fun. Lightly, of course. Just a wee nibble on your arm in an attempt to get your attention. 

Sometimes he just hangs out in beastform. You’ll find him like

Credit for the pic

This elf thinks he is a god of seduction. In some ways, he’s right. He is. But sometimes he doesn’t realize he’s being cheesy by giving you a certain bedroom look and then he gets irritated when you laugh at him. 

He’s rather sociable! And casual as well, he would just hang out around other people with his arm over your shoulder or around your waist. 

He likes your scent… He likes you surrounded by his scent. 

Overall, Lycion is a good partner who makes an effort to understand, respect, and take care of you. He desires the same. He’s a show off and very self confident. I don’t think he’d be the jealous type but there are occasions where he’ll be a little territorial. He shows intimacy in a very casual way and doesn’t do traditionally romantic things. He’s your best friend and your partner and also the guy who sometimes bites you when he wants attention. 

[reijisteacup]

hello! Same anon who asked for reiji tutoring his classmate! Was actually perfection and I love your writing and how you captured it! 😌

For a different ask; I wonder if reader knew about the sakamakis being vampires and went to school with them (but never were a bride and the sakamakis don’t know that reader knows), how would it go?

Do you think if they accidentally said too much, the sakamakis would remove them straight away? Or would they take the time to secretly investigate how they know? Would they be approached about it or just watched from afar? I’ve always wondered how each brother would actually react.

Maybe this a reborn into the DL world scenario or they accidentally found out and decided to keep themselves hidden.

This is interesting I like this idea <3

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Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

At first, Shu doesn’t pay them any attention. He doesn’t care about most humans, especially ones not tied to Karlheinz’s ridiculous sacrificial bride program. But when the classmate mentions something like “vampires wouldn’t want to feed in public anyway—it’s too messy”, his eyes open just a little too fast. He doesn’t confront them. He just watches. Lazily lounging by the window, headphones in, but his eyes? Trained like a hawk’s. Shu wouldn’t act unless he had to, but if he confirmed they knew? He might corner them privately, low voice by their ear: “How much do you know, and who told you?” Depending on their answer… he might leave them be. Or he might keep them very close—out of curiosity, or to prevent them from telling the wrong person.

Reiji Sakamaki:

The moment they say one thing suspicious—like referring to blood types as “appealing” or talking about the scent of iron—Reiji knows. He narrows his eyes. Immediately on high alert. But he wouldn’t confront them publicly. Oh no. He’d gather evidence. Interrogate mutual acquaintances. Study their behavior. If he determines they’re a threat to the family’s secrecy? “I’m giving you one chance to confess the truth. If you fail to do so, I will assume you're an enemy. And I do not allow enemies to remain breathing.” Depending on the reader’s intentions, he might demand they become his personal project. Monitored. Studied. Controlled. And he might even admire how well they were hiding it… until they slipped.

Laito Sakamaki:

The most dangerous reaction. The moment he suspects they know… he tests them. Mentions things only a vampire would understand—blood, night, secrets. He watches for how they flinch, how their eyes shift. When they slip up? He corners them in a quiet hallway, voice sweet and low: “Ne~ Bitch-chan, you wouldn’t be keeping secrets from your precious classmates, would you?” He wouldn’t remove them right away. He’d make them sweat. Watch how far they’re willing to go to keep up the act. And he’d love every second of their panic. Eventually, he’d either keep them around as entertainment—or break them down until they beg to forget what they knew.

Kanato Sakamaki:

This one is volatile. If the classmate ever slipped and said something like “you’d know a lot about coffins, right Kanato?” he’d go silent. Smile twitching. Then whisper: “Why would you say that? Why would you say something so… strange?”The next day, their favorite pen is broken. Their locker is ripped open. A doll that looks like them appears on their desk. He doesn’t confront. He unravels them. Until one day he corners them with Teddy in his arms and says, sweetly: “It would be easier if I just took out your tongue. Then you wouldn’t say things you shouldn’t~”

Ayato Sakamaki:

Ayato would brush it off—at first. But if the classmate called out something only a vampire would know, or made a teasing comment like: “What’s wrong, Ayato? Thirsty?” He’d freeze. Visibly. Then he'd laugh. Too loudly. “What are you even talking about, Chichinashi? You read too much fantasy crap.” But the fear would settle in. He’d trail them, try to scare them into talking. And if they resisted? He’d grab them by the collar one day after school, red eyes glowing. “Tell me what you know. Right now. Or I’ll get the answers… another way.” But deep down, he’s terrified. Not of them—but of someone else controlling the game.

Subaru Sakamaki:

He’s the most confused. The most conflicted. If he overheard the classmate mutter something like “they probably drink blood after class anyway,” he’d immediately grow tense. “...What did you say?” When they brush it off, he storms off—but starts watching them. Quietly, obsessively. He wants to believe it’s a coincidence, but… The fear that they might expose his brothers eats at him. So eventually, he grabs their arm and snarls: “How long have you known?!” But if they explain they’re not trying to hurt anyone, that they’ve known for years and stayed quiet… Subaru’s walls crumble. “Tch… Idiot. You shouldn’t know things like that. You’ll get yourself killed.” He keeps their secret. But now he watches everyone else, too.