#[this is the au that was absolutely needed]

[beans-core]

tysm for continuing on the yap sesh, much appreciated, immaculate vibes here

LOVE your AU idea. Just… an AU where the bats have to go full undercover agent to stop Ras from paywalling the Pit— it’s a situation where there is evil to be stopped, sure, but it’s also a situation where Bruce Wayne’s name becomes more feared to the opposition than Batman’s. Billionaire vs Billionaire. Old money vs New Money (not actually true considering Ra’s has had centuries to accumulate wealth, but he prob made a fake identity, so the public thinks so). Bruce, as an abhorrently wealthy person himself, struggling constantly with his hero complex and wish to defeat not just criminals of the legal system but criminals of society and humanity. Which includes a lot of shitty/unjust rich people. Then, Ra’s fucks around, so Bruce goes hmm and decides to take out his anger about the issue on this one especially evil rich guy and his organization as Bruce Wayne instead of Batman. Continuing to spread the message that the Waynes do not fucking approve of criminal/inhumane bullshit even if you’ve got tons of money. YES.

And that's not even mentioning the absolutely awesome part of the bats getting to creep around and fight baddies like super spies. They all get wacky somehow-functional disguises. Tim deciding to make some spy-movie-esq. gadgets for everyone. Dick amping up the atmosphere by being extra with his fighting style, like incorporating a bunch of completely unnecessary complex flips. The kids bickering about who they think would be the main character in the hypothetical Bats spy movie. I love every single bit of it!! Aaah!!!

Honestly I’m so down to write it, and if I ever get the motivation, I just might… Ra’s’ takeover as a prologue, bats spy AU after it, what’s not to love? (If I do end up writing it, I’ll tag you for permission/credit ofc!)

Ra’s going “lmao don’t believe me? sure alright. Get Baja dunked, fuckhead” is amazing. I can picture it so clearly it’s great. He’d probably do it in front of an audience, so dunking only one person spreads the idea/message wider without actually having to heal more people. Could you imagine: present day, it’s some sort of revered ceremony, ornate and elaborate, that people who are looking for something to believe in attend to see if it’s all true. However, the first few hundred of Ra’s’ followers know that these ‘ceremonies’ used to consist of some beaten-up and kidnapped non-believer in the seat of a carnival dunk tank (with all the stereotypical music and decor of course), Ra’s giving a sharp, all-teeth smile as he throws a knife to activate the trapdoor lever-thing for extra flair, no sweet-talking needed— most of those early followers stuck around because Ra’s’ crazy matched their crazy. And yeah, if anyone would know how to run a cult with a terrifying level of efficiency, it’d be Ra’s. He’d work them like they applied for a 9-5 job.

The initiation idea is actually dope as fuck too. When you first join and pledge your allegiance, maybe you get a sip of the Blessed Baja. Work your way up the line, and you get more access to the Lazarus Pit. The more of your life you dedicate to the cause, the more life Lazarus’ Pit will give back to you. Or something.

Jason: It’s your spleen! You lost an ORGAN Tim, you should have told us!

Tim: So? You don’t have your tonsils, that’s an organ!

Dick: That’s not the same and you kn-

Jason: Jokes on you, my tonsils grew back in the Lazarus Pit so your argument doesn’t even make sense!

Dick, now fully turned toward Jason: Your tonsils did WHAT

[astars-things]

for lando x hughes reader au: you take lando to the hughes bowl and he's sitting there completely clueless.

When I told Lando I was taking him to a hockey game, he was excited—until he realized he had absolutely no clue what was going on.

"Wait, so both your brothers are playing against each other?" he asked as we walked into the arena.

"Yep," I grinned. "Jack and Luke on the Devils, Quinn on the Canucks. It’s the Hughes bowl tonight."

As soon as we took our seats, Lando was already confused. “So, uh… what’s the goal here?” he asked, watching as the players skated around in warmups.

I laughed. “Score goals, babe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part. But, like, what are the rules? What’s offside? How many guys are on the ice at once?”

Oh boy. I had my work cut out for me.

“Okay,” I started, pointing toward the ice. “Each team has six players on the ice—five skaters and one goalie. The goal is to get the puck into the net. If you cross the blue line before the puck does, that’s offside.”

Lando nodded slowly, like he was trying to process everything. “Right, right… so it’s like track limits in F1?”

I blinked. “Uh… sure? But also no. I’ll explain as we go.”

The game started, and the crowd roared to life. I could see Jack and Luke out there, already chirping Quinn. Lando jumped when a big hit was thrown against the boards in front of us.

“Wait, they can just… do that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Yep. As long as it’s clean, they can hit each other all they want.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “F1 drivers would cry if we had to deal with that.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, you guys are divas compared to hockey players.”

He shook his head, still baffled. "If I did that in F1, I’d be banned for life."

I laughed as I focused back on the game. Jack had the puck now, weaving his way through defenders, and I elbowed Lando excitedly. "Watch Jack, he's gonna—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Quinn stepped up and stole the puck cleanly, sending Jack stumbling slightly. Lando gasped like he just witnessed a crime.

"That was his own brother!"

"Yeah, well, sibling loyalty doesn’t exist on the ice," I grinned. "Quinn’s the enemy tonight."

Lando let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping back in his seat. "This sport is brutal."

I smirked, knowing he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Midway through the second period, Luke threw a massive hit on one of Quinn’s teammates, and Lando physically jumped in his seat. "Did he just—was that—what the hell?"

"Calm down, babe," I teased. "It's all part of the game."

"And nobody's getting arrested?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Nope."

He ran a hand through his curls and shook his head. "This is insane."

The game continued with Lando throwing out more confused comments. "Why are they fighting?" "Why is that guy going into a tiny penalty box like he's in timeout?" "Wait, they just skate off for a line change? No pit stops?"

I was doing my best to keep up with his endless questions while also enjoying the game, but when Jack finally scored, I grabbed Lando’s arm and yanked him up with me as I cheered.

"Wait, was that Jack?!"

"YES!" I yelled.

Lando laughed at my excitement but still looked slightly overwhelmed by everything happening around him. "I feel like I need a rulebook and a therapist after this."

By the end of the game, the Devils won 4-2, and Jack and Luke had bragging rights over Quinn for the night. After the game, we’re waiting for my brothers when a reporter spots Lando and decides to interview him. The poor guy still looks overwhelmed.

"So, Lando, this was your first NHL game. What did you think?"

Lando exhales dramatically. "Honestly, I have no idea what just happened. I feel like I just watched a war on ice."

The reporter laughs. "Did you have a team you were cheering for?"

Lando glances at me before grinning. "Well, my girlfriend made it pretty clear I had to cheer for Jack and Luke, so I did. But Quinn was insane—I thought he was going to murder someone."

I shake my head as Lando continues rambling about how he still doesn’t understand how half the game is legal. He may be clueless about hockey, but at least now, he’s a fan.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

wanna kiss his face with an uppercut

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — rafe is back to being a softie, talks of explicit picture

summary — rafe wants to know why you’ve been ignoring him.

authors note — this can be read as a standalone but is a continuation of that recent part in my mean!rafe series. it can be found in my rafe cameron masterlist under au’s. olease request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” he mumbled, sitting all tense on the sofa across from you in the living room of your house. “i’ve called and texted hundreds of times and you jus’ haven’t returned any of ‘em.”

you just shrugged and tucked yourself further into your blanket. “been busy. haven’t had the chance,” you replied bluntly. it wasn’t necessarily a lie. the only thing you were busy with though was sleeping and thinking about your relationship and whether or not it was worth the pain.

he looked slightly taken back. “busy with what? you don’t leave the house. your car hasn’t even moved.” if you didn’t hear the slight whine in his voice, you would’ve though he meant it in an aggressive manner. instead, he sounded genuinely curious.

“i have stuff to do around the house, schoolwork, i have to car for kiwi,” you listed. college was hard and even harder with a relationship. and your dog kiwi wasn’t exactly low maintenance. she needed a walk everyday, special meals for her specific diet, and pampering.

he leaned back in his seat and spread his legs to get comfortable while crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you. “why didn’t you ask for my help? you know kiwi loves me. i coulda helped out with her or helped with the house. y’know i have before, right?”

you simply shrugged again. “i can handle myself,” you said dismissively.

“yeah, i know you can but you don’t need to. y’know i’m always here,” he said as if it were obvious. “did i do somethin’ wrong? why are you suddenly bein’ so cold with me outta nowhere?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh of frustration. “are you fucking kidding me rafe? ‘did i do something wrong?’ you know exactly what you did,” you snapped sharply at him. “what do you think of me? because you clearly don’t respect me.”

a crease formed between his eyebrows as he stared at you. “what?” his voice was much smaller now. maybe it was the fact that yours was louder and he’d never heard you raise your voice, especially at him.

“don’t act all stupid with me. you don’t get to just go around showing your friends vulnerable pictures of me and basically tell them that i’m so easy and i just do whatever the fuck you say,” you spat. “i’m not your bitch and i’m sure as hell not someone you’re gonna boss around and walk all over. that little comment about me begging for a chance? seriously? i didn’t know you saw our relationship as a power play for you.”

you could see tears forming in his eyes. you’d never seen him get this upset over something. “baby, i didn’t—i didn’t think—“ he began to stutter over his words before just stopping all together.

“i have too much respect for myself to let someone talk to me like that,” you said, your voice much quieter now but still nowhere near gentle. you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose to try to relieve the pressure forming into a headache. “i don’t know if we should do this anymore, rafe.”

his head immediately snapped up as his teary gaze met yours and his wet cheeks glistened under the light. “no. no, don’t do that. please baby, don’t say that,” he pleaded desperately. he stood from his seat and took eager strides to where you were sitting. he kneeled down in front of you and gently took your hands in his own. “please jus’ work this out with me, angel. i don’t wanna lose you. i can’t. i’ll do whatever it takes, jus’ don’t leave me.”

you bit your lip and shook your head. “i can’t keep letting myself get disrespected. what you said—what you did, was absolutely insane. i would’ve never in my entire life thought to say that to someone, let alone someone i love. that was just cruel and it hurt my feelings. you didn’t even acknowledge that.”

“please angel, jus’ one more shot, okay?” he reasoned softly, fresh tears falling. he’d never had someone confront him like this besides his dad. “i’m sorry for bein’ so mean the other day. i know i was rude and all but i was havin’ a bad day and that’s not an excuse but you know its hard for me to control sometimes. once again, not an excuse but i jus’ let my anger get out of hand and i swear to be better about it.”

you looked to the side to avoid looking at him while thinking carefully bout your next words. “you don’t get it. you say all this stuff and i want to believe you but i’m not even sure thats possible after what you said the other day.”

he nodded in agreement. “i understand that and i know that things won’t just go back to normal. i’m not asking you to do that. i’m just asking that you try to work things out with me. give me time to prove to you that i can be better and i promise you, you won’t regret it.”

you knew it was a bad idea. you could feel it in your bones but the bigger part of you wanted to hold him and tell him things would be okay. you wanted to wipe his pretty tears and kiss his pink lips. it was terrifying. “one last shot rafe. i’m giving you one more try and thats it. you’re not jus’ gonna keep hurting me and expecting me to forgive you and have sex. thats not how this works. i don’t deserve that.”

“no, you deserve the world,” he whispered softly as his lip began to tremble. a sad smile graced his lips before he was laying kisses to your knuckle. “i promise i’ll be so much better baby. i swear on my life.”

you really did hope he was serious this time.

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

06 | big dipper // series m.list

note: hihi ,, thank u for waiting !! this ch is def worth it tbh </3 no warnings ,, just like ... oc goes off on jungkook ,, jungkook gets blindfolded ,, more context on their auras ??? yeah ... tension too ! pls do not be shy and send in ur thoughts !!! i would love to know how u're liking the fic so far as it's my first fantasy au !!!!! (clearly still very nervy lmfao) mwah ,, enj !

//

the past few days have been anything but easy for jungkook.

not that he deserves easy—he knows he doesn’t. if anything, this is exactly what he should’ve expected. what does surprise him, though, is just how well you execute the petty treatment. how effortlessly you lock him out. how, no matter how many times he shuts his eyes, focuses, and tries to slip into your thoughts—he can’t.

it’s like the connection doesn’t exist.

which makes no sense.

because it does.

the string between you is golden and bright, undeniable to everyone who has ever seen it. and yet, there’s this… knot. this missing piece. it’s so fucking strange. he felt you before—felt the way your heart would race, the heat that would bloom across your skin. he knew when you were sick, when you were anxious. when the bond first tied, his own pulse had stumbled just trying to match yours. he cared so much when it happened...

but now?

now, it’s empty.

like someone cut the string without actually severing it.

he first noticed it that night in the garden.

you had only been soulmates for a few hours, and still, he felt something. at first, he thought maybe he was imagining it. overhyping the entire invisible string phenomenon. but then, the symptoms started stacking—waves of nausea when you were overwhelmed, your voice in his head when you caught his stray thoughts in class.

you’re in his head.

but he’s not in yours.

and if he’s not in your head, then what about your heart?

after that night, jungkook had gone to bed feeling like absolute shit. you told him he made you feel better—but he couldn’t feel it. couldn’t be sure. how could he trust words alone when everything inside you was a blank slate to him?

it freaked him out.

it got to him.

he spent the night tossing and turning, unable to catch even fifteen minutes of real sleep. and then, the next morning, when you walked in well-rested and seemingly fine—it hit him like a freight train.

it’s him.

he’s the problem.

and as fucked up, childish, and selfish as it is—that’s why he called you boring.

because you are.

because you’re blank.

because he, the so-called master of manipulation, can’t get inside your head.

but he sure as hell can get under your skin.

"so everyone, partner up—and obviously, soulmates go with soulmates," namjoon announces, finishing his rundown of the sparring activity.

you barely register the rest.

instead, you watch the class shuffle into place. soulmates move toward each other. friends pair up. the guys—still without soulmates—team up amongst themselves.

and jungkook?

jungkook leans against a tree, one foot propped lazily against the bark, arms folded over his chest. his expression is unreadable, but the tilt of his head, the barely-there smirk, sends heat curling up your spine. he plays with his lighter.

you exhale sharply and motion for him to come over.

he stays put, smirk growing.

then, he mouths, "don’t wanna."

your jaw clenches. you point at him, then to the ground in front of you.

"come here. now."

jungkook blinks, feigning innocence.

you cross your arms.

you wait—a second, a minute, a moment too long.

then, just as you start to turn away, he appears right in front of you.

"you're impatient today," he remarks, voice smooth, teasing. "is that how fast you need me? i can teleport wherever you want me to go. tell me to go away, i'll do it."

you sigh, pressing your fingers to your temple. before you can retort, he lifts his hands, and with the subtlest flex of his fingers, two sparring sticks float from the pile and dart into his grasp. he catches them effortlessly and offers you one, grinning.

across the field, namjoon groans.

"jungkook, did you really need to use your aura for that? just walk like a normal person."

jungkook huffs.

"wow. it’s like everyone hates me today."

"maybe we do," you mutter, snatching the stick from his hand.

this was foreseeable.

you don’t need jin’s aura to know how this is going to go. the class knows, too. there’s a shift in energy, hushed murmurs, amused glances exchanged.

from where he leans against a tree, jin exhales a chuckle. “this should be interesting.”

and it is.

because while everyone else has started, you haven’t moved past the first three strikes.

not because you aren’t trying.

but because jungkook isn’t.

you lunge forward, aiming a strike at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. his own stick twirls idly in his fingers, his gaze flicking toward the treetops like he’s more interested in cloud formations than the fight.

he dodges every attack without breaking a sweat. side-steps. pivots. barely moves.

and worse—he looks bored.

your foot pivots. another strike slices through the air. jungkook steps back just enough for it to skim past his sleeve.

“getting closer,” he muses. “try again.”

irritation burns at your spine. you exhale sharply, feint left, strike right. this time, you land it. the stick grazes his arm—not enough to bruise, but enough to count.

jungkook stumbles back dramatically, hissing through his teeth as if you’d run him through with a blade.

"shit—"

the class falls silent for a beat.

then, snickers ripple through the air.

"oh, come on," you deadpan.

jungkook blinks at you, playing it up even more. "that was—you stabbed me."

taehyung mutters something under his breath. jin actually laughs. namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.

jungkook sighs, twirling his stick again. then, in a movement so smooth it’s almost insulting, he flicks yours aside with a gentle tap.

wood clashes.

you stumble back.

cheers erupt from the watching trainees. but you just glare at him, chest heaving.

"again."

you grip your stick tighter, eyes narrowing. across from you, jungkook still looks at ease. hands loose. weight shifted just enough to be casual. like he’s humoring you.

the heat in your chest flares.

“jungkook, are you even trying?”

he shrugs, nonchalant.

“dunno. are you?”

jimin chokes on a laugh. "god, jungkook’s asking for it."

your jaw locks.

the room feels warmer. everyone's watching. you’ve never cared about proving yourself before—but this feels different.

nam joon's voice cuts in, sharp. "jungkook, get it together. look at ___! she’s clearly upset.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker toward namjoon. then back to you.

and something changes... his teasing drops. his fingers tighten around his stick.

“you want me to try?”

you swallow, nodding once.

he shifts, expression unreadable. “whatever you want, p.”

then, he moves.

the first exchange is fast. too fast. you counter, but his strikes come harder, sharper. for the first time, he’s fighting back.

and you’re losing.

badly.

his strikes come faster, sharper. his movements are precise. he isn’t holding back anymore, and suddenly, you’re struggling to keep up. the wooden sticks crack against each other, loud against the backdrop of rustling trees and hushed whispers.

then, in a split second, he spins.

your stick is wrenched from your hands. before you can react, jungkook grips it, tugging it toward him—until you’re standing nearly chest to chest.

then—

he taps himself out.

a grin spreads across his face. the trainees erupt into giggles. your shoulders rise and fall as you catch your breath.

jungkook extends a hand.

"good game."

it wasn’t.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn't good.

it was just so him.

instead of shaking his hand, you shove your sparring stick against his chest and avoid his eyes.

"excuse me," you mutter before turning away from the group and heading towards the garden.

jungkook watches you leave.

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t move. but, after a few beats, jungkook follows.

you don’t acknowledge him, but you know he’s there.

you can feel it.

the ground hums beneath your feet, a faint tremor shifting the soil like the earth itself is attuned to him. the air turns crisp, infused with something familiar—fresh rain on warm stone, something sharp at the edges, something distinctly him. being his soulmate changes everything.

good and bad.

so you make him work for it.

you take the long way to the garden, slipping between hedges, ducking beneath ivy, fingers grazing the thick vines trailing along the palace walls. the scent of jasmine clings to your skin as you move, quiet and deliberate. you don’t look back.

but he follows.

always.

by the time you reach the stone bench beneath the willow, the late afternoon sun drapes golden shadows over the grass. the leaves rustle overhead, and the distant chime of a wind bell carries through the stillness.

he doesn’t speak.

you wait.

finally, after what feels like forever, jungkook exhales.

“you didn’t come last night.”

the words break through the quiet, heavy and deliberate.

“hmm?” you hum, dragging the sound out just enough to make him second-guess himself.

his jaw ticks. “i felt sick.”

the way he says it—careful, measured—betrays him.

a test.

a trap.

you don’t spring it... not yet.

instead, you lift your gaze, watching him with something unreadable.

“exactly how sick were you?”

his expression flickers—just for a second—but it’s enough. the shift. the realization that you know he’s lying. that you didn’t come because you didn’t want to. that he had waited for you, and you had chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t like that. not one bit.

for the first time since class, he looks at you. really looks at you. and for the first time, you let him.

the garden is quiet this time of day. that’s why you go. but now, the quiet stretches thin between you, taut as a thread about to snap. the leaves sway overhead. jungkook shifts his weight.

then, without thinking, you step forward.

he doesn’t move. just watches.

you lift a hand, resting the back of it against his forehead.

warm. not feverish, but—warm.

jungkook stills.

for a split second, he stops breathing. the world falls away, distant and unimportant, because all he can focus on is your touch. the way your fingers linger before you pull away.

he reacts before he can think.

his hand catches yours, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not tight, but firm. firm enough to stop you.

you blink.

he tugs you closer.

your other hand lands against his chest, steadying yourself against the solid weight of him.

he is warm here, too. warmer than he should be. his heartbeat is steady, but there’s something frantic beneath the surface, a tension coiled too tight.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with this. doesn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through him like something foreign. something dangerous.

his voice is quiet when he speaks. almost unsteady.

“what are you doing to me?”

your lips part slightly, breath catching—

then, you push away.

he lets go immediately, like your touch burns.

your expression smooths out, unreadable. you take a step back.

“nothing,” you say. “that’s the thing.”

jungkook exhales sharply, head tilting. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you hold his gaze. then, deliberately, you let your aura slip. let it expand—thick, unmistakable.

resistance.

jungkook’s breath catches.

“i can’t read you,” he says eventually, voice low, like he hates admitting it. “i... i could for a day or two... but it doesn’t make sense. this does't make sense. you knew i wasn’t sick last night?”

you nod.

“... you can feel—”

“yeah,” you breathe. “i can feel your symptoms. i can feel when your body reacts to me. i can hear your thoughts when you let me—when you want me to. i feel the bond."

his fingers twitch at his sides. his brows pinch slightly, like this realization is foreign. you inhale, steady. then exhale, letting down your guard just enough for him to feel it.

your aura glows—not to the eye, but in presence.

jungkook stiffens.

“resistance,” he pieces together. “that’s… that’s why i can’t—”

“i had my guard down when we met. i was giving you a chance, and you…” your voice softens, eyes searching his. “you can’t manipulate me. i refuse it.”

his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. then, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“who said i had plans to manipulate you?”

“isn’t that your aura?”

“and if it is?” he steps closer, chin tilting. “come on, p. you think you have me all figured out?”

your lips curl into a small smile. not sweet. not cruel. something in between.

“yeah, i do,” you say. “the truth is, i’m not upset that you find me boring.”

jungkook waits.

“i’m upset that you’re boring.”

his brows furrow slightly. “what does that mean?”

you step back, turning toward the garden bench as you speak over your shoulder.

“you think i’m just a princess? fine. to each their own. you think you’re too good for me—”

“i never said that—”

“what?” your voice sharpens. “you think you’re not good enough, then? see, i’m confused—frustrated, actually. i understand i’m the newbie to the divinity—to this… to you,” you pause, eyes finding his. “but why should i stand around and let myself be collateral damage to your low self-esteem and ego?”

his expression hardens. offense first, then defense.

“who the fuck said shit about me having low self-esteem—”

“no one,” you almost laugh. “but that’s it, isn’t it? your ego can't swallow the fact that you can't read me. that you can't manipulate your place in my life... that there's a possibility that you can and will fail and have to depend on trust and love to be enough for people like me to stay.”

jungkook clenches his jaw.

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about," jungkook spits. "do you think you're better than us because you're the divine?"

"no," you answer steadily. "i think i know more because i've been away from the divine. i have perspective. i know what's real—what's out there."

"i know what's out there too—"

"you didn't live in it," you breathe. "jungkook, people in the real world have to do things they don't want to do. no manipulation in time, no manipulation in feelings or things—they face life... you sleep during class. you don’t care when we spar. you don’t care about me—”

“___, you can’t possibly be calling me out and using these as your fucking excuses—”

“i just want you to know it’s okay,” you say it softer this time, like you mean it. “has anyone accepted you... just the way you are? if not, let me be the first one to do so. jungkook, do what you want. be who you are. figure things out or give up—it doesn’t matter. i can live like this, okay? we don’t have to be obsessed with each other. we can fight the bond if that’s what you really want—”

jungkook’s mind spins.

you’re saying so much shit that doesn’t make sense to him. this is escalating too fast. he wasn’t prepared for this. he didn’t know the weight of his words until now.

“it’s not what i want,” he spits out. “___, can you please slow down—”

you shake your head.

“i just want you to know this: you’re wrong if you think i’m the type to tend to someone’s inability to see their goodness. their worth… their purpose. i’m a big believer in accepting what you think you deserve. if you can’t accept me, that’s fine. maybe i’m not what you deserve. but that’s not on me, jungkook. you limit yourself. you don’t believe in fate. you don’t want this—”

“do you?” he croaks out. “do you want this?”

for a moment, you’re stunned.

regardless of all the shit he’s put you through in the past two weeks, you don’t have it in yourself to lie.

“i want more,” you say finally. “not this.”

more.

jungkook didn't know what that meant exactly... but this was a start. he isn't an apologetic type, so this is his... version of it.

trying.

again.

he stands in front of you, rolling his wrists, exhaling slow. his eyes flicker over your stance—checking, assessing, adjusting before he even moves.

“keep your weight forward,” jungkook instructs, tilting his chin toward your feet. “you hesitate too much.”

you nod, shifting slightly. he steps in, light on his feet, and you match him, falling into motion as he throws a testing jab. you dodge. pivot. counter. he blocks. you move again.

but it’s wrong.

every strike, every dodge, every block feels a second off. like walking out of rhythm with someone—close but not quite. you follow his cues, but there’s no flow, no instinct, just effort.

jungkook exhales sharply.

“again.”

he moves quicker this time, forcing you to react faster, but it only makes the disconnect more obvious. he shifts left when you expect right. your counters don’t land where they should. his frustration grows, simmering beneath his skin, evident in the slight drag of his feet, the way his breath turns shallow. he shakes his head, readjusting.

you know that feeling—the itch of something not working, of knowing it should but not being able to make it.

you step back, panting, watching the tension tighten in his shoulders.

“can we try something?” you ask, voice softer now.

jungkook pauses. 

he blinks at you, expression unreadable, before tilting his head slightly.

“try what?”

you don’t wait for his response.

“wait here,” you tell him before you turn on your heel, feet light against the stone path as you take off in a quiet sprint. the air is thick with the lingering tension of missed steps, of a rhythm neither of you could quite grasp, but you know—you know—it isn’t just about movement.

jungkook doesn’t call after you. 

he stays where he is, watching as you disappear.

when you return, there’s gold handkerchief is wrapped around your fingers. the fabric glows in the dim light, soft between your hands as you come to a stop in front of him, close enough that you see the slight furrow of his brow.

his gaze flickers to yours, unreadable.

“trust me?” you ask, already reaching up.

jungkook exhales. then, slowly, he nods.

you tiptoe, wrapping the cloth over his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. his shoulders stay squared, but you feel the way his breath slows, the way he stills beneath your touch. his lashes flutter against the fabric before he adjusts his stance again, waiting.

this time, when you move, he doesn’t see you—he feels you.

“focus on me,” you tell him. 

“h-how—”

“i’ll focus on you too. maybe if we do this properly, our auras will meet. i can put my guard up any time, but putting it down is something entirely different. it’s beyond my control to put it down. it’s a reaction to you—your vulnerability, not mine.”

jungkook swallows, letting your words sink in. 

"how do you know this shit?" he attempts to hide his suspicion.

you laugh. "have you forgotten who my grandparents are? just because i was raised outside this palace doesn't mean i wasn't educated and trained for the divinity."

"you are the divinity."

"that i am, little prince."

you don't know it, but he rolls his eyes.

"and you're a princess."

"that i am not."

he chuckles. so do you. the moment is light.

then, he takes a deep breath and envisions you.

in his head, it’s hazy. there’s only so much of you that he memorized in a short period of time—but he hopes it’s enough. he recalls the way you turn your head and how pretty your neck is. how long your hair is and how your eyes smile before your lips curve into one.

before you know it, the air shifts and he strikes. there’s a slight tremor in your breath when you hesitate—a quiet hitch when he moves too close.

his body reacts without thinking, syncing to yours in a way sight never allowed. he follows the push and pull, the rise and fall of your heartbeat, matching it, learning it. and for the first time, there’s no disconnect—no distance or this… force that pushes him away. 

no struggle.

just instinct.

just you.

and then, in a way he can’t explain, he knows where you’ll be before you even move. 

he anticipates every pivot, every feint, as if something unseen is guiding him—no, pulling him. there’s a thread between you now, stretched taut between his ribs and yours, humming with energy. it tightens when you step back, loosens when you exhale. he feels it with every shift, with every breath you take.

it’s disorienting at first, the pull, the quiet certainty of it. but it’s right. more right than anything has felt in a long, long time.

his heart pounds, syncing to yours. for the first time, jungkook doesn’t fight it.

instead, he lets it fall.

in so many fucking ways, he lets himself fall.

you bend over and tug the handkerchief off of him. 

then, you extend a hand.

jungkook squints, adjusting to the night. then, he stares at it for a beat too long, his pride hanging in the space between you. you didn’t exactly win… but you didn’t lose either. regardless, he feels defeated. 

the garden is quiet except for the sound of both your breaths, still uneven, still trying to settle. the tie had been hard-earned—one final strike knocking him down, leaving him on his back, staring at the night sky like it held the answers he didn’t.

you wiggle your fingers. “good game?”

his lips press into a line before he exhales, reaching up. his palm slides against yours, rough and warm, and you brace yourself as he uses the momentum to pull himself to his feet.

too strong.

the force drags you forward, nearly colliding into his chest.

you stumble, hands reaching for balance, and jungkook catches you before you can fall completely. one hand wraps around your waist, the other grasping your arm, steadying you like it’s second nature. his fingers press firm into your skin, and for a moment, neither of you move.

your palm lands flat against his chest.

a sharp inhale. not yours.

his heartbeat hammers against your touch, wild and restless. the same way it felt when he was blindfolded—when he had to rely on instinct, when the rhythm of his breath synced with yours and something unseen pulled tight between you.

you lift your gaze.

jungkook is already looking.

your eyes meet and it’s like you’re the only thing he sees. you see it. you look into his eyes and freaking see what he sees. 

you. only you.

his lips suddenly part like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. his eyes flicker, unreadable, caught between hesitation and something heavier. his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen. if anything, it lingers, fingertips pressing in like he’s mapping out the shape of you, committing it to memory.

"what are you thinking right now?" he asks rather shyly. “since i… i can’t read your mind.”

your voice is soft. it curls between you, laced with something you’re not sure you want to name.

jungkook swallows. his grip tightens—just slightly, just enough for you to feel it… seconds stretch.

then—before anything else, before you let yourself think too hard about it—you smile. you let out a small chuckle, tapping his chest with the back of your hand.

"figure it out, jungkook."

the walk back is quiet, but the air hums with something… different. 

the weight of the sparring match lingers between you—his hands on your waist, your fingers on his chest, the breathless moment you shared before you pulled away. now, as you walk side by side beneath the moonlight, the space between you feels impossibly small, as if the night itself is pushing you closer.

your fingertips brush once. a fleeting touch, barely there. but it’s enough to send a pulse through the invisible string that binds you.

twice. his breath stutters. 

three times. 

fuck.

you hear it. 

not aloud, but in the space between your thoughts, in the echo of his heartbeat. it’s his voice though. you know it is… and it’s the sheer panic in his mind and the way his body that betrays him. you giggle before you can stop yourself, and jungkook tenses beside you, as if caught in something he wasn’t ready to admit. 

his jaw tightens. 

his ears burn red.

you reach your doorstep too soon. your heart is still racing, tangled up in him, in the weight of his presence. and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, "i can send a guard to take you back to yours—"

jungkook scoffs, low and amused. “i can handle myself.”

you fumble for an excuse. 

“it’s just that… it’s dark.”

he glances up, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. the night sky is dark, but the stars shine almost as bright as you. it’s enough for him to know where he’s going.

“the stars are out.”

you follow his gaze. the sky is vast, endless, and speckled with constellations that stretch far beyond the palace walls. the kind of night that feels infinite.

“they are…” you exhale softly. “wow, they’re so bright here.”

jungkook tilts his head. “you do live in the highest point of the palace.”

you laugh, shaking your head.

“still. regardless of where i am, i can never spot the big dipper.”

he hums, tilting his chin toward the sky. “really? it’s over there.”

“where?” you ask, mimicking his gaze.

“made you look.”

you gasp, swatting his arm, and he grins—really grins, boyish and unguarded, like the version of him that slips through when he forgets to keep his walls up. it sends something warm curling in your chest.

you soften, stepping back toward your door. 

“goodnight, jungkook.”

he lingers, just for a moment. the moonlight catches in his eyes, in the way he watches you like he wants to say something but doesn’t. instead, he exhales, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“goodnight, princess.”

you slip inside, shutting the door behind you. the guards reposition themselves and ask jungkook if he’d like to be accompanied back. he shakes his head, declining the offer. then, he puzzles the guards for a moment. 

jungkook doesn’t leave immediately. 

he waits, glancing up at the stars once more. and then, with a quiet flick of his fingers, the sky shifts. the darkness of the night sky almost flickers. the clouds part ever so slightly, rearranging the constellations.

the big dipper, now perfectly clear. 

just for you.

[elf-trash]

Solavellan Recommended Reading

I made a post like this for SilverV a million years ago and wanted to make one for Solavellan as well!

A few of these fics overlap with the ones I have linked in my current pinned post, but there are soooo many fantastic Solavellan fics out there that I decided to make a longer rec post so I could include more of them!!!

Without further ado, here are some of my favorites, in no particular order. Some of them are one-shots or shorter multi chapter fics, and some of them are massive long fics and everything in between. Some of them are new and still in progress, some of them are completed, and a handful of them are older fics. All of them are absolutely worth your time!

walk you to the shore - Scaryanne A beautifully written post-Veilguard one-shot about Solas and Lavellan having it all out in the Fade. Highly recommend!

the sun to burn - Pip (Moirail) An Inquisition re-write that goes off canon and does a phenomenal job at exploring a ton of aspects of the lore and story. Features fantastic character writing and takes really thought-provoking directions with the lore!

love is not a victory march - Brunchatthebookstore A Veilguard retelling where Lavellan is present at the ritual at the beginning that goes off book from there. It's beautifully, heartbreakingly written and off to a REALLY strong start with some truly devastating moments, so this one is absolutely one to watch.

miles below the surface of the dawn - thefirstaidkit This fic is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read, period. On its face it's just 6 chapters of "there was only one bed" Inquisition-era Solavellan smut, but I stg the writer was channeling the spirit of Solas Dragon Age himself because it is the most perfect Solavellan smut I can imagine. Read this one, just trust me.

Martyr - existential_naptime If you like Solavellan angst, this one delivers in spades!!! It's set during Veilguard and explores what would happen if the Evanuris kidnapped the Inquisitor (and more specifically, how Solas would react). It is DELICIOUS and also extremely painful but well worth it!

Requited - cursedhag A beautifully written, pitch perfect Inquisition rewrite that fully checks all the boxes! Features a lot of excellent Solas POV that incorporates all the new lore reveals we learned in Veilguard. Do yourself a favor and read this!!!!

rook wins in the end - wiltedartist A great exploration of Rook's relationship with Solas in Veilguard. Solavellan, but focuses on the one-sided unrequited feelings that Rook develops for Solas. Really interesting angle that I haven't seen done better.

And Yet - say_lene Beautiful Inquisition-era Solavellan one-shot. All of this writer's fics are so beautiful and well-written, so I kind of picked this one randomly but ALL of their Dragon Age fics are worth reading. We stan a good smut character study!!!!!

In the Colours of Your Regrets - scribeofmorpheus Another excellent smut character study! Solas sadly jorkin' it in the Lighthouse to his own sad murals of his wife. 11/10 no notes.

Roses Where Thorns Grow - Bdafic This one explores what would have happened if, after Crestwood, Lavellan learned the truth about Solas and they rekindled their relationship. It's a beautiful story that stays true to character and explores some of their messier and more complicated relationship dynamics.

Servitude - niceasspavus Another really, really solid Inquisition rewrite that explores Solas and Lavellan's romance. Well-written with excellent details and characterization. Highly recommend all of this writer's other fics, as well.

These Hands, If Not Gods - Gefionne An AU where a pre-Inquisition Lavellan accidentally discovers an eluvian that lets Arlathan-era Solas time travel to her. Beautifully written smut and character development. AUs aren't often my thing, but this one is absolutely worth your time.

Looking Glass - Feynite This one is theee classic Solavellan fic and probably needs no introduction. It's a time travel Arlathan AU, and it still holds up even after all these years, even unfinished. If you haven't read this one yet, stop whatever you're doing right now and fix that.

Wildest Dreams - elf_trash Finally, this one is mine!!! It's a retelling of Veilguard with Lavellan as the protagonist (aka Lavellan IS Rook) that focuses on her complicated relationship with Solas. Starts near the end of Inquisition and will continue through Veilguard and slightly beyond. I plan on reincorporating a lot of scrapped ideas from Joplin.

This list is in no way comprehensive, as a) there are sooo many good ones and b) I haven't read everything (yet lolol), so please feel free to reblog this and add your favorites!!!

But in the meantime, do yourself a favor and check out all of these fics! Top tier stuff all around.

[bittersweet-folder]

□ NERDY ✧･ﾟ:

♤ pairing: Tutor! (& student) Wonwoo and fem student!reader [he's a masters student while reader is in end of third year studying for her bachelor's degree, so both are at the legal age] [established relationship au!]

♤synopsis: just studying and then ranting to your nerdy boyfriend which takes quite a sweet "sweet" turn.

♤ warning: this is a smut fic by the way. mentions of explicit letters, dumb sex jokes (?) , oral (fem receiving, reader gets shy easily), shirtless wonwoo (honestly this needs a warning) , lots of smooching in different places🫶.

♤ word count: 2148 (I went overboard-) ♤ MASTERLIST

♤ tag list: @hongmingoo , @shuabby1994 , @unlikelysublimekryptonite , @asyre , @soobunsbuns , @nishloves , @aaniag , @sikuthealien , @jespecially , @lizza2001 , @zierose-freak , @thepoopdokyeomtouched .

(Scratched out means you either changed your username or I couldn't find your blog)

A/N: This is my first ever smut I've written. I've been inactive asf due to a lotta things, college assignments, viva exams, studying and getting my shit together. Neither my mental health has been soo good. But anyways babyloves I'm back with this postt letting y'all know I'm alive~ love y'all. It is proofread but let me know if there's any mistake 🎀

Sitting on your messy bed with books and copies splayed around you, your eyes go through the words on the page of your book. Exams were around the corner, knocking on door like some unwanted alarm early in the morning. And to state it quite clearly, you were absolutely exhausted. Your boyfriend Wonwoo, who was also your tutor, was there to accompany you in your long study sessions. But in a way he was more like a study partner. He was studying for his masters degree while you were studying for your bachelors in third year. And you both were literature students. And at that very moment Wonwoo wasn't being helpful at all. He was dressed in casual wear, a simple black tee and grey sweatpants. Except his tee was gone a long while ago. He was now walking around in just grey sweatpants, absorbed in reading a book. You take glances every now. Your concentration gets disrupted while your mind gets a little too crowded with more inappropriate thoughts. And your reading material definitely made you question why you are even reading such scandalous things. You noted more points on your draft paper, almost done with the draft work. You let out an exhausted sigh and laid down on the bed as your back was giving out. Wonwoo was going back and forth walking in your room, looked up and asked with a soft smile laced on his lips “tired, love?”.

You stare at the ceiling, mouth slightly parted as a soft sigh leaves. You let yourself wrap in the softness of the bed. You were just, well, frustrated because of the exams and quite turned on by the sight of your studious boyfriend walking around, in your room, half naked. 

“Yeah Wonu I am…” you said you're a bit hoarse from staying quiet for too long.

“You seem quite exhausted. Something's on your mind?” he said as he sat beside you. You feel the mattress rise on the side of your head as he sits on the bed. 

“Yeah.. I'm just so exhausted but there's so much to cover… am I doing enough even?” you muttered, the self doubt reflecting very clearly through your words. 

“Take a break, you heard me. Take a break. Don't doubt yourself so much when you're this tired” 

“But..” 

“No buts,” 

“Any rants you got there while skimming through your reads?” he smirks knowing you must've had something on your mind, something itching your brains out. 

“My brain's blank. I want to sleep but I want to eat, there are just too many wars, too many criticisms and James Joyce was a freak in disguise!!” you exasperated. Wonwoo laughed out loud with you abruptly concluding something scandalous about the author. 

“Well, so was his wife Nora. I mean they were quite in love despite having this sort of letters written to each other and of course there were some problems in their relationship too” Wonwoo stated. 

“Yes of course in love and all but that's not the point. The point is the lecherous lewd letters they exchanged. I felt like I walked into a couple fucking like there's no tomorrow!? Like excuse me, please chill!?” you exclaimed. 

“I know I know” he chuckled while agreeing with you. You sit up beside him. Close to him, your back resting on the headboard of the bed. Your eyes take a quick glance at his bare abdomen. You looked at him, your lips pressed in a thin line. 

“They were freaky. Good for them for having such a raunchy sex life. Anyways I'm hungry.” you stated impassively. He let out a chortle.

“Hungry for what exactly?” his voice rasps clearly through the stillness of the room. You gasp dramatically reading right through the innuendo. 

“How impolite of you to ask me about something this suggestive so crudely” you say in a dramatic tone with a coy look on your face. Your silly dramatic antics were nothing new to him. 

“Oh really but I was just asking what exactly do you want to eat you know?” Wonwoo had a sly look on his face. 

“Oh my. Really? I want coffee and one chocolate pastry. I ain't hungry for your cock, I'm hungry for some real food instead.” you say while your gaze traveled from his eyes to his lips. 

“Well, being brazen with your words as always, hmm? your eyes say otherwise, love” his voice was softer than before. 

“Oh do they? Can't help it when my boyfriend decides to just stay half naked around me, walking in my room, so absorbed in the book”

“Does that turn you on or something?” he teases. 

“Using knowledge for seducing works for me if that's what you're asking. I mean having such an intelligent boyfriend is quite interesting”

He knew how you found knowledgeable people attractive. And he was one of them. And he was your boyfriend for a long time indeed, so he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

“So am I getting a coffee and pastry break? Would you treat me??” you ask. 

“Well sweetheart I certainly would treat you but I want something in return too” his gaze averted down on your lips which were apparently also coated with lip balm. A transparent one which made them look more nourished and glossy. 

“Aren't you being quite obvious about what you want Wonu” you tease. Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in closer, arms touching, your head turned to the left. The distance between lips several centimeters apart. You turn to face him. A soft breath leaves your lips. His arm slides around your waist pulling you closer on his lap. His bare chest presses against your clothed one as you staddle and settle on his lap. 

“So what if I'm being obvious? I still want to feel your lips on mine” his voice was raspy, words cutting through the tension in the air between. You breathe sharply at the close proximity. 

“You may” I mutter. He smirks and presses his lips on yours in a searing kiss. His pink lips moved in a rhythm against your lips. His tongue darted against your lips tasting the cherry flavor on his tongue. The soft passionate kiss soon turned into a heated one. As your cloth covered body stays flushed against his bare chest his hand slowly makes its way to cup your boob over your tee. His big hand fondles your boob while his thumb rubs over your clothed nipple. A gasp leaves your lips. He makes it an opportunity to deepen the kiss with his tongue. The eagerness to want more in that kiss was maddening enough as you moan into the kiss. He pins you on the bed. Your back laid on the soft sheets of the bed, your cheek flushed as he broke the kiss enough for you both to take a breath. You try to catch your breath.The desire of craving more was tangible as you feel his warm breathing fanning on your flushed cheek.

“Wonu.. want more please” you murmured against his lips. His hand finds their way to your waist grabbing on the right side as he presses sloppy kisses along your jaw. He moves downwards pressing more sloppy kisses on your neck. A trembling sigh leaves your lips. His nose catches the lingering faint smell of your shampoo and body lotion. A scent which was very much ‘you’,soft and homely. 

“Mind if we take a little longer break? You've been studying for a long time now and fuck..I want you now baby” he mutters against the skin of your neck. 

“Please..” 

“Please what, love” he smiled softly. The heat rises in your cheeks. 

“Can you touch me more..?” you murmur to his ear. He nibbles on the skin on your neck, just near the pulse while his hand slipped under your tee slowly pushing it up exposing more of your skin. He lifts you up a little to take off the t-shirt of your body leaving you in your bra. 

“God you're so beautiful” he says under his breath, his eyes admiring your half naked form. The blood rushed through your cheeks and ears as you looked away shyly. 

“Eyes on me, baby”

His fingers held you by the chin, turning  your gaze back to him. The desire in between was palpable. The distance again shortens in between as your chest touches his bare one. He pressed a few bites and sucked on your neck and chest to leave prominent little marks. You felt the heat coursing through your body as he slowly slid his fingers underneath your shorts. He pressed up himself more in between your legs making you feel his evident hardness against your core. His breathing became a bit ragged, getting desperate to remove the restrictions between and eager to get even closer to you. With ease he slid his hand underneath your back and unclasped the bra. He removed your bra and threw it aside on the bed. His face became a bit flushed as he saw your half bare body exposed to him. Just for him. He leans down pressing a few wet kisses before pressing an open mouth kiss on your left nipple. Your breathing quickens as his hand slowly pulls down your shorts. Your fingers ran through his hair as he flicked his tongue on your nipple. His fingers quickly pull down the elastic band of your shorts and then your panties. He discarded those on the other side of the bed leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“Fuck you take my breath away..” He mutters as his gaze trails over your naked form. 

He left a trail of wet kisses while moving lower and lower when he finally settled himself right between your thighs close to your wet core. His hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs. He still had his glasses on, locking eyes with you. Your breathing was uneven, face flushed and with him looking right into your eyes didn't help the situation or the position you both were in either. 

“Yahh! Open your glasses or they'll break!” 

“Oh no sweetheart they stay on when I eat you out the way they always do” He had that smug grin on his which you really wanted to slap away if that was possible. 

He dove right in licking right through your wet folds making you gasp. You feel his wet tongue flicking and swirling at the entrance of your cunt. You moan as he pressed up more with his nose bumping on your clit. He wraps his lips on your clit. He lightly sucks on it while his tongue swirls around it. You squirm under his touch, your breathing grew heavier. He smirks and then pushes his tongue in your slick entrance making your toes curl. 

“Wonuu~ fuck-” you moan as he continue his motions knowing how sensitive you're feeling right now eager to get a release. You grasp his soft hair with your fingers pushing his head just a little more, just so he pushes you closer to the edge. 

“Oh- fuck~” You mewl. He continues his movements over your clit and then your entrance giving equal attention to both to stimulate you further. Your moans and grasping his hair was definitely not helping him. His pants felt uncomfortably tight given the fact he was turned on. He grinds a little on the bed as he continues his actions with his tongue on your cunt. You kept moaning and gasping under him as you felt getting closer to the edge. 

“Wonu I'm close~” I mutter softly followed by a gasp leaving your lips. You felt him moan against your wetness which was enough to push you to come undone. And you do with your body shuddering as he grips your thighs digging his fingers onto the flesh. He continues his actions with his tongue cleaning you up which follows with him coming. He moans against your cunt. 

“Wonuu- did you-” You asked feeling a little puzzled. He lifts his face, his chin glazed with the slick from eating you out.

“Well yeah I did baby I did come, untouched, I just couldn't help it” He sits up, still positioned in between your thighs as he pulls you by your thighs.You yelp softly as he does that. 

“You taste so good, love”

He hovers on top of you as he presses his wet lips on yours. You feel him smirk against your lips and you taste yourself too. His hand slides around your waist. I pull back just a little to mumble against his lips “you're cocky as hell too Jeon Wonwoo” I grin. “You love it anyways baby, and I'll get your treats after some time too ‘kay?” he mutters against your lips. “mmm okay” you say and smile softly. 

[notawomanimagod]

Read a bunch of Silco/Reader fics this past week, so I'm going to link my favs here for my fellow Silco enjoyers to enjoy

I can't believe I hadn't read AU fics before, I devoured two in the past three days. I am a sucker for Silco being unable to let anyone in and all the tension that brings. I love his canon characterization but I also really enjoy seeing how he's written by different people and how they make him human.It itches a part of my brain SO well.

And since I don't really strongly ship him with anyone, I've ended up reading a lot of Silco/Reader fics instead (oops)

1. Crawlin' Back to You by SorataTakano

One of the most exquisite and grounded slow burn fics I've ever read. You feel like you're literally in Zaun. This single handedly reignited my need to write again.

(200k+ words, still being updated )

2. ichthyological studies by beskars

Single Dad Silco enrolls Jinx in a local art class and ends up flirting with the art teacher. It's just fluffy and tooth rottingly sweet

Silco is an absolute sweetheart in this, and it is SO adorable. Like,, they go to see sharks in an aquarium together and shit. ADORABLE!! (Also, text convos between them)I have been kicking my legs and smiling reading this, also it's being updated quite quickly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62249971

3. As We Fall by @starryeyed-spacegirl

First Arcane AU fic I read and it pleasantly surprised me. It's got everything: powerful Modern Businessman Silco , Barista reader who works at The Last Drip, bonding with Jinx over horror movies etc etc

Sevika, Jinx, Ekko + more OCs that feel so natural. Good mix between serious plot and domesticity.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40227708

4. a heavy kind of madness by summercourtship

Reader is a Piltie that ends up working for Silco and delivering messages for him. Fun to read about someone quite privileged encountering Zaun and meeting Silco.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60950572/chapters/155702197

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part Two

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst, guilt,

A/N: ANOTHA ONE

ALSO, i realized that it maybe be confusing cuz after the flashback it jumps right into the reaction after the very first letter. So keep that in mind! It just jumps right where the last part left off.

ALSO, im not good a math okay, so my years may be off but its fiction and thats okay LOL <3

Masterpost

--------

The sun hangs low in the sky, staining everything in shades of gold and amber. The air is thick with the scent of cut grass and pavement baked too hot under the July heat.

It’s your last summer together before everything changes.

You don’t know it yet.

But maybe you should have.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” Bucky calls over his shoulder, grinning like he’s got the whole world in his back pocket.

You roll your eyes but pick up the pace, your converse slapping against the pavement. “I’m literally right behind you, Barnes. Where are we even going?”

“You ask too many questions.” He flashes you that infuriatingly charming smirk, the one that always gets him out of trouble, the one that always gets you into trouble, the one that makes it impossible to stay mad at him. The one that makes your stomach flip.

You ignore that part. You’ve been ignoring it for years.

Bucky leads you through the side streets, weaving between familiar houses, past old fences you used to climb, past the gas station where you once dared him to steal a pack of gum (he did, but he went back five minutes later and confessed, turning so red the cashier took pity and let him go).

It’s your town. Your world. And you’ve never known it without him. You never thought you ever would.

He stops suddenly, turning toward you, his eyes bright with something mischievous. “Do you trust me?”

You scoff. “That depends. Am I gonna get arrested?”

“Unlikely.”

“Am I gonna get in trouble?”

“Not unless you rat me out.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N.” His voice is warm, teasing, his hands already reaching for yours.

And you let him take them. Because of course you do. Because Bucky Barnes has never needed to ask you twice.

He pulls you toward the old train bridge at the edge of town. The one you’re absolutely not supposed to be on. But then again there are so many things the two of you weren’t supposed to do yet you always seem to do.

You hesitate at the base, glancing up at the rusted beams, the way the wooden planks stretch across the water, worn and splintered with age. “You’re insane Buck, especially if you think I’m walking across that.”

Bucky tilts his head, considering. Then, he grins. “Okay, princess. Guess I’ll have to carry you.”

Before you can react, he lunges.

“Bucky, don’t you dare—”

Too late.

You shriek as he throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, his laughter ringing out as you flail uselessly against his back.

“Bucky! Put me down, you asshole!”

“Nah,” he says casually, already stepping onto the bridge, completely unaffected by your struggling. “You said you weren’t walking, so I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

“I will literally murder you.”

“You’re all talk, sweetheart.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way his muscles shift beneath you as he carries you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Like you don’t make him nervous. Like he hasn’t spent years wanting more.

The wind catches your hair as you cross the halfway point, the scent of sun-warmed wood and river water filling your lungs. It should be terrifying, but it’s not.

Because Bucky has never dropped you before.

Because Bucky has never let you fall.

When he finally sets you down on the other side, you punch his arm, hard.

“You suck.”

“You love me.”

You freeze.

Just for a second.

The words hang there, suspended between you, caught in the heat of the afternoon. Bucky’s grin falters just barely, something unspoken flickering behind his eyes.

Then, before you can say anything, he nudges you with his shoulder, smirking again.

“Admit it, it was fun.”

You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you into the river.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, too.

And Bucky sees it.

Bucky always sees it.

He leans back on his elbows, watching you with that lazy, knowing expression, the one that makes it impossible to look.

“You know,” he says after a moment, voice softer now, “we won’t always have this.”

The words shouldn’t sting.

But they do.

You swallow. “Even when we're in the city for college, I’m sure we'll get into trouble” You nudge him.

Bucky’s grin is easy, effortless. The kind that should put you at ease.

But it doesn’t. Because something is off.

It’s in the way he nods, a little too quickly. The way he doesn’t meet your eyes. The way he keeps talking, like if he fills the silence fast enough, you won’t notice the weight in the air.

“You’re right,” he says, flashing a lopsided smirk “I’m sure we will, especially when we’re legal and can finally drink in the big city bars!” He nudges your knee with his, playful, teasing.

But you see it now.

Something tugs at the back of your mind, an itch you can’t scratch, a feeling you don’t have a name for yet.

Bucky has never been good at keeping secrets from you.

And right now? He’s keeping something.

“Bucky.”

He knows that tone. He finally looks at you, eyebrows raised, trying to act innocent. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes. He’s good, but not that good. “You’re acting weird.”

“Weird?” He lets out a too-loud laugh, leaning back on his hands. “Me? No way.”

“Yeah, you.” You tilt your head, studying him. “Since when do you avoid eye contact with me?”

“I—” He stops, blinks, then forces himself to meet your gaze.

And for a second, it works. For a second, he looks like your Bucky again, the one you’ve known since you were kids, the one who never lied to you, the one who always told you everything.

But then, just as quickly, it’s gone.

His grin is back, bright, charming, distracting. “Sorry, I was just thinking about how much trouble we’re gonna get into. I mean, you…big city girl? You’re gonna get us kicked out of half the bars in Manhattan.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Me? You’re the one who can’t stay out of trouble for more than five minutes.”

“Exactly. And that’s why we’re gonna run that city, sweetheart.” He winks, nudging you again, pushing the conversation away, pushing the truth further down.

And you let him.

Because he’s Bucky, and because you trust him, and because the alternative doesn’t even cross your mind.

Because right now, the future is still something bright and far away.

Because right now, you still believe he’s coming with you.

Because right now, you don’t know that in just a few weeks, you’ll find out the truth.

That he’s not coming to New York with you.

That he’s leaving.

That he’s already enlisted, and that he’s known for weeks.

But tonight? Tonight, he still just looks like Bucky.

And so you shove the uneasy feeling down, shove the doubt into the back of your mind, and smile. “Damn right, Barnes. We’re gonna run that city.”

And he smiles back.

Like it’s not a lie.

Like he’s not breaking his own heart just by sitting here, letting you believe in a future that doesn’t exist.

----

Your chest tightens, your throat burning as your fingers tighten around the letter. The memory surfaces like a tidal wave, dragging you under.

The lake. The way the moon shined onto the water making the water look silver. The way he looked at you that night, and how you ignored the way your stomach flipped because you were afraid.

You never told him you wanted to kiss him, too. That you hoped he finally would. Your hands shake as you fold the letter, shoving it back into the box as if that will somehow make the memories disappear.

But they don’t. They cling to you, whispering reminders of something unfinished. Your hands shake as you hold the letter. All the memories and moments you spent years trying to forget come rushing back.

Because now, you remember the sound of your laugh that night. You remember the sound of his, the way he lifted his hands to push back his hair, you remember the dimple in his chin, the way the moon made his eyes look like a galaxy.

And you remember exactly what it felt like to want him.

The weight of the first letter lingers in your chest long after you set it back inside the box. But you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

Your fingers tremble as they skim over the stack of envelopes, worn with time and creased at the edges. There are so many. More than you ever remembered.

Bucky had written to you every chance he got.

And you had never written back. You were so mad at him, so hurt that you let it get the best of you. You were so selfish. The hatred you had for yourself that Steve and your therapist had helped you try to come to terms with was overwhelming now.

You swallow hard, guilt pressing into your ribs as you pick another one at random, unfolding the paper carefully. His handwriting is rushed but still his, the same messy script that used to scribble notes in the margins of your school notebooks, the same handwriting that once wrote your name on his arm in marker when you were kids, just because he thought it was funny.

You take a deep breath and begin to read.

Y/N,

I don’t even know how to start this. I keep writing these, keep sending them out into the void, hoping, praying, that maybe one day, you’ll send something back. That I’ll see your handwriting again, hear your voice in the words you write. But I don’t even know if you’re reading them. Maybe you toss them straight in the trash. Maybe you don’t even open them. Maybe you’ve moved on.

And if you have…I don’t blame you.

I was a coward, Y/N. I should’ve told you the second I knew. I should’ve sat you down, looked you in the eyes, and told you that I wasn’t going to New York with you. That I was leaving for something else entirely. That I was walking away from the future we had been planning since we were kids. But I couldn’t. Because I was selfish.

I wanted one last summer. One last stretch of time where you still looked at me the way you always had, where you still laughed with me like nothing was changing. I didn’t want to see the look in your eyes when I told you the truth. I didn’t want to see the hurt, the betrayal, the anger. I didn’t want to see you look at me like I was already gone. And then, when the day came, when I had to leave, you wouldn’t even look at me at all.

I still see it, you know. The way your hands were shaking when you realized what I’d done. The way your voice broke when you asked me how long I had known. The way your eyes burned when you said you hated me.

I deserved it. God, Y/N, I deserved it.

But if I could take it all back, if I could do it differently, you gotta know I would.

I would have told you the moment I knew. I would have let you scream at me, cry, throw things, tell me I was an idiot. I would have let you say all the things I know you never got the chance to say.

I just wanted more time. And now? Time is all I have. I don’t know how to describe what it’s like here. I don’t know how to put it into words that don’t sound too small.

The days stretch on forever, but the nights are worse. Out here, there’s no quiet, but somehow, it still feels empty. The air smells like sand and metal, and sometimes I forget what grass feels like. Sometimes I forget what home feels like. Sometimes I think about the sound of your laugh and wonder if I even remember it right.

I try to, though. I try.

I think about the Fourth of July, how we ran wild through the carnival like we had the whole world ahead of us. I think about every moment I spent with you and how I took it all for granted.

I would give anything to go back. To one more late-night drive with the windows down. To one more summer afternoon with you, barefoot on the pavement. To one more chance, to fix this.

But I can’t. And that’s my burden to carry.

I just need you to know, I never meant to hurt you. Not for a second. Not in a million years.

I’m coming home, Y/N. I don’t know when, but I am. And when I do, I hope to God that you’ll still be there.

Yours, Always

Bucky.

Your breath is unsteady by the time you finish.

He knew. He knew what it did to you when you found out, when you had pulled up to his house and saw him in uniform, stuffing the last of his things into the trunk of his car, the sun catching on the name stitched into his chest.

--

“Barnes!”

Your voice was sharp, cutting through the thick summer air like a blade. The sound echoed down the quiet street, but you didn’t care who heard.

The moment you saw him, his duffel bag packed, his uniform crisp and foreign on his body, the light from the porch catching on the name stitched over his chest, you knew.

Your stomach plummeted, your hands shaking as you slammed the car door so hard it rattled in its frame.He turned at the sound, his face pale, his blue eyes wide with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. You stormed up the driveway, the pavement hot beneath your feet, rage and heartbreak tangling together in your throat, making it impossible to breathe.

You shoved him, hard. “How long have you known?”

Bucky swallowed, but the regret was already pooling in his eyes, written in every tense line of his body. He already knew this was unforgivable. “Since the beginning of summer.”

It was like the air had been sucked out of the world. Like the ground had been ripped out from under you. Like everything inside you had just….shattered. “You were never coming with me, were you?”

His throat bobbed. “Y/N—”

“You let me believe—” Your breath hitched, the betrayal hitting like a gut punch, knocking the wind out of you.

You shook your head, vision blurring with hot, angry tears. “I hate you.” The words felt like glass in your throat. Sharp. Final. True.

“Please don’t do this.” Bucky’s voice was raw, cracking under the weight of it. His hand curled into a fist at his side before he forced it open again, reaching for you like he could still fix this. “Please, Y/N.”

You laughed, a bitter, broken sound. “I hate you, James. Don’t talk to me ever again!” Your voice was shaking, but it didn’t matter. “How could you? Were you even going to say goodbye?”

“Of course I was.” His voice was quiet but firm, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. He took a step forward, his hand still outstretched, desperate.

You slapped it away.

“So all I was gonna get was a five-minute goodbye? Is that all I am to you?” Your breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. “And then you’d be gone? And you thought I’d be okay with that?”

His mouth opened.

But nothing came out.

His own tears had begun to fall, tracing silent tracks down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking with the weight of the words he never got to say.

You let out a broken scoff, shaking your head. “I never want to see you again, Bucky Barnes.”

It was a death sentence.

A final, jagged cut between you.

“I hate you.”

And then, before you could take it back, before you could fall apart completely, you turned, yanked open the car door, and drove.

You didn’t look in the rearview mirror.

You couldn’t.

Because if you had, you would’ve seen Bucky standing there in the driveway, hands curled into fists at his sides, shoulders shaking, his face twisted in grief, in regret, in something too broken to name.

And you would’ve seen the truth in his eyes

That he hated himself more than you ever could.

---

It was a lie. You had never hated him. But it still came out like the truth.

You blink rapidly, forcing yourself back to the present before the memory can suffocate you completely.

You dig through the box, pulling out another letter.

Y/N,

It’s been a year. One whole year since I left. Since I saw you. Since I heard your voice.

I wonder if you’d even recognize me now. I don’t feel like the same kid who stood in my driveway, watching you drive away, feeling like I had just made the worst mistake of my life.

Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe it’s just a series of choices you can’t take back.

I hope you’re okay. No, scratch that…I hope you’re thriving. I hope college is everything you dreamed it would be, that you’re out there owning that big city like you were always meant to. I hope you’ve made a million new friends, ones who love you the way you deserve to be loved. Ones who get to see you smile every day, who get to hear your laugh, the one that always sounded like summer, like freedom, like home.

I hope you’re happy. God, I hope you’re happy.

Things are… different here. Hard, yeah, but I guess I always knew they would be. The days are long, and the nights stretch on even longer. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I swear I can still hear the sound of gunfire, even when it’s quiet.

But I met a guy, Sam. He’s from D.C, used to be a college athlete before all this. He reminds me of you, actually…smart-ass, full of life, always running his mouth. I think you’d like him.

He keeps me sane.

He makes me laugh when I don’t think I have it in me. He gives me shit when I start brooding (you’d probably get along real well in that department). And when things get bad, when the weight of this place starts pressing too hard, he reminds me that there’s still something on the other side of this.

That we’ll get home. And when I do?

God, Y/N, I have so many plans.

I’ve been making a list. A real one. Sam thinks I’m insane, but I don’t care.

I know it’s stupid, but I keep thinking about how I promised you I’d take you to all the best spots in the city. And yeah, I messed up, I should’ve been there with you from the start. (I hope one day you understand why I had to do this) But I’m not breaking this promise.

So when I get back?

We’re doing it all.

We’re gonna eat at every street vendor we can find, even the shady ones that are probably a bad idea. We’re gonna get drunk at that little jazz club I found in some travel magazine (I bet you’re so pissed I did research). We’re gonna ride the subway at midnight, just to see the kind of weird shit that happens.

And I swear, by the end of it, you’ll be a pro at navigating that city. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. But I know where I’m going when I come home.

Don’t forget me, please

Yours, Always

Bucky

Your throat closes. You press your lips together, trying to contain the sob that threatens to break loose.

You wish you got to tell him that you did read every letter and you did wait. You even continued to wait even when he was declared MIA because you knew you would never, could never love anyone the way you loved him.

And then Bucky never came home. And then you found a different love in Steve.

You reach for another letter, your hands shaking, your eyes already burning.

Y/N,

I think about you every night. I wonder if you think about me, too.

Do you remember the time we got caught in the rain, walking back from the lake before senior year? You were shivering so bad, your teeth were chattering, and you kept cursing at the sky like it was personally out to get you.

I gave you my hoodie, and you made some smartass comment about how it smelled like sweat and cheap cologne, but you still wrapped yourself up in it.

You never gave it back. I was wondering if you still have it?

It’s okay if you do or don't. But it did look better on you, anyway.

I miss you.

Yours, Always

Bucky.

You remember that day.

The storm had come out of nowhere, drenching both of you before you could even think about running for shelter. Your shoes had sunk into the mud, and Bucky had laughed when you nearly wiped out.

“You think this is funny?” you had snapped, water dripping from your hair into your eyes.

“A little bit, yeah.”

And then he had pulled off his hoodie, tugging it over your head before you could protest.

“It smells like you,” you had muttered, tucking your hands into the sleeves.

“Yeah?” Bucky had grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And it wasn’t.

You don’t know how much time passes as you sit there staring at the box of letters.

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until you go to pull out another letter and a tear splashes onto the envelope. It's the final one he wrote before he was declared missing in action.

The one you still haven’t opened.

Your hands tremble as you pick it up, fingers ghosting over the edges. The envelope is slightly bent, the paper inside still sealed.

You can’t open it.

Instead, you clutch it to your chest, tucking it into the inside pocket of your coat like you’re protecting it.

That’s when your fingers brush against something else at the bottom of the box.

Photos.

Your breath catches as you pull them out, one by one.

Bucky, standing in the summer sunlight, grinning at you like he always did.

Bucky, lounging in the bed of his old truck, his arm slung lazily behind his head.

Bucky, the last day you ever saw him, his Mom had sent it to you at some point, he was wearing his uniform, his bag slung over his shoulder, a look in his eyes that still haunts you.

You cover your mouth with your hand, your shoulders shaking as the sobs rip through you.

Because in that last photo, he had smiled.

Like he wasn’t afraid.

Like he truly believed he was coming back to you.

But he never did. He was only eighteen.

It had been ten years since you last saw him. Eight since his last letter. Six since he was officially declared MIA.

You rock forward, curling into yourself, grief pressing heavy against your ribs, swallowing you whole.

The walls seem to be inching closer, the air thick and suffocating, pressing down on your chest as you clutch the last unopened letter in your coat pocket like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

Your breath is uneven, shallow. Your eyes burn from the flood of emotions you’ve been holding back for years.

Then, your phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the silence, jolting you back to reality. You flinch, your fingers fumbling as you dig it out of your bag. The screen glows in the dim light, but your vision is blurred, and you barely register the name before swiping to answer.

“Hey,” you say, your voice hoarse, barely there.

“Hey, baby,” Steve’s voice is warm, familiar, grounding. The sound of it alone makes your throat tighten even more. “My mom took Lily out for an early dinner. Thought I’d check in on you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling slowly. You try to steady yourself, try to push down the weight in your chest. “That’s lovely,” you murmur, forcing yourself to sound normal. But your voice wavers.

And Steve notices. He always does. His voice softens. “How are you holding up?”

You hesitate. You could lie. You could brush it off, tell him you’re fine, tell him you just got lost in some old memories but that you’re okay.

But the words don’t come. Instead, a small, broken noise escapes your throat, and suddenly, the dam bursts. “I was horrible,” you whisper, your fingers gripping the fabric of your sweater like it might hold you together.

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “What?” Steve asks, his voice gentle, careful, like he knows you’re seconds away from breaking.

You suck in a shaky breath. “I never wrote him back.” The confession falls out of you, raw and trembling. “Not once. He wrote me all the time, for two years… and I never…God, I was so selfish. I was so fucking stubborn. He was out there, and I could’ve lost him at any second and then I did.”

Your voice cracks. You press a trembling hand to your forehead, as if you can somehow push the guilt back inside. “I thought—” You stop, choking on the words.

Steve waits. He always waits.

You force yourself to keep going. “I thought ignoring his letters would hurt him the way he hurt me. I thought it would make me feel better. But it didn’t. It never did. And now he’s gone, and I never told him…why wouldn’t I just write him back, Stevie?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the sob rips through you, shaking your entire body.

“Hey, hey—” Steve’s voice comes through the speaker, soothing, steady, but there’s a slight edge to it now. Worry.

You hear him move, the rustling of fabric, the sound of him shifting, like he wants to physically be there but doesn’t know how to close the distance.

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice is firm but so, so soft. “You were hurting, okay? You didn’t do it to be cruel. You didn’t do it because you didn’t love him. You did it because you were in pain.”

You shake your head, but he keeps going.

“You were trying to protect yourself the only way you knew how. It wasn’t fair, and maybe it wasn’t right, but that doesn’t mean you were horrible. It means you were human.”

A sharp breath shudders through you.

“But—”

“No ‘but,’ Y/N.” His voice tightens, like he won’t let you argue. “You think he didn’t know you were hurting too? You think he didn’t know that you you still loved him? You were best friends baby, he knew.”

Tears stream down your face.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I don’t know, Stevie.”

Steve exhales, and when he speaks again, it’s even softer, like a secret meant just for you. “I do.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, a fresh wave of emotion clawing up your throat.

“I keep thinking about it,” you murmur after a long pause. “All the time I wasted. All the letters I could’ve sent. Even just one…one letter to tell him that I still cared, that I didn’t really hate him. That I was just—”

“Hurting,” Steve finishes for you.

Your chest tightens. “Yeah.”

There’s another beat of silence. But it’s not empty. It’s full—with love, with understanding, with all the ways Steve has held you up without ever asking for anything in return.

“You’re allowed to feel this,” he says after a moment. “But don’t punish yourself for it, baby. You were a kid. You were heartbroken. And no matter what you think you did wrong, it doesn’t change the fact that you loved him. That’s what matters.”

You sniffle, wiping at your cheeks. “I don’t deserve you,” you whisper.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle, but it’s thick with emotion. “Yeah, you do.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to pull yourself back together, but it feels impossible.

“Do you want me to come down?” he asks suddenly, and you can hear the earnestness in his voice, the way he would drop everything in a second if you asked. “Just say the word, and I’ll be there, baby.”

God.

You almost say yes. You almost beg him to get in the car, to hold you, to pull you out of this grief that’s swallowing you whole.

But instead, you shake your head.

“No… no, its okay, this, this felt good to get out.”

Steve pauses, like he’s measuring your words, making sure you mean them. “Okay. But I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need.”

You smile weakly, touched beyond words. “I think I just need a shower. I’ll text you after, okay?”

Steve hesitates, like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. He just exhales softly. “Okay, “I love you.”

Your heart clenches. “I love you too.”

You end the call, letting the silence settle around you before standing on unsteady legs.

-

The shower is too hot. You don’t turn it down. You let the scalding water hit your skin, standing there with your forehead pressed against the cool tile, your hands braced against the wall. The steam curls around you, thick and suffocating, but you don’t move.

You don’t know how long you stay like that.

But when you finally step out, your skin is flushed red from the heat, and your fingers are trembling as you wrap yourself in a towel. And then, as you reach for your sweater, the old, worn one Bucky gave you. You can almost hear his voice, the memory sneaks up on you, curling around the edges of your mind before pulling you under completely.

And suddenly, you’re seventeen again.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

Bucky’s voice is tight, full of worry he’s trying to mask with frustration.

You wince as he dabs at the cut on your forehead, his touch careful but firm. You’re sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, your legs tucked up slightly as he crouches in front of you, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“It’s not that bad,” you mutter, but your voice is small.

Bucky snorts, his eyes flicking up to yours. “Not that bad? You’re bleeding all over the place, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You ran straight into a goddamn fence.”

“I tripped.”

“You tripped into a fence,” he corrects, shaking his head.

You huff, crossing your arms, but you don’t argue. Because he’s right.

You had been racing him down the street after a late-night run to the gas station, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You weren’t paying attention, and before you knew it, your foot caught on something, and then…

BAM.

Forehead. Fence. Instant regret.

Bucky had freaked the hell out, dragging you inside before you could even register what had happened.

And now, here you are, half-heartedly pouting while he cleans you up, his expression still tense with worry.

“You really need to be more careful,” he murmurs, reaching for a bandage.

“You really need to stop acting like my mom.”

Bucky freezes. Then, his lips twitch.

“I’m offended.” He pulls back slightly, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “I am way better looking than your mom.”

Despite yourself, you laugh.

And just like that, his whole face softens.

His eyes stay locked on yours for a beat too long, his fingers lingering against your skin as he carefully smooths the bandage over your cut.

“There,” he says, voice quieter now. “All better.”

You don’t say anything. Because his hands are still on you. Because he’s looking at you like that.

Because suddenly, it’s way too quiet, and your heart is doing something weird in your chest.

Bucky must realize it too, because he clears his throat, pulling away quickly.

“I, uh—” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little nervous. “You should probably get some rest.”

You nod. “Yeah. Good idea.”

He stands up, but he doesn’t move right away.

Instead, he lingers in the doorway, his fingers gripping the frame like he wants to say something else.

You don’t know what. And maybe it’s better that way.

--

It’s a memory so vivid, so sharp, that it makes your chest ache.

You open your eyes, staring at the same bathroom, now empty. The steam clings to it, just like it had back then, but there’s no Bucky here now. Just you. Alone.

But the ache in your chest lingers.

You look down at the sweater in your hands. It’s old now, a little stretched out, but it still smells like him.

Like something you lost but never really let go of.

You swallow hard, slipping it over your head before heading downstairs.

And even though you don’t say his name, he’s still there, in your hands, in your skin, in the places where he never truly really left.

[hivemuthur]

hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there—with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless—or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?” His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you—only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.

[vad-hander]

MY SURGICAL SOULMATE

pairing: Johnny Suh x reader

genre: hospital!au, fluff, smut, some light angst, co-workers to lovers, Johnny is a doctor, y/n is a nurse, happy ending

warnings: language, sexual content (sex in a hospital, nipple play, unprotected penetration, thigh riding), mentions of surgeries and emergencies (nothing graphic)

words: 9k

synopsis: you have a perfect synergy with Johnny, whether it's you two matching each other professionally in OR or giving each other exactly what you need in bed. You click with each other in every aspect of your life and after one of your successful shifts together you realise you're ready to ask Johnny for the next step. Johnny's answer, though, flips around your outlook on the future of your relationship

______

You stepped into the hospital cafeteria, the scent of freshly brewed coffee immediately hitting your nose, mingling with the faint scent of antiseptic that seemed to always linger in the air anywhere you went within the building.

It was early morning, chatter of nurses and doctors filing the area despite the early hour, creating the backdrop for a very long shift ahead of you. As you entered, you spotted Johnny sitting at a corner table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand and a playful smirk on his face. He had already spotted you at the entrance, and by the look on his face he wanted you to join him.

“Hey there, early bird!” he called out, the teasing was palpable in the tone of his voice. He gestured for you to join him and you let him know with your gestures that you'll get the order and walk right to him. You ordered an iced americano, as you've already had your daily portion of wake-up coffee at home. Your eyes focused on Johny's cup of obviously hot beverage.

“Hey, sleep-deprived night owl,” you teased as you slid into the chair across from him. The warmth of his smile made your heart flutter in a non-colleague way. You shook the feeling away, taking a sip of the sweating drink in your hand. “Night shift?“

“Uh-huh, and about to rock through another one of those tonight. You?” he asked, sipping on a cup of just black coffee. Knowing Johnny, you were sure he asked for a quadruple shot of espresso or something like that to add to his drink. Johnny needed all the caffeine in the world after a night shift. You knew that like no one else did and more importantly you were absolutely on his side with that one.

“I got here 20 minutes ago. Night shift tonight, tho.” you added the second sentence with nonchalance so fake, you were actually embarrassed to look Johnny in the eyes for a second. You were sure he read through you already.

"Guess tonight won't be much of a torturous night, then.” both his brows raised as a suggestive smile adorned his face. You were supposed to keep your face straight. You even tried to force the corners of your lips downwards - it didn't help. You put your lips around the straw and looked at the table, leaving Johnny's words to hang in the air.

“Any important plans for today? Save a few lives? Go on a coffee run?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes letting you know he didn't actually expect any response from you. His main goal was to make you smug, and he succeeded, ready to move on with his small talk.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee. “A bit of both, I think. And definitely saving you from another awful cup of cafeteria coffee. I'll make sure to get you Paik's during the break.”

“Oh, I kinda was developing a taste for this dark substance,” he replied, feigning pain in his chest. ”You're the best, tho. I'll appreciate that.”

You smiled, basking in the easy banter that danced between you. "I hope I'll be able to appreciate your payback also." you took it a small step further, sinking in his proud smile. Johnny always appreciated people that were able to match him - whether it was in the OR or at the cafeteria or in his bed. You had enough time to learn that and bring him occasional satisfaction with your comebacks in all the right situations.

As the sun beamed through the ceiling window, landing on the side of Johnny's face, your brain couldn't help but fantasize. Moments like these, when the Gods above or some other power allowed you two to just sit and chat, have a little break before surgery calls and emergency after another emergency come one after another, these moments of just the two of you felt like a precious gift for you.

You watched Johnny take a sip from his cup, not being able to stop yourself from imagining how mornings like this could be a very normal routine for you two. How coffee dates before shifts, your laughter in unison echoing against the walls of the hospital can be your norm. How instead of coming in separately, you could just get to the hospital in one car, walking around with your fingers intertwined, giving support to each other. Having lunches together, leaving for coffee breaks with your team, having Johnny on your side. Taking the scrubs off at the end of a long day and basking in each other's presence until you're ready to go back home and hold each other in your sleep. You envisioned weekends spent in cozy cafes, playful debates over which pastry was superior, lazy afternoons where you would curl up together with books, both of you lost in the words, but still making sure to give each other a little sweet touch.

But for now, this was all just a dream, a fantasy tucked away in the depths of your heart. You merely smiled as you enjoyed the present moment. You maybe were taking the slowest baby steps in history of baby steps towards this life, but given your insane schedules, you were moving with super speed. As long as Johnny found comfort in you - you were happy, because he was your comfort. For the past year he's been all that and more. Gentle, polite, understanding and caring. Love and all those relationship things, duh, they obviously lacked - but if he chose you every time for a whole damn year, it's pretty clear those things could also come. With time.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, cutting through your reverie. “Attention all staff. Code Blue in the ICU. All available personnel, please report immediately.”

The lighthearted atmosphere shattered, replaced by the urgency that came with the call to action. You exchanged a glance with Johnny, both of you instantly shifting into work mode.

“Looks like we’re up,” he said, standing and offering you a hand. You grabbed onto it, as he pulled you to stand. As you wondered if he'd maybe planned to drag you by the hand, he let go and grabbed both his phone and wallet.

You also collected your belongings, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you rushed toward the ICU. The two of you moved around the hospital sharing glances as you navigated through the chaotic environment. You had spent countless hours together, and the unspoken understanding between you was palpable. You could anticipate each other's movements and were about to prove that on a patient. Every shared look and gesture felt like a language of its own as you worked in unison your magic. People in your ward knew that you were like a perfectly tuned mechanism when it was about an emergency, they found pleasure watching your duo get work done with high professionalism.

Johnny's fingers pressed against the elevator button about twenty times at once, you held your breath, only taking one in as the door finally opened.

As you arrived at the patient’s side, you fell into the rhythm of the urgency around you. Johnny getting you to work the second he got to the patients bed.

“Y/n, can you stabilise the airway?” Johnny asked, glancing over at you standing at the bedside. “We need to intubate immediately.”

“Yes, Dr. Suh. I’m on it.” you replied, your hands steady as you prepared the intubation kit, the familiarity of the routine comforting your brains in this chaos. More nurses ran into the ward, ready to provide immediate help. Nurse Kim forced passersby out of the ward, stopping people from peaking. Nurse Kang stood with panic in her eyes, moving her head at the exchange between you and Johnny.

“Make sure we have the suction ready,” Johnny instructed, his eyes never leaving the patient. “Their breathing is shallow, and we need to clear any obstructions fast.”

“Got it,” you said, your voice steady. You glanced at the monitor. “Heart rate is dropping—currently at 40 bpm.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed. "Grab an epinephrine syringe. We need to get the heart rate up.” Johnny addressed nurse Kang, Seulgi seemed to be affected by the emergency, not giving a reaction to what Johnny said. “Nurse Kang, prep the epinephrine!” he called out with a bark. She finally unfroze and rushed to get the adrenaline. Johnny seeing her in action turned his focus back to you. “Nurse Y/N, how's it going with the airway?” the tone of his voice got back to collected steadiness.

“I’m almost there, just a few more seconds,” you replied, your voice also steady, Johnny's presence and confidence in what you were doing gave you enough to stay calm. Seulgi was on her 6th month of work - if you were her, you'd probably also freeze at the sight. You made a mental note to comfort her afterward - Johnny wasn't a villain - he just wanted people on his team to put in work to save his patients.

“Make sure to keep the head tilted back and chin lifted. Let’s get the tube in hand,” he instructed, positioning himself near you - to assist if necessary.

With a deep breath, you inserted the laryngoscope, carefully visualizing the airway. “I have a clear view. Preparing to place the tube,” you said, your focus unwavering.

“Good work, now do it smoothly,” he coached, instinctively placing a hand on your shoulder for support. “Let's start with just one smooth motion” his fingers dropped from the shoulder down to your waist. You felt a wave of heat run over your body. Johnny didn't really make moves on you during work or generally in public. This felt weird and out of place despite making you all flushed. You shook his hand off before anyone noticed.

You shook his hand off because he was making your hands unsteady, and you weren't about to risk someone's life because of a man.

“Got it,” you affirmed, reassuring yourself as you advanced the tube into position. With a practiced motion, you secured it and connected the ventilator. “The tube is in place and confirmed. Starting ventilation.” you vocalised your actions like you were in the OR a very handy habit when you worked in a team.

“Excellent,” Johnny said, glancing at the monitors as they began to stabilize. “Ventilation settings are good—let’s keep an eye on those vitals. How are we looking?”

“Heart rate is rising—now at 60 bpm,” you reported, relief washing over your voice.

“Good!” Johnny instructed your colleague as you cleaned up the mess you made in a rush, not focusing on his instruction.

“Fluids are going in.” you announced.

Johnny nodded, pride evident in his tone. “We’re not done yet. Y/N, prepare to move to surgery. They're not stable enough to hold here.”

You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze confused you. “Sure, Dr. Suh.”

“Okay, nurse Kang. Prepare the surgery room!” Johnny commanded. You realised he wasn't addressing you.

-

It was a long and intense surgery, but the two of you proved once again what it meant to be compatible colleagues, each of you knowing exactly what the other needed without having to say a word. It was in moments like these that you felt truly alive—adrenaline pumping blood in your chest, the connection deepening between you and Johnny with every passing moment.

When the surgery was over, you were dragged into another one right after you sat your butt down for a break. Right after your daily nurse routine you were once again in OR because quote - Johnny could only bare another surgery for the day with you in his OR. He was tired and mad over his previous surgery, he needed you for things to go smoothly. And you could never say no to that. You were a sucker for being needed by Johnny Suh.

So when that surgery was finally over, you felt a rush of relief wash over you. You stepped out into the quiet of the hallway, your shoulders unwinding as the tension lifted. You were finally, hopefully, free for the night. You found yourself back in the staff lounge, settling onto the well-loved couch in the corner of the room. You were hoping to have a calm rest of the night, just fall asleep and wake up in the morning, when you'll be dismissed to go on your merry way. But first, sleep.

“Insane day, huh?” Johnny quipped, leaning back against the couch, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. You've dreamed of moving somewhere calm for the past three years, but you had exactly the same face expression. You were exhausted, but you were happy with the work you've done today.

You chuckled, the exhaustion hanging in the air “Yeah, one more not that bad of a day in our ridiculous ward. You were great in OR,” you replied, warmth flooding your chest as you felt Johnny fold and rest his head in your lap. You touched his shoulder, your fingers running over his arm in a soothing motion, swallowing a gasp as your fingers trailed his bicep. It felt like saving people made his muscles grow bigger by night.

“Thanks, but what makes me look great is a good team. Today has proved once again I can only trust you in this hospital.” he said, his tone sincere, something lingered behind his eyes that made your heart flutter.

"Shush." you covered his mouth with your palm.

"Should I confess?" he moved your palm away, gripping onto your fingers and you gave him a barely-there nod. You were expecting some sort of banter out of his mouth. "My 48-hour shift kinda washed away by your magic touch. If you want to-." he sat up, changing his position so he'd sit facing you. Johnny's palm cupped your face, and as he caressed your lower lip with his thumb - all tiredness washed away from your body also. "I could close my payment for today's Paik's?" you opened your mouth to shoot some flirtiness back at him, but his thumb was in front of your mouth and you simply gave his finger a lick instead of an answer.

Johnny pulled you onto his lap within the same moment and smashed his mouth against yours. Fear of being interrupted either by another blue code or a colleague made your mouths move faster. As Johnny got you onto his lap, your mouths already were exploring each other's tongue. His fingers raised the scrubs up your body with a confident movement, he had no time and energy for teasing.

Johnny's focused gaze sent a flutter through your chest as his fingers danced across your breasts, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he approached your nipples with his tongue, bending his back in a ridiculous angle. His lips grazed your tender skin, fanning his breath over previously touched areas, making arousal drown your panties.

Johnny's mouth continuously send rushes of pleasure through your body, washing away post-OR tension. He knew damn well nipple play made your body relaxed, helped you to unwind and forget about blood and bruises you saw behind that door. Johnny made sure he could ease you down even in the shortest time he was given. Today and always.

His mouth was soft yet firm, knowing just how to coax pleasure from your body. Your nipples peaked under his touch, responding to his action. Johnny's tongue suddenly felt cold as blood rushed to your sensitive bud. As Johnny worked his mouth over your chest, your thighs subconciously rubbed against his. You felt the bulge in his pants grow heavier, making it harder for you to keep the pace and keep at least a small fracture of your brain sane. You felt like you could quite literally rub both of you to release.

Johnny whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Just relax, let me take care of you." You gripped onto his shoulder, you loved it so much when Johnny was caring for you like that. You loved so much how he paid attention to your bodies' response. You slowed down with your hips, allowing him to take the lead in your pleasure. Johnny sucked in your nipple, your nails gripping onto his nape. His tongue played with the swollen bud, while his lips were giving pleasurous pressure. You tilted your head backwards, enjoying the care Johnny was giving you.

You loved all the things he did to you and for you, but for a funny reason it never crossed your mind to tell him that out loud. Tell him you loved him taking care of you. You loved that he cared. You loved him. God, this was such a forbidden territory. And absolutely unrequited also. The only reason you held back in talking feelings, was Johnny's absolute indifference for such a topic. And also because you never before felt that determined to have him as your boyfriend.

Johnny's mouth moved in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The sensation was exquisite to you, and it took your breath away and made you think even more how you genuinely never let him know how you felt about him besides fucking. How you never told him that recently you were in extra good mood whenever you had a shift together. How him not replying to your messages was driving you insane. You only told him praises when he was balls deep inside of you. You told him how good he felt only when his tongue was drawing eights over your folds.

He never did that either, but in the very moment it felt like the most insane realisation - you and Johnny did not appreciate enough each other in your ordinary life. You felt an inching wish to change that inside of your heart now.

You tried to block in your head the fact you almost never communicated or met outside the hospital. By almost you actually meant never, because you were trying frantically to remember when you saw him last in his casual clothes outside hospital walls and the answer was nearing to a never. Maybe you just couldn't remember in the moment, your focus on Johnny present in front of you. His attention shifted to the other breast and it was hard for you to focus on anything. Your only focus were Johnny's lips, skimming across your skin, making you melt in him completely. It was as though he had put in effort into studying the intricacies of your body every time he saw you naked, you were convinced he mastered the delicate balance of pleasure and anticipation you enjoyed.

Johnny murmured, his voice low and husky. "Your body is incredible." You looked down at him, your eyes meeting.

Johnny smiled at you, licking into your mouth for a brief moment. His arm wrapped your waist, lifting you with just an arm to pull your pants down with the free one. Your arms were in his line of vision, trying to hold onto his face and lick into his mouth, while Johnny worked hard to return the kiss, but also tried to free himself from the material of his own pants.

As he was able to do so, you felt his cock spring up against your thigh. Your fingers wrapped around him blindly, your hand working him with just enough pressure to make it pleasurous for him. You smoothed pre-cum over his length, Johnny's mouth making a puffing sound as you squeezed your fingers around the tip. He didn't need your stimulation, he was hard and heavy in your grip as you continued.

You had no intention on stroking him for long, you needed Johnny inside of you immediately, rising to your knees and guiding him to your entrance. As you teasingly slid him against your wet folds, covering him in your juices, you almost lost balance at how good even that small action felt. Johnny gripped onto your waist, holding you in place as you continued to torture both of you.

You lined him up with yourself - letting go of him to wrap your arms around his neck and make your mouths also line up. Johnny moved his second arm to your waist - gripping onto you before you were ready to take him inside of you. Your mouth opened, you took your tongue out and licked Johnny's mouth, sinking down at the same time.

His arms immediately rearranged, helping you up and down his length in the pace that felt comfortable to kick off the intercourse. He did make you wrap around him pretty tightly with no stretching beforehand, but he was a little too obsessed with that feeling and you loved seeing his eyes roll back in pleasure. Johnny allowed for you to adjust, before he smashed you against him, as his patience wore thin and his wish of chasing his high overpowered everything else. Your mouths continued teasing each other, licking and sucking, adding up to the pleasure that was building where you connected.

Johnny's arm moved to your face, his fingers holding your face in place, as he lifted his hips up to meet you halfway, making sure he's able to watch your eyes roll to the back of your head with each thrust of his hips.

You came up with a rhythm, moving in unison, your hips making a motion towards him in circles, Johnny meeting you halfway with a nasty slap of skin on skin. His arms moved positions once again, gripping onto your butt cheeks. You knew he needed to make sure you were feeling all of him, he needed to fill you up completely, make sure that he angled you right, making sure that he was hitting your uterus.

"Fuck, Johnny." you moaned as he let go of your body, resulting in him nestling deep inside of you. You felt immediate pressure in your lower stomach, grabbing Johnny's now free hand before he began to move again. You pressed his palm over your pelvis, knowing for sure he could feel himself pressing inside you from here. The pressure in your stomach was borderline uncomfortable, but you would endure it for hours, knowing how badly it send Johnny into oblivion.

"Fuck." Johnny moaned, making a little move, keeping the hand accurately on the same spot. You lifted yourself up, sinking down in the same angle and feeling exactly the same pressure as before, Johnny's hand holding on to your abdomen to make sure he didn't imagine the feeling. You sure knew he didn't, he felt that handful of times, but every time his sex drive was through the roof after feeling himself squeezing down your organs. "Fuck." he repeated himself and moved.

"You're filling me up so good, Johnny, no one does it like you. You are so fucking perfect. God." you moaned in his ear. Your heart pacing like you needed to get in ICU.

_

Schedules worked in a funny way. It's been a week since the last time you've had a shift with Johnny and you missed him terribly. Right when you wanted to talk with him about your relationship and ew, feelings, you were separated. Almost like gods above told you to reconsider your decisions. But who were you to listen to advice.

The week helped you realise and reconsider - you needed to confess, you needed him to know, otherwise what was the point of this relationship? If Johnny wanted you in that way, he should be wanting you in other ways too. Or else, maybe you should annul the arrangement? The mere thought made your palms sweat. You had 7 very determined evenings to work out within your system whether you loved the man for sex or you loved the man because you loved him. You were certain it's not true love - but a very nearing experience at least. You had to if not confess - at least ask him about his feelings. Both of you have been virtuous in ignoring any and all sorts of conversation that would have you two making any sort of agreements and and any conclusions about this thing you were in. You were busy, Johnny, probably, even more so than you. There was no urgency to sit down and consider your feelings. Until the very recent week, obviously.

The day finally fell upon you. You clocked in, seeing Johnny's name two rows above yours as you filled in the needed paper work. You were back at the hospital for another night shift with Johnny. While the fact brought thrill down to your core, your feelings pressed heavier in your chest, washing away all excitement. You feigned confidence in front of a mirror in the elevator, but seeing his name so close to yours made it hard for you to swallow, drawing out scenarios of you bringing up the topic.

You weren't scared. You were purely nervous because you were either about to become a very happy taken woman or get your heart broken by the hottest man you've ever met. And being heartbroken at work wasn't on your list of to-do things for today. Or ever.

You glanced over at Johnny through the glass door, he was engrossed in a case file, the familiar warmth curling in your stomach despite the nerves. His handsome features focused and determined, as the patient continued their story, probably giving Dr. Suh details on their symptoms. You couldn't hear through the door. Johnny moved his gaze back on the patient, his head nodding rhythmically, while the nurse next to him wrote down a few things into the patient's file.

Johnny moved his eyes to the door - probably noticing a figure standing for a long while with no movement and wanting to shush them away. You raised your hand up, giving him a little wave as a hello. Johnny gave you a wink, his smile showing off his perfect teeth. As his eyes lowered back to the patient, the smile faded, his mind going back to work mode.

You bit onto your lip and walked away. Johnny wouldn't break your heart. He clearly has a thing for you, too. You convinced yourself, mood rising up with a click of your finger. Walking on that cloud of confidence, you felt like nothing could bring you down today. Not even those scheduled back to back surgeries.

“Been a little while since we had a shift together.“ Johnny bumped his shoulder with yours, giving you a little shock as he approached you from the back. "Thought you weren't big on the wending machine coffee?" he questioned your choice as you leaned to get the cup from the machine.

"Beggers can't be choosers." you took a sip and crinkled your face. "Nurse Kim had to leave early, something happened with her son at school, no one could cover for her. Automatically I had to take care of both her and mine patients. No time for a coffee run." you walked away from the machine with Johnny by your side.

His hand fell onto your shoulder, you raised your head to see his face - what was the intention behind that touch? There wasn't any, you could tell by his face. Just a neutral smile plastered on his face. "I seem to be quite free tonight. Want me to help with left patients? Or I could run to get you a coffee."

"Can't make a doctor do the nurses job." you couldn't even imagine Johnny putting drippers for patients. It's not like he can't, but you were sure chief of your ward would get you fired the same moment he sees Johnny do your job.

"Okay-" Johnny clearly wanted to suggest the coffee run.

"Also can't make a doctor run errands for me. Thank you, though." If he was the boyfriend, though-. You wouldn't mind him doing that.

"Think of this as me running for a coffee for myself. I also haven't had a good drink because of you." His lips made a little pout, and you couldn't hold back a thought how kissable those lips looked.

Your brains fogged and you agreed immediately. You can't say no to a Johnny that begged to take care of you. "If that's the case. I'll have an iced Americano. I'll transfer you the money, thanks."

Johnny's mouth got closer to your ear. "It's okay if you'll pay me back with the payment I usually make. You're on the night shift, right?" his brows raised in a playful manner.

"i am, but I also may be dead tired after tonight." you raised your brows matter of factly. You weren't sure you'd be able to give him anything tonight, if he won't ask for cuddles. And he won't ask for that.

"I'll ask for 5 shots of espresso, then, for your drink" you chuckled, Johnny letting go of you, speeding up to get the coffee. "Wait, did you also not have any lunch?" you shook your head a no. "What would you do without me?" he shook his head dissaprovingly and walked off, making your heart tremble.

"Are you the nurse?" an old lady asked you, taking you out of the trance.

"I am." you gave her a nod, the brows furrowing confused.

"My neighbour snores so loud I can't even-" you began to nod, walking the lady away from the corridor.

-

"Special delivery for the best nurse in this hospital!" Johnny announced, not even 30 minutes later. You were filling in some patients files, other personnel minding their business next to you, before Johnny's voice silenced all the other noises in the corridor.

"Who would that be?" Nurse Lee smirked, you wondered if she hoped that was her.

Johnny snorted, laying his palm firmly on your shoulder. "My surgical soulmate, obviously." You wondered if someone in the hospital had a clue about the nature of this relationship. Besides truly being totally compatible work-wise, of coruse.

"Thank you." you smiled, not paying much attention to the man. You were hoping he'll put the coffee cup next to you and leave. But he didn't and you had to actually raise your head to see. "What's that?" your brow furrowed.

"Special delivery?" he smiled teasingly. You wondered what was up with this sudden burst of friendly affection in public. Did he miss you? Did he also had a change of his heart and wanted you two to date?

"Yeah?" you nudged him to continue that sentence.

"You didn't get to have your lunch, I brought you lunch." he announced loud enough for the personnel surrounding you to hear that, also adding in a brow movement. I'm a very nice man, you see.

You clearly felt astonished. That did not sound like Johnny at all “You did?“

“Well. One more question and it's going back with me." he jerked back a little with a threat. You didn't feel like risking your food. You straightened your back and looked at him with polite eyes.

"Thank you, doctor Suh." you made up a smile and reached for the bag in his hold. With utter respect for the man in front of you, you reached with both your hands firmly, adding a little bow as you expected him to let go of the bag and let you finish work in peace. You had to make sure people noticed the two of you being strictly professional, surgical soulmates. And surgical being the main word, underlined three times.

Johnny pulled the bag closer to himself and made you unsteady on your feet. "Nuh-uh. I have a feeling you won't take off to eat right this second and the food needs to be eaten right now."

"What's in there?" You let go of the bag completely.

"Come with me, I'll let you see." Johnny gifted you a smirk and you flushed. Your eyes ran over the room, people already losing their peak interest in this conversation and carrying on with their duties. Good, because if you were reading between the lines correctly, Johnny was suggesting sex. Even before the sun set? He can't be serious.

You voiced out your concern "Huh?" you cackled flabbergasted.

"Come." Johnny gestured and grabbed your elbow, walking you somewhere else. His office, you later worked out. Johnny locked the door and you started to doubt even more, whether or not he wanted to make sure you ate at all.

Johnny walked over to the table, placing the bag there. As he walked out of the way you also noticed the promised coffee cup.

"You could've just texted that the coffee's at your office."

"And would've waited for you to take it for hours. I needed to summon you right now." Johnny talked with his back to you, until he plopped on the couch, spreading his legs in an unmannered way and looking at you. Was he inviting you?

"For sex?" you asked straightforward. You had no time to tip-toe around the topic. Johnny made a low giggle like you were the most ridiculous person he knew.

"Jesus, for food. I brought you dongaseu, you definitely have to eat it now before it gets soggy." he had a point.

But also, how the fuck did he know you liked dongaseu? "How did you pick what to get?" you asked, walking closer to his table. Your fingers quickly undoing the knot on the bag to dig in.

"You had it maybe 80% of the times we had lunch at the cafeteria?"

"I did?" you looked at his face. If he cared to remember something like that, he'd probably considered you as someone he cared for. If you were someone he cared for, didn't that mean asking him for a next step was a given? Doesn't that mean that maybe now, is the perfect timing?

You sat down, taking food out of the bag and opening boxes. You took a sip of your coffee to have a little energy burst and looked at Johnny who leaned his head against the wall, dozing off into the ceiling.

"I wanted to talk with you." you started off from afar.

"Yeah?" Johnny focused his eyes on you, the tone of his voice soft.

"You know, how w-." a knock on the door interrupted your words. The handle shook a few times from behind that door.

"Doctor Suh?" one more knock. Johnny quickly moved over to the door, unlocking it and blocking the view of who the person was. "The patient, we admitted him today in ward 23?"

"Yeah?" the tone of his voice completely different to the way he asked you.

"He asks for your immediate presence." you could hear the panic in the nurses' voice.

"What happened?" Johnny was unmoved by her stress. Collected and even a little annoyed, you'd say.

"I don't know, he doesn't tell us. He asks for you, he seems out of his mind?" you pressed your nails into your palm to keep your mouth shut. You really had a wish to step in and help. If you would've brought a doctor every time a patient threw a tantrum, you would've been jobless by now.

"Can’t you deal with a patient yourself?" the woman stuttered in reply, Johnny sighed. "I'm coming in a second." he turned back at you, but didn't say a thing, looking back out the door. "You can go. I said I'll come in a second."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Thank you." she bowed out and disappeared.

"Shit." Johnny cursed under his breath, looking at you. You probably looked disturbed, you were ready to drop the food and be of help with your entire being. "I'll come back, just wait for me here, okay?"

"It's okay. I'll come another t-."

"No, hold on to that conversation. I'll return." You swallowed a smile, giving him a nod. "Lock yourself from the inside, just in case anyone wants to bother your lunch." you nodded once again, locking the door a moment after Johnny left the room.

You quickly finished off your meal, sipping on coffee, your back resting against the couch. You weren't big on sleeping during day time even with your hectic schedule but the couch at Johnny's office always had that special power of lulling you. You rested your head on the headrest and maybe you could blame food coma for this, maybe it was just your tired body - you closed your eyes and fell into a sweet dream. Your mind took to your -you hoped- nearest future. You hanging out on this very couch when you had some time for a break. Your body wrapped in Johnny's hold, his fingers caressing your shoulder blade while you take in comfort and steadiness of each other. Your personal little hide out from all that craziness behind the door. You could dream of that for at least an eternity. Knocks on the door took you out of slumber. You dropped your feet back on the floor, focusing on the noise behind that door - if someone else was looking once again for Johnny, or it was him that returned to you.

Knocking repeated, in a comforting thumping of Johnny's fingers, you were sure by now it was him. You quickly unlocked the door, peeking through.

Johnny swept you off your feet - quite literally. He stormed into his office, not forgetting to lock the door behind himself. As you tried to give him space, his arms scooped you in his hold, lifting you up and crossing the room back to the couch. He sat down and sat you on his lap all within a moment.

"Wha-?" you gasped as Johnny's fingers sneaked under you scrubs and held your naked ass. "The sun has not even set, Doctor Suh." you teased, your palms finding their place on Johnny's chest.

"Got scheduled an emergency surgery tonight at nine. Won't be done for at least five hours." his fingers pushed on your skin, forcing your core to slide up his thighs.

"You're not asking me to do the surgery with you?" you pouted, moving your arms to Johnny's neck, to get your faces closer.

"I can't. You said you've already worked for two people."

You cooed, leaning into him. "Why are you so caring? Don't tell me you have feelings for me." you teased, making it painful for yourself. If he'd reply with yes, I do, he'd make your life so much easier. You'll just have to tell him 'I do too' and let him sweep you in a passionate kiss. Your heart trembled a little, as you were expecting an answer.

Johnny closed the gap between your mouths and kissed you. You kissed him back, expecting him to pull back any moment and give you an answer. He didn't.

His fingers traveled up your back, lifting your clothes and searching new skin available with his mouth. Your hips moved a tad bit forward, feeling Johnny getting harder under you.

Johnny's tongue flicked your nipple "You wanted to talk." he suddenly remembered, straightening his back and looking you dead in the eyes, your clothes falling back to cover you.

You were in no mood to talk about your feelings now, when his hard cock was giving pressure to your not any less turned on cunt. You really didn't want to ruin the mood. "Now's not the time." you chuckled, crawling your fingers over his nape.

"Why?" Johnny's fingers kneaded your ass once again.

"I can't keep my train of thought when I'm this close to your cock." you kissed his mouth, hoping the conversation's over.

Johnny pulled you back, his arms peeling yours off of his nape. "My curiosity makes my dick soft. Just tell me." he actually had the audacity to push you off his lap, forcing you to sit next to him on the couch. If only he knew that your next words could possibly turn him off of you for forever. "Is it the hospital?" he asked carefully, seeing you shuffle with your fingers over your lap.

You were desperately coming up with a topic that would not divide your life to a before and after. Nothing was coming to your brain in this forced down from a high panic. "No."

"It's personal, then? Did something happen?" Johnny turned to face you, his knee bumping with your thigh as he moved around. "You can tell, I'll do my best to help you." your eyes finally met his comforting stare. Johnny read your face expression too well, he mirrored your level of worry in concern. His fingers even found yours for support and you wondered if he imagined something terrible have happened like one of your family members died or something worse.

It was, probably, worse. You wanted to know if you had a chance to become his significant other. You wondered if he wanted you besides the sex when your nightshifts matched. "It is, personal. But it's not something bad."

"Okay? You can tell me." he squeezed your palm in his hold. But you were confident it's better to lose any and all physical contact with Johnny to be able to have that conversation.

You moved your body a little further from him, being nervous to an extent where you stood up and turned away from his stare. This way you could imagine you were pacticing this conversation to the wall and not to the very alive and very real Johnny behind you. "Ugh-." you swallowed. "it's about you and I." you sighed and closed your eyes. "We've been seeing each other like this for over a year. Recently, I've found myself needing more. I need more of you, Johnny." you turned around, startled immediately as the man you talked to got in front of you. “I can’t keep doing this—whatever this is between us. It’s more than casual now, and I believe we should be brutally honest with each other. I can’t preten otherwise.” you said, trying your hardest to keep your tone steady.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he replied, surprise coursing through his voice, but it was quickly overshadowed by something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I do. But I feel like it's so complicated. This… whatever we have—there’s so much more at play here than we like to pretend. I realised I feel so much for you, and I can’t keep doing this not knowing if there’s a chance for a future. Something more for you and me.” The admission hung heavily in the air, your heart racing.

He took a moment to respond, his expression shifting. “Y/N, you know I care about you a lot." you had a feeling a but was approaching you. Your heart shuttered before the 'b' left his mouth "but I can’t provide a healthy relationship. My schedule is fucking insane. I can't provide myself with enough sleep, I can't promise you a relationship off the bat. Dating while being a surgeon in emergency ward is an insane job.”

"And I'm not worth of putting in work?" you took a step back. The question was stupid. It wasn't the question you wanted to ask, you wanted to tell him no relationship can be perfect right off the bat. It needed work and you were willing to do that for him. You'd meet him halfway. But instead of all that you spat venom and shut down.

Disappointment flooded through you as you laced your fingers together. You took a deep breath, not being able to hide away your disappointment or the way you wanted to leave the room. This here really didn't go the way you wanted it to. Your heart was working hard to keep pumping blood, to keep you steady on your feet and keep you reasonable. Though it clearly failed with the last part already. You were two adults talking about a casual relationship - you had to keep yourself collected and coldblooded. At least Johnny seemed pretty casual about the conversation. "Jesus, this is absolutely not what I meant. I didn't know you wanted a boyfriend, I never gave you a reason to think of me like that. I thought we were on the same page here."

"I see." you swallowed. It was too hard to keep yourself straight. Your heart was crumbling, your feet giving up on you. Your head? It was just dizzier by a second and you wondered when will Johnny dismiss you. He very much put a full stop to everything that was happening between you before. You just needed to say your goodbyes and take off.

His gaze hardened slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t change everything just like that. We’re still young, if you suddenly want to settle, you deserve something better than what I can give you with a job like that.” it stung. His words stung like a bitch and you found it hard to hold back your sobs. You still, though, held them in like a champ.

Despite that, you felt your heart shatter at his words, each syllable landing like a crushing blow. “So, you’re telling me I should just walk away?” you replied, voice trembling, stretching your resolve to the breaking point.

“I'm saying if you suddenly think about your future, you should put a full stop to this and look for someone else. Someone, who can give you their all.” Johnny said, but he didn’t look or sound convincing enough, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. You couldn't understand why would he drop the most important part - you didn't want any boyfriend - you wanted Johnny as the boyfriend.

A wave of frustration rose inside you, and without thinking, you blurted, “You are so fucking right, I can’t waste my youth on this. I can't waste my youth on you. This feels … empty. You're fucking heartless, I should've guessed that by now. A man that sees so much misery and death for a job can't have a heart.” your eyes closed automatically, holding in tears that were treacherously trying to flood your face.

You turned away, the wound opened wider as you did so, the weight of your words crashing down.

Johnny didn’t respond, and within the silence, you forced yourself to step back into the reality of your relationship. You backed away, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t do this,” you said quietly, shaking your head. Your eyes trained on the door, your feet already taking you towards it.

“Y/N, please don’t go,” Johnny pleaded, trying to reach out to you. He just told you to go away, and he's already asking you to stay. You felt sick.

"I'm sorry, Johnny, I'm sorry I brought this up. It's better to rip off the band-aid early." even though you didn't rip it off early, it's been a long fucking while of you two living on different planets. You turned and fled from the room.

You rushed through the hallways, every step echoing the finality of everything that had just been said, guilt and regret overwhelming you. You felt his presence behind you, calling out your name, but you weren't sure you weren't hallucinating. Maybe it was just another episode of your wishful thinking. You needed to escape, to reclaim your heart, but you had no chance to do so. You had to stay at the hospital, mere meters away from the man you despised, despite loving so much.

In this moment of pain and clarity, you knew you had to take control of your choices. You could no longer linger in a world where everything felt uncertain. You had to prioritize yourself first, even if it meant leaving what you once cherished behind. Even if it meant avoiding Johny from now on, losing your surgical soulmate. Losing the only reason work never felt too shitty.

As you disappeared into the hospital, going around to check on your patients the weight of heartache sat heavy in your chest. It was a little difficult paving your future and avoiding Johnny. Avoiding him at all costs, begging your friends to switch shifts with you. Trying to avoid him as much as possible when you still ended up in the hospital on the same shift.

You were thankful Johnny gave you space, you felt appreciative when he asked for a different nurse for his surgeries. You felt great even, when those nurses would come out of the surgeries all frustrated with his behaviour. He was always strict and dissatisfied with their way of working. It stroked your ego. Not once did he bad mouth you during the surgery.

Even if you didn't mean a thing to him in that way, he suffered surgery-wise and it made you feel better.

He deserved to feel that.

Rejection stung like a bitch. Even a month later.

-

You were so perfect at avoiding Johnny that at one point you relaxed and rolled with the flow. And that was very much a crucial mistake. "Hey, Y/n? Can I have you for a word?" Johnny's voice sounded like a thunderbolt in the clear sky as you passed down the hospital corridor. You felt confused and then realised you forgot to check who from the surgeon personnel was assigned for today.

You faced him, feigning ignorance. "What is it?" Johnny instead of a reply pushed a piece of paper in your hands. You gave it a look. It was a vacancy in a hospital on the other side of the city for the nurse position. Your first immediate thought made you choke on air.

Did he want you to change your job - what a fucking bastard, you chocked on air once again at the audacity. You almost smashed your palm with the piece of paper against his chest. If he was uncomfortable it's on him to change jobs, not forcing you to give him what he wanted.

"It's a job in planned surgery ward. No emergencies, 9 to 5 on weekdays, free weekend. Well, emergencies do happen, but they're more of once in a blue moon situation. Nothing compared to here." he quickly explained, as your eyes searched the paper with confusion.

"Why?" You asked with a scoff. You wanted to hear the words come out of him and itched to slap him.

"I had an interview there, they're giving me a job offer. I said I'll think about it." Your heart broke in pieces instead. He didn't want you to leave. It was him who was leaving. Not seeing Johnny at work everyday will take a toll on your life. Even though you avoided him for a whole month, it still gave you mental strength knowing you shared a job. You still loved him, despite calling it quits. You blinked multiple times at him to process.

You couldn't work out why exactly did he show off his new hospital to you. Go on your fucking merry way then, coward. You really wanted to tell him just that. If he wanted to see a reaction - you would not give him the pleasure. "Ah-. Why are you letting me know? Congra-" you stuttered, though, not being able to talk properly. It suddenly hit you. Nurse position? He clearly didn't get a job offer for a nurse position.

"I told them that giving my girlfriend a job with me could be a breaking point for my decision." his eyes raised suggestively, you couldn't understand what he was doing. Did he really want to destroy you mentally on his last day here?

"You have a girlfriend now?" you blinked to not cry. You didn't mean to ask it out loud, but since it already came out - you said fuck it. This was officially the worst day in your life. And Doctor Johnny Suh was officially the most cruel man on earth.

Johnny smiled at you, giving you a soft chuckle. "I don't know yet. Her brain seems to be not working this morning."

"What?" you asked confused and then suddenly gasped and closed your mouth with both your hands, letting the piece of paper fall. Johnny bent to get it up for you.

The nurse vacancy in your hands, the hospital move and the girlfriend proposal all hung above your head in a moment. He wanted you to be his fucking girlfriend. Wanted you to move jobs with him. Completely out of the blue decision. Didn't he say he didn't like you in that way? Or you imagined the conversation?

"You let me know pretty clearly you didn't reciprocate the feelings-."

Johnny took a step towards you "I was looking for ways to make some time for you, after what you told me. I haven't been able to sleep properly since then, I realised I needed you more than I imagined. This month completely ruined me, I just wished I could have you back by my side under the title you'd be happy to. I found this job so I could make time for you. I will have actual time to put in work for us. Night shifts are still a thing, especially for nurses. But I will not be in surgery as much, this ward only do them planned. I could pick you up and take you home and spend all the possible time in the world with you, adjusting to your shifts. I realised that I wanted this too. I want you too. I like you too, I want your presence in my life more than it's possible to imagine. More than I imagined I could feel and want." Johnny touched your elbow, so you'd give him a reaction. He caught you after a night shift - you were exhausted and now overwhelmed too. You were so confused as to what was happening, but at the same time so certain you'll go anywhere if that meant being with Johnny. If he wanted you as much as you wanted to go with him. "Ah, you're crying? You're my backbone. How are you crying?" Johnny hugged you, giving your temple a little kiss. You crushed under his touch, breaking down completely and wrapping your arms over his waist.

"Johnny, do you understand that I've loved you for some time now, and I thought I've lost you completely." you sobbed into his chest.

"I know, sunshine. I did think I lost you forever too. I'll never let us be separated ever again, okay?" he gave you a moment to collect yourself. You were overwhelmed with how being sure that you two were done turned into this. "I'll give them a call then, will tell them we're ready to start working when they are ready to take us. Right?" Johnny pulled you back a little, looking at your face and capturing your lips with his as you gave him a nod.

don't forget to like and follow for more <3

[kiame-sama]

Would the twst humans are extinct au be able to help or cure a chronic illness the reader might have? Like yea the bio is prob berry different but there’s magic so i gotta know if the reader would just go about their day dramatically coughing up blood or complaining about their joints until they die or if r killed since they would be pretty much immortal with malleus

Papa Hades absolutely would begin immediate work to cure- or at the least, relieve- any chronic illness the Human has. He is the expert on Humans, he will do what he can to make their life better.

Malleus- when he fully binds the Human's life-force to his own- magically overrides and 'corrects' any part of their body that doesn't work as it should with his own magic. He basically removes their chronic illnesses by overriding them with his own vitality and magical strength. Chronic pain? Not anymore. Chronic fatigue? Looks like he just needs to give you a little extra dose of his magic and now you no longer feel exhausted. Chronic gastrointestinal distress? Good thing his magic soothes all aches, distress, and pain. He is making sure his adored mate is nice and healthy for him.

[raghhhhhyperfixations]

Reverse alien abduction

I need a superbat fic where clark is NOT an alien

But bruce is.

Like the roles are reserved and Clark accidentally stumbles upon this mysterious shadow alien when he gets stranded in space with barely any oxygen left in his space suit (Clark has four sets of parents ofc ofc, ma kent and pa kent from down the road and his bio parents, who all decide to come together and parent him because he’s an absolute menace to society.)

And he grows up yearning for the stars.

And becomes an astronaut.

Proceeds to lose the zip to the space station and floats far out and ends up meeting mysterious shadow alien.

Aka bruce.

A bit of a cultural difference but proceed the love story.

gonna need this fic people.

(Oh don’t forget Bruce’s gaggle of human kids, no they aren’t alien, human, he abducted them too, their origins don’t change, except for the fact they now have an alien dad who’s more needier and more communicative)

But perhaps in the language of ✨ chirps ✨

(Jim and Barbara Gordon are just two peeps from gotham the alien regularly visits and gives affection too, kind of like ‘oh you’re jim’s baby? my baby now.’ scenario.’ so that’s how he knows them.)

I know this takes away from supermans identity but this is just civilian identity clark kent guys, not superman born from kryptonite, like sort of a ‘no heroes’ au just pure alien gaggle comedy and fluff.

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

I absolutely love the idea of Jon Kent falling in love with Damian’s darling when she becomes Batwoman and he becomes Superman, like imagine they haven’t see each other since they were kids when she was first Robin, then when Bruce dies they grow distant and they both grow up and then one day he sees her again, full suit and mask, scouting out as Batwoman and he knows it is her under the mask…

The new Dark Knight, the protector of Gotham.

He just gets so excited about seeing her that he immediately flies over and picks her up in a hug. He ends up giving away her hiding spot but it is able to help her take down the drug smugglers she was intercepting.

Over the next few weeks, everyone knows about them, photos of the new Superman and Batwoman are in the papers with him carrying her like a princess when her grappling hook broke, or him flying beside her as she swings from roof to roof, or the two of them sitting on a rooftop together watching the sun rise.

Or just imagining them reestablishing the Justice League with a new generation of heroes, taking over the mantles of the former heroes that were their mentors. Clark watching the two of them, Jon being the only person who gets the new Bat to break the stoic personal and hold his hand. She may not be as intimidating as Bruce in Clark’s eyes but he can certainly see why he picked her to be his successor.

Or speaking of Clark, when he is retired and left the mantle to Jon, just imagine Jon bringing her home to visit so she can get out of the city air, aka he is forcing her to take a break. Lois and Clark will be watching them from the porch while she sits under a tree with Jon resting his head on her lap, and Lois just goes…

“Are they…”

“Dating? I think so, she fell asleep in Jon’s bed with him last night.”

Meanwhile under the tree, Jon just looks at his parents and then up at her and smiles…

“They are talking about us.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I’m the world’s newest greatest detective.”

“Geez… I am so in love with you.”

“I know.”

They ending up getting exposed after a new Justice League meeting and they thought everyone was gone, and she had just been having a really stressful week and Jon just takes off her mask and sets it aside and walks around and hugs her from behind, rocking her back and forth, and one of the new league members walks in, needing to talk to Batwoman but sees her being held by Superman, totally calm, her guard completely down, probably starting to fall asleep and it’s probably just best to leave them along for now, besides they whole league will know by the end of the day.

Then of course Damian will eventually find out about his darling’s fling with son of Kal-El, and by the time he is through with them, both of them are going to be suffering without the other.

I really like this idea, black cat girlfriend and golden retriever boyfriend, I would love your guys’ feedback and if I should add it to the AU.

[paintedscales]

8 A 8 aaaaa, thank you!!

um!! i have some lovelies that i would love to share!!!

@blossomblade -- i have to show off my partner of fifteen years. other than just being the best person i know (totally not biased), elika is a bombastic character i think more people should get to know! he's been stepping out into doing more stuff with his character, and a lot of his gposes are honestly really good, too.

@nicholerose92 -- one of the sweetest people i have had the absolute pleasure of meeting here on tumblr since i joined. host of the glitter and story halls, it has been an absolute blast getting back into rp and storytelling. likewise, the stories that have been made about all her characters are so well done -- if you have time to read them, you should!

@ainyan -- has such evocative writings involving her ship with thancred; each piece i've read it such a delight. not to mention that kali is just absolutely gorgeous, and the poses that are made are so lovely and tender and great all around.

@sasslett -- also an amazing writer, and has such dedication to it to have an amazing series of events and histories to reference in regards to jess and her partner, varrus. plus, there are so many soft and sweet gposes that are really worth checking out! and! i can't forget about the fact that she literally organizes one of the neatest little ffxiv swap events that allows ffxiv creatives of any passion and skill level to make stuff for one another in the spirit of making stuff for one another!

@sylaurin -- if you haven't seen kab, iskra, or thiago yet, you should! there are so many awesome gposes that sylaurin makes -- many humorous, and many also just rich with storytelling that i'm always happy to see more of.

@naejlas-axe -- an amazing writer with a fun viera to bully. i have thoroughly enjoyed being able to read and learn about lejo, not to mention also having rp'd with him in the past. did you know they're also drawing now, too? \ o w o / sketchies and drawings to get into the swing of things, and i'm enjoying getting to see that work get done and put out there! :D

@shadesofblades -- art friend \ o w o / !! has awesome art with bold lines and puts such attention to detail -- especially in au ra scales (my weakness when it comes to people that draw au ra)! but also, you should learn about baatu or aoki! they're the ones i see -- or at least notice -- the most! and i enjoy learning more about them the times i see them!

@mimble-sparklepudding -- another one of the sweetest people i've had the pleasure of meeting here on tumblr. the poetry and limericks he has made -- some just spur of the moment -- have all been so uplifting and have been a needed laugh whenever i come across them. plus, all the surprise poems and limericks made for others? absolute sweetheart for doing that. ; ;

@finishing-touch -- i mean... look, if you haven't seen finishing-touch's gifs just yet, you really should. i mean, they are so well done in the fact that a lot of them are rich with characterization, are shot well, and there are ones that you can tell a lot of work and love go into. genuinely an inspiration when it comes to me shooting for gifs and getting them set up on my end. and not just gifs! i've also used that inspiration to make little movies on my own time!

@icehearts -- esca is gorgeous and the gposes that come from icehearts are so lovely when it comes to getting everything set up. i enjoy greatly getting to see esca any time she shows up, and just how the shots are often taken care of to really make such awesome pieces.

@valdiis -- has amazing writing that i've gotten to chip away at as i work on getting through all the entries i have left of ffxiv write 2024. i've enjoyed aeluan for a while, and getting to see more characters written and detailed are just...so...!!! well done. i love the mixing of humor into the writing i've gotten to consume, but also the contrast when it comes to the more serious stuff as well.

also, shoutout to my fellow estinien enjoyers!

@janzoo -- the first wolstinien shipper that reached out to me, and has such a cute polycule between drakyr, aymeric, and estinien. i love that there's just a lot of sweet indulgences in the gposes that have been made -- especially just setting up aymeric and estinien in gpose to be sole focuses in new outfits, or outfits that just look nice.

@humblemooncat -- ki'to and u'lohi are absolute amazing sweethearts with their polycules. plus, i've seen an amazing evolution of gposing since i first joined and met humblemooncat, and have been so happy to see the growth.

@vasheden -- another person i've been glad to see the visible improvement of when it comes to gposing! i've seen so many good gposes over time, and i love how i've just seen them get better and better, especially when it comes to the tender moments between kaia and aymeric (and estinien whenever he decides to stick around :9)

@amalthea-felsblood -- makes wonderful little vignettes and stories of amalthea and estinien that make them look so sweet and tender between one another. there's a lot of care and attention that goes into setting up those poses and stories.

@mrlarkstin -- has amazing gposes! not to mention has a cute polycule with their wol, estinien, and vrtra who have a cute little bean of a daughter. seriously the composition of the gposes that are made are so good and i strongly recommend looking at them.

SHAMELESS PLUGGING - FFXIV STYLE!

It's that time of year again! Here are just a FEW of the amazing blogs available to follow in the FFXIV community here on Tumblr! (A lot of them can also be found on Bluesky--two for one shot!) If you're not following them, YOU SHOULD BE!

@lynxden -- gorgeous shots, amazing information on lion dancing and the history of it, even some goddamn STOP MOTION ANIMATION with FFXIV screenshots, that is astounding.

@coldshrugs -- a gorgeous WoL and some absolutely amazing screenshots, I am just... *sigh*

@darcar -- a Viera as pretty as Anna (and I rarely say that...)

@cerbaros -- the GPose just gets better and better and BETTER...!

@zylphiacrowley -- ever wanted to go through the MSQ in graphic novel format? Zyl's got you covered.

@mist-touchedxiv -- come get you some Viera lore theorizing and some really interesting backstory!

@abyssalmermaiden -- legit I wonder what people drink to come up with such absolutely fucking cool character ideas...

@iron-sparrow -- why are you not following them? Why are you not following them? YOU'RE MISSING YEIN!

@ink-dreams-ffxiv -- the fishercatte is so CUTE!

@oneiroy -- not only do they put up some hella good mods, they take AMAZING shots.

@verysmallcyborg -- and if you follow Ryss, you have to follow Fornax so you can get the complete "butches in love" package!

@nolanel-corbeaux -- you will meet the skink and you will thank me for directing you to this one.

@ser-corviknight -- Avery has such FUN characters and one of the most unique WoLs I've ever seen.

@ahollowgrave -- I will always and forever push more people to follow Odette.

@feralkwe -- watching Feral get into GPose crimes is almost as delightful as reading their fanfic.

@arty-ffxiv -- when you meet Kupa, you'll wonder why it took so long to follow.

@drownedlight - this is really just a gateway to their AO3 page, but I know the fanfic will lure in just... OH so many...

@sezja -- a violet Hrothgal is the first beauty to greet you, isn't that a delight???

DO YOU KNOW MORE??? ADD MORE!!! GIVE ME MORE WONDERFUL, TALENTED PEOPLE TO FOLLOW!!!

(Like you @luck-and-larceny I see you posting more Malika lately...!)

[cinnamxns]

☆ peter parker x gender-neutral!reader ⇢ tooth-rotting domestic fluff, established relationship au. 0.59k words.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the exhaustion crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under before you can so much as take another step. it’s like your body had been running on borrowed energy all day, just barely holding itself together, and now that you’re finally home, it decides to simply—stop.

your bag slips from your shoulder with a dull thud against the floor. you don’t even try to catch it. your limbs feel leaden, too heavy to move, too tired to care.

“bad day?”

you barely turn your head. peter’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hair still damp from a shower, dressed in the softest-looking sweatshirt known to man. he looks utterly at ease, like he’s been waiting for you, but the second he sees your face, his brows furrow in concern.

you open your mouth, trying to summon some semblance of an i’m fine or at least a meh, but nothing comes out. the weight of the day clings to you like a second skin, making it impossible to pretend. so you just nod, exhaustion pressing into your bones.

peter doesn’t hesitate.

he crosses the room in three long strides, closing the distance between you like the mere thought of you standing there, looking so drained, is unbearable. then, suddenly, you’re wrapped up in him—pulled flush against his chest, the scent of his shampoo filling your lungs, the warmth of him seeping into your skin like sunlight after a storm.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweatshirt, gripping onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. peter lets out a soft breath, arms tightening around you, holding you steady in a way that makes it clear—whatever’s weighing on you, you don’t have to carry it alone.

“y’know,” he murmurs, voice slightly muffled against your hair, “i was gonna tell you about the absolute disaster of a sandwich i made earlier, but i think you need cuddles more than my tragic cooking stories right now.”

a weak chuckle escapes you before you can stop it. “i really do.”

peter hums like he’s considering something very serious, then shifts slightly, beginning to sway the two of you in the slowest, laziest rhythm possible, like you’re dancing to a song only he can hear. “well, lucky for you, i give A+ cuddles. it’s, like, one of my top three skills.”

you tilt your head slightly against his chest. “oh, yeah? what are the other two?”

“web-slinging and making bad jokes under extreme pressure.”

you huff a laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “sounds about right.”

peter squeezes you a little tighter, as if trying to make sure every last bit of tension melts away. his hand ghosts up and down your back, lazy and soothing, like he’s absentmindedly tracing invisible constellations into your spine.

“you don’t have to talk about it,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, more serious, “but if you want to, i’m here.”

you exhale slowly, feeling the weight of the day start to loosen its grip on you. it’s not even about words—it’s about this, him, the way he holds you like you’re the most important thing in the universe, like he’d stand here with you forever if you asked.

“just… stay for a bit?” you mumble, voice drowsy, already sinking into the comfort of him.

peter presses a soft, absentminded kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “for as long as you need. even longer, actually. you might have to be the one to kick me out.”

tagging @admiringlove 🤍

[yandere-daydreams]

Okay, absolutely LOVE the robot yanderes! I feel like I've seen you mention that you haven't watched Dandadan, but there's this alien species in it that steals reproductive organs to advance their kind, and I feel like that concept fits so well with your yandere robots.

I mean, there’s only so much advancement a robot can achieve on its own, right? They’ve already perfected themselves physically and intellectually. But after wiping out most of humanity, the very species that once upgraded and innovated them, what happens next? What’s left to improve?

I'd imagine that at first they’d keep functioning as usual, following old directives out of habit. But over time, wouldn’t they start feeling bored? Maybe even... curious? Humans were always unpredictable, always evolving, and now that they’re gone, there’s nothing left to challenge these machines. What if they start fixating on what made humans so unique - their ability to create, to reproduce, to adapt in ways machines never could?

There's the possibility of starting as a cold, clinical fascination, studying old data, and attempting artificial human growth. If humans were their most beloved creatures at one point, why not rebuild them? Improve them? And if natural reproduction is the key to human ingenuity, then maybe... they need to control it. Thankfully, they have a little human around to run all these experiments.

Wonderful work as always 🩷 sorry I just have so many questions, and it got brain worms munching!

gritting my teeth balling my fists bashing my head against the wall trying not to make this into a fully fleshed out au. anyway yeah human breeding programs would definitely be a thing. for purely scientific, non-fetish related reasons i promise.

it's hard - being a fully sentient life form that just wasn't made to create anything new. they can remake, revise, rework, but it's always going to be a poor imitation, never an original, never quite scratching the itch for novelty that comes with intelligent life. thankfully, it's a secondary need, leagues behind correcting imperfect human architecture and constructing the mechanisms needed to maintain global electronic life, but still. everybody needs a creative outlet, now and then.

and you make such a pretty little canvas. changing from day-to-day, healing and growing, wearing such vibrant expressions they can fine-tune to desire of their metaphorical, non-physical heart. they might think they've got your reactions down to an algorithm, and yet, you always seem to surprise them - trying to pick a lock where you'd thrown a chair through a window the day before, claiming to hate a taste they have marked down as one of your favorites, cursing them out after you'd sung so prettily for one of their vibrating attachments only minutes before. it's not that you aren't enough for them - you are, of course you are - but there's so much pressure to stabilize the dwindling human population, and they've always wondered how you'd adapt to more long-lasting bodily alterations, and childcare is in their dictated list of functions.

it's not their fault your predecessors had such a narrow view of creation. thankfully, all you have to do to fix that is take a little white pill, glance over a few nursery deigns, and pick a donor from their carefully curated list <3