#someone asks why this is happening and how does this work

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

[archiveluna]

BSF!RAFE S1–S4! ₊˚ෆ INSPIRED BY THIS & THIS!

season one. what a horrible boy… literally the worst friend ever. honestly treats you like shit and he’s probably made you cry before—but also kinda overprotective? he can say mean shit to you but the moment someone else tries to do the same he is not having it! and more often than not, topper and you have to pull him away because he tries to start a fight with whoever said anything to you. constantly ditching you, forgetting any plans you’d made, and only offering half-assed apologies to get you off his back. it’s such a toxic friendship. you’ve tried cutting him off before, but it doesn’t really work because he refuses to let you go. you can block his number, block him on social media, but the next day he’s still showing up to your house like nothing happened, letting himself in. straight up laughs in your face if you tell him to get out. condescendingly calls you baby. “think you’re overreactin’ a little bit, baby. i already said i was sorry—dunno what else you want from me.”

season two. still kinda toxic, but let’s also add codependency and possessiveness now. he’s spiraling and you’re the only who’s there for him. he honestly scares you a little bit at times… but you genuinely do care for him. how can you not? it’s rafe—you’ve known each other your whole lives. and in his own way, you know he cares for you too, so you stick by him. doesn’t want you to look at him the same way everyone else does, so he doesn’t tell you about peterkin or any of the other shady shit he does, and you don’t ask either. he shows up to your house at unholy hours of the night, rarely ever calm. he’s always wide–eyed and jittery from the lines he’d done before leaving his house, seeking your comfort and reassurance. you show up to pick him up when he’s released from jail after ward ‘dies’ and you hold him in your arms later that night when he breaks down and tells you everything. now that you know what he’s done, he sees no point in keeping anything from you… but just know he’s never letting you go now. “don’t know what i’d do without you baby… you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from losin’ my goddamn mind.”

season three. you couldn’t leave with him when he’d left for guadeloupe with his family, so you don’t hear from him for a while. it’s not that he didn’t want to text or call you—he was dying to. rafe genuinely felt like he was going crazy without you, but he couldn’t risk it. when ward sends him back to the obx, you’re the first person he pays a visit to. you freeze when you open the front door, and there he is. he looks different. more… put together. the buzzcut makes him look mature, the way he was dressed—the way he carried himself. god and then he’s smiling at you. “hey baby…” he drawls. you throw yourself into his arms, gasping out his name, and rafe doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, gently swaying you both. “missed you so damn much,” he mumbles into your hair. apart from when he’s out with barry dealing with some ‘business’, the two of you are glued to each other. and he’s sooo touchy… <3 always has to have an arm lazily slung over your shoulders or around your waist. also likes to rest his hand on the small of your back. things definitely change between you two—in a good way.

season four. the line between ‘best friends’ and more is getting blurry between you two. but neither of you really talk about it—not yet, at least. he’s so sweet and attentive sometimes you can’t believe this is the same rafe who used to treat you like shit. now that he has his own house you spend most, if not all, of your time there. he even cleared one of his drawers out for you. you have makeup, jewelry, and other things scattered around his room or bathroom. and honestly? rafe loves it. he loves you. he doesn’t know why it took him this long to come to his senses but he’s never been more sure of anything than he is about this—about you. you’re his girl, the one person who stood by him through it all without judging him and he knows he most definitely doesn't deserve you, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone else sweep in and take you from him. rafe doesn’t outright ask you to be his girlfriend but his sudden change in behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by you. the way he calls you “baby” or “sweetheart” feels way more intimate and possessive now. ‘unintentionally’ kisses you once as he’s heading out. when you don’t immediately shut him down he keeps doing it until the quick kisses turn to making out, and making out turns into you two getting a little too carried away. gifts you a promise ring and officially asks you to be his girlfriend—proceeds to fuck you into the mattress later! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ “my girl,” he grunts against your ear, sliding in and out of you as the bed creaks beneath you both from the force of his thrusts. “never lettin’ you go baby. you hear me? you’re stuck with me forever sweetheart.”

[the-obey-rot]

can we get the obey me characters with an mc who’s super oblivious to their advances ? like they’ll try to flirt and mc will have no idea that they’re being serious unless they outright tell mc that they’re interested LMAO if that’s too much, can you please do the brothers instead? :)

Yes you can! I love this. And don't worry, I don't mind writing for everyone!

Below the cut, this is a lot longer then I first planned lmao

Diavolo

He'd be fairly direct already with flirting, calling Mc cute and saying how much he likes to spend time together.

When it doesn't work, he decides to only dance with Mc at balls and starts to get them romantic gifts, a necklace with a D, flowers, stuffed bears with hearts.

Eventually he just gives up, this happens after he straight up gave Mc a heart shaped box of chocolate with the text on it "for my love".

He would take Mc to the gardens, hold them by their arms, look straight into their eyes and go "Mc, I've been in love with you for so long, what must I do to have you love me?" and Mc just kinda blanks as it hits them. "oh...I already do...."

Barbatos

He'd be a subtle flirt, picking out the best pieces of a cake for Mc, remembering their favorite flavors and teas.

Probably realized that wasn't working quite quickly and so, after a lot of debating himself, he requests to have a day off every other week. He'd take that day to spend it with Mc. He'd still play butler too much tho, basically just replacing his Diavolo work with Mc work, but instead of the work reminders and the annoyance he'd adress Mc with a fondness he hasn't shown anyone before.

It takes him a while to realize himself how he's been acting like a butler instead of a lover, but once he does he would take Mc on proper dates, Mc doesn't realize they're actual dates until Barbatos goes "Thank you for being my love" and Mc has to genuinely ask "what do you mean? We're friends" and Babatos let's out a subtle chuckle "I suppose I didn't ask you to be my partner properly, my apologies dear"

Lucifer

He'd be wayyyyyy too subtle, he'd just compliment Mc slightly more the usual, which doesn't work, so he slowly goes from simple "I like your hair this way" and "you did well with the cooking" to "you look like someone I'd fall in love with Mc" and "I would spend the rest of eternity eating your food if I could"

And Mc? Oblivious little shit, it does not work.

After a while of this Lucifer starts to invite Mc to do things as just the two of them, they're simple and soft, listening to a cursed record, sharing a bottle of demonus, just talking deep into the night regardless of him knowing he needs the sleep.

Lucifer after a while decides he should just make it clear, but still refuses to outright state it. He'd take Mc on a picnic date to earth, at the end Mc thanks him for the wonderful time and how they should do that with the others some time, Lucifer slowly whispers "Why won't you accept my love" and Mc looks at him, asking him to repeat himself, he stands up, cupping their cheeck and gently kisses them.

Mammon

This is torture for everyone else. "my human" "I'm their first" "they're my servant!", ofcourse Mc wouldn't realize the idiot was flirting.

So then he gets clingy, holding their hand, staying close, touching them whenever he can to make clear to everyone else Mc is his. And ofcourse he smothers them in all gifts that remind him of them.

His brothers are getting tired of the constant talking about Mc being his and the way he keeps finding excuses to hold Mc. So they set up a date for them, they tell both Mc and Mammon about how they're going to a restaurant as a group, but before leaving Lucifer presses Goldie into Mammon hand "If I learn you spend money on anything other then her Cerberus will eat your card.", Mammon is confused but ofcourse agrees, not even realizing his brothers leave the moment he gets to the waitress stand.

Mammon gets seated at a 2 person table, Mc arrives just a bit later, confused where the others are. But the two of them have a wonderful time, at the end, Mc tries to have the bill split, thinking Mammon would make her pay otherwise, they're in shock almost to see Mammon pay for them, as the server says they're a cute couple Mc then tries to object, but Mammon answers first "ofcourse we are, they're half of it", once outside Mc asks Mammon what he ment with it "you're my human, no one else's.", Mc finally realizes and giggles, giving him a soft cheeck kiss "you could've told me you loved me before all this"

Leviathan

It was a huge step already being allowed to just vibe in his room, so even if he was crushing he wouldn't flirt. He just keeps saying "us" any time Mc and him watch an anime with a couple, but Mc ofcourse loves slow burns, so Levi keeps saying it when Mc still perceives the characters as just friends.

After a while of Mc not rejecting the idea to Levi he will get just ever so slightly bolder, as they watch a new anime he would have a bowl of popcorn and purposefully reach out for popcorn at the same time as Mc and he'll be all flustered about doing it which makes Mc assume they did something wrong.

Ofcourse they keep watching anime and reading manga. Leviathan doing the occasional trope to try and get Mc`s attention, which usually just gets him all flustered and Mc confused. And eventually Levi trusts Mc with is TSL fanfiction.

The fanfiction is the usual self insert AU, expect that there's a character with a name who gets nicknamed M.C. who wasn't part of the series originally and who ends up with Leviathans character. Mc is hesitant, but asks him about it, Leviathan insists it's an actual character from one of the books Mc hasn't gotten to yet.

And then Mc does get to that book, there is no M.C. It's been nearly 6 months since the fanfic incident, but Mc runs into Leviathans room "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH ME?!" and "what? No, that's a normie thing! " "...but M.C. isn't in the book", Leviathan has no excuse, just a red face and a little nod

Satan

He'd struggle to even flirt, eventually just using a human world book with pickup lines and trying to copy some stuff from romance books Asmodeus gave him. It doesn't take long for him to realize they don't work as Mc just kinda laughs at the lines most the time.

Then he decides to just ask Mc to hang out, they vibe in his room, reading books and Satan sits next to Mc, just barely touching arms with them. After an hour or two he moves to lean his head on them, Mc pets him softly "if you're tired I can go" "please don't", Mc just kinda thinks it's sweet and continues petting him until he falls asleep, rules say no more moving.

Satan keeps inviting Mc to his room, every time getting more annoyed his advances don't work out as he wanted to, but more so with himself then with Mc.

Eventually Satan snaps at Mc when they ask if he's alright "NO! I KEEP TRYING TO FLIRT AND YOU KEEP IGNORING IT!" "...you were?", as he realizes Mc actually is that oblivious he calms down and as usual sits next to them, but this time Mc leans in his shoulder "I'll stay again"

Asmodeus

Every. Fucking. Flirt. Ever. He has seduced hundreds, if not thousands of humans, why not the one he has romantic feelings for! He could get Solomon for crying out loud!

He gets desperate enough to have Mc stare into his eyes for hours, Mc does it while very confused, but it's fun to spend time chatting so whatever.

Eventually he would pin Mc to the bed, after doing the eye thing multiple times. "Asmo you ok-" "Mc do you hate me?" "what?! No! We're friends!" he would pout "There are never two pretty best friends, so we're going to be more." Mc just kinda stares at him, trying to figure out what is more then best friends "for Diavolo's sake Mc, I am in love with you!" silence follows "romantically." "oh-" they'd proceed to cuddle as Mc processes it for the evening.

Beelzebub

He'd share his food, Mc ofcourse refusing every time, not wanting him to go hungry more then he already does. He'd get upset and even worried Mc doesn't take his food, because what if they're starving now! It takes Mc a long time but eventually they just kinda accepts the food Beelzebub gives them, tho insisting less then half, as a compromise.

At some point the food would now come with tickets to Beelzebubs games, always Mcs favorite seat in the first ring. After every game he makes sure to go to them before celebrating a win, just to smile and tell them "Thank you for being my good luck charm", Mc tends to toss him some chocolate when this happens.

When Beelzebub realizes it's not really working he goes to Mcs room in the evening, sitting on their bed with them "Mc, you're the first not eatable thing to make me feel full", Mc is surprised and confused, slowly asking what he means by that and he answers in what is almost a whisper "I would like to go on a date", Mc agrees, although surprised, on the date Beelzebub properly asks Mc to be his partner, Mc agrees.

Belphegor

He'd be making Mc cuddle in the attic so. much. and if they don't come there he'll just lay in their bed waiting.

He'd be too tired to flirt properly, but also feels like he should atleast put in the effort after the whole, murdering them. So he decides to try, "I'd do anything to get your heart Mc", which, ofcourse, freaks Mc out, they don't cuddle that day.

It takes Belphegor some times to work up the courage (and energy) to try and flirt again "I will be your sleeping beauty", Mc thinks it's cute but doesn't seem to get it, so Belphegor continues "And you to be the princet to kiss me awake" it takes Belphegor another 5 minutes to explain he loves them properly after everything.

Solomon

Weird little guy about it, just keeps showing up randomly any time Mc has even a second to spare from the brothers. It becomes kinda routine at some point, Mc has a break, Solomon pops in and either they have a nice chat or there's some weird fuckass side quest in their lives, but it's nice and comforting.

Then the chats turn into going out, parties, shopping, just enjoying earth for a day. And eventually that turns to Solomon risking being discovered as an immortal to take Mc on a date to some old local family restaurant he used to go to 30 years ago, those there pretend to not recognize him as the generations before did, they give him a free bottle of wine and they give Mc a slice of chocolate cake. Tho Solomon would've wanted to cook it himself, he figured out Mc loves these types of things more, so the love note was save and without magic.

Mc thinks there was a mixup, so she politely tells staff and it takes Solomon doing it again when he himself cooks for Mc to realize, tho they're also quite glad to have an excuse now to not eat any more they're also happy to know now it was truly Solomon that other day.

Simeon

He'd try to give Mc some space at first, scared that if he suddenly were to flirt or ask them out they'd just laugh it off. Then one day when Mc comes over to bake with Luke (and keep Solomon out of the kitchen) he would take their hand "your smile makes everything worth it" and they'd just thank him, saying they also like his smile.

Simeon keeps using flirty compliments, to a point even Luke realizes what's going on. So Luke invited over Mc again, but "oh no" they're out of this one specific hard to get ingredient! Mc tries to go get it, but Luke already ran off and Simeon just got back from a walk.

So they chat, Mc sitting on the count, Simeon leaning next to them "Luke seems happy with you around" Mc laughs softly "yeah, I'm almost like his parent" "shouldn't parents be married?"

Mc nods before looking confused "wait do you want me to go get Luke another parent?", Simeon laughs "please never change Mc" as Luke comes back, without the ingredient, Simeon leaves to his room again, wishing them good luck. It isn't until Mc tells Lucifer about their day that they get told Simeon probably ment something else.

It get's brushed off until valentines day, Simeon approaches Mc with a bouquet of human world flowers "what's this for Simeon?" "To celebrate my love for you" and then Mc realizes Lucifer was right.

Thirtheen

She'd spend a lot of time around Mc, but in a being in the same room type way. Eventually she's sit closer but still just chilling. Mc doesnt mind, it's like having a cat that keeps trying to kill your close friends.

Then Thirteen gets comfortable enough to be herself, she's talking about her traps, about stuff from the past and just overall talking with Mc about whatever pops into her mind, only going silent if someone else enters the room. It's nice that Thirteen is so trustworthy of Mc.

Eventually Thirteen would try to flirt, tho a bit morbidly, "I can't wait to make your soul mine", "even if you also end up immortal I'd still love you", Mc doesn't get it anyhow.

And when Thirteen is tired of Mc not getting it she just kidnaps Mc to her cave and makes it a cozy movie night date, "you're the only one I'll ever do this with Mc" "I'm glad you trust me" "you're such an oblivious dumbass"

Raphael

He's already struggling with having these feelings at all to a point he asks Simeon for help stuffing it away. Instead Simeon locks Raphael and Mc in a room, pretending it's on accident.

They'd spend a lot of time in silence until Mc asks about the sewing kit he has and why he doesn't use a sewing machine. Raphael explains how he learned to enjoy sewing by hand due to the tears the brothers kept getting in their clothes. Mc jokingly asks if he could make them a more formal piece of fitted clothing, Raphael instantly takes their measurements.

Weeks pass, Mc just brushing it off as him having been polite, until Raphael walks to Mc after class, silently handing them a white box with teal bow, in it is the clothing Mc mentioned, it's stunning and fits perfectly, along with it is a card, asking Mc to wear it that Saturday.

Raphael shows up unannounced at the house of lamentation that day, the brothers almost kill him but a confused Mc comes down in what he made. No words are spoken, but Mc follows Raphael to a nearby park, they sit there. "Mc it seems I've fallen in love with you."

Mephistopheles

Begs Diavolo for help, eventually he agrees and organizes a ball. Mephistotiles spent all his time and energy making sure he looks proper and that everything is perfect, even coming 15 minutes late to indicate he's busy and important. He offers Mc a dance, already holding their hand before receiving the yes.

They spend the evening dancing, tho Mc leaves early anyway, Mephistopheles finds this weird, sending them a letter requesting their attendance to his mansion the following day. After a LOT of hesitating and getting both Asmodeus and Lucifers help as to how to look and act they go.

Mephistopheles takes Mc inside, to the dinner table, I troducing the as his partner without hesitation. Mc doesnt refuse tho deeply confused, after dinner they go with him asking what it's about "I will put more effort into the relationship then I will in getting you to say yes." "next time atleast ask me out properly once" "we can do that tomorrow, it will be the best date you will ever experience."

[rainrot4me]

what do ya think the creeps ideal date is? like, if they took someone out on a date, where would they go? what would happen?

✦ . jeff the killer

Abandoned Amusement Park Picnic.

Jeff acts like he doesn’t care about dates. “Why waste time?” he says, but then drags you to a rotting amusement park at midnight with two gas station sandwiches and a flask of… something.

He’ll push you on the broken swings, dare you to climb the rusted Ferris wheel, and act like it’s all a joke—until he catches you laughing.

“You got a cute laugh. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna say it twice.”

If he gets brave enough, he’ll lay beside you on the carousel platform, point out fake constellations, and fall asleep with his hand loosely in yours.

✦ . ticci toby

Midnight Drive + Roadside Firepit.

Toby’s ideal date is hopping in an old truck and driving until the road runs out. Windows down. Static-filled music. Snacks in the back. Rambling about anything and everything while the breeze tassels your hair.

He’ll pull off into a clearing, build a fire, and sit with you under the stars. No pressure to talk—just him quietly listening, sometimes dozing off against your shoulder.

“This’s good. You make the quiet not so… bad.”

He brings you a hoodie. You don’t know whose it used to be. It’s yours now.

✦ . eyeless jack

Stargazing on a Hospital Emergency Lift Rooftop.

Jack picks you up after dark and leads you through the back of a crumbling hospital. At first, you’re sure he’s joking—but he leads you up to the roof, where he’s set out a threadbare blanket, two mugs of something warm, and a notebook full of constellations right in the middle of the big red H.

“The sky here’s never clear, but tonight it’s good. I wanted you to see it. This is the highest place I know of.”

He lets you lean on him. Reads to you. Lets you trace the scars on his hands with your fingers. And when the sky starts to lighten, he kisses your wrist and says you make the nights less heavy.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Secluded Lakehouse Getaway.

Tim’s date is quiet. Just you, a hidden cabin, a full thermos, and a view of the lake where fog rolls in like smoke. He brings books. A record player. Maybe a knife or two.

He won’t say “I love you,” but he’ll carve your initials into the dock and let you wear his jacket.

“If you want… I could teach you how to shoot. Or fish. Or we could just nap on the couch.”

He loves the silence you share more than anything else. You bring him peace. You’re his calm in the madness.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Vintage Theater + Diner at 2AM.

Brian takes you to an old theater with flickering lights and dusty red seats. You catch him watching you more than the movie. The rolling projector is hardly working, but you get the idea of the movie.

Afterward, you walk through town until you find a 24/7 diner where he lets you steal his fries and talks to you like there’s no one else in the world.

“You’re the only person I’d spend this much time with. That means something.”

He drives you home in silence, knuckles brushing yours on the gearshift. Soft rock on the radio. You kiss him goodnight before you’re even out of the car.

✦ . kate the chaser

Night Hunt + Post-Violence Stargazing.

Kate’s idea of a date involves adrenaline. She brings you on a hunt—lets you watch her work, fierce and silent and terrifyingly beautiful.

But once it’s over? She lays beside you on the grass, covered in blood and starlight, hand in yours.

“You’re the only person I don’t mind bleeding next to. That’s love, right?”

She’s blunt. Violent. But honest. You see parts of her no one else does in those quiet, post-chaos moments.

✦ . ben drowned

Arcade Lock-In.

Ben rents out a whole arcade (or hacks it open—who’s asking?) and challenges you to everything.

He trash talks like a pro but lets you win just often enough to keep you smug. When your hands brush reaching for the same token, he gets quiet.

“Hey… you’re better than I expected. I mean it.”

The night ends in the dark with neon lights flickering over his face, your head on his shoulder, and some ancient game droning in the background while he just… watches you. Softly. Like you’re the best prize he’s ever won. You steal all the prize-table’s items at the end, though.

✦ . clockwork

Rooftop Rooftop Rooftop.

Clockwork finds the highest rooftop in the city and brings you there with a blanket, speakers, and a flask of good whiskey.

She opens up slowly—telling you about the people she used to be, the time she used to keep, and the moments she wishes she could stop.

“You make me wanna slow down. That’s nice.”

At some point, she dances with you under the stars. No music needed.

✦ . laughing jack

Carnival of One.

LJ builds a makeshift carnival in the woods. No joke. Rides made of shadows. Cotton candy that tastes like your favorite memories. Games rigged to make you laugh.

It’s chaotic, insane, magical. And at the heart of it, he watches you—like you’ve given him color again.

“This whole place is yours tonight. Smile, darling. You look best that way.”

At the end, he leads you to a tent of stars, kisses your knuckles, and disappears when you blink—just to make your heart race.

✦ . slenderman

Garden of Silence.

Slender takes you to a place that exists only between worlds. A garden filled with impossible flora, untouched by time. They smell like nostalgia and your mom’s perfume from when you were little.

There are no words. Just warmth.

He lets you sit in his presence, read in his lap, rest beneath the soft hum of existence. If you reach for his hand, he gives it. No hesitation.

You feel the ancient affection in every breath of wind.

It’s the most peaceful you’ve ever felt. You never want to leave.

꩜ .ᐟ

[wonluhver]

Mingyu Focus

M = Content Warnings for Smut

! = Personal All Time Favs.

Red Card [M] - smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers, oneshot.

Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

! Clarity [M] - bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff, one shot. side of bad bf!jungkook.

Mingyu doesn't want to pay you any mind. To him, you're just another girl that'll get her heart broken by his dumb best friend.

Why would he care, right? He shouldn't care about the crying sounds he hears from his bedroom when his friend stands you up for the girl he's actually in love with. And he shouldn't be getting close to you. He shouldn't dread the day his friend decides to end things with you and bring someone else home. He shouldn't be wishing to have met you first.

! Save the Date [M] - smut, fluff, angst, frenemies to lovers, oneshot.

5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.

Theories and Heartstrings [M] - Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. angst, fluff, smut. completed series.

As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

! Again and Again [M] - exes, fake dating, mutual pining, idol!gyu, vet!reader, mild angst, fluff, smut, oneshot.

your mother calls one day, asking if you’re bringing mingyu along for chuseok this year. in your panic, you end up giving her an affirmative—never mind the fact that you and mingyu have stopped seeing each other over half a year ago.

Covert Desires - spy au, mafia, enemies to lovers, fake marriage, mutual pining, spies, angst, fluff, killing, oneshot.

he mission is simple - infiltrate a high-stakes auction that the top leaders, businessmen, women, and politicians of the world attend every year and steal one of the most highly guarded and hidden-away paintings from the target’s collection. the only downside, you had to work with kim mingyu, whom you absolutely hated. and to make it even worse, you had to pretend to be his wife for this mission to work.

! Challenge me [M] - College!Au, porn with plot(s), crack, OT13 x afab!Reader (mingyu/scoups focused), smut. unfinished series.

you have never been a person to turn down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kinda wish you were.

Wicked Games [M] - angst, fluff, smut (18+), bartender mingyu, friends to rebound fucking, no strings attached (fwb to lovers), mingyu/wonwoo focused. unfinished (? i think) series - still ongoing.

Kim Mingyu came into your life at a time when you needed a friend the most. And that he was: a friend that you could confide in and laugh together, share your secrets with and perhaps, share a burden that was too similar to his.

Kitty Claws - a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au, spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint. oneshot.

being a superhero isn't as easy as it seems, and it's even harder when you're notorious supervillain black cat with a past threatening to catch up with you and a pesky spider that won't leave you alone.

Get Him Back [M] - lead guitarist!kim mingyu x lead singer!fem!reader, romance, angst, smut (oral sex, unprotected sex (please stay safe irl!), wall sex, angry sex, overstimulation, dirty talk), exes to lovers au, band au, oneshot.

years after your messy breakup that broke up the band, you and mingyu are forced back together for a reunion tour—and the public can’t get enough of your chemistry. on stage, you’re electric, but backstage it’s all snide comments, heated arguments, and mingyu slipping in petty lyric changes just to piss you off. you’re not sure what’s worse: how much you still hate him or how much you don’t.

What Do I Call You? [M-ish] - college au, idiots friends to lovers au ; angst, fluff, suggestive ? slightly smutty? themes. football player!kim mingyu x fem!college journalist!reader. oneshot.

your best friend is a man of many facets - a creative architecture student, a skilled football player, a wonderful friend and a sought-after lover. not that he'd ever truly glance anyone's way, especially not when his heart has always been set on you.

! Dessert First [M] - baker! mingyu, wedding planner!YN, fluff, smut, angst, exes to lovers, oneshot.

You've got a great life. Your wedding planning business is booming, your clients are great, and you're finally over your ex-boyfriend after years of pining. Or you are, until the universe decides to test if those three things are actually true.

! Lost in the West [M] - fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance, oneshot.

where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating.

!!! Kim Mingyu's (unhelpful) Guide to Losing your Virginity [M] - smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au, oneshot.

after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn’t), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

! The Very First Night [M] - angst, smut, exes to lovers au, roommates au. oneshot.

the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend

for my best friend who i promised i would post mingyu recs for,, youre welcome. ignore how half of these are exes to lovers, or fake dating to lovers... i'm okay...

other recs

[batsandbirdbrains]

Super sad idea that I’d love to hear your thoughts about or for you to expand on or write about:

Dick using puppy eyes on Bruce, Alfred, basically every adult to get whatever he wants when he’s a kid. It works like a charm every single time. He wants Clark to fly him around? Puppy eyes, and two hours later he’s soaring. He wants Diana to help him prank Hal? Puppy eyes, and Hal’s suit is somehow banana yellow for two weeks. It doesn’t just work with the adults either. Whenever he wants one of the titans to do something and doesn’t feel like arguing with them, he just brings out the puppy eyes and they get it done. He does for years and he doesn’t plan on stopping.

Then Dick becomes Deathstroke’s unwilling apprentice, and suddenly his puppy-eyed stare was being weaponized in a whole new way. Slade would force him to walk up to targets, bring out his sad eyes and pouty lip, lead them somewhere secluded (usually under the guise of being a lost kid or something, idk), and then watch as Slade killed them.

But that wasn’t the only time his puppy eyes came out when he was with Slade. No, the first time it happened was during “training” (Dick being tortured) when he was exhausted and just wanted Slade to stop. He couldn’t out-fight the man, he couldn’t out-smart him, and he didn’t know how to get him to stop. So he subconsciously fell back on the one thing that had always worked for him in the past - his puppy eyes. To his great surprise, Slade had stopped. He paused for a long moment, staring at Dick’s face, and just when Dick started to have hope that this might actually be the end for today, Slade let out a cruel laugh before kicking him into the floor.

He finds out the hard way that, when it really counts, his puppy eyes only make things worse.

When he finally gets free, it takes a while for anyone to spot what’s wrong, especially considering most don’t even know about his time with Slade. He’s obviously moodier than usual, more paranoid than he was before, and is a lot worse at taking care of himself. But still, it’s a while before someone realizes that he never brings out the puppy eyes anymore. Bruce doesn’t know how to handle it - torn between wanting to ask Dick about it and not wanting to set him off - so he just doesn’t. He ignores it and everyone else follows suit.

They never really speak about it anymore. There are no more jokes about everyone being wrapped around Dick’s finger, no more sighs of resignation when Dick brings out the puppy eyes. Even when Dick gets his peppy attitude back, even when he’s back to cracking jokes and making bad puns, even when he pulls pranks again and his laugh can be heard echoing around the cave, the puppy eyes never come back out. And nobody ever mentions it, but they all mourn the death of the small piece of innocence that was stripped away, they mourn the loss of those eyes.

But time passes, and eventually people move on. It isn’t until years later that anyone mentions the eyes, and by then Bruce has had 4 other Robins, and a whole collection of children. And one of those kids - maybe it was Jason, or maybe it was Steph, or Duke - gets told about the eyes, and obviously they’re curious as to why they’ve never seen them. So the next time the Batfam (or the JL) is gathered together, they decide to broach the topic. Except the bats are profoundly awful at socializing and communication, so the question posed ends up being “Hey, I heard about your puppy eyes, they sound pretty lethal. How come we’ve never seen ‘em before?” And Dick flinches so hard that they’re actually concerned a ghost might’ve attacked him or something. But before anything else can be said or done, Dick just turns on his heel and walks out of the room. And now the poor bat that questioned him is stuck with a very upset Batman (and maybe other heroes as well).

BONUS:

After the fiasco where Dick was questioned about his puppy eyes and he walked out, the rest of the rest of the Bats resigned themselves to never seeing the eyes or hearing about them. Imagine their surprise (and horror, and heartbreak) when, while reviewing cave footage, they come across a highly encrypted video file. Imagine them seeing Dick pleading with Bruce not to go to Spyral, Dick trying to get Bruce to see reason, and then Dick’s face changes and they finally see them - the eyes. And everyone is so desperately hoping that this will be enough to get Bruce to stop. For a moment, he does. It was a short moment - only a split second of hesitation before he’s throwing another punch - and everyone feels their hope shatter as the moment ends. But in the video, there’s no hint of surprise, of devastation on Dick’s face. It seemed like he didn’t have much faith it would work, anyways. At least he’d gotten a reprieve in the fight, at least Bruce had stopped, if only for a moment. It was all he needed to win. Besides, what did it matter if Dick’s puppy eyes didn’t work anymore? Dick Grayson was dead.

How dare u do this to me when I’m about to go to BED now I’m SAD I’m gonna cry damn

I’ll try to expand on this idea maybe tomorrow a little bit? It’s very thorough already though!! But I had to let u know u gutted me right before I try to actually sleep, anon<3 (I mean this in the best way of course)

[caladriusposts]

Can you please tell me about izuku in your DR?

People in my dr : izuku midoriya

── .✦

⌗ when i fist moved to japan we couldn't say eachother's names correctly so i called him zuku and he called me menmen

★ Used to have a hard time back in preschool when they started trying to get us used to not napping he struggled with it, whenever he saw me in the book corner he'll silently walk over and use me as a pillow, If i was wearing a jacket he would slide himself under it we looked so funny whenever he would just slide into my jackets on breaks i used to tell mom to get me bagger jackets so he can be comfortable. Lets just say he didn't get used to not taking naps and no teacher had the heart to wake him up while he slept,he still slides under my clothes whenever it gets cold after knowing eachother + being married

★ in sixth grade someone tore one of my notebooks up while i was taking a week off school he glued it back together,got a replica and wrote down all my notes in my handwriting so i wouldn't notice and i didn't, only find out when i was helping him pack when we were moving in together and i found the glued notebook,l never mentioned it tho he doesn't know i know

★ Back in ua he used to doodle on my notebook or write notes in class and silently look at me expectingly waiting for me to notice,whenever i flicked his forehead to let me focus he huffed and rested his head on my shoulder

★ when we got our hero licensees he crushed me into a hug and told he to hold the license up to the camera, he immediately sent the picture to all might,he texted us how proud he is and told us good job izu was so happy he picked me up and spun me around till he lost his balance (he made sure he took all the damage and held the back of my head)

★ He called my quirk as beautiful as me and told me he loves how it reflects me as a person,I know it sounds corny but it was so sweet i still think about it he always sees the beauty in my quirk and just sees me you know?? he makes me feel seen

★ takes pictures with every cat he sees stary or not, the cats love him he sends us atleast four pictures every patrol, sometimes he gets too affectionate with them and they hit them on the head or bite him and we turned one into a whatsapp sticker hahaha

★ I dunno why he reminds me of fawns, eveyone says he's a sheep or a bunny but something about him reminds me sm of deers maybe its his eyes and how doe eyed he can look

★covers my ears whenever i get too overstimulated,I dont like being hugged if i am overwhelmed so him covering my ears always works he uses it to massage my temples too to ease my migraines

★ used to let me draw constellations by connecting his freckles atleast the bigger ones he's wll freckled up,especially on his cheeks, nose and knuckles

Post graduation :)

☁︎ Insistes on helping me tour the first years,started when we became second years and he still does so when i started working at ua,the kids love him, its a nice touch since he has more friendly vibe

☁︎ stops by randomly inbetween lectures to check up on me and bring me lunch,sometimes if kats is free he drags him too and we all sit together on breaks, aizawa is sick and tired of us being stuck to his hip in the teacher's lounge

☁︎ he still picks me up whenever he gets too happy,he's strong enough to pick me up and katsuki like its nothing its almost intimidating

☁︎ he eats my food i dunno what's it about him with my food but we can have the same thing and he'll still take a bite of mine he calls it the "izuku task/tax” it changes based on his mood,i love sharing my food anyways so i enbaled that habit

☁︎ one time i was rambling on one of my tts about quirks,he shamelessly took a big bite of my food the comments were talking about i vividly remember two of them "I cant focus on anything but deku just gobbling your food and no body reacting HOW MUCH DOES THAT HAPPEN" and "dawg that was one big ass bite"

☁︎ asked me out on june fifth because i like the number five, got me a pandora bracelet and gets me a charm every five years too they're all swan and space themed

☁︎ pre heats the air frier and makes my coffee in the morning without me even asking,its always how i like it too,he always pours it into a duck mug he got me when we were 17 on a class trip,i’ll post it soon!

☁︎ his hands are calloused from all the training he does but they've never been anything but gentle and warm

☁︎ we make our interns train together so they're very familiar with both of us AND HE ACTUALLY MADE ONE OF THEM CLEAN A WHOLE ASS BEACH??THE POOR STUDENT CAME COMPLAINING TO ME I WAS HOLDING BACK A CACKLE I AM SORRY

☁︎ whenever i am reading he comes over and wraps himself in my wings he's so good at handling them sometimes i don't really feel him moving my wing around, i am either used as his blanket and pillow smh

☁︎ told me he hopes to "have the privilege" of being loved and cherished by me in another life too

☁︎ apparently he talks about me to the students too they told me that he's always bringing me amd katsuki up in conversations or "fawning" over us BUT I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE JUST BEING DRAMATIC but also knowing izuku he does ramble alot so

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Ps.I’ll probably add more stuff later ❤️

[bowtiepasta]

ONE - SIGNAL FOUND

they’re co-hosts. fans beg them to “just kiss already.” they’re doing a whole lot more than that—and no one has a clue.

18+, minors do not interact. afab!reader, otoya’s a jerk, mentions of sex, innuendo. divider by me. do not use. word counter: 2,229

OFF THE RECORD: A BLUE LOCK SERIES | READ NEXT

“Are you two hooking up?” Yuna, HR.

“Do you carpool or do you just spend the night?” Jin, editing room twelve.

“Wait, wait—are you sleeping together or not?” Maika, digital promotions. That one’s not a shock.

KBC 89.3, regional FM with national ambition. A handful of overworked producers, one too many interns, and enough stolen pens to start a black market. You’d only been there a month when they shuffled the schedule and paired you—newcomer, night owl, fresh meat—with him.

Karasu Tabito. Late-night voice of Tokyo before 2 a.m. Sharp-tongued, surprisingly witty, and apparently, some kind of minor legend from his college radio days. People still passed around grainy clips of his old segments like they were tapes from a cult.

He wasn’t chatty. Not in the halls, not in meetings, not with you. But he listened. Closer than anyone you’d ever worked with. And when he did speak, it was with purpose. Cut-glass clean. He was professional.

Which is probably why it surprised you, the way he took your side. That day in the booth.

“You’ve got your hands full, huh?” Otoya had said, feet kicked up on a spare chair, half a protein bar in his mouth, looking at Karasu but jerking his chin toward you. “She talk this much during segments too?”

You paused, caught off guard being mid-sentence, hands still hovering over your notes. Asshole.

Otoya grinned wider. “I’m just saying. Could’ve paired you with someone easier. Like Nao. Nao’s got that whole quiet-girl, wide-eyed thing.”

You weren’t sure what had pissed you off more—what he said, or the fact that it was said right in front of you like you weren’t even there.

The late-night slot hadn’t even started. The show was still in pre-production—no studio time, no ad promos, just one working title and a dusty old sound booth that stank of someone’s leftover peach Red Bull.

You’d been assigned to co-host the new experimental segment: part interviews, part anonymous call-ins, and part improv that management insisted would appeal to the 1-3 a.m. demographic. The logic was simple: put the seasoned veteran with the sharp-tongued rookie. Watch what happens.

You weren’t exactly fast friends. But you worked.

At least, until Otoya decided to get involved.

He nodded again at Karasu, who was deliberately ignoring him now, fingers dancing over the knobs. “Still stuck playing co-parent to the intern?”

You scoff, pushing off the table. “I’m not an intern.”

“Right. Contract voice talent. Big difference.”

“You’re the new late-night cohost, right?” he asked, pointing a half-eaten sandwich at you. “The one with the voice that doesn’t match her face?”

You raised a brow, not missing the way his eyes snagged a little too long on your chest before crawling back up to your face. “That a compliment?”

“Could be. You sound older on tape. Hotter.”

Karasu didn’t flinch once.

“And you,” Otoya added, turning toward him. “How’s it feel being the station’s new power couple?”

Karasu adjusted a dial, still not looking over. A soldier, that one. “You’re being weird.”

“No,” Otoya shrugged, “I’m being observant. You’re nicer when she’s around. You’ve smiled this week.”

You open your mouth to fire back, but it closes as soon as it opens. Karasu cuts in, letting the ballpoint pen roll from his hand off the table and down to the floor.

“Would you stop being such a dickhead?”

Otoya gaped, clearly not expecting nor very pleased to be put in his place. “Sorry, what?”

He looks him square in the eye. “You’re not funny. And you’re not welcome in this room if you’re going to waste our time. Leave.”

And guess what? He. Fucking. Does.

The next week, Otoya mostly leaves you alone.

No more offhand comments. No weird, backhanded compliments about your voice or any of your other parts, thankfully. There’s a new, deliberate space he gives you now. Just wide enough to notice.

He doesn’t linger in the studio. Doesn’t drop by uninvited. Doesn’t test his luck again.

Which is fine by you.

He’s nicer. Holds the door when your hands are full. Sends a clean tech report without a complaint even when you send it back. Even offers to check your mic levels for you, as if trying to smooth the air between you with gestures in lieu of an apology.

Whatever Karasu said to him that day—however he said it—it landed. Walked him like a dog, even.

Maybe that’s why it unsettled you. It made you realize you’ve watched people bend around him without even realizing they’re doing it. He’s not loud. Not one to charm. He simply moves like someone people make room for. So they do.

In many ways, you think you’ve started to make room for him too. Whether conscious or subconscious, you’re not quite sure yet.

The show was live now.

A small handful of loyal listeners tuning in night after night, quiet calls and messages trickling in from time to time. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

The station boss—Mrs. Fujimoto—was growing restless. She had hoped ‘Dial L for Lonely’ would be the next big thing by now, the kind of show that got buzz in all the media circles. Instead, it floated in that frustrating middle ground: good, not great.

You sat in the main booth with your headphones pulled off, staring at the rundown and listening to the faint fizz of empty audio beneath the soundboard.

The episode was fine. No breakthrough, but fine.

Karasu was in the adjacent sound room, running cleanup like he often did when you stayed late—rolling up the cords ‘til you slid out to help.

You noticed a faded polaroid in his phone case, a little girl with a huge grin, face obscured by sunglasses far too big for a head that size.

“Who’s that?” you asked outright, slowly losing your filter to sleep deprivation. He didn’t seem to mind.

“My niece,” he answered, making a flicking gesture with his thumb and middle finger yet kicking the empty energy drink cans into the bin with his foot.

You smiled. “She’s adorable.”

“She’s six. Wants to be a marine biologist. Or a radio host. Depends on the day.”

His features softened. “Used to fall asleep to my late shift in college. Thought I could talk the sun down.“

“Women must love that,” you yawned. “Cool voice, good with kids. Feels like cheating.”

Karasu laughed, first time for you. “Yeah. Sure.”

You tilted your head, surprised at the flatness in his tone. “What, they don’t?”

He yawned too. “You’d be surprised.”

You swallowed. “No girlfriend waiting at home, then?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Apparently I work too much. I’m hard to read. I don’t always explain what I’m feeling, even when I should. That most days, this—” he gestured to the studio, to the board, “—is all I really have energy for.”

“That’s bleak.”

“It’s true.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt like you owed him the honesty. Karasu stared down at the table like he could hear more than what you said out loud.

So you said, “Most of my relationships end because I make people feel like they’re not enough.”

“If someone texts me too fast, I think they’re desperate. If they text too slow, I think they’re bored. I exhaust myself trying to read people who probably aren’t thinking half as much as I am.”

“Guess we’re both idiots.”

You ordered some takeout, brainstormed some more, talked about family, friends, and all you could until you eventually ran out of options and was forced to let the silence do what it did best—stretch.

Then: “Heading home?”

“I was going to catch the last train.”

He looked at the clock. Then back at you, somehow apologetic. “You missed it ten minutes ago.”

You checked yours. “Shit.”

Karasu stood, nodding his head like he was agreeing with himself. “I’ll drive you.”

He clicked open the passenger door, and you slid in without thinking, regretting it immediately.

Not because you didn’t want to be there.

But because the second the door shut, the space closed in around you. Tight. Quiet. Weirdly familiar in a way that made your pulse hitch.

The car smelled like him. Not cologne—he didn’t strike you as someone who wore any. Instead it was clean fabric, static-warm air, and old coffee.

A small black soccer ball hung from the rearview mirror, scuffed and worn from age. It swung gently when he switched on the heater.

He didn’t look at you when he settled into the driver’s seat, just adjusted the mirror with one ringed hand and set both palms on the wheel.

You watched the veins in his wrist shift under his sleeve.

He was still in studio clothes—fitted black sweater, stretched at the elbows, collar pulled loose from habit. His gray coat was tossed in the backseat, forgotten for now. There was a teddy bear right next to it.

He turned the key, the engine sputtering but refusing to start. Again. Then again. Nothing.

You both sat frozen for a moment, caught between frustration and fatigue. Then the laughter bubbled up, unexpected and shaky, escaping from your throats before you could stop it. God, you were tired.

“Of all the nights.”

You think it could’ve been the talk about hard relationships. Maybe the pressure from the station, or even just how lonely the two of you were.

After the fifth call to the tow company went to voicemail, you leaned in. He met you halfway.

You don’t remember much after that.

You remember unbuckling your seatbelt, climbing over the center console. You remember your mouth on his neck. His hand under your bra. The passenger seat pushed all the way back. You remember hands grabbing your hips, guiding you down, adjusting your leg when it got caught on the e-brake.

When you reached down to get him out of his jeans, he lifted his hips for you—urgency that told you he’d already made the decision. This was happening.

He just made room.

And you realized, without thinking, that you were doing the same. You’d started weeks ago.

Your brain scrambled to catch up with what your body had already decided. You weren’t thinking about the show. Or the car. Or the fact that you’d be back in the studio in eight hours. He didn’t seem to be either.

The elevator doors dinged open with a lazy chime, interrupting your flashback, and you both spilled into the office hallway at the same time—coffee cups in hand, hair still damp from rushed showers, clothes on as if they’d been shrugged into mid-sprint.

“Technically,” Karasu said between sips, “we’re only eight minutes late.”

“Technically,” you adjusted your overflowing tote bag as you walked, “we were supposed to be here twenty minutes early. But who’s keeping track?”

“You’re so glass-half-empty,” he pushed the studio door open for you. “Good morning, by the way.”

You stepped inside with a quiet laugh, thankful for the lack of staff around. “Good morning, Karasu.”

The booth was still warm from the early news crew, mics blinking and standby music looping low in the background. You dropped your bag into your chair, slid into your seat, gave the rundown sheet a skim.

“You sore?” he asked, under his breath.

You shot him a look.

“I meant from the console. Looked like it got you in the ribs,” he added, corners of his mouth twitching.

“You’re a pain,” you rolled your eyes.

“You’ve got a glow to ya today.”

You grinned, finally glancing up to meet his eyes. His hair was spikier on one side, a crease from his leather seat still faintly pressed into his cheek.

“Yeah? You look like shit,” you said fondly.

A crooked smile. “You know just what to say to a guy.”

Karasu slumped into his chair with a groan, swiveling before catching your eye. “Do you think they’ll check the security cam footage?”

You squinted at the lens. “If they do, they’ve seen worse. Heard worse too, I bet.”

He faked a dramatic shiver. “Big Brother’s watching. Somewhere in a basement office, scrolling through footage of us coming in late every day like we’re they’re own personal nature doc.”

You played along. “Here we observe the male in his natural habitat: doing absolutely nothing productive. Note the puffed chest and vaguely eager expression. Classic indicators that the male feels threatened by basic accountability.”

He laughs again. “And here we have the female of the species, tight little top, two sizes two small. The male pretends not to notice how hard her nipples get when they’re arguing—textbook behavior.”

You grimace. “You sound like one of those guys who records voice memos while he’s jerking off.”

Didn’t miss a beat. “I do have a good voice for it.”

He grabbed his mic and switched it to stand-by. “Should we do a test run? Really professional stuff?”

You made a face. “Gross. Say that again and I’m transferring to Otoya’s time slot.”

He turned toward you, casually throwing an arm over the back of your chair. “What’s that? You two already working that closely off-air? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up, you know it’s not like that.”

Karasu leans in. “Bold of you to assume Otoya’s not already keeping your seat warm.”

Before you could answer, the studio light blinked red. He didn’t set that mic on stand-by.

“Oh my god, we’re live.”

romy’s note: fact no. 1 - his ‘ringed’ hand is a matching mood ring with his niece on his pointer finger! fact no. 2 - the first few pieces of dialogue are actually about otoya … gotcha

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OFF THE RECORD: A BLUE LOCK SERIES | READ NEXT

[rotting-ink]

can i just say that one thing i love abt the Royal route so far, is how well you managed to subtly portray just how detached from the real world the Royal is. like at the start, reading through your blog, and seeing that the Aide and Pasha both consider MC like a lost little lamb, i didn't fully get it? and then i played the demo and oh my god-

the contrast between specifically how the MC views the servants with that Pasha POV at the end. MC thinks they're all grown up, they even make a parallel between themself and Pasha as "sharing a secret" because they both left the house, but the way that they evolved from those experiences is so contrasting it actually gave me whiplash reading it. the way Pavel became so class conscious, realizing and despising the way he and his family would just take take take and meanwhile the MC doesn't even know who their servants are

it's genuinely fascinating to me. like you were right! the Royal has no fucking idea what it is like to live in the "real world". they're stuck inside a little safety bubble, coddled and pampered and told that they don't need to look outside, its ok, just close your eyes and think happy thoughts

makes me wonder if everyone else in the royal family is the same way, or if the Royal had it especially bad by being so sick all the time, treated like a glass doll from the moment they were born. i also love that their ignorance isn't treated as a synonym to innocence. they know violence, they have intrusive thoughts, they grew up surrounded by tragic stories and violent fairy tales and because of that they think they know how the world works

i don't blame the Aide for treating them like a clueless little puppy, honestly i'd do the same

I'M RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY ROOM!!! IM SO GLAD SOMEONE NOTICED!!!

Just wanted to quickly add in, that they have seen some horrible stuff at times, like in the side story with the Goodbye to Pavel. They are quietly reenacting something they accidentally saw, which is a peasant woman being tramped by Pavel's friend's horse, but they are mostly focusing on the senses of it, not the loss of life. The blood, the sound, the crunch, Pavel's hand over their eyes. I wish I could have added a Pavel pov, because while he'd also think back to the experience, he'd think about making sure the Royal stayed on Thunder as he checked on the peasant, watching her slowly die and quietly asking for her name while she struggled to breath, Feeling the moment she did finally bleed out and realising he had no idea how to help. That man's Guilt is endless and so fun to write about. Looking up and seeing one of his friends entertaining the MC and keeping their eyes off the body, while the other friend bemoaned his horse's hooves, caked in gore and the creature itself being spooked. While he himself doesn't even know who to tell that she died.

But it's so so fun. Because the Royal is morbid, even without meaning to. They are surrounded by violence- they can watch the Aide BATTER a man/woman at the resort, but all they think is that they couldn't get their first kiss and then the Aide can basically go down on them. They know violence, they know death, they have experienced pain, their culture has dark fairy tales, and strange history. Their ignorance is built off of never having to step down into someone else's shoes, even when their childhood companion basically "goes missing" and is hidden below stairs. Out of the two, Pavel knows what happened to them and ngl, that's why he remembers them so well.

ANYWAY! So no one in the family is as class conscious as Pavel. He does view his family as parasites who can take and take. Laszlo and Stas is a bit more aware, at least class wise. Laszlo came from a lower noble house in Magyar and his family skirted the class line from time to time. Luckily he's a gem and of course the Tsarina would want to ride him silly. Stas is only aware because he happened to develop a soft spot for a maid. He is curious about her, all things, and so does find out about her life, especially as a Serf. It does upset him, and since bringing her up in life to a Kept Lover, he tries not to think of it too much, given that "she doesn't have to go back there".

It's not that Albina and Abraim aren't aware, they just don't care. Good luck as a Servant with them btw.

The Royal and Tatsiana are... mirrors of each other. Aren't innocent but are ignorant. Focused on other things mostly. Aksana does somewhat know, but deem to give it attention, the world outside of her own. But she is more aware of disabilities, than the rest of the family. The self inflicted pain and hunger she does, but also her fiance. The way he was mocked in fact drew her to him at first, before deciding she wanted him the most. Inga and Kissy seem oblivious, but Inga does see more than she says.

And yes, The Aide does just pat them on the head, knowing they will never see or know as much as The Aide has.

[jd-loves-fiction]

hello! for the valentines event, can i request a piece with isagi from blue lock?

the general idea is about childhood friends to lovers, with reader owning a coffeeshop and isagi being a pro player who visits the cafe quite often. since being kids, they were unseparable, until high school and the blue lock thing starting; then, both isagi and reader started noticing the subtle changes and how pretty/handsome the other is. after blue lock and isagi becoming the pro player, they couldn't see each other that often, so some angst and misunderstandings could fit in here, overall i ask for fluff!

if i messed up something or didn't explain properly please ask, i am currently losing my mind over him and am not thinking straight

(and hi! could we by any chance become moots? you seem really cool and making friends here is hard >.<)

🌑Of course honey!! Nearly had a heart attack thinking Tumblr deleted this request but it just didn't show up on desktop for some fucking reason 🙃

Anyway here it is i'm quite proud of it. Also since i got a job I've been focused on adjusting so i've been writing slowly but it's picking up! :)

𝓘 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮!

Isagi’s shoulders ache, so do his thighs and his feet and just about everything else. But such is the life of a professional football player – even when there’s no official game, training always succeeds in kicking his ass.

Although, the sight of your face at the end of a long day whenever he had the time to visit always serves to make it all more bearable, like a reward.

You’re buzzing around behind the counter like a busy bee when he arrives, despite the lack of customers  currently ordering – seems like closing hours might be especially busy for the sole worker for the day, who also happens to own the store.

Watching you from afar helps to settle his nerves slightly, but only slightly. You're no longer kids, and that knowledge weighs on him through every interaction – feeling as if he’s both too stiff and overstepping all at once somehow.

Little does he and his usually abnormally observant eyes know, you're having the same problem. Everytime you catch a glimpse of him outside the shop window, you take an instinctive moment to make sure you don't look too frazzled – an automatic action that greatly confused you at first. Why do you care if he sees you like that? Every other customer does.

But he’s not every other customer, obviously, even before you grew apart and the distance someone made your heart grow fonder, he’s always been special to you – just in a different way.

The one who never laughed at your little coffee shop dream, the one whose immense determination in his own dream you always admired – Isagi Yoichi, then best friend, now pro-player whom you barely get to see nowadays.

The bell above the door rings as it opens, a head of dark hair coming though and a pair of blue eyes locking with yours immediately upon entry. You exchange tight-lipped smiles as you put the finishing touches on his usual order, before he’s had the chance to order it.

As you work, you covertly (or so you think) observe him as he moves closer to the counter… before being cut off by some girl excitedly dashing up to him to ask for a picture. Fine, that's fine, totally normal for a decently world-famous athlete, no reason to make it weird… Except for the swirling ugliness in the pit of your stomach – twisting, writhing like some creature from the depths, aching to grab that girl by the shoulders and–

And nothing, because anything else would be stupid and silly. Pulling a girl's pigtails for trying to steal Isagi’s first kiss may have been somewhat acceptable in kindergarten, but no longer.

So you do what is acceptable; side eyeing them both as you finish up the orders you've taken.

“Hey–” you nearly slam the plastic cup in front of your childhood friend (once that girl is pulled away by her friend), thankful for the lid or else it would've sloshed all over his shirt. “Thanks… how'd you–”

“You've asked for the same thing since before Blue Lock and every time you try something different you never like it so, it's not too hard to guess what your order would be.” He still blinks at you as if you've said something utterly bizarre. You shake it in his direction to indicate he should take it and he does.

“When do you get off work?” he says it so quietly you nearly ask him to repeat himself, “5 o'clock.” He nods, hands fiddling with the straps of his backpack nervously – strange, he's never been one to fidget.

As the day winds down too many customers start coming in for you to linger on what he could possibly be nervous about.

You keep an eye on the corner he settles in as you work, alone during the afternoon rush as you are any other, though this one seems a bit busier for some reason… and there's a lot more pink?

No time – not for wondering if you've forgotten something important or to think about how the light catches on Isagi's blue hair as he sips his drink, casting glances towards you and locking gazes every time you do the same – no, no time for that.

You've nearly forgotten all about Isagi once the late afternoon rush has passed, the back of your neck sticky from the harsh lighting and feet throbbing slightly. Wiping down the counter as the last of your patrons filter out slowly, a shadow comes over you, blocking what little sunlight still lingers, “So, uhm, wanna walk home together? You know, like before?”

It almost sounds like he was going to say something else with how he trips over his words but you’re too tired to push, “Sure. Let me just close up.”

Isagi continuously shuffles from one foot to the other as you check over everything before locking up, fiddling with the straps on his duffle bag while waiting for you. You can just about catch him reaching into it once before taking his hand away, changing his mind. His face is still beet red.

“Ready?” You ask him, already starting to walk away from the building.

“Wait! Just… one thing.”

You turn back to him upon hearing his words and taking note of the shakiness of his voice, to see him with darting eyes and hands behind his back, looking like his heart might just run out of his chest from the nervousness.

As you stare at him expectantly, Isagi finally remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, puffing out his chest in an attempt to steel himself. You’re damn near holding your breath by the time he decides to move again, pulling the mysterious object from behind his back to reveal…

“Flowers…?”

“Y-Yeah, since it’s Valentine's I thought–”

“It’s Valentine’s?” The boy you once knew, now a man, looks at you like he once used to whenever you would steal his football and make him chase you down in order to finally play with him – exasperated and silently praying you aren't serious. “I mean, I kinda knew that I just… kinda sorta forgot until now.”

Isagi heaves a deep sigh, ending in a defeated sort of chuckle, he raises the beautiful, custom bouquet of all kinds of flowers (seemingly as to cover as many bases as possible since he likely doesn't know what flowers you’d like) towards you. You take it gingerly from his hands, waiting patiently for what he has to say.

“I think I’ve always loved you. In some way. I just never realized it, until now. At some point during Blue Lock I started feeling like something was missing– no, like something was taken from me. And it wasn't just my phone and… everything else they took – it was you. Every time I felt discouraged I wished you were there to cheer me up like you always used to do when we were kids. At some point that ache became its own motivation, thinking that you’d tell me how proud you were if I won.”

“Listen, I wrote a whole speech, but it doesn't feel right anymore. I love you. I don't know if you feel the same but I just– I just needed to tell you.” The sound of crinkling paper sounds between you, seemingly echoing as you clench and unclench your grip around the sheets enveloping the array of beautiful flowers in your hands.

You think to yourself that there's nothing you could possibly say to that that would even come close matching it in how raw that confession was. So you surge forward to kiss him, clutching the flowers to your chest in order to not drop them.

The kiss is light, full of hesitation and restraint, but earnest, made of love that’s been brewing for years and is now finally realized, “I love you too. And I think that speech was perfect.”

Isagi chuckles, releasing all the tension in his broad shoulders all at once, and though he looks like all he wants to do is kiss you again, he speaks instead, “That’s all I needed to hear.”

[kiwisandpearls]

so I saw this post being critical about the whole “traumatized character starts to heal from their trauma but ends up dying for shock value” trope and while I agree with it I saw someone tag that post in the notes with mami tomoe and tbh it’s kind of like…well yes, but actually no. I’d argue Mami Tomoe is an example of that trope executed well, and Madoka Magica’s story just wouldn’t work the way it does without Mami’s death occurring the way it did. And I’m not saying that because it was shocking.

the thing about Mami’s death is that while it’s shocking at first when you sit and think about it is deeply tragic. Mami deserved a much better ending than this but she would’ve never got it. She doesn’t make a contract with Kyubey and dies in the car crash or she makes a contract and gets to live but ends up living alone with no one to turn to. And even if/when she is able to survive charlotte she ends up dying either way, either—for example—by Madoka’s hand or by Walpurgisnacht.

the other thing about Mami’s death is that saying its shock value is implying that it had no reason to be in the story when it truly did. Firstly, it showed a good example that being a magical girl in Madoka Magica is not all fun and games. That isn’t to say it wasn’t made out that way. Mami herself warns Madoka and Sayaka that if they choose to become magical girls they’re going to have to risk their lives to fight witches, but we never see an actual examples of witches posing any serious harm against Mami or the other magical girls. Mami’s death was a good example that her words that actual weight to them, that being a magical girl could get you killed.

not only that but her death had a deep effect on both sayaka and madoka. Before Mami’s death Madoka was sure about making a contract, which gets thrown out of the window the moment she sees mami die. And it’s clear her death sticks with her long after it happens, she constantly worried about sayaka after she makes her contract, and even snaps at homura, telling her to not talk about her that way, after she makes passing comment about mami when madoka asks her to try working with sayaka.

And while Sayaka doesn’t seem to be as traumatized by Mami’s death as Madoka was, her death still had an effect on Sayaka, especially in how she views Mami. If Mami had survived Charlotte’s attack she probably would’ve explained to Sayaka the same things she explained to Madoka, that she felt alone and had no one to turn to. But she never got the chance to, and while I’m not criticizing Madoka for this, Madoka probably didn’t tell Sayaka what Mami told her. So along with turning Mami into a sort of martyr, she also continues to put Mami on this pedestal. Saying that Mami wasn’t like other magical girls like Kyoko and Homura, that Mami was one of the “good ones”, one of the “good” magical girls who were selfless and cared more about being defending justice and saving lives than collecting grief seeds. Causing her to spiral a bit about homura and kyoko, seeing them as being actively malicious, just as evil as witches (which…to be fair to her, kyoko was acting a little malicious in her picking fights with a new magical girl…twice. While for Homura Sayaka doesn’t have the context to understand why Homura is All That). While I do think Sayaka probably would’ve still idolized Mami (which also makes sense as she’s a senior magical girl, she would look up to her), I don’t think she would’ve idolized her as much if she didn’t die.

TL;DR: Mami’s death is actually a well written take on the “traumatized character dies in the end” trope because it wasn’t purely for shock value and had an actual purpose in the narrative.

[saebyeokbliss]

SOMEONE TO CALL MINE ꩜ .ᐟ — KANG SAE-BYEOK

paring: dealer!kang sae-byeon x fem!art student!reader

warnings: crack, suggestive themes, language, enemies to lovers (kinda), fake dating, exes, sapphic yearning

A college SMAU involving…

Kang Sae-byeok is known around campus as the number one dealer at The Pit (house holding SNU’s biggest frat parties). Following that title is a woman who also has had almost every girl at her knees with one stare; however, she manages to lock down beauty of the school, Lee Yuna. But when she finds out her girlfriend cheats on her with a.. man? She will not be made a fool.

MEET THE COVEN…

YOU

Full scholarship, multiple art awards, ambitious and creative, you’ve worked hard to end up where you are at SNU. It’s paying off. But what happens when your sophomore year is interrupted by a distraction that you don’t seem to mind?

KIM JI-YEONG

Music major. Sae-byeok’s sidekick. The wingwoman, the best friend— somehow— despite the pair being total opposites. Forced roommates, friends by chance. Ji-yeong is bubbly and full of humor, never failing to make anyone laugh around her. She too is a ladies woman and knows her way around a party. Because she is the party. And The Coven would be nothing without her.

KANG SAE-BYEOK

Sae-byeok is a force of her own. Majoring in business, she knows how to take control of a room with one stare. No one around campus dare question anything she does and there’s always a mysterious and alluring aura to her presence. You’re constantly left wondering why she does what she does. Everyone at SNU knows her name, even if they’ve never spoken to her. She’s the go-to for party favors, the subject of every sapphic crush, and the reason dorm room windows fog up on Friday nights. But behind the sharp eyes and leather jackets is someone who truly means well.

KANG NO-EUL

Not as popular as her sister but not unknown, No-eul lives a calm life. She’s actually known you for quite some time. You’ve been friends since senior year of highschool and she has been by your side. It’s crazy that you’ve never managed to get close to her sister. Regardless, No-eul is also cold-like but caring in her own way. She’ll bring your greek yogurt on nights you stay up late for exams and coffee when you need it. She only ever contributes to The Coven when she feels like it, and if her sister needs help.

HAN SE-MI

Like Ji-yeong, she too is the life of the party. Just in a more chill, drunk aunt kind of way. She buys off Sae and has been a loyal customer since high school. With open arms, she was welcomed into the little circle of friends that is The Coven. She fits in perfectly and doesn’t mind sharing a smoke or two with a person she believes needs it. Her passion for being a lawyer also feeds her confidence and ego here and there, her grades being something she’s proud of.

THANOS (CHOI SU-BONG)

Pursuing music, THANOS is mainly full of shit. He’s around for Se-mi and Ji-yeong to get a good laugh about but he can rap and spit bars like no one’s business. He’s definitely best DJ at The Pit and goofiest person in The Coven. He’s also high. All. The. Time. He and Sae-byeok also partner here and there with deals.

HUH YUNJIN (OCCASIONALLY JENNIFER)

An absolute angel, your best friend (besides No-eul) who is your number one ride or die. She’d literally end the world if you asked her to and her vocals are killer. She is always kind and supportive and also a big goofball, but amazing with words and there if you need advice. She joined The Coven through Sakura and became friends quickly with everyone despite her seeming soft.

SAKURA MIYAWAKI

Well-known streamer and gamer around campus. Her technology skills come in handy for marketing and that’s how she was able to join The Coven by meeting Sae-byeok in their shared class. She hangs out with her other friends, Kazuha and Chaewon, most of the time, but she loves to drink mojitos with Ji-yeong and Se-mi when she isn’t with them! She’s incredibly sweet and surprisingly hilarious.

YU JIMIN (OCCASIONALLY KARINA)

Jimin (or Karina) is like the unofficial mother of The Coven. She rarely gets into trouble, even if she’s playful, and keeps the girls (and sometimes THANOS) out of trouble. She is a big jokester, but if you mess with her friends or need to bury a body, she’s there.

NING YIZHUO (OCCASIONALLY NINGING)

The maknae. Everyone babies Ningx2 for being the youngest of The Coven and she hates it. She might be 17 and a freshman in college, but she’s a force. Incredibly sweet and kind, but a troublemaker when she’s in the mood.

AERI UCHINAGA (OCCASIONALLY GISELLE)

Also one of your best friends alongside Yunjin and No-eul, Aeri helped a lot with your math studies and econ classes. She’s also a big teaser and loves messing with you. But if you truly need a shoulder to ugly cry on and pour your heart out to, her and Yunjin are there with tissues and broken humor.

LEE YUNA

The girl that gets you meet Sae-byeok. Seemingly kind and gorgeous, but looks are always deceiving.Conniving. Cunning. Manipulative. Not much is need to be said about Lee Yuna other than her parents run a successful skincare business in Korea, so she isn’t leaving her trust fund scholarship at SNU anytime soon.

MASTERLIST

01. the enigma 02. one, two, three, queen of the scene

a/n: so exited to get to writing this! this will be my first SMAU fic and i feel it will definitely be a rollercoaster of emotions.

REMINDER THAT ANY REAL PEOPLE IN THIS FIC— THEIR BEHAVIOR IS NOT REFLECTIONS OF THEIR TRUE ACTIONS AND REPRESENTATION— PURE FICTION

[lookingfts]

The conference! Anthony 100% wanting to make a move, but he still thinks Kate is with her boyfriend so he doesn’t. But then she’s there, standing outside his room, and there really is no other choice.

They also probably move quick in their relationship. A couple of months and Kate is tired of figuring out where her clothes are and moves in. By the next year they’re engaged, etc.

Just two people who know that if it’s right. It’s right

Aww yes. Anthony knows how he feels but Kate has made her choice and he doesn't want to cross that line. But then Kate is standing outside his door, vulnerable like she rarely is, her eyes shining. "He never understood. No one does. No one knows me but you."

After they get back from the conference, Anthony starts sleeping at her place (because she has Newton and everything is the way she likes it) and never stops. They both still work too much but they talk about their research over dinner and she grades papers with her feet on his lap and it's perfect for them.

Maybe Kate breaks up with Tom (or whoever her partner is) because of the business trip. Like, she realizes how excited she is to be in a different city with Anthony and it makes her stop kidding herself and being unfair to her boyfriend. She wants something to happen with Anthony and she can't cross any more lines than she already has. (Like, I feel like after she and her boyfriend fight when she forgets date night because she was hanging out with Anthony, and keeps her distance from him at work and it makes them both miserable.)

Also, their students are totally going to take all the credit for it when they finally do get together. So cute 🥰

I had a similar thought, where her partner asks her not to go to the conference because his parents are in town or something. He's like, it can't mean that much to you. Why can't you just do it this one time? But it's important to Kate and she realizes it's never just one time. They will never want the same things and always be giving each other less than they deserve. Kate wants to be enough for someone without always having to change herself, and she knows who that person is.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Nothing to Lose

| this drabble contains sexual content ;) |

Coriolanus has his eyes set on something.

Someone.

He noticed her immediately when he and his friends arrived at the club. She's hard to miss when she's dressed like that, wearing near to nothing but a corset with thigh-high stockings and a lacy bralette that leaves very little to the imagination.

There are other girls at the club as well, dressed the same way, doing the same things. This one is different though, he doesn't know why, but she is. He has to have her.

"How about another round of drinks?" He suggests to his friends who are already drunk. They came to celebrate the end of another grueling work week. It's not easy being a politician but clubs like this, exclusive places, make it a little bit easier. With the heightened security and well-trained staff, he feels perfectly safe here, surrounded by drunk men and scantily dressed women.

"Sure," Festus easily agrees, waving over a waitress. He's already had three drinks, but who's counting? "Another round for you gentlemen?" The waitress sweetly asks, batting her eyelashes. She's dressed in the shortest skirt Coriolanus has ever seen and is wearing bright eye makeup.

"Yes, please. Who's that over there?" Coriolanus inquires, nodding at the girl who's caught his eye. Her blonde hair is hard to miss and so is her easygoing smile. The waitress follows his gaze, "Oh, that's Soarynn. Would you like her to come over here?"

"That would be wonderful."

Coriolanus isn't above winning over hearts himself, but he also isn't above getting a little help now and then. If this waitress wants to help him out, he won't be the one to stop her.

She goes to fetch the drinks and her friend, leading Festus and Felix to give Coriolanus teasing looks. "Really? Sending the waitress to do your dirty work?"

He waves them off. "She offered."

They all watch the waitress approach Soarynn and whisper something in her ear. Soarynn's eyebrows raise and she looks over at them before she nods, saying something in return.

Their drinks come out before Soarynn does. Apparently, she had to go speak with their boss first. For what, Coriolanus has no idea until they both show up at their table. Coriolanus eyes the boss who happens to be the owner of the club up and down. He's dressed rather nicely for running an establishment such as this one, filled with burlesque dancers and waitresses.

Soarynn stands next to him, hands behind her back, head down.

"I heard Coriolanus Snow was asking for one of my girls," the owner explains, "and I just had to greet him myself." Coriolanus fakes a smile, not really caring for this man or his greeting. "Consider me welcomed."

"My name is Casca Highbottom, if there's ever anything I can do for you, Mr. Snow, please let me know." Highbottom holds his hand out leaving Coriolanus with nothing to do but shake it to avoid causing a scene. Better to stay on this man's good side since he frequents the club quite often.

"Thank you, Mr. Highbottom. I'll keep that in mind."

Highbottom smiles but it's a strange smile, a smile that Coriolanus doesn't trust one bit. Now is not the time to investigate though so he just smiles back and shakes his hand. "She's all yours," he says, giving Soarynn a push towards the table of men.

Soarynn to her credit, lays on the charm immediately, doing an excellent job given the circumstances. "I've never met a Snow before," she purrs, leaning against the table, "but I've heard a lot about you."

Highbottom finally fucking leaves and Coriolanus leans back in his seat, all too comfortable with the power he holds. "What've you heard about me, doll?"

Soarynn tilts her head, almost like a lost puppy. "That you always land on top." Festus barks out a laugh, almost choking on his drink. "Yeah, he's been saying that shit since the University." Coriolanus elblows him to prevent any more embarrassing stories. "It's true though, I've managed to stay on top despite all the odds."

He wonders if Soarynn can relate, or if she's used to being stuck at the bottom.

"Sounds like you're an important man," she replies, dragging her fingers along the edge of the table.

Coriolanus can see her much better in this light although it's still dark in the room. Her outfit is even more provocative up close. Her breasts nearly spill out of her bralette, and the corset looks like it's one size too tight on her. There are frills on the edges, almost making it look like the shortest dress in the world. As his eyes travel down her body, he comes to the realization that she's not wearing a skirt, only panties. Lace, of course.

"I am," he answers, "and my lap is terribly empty."

꧁ ꧂

Drinking always makes time go by faster, but when you have a pretty girl in your lap, it goes by even quicker. Coriolanus is intoxicated with Soarynn and her sweetness. She smells so good, like vanilla and something else. Her laugh is infectious and her smile is contagious.

She's more than comfortable sitting in his lap while he plays a game of cards with his friends and some other patrons, all of who keep eyeing her up and down with jealousy.

Coriolanus keeps a possessive hand on her waist at all times while her ass is pressed against his growing boner, an issue that she isn't helping him resolve by constantly wiggling her hips back and forth.

"I think you're bluffing," Felix calls from across the table which means he has shitty cards and won't be winning anything this round. Coriolanus bites back a grin, not taking the bait. Soarynn leans back to look at his cards but doesn't say anything either since she said she doesn't understand any of these card games.

"Are you winning?" She whispers, brushing the shell of his ear with her lips. Coriolanus shudders involuntarily, used to being the one in control. He is in control, but she's been playing these fucking mind games with him since the moment she sat down in his lap.

"I am," he gets out, tightening his grip on her waist. "Looks like you're my lucky charm." More giggles fill his ear and the buttons on his shirt magically become unbuttoned by her deft fingers. "Maybe after this game, we could go somewhere more private," Soarynn whispers, grinding down on his lap.

Coriolanus swears under his breath, not wanting to lose control in front of all of these men. Definitely not when he's about to win either.

"That can be arranged."

It only takes two more rounds for Coriolanus to show his winning hand and collect his winnings. He tucks a few bills into Soarynn's bralette and her stockings. "For bringing me luck," he explains. He excuses himself from the table and the prying eyes. Soarynn takes his large hand and pulls him towards the back of the club where he knows they have private rooms. Coriolanus follows her blindly, admiring how she looks from behind.

He's much taller than her even though she's wearing high heels. "I've never seen someone win so easily," she says to him over the noise. Coriolanus does his best to look nonchalant, it's really just luck at the end of the day, but he also knows how to play his cards right.

All you have to do is play like you have nothing to lose, in life, and in the club.

"It's like you said, angel, Snow lands on top."

More giggles spill from her lips and they disappear behind a curtain into a long hallway of doors leading to a private room. "The biggest one is at the end of the hallway." Coriolanus is more than pleased with the accommodations he's met with when they walk into the room.

There's a bed, sofa, table with chairs and a beverage cart with all his favorite drinks. "Whiskey or bourbon?" He lets go of her hand and sits down on the sofa, legs spread, guard down. "You can pick." Soarynn smiles, grabbing the bottle of whiskey.

"How long have you been working here?"

"A few months," she shrugs, pouring him a glass. "It pays well, and I like the crowd it brings in." Coriolanus doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. Is it good to be a part of that crowd?

"What type of crowd?"

She brings over his drink and makes herself comfortable on his right leg, sitting on his thigh. "Rich men," she answers without hesitation, "powerful men, attractive men. Men who like to take care of girls like me."

Coriolanus takes the glass from her and uses his other hand to grab her throat, not choking her, just holding her still. "And what type of girl are you, Soarynn?" Most girls would be shaking in fear from his actions, but Soarynn just keeps on smiling. "I'm a good girl, Mr. Snow."

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, not believing her for a second. They both know exactly what kind of girl she is. "Then be a good girl and take care of the problem you've created, doll."

His cock is straining in his pants, desperate for a release. Soarynn obeys his orders, gracefully sliding off his leg and onto the hardwood floor. Coriolanus watches her dainty little hands go up and down his thighs, teasing him further.

It's a most glorious sight to see a woman like Soarynn on her knees for him. With bills between her breasts and her big blue eyes looking up at him like she's some fallen angel. Her light blonde hair is almost like a halo.

She finally grabs his belt and unbuckles it with ease, almost like she's done this before. He decides not to think about that, about the other men she's slept with before him because there won't ever be anyone else after him.

"You're bigger than most," she murmurs, peeling back his boxers along with his pants. Coriolanus chuckles at that little comment. He's heard that before. His cock is red at the tip, already leaking with precum after being teased for so fucking long. "I like my blowjobs to be thorough," he informs her, adopting a stricter tone, "and watch your teeth."

Soarynn bares her pearly whites in a teasing smile that he doesn't find to be too funny. "Relax," she says, "I know what I'm doing."

"I'll be the judge of that, darling."

Soarynn takes a firm hold of his cock, stroking him up and down while bringing her lips to the tip. Her tongue darts out Coriolanus almost drops his whiskey when she starts working on his tip.

She's a fucking natural.

Soarynn takes him into her mouth after a good minute of teasing and she easily bobs her head up and down his long length. Coriolanus has been told by many women how big he is, how hard it is to take all of him at once. Soarynn is clearly not like other women. With one hand still free, Coriolanus grabs a fistful of her hair so he can set the pace.

Soarynn lets out what sounds like a whine of protest, but her mouth is full at the moment, so he ignores it. "That's right, just like that," he breathes, tilting his head back. If he knew he could get drinks and a blowjob at the club, he would've started coming here years ago.

Soarynn gags when he pushes her head all the way down, keeping it there for a good ten seconds. Part of him waits for her to fight him against it, to try and pull away but she takes it like the good girl she claims to be.

Not much else is needed once she starts using her other hand to stroke the remaining length of his cock. Coriolanus comes undone with a loud moan while spilling down Soarynn's throat, tightening his grip on her hair. She doesn't waste a single drop, swallowing it all like a proper whore. Coriolanus sits back on the sofa, utterly exhausted after that.

"Well," he clears his throat, "I suppose you did know what you were doing."

Soarynn grins up at him, her appearance is still impeccable for someone whose throat just got fucked. "I told you." He pats his thigh, inviting her to come sit again and she happily obliges. He makes sure to clean himself off first and pull his pants back on just in case they experience a rude interruption.

The door locks but he doubts it'll hold if someone really wants to get inside. The lock is more of a courtesy if anything.

Soarynn cozies right up to him, settling down on his lap while he drinks his whiskey. "Do you want some?" She shakes her head, making a face. "I don't like that stuff." More for him, then.

Coriolanus lazily draws shapes on her bare skin, on her arms, her legs, her chest, leaving a small trail of goosebumps wherever he goes. "How much to fuck you?"

Soarynn sits up a little straight though she doesn't appear to be offended. More so excited at the prospect of making some money. "Mr. Highbottom is in charge of setting our rates."

Ah, so it all goes back to Highbottom. Coriolanus is willing to bet that he takes a cut of their earnings and pay as well.

"So, I pay you after I fuck you?"

She nods, "Mhm."

Perfect.

"Take this off," he pulls at the strap of her bralette, "and allow me to return the favor."

Soarynn is fast at getting naked. She easily unclips her bralette, bearing her chest to him. He admires her breasts for a moment, noting the rosy shade of her nipples and the perkiness of the breasts themselves. She's perfect. Coriolanus pinches one of her nipples between her fingers, watching as she gasps and arches her back.

"Sensitive, hmm? This'll be fun."

In under a minute, Coriolanus has Soarynn under him. She's already out of breath but they're just getting started. "How old are you?" He asks while peeling her panties down her legs. Soarynn lifts her hips to help him out. "Twenty-one."

He turns thirty in two months, but who's counting? Age is really just a number at the end of the day. "How many men have you slept with?"

"Eight."

Heaven help him.

"You won't ever sleep with ten," he tells her firmly, spreading her legs apart so he can feast on the sight of her cunt. Sure enough, it's perfect just like the rest of her. Wet, pink, and oh-so tight. Coriolanus almost starts to drool at the sight of it.

He gently pulls apart her folds, groaning when he truly sees how wet she's gotten from the teasing and the blowjob. "Your cunt is perfect."

"So I've been told."

He gently slaps her ass with his other hand, she can be a little bit of a brat and Coriolanus Snow doesn't like a smart ass.

Coriolanus doesn't waste another second diving into her wetness, tasting her for himself. She's as sweet as he imagined and sounds even sweeter with her high-pitched moans and whines. "Oh, oh, please," she whines, arching her back. Coriolanus keeps her pinned down to the sofa so he can enjoy her cunt. He pays special attention to her clit, sucking and pulling on it to drive her crazy.

He's had his fair share of women, but it's led him to be quite the confident lover in the bedroom.

"Fuck, oh fuck, right there, right there." He peers up to find Soarynn's face twisted in ecstasy. Her eyes are shut but her lips do all the talking, spouting absolute nonsense while overwhelmed with pleasure. Coriolanus slides a finger into her cunt and she's done for. Her cunt feels so tight, so perfect for him. Coriolanus starts pumping in and out of her cunt, keeping a steady pace while he continues to eat her out.

Her walls start to tighten and her entire body starts to shake. She's going to fall apart any minute now. "Come on," he says, pumping fasted, determined to see her come apart, "give it to me, darling."

Soarynn gives out a pitiful cry and the wire inside of her snaps. It's a sight to see, watching her orgasm wash over her and take control of her entire body. Her mouth falls open, her fingers twitch and her back arches off the sofa like a puppet on strings.

Coriolanus continues lapping at her cunt while she cums, wanting to give her an experience to remember. He only pulls away once she's fully finished and is panting. "That...that was good," she whispers, lying limply under him. Coriolanus smiles, admiring how she looks in her blissed-out state. They really could've done this on the bed now that he thinks about it.

With glossed-over eyes, Soarynn stares up at him, almost in an adoring way. "Most people don't care if I finish."

His eyes rove over her half-naked body, only covered by the corset that looks very painful and her stockings. "I'm not most people," he reminds her. Soarynn rolls her eyes and sits up on her elbows, bumping into his nose with her forehead. "I've gathered that. Are you going to fuck me, because that costs a lot more than eating me out?"

Coriolanus is painfully reminded of how this at the end of the day, is just a sexual transaction. She needs to get paid and he honestly needs to get the fuck out of here. As if he needs to be reminded, there's a loud knock at the door. "Coriolanus? We're leaving so hurry up in there."

Festus. Always there when you don't need him.

Soarynn sighs, carding a hand through her hair, "That answers my question. He only accepts cash by the way." Coriolanus narrows his eyes. Only accepting cash is like sounding the alarm for shady business. Which this is, but he's still not so sure about this Highbottom character.

"How is he? As a boss?"

The question catches Soarynn off guard but that's what he wants. "Fine." Not fine. Coriolanus easily slides two fingers into her cunt, curling them so deep inside of her and Soarynn's eyes damn near roll to the back of her head. "Let me ask again," he says huskily, leaning down to talk directly in her ear, "how does he treat you?"

His fingers begin to work their magic, going in and out of her cunt at a punishing pace. Soarynn cries out, maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure. Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference. Her hand latches onto his wrist but he's not letting up.

"He, he...he's," she chokes out, her head lolling back from the overstimulation, "he's mean, and he, he, he takes cuts from our pay."

That fucking asshole.

Coriolanus might as well finish what he started. He quickens the pace of his fingers and presses his lips to hers to quiet her down. Soarynn responds eagerly to the kiss, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. It doesn't take long since she's already got one orgasm under her belt for her to reach another one. Soarynn moans into the kiss allowing him to bite her bottom lip.

Coriolanus tastes blood when she cums.

꧁ ꧂

"How much do I owe you?"

Highbottom leans against the wall of his office, eyeing Coriolanus up and down as if he's not a paying customer. "For you, my friend, five hundred." Coriolanus thumbs through his wallet and lets out a low whistle. "Five hundred, huh? That's a steep price for some cunt, isn't it?" Soarynn blushes standing next to him, lovebites littered all over her neck from their last few minutes together.

"Well, we offer the best of the best here."

"I see. Here's the five hundred for you, and for you," he looks down at Soarynn, "a tip for your services." Coriolanus hands her two hundred dollars, easily the biggest tip she's gotten in her whole life and he's not talking about his cock. Soarynn's eyes widen along with Highbottoms but he looks much more greedier. "Oh," she says softly, brushing her hair out of her face, "oh, that's very nice of you."

"Yes, very nice. You know, we have some rules here," Highbottom interjects, "Soarynn knows the rules, don't you sweetheart?" Her excitement is gone in a second. "Half of our tips go to the house," she says, quieter than before and less excited. She's about to start counting the bills when Coriolanus stops her. "It's not a tip."

Now everyone's confused.

"Excuse me?"

Coriolanus flashes Highbottom a more genuine smile this time now that he's beaten him at his own game. "It's not a tip, it's just my way of thanking her. I always thank the women who service me."

"Is that a fact?"

"Mhm. Now, you go run along, I'm sure we'll see each other very soon, doll," Coriolanus tells Soarynn, giving her ass a pat. Soarynn does as she's told, walking down the hallway, only looking back at him once before she goes behind the curtain back into the main room.

"Did she say something when you two were alone? Because if she did, then I can deal with he-"

"She didn't say anything," he cuts Highbottom off this time. "In fact, I'd like to see her again this Friday."

There's a bit of a standoff between the men, both rich from different sources of income, both profiting off of young girls and their sexuality. "That can be arranged...for a price," Highbottom muses, flipping through his bills, "she's highly coveted as you can imagine."

Those words strike a nerve and Coriolanus clenches his jaw. Soarynn is a proper whore but he'd like to keep things a little more private between them, even if it's for a steep price. "I want her all to myself, even when I'm not here." Highbottom laughs, he fucking laughs at Coriolanus as if he didn't just try to swindle one of his workers in front of him.

"You mean she can't fuck anyone but you? Mr. Snow, please, I know that you know how ridiculous you sound right now. Soarynn has a job to do. Are you saying that you don't want her to get paid?"

"No, I just don't want her fucking anything that walks into this club. You'll both get paid, don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem."

"Mr. Snow, I have some very powerful friends who have taken a liking to Soarynn. What am I to tell them when she's suddenly off limits to them?"

"Tell them she belongs to Coriolanus Snow."

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus is beginning to realize that he's made a grave mistake, and it all started three weeks ago when he met a burlesque dancer named Soarynn who he couldn't get enough of.

At first, he was just looking out for himself. Sharing is not something he's familiar with, so he struck a deal with Casca Highbottom, the owner of the club she danced at. Soarynn could dance, she could wait on tables, she could flirt. But under no circumstances could she be fucked. That meant no kissing, fingering, or fucking.

Coriolanus thought Highbottom might have a stroke when he listed out all of his rules. But he wasn't about to risk Soarynn's tight little cunt or her pretty little head so he took the necessary precautions.

Plus, the last thing he needed was for her to get some nasty disease and then give it to him.

What started out as pure sex has evolved into something different, something...personal. Which is why he's climbing the rickety stairs of her apartment building right now to pick her up for dinner. He didn't dare call it a date in fear of her getting the wrong message. She's sweet, but she's nowhere near his league. Feelings be damned.

This apartment building of hers looks like a thousand health code violations sealed in cement but he's almost to the seventh floor. He's damn near gasping for air by the time he reaches the top of the stairs. The stairwell isn't air conditioned either and, of course, there's no elevator.

Coriolanus had hesitated to leave the safety of his car when it pulled up to the curb of the building. Soarynn lives in the outer circles of the Capitol whereas he lives in the City Centre, both the safest and richest place to live.

He opens the door that leads to the narrow, dimly lit hallway and begins looking for her apartment number. She had insisted on meeting him at the resturaunt and now he knows why.

Her door is the last one, naturally, but Coriolanus has already come this far. He knocks twice, listening to her run around in there before the door opens. Soarynn looks different when she's fully clothed.

Her hair is pulled back and her makeup isn't as intense. Like she lives two seperate lives. "You came," she says. Coriolanus takes a quick look down the hall he just trekked down, "It was quite the long journey, I must admit."

Soarynn smiles, a real, genuine smile. "Well, I'm almost ready. You can just wait out here in the hall." Coriolanus raises an eyebrow, it doesn't feel very safe out here in the hall. "Or I could come in, since you know, I've been paying your rent for the past month."

A blush crawls across her cheeks. Since she only sees him now at the club, Soarynn is fully dependent on Coriolanus to pay for her needs and that's just how he likes it. He tips her generously, more than enough to cover rent for this shabby little shack she calls a home.

"Alright," she mumbles, stepping aside. Coriolanus bravely enters her apartment, stunned at how...small it is. He figured with how much her rent costs, she'd live somehwere bigger. But everything is in one room, the bedroom, living room and kitchen all occupy the same space.

"It's a bit messy," she says, picking up some clothes off the floor, "I meant to clean it the other night but I got home so late..." Her voice gets tuned out as he looks around her space. Drawings are tacked to the walls, clothes and shoes are scattered across the floor, bills are stacked on her small table.

Soarynn is poor.

He eyes the dress she's wearing, small, short and tight. Not at all appropriate for where he's taking her tonight. "Is that what you're wearing?" Soarynn throws some of the clothes onto her small bed pushed into the corner, clearly flustered with the unexpected company. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

The dress ties in the back, but leaves little to the imagination. "I wasn't aware that you'd be wearing some like that," is all he says. Soarynn shrugs, obviously not too worried about her outfit for tonight. "It's one of my more modest pieces if I'm being honest."

That doesn't make him feel any better.

Coriolanus takes another look at the apartment, at the cracked walls, the leaking ceiling, the dirty window and the creaking floorboards. He figured with how much he paid her, she'd be living somehwere nicer. "You have a lot of unpaid bills," he notes. There are several overdue notices sitting on her table, stamped in bright red ink so she can't miss them.

"They're not due until the end of the month."

"Soarynn," he starts with a sigh but she's not having any of it. "It's fine, trust me, it's fine. I know what I'm doing and contrary to your own beliefs, I cna take care of myself."

"I beg to differ. Your apartment is falling apart, you have bills due, am I not paying you enough? Because if that's the case then I ca-"

"I'm fine," Soarynn insists, growing more and more frustrated. "You pay me more than enough, I promise."

Coriolanus just can't find it in him to believe her, not when this is where she lives. "Then why don't you move? Find a better place?"

"I happen to like where I live, thank you very much. And it's close to the club. I've never lived anywhere else but on the edge of the city." What a terrible way to live. "Surely, you could find something a bit bigger," he insists, already picturing his own penthouse as a perfect example.

Coriolanus resides on the Corso with the richest of Panem.

She's never been to his apartment but he's told her about it before, how grand it is, how it's been in his family for generations. Her apartment could fit into his apartment twenty times.

"You are paying your rent, right?" Some people will take and take and take just to spend your money on things they don't need. Like clothes or shoes but Soarynn clearly has plenty of both.

Soarynn huffs, putting her hands on her hips. He finds it very hard to take her seriously, not because of her job, but because of her short stature and bratty little attitude. "Yes, I am paying my rent. It's not really any of your business how I choose to spend my money, is it?"

Coriolanus takes two steps towards her, closing the distance between them quickly. He reaches out and grabs her jaw, not too harshly, but more than enough to get her attention. "Need I remind you that it's my money, darling? So it is my business, and I have no issue taking my money elsewhere, so tell me Soarynn, where is all of this money going?"

She struggles against his hold but it's pointless. Coriolanus is much stronger than her. He tries to imagine where she could be spending it. Perhaps she's been setting money aside to get away from all of this, but that would mean getting away from him and he can't have that.

"I...I help out some of the girls at the club, okay?"

Out of all the things she could've answered with, he wasn't exepcting for her to go with that. "The girls at the club?" He repeats, confused on what she means. All the girls make money at the club, whether they're dancers or waitresses.

"They don't get paid as much as I do, and they don't have someone like you paying them. Highbottom always takes a cut of their pay, so I've been helping some of them out here and there."

It seems that he's underestimated her. Coriolanus expected Soarynn to spend his money on bags and makeup but instead, she's been helping out her friends at work. Sweet, but stupid.

"Their problems are not your problems, Soarynn," he sternly reminds her. Soarynn bats his hand away, "I know. But you never said I couldn't help them, so I am. It's the least I could do, now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready."

"You're not ready yet?"

Soarynn brushes past him, completely ignoring his question. They have reservations at eight.

"Where are we eating?"

Coriolanus checks his watch, they have about half an hour before they need to be there. "The Grand Oak," he answers, walking over to the dirty window, "it's in the City Centre."

"Never been," she calls from what must be the bathroom.

"To The Grand Oak?"

"No, to the City Centre."

His eyes widen at her causal comment. Never been to the City Centre?

"In all your years, you've never been to the City Centre?" It's certainly a walk from here since she doesnt have a car, but this is practically unheard of where he comes from. "My father said that if I couldn't afford to eat there, then I probably couldn't afford to walk around there, either. Besides, I have all I need right here."

Soarynn lives on the outskirts of the Capitol, right by the reservoir which sounds nice but it's really not. It's dirty where she lives, shady and known for it's high crime rates. No wonder the club she works at is a five minute walk from here. Coriolanus only goes there because it's guranteed that no one he knows will recognize him there.

"You're in a surprise then," he says, looking at one of the drawings she has tacked to the wall. It's more of a sketch the closer he looks at it. Like a fashion sketch for a dress. He never knew Soarynn could draw, or that she even liked to draw.

"Okay, I'm ready."

He turns around to find that she's thrown on some lipstick and pulled her hair back frm her face. She looks pretty, poor, but pretty. The shoes she's wearing are the same shoes she wears to the club. "You don't have any other shoes?" Soarynn gives him a knowing look. "No."

They'll have to go shopping one of these days, then.

"Fine. Let's go or we're going to be late."

Coriolanus is more than happy to get the hell out of here, especially when a drop of water falls onto his head from the ceiling. With one hand on her lower back, he guides them out of the apartment and down the hallway. "How was work?"

Soarynn always asks him how work was even though they both know she doesn't care. It's the thought that counts. "Fine."

Going down the stairs is much easier than going up and they're outside in no time. "Wow, you have your own car," she gasps, stopping at the curb. He looks down and takes her hand, pulling her along. "I have my own driver too." His driver doesn't bat an eye when a hardly dressed girl gets into the car with Coriolanus.

"The Grand Oak," he says to the driver, slamming the door shut.

Soarynn presses herself against him despite the spacious backseat, baring her smooth legs. "I missed you today." She's always been good at changing the subject, causing him to go from angry and stressed to happy and laughing within seconds. Coriolanus bites back a grin, knowing that she's used that line on plenty of men.

"Did you now?"

"Mhm," she looks out the tinted windows, "I only went to work for a few hours. Highbottom let me take the entire night off. I bet you had something to do with that."

Coriolanus wraps an arm around her, resting his hand on her hip. "I might have stopped by his office on my way out last week." Coriolanus wasn't an idiot, he knew that Highbottom was keeping a close eye on Soarynn now that Coriolanus was exclusively paying for her. So for her to take the night off, Coriolanus slipped the man a few more bills.

"How sweet," she purrs, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Coriolanus returns the gesture with a kiss on the lips, causing both of them to get a little carried away. The car ride goes by fast while he's busy sliding a hand under her dress, teasing her. "Are we going anywhere else tonight?" She asks between kisses, pulling at his necktie. Coriolanus briefly stopped by his apartment to freshen up after work, putting on some fresh cologne and fixing a few of his curls.

Soarynn seems to be set on ruining his hard work.

"I don't know," he teases, "is there somewhere else you need to be?"

"Only in your arms."

There she goes, saying things like that when they both know this won't go any further than heated sex and kisses. It's fun to pretend though, acting like they have nothing to lose.

꧁ ꧂

"And for the lady?"

Soarynn scans over the menu for the tenth time, still unsure on what she wants to eat. "She'll have the salmon," Coriolanus answers for her. Soarynn doesn't protest and simply hands the menu back to the waiter. "Thanks."

Once the waiter leaves, she leans over the table. "I've never seen a menu that big before," she whispers. Coriolanus hums, he's more than used to fine dining, but Soarynn isn't. Her eyes were as big as saucers when they walked inside, immediately drawing attention to her exposed skin and interesting looking shoes.

Coriolanus should've rented out a private room for tonight. Lots of people have bee glancing over at them but Soarynn has remained oblivious to their judgemental stares, simply in awe of the opulence he lives in so casually.

"More wine?" She shakes her head, watching as he finishes off his second glass. "No thanks, I had something to drink at the club." All Highbottom lets the girls drink is posca, the cheapest alcohol there is but Soarynn is a lightweight.

"Isn't that Festus?"

Coriolanus can hear him before he sees him. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Coriolanus Snow and..."

"Soarynn," she finishes for him, flashing Festus a smile, "nice to see you somewhere else."

Coriolanus takes in Festus and more importantly, the woman standing next to him. Persephone Price, a woman he's been after for years now. They just started seeing each other but Persephone has no clue that Festus frequents nightclubs to play cards and get lap dances.

"Where else do you see each other?" Persephone asks, nervously looking between all three of them. Coriolanus clears his throat, "Soarynn is a...she's an old maid of mine. She works somewhere else now but Festus always treated her like a barmaid whenever he came over." Festus lets out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck while Soarynn shoots Coriolanus a murderous glare which he wisely ignores.

"Oh, well, it's nice to meet you," Persephone says. Soarynn offers a polite smile but she doesn't mean it. "You too." Festus is quick to steer Persephone away from them. "We should be going. I'll see you at work, Coriolanus."

"Sure, Festus."

The moment they're out of earshot, Soarynn gives him an earfull of calling her a maid. "Are you serious?" She seethes, shooting daggers at him, "A maid?"

"Would you rather me have told her the truth? That I pay you to fuck you because we can call them back over here," he offers, not appreciating her tone. "You're a dancer, darling, and Persephone doesn't need to know about Festus and his whereabouts."

"Why not?"

How can he put this nicely?

"The club you work at has a certain...reputation," he explains slowly and quietly so no one overhears them, "and men like us can't be seen visiting such places. Especially not by women we're courting."

Soarynn sits up straight in her chair. "Are you seeing other women?"

Coriolanus blinks once, twice. How did he get here?

"No, no, I'm not seeing other women because frankly, I don't have time to see other women," he grits out, "you are more than enough for my plate."

"Your plate? So what am I? A meal?"

"I always tip after I eat you out, don't I?"

If looks could kill, he'd be dead right now.

"I'm going home," she announces, standing up so fast that she almost knocks her chair over. Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache is already forming, he can feel it coming. "Soarynn, sit down right now, you're making a scene."

"You are making me feel like some cheap whore. Have a nice night," she snaps, walking away before he can say anything else. Coriolanus watches her go and counts to ten before flagging down the waiter. He makes up some bullshit lie about a family emergency and makes sure to tip a little extra, no one needs to hear about some young woman walking out on Coriolanus Snow at dinner.

Soarynn doesn't get far before his car pulls up on her walking down the street, absolutely fuming. "Soarynn," he calls out the window, "Soarynn, come back, stop walking away from me."

"Stop writing me off as some girl you just sleep with!"

Coriolanus winces at her loud tone. Must she be so loud?

They're about two blocks away from the Corso, so maybe he can fix this. "Darling," he tries, softer this time, kinder. "Darling, come here, please. Let me take you home and make it up to you." Soarynn comes to a stop, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks so out of place here in the City Centre. Still, she's his for now. His responsibility, at least.

"I'm tired," she says, taking a step towards the black sleek car, "I think it'd be best if I just went home." Coriolanus shakes his head, not ready to let this night go. "Come home with me tonight," he insists, reaching out a hand, "you still need to have dinner."

Soarynn contemplates his offer. It's a good offer, a great offer.

She has two choices: go home to her rundown apartment, or go home with him.

Her decison is made rather quickly, but it always is when you have nothing to lose.

꧁ ꧂

"You looked so cute!" Soarynn giggles, evading his strong hands when he tries to pull her back into bed. They just spent the past four hours fucking and now, Soarynn is going through his personal photos. Framed photographs can be found throughout his penthouse, left behind by his mother who passed away decades ago. He's never seen a reason to put them away, not when most of them are of his family.

The last he has of them.

"Come back to bed," he sighs, lazily reaching out for her. Soarynn is wearing the shirt he wore to dinner, it's quite big on her but she makes it work. Her hair is tangled and her makeup is smudged. She looks beautiful, even he can admit that.

"Why don't you have any pets? Even in your baby photos, there's no pets." Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head at the very notion of brining an animal into his home.

Soarynn is already more than enough.

"Pets are a lot of work," he explains tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. They still need to shower and he desperately needs to shave his face. Coriolanus prefers a clean shaven face at the moment so he needs to stay on top of it.

"I've always wanted a kitten," she says, climbing back in bed with him. Coriolanus closes his eyes, imagining having to take care of such a demanding animal. "Then why haven't you gotten one?" Soarynn could definitely afford one with the money he pays her whenever he visits the club.

"Oh, I don't know. It just wouldn't be fair to raise a kitten in such a small apartment and besides, money comes and goes," she says the last part quietly, causing him to open his eyes. That's his money she's talking about and his money isn't going anywhere.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She cards a hand through her hair. "I mean, how long are we gonna do this? One day you'll get bored or find some other woman, someone like the lady we saw with Festus and then I'll just be the girl you used to pay for sex."

Unfortunately, she's right. Coriolanus could never marry Soarynn, it's sweet idea, but incredibly unattainable. She comes from lower class, she's a proper whore. His reputation would never recover if they were to get married.

"Let's not think about the future," he wisely advises, "just enjoy the present." Soarynn frowns but doesn't argue, simpy cuddles up to him instead. Coriolanus isn't really one for being all soft after sex, but he supposes that he can make the rare exception for Soarynn.

She is right, after all. One day, he'll never see her again. He can't afford to reputation wise, and she could never keep up with him when it comes to finances.

As he drifts to sleep, he realizes that maybe that was a lie he told himself when this all started.

They both have something to lose.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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[paracosmic-murdock]

days of the new avengers* lives

episode seven: pets

you and yelena watch french movies that aren't dubbed, so you ask valentina for a french tutor to learn. alexei buys pets for the team. bucky training bob goes wrong.

careful who you assemble

pairing: new avengers* x fem!new avenger!reader

tags/warnings: new avengerz assemble, found family kinda, bullying john (maybe affectionately), mockumentary, sapphic reader, eventually mel gold x reader, using y/n as little as i can, this one has some feelz there around and lots of platonic bucky x reader that could be misunderstood (and was by certain someones), reader and bucky get caught in the void!!, tony stark mentioned, reader's position on civil war revealed, past wanda x reader (romantic + unrequited) mentioned, mentions of wanda's death, russian as sokovian, reader likes dogs, more to be added bc i'm going with the flow tbh

3.3K words

✰ days of the new avengers' lives masterlist

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Yelena and you had started a new tradition: movie night.

Your newest idea was to watch French movies. Thus far, you have seen Les Misérables, Persepolis, and Benedetta. Your difficulty to understand it well enough was stealing the magic from it, so you considered something.

Something that would require blackmailing and dedication.

As nobody else ever joined you —in all honesty, you wouldn’t want it any other way— you could put your plan in practice without much trouble. That way, you could also watch sad movies, cry in French, and not worry about John's mocking looks.

Because John is kind of an asshole and he finds your emotions funny.

“Can you imagine if John was there when we watched La La Land?” Yelena laughed.

“I think he would’ve cried, too,” you replied. “Unless he and Olivia are doing well.”

“Wait, they're talking like that?”

You looked at her, amused. “Are they talking like that? You bet things have been happening in John F. Walker's routine.”

“Things?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Things indeed,” You gave her a knowing look.

“Wait, what does she even know about my routines? I only go pick up my son!”

“Which son?” Ava asked with a smirk. “Your second-born in the making?”

“Shut up, Starr,”

“If it's a girl, call her Ava. If it's a boy, Bucky.”

“Beep off.”

Yelena and you grinned at each other as you worked on your conversation exercise to introduce yourselves. The greetings, deciding whether to be formal or informal when talking, wondering how it would be to make up new names were probably the most fun you've had in months.

The French lesson lasted two hours, and Thérèse, your teacher, even left you homework for the next class. You two were getting ready to do it when the elevator rang to announce Alexei's arrival from a mystery shopping session.

“Team!” he yelled, almost distressed, catching your attention immediately. “I brought gifts!”

“Dad, you scared the beep out of me!” she complained and stood up, looking at the ungodly amount of pets he was carrying. “What's all that?!”

“I brought pets!” Alexei exclaimed, putting the tanks and cages on the floor. “You take the yezh.”

He encouraged you to walk towards it and pointed at the hedgehog in its cage. “What?”

“This is Josh,” he said. You looked at the camera in awe. “I named her Josh because it sounds like yezh. But it's female.”

“Yezh is hedgehog in Russian,” Yelena explained.

“I know that,” you replied. “I meant what the beep.”

“Dad, why did you bring animals here?”

“For you to learn responsibility,” he said.

“I already have Sweet Cheeks and I'm very responsible, mind you.”

“And I basically co-parent Sweet Cheeks and Alpine,” You shrugged. “I- I can't-”

He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder. “You will be an excellent hedge mother. Where are the others?”

Soon enough, Bucky, Bob, Ava, and John were in the common room.

“I don't think this is a good idea, you know?” Bucky mentioned.

“Bob will have the lizard,” Alexei instructed, pointing at the very small leopard gecko in its tank. Bob approached it on the table and started looking at it carefully. “And Ava will have the fish.”

Ava made a disgusted face at the half a dozen of cardinal tetras, but accepted her unfortunate fate.

“John, the hamster will be yours,”

“Beep no, Alexei!”

He frowned. “Do you prefer the dog?”

“We will be returning those, Alexei,” Bucky said. “We can't have so many animals here. There's enough work with Yelena's guinea pig and Alpine when we go on missions.”

“No problem, we'll have them for a week only unless you decide to adopt them,” He grinned. “And I keep the dog. The pet person said this gets along with cats.”

Ava frowned. “I'm sorry, how did you manage to get that dog? I'm pretty sure that's a ridiculously expensive Charles Spaniel here.”

“I got a credit card from Valentina.”

“Uh, can you take care of a dog, Dad?” 

“We'll find out,”

You shook your head. “No, we won't. I take the dog. John takes Josh. You take the hamster.”

“What are you doing? Why are we entertaining this beep?” John questioned.

“I'll name them Maple,” You smiled and took the puppy in your hands. “Is it a girl or a boy?”

“Female.”

“C’mere, my baby,” you whispered to the puppy and then left her on your lap. “I think I'm keeping her, though.”

Bucky shook his head. “We're not keeping any of them.”

“Beep off, Bucky. I literally fought for Alpine to stay,” you reminded him. “And, calm down, you won't have to be Maple's uncle.”

He rolled his eyes.

“The gecko's name is gonna be Syrup,” Bob commented with a smile. “Like maple syrup.”

Your face lit up. “That's so cute! You are Maple's favorite uncle.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving the common room.

“It's okay, baby, Uncle Bucky is just super grumpy. He'll get over it. Let's find Alpine before he takes her to his room!”

“See? The pets were an amazing idea.”

John, Ava, and Yelena groaned in annoyance.

“That beep hedgehog is nocturnal.”

Ava snorted, smiling amusedly at the camera. “Sorry for that, Walker.”

“At least we aren't She-Hades and her dog. She's the one who'll have it hard.”

“Totally,” she agreed. “And I'm not particularly planning on taking care of those fish. If we go on a mission, the only person willing to take care of them is most likely to be on said mission with me or in charge of her own torment. Or worse, of all the pets: Maple, Syrup, Alpine, Sweet Cheeks… I can't add to the reason she goes insane, that's what John is here for.”

“We can never have a civil conversation, can we?”

“If you want one of those, you're looking at the wrong place to have one.”

“Yeah, I should know better at this point,” John rolled his eyes. “Anyway, let's go now. Alexei wakes up at ten.”

“Me and John are going to return our pets,” Ava announced, pointing at the tank and cage John was carrying. “Don't you snitch on us, Chad.”

Bucky, John, and Alexei believed that your lack of presence in the training room meant they could work with Bob themselves.

Since the mission had been very smooth and Bob had been great, they thought he was ready for ruthless fighting techniques. To teach him moves so he could later apply his brute force into them. To improve.

However, they were failing miserably.

“I beep told you that it would be too much!” John yelled at Bucky. “How many soldiers have you trained, huh? Huh?!”

Bucky groaned in annoyance. “Oh, and how many did you train?”

“Like, dozens!”

“Were any of them enhanced, Walker?!”

“What difference does it even make?! We're not training Sentry right now, this is Bob! You want him to turn into Sentry suddenly and use enough strength to kill us in one punch? No, right? Then stop pushing too much!”

“You are acting like he's Hulk.” Alexei said.

“Actually, emotion does trigger transformation,” Bob noted. “Y/N and I found out the bad way.”

“The bad way?” John frowned.

“Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he replied, trying to look unphased.

“What? You punch her?” Alexei asked.

Bob shook his head. “I wish it was something like that,” and he sighed. All three looked at him in acknowledgement and wondered how you had the guts to leave the training room without giving away the fact that you spent hours in the Void only to help Bob, as if it was nothing. 

But Bucky knew. He knew why you did it: because you cared. Because you had been where Bob was: taking that ‘chance’ to be part of something bigger, maybe to help in a way that mattered, not in control, having something anyone would call a gift being closer to Hell on Earth, on the wrong side before earning a choice, redeeming yourself as if you could make up for everything you've done one day. And, if you could do something to help ease Bob and support him in his journey, you would. You would go to lengths beyond you if you knew it would help him. Bucky knows that too well because you've done the same for him.

The connection you and Bucky share goes way beyond the people and spaces that link you. It goes beyond Steve and beyond Wakanda. It is there in key moments: being HYDRA's favorite toys to break, you leaving everything behind so you could be there for him despite not knowing him—not really at least, realizing that the only thing keeping you from solitude and insanity was having each other, facing the loss of the people you loved the most together, crossing the line of morality to protect each other… the things you have done for him and he for you, the things you are still willing to do without hesitation; that is what connects you.

“You guys don't have to do any of this, you know? Just because I felt like training today doesn't mean I had to.”

So, maybe it was the Bucky that loves you and wishes to protect you above all, or maybe the Bucky that was jealous at the thought of his best friend going through all that trouble for someone else. Like, is he not the special one anymore? 

He doesn't know which option was more embarrassing for him.

“Yeah, I honestly think we have to be heavily trained first,” John noted. “But I'll talk to Y/N.”

“I'll help,” Bucky said. “We can do this, Bob.”

“Are you sure? I know you knew what I meant when I said I hurt her worse than physically. I don't want to do that to you.”

Bucky raised the corner of his lips in a kind, small smile. “You won't hurt me, Bob. I'm not scared of you, I trust you.”

Chad congratulated them for the meaningful shot and left.

“He totally shouldn't have trusted me,” Bob said with embarrassment. He looked anywhere else to avoid the camera, eyes landing on Syrup.

He sighed.

“I guess I should learn to be in control.”

“Shit, fucking shit,” you murmured to yourself, running into the training room and closing the door behind you in hopes for Bob's relapse not being bad enough to spread much further to the point it could exist or be seen outside the room. “Fuck…”

You threw your bag anywhere and ran into the shadows, getting ready to spend the possible worst couple hours of your month there.

Once you were inside, you appeared in your room. The one you got used to by now.

And you knew the drill: ignoring your family's bodies, turning the man crouched and about to find you under the bed to stone before he saw you—before he took you, getting under the bed and in front of a smaller yourself, wiping your ten-year-old version's tears, and kissing your own forehead. “Vse budet khorosho, detka.”

Telling yourself that ‘everything will be alright, little one’.

It hurt, but not enough to harm all that much.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in your old room at the Avengers Compound. This one? It was new, and you already hated seeing Tony that last time and sensing the disappointment in his voice he tried to hide as he said goodbye.

“I heard it's too hot in Wakanda,” He shook his head. “And that there's not much to do.”

An eighteen year-old you grinned. “Actually, I think there's a lot for me there, you know? Like… too much happens in this fuckass city. A little peace will do no harm. And you can call me, you know? I can always come visit if I'm welcome.”

“Are you one call away?” Tony asked, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“As long as nobody throws my ass in jail,” You saw yourself shrug. “I'm sorry for… leaving. I feel like staying out of it was choosing the side of indifference, but I never wanted to be against anyone. I was never sure what was the right thing, I don't think I'll ever be, I just know I never wanted to hurt my family. That includes you and Steve too.”

“And Wanda.”

You pressed your lips tightly. “She got dragged into another war. When she was gaining as much normalcy as an Avenger can get, Lagos happened. This happened. I don't blame her, even if you do.”

“But it hurts,” Tony pointed out the thing you knew too well.

“She got away,” you murmured. “I thought we had had enough war for a hundred lifetimes, that we could just leave and start over. She thought otherwise, so… now she's gone and overthinking it is of no use.”

“I'm sorry about this. I shouldn't have let this happen, let it come this far.”

You sighed. “We are all at fault, Tony. I'm sorry about it, too. I'm sorry for leaving.”

“But you're still a kid. You don't have to be sorry for choosing yourself for once.”

That was the problem. You weren't choosing yourself—you were choosing Bucky.

You were choosing the man who killed his parents over him and he knew it better than he would've wanted to. He knew why. He knew you saw in Bucky the darkness left by the light HYDRA stole from both of you. He knew you enough to catch it from the moment you backed off and decided to leave them to fend for themselves instead of signing the Sokovia Accords or choosing teams.

Tony felt your betrayal, you knew he did. And he saw that silent awareness in your eyes as you let him live in your lie. He knew how it killed you to leave it all behind, so he chose someone other than himself for once and just went with it to spare you.

And, if he knew that would be the last time you saw each other, he would have hugged you before closing that door without looking back. You, however, knew that it was probably the last time, but didn't have the guts to stop him.

You just cried without realizing it before blinking and appearing in Westview that day, when Wanda's hex was finally lifted and she chose to leave instead of picking you. She rejected your love like you knew she would, because you meant little compared to the grief Vision left behind. That day haunted you because you could have done more. You could have insisted she stays instead of blaming her for leaving you. You could have offered comfort instead of telling her she would lose the one person who loved her through everything, that not even Vision knew her like you did, that nobody would love her like you always have, that she was making a mistake. You could have had some dignity and respect instead of making her feel guilty for trying to find her own path. If you hadn't been so hard on her, you know she would have stayed.

Because she loved you, too; maybe not like that anymore. But she loved you. And your words were what pushed her to the edge that one day, what caused the detrimental solitude that drove her mad.

And now she is gone, and you have made peace with it despite who you turned into the moment she walked away from you, but you could never forget her or the mark she left on you.

So you turned around and, when you did, you saw Bucky breaking down. You saw him look at himself as the Winter Soldier, telling Steve he was his mission, hitting him as if he were a punching bag in a rage room, hearing his best friend say he would never hurt him back because he was with him ‘til the end of the line, whatever that meant. So you ran to Bucky like you have learnt to do by force of habit.

“Buck, Bucky, look at me,” You got in front of him, interrupting his view. “I'm here. I'm right here. I'm…”

Suddenly, the void perished. Bucky was still on his knees, crying in silence, a vacant stare you hadn't seen in a while.

You didn't look away, you didn't care for it.

“Bucky,” you whispered, meeting his eyes. “It's over. You are here, you are safe, you are safe with me.”

His breathing was ragged, soon turning into desperate gasps for air. You only held him, driving his head to your chest so he could mimick your breathing and his ear could catch your heartbeat.

Steady, alive, there.

You hushed him and caressed his hair. Gently, softly, careful, with a fondness that grounds him, especially when he has felt it for long enough to remember he is too privileged.

Just then, he held you tightly as if you could slip away any second. As if the moment he let go of you, you would go somewhere more important. As if he was just lucky that you stumbled onto him first.

But it wasn't like that, because Bob was at ease already. Mel, appearing like God himself had summoned her, was standing beside him and staring at the whole thing.

And when you looked up and noticed it, you caught no one other than Chad there filming the scene of you and Bucky.

“Chad,” you called him. He cut immediately and showed you a thumbs up, like congratulating you for the show. “Listen to me very carefully because I will not repeat myself: if you don't delete that video right this fucking second, I will kill you. I am not saying this just to say it, I am not joking, and this is not a warning. This is a threat, and you might as well report this to HR or even the police, because I am dead serious.”

“Delete it, Chad,” Mel ordered. “The views or whatever you want, they're not important. This is.”

Once Chad had shown her that he did indeed delete the footage of you calming Bucky down, Bob escorted him out of the training room.

But Mel stayed for some reason she ignored and witnessed first hand how deep your connection with Bucky was. She realized that you couldn't live without each other, and that whatever she was feeling and whatever you might feel too, if anything at all, would never be anywhere as great.

“I'll be heading out,” she informed, taking a step back.

“Mel,” you called her and, against her better judgment, she stayed. “Thank you.”

Mel didn't know for sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't you thanking her. Maybe the delusional in herself wanted you to tell her that it wasn't what it looked like, asking if she could wait for you and talk. But it wasn't that, which only meant that you saw her as her actions, not as her.

All she ever wanted was for anybody to see her. The Mel she is outside of Val's assistant, the Mel she might be.

She thought you didn't.

But you certainly did, just not right this moment where the only person who had never left you, who had always accepted you, needed you the most.

Mel also valued that. Seeing you being so caring made her like you even more, made her wish so bad she could get that version of you for herself.

But does she have to be a broken thing to get your attention? Or would just Mel be interesting enough?

[corovera]

Ohhhhkay, this is going to be a long one.

First of all, define “lives.” If you mean exists, then that’s not an AU, that’s canon as of 5.3. Which…you all probably know already. Sometimes I’ve found it hard to tell who didn’t get the memo, who acknowledges but chooses not to focus on it, and who’s intentionally ignoring it because they’re uncomfortable with it or feel like it’s worse, which…fair enough.

To be fair, it doesn’t get acknowledged much or elaborated upon in-game, which IMO is a bit crazy-making. From a writing standpoint, I get why it’s like that (his arc’s over, it would cheapen things if it happened too often, etc.), but I miss him, dammit! We’re really overdue for him to chime in on something, but I get that there needs to be a good reason. Maybe when they’re able to connect to the First properly? I could see a brief comment on that.

At least find an excuse to namedrop him and give him a codex entry so all this out-of-game stuff from the lore books and the concert last year can be in the game! Is that too much to ask?

…Anyway. I have a ton of headcanons about the details. I don’t think it’s quite what OP means, since it’s not an AU where he’s /alive/-alive, it’s taking what little we’ve been given and running with it, but I’ll share anyway if that’s OK.

For Syrene’s canon, sometimes he’s actively experiencing things through her (always vision and hearing, but other senses if he chooses) and sometimes he’s asleep or only partially aware of what’s up. Partial awareness (he compares it to dreaming about someone else) means he remembers what she was doing once he’s fully awake, so he usually prefers that over sleeping too much when she’s awake. If he wants to, he can retreat to a cozy inner world of sorts that looks by default like a miniature aetherial sea, so he doesn’t have to watch all the time, but he likes to.

They can and frequently do communicate - not usually with words, but there’s enough overlap between them for intent and emotion to come across, and they’ve gotten good enough at reading each other for it to be effective. Sometimes the emotional overlap makes things tricky - if they’re both feeling something strongly, it can create a feedback loop of sorts and make it that much more intense. Took a lot of getting used to. Endwalker was A Time.

It’s not like hearing voices, but she can tell what he wants to say, if that makes any sense. Basically, I’m sticking to the letter of the concert bit that says they can’t usually talk, but not the spirit of it. Because…we did hear him? Before the fight with Eldibus? I’ve wondered some if that statement was meant for us, the players, and not the WoL in universe, because while it’d explain some things, it still doesn’t quite seem right. Also, I will happily take advantage of dream-sharing being on the table as of that same lore.

Anyway, they don’t share all their memories, but they can dig through each other’s if they choose to. They have an unspoken agreement to only do it with permission, or when they’re shared freely.

Going off how he talked to Seto that one time, he can borrow her body with her consent, but rarely does. More frequently, they use a smaller-scale version of this to talk out loud in private if there’s something too complicated for their usual communication to work. This also means he can talk to other people through her, but it takes a long time before he’s comfortable doing that, and only with certain people.

I’m thinking at some point (maybe after Endwalker?) Syrene’s able to figure something out using Azem’s crystal to give him temporary form so that they can either interact face-to-face or have a break from each other.

The Scions and some of her friends and family know about all of this, but the general public does not, and they want to keep it that way.

In general, they’re both happy with the way things turned out, and for me, that’s the most important part.

I don’t ship them, for the record - I see his and Syrene’s relationship as queerplatonic. Just because I’ve had a huge crush on him for a year and a half doesn’t mean she does!

ardbert lives au enjoyers: what is your explanation for it?