#snuck rogue in there

[captain-ghost]

It's happening again.

[emacrow]

Phantom the new rogue in gotham.

Gotham's new rogue started out during Gotham's museum new night theme space area that started at 9pm. Unfortunately, close due to the repaired need to be done instead of opening today as Bruce and his fam were with them, along with other people, sadly disappointed. (The bats had to fight two rogues who ruined the space part of the museum the previous night for attempt stealing a priceless artifact from there)

The group were in the museum garden when out of nowhere, the doors were close shut with glowing green chains, locking the garden area of the museum became ice cold.

Was it Mr. Freeze? No he was at the other side of Gotham city.

The culprit was a very tall, long white-haired androgynous person in an ancient looking uniform with six glowing green eyes, pointy ears and sharpen teeths, four arms pulling out a comedically large machine from the sparkling starlight that was his gravity defying robe.

"I had enough of this city, no stars in the sky, not even a single gleam of fresh air in sight, and now the space area of museum is closed down for repairs! I destroy the accursed clouds the dare block my views!"

"Gotham city can thank me, Phantom later!" The being named Phantom said before any of the Bats could distract the obvious new rogue for some of them to escape. The being pressed the button, causing the machine to shift, literally draining the city electric power, turning a ray toward the darken clouds, glowing an ominous lararus Pit green color blasting straight toward the sky as people started panic and scream.

The entire smog clouds that were covering black out Gotham city were being filled and coated over by Lararus Pit green glow before suddenly it was shrinking, along with the clouds and the smog...

30 seconds in in, the dark sky clear of the clouds completely the night sky full of stars, the moon was full and beautiful. Bruce immediately looked down to where the rogue was only to find him gone, along with the machine.

People were staring in awe at the night sky.

The bats would have no clue what had happen as day break in the next day, gotham city having a clear sky day with not a tiny bit of smog out beside a powder white cloud here and there.

Cass is typing in chat with the other robins.

Black Bat: i can fix him 🦇

Part 2 -> here

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason keeps accidentally drawing parallels between his running away to Ethiopia and getting killed.

He leaves a note saying he‘ll be back soon? Three terrified bats AND a supe crashing through the roof of a 7/11.

Casually mentioning he‘ll be going overseas to check up on a lead? Surprise! Nightwing‘s going the same way! What a coincidence!

Jason pushes someone off the roof? “Don’t worry Jaylad, I know it was an accident!!!!”

The next gig takes place at an abandoned warehouse? “Explosives whomst?? No, Jason, of course I didn’t scout the area beforehand. Don’t be absurd. Your bombs?? Oh, those were yours?”

Look, it’s not that Jason doesn’t appreciate a demonstration of how much they care. But he’s getting seriously fed up with the level of overprotectiveness everyone’s displaying.

Although, in retrospect, he could have handled this whole thing better than having an open spat with Bruce and then disappearing on them for two months straight. Oops.

(In his defense, Kori got them cards for a once-in-life-time-space-opera.)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 174

Despite what people complain and snark about, Bruce does in fact have contingency plans for pretty much everything. And while he doesn’t have an exact contingency for Jason apparently accidentally kidnapping the apparently prince of the Realms- some infinite space where the dead resided according to Zatanna and Constantine, he’ll have an existential crisis about it later thanks- he did have one for his kids accidentally kidnapping someone. 

He just doesn’t think that exact plan will work in this case, seeing as that plan had to do with civilians and not very large kings that could obliterate the entire world with a hand wave, nevermind the fact that they have so many armies. Not to mention what is apparently both the king’s second-in-command and brother. 

Well, if none of his usual contingencies won’t work and Constantine’s attempts at making a deal isn’t working, nor is the other’s attempts to talk the two down, then it’s plan Z time. Seduction it is. 

[bunny-extract]

wip that’s been sitting in my drafts and the back of my head for forever. Pen pals with König <3 my creepy boy

@ivymarquis for the Wednesday wip reminder <3

[ghosts-of-love]

having a real fun time drawing birds now whenever i get high, what's that about

[thespoonunderyourbed]

bumped in the head.

Considering that Danny has been put skull first through buildings, I honestly think that if someone snuck up behind him and hit him with a crowbar or something while having only normal human strength he would barely notice. He might look behind himself out of curiosity of what just bumped into him though. Imagine if he was in Gotham and that is how he is outed as "not normal" to both a rogue and the batfamily.

[musebymidnite]

Imagine — 003

Tipsy!Sevika x Tipsy!Reader(Femme)

CW: Car Sex, g!p, pnv, fluff & smut

Men & Minors dni or else!!

Synopsis: Y’all got turnt at your friend’s wedding and get a little freaky in Sevikas ride.

“Shh! You’re gonna get us caught!” You giggled as you awkwardly stretched out in the back of Sevikas car. You were giggly from the champagne you downed at your friends wedding.

“I’m not even being loud, you’re the one that nearly- mm!” Sevika was swiftly cut off by your lips capturing hers in a kiss.

She could taste you, the last piece of chocolate cake you’d eaten off her plate. She could’ve sworn she felt the bubbles from the champagne still on your lips. Your kiss provided warmth, comfort, and caused a weak feeling in her knees as she leaned over you. Your tongue seeked out hers with ease. Both of your lips parted and overlapped over one another with familiarity.

The two of you snuck off from the ceremony. It was still early in the night, but the alcohol grabbed a hold of the two of you before you knew it. Something about white wines always shot right to that precious flower between your legs. You needed Sevika so bad in the moment, but in the venue wasn’t really an option. You were tipsy but not enough to do something as explicit as fuck your girlfriend inside the church your friend’s wedding is in.

Now here you were, cramped in Sevikas car as the two of you attempted a quickie. Sevika pulled from you and kissed down your neck, her hands were already trying to figure out how to unzip the side of your dress and get to those beautiful breasts of your. She was salivating.

“Fuck you’re so hot like this..” she mumbled against heated skin. “Why is this zipper so ugh!” her complaint was followed by the small ripping sound of your dress. “Shit- sorry.”

“Sevika!” You scoffed and grabbed the small tear. “This dress is so expensive, what is with you.” The two of you paused to look at each other before busting out in intoxicated laughter.

You leaned up and tried to position yourself so she could sit down in her lap instead. You proceeded to get the top half of your dress down first. When Sevika was sitting upright she grabbed your waist and pulled you into her lap. Her lips sought your skin again and your hands found the back of her hair. You pressed into her kisses as they trailed down your chest and around your nipples.

A soft moan slipped from your lips when she began to suckle on one. It turned you on so much to see her so focused on your body, even hotter was the deep rogue color on Sevikas face from the drinking prior. In the meantime you began to grind in her lap. Her strong hands gripped at your thighs beneath your dress.

“Oh you’re really eager…” Sevika said as she sat back a little. “You’re getting me so hard.” She groaned out as you pressed against the front of her tuxedo pants more.

“I want it.” You moaned out and reached between the two of you.

“I know baby, I’ll give it to you.” She looked up at you with those pretty eyes and smiled. Her hands moved to unzip herself. The fabric of her underwear stretched slightly to show her erect self.

You lick your lips subtly and groan. “Fuck…look at you.” You held your hand up to Sevikas lips and signaled for her to spit in it. Once the saliva puddled in your palm you reached into her underwear to start stroking her. Her cock was hot and thick, not to mention so sensitive. Every stroke elicited a suck in of air once you’d get near her tip. Your fingers rubbed right around her frenulum piercing causing her to clench her jaw in arousal.

“Shit…” she moaned and gripped at your thigh. She was already starting to buck in your hand.

You cooed at her, your speech still slightly slurred.

“So hard for me…” you watched as Sevikas expression turned desperate. Her thick brows knitted. “Look at me…tell me you want me.”

Sevikas eyes were already starting to twinkle with arousal. Her abdomen tightened when your stroking speed increased. A sharp moan left her body. “I fucking need you. So goddamn much. Ah- ah!” She jolted when you moved your wrist faster.

“You’re already leaking.” You said teasingly.

Sevika slid her free hand under your dress and between your thighs now. Her fingers slipped your panties to the side and met the slick interior with ease. She ran them back and forth through your needy pussy before bringing them up to her lips. She tasted you on her fingers, natural and ever so sweet. Your pheromones always drove her wild.

“You’re drenched..” she looked up at you. “Should I fill you up? Hm?”

You giggled and covered your face, the alcohol mixing with your arousal was making you feel floaty. “What do you think?” You replied as you scooted farther over her, angling yourself perfectly over her cock.

Sevika moans when you lower yourself onto it. You slipped onto her so fucking perfect. You started to lift yourself up and down slowly. Sevika held onto your waist and watched you as your lips parted with relieved sighs. Your desperate motions were sending Sevika into absolute bliss.

“Fuck- oh my god you’re so fucking sexy. Keep going, beautiful.” Sevika praises up at you as she tries to follow your movements.

Sevika moved her hips slightly as you continued to ride her. You felt her hands hold onto your waist. Her grip firm and affectionate. Her thumbs rubbed gently over your skin as you leaned forward to hug her neck. Sevika groaned and started to buck her hips up and kiss against your neck. She breathed you in, smelling a mix of your perfume and sweat.

“So needy for me hm?” She asked as she continued to fuck into you faster.

You let out a whine and gripped onto her shoulder. Words didn’t escape your lips though, it was more akin to a flood of begging and moans. At this angle, your legs to either side of her thighs while she spread your ass apart slightly was sending you into paradise. You felt so exposed, so dirty, naughty. You didn’t even care if the car was visible shaking now.

“You were driving me crazy with how gorgeous you looked out there in your bridesmaid dress.” Sevika pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “The little white flowers in your hair, fuck…” she moaned when you tightened around her length.

“You like that?” She chuckled. Her lips continued up your neck and to the conch of your ear. “You like when I compliment you, my sweet sweet baby.”

Your body shuddered and you let out another moan. This one more intense than the other. You tried to keep in pace with Sevika but it wasn’t possible. She was stuck at a determined speed to make you feel amazing. Her breath was heavy by your ear. You could hear the slight growls under her breath.

“Sev I’m close!” She nearly shrieked out.

Sevika nodded and wrapped an arm around your lower back. She held onto you tightly and continued her dutiful pace. She moaned against your skin every time your walls would contract around her.

“You’re going to make me finish first if you keep gripping on me like that, honey.” Sevika joked but it really felt like that.

You reached between the two of you and started to rub at your needy pearl. That’s what sent to two of you over the edge. The way you leaned back now, hand rubbing in determined circles, lips parted, brow twitching slightly. Your hips stuttered with hers as the two of you arrived to your orgasms. The feeling tore through the both of you simultaneously. You felt Sevika pull out from you quickly as you finished out your orgasm.

She didn’t want to finish in you, she’d feel bad making you walk around like that the rest of the night. Instead she opted for finishing in her own hand. The tipsy part of you wanted to complain about how much you wanted to do it. But instead you went to clean off her hand with your mouth. A few soft suckles of her fingers later and the two of you tried to compose yourself enough to step out the car.

“I think it’s okay, it’s pretty empty in the lot.” You said softly as you cracked open the window.

Sevika was fixing her tie and zipping up her pants. She cleared her throat and followed your line of sight. She smoothed her hair down before opening the car door. First she stepped out and then she extended a hand to help you out. There were a few wedding guests in the lot but none were truly paying attention.

Sevika shut the door behind you and turned to face you once more. She leaned down and examined your attire. Besides the wrinkles in the satin of your dress and the small tear at the zipper you held up pretty good. Sevika grabbed some wet wipes from the passengers seat and wiped off her hands and then your own. She was always so attentive with you.

“Oh, do you have your lipstick? It’s a little smudged here.”

You reached in your small purse and pulled out the gold tube. Before you had a chance to pull the lid off the lipstick tube she had slipped it out of your hand.

“This is my favorite part.” She said softly as she tilted your chin up and started to apply the color. “So pretty.” She smiled to herself, her hands expertly touched up your makeup. “There we go. Picture perfect.” She handed you the tube back.

You blushed a little and shyly hit her bicep. “Oh hush.”

Sevika pulled you close and held your hand. The two of you started your walk back to the venue. The gravel crunched under your shoes as you approached closer. Sevika let out a soft sigh. Your hand slipped from hers and traveled up her arm to steady yourself a bit more. Your cheek pressed against her arm as well.

“You know, when I was watching your friend up there in her wedding dress I couldn’t help but think of you. I’m not the most sappy person but it made me tear up.”

You tilted your gaze up to her and smiled a little. “You sure it’s not the champagne talking?”

She shot you a playful annoyed look. “I’m serious. You’d look so stunning as my bride. One day it’ll be us up there.”

Your heart skipped several beats and you glanced away from her. The heat in your face felt excruciatingly more visible.

“Yeah…one day.” You said fondly.

a/n — heyy so I hope the gays enjoy this one. Lemme know !! I have much more in store I just am always so busy 🥲. I believe the vampire fic will be posted soon. But in the meantime…happy pride !!!

A musebymidnite creation.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Underneath the metal

Thunderbolts* Bucky Barnes x teammate!reader

Summary: After you’re injured on a solo mission, Bucky—your enemy-turned-teammate—steps in to take care of you, revealing feelings neither of you can ignore.

Word count: 1,965

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You and Bucky Barnes didn’t get along. From day one, it had been glares, snide remarks, and the kind of tension that made everyone else on the Thunderbolts team either exit the room or place bets.

He was brooding and cold. You were fire and sarcasm. Oil and water—if oil had a metal arm and a hundred-yard death stare.

Which is why it was almost funny—almost—that you got shot on a mission you’d begged to be sent on instead of him.

You’d been tracking a rogue scientist through an old Hydra compound in Slovakia, determined to bring him in without backup. But things went sideways fast. You barely made it out alive, collapsing just inside the hangar of the Thunderbolts’ safehouse, soaked in blood and pride.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You wake to pain.

A bright, aching throb in your side. Something tight around your ribs. The sterile smell of disinfectant.

And Bucky.

He’s sitting next to your cot, face grim, arms crossed. That stupid metal one glinting in the dim light.

You blink slowly. “If this is hell, it’s disappointingly sarcastic.”

His eyes shoot to yours. Blue and burning.

“You almost died,” he says, and it sounds more like an accusation than concern.

“Yeah, well. Almost doesn’t count.”

You try to sit up and immediately regret it. Your ribs scream in protest. Bucky’s hand shoots out to steady you, warm fingers surprisingly gentle as they press to your shoulder.

“Lie back.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You glare. “Didn’t ask for your help.”

“No,” he snaps, “you didn’t. You just snuck off like an idiot and bled all over the compound.”

You open your mouth for a biting retort, but something in his expression stops you cold.

He looks—wrecked.

His jaw tight. Hands clenched. And his voice, when he speaks again, is low and raw.

“Who did this to you?”

The question hits harder than the bullet did.

You glance away, throat tight. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.”

He leans forward now, and there’s no teasing in his face, no smug grin or sarcastic jab. Just worry. Sharp, undiluted worry.

“Tell me.”

You swallow. “It was one of the guards. Saw me before I saw him. Got a lucky shot. I handled it.”

His metal hand curls around the edge of the bed. “You didn’t handle it. You nearly bled out alone.”

“I didn’t want to risk dragging anyone else into it.”

He lets out a sound between a scoff and a growl. “So instead you’d rather die being a goddamn martyr?”

You bristle. “You don’t get to lecture me.”

“I do when I’m the one who carried you back.”

Your heart stutters. “What?”

“I found you in the hangar. Barely breathing. You passed out before you even saw me.”

He stares at you like he’s memorizing your face, as if making sure it’s really you.

“I thought you were gone.”

Something inside you cracks.

You’ve spent months trading barbs and pushing each other’s buttons, but right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the last thing tethering him to this world.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “For going alone.”

He doesn’t reply right away. Just looks at you, searching your face.

Then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, he murmurs, “You scared the hell out of me.”

You blink, stunned.

And then, because the painkillers are still fogging your brain and your heart is wide open and aching, you whisper, “Why do you even care?”

He stands abruptly, pacing once before turning back. Frustration radiates off him.

“Because I do,” he says, exasperated. “Because somewhere between you calling me a fossil and nearly blowing my arm off during sparring, I started giving a damn.”

You stare at him, pulse hammering.

He rubs a hand down his face, eyes tired. “I know we’ve never been exactly… civil. But I’d rather take a thousand of your insults than lose you.”

Your throat tightens.

“I didn’t know you felt—”

“Well, now you do.”

His voice is quiet again. And something about his vulnerability—that bare, open honesty—feels heavier than anything Hydra ever put you through.

You shift in the bed, trying not to wince. “Can you… stay? Just for a bit?”

His gaze softens. “Yeah. Of course.”

He settles back into the chair beside you. For a moment, the room is still. The air between you has changed, no longer charged with animosity but with something tentative, delicate.

You break the silence with a smile. “Still hate you a little.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well. You’re a pain in my ass.”

But his fingers brush yours on the edge of the cot, feather-light. And you don’t pull away.

You let them rest there.

Warm. Steady.

Real.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Two Weeks Later

You’re back on your feet, still sore, still healing—but training again. Bucky watches you from across the gym, arms folded, pretending not to look. Which is a lie, because he hasn’t stopped looking since you stepped onto the mat.

You fake a punch toward the bag and glance at him. “You stalking me now, Barnes?”

He smirks. “Making sure you don’t get yourself killed again.”

You toss your gloves onto the bench and walk toward him, towel slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of him.

“You’re a terrible liar, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

You nod, stepping close. “You don’t want me alive just because we’re teammates.”

“No,” he agrees, voice low. “I don’t.”

You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating off him.

“You gonna do something about it?” you murmur.

He hesitates, eyes flicking to your lips. “Only if you want me to.”

You lean in just a bit. “I do.”

His lips brush yours, tentative and reverent. It’s not a fireworks explosion. It’s something softer—like a wound finally healing.

And when he pulls back, forehead resting against yours, he whispers,

“Next time you run into danger without me, I’m chaining you to the jet.”

You grin. “Kinky.”

He groans. “Regret. Instant regret.”

But he’s smiling, and so are you. Because for the first time since this whole twisted Thunderbolts mission started, you’re not just surviving.

You’re living.

And maybe—just maybe—falling in love with the man you once thought was your greatest enemy.

[nightingale-prompts]

Ghostlight -DCxDP prompt

Tim only had one mission tonight.

Investigate the abandoned Monarch Theater.

There had been reports of noises inside and lights turning on. The obvious answer is that a rogue is using it as a base and will eventually use it as a stage for an overly complex scheme. Perhaps it was Riddler, two-face, or most likely Joker, but they were all still in Arkham.

The problem was that Monarch Theater was on Red Hood's turf, and he didn't want anyone in the family there. It would have to be someone really stubborn and not afraid to make Jason mad to go there anyway. Fortunately, that was Tum favorite thing to do. As his little brother, that's basically his job.

Tim snuck into the back of the dilapidated theater to a crowded backstage with people scurrying around and preparing for a show.

None of them seemed to notice him as they focused on their tasks. Tim tried to get someone's attention when his hand phased through their shoulder.

Then the woman turned to Tim her eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing back here? Audience members are not allowed before the show. Are you here to drop off flowers or gifts? Please, hand them to an attendant and they will be delivered to the actor you want. You are not allowed to see the prince before the show. We don't want you disrupting his concentration. Please go back to your seat now." She rattled off as she shoved Tim off the stage and into the audience chamber.

There Tim saw a packed room full of....well ghosts. All of them waiting excitedly for the play to begin. But right in the middle was Jason eating popcorn like this was completely normal.

Jason looked up and saw Tim, they both froze.

Then the curtain rose and a silver-haired prince dressed in royal regalia stepped forward with his arms raised. The audience cheered and applauded at the sight of him.

"Welcome, my friends and followers to this week's show of "Walking on Stars". We hope you enjoy our heartwrenching drama tonight. We have two special guests in the box tonight. Martha and Thomas Wayne our dear patrons have joined us this evening. Let me be the first to welcome them tonight." The prince bowed.

Danny knew there was no stopping ghosts from invading the moral realm and a comprise needed to be made. Appeasing them is the easiest way to do it. They needed purpose and entertainment just like they did in life. After asking a few of his people what they wished for and adding some expansions to the realm Danny stared this project.

This abandoned theater in one of the most haunted spaces in Gotham was perfect to keep the spirits happy. Many people don't know this but ghosts loved theater. It is why theaters would sometimes keep two empty seats in the back just for the ghosts to watch and close on sundays and keep a stage light on just for the ghosts to perform for each other. This consideration goes a long way for the spirits and they have a deep appreciation for the arts.

Since then Danny has put on weekly shows of plays, concerts, and talent shows. It even drew the attention of the revenant that uses the area as his haunt. Out of respect, Danny invited him to come and he has his own reserved seat.

Tim ended up sitting next to a miffed Jason as they watched the show.

"Can't I just have something to myself?" Jason grumbled offering Tim his ghost nachos.

Jason didn't know why the food was so good but these ghost nachos were the best he ever had. Tim on the other hand couldn't taste them.

(I made this prompt just to use the phrase ghost nachos.)

[jedisupernova]

life with choi subong (thanos)

notes minors dni contains life before games, fem and aged up reader (same age as subong), always written with plus size reader in mind but truly anyone can read, a lot of made up lore to fill in gaps & build dynamic between subong and reader, smut (no distinct section. it is imbedded throughout; sexting, dirty talk, oral f and m receiving, vignettes of sub!subong, handjob, p in v, non-protective sex (don't be stupid,) public sex, foreplay, squirting), angst (lying, deception, miscommunication, arguing and gaslighting: cursing, pushing each other, one body shaming remark, a lot of name calling, insults, mentions of death, just being mean; this does not having a happy ending), toxic dynamic, mentions of drinking, drug use, problematic reader if you squint, i don't know how crypto works so don't yell at me, blatantly problematic subong, reader deserves better, a lot of dumbassery and some typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! this is also my very first post, and i want to show what i can do! this is really long. like, really long. this is my interpretation of the character, i hope you like it and please be nice!

he was the nail that chipped the day after you painted them; the incessant promotional email that never filtered to the spam folder; the fly you repeatedly missed when swatting; the shoelaces that always came undone; the built up phlegm after a particularly nasty cough; the shirt that shrunk when you left it in the dryer too long. but what could you say? the dick was too fucking bomb ...

you met on the night of your friend's birthday. some time past eleven thirty pm on a saturday night at some dimly-lit nightclub in itaewon, you nursed a margarita, chatting with your friends and paying no mind to the re-arranging happening on the small stage some feet away from your table—a couple of speakers and a mic stand—nor did you look when the club manager made a half-assed announcement, followed by his exit and an old school hip hop instrumental filling the acoustics of the club.

subong was performing that night after begging the manager for weeks on end. it was a particularly difficult feat, considering the rap battle night he and seven other underground artists were part of two months prior ended in a fist fight after a set of insensitive bars about subong's opponent's family lineage spewed from his mouth without remorse. oh, can't forget the time he stole three bottles of cuervo tequila, or when he got so high he squirted someone in the eye with lime because they looked at him funny, or when he left such a monstrous shit in the toilet that he ended up flooding the bathroom when trying to flush.

alas, alas ... the melon streaming numbers spoke for itself (over 95k streams in total for his most recent mixtape), he just reached 10k followers on instagram, and all attention is good attention if you know how to work it ... and subong did, considering bookings went up when he announced he'd be performing this weekend prior to getting approval, cornering the club manager into a checkmate.

you noticed the slight commotion reverberating through the crowd when the music blared, but not enough to divert your attention wholly. when his set finished, he snuck into the crowd, snagging a rogue bloody mary from the bar and downing it without hesitation, turning his head sharply when someone from your party shouted his name.

your friend's boyfriend went to high school with him and hadn't seen him in years. with the way subong reacted, you would've thought they saw each other last week and were the best of friends, slinging his arm around his shoulders and capturing the attention of your table in a flurry. he was overtly charismatic, slowly coming around to your side of the table, eyeing you up and down without an iota of shame. he liked what he saw—his tongue running over his bottom lip.

he looked a bit try hard-y, in his loose fitting clothing, singular golden chain, and his black hair in an awkward stage of a grown out buzz cut—but admittedly he was fine. then you saw the layer of sweat shining on his tan skin ... oh ... he's fine.

"you like what you saw?" he shouted over the music, placing his hand on the table, inching towards you. he gestured to the now empty stage with a subtle flick of his head, leaning in to hear you. "that was you?" you said back. "i'm sorry, i wasn't watching!"

subong smirked, thinking you were joking, but his ego inflated nonetheless. "i—i rap!" he shouted, laying his palm against his chest. "i don't!" you quipped back with a grand smile, shaking your head. he had no idea his dick could get hard that quickly. "i work at a firm!" you say.

it could have been the sight of your glossed lips .. or his big brown eyes .. or your curvy hips .. full thighs .. his tattooed hands .. or the way his lips brushed against your earlobe for you to hear him .. or how your fingers brushed his hair back so he could hear you .. but next thing you know, his lips caught yours, and the next thing after that, his knees were on the porcelain tiles of the bathroom stall, head caught between your plush thighs, eating your pussy like a man starved.

subong's arms held your waist in place, not stopping your back from arching or your hands grasping onto either the wall or his hair, your breathy moans making his jeans feel as if he was wearing tight spandex. when you came—and you came hard—he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into your hand, "number. now."

"fucking christ, i just came." you said, breathing labored. "hold on." when he stood up, you reached down, pulling your underwear up. you eyed the time on his phone whilst adding your number to his contacts, sending yourself a text. you caught sight of his bulge when you gave his phone back. "you'll have to take care of that yourself. i have to go." you say, running your hands through your hair in an effort to not look too disheveled, even if your friends were smart enough to put two and two together.

you noticed subong take a prolonged look at you. he read your mind: "taking a mental photo for later." he explained, inhaling sharply through his nose. a smirk tugged at your lips. "oh yeah? i'll make it 4d." you palmed his bulge. he nearly lost balance, his gasp sounding more vulnerable than he would've liked—"f-fuck—ngh!" he bit his bottom lip, planting his forehead against yours. your touch was slow and calculated but firm, applying enough pressure to make his vision go fuzzy. "you're f-fucking crazy," his voice shook pathetically, eyebrows contorted in deep pleasure. "y-you f-fucking—ngh!—crazy bitch!"

you stopped abruptly, grabbing subong through his pants harshly. he mewled pathetically in pain. "call me that shit one more time and see what happens." "i'm s-sorry! f-fuck, i'm sorry! i'm sorry! please!" his breath hitched. "oh my fuck—please, baby, i'm so sorry!"

you gradually began palming him again, feeling his deep breath brush against your skin as his forehead returned to yours. his lips eventually latched onto yours, and you couldn't help your thighs rubbing together from how long and slender he felt in your hand.

your phone started to ring in your purse, which hung off the hook at the top of the bathroom stall door, undoubtedly a friend looking for you. you broke the kiss and ceased your touch, stepping around him and fishing your phone out before slinging your purse over your shoulder. "you better fucking call me." you say, kissing his lips again. "i will, will."

you eye his tent. it looks like it hurts and the zipper could break off. you didn't even realise you were biting your bottom lip until your phone rang again. "best dick i'll ever have." subong heard you mutter as you walked away, his cocky smirk stretching across his face in no time. he bit his lip when he saw the wet spot on his jeans. unbeknownst to either of you, this night would become the defining vignette of your relationship.

he called you the very next day. when you didn't answer—because your phone was charging on your nightstand whilst you showered—he sent a dick pic with the bottom half of his face visible in the upper left corner with the accompanying text: Like what u see? he chuckled reading your response: should have kept it a surprise

from that point on he spent his spare money (he didn't have much to begin with) on e-cigarette refills, pills, eyebrow threading appointments (he swore you to secrecy), and, perhaps his most beloved purchase, condoms. he always kissed the wrapper before putting one on.

subong tries to give the impression of someone who fucks but the reality is .... well .... he wonders how he got so lucky whenever he's stood at your apartment door, waiting for you to open it after he's knocked. it's been a lot longer than he'd ever admit under sworn oath, but his erratic thrusts gave it away so quickly it was concerning.

don't get it twisted, it felt ... fine. maybe okay on a good day. he filled you up at the very least! but if only it could last longer ... and didn't feel so ... jabby ... and if only you didn't have to keep in your laughter when his forehead fell to your shoulder ... after he came so hard his vein bulged out of his temple and his breathing was deep enough to power a fucking windmill .. only for you to glance at the time on your phone when a notif popped up and think to yourself ... has it really only been four minutes?

so when he's thrusting into you from behind one night, panting like someone's choking him and drilling into you feverishly, you take his temporary halt to catch his breath as your moment. "subong..." your voice ruminates with lust, aided by the intoxicating feeling of his cock resting inside you. you look over your shoulder at his glistening body, illuminated even in your dimly lit bedroom. "you feel so good, baby." you half-lie, internally cringing. either way, he can't tell, he's too fucked out.

"but how about we ... go a little slower? so we can last longer? hm?" you say. his breath hitches when you roll your hips slowly, his palms laying against either globes of your ass lifelessly. you were struggling to keep it together, eyebrows contorted and mouth agape, stretching yourself out on him.

"like this, yeah?—mmf!" you bite your lip. this is the feeling you've been wanting ... you've been aching for. "it'll feel so much better, subong ..." "yeah, yeah ..." he was breathy. his palms slid to either side of your hips, pulling himself in slow and deep. you gasp, "yes! like that! start slow, then go faster ..."

the moans and whimpers that escaped your lips ran every single porno he's ever seen into the ground. he pounded into you when you told him to, feeling the gumminess of your tight walls hug his cock so divinely that he felt for a split second that maybe, just maybe, the cross he always wore served a different purpose than carrying his stash of pills. subong, unsurprisingly, did not last long, but for the first time, you didn't either. "b-baby! f-fuck—i'm gonna, i'm gonna!—" you clenched around him, and he saw white. subong thought he had transcended ... what better way to go out ... death by the best pussy ... he came so hard and so much that he felt himself drip down his thigh.

you first started calling him over on sundays. then he started to come on fridays ... then staying the weekend ... then he came by on wednesdays for a mid-week fuck .. and slowly, but surely, he essentially lived rent free in your apartment. it was a major plus for him. he'd just been floating from one friend's couch to another. your studio apartment was small as is, barely enough for someone a few years into the workforce and even less on affordability—you barely scraped by on groceries. you'd have to make a wish on a shooting star if you ever needed repairs or healthcare. subong, on the other hand? he finally got to sleep in a bed again, and he gets to not only bum it out on another couch, but also eat pussy, get his dick sucked, and fuck on it. 10/10 no notes from him

and christ did you fuck ... one ankle on the coffee table whilst the other rests atop the couch, him pounding into you deep and deliberately, his eyes boring into your face as yours rolled back, mouth agape. once he found his rhythm and knew your body more, it was over. by the grace of the universe, his stamina heightened, too. he thought about reading war and peace and the meticulous process of the seasonal fermentation of various vegetables to thwart his orgasm from coming too quickly, but fell into a mumble of incoherent whimpers and profanities when he heard your beautiful voice tell him to "h-harder, s-subong, harder," or the cacophony of stuttered grunts leaving both of your chests; sexual pleasure in its rawest form.

one friday evening he was sat at the top of your now shared bed with his back against the wall, legs spread and looking up at you with his mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed in inexplicable pleasure, watching you bounce up and down in fucked out bliss. you had a bullshit ass day at work—something about being denied a raise or being unfairly told off at a meeting—he didn't remember or really care, all he knew was he suggested you use him to relieve frustration, and you obliged. "that's it b-baby. give it all to me, u-use this dick." he bit his bottom lip, squeezing the side of your thigh as you slammed down onto him. "give all your stress to—ngh!—me. your subongie will help you relax." his hands trailed up your waist and kneaded your breasts, making you gasp. you rolled your hips to catch your breath, biting your lip.

you put your hands on his chest for support. "such good dick." you said breathily. "all mine." "that's right." he affirmed. one hand stationed beside your knee, the other reached to the nightside table for his e-cig, bringing it to his lips. you opened your eyes when the cloud of smoke brushed against your cheeks, filling your nostrils with the faint scent of strawberry.

"fuck you and your fuckass puff bar." you said, trying to take it, but he raised it in the air with a shit-eating grin. "what? are you jealous? hm? is my baby jealous?" he jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, chuckling when you swat the e-cig out of his hand. "the fuck would i be jealous about you destroying your lungs for?" you retort. he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "you think you're too good to be fucked by me that you needed to take the edge off." you say, throwing the e-cig onto the floor and ignoring his protests, only for them turn into sharp sucked-in breaths when you rolled your hips again. "th-that was my—shit!—my b-best fucking one," subong shuddered. "you want your best puff or pussy? hm?" you said sharply. with a whimper, he said "my best p-pussy." "i thought so. now say you're sorry until i believe you." you said, hearing him let out a wall-shattering moan when you began riding his long cock again. he would never admit to this in a million years, but this was his favorite way to fuck.

you were in denial for a long time that things had become more romantic and vulnerable. since it was unspoken between you two when he inconspicuously moved in (as irresponsible it is) ... to when he started calling you "my baby" two months in and him "your subongie" a couple weeks later ... to when steamy makeouts before bed remained just that, even through the hushed whimpers and dry humping ... to when he'd smoke a cigarette on the balcony after you routinely complained about the smell, him having you sit on his lap because "the cigarette doesn't hit the same," only to end up sucking the life out of his cock or him rutting into you from behind ... to when you'd wake up with his arm slung lazily across your waist and his head tucked into your neck ... he'd run verses by you and you'd unironically compliment them ... he unironically started going on grocery runs with you, and picking out your jewelry ... and to when sunday mornings became a lot more quieter than they used to be, you two sat on the small couch together, clad in nothing but your underwear, drinking stale black coffee as one of four channels you have play on your dinky tv. it might be due to the limited space, or something more, but his hand lay on your knee whilst yours mindlessly traced the tattoos on the back of his neck, or toyed with his cartilage piercing.

you couldn't kick the question out your mind anymore. "subong?" "hm?" he responded, eyes glued to the tv. "what are we?" he didn't budge. you nudged his shoulder, earning his attention but with a flutter of irritation. "huh? what'd you ask?" "i said what are we?" his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrows, losing patience. "you know exactly what i mean."

he takes a moment to rack his brain, and then gets it. "you're my girl. my señorita." his face fell when you scoffed and pushed him away. "talk to me when you want to be serious." "i am being serious!" he says defensively. "look, you're my girlfriend. we're together." he sets his coffee down, pulling you in for a kiss. he kept kissing you until you cracked a grin, which took all of two tries. he wields his big brown eyes like katanas looking into yours, raising a finger heart and pressing it against his lips. "i like you." he says, unable to hold back his smile when you moved his hand away.

subong leaned in closer, the tip of his nose feeling the warmth of your cheek. "do you like me, too? hm? you can tell me. i promise i'll keep it a secret. i won't tell anyone." he knew your answer, but teased nonetheless, shaking his head in affirmation. you shushed him gently, actively trying to thwart how flustered you've become. he only pushed more, pressing a purposely deep and obnoxious kiss onto your skin. "i'll be the best and sexiest boyfriend ever."

it felt so wrong that your heart beat a little faster. "i'm only saying okay so that you shut up." you muttered. a knowing grin stretched across subong's face. he placed a kiss on your neck and above the valley between your breasts, laying his temple on your chest, slinging his arms around you. he smirked when you wrapped your arm around his shoulder some minutes later, his eyes fluttering closed when your lips found the top of his head.

you made him start coughing up his earnings from gigs to go towards rent. considering he wasn't being paid much, bookings weren't predictable, and he'd sometimes try to hide his earnings from you (which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, and if he did it again, you threatened he'd be out on the balcony without a blanket) his contribution wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. you shut down any chance of retaliation from him with a look he's since named "period projection" or, depending on his mood, "viagra."

when a lot of time passed between gigs, subong was woken up by a notebook and pen thrown onto his chest. "if you don't have five songs written by the time i get back from work, you're pussyless for a week." you said, slinging your purse over your shoulder. he grunted, barely opening his eyes but sitting up, the notebook and pen falling onto the bed. you grabbed his face, pecking his cheek before heading out the door.

subong talked himself up if you were being particularly hard on him, or really, just not as delusional about his success. "baby, one day you won't have to worry about shit. i'll have us partying in mykonos by next valentine's and in switzerland to see the first snow." he said one morning, standing stupidly in the middle of the apartment with nothing but his briefs and a graphic tee that had stains you didn't want to know about. "book the flights when you stop eating week old beef and using my moisturizer." you mutter, shoving the vacuum cleaner in his hands, gesturing for him to hand over the shirt before heading to the basement of the building to do laundry.

if work permitted, you went to see him perform at whatever nightclub in the city. subong found you in the crowd after his set, giving you a sloppy kiss and wrapping his sweaty arms around you no matter if you came straight from work, still clad in business wear, or in something that made you look like the rapper girlfriend of his dreams. an air of added cockiness ruminated off him when you two tag-teamed hounding the club manager whenever they tried to lowball his pay. more often than not, they caved in and gave what was agreed to and then some after you shouted said your piece. either way, you end up on the dance floor wrestling with your tongues or him pounding into you from behind in a bathroom stall. everybody wins!

when you're at work and subong's at home, he films tiktoks and posts on his instagram to get his name out there. he also tries to start beef on various naver cafés, especially when he's bored. or texting you: Did u eat the last tico?; Hi baby I have a threading appt at 5 i will meet u at your work before we go to dinner; Highh as sht88df thikning about ❤️You girl❤️❤️❤️❤️; [insert photo of him flexing in the bathroom mirror] Come home for lunch

speaking of photos on his phone, he has quite the array—advertisements at the train and bus stations he finds funny; various hair colors from the department store he wants to try; mirror selfies of him either flexing or trying on shoes; a photo of his hand squishing your cheeks when you two were waiting in line for cheap street food for lunch; another photo of you looking rather disheveled in the kitchen when you two were unfairly woken up at 6 am one saturday morning by nearby construction, an adorably annoyed look on your face because he was standing in the way of the fridge; one selfie of him in bed hitting his e-cig; the next taken six minutes later with your tit in his mouth, his eyes looking at himself. if you didn't keep tabs on him, he would've made the latter the cover of his next mixtape.

some of your friends thought you were crazy for still being with him, someone who was barely scraping by and, from an outsider's pov, was a moocher. you'd shake your head, "you guys don't get it. i know what i'm doing. you don't need to worry." and you certainly did, considering whenever you came home to subong's big brown eyes, towering height, and his smooth, low voice asking "how was your day, baby?," or when his fingers traced a fresh hickey on your neck, or when he announced his presence by placing his hand teasingly low on your waist ... oh, you were just about ready to make him a father .... even if it would lower the nation's life expectancy rate.

you've caught yourself staring at him at night when you couldn't sleep, watching the way his lips parted every time he exhaled, or how his arms were sprawled out before him after he fell asleep with them crossed. you fought the fluttering of your heavy eyelids to just .... look at him. sometimes you succumb to slumber, pressing a gentle kiss onto his cheek before drifting off. but one night you were simply plagued by him, looking at subong as if he was a riddle to solve, until you realized with wide eyes that you were projecting: oh fuck no. i love him.

it terrified you, that strong feeling. but not enough to sit idly by if someone became a little too flirty with him at the club, or to slow your speed walk to the bathroom after a work conference to send him a picture after he sent one that morning—lowering your volume and pressing your phone to your ear, listening to the audio message he sent in response, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together: "god, you're so fucking hot baby. how did i get so lucky .... what am i supposed to do, hm? you made my dick so fucking hard .... and it's not even eleven am yet ... is this what you wanted, hm? to get me riled up first thing in the morning?" his voice was low, sleep still fresh in his tone, followed by wet strokes. "it's sad that you're at work for so long. leaving me here—f-fuck, yeah, just like th-that—all alone ... and so needy ..."

you fucked good and hard when subong got a spot in the rap battleground competition, landing him in a position to not only put his name out there, but possibly win some money that would make a difference. you were elated enough to go condom-less. "wanna make you feel good, baby," you murmured breathily, ass pushing against the kitchen countertop, subong standing between your warm thighs. "i'm just so—mmf!" you sucked in a breath when his lips and tongue found your neck. "s-so proud of you, subongie." oh. subong just knew something was up. but he wasn't stupid enough to question it, not when he knows he's about to enter the gates of heaven. "gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw?" he muttered in that low voice of his, continuing his slow, wet kisses on your neck to avoid melting into a puddle of his libido. his voice quivered when you didn't answer, hidden well by your moan: "hm? gonna let me ruin this pussy—" "yes!" you whimpered.

in a moment of weakness, he bit his bottom lip. he grabbed your face with one hand, making you look him in the eye. even in his attempt at dominance, you saw the flickers of awe in his eyes. nothing filled the kitchen besides the sounds of your shaky breaths, his face studying yours. could this ... could he have just realized that ... he loves you, too? subong leans in closer, the tip of his nose brushing with yours. you try to lean in, but his hold on your face stops you. you don't know what to make of his feelings with his next words, but with how his other hand comes up and combs your hair out of your face, and his forehead touches yours, its perhaps the most intimate moment of your relationship thus far: "you're finally gonna let me fuck what's mine?" he whispers. you nod silently.

subong bottomed out that night, cumming all over your stomach and back. your back arched like never before when he was pounding into you from behind, taking him deep into your gummy, warm walls. your fingernails clawed at your pillowcases and bed sheets, jaw hung open and eyes rolled back whilst his heavy balls hit the bottom of your stomach. your cunt suffocated his dick every time his palm smacked either globe of your ass—"take that fucking dick. take that fucking dick, just like that, yeah," he panted, palm rubbing over your hot skin before smacking it again. his voice cracked, "f-fuck! o-oh my god! fuck!" he squeezed your hips so hard you sucked a breath in through your teeth. his thrusts momentarily slowed, blinking hard when his vision began to blur at the sight of the creamy ring at the end of his cock. the noise was obnoxious, wet, and loud. you're everything he could ever hope for. in missionary, he tried so hard not to be a babbling mess, through his purposeful strokes. his hands held your head in place, his thumbs pressing into your temples, but his gaze failed to leave his cock fucking you. "give me that fucking puffy pussy." he murmured. he held his bottom lip between his teeth, groaning. "give me that puffy fucking—o-oh! ngh! f-fuck, you always know how to make me feel so f-fucking good, baby!"

you showered afterward together, momentarily forgetting about the water bill when your arms wrapped around subong's neck, your lips molding together. the kiss was soft and sensual. his hands massaged the same globes his palms set fire to whilst the remnants of his lust washed off your body and down the drain. he slept the best he had in weeks that night. a couple weeks later, you helped him dye his hair a deep purple a few days before the competition, just in time for him to adopt his new stage persona after becoming insufferable since watching "endgame," thanos.

the competition came and went, and he placed as a runner-up. he actually listened when you said you didn't want to head to the club since you had work early the next day, settling for a nice dinner and a bottle or two of soju instead. a group of fans of the show came up to him in the checkout line, and not only did you watch with an admiring grin, but your eyes widened surprise when he introduced you as his girlfriend after you were handed their phones to take a photo, harmlessly mistaken as a bystander. not only were you then asked to join the photo, but subong laughed heartily on the walk home upon hearing one of the girls' face dropped hearing the news that he's taken.

the bottles emptied on your coffee table, you ended the night rolling your hips atop his, holding onto his shoulders as his hands held onto either globes of your ass, looking up at you whilst you rode his cock. your dress pants for work were discarded on the floor, panties pushed to the side for his condom-less dick, biting your bottom lip when his palm massaged your breast through your blouse. nothing was in the room besides your breathy gasps, his low groans, the squeak of sweaty skin against the cheap faux leather of the couch, and his whispers . . . "you look so beautiful, baby. so fucking sexy." subong's eyebrows furrowed deeply, glancing at your swiveling hips before looking back up at you, despite your head being thrown back. "taking this cock so good...f-fuck ... know how to make me feel good, yeah? always know just how to squeeze me, how to make this big, fat cock cum, yeah? tell me, baby."

all you could muster was a whimper and your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, but that was more than okay with him. his hand trailed up the side of your neck, bringing your head forward. "come here, come here my beautiful baby. my beautiful fucking woman." his lips kissed yours, molding them together repeatedly. his tongue toyed with yours, picking up the speed of your hips, making him grunt into your mouth every time your inner thighs clapped against his lower stomach. you held onto each other tighter, the kiss becoming feverish, only to be broken when his thumb found your clit. you came in what felt like seconds, and before you knew it, the words slipped out: "i love you!" you whimpered, riding out the high of your intense orgasm, subong having pulled out and spilling onto his thigh. "i love you, i love you!" you repeated breathily. through the pounding of his temples, he heard. through your laborious breathing, you didn't register that he said nothing back.

subong loved you too. he's known for a while now. but that was precisely the problem—he knew, and he wasn't going to say shit. what was the reason? perhaps it was a fucked up way of protecting you by stonewalling that part of him, perhaps it was selfishness, perhaps it was the inferiority complex making him feel like he didn't deserve someone as patient, as transformative, and as loving as you, and he questioned every day why he hadn't been kicked to the fucking curb yet, even after a year and a half together. or maybe ... it was that fucking mg coin ...

he started watching that fuckass man a couple months before the rap battleground competition after a friend tipped him off about crypto. you peered over his shoulder after settling into bed, hearing parts of a youtube video through his phone speaker. "i stopped trying to understand that shit when they told me a picture of an ape is somehow currency." you muttered, making him laugh. "yeah. you're right, hm?" he let out a yawn, clicking his phone off before taking you in his arms, falling asleep with your head on his chest.

but then, it was like a flip switched. subong saw something you didn't (delusion), and seemed to be watching myung gi's videos at what felt like any chance he had. he watched him in the morning, sat at the small dining table in the kitchen as he ate leftover kimbap from dinner the night previous, already annoying you at barely 10 AM whilst pouring yourself cereal, sitting across from him on this rare saturday off. you eyed his phone, "i thought you dropped that shit." you said between chewing. his eyes stayed glued to his screen, putting another slice into his mouth. "i don't know, baby. i think he has a point. people are getting rich quick off this crypto shit. i might have to play my hand, y'know?" before you could respond, he reached over, wiping a rogue drop of milk that slipped from the corner of your mouth, sucking it off his thumb before pressing 'skip ad'. you reached over, clicking his phone off and turning it face down. "hey!—" "you talk like you routinely pay for this wifi." you said, looking into his eyes. "you talk about 'playing your hand' when you don't have the decency to spend 5,000 won on wired headphones so i don't have to hear this shit all day?"

his lip twitched in annoyance, eyes widening. "don't get smart with me!" he exclaimed. you scoffed and waved your hand dismissively, eating another scoop of your cereal. "i'll go get some headphones after i eat if that's what you really want, damn!" "if you invest in something invisible, you do it with your own money so you reap the punishment." you say. "i will." subong rolled his eyes, eating his last slice of kimbap, but irritably. "he knows his shit. says the coin'll blow up." he mumbled, glancing at you when you got up. you held his face, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. "that's what they all say, subong." you collected his and your dishes, bringing them to the sink and beginning to wash.

he funneled money into that coin behind your back no problem. every time a check came in, the slice that went to investing got larger and larger. he kept it hidden by putting aside just enough to not cause suspicion. and turning off notifs at specific times. he said he'd transfer a few months worth of the rent when the money hit his account after rap battleground and a couple of scheduled gigs he won as well, but it was a half-baked lie. he told you the money hit way after it actually did, giving you what he promised but keeping a large sum for himself, because he surprisingly got a return on his investment.

he kept going and going, the high of it all rivaling his pills. he bought limited edition shoes, a pair of earrings you'd been eyeing for a while for your anniversary, and got a couple new tattoos. all of it was hidden well behind his coincidentally coinciding success of his music in the wake of the competition ... damn ... he could get used to the universe dickriding him this hard ...

until it all came crashing down that night on the couch. the same night you confessed, he got a notif from one of his crypto apps that he had lost 30 million won. he bolted out of bed, leaving your sleeping, clueless form behind to smoke a cigarette outside, pacing back and forth in the street, trying to calm himself down at 2:30 in the morning. he stared at those numbers like they were going to change, ultimately convincing himself that it was a mere fluke and that money would come again in no time, stomping his cigarette into the asphalt and heading back upstairs.

it was like a routine: watch myung gi, take notes, invest. watch myung gi, take notes, invest. subong took it to heart when he said viewers would be foolish not to bet. he resented being made to feel stupid. even when the returns were slimmer with each swipe up to refresh, he kept going. he looked you straight in the eyes with an admiring grin on his face, lying through his teeth saying everything was okay. what you didn't know couldn't hurt you, right? right. but it ate away at him. subconsciously, then viscerally.

your confession hung at the back of subong's head for weeks. he tried to avoid it, even attempted to put that frustration into his music, but nothing was satisfactory. his inner turmoil flooded to the surface—avoiding your kiss in the morning before you headed to work, landing your lips on the corner of his mouth before he pecked yours without much thought. you didn't say those three words again, but he saw them on display in the softness of your eyes gazing up at him. he couldn't bare it. it was so easy for him to lie to your face about his whereabouts, how much of a fucking coward was he to not say three words back? especially when he felt them, too?

you noticed the change as well. he'd be gone for longer hours, only texting you back in the later evening. his hand stayed to hisself on sunday mornings. kisses were quick and choppy, not sensual and slow. sex was more rough and rushed. it made you feel so deeply embarrassed, like a teenaged girl made to feel silly and begging for her boyfriend's attention. you hated the feeling, but hated the fact that you let that confession slip more. you always felt he wasn't one to open up like that, but a girl can dream, can't she?

then it descended into utter madness. you came home from work later than usual, having to finish last minute assignments for someone who didn't show up. you nearly exploded at the haze of smoke filling your apartment, dropping your purse on the floor. there were bottles of soju and half-eaten food littering the kitchen counters and floor, the fridge left wide open, sure to have spoiled the rest of your leftovers. your eyes then found subong and his friend, a stranger to you, so fucking high that drool leaked out of the corner of their mouths.

"out!" you yelled, enraged. "get the fuck out!" neither of them moved until the piercing sound of the soju bottle you threw at the wall, shattering into pieces, jolted their senses awake. you grabbed the friend by his tank top, yanking him out of his seat like a fucking rag doll, and shoved him out the door. "the fuck! get ... get your—tell your bitch to fucking chill, bro!" the man's words slurred, only for him to nearly stumble down the stairs when you hurled another bottle at him. "don't ever fucking come back here!" you yelled.

"jesus fucking christ, you're so fucking loud." subong muttered, now standing and rubbing his fingers against his temples. "what the fuck is wrong with you! you've never done shit like this before!" you yelled, paying no mind to his wincing. "the fuck are you talking about? i get high, you know this—" "yeah, i do! but never like this. in our fucking house, subong!"

it was then that you saw the syringe and tinfoil on the coffee table. even in your blistering anger, you took his wrists in your hands, looking over his arms. "since when did you do hard shit? huh?" you muttered. his eyebrows furrowed, looking over to the table with hooded eyes. "what? i...i don't." his words slurred, a low burp gurgling out from his lips, shaking his head. "my friend fucks around with that. not me. i stick to pills and vape, baby. i swear."

you let go of his wrists, running a hand through your hair and pacing. the smoke had cleared. you turned around, seeing him laying his temple against the fridge, mouth hung open and eyes closed. you slowly walked up to him, not sure where to begin, your hands reaching up and holding his face. "baby." you said, him grunting in response. "i don't ... i don't know what's going been going on with you lately. you've been so distant and ... and cold. and then coming home to this ... subong, you're—you're scaring me a little."

he groaned weakly, chin sinking downward before you caught him, holding his face up whilst looking into his hooded eyes. your heart felt punctured. "is it ... is it because i said i love you? is it because of that?" his eyes opened, making way for his frustrated grimace. he shook his head, lip curling in what you mistook as disgust, when in reality he was outwardly sickened by himself. "you don't know fucking shit about anything, bitch."

your face fell, eyes watering. you let go of him, his cheek flattened against the fridge, barely stabilizing himself against it. you took a step back. a million thoughts ran through your mind, but one prevailed amongst all of them: what i've been avoiding has shown itself to be true. a tear escaped your waterline, but your voice was stable. "get out." you sniffled, wiping your cheek. "get out, subong."

"huh?" he mumbled, gradually opening his eyes. "i said get the fuck out of my house, subong." "what? i'm not going—" he burped again. "i'm not going fucking anywhere." he wagged a finger in your face. you swatted his arm away, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt and yanked him with all of your might, pushing his back, shoving him out the door even after he tripped over your purse. you slammed the door and locked it before he got to his feet again. "hey!" he yelled. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "open the damn door, you fucking bitch!" he pounded on the door with his palm. "come back when you stop acting like a fucking child!" you yelled, hitting the door back repeatedly. "and not turn my place into a fucking trap house, you piece of shit!"

"what about all that money i gave you, huh!? for rent? and your fucking groceries? give me those fucking earrings you have on, you never fucking deserved them anyway—" "fuck no!" you shouted over him. "this is the least i fucking deserve after your fucking pennies, you cheap piece of shit! if you're so loaded, then fuck off!" subong pressed his mouth to edge of the door, seething. "throwing your boyfriend out like this? when i'm making it big, huh? you'll come to regret this—" you bursted out laughing almost maniacally, a very strange mixture of anger, frustration, and hilarity brewing in your chest. he could be so fucking ridiculous. "m-making it big?" you repeated, laughing so hard you clutched your stomach and wiped tears from your face. it was cathartic. "i-if you're 'making it big,' subong, then—then i'm a lost member of the royal fucking family!" you exclaimed. "how's the fund for greece, huh? still plan on taking me for valentine's? or are you going to continue to clog my toilet because you're still too cheap to buy fresh meat?" "shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming his palm against the door and wiggling the doorknob.

a neighbor opened their door, avoiding eye contact and stepping around the broken glass to take out their trash, visibly not wanting to be caught in the firestorm taking place in the hall. subong grew embarrassed, turning back to the closed door with a new plea to avoid the atomically sinking feeling. "open the door. please, baby. let's talk this out." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level, wiping his nose with the side of his thumb. when you didn't answer, he kept going. "i'm sorry for all the trouble, baby. let me make it up to you, yeah? just open the door, and we can talk this out. c'mon, baby, the neighbors'll hear—" "let them fucking hear!" you yelled, making him flinh. you leaned closer to the edge of the door, directly parallel to him. "what's that bullshit you always say, huh? any attention is good attention, if you know what to do with it? well, eat your fucking words then, subong! be a man for once in your stupid life!" his eyes widened, vein popping out of his temple. "fuck you, you fucking whore!" he slammed the door repeatedly, the two of you creating a cacophony when you started hitting it, too. "fuck you too, dumbass!"

it was eerily silent that evening in your apartment. you, alone, cleaning up the mess he left behind. carefully sweeping up shattered glass, plastic bags, food wrappers, washing the dishes, cleaning out the fridge, etc. subong was universe knows where. you didn't have the energy to think about him, not even bothering to look around on your walk to the convenience mart to buy ramen for dinner. the emotional turmoil sank into your chest when you sat at the same kitchen table where chaos unfolded at mere hours ago to eat. you barely swallowed the first mouthful before you sank into tears, shoulders shaking, pressing the back of your hand to your lips to console yourself. how could everything have fallen apart so quickly?

you and subong didn't speak for three months. he called and texted those first couple weeks, but that fizzled out, and you didn't answer at all. you didn't owe him anything, especially after the shit he put you through. the wound was still felt too fresh, sensitive enough to do anything but wallow in the silence, heading back out to bars with your friends on the weekends.

none of your friends dared to say much. you were offered apologetic words, but a fool wouldn't notice the air of i told you so in their tone. even with you ceasing caring to cover the healing hickies, being much more subdued on nights out, or your eye bags deepening in the wake of the break up, you were mainly left to wallow in your own grief. you felt it was half deserved and half fucking rude.

but as more time went on, you felt hurt by the fact that subong didn't show back up. not once. not even a mean note on your door, or sign of attempted entry. did he really not fucking care that much? he was just a man, after all ... but then again, not every man is reduced to grateful tears after eating pussy. or looks at you like a renaissance painting come to life when you're retouching his fucking hair dye. when you got home one night, a little tipsy from the cocktails you had, you clicked on those unread text messages— ranging from Baby i'm sorry please talk to me; Stop being so fucking stubborn; ileft my keytthere I dont wantt it back u fknng cnutt; to I don't deserve you i fucked up please baby—and listening to those voicemails.

one resonated with you, even in your inebriated state: "hi ... um, it's been, like, four days since we ... and i, uh—i feel weird. and i don't like it at all. i know you're at work right now but i can't bring myself to show my face and i fucking hate it. i don't like being a coward. but you ... you're ... you're just ... you need to stop. you can't keep doing this to me. you make me feel things i've never felt and it fucking scares me. and you cut me off before i could even say my bit. how is that fair? you can't just come into my life like that and walk away before i get a say. you can't change my life and me and then just throw me away. i know ... i know i'm not the best guy. but even i don't deserve to be thrown out like—" he was cut off and did not call back. "oh my god. what a fucking idiot." you murmured, rubbing your temple with your fingers.

but the universe loves to throw curveballs, because you saw him two weeks later at a bar a few blocks down from the club you first met at. subong saw you long before you saw him that night. he'd spent so much of the last four months feeling a spectrum of emotions, coping with his frustration by daydreaming about what he'd say the next time he saw you—all of the insults to suffice for his anger, all of the things he'd say to make you feel bad for how you treated him—all cogs in his self-deflection apparatus. but when he actually saw you, sat alone at the bar with no friend group in sight, drinking what looked to be martini, he was at a loss for words. even his emotionally daft ass was aware enough to sense something was different about you. more muted, more subdued. that's what she fucking gets. his inner monologue was unforgiving, only for him to peer over a tall strangers shoulder to keep his softened eyes on you. but she ... she can't be alone. not here.

subong was really good at blending into the crowd, until he got too close, and by chance you glanced up and saw him. he was close enough to hear you suck in a breath through your teeth, and see your eyes widen in panic the same time his did. without thinking, you got up from your seat, grabbing your purse hanging on the back of your chair, forgetting you hadn't even taken a second sip of your overpriced drink. subong stepped out of the crowd, "don't go." he said gentler than anticipated, before remembering he was supposed to be livid. his expression hardened, lips tightened, hand grabbing for your arm. "we need to talk."

"i don't have anything to fucking say to you." you say sharply, not looking at him, keeping your voice low to not cause commotion. "yes the fuck you do." he bit back. you tried to pull your arm out of his grip, failing. "let me go or i'll throw my drink in your face." "really?" he smirked. "i didn't take you to be so careless with your money." you look up, eyebrows raised, meeting his eyes for the first time in months. "oh, that's funny. do you still think you're up and coming? or have you come to terms with the fact that you're an illiterate fuck who steals IP just to still write shit fucking bars?"

subong closed much of the remaining gap between you. "shut your fucking mouth, you bitch." he seethed through gritted teeth. you look him dead in the eyes, "see what i mean? you still can't come up with anything new, and you've had all this time." you pulled at his grip again, but he was strong. "let me go." "you didn't listen to me before, so you're going to listen now." "like the fuck i am!" you looked at him like he was crazy. you pulled again, finally freeing your arm. you grabbed your drink, purse in your other hand. "now leave me alone." you say. "or i'll throw this drink right in your fucking eyes."

you turned and walked deeper into the dimly lit bar; just anywhere that was not where he was. you found an empty booth, sitting down with a huff, taking a hefty swig of your martini. you shot up when you saw him walk over, putting your arm in position, only for subong to put his hands up, one hovering over your drink. "don't throw it! don't!" "do you not know how to fucking listen!?" "you don't know how, either!" he shot back. "why did you never respond to my texts or calls?" "don't ask me that with that stupid look on your face like it's as bad as you bringing a fucking stranger and hard drugs into my home!" you exclaimed. "which, by the way, in all of your rambling voicemails and texts, you've never once apologized for." "so you did read them?" "that's not the fucking point, subong!" "yes, it is! to me!" "and what? you don't think it matters to me that you never said 'i love you' back? that i felt like a fucking teenage girl, waiting at her boyfriend's beck and call to care about her?"

people were starting to stare, but your sense of decorum was long gone. he got up in your face, and you took him up at that challenge. "i care! i fucking cared!" he stared into your eyes in frustration, pushing his fingers into his chest in a desperate gesture. "well, you didn't do a good job of showing it. because at some point, i felt my loneliest even when you were beside me, snoring like fucking pug and dutch ovening the blanket."

subong, at a loss for words, too choked up on his anger and long-suppressed complicated feelings boiling to the surface, turned to what he knew best: low hanging fruit. after a moment, he collects himself. a smug smirk stretches across his face, taking a step back and glancing at the dated wall art behind you. he shook his head, looking down at the floor with a chuckle. "and here i was, thinking you were secretly pregnant with my kid or something." he said. your eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. this was stupid, even for him. "what?" you shook your head. "what the fuck are you talking about—" "—it makes sense that you wouldn't want to tell me. too much for you too handle. but then i saw you tonight, and you looked more bloated than usual, so i thought i was right. but then you were drinking—" he yelped when the cold gin splashed in his face, flinching at the glass bouncing off his chest, shattering next to his foot. gasps erupted throughout the room. subong hastily wiped his eyes, feeling them burn. "fucking bitch!" "your children would be lucky to never know their deadbeat of a fucking father."

you stormed off, heading into the nearby women's bathroom. heartbeat in your throat, you turned on a sink, rinsing the alcohol off your hands. you didn't look up when the door hit the wall, or when subong yelled "fuck off!" to the other three women in the room, causing a brief scurry of heels out the door. he pushed you out of the way, rinsing his eyes. "i should go and file a fucking police report on you." he mumbled. he looked up at you, expression angry, even with his squinting eyes. "i should've written 'sex slave' on my tax forms, too, with how you treated me!"

you pushed him right back, collecting a handful of water from the running sink with your palm, and throwing it at his face. "when was the last time you paid your taxes? hm!?" you exclaimed. "do you even know where your bank is? did you ever buy a new toothbrush after the one you had became a clump of bristles and i had to get one for you like a fucking mother!?" you yelled, using both palms and throwing more water; some hitting the floor, some splashing on yourself, but most wetting his face and clothing. "hey!" his voice boomed. he took a step forward, slipping, but caught himself on the edge of the sink. he turned the water off, landing your hand atop his in a failed effort to stop him. "you don't get to speak to me like that!" he yelled. "i can speak however i want to!" you yelled louder, making him wince, cursing under his breath. "you lost your chance when you made me feel crazy for loving you. i don't know how i could've even liked you!"

"hey!" subong's voice echoed off the walls. "your voice is so fucking shrill! you're giving me a fucking headache!" he pushed his fingers into his temple. he pointed at you, unwavering when you smacked it away. "don't act like you're fucking innocent, either—let me fucking finish!" you closed your mouth, crossing your arms over your chest. "see, this is what your problem is. you don't let anyone speak, or want to do anything i like. all those times you laughed in my face, didn't take me seriously, or tossed my career away like it was garbage, like some fucking fly you couldn't swat away." he waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the gesture. "well, i'm sorry i put a roof over your head when you were piss poor broke." your voice was eerily leveled, staring so hard into his eyes you could've burned holes into his retinas. "and didn't act like you were nominated for grammys in fucking return."

"'laughed?' 'didn't take seriously?'" you repeated his words, eyebrows furrowing. "who dyed your stupid fucking purple hair? who reminded you to write songs? who pushed you to call clubs? who yelled at pervert managers to get you fair pay!?" your voice escalated. subong's eyes drifted to the tiled floor, head hanging lower than before. you took a breath. "subong, i—" he met your eyes at the mention of his name. "i invented you."

his expression soured, hating that you were right and faced with his own cowardice once again. but he would rather give himself up to his loan shark than show it. "invented is the right word." subong spoke lowly, nodding. his hand came up to his head, making a screwing gesture. "false ideas—you have false ideas of who i am. you played with me like a toy." you were in disbelief. "p-played you? like ... like a toy?" you began to stutter through this newfound upheaval of anger, something that made your face feel hot and stomach churn, increasingly irritated with each second you couldn't get the words out. "you!—you!" you hit your palm on the edge of the sink, sending your purse to the floor. "you came so hard that i thought i had to go to urgent care to get you an oxygen mask!" every word sounded more strained than before. you inhaled deeply, running against a ticking timer in your head to when he'd open his mouth next. you gestured at a bathroom stall door, but in your head, it was a memory. "you held onto me so tightly after your performances or at home or—or eating dinner to the point where i had to eat with one hand!" you closed the gap, your pointer finger brushing against the tip of his nose. "at some point, you couldn't fall asleep unless you felt my fucking heartbeat, motherfucker!"

"and you did all of that," you gestured around you. "just to fuck me over, and make me realize i've wasted my time loving someone who doesn't give half a fucking shit whether i live or die!" "i care!" his voice boomed. "how many times do i have to say that!?" "until your last goddamn breath." you retort without hesitation. "and with how you live, that should be right around the corner." "are you saying i should die?" "what? no, subong. of course not." you shook your head. "that's not what i—that's not what i meant." "so what did you mean?" "what i mean was—no, stop distracting. you know exactly what i meant." with your next look at him, you saw them: his manicured hands, equipped with different colors on all fingernails. oh, you hated how quickly your mind shifted gears, how quickly the worries of the imaginary teenage girl clouded your logic and best judgment, but none more than this being what your eyes began watering over. "who ... who did that?" you asked, your suddenly quieted voice catching subong off guard.

"what?" he asked, confused. his eyes followed your gaze, landing at his hands, eyebrows raising at the realization that this was his chance at getting the upper hand: "someone i saw." he lied. it wasn't wholly untrue, but dubiously framed; the nail tech was a woman, so he did see her, just not in the way he just purposefully vaguely implied. he needed something to jab at you, to knock you down a peg like it was a schoolyard fight, but even he couldn't smirk at the hurt on your face. in fact, he regretted those words the moment he said them. "who is she?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. subong had never seen you look so devastated like this before. it made him feel an instinct that straightened his posture, unaware of what to do next, standing awkwardly. he attempted to say these next words with venom, but he couldn't even believe them himself, almost sounding as subdued as you: "it's none of your fucking business."

your heart drops. you feel nauseous. if subong had blinked, he would've missed your curt nod. you didn't bother wiping the tear trailing your cheek, his eyes watching as you pick up your purse from the floor, ears perking at your sniffle. "okay." you whispered, but you were so quiet that your voice nearly blended with the air vent. you started walking, fully intending to never turn back around, until his hand on your wrist stopped you. "wait—" "stop!" you said sharply, yanking out of his grip before he could close his fingers entirely. you held your hands in the air before circling around, your eyes landing on his. his face fell. you looked perishable, drained of an essence he couldn't fathom you without. oh, he'd really done it this time.

you lunged forward, nail of your pointer finger scratching against his nose. "you don't get to do this to me, s-subong!" you exclaimed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tears stifle the effort. you couldn't contain the sob. he was mortified at the sight. "it's ... it's not fair." you whispered meekly. your hands trailed to his chest, balling into fists as you cried. he stood there, frozen, mouth agape like a fool. subong raised his hand, petting your hair with a light, unsure touch. "it's fi—" he sucked in a surprised breath through his teeth when you started swatting his chest, pushing and shoving at him in a pitiful tantrum. subong took it silently, putting his hands up, face contorting uncomfortably at the sound of your cries. his bottom lip started to quiver as time went on. he couldn't tell what he hated more: the fact he lost the fight, or the fact he cared about that to begin with.

"that's enough. hey—" subong inhaled sharply through his nose. he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place. "that's enough." he hoped to whatever higher power you didn't hear the quiver. he swallowed, resting his forehead against yours. your hands went limp. he let go, feelings your palms trail up to his face. "you're mine." you spoke weakly. his mouth fell open, staring at your lips whilst you begged for his eyes; earning you such when your hand on his cheek guided him to your gaze. "do you hear me?" you whispered. "you're mine, subong. no one elses." you shook your forehead against his, your tragic desperation ailing him. "mhm." his hands trailed your waist. "i'm yours, baby. all yours."

with a shaky hand, your fingers ran through his hair, thumb so close to his lips he pressed a skeleton of a kiss onto it. "i'm sorry i threw my drink at you." you cry, voice stuck at a whisper. "i'm so sorry, subong—" "stop." his low voice shushes you, nose nestling beside yours, slowly trailing to your neck. he inhaled your scent, eyes rolling back when your fingers brushed past his cartilage piercing. "i had it coming." his nose found its way back to your cheek, pressing kisses onto the warm, wet skin. "why didn't you come home, subong? i .. i've been waiting for so long." his bottom lip quivered again, but his voice was utmost steady: "you never asked."

"i—i shouldn't have to!" you swatted at his chest. "you idiot!" "i know, i know. i've been really fucking stupid." his voice cracks. subong leans in, but you turn away. "i can't. it's not good for me." "can't you see we're dying without each other?" he pleads, his hands turning your head to look at him. "look at me, look at you! just one, baby. please." his breath brushed against your cheeks, his hands holding either side of your face. "i can't ... i can't go on without you."

with a shaky breath and fresh tears falling down your cheeks, you closed the gap. a guttural moan rumbled through your chest, subong whimpering desperately. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, your hands holding his face for dear life—the kiss slow and purposeful, making up for lost time, a conversation no words could say. subong's palms made way to your ass, acting on pure muscle memory. he angled his head, introducing his tongue into the equation, having to quickly bend his knees to catch your fidgety form. "i'm not going anywhere." he unintentionally stifled the most heavenly moan he's ever heard from you. you broke the kiss for air. subong wasted no time, returning to his favorite spot on your neck, holding you in place firmly. your head fell back, letting him do whatever he so pleased—your hand on the back of his head wielding the power of casting a centuries-long trance.

he sucked and licked with precision, like a day hadn't gone by. he even hummed in concentration, mouth popping off of your soft skin until the bruise was to his liking. "s-subong." you whined, needing his lips back, your fingers messily carding through his hair. "i'm almost done." he was gentle, even if he was ignoring the concrete fucking lump in his pants and starting to sweat over your warmth against his. he latched off, fingers tracing the bluish-red spot with satisfaction. "come here, pretty girl." his slightly swollen lips made your eyebrows furrow pathetically, the kiss felt sticky, your lips sown with his. "i need you." you murmured. "i need you." "stall. the bathroom stall."

you grabbed his hand, rushing to the closest one, pulling him inside. neither of you think to close the door, letting it bang against the wall after swinging it open. subong's lips returned to yours, but his hands pat his pockets, feeling his phone and wallet, unsure: "i don't—i don't have a condom." "it's okay, it's okay." you assure truthfully, hurriedly kissing him as if he'd disappear if you let go. "it'll be just like how we used to, hm?" "turn around for me."

you do, placing your hands on the bathroom stall wall to hold yourself up. subong pulls your pants down to your ankles, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough to grind his hardened cock against your ass, leaving nothing to the imagination, even with the barrier of his briefs and your underwear. "s-subong!" you gasped, back arching, pushing your ass farther onto him, feeling his cock closer to your aching pussy but not quite there yet. "how could you take this away from me?" he whispered into your ear, breath hitching vulnerably as he tried to keep himself composed, the plush of your round ass making his mind mush. "from us?" subong's hands snuck past the hem, grabbing at the powdery softness of either globes of your ass. his bottom lip suffered between his teeth, watching his hands work underneath the fabric, squeezing firmly. your nails clawed at the wall, eyes fluttering closed whenever his cool rings cinched around your hot skin. "stop teasing." your cheek collided with his nose, not realizing how close his face was to yours.

subong kissed your supple skin like instinct. "you'll take this dick like a good fucking girl, right?" he was so close to your ear the tip of his nose smushed against the stall wall. "y-yes!" you helplessly paw at the wall. his hand pulled down your underwear, rutting himself against your bare ass. his fingers maneuvered between your legs, middle finger sinking between your folds and encircling, keeping you steady between him and the wall. when he finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, he feels faint, cursing under his breath as your guttural grunt that bounced off the walls. "s-subong—" your voice sounded dry from the earlier arguing and succumbing to your illustrious libido. "i know, baby, i know." his fingers were unrelenting. christ, you were so fucking wet. "just wait for a little longer, and i'll fuck this pussy like the good boy you know i fucking am."

his fingers came to a gradual halt. whilst your chest heaved, he sucked on the tip of his middle finger, licking it clean. "i'm getting on my knees. don't move." he pulled your underwear down, peering up at the puffy lips he has to thank for opening his third eye. you cover your mouth, his warm tongue delving between your folds, scared of what you might sound like if you let go. for the next minute, all that fills the bathroom are the lewd sounds of his tongue nursing your sweet pussy and your muffled whimpers. a crude smack on your left globe followed by a harsh squeeze was the unspoken: let me fucking hear you. "o-oh!" you cried out. "o-oh my fucking god!"

you pushed your ass onto his face, your eyes crossing over the vibrations of his satisfied moan against your clit, squeezing them shut. he lapped your hole repeatedly, swallowing, taking a breath before adjusting his knees on the floor. subong's thumbs spread your lips apart, latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking. the curvature of your back deepened, head thrown back, a cry of pure lust brewing out of your diaphragm, heartbeat stuttering when his tongue lapped the bundle without mercy. "r-right there! just, just—ngh! hngh!—just l-like that!" "where? here?" he asked knowingly, tongue replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit mercilessly. his other hand fished his cock out from his briefs, beginning to stroke himself.

it was a cacophony of wet slick, choked moans, and squelching heat. nothing could deter it, not even the pair of friends that walked in the bathroom, chatting away and completely unaware, only to quickly back out of the room widened eyes and whispers of "oh my god, did you see them?" and "on a tuesday?" it was a sight to behold: your ass in his face; a mixture of his saliva and your slick trailing down his chin, quickly wiped by the back of his hand when he took a breath, but smearing nonetheless; his precum leaking onto the floor; your moans so delicate and raw any erotic film director would beg on their knees to cast you; and subong's affirming mhms and thats rights as he sucks and laps your clit.

subong knew you were close when your thighs began to shake. "give it to me." his hand ceased pumping his dick, both thumbs separating your puffy lips farther than before, running his tongue over your clit. "give it to me, mama," your moan made his dick twitch, eyebrows deeply furrowed, fucked-out gloss coating his eyes. "give it to me, baby, come on—" "ngh!" your body squirmed, nails scraping against the wall, one hand reaching for the top, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm took over your body. subong was stubborn—his palms pressing your back down further, tongue unrelenting through your high, swallowing whatever you gave him. he slowed when your breathing leveled, suckling one last time before rising to his feet.

he pushed your shirt up, kissing the top of your spine, then the back of your shoulder. "hey," he said gently, hearing your shaky breaths. "still with me?" "mhm." you nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth, trying your best to remain standing. his lips kissed your temple, "everything okay?" "mhm," was all you were able to muster. "f-felt really good. needed it." "me too. i dreamt about you, baby." he whined, lips pressed to your skin. "i dreamt about you so much." his breathing became ragged, tip of his cock red and angry. "tugged at my dick so much and i never came as good as when i was with you. now you made me cum just from eating your pussy. do you see what you've done to me? do you see what you've done to your precious subongie?"

you feel dizzy, lifting your head for air. "put it in." you whisper. you push your ass into him, moaning at the feeling of his cock rutting against you. "put it in, subongie." he slowly pushed his tip in, eventually enveloped by your gummy walls. his face contorted—"how're you so much tighter than before!?" his voice was notably higher, barely moving his hips, slowly inching out of you. "h-haven't had anyone else," you sucked in a tight breath. "b-been waiting for you—hngh!" oh, you were so back ... you couldn't help the satisfied smile that stretched across your face, ears filled with his needy whines and blubbering incoherently about how much he missed you, and his girthy cock stretching you out in the way you deserve. "fuck me, subongie," you said breathlessly. "fuck me the way you dream about." "i won't last, you're so fucking tight!—" "—be the good boy you said you'd be!"

with that, he got to work. his pelvis hit your ass, not rapidly, but with reverberating force, moaning and whining like it was the last thing he'd ever do. your mouth fell open, body shaking with every thrust, eyes squeezed shut. you gasped when his hand reached into your bra, holding your left breast, biting your lip as your nipple hardened against his palm. you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of your jiggling globes every time he thrusted. "faster," you said. "faster and harder, s-subong. i—fuck!—i n-need you so b-badly!" he grabbed either side of your hips, pounding into you through his intensifying blurry haze, balls slapping against you so unapologetically that, if someone got close enough, it could've been heard from outside the door. subong wasn't showing off; he wasn't outdoing himself, to him, this was making love. here he was, fucking the woman of his dreams (he got her back!!,) hearing those moans he was so afraid would escape his memories, and fortunate to be feeling and fucking her divine pussy. talk about a jackpot.

"a-agh! f-fuck!" he cried out, hips stuttering as you began fucking him back. he looked down at the sight, watching his creamy cock disappear and reappear at your volition, his indescribable pleasure displayed on his face, envied by empty canvases wishing to capture such raw human emotion. "n-no, no!" he gasped, feeling your pussy clench around him, that knot forming in his abdomen. "y-you're killing me, baby," he panted. "b-baby—ngh!—s-stop, need to f-fuck you. m'gonna cum s'quick if you—if you, f-fuck!" you stopped abruptly, slamming against his pelvis with a shaky breath. "i'm almost there, too." you said. you sunk a little lower, pushing your ass against him. "k-keep going, my love. you're doing so good. always know how to fuck this pussy so good, hm? yeah? best dick i've ever fucking had." you whine, feeling his cock pulsate in your cunt. you look over your shoulder, feeling his hand squeeze your left asscheek, "wanna cum in me?" wanna cum in me so much that i make you a daddy? yeah?" a wall-rattling gasp shattered out of your lungs when he thrust into you hard, once. then twice. "you're going to be the fucking death of me."

subong pounded into your tight pussy mercilessly, brushing against that spongy spot deep in your cunt with little effort at the angle you were in now. "right there, right t-there! o-oh my god, f-fuck—fuck! s-subong—subong! keep going! you feel so f-f-fucking good!" your whorish mewls were no match for his. he was a goner; bottomed out; becoming lightheaded. he kept going, kept hitting that spongy haven, but it wasn't a knot in your abdomen that fleshed goosebumps across your skin, embarking on its unravel—it was deeper, more carnal than that—but before you could register it, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your leg felt wet. "o-oh—oh my g-god—" you were a mumbling mess through this indescribable orgasm, wholly aware of your body but lost in your lustful haze. subong knew exactly what was going on. it brought him over the edge. "f-fuck! fuck! fuck!" warmth coated your walls, chock-full of his cum, trailing down your thigh with your squirt. he slowed his thrusts, moving so delicately it was as if his cock was made of glass.

he stopped moving, cock resting inside your warm cunt. you were in your own world, weakly holding onto the wall, ears ringing, temples pounding. your senses cleared albeit minutely with his hands holding your shoulders, helping you stand up better. you raised your arm, planting it before you and resting your forehead against it, taking deep breaths. subong pulled out, tutting softly hearing your quiet gasp, palm tracing your lower back as a silent i know, i know. his chest heaving, subong's hand reached over, trying to tuck your hair behind your ear to talk to you, but stops when he sees your earrings—the ones he gave you all those months ago; the ones he said you didn't deserve during that explosive argument. unexpectedly to him, his eyes started to water, quickly pressing a kiss onto the back of your shoulder, mouth muffled against the fabric of your top. in the midst of your labored breathing, you don't overhear: "i love you," he whispered. he pressed another kiss. "i love you."

after a few moments, you stood up steadily, making subong lift his head. your hand aimlessly reached behind you for him."you made me ... you made me—" "—i know, i know." he spoke gently. your senses found him when his arm wrapped around your waist, lips pressing a kiss to your temple and staying there. your hand reached up, coaxing your fingers through his hair. "have we ... have we ever done that before?" "i don't think we did." "yeah ... i figured." your eyes were still closed, slowly opening when his lips peppered kisses on your jaw. "i don't—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "i don't know if i can walk straight." both of you couldn't help but laugh, his forehead resting against your temple. "you know," he cleared his throat. "i think someone came in when i was eating you out." "oh god." you murmured. "did they say anything?" "i was kinda busy to notice if they did." he chuckled lowly. "right, right."

the heat of your apartment woke you up in the middle of the night, lazily tugging the duvet of your sweaty body. subong's light snores became background noise after a press of a button, the air conditioning kicking in. in your sleepy state, you squinted at the time on the oven: 4:27 AM. shuffling to the bathroom, you emerged a few minutes later, filling a glass of water from the kitchen tap. after taking a sip, you walked to the ac unit, eyes closed whilst you cooled down, wind flowing modestly through your hair.

feeling refreshed enough, you headed back to bed. you carefully slid your glass onto the nightside table, hoping there was a enough space on the already small and cluttered surface—equipped with yours and subong's charging phones, hair ties, ibuprofen, whatever else you were too lazy to properly put away, and not lit since there was no room for a lamp—but guessed wrong, accidentally sliding both phones off. a loud clatter rang throughout the apartment, "shit!" you cursed under your breath, quickly eyeing subong. he didn't flinch, snoring peacefully. you picked the phones up, plugged his back in, and set them onto the table securely. a notif came up on his screen. by chance, your eyes glanced over. what was a mere peek became a full on stare.

it was from a crypto app. you didn't have to be a genius to know; the word was in the name of the fucking app. you read the notif before his screen went dark: You have an update on your investment. Tap to view. you have got to be fucking kidding me. you thought to yourself. without thinking, you unplugged his phone, tapping his screen to see it again. but the notif was now hidden, requiring his face id or passcode to view. is his passcode still the same as before? you wondered, thinking of those times he'd let you use his phone to connect him to the wifi, or send yourself photos from dates he'd always forget to. you look over your shoulder at his sleeping form, clueless. forget ethics, forget respecting privacy, forget trusting your partner; your brain was in overdrive. this better fucking work. you swipe up, typing 6969—it works. you tap the notif, the app loads quickly. your eyes run over an interface filled with lingo you don't know or care for and usernames that should be put on a watchlist, but then you find it: his profile. you click the icon on the bottom right corner, seeing the Investments tab with an encircled 1 next to it, clicking it, waiting for the screen to load. it only took a couple of seconds, but it was long enough to make you nervously gnaw at your bottom lip and tap your foot. then it loaded.

-850 MILLION KRW — in unmissable red at the top of the screen, above a graph you could only guess illustrated the fluctuation of his money, and other bullshit you couldn't comprehend in the moment. you stared. in silence, numb. before you knew it, the number changed: -1.19 BILLION KRW. your thumb acted before your brain could, scrolling, finding the extensive histories of his investments. he was betting hourly during the day with money he certainly did not have, losing thousands. you scrolled even deeper, finding investments from before you broke up. 50,000 krw here, 5 million there, 30 million another day .... he'd been lying that entire time. selfishly keeping more for himself, all the while consoling your crying state from not being able to make rent in time, even with what you suspected to be all he had ("i'm so sorry, baby. you don't deserve this. we don't deserve this. i'll fight your landlord for you, don't worry.") what utter bullshit.

it was all lies. it was all deception. and now he was back in your bed, peacefully asleep like everything was okay. you let him back into your life, thinking everything was going to be fucking okay. you squeeze his phone in your hand, arm shaking. your other hand sinks your fingers into your knee, as if to prevent from screaming; trying to find another outlet for the anger—fuck it! irate, you grab your glass of water and rush to his side of the bed, throwing it onto his face. he shot up immediately. you paced back and forth, eyes rolling at his coughing fit. "wha—what?" his voice was gravely, wiping his eyes. "was that—was that water?" he asked stupidly. "yes it was fucking water!" you spoke loudly, irritated at the sight of his barely opened eyes."what're you yelling for?" his voice was lower than usual, clouded by looming sleep. "it's, like, four in the morning, baby."

"don't you fucking 'baby' me." you muttered, marching up to him. you showed him his screen. "the fuck is this? hm?" "what?" he asked, wiping water off his forehead. you threw his phone onto his lap. "check your fucking investments." he picked up his phone and scrolled. he didn't say a word. you continued to pace like a madwoman, back and forth, nothing filling the air but the skid of the heels of your feet against the floor. you mentally cursed and screamed, thoughts so scrambled that if you opened your mouth all that would come out would be jibberish, so you paced. and paced. and paced. it could've been anywhere between five or ten minutes when you stopped. "well?" you asked sharply, arms crossed over your chest. "how much money did you fucking make?"

"why'd you look at my phone?" asked subong. he was trying so hard to avoid openly showing his shame; his pride prevailing. "that's—" you stuttered. "that's seriously what you're asking right now?" "yes, that's what i'm fucking asking right the fuck now." he looked up at you, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. "you just threw water in my face. i get to ask questions." "you're a billion in debt!" you whisper-yelled, afraid your eyes would water if you were any louder. you trudged to his side of the bed, eyes wide and finger to his chest. he stared at you blankly, a twitch of his eyebrow outed his mounting frustration at his stifled shame. "you're a billion in debt, subong. where did you ... where did you even get all that money?" you swallowed, taking a step back, eyes looking everywhere but him to thwart the mounting glossiness. "why did you lie to me? all those times, all those times where i felt like it was the end. where i felt like i was at a dead end." you gestured to the couch with your hand, staring at him. "and you ... you lied. you were selfish, and didn't want to help. i ... i saw everything, subong. i know you kept on lying about your earnings when we were together."

another beat of silence. "subong, why did you put so much money into—" "—why'd you look at my phone? hm?" he interrupted, eyes wide. "why couldn't you just mind your fucking business?" "you're a billion in debt—" "i didn't owe you anything!" subong suddenly yelled, catching you off guard. he ripped the duvet off, marching up to you, finger in your face. "i didn't owe you fucking anything." he repeated, breathing hard through his nostrils. "what was it you said to me? hm? that it's my money, my punishment to have? so let me fucking have it." "you owed me everything!" you yelled, smacking his hand away. "you owed me the fucking truth!" he turned around, walking to the window leading to the balcony, hands roughly rubbing his face and hair. "why didn't you just tell me? why did you hide—" "—i did it all for you."

your eyes widened and jaw fell, appalled. "oh my god." you muttered to yourself, but he overheard. "i'm going fucking crazy. i'm going fucking crazy." you ran your hands through your hair, pacing. "i know you did not just ... i know you did not just say that." you shook your head. "how could you be so fucking stupid. how could i be so fucking stupid?" subong whipped his head around. "hey! don't call me stupid!" he walked up to you, growing angrier with your ignoring him. "hey!" he exclaimed. "don't call me stupid! i'm not stupid for taking initiative, or, or doing shit because i care about you!" his arms flailed.

"oh..." you shook your head, facing him. he felt like a first grader being told off by his teacher, frustratingly shifting his weight between his feet, unsure of where to put this uncomfortable energy. "oh no, subong. this isn't caring. this is being a complete and utter dumbass." you said, eyes porous in realization. tears were no longer in the realm of possibility. now, it was just pity. "there's no coming back from this." you made sure he knew. "you're fucked." "i know that!" he yelled, vein tight in his temple. "you don't think i fucking know that!?" subong's eyebrows furrowed. it was his turn to avoid crying. he looked away hastily, cursing repeatedly under his breath as if it'd ward off his blurring vision. he blinked hard—"i ... i tried everything." he muttered, bottom lip quivering. "i ... made deals with dangerous p-people." he cleared his throat. "i slept on benches. my own mother wouldn't pick up my calls. i've disappointed her too many times. and you ... you," he cleared his throat again. "you weren't an option." he shook his head, a tear landing on his arm. he inhaled sharply through his nose. "but ... but i have this one last chance—"

"—you're hopeless." you cut him off. "you're the worst person i've ever fucking met." subong looked at you, silently pleading to take those words back. "no." he sounded wounded. "you don't ... you don't mean that." "i do. i mean every word." you nodded. "i must have done something really horrible in a past life to be cursed with loving someone as hurtful as you." "no ..." he shook his head, his palms flattening his hair. "you don't mean what you're saying." "i do!" you yelled, voice cracking, heartbeat in your throat. a shaky breath left his lips, eyes staring at the ceiling and blinking fast, waterline feeling heavy. "no ... no, no." he muttered to himself. he took your face in his hands, eyes darting around your features, making them out even in the meek lighting of the slowly emerging sunrise. you stared blankly at the floor, emotionless between his palms.

"you don't mean those words. i know you don't." he spoke aloud, trying to convince himself. "you don't mean them." his fingers combed your hair out of your face. "i've been trying so hard. i'm so fucking scared, baby." subong shook his head quickly, but it didn't halt his falling tears. "i f-fucked up so bad." he whispered, lips quivering. he pressed kisses to your supple skin, attempting to fill the eerie silence. "but i promise—" his lips peppering your face. "i promise i'm going to fix all of this. i have a plan." subong tasted something salty, seeing a tear having fallen down your cheek. "no, no." he tutted gently, kissing it away. "don't cry. you're too beautiful to cry over a loser like me, baby." he kissed that same spot. "no, no. don't cry. here, let me hold you. come here." his lips trailed to the back of your jaw, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. even in his desperation, he was unsure. his eyes glanced at the glimmer of your dainty diamond drop earrings. "the earrings look good on you. you've always had good taste." he muttered against your shoulder. you didn't move. nor say a word. the silence was killing him. "i've been scared for so long." he whispered. your shoulder felt wet. "please ... please hold me."

he said no apology. no "i'm sorry," no "i regret this." it was a tale as old as time: redirected sympathy; a murky, multi-layered distraction, him avoiding taking full responsibility. you sympathized with his pain, you felt his hurt and the monstrous circumstance, but at some fucking point, there is only so much you could do. there is so much strength one could muster; so much mercy a heart could offer. this wasn't your problem, and you weren't going to go out of your way to make it yours. it was time to draw the line. right here, right now. you didn't recognize the man before you. he was a stranger: "subong?" "yes?" he responded quickly, a hint of hope in his tone. "when were you going to tell me about your debt?"

subong was silent, but you spoke for him. "when i get a promotion? when i get laid off? when there's an eviction notice on my door? after we elope at the courthouse, or when i tell you you're the father of my baby? hm? when were you going to tell me?" your voice was unexpectedly gentle. his shoulders started to shake, quietly sobbing. "when, subong? when?" "forgive me." he pleaded. "forgive me. please, baby—" "—get off of me." you pushed him away, slipping out of his embrace. he wiped his face with the back of his hand. "you're—you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." "you're the worst!" you exclaimed. "it's exhausting loving you! it's torture! i'm decaying from the inside!"

you took a breath, looking at this pathetic form. "i've forgiven you too much." you shook your head. "you've made me a stranger to myself. you take, and you take, and you take. i share my home, i let you fuck me, i let myself think you respect me—" "—i d-do, baby, i do! i lo—" "—i let you into the deepest, darkest pits of who i am, and you let me cry over your fucking nail polish while you were throwing away millions into something that isn't even fucking real. and you have the audacity to say it was for me?" you gesture to yourself. "as much as i tried to fix you, stupidity is in incurable disease. you're the dumbest person i've ever fucking met. you're not even smart enough to say 'i'm sorry.'"

"i never want to see you again." you turn around, your back facing him. "you don't know me. i don't know you. get out." this was it. you didn't move your eyes from the kitchen floor tiles as you heard him collect his things—the clinking of his belt; his shallow breaths; his heavy, stuttered footsteps; the clean swoosh of his pants as he put them on; over-pronounced inhales; his shoving of his feet into his sneakers—punctuated by the slam of the door. you slowly turned around. the oven read 4:53 AM. you sat on the couch, the silence heavy, only moderately cut through by the sporadic chirping of the birds outside. you sunk into the cheap cushions, hands coming up to your face, chest convulsing.

subong didn't know how long he'd been walking for. he was numb; eyes wet, cheeks swollen, snot dried, sneakers carelessly dragging against the sidewalk. the sun had risen. he could hear the taxis driving by, or catch in his peripheral vision the sight of people hurriedly leaving their apartment buildings as the morning commute commenced, but his gaze never shifted from aimless. he was wandering; nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. his chest heaved and his heart pounded in his temples, feelings buried in an overly complicated web that made his ears ring. subong's tongue was dry from breathing through his mouth, but he was so out of it he didn't bother to close his jaw.

it was the ring of a pedestrian's bike bell that temporarily took him out of this trance, stumbling a few steps to the right, letting them pass. "i'm sorry." he muttered weakly. it was only then that he looked at his surroundings, realizing he was walking along a bridge. seeing the water flow below him without issue made him feel so inconsequentially small, almost as if the car driving by or the subtle whispers of the leaves rattling in the wind told him that no matter what he did, or what he went through, or what he said, nature will be there before and after. "excuse me, sir." a voice said. subong's head felt heavy, but he turned it nonetheless. it was the man in the suit from a week ago. "i forgot to give you this after our game last week." he handed subong what looked to be a business card. "my sincerest apologies. i kindly ask that you forgive me, sir." with that, he walked away.

you woke up on the couch in the late morning, having slept through your phone alarm. you had the day off, so that wasn't exactly a concern, only to jolt awake from seering pain on side of your neck and lower back from falling asleep in such a cramped, awkward position. it was hot in the apartment again. you gradually stood on your feet, carefully stretching. "fuck." you mutter under your breath. you moved to the bathroom. you peeled your clothes off, throwing them mindlessly into the hamper. before you stepped into the shower, the glimmer of your earrings caught your sight. you tucked your hair back, staring hard into the mirror. memories of the night previous came rushing back. your quivering lip made you mad all over again, quickly taking the earrings off, throwing them into the trash bin without second thought.

you did errands. you went to work the next day. you quit your job three months later, having landed a better paying one on the opposite side of the city. a year later, you were longed moved out of your small studio and into your one bedroom abode, equipped with an in house dryer and washer. you had new friends. you had a new life. in the end, you really did get your wish of never seeing subong again.

[boltwrites]

Thinking about you and Logan both working at Xavier's and how you'd start to notice all his weird little quirks:

You don't think you've ever seen this man in pants that aren't form-fitting in some way. He's got the black leather for the X-Men suit, bootcut denim for daily wear. And that's all fine and dandy, but one time you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night (stayed up way too late reading a book you got super into) and found him in the kitchen. In jeans. At 2 AM. Did he... sleep in that?

You don't even want to ask about the hair. Scott swears he's seen cans of hairspray in his trash (why were you looking, Scott?) but Rogue is absolutely convinced he just has weird cowlicks. You are undecided.

It's undeniable that Logan actively tries to seem cool, though. You've caught slips in his gruff and sarcastic facade. Namely, the time he was working on fixing Scott's bike, meanwhile humming along to Britney Spears. He definitely didn't think you'd be able to tell through his Walkman, but you'd recognize that melody anywhere.

Oh, and even though he acted like he hated working with the kids? You knew that was a lie too. He wasn't a teacher, per say, but he definitely spent a lot of time helping kids out sparring, or listening to them complain about the other teachers. And you'd caught, on more than one occasion, gifts the kids had given him on his person. There was a bead lizards on his set of keys, and while the bracelets were braided in muted, neutral colors, you recognized the intricate knots of those friendship bracelets. He was a softie.

But by far the strangest was the time he'd missed a meeting and you'd somehow been assigned to drag him out of bed. When he hadn't answered the door, you'd decided to just barge in, irritated at having to wake a grown man in the first place.

But Logan didn't sleep like a normal man, was the thing. Your own standard bed at the mansion came with four pillows, a top sheet, a blanket, and a duvet. Meanwhile Logan's bed looked more like a nest than anything else. There were pillows spilling onto the floor, blankets twisted around each other, at least two comforters - and Logan, curled up in the middle of it all in the smallest ball he could manage, snoring lightly.

[vandnana]

The Time Capsule

Chapter 1: War-Time Lovers

pairing: bucky barnes x female 1940’s bombshell! reader

°

summary: bucky left his heart in 1945 with you, the only girl he ever really loved. a letter you left has him believing you’re dead, but the reality?

you were captured by hydra and made into a super soldier that never went to war—kept frozen for a future era of terror. years after hydra fell, valentina discovered you in her research to creating a new superhero.

in a last ditch effort, valentina’s team of scientists used your blood to make a new serum on bob, their latest subject. but, when it seemed that bob didn’t withstand the experiment, she left you and him in the vault to burn with the rest of the evidence.

you woke up disoriented in a completely different world, saved by a team of antiheroes with no idea that the love of your life was still alive.

°

genre: fluff, angst (implied smut) 18+ mdni

word count: 8,542

highlights: jealous! bucky, howard stark having the fattest crush on reader, peggy and reader girl friendship :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this can be a stand alone but I am not normal and wrote so much that this ended up being a Bucky series (look forward to the other parts!)

…this is the first ever Bucky fic I’ve made! I know I mainly write for avatar (new chapters coming!) but I really had to make this fic cause I got a surge of an idea.

so sorry for any typos as well! I was just writing and writing and got so excited

Circa. 1943

You had escaped your stuffy life in the upper east side of Manhattan to join the efforts against Germany and actually go make a difference in the world.

But the only way that you could find a way to fight was to become one of Captain America's backup dancers during his morale shows. You had performed in a couple of those shows before you snuck away when no one was looking, disguising yourself in uniform and posing as a soldier for as long as you could.

When it finally came out that you were a woman, it sure as hell wasn’t enough that you were on the same team as Captain America, especially to Colonel Philips. It was under his call that you were asked to leave until Howard Stark stepped in. He compromised with Philips by giving you a position in his office with Peggy, confident that you would help the war effort. Truthfully though, he was just taken by you and he would have simply despaired sending a woman as beautiful as you back to New York.

You had become good friends with Peggy, Stark, and Steve, but you had become closest to Steve. He had reminded you of your brother that you had at home— the same kindness in his heart and the same fighting spirit. You were protective of him, despite the fact that the super serum made him tower over you.

So, naturally on the day that Steve was going on a rogue rescue mission to save his friend, you insisted on coming, promising Steve you would stay with Peggy in the plane.

"Miss Y/n Y/l/n, if it's not too much trouble, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue." Stark flirted from the cockpit.

You looked over at Peggy and Steve, their eyes expectant as they waited for your response. Clearing your throat, you lied with a smile, "Yeah, that sounds great."

"It's a date, then!" He replied, satisfied as he smirked to himself.

You didn't say anything, scrunching your nose as you looked to the side. Only Peggy seemed to notice, chuckling with an amused expression. Steve, though, was clueless, his thoughts surface-level as he let out a sigh of relief that Howard was flirting with you and not Peggy.

She turned her attention over to Steve, describing how to use the transponder so he could activate it when he was ready. You listened carefully before bullets began to ricochet off the plane's exterior, multiple gun blasts sounding in your ears making you stand up immediately with your ears covered.

Steve stood up too, his sense of urgency heightened as he quickly opened the hatch.

"Get back here! We're taking you all the way in!" Peggy yelled out against the winds and gunfire.

"As soon as I'm clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!" Steve commanded at her, her eyebrows raising.

"Hey, Stark!" You put your hands around your mouth to project, and even as he dodged the bullets, he was still able to respond to you.

"Yes, beautiful?”

You looked down at Steve who was getting ready to jump and without warning you grabbed onto the strap on his back as you replied, "I'll have to take a raincheck on that fondue!"

Peggy attempted to grab you but Steve jumped before he realized you were attached to him, the two of you falling toward the ground at incredible speed. Once you finally hit the ground, Steve broke your fall and you got up from the ground with him scolding at you in a whispered tone, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm your backup! Now, hurry up. We have people to save." You said to him confidently, running toward the hydra base already.

Sneaking past the armed guards, you and Steve had no problem getting inside. You were in horrified awe looking at everything, the technology unlike anything you had ever seen before—weapons and artillery that glowed a bright blue color. You put a few of the small canisters in your pocket, figuring Stark would know what they were with his brilliance before moving on toward the prison cell blocks.

Disarming more guards, you startled the soldiers below who looked at you in shock, their faces all riddled with same expression as one of them asked, "Who are you?" as Steve stood over their cells.

"I'm Captain America."

Steve threw down the keys that were in the guard's pockets and you caught them, unlocking each of the cell doors and letting them all out.

You were so caught up in the mission, you hadn't realized how baffling your presence was to the men as they stared at you in awe, one of them commenting, "You're a...woman."

"Right, a woman that just saved your ass." You said snarkily.

“Language.” Steve scolded you, his eyes frantic as he looked for his friend.

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring what he said as you instructed, "Go look for him, Steve. I'll make sure you have a clear way out of here!"

Steve shook his head at you, putting his hands on your shoulders, refusing instantly, "No, you go with them and you run like hell."

There was no point in arguing with him, conceding as you saluted, "Yes, Cap. You got it."

With your confirmation, Steve ran the other way, and you went with the others, starting off running with everyone, but turning back toward the corridor Steve had went into.

The explosions began when you got closer to where you had left Steve, the entire bottom of the base going up in flames. You were running as fast as you could, only catching up to Steve when you saw him duck into one of the rooms.

You meant to follow him inside, but the shadow of a figure caught your eye, the short man wearing a trench coat, a briefcase, and a hat. You fixated on that briefcase, whatever unholy hydra plans in there possibly helpful in defeating hydra once and for all. Running as fast as you could, you shot at the man as you ran, making him move quicker in haste across the long hallway.

When he finally stopped you had a clear shot, until another man stepped out from an elevator, his face sinister as he turned to let the man you were chasing into the elevator, gun in his hand as he said to you simply, "Consider this a mercy."

Pointing it at you, you had no time to react as he shot you, only barely missing your heart as you managed to dodge it just enough for it to land in the flesh between your collarbone and your shoulder.

The impact sent you down to the ground, pain seeping through the wound as blood spilled out. Cursing, you took off your outer coat, ripping up your shirt underneath and tying the wound as tight as you could and as quickly as possible. Getting up, you held onto your coat, the material bunched up in your hands as you ran to the elevator.

Pressing the button underneath the highest one, you figured it would give you a good vantage point to call out to Steve since the entire base was burning from the ground up.

Breathing heavily, you were collecting your strength as you leaned against the wall of the elevator and once the doors finally opened, you trudged out, eyes searching everywhere as you yelled, "Steve!"

You saw movement two stories down, and even from that far, you saw disappointment and worry on his face as he yelled out, "I told you to get the hell out of here!"

"You really think I'd leave you here? Hurry up! You can use this beam to get across!" They followed the gesture of your hands, quickly running up the stairs.

Leaning against the railing, you gulped, watching the world around you burning, the heat rising and rising, sweat dripping from your forehead.

Up ahead, you watched as Steve's friend went first, balancing carefully on the beam that rocked slightly with every step. When the end of the beam on your side began to drop lower with his weight, your eyes widened and instantly you reached out, "Take my hand!"

He almost lost his balance, blinking at you, his eyes adjusting to take in your appearance. It didn't matter that your hair was all over the place, that sweat ws beading around your forehead or that you had blood and dirt smeared on your shirt. For that split second, his breath hitched at the sight of you, simply enamored, before he ran forward, hand extended as he jumped up from the beam just in time before it fell.

Despite the pain in your shoulder, you used all your strength to help pull him up and over the railing. When he was over, he fell onto you and you caught him, your arms around his back as you stabilized your feet. Time felt as if it slowed when you pulled your face back, your eyes locked on each other in that moment. You were asking if he was alright as you trailed your hands around him, his hunched position when he first started walking on the beam concerning you. But with every fleeting touch of yours, you were unknowingly stamping yourself on him, the feel of you creating a longing inside of Bucky that he never knew was possible.

Once he nodded, speechless, you were back at the railing and looking at Steve across the beam, "Just wait right there. We'll find a way to get you across." You watched as Steve looked down, doom looming over him as he shook his head.

"Go guys! Get out of here!" Steve urged, but right beside you, his friend countered him.

His friend was right beside you now, smacking on the railing, he was angry, determined as he yelled out, "No! Not without you!"

"Come on, Captain America! Get a running start and jump!" You weren't sure if it would work or if it was even a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.

Bending the railing, Steve heeded your order, stepping back and with a big breath he sprinted forward, jumping into the air, fire and flame all around him.

You couldn't peel your eyes away as you watched him leap, but at the last minute, you turned away, not wanting to watch your fear unravel in front of you.

The clunk of metal though made you face forward again, Steve's body wobbling forward and you let out a sigh of relief as you draped an arm around him, and even included his friend into your embrace, "We're home free now."

Walking back to the home base, you had argued with Steve for over five minutes about how you were fine to walk and that you didn't need to be in the tank with the rest of the injured men.

He didn't win the argument in the end, conceding to you as you walked proudly next to him. But, he did take away the gun that you were carrying so you could wear a sling.

His friend matched your pace, remaining close to you, his eyes both patrolling his surroundings, but also somehow always finding their way back to you. It wasn't hard for you to notice and you smiled to yourself, the grin that he kept on his face endearing to you.

"Do you have a name or are you just gonna keep staring?" You asked him, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him from the side.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," His tone uplifted at your question, eyes glinted with excitement at your boldness, "And your name is...?"

"Y/n Y/l/n. Just y/n is fine. No need for any titles." You introduced yourself, the warmth of your voice radiating through the air.

"Just y/n, huh? The people I'm close with call me Bucky." He added.

"Ah, is that your aim then, Sergeant? To get close to me?" You teased, grinning.

"No need for any titles." He repeated, chuckling at your answer,but his eyes were determined and seductive, passion enthralled in his response, "I mean you've already offered your hand to me, so I think it's only right."

You hated to admit how he was getting under your skin with his charm, the way he was talking setting a fire deep within you, making your heart pump faster than usual.

Reaching up, you put your hand up to his face, lightly tapping it as you cheekily replied, "You better watch it. You really shouldn't bite off more than you can chew there, Barnes."

Turning to the side, you gazed up at Steve, who was pretending that he wasn't eavesdropping on your conversation. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you spoke, "I'm going to check in with everyone, see if they need anything."

Bucky watched you leave, even the sight of you walking away was breathtaking to him. And when you were finally out of sight, he put an arm around Steve, elation blooming in the way he beamed over you, "She's an actual angel that came down from heaven. Where did you find her, Steve? And what's she doing hanging with you?"

Steve shrugged, used to Bucky's jokes and his usual gushing about women, "She snuck into the infantry, if you really have to know. She's a good woman, Buck and I think she's spoken for."

"She is spoken for...by me, pal. I'm marrying that girl." Bucky said, unbothered.

"You say that about every girl." Shaking his head, Steve laughed, "She's a real tough cookie to crack, Buck. I don't know if you can handle it."

"Come on, have you met me?" Bucky scoffed, confidence oozing out, "I'm telling you, I'm marrying her."

-

Once you arrived at camp, you were greeted with a surprisingly warm welcome by Colonel Philips, his shock and awe by Steve's rescue mission finally giving credibility to the idea of Captain America being more than just a symbol.

Peggy kept her composure looking at Steve, her eyes once concerned washing over with relief at seeing him in one piece. She extended that concern to you as she took your hand, her face dropping when she saw you in a sling.

She escorted you to the medic tent, the others who were injured following after you. Bucky's eyes only left you when he shouted out "Let's hear it for Captain America!" for Steve, the gesture touching your heart.

Peggy was calling your name, but you didn't hear her at all, staring a little longer than you thought, hanging onto Bucky's every move as he patted his friend's back enthusiastically.

Only when she tapped your shoulder did you finally grant her your eye contact and her lips pursed as she playfully taunted, "Never have I seen you be so enamored with a man this entire time I've known you. And, we are always surrounded by them."

"You can't tell me he isn't handsome." You shrugged your shoulders, wincing slightly as you held onto your wound, forgetting about it for the moment.

Your carelessness made her chuckle as she motioned for you to keep following her, "He's not really my type of man."

You took an opportunity to tease her back, smiling to yourself from behind her, "Oh right, you like the blonde ones. I forgot." She sent you quick glare, and satisfied you only gave her an innocent expression.

-

The next night, celebration was in order for all the men in the infantry, all of them filing out of their barracks in their proper uniforms toward the pub on the other side of camp.

It was you who had convinced Peggy to wear her red dress to the pub because although she only planned to be there for a second to talk to Steve, you knew how much she really liked him, and you were certain of her effect on him too.

You had your own evening gown to put on too, an unexpected gift from Howard Stark, which you would have kindly refused if he didn't so adamantly insist that he wouldn't take it back. You were even deadset on wearing a uniform just like the rest of the soldiers, but Peggy begged you to dress up, saying that Stark's gift would be wasted. When you finally agreed, she helped you get ready, pinning up your hair and finished your makeup before the two of you walked over to the pub.

The night air was chilly, but it didn't bother you as you walked, one foot in front of the other with careful precision, just like you were taught in your debutante school when you were a teenager. Pushing the door open, you let Peggy walk through the door first, the lively tunes of the piano once boisterous, halting suddenly as the pianist slowed his fingers, jaw hung open as he ogled the two of you.

Silence filled the pub as the soldiers' eyes were fixated on you. You recognized some of the men you rescued from the hydra base, making your way over to them and joking, "Glad to see you guys are alive and well enough to drink your fill."

The one with the bowler hat and mustache nodded, tipping his hat then lifting his cup to you, "Thanks to you and our Captain America over there! Forgive me for being so bold with you, Miss. You're no able grable, but a fine woman indeed. We here at this table all agree. Cheers to you."

Nodding at them, you looked at each of them gratefully and they drank their beers in honor of you, clinking them loudly as the foam spilt over the sides. Turning the corridor, you saw Peggy already with Steve. You intended to give them more time, but she was already turning toward the exit.

"You're leaving already?" You asked, "You should stay for a dance."

"I can't." Then, looking past you, she smiled, "But you can. And it looks like you already have a dance partner."

Following her eye line, ahead you saw Bucky, hands in his pockets and that same smile from before donned on his lips. He had anticipated your arrival, his head constantly peering toward the entrance every chance he got before you came.

"Good luck." Peggy whispered into your ear, winking.

Peggy left you in the center of the room, the soldiers all still with their eyes lingering on your figure. Bucky was leaning against the frame of the walkway, his gaze full of adoration with every step you took toward him.

You were almost within arm's length of him when you were interrupted by Stark's familiar voice behind you, his usual charm lacing it, "I almost didn't recognize you without your uniform on, Miss y/l/n."

Stark pivoted to your front, blocking Bucky's view as he admired the dress on you, "I do know how to pick an evening gown, don't I?"

"I'm surprised to see you here. Aren't you a little busy decoding that blue stuff from the hydra base?" You jabbed at him, ignoring his flirtatious advances.

"Not too busy to reschedule our fondue." He leaned forward suggestively, "What do you say?"

You caught Bucky's eye, his gaze never leaving you and his stance still against the doorway. Seeing him still waiting there, your heart softened and you smiled at him, "Sorry Stark. I would but—"

"But, I owe her a dance." Bucky was quick to walk over when he heard your apology, finishing your sentence as he boldly spoke for you.

Stark looked up at Bucky, puzzled before he recognized him, putting a hand out, "Ah, Sergeant Barnes, is it? Glad to see you're alive."

"I've got Steve and y/n here to thank for that." Taking Stark's hand, Bucky shook it firmly before letting it go and extending his hand to you, "Shall we?"

You looked over at Stark, who felt instantly challenged by Bucky's gesture, the two of them suddenly glaring at one another.

"Thank you for the gown." You kissed him on the cheek, and he hung onto that lingering touch as he ghosted where your lips had been.

Finally, you took Bucky's hand and he clasped your fingers together leading you to the area where people were dancing. You saw Steve sitting at the bar, waving at him as he held his drink high as if he was toasting to you.

You pulled Bucky back toward the bar, insistent on getting a drink first. When the bartender turned around, he almost dropped the glass he was wiping with the rag, jaw hung open as he adjusted the tip of his hat, "What can I get for you, miss?"

"Whiskey will do. Thank you sir. How much?" You asked, pulling out your purse, which Bucky put down for you, already placing money on the counter.

"You're on my dime tonight." Bucky insisted as the man began to pour your drink.

Steve scoffed, "How come you didn't buy my drink?"

"You're not a beautiful woman, Steve," He gave you a dazzling smile, eyes beaming at you, "And a beautiful woman should never have to pay."

"Is that so?" You replied, leaning over the counter and batting your eyelashes at the bartender, "Do you agree, sir?"

"Uh, well, yes, miss!" The glass was almost overflowing as he stood flustered by you, "This one's on the house!"

Flashing him a smile, you winked, "Thank you kindly."

Downing it all in one go, Bucky and Steve looked at one another, Steve's eyes widened, but Bucky's seeped with intense ardor. Once you finished, you slid the glass back toward the bartender, who tipped his hat again to you.

Then, meeting Bucky's eyes, you trailed your hand down his arm and hooked your fingers around his, "I guess you were right, Barnes."

In the middle of the dancing area, Bucky wasted no time in gently pulling you close, minding your injury as he placed your hand on his lower waist. The piano player, who had once played an upbeat tune, slowed his tempo down, the song's natural romantic nature creating an air of intimacy around you and Bucky.

You rested the other hand on his shoulder, but instead of his attention fixed on you, they were on the bartender. Lifting your hand to his chin, you coaxed his focus back to your face, teasing him curiously, "You've got a real sour face on for someone who wanted to dance."

"So...what's with you and the fondue guy?" He was itching to know more than he cared to admit, the sight of you kissing another man's cheek igniting a territorial urge he didn't know he was capable of.

"I didn't take you for a jealous man, Barnes. What got you exactly?" You laughed and seeing that, he instantly surrendered his seriousness, lips pulling upward with joy while you cheekily replied.

"I'm not jealous," He sucked on his teeth, scoffing a little at your response, "See, you actually did me a favor at the bar."

"Did I?" You said with surprise, raising your eyebrows eagerly.

"Yeah, you just saved me a couple more Italian lira to get you something real nice." He seemed proud of his answer, head tilted a little higher as he kept a smirk.

Challenging him, you spoke, "I'm used to the finer things in life, Barnes. Whatever you buy won't impress me."

"I find that hard to believe when you're wearing the dress that fondue guy gave you," Bucky playfully looked at you.

Looking down, you nodded, "I am wearing Stark's dress, yes. But, I'm dancing with you, and where you are is exactly where I want to be."

You expected another sly and quick reply from him but Bucky was at a loss for words, rendered speechless not just by your touch, but by your words. You taunted him amorously, "What's wrong, soldier? Do I need to give you a command to show a girl a good time?"

He gulped, suddenly feeling weak in his knees over you— all his senses centered around your entire being, "I'll do anything you want, doll. Just say the word."

Slowly, you closed the gap between you two, resting your head on his shoulder and interlacing your hand into his, "Good, now hold me close and we'll see where the night takes us."

Everything about you was warm, any worries and fears he had disappearing from his mind. The smell of roses were distinctly yours now, your perfume permeating through his nose pleasantly and without thinking, he leaned into you a little closer, the feel of your hair soft underneath his chin. You were humming quietly with the piano too, and he decided then that the piano was too loud, too disruptive against your melodic voice.

Savoring the moment, he squeezed your hand lightly, the gesture necessary as he wondered whether or not he was dreaming. In response to him, you tilted your head back to regard his eyes, and almost instantly he looked down at your lips that were softly parted, the cherry red calling his name.

Gulping, Bucky held back the temptation, the tension in the air almost suffocating him while you stared, curious what he would do. He tried his best to abate wanting to kiss you, but your lips were beckoning him and leaning in he surrendered vulnerably, connecting his lips with yours.

Realization hit him deep as you kissed him back, your hands once on his back trailing to the back of his neck with a tender fervor. He knew he was a ladies' man, the worst kind too—the kind who'd have a different girl on his arm every week. Yet, he found his match in you. For the first time, he was actually scared of losing a girl, and he'd be damned if it was to another man.

Separating your lips from his, he stared at you breathless and longingly, as if your face held all the answers in the world, everything about you already embedded into the inner workings of his mind and the chambers of his heart.

He decided right then and there that he'd only ever want to be with you—to be the only man you ever held, ever kissed.

You yourself were taken by him too, and it felt odd to feel such a natural attraction to someone. You were courted by so many suitors back in New York, showered with gifts, wined and dined until the day was long, yet none of them had ever made you feel the way Bucky made you feel.

"You know, you looked beautiful today." Bucky let out, the words almost not coming out as a sudden nervousness bubbled in his stomach.

Bewildered, you squinted your eyes at him, "When?"

"When I was crossing that beam." He admitted, "Damn near almost fell off staring at you."

You ignored the feeling of your cheeks getting rosy, sighing, "I'm happy you're safe and sound."

Shrugging, he coolly responded, “Well, I had to make it to you. It would have been embarrassing to fall like that on our first date.”

Another laugh escaped your lips, “I don't think that rescue mission can be called a first date."

"What do you mean? It was perfect. You know, we held hands, I walked you home...I think that's standard date procedure." Bucky stated, pleading his case flippantly.

"Steve was also there, and we almost died too." You added, which made him laugh.

"So, it was memorable." Bucky argued, “We're both soldiers, doll. Battlefield or not, anywhere I go with you is a date."

Your cheeks were red now, but there was no point in hiding it anymore, his effect on you evident by your sudden silence. He was naturally alluring to you, but deeper than that, he saw you as a soldier, and it felt good to be recognized, to know that you were something more than a high-society woman from New York.

"I look forward to that next date, but for now, let's focus on this one." You replied, validating his advances happily.

You and Bucky danced together late into the night, and you would have been there the whole way through if the piano player didn't pass out in the middle of a song, his drunkenness getting the best of him. The other soldiers were also filing out of the pub too, some of them knocked out too, their heads on the tables or leaned back onto the chairs.

Bucky walked you back to your room in Stark's headquarters on the base, draping his jacket over you to shield you from the cold. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, but not entirely as you continued to hum the tunes from the pub.

When you got to your room, you gave him his jacket back as he leaned against the doorframe. Watching you walk in, you elected not to turn your light on, but rather light a few candles on your bedside table.

"You know, I was never really worried about the dress, doll." His tone short of indelicate as his voice deepened.

Spinning around, you walked over to him, leaning forward slightly as you played with his shirt collar, "And why's that, Barnes?"

The heat from the candles held no comparison to the passion imbued in the air, once embers igniting instantly into a flame as Bucky spoke, "I figured, you know, if you'll have me...I wouldn't keep you in that dress any longer than you needed to be."

"It was difficult to put on, just so many buttons," You were baiting him purposefully, drawing the moment out longer, your face just inches away from his.

"I have nimble fingers." Bucky blurted out a little too eagerly as his eyes shined with mischief but he kept a giddy smile.

Without thinking, you couldn't help the laugh that erupted, charmed by his sudden switch from sultry to silly. And realizing how he sounded, Bucky laughed along with you, scolding himself internally.

"That was—" He began, but you interrupted.

"Cute. That was cute." You said, and caressing his cheek adoringly you teased him again with a chaste kiss on his lips.

Bucky longed for more, the touch so light that he was aching inside when you pulled away, biting his bottom lip.

Giving him one last smile, your eyes crescent moons and your cheeks still rosy, you stepped backward into your room, grabbing the edge of the door, “Good night, Bucky.”

His ears perked up, but in his disbelief he tilted his head, “You just called me Bucky.”

“Oh, do you prefer Barnes? Because I’ll happily—“

He put a finger to your lips, shaking his head, “No, no, doll, keep calling me Bucky…please.”

Again, you chuckled, moving his fingers over and holding them, “I’ll see you tomorrow Bucky. Now, go get some sleep.”

“Impossible, y/n. I’ll be thinking about you all night.” Bucky was dragging out the moment too, head downcast and staring at your fingers, still intertwined together, neither of you wanting to let go.

You looked behind you, the candles setting the mood already and biting your lip, you sighed, "The barracks are pretty far from here.”

Slowly, you led him forward and with no hesitation, he walked toward you, out of the doorframe and to the center of your room. The candlelight cascaded onto you guys, the two of you so close, your shadows had become one.

Boldly, he twirled you around, his chest facing your back as he adored you from your left side, his breath sending a chill down your spine as he whispered in your ear, "You did order me to show a girl a good time. I have to make good on that promise."

"You already have," You were beaming, eyes locked and your hand in his hair, your voice slightly raspy from the whiskey you were drinking earlier.

"Well, I'm an overachiever." He kissed your cheek softly, his stubble tickling you.

You placed your hands on top of his where they rested on your waist, "Then, what are you waiting for? This dress isn't gonna take itself off."

-

You woke up to a knock on the door, the first one gentle at first then the second one jolting you awake. You blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. The candles you lit were on your bedside table, wax spilled past their holders, long burnt out. Then, you felt a tug at your side, an arm pulling you closer and a deep groan begging your attention as you looked to your side.

He was also woken up by the knock, but it hardly mattered when he was waking up next to you, your bodies still entangled with one another.

"Morning, doll." He greeted, raspiness coating his voice, his tone echoing the way he spoke to you last night, his adoration declared while he was on top of you, matching every word with his amorous movements.

"Y/n! Are you alright? We have a briefing to get to in fifteen minutes!" You heard Peggy yell on the other side of the door.

You left Bucky alone on the bed as you hastily got up and in a rush, you quickly put his pants on and his jacket to cover your naked body. When you got to the door, you only opened the door a sliver to hide Bucky, then smoothing your hair out, you replied to her with a smile, "I-I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night so I woke up late."

She paused, taking in your appearance, her eyebrows raised when she noticed the stripes on the sleeves, the symbol not at all reflecting your military rank, "Ah, have you always had that jacket, y/n? I didn't know you changed ranks. Although, I've always known you've had a little sergeant in you."

Bucky was listening to your conversation, holding in a chuckle from Peggy's comment.

You were certain you were bright red, but you brushed her off, "Oh, this? I borrowed it last night. It was quite cold when I left the pub." You lied, scratching the back of your head.

She smiled at you, amused, "Okay, well, I don't want you to be late. So, hurry, please," She backed away from the door, but just as she was about to turn away she called out, "And that goes for you too, Sergeant Barnes."

Shutting the door, you put your head against it for a second, not wanting to look at Bucky until he cleared his throat, joking with you, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, we have a briefing to get to."

You bit the inside of your cheek, scoffing as you took the jacket and pants off, you bare again making Bucky clutch his heart, "Or we can skip the briefing."

You walked over, clothes in your right hand as you leaned forward on the bed, teasing him as you ghosted your lips on his, "Just get dressed, you idiot," You whispered, throwing his clothes at him.

"Anything you want, doll." He smirked, hopping off the bed.

-

You barely made it to the briefing on time, slightly out of breath when you walked in, Bucky right behind you. Everyone was gathered around the large flat table in Stark's main office, all of their eyes on you when you walked in.

You took your place beside Peggy, who pinched your hand in acknowledgement underneath the table. You held in a wince, glaring at her, but she only gave you a mischievous grin. Stark willfully ignored the sight, continuing what he was saying as he pointed to the maps on the table. Steve, who had already caught on, assumed at first that it was another fleeting moment with another girl. Yet, it became painfully obvious that Bucky actually liked you when his best friend only looked at him for a moment before clinging to your side, taking his position on the opposite end of you.

And from that day on, you and him were practically inseparable, and in all the time that Steve had known his best friend, he never saw him so smitten with someone. Whenever you talked, Bucky's ears perked up and he gave you his full undivided attention. When you walked, Bucky was never far, usually next to you or a few paces behind. And when you were simply doing nothing, his eyes never left you and his smile was perpetual, cheeks lifted like he never got tired of doing it.

As a soldier and a sergeant, he wasn't allowed to stay outside of the barracks, but he broke the rules for you every chance he got, his place beside you in bed hardly ever empty.

And even in battle, it was easy for you and Bucky to be side by side, the two of you being sharpshooters. But on the occasion that you were on the ground with Steve, Bucky would hound him about keeping you safe, the idea of you ever being hurt unbearable even just in thought.

For two years, you remained that way.

Always together, never apart.

It was in the winter of 1945 when Bucky showed up with his hands behind his back while you were studying the maps of the weapons' bases. You and the Howling Commandos were making great headway disarming the hydra bases, but there were still so many more to go.

The snow was falling above you in the tent, and he found it odd how you were positioned, your body still in the snow while you held the map underneath the tent.

"What are you doing, love?" He knelt down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

"Enjoying the snow, but I have to keep this map dry." You laughed, looking at him through snow-covered eyelashes, the white specks falling so beautifully in your hair, "I probably look like some sort of white witch with all this snow on me."

“Witch? You’re more radiant like the elves in the Hobbit.” He complimented, making you look up from the map.

You saw how contemplative his expression became when you made eye contact, and tilting your head, you asked, "Is something wrong?"

Bucky carefully took the map out of your hands, placing it on the ground. He was halfway in the snow now too, his hair getting covered while he gushed, "I've just been thinking. I can't imagine my life without you in it. You'll always be my doll, y/n."

Letting out a soft chuckle, you joked, "Always is a long, long time. Are you sure about that?"

"I'll bet my life on it." He replied confidently, reaching up to caress your hair, "And when we come back from all this, I'm marrying you."

"Is that right?" You took his hand into yours, kissing the inside of his palm, "And how are you so sure I'd say yes?"

Smirking, he lowered his eyes at you seductively, "Well, I figured you would since you didn't have any problems saying yes to me last night," He leaned in closer, inching toward your lips as he whispered softly, "Again and again and again..."

He connected his lips to yours and you smiled into it as he kissed you, every movement entrenched in deep affection as his hands pulled you closer to him.

Pulling away slightly, you put a hand on his cheek, your foreheads still touching and your voice almost breathless as you said aloud, "I love you, Bucky."

"I love you too," He breathed in, your words intoxicating him beyond what he could fathom, and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box, "I know you hate gifts, but I couldn't resist."

He popped the top open to reveal a ring, the stone sparkling in the snow, "I figured I can't marry you without a ring."

"Bucky, you didn't have to—"

He took it out of the box, taking your hand and putting it on your left hand, "And before you start yelling at me, I didn't buy it, I made it."

You gasped, smiling widely, "You made this?"

"With my own hands." He stated proudly.

"How—" Speechless for a moment, you held your hand up, admiring the details, your heart warmed by the thought of Bucky working so hard to make it for you.

"I told you I have nimble fingers." Shrugging, his nonchalance made you laugh again and you threw your arms around him.

"You really did this for me?" Through German trenches and hydra-infested bases, you had been through so much together, you knew him inside and out and yet, you were still shocked at how he could still surprise you.

"I'm in it for a lifetime, doll. So, what do you want to do for our wedding? A horse-drawn carriage? Roses down the aisle?" Bucky's love outpoured with his words and you kissed him again.

Shaking your head, "I have something else in mind."

You stood, taking his hands into his as he asked eagerly, "What do you mean?"

Leading him, you kept your eyes peeled ahead, "Steve's a captain right? Can't he just marry us? I don't think I can wait any longer to be called Mrs. Barnes."

"I haven't heard a better idea all day." He agreed, and in his own excitement, he took the lead, running with you to find Steve.

You got married right on the base, Peggy and Stark being your witnesses while Steve officiated your wedding. There was no greater honor than being able to marry his best friend to the love of his life, and having not made a move with Peggy yet, he felt more encouraged, the romance in the air intoxicating.

Stark, who still had quite the chip on his shoulder about you, was still happy nonetheless, having grown fond of Bucky since he met him.

Still, he teased you flirtatiously after your ceremony, not at all caring that Bucky was beside you as he said, "It's a shame to see you married off, but I'll be sure to tell my future son that you were supposed to be their mother."

You rolled your eyes at him, but joked back, "And when I name my son after you Howard, he'll know you as the man that could never take a hint."

"My love, I did not agree to that." Bucky protested, and making eye contact with Steve, he yelled out, "Our son's gonna be named Steve Barnes! No exceptions."

"And what if you have a daughter?" Peggy asked, her hands clasped together before she wrapped her arms around your shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Margaret, of course, after my cherished friend." You leaned into her embrace, happiness bubbling inside of you.

Steve came over to Bucky, putting a hand on his shoulder proudly, "I think Steve could be a girl name too," His comment earning a laugh from everyone.

"All this baby talk..." He took your hand into his, tone suggestive as he boldly declared, "I'm thinking we should probably go make one then, right, love? It is our honeymoon, after all."

He mainly said it to to irritate Howard, who scrunched his nose at Bucky. Steve pressed his lips into a thin line, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head, but Peggy thought it was oddly endearing, her heart warmed by the passion he had for you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if little Steve is already in there, Bucky." You replied, scratching the back of your head, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, you can never be too sure." He said cheekily, peppering your face with kisses.

"Okay, okay." Steve said, putting his hands up, muttering under his breath, "You guys are like rabbits."

You glared at him, "I heard that, Steve."

-

That was the best day of your life.

It was the first day of forever with Bucky.

But what you didn't know?

Forever would only last a day.

You would have never thought that the last image of your love would be of him holding onto the metal bar on that moving train, your hand outstretched toward him just like the first day you met.

Yet, his hand never touched yours again, and he knew it too, his eyes, although struck with so much fear imbued with so much affection as he managed to tell you he loved you before the metal bar gave out.

The sight of him falling was surreal for you, and in your quickness to act, you were about to jump off the train too, but Steve held you back as you screamed and screamed for him to let you go.

When you got back to the base, you had nothing else on your mind except for Bucky. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was still alive, and you went with that gut feeling all the way.

The only person who knew about your plan was Stark, who had agreed to take his plane back to the mountains. He was the last person you would see in a long time, unbeknownst to you.

Over the mountains, you opened the hatch, looking down at the white abyss. Before you jumped, Stark grabbed your arm, asking you, "What if you don't find him?"

"I will." You replied brazenly, giving him one last kiss on the cheek, "Goodbye Stark. Just know that when you get married and have your son, he’ll change the world, just like you are right now."

With that, you disappeared into the snow.

And for a hundred more years, you became a piece of history, along with Steve, frozen in the ice, the remnants of the two of you kept alive in the minds of Peggy Carter and Howard Stark.

And when Steve was finally out of the ice, finally meeting the son of his old friend, he was surprised to hear your name out of his mouth so casually as he ate his blueberries, "Yeah, my hacking program is named y/n. Apparently she was supposed to be my mother. And man, was she a babe. I totally get where dad was coming from there."

In a funny way, it was meant to honor you. Stark had meant what he said when he told you he'd tell his kid about you, your name coming alive again when Tony was growing up. It was only right for him to know, your last words being about the kid that would grow up to change the world.

Howard never forgot that.

And in his final moments lying on the ground near his car, his wife shot and his life fading, he looked up at his assassinator only to find his lost friend.

"Sergeant Barnes?" He uttered in disbelief, but he was met with blank eyes and silence. And in a last attempt to awaken something familiar in his friend, he spoke your name, "Y/n, she looked for you in the mountains. Your wife."

But those words meant nothing to the Winter Soldier.

Yet, that memory was not lost on Bucky, trapped inside, forced to hear about your fate through the friend he had just murdered.

And when he finally was out of Hydra's grasp, his mind free of that control, his first instinct was to look for your grave.

He found it easily in upstate New York, your family's influence on the entire city marking fame and praise. Your name was engraved on an empty casket in your family mausoleum, and when he saw it, tracing his hands over it, he dropped to his knees, endless sobs escaping him.

And at night, when he’d lie awake, he would always turn his body to the side, arm outstretched to hug the pillow that he always placed beside him. He never did get used to sleeping alone after you.

But still, he couldn't shake that you were somehow alive, and on the day that Steve time travelled, coming back in his old age, Bucky approached him, "When you were back there, did you—"

"No," Steve shook his head, his hands in his pockets, "I didn't find her. But man, she loooved you, Buck."

Taking two pieces of paper out of his pocket, he handed one to Bucky, "She wrote this for you."

"You read it?" Bucky asked, offended.

"I peeked, okay? I had to make sure which one was mine." Steve defended himself.

Unraveling it, it read:

Dear Bucky,

You once told me that you could never imagine a life without me in it. And I could say that was the reason I went after you, so you wouldn't have to. But, honestly, a day didn't even pass after you fell and I felt like I was dying.

I realize I can't live without you. I had everything growing up. But, that's all nothing compared to what I have with you.

If you're reading this now, it means I never did find you. But it also means that you're alive, just like I knew you would be.

I would tell you to be happy, to marry someone else, and have a family.

But, if you do, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life.

I hope you don't mind that I gave Steve the ring you made me. I figured if he had one already, he couldn't use the excuse that he didn't have a ring to finally marry Peggy.

I love you, Bucky, I love you a whole lifetime's worth, even if we didn't get to live it out.

Love,

Your doll

Bucky, although he was struck with another wave of grief, tears welling in his eyes, he laughed, hearing your voice so clearly in his head as if you were saying everything out loud to him.

In his other pocket, Steve took out the same ring box that he had given you all those years ago, "I did end up getting a ring for Peggy. I'm offended, you know? Y/n, she always thought I was so hopeless."

"Hey," Taking the box from Steve, he opened it, remembering the day he gave it to you, the way you looked in the snow still so vivid in his mind, "That's my wife you're talking about."

Steve sighed, "There's a lot more life for you, Buck. If you wanted to move on, I don't think she'd really mind."

"I could, so she would haunt me and I'd finally see her again," Bucky joked, making Steve chuckle.

"But, honestly Steve, I'd rather see her when it's my time to go. She's worth the wait."

-

Author's Note:

Omg omg omg I kind of got carried away but I couldn't resist writing 1940's Bucky. I can't wait to write this next chapter where they see each other again but damn writing this ending actually lowkey had me tearing up

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Again, first time writing for Bucky and I had so much momentum after Thunderbolts I had to just get into writing IMMEDIATELY.

If you'd like to be in my taglist, tell me your fave part about the chapter and i'll add you!

Thank you to all my readers. I love you all!!

Love,

nana <3

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 2

『Wanna see you, wanna see you but I gotta resist』

Disparities Between Our Souls You and your husband fight the anomaly in your home-universe while attempting to avoid the gaze of your family Disclaimer(s): Fight scenes are definitely not my forte and Damian is the only batfam with a proper screen time in this

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

You felt the wind on your body was you swung across the city towards the anomaly. The adrenaline coursed through your veins as you tried to clear your mind of your racing thoughts. In the corner of your eye, you see the familiar red of Miguel’s laser webs and you were able to fully focus on your task at hand and not your future problems.

Once the Doc Ock finally made his way into your full view, it was certain that he was anomaly. He looked like he came out of a steampunk movie, a stark difference to the modernity of Gotham.

You two went with your usual plan, Miguel would distract the villain of the day while you would transport the civilians or at least warn them. You made quick work transporting the citizens away from the expected vicinity of the fight.

You made your way back to your husband after dropping off the final citizen to safety. You were greeted to the sight of multiple pairs of mechanical arms reaching for Miguel as he avoided them with ease. You made eye contact with him, another silent agreement made between you two.

You shot a web towards the Doc Ock, taking his attention away from your husband, his rage now aimed at you. His barely coherent shouts weren’t a deterrent to you as you taunted him. While he was distracted with you, Miguel had easily snuck up on him and punched him square in the face.

But that wasn’t enough to take him down, it was never that easy. He was quick to get back on his feet and reach the tentacles out at both of you. You and Miguel jumped in sync, shooting a web at either side of the anomaly. You delivered a quick kick to the stomach and back flip out of the way before Miguel prepared to deliver another blow.

The fight felt almost one-sided, with the Doc Ock barely landing his punches on either of you. But this was good, the faster you finished this, the less chances that one of Gotham’s vigilantes would see you.

The comms were unusually quiet tonight, so Damian definitely wasn’t surprised to hear that a new villain was out to make a name for himself in Gotham. He was quick to move to the scene of the crime, but what he saw was something definitely not expected.

Two figures were fighting with this new villain— which speaking of, looked out of place in Gotham. The two new heroes were wearing skin-tight suits with an animal theme, specifically spiders, not unusual for heroes.

They moved expertly around the offender. like dancing around a ballroom. In fact, Damian had stopped himself from interrupting their fight in fear of ruining the clear rhythm they had together. Their moves were calculated, landing their punches and mostly avoiding getting hit themselves. These were not some vigilante or hero-wannabes. No, they were trained, their experience clearly showing through their movements, the way they took down the rogue with little to no difficulty. They fought with him as if they had gone head to head multiple times, moving as if they could read his mind.

“Robin, what’s the hold up?” Barbara’s voice snapped out of his daze. He remained silent for a few more seconds, attempting to examine the figures more closely and find out their identities. The villain itself was certainly going to be easily identified, with his face not even being covered. However, the two others would be harder. Not a single patch of skin was left uncovered.

“Oracle, does there happen to be two heroes that have been operating under our radar for a while? Say, for at least 2 years?”

“No way, that’s basically impossible.” Barbara said, in disbelief of the implication of Damian’s words.

“Apparently it is. There’s two people fighting against the rogue and they’re handling themselves pretty well. It’s almost as if it was the norm for them.”

“Hm… Let them handle the problem then. Follow and investigate them when they finish.”

“Duly noted.”

He stayed perched high above, watching and studying the two as best as he could. When the fight finally finished, he watched the two wrap the now unconscious rogue in a web-like substance and inject him with a liquid. They spoke to each other before one of them picked up the villain. The other swung in front of them, as if they were leading the way to some place. Damian stalked after them, making sure to stay as close as he could without getting noticed.

He was surprised to find that the one leading knew their way around Gotham, like they had gone past these streets multiple times. The place they ended up in seemed oddly familiar to Damian, but he wasn’t able to pin point what it reminded him of.

He watched as one of them pressed the doorbell hesitantly. When it opened, Damian was finally able to reason why this place seemed so familiar. It had been the place that you grew up in. The face of his only blood sibling’s aunt was practically engraved in his head after you had gone missing 5 years ago. Your aunt had called and visited the manor almost every day for a year after you disappeared. Now she was standing next to an opened door.

While you and the rest of the family hadn’t always been on good terms, they still cared for you and tried everything they could to find any traces of you, including Damian himself, albeit, a bit reluctantly. While they still hadn’t given up, the hope in finding you was slowly dwindling. After all, if the world’s greatest detective couldn’t find their own child, the who could? Your aunt had been distraught when she was given the news that you were basically a cold case.

So imagine his and your aunt’s surprise when he sees your face after one of the figures pulled off their mask. It wasn’t identical to the face he last saw 5 years ago, there were a few minor changes, like new scars, and you definitely looked older, but hew knew it was you. You had the same smile, the one he was greeted with when he was first introduced to the manor, the same one he always rejected because you were bound to be a liability with your softness.

Clearly, Damian’s assumptions were wrong. Clearly, you were able to not only defend yourself, but also other people, as shown form the fight he witnessed not even 20 minutes ago.

He was dumbfounded. You disappeared for 5 years and now you come back, suddenly having extensive knowledge in the battlefield, with another person fighting alongside you. He had so many questions. Where did you go? Who was this other person? Why return only now? But those weren’t the most important matter at hand. Right now, he had to inform the rest of the family about your status.

“Oracle, open communications to the whole group.” He could hear the words of the other members in his ears.

“Robin, report.”

“I’ve found the identity of one of the vigilantes.”

“Well? Why is it so important that the whole group had to listen?”

“It’s [Name].”

The silence was even more deafening than the usual chatter.

You stood in the aftermath of the battle, rubble everywhere. Bruce would probably pay to fix this later. Thankfully, the civilians got your warning and didn’t wander back into the vicinity of the fight, but you didn’t expect anything less from the citizens of Gotham.

You called out your husband’s name, catching his attention.

“I have a place we can go to. The person that owns it is someone I’ll trust with my life, don’t worry.” You shot down any possibility of arguments as soon as you could. Miguel grunted in response, injecting his venom into the anomaly before pinking it up and carrying it like a football under his arm.

“Lead the way.” You shot a web towards the roof of a tall building and started swinging in the direction of the place you grew up in, your aunt’s house.

Your nerves started acting up again. What would you aunt think of the new you? You may look the same but you weren’t the same person you were 5 years ago. So much has happened, what if she doesn’t approve of you? Or worse, not even recognise you?

You walked up to the door you knew all too well. Your mind raced with so many negative thoughts. In the moment, the realisation hit you like a train wreck. There was a chance that she didn’t even live here anymore; a lot can happen in 5 years, you would know.

You held up your hand to the doorbell, the one that you made her install after you moved into the manor. But instead of pressing it excitedly like you used to do all those years ago, your hand stood still right in front of it, as if your hand had been frozen.

“Mi corazón, it’ll be alright. Didn’t you say you trusted this person with your life?” Miguel’s words put an ease to your nerves. You smiled gratefully at him before taking a deep breath and pressing the doorbell.

The time it took for the door to open felt like centuries, but when it did, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Your aunt’s face was as beautiful as ever, aged but beautiful nevertheless.

The exhaustion and confusion was evident on her face when she greeted you.

“Hello? What do you need?” The cautionary tone and her rigid stance hurt your heart a little bit, but you couldn’t blame her, she lived in Gotham after all.

“Auntie. It’s me.” Her eyes softened when she heard you voice. When you pulled your mask off, you could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“[Name]?” She asked, full of doubt, but a hint of relief as well. You smiled warmly at her.

“In the flesh.” You let out a small chuckle. Next thing you knew, a pair of arms enveloped your torso. You heard and felt your aunt’s sobs on your shoulders. You hugged her tightly in return, a few tears of your own rolling down your cheeks. When she let go, you instantly missed her warmth, but you pulled yourself together and prepared yourself for the myriad of questions you were bound to be bombarded with.

“Where have you been?!” Yep, you were correct.

“It’s a long story.” You looked to Miguel for help, but unfortunately for you he only smiled at your misery and on top of that, your aunt had seen the small interaction.

“We have all the time in the world. At least answer who this man is at first.” With that, you aunt allowed the two of you, and also the anomaly, inside her house.

Miguel placed the Doc Ock down gently, in fear of destroying any of your aunt’s items. He fixed his posture and adjusted his hologram suit to reveal his face ad he introduced himself.

“Hello. I’m Miguel O’hara, [Name]’s husband.”

“What?!” You expected this reaction. “[Name]! What have you been doing these last few years without me?!”

“Like I said, it’s a long story. It’s better if we get comfortable first.”

“Fine. You better explain everything, especially that… thing over there.” She pointed to the Doc Ock on the floor of her living room. As she did, he glitched, momentarily shocking your aunt.

“We will, don’t worry.”

...

After a long conversation and Miguel occasionally reinjecting the anomaly with his venom, your aunt was finally caught up with your life.

“So, let me get this right. You’re a superhero, alongside your husband, and you two use those watch things on your wrists to help you but they’re broken, which is why you’re here.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Why didn’t you visit me once? Will I ever see you again when they’re fixed?” Your aunt asked dejectedly. Your heart broke at her words. You had just learnt that although your other family had been providing her with money, she chose to stay here to preserve the memories she had with you and you mother, when she was alive. She also still had hope that one day you would return to her, and so she waited expectantly everyday for you, which ended up being worth it, for you were here in her house again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to. Like I said, this return wasn’t even planned. I’ll try to come back when we fix our gizmos, but it’s not a guaranteed chance that we’ll figure it out.” Your aunt visibly deflates at your words.

“Well, if what you want is to return to your new home, then I’ll do my best to help you. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, sweetheart.” A new wave emotions passed through you at her words. You truly were lucky to have her as your aunt. You smiled at her and pulled her into another hug.

“Your the best family anyone could ask for. I love you so much.” Your words were shaky and mumbled as your poured your emotions out. Your aunt hugged you back, patting your back as you hiccupped onto her shoulders.

“I love you too.” She reaches her arm out towards Miguel. He seemed taken aback before hesitantly joining in the group hug. You couldn’t help but mentally laugh as you felt his stiff arms surround the both of you. Your aunt was the first to break apart from the group, with you and Miguel following soon after.

“Now, what do you need to fix that watch of yours?”

Taglist

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @yaoizee @bat1212 @mybones537 @cim0nnin @ninihrtss @redkarmakai @a-lurking-fae @1abi @lettucel0ver @leeiasure @chericia @yotokx @amber-content

Asks are greatly appreciated as they give me motivation and ideas <3

And Chapter 2 is finally done! I really don't like how it ended, I feel like it was a bit too cheesy but oh well, the pen writes what it wants to write, not me

The aunt was never supposed to play this big of a role in the story but apparently she does now! If you guys want a name for her, let me know and I'll make a poll for everyone to decide

Also I lowkey wanna change the layout of my posts but I'm not sure, so let me know if you guys want me to

Sorry this came out so late, I got busy on the weekends and I thought I had time to do it in school but school's honestly been pretty bad. So far, I only understand like 3 of my subjects and that's cuz 2 of them are revision and the other is literature

You guys know the routine! Mistakes are free to point out and will be fixed as soon as possible

This weeks title comes from the song 'Cabo' by Rick Montgomery, go give him a listen if you haven't already!

[iris-qt]

𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛

ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 2.4ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ, ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴘꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ. (Warning: cussing)

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed as Theodore Nott strode into the pub, snowflakes following him in as his trenchcoat billowed around him.

Count on Nott to make a grand entrance.

It was dinnertime and quite packed with travelers and regulars. 

Even some Hogwarts students here and there who had either snuck out or were of age, therefore allowed to leave the castle on weekends.

Theodore nervously cracked his frozen knuckles as he slipped off his trenchcoat, leaving him in a soft cashmere turtleneck, as he took a seat in a cozy corner of the bustling yet cozy pub.

He swore to Merlin he’d hex Mattheo and the rest of the lads silly if this was some sort of prank or setup. The truth is, Theodore Nott had felt quite lonely as of late: not that he minded.

Like at all.

He loved his solidarity.

But his dear old friends had been taking it the wrong way, thinking their new, bustling social life with their romantic partners, internships, and extracurriculars or whatnot had pushed Theo away. 

After much begging and persuading (and Mattheo offering to pay for the date), they had finally gotten Theo to agree to a blind date with a girl they found that they claimed was ‘perfect’ for Theodore. 

He doubted it.

Well, if the girl came with a mute button and plenty of cigarettes to share, then perhaps. But Theo wasn’t oblivious, he saw the way girls treated him, always talking his ear off trying to charm him by faking interest in books he read or operas he adored. 

He didn’t mind talkers.

I mean his best friend was Mattheo Riddle for Merlin’s sake.

But he hated fakers.

And then he also hated people that thought they were better than him

Like Y/N Y/L/N.

Ugh.

Ok, maybe she sometimes got better grades than him, but did that make her better than him?

Fuck no.

The rusted bell of the Three Broomsticks chimed again, and Theodore glanced up from his untouched butterbeer, only to freeze mid-sip.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Clad in a fluffy red scarf and beanie, no less.

Y/N Y/L/N, your scarf loose around your neck and your cheeks flushed from the cold, scanned the room with sharp, intelligent eyes. Your perfectly pressed coat betrayed not a single wrinkle, and your boots clacked against the wooden floor with unnerving precision.

His stomach sank like a poorly cast Levitation Charm.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath.

You spotted him almost instantly, brow furrowing as your gaze flicked between him and the bar. Then, you made your way over, every step radiating purpose.

"Theodore Nott," you greeted, voice dripping with suspicion as you slid into the seat across from him. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Y/L/N," Theo replied coolly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "But I’m guessing you’re not here for a pint and a philosophical debate about Arithmancy theories."

Your eyes narrowed. "Are you... waiting for someone?"

Theo hesitated, a dawning sense of horror creeping over him. "I might be. Why? Are you waiting for someone?"

You pulled off your scarf, setting it on the table as you glared at him with an incredible intensity, he wondered how your furrowed eyebrow creases weren’t permanent at this point. "You’re kidding me."

Realization hit them both like a rogue Bludger.

"Wait," you began, your voice dangerously calm. "Are you my blind date?"

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. "No. No way. This has Mattheo written all over it. That git."

You let out a sharp laugh, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. "Unbelievable. Your friends set you up with me? Are they trying to ruin your life?"

"Clearly," Theo drawled, his tone dry. "I mean, of all the girls at Hogwarts, they pick the one that thinks she’s smarter than me"

Your jaw dropped dramatically. "I don’t think I’m smarter than you, Nott. I am smarter than you. You just can’t handle the fact that I’ve beaten you in every subject except Potions."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You only beat me in Charms last term because Flitwick is clearly biased."

"Biased?" you threw your hands up. "I wrote a twenty-four-inch essay comparing historical uses of nonverbal magic to modern applications. What did you write about, Theo? Oh, right. You didn’t write anything because you were too busy sulking after losing the chess tournament."

"I wasn’t sulking," Theo snapped, cheeks flushing. "I was... reflecting."

You smirked, clearly enjoying yourself. "Right. Reflecting with a scowl so deep it could rival Draco's pockets"

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. "You’re insufferable."

“Aw Theo, you can do better than that..” You pause to scan the menu as you steal Theodore’s butterbeer, much to his chagrin as he mutters something under his breath. “What was that?” you smirk, bringing your eyes up in a teasing manner. “Tryna hex me there, Theodore Nott?”

He purses his lips as you reach out to shake snowflakes out of his hair with a snicker.

Did your eyes deceive you or did he blush? Nah it was just the biting cold.

“Let me guess. Silently judging what I’m about to order?” you scoff, trying to distract from the awkward silence after your intimate gesture.

"Only if it’s that ridiculous concoction with extra marshmallows," he retorted.

"Fine," you said, lifting your chin. "Then I’ll take two extra marshmallows just to annoy you."

Theo chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "Merlin help me, this is going to be a disaster."

"Oh, it already is," you quipped, raising a sarcastic toast with Theo's butterbeer you stole earlier. "But don’t worry, Nott. At least you’ll have something to sulk about for the next month."

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And you’ll have a great story to tell everyone about how you drove me mad in under an hour."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," you muttered with a smirk of your own.

And as the tension between them slowly gave way to reluctant amusement, neither of them noticed the group of grinning faces peeking in through the pub’s frosted window.

The iced window of the Three Broomsticks provided just enough visibility for Mattheo Riddle to squint through, his nose practically pressed against the glass.

“Move over, Mattheo,” Pansy hissed, shoving him to the side. “I can’t see a thing with your massive head in the way.”

“It’s a normal-sized head, thank you very much,” Mattheo muttered, but he shifted slightly to let Pansy peer through.

Behind them, Draco Malfoy stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the reluctant participant. “This is ridiculous. We’re grown wizards. Spying through pub windows is beneath us.”

“And yet,” Blaise Zabini drawled from where he leaned lazily against the wall, “here you are. Standing outside in the snow like a commoner.”

Draco huffed. “I’m only here to witness the fallout. I give it twenty minutes before one of them storms out.”

“Fifteen,” Blaise countered, pulling out a pocket watch. “And they’ll start warming up to each other.”

“I’m saying ten,” Pansy whispered, squinting through the fogged glass. “Shit, look at Theo’s face. He already looks like he’s plotting her demise.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Mattheo said, grinning as he craned his neck to get a better view. “He’s clearly smitten.”

Pansy snorted. “Smitten? He looks like he’d rather be dueling a Hungarian Horntail than sitting across from Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t look thrilled either,” Blaise noted, smirking as he caught a glimpse of you animatedly gesturing at Theo.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mattheo interjected, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, a wicked grinch-like grin on his face. “This is going exactly as I planned. The tension, the banter... it’s perfect. By the end of the night, they’ll either be snogging or plotting a joint murder spree.”

“Optimistic of you,” Draco muttered.

“Shut up, Draco,” Mattheo shot back. “You’re the one who said they’d ‘never even stay for the date.’ And look! There they are. Sitting. Together.”

Pansy tilted her head, watching as you leaned forward, your hands waving in exaggerated frustration. Theo responded with a slow, deliberate smirk, clearly enjoying riling you up.

“Is it just me,” Pansy whispered, “or does Theo look like he’s having fun?”

Draco leaned in to take a look, his silver eyes narrowing. “He’s smirking. That’s usually a bad sign.”

“Not this time,” Blaise said, his grin widening. “He only smirks like that when he’s impressed. Y/N must have said something clever.”

“I told you,” Mattheo exclaimes triumphantly. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“Or they’ll duel right in the middle of the pub,” Draco muttered, though even he couldn’t hide his curiosity.

“I still think it’s sweet,” Pansy said with a satisfied sigh. “Even if Theo’s too stubborn to admit it, he needs someone who can keep up with him. And Y/N is the only person who ever has.”

The group fell silent for a moment, watching as you mockingly raised your hot chocolate, your eyes sparkling with sarcastic delight. Theo rolled his eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Look at that,” Blaise said softly. “He’s smiling.”

“Smirking,” Draco corrected.

“Close enough,” Mattheo said, clapping his hands together. “Operation Set Theo And Y/N Up is officially a success.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Pansy noted, glancing at Blaise’s watch.

“Pay up, Draco,” Blaise said smugly, holding out his hand.

Draco scowled but reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of sickles. “This is the last time I bet on Theo’s love life.”

“Shush!” Pansy hissed. “They’re looking this way!”

The four of them ducked down in a comically uncoordinated scramble, huddling against the frosty wall.

Inside, Theo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking toward the window. “Did you see something?” he asked, turning back to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What, like your dignity? No, I don’t think so.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin save me.”

Outside, Mattheo stifled a laugh. “They’re going to kill us when they find out.”

“Worth it,” Pansy whispered, grinning.

The frosted glass of the Three Broomsticks didn’t do much to shield Mattheo and the others from the biting wind, and after an hour of spying, their enthusiasm had significantly dwindled.

“Alright, I’ve seen enough,” Draco announced, brushing snow off his shoulders. “They’re bickering like usual. This is going nowhere.”

“Give it time,” Mattheo said stubbornly, though his teeth were starting to chatter. “Theo plays the long game.”

“You’re the only one playing a game,” Blaise said, adjusting his scarf. “And I’m freezing. Let’s go before Pansy turns into an icicle.”

Pansy glared at him. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. But for the record, if I get frostbite, I’m hexing you all.”

As if to punctuate her point, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the alley, sending a flurry of snow right into their faces.

“Alright, fine,” Mattheo grumbled, reluctantly stepping back from the window. “Let’s go before we all catch dragon pox.”

“You mean frostbite,” Draco corrected.

“Same thing,” Mattheo muttered, trudging away.

The group disappeared into the swirling snow, their laughter fading as they made their way back to the castle.

Inside the pub, Theo watched the window suspiciously, his brows furrowed.

“Dude, what are you looking at?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped his butterbeer you stole and your hot chocolate in turn, just to annoy him.

“Nothing,” Theo muttered, shaking his head. He was sure he’d seen movement, but it was probably just the wind.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Because glaring out the window like that is completely normal behavior.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Theo shot back, leaning back in his chair. “Not everyone walks through life oblivious to their surroundings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with mock concern, resting your chin on your hand. “Should I be worried about the snowflakes plotting against us? Or maybe it’s a herd of rogue unicorns coming to rescue me from this disaster of a date?”

Theo rolled his eyes, taking a deliberate sip of his butterbeer as he dragged it away from you. “If only they’d hurry up.”

Their exchange was cut short when the door to the pub opened, letting in a fresh gust of icy wind. A group of travelers stumbled in, bundled in layers and dusted with snow, their voices loud and cheerful. The sudden influx of cold air sent a shiver through the room, and you tugged your cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“It’s getting worse out there,” one of the newcomers said, stamping snow off their boots. “Could barely see five feet in front of me.”

Madam Rosmerta appeared from behind the bar, her expression turning serious as she listened to the chatter. She glanced toward the windows, where the snow was now falling thick and fast, sticking to the glass and obscuring the view outside.

Theo followed her gaze, frowning. “Looks like we’re in for a real storm.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Just what we needed.”

Before Theodore could fire back a response, Madam Rosmerta clapped her hands, drawing the room’s attention.

“Listen up, everyone!” she called out, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “I’ve just received word from Hogsmeade Station. The storm’s picking up faster than expected. Roads are closing, and it’s not safe to travel. If you’re here, you’re staying until it clears.”

A collective murmur of concern rippled through the pub.

You blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what does she mean by ‘staying’?”

Theo groaned, rubbing his temples. “She means we’re stuck here, Y/L/N. Do try to keep up.”

Madam Rosmerta walked over to their table, her usual warm demeanor tinged with apology. “Sorry about this, dears. It’s for everyone’s safety. We’ve got spare rooms upstairs if you need them.”

You stared at her, mouth slightly open. “You mean we’re stranded together?”

“Looks like it,” Theo muttered, looking like he was already mentally preparing to endure the ordeal.

“Wonderful,” you said flatly, sinking back into your seat. “Truly the cherry on top of this perfect evening.”

Theo shot her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching with a reluctant smirk. “Cheer up, Y/L/N. It’s not every day you get the privilege of spending the night in my company. Imagine how jealous the others will be when you tell them”

“If I had a wand right now,” Y/N muttered, “I’d turn you into a snowman and leave you outside.”

The storm outside howled louder, sealing their fate as the pub doors were bolted shut.

pt. II here ♡

@animatedglittergraphics-n-more for divider

[justporo]

Astarion sees you're almost falling asleep and will drag you to bed now!

I would need this on like a daily basis. And I guess so do many of you - so let the vampire drag you to bed and GO! GET! SOME! SLEEP!

It was so late it could have been called early. Outside you could already hear the birds chirping, cheerfully greeting a new day. Which meant that it was more than high time to crawl into bed. And doubly so because you lived with a vampire who fared even worse with sunlight than you.

But you were still crouched over your desk and the papers there.

Your eyes were tired. You barely saw what you were working on anymore. And you knew you could get this done when you were fully rested and it would only take a matter of minutes. But you were so desperate to finish this.

Unfortunately, you had a tendency to be very determined (someone else usually called it stubborn but you always pretended you had gone deaf all of a sudden when that happened). But this tendency had brought you this far and probably saved your life more than once. And you wouldn't be bested by this piece of work!

But your head was slowly falling, your eyelids growing as heavy as lead.

And you only jumped back up when you heard that certain someone enter the room, being purposefully noisy to make you aware of it. You were grateful for that because if the vampire had snuck up on you, like he was fully capable of, it might have not ended well with you being this exhausted.

“Slacking off on the job, are we?” you heard his familiar teasing voice as he came closer. You felt his presence as he leaned on the table around you - basically caging you with his arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as usual. His lips were awfully close to your ear and the hairs on your neck stood on end as you didn't dare rip your eyes from your work.

“Don't you think this can wait, love?” he whispered now directly into your ear causing a hot and cold shiver to run down your spine.

But with this he had pushed the wrong button. Almost involuntarily you felt one of your eyebrows rise up and your lips forming a pout: “No, Astarion, I don't think it can wait.”

You turned your head around to face him and saw him smirk, making you even more annoyed at him. He leaned in closer, causing his chest to brush against your head now, his hands moved to cover yours.

“Do you really think a stack of papers can't wait more than your caring lover craving your calming touch?” he murmured with a pout that mirrored yours while his deft fingers freed your writing quill out of your angrily clenching fingers. You couldn't resist him long. His hands were used to open up more difficult things than your desperate grip on your writing utensils. Also his absolutely instrumentalized big red eyes he looked at you with were absolutely working their usual enchanting magic on you.

Not enough though for you to not make a snide remark about what was happening.

“Well, for starters the stack of papers doesn't talk back.”

“You think I'm funny, my love.”

“It also isn't as full of itself.”

A mockingly offended gasp while Astarion’s hands moved the papers out of your reach.

“My heart, you hurt me.”

“Ah see, it also doesn't guilt trip me.”

The vampire's hands wandered up over your arms to your shoulders. “I can't do right by you tonight, can I?”

“You could just let me keep working on my thing.”

A dramatic sigh and Astarion let his head fall forward and onto your shoulder. Then he let go of you and took a step back.

“Do you really want to keep working, dear?” he sounded sincere now and you suddenly felt true guilt as you looked at him. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes still awfully wide and shining.

But the urge to not keep business unfinished still had you in its claws.

After a few heartbeats you opened your lips to answer, but-

“Too bad, you're coming with me now, my love.” Astarion exclaimed and with rogue quickness grabbed your chair by the armrests to drag it away from the desk and turn it around to him. “You need your beauty sleep, I can't be seen walking around with a walking corpse!”

You squealed when you felt your body get yanked around so quickly while your tired brain was almost incapable of catching up. Thus you were almost confused when you had ended up on Astarion’s shoulder a moment later.

There was no energy left in your body to resist this infuriating man any longer so you just played the part of dead weight draped over his shoulder - since he had already coined you as such - and couldn't stop yourself from giggling.

“See, darling, I told you: you think I’m funny.”

“It's just sleep deprivation talking.”

“Ah, so you agree with that too.”

You resisted to answer him with something he would only twist around again to fit his agenda. Instead you just slapped his butt you had quite the delectable view of at the moment.

Astarion hissed and just slapped your behind in return. You only giggled more.

“I should have left you at your godsdamned desk, let you fall asleep right there to drool on the papers,” he murmured under his breath and ended it with something about how ungrateful you were while he threw open the bedroom door; your favourite drama queen.

Then he made quick work to get you off his shoulders with an exaggerated groan which you were sure wasn't fully acted.

As soon as your body hit your soft bed the last of your energy decided to evaporate into the aether. You were almost falling over if not for the vampire's quick reflexes catching your wrists.

With quick fingers and more snarky remarks you had no power to reply to anymore he undressed you to your underwear.

And with more overly dramatic groaning and a roll of his eyes since you provided absolutely no help did he turn you to lay down. He carefully placed your head on the pillows which you thanked him for with a dreamy sigh. Your eyes closed on your own. The blanket was thrown over you and more rustling told you that Astarion was quickly undressing as well.

When the mattress shifted under the vampire's weight as he got into bed next to you you barely even noticed it anymore.

With final efforts Astarion dragged you onto his chest. Your arms slung around him and your legs tangled with his automatically - you had done so hundreds if not thousands of times already.

“All this work just to get you where you belong,” Astarion whispered to you and clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he began rubbing lazy circles on your back. You only hummed contentedly as you felt your body relax fully into him and his touch.

Your last half-coherent thought as you drifted off to sleep was that, indeed, you had to agree with him on this one: you were right where you were supposed to be.

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06