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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months ago

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a halloween trick and a halloween treat

pairing: cat shifter!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you wake shortly after midnight on halloween, thinking it must've been your rescue cat disturbing you. but when you discover a naked, sleeping stranger in your bed, you're in for a much bigger surprise.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), monsterfucking, shifter dynamics (mating, purring, a nonhuman cock), sorta fated mates, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple sucking, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dry humping, light bdsm dynamics, lots of check-ins, biting, dirty talk, alpha kink, praise kink, pet names (koshechka [russian for kitty]), aftercare, very fluffy happy ending

word count: 12.9k

a/n: i had the idea for this fic so many weeks ago i don't even remember what inspired it, but i thought it might be a fun halloween fic! i struggled a bit with this fic, especially the magic and justifying bucky's decisions, so i hope it all makes sense!! suspension of disbelief is your friend with this one 😅 anyway i hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

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Something was…off.

It was the middle of the night, the waxing moon shining brightly through the curtains of your bedroom, an October chill in the air, and you’d been woken by… something. A sound, maybe?

It wasn’t uncommon for your rescue cat to wake you up in the middle of the night by knocking something over or playing with one of the many toys you’d gotten him. Sometimes, he’d even wake you up when he gently padded onto your bed in the middle of the night to snuggle into your body over the covers.

You smiled sleepily at the memory of having been woken up plenty of times in that manner since you’d found the Russian Blue trapped in a bucket behind your apartment building the previous November. You’d named the cat Bucky, which you could admit wasn’t the most creative idea you’d ever had, but it fit the mischievous feline.

At the very least, you certainly understood how he’d gotten himself trapped in that bucket, since he’d gotten himself stuck in any number of places around your apartment in the year since you’d brought him home, yowling for help until you rescued him.

In fact, you sometimes thought he got himself stuck on purpose for the sole reason of getting your attention—and the soothing snuggles you offered him afterward, cooing soft words about how he was your precious, handsome man in his soft little ears.

But that October evening, almost a year after you’d brought the cat home from the vet with a clean bill of health, you strained your ears to listen to the dark stillness of your apartment. You couldn’t hear the telltale padding of Bucky’s paws, or feel his warm body curled up next to yours.

Something still felt…different. Off.

Thinking about it more, you thought you felt a weight on the other side of your queen-sized bed. When you shifted, and the covers caught on something, as if they were being weighed down by something, you thought you must’ve been woken by Bucky jumping onto the bed and curling up to sleep.

Your eyes were still closed and you were snuggled deep beneath your blankets, but you pushed an arm free, reaching across your bed, your fingers seeking the soft fur of your cat. But when you searched the spot just below the other pillow you kept on your bed—in the hopes that you’d one day have a partner to share your bed with—you didn’t feel Bucky.

You felt bare skin. Warm, bare skin. Warm bare skin covering a broad, muscled back.

Pulling your hand back with a hiss, you wrenched your eyes open and found that it wasn’t your rescue cat in bed with you—it was a man. A man with his broad back turned to you, his soft brown hair messy on the other pillow and his spine curved like he was curled into himself.

And when your eyes trailed down the length of his back, you realized with a gasp that this stranger was naked. In your bed. In the middle of the night.

What the actual fuck!?

You sucked in a sharp inhale, your lungs filling as your body prepared to let loose the shrillest scream you could manage, because what the fuck!?

The man must’ve been woken by your gasps or your movement, because before you could make another sound, his head rolled over on the pillow and he blinked at you.

His eyes…

For a moment, they seemed to shine yellow in the moonlight—so much like Bucky’s when you were snuggling in bed before falling asleep. It stole the breath from your lungs, and your scream died in your throat.

As you watched, the man’s eyes shifted into a calm, piercing blue, and you had the odd feeling you recognized them. It almost looked like they were the same shade as your Russian Blue’s, even if they looked so different, so human.

The man’s eyes flickered with confusion and his soft lips pulled down into a frown. He reached a hand out to you, as if wanting to comfort you, but jerked to a sudden stop, his gaze falling on his own hand and staring at it as if it wasn’t his own.

He looked almost as disturbed as you felt finding a strange man sleeping naked in your bed.

The moment he’d looked away from you, you’d filled your lungs with more air, preparing to finally scream for help, and the man’s gaze flicked back to you. Just before you could scream, the man moved swiftly, rolling over and throwing his body on top of yours.

His strong arms caged you in beneath the blankets and his broad, warm chest pressed down on yours, keeping you pinned but not crushing you. The man’s hand cupped the back of your head and pressed your face into the curve at the base of his neck, effectively muffling your scream into his smooth skin.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t have a chance to feel scared, and a second later, a purring sound filled your ears. Vibrations seemed to come from the man on top of you, making your entire body hum pleasantly from the sensation traveling through the blankets that were trapped between your bodies.

It was remarkably comforting…and oddly familiar in a way you couldn’t place. It made you feel…safe.

So safe that your body, which had been tensed with fear, slowly relaxed. All your muscles loosened until you were a melted puddle of pleasant tingles. A dazed smile teased the corners of your lips and you nuzzled the man’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin. He smelled like something wild, like the night and the moon.

The purring tapered off, and without the sensation of the vibrations reverberating through your body, you tesned again. It came back to you that you were pinned beneath the blankets of your bed by a strange, naked man, who’d somehow broken into your apartment in the middle of the night.

You began to thrash beneath the cage of the man’s broad chest, kicking your legs and flailing your arms to try to dislodge him, but he was a solid weight on top of you.

In fact, if he wasn’t a strange, naked man, he’d make a pretty good weighted blanket. But as it was, fear was making your pulse pump hard in your veins—that is, until you heard his voice. His first words.

“It’s me,” he rumbled, his words barely discernible above the purring that started again from his chest. His voice was deep, rough, gravelly, like he hadn’t used it in a long while. “It’s Bucky—your Bucky.”

The breath stalled in your lungs and all thoughts of screaming died a quick death. You blinked past the man’s shoulder, staring up at your ceiling, trying to process what he’d said. How could this man be your cat, Bucky?

The orange glow of the streetlight was filtering through your curtains, joining the bluish hue of the moon, casting your room in dark, multihued shadows. It was late October—it was Halloween, if you remembered correctly, since it must’ve been after midnight.

It was the time for spooky things, and you were probably more inclined than most to believe in the fantastical, but you couldn’t seem to wrap your still sleepy mind around the fact that there was a strange, naked man in your bed and he claimed to be your pet cat. That just…it couldn’t be real. Right?

The man kept purring, and the longer you thought about it, the more peculiar it seemed. Men didn’t purr like that. Like a cat trying to soothe a frightened kitten. But that’s exactly what he was doing—and you were the frightened kitten in this scenario, which didn’t bother you as much as you would’ve thought. Because the purring did feel and sound very nice…

But still, he couldn’t be Bucky. That would mean he was somehow able to shift between human and cat form, and you didn’t care how many romantasy novels you read about shifters falling in love with humans, they couldn’t be real. They just couldn’t.

Even as you thought that, and told yourself you knew what was real and what was fantasy, the fact that the man was also your pet cat was the only thing that made sense. It was the only explanation for why his purr sounded so much like Bucky’s, why his eyes had looked so much like Bucky’s, why his warm, wild scent reminded you so much of Bucky.

“B-Bucky?” you whispered into his shoulder, your voice shaky and uncertain. You were so quiet, you didn’t know if he’d heard you. But his purring softened, and he pushed up enough that he could hover above you. You saw his face properly for the first time.

And…oh. What a handsome face it was.

Two piercing blue eyes framed a straight nose, leading down to a pair of perfectly soft-looking lips. His jaw was broad and sharp, softened slightly by the thick, dark scruff that was almost long enough to be a beard. In the moonlight, you could see patches of silver streaking through the dark brown of his scruff, and you ached to rake your nails through it.

Instead, you flicked your gaze to his brown hair, which was longish and falling into his face in the most charming way. But even as you wondered how it’d feel to run your fingers through the man’s soft hair, your eyes wandered back down to his eyes, which were staring at you warily. He was watching you closely for your reaction, but you were too stunned by his handsomeness to do more than stare back.

“Are you going to scream again?” he asked gruffly, his voice still raspy from sleep or disuse, you couldn’t be sure.

You took a moment to think about his question, really think about it. If you were honest with yourself, you were starting to believe the man was, somehow, who he said—Bucky, your pet cat transformed into a human. It was hard not to consider it, especially when you were staring up into his eyes that looked so much like Bucky’s that it gave you an eerie sense of déjà vu.

But the rational side of your mind reminded you that he could still be a lunatic pervert with eyes that just happened to look like Bucky’s. He could’ve been stalking you long enough to know your pet’s name, and could be trying to lure you into a false sense of security to…murder you or something.

So you narrowed your gaze on him.

“Maybe,” you finally answered. “Depends on whether you can prove you are who you say you are.”

He nodded like he wasn’t surprised by your answer and looked away, his eyes trailing over your room. There was something about the way he looked at your pile of not-clean-but-not dirty clothes and the mess on top of your dresser that made you think he knew the landscape of your bedroom almost as well as you did.

Which was, decidedly, not like a stalker pervert who’d never been in your room before.

“First,” he started in that deliciously gruff voice of his. “Can you tell me if it’s Halloween?”

You huffed a sound that was halfway between surprise and frustration. You didn’t understand why he was delaying. You wanted him to either make you believe he was Bucky, or convince you he wasn’t so that you could get on with screaming and calling the cops. Feeling him laying on top of you was beginning to feel far too comforting for your liking.

“Yeah,” you answered, after a moment of thinking about the days. “I mean yes, it definitely is.”

The man looked a little crestfallen at your answer, his lips pulling down into a frown. You were so preoccupied with the way his soft mouth looked perfectly kissable amidst all the rough scruff on his jaw that you almost missed his muttered words.

“I must’ve lost track of the days,” he said to himself, shaking his head with disappointment etched all across his handsome face.

The urge to comfort him, to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close so you could bury your face in his chest and inhale his comforting, wild scent was strong, and it made you restless. You were frustrated with yourself, with the way you were waiting quietly for this strange man to get his bearings when you should’ve been demanding answers.

Unable to stop your frustration from boiling over, you wriggled beneath him impatiently, trying to buck him off. But you didn’t move his bulky form even a bit. And there was absolutely no part of you that found that attractive, that liked that he could pin you down and hold you beneath him with his sheer weight and strength.

The purring emanating from the man’s chest picked up again, his body pressing you deeper into your soft mattress. He shifted a little, and if you weren’t mistaken, you felt something twitch against your belly, something that had you glaring up into his stupid handsome face.

“Tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my bed right now,” you hissed through snapping teeth, hoping you came across fiercer than you felt—which was like a spitting kitten for all the strength you had in comparison to the larger man.

A slow, tempting smile spread across the man’s face, his purring stuttering like he was holding in a laugh. Despite yourself, you had to work to hold onto your anger, which wanted to abandon you in light of the stranger’s charmingly appealing grin.

“You’re adorable when you try to be threatening,” he cooed, still grinning at you. He was so close that his scent enveloped you, and his purr still vibrated softly through your body. It was all you could do not to relax and give in to the strange man’s charms.

Then, to your great surprise, he ducked down and nuzzled your cheek with his own, his scratchy scruff roughing over your soft skin in an affectionate gesture.

It was so achingly familiar, it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

It was so much like how Bucky would rub his sweet little face against your cheek and the underside of your chin when he was cuddling with you. You’d seen plenty of TikTok videos about how clingy male cats could be with their female owners, and that was exactly how Bucky acted. He was so affectionate, always rubbing himself against you and staring up at you like you were his whole world…

A surprised puff of air escaped your lungs, along with a shocked little whimper. The man must’ve heard you, because his purring picked up and he shifted so his mouth was right next to your ear.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmured, his voice gentle and genuinely remorseful. “Will you let me explain—please?”

It was the man’s final word, the strain in his hoarse voice, as if he was begging for his life, that did you in. With a disgruntled sigh, more at yourself than anything else, you said, “Fine.”

The man lifted his head and stared down at you, his piercing blue eyes raking over your face—and a soft affection that had your heart thumping harder in your chest. There was uncertainty in the gentle twist of his mouth and, as you watched, he took a deep, steadying breath, as if preparing himself to jump off a cliff.

“I’m a shifter,” he said bluntly, his gaze watching you sharply. When you only blinked up at him, he went on. “I can turn into a gray cat—a Russian Blue, to be specific. Sound familiar?”

A smirk flirted around the edges of the man’s mouth as he raised his brows, as if prompting you to see the connection between what he said he was and your pet cat. However, you refused to be charmed by him, so you pressed your lips into a firm line and narrowed your eyes at him, telling him wordlessly that you still didn’t quite believe him.

He huffed an amused laugh and went on.

“Halloween is the one day of the year I can’t stay in my cat form,” he explained patiently, his expression open and honest. “It’s something about the thinness of the veil on this day, it forces all shifters to walk the earth in our human forms.”

There was a beat of silence as you processed the man’s explanation. He really did look so earnest, and you couldn’t ignore all the similarities you’d already noticed between him and Bucky. The purring, the nuzzling, the eyes…

“So you’re my cat?” you asked dubiously, your eyes still narrowed up at him, mouth pursed in a skeptical frown. “Bucky?”

The man nodded, hope transforming his face. But then he paused, tilting his head to the side as if considering your words more closely.

“Well, yes—but my name isn’t Bucky.”

Your frown deepened. Embarrassed heat bloomed in your cheeks at the realization that you’d not only named the handsome Russian Blue you’d rescued from a bucket so unoriginally, but that he’d been a shifter who had a name of his own.

“What is it?” you squeaked, trying to tamp down on your humiliation.

“James Barnes,” he said, as he studied your expression. Something about the way a playful grin was spreading across his face told you that you weren’t successful in hiding your embarrassment from him. “But I like Bucky, too,” he said, ducking his head down to murmur in your ear, “Because it’s what you call me.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart flipped in your chest at the implication of his words, but a pleased warmth was flooding through your body and making you melt beneath his comfortably heavy weight. It took all your self-control not to purr right back at the strange man—James, or Bucky, or whoever he was. You still weren’t sure if you believed him.

“Kind of convenient that you can’t shift right now and prove you’re telling the truth,” you pointed out, trying to get the conversation back on track and get the undeniable proof you needed. You were surprised to find you wanted James to prove he was really Bucky. It would be…nice.

At your words, the man sighed, leaning up so you could see his face while he carded his fingers through his hair in a sign of frustration. You couldn’t help the little stab of jealousy as you watched, wishing it was your fingers sifting through his soft strands. Maybe pulling a little bit, tugging him down to kiss you…

You shoved the thought away and focused on him as he began to speak.

“I know,” he huffed, a displeased frown on his face as he stared off to the side. Shaking his head to clear away whatever he was thinking about, his gaze refocused on you. “I had a plan.”

“A plan?” you echoed, unsure what he meant by that.

“I was going to slip out before you woke up,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish smile curved his mouth. “And then bump into you when you go get your coffee—like you do every morning.”

“Ok, stalker,” you mumbled to yourself, a little disturbed by how well the man knew your routine. A ripple of fear passed through you, but it dissipated when James huffed a self-effacing laugh.

“I know how that sounds,” he said, looking down at you, his blue eyes glittering with affection and his mouth curving into a fond smile. “But it was hard not to notice you going out every morning and coming back smelling like coffee and sunshine and happiness,” he said. “That’s why I wanted to meet you—really meet you—there, somewhere that made you smile.”

James shifted his arm, his hand cupping your face gently and his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth, his eyes staring at that spot, like he was picturing your smile. It was hard not to melt at the poetry of his words and the soft way he was looking at you, but you soldiered on with your interrogation of the strange man.

“What were you going to do after we met?” you asked, your voice more breathless than you would’ve liked, but you couldn’t help it. Not when James was looking at you so intensely.

“I was going to buy your coffee for you, strike up a conversation,” he said, his voice faraway, almost dreamy as he kept staring at your mouth. “Do things the right way.”

At that, your brow furrowed and your lips tipped down in a confused frown. That seemed to snap the man out of whatever daze he’d been in, his eyes flicking back to yours.

“Do what the right way?” you asked.

“You know…” he said, regarding you like he was trying to figure out if you were being deliberately obtuse or if you really didn’t understand. He must’ve decided you really didn’t know what he was talking about, because he went on. “Dating you, wooing you, telling you about what I am after you know me—the real me.”

Your heart did that annoying little flip again, but you couldn’t help it, not when a man as handsome as James was talking about wooing you. Still, you weren’t going to let him off the hook just because the man—who may or may not be your pet cat (but probably was)—had a romantic side to him.

“Yeah that sounds like a better plan than letting me wake up to you sleeping naked in my bed,” you said dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I know,” he huffed, pulling his hand away from your cheek and scrubbing it down his face as he groaned in frustration. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to trust me. I had a plan.” His final words were bitten out through clenched teeth, and you could practically feel his annoyance radiating off him.

“Mmm,” you hummed in acknowledgement, wanting to comfort him but not allowing yourself to give in to the urge. Not when you still had so many questions. “So if today is the only day when you can’t change shift at will, why have you been living as my pet for almost a year?”

For the first time in your conversation, Bucky’s face shuttered and his expression turned guarded. His eyes darted away from you and he rubbed a hand over his scruff, the soft, scratchy sound filling your quiet room.

For a moment, you desperately wanted to rub your cheek against his scruff, to nuzzle him the way he had you, but you squashed the idea as soon as it flitted through your mind as you waited for him to answer your question.

Bucky’s gaze drifted back to yours, and the walls he’d put up moments before seemed to come down just as fast as he stared into your eyes.

“A pretty girl took me in and fed me and kept me warm,” he rumbled, his voice low and deliciously gruff as he raked his eyes over your face. “She let me sleep in her bed, and curl up with her. She let me comfort her when she was sad, and smiled just for me when she was happy.”

The way Bucky was looking at you, his gaze filled with so much naked affection, stole the breath from your lungs. You didn’t know when you started calling him Bucky in your mind, but you realized you truly believed that he was who he said he was. He was your cat, transformed into a human.

“What was I supposed to do,” he went on, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. “Shift right in front of her, and scare the fuck out of her, then ask her out?” He laughed quietly, shaking his head ruefully in answer to his own question. “I wanted to do things right.” Cupping your face gently, he stared deep into your eyes. “Besides, I liked being yours.”

Happiness burst like fireworks in your heart. “You…” you trailed off, needing to swallow past your dry throat and your thumping heart before continuing. “You liked being mine?” you asked, needing to hear him say it again for some reason you couldn’t understand. It seemed too unreal that he could like being your cat more than he liked being able to live his life as a free man. Or shifter.

Bucky’s eyes slowly swept over your face, taking in your parted lips and your hopeful gaze. He seemed to be able to read you like a book, and you found you didn’t mind that so much, not when Bucky’s mouth was gently curving into a smile that was deeply pleased with what he saw in your expression.

“I liked being yours,” he repeated for you, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through your body, settling deep in your core and making a warmth bloom that had everything to do with the man in your bed. “And I wanted you to want to be mine—to like being mine, too.”

He watched you for a long, silent moment. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought he was holding his breath, waiting for your reaction, though you were still too stunned to give him one. When he realized this, he spoke again.

“Please tell me I haven’t ruined things.”

The hushed desperation in his tone was your undoing.

Your arms pushed against the cocoon of blankets you were trapped in, and Bucky lifted himself up higher to let you pull free. He was watching you warily, like he was half expecting you to use your arms to push him off you.

Instead, you lifted your hands and cupped his face, tugging on him gently until he lowered himself back down on top of you. His weight felt more familiar and comforting than it had any right, and you had to force your request from your lips.

“Tell me something only you’d know, Bucky,” you whispered, your own thinly veiled desperation in your words. You already knew in your heart that he was Bucky—your Bucky—but you needed something more definitive to quell the fear and doubts in your mind. “Please.”

He stared at you for a moment, something like hope and excitement swirling in his piercing blue gaze. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, full of emotion.

“When you think I’m sleeping, you whisper secrets in my ear,” Bucky said, his eyes briefly trailing down to your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. But his gaze flicked back quickly to yours before continuing on. “You told me how annoying your coworker is—Agatha, right? And how you wish your boss appreciated you more.”

You were silent and still beneath Bucky, shock rolling through you and leaving you stunned. Bucky was right, you did have a habit of talking to your cat, whispering in his ear when he was curled up in your arms or on top of your chest, telling him all the things you didn’t say to anyone else.

It was slowly dawning on you that the man really, truly was Bucky. But he seemed to take your silence as uncertainty, and so he went on.

“You told me how you get sad and lonely sometimes,” Bucky rumbled, his arms shifting so he could cup your face in his big hands, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheeks. “You told me how you wished someone would hold you the way you held me.”

Slowly, he lowered himself down on top of you, as if still waiting for you to push him away. Instead, your arms wound around his bare back, your fingers pressing into his skin and clinging to him while he nuzzled his scruffy cheek against yours. You returned the gesture, nuzzling him back.

“You told me how much you want to fall in love,” he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin, making you shiver. “And how afraid you are of getting your heart broken.”

Lifting himself up to look at you, you could see the pain and desire churning in his eyes, and you could hear it in the way his voice cracked on his last word. It all seemed to finally loosen your tongue.

“Bucky,” you whispered in a thick voice, tears threatening to fall with the sheer amount of emotion flowing through you. There was shock, of course, but also so much wonder and happiness. “It really is you,” you said, marveling up at the man above you, lifting your hands to trace the lines of his handsome face.

His eyes closed, like he was savoring your touch, and a purr kicked to life in his chest while a small smile curved the edges of his mouth. It was a mouth you were suddenly aching to kiss. And you couldn’t, for the life of you, come up with a reason why you shouldn’t.

Just as tentative as he’d been, you leaned into Bucky, your hands tilting his face down to yours while you raked your nails lightly through the scruffy hair on his cheeks and jaw. You brushed your lips against his, so softly it could barely be considered a kiss.

You felt the big man above you stiffen with surprise, his eyes flying open to stare into yours with a question clear in his blue depths.

In answer, you leaned in again, pressing your mouth infinitesimally more firmly against his, and flicked your tongue out to swipe at his plump lower lip.

He tasted like the night, dark and alluring, and you could already tell that you would quickly grow addicted to it, licking along the seam of his lips, searching for more.

Bucky groaned, the sound deep and masculine, sending delicious shivers down your spine as he dug his arms beneath your body and held you crushed to him. He captured your mouth before you could retreat again, kissing you until you were breathless. He kissed you like he’d been starving for you and since he’s gotten a taste, he’d be damned if he let you go.

It was intoxicating to feel the way he wanted you as much as you wanted him, and you gave yourself into it, kissing Bucky back as hard as he was kissing you. Your fingers sank into Bucky’s soft brown hair, clinging to him with the same desperate devotion with which he held you.

Of their own accord, your legs spread beneath your blankets, allowing Bucky’s hips to settle into the cradle of your thighs. Even through the layers between your bodies, you could feel the hot, hard length of his arousal pressing into the juncture of your legs so tantalizingly, you moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Bucky growled, breaking free from your lips to press kisses along your jaw. His breathing was harsh in your ear, like he couldn’t catch his breath. “D’you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you, koshechka?” He sucked on a spot just beneath your ear, dragging another mewling moan from your lips before answering his own question. “Since the day you brought me home. I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day.”

“Bucky,” you chastised on an uncontrollable giggle as he nuzzled his scruffy jaw into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he was breathing in the scent of your skin. He groaned, making you shiver with pleasure. Still, the words burst out of you, “That’s creepy!” Your tone was meant to be admonishing, but your voice was too breathless to have much heat.

“The smell of you and the taste of your skin are burned into my mind,” Bucky murmured before dragging the flat of his tongue up the curve of your neck, wringing a low, throaty moan from your lips. “But I wanted to know if your mouth would be sweeter.” He captured your lips for another kiss, his mouth moving against yours in a way that made your head spin.

“Is it?” you asked when he pulled away, giving you a brief reprieve from his drugging kisses. Bucky’s eyes looked as hazy as you felt, and he seemed to not understand your questions. “Sweeter, I mean.”

A slow, seductive smile spread across Bucky’s face, and even cast in the shadows of your room, you could see plainly how handsome he was—so much so, your breath caught in your lungs.

“Oh koshechka, your mouth is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured before diving down for another kiss.

Between your thighs, you could feel Bucky’s cock throbbing and twitching—and it was so hot, you could feel the heat of him through your blankets.

A slight sheen of sweat was gathering in the creases of your thighs and behind your knees, your own center pulsing with a desperate ache to be closer to Bucky, to be pressed against his warm, bare skin. Your legs kicked restlessly at your blankets, trying to push them out of the way without letting go of your hold on Bucky, whose body was pinning yours to the bed.

Bucky chuckled against your mouth and lifted up enough to help you push the blankets off your body—laughing harder at your disgruntled whine—before settling back down on top of you. Your legs spread to make room for his narrow hips between your thighs, his hard cock pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

Without the blankets in the way, you could feel something strange about Bucky’s cock. There were…bumps on it? A pattern of bumps circling the shaft, which grew thicker toward the head.

Your brows lowered in a frown of confusion and you tilted your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against the length of him, groaning in pleasure when the bumps dragged deliciously against your clit.

But you were distracted from further exploration by Bucky’s voice.

“Do you want to know what I looked forward to most about dating you, koshechka?” Bucky asked against your lips, nipping and licking the breath from your lungs while he picked up your rhythm, grinding his cock against your slit through the meager fabric of your panties.

“Wh-what?” you asked in a trembling voice, your hips rocking up against Bucky, your ankles looping around the backs of his thighs for more leverage to grind against his cock.

“I couldn’t wait for the first time you’d let me stay over,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your jaw and playfully biting the lobe of your ear, drawing a gasp from your lips. “I’d give you my shirt to sleep in, instead of one of these little nightshirts you like,” he said, his fingers curling into the fabric and rucking it up around your hips, spreading your legs wider and giving him more access for his rolling hips.

“What’s wrong with my nightshirts?” you asked on a needy whimper. You pouted as you tipped your head down to look at him while he was busy placing wet, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones through the thin cotton of your shirt.

Bucky flicked his eyes up to yours and growled, “They don’t smell enough like me.” His hands slipped beneath your nightshirt, his warm palms skimming over your bare skin and making you shiver. He wrapped his fingers around your ribs, thumbs brushing over the lower curves of your breasts, just teasing your nipples while he stared up at you, watching the way you gasped for him.

It took you a long moment to process his words, and when you did, all you could manage was to whine his name, “Bucky.” The thought of smelling like him did something to your heart and your insides, melting them to the point that you squirmed from the heat flooding your body.

As you watched, a slow smirk spread across his face. He lowered his mouth to one of your tits and flicked his tongue across your pebbled nipple through your shirt.

“You should always smell like me,” he muttered into the soft curve of your breast, almost like he was talking to himself, before he latched onto your nipple and sucked the tight peak into his mouth.

Warm, wet heat surged through your body as Bucky suckled on you in long, deep pulls that tugged on a line connected directly to your clit, which was throbbing with need against his still gently rutting cock. His precum was slowly leaking onto your lower belly, making a mess of your panties, but they were ruined by your own arousal anyway.

Between Bucky’s cock and his mouth, your body was a mess of pleasure and wetness, your panties growing increasingly drenched the more he rocked against you, bullying your clit and torturing your nipples. His head shifted, moving to the other, before giving your other breast just as much attention and making your mind spin.

It took you long, long minutes before you could form a coherent thought, your mind catching on something Bucky had said. What tumbled from your lips was the inelegant question: “Do you even own a shirt?”

Bucky paused, like your question surprised him, and a second later he was laughing into the valley between your tits, his forehead pressed to the top of your sternum as his warm breath ghosted against you through your shirt.

“Koshechka,” he rumbled, still laughing as he raised his head to meet your curious gaze. His eyes were sparkling with humor and affection in the moonlight. “I have a whole apartment across town.”

“Then why did you stay with me?” you asked. Your brow furrowed in confusion at that revelation, even as curiosity began winding through your mind. What did his apartment look like? Was it cozy or sparse? Did he have plants or a massive flatscreen? Did he have a pet cat of his own?

And who was taking care of his apartment while he’d been living with you? Or did he sneak out while you were at work to go hang out at his home?

Bucky’s voice reeled you back into the moment.

“I told you, koshechka,” Bucky murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your swollen lips.

It was soft and sweet and you didn’t want him to stop, but you were too curious about his answer to protest when he pulled away to look at you again.

“A pretty girl took me in and kept me,” he rumbled, his voice low and delicious, his mouth curved into a mischievous smile that you desperately wanted to lick. “She let me cuddle her and nuzzle her cheeks and sleep in her bed, why would I leave?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he stared at you. “Being your pet was better than being my own man.”

Bucky’s words sank deep into your heart, tears of something like joy springing to your eyes, and you cupped his face to pull him in for another kiss. With no words, only your mouth, you told him how much his statement meant to you.

He liked being with you more than he liked being free. How could you ever be expected to let go of a man who said such things to you? You didn’t know if you could, even considering the strangeness of your meeting.

Your kiss grew heated and your thoughts melted away, your body writhing beneath Bucky’s as you tried to press closer, despite there being little space left between your bodies already. A whine worked its way up your throat and Bucky swallowed the sound, his mouth curving against yours in a smile before he eased back.

“May I?” he asked, nodding down to your nightshirt, which he was slowly pushing up further. It took you a moment to realize he was asking your permission to take it off, but when you did, you nodded. However, he didn’t move, only gave you a more intense look. “Use your words, koshechka.”

“Yes, please…” you said, trailing off as a thought occurred to you. “Do you still want me to call you Bucky?” you asked, tilting your head on your pillow and staring up at the man who’d told you his name was James.

You watched Bucky’s smile spread across his face and he ducked down, kissing you quickly, like he couldn’t help himself. He trailed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat while he pushed your nightshirt up slowly, teasingly.

“You can call me anything you want, koshechka.”

You considered his words distractedly while he tugged your shirt off, both of you pausing while Bucky admired your body. You had the urge to cover yourself, but held back, more than a little stunned by the sheer amount of heat and desire in Bucky’s gaze. A pleasant warmth prickled beneath your skin everywhere he looked, and it made you want to reach for him, so you did, tugging on his shoulders to pull him closer.

Obligingly, Bucky settled back down on top of you, his mouth working against your collarbones before trailing down to your tits. His big hands worked your soft flesh, kneading you firmly enough to make you gasp and writhe, while his mouth moved between kissing, licking and nipping your skin, teasing your nipples with purposeful flicks of his tongue.

Despite how perfectly Bucky was working your body, your mind was still caught on what he’d said about calling him anything you wanted.

“What about daddy-cat?” you asked, your voice breathless as you held in a moan. It was the most ridiculous nickname you could think of, and you were curious to see how Bucky responded. He only huffed out a muffled laugh, suckling on your nipple and dragging the moan from your lungs that you’d been holding in.

“If you want,” he murmured against your skin, shrugging a shoulder and not even looking up from your tits.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the word, your thoughts scattering when he moved to your other breast and sucked deeply on your nipple. Wetness flooded between your thighs and you whimpered pathetically.

Suddenly, a word came to mind, one you’d seen in some fantasy novels you’d read, and it appealed to you in a way you couldn’t put into words—especially not with Bucky’s mouth on your tits. But it felt right, and it tumbled easily from your lips.

“Alpha.” The word was half gasp, half plea, and filled entirely with your need for Bucky.

Bucky went still, his body going rigid even as his cock twitched between your thighs. Then, his purr kicked to life in his chest, louder than you’d heard it yet.

The vibrations that had teased you through your blankets were so much more intense when your skin was pressed against Bucky’s, and you let out a soft, gentle moan. Your body relaxed instantly, melting beneath Bucky’s broad form while he dug his arms beneath your back and held you close to his chest.

“I like that,” he rumbled through his purring, kissing up your chest and neck until his mouth found yours. “Call me that, koshechka.”

“Yes, alpha,” you said on a sweet sigh that Bucky swallowed down with a filthy groan, sounding like he was tasting something delicious.

“Fuck, koshechka, you’re making my cock so fucking hard,” he growled against your mouth, his words sliding over your tongue and making you shiver with need.

Bucky’s fingers circled your wrist and he dragged your hand down between your bodies slowly—slowly enough, and his grip loose enough, you knew you could’ve pulled away if you’d wanted.

But you didn’t want to. You knew what he was doing, and you wanted to feel him, wanted to feel what you did to him.

And you wanted to explore the strange shape of his cock.

“Feel what you do to me, koshechka,” Bucky growled, placing your palm on his cock and you sucked in a sharp breath of surprise at the feeling of it.

Your fingers circled the base of his cock and ran up the length, feeling the way it swelled and grew bigger as you neared the head. It was so thick, you wondered how he would fit inside you, but your body responded to that thought by growing wetter, and you knew you were eager to try to make it fit.

You stroked Bucky’s cock up and down the shaft, feeling the pattern of bumps circling it. They were more complex than you’d thought, more like barbs that caught slightly on your fingers and palm, though not in a painful way. Just in a way that made you shiver and wonder wildly what they would feel like inside you, dragging against your inner walls and stimulating you in a way you’d never felt before…

Suddenly, you were desperate to feel Bucky slide inside you.

“Alpha, please,” you begged on a whine, a need rising up in you that you couldn’t even begin to control. You shifted your grip on Bucky’s cock, pressing him into your panty-covered slit and grinding against him, writhing your hips beneath his large body. “Please fuck me—I need you inside me, alpha, please.”

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his hips jerking and fucking against your slick panties, his precum leaking from the tip of his cock and making even more of a mess of you. “Are you sure? I really did want to take you out on a date, do things the normal way…”

His frantic words trailed off on a moan when you pressed his cock deeper between your folds, until he was sliding between your puffy pussy lips.

Even through your panties, you could feel the barbs on his cock rubbing against your clit and you let out a needy moan. The fingers of your other hand threaded through his soft brown hair and you pulled him close, until your lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

“You’re a cat shifter who’s been watching me sleep while pretending to be nothing more than my pet for almost a year,” you whispered, and even though you knew you’d have to deal with Bucky’s lie at some point, you weren’t ready yet.

You wanted him, you wanted his cock buried inside you, so you nipped playfully at his earlobe to lighten the mood. Of course, you also thoroughly enjoyed the way his hips rutted between your thighs reflexively, making you giggle softly before you continued on.

“I think we bypassed normal right around the time I brought you home and you decided to stay,” you murmured, a hint of humor in your tone. “We can play out your Halloween coffee shop meet-cute later, but for now, I need you to fuck me, alpha.”

A rumbling growl ricocheted in Bucky’s chest, teasing your skin where you were pressed together. Your nipples hardened further into tight, achy peaks and your pussy gushed between your thighs, reacting to the desire in Bucky’s growl.

“I will take you out later,” he said firmly, “But I’ll always give you what you want, and if you want to be fucked—I’ll fuck you good, koshechka.” Bucky pushed up until he was hovering above you, flashing you a charmingly rakish grin. Then his hands were shoving your panties down over your ass and thighs, moving to pull them off you entirely.

When that was done, Bucky sat back on his haunches and stared at you, laid bare beneath him, your skin swathed in the silvery light of the moonlight and the warm glow of the streetlight outside your window. His piercing blue eyes raked over every inch of bared skin, appreciating you for long, long moments.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, koshechka,” Bucky murmured distractedly, his hands sliding up your legs and pushing your thighs wide. He stared down at your sopping wet pussy with reverence etched in every line of his face. “Even your pussy is pretty—I just need a little taste.” His last comment was mumbled, like he was talking to himself, just before he ducked down between your legs.

The flat of Bucky’s tongue licked up the full length of your slit, digging into the top until he found your clit. His hot mouth against your cunt had you whining and whimpering, your fingers digging into his soft hair and holding on for dear life. He buried his face into your folds, his tongue licking deep into you and making you moan loudly while he ate you out.

“Fucking hell, koshechka, even your cunt is sweet,” Bucky groaned when he finally came up for air, pressing filthy wet kisses to your quivering thighs. You were close to the edge of your release already, but as much as you wanted to come, you wanted something else more.

“Alpha,” you begged in a whining tone, squirming against Bucky’s big hands that were pinning you to the bed. “Feel so empty.”

Bucky lapped teasingly at your clit, and you could feel his smile against your heated skin. He worked your body until you were writhing harder, squirming harder against his hands to rock into his mouth and grind down on his tongue. Still, it wasn’t enough and you whined louder in a wordless plea.

“C’mon, koshechka, come on my tongue and then I’ll fill you up with my cock,” Bucky murmured into your swollen folds, his command half-muffled against your slick pussy.

Your head thrashed side to side on your pillow and you whimpered, “Alpha,” as you tried to hold on, tried to last until his cock was inside you. But Bucky was determined to feel you come on his mouth.

When he slipped two of his fingers into your drenched hole and stroked a spot deep inside you, the electric shot of pleasure was too much. Your fingers curled so tightly in Bucky’s hair, a distant part of your mind worried you’d yank some of it from his head.

But you couldn’t think about that—not when he was pushing you over the edge and pleasure was crashing through you in an earth-shattering orgasm.

A silent scream caught in your throat as your whole body went rigid, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs while Bucky kept fucking you with his fingers and sucking on your clit. It was nearly overwhelming, how good his mouth and fingers felt, and you let yourself sink into the waves of pleasure as they washed over you.

You were still twitching with the remnants of your release when Bucky crawled up your body, his mouth kissing your belly and your ribs, pausing to flick his tongue over each of your nipples, then the hollow of your throat. Finally, his lips found yours and he kissed you passionately, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“Can you taste how sweet you are, koshechka?” he murmured against your mouth while he rubbed the length of your cock through your slick folds. The barbs were catching on your clit, making your hips twitch as you dragged in desperate gasps of air. “Sweet as a Halloween treat.”

Bucky pressed another kiss to your lips even as you huffed a little laugh.

“I see how it is,” you muttered, a little bitterness seeping into your tone. “You play a trick on me and you still get a treat?” You didn’t quite know where the words came from, but it seemed you weren’t doing so well at putting off dealing with the fact that Bucky had hidden his true self from you for almost a year.

It was annoying that the betrayal you felt was raising its ugly head before you’d even gotten to feel his cock inside you, but you supposed it had something to do with the deeply satisfied feeling of coming on his tongue. Still, you were embarrassed enough by your blurted, bitter question that you turned your head to the side, trying to hide in your pillow.

Bucky hovered above you, and you could see the serious expression on his face out of the corner of your eye. He gently grabbed your chin and turned you back to look at him, holding your gaze with his own.

“I’m sorry for lying to you for so long, koshechka,” he said, his tone entirely genuine. You could even see remorse simmering in his blue eyes. “I was selfish, and afraid you wouldn’t like me as much like this.” He gestured at himself, indicating his human form.

That made you huff a laugh and roll your eyes a little before catching Bucky’s gaze again. “How could I not like you like this?” you asked, cupping his handsome face in your hands. Your nails raked lightly through his scruff, and he closed his eyes as a soft purr started in his chest. “But I’m going to need time to forgive you for lying.”

Bucky’s mouth pulled into a bittersweet smile and he nodded his head, his eyes opening again.

“I understand,” he murmured, turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. “I’ll earn your trust back, I promise,” he vowed, staring deep into your eyes, as if willing you to believe him.

Your lips curved in a small smile and you tipped your head up, pulling him in for a brief kiss. It was little more than a brushing of lips, but you felt the determination in the rigid line of Bucky’s shoulders. You ghosted your lips along Bucky’s jaw, sucking playfully at his skin as you tried to lighten the mood.

“I still need you to fuck me, alpha,” you purred in Bucky’s ear, your thighs spreading wider beneath his hips, his cock pressing deeper between your still soaking folds.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, his hips moving on instinct until the tip of his cock was pressed to your tight hole. But he stopped himself from pushing inside, instead pausing to ask you, “Are you sure, koshechka?”

Your heart thumped harder in your chest at Bucky’s question, but you knew what you wanted. “Yes, alpha—please.”

Your final word was a broken plea, and it seemed Bucky didn’t need to be begged again. He pushed forward, sinking slowly into your tight, warm pussy with a tortured groan. The head pushed inside you, then the thick bulge of his cock, and every additional inch felt like a revelation.

“You feel so fucking good, koshechka,” he rumbled, his low, gravelly voice sinking into your skin and making you shiver. “Feel so fucking perfect.”

You didn’t have the breath to respond, but you shared his sentiment. The thick bulge of his cock stretched your tight hole to its limit, and you sighed in pleasure when he was finally buried deep. It was a little odd, the feeling of his inhuman cock inside you, but it felt perfect, too.

For a moment, Bucky paused while he was fully impaled in your cunt. His arms curled around your body, and yours wound around his shoulders. You clung to each other, your chests rising and falling together as your hearts beat in tandem beneath your ribs.

“Talk to me, koshechka, are you ok?” Bucky asked softly, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. He nuzzled into you, his scruffy face tickling your skin while a soft purr kicked to life in his chest.

Your body relaxed beneath Bucky’s large form and you nodded, trying to catch your breath a little before answering.

“Yes, alpha, ‘m ok,” you mumbled in throaty voice, your fingers stroking idly through Bucky’s hair at the back of his head. His purr grew stronger, vibrating through you and your inner walls clenched around Bucky’s stiff length, pleasure pulsing through you at the wild, unusual sensation of his cock inside you. “So full.”

“Mm, your tight cunt feels good around my cock,” Bucky murmured in agreement, kissing up your neck until he could brush his lips against your sweaty temple. His scruffy jaw tickled your cheek and you squirmed lazily, a grin spreading across your face. “Feels like you were made for me—fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you koshechka?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed languidly, rocking your hips experimentally and feeling the slight drag of Bucky’s cock inside you, the barbs making your breath catch as delicious pleasure jolted through your body. Distractedly, you asked, “Do shifters mate?”

Bucky tensed above you, and your mind sharpened, focusing on his reaction and the way he was hiding his face in the pillow beside your head.

“James Bucky Barnes,” you growled in warning. He’d lied to you for almost a year, hiding his human identity from you while pretending to be nothing more than your pet, and you’d be damned if you let him keep lying to you. And you knew he was hiding something from you, his reaction to your question made that perfectly clear.

“Yes, we can scent our compatible mate,” he admitted on a gusting exhale, his voice muffled in the pillow.

You licked your lips as you processed that revelation. Unbidden, all the times that night that Bucky had told you how sweet you tasted, how deeply he’d breathed in your scent—and how good his wild scent smelled to you—came to mind. It seemed only natural that your next question was, “And, am I…?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could even finish your question. “You’re mine. I’m yours.”

His words were slightly less muffled by his face buried in the pillow, and you were suddenly frustrated by the fact that you couldn’t see him. You pushed against his shoulder and twisted your hips until he obliged your wordless request and rolled onto his back, taking you with him.

Your knees dug into the soft mattress on either side of Bucky’s hips and you pushed yourself up with your hands planted firmly on his hard chest. Bucky’s piercing eyes were looking up at you warily, his hands settling lightly on your hips, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore.

“How long have you known?” you asked on a whisper, watching him carefully.

“Since you found me in the bucket,” he confessed with a sheepish wince. “I scented it immediately, especially since I was in my cat form.”

Reflexively, your nails dug into Bucky’s skin as frustration surged through you. “Were you ever going to tell me?” you asked in a harsher tone.

“I had a plan,” Bucky said, but his tone was apologetic, like he knew it wasn’t a good enough answer.

For a long moment, you stared down at the man between your thighs. Your mate, apparently.

Despite how much you knew you should be, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry that he’d held back this particular aspect of his shifter identity. Even knowing it, you didn’t feel like you truly understood what it meant to be Bucky’s mate.

And if you were being honest with yourself, after everything he’d told you that night, you were a little tired of the revelations.

It probably would’ve been better if things had gone according to Bucky’s plan. You’d have met him in your favorite coffee shop and slowly gotten to know him—the real him—and he’d have opened up to you when you were both ready. If things had gone that way, you would’ve been able to learn about him being a shifter and your mate at an easier pace.

Instead, you’d been thrust into all this shifter stuff, and Bucky had tried his best to not overwhelm you too much. You couldn’t fault him for that. In fact, you appreciated it. The night had been a lot, and you suddenly knew exactly what you needed from him.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you lay down on Bucky’s chest so your head rested on his shoulder.

“Can you purr for me, alpha?” you asked in a small voice, craving the comfort of the rumbling sensation.

Bucky’s purr kicked to life an instant later, giving you exactly what you asked for. You let yourself sink into the comfort and pleasure his purring offered, allowing yourself to relax. His cock was still buried deep inside you, and even that felt good—it felt right.

“What else do you need, koshechka?” Bucky asked softly, concern in his tone. His hand stroked tentatively up and down your spine and you smiled into his chest, melting further into his chest. “Tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.”

“I think I want to follow the plan,” you said, realizing it was what you wanted only as you said the words. “I want to try things your way, the ‘normal’ way.” You said those final words a little wryly, but your tone was otherwise genuine. Turning your face up so you could catch Bucky’s eye, you let a little smirk flirt around the corner of your mouth. “After you fuck me.”

Bucky’s eyes heated as they dropped to your mouth, but his hands still felt uncertain on your hips. “Are you sure, koshechka?” His big hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed at the comfort of the gesture. “I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again.”

At that, your eyes flew open and you glared at Bucky. “That is the last thing I want,” you spit out fiercely, surprised at how strongly you reacted to the idea of never seeing Bucky again. You took a moment, closing your eyes to gather yourself and opened them again to fix Bucky with a firm stare. “Tonight has been a lot, but I want to come on your cock, and then I wanna take the time to get to know you, to see how things go, to do things the normal way.”

A smirk curled the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I thought we bypassed normal a year ago,” he commented, echoing your earlier words.

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean up and kiss the smirk off Bucky’s face, so that’s exactly what you did.

He groaned into your kiss, his hands tightening on your hips and urging you to rock against him. You broke away from the kiss, unable to bite back the filthy groan that tumbled from your lips at the sensation of his cock shifting inside you.

You could feel the gentle drag of every barb on his cock, the dulled points clinging to your inner channel and making you moan loudly. Your body moved on its own, lifting up Bucky’s cock, needing to feel more of that sensation. Once only the head remained inside your warmth, you shoved yourself down, wringing a delighted screech from your lips while Bucky groaned ferociously.

“Fuck, koshechka,” Bucky grunted, his big hands kneading your ass while you lifted up again and slammed back down. “Use me—use me for your pleasure.” His voice was breathless, and as you stared down at him, you watched his face contort with pleasure.

You lifted up, planting your hands on his pecs and set a slow, hard pace, lifting yourself up slowly before slamming down hard on his cock, grinding into the base before doing it all over again.

Before long, you were both panting and sweating, and your whines grew louder as your body begged more.

Bucky seemed to know exactly when you’d reached your limit of having control, and he wrapped his hands more tightly around your waist, holding you above him while he took over, drilling into your cunt from below.

The bulge of his length and the barbs were unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and it was only a few breathless moments before you were teetering on the edge of your second release.

“Can I come, alpha?” you gasped on a whimpering whine. Your fingernails were digging into the plush padding on his stomach, pressing hard enough to feel the firm muscle beneath, delighting when his abs twitched at the same time as his cock inside you.

A purr began in Bucky’s chest and he caught your eye, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Does my sweet koshechka want my permission to come?” he purred, staring at you with lazy, half-lidded eyes while he pounded up into you. “Do you need your alpha’s command to come on my cock?”

“Yes, alpha, please—please command me to come,” you whimpered, your whole body trembling with your need for release. But you found you truly needed him to say it, to tell you to come, before you could do so. You didn’t know if that was a shifter thing, a mate thing or a you and Bucky thing, but in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Bucky fucked you harder, thrusting up so hard that your tits were bouncing with the force. A growl tore through his chest, and you felt his pleasure in the sound, knowing instinctively that he was pleased with the sight of you bouncing on his cock.

“Come, koshechka—come all over your alpha’s fat cock,” he snarled, just before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and dragging you down to his chest. His mouth found the curve of your neck, where your throat met your shoulder, and he bit down, his teeth sinking deep into your skin.

You came with a yowling scream, the slight sting of pain from Bucky’s blunt teeth mixing with the blistering pleasure of his cock until you were swept away in a torrent of ecstasy. You shattered apart on his cock, your pussy pulsing and gripping him hard, dragging him over the edge after you.

Bucky came with a groan that was half-muffled against your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled his hot seed deep in your belly. His moan morphed into a stuttering purr as he fucked you through the aftershocks of both your releases, until you collapsed on top of him with a satisfied exhale.

One of Bucky’s hands smoothed up and down your spine comfortingly while the other was still wrapped around the back of your neck. He finally pulled away from your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the deep indents he’d left in your skin.

Strangely, some part of you was disappointed that his teeth hadn’t broken skin. But the feeling of his tongue on the mark he’d left, his cock still throbbing in your pussy, and his hand stroking you softly were all too good to focus on that twinge of disappointment. You pushed it aside and promised yourself you’d ask Bucky about it later.

Exhaustion was tugging at the edges of your consciousness and you could feel yourself slipping back to sleep. It didn’t help that Bucky dragged the blankets back over your cooling bodies, wrapping you up in a warmth that felt like it sank deep into your bones and curled closely around your heart.

“Rest, koshechka,” Bucky urged, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you at your coffee shop later—I’ll be the one wearing clothes.”

You would’ve laughed, but you were already falling back to sleep.

On the morning of Halloween, you woke with a pleasant tingling between your thighs, and an excessive amount of wetness trickling from your slit. You got up and cleaned yourself up, not too surprised that your Russian Blue didn’t make an appearance as you got ready for the day.

Your nighttime escapades felt too real for you to even begin to try to convince yourself it was a dream, though you did find yourself missing the soft pitter-patter of your pet’s feet padding across your apartment. You paused in the middle of your living room, feeling a little bit of loneliness creep in as you listened and heard no sign of life in your home.

Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that you weren’t going to be lonely without Bucky the cat—because Bucky the man was waiting for you.

With that thought in your head, you nearly skipped down the street to your regular coffee shop.

It was a cute little storefront nestled in between a hair salon and a plant store. The employees had put up decorations for Halloween, including a string of paper bats and little pumpkins in the windows. Inside, there were even more fall decorations, and the scent of coffee was cut with cinnamon and nutmeg.

You scanned the tables, but didn’t see Bucky, so you got in line to order. A moment later, you felt a presence behind you and you somehow knew it was him, even before his scent washed over you and his hand settled gently against your lower back as he came to stand beside you.

“Good morning, koshechka,” he murmured, ducking to press a kiss to your cheek.

You gave him a quick once-over, seeing that he cleaned up nice in the light of day, wearing a soft sweater, dark jeans and a warm-looking leather jacket. His breath smelled minty like he’d brushed his teeth, and his skin felt clean and fresh, as if he’d showered. But he’d kept the scruff on his face, and you couldn’t help but be glad for it as it tickled your cheek, a smile curving your lips.

“Good morning, Bucky,” you said, staring up at him, a little surprised at how easy it seemed to be to fall into step beside him as the line moved forward.

Still, you couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away from his face. He truly was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, and you let your eyes roam greedily over the planes of his face that were so much easier to see in the daylight. You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of looking at Bucky’s face.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” Bucky asked, dragging you from your thoughts. His hand was moving soothingly in a small circle on your lower back, and you could feel the warmth of him even through your jacket.

“Yes, please,” you said sweetly.

When it was your turn to order, you got a hot latte, while Bucky got a chai. He helped you out of your coat and pulled out a chair for you at one of the small tables, then retrieved your latte from the counter before he settled into the seat across from you.

The barista had drawn a ghost with the foam on top of your drink and you smiled down at it, wrapping your cold fingers around the warm cup as you considered where to start.

“So,” you began, lifting your eyes to Bucky—taking in the soft sweater that stretched across his broad shoulders, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, before catching his eye. A smirk curved your lips. “Tell me about yourself.”

A slow, answering smile curled the edges of Bucky’s mouth and he leaned forward, planting his arms on the table in a mirror of your posture. When he spoke, his voice was low, a delicious gruffness to it that tingled all the way through you, down to the tips of your toes.

“Well, I’ve had a bit of an unusual life,” he began, catching your eye and holding your gaze with his own sparkling blues. “I served in the army with my best friend, came back, didn’t really know what to do with myself—until I met a pretty girl who took me in and showed me what it’s like to be loved.”

Your heart thumped excitedly in your chest at Bucky’s final word even as your breath lodged in your throat. “Oh really?” you asked softly, swallowing thickly before you continued. “That sounds like an interesting story.”

“Mm, I’ll say,” Bucky said, his eyes roving hungrily over your face. After a beat of silence, he seemed to have a thought, leaning in further and dropping his voice lower. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” you said on an exhale, mesmerized by the affection swirling in Bucky’s eyes and the way his mouth curved at the edges when he smiled.

“I’m excited to show her what it’s like to be loved by me,” Bucky murmured.

His words had the same effect as his purr, making you melt as you smiled across the table at him. “I’m excited for that, too,” you admitted softly.

Bucky’s smile widened, and your eyes dropped to his mouth. You wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, but you also wanted to stick to his plan to take things slow.

Taking a deep breath, you sat back from the table, giving yourself some space away from the intoxicatingly wild scent of Bucky and lifted your cup to your mouth. You hummed in delight at the taste of the drink, closing your eyes as you savored the rich flavor.

A choked sound came from across the table and you opened your eyes to see heat simmering in Bucky’s eyes.

“Are you trying to torture me, koshechka?” he asked in a low rumble.

You snickered and hid a smirk behind your cup before taking another sip and setting it down on the table. Tossing your head, you looked up at Bucky from under your lashes.

“It’s the least you deserve for the little Halloween trick you played on me,” you teased. You slid your tongue along your lower lip, licking up the last bit of your coffee, smirking when Bucky groaned quietly.

“If I behave, d’you think I’ll get a little Halloween treat?” Bucky asked, waggling his brows so suggestively, you tipped your head back with a laugh.

“We’ll see,” you said with what you hoped was an enigmatic smile.

Leaning across the table, Bucky ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth and when he pulled away, you saw a little bit of foam on his finger. He popped it into his mouth, making your eyes narrow on the way his tongue flicked against the pad of his thumb, your core tightening as you remembered the things that tongue had done to you the night before.

“I’ll take whatever you want to give, koshechka,” Bucky murmured, his tone thick with emotion and desire, and you knew he was talking about more than just your body. His piercing eyes pinned you with an intense stare, and you held his gaze determinedly.

The tension eased when Bucky looked away, his hand reaching across the table, palm up, waiting patiently for you. After a brief moment of hesitation, you slid your fingers into his palm, and your hands folded together. Warmth spread through your body and curled up deep in your heart as Bucky caught your eye again, both of you smiling at each other.

For the next hour, you sat at that little table in your favorite coffee shop with Bucky, getting to know him and learning more about his life. You discovered he had a best friend named Steve Rogers who’d been watching his apartment for the last year while he’d been living with you. He was the friend Bucky had served in the army with and he told you plenty of stories from their childhood.

At the end of your date, Bucky gave you his phone number, and texted you before you’d even gotten home to plan another outing. All day, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, and you couldn’t help your thoughts from wandering back to your Russian Blue shifter.

Bucky had given you a Halloween trick and a Halloween treat, and he was giving you the space you needed to wrap your head around everything. Still, you couldn’t wait to see him again, to continue getting to know him, and to learn everything there was to know about him and what he was.

Over the months that followed Halloween, you and Bucky went on plenty of dates, taking things slow. But it wasn’t too long before you dragged him back to your apartment, needing to feel him again—all of him. Like he’d wanted, you slept in his shirt that night, and he purred happily, telling you how much it meant to him for you to smell like him.

That night, you fell asleep curled up in Bucky’s arms the way he’d slept for so many nights when you’d thought he was only a cat. And it was the first night of many that you slept in your bed together with Bucky in his human form.

Eventually, Bucky officially moved in, and you learned what it meant to be mated to a shifter, though Bucky didn’t give you your mating bite until you’d been dating for a few years. He’d said he wanted to do things the normal way, and apparently that was normal for shifters, even though you were practically begging him to mate you by the time he obliged.

Although your relationship with Bucky began in a very strange way, you took the time together to truly get to know each other. He showed remorse for hiding from you for so long and worked to gain your trust. By the time the two of you were mated, you knew he was the one for you.

James Bucky Barnes was the one you would’ve chosen even if you hadn’t woken up to him sleeping naked in your bed on that fateful Halloween night.

halloween fics masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #shifter bucky barnes #shifter au #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #halloween fic #witchywithwhiskeywork

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demi-god77 · 5 months ago

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BYLER GATES: A GUIDE

(A masterpost explaining all the different theories, for anyone who is also lost with how many there are)

THE BIG 4

Flickergate: This theory involves a lot of time shenanigans and is connected to the Will having powers in s5 one (possibly manipulation of time or electricity). Theory claims Will and Mike will kiss in the UD, specifically outside Mike's garage, paralleling 1x01. Will is going to tell the truth at the same time his s1 self is ("it was a seven"), causing the garage light to flicker on Nov. 6th 1983.

Birthdaygate: This theory suggests that the Duffers didn't actually forget Will's birthday is March 22nd (the day of the rink-o-mania incident). It claims that Vecna is actually manipulating the characters' memories (possibly even Will's), making them forget his birthday in the process, maybe in an attempt to make him feel excluded/lonely and making him vulnerable. (Similar to the beginning of Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets, which happened to be on the inspo board for S4)

But also the Creel murders themselves happened on March 22nd.

Churchgate: More UD kiss related theories! This one claims Will is going to get Vecna'd or possessed in the Upside Down church (and that he's going to hurt/choke Mike in the process). With a crazy amount of religious symbolism, Mike would be the one breaking him out of his trance, through a kiss or a confession.

(More thorough explanation here.)

Lettergate: This gate's truthers believe that Mike did actually write to Will in the time period between s3 and s4, but never sent the letters. Said letters (signed "Love, Mike") are going to make an appearance in s5, revealing his true feelings. (Great post that has to do with this gate here)

Also related to:

OTHER GATES

Pocketgate: Very connected to Lettergate™️, this theory has to do with Mike's infamous triangle shaped pocket in S4. It suggests that the letter signed Love, Mike is hidden in said pocket throughout s4, since it very closely resembles an envelope. Triangles have also been used in ST as a queer symbol (with Robin) and Mike's pocket consistently points to Will like an arrow.

Phonegate: Kinda similar to the previous two, this gate claims Mike did actually call the Byers in Lenora. For some reason, the calls didn't go through, either because of Joyce's telemarketer job OR because of Vecna manipulating things again (cough, birthdaygate, cough).

This is backed up by one of Dustin's lines, saying that the Byers' phone line is always busy and Mike won't stop complaining about it. We know he must have been calling WILL, since the whole reason he was communicating with El using letters is that they couldn't talk on the phone.

Loverslakegate: Related to Lovers' lake (obviously). The lake is shaped like a heart, tying into its name, but it was split in two after the gates opened, now resembling a broken one (and Mike is ofc referred to as "the heart" so it could be a reference to him).

According to this theory, Mike and Will are going to kiss/become lovers near said lake/Reefer Rick's house.

Heartgate: To put it simply: Heart reflections EVERYWHERE. This one is better explained through pictures:

Also: Different heartgate but really interesting

Colorgate: I don't think I have to explain this one tbh but anyway

Blue meets yellow in the west.

Mike and Will have been HEAVILY associated with blue and yellow respectively since the beginning of the show (even wearing eachother's colours in both of their arguments). There's an insane amount of evidence that backs this one up.

It's speculated that the Russian code in s3 was foreshadowing for s4 ("The silver cat feeds when Blue meets Yellow in the west") Silver cat: Vecna who started killing when Mike (Blue) met Will (Yellow) in the west (California, literally west of Indiana)

Curtaingate: "They don't spent their lives trying to get a look at what's behind the curtain [...] They like the curtain. It provides them comfort, stability, definition" -Murray 2x05

Mike and El are pretty consistently framed in front of CLOSED (and more often than not, yellow) curtains, or ones that have closed blinds. According to this theory, closed curtains represent not being honest with one's true feeling. So, the truth about Mike's feelings is beyond the curtain and in s5 he will open it (and come out)

Motelgate: This one has to do with the dreaded two day time skip at the end of S4. Theory claims the Cali crew stayed at a motel during that time skip and the scenes were cut for time, but we'll flash back to them in s5. It's based on a photo a production assistant posted from the New Mexico filming, as well as some bts pics of the Cali Crew playing board games in a motel.

Shoegate: In S4, we see a pair of Will's shoes in his bedroom. In s5, Mike seems to be wearing that exact pair. This, in addition to the fact that they wear the same shoe size (a 10 according to their rollerskates from 4x02), lead people to theorize they will share clothes/shoes in s5. More importantly though, this theory suggests Mike is figuratively being put into Will's shoes (maybe pining?). Also, both of them wear the same shoes they wore in s2. Interestingly enough though, even though the design is the same, the colors are reversed (so their roles will be reversed too).

Possessiongate: This one runs DEEP so I'm going to link a bunch of posts

To put it VERY simply: this theory claims Vecna somehow attached himself to Mike (maybe when the vine grabbed him by the leg in the S2 tunnels- right before he started acting weird in s3 and s4) and he has been influenced/possessed for some time now.

He's not the dungeon master anymore, he's not in control. Both in s3 and s4 someone ELSE is the DM when they play D&D (Will and Eddie respectively)

More here and here

Victimgate: Very closely related to the previous one, this one suggests that MIKE was originally supposed to be Vecna's 4th victim instead of Patrick. Since Max escaped the first time, SHE ended up being the last victim but the original plan was for it to be Patrick. However, Patrick's curse doesn't fit the theme of all of the previous ones. We only see one of his visions, he gets cursed for ONE DAY, as opposed to the other 3 that are cursed for almost a week and we also know very little about him, even though we gradually knew more about the previous victims. Chrissy (no relation to main characters) -> Fred (friends w/ Nancy) -> Max (main character who we've known since s2)

More thorough explanation here

Twelvegate: This one is not really Byler related but i wanted to include it anyway

Theory claims Will was one of the lab kids (specifically 012) and him and El are actual twins. There are mentions of Will and El looking similar since s1, and a lot of twin imagery.

This theory obviously ties in with the Will having powers one and some people believe he wasn't 012, but him and El have a deeper connection/may be actually related. It could theoretically explain Henry's connection to Will, as well as things like El seemingly recognizing him in s1.(Alternatively called rainbowshipgate, because of the rainbow ship drawing Joyce mentions in s2 and the rainbow room)

Eightfifteengate: Again, not explicitly Byler but it's quite crazy.

TL;DR: The time 8:15 seems to have great significance in the show and it's mentioned all the time, if not by the characters themselves, (Eg. "It's 8:15, you're late"- El s2) then by small details in the background. There's even a whole track named after it.

Will left the Wheelers' house at 8:15 and it's the EXACT timestamp of his disappearance in 1x01. It's also the time in which most of the UD related weirdness happens and so it's very likely the UD is stuck on 8:15. (Also you know, 15-8=7)

Radiationgate: Related to the previous one! Clocks in Chernobyl are stuck on 8:15 and Hiroshima has been described figuratively as being frozen in time. Henry has burns identical to Chernobyl victims and almost all of his + his victims' symptoms can be explained through radiation exposure. As this post explains, for radiation levels between 8.3-11 Gy (SI unit for absorbed radiation), symptoms start with headaches and disorientation, move on to unconsciousness and bleeding (the exact symptoms of his victims) and finally, death happens at around 7 days (which is about how long Vecna's curse lasts AND how long Will was in the UD for)

Whiterabbitgate: The song "White Rabbit" is the first song in the show and it plays when we first get a sense of El's powers. Theory suggests it will also be the last song in the show (coming full circle) with either Will using his powers, or Willel using their powers together.

In general though, ST has a lot of similarities/parallels to Alice in Wonderland. The white rabbit constantly being late (Mike is late to something at the start of every season), great significance to clocks/ticking/time, a lot of hallucinations/visions, the overall similarities between the Upside Down and Wonderland. Henry's sister was literally named Alice Creel and there is SO much rabbit imagery throughout the show. There are also direct references to AIW with set pieces and paintings.

Soundtrackgate: This one has to do with the Stranger Things OST and the overall insane musical symbolism throughout the show. A lot of different theories talk about the show's soundtrack, but this one talks about 3 tracks in particular: Being Different, The First Lie, The First I love You

To put it briefly: "The First I love You" plays in both Robin's coming out scene and El's kiss with Mike at the end of s3 (Already a weird parallel). The three tracks not only share the same melody, but they also sync up perfectly. "Being Different" (s4 van scene) and "The First Lie" (Nancy and Jonathan's kiss in s2) especially, match up together to create an entirely new track, completing eachother. The scenes featuring those three tracks also share very similar themes at their core. (This post goes into a lot of detail!)

Playlistgate: Character playlists! At a certain point, every character's official playlist on Spotify was deleted, except for three: Mike's, Will's and Billy's. Songs were seemingly being added/deleted for no reason to the Mike and Will ones and people were struggling to make sense of it all.

Also, Mike's character playlist in particular is VERY interesting (so many byler coded songs, as well as "Smalltown Boy" a gay anthem, about a young gay boy forced to leave his home town to escape from their disapproval and homophobia.) There are three playlists on Finn's spotify that are very incriminating. "Love songs" (That has "BOYS DON'T CRY" on it, a song that Will literally has a poster of in his room), "drive" and the most recent one "STurn". These playlists feature songs like "Let her go", "Angst in my pants", "Me and Michael", "Gay thoughts" just to name a few. Basically a lot of the songs on all four playlists seem very relevant to some complicated feelings about Mike's relationship with El/Will but also with himself and his sexuality.

Scriptgate: Oh boy. Here we go.

On August 5th 2022, the byler fandom got #bylerscript trending worldwide on Twitter while waiting for the 8flix account (run by Nick Runyeard) to release some supposed s4 scripts (that people PAID for, mind you). These scripts dropped on August 8th, featuring lines like: "I hate who I am" from Will in the van scene, "His mouth dry, like a California summer" from the bedroom apology scene and also, Will seemingly recognizing Brenner at NINA, despite never meeting him in canon.

These turned out to be fake and the community was in shambles. Nick started calling people psychos, the Stranger Writers tweeted that everyone got scammed, Nick privated his account and the authenticity of some released s2-s3 scripts was questioned. This post explains the entire situation in detail.

Breathgate: This one is also script related and specifically about a Mike/Max parallel.

In the official van scene script, when Mike sees Will's painting "his breath catches." Then, when Lucas asks Max to the Friday movie date, "(her) breath catches" as well. People caught on that parallel very fast and since the latter is obviously a romantic moment, it boosted their confidence for both Byler and Lumax endgame.

Piggybackgate: This one refers to two different situations/theories.

One, the seemingly deliberate framing of Mike and Will inside the little bubble in El's piggyback drawing (and it referening to Byler). The framing is especially suspicious, because the bubble drawing was drawn two separate times (it's different from one shot to the other). In the second shot, they're framed directly inside of it.

Two, Mike in his monologue essentially piggybacking off of Will's van confession. His monologue was going off of El's feelings, but since they weren't actually El's, the speech was based on Will's feelings. It also ties in with the parallel/foreshadowing between the monologue and Suzie's house, with Will being paralleled to the "director" kid, directing a "choking" Tabitha and their dad (more thorough explanation here).

Footballgate: On December 25 2024, the vast majority of the byler community spent their Christmas watching hours of NFL football, in the hopes we would maybe get a teaser or at the very least a release date for s5. This started from leakers saying we would most likely get something during the game.

We got nothing.

People were disappointed they wasted hours of their lives watching a sport they neither cared for or knew anything about, and the only thing we learned is that we would probably get something before the end of January 2025.

THE SILLIES

(aka the joke-theories/memes)

Miniongate: Mike and Will are secretly minions. (Because you know, minions are primarily blue and yellow)

This information will be revealed to us in s5 and they will have a magical girl-esque transformation where we see their true minion form. (Original post here)

Localvillagegate: Related to the leaked Mike and El rooftop scene.

Basically, a mlvn used AI to lip read the scene and try to figure out what Mike is saying (and then posted the video on Twitter).

According to them, Mike was telling El they were going to leave the local village (AKA Hawkins) together and travel to a beautiful faraway land with "like, three waterfalls or something" (and also that she has to "improve her motivation", whatever that means).

People thought it was hilarious and started making a ton of memes based on it.

Parrotgate: This is directly connected to localvillagegate™️ and it was created by @cloudycleric in one of his streams.

Basically, the parrots are gay and represent Will and Mike, who in s5 will kiss under the three waterfalls depicted on the image.

Backgroundguygate: People making headcanons and creating backstories for random extras. The star of this gate is Barrett, an extra from the Lenora high school, who wears a barrette, bright red pants and a shirt that says "Hell".

According to this gate, he's actually gay and in love with Will. He has a goth best friend named Claire who is a lesbian and in love with El.

Chancegate: The theme of shipping Will with random extras continues on strong

Chance is one of Jason's friends and part of the basketball team. People thought he was attractive and somewhere along the line started making headcanons for him and shipping him with Will (Bychance). Basically, they're gonna date and Mike will be jealous.

Mikhailgate: More shipping Will with randoms! (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)

Originally created by @paladin-n-cleric

Enzo in S4 mentions his son, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail is the Russian name for Micheal.

People started making jokes that Mikhail would arrive to Hawkins from Russia in s5 and shipped him with Will (Willhail), since he's like Mike but Russian and cooler. They made fanart, edits and posted pictures of Finn as Boris in "The Goldfinch" claiming it's Mikhail.

@will80sbyers then begun to ship Mikhail with El and thus the ship "Jail" was born.

Pastagate: On January 2nd 2025, Noah posted a 2024 recap on IG, which included a photo of a trailer door labeled "Rigatoni". People then started joking about Rigatoni being Will's new bf and the ship "Willoni" was born.

In reality, Rigatoni is a nickname for Noah and that was his trailer. But where's the fun in that?

Baldmikegate: Did you know Mike is actually bald and is bullied for it? Well, now you do.

In 2022, a cult was born and the byler tag was filled with edited pictures of Bald!Mike. Terrifying honestly.

Some people made posts about how the rest of the party feels about Mike's secret baldness and some even wrote FANFICS.

Gridgate/whiteboardgate/pixelgate: The Stranger Writers posted a picture of a pixelated/blurred whiteboard that had the entirety of s5 mapped out. People were desperately trying to decode it and figure out what was written on it.

On the space for episode 7, there was a "big black hole" that people went crazy trying to make sense of, only for it to be revealed as a pen holder.

Babygirlgate: The babygirlification of Mike Wheeler. That's it. That's the gate.

I think pretty much every line Will has ever said to Mike has been posted with the word "babygirl" replacing his name (it's hilarious and I love it)

Some examples here and here

Mattduffersbasementgate: Finn and Joe made up a third Duffer brother named Pete, who has no hair for some reason and is the actual writer of Stranger Things, while Matt and Ross are just the faces of it. Pete lives in a shed/Matt's basement and that's where he writes all of the scripts.

Finn and Noah are both also being held in Matt's basement however, and they're not allowed to leave so that they don't spoil byler endgame.

Lobegate: (This gate was officially named by @tripleatechie). In January 2025, a byler went undercover, sending asks to other members of the community pretending to be a Mlvn. In one of those, they accidentally misspelled "love" as lobe, which immediately became an inside joke. People starting speculating whether or not this was an actual Mlvn and an investigation ensued. On January 7th 2025, the identity of the undercover byler was revealed as @somewiseoutthere. The mystery didn't end there though, with people wondering if this was in reality a group effort with multiple culprits. Here is a list of all the possible culprits with a full timeline here.

Blankgate: On January 26th 2025, Atlantaspotting posted on Twitter a thread with controversial claims and gossip about the cast, but replaced all the names with BLANK, making pretty much incomprehensible, and impossible to figure out who it was about. Memes were then made, replacing every name and pronoun with BLANK.

omg this took SO LONG, but I will keep adding as more gates surface

(this post is for you @felix-fathoms @bibylers)

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hamofjustice · 2 years ago

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The more people I see present it this way, it really does seem like the primary thing her character is about, and I think that's really cool.

And I also suspect there are some other things going on under the surface with Nemona as well, that I wonder if we'll ever get to see more of, mostly having to do with her upbringing. I'm not going to give quite as much of a non-player-friendly screenshot-filled presentation on it (I already feel a little rude piggybacking on a post about neurodivergence, but it's so important to her character that it seems like an ideal launching point):

It seems to me that Nemona's classmates that don't like her (or at least Arven, for a while) think of her as an out-of-touch nepo baby who gets whatever she wants and/or a gifted kid who never has to try at things they all struggle with. She seems to be the focus of people her age's jealousy. Her peers seem to be generally depressed and angry they can never be like her (something Pokemon Masters confirms and doubles down on), even though they totally can, and as Geeta says, a Champion's role is supposed to be inspiring others to greatness.

Nemona, meanwhile, insists that she hates all the credit for what she's achieved as a trainer (and presumably also in school, as we're told she's both a straight-A student and the student council president) being attributed to being a natural-born "whiz" or "raised differently" (it really feels like they wanted to say "gifted kid" and "privileged" here, and I read it as such) and that while she did become a Champion pretty easily because she was having fun / "dove in deep" (hyperfixated on it) (and was surprised to learn that wasn't normal, but is still pretty sure the player will be able to relate to how it feels. interesting.) most things in life are not easy for her, and no one seems to notice the hard work she puts in. Nemona states outright that she isn't sure if becoming a Champion for her previous Treasure Hunt actually made her happy. But her new friend becoming one too just for her sure did. I think they should've gotten to hug each other but I'll happily accept them holding hands in the TV ad. Aaanyway...

We see on several occasions at the start and end of the base game that Nemona has more problems with her stamina than even Penny, needing to take multiple breathers on the way to the Academy despite her athletic looks (and shrugs it off as being "full of surprises" when this is commented on), but Pokemon Masters revealed later that this is actually something she's very unhappy with herself about and that she thinks she's letting her Pokemon down by not being as fit as they are, which is quite unfair to herself if she actually has some chronic condition. Which is what they seem to be implying here. I don't know if you want to consider that game canon of course, but all of her writing in it seems well-thought out enough that i accept it as such. She still complains about Mesagoza's stairs in Masters just like she does in SV, too, and considers not being good at catching Pokemon an "uncool side of herself" she's glad she can keep hidden on an island with no wild Pokemon... but wants to practice and get better at it anyway.

To get to the point! With that bonus exposition, I suspect a few things are going on with Nemona, in the background, and I don't expect them all to be true at once necessarily, but:

I think... Nemona does not get much support from her family at all, and she perhaps was even in denial when she said she was fine with them being hands-off with her because her unnamed sister is the company heir. I don't think she would want to get much support from them either, given her attitude about working for everything she has. I don't think she's a privileged person trying to say she isn't when she says she works hard, given the way she's depicted otherwise. She never goes into her house, she refuses to have your sentimental first champion battle behind her house despite understanding it would be a callback to your first battle, and she never talks about her family at all unless someone else brings it up, despite them being famous. She seems to think the player and Penny's parents sound nice, though.

I also wondered if the writers were trying to establish a pattern with her saying they're "hands off in a good way" and not being able to tell the difference between a happy family reunion and your 'Raidon cowering in traumatized fear of impending violence. Yeah. Something else to think about.

Players may notice Nemona's dorm room, the Zona Nemona, her home away from home, is stated to be "very tidy" and... contains almost no decoration or personalization, even compared to the blank-slate player character, who does take the time to decorate their dorm and original bedroom. It even lacks basic things like a rug under the bed like the other three dorms have. Basically all Nemona has out in her room to set herself apart from the others is her choice of bedspread, some badges and plaques marking her achievements, a strict schedule, and her excess of Pokemon's food and Balls reflecting that she has multiple teams.

(Well, okay, and what appears to be a wall mounted flat screen TV, maybe she does get some family money, maybe she just saved up for that at the expense of everything else. Either way, I know the designers thought about it, and I love seeing that in a Pokemon game. I love seeing all of this stuff in a Pokemon game, even if the main world map is kinda a little bit of a big empty field sometimes.)

I think, consciously or subconsciously, Nemona is trying to impress her family and get them to take her seriously, which takes on a darker tone if she really does have all these genetic issues. Or she wants to impress the adults in her life that I think function as her surrogate family, like Geeta and Clavell. (I also like to think Rika inspired her to dye the tips of her hair.) I also wonder if comments from Geeta about what a Champion should be like have been getting under Nemona's skin unintentionally. I wonder how much insecurity she's hiding behind a facade if she can shrug off being mocked about things she's legitimately bothered by. I wonder what she's normally like if Geeta says she's only this excited around us. I wonder if "needing a battle to clear her head" like she does when that one kid won't battle her is something she does a lot. Seems like it would cause a nasty feedback loop.

Anyway, the emptiness of her room when the other kids' rooms say so much about their owners feels itself like it's trying to say something. Like, while there is evidence that she only battles because she thinks it's fun and no other reason, I could also see Nemona being so busy overachieving and trying to appear like the perfect student and perfect champion (honestly two very intertwined things in this region) that she does not express herself in any other way where the people she's trying to impress can see it, and is afraid to leave her mess out, figuratively or literally. It could just be a lack of aesthetic interest, but... even her phone case is just plain black compared to Arven's Floette case and Penny's Eevee case despite being the daughter of the Rotom Phone company CEO. I just have to go "what did they mean by this" at stuff like that. Or at the "Sibling Love" painting in Nemona's house.

I think we could unearth some wild drama and a lot more of Nemona's story potential if we meet her family in the DLC or spinoffs.

But she's already a really detailed, developed, and apparently respectfully written character if you're paying attention and reading her behavior and the game's text in general in good faith, and not regurgitating memes.

And there's STILL so much more stuff about her we could talk about that other people have been talking about, even with this incomplete story. We've come a long way from Pokemon characters having five lines of dialogue. Please take the time to read it, everyone.

Nemona, Female Neurodivergence, and Good Representation

Spoilers for the plot of ScarVi ahead, but here’s my full analysis and breakdown of Nemona!

So, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Game Freak making an autistic female main character? You must be out of your mind. This is clearly projecting!’

I’d like to preface this gently by saying that this is obviously just my personal conclusion based on subtextual analysis, but also, I’d like to call attention to the fact that Japan isn’t like the west when it comes to neurodiverse representation, and there isn’t a lot of Japanese media that explicitly uses the word autism. It’s a little unrealistic to expect Game Freak to call it by name, especially considering they make games for children and topics such as neurodiversity are often viewed as a more ‘adult’ thing to discuss. You are free to disagree with me, but please be polite in the replies of this post, as I only wish to have a constructive conversation about a writing decision that has been made.

Anyway, on to the good stuff and I must apologise in advance for this post being long, but I wanted to be thorough!

I played through all of ScarVi and I’m actually very pleased with Nemona as a character. I feel like despite the game’s technical quality, there was a real effort made this time around to flesh out the named characters. Nemona is one of my favourite examples of this, because her arc isn’t solely about being autistic, but it’s clearly a large part of her character and affects her life in a lot of ways.

Nemona is a battle fanatic, and it’s very likely one of her special interests. It’s how she connects with other people such as the main character, and it’s something she devotes her entire being and effort to. She never says she does so in order to impress others, but rather because it’s something she heavily enjoys.

Right from the start, Nemona is a successful champion rank trainer and wants you to become a trainer who can rival her in skill, and feels like it would lead to a better friendship if you could do that. Nemona’s priorities always centre around battling, and doing as much of it as possible. She’s the one who asks Geeta for permission to bestow a Tera orb upon your player. She gives you tips about the battle courts at different gyms. She even raises a new team of Pokémon throughout the game just to have an excuse to battle you at your level and watch you improve.

Nemona even loves battling so much that she finds it a little strange when others aren’t as enthusiastic about battling as she is, below is a quote I found particularly interesting because it really does show that she can be socially oblivious at times when it comes to societal expectations about what is an appropriate place or time to have a Pokémon battle.

Accompanying this, multiple times throughout the game she exhibits impulsive or oblivious behaviour and asks you to have another battle with her straight after another battle you’ve just had, usually due to being excited. Sometimes other characters will need to remind her that your Pokémon require healing first, or that there are other things that need doing. She doesn’t always understand how things should be handled in a conventional manner, despite being an expert on the topic of battling! (Or, she gets too excited and can’t help herself.)

In post-game, there’s even a scene where she doesn’t seem to understand that another student is reluctant to battle her and makes an excuse to leave early because she’s so far from being a casual trainer that it intimidates him. This is, in my opinion, actually quite a sad scene. She genuinely continues to think that he will challenge her to a battle at a different time, not realising that her ‘unusual’ enthusiasm and skill has scared him away, and that he has no intention of returning. A situation I’m sure a lot of neurodiverse children would connect with because it so accurately depicts what it’s like when others don’t share your interests to the degree that you hoped they would. This scene also hints at Nemona’s trouble with reading the emotions and intentions of others.

Nemona’s final post-game scene (which please, I BEG of you to go watch, it’s so good) confirms this outright, and also gives one of the most relatable lines in media about what it’s like to be neurodivergent in any way, especially as somebody who is younger:

Something I like about Nemona is that despite being socially oblivious and pushy with her interests, she is still a very sympathetic and friendly character. Not only does she cheer you on throughout the game, but she doesn’t only do it for the sake of serving only her own interests! She’s genuinely caring about others around her too.

(Nemona, congratulating the player when they beat her at the end of her storyline after she goes full-out. She is thrilled that you beat her! I love this moment.)

Throughout the last chapter in the game, there’s a lot of great moments with Nemona that show how caring she is. I think the best moments however, are where she tries to understand and support a scared Miraidon, and where she tries to help Arven.

Initially, she is misunderstanding and expects that the second Miraidon will be friendly and that it will be a family reunion, but once she realises this is not the case, she immediately switches to trying to support your Miraidon in any way she can. Despite not understanding why Miraidon is so afraid of returning to the Crater and facing the other Miraidon, she can be observed multiple times attempting to encourage it during the final battle, and can be seen in the final cutscene of the game with her arm around it as the group walks back to the academy.

(Nemona, displaying an implied struggle with visually judging the emotions of others.)

Nemona is also the one who suggests after a very heavy story ending that everyone goes home, and that they take the scenic route back to town. She clearly doesn’t know what to say to Arven about what he’s just been through, but she attempts to make him feel a bit better regardless.

I think this makes for particularly good representation, because not only is she less feminine than previous female rivals with her more sporty style and interests (something very common with autistic women) it also shows depth. I’ve seen autistic characters before that fall into the stereotype of coming across as emotionally detached or cold, or far too over-reactive. But I think Nemona strikes a lovely balance of caring, emotional, and socially lacking.

Now, on to a smaller detail that I want to point out that I really like the inclusion of is that glove. I could talk about how Nemona displays memory issues at times or other smaller symptoms of autism, but I really want to talk about the glove. I made a post on this subject the moment Nemona’s design was revealed on the official website, but I like that the game content openly confirmed that Nemona has motor issues with her dominant hand.

(Nemona, needing to support her arm when about to throw a Pokéball, or when she is about to terastalise her Pokémon. The burst of energy from the tera orb must make things a bit more difficult for her. A lovely small detail in her battles.)

(Nemona, confirming that she has trouble with Pokéballs. Something her website entry also stated.)

Now I’ve saved this until last because this is, in my opinion, a smaller detail that they didn’t need to include to make Nemona read as neurodiverse, but I’m thrilled they did. Nemona is the only character who wears an arm brace, something I picked up on immediately in the trailers before the games released. No other trainers wear one for the terastalisation mechanic, unlike the Z-bands from Alola. And even though Pokémon battling is her bread and butter, she still struggles with certain aspects of it! Not only is this trouble with motor skills realistic, but it’s also a very accurate portrayal of motor dysfunction that a lot of neurodiverse people experience in their day to day lives.

To bring this all to a close, I think that even though it isn’t stated outright, I believe Nemona isn’t just representation of neurodiversity in women, but I think that she is also GREAT representation. She knows that she has problems, and tries her best regardless! She is kind, and caring, even though she has difficulties with reading the emotions of others and understanding social expectations. Her entire story may be about making friends with you through the medium of battling, but it’s also a story about how she’s struggled in the past to connect with others because of her love of that medium.

I truely do feel like she’s a lovely depiction to be in a children’s game, because she is a very positive depiction of something that a lot of kids go through, and in the end, she gets to be herself and she gets to be happy by being true to that self. She is never forced to change to make friends, and instead befriends you and the other characters simply by remaining as she is.

#pokemon sv #pokemon #nemonaposting #i just could not keep this contained to tags i had to go off #she is SO INTERESTING and i would feel REALLY COOL if i correctly guessed some of the places they were going with this #or ideas they had in their head but decided not to put down in the text #that is the big reason i seem so obsessed with her besides just wanting to give her a better reputation online generally #and also being mad that you can't hang out with her or anyone in their dorms except reading one last line of dialogue repeatedly but anyway #there are so many damn blue curtains in places you could easily overlook especially if you just assume the game was lazily made in all ways #it most certainly was not #together with you noonblight i have formed my ultimate nemonapost to infodump to the masses (3 of my followers)#PS: i missed geeta saying nemona was never this happy/excited until she met you because of the way she phrased it but that line is huge

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landopoet · 2 months ago

Text

taciturnity.

pairing coworker!lando x intern!reader

warnings mentions of sex, use of vulgar language

synopsis a date in italy sounds like a dream. what could go wrong?

taglist @sheblogs @n3versatisfied @number-0-iz @gigicisneros @urfavnoirette

find part one here: clandestine

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s a quarter to six when the plane lands.

You and Lando had been texting about the date so much that it began to feel like it’s the only reason you’re in Italy. It’s only when you get an email from your supervisor, instructing you of all that you need to do over the weekend, that you get out of your little love-coloured bubble.

It’s Thursday evening, media day, and arguably one of the most busy days of a race weekend. Your supervisor let you know that their official photographer would be taking pictures today, so you could get settled in at the hotel and prepare for tomorrow. Which is incredibly fortunate, as you have to prepare all your camera settings, charge the batteries, bring your laptop hard drive and adaptors.

Stress would be overtaking all your emotions if you weren’t so excited to see Lando on Saturday.

You can already imagine it— the white button-up, the flowers in his hands, the candlelight on his face and the glare of his eyes as they burn into yours. It’s nothing short of magical, the way you imagine your first date, and you’re sure it’ll be even better in reality.

That night, it takes you far longer to fall asleep than anticipated. You know you should be asleep, resting up before the following day as you had to take pictures of Lando on the paddock and on track. It’ll be your first time working with fast-moving subjects, but you’re sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly.

Besides, it’s not like you’re here on full pay, anyway. Even if you don’t get good shots, you’ll be gaining experience and Eliza has nothing she can do but advise you to do better.

The sunlight filters through the hotel curtains and you rub your eyes awake, glancing at the alarm with blurry vision. It’s about fifteen minutes before you were supposed to wake up, so you take that as a chance to check your social media apps and contact friends.

In the flurry of notifications on your screen, one stands out more than others— lando followed you from Instagram. A small smile creeps its way onto your face and you click the bright blue follow back button.

You slip out of bed roughly five minutes after, having spent that time looking through his posts and finding his photography account, which he failed to mention before.

The tile floors in the bathroom distract you from thoughts of him and you zone back into your reality— it’s Friday and there’s work to do, and you’re not just here for matters of love.

Lexi calls you just as you’re about to tug on your shoes. “Heya,” she cheerily says, her smile evident in her voice. “You up yet?”

A small scoff leaves your lips as you press your phone to your shoulder with your cheek, using both hands to tie your shoe. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t up before my alarm.”

“Ugh, of course you were.” she fakes disgust. “Anyway, Eliza asked to meet her in the foyer so just come down when you’re ready. And manifest that you run into Lando in the elevator.”

You roll your eyes, playfully, even though she can’t see it. “I’ll manifest that I won’t. Bye.”

Down in the foyer, Eliza gives you a brief rundown of your tasks for the weekend. Lexi’s ones are obviously more complicated than yours, but you feel intimidated by the amount of work you’ve been given.

You have to upload pictures from Lexi’s SD cards to your laptop, edit them and get them ready to post as soon as they’re done, as well as email them all back to Eliza and snap pictures whenever you can (Eliza said you could keep those to yourself, as she’s not convinced you’re as good as you let on.)

Lexi gives you a look and you read it as “she's such a bitch”. To which you can’t help but agree.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The paddock is as busy as you’d imagined.

The buzzing of people trying to get to wherever they were going made your head spin but it felt so great at the same time. You’ve dreamed of an opportunity to be at such a large event, more so as a guest and not staff, but this’ll do for now.

Your eyes scan the crowd of people as you’re walking towards the garage and you can see everyone, except the one person you’re looking for.

As if on cue, you feel two hands on your shoulders. “Looking for me?” The curly haired man can’t help but point and laugh at the way you gasp and clutch your chest.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Lando,” he shields his head as you gently slap at his arm. “And, no, I wasn’t. I was admiring the scenery.”

“Scenery, right…” He takes a look ahead, seeing nothing but the back of heads. “Beautiful, Italian heads, truly a sight to see.”

“Why aren’t you in your car? I thought you’d be out on the track by now.” You looked up at him, noticing how tightly the race suit hugged his neck, making his adams apple pop even more.

He swallows and you watch as it rises and falls, mesmerising you. “There was some trouble with it, but it should be fixed before quali,” he explained. “I just popped down to my driver room for a quick break from the people.”

“Break from the people or to stalk me?”

Lando clicks his tongue. “Ah, fuck, you figured me out again.” He watches as you try to hide your smile behind an eye roll. “I’ll get going before they start to miss me. See you later.”

The man sends a wink your way before he disappears into the crowd of beautiful, Italian heads.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

It was infuriating, really.

Lando wasn’t a jealous person. He didn’t think of himself as such, anyway, nor did he notice ever feeling that sharp pang of slight hurt before. All it took was to see you and Daniel talking for him to finally experience it sharp enough that he’ll remember.

It’s been about twenty minutes of you giggling at the Australian man’s jokes, him flashing you a smile as often as he breathed. Lando rolled his eyes for the millionth time. Daniel wasn’t really that funny, so there was no reason for you to be smiling at him so much.

It should be Lando you’re giggling at.

And he knows he could just walk up there, insert himself into your conversation, but what good would that do? He only just got you to go on a date with him and him being jealous would only hinder the chances of it actually happening.

Even though he knows it will. You were so excited about it on text that Lando was sure you wouldn’t miss it. He even got to pick out your outfit, as he swore not to tell you a thing about the place you’ll be meeting him.

Still, the worry of some unfunny, poor driving racer like Daniel taking you away from Lando lingered.

“You alright, mate?” One of the engineers in the garage nudged Lando’s shoulder and the Brit swiftly nodded, eyes still glued to the way your face lit up at another one of Daniel’s remarks. Stupid.

“I’m trying to focus up for quali. Is the car good to go?” He finally peeled his eyes away from the sickening scene in front of him to look at the engineer.

“Yeah, it wasn’t wrecked too badly so we’re only doing some final checks. Should be good to go in an hour.”

Lando nodded, turning his eyes back to you again. This time he failed to hide the scowl forming on his face— Daniel’s hand was on your bicep as he pointed towards the track, evidently explaining something.

You can show her without touching her, dumbass. Lando thought, eyebrows set so low on his face that they might as well be a moustache.

It was stupid to even think in such a way, as you were nothing but friends. For now. Lando knew you’d be a tough shell to crack but he feels it in his guts that you’ll, one day, be his.

He’s been enamored by you ever since meeting you. The way your dress sat on your body, perfectly fitting in all the right places; the way your hair laid against your back and shoulders, waves so deep he was ready to drown in them. Lando was never one to fall for one so quickly, but with you it felt just right.

And when you invited him home, fuck was he done for. He couldn’t have ever imagined the sounds that escaped your mouth when his hands dipped beneath your panties or the way you’d look rolling your hips against his, lips parted and, oh, so inviting.

One night stands were his usual routine. It was easy— he’d meet a girl, fuck her, she’d be on the same page as him and they’d never talk again. But with you, he changed his opinion quickly. Just after that one night he spent with you, he couldn’t bear to even think of another woman.

Lando was one lucky bastard that he worked for the same company you had interned for. Fortunately for the Brit, life put you two in each other's path when you were so clear about not wanting to see him again. He took it as a sign to make you his, no matter what it takes.

He never expected you to reject him that much, though. At one point, Lando was beginning to lose hope and feared that it was just a waste of his energy to even try and get close with you. That was until he caught Lexi in the elevator, a few hours after you had gone home for the day.

The girl, who was more like a friend to Lando than a coworker, told him how you didn’t actually dislike him. Of course, he took that as a huge ego boost and it only heightened his confidence that you were into him, too. Maybe not as much as he’s into you, but it’s enough for him to try and make it work.

He just never expected to fall in love with you so quickly and only realise it when you were talking to an ex-teammate of his.

So, maybe it was justified for Lando to feel jealous. Afterall, it’s not everyday he falls in love with a girl from the bar.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Max: I’m sure she’ll be there, mate.

Lando glances at the message that flashes across his screen, hoping it’s from you, but he’s quite disappointed to see that it’s from his best friend. It’s been ten minutes since Lando arrived at the restaurant, and although the time you agreed to meet was in five minutes, he can’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

Though he’s sure you’re just navigating your way through the city. Lando understands the struggle, he was just the same when he first visited. But now, after coming here for six years, he feels like he knows his way around the place.

Lando can only imagine how cute you are when confused— eyes reading Google Maps from your phone as you bite down your bottom lip, slightly puffing them like you usually do when focusing. If he’s being honest, Lando has stared at you for long enough to notice the small habits, and pick up on them, too.

For example, you tap your fingers against any surface whenever you’re even the tiniest bit anxious. You also bounce your knee and do this thing with your eyebrows that Lando can’t get enough of. There’s so much to you that he hasn’t even learnt about yet, and it only makes him that much more excited to get to know you further.

Lando catches himself bouncing his knee and tapping the table when the twenty minute mark rolls around.

It’s been twenty minutes since you agreed to meet up at the restaurant that Lando set a special reservation for, in a secluded area hidden from the public eye. That’s the reason he didn’t just pick you up from the hotel. Sure, it’d be the gentlemanly thing to do but neither of you wanted the news of your blossoming romance to hit the headlines just yet.

“Would you like to order anything while you wait, sir?” A waiter asks, notebook and pen ready to write as he expectedly tilts his head to the side. Lando glances over at him, catching a glimpse of someone who looks like you, in the far distance.

It takes him less than three seconds to notice how the girl's hair isn’t as long as yours, how the shade of her skin is just a tad off from yours and how her face, even from so far away, resembles nothing of the features he had grown to adore.

He glances back at the waiter. “Uh, no, thank you. My date will be here soon.”

The waiter nods and scurries off to another table, leaving Lando in the company of none other than himself, the candlelight and the bouquet of flowers he had left on the chair opposite of him. It was a bouquet of red roses. You had mentioned those being your favourite briefly during your conversation at the bar, and Lando couldn’t help himself and bought the biggest bouquet he could find.

One hundred and fifty roses is enough, he reckons. Or not. Surely not. You deserve way more than measly roses, wrapped in a beige paper that made Lando feel uneasy the more he looked at it. It was either that or the fact that it’s been forty five minutes since he last checked the time.

It’s been an hour and you haven’t shown up.

Lando’s not one to get mad easily. Hell, he’s never actually been mad at you nor could he ever be. What he was feeling was a lot closer to betrayal than anger.

First it was you getting cozy with Daniel— sitting on two chairs in the McLaren garage, knees touching and laughs echoing so loud it made Lando’s head hurt— and now this.

He could think of a million reasons as to why you didn’t show up, but the fact is that you stood him up, and that’s not something he’s sure he can easily forgive.

The waiter rounds Lando’s table again, only to find some cash to pay for the champagne he had ordered and the sad bouquet of roses sat on the chair.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Time management isn’t really that hard when you think about it.

You had always struggled with doing your tasks on time, whether it be homework, university assignments or work related matters— it seemed impossible for you to get shit done on time. You were notoriously known as being late for everything, all the time.

Friday evening seemed to prove you different. You had managed to edit, compile and send out the photographs from both practice sessions before nine p.m., as well as edit your own photographs and review them with Lexi until eleven, meaning that you actually managed to go to sleep on time.

Which meant that you’re at the paddock bright and early, helping Lexi prepare the cameras and other knick-knacks that you weren’t paying much attention to. Your brunette coworker nudged your shoulder, head nodding towards a particular curly-haired racer that just stepped into the area. You couldn’t deny that the race suit made him look particularly attractive, so you took your time to soak it all in.

He happened to be walking towards the two of you and when he was close enough, both of you smiled and said, “hi, Lando!”

The man nodded at Lexi, eyes not darting to stare at you like they usually would. “Have you got the pictures ready? I want to post some to my Instagram, if that’s okay.”

Lando knows that it’s you who edits the pictures, compiles and sends them out. He got the email an hour after making it back to his hotel after you stood him up. Yet he had no intention to even speak to you, when you made it so clear that humiliating him was your priority.

“Uhm, yeah. Y/N should’ve sent you the email, did she not?” Lexi tilts her head to the side, watching the man make no effort to answer her, so she turns to you. “Did you not?”

“I did, I made sure to send that one first.” You explained, so incredibly confused by why Lando was acting this way. “You should double-check your email, Lan.”

“I’ll see you around, Lex.” Is all he says before making his way across the garage and towards the Ferrari one, possibly to talk to Carlos. Lando introduced you two the evening prior and you noticed how close the two were, finding it sweet how many people Lando was friends with across the grid.

Lexi turns her eyes back to you, eyebrows knitted together and face contorted into a confused grimace. “What was that about?”

Your eyes still expectedly look towards where Lando walked off to. “It’s like I wasn’t even here.”

For the next few hours, you try your best to trace back your steps and figure out what the hell you had done to make Lando so rude to you. The only thing you’d understand is maybe not texting him last night to check in, but he knows you were busy and you made sure to tell him multiple times that you couldn’t come hang out. Still, that doesn’t seem like something he’d mind.

“Earth to Y/N?” Daniel waves his hand in front of you.

You suddenly zone back into reality and notice the aussie next to you. “Oh, sorry. Hi, Daniel.”

“Heya, you okay? You’ve been staring at him for a while now,” he laughs, teasing you about your little crush on Lando. You regret telling him all about it yesterday and just roll your eyes.

“I don’t know.” You answer, honestly. “He’s acting like I don’t exist, but at the same time he’s acknowledging me because he covers his face every time he notices my camera focusing on him, and this morning he just fully ignored me in front of Lexi.”

“Okay, let’s calm down.” He places a reassuring arm on your back. Lando, of course, notices and the scowl on his face deepens. “I could go talk to him, maybe something personal happened. You never know.”

Daniel watches as you nod and then lets go of you, swiftly walking towards the McLaren driver standing at the pitwall. He approaches Lando carefully, trying his best not to upset his ex-teammate further. “Hey, Lando. How’s it going?”

Lando glances at Daniel with a look that would’ve killed you if you were in the aussie’s place. “Fine.”

“Oookay…” Daniel pulls his lips into a tight line. “I, uh, noticed the new intern you’ve got.”

“Noticed.” Lando scoffs. “You’ve been eye-fucking her since yesterday.”

“What?”

The Brit waves a hand in the air. “Nothing. Did she send you to speak to me?”

You anxiously watch the two men speak, noticing how alarmed Daniel looks and how Lando hasn’t stopped frowning since morning. That cannot be good for his wrinkles. Daniel says a few more things, his face changing to the exact same frown as you see on Lando’s face.

When the aussie comes back, you open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off. “Do you travel a lot?”

The question takes you aback. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he continues. “What day do you think it is today?”

“Uh,” you shrug. “Saturday? I don’t-”

“Yesterday was Saturday, Y/N.” Just as the words leave Daniel’s lips, you feel your heart drop to your heels. The realisation of what you did hits you as soon as the aussie says it. “You stood him up.”

Your eyes instantly flicker towards Lando, who’s looking at you with nothing but hurt on his face. Fuck.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Lando did not feel like talking to anyone after the race. Sure, he won it, but it didn’t feel much like a win without you there to celebrate. So when Lexi told him there’d be a meeting, he scoffed and got off the couch in his driver's room. He made his way through the building, shoulders slumped and eyes focused on his phone.

Last thing he needed right now was some bullshit meeting about you.

Lexi told him she needed to talk to him, fill out some documents about your internship and she needed him to write a review of how it’s been working with you. To Lando, it sounded like a load of crap but he had nothing better to do, and maybe he could write a review so bad that you don’t get to work with him anymore.

“I don’t have all day,” Lando’s voice echoes in the mostly empty room, the only company in the small space being… you. He rolls his eyes, “Where’s Lexi? I’ve a meeting with her.”

“I have a meeting with her.” You furrow your brows, evidently confused and slightly petrified of the tone in his voice. It’s only been a day so you don’t expect him to have forgiven you, but he could at least stop acting like he cared enough about you to be upset for so long.

It didn’t seem like a big deal to you that you missed the date, because you thought it was just Lando’s way to get into your pants again. You weren’t opposed to it, but for him to get so upset about not getting to fuck you on Saturday seems a little extensive.

Lando takes a seat at the table, not sparing another word to you until the door opens again and in comes Lexi.

“Oh, good! Both of you are here.” The two of you glance at her, confused by what she’s up to. She picks up the keys for the room from the table and steps back out, only peeping her head in to say, “I’ll be locking you two in here so figure out whatever the hell is wrong before I do it for you. And please don’t break anything.”

“What, Lex-“ Lando stands up to try and reason with the woman, but the door is already locked. He runs a hand over his face and groans. “Fucking hell.”

You sit in silence, eyes following his figure. From the way he stands, you can see the way his McLaren uniform hugs his shoulders and how his hair has grown a little more– since the last time you remembered seeing it– into a sort of mullet.

The man sits back down, turning his chair away from you so he doesn’t have to bear seeing you looking at him dumbfounded again. It’s taking everything in him not to rip that door off its hinges and leave the room.

“Lando,” you speak first, breaking the silence you were sure would last forever with no intervention. You test the water by just saying his name and when he doesn’t answer, you roll your eyes, “don’t you think this is a little silly?”

That’s what gets him to turn around. “What?”

“This,” you wave a hand over him. “Your whole i’m so angry i didn’t get laid act. It’s stupid.”

Lando’s speechless. There’s no way you think that low of him, right? Surely you’d assume he was even a little genuine when planning a date with you. He’s not even sure what to say to that, all he feels like doing is going back to his hotel room and forgetting everything that just happened.

Instead, he’s stuck in this room with you for an unknown amount of time and god knows what else you think of him that you’d find fitting to say. Lando chooses to find comfort in staring at the wall, since the data here is as shit as his mood. He can feel your eyes boring into him and he’s not sure if he likes it anymore– usually, he’d do anything to get your attention. Now that you’ve expressed that you see him as some sort of whore, he’s not so fond of it.

“It’s not an act.” Lando mumbles after a prolonged silence. Your eyes shoot up to his green ones and the sheer sight of his face sends shivers of anger, or maybe irony, down your spine.

There’s no other reason as for why he’d be so upset about you missing the date. You’ve seen your fair share of pussy-hungry men, Lando among them, and his reaction really isn’t anything short of fitting. But you at least expected some understanding from him, as you both work at the same place and he knows your schedule as well as his own.

You admit, what you did was fucked up. But would you undo it if you could? The answer is: highly unlikely. Knowing his current reaction, you regret even letting him buy you a drink, let alone allowing him into your home.

After another moment of silence, you sigh and look back at him. “Look, Lando. I know a quick fuck is always fun, but-”

“Quick fuck?” He asks, disbelief staining even the most subtle tones in his voice. “Is that what you think I want from you?”

“Is it not?” You seethed in frustration. “If it’s not, then why the hell have you been so rude to me recently? What have I done that’s so terrible? I know I stood you up, and I apologise, but if it’s not about a quick fuck, then what is it?”

Lando feels his heart beating in his chest so hard that it might leap out of his ribcage and into your hands, and you’d finally realise that the beating of his heart resembles the subtle soundwaves of your laughter. Maybe you’d realise something he hasn’t quite been able to accept yet.

It’s another beat of silence with Lando’s eyes down at the ground, a look of something you couldn’t quite read plastered on his face, and you glaring at him with fire behind your pupils.

“See? You have nothing to say, because it’s true.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not some random chick you can pick up and play with whenever you so please, Lando. I have feelings and priorities, and a job that I really fucking-”

“I love you.”

“-love, wait what?” You glanced at Lando, thoughts suddenly jumbled by what he had said.

A veiny hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, either to hide his embarrassment or out of frustration. “I don’t know how it happened, but all I know is that every fucking day, I wake up and I’m checking my phone in hopes of seeing your name.” He decides to look out the window when he finally removes his fingers from his eyes, trying his best to ignore how intently your eyes are burning into him. “It feels pathetic to admit that I’ve caught feelings, especially since you see me as a heartless prick who fucks and dumps girls regularly.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips and you feel your whole body run cold.

You watch his chest rise and fall, a vein in his neck growing more evident as his heartbeat quickens. “It’s never been about the sex, Y/N. I’ve wanted you since the second I laid my eyes on you. Is it that hard to try and imagine that I’d actually feel something for you?” Your heart drops when he finally turns to you. The rage in his eyes can’t compare to the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Lando hears the door lock click but it stays closed, and he takes it as a sign to finally leave. You rise to follow him and when he’s at the door, he harshly turns to you. “Don’t bother. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

#lando norris #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #daniel ricciardo #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut #lando fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

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thevoidstaredback · 11 months ago

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It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

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morganaawriterr · 1 month ago

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Bite me; Sunghoon

SYNOSPSIS ➺ You wrestle with the shocking truth about Sunghoon's true nature after a dangerous encounter in the woods. The tension between you two grows, and your deepening connection pulls you both into a dangerous web of secrets, emotions, and desires. Sunghoon is torn between protecting you and controlling his overwhelming attraction, leading to a complicated and seductive path that neither of you can escape.

PAIRING ➺ fem!reader X vampire!park Sunghoon

GENRE ➺ Suggestive; a tiny bit of fluff; a tiny bit of thriller (?) sunshine!reader x grumpy!sunghoon trope (?)

WORDS ➺ 5k

WARNINGS ➺ mentions of blood; injuries; sucking blood; sexual themes; violence; cursing; overall 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE ➺ I LITERALLY FORGOT I HAD TO POST THIS TODAY OMG! But here it is! I used to really like this story, but I don't anymore. It always happens when I spend way too many hours editing it over and over again. But anyways.... As always, likes and reblogs are always welcome. Thank you <3 Masterlist

“What are you doing here?” a deep voice demands from behind you. You quickly turn around, disoriented, and are faced with the reason you’re in the dark forest late at night—Sunghoon.

You’re confused about how he found you, as you were at least five minutes behind him. He stands tall in front of you, dressed entirely in black and visibly upset. His thick eyebrows nearly touching and his lips pressed into a thin line. Crossing his arms, he stares at you, waiting for an answer.

Amazed, you scan the man in front of you, who looks particularly striking under the full moon. His pale skin is even more pronounced, with deep blue veins visible on his long neck and slender hands. His eyes are darker than usual, and you swear they’ve changed color. He also seems more confident now, his tall figure looming over you like a heavy curse you can’t escape.

“Do I have to ask you again?” Sunghoon questions, stepping closer. Suddenly, he’s too near, his cologne invading your senses—manly and intoxicatingly seductive.

“I…” you stutter, your brain failing you. “I came because of you. I saw you sneaking into the forest all week and wondered what you were doing…” you confess, your eyes darting over his face but avoiding his gaze.

The first time you noticed was when you were distracted, searching for the crow that usually perched near your bedroom window. Your curious eyes were meticulously scanning the area when you spotted a figure disappearing into the shadowy woods.

You were confused, thinking you’d imagined it, but the next day, it happened again. The most bewildering part was that it was Sunghoon—the hot guy who lived next door. Your crush. You haven’t spoken much, but you always make it a point to say goodnight when you catch him outside.

“And why would you think that’s a good idea?” Sunghoon asks, his voice sharp and annoyed.

Sunghoon doesn’t understand why you’re always so smiley and talkative toward him. He hasn’t given you any signs that he wants to engage. Yet you persist, greeting him on the street and bringing him food your mom makes too much of.

To his luck—or misfortune—your bedroom window is directly across from his. Sunghoon often catches glimpses of you walking around in your underwear, and though he feels guilty, his eyes linger before he forces himself to look away or closes his curtains.

“You keep disappearing into the woods. I’ve been watching for days,” you say seriously. “I was curious to know what’s going on.” Your voice drops, guilt creeping in as you realize you’ve crossed a boundary.

Sunghoon scratches the back of his neck nervously. He doesn’t want to tell you why he’s always here; he barely knows you. As he debates what to say, the soft rustle of leaves captures his attention. His ears twitch, and his dark, hypnotic eyes scan the forest. All his senses are on high alert—a bad sign.

Sunghoon steps forward, grabs your wrist, and pulls you behind him. His grip is tight, and you want to complain, but the seriousness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, confused, as his cold, bony fingers keep a firm hold on you. His protective instincts flare, sensing danger.

“Shhh,” he hushes, his voice low.

His piercing gaze sweeps the forest until a tall man steps into view. The man is dressed in black, with a large red cross hanging around his neck and a heavy crossbow aimed directly at Sunghoon.

“Run as fast as you can. I’ll handle him,” Sunghoon orders in a hushed tone, turning to meet your eyes. His expression is unyielding, but you see the faintest hint of worry.

Your heart pounds in your chest, but you nod, turning to flee. The forest is alive with noise—the rustling of leaves, the cries of cicadas, and distant howls. Your footsteps are muted beneath the chaos. Exhausted, you stop to catch your breath, your throat dry and your hands trembling.

As your breathing slows, an eerie silence falls.

The wind stops whispering, and the animals go quiet. Terror grips you—silence is far more unsettling than noise. You frantically search for Sunghoon, but he’s nowhere to be found. Panic rises as you call out:

“SUNGHOON!” you shout, your voice echoing through the forest. No response. “SUNGHOON!” you yell again, desperate, tears welling in your eyes.

A sudden gust of wind chills you to the bone, and then strong arms wrap around you. His familiar scent fills your senses, and you turn to see Sunghoon. His eyes, once dark, are now a vivid red, and his face is streaked with blood.

“Sunghoon…” you whisper, reaching for his face with trembling hands. “Are you hurt?”

“This blood isn’t mine,” he says flatly.

The words offer no comfort. If anything, they make you nauseous. Your mind races, piecing together everything you know about him. He lives alone, keeps to himself, and disappears into the woods every night. Could he be more dangerous than you ever imagined? And if the blood isn’t his… did he just kill that person?

You stumble back, your face pale, your breathing ragged. Sunghoon notices your distress, his expression unreadable. You take another step away, then another, your only thought is to escape and process everything.

“Where are you going?” Sunghoon asks, his tone soft yet pleading as he follows you.

“Home,” you reply coldly, avoiding his gaze. You walk faster, trying to put distance between you, but he’s still close. Panicking, you break into a run.

But Sunghoon has tricks you didn’t anticipate. Before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, blocking your path. You stop, bewildered. How did he get here so fast?

“Can we at least talk about this?” Sunghoon pleads, reaching for your wrist. You pull away, repulsed by the blood on his hands.

“Talk about what? How you just killed that man?” you shout, your voice trembling with fear.

“It’s not that simple,” he says softly, finally grasping your hand. His touch is gentle, as if trying to soothe you. “I didn’t want you to find out like this. Why did you follow me?”

“Because I care about you, that’s why!” you snap, your voice breaking.

Sunghoon freezes. He’s never heard you curse, and your confession leaves him speechless. His hand lifts to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes meet his. His gaze softens; the red in his eyes fades back to the familiar brown you know.

“YN…” he murmurs, his voice unsteady, an unfamiliar emotion stirring within him.

Your lips tremble, your teary eyes pleading. “Let me go,” you whisper, your voice fragile yet resolute.

Sunghoon hesitates but releases you. Guilt consumes him as he watches you back away. Tears streak down your face, and his chest tightens painfully.

Curiosity killed the cat—and it could’ve killed you too.

Sunghoon stands frozen, the faint sound of your retreating footsteps haunting him as the night swallows you whole.

The next time Sunghoon sees you, it’s planned. He thought he had everything under control—studying what to say and how to say it without causing any more pain. But as he approached your bedroom window, he was left baffled.

You were sitting in the little nook by your window, a beer in hand and a few empty cans scattered across the floor. From a distance, he took in the sight of you—your flushed face, stray tears rolling down your cheeks. You were murmuring something to yourself, and curiosity pulled him closer.

“Why do I keep falling for weird people?” you complained, your voice tinged with a whiny frustration. Sunghoon felt a smile creep onto his lips, finding your candidness endearing. Yet, deep down, guilt churned in his chest. He knew he was the reason for your tears, and he hated himself for it.

Carefully, he approached your window, trying not to startle you, but to his dismay, you’d been watching him the entire time.

“You know I have a door, right?” you called out as he came into view. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, confused.

“I’ve seen you lurking around here for the last three days,” you added, clearly irritated. You stood up, opening the window to let him in. He climbed through awkwardly, his eyes scanning your room. It was clean, carrying the sweet scent that reminded him of you. He accidentally kicked one of the empty cans as he moved, settling himself across from you to face you directly.

“Also, I’m not drunk,” you declared, as if reading his mind. “I can’t get drunk on beer.” You sighed, knowing full well it was true. You had run out of soju and didn’t feel like leaving the house, so beer was your only option. Unfortunately, all it did was send you running to the bathroom over and over again.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you asked, hoping his words might lift the weight pressing against your heart.

“I’m not very good with words…” Sunghoon confessed, scratching the back of his neck. You were the only person who ever made him feel this uncertain.

“Well, you’d better figure it out, or I’ll kick you out and call the police for stalking me,” you quipped, half annoyed, half teasing, hoping to get a reaction.

“Then why haven’t you done that already?” Sunghoon countered, leaning in slightly, his signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. He loved these games with you. They always ended the same way—with you blushing and pulling away.

“I’m not sure…” you replied honestly. “Maybe I hoped you’d actually want to talk.”

“You were the one who didn’t want to talk,” Sunghoon reminded you, leaning closer. His dark eyes studied the way you nervously chewed your bottom lip.

“I was in shock, okay?” you defended yourself. “It’s not every day you see the guy you have a crush on… killing someone.”

Sunghoon froze, his eyes widening in surprise. Your sudden confession threw him completely off guard, making all the words he had rehearsed vanish from his mind.

You, on the other hand, stood up and began picking up the scattered beer cans.

“Can you leave?” you asked softly, avoiding his gaze as you carried the cans to the kitchen.

“Wait, why?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy, confusion etched across his face.

“You seem uncomfortable,” you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed and keeping a noticeable distance from him.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself. He hated how he struggled to find the right words around you.

“Look, I’m not uncomfortable,” he said. “I’m afraid. Afraid that if I tell you what I need to say, you’ll freak out.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic,” you said, rolling your eyes. But as your gaze landed on him again, you couldn’t help but admire how the black clothes contrasted against his pale skin.

Sunghoon began pacing back and forth in front of your bed, searching for the courage to spill the truth. He debated how to approach it—whether to explain who the man was or why he had to die—or to ease into it slowly. But then, he blurted it out anyway.

“I’m a vampire.”

Your head tilted slightly as you stared at him, blinking in disbelief. Then, you laughed.

“Sunghoon, be serious,” you said with an amused smile.

“I am serious,” he insisted, his tone unwavering. “I’m a vampire. I have six friends who are vampires too. We’ve been moving from place to place for years to stay safe.”

He moved closer, sitting on the bed beside you. His dark, intense eyes bore into yours, silently pleading for you to believe him.

“Sunghoon…” you said softly, closing your eyes in disbelief. This had to be the lamest excuse anyone had ever given you.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he repeated, irritation creeping into his voice. “Look at me. My skin is this pale because there’s no blood in my veins. These canines aren’t fake—”

You interrupted his words with a skeptical gaze, your eyes fixed on his mouth. It was true—his canines were sharper than most people’s, but you had always assumed it was just… genetics.

Your eyes roamed his face—his piercing dark eyes, long lashes, and smooth, pale skin. But when you noticed faint scars on his neck, curiosity got the better of you.

Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tilted his head to the side. Sunghoon shivered under your touch, unused to such warmth.

As your breath ghosted over his neck, your proximity made him dizzy. The scent of your hair and the faint perfume you wore invaded his senses. Sunghoon tried to focus, but your closeness overwhelmed him. His body tensed, and in his distraction, he fell back onto the bed, pulling you down with him.

Your hands braced against his chest to steady yourself, and you let out a small gasp. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you quickly pushed yourself up.

“I—” you stammered, stepping away from him, your arms crossed defensively.

Sunghoon propped himself up on his forearms, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you muttered finally. “I believe you. What happens now?”

Sunghoon stood up, his tall frame towering over you as he moved closer.

“Now, you need to keep it a secret,” he said, his voice low. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “And now, I have to keep an eye on you… to protect you.”

When his face moved away from your ear, you stared into his brown eyes with both worry and an intense feeling that started to brew inside because of his sudden confidence. Sunghoon thought you couldn't get cuter. The way you were always so expressive and simple, always showing what you were feeling.

“Protect me from what?” You asked nervously, taking a few steps back to get away from his intense gaze.

“I was saying in general, princess.” You softly blushed at the nickname, knowing he was messing with you because you had confessed your feelings for him.

“Don’t call me that.” You tried to stand your ground and look serious, but Sunghoon just smirked at you, arching an eyebrow.

“Or what? What are you going to do?” He insisted, stepping forward and cornering you against the wall.

Your eyes met his again, and your mouth hung open. Your heart beat out of your chest as his figure came closer and closer to you, his intense natural smell clouding your vision. Soon, your back hit the wall, and you gasped in surprise, the cold feeling sending shivers down your spine. Sunghoon leaned down again, his face coming close to your neck.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as you felt his nose brush against you, and then you felt something sharp against your skin, making you whimper. Sunghoon let his fangs, which had grown longer, graze over your skin. Your sweet perfume made him lose his mind once again, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. But he knew he couldn’t, so after teasing you for a while longer, he stepped away.

You stood there breathless, your chest red, and the heat spreading along your neck and face. You wanted to make a hole in the ground and disappear, unable to resist the tension that had settled inside your safe place.

“I have to go. I’ll come visit you again soon,” Sunghoon said with a smile as he left through your window. You ran there, trying to peek at him one last time, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just a small bat flew away, its tiny body disappearing further into the night sky.

The next few times Sunghoon came over, it didn’t feel as strange anymore. He was wearing casual clothes and his glasses, which framed his handsome face perfectly. Most of the time, the two of you sat by the nook, talking about his recent adventures.

You couldn’t help but feel pleased that he’d started opening up to you. You tried to savor every moment when he wouldn’t stop talking. Sunghoon never brought up your feelings for him again. Instead, he just hung out with you as though nothing had changed, enjoying your presence and appreciating how you always seemed so captivated by his stories.

Sunghoon couldn’t fully understand the feelings he had for you. Beneath the innocent fondness he felt, something deeper stirred. He craved to protect you, to keep you by his side forever. But even beyond that, there was a secret desire that grew stronger with every visit. It started when you grew more comfortable with him, and your choice of outfits began to change.

At first, you would dress up nicely—wear makeup, spritz on perfume, and carefully pick your outfits. But now, you didn’t bother changing when he came by your window. Whatever you were wearing stayed. Sometimes it was a short crop top and loose pants; other times, it was a long T-shirt with shorts, leaving your legs exposed. Sunghoon tried his best not to stare, but the way your legs lazily rested on top of his made it difficult.

Sometimes, he would even stutter and lose track of his story, but you never noticed, too engrossed in what he was saying.

Today, you stood shyly in his living room, feeling all six pairs of eyes fix on you. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you fidgeted, unsure of what to do.

“Guys, come on, you’re making her shy,” Sunghoon said suddenly, walking in from the kitchen with a few cups filled with something you didn’t want to ask about. He gently grabbed your hand and led you toward the sofas, motioning for you to sit beside the boy with a big smile and soft, wavy hair.

The boy’s smile widened as he looked at you. “Hi, I’m Jake!” he said in a thick accent.

You smiled back. “I’m Y/N,” you responded quietly, glancing nervously around the room.

Sunghoon thought it would be a good idea to introduce you to his friends, who, as far as you knew, were all vampires too. Your eyes flitted to each of them. The tallest, yet the youngest, was sitting cross-legged on the carpet. His black hair hung over his eyes, and you’d learned his name was Ni-ki. On the sofa next to him was Jungwoon, their leader. His cute blonde hair contrasted sharply with the intensity in his darkly lined eyes. Beside him sat Jay and Heesung, two tall, strikingly attractive men whose piercing gazes made you swallow nervously.

In front of them were Jake, the friendly boy beside you, and Sunoo. His fluffy blonde hair framed his soft features perfectly.

Jake seemed to take an instant liking to you. His arm rested casually behind you as he cracked jokes, clearly trying to make you laugh. His eyes stayed glued to your flustered expression, but you seemed oblivious to his intentions, simply laughing along.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon leaned against the sofa, his dark eyes never leaving Jake. He hated how close he was to you.

As the conversation shifted, your curiosity got the better of you. You began asking questions about their vampirism, eager to know more. The topic grew serious, and Sunghoon used the opportunity to sit on the floor in front of you. Without thinking, you opened your legs slightly, letting him lean back against the sofa. Your hands naturally found their way to his shoulders.

“Wait, so you can bite someone without turning them into a vampire?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion. Your fingers drifted to Sunghoon’s hair, absentmindedly playing with it. He couldn’t hide the proud smirk on his lips as he turned his head slightly, making sure Jake saw how close the two of you were.

“Yeah, but we don’t do it,” Jungwoon explained, his hands resting casually on Jay’s legs.

“Why not?” you pressed.

“It only happens when we’re weak and need blood to heal,” Ni-ki chimed in, taking a sip from his cup. His lips were stained red from the liquid.

Sensing the discomfort in the room, you decided to drop the topic. The atmosphere felt heavier now, and everyone’s attention slowly shifted to the TV, where a movie was playing. You felt Sunghoon tense beneath your hands, and then, without warning, he pulled away entirely.

You blinked in confusion at the sudden change but didn’t say anything. Jake gave you a reassuring smile, his expression telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong. You smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease as you relaxed against the sofa.

Across the room, Jungwoon’s sharp gaze lingered on you. Something about you unsettled him—not you directly, but the aura you carried. It made him uneasy. He made a mental note to speak to Sunghoon about it later.

Minutes passed, and you dozed off on the sofa. Your head rested on Sunoo’s shoulder, who had also fallen asleep. A thick blanket draped over the two of you, courtesy of Sunghoon.

The rest of the group had dispersed. Jay was outside starting a fire for a barbecue, while Ni-ki and Heesung set the table. In the kitchen, Sunghoon and Jungwoon were finishing the side dishes.

“I have a bad feeling about her,” Jungwoon said in a low voice, standing next to Sunghoon, who was washing the dishes. The taller boy turned to his leader, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s just a human,” Sunghoon replied simply.

“You’re getting too attached to her,” Jungwoon said, his tone firm as he gave Sunghoon a stern look, clearly annoyed by his dismissive response. “She was just a human to Sunoo too, and look what happened—he almost died.” Jungwoon hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he couldn’t help it. That was why he was chosen as the leader. He only wanted to protect Sunghoon. Nothing more.

“That woman was crazy. She took advantage of Sunoo,” Sunghoon shot back, his voice rising slightly, disliking how his friend was comparing you to someone like that. “Y/N would never hurt me,” he added firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As Sunghoon finished washing the dishes, he turned to help carry the plates outside. But his steps faltered when his eyes landed on you. You were fast asleep on the sofa, your lips slightly pouted as you breathed softly. Sunoo was beside you, also dozing off, his hair messy and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

The sight made Sunghoon relax, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He found himself quietly admiring you, the way you seemed so peaceful and innocent.

Jungwoon, standing beside him with a bowl in his hand, shifted his gaze to the couch, carefully studying the scene before him. Maybe his unease wasn’t coming from you directly, but from what you might bring into their lives. His instincts tingled with a sense of danger.

He glanced at Sunghoon, observing how his entire demeanor softened as he watched you. That could be good—or very bad. Sunghoon had a history of becoming aggressive and possessive when he cared deeply about someone, and not just with you. The last time it happened, both he and Ni-ki had been severely injured.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Heesung’s voice calling from outside. They exchanged a brief glance before refocusing on their task. As they carried the plates out, the heavy tension in the room remained, thick and lingering, like a storm waiting to break.

Sunghoon’s vision blurs as heavy tears pool in his eyes. He kneels on the ground, his black pants soaked with thick blood and mud. His chest heaves as he lowers his head, trying to control himself. The fresh scent of the surrounding trees invades his senses, a futile attempt to steady his ragged breathing.

“What was her name again?” the tall man taunts, his voice strained as he struggles to lift himself off the ground. Blood pours from his nose, cascading like a waterfall and staining his holy white shirt.

“Don’t you dare!” Sunghoon snarls, his voice trembling with rage. One hand clutches his chest, the sharp sting intensifying with each labored breath. Slowly, he attempts to rise, only to stumble forward.

“It’s YN, isn’t it?” the bloodied man croaks, lying flat on his back as his lungs fill with blood. He knows his end is near, but it doesn’t matter. He’s uncovered Sunghoon’s greatest weakness.

And if they break Sunghoon, they’ll destroy them all.

Hearing your name fall from the man’s lips is the final push Sunghoon needs. Summoning the last remnants of his strength, he forces himself upright. His legs feel leaden, barely able to support him, but he limps toward the man lying on the ground.

“I’ll kill every last one of you,” Sunghoon growls, his voice deadly and unwavering. “And I’ll drink your blood from your skull if you or your deranged people so much as touch her.” He bends down, his bruised hands gripping the man’s collar and pulling him closer.

“Is that a promise?” the man sputters, coughing up blood that spatters across Sunghoon’s face.

Tired of the man’s defiance, Sunghoon reaches for the gun tucked into his back pocket. Without hesitation, he presses it against the man’s forehead and pulls the trigger. The gunshot echoes through the forest, and blood splatters across his face and the surrounding plants. The man’s lifeless body grows limp in his grip, and Sunghoon lets it fall to the ground with a thud.

The effort overwhelms him, and Sunghoon staggers. His eyes flutter shut, exhaustion gripping him like a vice. This is bad, he thinks, barely able to whisper the words in his mind. Realizing he’s at his limit, he shifts into his bat form in a desperate attempt to fly to you, using the last of his energy to stay airborne.

You were sound asleep when a sudden, loud bang against your window jolted you awake. Your heart races as your body trembles with unease. Your eyes scan the darkened room until they land on a familiar sight—Sunghoon.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in his condition. He rests against your window, barely conscious, his body soaked in blood. With trembling hands, you rush to open it, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as fear grips your heart. Sunghoon collapses onto the cushions by the window, his body heavy and limp.

“Sunghoon…” you whisper, your voice breaking. “What do I do? How can I help?” Your hands frantically move to unbutton his shirt, desperate to ease his discomfort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, momentarily lost in the warmth of your touch. But the moment your fingers graze his fresh bruises, he groans in pain, snapping him back to reality.

You quickly rise, searching for tissues to clean the blood from his face. Each tissue soaks through, the blood thick and unrelenting. When you get up to grab more, Sunghoon’s hand suddenly shoots out, gripping your wrist.

“I need…” His voice is barely audible, fragile and weak. “Blood.”

You stare at him in surprise, cupping his face with your trembling hands, uncaring that it’s still smeared with someone else’s blood. Warm tears stream down your cheeks, and Sunghoon gently catches one with his hand, his dark eyes locking intensely with yours.

“You—you can have mine,” you stammer, nervous yet desperate. “You said you could drink blood without turning me, so… do it,” you insist, your voice firm despite the trembling in your chest.

With hesitant hands, you pull your t-shirt over your head, standing before him in just your bralette. You look away, baring your neck to him, giving him full access. Sunghoon blinks twice, disbelief flickering in his gaze. You look so vulnerable, so enticing, and it takes every ounce of his fading strength to push forward.

With a groan, he presses you back against the wall, settling between your legs as he leans closer.

Sunghoon gently takes hold of your hands, lifting them above your head and pinning them with one hand. His other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You sigh nervously, your breath shaky, though another sensation stirs within you—the way he looks, so starved and broken, makes your thighs tense instinctively.

As his lips hover near your neck, the faint moonlight softens his sharp features, illuminating the slight glow of his skin. His crimson eyes gleam, fully consumed by hunger and desire. His movements are slow, deliberate, his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, voice trembling as his warm breath brushes your skin.

“Hurt?” Sunghoon murmurs lowly, and you swear you can hear the faintest smirk in his tone. “No, princess. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

With those words, his sharp fangs sink into your neck.

A loud moan escapes your lips at the sensation, your body squirming under his unyielding hold. There’s no pain—only something deeper, something primal that makes your breath hitch. Your chest presses against his bare skin, and another moan spills from you when his grip on your wrists and waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feeds, regaining his strength.

Your breathing grows shallow, your mouth hanging open as Sunghoon finally pulls back. His teeth leave your neck, and a single drop of blood trails down your skin. Without hesitation, Sunghoon catches it with his tongue, licking it clean, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

He doesn’t pull away completely, lingering close to your neck, his lips brushing your collarbone. Soft, reverent kisses follow along your chest, his hungry mouth pecking lightly at the tops of your breasts, still covered by your bra.

“Thank you, princess,” he whispers, his voice hoarse yet full of gratitude as his grip on your wrists loosens. You lower your arms, resting them at your sides, silently granting him full access to you.

You don’t reply, your body trembling and overheated, sweat forming on your forehead. “Keep going…” you whisper breathlessly, your hand finding its way to his face, lifting his chin gently.

Sunghoon looks utterly wrecked—his messy black hair clings to his forehead, his lips stained with blood, and his dark eyes, now back to their normal color, burn with intensity. You bite your lip, unable to bear the suffocating heat between you. He seems to understand your unspoken plea, his gaze traveling over your flushed face before he leans in, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss begins soft and tender but quickly transforms into something passionate and consuming. His grip on your waist tightens, his other hand sliding dangerously high on your thigh. He leaves no room for air, his lips moving hungrily against yours. When you pull away to catch your breath, he’s already there again, his skilled tongue dominating yours effortlessly. The faint metallic taste of your blood lingers in his mouth, and you break away when you notice it, finding it dangerously addictive.

You rest your forehead against his as your breathing steadies, though Sunghoon’s hand remains firmly on your thigh. You glance down at it, silently urging him to do more, but he hesitates. To him, this moment already feels like too much. All he wants now is to hold you and ensure you’re safe.

With gentle pressure on your waist, he guides you to lift your hips and settle onto his lap. Sunghoon shifts back slightly, leaning against the wall to make the position more comfortable.

No words are exchanged. It’s just the two of you, tangled together as he gazes out at the night sky. The crescent moon casts its pale light across the room, illuminating your peaceful expression as you drift off to sleep in his arms. Your head rests lazily against his chest, his steady heartbeat soothing you.

Sunghoon’s fingers find their way to your hair, gently massaging your scalp. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he makes a silent promise to the moon—and to himself.

He’ll protect you. Forever.

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