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reidmotif · 1 year ago

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And For My Next Trick...

Summary: Reader is invited to a Halloween party where she doesn't know anyone. Everyone seems absolutely insistent she has to meet a mystery man who'd love her costume ALTERNATIVELY: Reader and Spencer unknowingly match costumes at a Halloween party.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, light mentions of drinking, oral sex (f recieveing), handcuffs during sex, one shitty “now you see me” magic sex reference (sorry), heavy making out, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Why did I agree to this? Who goes to their friend’s company-mandated Halloween party? Who goes to their friend’s company-mandated Halloween party when they work for the damn FBI?

The answer was of course, summed up with a simple “Penelope Garcia”, a force of nature when it came to swaying people into novel life experiences, as she’d done with me in this moment.

When I offhandedly recalled that I hadn’t been to a Halloween party since college, Penelope grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me a little, eyes wide like saucers, like she couldn’t believe what I’d said.

“What?! What have you done since then to celebrate, then?” She asks, watching me intently.

“Nothing.” I respond, plainly, watching as her face morphed into one of further disbelief than before.

“What can I say?” I say, giving a laugh at her over-exaggerated antics at my admission, shrugging in the face of it. “I just don’t vibe with it.”

“What’s there not to ‘vibe’ with?!” She says, still holding onto my shoulders, absolutely unable to accept that I may have grown out of Halloween as the appeal of the holiday slowly dwindled with age.

“Everything.” I respond, still laughing. “I don’t like over-drinking, I don’t like sexy costumes, I don’t like being scared. Halloween’s less fun when you’re older.” I listed and reasoned off the top of my head, as Penelope stood there shaking her head, not accepting my answers in the slightest.

“Absolutely not. I refuse to let the spirit of Halloween die inside of you so young.” She responds, incredibly serious and unmoving. “You can have fun without all that! Come on! I can prove it to you.” She adds, definitively.

I raise an eyebrow, watching her with an amused expression. “Can you now? And how’s that?”

“Spend Halloween with me!” She retorts, instantly. She smiles big, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she grew more and more excited at the idea.

“Aren’t you spending Halloween with your work friends?” I ask, knitting my brows. “Your FBI work friends?” I say, in that tone, letting her know that there was definitely a part of me opposed to spending any day of mine with people I didn’t know whatsoever.

“Oh come on! Don’t give me that!” Penelope says, nearly pouting in front of me. “It’ll be fun! They’re my friends and they’re sweet and I think they’d love to meet you! You’ll have fun. Trust me.” She says, looking deep into my eyes as she willed me silently to say ‘yes’ with her expression alone. I stayed silent for a moment, thinking it over before she breaks my thoughts with a, “Please?” and in a quick moment, she’s overcome all my defenses and I nod, weak to her pleas.

“Okay! Okay! Fine!” I say, smiling a bit. “I’ll go. But I swear, if all I get out of the night is shit-faced drunk with a hangover the next morning, I’m never trusting you with my plans ever again.” I warn, raising an eyebrow and she just shakes it off, smiling wide.

“Deal. You’ll have fun, I promise.” She reiterates, and I nod, not realizing what I’d gotten myself into at that point.

So that night, when Penelope pulled up in front of a bar after picking me up from my apartment, I gave her a quizzical look, tilting my head in confusion.

“I thought this was a work party. You guys have work parties at bars?” I ask, knitting my brows.

Penelope giggled as she put the car in park, shaking her head. “Oh, my dear. You have no idea.” I stare at her, patiently waiting for her to elaborate, and she does, continuing in her excited fashion without requiring any prompting from my end. “We rarely have time for any ‘parties’ of the sort, given the whole insane schedule thing, so when we get a chance to host a shindig like this, we go all out.” She says, grinning wildly. “Especially when it's Halloween.”

I got out of the car, trying to discern what she meant, but gave up, deciding to just nod and go along with it, knowing more questions would just confuse the hell out of me anyway.

“Did I mention I absolutely love your costume?” Penelope compliments, I smile, waving her off.

“I literally dug it up from my senior year of college. I’m just glad it fits.”

The number I was wearing, in question, was a sparkly red leotard, with black stockings. A bit of height was added to my figure through the kitten heels on my feet, and adorning my neck was a traditional bowtie, alongside a little top hat with red detailing around the head. On my waist hung a stuffed bunny, adding a bit more intention to the outfit.

A magician’s assistant, in all its glory. It was a bit showy, but I figured most people would dress up regardless, and I wasn’t about to pay money for another costume for a holiday I rarely paid any mind to in the first place.

“Whatever it is, it’s working for you.” Penelope says with a wink, leading me into the bar.

The bar felt absolutely alive, buzzing with energy as multiple people walked around in costume, fog machines set up on multiple fronts to add a bit of a ghastly ambience to the scene, Halloween music playing in the background as people chatted each other up. The lights were dimmed, and I followed Penelope deeper into the party.

She turned around, handing me a cup with an unidentified liquid, and urged me to drink with her.

“It’s just punch! I swear!” She says to me, over the music, and I down the beverage quickly, glad she was obeying my request of not leaving the party absolutely wasted. It left the distinct flavor of artificially flavored cherry in my mouth, and I looked at her, wondering where she’d take us next, but before I could say anything, a blonde woman dressed as a black cat approached the two of us and Penelope immediately wrapped her arms around her, smiling.

“(Y/N)!” Penelope says, “This is JJ, JJ, my plus-one for the night, (Y/N)!” She exclaims, excited to introduce the two of us.

I shake JJ’s hand, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you- I love your costume, black cats are my favorite.” I say, and she grins gratefully.

“Last minute costume. Can you tell?” JJ responds, and I shake my head. “Absolutely not.” I respond warmly, already feeling a sense of kinship with the woman, her smile and lighthearted nature easing me into the interaction.

“Your costume.. magician?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she gives me a look-over.

“Magician’s assistant, actually, but yes.” I say, laughing a bit. “I suppose in a certain light I may just look like a sexy magician, in hindsight.” JJ laughs at the joke, making me laugh a bit more as well.

“God, people here are going to think you and Spencer came here together.” JJ says, smirking, pouring herself a glass of punch.

“Spencer?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I won’t spoil his costume, but trust me. You have to find him at some point in the night. He’d love your costume.” She says the words with a playful lilt, my curiosity piquing at the idea of this mystery man who’d apparently be enamored by my choice of clothing tonight specifically.

“I have to find my husband.” She quickly adds, “But it was nice meeting you! Have fun!” She says, sauntering away, and leaving me and Penelope alone.

“Okay- so I was thinking we could look at the games they have here and then-” Penelope says, but I stop her.

“Who’s Spencer?” I ask, my interest in the subject not being fully satiated here.

“I work with him!” Penelope responds, and I laugh at her uncharacteristic briefness.

“Penelope, you work with everyone here.” I say, and she laughs.

“Okay, okay, but- seriously! I don’t want to spoil the surprise. It’ll be much better if the two of you run into each other.” She says, and my fascination only increases. “So.” She says, trying to segue into another topic, but I shake my head.

“Pen- if it’s alright with you, I’m gonna try and explore on my own, yeah?” I say, trying to seem as polite about it as possible, but she understood immediately.

“Don’t worry. I understand completely.” She says, with a wink. “You’ll know him when you see him.” She says, before walking away, and I was left alone, beginning to traverse through the party.

I met a number of characters that night, engaging in pleasant conversation and accepting some alcohol in small quantities, keeping myself in the right headspace so that I could continue my search for the man that’d been brought up to me before. When I’d bring his name up in conversation, as to get a hint to where the man would be, I’d always get the same reaction. A flash of recognition, and a smile. A “Do you two know each other?” and when I’d shake my head, they’d follow it with a, “He’d love your costume.”

For God’s sake! I knew he’d love my costume! Every living soul at this party had told me so! I’d love to just see the guy at this point!

I was just about to give up my search for the man, when I finally spotted a small crowd in the corner of the party that was a bit quieter than normal. I made my way into the group of people, coming to the front to be met with the sight of a man in a costume.

A magician’s costume.

“For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.” He says, looking around the crowd, and the moment his eyes land on me, I raise my hand above my head, and he nods, gesturing me over.

He speaks quietly, grinning a bit at me. It’s boyish and sweet as he looks me up and down, raising an eyebrow. “Magician’s assistant?” He asks, with a little bit of laughter in his voice, and I nod, and he responds by nodding back. “I love it.”

“I know.” I say, laughing. He looks a bit confused, until I say, “Trust me. Practically everyone at this party has been telling me to find you-"

I suddenly realize there's a good chance this may not even be the aforementioned 'Spencer'. "Oh, God, I hope you are him, otherwise this’ll be really awkward.” I say quickly, realizing I hadn’t even described my plight in the first place to the stranger in front of me, before he quickly alleviated my nerves.

“Spencer Reid.” He says, grinning.

“Thank god. You are the right person.” I say, with relief. “(Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N).” He says, smirking. “Ready to help me with this trick?” He says, putting on a bit of a performance for the people gathered around us, and I nodded.

“Pick a card, any card.” He says, fanning a deck of cards in my direction, all face-down. “Show it to the audience, but don’t tell me the card!” He says, dramatically, turning away entirely and covering his eyes with his free hand, and I found myself giggling at the silliness of it all. I quickly picked a card from the middle of the deck, the two of hearts, ironically, and showed it to the audience, who all nodded in recognition.

“Have you picked your card?” Spencer asks me, still turned away and I reply.

“Yes, I have.”

“And have you shown the audience?” Spencer continues, in the same, climactic tone from before.

“I have.” I say, with a smile.

“Alright. Put her back into the deck, and tell me when you have.” He replies, still totally turned away, his eyes shut.

I place the card back in the deck, nestling it between the cards and he grins as he feels the disturbance to the deck. “The card is in the deck.” I confirm, and he turns back, beginning to shuffle the cards with fast, adept fingers. I watch his hands carefully, before he draws my attention back to his face by speaking to me.

“So, (Y/N), what brings you to this party in the first place? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the building.” He asks, casually, his hands still moving quickly.

“Oh- what?” I found it impossible to focus on both his hands, and the conversation, so I turned my attention towards the latter. “Penelope.” I respond, after processing the question. “She’s my friend, she told me to come. I don’t know anyone here besides her.” I add, answering his question.

“Ah.” He responds, cooly, keeping direct eye contact on me the entire time, and I was unable to tear myself away from his gaze. “Do you make it a habit to come to parties where everyone’s a stranger to you?”

I laugh a bit. “Absolutely not. I mean, everyone’s been nice so far, I’d say, so it’s not half-bad.” I continue, relaxing into the banter with him. His aura was magnetizing. Maybe it was the magician persona he was putting on, maybe it was the fact that he was dead handsome, but I found him increasingly attractive with every passing second.

He grinned, and I noticed that as our conversation dwindled, his hands began to slow. “Alright. Now, if my magician senses prove me right, is..” He takes a long second, making a show out of pulling a card out of the deck, “this your card!” He finishes, showing a.. six of spades.

I laugh a bit nervously, “Uh, no?” I felt a blush rising to my face as he seemed to grumble, looking more thoroughly through the deck.

“This?” He asks, holding up a three of diamonds.

“Nope.”

He holds up a queen. “This one?”

“Still no.”

“God, I swear..” He finally shows me the entire deck, watching me intently. “Do you see your card anywhere here?” He asks.

I scan the deck, expecting to see the two of hearts but didn’t, and I furrowed my brows.

“Is it not there?” Spencer asks, a specific lilt in his voice, as he grins playfully at me, and I look at him, still confused.

“No, but I swear- I did put it back.” I say, looking through the cards in front of me one last time.

“That’s strange.” Spencer responds, beginning to think. “Do you mind if I just..” He suddenly took a step closer, invading my personal space in such a swift manner, I barely had time to process what was going on.

I could feel his breath hitting me from above, as I turned my gaze up at the man in front of me. I could see him clearer, this way. The way his brown eyes watched me as well, the pink of his lips, the way his soft hair fell across his forehead. He reached forward, causing my breath to hitch before he slowly found my hat, lifting it from my head.

“(Y/N), do you mind checking your hat for a moment?” He says, giving me the article of clothing.

“Oh, I-” I stutter a bit, before taking the hat from his hands slowly and looking inside, seeing-

No fucking way.

I pulled out the two of hearts, which had somehow found its way into my hat.

“How- You-” I say, before he stops me.

“Show the card to the audience.” He says, grinning, and I do.

“That’s your card, isn’t it?” He muses, and I nod, absolutely dumbstruck.

He gives a little smirk. “Take a bow. For being such a good assistant, you know.” He says, and I bow my head a little, still trying to wrap my head around how he managed to do the trick in the first place.

The little group around us gave small claps and dispersed once the trick was over, leaving me and Spencer alone.

“So..” I start, but he laughs and interrupts.

“Before you ask me, no. I will not tell you how I did that.” He says, almost reading my mind.

“Come on!” I say, grinning. “You have to. That’s- that’s impossible.” I stammer.

“I just did it, didn’t I?” He says, with a bit of cockiness in his voice, which made him even more attractive than before.

“Okay but- No way!” I say, trying to think. “You must’ve planted it there. Or-”

“I planted the card in a hat that had been on your head the whole time?” He responds, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’.” He says, smiling. “It’s just magic. And a magician never reveals his-”

“I swear, if you finish that cliched sentence..” I warn.

He raises his hands up in surrender, that boyish grin still gracing his face. “Okay! Okay! It’s true though.” He adds, and I find myself rolling my eyes.

He notices my displeasure, and laughs a bit. “Okay, tell you what. What if I taught you how to do the trick? That way I’m technically not flat-out telling you how to do the trick.” He says, and I nod, excited.

“Wait- yeah. I would do that, in a heartbeat.” I respond, and he looks animated at the prospect.

“It’s a bit loud here.” He says, raising his voice a little over the music in the bar. “I know we just met but- uh. Would you wanna come to my apartment?” He asks, a bit hesitant. “In the name of magic.”

I watched his expression carefully, and saw the implicit desire painted in his eyes.

Wow. This costume must’ve worked a lot better than I expected.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I respond, sweetly. “Lead the way, magic man.” I say, a bit teasingly. There was something exhilarating about knowing that there was a good possibility he wanted me, the same way I found myself wanting him.

He smiles, offering his arm to me as we walk out of the bar together. He leads me to his car, opening the door of the passenger seat to me like a true gentleman, and I smile, getting in. He starts the vehicle, beginning to drive away from the bar.

“Have you always done magic?” I ask, attempting to start a conversation with the man next to me, who was still a near stranger at this point.

He laughs a bit. “Yeah, actually. Before I ever started working for the FBI, I learned as a kid.”

“What do you like about magic?” I ask, a little lamely, still trying to continue the flow of discussion between us, making an effort to know him better.

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t have too many friends growing up, so when I did.. I liked to entertain them.” He lets out a dry chuckle, a bit self conscious. I listened intently, finding myself more intrigued by him as he opened himself up to me. “It sounds silly, but I’ve always just enjoyed the feeling of making someone feel.. wonder.. amazement..?” He adds, hesitantly. “It’s just nice.” He finishes.

“That was probably way too personal for a question about magic, huh?” He says, after a moment.

I shake my head. “No! No. That’s a great reason. Probably better than anything I could ever come up with for any of my own hobbies.” I say, trying to make him feel at ease, the way he had for me before.

He smiles gratefully. “Thanks.”

“So about that trick..” I start, grinning.

“I’m not telling you how I did it!” He says, laughing. “You gotta work for it.”

“Oh, come on.” I exclaim, before pausing.

“Okay, tell me this. How many ways can you do that trick? Is it only with specific cards?”

“Nope.” He responds. “I can do that trick 52 ways. It’s all in the hands” He says, a little bit of pride in his voice.

“52 ways, huh?” I say, grinning. “My god, Spencer Reid. You must be really good with your hands then.” I say, trying to flirt just a bit.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He responds, and for a second, I hear a hint of lust in his voice, and I realize I wasn't insane for thinking he wanted me back. I could feel his tone causing my cheeks to heat up, and my panties getting wetter in an instant.

“Oh?” I respond, my voice suddenly hoarse.

“Yeah.” He responds, voice a bit deeper than before.

“I’m sure you could show me once you get to your apartment.” I say boldly, testing the waters and I see him lick his lips, nodding.

“I’d like that.” He responds, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, driving a bit faster than before.

As soon as we made it past his front door, Spencer was pushing me against the wall, planting his lips on mine in a frenzy, as my hands went to take off his coat, both of our intentions clear at this moment.

His hands trailed down to my waist, pulling me closer against him to the point where I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. The sensation caused me to moan, and he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue into my mouth, exploring as we continued to seek pleasure from the other, not paying mind to the consequences of our spontaneity.

His hands began to move to the zipper of my leotard, slowly pulling it down as my hands went to his belt, undoing it as quickly as I could. I felt something in the pockets of his slacks, and pulled it out to reveal a pair of handcuffs.

“Not my government issued ones. They're apart of the costume gear” He says, immediately, beginning to kiss at my neck. “We could use them, if you want.” He murmurs, his hot breath right at the hollow of my collarbone.

I breathed in sharply, nodding. “Oh, god. Yes.” I could feel him pulling me by my hips, his lips never leaving the expanse of my skin as he pushed me onto his bed, caging me in between his arms as he continued with his ministrations.

I could hear the soft moans of pleasure drawing out from my lips, my eyes fluttering shut. For an instant, I couldn’t feel his presence on me, until my hands were being raised above my head, and the small “snap” of handcuffs could be heard against me. I watched him, his gaze determined and lustful, checking the handcuffs to make sure they weren’t too tight, but that I couldn’t escape.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, beginning to kiss my fingertips, and making his way down my arm. He finally manages to pull off my leotard, and in a moment of what I could only describe as carnal desire, he rips open my stockings, discarding them on the floor as he made his way to the growing wet spot on my panties.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” He growls, his breath hitting my wet heat, and I moaned at the sensation alone. He slid my panties down, leaving me entirely bare while he stayed mostly clothed, only adding to the appeal of our encounter.

He settled in between my legs, and I watched him, my breath coming out in short, small gasps.

“I need to taste you.” He murmurs, and I nod.

That’s all it takes, and he’s nearly devouring at my cunt. I can feel his tongue everywhere, languidly working at my sex before circling around my clit. I throw my head back, and feel my hands itching to grab at his hair, to grind against his mouth. It’s like he could feel my desperation, smirking against me.

“Patience.” He murmurs, and I grumble a bit, but the annoyance quickly dissipates as he moves to suck around my clit, causing an entirely new slew of sensations to rack my body. I can feel myself writhing, and he hooks his hands under my thighs to keep me in place. Before I can even tell him, I’m coming against his face, my body convulsing in his touch as he continued to eat me out like he couldn’t get enough.

He only stopped when I weakly moaned his name, looking up at me through my thighs, my wetness coating his chin. “Please- I need you.” I say, trying to now fulfill the growing ache that came from being so painstakingly empty. He nodded, understanding me immediately and moving to undo the handcuffs. Immediately, my hands wrap around his neck as I feel him free his cock from the confines of his briefs, and I briefly glance down, taking note of his size, and knowing how well I’d be fucked in a few brief moments.

He guided his member to my aching cunt, and pushed into me, inch by inch. I could feel my breath snatched away in an instant, as my jaw dropped in a quiet moan. He seemed to enjoy the sensation of entering me as well, his eyes closing in concentration.

“So warm.. so perfect.” He murmurs, moving down to kiss my jaw. “Can I move? Can I please move?” He begs, the neediness in his voice apparent.

I nod, feverishly. “Yes. Please.”

He immediately starts moving in a fast pace, using a strength I didn't know he had in him. I could feel myself shifting up the bed with every thrust he pummeled into me, and every movement of his hips only elicited longer, louder moans. It seemed to spur him on, as he pushed my legs to my chest to gain an even deeper angle, which had me screaming in pleasure at that point.

“I’m not gonna last..” He moans out, and I nod, indicating we were in the same boat. His hand slipped in between our bodies, finding my clit in an attempt to have me finish before him.

“Please, pretty girl.” He moans, his movements never letting up. “Come for me.”

I do, feeling myself tighten around his cock, as my walls spasmed all around. It seemed to push him towards his release as well, as I felt his warmth seep into my deepest point. He pulled out of me, exhausted, laying beside me on the bed.

His hands reached over for me, and I made my way into his arms, laying my head on his chest, feeling our rapid heartbeats calm down together after our act of passion. His chest rises up and down, as does mine, and we bask in the afterglow of what just took place.

“We never did get to that magic trick.” I say, finally speaking, my words coming out a little breathlessly.

I can feel his laughter as he places a tender kiss to the top of my head, as if we’d done this a thousand times before. “After that, I’ll teach you whatever you want. Sure you could teach me a thing or two too, hmm?"

“Deal.” I say, closing my eyes and relaxing in the warmth of a man that was no longer as stranger than before.

wow!! sorry for disappearing on you guys like that!! idk how long it's been since my last post, all i know it's been a while and i'm very deeply sorry!! i hope this makes up for it. i actually wrote this as a submission to @imagining-in-the-margins 's meet cute challenge, so! fun fun fun. please reblog, like, comment, or whatever!! i genuinely love seeing what everyone has to think . just as a warning, my posting may get sporadic for the next month or so, but i promise by december we're gonna be on that weekly fic grind. again, so sorry for the sudden disappearance!!! i appreciate everyone very much for their patience!!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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sinner-as-saint · 8 months ago

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meaner than my demons

Dark!Bucky x Avenger!Reader au

Run-through: You wake up in a manor in the middle of nowhere with no recollection of how you got there. All you remember is that you and Bucky were out on a mission, and then nothing. Bucky…? This wasn’t his doing, was it? What you didn’t know was that Bucky, of all people, had all the reasons to become the bad guy. To avenge himself, what was done to him, and all that was mercilessly taken from him. Nobody knew just how close he’d gotten to just giving into the twisted temptations that beckoned him over. All he needed was a slight nudge, a purpose – and you gave him that unknowingly. So he went, and he dragged you over to the darkness with him.

Themes: angst, dark!bucky, kidnapping, sort of beauty and the beast vibes, mentions of bucky’s traumatic past as the winter soldier, smut, fluff, praise kink, HEA but slightly ambiguous ending ;)

a/n: the angst is strong with this one. Also, I was merely experimenting with this character so take nothing too seriously <3 ily (p.s: this is long, grab a snack)

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

That sentence echoed in your head as you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your vision was blurry, your head spun even as you laid down looking up at the shiny, intricate chandelier above the canopy bed you were currently in.

You focused on the bizarrely alluring chandelier, blinking as you tried to bring your vision back to normal, trying to get your head to stop spinning.

It felt like you were waking up after a night of heavy drinking. Slowly, as if not trusting your body, you sat up on the comfy bed.

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

There was that damn sentence again. What the fuck is even that? Where did it come from? You squinted as you looked around, feeling a throbbing headache forming. Nevermind the strange sentence, where were you was the real question here. How did you end up in this bed?

Panicking you quickly assessed your body. You were still in your mission gear, except none of your guns were in their holsters. Other than that, everything felt fine. You weren’t hurt anywhere, except for a pain at the back of your neck. You moved your head, trying to figure out what the cause of the pain was, but other than some sore muscles, nothing hurt.

You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, planting your boots on the ground and looking around. Judging by the light coming in through the ridiculously large georgian windows, it looked like it was well into the evening. And the room was… beautiful in a gothic, dark way.

Apart from the fireplace within which was lit a small fire, and the golden scones on the walls and the chandelier above the bed, everything else was dark. The walls were dark green, the large canopy bed was all-black with dark grey bedding, the high ceiling was covered in detailed moulding. Dark, wooden coffee table and bookshelves, black leather upholstered sofas, a huge chest drawer in the corner.

If you were kidnapped, you thought, you’d likely be in some dark room with no windows – like a dungeon. Not in a properly furnished, clean bedroom.

You frowned as you tried to go back, trying to figure out how you got here. You got up from the bed and approached the windows, looking out. For a moment you were mesmerised by the view outside. From this window, you could see the sprawling wings of the house on either side of you. A manor, then, not a house.

Situated at the foot of hills which rose behind the manor, partially shrouded in dense fog. Some countryside, then? You tucked that information away as you scanned the area even more. The manor it seemed was surrounded by thick woods. The hills, the fog, the dark green woods, it all seemed like it was a scene out of a mysterious, dangerous novel. The silence, the secrecy…

You looked further around and noticed a walled garden not too far to the right, and to the complete left a… huge hedge maze. You could only see part of it but–

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze…?

The memory came flooding into your brain, and you almost lost your balance for a moment.

You had been hiking up these hills for days. But a mission was a mission, correct? You looked behind you and noticed Bucky frowning in deep thought.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked your good friend. You and Bucky had been paired together for many missions recently, all of them successful. You two made a great team. He wasn’t much of a talker, and you enjoyed silence and solitude.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, coming to a stop beside you. “I received solid intel about a house just beyond these woods. The owner deals in illegal substances,” He added in his usual, dark-humoured, self-deprecating tone, “the kind that can create worse creatures than super soldiers.”

“Hey!” You tapped him on the chest playfully, disapproving of his joke. Still you said, “I, for one, am glad they made you.” You added to his weird humour, “I get a good friend and a perfect bodyguard all in one.”

Bucky gave you a rare smile. It made him look boyish and young, and… handsome. You looked away quickly. It always did something to you, that smile. It was a useless little crush you’d been nurturing since that day – months ago – when Bucky took a bullet to his shoulder to save you during a crossfire.

“You can stay here if you want,” Bucky suggested, “I’ll go take a look and come back.”

“No,” You reached into your backpack and pulled out two fancy binoculars, handing one to him, “We just need to get on top of this hill, and then we’ll keep an eye on the house and its ground for a while,” You explained as you began hiking up the hill again, Bucky following you loyally like he had this whole time, “And then we’ll make a plan. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Getting on top of the hill was no big deal. The hike was easy and the hill was high enough that you had a clear vision of the manor and its grounds even with thick woods between the hill and the manor.

You let out a gasp the moment you looked through the binoculars. Bucky beside you did the same thing, not gasping at the beauty of it all though. Then again, few things impressed Bucky. You supposed this luxurious, gothic manor and its elegant grounds weren’t on the list.

“Whoever this is should be ashamed that they’re using this beautiful place for something so dark.” You whispered, looking and taking in the details of the manor. It looked enchanting in the morning light.

“You like it?”

“Bucky, one would have to be an absolute idiot to not appreciate the beauty of this place. No neighbours, no one to bother you. Just foggy hills, dense woods and… ooh!” You exclaimed with genuine happiness, forgetting for a moment that you were here on a mission and not sightseeing. “Bucky! There’s a maze!”

“Really?”

You couldn’t look away. You zoomed as much as you could, trying to take in the details. “Yes, an actual maze and it’s huge!” You had the biggest smile on your face. “Oh this is a dream, and… oh look! There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “How cliché.”

You kept watching, letting your guard completely down for a moment. You didn’t see Bucky approaching, you didn’t notice the shift, not until it was too late.

“I’m sorry, doll.”

That was the last thing you heard before feeling a burning sensation at the back of your neck, and then darkness and the warmth of Bucky’s chest as he held you to keep you from falling on the ground.

Fuck.

Bucky?

Why would he do that? You didn’t do anything. You were breathing heavily now, looking around for a way out. These windows didn’t open, and the door must be–

It opened right as you stared at it, and in walked Bucky. Dressed differently. He wasn’t in his usual mission gear. No leather jackets, no gun holsters, not even his knives. Just a casual shirt, and comfy trousers. Like this was normal. Like he was at home.

Your eyes widened as this started to make a little more sense. But you didn’t dare think about it properly. He wouldn’t… right? He was your friend. You two had fought together for years. He was one of the good guys… right?

“Buck?”

He shut the door behind him as he stepped further into the room. “I came as fast as I could when they told me you were beginning to wake up.” He said a little sheepishly.

What? But most importantly, “Who’s ‘they’?” You asked, trying your best to put all your training into practice and keeping your calm.

“My housekeepers.” He answered like it was the most obvious thing.

You noted the way he avoided your eyes, the way he kept flexing his metal hand. Bucky was slightly nervous.

You took a step back, pressing against the cold windows. “What is going on? What is this place? Did you…” Your voice cracked as you asked, “Did you drug me?”

“You wouldn’t come willingly.” He answered, staring deeply at the fireplace as he approached it and placed his metal hand on the mantle above. “And you wouldn’t be willing to listen to me.”

Your heart pounded. What was he talking about? “This place, this house is… yours?”

Bucky nodded.

“And there is no guy dealing in dangerous substances, is there?” You figured this was a trap and you walked right into it.

“No.” He answered truthfully. “There isn’t. This is my home. Well, one of them.”

“Bucky,” You whispered, cautiously. Afraid. Wary. His home? Since when? “Why?”

He finally looked at you. The soft fire in the fireplace lit one side of his face and hid the other side in shadows. Fitting, you thought, despite it all. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He said, almost like he was offended that you would think so. “I would never hurt you, doll.”

“I want the truth, Buck.” You stared deep into his familiar blue eyes, trying to find your friend in there. And he was there, but he was behind a dark smoke screen. “Please.”

Bucky sighed. “Take a seat.” He said softly, settling down on one of the many sofas scattered around the spacious room.

You didn’t. You remained there by the windows, like the distance between you and him would save you from the dangers you weren’t aware of yet.

He sighed again, “Fine, be difficult then.” He got up, and began walking towards you.

You panicked, remaining frozen in place for a moment. But by the time you moved to get away from him, he was too close. You went to run away but his metal hand firmly around your wrist stopped you.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, pulling you close until you hit his chest, then wrapped his other arms around you. “Believe me,” He said.

You shook your head as you looked into his eyes, the hidden darkness in them. “What happened to you?” You whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

He frowned as if you were the one being ridiculous. “Don’t you see? This place is perfect for us.”

For us?

You noted the strange haze in his captivating eyes. Something was different about him.

“What?” You blinked, ignoring the many questions you had. “Bucky, our friends, they need us.” You tried reasoning, though in vain, “We need to go back. And keep fighting–”

“Back to what?” He argued, cutting you off. “Fight for who?”

“The innocent people, Buck. The ones who are constant victims of our enemies, and–,”

“I was a victim too.” He said, silencing you at once with a dark tone. “No one fought for me.”

He rarely ever brought up HYDRA, so this was new territory to you. You approached it carefully, softening your voice as you said, “Steve did.”

Bucky surprised you by scoffing carelessly. Dropping his voice he said, “And yet, all I ever was to him in the end was disposable.”

That shut you up.

For a moment you felt a fraction of the pain he felt. You always empathised with him, even before you started nurturing that little crush you had on him. “But you have the chance now, Buck.” You tried reasoning, calmly and no longer resisting his grip on your wrist. “Let’s go back, and fight so no one ever has to suffer like you did.”

“No.”

The finality in his tone made you shiver. “So what? You’re gonna keep me captive here and we’re gonna let the bad people win?”

Bucky sighed. “They already won. Don’t you see the state of this world?”

You flinched. “That’s your goal then? To punish the world and everyone in it?”

“Punish it?” He scoffed. “No. I want to see it try and fend for itself. Or watch it die trying.”

“Bucky…” You didn’t recognise the man you were looking at. “We can make a difference, no matter how minor. We’re the good guys, remember?”

He let go of your hand, turned to face the windows pensively. “I’m done being good.”

You remained frozen in place, assessing the situation quickly. He had his back to you, so he was confident you wouldn’t hurt him. He had shut the door on his way in but never locked it. That must mean even if you got past the door, he must’ve made sure you wouldn’t make it out of this house.

But you couldn’t leave, could you? You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt you. You wouldn’t leave him here like this. Bucky was hurting, and he was acting this way because of that. But the house? Why bring you here? Why drug you? What did he want?

“Bucky,” You said after taking a deep breath. “You’re my friend, we’ve fought together for years. You rescued me so many times. You took a bullet for me. I know you’re good.”

He shook his head, looking out the window. “I’ve been good, all my life. I was good when I followed Steve and believed in what he stood for. I was good when I was captured, and forced to be a killing machine. I was good, deep down I know I was still good, even when they wiped my mind each time and made me perform however they wanted.”

You flinched, your heart sinking with each word that came out of his mouth.

He continued, as if numb to it all.

“I was desperately good even when I found myself stuck in a wrong, superhuman body. I was good even when everyone around me expected me to get over it and keep fighting like a good little soldier.” He finally turned to you and said, “I’m done, now. What did it ever give me?”

His words hit harder than a punch to the face. “Buck…” You almost comforted him, because there was still your dear friend, broken. But wrong. So wrong to believe there weren't still good things to fight for. “You have people who care for you.”

“Do I?” His tone was mocking. And you didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I’ve been used in experiments that had no ethical limits. I’ve been a weapon, a commodity. I’ve been a mindless soldier. I’ve been stuck in the body of a murderer. I’ve been a throwaway friend. No one ever cared.”

“I do.”

Bucky was quiet. His shoulders moving just a little as he breathed deeply.

You continued. “And Sam does. And so do all of our friends.” You argued, trying to find something, anything to prove a point, “I mean, all of Wakanda believed in you when they helped you.”

“They did.” He almost smiled in gratitude. “But they never trusted me.” He sounded genuinely sad. “I remained a weapon.” He looked down at his shiny metal arm and added, “So easily dismantled.”

Was this really how you would lose him? To the darkness in his head? Your heart pounded as you looked at him. Standing proud and tall, looking out the window as the darkening evening made the room even dimmer. The last logs in the fireplace cracked. And Bucky was still so beautiful standing by the window, but broken. Like a tortured and grim lord of the manor.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Buck.” You took a step back when he turned to face you.

“No, it doesn’t.” He agreed, weirdly. Then added, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t care about the rest of the world, I’m done being a good little soldier. I just want to be a man.” He took a few more steps until he was right in front of you. His handsome face so close to yours. “And be with the woman I want, in our own quiet little paradise.” His hand reached out to gently stroke your cheek. His metal hand found itself on your waist, tugging you closer gently. “Isn’t this perfect, doll? Hmm?”

You were so surprised that you didn’t even properly register the meaning behind his words until you replayed it in your head a few times. “You… what?”

“You know,” He smirked, fingers now tracing your parted lips. “At first I wondered what was taking you so long to realise. I’m not very good at being subtle with my feelings, you see. But you never caught on.” His smirk widened. “And then I found out why in the best way possible.”

You were afraid to ask for some reasons. “Why?” You whispered.

Bucky leaned in, brushing the cold tip of his nose against your cheek, and said, “Because you like me too, and you were too busy hiding your own feelings that you didn’t pay attention to mine. Wanna know how I know?” He chuckled, “I heard you whispering my name under your breath as you touched yourself. Too many times to count.”

You gasped in surprise, unable to move.

“Well,” He said, “That’s a figure of speech, of course I know exactly how many times. I kept count.” He continued, loving the way you began squirming in embarrassment. “It’s the metal hand, isn’t it? It turns you on?” He chuckled.

“You…” You finally found your voice and stumbled on your words, “You had no right.”

He laughed, pulling away to look at you. “To listen to you moaning my name? Not my fault you’re so loud to my very, very sensitive ears.” He teased.

He was so close. His chest, so warm. His arms around you, so perfect that you almost forgot all about the conversation you had before all this.

You stepped away, and out of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus on the important thing here. “What do you want, Bucky?”

He shrugged, “Well right now I want us to have dinner, it’s getting late and you haven’t eaten all day.”

You sighed. “Then? When I want to leave, you’ll stop me?”

Bucky was so very still. It was inhuman. Then again, he was not exactly just a regular guy. “If I wanted you trapped here you would have woken up tied to the bed, doll.”

“So I can walk away from here if I want?” You asked. No. That would be too easy. Wouldn’t it?

“You could.”

Another trap, you figured. For the first time since this absurd evening started, you straightened your back and faced Bucky with a little less fear, and embarrassment. “You won’t win, Bucky. Not like this.”

He gave you a handsome, smug grin and said, “We’ll talk about all that later. Now, do what you need to do, freshen up,” He pointed at the door in the corner of the bedroom, the bathroom you assumed, “And join me for dinner downstairs.” He leaned in and too casually kissed your forehead. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.”

And he left. Leaving you even more confused than when you didn’t have any answers.

You thought about it as you reluctantly made your way into the bathroom which was just as dark and luxurious as the rest of the bedroom. Dark green walls, a large white and gold tub, mouldings on the ceiling matching the bedroom, large gilded mirrors and sinks. A spacious shower booth, with fancy faucets and shower heads.

You checked the many cabinets and found everything one could need. The skin care products looked inviting but first of all, you needed a hot shower. You grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe and some body wash products and stepped into the booth.

Then you spent your time thinking about everything. What did you know as of now? That Bucky owned this place, it was his home. That Bucky was done fighting, he had plans to say ‘fuck it all’ and retire. That he liked you back? Fine, he did. He wanted you to stay here with him? And never fight again? That was a whole other thing you had to worry about. But first, how to get out of here?

Also how did Bucky afford this place? Had he always been filthy rich?

What was the endgame here? And if he managed to keep you here, would any of your friends come looking for you? No one even knew where you were, that’s how much you trusted Bucky. The moment he brought this fake mission up you agreed to come with him immediately. Alright, your little crush had had an influence on your decision making but still.

Could you trust Bucky now? It felt foolish to admit, but yes. Yes you could. Bucky would never hurt you.

So you got out of the shower, with more questions and made your way back to the room and found neatly folded clothes on the bed. Soft, comfy, casual clothes. You put them on and took a deep breath before you stepped out of the room.

As you made your way down one of the two ornate staircases, you hoped you’d find Bucky again somewhere down here. Meanwhile you couldn’t help but admire his home. It was… hauntingly beautiful. It was more dark than lit. Rich colours: dark green, dark red, black. Gilded picture frames along the hallways, large foyer, high ceilings, carved designs on almost all the furniture. Everything screamed luxury, expensive taste, old money, and like a home out of another era. An older era.

You couldn’t see any of the housekeepers, but you soon found Bucky sitting at the head of a ridiculously fancy dining table in the dining room.

“There you are,” He said, placing his wine glass down, “I was beginning to think you must be trying to get away.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and then quickly took in the room. Just as spacious as the rest of the house. A fireplace in a corner, tall arched windows, dark red curtains which allowed just the briefest amount of moonlight to come in. The room was well lit, and you couldn’t miss the grand chandelier above the adorned table and chairs.

Sitting at the head of that table, Bucky reminded you of a bored prince – surrounded by unexplainable luxury which suited him too well.

You took a seat at the other end of the table, facing Bucky fully. He noted your tactic and smirked. Then you said, “I didn't know you were rich.” Because surely super soldiers aren’t getting paid this much.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, “I’m over a century old, doll. I would be an absolute idiot if I didn’t amass a fortune that could last me a couple more lifetimes.”

You also noted the way he used your own words against you, but kept quiet. “Right. But how exactly?”

He explained. “A lot of the people I was asked to... get rid of for HYDRA were influential people. Rich, wealthy, borderline royalty. And they would always try to bribe me just to be spared. They offered me everything I wanted if I let them go.”

He sighed, almost in annoyance of the memories.

He continued, “I couldn't let them go of course, but they always revealed all their secrets during their last moments.” His stare was distant. “And after the job was done, whatever they left behind, whatever they offered, locations of their hidden wealth and riches, it was all mine for the taking.” He added, “And since I was a good little machine, HYDRA never looked too deep into what I did as long as I got the job done.”

Everytime Bucky opened up about his past, you realised that there was so much about him that you didn’t know. “That’s a lot of secrets.”

“Indeed.”

“And this manor? It’s one of the secrets left behind by someone you got rid of as well?”

“No,” He said, “This was built from the ground up. Decades ago.”

Decades. Again, another reminder of how many lives he had lived in the past century. It was almost fascinating. You opened your mouth to ask another question, but the door behind Bucky – which you hadn’t noticed earlier – opened and in walked two ladies with full trays in their hands. One of the trays filled with food, including a glass of wine, was brought over to you.

You eyed the tray for a moment before you sent a questioning glare at Bucky.

“What? Is it a surprise that I know what you like?” There was that smug grin again on his handsome face.

Hunger won over confusion and anger, so you took a bite out of some food before you asked, “How did you put up such a good façade? For so long?” Hiding all of this couldn’t have been easy, right?

“I didn't.” He answered. “I thought a broken soldier was what I needed to be, all I could ever be.” He smiled, “Then I met you and for the first time, I craved a simpler life. One where we could have nothing but time to do what we wanted, and no longer have to partake in fights that aren't ours.”

You genuinely wanted to know, so you asked softly, “Is this truly what you want, Buck? To sit here and say to hell with the world outside?”

“Isn’t it peaceful?” He questioned, “No meetings, or briefings. No country out to get us, no enemies out to kill us.”

You remained quiet. For a little while, you both ate in silence. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on each one of your movements. He kept quiet though, and then you asked, “Why is no one out to get you? Given who you are and who you used to be, one would assume you’d have the most enemies out there.”

“I have friends in all the right places.” He answered.

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

He smirked, “Now, I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” He said as he stood up, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I have some things I need to do, you’ll find your way back to your room?”

You nodded, though suspicious at the sudden freedom.

He whispered a quick ‘good night’ and left. Which made you frown in confusion because why would he leave you here? When you could easily walk out? Was he expecting you to try and escape? Was he hoping you would?

You got up from the table, and carefully walked out of the dining room, stepping into the hallway. You didn’t take the time to admire the scones on the walls, the paintings, anything. All you saw was the foyer and beyond which was the grand entrance of the manor.

Even from the inside you could see the foggy air outside. The fog swirling around like smoke. It looked cold out. Even if you made a run for it, you would be sick and frozen by morning.

You stood there for a moment, steps away from the foyer. There were no cameras, that was the first thing you looked for in the house. None of the housekeepers could be seen, you realised they made themselves scarce.

You should’ve taken the staircase and gone back up to the bedroom. Maybe you’d question Bucky tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he’d listen. But the front doors looked tempting. And that part of your brain which always went seeking trouble, the part that always pushed you into doing bold things, that part made you move towards the doors.

Chances were that Bucky was watching, and you almost wanted him to see. To see that you couldn’t be kept here. So you went for it. You waited for some kind of alarm to go off as you turned the door knob and pulled open the door, stepping a foot out and then the other. But no alarm came.

The fog messed with your vision, you couldn’t see further than the white marble steps. It was cold and you had no extra layers on. This was stupid. And yet, you took a few more steps down the marble stairs which led to what you assumed would be the front yard.

You were about five steps down before you stopped. There was the silhouette of a male figure standing at the bottom of the stairs, engulfed by the fog. The moonlight made him look like a dark villain. Yet the shiny metal arm gave him away. “I thought you said I could walk away.” You tested the waters.

“I did say you could.” He took a step up the stairs, “I didn’t say I would let you get too far.”

You scoffed, trying your hardest to hide how you shivered in the cold night. The fog was all around you by now. All you could see was the faint outline of Bucky and the white stairs.

“Get back inside,” He ordered. “It’s cold out.”

“I won’t let you make a prisoner out of me.”

“That’s not my goal here.” He sounded reassuring.

“Then let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that, doll.” He took another step, getting closer. You could tell by his stance that he was ready for it, should you want to fight your way out of here.

And you did. You went for it.

First a punch, then a kick. It was hard to keep your balance on marble stairs, but you did your best, just like when you two used to spar while training.

You gave it your all, you tried your hardest to get him off his feet and on the ground and possibly make a run for it, but he anticipated each punch, each kick. You put up a decent fight for a few minutes, grunting at each failed punch and kick.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” He growled, blocking yet another one of your punches.

You didn’t stop, you kept trying until it hurt. Until he managed to have you pinned to the ground, your back hurting against the marble stairs, metal hand around your throat, his muscular body straddling yours right there on the cool marble stairs, the edge of the steps digging into your skin, making you hiss in pain.

“Let go!” You spat bitterly at him, looking up and finding him glaring down at you. His breath fogged against the cold air.

Bucky chuckled. “You forgot you trained you, doll? Hmm? You forgot who taught you everything you know about combat?” Bucky smirked as he leaned down. His face was directly above yours, his nose touching yours. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to walk away all hard after sparring with you?” He leaned just a little closer so his mouth hovered over yours. “It turned you on too, didn’t it? I could smell it then. And I can smell it now.”

That did it. You managed to find enough energy to push him off of you, you were on him the moment his body hit the marble floor, straddling him and pinning him to the ground by the throat just like he did you. You could tell the edges of the stairs were digging into his back too by the way he hissed. But you didn’t let go.

“Enough.” You tightened your grip around his throat. “I won’t play this little game with you.” You breathed heavily, exhausted by now, “You want to stay here and pretend to be some tortured, gothic lord of the manor? Fine! Go ahead. But let me go.”

“You don’t want to go.” He whispered, confidently. He just laid there, under you. Arms limp by his sides even though you knew too well that he could flip you around at any moment he wanted.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?”

He smirked. It annoyed you how handsome he was. “I know. If you so desperately wanted to get out of here then by now you would’ve used the knife you snuck into your pocket from the dinner table.” He chuckled. “Can’t do it, can you?”

Damn him. And here you thought you were being slick. You didn’t realise his hands had moved, no longer limp on his sides but now on your legs, fingers reaching for the crease of your thighs, rubbing your skin through the thin PJ pants you wore.

You gasped when his metal hand found its way between your parted legs, caressing you through the layers of clothing you wore. “Don’t you see?” He said, cold fingers moving along your waistband, “I’m doing this for us.” His fingers slipped into your pants, making you gasp even louder as you felt him touching you.

Your face burned as you thought about how many times you’d dreamt of this moment. How many times had you pretended it was his hand touching you. But it was never in these circumstances. Never had you thought it would happen on marble stairs, surrounded by dense fog, in some mysterious manor.

“Bucky,” You whispered, feeling his fingers slowly separating your wet folds, inspecting your slit before he slid one, then a second metal finger into you.

“Yes, baby?” His other hand wandered all over your body as you straddled him, reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced the shape of your mouth while his two metal fingers slid so perfectly in and out of you, making you ride his fingers just briefly to chase the feeling of them against you. “Doesn’t it feel good? Hmm?” He thrust his fingers deeper into you, his metal thumb gently rubbing your clit, “Does it feel better than your fantasies?”

Damn him.

You couldn’t help but grind against his hand, wanting more and more. You didn’t care about anything right now, all that mattered was how good it felt. How much, much better than your fantasies it was. But you wouldn’t tell him all that.

He didn’t need to be told. He could see it. The way you moved your hips, the way you bit your lower lip to hold back your moans and whimpers, the way you clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, doll.” He whispered, feeling your grip loosen around his throat. “Come all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You hated how quickly you came, grinding against his hand and riding his fingers like a desperate woman. The cold, the fog, your knees digging into the hard marble, none of it mattered as you came, panting and trying your hardest to catch your breath.

“We should head back inside,” He said, catching you just in time as you were about to collapse on top of the stairs, cradling you carefully. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

—

Two days later, Bucky asked you during breakfast if you wanted to see the walled garden.

The two of you hadn’t talked much these past two days. You only saw Bucky at meal times, and kept to yourself mostly. The weather had been mostly rainy as well, even thunderstorms at night. It suited the foggy environment really well.

Neither you nor Bucky brought up that night you two fucked. You crossed paths with him these past two days in the dining room, the hallways, and the main living room, but you didn’t say a word to each other. It was painfully awkward.

You didn’t hate what happened. You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand him, nor this situation. None of it. How can Bucky just switch like that? How did he manage to hide all this? What else could he be hiding?

And this morning, now that the rain had temporarily disappeared and a soft sun was shining, when he offered to show you around the walled garden, it felt like he was extending a peaceful hand. So you agreed immediately. You could use some fresh air. Plus, you figured, you and Bucky would have to talk at some point.

So by mid-morning, you followed him out into the yard. The walled garden was closeby, and it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. It was huge. The landscaping was incredible, you could tell a lot of care went into it.

This is...," You couldn’t come up with the right words.

There was a pond in the middle. The four stone walls were covered with vines and the tiniest little flowers. The entrance was a moon gate, the entire thing was filled with brick pathways, a small section was dedicated to herbs, but most of the space was occupied by well trimmed hedges and bushes.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He looked around, as if trying to see what it looks like from the eyes of someone seeing it for the first time. "I spend a lot of my time here." He sounded so calm as he said it. Like it brought him genuine happiness.

"It's so peaceful here."

You could hear the birds in the nearby trees. You could feel the breeze. The sweet smell of the flowers and slightly stronger scent of the herbs. The cool, damp ground while the smell of the rain lingered. The lush green vines surrounding the walls of the garden. It was more peaceful than it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Its owner looked no less breathtaking. Dressed in simple dark trousers and a dark green sweater, he looked every bit the master of these grounds. He looked so different now, compared to the Bucky you used to know.

"We should talk, Buck." You looked down, playing with the fabric of your soft sweater.

"Yes," He agreed. "You've been ignoring me." He accused.

You couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stepped closer. “Not ignoring you, I just… it’s hard to understand you, Bucky.” You explained. “One moment you were someone I knew for years, a constant in my life and now you’re… I don’t know this new you.”

He remained quiet, listening.

You continued. “Plus you talk about us living here like it was the plan all along.”

“Wasn’t it?” He said, clenching his jaw then unclenching it. You hated how much you liked that. “Finding peace and a home. Wasn’t that the end goal? Or did you plan to sacrifice yourself in combat?”

“Our job is to fight, Buck. We–”

“Who said that?” He argued. “Haven’t we fought enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You sighed, looking away at the pond like it would have some answers. Then you said, “We can’t just live out here, away from everyone, leave the world to burn and pretend that this isn’t selfish, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged, “Why? Nobody batted an eye when Stark did it.”

“It was different for him.” You said, taking a few steps to reach the nearest rose bush. It had no flowers but you admired it all the same. “He had a family, a kid. He was a married man.”

Bucky scoffed, “That’s it? That’s what it’ll take, then? I can marry you and give you a child.” He sounded partially playful. And it made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Buck.”

He chuckled. For a moment it sounded like the many bickerings you two always had as friends. For a moment all of this felt normal, comfortable.

But it couldn’t be, could it?

“You’re gonna have to let me go at some point.”

“No.” He answered, sounding sure of himself as he pulled you into his arms. “I won’t let you go back and fight till it kills you. All so you can protect a world or its people who won’t even care that you died for them.”

“That’s not your choice to make.” You looked up at him, unable to help yourself as you looked down at his soft lips, wondering what they tasted like.

“It is.” He argued, leaning in so his mouth brushed against yours. “We could live normal lives, away from all that. Just you and me. We could travel, see whatever little beauty is left in this world. And just be free. Be us.”

You pushed him away even though all you wanted was to be close to him. “And then what?” You asked, “We’ll be together forever? I have a couple more decades at best. I’m human, remember that.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and said, “You could change that.”

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next. “I have vials of the serum used on me. Not all of it was destroyed over the years.” He sent a curious look your way. “Maybe if you–,”

You shook your head, rushing past him and almost running back into the house. “You’re insane, Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky ran after you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I didn’t mean right now!”

“No!” You stopped and turned to face him, pointing a finger at his face. “After all that you told me the other night, about being trapped in an alien body and all, now you suggest that you’ll have me take the serum just so you can live out this sick, twisted fantasy you created of us in your head?”

Bucky stepped closer to you, reaching out with his metal arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m saying you’d have the choice. I would never force you. And you know that.”

You were quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you stared into his deep blue eyes. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the stress of these past few days and this conversation you two had just had, but your eyes burned as you began tearing up. “What happened to you, Buck?” Your voice cracked as you asked.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You felt his face getting closer and closer until he pressed his forehead against yours, both his arms circling around you.

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I… I don’t know how to keep you close to me.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him hold you, while you felt that inner turmoil growing.

—

You ignored Bucky again for the next week or so. You stopped showing up to join him for meals, so he resorted to having your food sent up to your room for you. In that week of silent treatment, you’d began talking to the lovely ladies who worked in his home.

The oldest of the two was the most affectionate, and she always brought you extra servings of your favourite desserts. Which you had been ignoring.

One night as she brought your dinner in she said, “He hasn’t been eating well either, you know?”

You pretended you didn’t care. So you didn’t say anything.

The kind lady spoke again, “He’s not bad at heart.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you known him?”

She smiled fondly, “Decades. I came looking for work when the house was being built. I’m from the nearby town, you see? And my family… Well, they disowned me after I had a child out of wedlock. I had nowhere to go. But James took me in.” She chuckled, “Of course, I’ve grown old since.”

But he remained the same.

She continued, “He’s always been kind. A little cold, maybe. But he’s kind.” She paused and added, “And he’s lonely. He’s trapped, you see? In a world he should’ve never been in. Companionship, perhaps, would make this a little more bearable for him.”

“It’s not so easy to give up what he’s asking me to. He’s asking me to give up everything, to leave it all behind.” Granted there wasn’t much to leave in the first place. You had no family, and the only friends you had were the ones you fought alongside with.

She carefully reached out and touched your cheek. The warmth of her hand made you smile faintly. “We all make sacrifices for love, don’t we?”

You sighed, “I think he’s hurt, and confused.”

She laughed quietly, “Oh James is many things, confused isn’t one of them.”

You frowned. “Do you not see that he’s wrong?” You sounded unsure of yourself for a moment there.

“For choosing to live his life how he wants to? For wanting a better life for you? No.”

Fine then. “What about how he’s keeping me here?”

She smiled again. “You know, he always talks about you since the day you two first met years ago. And he always told me how brilliant you were, how strong and brave you were in combat. How well you did in training and how easily you took down men twice the size of you.” She smiled proudly, even though she’d just met you. “And you know what I think?” She paused, “I think if you really wanted to leave, you would’ve fought your way out of here already.” Then before she left your bedroom she added, “Don’t underestimate how much that man loves you.”

You didn’t sleep all night because you kept replaying that conversation in your head. Over and over again. Were you here, truly, on your own volition after all? Did you subconsciously want this over the violence?

—

The next morning, Bucky was surprised to find you making your way into his library. He watched quietly how you paused at the doorway, wide-eyed and startled.

“You have a library.”

It sounded less awe-struck and more like an accusation. Like how dare he have a whole ass library and not show it to you earlier? Bucky saw a glimpse of the normal you, and he couldn’t help but smile. This was a gift after a whole week of you ignoring him and him pretending like he wasn’t walking around sulking. “Did you lose your way or did you mean to ruin your streak of giving me the silent treatment?”

He smirked when you glared at him.

Damn, his smirk. The way it lit up his handsome face… it had been too long since you’d come. And given he had admitted to having heard you masturbate before, you didn’t dare do it under his own roof. So it was safe to say that you were, maybe, just a little touch-starved and needy.

And him looking this good early in the morning was not helping. Tight black t-shirt, and soft, grey PJ pants. How dare he look this good while you were barely able to make sense of all that was happening?

“We should talk. Properly. No fighting, no arguing.” You said.

Bucky nodded, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. “What about?”

You took a deep breath, “I think I know why I haven’t fought my way out of here yet. Because let’s face it, I could kick your ass if I really wanted to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You took a few steps around the room, eyeing the many shelves. It was a grand, two-level library. With ornate metal stairs that led to the top level. It would take a couple of lifetimes to read all the books here. Or maybe just one long super soldier lifetime.

“Because I’m curious.” You admitted. “You were simply my friend before. But–”

He added pompously, “One you have a crush on.”

You ignored that, for now. “But now you’re… someone I don’t know. It’s hard to– it feels different. You feel different. And I can’t help it, but I want to know more. About this life you’re choosing to live. How is it so easy for you to make that choice without any guilt? I want to know.”

Bucky took a moment to process, then asked, “Are you giving me a chance?”

“I’m tired of being angry at you for kidnapping me.” You said, sighing. He opened his mouth to argue but you raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t agree with the way you did things, how you’re keeping me here, but I… I miss you, Buck. I miss us.”

Well, since you were having an honest conversation, Bucky felt comfortable to ask, “Do you still like me?” There was a rare vulnerability in his tone.

You allowed yourself to take a step closer to the shelf he was leaning against. Inching closer to him you murmured, “I would’ve stabbed you that very first night if I didn’t.”

He smiled. You smiled back.

—

Things were gradually getting back to normal after that. Well, about as normal as things can get when you’re forbidden from leaving the grounds of your friend’s manor.

You’d missed your usual morning runs, so you resumed going on runs in the mornings. The grounds were more vast than you thought, it took you days to finally map out the entire place. All except the maze. You always ran by it, or around it, never daring to go inside it. Not yet.

After your runs, and a quick shower, you’d always join Bucky for breakfast. Over time, you learned so much about him and the life he had here. It wasn’t just this magnificent home he owned, but numerous farms and multiple businesses in the small town nearby.

Your ‘relationship’ with him changed as well. While the two of you didn’t have sex again, the tension was beginning to get too much to ignore. Quick kisses in the mornings, and lingering kisses at night. Oftentimes you were tempted to ask Bucky to spend the night with you, but you thought it’d be best to wait. After all, this was all so new.

For the first time in years, you were actually contemplating leaving the ‘superhero’ duties behind and choosing yourself. It was hard not to constantly taste the guilt whenever you found yourself so close to giving into Bucky, and choosing what he was offering.

—

“Do you really have the serum?”

You asked one morning, while the two of you chose to have breakfast in the library. It was a rainy morning, and the library had massive windows so Bucky suggested you spend the morning there, knowing how much you liked it when it rained.

You agreed. Who would say no to breakfast, good books, and a rainy morning?

Then you got curious, and asked about the serum.

Bucky nodded. “I managed to get my hands on a few vials.”

Your eyes widened. “A few? How the hell did you do that?”

Bucky had a humourless smile on his face. “They tended to give me some freedom whenever I took part in their…more peculiar experiments.”

You were quick to say, “We don’t have to talk about it if–,”

He cut you off and explained nonetheless, “They were trying to see if they could create a new generation of super soldiers naturally.”

You wanted so much to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Not out of pity, no. Just to remind him of how strong he is and how far he’s come. How he didn’t deserve all that he went through.

“I had the chance, and I just took some of the vials and hid them out here.”

“Can I ask why?”

He kept that same humourless smile. “Out of desperation I guess. I secretly hoped that one day someone might want to be with me. And if needed, I could keep them with me for longer than their human life would naturally allow.”

“Oh, Buck.”

You couldn’t help yourself then. You stood up, walked around the small coffee table and sat on the arm of the sofa Bucky was currently sat on. Behind him, rain hit the window mercilessly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you.

He leaned into the hug for a moment, before pulling onto his lap then properly hugging you. He shoved his face into your neck, just breathing. His arms around you were not letting you go anytime soon.

“I need you.” He murmured against your neck, beginning to lightly kiss your skin. “Please,” He whispered.

The desire in his voice couldn’t go unnoticed, and you were barely able to hold back either so you quickly straddled him properly. Thankfully the dress you’d chosen for today allowed you to move comfortably.

Bucky hands were eager, touching you everywhere he could, greedy for more. He grabbed you by the hips and pressed you down, onto his prominent erection. He watched how you whimpered, how your hands found themselves under the tight fabric of his shirt, pressing against his chest, feeling him.

Bucky smirked when he felt your hands moving down his chest, further down until you were rapidly undoing his pants and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, then you went on to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “Fuck, that feels good, baby. That’s it, keep going.”

You leaned in close to him again, “I want you,” you whispered against his lips and then pressed your mouth to his. You slipped your tongue past his lips and slowly stroked the top of his mouth, unable to pretend any longer.

He growled into your mouth, into the kiss as his hands rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “Take me then. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t waste any more time. You pulled away from the kiss briefly, lifting your lower body off his. Bucky helped by pulling your thin underwear to the side – both too impatient to properly take your clothes off – and he watched how you slowly lowered yourself down on his cock.

Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside, but then he pulled you down till you sank down on him completely, both of you moaning at the feeling.

Bucky grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up and you moaned wantonly as you felt him fill you up. “Fuck, baby… such a good girl for me.”

You whimpered as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places you never knew existed. You took a good look at the man beneath you. He was beyond beautiful. Lips parted, breathing heavily. It gave you a warm rush to see him this worked up knowing you were the reason why.

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His metal hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily.

“This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” He groaned, looking up to watch how you frowned in pleasure. “All for me…”

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “You feel so good,” You mumbled.

Bucky pulled your warm body closer to his. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock. “You’re mine.” He said. “You hear me?”

You nodded, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his eyes. Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Tell me you’re mine to fuck, to love, and care for. Tell me.”

“All yours…” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

You laid your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, as you thought of a lot of things. The main one being, you didn’t hate this at all. You wouldn’t mind if this was your daily life. Maybe it was the post-sex brain but, this felt so right and you didn’t ever want to leave this moment.

—

It was hard keeping your hands to yourselves for the following days. You and Bucky began sleeping in the same bed.

On days when the weather was good, Bucky would take you out and show you around the little town. It was cosy and perfect, and had the best bakeries in the world. Then he would take you to the many farms he owned, and you saw genuine happiness on his face. Like this calm life was indeed all he wanted.

And time just flew by. You no longer kept track of days.

One evening, Bucky asked, “Have you been in the maze yet?”

You linked your elbow to his as the two of you made your way downstairs, and said, “Not yet. It looks… I don’t know, intimidating. And it’s huge, I worry I’ll get lost.”

Bucky chuckled. “Want me to take you?”

“Right now? But it’s getting dark.”

“Come,” He led you to the front door, crossing the foyer, “It’s prettier at night anyway.”

It was dark out, but there were golden lights placed all around the tall hedge maze. It wasn’t too lit up but just enough to create the right ambiance and allow one to roam around comfortably. It was colder inside, you realised as you held onto Bucky’s hand and let him guide you deeper and deeper inside.

The fog was beginning to float around, settling just above the ground the deeper you went inside the maze. You shivered, despite the coat Bucky insisted you wore before stepping out of the house.

“Don’t be scared, baby.” Bucky reassured you as he wrapped his arm tighter around you. “I’m right here.”

The maze wasn’t creepy by any means. Like everything else on these grounds, it was hauntingly beautiful. Timeless. Like it knows too much, like it was alive and it remembered. It was inviting, even as you went deeper and deeper until you reached the middle. And faced the gigantic water fountain, in the middle of which, placed on a stone pedestal was the minotaur statue.

It felt alive too. Like he was waiting for a command to move.

The middle area was spacious, tidy and beautiful. With alcoves, benches, bird feeders, and brick pathways. And in the dark, with fog swirling around, it looked like a scene from a movie.

Bucky stood back and let you take it all in. He watched how you slowly walked around the fountain, admiring the intricate details, admiring the statue.

Then you asked, “Why the minotaur?” You stopped at the other side of the fountain, watching Bucky through the soft streams of water that fell.

Bucky smiled. “For dramatics, mostly. I like the myth.”

You chuckled. “I see.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets and asked, “You ever wonder what truly happened to the maidens that were sent into the minotaur’s maze?”

“They were never seen again. He either ate or killed them according to the myths.” You answered.

He nodded, “Or maybe he didn’t hurt them. Maybe they just never wanted to leave.”

Ah. So he was speaking in riddles again. “Like how you don’t want me to ever leave?”

“You won’t.” He sounded too sure, yet again.

“You sound very sure.” You watched him carefully.

Bucky smiled, “You forget that I know you, doll. Better than you know yourself.” He paused, then added, “You find comfort in the darkness too.”

“Comfort?”

Bucky remained on the other side of the fountain as he spoke, the fog swirling around him almost like he ordered it to. “You think I don’t know you have trouble sleeping? That the nightmares bother you too? Of all the missions we’ve been on, the people we’ve had to kill for some greater good? Cities we demolished? Houses and families we tore apart? All in the name of being altruistic heroes?”

Suddenly you had trouble breathing.

Bucky continued, this time walking around the fountain and slowly getting closer to you, “That’s why you like running, isn’t it? You pretend you’re running from it all. You pretend you’re free. That you can finally escape it all and put an end to it. You run till your legs get numb, till your lungs burn. Till each breath hurts. So it can finally feel like well-deserved punishment.”

“Stop.” You audibly gasped for air this time, as your eyes began watering. You no longer felt the cold. No longer felt the dampness of the fog. Nothing, but the ache in your chest.

“I’ve been there, doll. No matter what you do, it doesn’t go away. The guilt doesn’t go away. Not until you stop and walk away from that life.”

“Bucky, please…” You turned around, not able to face him anymore as the tears fell down your cheeks. You heard him getting closer. You felt his warmth against your back as he placed his arms around you, pulling you in.

“Maybe that’s why the maidens never left the maze.” He said. “Maybe they realised that his darkness was better than the cruel world who reduced their pure hearts and souls to being mere sacrifices.”

The night had gotten colder somehow. The wind had picked up, like it was about to rain. The fog clinging to the hedges was thicker now.

“Stay with me.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s chaos out there. Stay here with me.”

You sniffled quietly. “I’m scared, Buck.”

The rain came then. Light drizzle, then slowly getting heavier. Bucky pulled you to the nearest alcove and kept you safe and warm between the stone wall and his muscular body, sheltering you from the rain.

“I’m here.” He reassured you.

“I’m scared.” You repeated, holding onto him like he was the only thing you’d ever hold.

Bucky pressed his lips against your forehead, “I know, baby. I know.” He murmured. “But I see you. You'll never have to pretend with me. I know you’re tired, of fighting, of being good and getting nothing in return. It’s okay to stop, baby. We’ll never have to fight or kill again.” He sounded hopeful. “We’ll be happy here.” So hopeful, and pure that it hurt. “I’m here, doll. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t help but kiss him. Bucky kissed you back ferociously, like he’d held back all those times before, but now he no longer could. His hands wandered, pulling your dress up quickly as he knelt in front of you before you could even process it.

He pressed his lips to your inner thighs, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers lowered your underwear down to your ankles. You stepped out of it as his mouth got closer and closer to your dripping core.

“Bucky…” You sighed, as you felt his breath against your wet folds. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft hair, as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you squirm in pleasure, your back digging into the stone wall of the alcove.

His tongue slid up and down your folds, teasing your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. “So fucking good,” He whispered, hands caressing and groping your thighs as he ate you out. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit.

He parted your legs further as he slowly brought a metal finger up to your clit, watching it sliding agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his cold touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a metal finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. “Please…” You begged, wanting more.

Lips brushing against your wetness he asked, “Will you promise to stay here with me? Forever?” He growled as you kept whining and squirming under his addicting touch, “Answer me.”

“Yes…” You whispered, breathless and wanting. “Yes, I will.” You moaned.

He smirked against your wet skin before standing back up, enjoying the way you whined in protest. “You’re mine.” He said.

You whined again, “Bucky, please…”

He chuckled and undid his pants before picking you up and kissing you deeply as he pinned you to the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock briefly brushed against your wet folds, making you shiver at the brief contact.

You couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Moaning into the kiss you said, “Bucky please,” You begged, “I need you. I need you… please.” You whispered.

Bucky kissed down your neck, peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you. His fingers digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours holding on to his shoulders as he filled you up nicely.

“This is all you wanted? Hmm?” He groaned, moving just the slightest bit. “You’re so perfect, baby.”

He held you up against him as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You’ll always be mine.” He growled, “And we’ll be happy forever here.”

Behind him, just beyond the shelter of the alcove, the rain was getting heavier. Louder. But with your heartbeats echoing in your ears you could barely focus on it.

You whined just a little louder this time and his mouth soon found yours again. He nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths as he kept fucking into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls perfectly.

Bucky nibbled on the skin under your ear and you lost it. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was his body and his cock inside of you.

You whimpered, “Can I please come?”

“Go on, baby.” He mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “Come all over my cock,” He spoke, fucking you harder and deeper.

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you and it was hard to even think coherently.

He quickened his pace, whispering, “Mine… ” in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the stone wall with each thrust.

You could hear the sounds of your skin slapping against each other over the heavy rain. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, now pounding into you mercilessly.

“Come for me, doll.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, whining and whimpering. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck and a strained moan escaping your mouth as you came hard. More tears streaming down your face.

He came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning into your ear when he felt your walls clenching violently around him.

He didn’t pull out immediately. He just kept his cock carefully buried in you. He relished your warmth and leaned in to kiss you again, passionately, much more gentle than before. “I’ve got you,” He murmured. “You’re safe with me.”

The epiphany of it all made you unable to stand on your two feet for too long. You briefly remembered Bucky carrying you all the way out of the maze, into the house and up the stairs.

You fully came back to your own body only after Bucky had submerged you in a warm bath. With him seated behind you and caressing your spent body.

“Are you okay, doll?”

You nodded, sitting with your back to his chest. “I’m okay.” You whispered.

Bucky’s hand rubbed your back in a soothing way that had you sighing in bliss. Then he said, “I’ll take you somewhere nice tomorrow.”

You smiled with your eyes closed, leaning into his touch. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“How many more secrets have you kept from me?”

He chuckled. “Enough that it would take you a lifetime to uncover them all.”

“You have a lot of faith in the durability of this relationship.” You teased.

“Hmm, I do.” He sighed as he left soft kisses all over the side of your face. Outside the rain was getting harsh and loud again. But here, everything was warm and perfect. “You can’t run from me.” He teased.

Couldn’t you? You sighed. Did you even want to anymore?

Maybe you would end up finding comfort in the darkness with him. In the familiarity of his arms. In the warmth of his touch and smiles. Hell, maybe you’d be willing to take the serum one day. But all that for later, being here was all that mattered right now.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, back pressing against his chest as you let him hold you.

A lifetime… yeah that didn’t sound too bad.

Bucky kissed your forehead as you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Safe, satisfied, and in his arms. He often dreamed of this. He kissed your forehead again as he smiled. He knew what you must be thinking about. He could almost hear it.

He knew you were having a slight hard time accepting all this, choosing it. The guilt would go away in time. He would do whatever it takes to help you adjust to your new life. And everything would be perfect then.

There was a small voice in his head that told him that he shouldn’t ignore the possibility that this could be a ruse. That you were playing along, trying to earn his trust, waiting for him to have his guard down so you could run from here.

Bucky smirked as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his arms firm around you as you both soaked in the last few moments of the warm water before it got cold.

He wasn’t stupid, and you were a very smart woman, so of course he’d thought about that possibility. And though he knew the chances of this being true were very slim, he couldn’t just sit and wait. Could he? That’s why he took all the precautions he could beforehand.

He made sure, even if you were to leave him and run back to what used to be your ‘normal’ lives, that there was nothing left for you to go back to.

There was no one left. Another secret of his, tucked away.

But he would always be here for you. Bucky turned his head and kissed your forehead again. He vowed to love you enough that, like the maidens in the myths, you’d never want to leave his maze either.

Fin.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #avenger!reader

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a-very-tired-jew · 7 months ago

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Conversations with a younger colleague about I/P conflict

In my department there is a grad student who is friendly with myself and a few others of the openly nerdy ecologists. We actively talk about anime, video games, TTRPGs, etc... We've also all collaborated on research together because we generally study the same thing, and being a grad student we are also letting them helm their own research to carve their own path. The research topic that links all of us is decomposition ecology.

Meaning, we study death, how it effects the environment, and all the things having to do with it. Often we have our own terms that we define and use, but we also work within the framework of various medical and legal definitions nationally and internationally. Recently this student has been talking to me about the I/P conflict because it has dominated their social media feed. Like many young adults, this is their first I/P conflict and their first exposure to anything regarding that region. As such, they have come to me to talk about things knowing that I am Jewish. Not out of maliciousness, but because I am the only person they talk to that has any sort of connection to it. Over these past months they have repeated the "genocide/Holocaust" rhetoric that we have seen Western Activists use to make the conflict the Worst Thing Ever. Our conversation went as follows: GS: I can't believe they're committing a Holocaust on them after what they went through. Me: How is it a Holocaust? GS: They're committing a genocide against the Palestinians. Me: They're not doing either one, but let's touch upon the first thing you said. How? GS: They're killing them in large numbers! Me: Oh...oh...that's not what made the Holocaust the Holocaust, you know that right? It was years of systematic dehumanization that culminated in what we know. There were death camps, torture, experimentation, and so much more than simple "killing in large numbers". GS: Damn public school education... Me: You didn't really go over it too much did you? GS: WWII was, like, a week I want to say. Me: *sigh* yeah, not surprised at all. GS: Okay, so a genocide then? Me: GS, what do we study? GS: Decomp Me: and that involves? GS: Death Me: One avenue of which is mass casualty events which a number of our friends have published on. GS: Yeah! I read those papers, they were really good. Me: They were, but do you remember conversations we had about them and what differentiates mass casualty events from one another? GS: Cause? Me: And...? GS: Shit. Intent. Me: Exactly. Has their been an official stated intent to commit any genocide? I mean, you've got the bigots in the government like Ben Givir and the shit they say, I'll give you that. But has the official stance been genocidal? GS: No. I don't think so. Me: What has it been? GS: To get the hostages back and get rid of Hamas. Me: Uh huh, and what has been Hamas's stated intent? GS: To kill Zionists. Me: And before 2017 when they changed the wording in their charter? GS: ah fuck...it's Jews isn't it? Me: Ding ding ding. GS: So that's why no one in the group has said it's a genocide... Me: Correct. Humanitarian crisis brought about by war? Yes. Mass casualty event? Certainly. But genocide? Well, there's a reason no one in our circle has endorsed the term. And remember, we're considered experts on death. GS: I got puppeted didn't I? Me: Yep. GS: Shit. The only reason this went so well is due to our friendship and mentor/mentee dynamic. They already trust me to not lead them astray, be informed, and address the holes in their knowledge. Hell, they help me be a better scientist as well with how they bring in new and novel techniques that I didn't know. But they're still getting a lot of their info from TikTok and IG, and they've talked about a lot of BS from those two particular apps these past few years. This is just the latest (they had a TikTok induced anti-GMO trend for a while, it was bad).

#jumblr #misinformation #I/P misinformation #Correct terminology #Death experts #Seriously - we have a precise definition for genocide and this ain't it

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 months ago

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This is random, but, could I request the bachelors (+sve guys) discovering the farmer's like, half vampire (dhampir) but hates having to feed on prey, but they biologically need to and are starving and need to snack on a person, but can't bring themselves to do it for whatever reason.

Or is that a bit too morbid for this blog?

Anyway, cheers op ✌️

I don't think this question is too morbid, dear anon, as I have previously posted on more grimmer topics such as *checking my masterlist* the reaction to children turning into pigeons, the reaction to Farmer's death and them as the walking dead in Crimson Baldlans- you get the point. So yeah, thanks for the ask, and enjoy ☺️💕

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors discover that Farmer is a dhampir and refuses to feed on blood:

Stardew Valley:

Alex:

Alex has been slipping Farmer his grandmother's baked goods for about a month now, just so they'll have something to eat! Skinny as a twig...

But once the athlete found out the truth... Now it's clear why his friend was refusing - they can only drink human blood. Isn't that right? He doesn't know the thing about vampires and stuff.

But Farmer will die without blood, and that's not allowed! Alex urges them to drink some of his blood so they don't faint from starvation.

And then he promises to work something out so that Farmer can eat normally and not feeling guilty.

Sebastian:

While Farmer was telling him about his origins, Sebastian stood still, fascinated by such news. His friend is half vampire, that's... pretty cool.

But quickly came out of his state of admiration when he heard from Farmer their refusal to feed on blood, not wanting to harm humans and animals. That's what the local emo was worried about.

It's good that Farmer is kind, but this refusal to eat could conversely drive them into a wild obsession with blood, where they'll attack every person they meet.

Sebby is willing to lend a helping hand while he looks for some alternative way of feeding. Yeah, that's right, Farmer. You need to drink. Don't argue.

Shane:

Huh, nice joke, he almost believes Farmer. ...It's a joke, right? Tell him it's just a dumb joke. Sigh, fuck...

What's Shane gonna do with Farmer now? A dhampir (or whatever it's called) refuses to drink blood and slowly dies.

He doesn't care what they think, they need to eat! He doesn't want to lose a friend.

Okay, look. Shane thinks Farmer should feed on him for now. Don't fucking look at him like that! They need food! Let's keep it that way for now, and then he'll find some alternative for Farmer.

Harvey:

Although the very information about Farmer's origins clearly shocked Harvey, he still doesn't feel anxious or afraid around them.

But denying your body food is a very bad idea. The doctor realises that Farmer has no desire to hurt anyone, but torturing themselves isn't an option either.

Hmm, how about a blood donation? If he donates blood in the bag, would that be a good alternative?

Or just let Farmer bite him in the neck right away? No, Harvey's not afraid of them and we trust them. Please, listen to him, Farmer. He's trying to help you. And everything's gonna be all right.

Sam:

Wow, Farmer really is half vampire?! That's awesome! Although... They look skinny and sickly, so maybe it's not so cool after all.

Man, you can't starve yourself! Isn't there any way to feed Farmer without hurting anyone?

Sammy scoured every forum on the internet to find useful information. There was nothing but descriptions in fictional universes (Damn...).

So the young guitarist held out his hand to them with one word, "Bite." Farmer is outraged, but Sam stands firm on his decision because he doesn't want his friend to starve to death.

Elliott:

So many novels and stories had been written about vampires, but Elliott had always thought it was fiction... Farmer disproved it by their mere existence.

Though the writer was burrowing with the urge to shower Farmer with questions about the life of a half-blood vampire and everything, their weakness was unsettling.

Abandoning blood drinking in the name of not wanting to harm living creatures? Noble, but no creature would last long without food, Elliott though, even non-humans.

So Elliott unbuttons his shirt collar in one fell swoop and dramatically cries out "Bite me!". Um, well, a little dramatic.

Stardew Valley Expanded:

Victor:

Victor nearly collapsed to the floor from the information he was being bombarded with. So Farmer's.... not human?

The spaghetti lover is certainly glad his friend isn't going to eat him, but... Starving themselves won't do any good either!

Farmer's looking pretty thin and pale back then, and they're clearly getting worse by the day due to their refusal to hunt and drink blood.

Victor will immediately begin a search for an alternative feeder for vampires and dhampires and while they search for an answer - Farmer can taste his blood. He's a little scared, but he won't leave his friend in the in trouble.

Magnus Rasmodius:

Magnus is surprised. No, not that vampires and dhampir existed, but that Farmer had managed to hide their origins from the wizard's keen eye. Usually he can see right through those who aren't human...

Well, since they have such a problem with blood, he will quickly organise food for them. There are people who volunteer to donate blood and-

No, don't even dare protest, Farmer! They realise that by refusing to eat naturally they are putting others in even greater danger! Do they know what vampires and dhampires are capable of when they're insane with hunger?!

That's right. Now, Magnus will continue to contact his colleagues to provide Farmer with help. No buts.

Lance:

Vampires are creatures not new to mages and adventurers, and exist quite peacefully with each other. That's why Lance wasn't surprised after Farmer revealed the truth to him.

But the adventurer's face was clearly concerned about Farmer's condition, for starving was a very bad idea, even if their motive was noble.

Until he finds someone among his colleagues who is a blood donor for peaceful vampires (yes, such a thing exists in Castle Village), the pink-haired man will make a cut on his hand with a dagger and give food to Farmer.

"Please don't argue, my friend. Because hunger will drive you mad.."

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley expanded #sve #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sve victor #sve lance #sdv wizard #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius #sdv headcanons #svw headcanons #thanks for the ask!

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bamboozledbird · 2 months ago

Text

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 6

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You go full Charlie Kelly and start to put all the pieces together. Stiles knows more than he lets on, but for some reason you trust him anyway.

A/N: check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Taglist: @eaterof-concrete, @m30wk1ttycat

You played and replayed the video at least a hundred times, over and over again, examining every poorly shot, grainy frame until your eyes burned. You were frantic—a rabbit, picking her den apart, ripping her fur out, searching for all the minute flaws and misplaced straw; a girl, chewing her cheek bloody, tearing at her tights, desperately looking for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t completely shatter her fragile grasp on reality.

It would be one thing if it was just the video. You could easily rationalize the video away; you’d seen enough fan-made edits of Buffy and Twilight to know that amateur editors were hardly amateurs anymore—but it wasn’t just the video. It was the video, and the gutted video clerk, and the mangled bus driver, and the severed woman with wolf fibers found her butchered corpse—all interconnected by one very furry, clawed, fanged… thing.

Rolling onto your back, you scrubbed at your eyes, fingers cruel and violent in their attempt to scour away images of blood, and death, and monsters. There had to be an explanation. A rational explanation. Your gaze reflexively drifted towards the charm bundle on your windowsill, propped up against a few of your favorite novels.

The books were old, spines creased and splitting at the corners from little fingers and a lot of love. They were your mom’s before they were yours; you read them together under the covers whenever it rained. For a long time, you kept them hidden away under your bed with all the other things that might crumble your brittle will, but the yellowing pages steeped in memories didn’t seem so haunting anymore. You were already halfway through the stack, consuming the faded ink like a fiend in the night. It was odd; there wasn’t much that had changed since now and then. Really, only one thing. It made sense, you supposed after some thought. Your childhood favorites: Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot novels, they were exactly the kind of thing a sheriff’s son would appreciate.

The largest book in the pile was your complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. You chewed on your lip, eyes tracing the elegant swoops and swirls illuminated on the spine. Words curled along your brainstem in time with the loops, breaking through the buzzing in your mind with quiet British flourish: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Your nose scrunched, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Surely, you hadn’t eliminated all logical explanations yet. Surely.

The metallic embellishments glinted at you, taunting you with their unmistakable presence and insistent reminder of your evening’s unavoidable ending. There was only one place to go for the improbable, after all; you just had to get past your pride and everything you believed to be true.

Before you could finish putting on your shoes, your dad found his way into your room. He lingered on the border of the black cherry floor. His stance was awkward, unsure of his footing, and you froze with your shoelace in hand. After a moment of stilted silence, he cleared his throat and loosened his tie from its chafing Windsor knot, “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out later than usual.”

Nodding, you tied your laces into neat bows and pulled the wrinkles in your tights straight, “Parent Teacher Conferences, right?”

“Mhm,” he paused and attempted a smile. The edges were stiff, as if his mouth had forgotten the movement, at least when directed at you, “Should I be worried?”

It was his attempt at a joke; you knew that. You still felt a flutter of anxiety. Despite Stiles’s reassurances, you weren't so cavalier about breaking the rules. “All A’s,” you finally said, quietly to your feet.

Your dad gave you a real smile; smaller than his previous attempt at playfulness, but this one was your favorite. He was proud. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at you with anything other than grief and unease. “That’s my girl.” He rapped his knuckles against your door frame and said, “There’s takeout money on the table. Don’t stay out too long; there’s a—”

“Curfew, I know.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and fiddled with the strap, “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t ask you where you were going. He never did. You weren't sure what that said about your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about it any longer than you had to. There were far more pressing things to dwell on.

Maggie was in her kitchen when you opened the door to her house. It was cozy, small; she'd inherited it from her mother when she passed years ago. There were still signs of her 70s nostalgia all over every room. The shag carpet was horrendous, but you kind of liked the color. The muted green almost looked like a bed of moss, like something out of a fairytale. You had your own key; you’d had one since you were old enough to be a latchkey kid—even though you were never really on your own for long. There was always someone around to help you with your homework, bake you brownies without getting shell in the batter, read you stories about far away places and imaginary worlds. You’d had a wonderful childhood until it ended; some people weren’t that lucky. You knew that you were fortunate to have twelve years of Rockwellian bliss; it was more than a lot of people got. Knowing, however, still didn’t make the after any easier.

“Want a scone?” Maggie’s head was buried in the oven, steam curling around her shoulders. She emerged with a tray of browned lumps in pink oven-mitted hands, “They're slightly burnt, but it’s not my fault. My timer betrayed me.”

You didn’t reply. You chewed on your lip and studied the plants hanging from the ceiling. The Angelica was in full bloom, little clusters of white fuzzy fireworks. The roots were supposed to ward off evil. You would’ve scoffed at the thought a week ago. Now, there was a lingering ‘what if’ you couldn’t shake.

You sighed quietly, the exhaustion rattling through your chest, and trailed your gaze to the next plant. Skullcaps were your favorite, not because they were supposed to induce visions, obviously; you liked the blossoms. The fluted periwinkle petals certainly looked magical. You picked a flower from the lowest stem and rolled it between your fingers, “You really believe in this shit, right?” You looked up from your hands and studied Maggie’s face carefully, “It’s not all a scam?”

The anticipated gasp carried through the kitchen, followed by the clang of a plonked baking sheet, “I resent the very implication.”

“I’m serious.” You stared at Maggie’s back, watching for any tell-tale signs of tension or rigidity, “Do you really believe that witches are real and wolfsbane can kill werewolves?”

“I will not be abused in my own home,” there was a lilt in Maggie’s voice, a flippancy that usually made your lips twitch into a smile, but Maggie's hand trembled and sent the scone on the edge of her spatula to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees and scooped the crumbling pieces into a pile with desperate hands, oddly frantic for something as silly as a dropped pastry.

You squatted next to her and rested your hands over Maggie’s until they stilled. “Mags,” you were quiet, gentle in your sweeping, but Maggie didn’t seem soothed by the clean floor.

Maggie’s chin lifted, but her eyes zeroed in on the tip of your nose instead of your eyes. “Babe.”

You gripped your knees, clinging to the caps with ragged nails and flexed knuckles, like your bones were the only solid thing left in the room. “Can you be serious for once in your life, please.” Your tongue went heavy, adhering to the floor of your mouth, effectively sealing everything else you couldn’t bring yourself to say: Please, I think I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how much longer I can white-knuckle it.

Maggie turned towards the counter carelessly, and her pinky brushed against the cookie sheet. She let out a sharp hiss through her teeth and shook her hand in the air. “Why does it matter?” Her words were muffled through the blistering finger in her mouth, “People buy what they want to buy.”

Your empathy was thinning and so was your patience. Your teeth gnashed, and you winced when your tongue got in the way. “I don’t give a shit about your delusional customers. You know what I mean.”

“See, ‘delusional,’” Maggie stuffed a scone into her mouth even though it was still steaming. Her eyes watered as she struggled to swallow the wad of blueberry and oatmeal lodged against the roof of her mouth. “Why are we even talking about this?” she said thickly, throat clogged with congealed crumbs and something skittish in her eyes. She bent over the sink and turned the water to cold; you weren't entirely sure if she was soothing the burns on her tongue or simply avoiding eye contact.

“There’s something happening here,” your voice trembled, much to your disdain, and you were further horrified by the stinging in your tear ducts, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Maggie’s head whipped towards you, wetting her hair and splattering her lenses with water droplets that dripped onto her nose, “You don’t have to do anything. That’s not your job.” She clutched your shoulders with desperate fingers, digging into your scapulae until it hurt, “Your job is to go to school, get good grades, and live happily ever after.”

You shook off her hands and wiped your nose against your shoulder, “Why won’t you just give me a straight answer?”

“Well, I am bi–”

“Maggie,” you struggled for words until there was only one left on your tongue, “please.”

A blank expression fell over her face, and then Maggie seemed to sink through the floor even though she was still standing. “Did you read the book?”

You could barely hear her. Your nose shriveled towards your brows, “What book?”

Her eyes shined with something; you couldn’t quite define it. There was a glimmer of remorse, but you couldn’t make out the rest. “‘Beacon Hills’ Bloodlines’.”

For a moment, you were too confused to be frustrated, “Not really.”

Confusion became bewilderment when Maggie left the kitchen without a word. She returned with a thick book; though, book wasn’t quite accurate. It was really a stack of pulp parchment barely held together with a piece of threaded twine. It looked older than the Bloodline’s journal; you could see a few pages sticking out from the others, and the spine was in desperate need of re-stitching. You reluctantly took the pages from Maggie’s hands after she shook it in your face a couple times.

Maggie was quiet when she finally spoke, “Read the journal.” She nodded towards the new book, “That too.”

You frowned at the cover and held it out in front of you like it was contaminated. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just tell me.”

Maggie looked at you, and the most peculiar sensation rolled down your spine. Maggie's eyes were so present, like a shotgun blast, like a meteor shower. Her voice wasn’t even close to loud, but it was just as piercing as her stare, “I made a promise; I have to keep at least part of it.”

Your forehead creased, “Wha...that’s even weirder. Are you fuckin’ Gandalf? Just say it.”

“Trust me,” Maggie’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you almost melted with relief, “there are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes and crammed the bound parchment into your bag, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

A cool hand cupped your cheek before you could leave. You grudgingly met Maggie’s gaze, adjusting your grip on the strap of your bag.

Maggie held onto your shoulders, a breath away from shaking you. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

You grimaced, “I–” A flash in Maggie’s eyes dried all the words on your tongue.

“Promise.”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

Maggie finally let you leave, and your feet felt heavier than they did when you walked into Maggie’s apartment. Your bag was heavier, so perhaps it wasn’t all an illusion. The guilt, however, was certainly playing a part in your sagging shoulders. You chewed on a thumbnail and slipped into the comfort of denial. It didn’t count as a broken promise if you didn’t really know what you were promising.

Your dad was still gone when you got home, and you were relieved. Solitude was your only comfort with all this dread chilling your blood. You weren't good with the unpredictable, not anymore. You tried to study it, the way you did with dead languages and theoretical physics, but the methodology wasn't clear. You just wished, for once, you were as scary as people believed.

There was one thing you could do—or rather two. One was on your desk, and the other was at the bottom of your bag.

You started with the journal, and your hair quickly became a nuisance. Every time you bowed your head to get a better look at the messy scrawl, wispy strands obscured your vision. You tied your hair back and nibbled on your lip, struggling to determine if a smudged loop was an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ They didn’t have computers in the 1800s, you knew that, but it wouldn’t have killed Maggie’s great-great-great-grandmother to quill with a little less ink. Neat cursive was hardly as taxing as cholera.

The pain at the base of your skull was unbearable by the time you made it through half of the entries. Your impatience was rapidly fraying, with yourself and with the lack of insight. Maybe, this was all an elaborate stall—or maybe Maggie really didn’t know anything.

You flopped back against your pillows and starfished your limbs across your bed until all your joints and muscles unkinked. “Fuck me.” Your eyes flicked down your legs, and you glowered at the journal. It was goading you, opened to the middle and sprawled across your thighs, staring at you and all your incompetence.

Your thumbs dug a trench in your skull as you tried to rub the throbbing out of your temples.

One more page. You could read one more page.

You flipped the page, careful with the crumbling corner. The parchment was cluttered with names and arrows; there were a few illustrations too, sketched portraits of the people memorialized on paper. It was inked chaos, but only one word stood out to you. In a large curling script, Hale was spread all over the complicated family tree. You gnawed on your lip and bent your head closer to the small description at the top of the page: The Hale pack founded Beacon Hills in 1856, saving the town from desolation with their wealth. The pack has several branches, extending across the state. They continue to be a prevalent force in their world.

The bloodlines were difficult to follow with all the different branches and untimely deaths. As far as you could tell, the line was documented all the way to 2002. There were a few different sets of handwriting; the style changed every few decades or so, and you flipped to the end of the family line just to check for Maggie’s chicken scratch. You didn’t find her handwriting, but you did notice something familiar on the last line. Derek Hale.

You knew, of course, that Derek would likely be included, but your breath hitched when your finger traced over the notation inscribed next to almost every single one of his family members’ names: Deceased: Arson. Laura Hale was still alive on the tree, and the thought of documenting her death—of giving her an end date —it stole all the air from your lungs.

Your eyes burned, and you quickly flipped back to the start of the Hale bloodline. A few dozen county death records later, the burning in your corneas was due to the strain of one too many computer searches. Still painful, but you much preferred blue light sting to the threat of tears. You focused on it, on the ache; it was so much quieter than all the thoughts fighting you for their turn. They were so loud, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, what they were trying to tell you—what they wanted you to believe.

Derek Hale couldn’t be a werewolf because that would mean werewolves were real, and if werewolves were real, how many other monsters were lurking in the dark? How many creatures from Maggie’s stories were waiting for someone to separate from the herd, biding their time until they could sink their teeth into human flesh?

There was only so much you could find online and in Maggie’s books. Certain secrets had yet to be written.

It was disturbingly easy to find out where Stiles lived. The receptionist at the Sheriff’s station was all too happy to give you his address when you gave her your name. You finally stumbled upon the one perk of being an infamous, pathetic half-orphan: blind faith.

His house was smaller than yours, and you were jealous. All the empty space just made the silence worse, you found. You could see a few spots where the paint was peeling when you got closer, and you smiled at the shoddy patch work. You wondered who tried to fix it. You hoped it was Stiles; you could see the paint in his hair, maybe smeared across his cheek from an ill-advised attempt to scratch his nose. It was adorable.

You knocked on the door and clutched Maggie’s books tighter to your chest. You’d expected Stiles to answer the door, but he didn’t. You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you that someone else would be home until Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, but you felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The Sheriff looked just as surprised to see you; at least, he had an actual reason.

“Oh.” You blinked and devolved into a monosyllabic moron, “Hi.”

Obviously, you knew Stiles was Sheriff Stilinski’s son, but for some reason the idea of them occupying the same place at the same time was dumbfounding. YOur mind couldn’t make sense of it. There was the Sheriff in one box, with all your grief, all your pain, and then there was Stiles. You didn’t fully know what was in his box, but you knew it was good.

“Hey, kid,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled through his confusion, “you okay? Did something—”

“I’mheretoseeStiles,” all your words were smooshed together in one big exhale.

The Sheriff looked even more confused for a moment, and then he gave you a little conspiratorial grin. “He’s up in his room. Go ahead.”

You nodded absently and followed him inside. You stopped thinking about the hefty pile of books in your arms when you noticed the slight limp in Sheriff Stilinski’s step. “Are you okay?”

The Sheriff followed your gaze and waved his hand, “It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.”

You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking for blood or something equally horrific. He had no reason to lie to you, but you’d gotten used to the worst case scenario. “You sure?”

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, “You sound like my son.”

You mouth ticked up slightly, “That’s not an answer.”

Sheriff Stilinski had a nice laugh, you thought. You grinned as his head shook with another rumbling chuckle. “Now you really sound like my son. I hope he hasn’t driven crazy too.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a little and smiled, “he’s alright.” Your voice dropped a little, like you were telling a secret, “More than, actually. He’s…good.”

The Sheriff looked surprised briefly, a spasm of disbelief, and then all the muscles in his face seemed to melt with fondness. “He is,” his voice was a bit gravelly when he spoke, like it got lodged halfway up his throat. He loved his son; it was obvious. You wondered if your dad ever looked like that when talked about you. You wondered if he even talked about you at all.

“Not a lot of people are,” you said quietly, looking down at your sneakers. The white wasn’t even white anymore. They were graying from years of stepping on your own feet, kicking car doors closed, tripping over asphalt. You weren't the kind of girl who could keep shoes clean; that was one thing about you that hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it felt like everything else had, and none of it was for the better.

Sheriff Stilinski waited until you looked up, and then he smiled at you, almost as fondly as before. “You are.”

You were overwhelmed with feeling, so close to an emotion you couldn’t name, but you knew you’d felt it before. Once upon a time, when parents were parents, and children were children.

The Sheriff rested his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. You were tipping into tearful, and you’d never been so grateful to hear Stiles’s voice.

“Dad, who’s—” Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the two of you. His jaw dangled, and it didn’t snap shut until his dad snorted. Stiles’s eye twitched, and you could see the reboot loading behind his eyes. You wholly understood the sentiment.

His brain regained function, and apparently all he could come up with was, “Hey.”

You grinned to yourself, a small secret smile at his predicament, and your hand cocked in a little wave, “Hey.”

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, “I’ll—I’m going to get something to eat.” Neither of you looked at him; you were too busy playing a strange staring contest with equally stupid looks on your faces.

Stiles recovered from his stupor once you were alone. His face settled into something bitter, stony at all the edges, irritation tucked into the creases. It was hardly the face you expected to see when you finally paid him a surprise visit.

Your brow curved, and you tried not to shrink in on yourself. “You look pissed.”

Stiles snorted and drummed his fingers against the railing, “Yeah, well, you’re in a perpetual state of pissiness, so we’ve all got problems.” You must have crumpled this time, at least a little bit, because his scowl thawed and his hands fell limply by his sides. “Sorry. That’s not��displaced aggression, it’s my sweet spot.”

You shrugged and smiled slightly, a little stiff, a lot amused, “You’re not exactly wrong.”

“Still.”

You played another game of eye-contact chicken, and Stiles scratched the back of his rapidly flushing neck. Your hair, still damp from the light drizzle, fell in front of your face as you tilted your head towards the stairs, “So, you gonna invite me up, or…”

He nodded a little too quickly and definitely too fervently, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”

“Pissed?” you smirked and adjusted your grip on your books, trekking up the stairs. Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, but he was smiling. He had a nice smile; it was big, loose—unrestrained in a way a lot of people were afraid to be. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return.

Stiles let out a profound sigh and shook his head, “It’s all Scott’s fault.” You shot him a dubious look as he pushed his bedroom door open for you. He shrugged, “If I only tell it with carefully selected parts of the story, it’s all his fault.”

Your mouth twitched. Your smile was small, but it peeled back a good deal of the person you thought you should be. So much so, there was a little you peeking underneath. “We can pretend it is. Just for today.”

Stiles’s throat bobbed with his swallow, and when he smiled back at you, slowly, fleetingly, but ever-so sweetly, you finally realized you were awkwardly standing in the middle of his room. Like an idiot.

His room was exactly what you expected, and that was…you didn’t realize that you knew him well enough to expect plaid bedding and posters of cringey emo bands that were heavily featured on most of your playlists.

His desk was cluttered with various books and papers, stacked with no apparent rhyme or reason. You recognized the bestiary he bought from Curio Killed the Cat; the burgundy and gold binding was striking against all his monochrome textbooks. There were a few papers poking out from the aged pages, printouts of something furry and familiar. Before you could get a better look, Stiles bustled past you, doing a quick but rather poor job of hiding his dirty laundry under his bed and behind his closet door.

Stiles was slightly out of breath when he finished, dropping onto the foot of his bed, “So…you stalkin’ me now?”

You rested your hip against his desk and hummed, “Seemed only fair.”

“Well,” his face split into a bright, infuriating grin, “I am flattered.”

“Shut up.” His grin widened, and you rolled your eyes, glaring at your bowed reflection in a chrome lamp on the edge of his desk. It was in grave need of a good dusting, along with most of the room. “You’re literally my only option.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I’m the one.” Stiles’s smirk was audible, and you sputtered.

Your ears were unnaturally hot, and so was the back of your neck. You meant to groan, wanted him to know just how unamusing you found him, but your throat failed you. Your complaint came out airy, huffy, and it trembled against your soft palate. Truthfully, it sounded awfully similar to a whine; you scowled at the sound and squeezed your books tighter to your chest, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ve reached my maximum capacity for bullshit.”

Long fingers circled around your wrist before you could go too far. They were blistering against your cool skin, but a shiver shuddered through your arm all the way to your skull.

“Don’t go,” Stiles hummed softly, close enough to warm the shell of your ear. “I owe you one, remember?”

You braved a look at him through your lashes, and he was smiling at you again; this one was nervous. He had forgotten, it seemed, to let go of your wrist until now. Stiles sat back down on his bed, and you absently brushed your fingers over the lingering sensation of his fingertips.

“Right,” you looked around the room and chewed on your bottom lip, “so…what was that whole thing with Derek Hale?”

Stiles paused. You could feel him watching you, studying you like one of his puzzles. “He needed a ride.”

You set your books on his desk, and Stiles nodded towards the chair in front of him. You hesitated before sitting down, feeling a bit like you were giving up the battlefield high ground, “You’re like…friends, then?”

“Absolutely not.” If the emphatic denial wasn’t enough to convince you, the violent shake of his head was telling enough. “Kind of wish he was dead, actually. It would solve so many problems.”

“So you don’t actually know him that well,” you murmured, sinking into the chair with all your hopes and plans.

Stiles’s neck craned as he studied your face, “Why?” You just looked at him, keeping your face impassive, and his eyes went a little buggy. “I know he looks dreamy, but that would be nothing but a nightmare for everyone involved. Trust me.”

Your face twisted, lips curling around the unsavory taste in your mouth. “I don’t—what was wrong with him yesterday?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but skepticism did look a lot like concern. “Stomach bug.”

You rolled your eyes. It would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, but you didn’t feel much like laughing now. You’d been a tick away from the edge ever since you realized that Lydia had been this close to being butchered by that thing.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining, “I’m not an idiot, okay. I know there’s something weird going on.” You looked up from your lap with sharp eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he’d see the desperation underneath, “And I know you know something about it.”

Stiles swallowed hard and twisted his fingers together, “I’m actually known for knowing nothing about anything. Ever.”

He flinched when you stood up abruptly. The chair rolled back into his desk and sent a few pencils to the floor. You glared at them, like they did it on purpose just to spite you, and your glower drifted towards the glint of citrine and garnet on the corner of his desk. “This.” You picked up the bestiary and tried to shake it in front of his face, but it was too heavy to do your frustration justice, “Why did you buy this?”

His eyes, miraculously, grew rounder, “I told you. D—”

“N’ D, I know, but I looked into it. This is real; it’s transcribed from a real Ancient Greek text.”

“...I like authenticity.” Stiles shrugged towards his fidgeting hands, “I take my craft seriously.”

Scoffing, you dropped the book on top of his bed, “So you’re saying you believe the whole mountain lion theory?”

“Well, obviously no—”

“Then what do you believe?” Your chest seethed with quick shallow breaths as you paced from one side of his room to the other, “Because I was looking through this genealogy line, and the Hales have been here before Beacon Hills was even Beacon Hills, and there’s a pattern of—hold on.”

You snatched Maggie’s journal off of his desk and flipped it open to the Hale family tree, bookmarked with the thick stack of county death reports you’d printed out. “Look, there’s a series of premature, violent deaths in their line directly after a series of animal attacks on the town, and then all of it just stopped a few generations before Derek’s mom became the head of the pa—”

You didn’t know when Stiles stood up, but he was in front of you now, stopping you in your tracks. He brushed his fingers through his short crop of hair and shook his head, “Hold on, okay. Take a breath—”

You didn’t hear him, not really. Truthfully, you didn’t even notice that he’d started talking. You shoved the pages closer to his face, and all your words rushed past your lips in one carved out breath, “And then it all started again after Laura Hale was killed, and she was found with wolf fibers on her body—”

Stiles’s brows flew towards his hairline, “How do you kno—”

“She became the head of the family after Talia died, right?” Your hair was as wild as your eyes after a series of urgent tugging, and you prayed to all the mythical gods in every game you’d ever played that you sounded saner than you looked. They might actually exist, after all. Who's to say that Selûne didn't exist in a world where werewolves did? “‘Cause she’s the oldest living, fully conscious relative, and then immediately after she's killed, the animal attacks start up again, like she was keeping something in-check.”

“Slow down.” Stiles gripped your shoulders. You were closer than either of you realized until you looked up and your noses were almost touching. He swallowed thickly and let go of you after a moment, taking a step back, “A couple of days ago you thought this was all bullshit.”

You chewed on your lip and your indecision, looking for something in his face. You didn’t know what, but you were pretty sure you found it when his mouth furrowed into a concerned frown. It was for you, you realized, not because of you. That was…a rarity in your life as of late. You didn’t hate it.

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket and opened the video from Lydia’s phone. “A couple of days ago I hadn't seen this,” you mumbled, shoving the phone into his hand.

Stiles looked at you for a moment longer and then pressed play. His face was unreadable, save for the small flinch when the beast shattered the store window, and you hated it. “Where did you get this?” Stiles finally said quietly. His voice was low and infected with something dire.

You rifled through your papers, something to keep your hands busy and your eyes off of the dark look on Stiles’s face, “Someone sent it to Lydia—it was a blocked number, so don’t ask who.”

“Did she—”

“I deleted it before she could.”

Neither of you needed to say it; you both knew Lydia was clinging to sanity by the skin of her perfect teeth. She couldn’t see the proof that the monster under her bed was real. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Good.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, looking so much older than sixteen, and he flickered his gaze to your face, “You can’t show this to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Besides Scott,” you retorted dryly.

Stiles almost smiled. There was a ghost of one hiding in the corners of his mouth, but it faded before it could materialize. “Believe me, he really doesn’t need any more proof. Delete it.”

He sighed at your scowl and tried again, “Please delete it.”

You shook your head and grabbed your phone from his hands, “Not until you tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stiles held up his hands and took a careful step towards you, “Really. I know as much as you do.”

You stared at him. You weren't sure if you were a good judge of character. You’d like to think you were, but it wasn’t like you spent a lot of time around other people. Even before you got trapped in your head, you really only had one friend, and you used to think you’d be friends with her for the rest of your lives. Maybe longer.

You’d been wrong before. You didn’t want to be wrong again.

Stiles reached for your hand, and you let him lace your fingers together. “I know how you feel. It sucks, and it’s kind of exciting, but mostly freakin’ terrifying—and all you need to know is that it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Your chin jerked in a rigid little nod. You softened slightly when he squeezed your hand. He wasn’t telling you everything; you were almost 100% certain of that, but you were also pretty sure he wasn’t lying. That was enough for you. For now.

“The file room,” you said quietly.

Stiles’s lips drew together into a little pucker, “What?”

“The evidence room with all the files,” you looked up at him, and the ember of hope was stoked in your eyes, “there’s probably more there.”

He bit down on his cheek, “I don’t know—”

You folded her arms over her chest, chin lifting in defiance, “You promised.”

Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his head. His smile was a little affectionate thing. He sighed and shook his head, “I promised.”

“Well, alright then.” Your shoulders relaxed, and you sat back down in his desk chair, “Middle of the night break-in, it’s a date.”

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagines

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gothamite-rambler · 14 days ago

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"I'd love some recommendations." Cass said sweetly.

Red Hood (Jason) paced slowly across the rooftop, anxiously checking the time on his phone as he waited for Orphan (Cassandra Cain) to arrive and help him with his mission to stop a group of drug runners.

Red Hood (connecting to Oracle on his communication device): Oracle, is she coming or not?

Oracle: She said she's close. Just be patient.

Red Hood: I know she likes to appear behind people at random, but she's usually on time.

As if on cue, Red Hood heard footsteps approaching from behind him.

Red Hood (smiling): 3… 2—

Orphan: Hi, Jason.

He turned to see her standing there, her bat suit gleaming under the moonlight, a hint of a smile on her face.

Red Hood: You’re late.

Orphan: I’m sorry! I got caught up in a book. I love it.

Red Hood (slightly intrigued): What book was it?

Orphan: A graphic novel—not a superhero story. It’s based on one of the books you read.

Red Hood: Which one?

Orphan: Pride and Prejudice. It’s an enthralling read. I’m guessing it might not hold a candle to the original, but… once our mission is done, do you think you could give me some suggestions?

Red Hood (taken aback): Really?

Orphan: Yeah! You’re quite the avid reader, and I trust you have the best recommendations.

Red Hood quietly cheered, relieved that he has his mask on to hide his grin.

Orphan (bemused): You okay?

Red Hood: Mm-hm.

Barbara, on the comms, interrupts: That is so cute!

Red Hood: Damn it, Oracle!

He covered his mask, embarrassment flooding him. Orphan giggled, giving Jason a playful punch on his arm.

Orphan: She’s just messing with you. You can give me your answer after our mission, but I have a feeling you’ll say yes.

With that, Orphan heads to the edge to scout the gang below.

Red Hood (in his head): She wants book recommendations from me? This is a strange... happy sensation I haven’t felt in a while. Why is she so adorable?!

Barbara: Jacey, only you can hear me, and I just wanted to say again: Awww! You better not say no to her, and not just because she could kick your ass.

Red Hood: Oh my God, piss off!

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skateordiebitch · 14 days ago

Text

BALCONY BLUES || D.F. x reader

summary: you and dominic are neighbors. you like to read books on your balcony, he likes to smoke cigarettes. you like quiet nights in, he likes to throw parties. but, as they say... opposites attract.

there's a little more than just neighborly affection brewing.

word count: 4.6k (damn)

me when i sit on my balcony and daydream....... that's how this story was born. and honestly i love it it's so cute. oh, to have a dominic fike stare at me from his balcony. anyways, enjoy! i only have like two more requests to do, so pls feel free to send moreeee <3

When you moved to California, you were looking forward to the quiet. Your apartment was modest, tucked into a complex that overlooked the ocean, with a small balcony you’d already claimed as your reading spot.

You’d imagined peaceful weekends spent with a book and the distant crash of waves.

It was exactly what you’d hoped for—except for one small complication: your neighbor, Dominic.

He was the opposite of what you were aiming for with your calm, coastal move. He had this habit of throwing loud parties every weekend, the music thumping through the walls and spilling out onto his balcony, the place he seemed to live when he was home.

You noticed him on your first day, leaned back against the railing, a cigarette in hand, looking every bit like he owned the place.

And while you were trying your best to ignore him, you couldn’t quite deny the strange spark of interest you felt every time he looked your way.

The two of you didn’t speak at first, not beyond the nods and the polite “hey” when you’d cross paths. Still, you felt his presence, especially in the evenings when you’d be on your balcony, tucked into a chair with your latest book, and he’d be out there too, leaning over the railing and occasionally glancing over.

He didn’t try to hide it either.

Dominic looked at you openly, sometimes with the faintest hint of a smirk, like he was waiting for you to call him out. But you never did.

You just kept reading, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

One night, when his usual party music pulsed into your living room, you sighed and headed out to your balcony, hoping for a quiet escape.

But of course, there he was, leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling from his fingers, his eyes catching yours the moment you stepped outside.

"Well, hello, new neighbor," he said, flashing a grin. "What brings you to our quiet little paradise?"

You looked around, taking in the party remnants still strewn across his balcony—a few empty bottles, a speaker, a crumpled shirt tossed over a chair. The place screamed not quiet. You quirked a brow, a little smirk forming.

"Quiet, huh?"

He laughed, unbothered by the observation. "What, you don’t like a little excitement?"

"Excitement’s fine. But I’m more of a ‘book and movie’ person than a ‘dancing til' midnight’ one," you replied, holding up the novel you’d brought out with you.

He leaned on the railing, flicking ash from his cigarette, clearly intrigued. "Let me guess, you’re one of those mysterious types, huh? All books, all quiet moments." He nodded toward your book, lips twisting into a teasing smile. "How romantic."

You rolled your eyes. "And you’re what? The loud, overconfident neighbor I have to put up with?"

He held his hands up, feigning innocence. "Hey, don’t judge me yet. I’ve been known to read, too, you know. Once or twice."

“Oh really?” you shot back, holding back a laugh. “What’s the last book you read?”

He laughed again, a little sheepish. “Alright, maybe it’s been a while. But if you’re up for sharing, maybe I could get into reading again.”

You scoffed. “I’d bet you’d fall asleep halfway through.”

“That a challenge?” His eyebrows lifted playfully. “Because I don’t back down from those. Trust me, new neighbor.”

—

From that night on, you fell into a routine.

Most evenings, you’d come out with a book, and like clockwork, Dominic would make his way onto his balcony too. Sometimes he’d chat with you, other times he’d just sit there, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking.

And little by little, you found yourself looking forward to those evenings—the way his voice drifted over, soft in the night air, and the way his laughter made your pulse quicken just a bit.

His weekend parties became something you learned to live with, even if they did get under your skin sometimes.

But every now and then, in the middle of a particularly loud song or a burst of laughter from his friends, you’d catch him looking at you across the balcony, like he was daring you to join in.

—

Then one afternoon, you were lost in a book on your balcony when you heard a knock at your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Dominic standing there, hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face.

“I noticed you’re not at your usual spot,” he said, nodding toward his own balcony. “Figured you might be taking a break from the whole… ‘reading alone’ thing.”

“Maybe,” you replied, crossing your arms. “And you decided to do what? Invite me to a party?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Actually, no. I was thinking of taking a walk down by the beach. Thought you might want to come along.”

You hesitated. He could be loud and a little obnoxious, and part of you still wanted that peaceful, book-filled weekend. But there was another part of you—a part that was curious, intrigued by the casual confidence with which he invited you out.

“Alright,” you said, trying not to smile too widely. “A walk. But if you bring out the speakers, I’m going back inside.”

He grinned, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he stepped back to let you grab your jacket. The walk to the beach was quiet, the two of you falling into a rhythm as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

The silence was nice, comfortable in a way that you hadn’t expected, and by the time you reached the water, you found yourself relaxing around him.

“This is your spot, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the waves.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve seen you down here a few times,” he admitted, his gaze steady, his tone quieter than usual. “You look… at home here.”

“Guess I do,” you said, shrugging. “I moved here for the quiet. Thought California would be, I don’t know… peaceful.”

He laughed. “… And then you got me as a neighbor. Must feel like a curse sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you teased, though your smile softened as he looked at you. “But… maybe not all the time.”

The moment stretched out, your heart fluttering as his gaze held yours.

He was different in this quiet, sunset-lit setting, his usual confidence tempered by something softer, more thoughtful. And for the first time, you felt like you were seeing him—really seeing him—beyond the parties and the noise.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted.

He’d come out onto his balcony when you were reading, asking about your latest book or bringing you coffee on lazy Sunday mornings. Sometimes you’d go for another walk along the shore, talking about everything and nothing as the sun set around you.

The weeks slipped by, and soon enough, you were finding reasons to spend more and more time with him.

He’d come over for impromptu dinners, always bringing some wild story or teasing comment. Sometimes, you’d even venture onto his balcony, sitting with him in the aftermath of his parties, listening to him ramble about his friends or music or whatever he was passionate about that night.

—

Dominic had a way of showing up unannounced, and you never minded.

His knock on the door was always followed by that grin of his—half apologetic, half mischievous—like he’d just had an idea to make the night more interesting.

And every time, you’d find yourself saying yes to whatever spontaneous plan he had, even if it was just an impromptu dinner.

He was leaning against your doorframe when you opened it one evening, a takeout bag in hand, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Hey, I brought Chinese. And I have a crazy story about Reed at the bar last night, and I swear he’s convinced he’s been haunted by a ghost for three days. It’s a mess."

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. "You’re really the only person I know who could make a simple dinner into an event."

"That’s because I’m here for the drama," he said with a wink, strolling into your apartment as if it was his second home, which, at this point, it practically was.

Dinner was a laid-back affair, the two of you perched on the couch, tossing back takeout containers and halfheartedly watching a movie you weren’t really paying attention to.

Most of the time, it was like that with Dominic—more about the company than the activity.

You barely noticed when the food ran out or the movie ended. You were too caught up in his stories, his hands gesturing wildly as he described whatever outrageous thing had happened to him that day.

At one point, you had to pause him mid-story. "Wait," you interrupted, smirking. "You’re telling me Reed thinks a ghost followed him home from a Halloween party last year?"

He nodded, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "He was practically in tears. I swear, he won’t leave his apartment alone now. I had to convince him the ghost probably has better things to do than haunt a guy who wears socks with sandals."

You burst into laughter, and Dominic joined in, his carefree chuckle filling the room like it always did.

The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence, with only the sound of music softly playing from the speakers.

You leaned back on the couch, your feet tucked underneath you, and found yourself staring at Dominic.

It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed how effortlessly attractive he was, but tonight, it hit you in a different way. His scruffy hair was falling into his eyes, and his lips—those damn lips—had a playful smirk that made you wonder how you hadn’t kissed him yet.

But you couldn't quite figure out why you hadn’t. It was complicated, like everything with Dominic always seemed to be.

You cleared your throat, brushing away the thought.

"You know," you said, pulling your legs up onto the couch, "I didn’t expect you to be one for spontaneous dinners. I thought you were more of the ‘grab a burger on the way home’ kind of guy."

Dominic grinned, stretching his arm along the back of the couch casually. "I am," he said, "but sometimes it's nice to get out of my own head. And when I can’t convince my friends to have dinner with me, I come to you." His gaze softened for a moment, and his voice dropped slightly. "You’re the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m the chaos walking through the door."

Your heart did a little flip at his words. "I like the chaos," you replied, your voice quieter than before.

Dominic tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something he didn’t usually let slip in front of others.

But before either of you could say anything more, he pushed up from the couch, grabbing his jacket and the empty food containers.

"I think I’m gonna head to my balcony," he said casually, giving you a sideways glance. "Wanna join? It's not exactly a party, but... it's the best view in the building."

You nodded, feeling an involuntary smile tug at your lips. "Yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a second."

The balcony was quieter than usual tonight—no party chaos, no loud music or chattering voices. Just the sound of distant cars and the occasional crash of waves from the beach below.

Dominic leaned against the railing, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he stared out at the city lights. You stood beside him, your arms crossed over your chest, just watching him, feeling that familiar tension settle between you.

"You know," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence, "I love this view. But I think I might like it more when you're out here with me."

His words were soft, genuine, and for a moment, he wasn’t Dominic, the wild party host. He was just a guy, caught in the same quiet moment you were.

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was joking or serious, but the look in his eyes was so sincere it made your chest tighten. "You’re full of surprises, you know that?"

He laughed, exhaling a puff of smoke and brushing it aside. "I try to be. Life’s better when you’re unpredictable."

"Yeah, but," you added with a teasing smile, "you’re the only one who doesn’t have a filter. Makes things interesting."

He turned to face you, his posture relaxed but his expression more serious now, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "It’s easy with you. You don’t try to make sense of everything I do. You just let me be... me."

You felt your heart race a little faster, his words hitting somewhere deeper than you expected. You nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. "I think that's what I like most about you."

The silence stretched between you, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. It felt... right.

Dominic took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it into the ashtray. Then he took a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. "I don’t say it much, but I’m glad you’re here," he said softly.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. "Me too."

The night stretched on in a haze of quiet conversation and stolen glances.

And as you sat together on his balcony, you knew this wasn’t just another casual hangout—it was something more. Something you weren’t quite ready to label, but couldn’t deny was happening between the two of you.

Slowly, but surely.

—

And then on one Friday, you’d just settled into a new novel when Dominic leaned over, his elbows resting on the railing. "So, big plans for the weekend?" he asked, flashing that familiar smile.

You shrugged. "Same as always. Just me, my book, and TV.”

He feigned shock. "No wild plans? No... secret parties in there?" He nodded toward your apartment, his voice teasing.

"Some of us enjoy a peaceful life," you shot back. "Not everyone throws ragers every Friday night."

"Ouch. You wound me," he said, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "But, hey, just for the record, tonight’s party’s invitation-only. But I could make an exception."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Sorry to disappoint. I don’t think I’d fit in with your crowd."

"Oh, I don’t know," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "You might surprise yourself."

“I haven’t been to a party in ages, Dom,” You say, watching him spark with even more excitement.

“Perfect! Then you’re coming to mine.”

—

You had no intention of actually attending Dominic's party.

But somehow, your friends that were invited had convinced you to tag along, and now you were here, tucked against a wall in his dimly lit apartment.

Watching the lively crowd fill every corner of his place, music pulsed through the walls, echoing off the high ceilings, and the familiar scent of Dominic’s cologne mingled with the laughter and voices all around.

You were handed three shots of tequila, back to back, and now permanently glued to the corner, away from the chaos.

You hadn’t even expected Dominic to notice you were here, but just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you felt a hand gently press against the small of your back.

You turned, and there he was—his grin wide, his eyes lighting up the moment they met yours.

"Well, look who finally made it to one of my parties," he said, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. His voice was low, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "And here I thought you were all talk about being ‘too quiet’ for nights like this."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "I’m just here to make sure your guests don’t destroy the building!”

"Oh, so you’re keeping an eye on me, huh?" His hand lingered on your back, his fingers tracing small circles there. His touch was warm, grounding in a way that felt electric and impossible to ignore. "You’re cute when you’re pretending not to have fun."

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Who says I’m pretending?"

He hands you another shot as he pours himself another one; And from the looks of it, he’s had way more than you.

“Cheers! To… whatever we got going on here,” He says, as you raise the shot glass.

“To whatever we got going on,” The two of you laugh as you feel that god-awful stinging sensation travel down your throat.

“This is the most I’ve drank in a long time!” You giggle, “I forgot how fun this is!”

“Mhm, so maybe you should come to these more often, then.”

“Maybe…” You say as you watch him stare into your eyes and then looking at you, up and down, “Stop staring at me!” You laugh.

He chuckled, slipping his other hand around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “It’s so hard to not stare you when you look this good.”

Your face flushed under his gaze, the teasing glint in his eye sending a shiver through you.

“I thought you wouldn’t even notice my existence at these things,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant even as your pulse quickened.

“Oh, trust me. I always notice you,” he murmured, his voice lower now, meant just for you. His eyes were intense, his gaze tracing your face, lingering on your lips before he met your eyes again. “And tonight? You’re making it really hard not to.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the minimal space between you and Dominic.

It was thrilling, that tension lingering in the air, as if the two of you were the only people in the room. And then he leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur near your ear.

"Can I get you another drink? Or would that just give me another excuse to stay by your side?"

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. "Maybe that’s what I was hoping for."

A look of surprise flickered across his face, and then his lips pulled into a smirk, clearly delighted by your response.

He didn’t move away as his hand slid down to rest at your waist, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your eyes met his, daring him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Something shifted in his expression then, a flicker of heat, of something more.

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel his warmth seeping into you.

The room, the crowd, everything else seemed to fade into the background as he looked down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile that was equal parts flirtatious and dangerous.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips close to your ear. “You know, I was starting to think you’d never come to one of these,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But now that you’re here… I don’t think I’ll let you out of my sight.”

You let out a breathy laugh, trying to keep your cool despite the way he was looking at you. “I thought you had a hundred guests to entertain.”

“Oh, I do.” He flashed you a grin, leaning in closer. “But none of them are you.”

His hands slipped around your waist, guiding you into the flow of the party.

He kept you close, weaving through the crowd with a protective edge, and you couldn’t help but notice the way other people glanced over, curiosity and maybe even a little envy in their eyes.

Dominic, however, didn’t seem to care about anyone else—he only had eyes for you.

He led you out to the balcony, where the cool night air hit your skin and gave you both a moment to breathe. He leaned against the railing, his gaze never leaving you as you looked out at the city lights.

You turned to face him, realizing how close you still were. He didn’t back up, didn’t pull away.

His hand brushed your cheek, and there was something softer in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat.

"You truly are full of surprises, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb tracing lightly over your cheekbone.

"I could say— have said— the same about you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, caught between a smile and something more. The playful banter was gone now, replaced by a feeling that felt so much heavier, more real.

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to your lips, and then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and soft, yet brimming with restrained intensity.

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck, holding you close, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into his shirt as he deepened the kiss, each moment igniting something new between you.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, his hand still tangled in your hair.

"I knew this would be bad for me,” he murmured, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers over his chest. "Then why did you invite me?"

"Because I like you too much to watch you from a distance,” he whispered, his voice warm with laughter as he brought you close again, kissing you with a hunger that felt like the beginning of something neither of you could deny anymore.

The kiss lingered between you, each soft press of his lips against yours a reminder of how close you had become, how suddenly everything seemed to shift.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the noise of the party still thumping faintly in the distance, but here, in this quiet moment on the balcony, it was as though time had stopped.

Dominic pulled back slightly, his breath warm on your lips as he whispered, "I didn’t expect this to happen tonight… but I’m not complaining."

You blinked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Neither am I," you murmured, your voice almost a breathless laugh.

He ran his thumb gently over your lower lip, his eyes studying you with that mix of curiosity and desire that made your pulse race again. "You know, I think I’ve been waiting for this longer than I realized."

You tilted your head, searching his gaze for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. Just raw, unfiltered honesty. "For me?" you asked, not fully believing it.

His smile was small but undeniably sincere. "Yeah. You’ve always had a way of keeping me on my toes," he admitted. His hand slid down to yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "I’ve wanted to see what would happen if we were ever this close."

And there it was—he hadn’t been hiding anything, hadn’t been pretending. There was no act, no facade; it was just the two of you, standing on a balcony, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air.

"I didn’t think you’d want to be this close," you replied quietly, your thumb tracing the lines of his hand.

"Why’s that?" His brow furrowed slightly, and there was a hint of playful challenge in his tone.

You shrugged, feeling the vulnerability of the moment. "You’re Dominic. You’re cool and you throw these annoying parties. You don’t seem like the type to chase something… real."

He gave a soft laugh, pulling you just a little closer, his body brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "And what does that mean? You think I’m just some guy who doesn’t know what he wants?"

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared, replaced by something more earnest. "No. I just think you’re used to people coming onto you, not the other way around."

Dominic’s gaze softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. "Maybe I’m not as good at playing it cool as I want everyone to think."

You raised an eyebrow at that. "So what does that make me? Your secret weakness?"

He grinned, the playful edge returning to his voice. "Maybe. But if I’m being honest, I think it’s more than that."

The way he said it, with so much confidence, made your chest tighten.

There was something about him tonight, something different from the confident, aloof Dominic everyone else saw. In this moment, he was just a guy, a guy who wanted something from you, something more than just the usual game he played.

"Do you want to go back inside?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn’t know why, but the thought of being back in the crowded apartment suddenly felt less appealing, the contrast between the chaotic party and the quiet intimacy of the moment stark.

Dominic’s lips quirked into a half-smile, the heat in his gaze never leaving you. "I think I’d rather stay out here… unless you want to change your mind."

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head. "I’m more than fine out here."

He leaned in again, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the only sound was the quiet rustle of the night air and the distant murmur of the party.

"Good," he said softly. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

You felt your heart skip a beat, not from fear, but from something that was beginning to feel like anticipation, something that held more weight than just the chemistry between you.

Maybe it wasn’t just the kiss or the way his touch made you feel, but the realization that something was beginning to take root here, between you and him.

Dominic's hand still rested against your waist, his thumb lightly grazing your skin as he studied you. "You know, I’m not usually this... honest. But with you, I can’t help it."

You looked up at him, your gaze softening. "Maybe I’m starting to feel the same way."

He smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips. "I’m glad. Because I think we’ve both been pretending long enough."

You laughed lightly, unable to hide the way your heart was racing. "Pretending, huh? Well, now that we’ve admitted it, what do we do next?"

Dominic’s eyes darkened slightly, a shift in his demeanor as he tilted his head, his gaze lingering on your lips again. "Next? We stop pretending."

And with that, he kissed you again, deeper this time, with none of the hesitations or uncertainties that had been there before.

The world outside the balcony faded completely, and all you could feel was the heat of his kiss, the press of his body against yours, and the undeniable pull between you two.

It was clear now—there was no turning back.

The night, the party, the teasing, the banter… it was all just a prelude to this. To the moment when everything shifted and you both let go of the distance you’d been keeping between you.

Dominic pulled away just enough to look at you, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "You’re trouble," he murmured.

"Right back at you," you replied, your voice breathless, your heart still racing.

He laughed softly, and for the first time that night, it wasn’t just a playful sound—it was full of something real, something meaningful.

The rest of the world could wait.

#dominic fike #euphoria #dominic fike fan fiction #dom fike #elliot euphoria #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike x reader #my writing #dominic fike x you #fanfiction #fiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #requests open

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absolutebl · 3 months ago

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i just finished the novel origin of on1y one and. holy shit it was so good?? its definitely making me appreciate the adaptation in a different way cause it definitely is very different--but wow im just happy that it is on screen. i just had to tell someone because i love both now (no one else i know watches bl), and im excited to see how the show handles certain parts of it. they're both so sweet and make me wanna cry lol. we are definitely in for a ride with the show

The On1y One

I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER THS SHOW.

These are my notes from this week, unfiltered stream of consciousness style (before i get my shizz together for tomorrow's weekly summation). I feel like you opened the door with this ask so..... GAH..... ready?

Shut up it’s so good.

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

I can’t take how awesome this damn show is.

The whole series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

I love baby testing his power using that edge of spoiled princes but just pushing until all secrets are revealed. Then they are both so smug.

There is this juxtaposition of

the kid who self isolates too easily because it is in his nature to be solitary versus the one who has been forced into isolation and knows he should to stop trusting but can’t because it’s in his nature to trust (and be hurt) over and over again.

And then both of them are smart enough to know what it is they do and why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop.

The whole show is simultaneously undercut and supported by this one theme that is also the title

These two not only can but must let the other one in, so they can cling to each other. Because that's safety. Neither would betray the other since they've both been the one betrayed by their own parents.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future. That is so painfully real to watch play out on the screen. This show hurts my heart.

Also how happy they both are once they realize they get to be each other's person.

WHY IS THIS SO GOOD!!!!????

Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence.

May one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is real romance.

#production better stick the second half of this show!#it better be the world against them from here on out #or the audience is gonna feel betrayed

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lalune9x · 2 months ago

Text

SCTIR Translation - Chapter 469: Selfish

One of my favorite chapters in the entire novel.

"What does that Sung Hyunje dislike so much about me?" I asked. "…Excuse me?" "Every time I start getting attached, it’s like he’s been waiting and he suddenly—" I quickly covered Han Gyeol’s ears. "—pulls some crap like this!"

Chapter translation under the cut.

---

Anyway, this made it clear. I turned away from Sung Hyunje and pushed the glass door open. I needed to tell Director Song about Chloe’s rank and stop her. There was no reason to just let her go with a simple goodbye. If we held onto Chloe, her side would probably contact us. Regardless of their good intentions or whatever, at the very least, they needed to release the skill Park Hayul had cast on me. You can’t use someone like that and walk away pretending nothing happened.

I walked along the quiet hallway. Sung Hyunje didn’t follow. My stomach churned, and I stopped walking.

“…Gyeol-ah, do you want to go ahead first?”

— 'No.'

I couldn’t smoke in front of the kid. Instead, I leaned against the wall and stood still for a moment.

‘I’m much better now than I was before.’

But what if it had been the me from before the regression? If I were still just the F-rank Han Yoojin, Chloe wouldn’t have said she disliked me. On the contrary, instead of paying attention to the rumors swirling around me, she might have taken notice of the F-rank hunter struggling to survive.

‘…In the end, all I accomplished was hearing things I was better off not knowing.’

She said she’d planned to tell me everything. Actually no, she said she’d tell me before leaving the country. If I’d heard it then, it would have been harder for me to react. So why did she confess now? Ah, did she realize during my conversation with Sung Hyunje that I was onto her? Maybe because I’d been questioning if he’d joined forces with the other side.

‘Then I should act quickly now.’

She said she would resist. Didn’t that mean she planned to run away? What was Chloe’s skill again? Since her broadcasts were focused on low- to mid-level dungeons, her abilities hadn’t been properly revealed. The content mainly focused on survival or raiding strategy, minimizing reliance on her higher-ranked hunter skills as much as possible.

I started walking again. The lounge was still a ways off, but someone was standing in the hallway.

"…Director Song."

It was Song Taewon. Did he come because he was worried? After all, I was an F-rank and Chloe was a high-rank Hunter. Suddenly, I remembered what Sung Hyunje said about trusting me or whatever. Maybe it wasn’t me he trusted, but Director Song.

"Han Yoojin-ssi."

“I got rejected, just as expected.”

Director Song’s expression faltered at my words. Or no, he seemed startled by the look on my face.

“…I apologize. I’m not very good at comforting people in these matters,” he said.

"No, I’m fine."

He didn’t seem to believe me.

"More importantly, did Chloe-ssi return to the lounge?" I asked.

"She didn’t come this way."

"What?"

"She took a different hallway. Since she was alone, I didn’t stop her. Is there a problem?" Director Song asked.

I froze for a moment, then ran a hand down my face. Of course. Why would she stick around when she wasn’t even a member of the Burn Cave Guild? She would have tried to hide as soon as she realized she was exposed. Why had I just stood there watching her walk away? Damn it, I was really…

"I’ll go call the others,” Director Song said.

I grabbed his sleeve as he hurriedly turned around, probably misunderstanding my expression.

"No, that’s not it. It’s not that. I just… feel like I’ve been acting foolishly. And now isn’t the time for me to be doing that.”

“…I think it’s fine for you to focus on dating.”

"…Pardon?"

"I think it’s alright to allow yourself that much freedom,” Director Song said seriously.

“I don’t think you’re the right person to say that, Director Song.”

"I am a public official."

"Just because you’ve got a rock-steady government job doesn’t mean your body’s made of steel too, you know?"

"I am also an S-rank,” he pointed out.

“In any case, I never dreamed I’d hear you give advice about having the freedom to date, Director Song.”

For some reason, I couldn’t help but laugh. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. There was little chance of catching Chloe now, even if I chased her. It would be better to wait until she came to receive Sung Hyunje’s reply. Assuming Sung Hyunje would cooperate, of course.

“Didn’t you used to dislike me, Director Song?” I asked.

"I was only worried."

“Then please sit down. My neck is going to cramp up.”

I patted the carpeted floor beside me. After a moment’s hesitation, Song Taewon sat down next to me. Freedom, huh? Sure, freedom is good. Though now wasn’t really the time to indulge in it.

"I can’t figure out what Sung Hyunje is thinking,” I said.

"I’ve watched him for nearly four years, and I still don’t know,’ Director Song replied.

"If I were an S-rank, I’d have grabbed him by the collar and shaken him a hundred times by now.”

"If I may offer advice, think of him as a natural disaster. Like being unlucky enough to be struck by lightning."

“…In that case, you’re like a lightning rod, Director Song.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t act as a proper lightning rod for you, Han Yoojin-ssi," he replied politely but seriously. Why was he apologizing?

“When you think about it, I was the one who ran into the storm holding an umbrella high,” I admitted.

"I wish you wouldn’t do that. Also, please try not to worry so much."

"How can I not worry?"

Director Song fell silent. The crease between his brows deepened. “Even so, I don’t think you need to worry about taking cues from the Sesung Guild Leader’s feelings. Ignore him like you did at the banquet,” he suggested.

"...What?"

Ignore him? But at that time, Sung Hyunje was the one who first…

“I’m not sure if I can do that, though…” I said.

"He’s not someone you can avoid, no matter how hard you try," Director Song said. "I’m forced to deal with him because of my position, but Han Yoojin-ssi can just let him be."

"What if he loses interest and leaves for good?"

"Things would be very peaceful."

He wasn’t wrong, but… um.

"The Sesung Guild Leader is very capable, and we do need him,” I pointed out.

“You’re just as capable, Han Yoojin-ssi.”

"Huh? No, I— Well, I suppose if we include Haeyeon Guild, we might manage in terms of combat power. And we do have international connections…"

“You have the Amaterasu Guild and the Murim Alliance, not to mention the Rearing Facility and Hunter Yoo Myungwoo. Expanding your influence won’t be difficult. Of course, relying on the already established Sesung Guild might be more convenient, but I wouldn’t say you’re lacking compared to them.”

He was being generous in his assessment… Or maybe I’ve been underestimating those around me too much. That wasn’t good.

"Listen, Director Song,” I began.

"Yes?"

"Chloe-ssi is connected to the people who kidnapped me—wait, no!” I quickly grabbed Director Song as he stood up. “She’s already gone! It’s too late."

He looked down at me with a stiff expression and said, "Please don’t tell me you met her knowing that."

"No, I was just a little suspicious. I’m sorry. But I told Sung Hyunje and Hyuna-ssi about it. Also, she said kidnapping me wasn’t done with bad intentions. You know the Dokkaebi King, right? They were trying to prevent him from falling completely into the military’s hands because it would have been dangerous.”

"Regardless of the reason, a crime is still a crime,” Director Song said firmly.

"But what if sacrificing one or two people could save many others?"

"I would step forward first."

“…Are you saying it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself, Director Song? Because it’s your own life?”

"You might find my words and actions contradictory, but I don’t think sacrificing oneself is the right thing to do.”

That was unexpected. Then did Director Song not particularly like himself? Maybe because he felt so alien from others, he believed it was fine to sacrifice himself for them.

"I like you, Director Song."

"...."

“I think you’re a genuinely good person,” I affirmed.

"...Nevertheless, I cannot stop someone if they’ve made their decision after due consideration. Persuasion might be possible. However, one should never sacrifice others in place of oneself, unwillingly or not.”

"Well, you could always just stand by and let it slide, couldn’t you?"

"I, at the very least, cannot. And due to my position, I cannot overlook a high-ranking Hunter involved in serious crime. So, I’m sorry, but I will have to issue a warrant for Hunter Chloe.”

"Please wait,” I said. “She said she would return to get the Sesung Guild Leader’s reply. If he cooperates with us, it would be better than blindly chasing her down. If you issue a warrant, she’ll only go deeper into hiding."

Director Song nodded in agreement, falling silent for a moment again. Gyeol rubbed his head against my neck as if to comfort me.

My muddled thoughts began to clear. However, as usual, I still couldn’t understand Sung Hyunje. Act selfishly? Was he really going to betray me? And what did he mean by saying he thought I would catch him?[1] Was he saying he wouldn’t leave if I clung on to him? That just made me more annoyed.

"…I want to grab Sung Hyunje by the collar,” I said.

“If it’s you, Han Yoojin-ssi, he would let you do it.”

"Because I’m F-rank and not a threat."

"Rank is irrelevant. If he didn't want it, he wouldn’t allow even an unawakened person to lay a finger on him."

"That’s... well…"

"The same goes for Hunter Han Yoohyun, Hunter Park Yerim, Hunter Noah, and Hunter Moon Hyuna." Director Song’s voice was calm, as though he was simply stating facts. And well… he wasn’t wrong. Yeah, I already knew that.

I let out a sigh.

"…By the way." Director Song hesitated before continuing. "Is it possible that Hunter Chloe has feelings for the Sesung Guild Leader—"

"No."

“My apologies. It does happen sometimes, so I had to ask.”

Did he think Chloe-ssi rejected me and ran straight to Sung Hyunje? I did suddenly mention wanting to grab his collar.

"Sung Hyunje told me to act selfishly. What do you think he meant by that?"

“I think that is one thing he’s right about.”

"Wow… But I kind of want to tell you to act selfishly too, Director Song."

I mean, I probably wasn’t as bad as Director Song. I took care of what I needed to and voiced my complaints when necessary. If I were to act even more selfishly than this, what would that mean? Was he telling me to take over Sesung or something? Was it a signal that he was going off to join Park Hayul’s group or Chatterbox’s faction, and that I should take over what’s left behind?

As if Sesung without him was more valuable than him without Sesung. If he was going to give me something, he should give me both.

"What does that Sung Hyunje dislike so much about me?" I asked.

"…Excuse me?"

"Every time I start getting attached, it’s like he’s been waiting and he suddenly—"

I quickly covered Han Gyeol’s ears.

"—pulls some crap like this! If he’s going to treat me well, then he should just treat me well. If not, then stick to treating me poorly! He’s so inconsistent. It’s like a bumper crop of crap, all year round. How long has it been since Chuseok? Will he keep this shit up in the dead of winter too? He might as well plant rice and barley at this point. I mean, he’s got a greenhouse at home, it’ll be green all year round. If he’s going to be like this, why cultivate flowers when he could be farming rice?"

"…I see."

"For his birthday next year, I’m getting him a tractor. If he shows up in another car, I’ll plow right through it. If I get hospitalized with stress, the culprit is Sung Hyunje. Please arrest him."

"That would be difficult. And you shouldn’t destroy vehicles for no reason. Besides, I think the Sesung Guild Leader is exceedingly fond of you, Han Yoojin-ssi. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t show any interest in you at all."

…I did know that, but still. Even so, honestly. I handed Gyeol over to Director Song and stood up suddenly.

— ‘Dad!’

"I’m just going to grab him by the collar."

I was going to yell at him to explain himself clearly. And… whatever. I’d figure it out once I saw him face-to-face.

The thin blue panel glowed softly. The writing etched on it was not from this world, but its owner understood its meaning. The panel hovering above his palm disappeared in an instant. Immediately afterward, a cool breeze brushed the back of Sung Hyunje’s neck, and a thin red line appeared, a few droplets of blood beading along it.

"I guess you do feel guilty, huh? You didn’t even try to dodge."

Moon Hyuna, standing on the terrace railing, withdrew her spear. She then brushed off the last of the spider web-like threads clinging to her body.

“I thought it was odd that she let me go so easily,” she said. “You had something strange set up. It’s my first time seeing that item.”

"It was a birthday gift.”

"Yeah? Ah, from Hunter Yoo Myungwoo? It works well. Even a mid-rank Hunter would take half a day to escape it,” she said. “So, Hyung-nim?"

The terrace garden was already empty. Moon Hyuna sat on the railing and scowled at the back of Sung Hyunje’s head.

"Judging by how quiet it is, it seems nothing serious happened. But what are you plotting, huh?"

“Let’s just say I wanted you and Hunter Miller to make up. You might be seeing each other more often in the future.”

"Seeing each other more often? Even Guild leaders barely meet once a month."

Meeting once a month was actually quite frequent. Guild leaders, especially S-rank hunters, rarely had personal interactions. Once they entered an S-rank dungeon, they could stay inside for several weeks, and if a conflict arose outside the dungeon, it was impossible for them to manage it. Moon Hyuna was an exception, as she tended to have a wider social network, but most S-rank hunters kept to their own guilds.

Recently, though, they’d been seeing each other often because of Han Yoojin.

"If she takes over as the acting guild leader of Sesung, you would see her more often.”

“…What?” Moon Hyuna’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re going overseas? Like, for good?"

"Soyoung is still young, so I’ll entrust things to Hunter Miller for a while."

"Director Han will be disappointed. Don’t tell me you dragged me aside just to tell him that? You could have just told me, and I would’ve stayed out of the way."

At Moon Hyuna’s suspicious gaze, the corners of Sung Hyunje’s mouth turned up slightly.

"I introduced Vantes to Han Yoojin-gun,” he said.

“…What are you scheming?"

“Team Manager Seok is competent, but he is someone who would gladly sacrifice Han Yoojin for the sake of the Haeyeon Guild.”

“I don’t know what you’re intending, but…" Moon Hyuna narrowed her eyes as she continued. "When you offered to help me back then, though there were other reasons, I mainly turned you down because of the way you operate. Sung Hyunje, you don’t simply help people—you nudge them around, driving them into a corner.”

He didn’t stop at giving scholarships or covering living expenses. He would carefully shape their surroundings, like laying out a long path for them to follow, from the school they would attend, to their major, to the job they’d get after graduation. All without directly leading or forcing them into it. Rather, he subtly manipulated the surrounding environment so that the person in question would think they were naturally choosing their own way.

"The young master might not have noticed, but Seok Shimyung caught on and absolutely hated it. Do you think he dislikes you for no reason? It’s honestly a relief that your interest doesn’t last long. You’re not some god playing with people’s fates. It’s gross."

"I had only pure goodwill. And I’m restraining myself a lot these days."

"You’re obviously up to something suspicious. Hey, if you keep shaking the candy jar, all the pieces inside are going to break."

"I'm aware,” Sung Hyunje said. “But if you see it rolling towards a cliff, shouldn’t you push it in a different direction, even if you break a few pieces?”

At his words, Moon Hyuna scratched the back of her head. "You’re not wrong. So, are you trying to help Hyung-nim stand on his own or something? He relies on you a lot, Sesung Guild Leader, but I doubt things would drastically change if you were gone."

At most, he would feel a bit sad.

"Don’t go bothering random people out of boredom, just because Han Yoojin and Director Song aren’t around,” she said. “Though it does seem like Director Song will be going on more frequent business trips."

"It might get lonely. That’s why I’ve been waiting."

"What, for Hyung-nim to let go of you and send you off?"[2]

Instead of answering, Sung Hyunje smiled silently. There were still a few days left. Knowing Han Yoojin’s personality, he would agonize over everything alone instead of confiding in others. He might try to hold on to him or he might just give up. He might even try to clumsily persuade him, fail, and end up raising a weapon against him.

Either way, with a word like “partner” carrying so much weight, he was bound to feel a sense of betrayal.

"I’m not used to being hated,” Sung Hyunje said.

"What the hell are you talking about? I could bring you a truckload of people who hate you."

"Those people don’t matter. What do I care what the pebbles in the flowerbed think?"

"…God, you’re insufferable. I miss Dal. At least he was cute, unlike a conniving snake like you. And if you don’t want to be hated, just behave yourself."

"I suppose that’s an option.”

Perhaps his interest in Han Yoojin wouldn’t even last five years. Maybe it would fade in a year or two. If that happened, it wouldn’t matter anymore. But staying quietly in place hoping for an uncertain future didn’t suit Sung Hyunje’s nature.

"But I still think I'd enjoy him getting angry at me,” he said.

"Director Song, at least, is an S-rank. Hyung-nim, on the other hand…"

Moon Hyuna’s voice suddenly trailed off. Moments later, the glass door swung open. Han Yoojin entered the terrace garden with large strides.

"…Hyuna-ssi?" he said.

"Got rejected safely, Hyung-nim?"

"…Yes." Han Yoojin nodded and approached Sung Hyunje.

Behind him, Song Taewon entered, holding the fairy dragon, and stood by the glass door.

"Sung Hyunje-ssi,” Han Yoojin said.

Sung Hyunje looked down at him. He hadn’t expected to hear from him for at least a day. Han Yoojin’s narrowed eyes were full of frustration—resentment, anger, and annoyance.

"I didn’t expect you to come back right away," Sung Hyunje said.

"Shut up. Now that I think about it, you said you would be my decoration today, didn’t you? Accessories don’t have mouths."

"That’s true." Sung Hyunje tilted his head slightly, smiling. "Yes, master." His long index finger rose to lightly touch his lips before falling back down.

Han Yoojin took a deep breath, his shoulders slightly rising and falling.

"I was just going to curse you out, but then…"

He exhaled deeply again.

"You told me to act selfishly? Doesn’t that just mean I should do whatever I want? Fine, Sung Hyunje-ssi, since you told me to do so, I will. I don’t care what you do."

Han Yoojin met his gaze directly as he spoke.

"I just—damn it. I hope Sung Hyunje will be the last. Just live in this world, doing whatever selfish, reckless things you want. I want that for you, and I’ll make it happen. Whatever your plans are, I don’t care. That’s how I want it to be.”

He grit his teeth, declaring that he wouldn’t bother with him anymore.

"And you too, Director Song!"

Song Taewon, standing a bit further back, flinched reflexively.

"Just live a long life, okay? I want to see you live well, Director Song. That’s all I want. And Hyuna-ssi, I’m sure you’ll live well on your own, but I still hope you’ll be happy."

"Oh, thanks,” Moon Hyuna replied.

Han Yoojin smiled at her words. Then, his gaze turned sharp again as he glared at Sung Hyunje.

"I’m going to do whatever I want. You’re the one who started this. So if you’re going to cooperate, then cooperate. If not, get lost. Of course, if you disappear on your own, I’ll make sure to find you, grab you by the collar, and drag you back.”

No matter what it took.

"I’ll give you a day to run, too." After saying that, Han Yoojin’s neck reddened slightly, perhaps out of embarrassment. "Damn it. Anyway, that’s that. Hyuna-ssi, is there more to drink?"

"Of course. You can take whatever’s left in the lounge’s open kitchen,” she replied.

"Thank you,” Han Yoojin said. Avoiding Sung Hyunje’s gaze, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, Yoohyun. There’s more wine in the open kitchen. It’s from Hyuna-ssi. Bring it all. I need to get drunk tonight. What? Of course, I got rejected! I’m fine, but what about you?"

While talking to his younger brother, Han Yoojin glanced over at Song Taewon. "Director Song, can S-rank hunters drink and drive?"

"…There are no specific regulations yet, but no, it’s not allowed."

"Then it’ll have to be Yerim. She does have a license."

"I’d prefer it if you stayed at the hotel tonight,” Director Song replied.

"Oh right, we’re at a hotel. Yoohyun, let’s head up to our room. Grab the wine and take the elevator. Yeah, come comfort your hyung."

Han Yoojin left, and Song Taewon followed after him.

Moon Hyuna shrugged and looked at Sung Hyunje. "So, that’s how it is. Looks like things aren’t going the way you planned, huh?"

Sung Hyunje’s hand rose to cover his face.

"…It’s driving me crazy."

---

Footnotes:

[1] Sung Hyunje said “잡아 줄 줄 알았는데” which means literally “I thought you’d catch (me),” but also has the meaning of holding/supporting someone or stopping them from leaving. Not really sure how best to translate it because they do also kind of use it in the sense of “catching”. I previously translated Yoojin’s inner monologue about the Crescent Moon possession as Yoojin thinking “역시 확실하게 잡기 위해서는 (In order for me to ensnare him properly)” but I corrected “ensnare” to “catch” to make the callback to Hyunje’s line clearer.

[2] Hyuna says “안 잡아 주고 (Not hold on/catch you, i.e., let go of you)”, same word as the “catch” above.

#oh yeah i forgot to mention that Dal is Sigma (i think Dal sounds cuter than translating it as Moon)#sctir #tsctir #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #my s class hunters #내가 키운 s급들 #novel translation #jinjae

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