#smut eventually

Year 2048, present day

“Sylus?” 

He sighs, annoyed. He’s always annoyed at something. “Hm?”

“When are we going to leave the house again? I feel like we’ve been trapped in this safe house for ages…” You’re laying on your back on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through social media and Hunter Association files. Outside, it is starting to rain again, which only makes the gloom of the N109 Zone even gloomier. Across from you, Sylus is meticulously cleaning one of his guns. About a dozen more are in various states of assembly at his feet. 

“If you want to go out, then go,” he says nonchalantly, not even privileging you with a glance.

“You said not to.”

“I said that going out wouldn’t be a good idea. You’re free to make your own choices, kitten. Just don’t come crying to me when it ends badly.” With a deft twitch of his fingers, he reassembles the pistol in his hands, inspecting it carefully. The metal glints in the light, but your gaze (as ever) is drawn to those crimson eyes. He doesn’t even need the red and black tendrils of his Evol to draw you in. You force yourself to look away before getting too many ideas.

“But you won’t tell me why….” you say, a little bit of a whine creeping in your voice. You sit up on the plush velvet couch and place your phone down beside you. “I can handle it. I’ve helped you before. Just tell me?”

“Business.” 

His vague answer and pompous attitude make you want to scream. Then again, you are already going a little stir crazy from being trapped in this house for three days. It’s making you itch for a fight, either with a Wanderer or anyone else in your path. Luke and Kieran had already faced your wrath that morning, but now Sylus happens to be right in your crosshairs.

You get up from the couch and move closer to him. You drag your fingertips slowly across the tops of his thighs and then up his chest, circling around him to stand behind his chair. You lean down to his ear, lips only a breath away and stirring his soft, silver-white hair. “Pretty please…” you whisper in your most sultry voice. 

Sylus doesn’t even blink, pushing you gently aside to grab another firearm off the floor to repeat the process of cleaning all over again. “No.”

Undeterred, your hand traces down the side of his neck, then his torso, and then-

Before you can go any further, a chain of red mist wraps around your wrist and tugs it sharply to the side.

“I’m being generous and giving you a final warning, sweetie. I am not in the mood for games.”

Your mouth forms into an unhappy pout and you tug your arm back, the mist breaking apart and freeing you. “I’m trying to play your game. You can’t keep me here forever, you know. I have a job to do.”

You see his lips twitch with the ghost of a haughty smirk, and it almost sends you over the edge. You have a very strong urge to wrap your hands around his beautiful, muscled neck, but you resist. Sylus never makes empty threats, and if he is truly in a mood, it’s better to retreat. You head for the door of the parlor room to sulk somewhere else when your Hunter’s Watch suddenly flickers. You glance down and notice a fluctuation spike. Then another, and another. The hologram graphs on the screen are practically jumping off the charts. Whatever this is…it’s big. 

“Er…Sylus?”

Before you can even take your next breath, Sylus is hovering over your shoulder and watching the Metaflux projections dance erratically across the screen. His eyes narrow, then he’s walking out the door and grabbing his leather jacket. “Luke and Kieran will take you home now.”

You stare at his retreating figure in disbelief. “...What? No! Sylus!” You chase after him, pushing into a jog to keep up with his long, determined strides. “This is something big. Where are you going?”

“I have to check on something. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy and can tie my shoes and everything,” he says in his usual condescending cadence.

“Sylus, wait–!” You grab his arm and he pauses to look down at you. It’s silly, isn’t it? Are you actually worried about him? No. He is pretty much immortal and invincible as far as you know. But still…. 

“You wanted to leave the safe house,” he points out, his tone a little more clipped than before. He’s getting testy and you have to force yourself not to flinch. “So now, you’re leaving.”

“Let me come with you. I can help!”

Sylus gently takes your chin in his hand and swipes his thumb across your lips. It almost makes your knees buckle. “Why? Are you concerned I can’t handle it?”

Despite how much you want to melt into his hands like warmed ice cream, you jerk yourself out of his grip and stare up at him defiantly. “No. I’m just saying that this could be a powerful Wanderer and it needs a Hunter’s expertise.” 

He sighs and rubs at his temple and then through his silky, silver hair. “You are incredibly stubborn.”

“I learned from the best,” you reply, crossing your arms. “So?”

 Your watch makes another series of warning beeps and chimes as notifications start to pour in from your fellow Hunters. The fluctuations are getting worse but no one dares to cross into the N109 Zone to investigate. No one but you.

“Fine. But don’t get in the way,” he says, continuing out the door. 

His demeanor seems even more agitated than usual, and worry begins to gnaw at your chest. Sylus doesn’t usually have the patience to be vague. He prefers the most direct approach, no matter how blunt or uncaring he sounds. Diplomatic tact isn’t necessary when you can just disintegrate your enemies with a snap of your fingers. 

You hurry along with him until you reach the garage, hesitating for a beat while Sylus picks out his ride. The garage is larger than most people’s houses and the walls are painted a pristine white. Lights shine from overhead like we’re in a showroom and in a way, it is. There are dozens of cars, each more expensive than the last, each another flex of his ridiculous wealth. He heads over to your favorite vehicle, a sleek black motorcycle, and offers a helmet towards you.

“Time is of the essence, kitten. Don’t lag behind.”

You half-jog over to him, eyeing him suspiciously. “You know more than you’re telling me.”

He doesn’t respond, which is enough of a confirmation as you’re likely to get. You try taking the helmet but Sylus does it for you instead, snugly fitting it over your head before fastening the straps under your chin. Then he swings his leg over the bike and revs it to life, giving you just enough time to get on and wrap your arms around his waist before he’s tearing off into the dark. You hold on tight, resting your head against his back as the motorcycle swerves through traffic and down twisting alleyways, wondering what could possibly have Sylus so on edge. Whatever it is, you know you’ll find a way to handle it. That’s why he chose you. You’re strong.

When Sylus finally cuts the engine, you’re far outside the city and the nest of slums that surround the inner N109 Zone. You don’t recognize the area at all, but it appears to be some kind of old stone quarry. A forest of dead, sun-starved trees keep silent watch, hemming in the compound like a natural fence. Shards of dark broken rock piled up like mountains around you and it feels like you’re standing in a crater. The decaying fossils of abandoned machinery dot around the area, faintly lit by a few worklights scattered around the outskirts of the quarry. The haze of light casts long shadows over gray and black shale and the whole place has an almost tangible aura of hopelessness. 

You take off your helmet and shake your hair loose, shivering as a cold, misting rain starts to collect on your skin. You glance at your wrist and see your watch’s screen jump with another massive wave of Metaflux activity. There’s a slight twinge of anxiety in your chest and you place a hand over your heart. 

You’ve never seen anything this strong before. If it is a Wanderer, it might actually be too much for you to handle, even with Sylus’ help. You consider bringing this up but Sylus has already gotten off the bike and is heading towards an abandoned-looking warehouse. Clearly, he’s not going to wait for you to finish weighing the odds. 

You hurry to catch up to him, reaching his side just as his Evol pulls open the warehouse door, the rusty wheels shrieking in protest as it slides away. His hand finds yours and he grasps you tightly, pulling you along through the dark with quick, sure strides. You blink rapidly, struggling to adjust your vision to the dark, but it’s like walking blindfolded. There isn’t even moonlight to help you find your way, and the constant energy fluctuations assaulting your senses aren’t helping either. Despite your best efforts, your boot catches on the edge of some abandoned piece of machinery and you fall to the ground.

“Oof-!” The floor is filthy, and you cough a little as your fall disturbs layers of quarry dust. 

Before you can push yourself back up, a familiar black-red mist coils around your wrists and pulls you from the ground. He drags you towards him until you’re both standing together in some kind of elevator, his arm around your waist to steady you. There’s barely enough space for the both of you and the gears and frame are tinged with rust. The state of the elevator doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence, but Sylus seems to know what he’s doing. He reaches forward to press a few yellowing buttons in quick succession and the elevator whirs to life. 

As you descend, red work lights pass by, washing across your faces in between moments of complete darkness like a slow strobe effect. You try to count them to measure how fast and far you’re moving, but you quickly lose count. The only thing you know for sure is that you’re a very, very long way down.

“You need to stay close to me in this place. No wandering off,” he says, his tone cold and unrelenting. You can feel his agitation in the way his Evol prickles your skin like cold needles and you wince. 

“I won’t, just call off your Evol! It’s starting to hurt,” you hiss through clenched teeth. The mist is really starting to burn now, like a coarse rope being rubbed relentlessly against your bare skin. 

Sylus blinks and the Evol releases. His power never usually leaves marks, but you rub at your wrists anyway to soothe your nerves. It’s while you’re doing this that you notice your watch again: the fluctuations are so strong now that the holographic images are starting to flicker and static out.

“I’ve never seen an energy flux like this. Not even Wanderers make this kind of dimensional disturbance,” you admit, unease creeping into your voice. “What aren’t you telling me, Sylus?”

He doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed forward as the platform continues descending down, down, down. A flicker of red energy dances across his right eye.

“This is why you didn’t want to leave the house. You were waiting for…whatever this is. Why?” you ask, voice louder now, desperate to understand. “If this is a Wanderer, it’s going to be too powerful for us to handle alone. There’s enough Metaflux energy to wipe a city the size of Linkon off the map.” 

When he still doesn’t respond, you try to touch his face and make him look at you. Your fingers barely graze his jaw when he jerks his chin up and out of your reach. It’s so callous that you’re taken aback. He’s usually so measured, so gentle with you. It doesn’t make any sense.

“It isn’t a Wanderer,” he says. “You’ll be fine as long as you stay by me.”

The platform shudders as it hits what you assume is the bottom of the shaft. The sudden impact causes you to lurch forward, but Sylus catches you before you can fall. You look around and realize you’re in a tunnel far below the surface. It’s about fifteen feet wide and twenty feet high at its apex. The rounded cement walls are lined with metal supports and pipes and it feels like the two of us are being swallowed up by some monstrous worm. A couple of dim emergency lights flicker on, giving the tunnel an eerie feeling. It’s so quiet down here, even the air feels heavy and stale. 

“Sylus, what is this place?” you whisper.

About thirty feet ahead of you is a massive metal door that blocks the rest of the tunnel. It looks thick and military-grade. A red light sits above the door, shining in the dark like an unblinking eye. Sylus approaches the door and waves a hand, red mist seeping into the metal. 

“Take a guess,” he says. 

You hear the sound of clicks and the shunt of metal against metal as Sylus effortlessly manipulates dozens of mechanisms and locks. You wince at the shriek of metal as the door starts to pull apart and the red light flashes green.

“A vault? Or…a prison?”

“Smart kitten,” he says, but his praise lacks its usual mirth. His face is drawn and he looks…tired? No, maybe it’s just the shadow from the emergency lights around them. 

You focus back on the task at hand. The fluctuations are pointing directly to whatever is being kept behind the enormous security door. Drawing your gun, you step cautiously into the room and feel the energy from the Metaflux practically bouncing off the walls and pounding against your nerves. The sensation is already disorienting, but then you feel a strange twinge in your chest and freeze up. The Aether Core in your heart quivers and it fills you with dread. Something deep and primal in your mind tells you to turn back, like you’ve just walked into a horror movie. You’ve faced danger over and over as a Hunter, but this? This is different. You’re not the hunter here; you’re the prey.

As if sensing your fear, Sylus’ hand touches the small of your back, a gentle encouragement that helps you focus. You take a deep breath and take a few more steps inside, knowing that, if nothing else, Sylus is there, too.

The room is a huge cylinder shape, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. The walls stretch up and out of sight, the ceiling shrouded in seemingly endless gloom. There are pale worklights strung along the walls, but almost all of them are blown out and dark, the frayed wires sparking occasionally. There’s a large cage in the center of the room flanked by a dozen complicated machines and computers. Tubes and wires twist across the ground like serpents from the lab equipment, through the bars, and into the cage. You try to see what the wires are attached to, but it’s impossible to see in the dim light. Strangely, it looks like the only thing in the cage is a large pile of black feathers. 

You pause, only a few steps inside the room, and see the feathery mound in the cage start to shift and twitch. Your skin prickles, alarm bells ringing in your head and screaming danger. Instinctively, you point your gun towards the threat just before dozens of tendrils of pure darkness shoot towards you. As sudden as a lightning strike, the darkness is on you and burying under your skin like eels burrowing into sand. The pain in your chest grows and sharpens, like ice cold claws are digging into your heart. You taste something metallic and realize there’s blood in your mouth but you don’t know how or why. Gasping, you stumble and Sylus immediately pulls you to him. Your heart feels like it’s spasming and burning all at the same time as the shadows dig in deeper and deeper. 

“My…my heart….Sy…Sylus…!” Your gun falls from your hand and you stagger to one knee. Sylus goes down with you, supporting your shoulders so that you don’t completely collapse to the ground. Your vision starts to swirl and you can see the cage in the center of the room just over Sylus’ shoulder. There’s a shadow, and your eyes find the cage. The feathers have risen up and you realize that there’s a human-shape inside the cage with two enormous wings. An angel of death. 

They’re facing you, one arm reaching out to you through the bars as strange, inky webs of black stretch like tentacles from your body to the angel’s outstretched hand. The shadows belong to them, you realize. An Evol. It reminds you of Sylus. Sylus… You want to beg him to make it stop, but the words won’t come out. You watch in despairing horror as the figure closes their hand into a fist and your heart feels like it might explode in their phantom grasp. Just before you pass out, you hear Sylus murmur something in your ear, but you can't register what he’s saying. You gasp for air, lungs burning and dark spots crowding out your vision. The world fades away and you’re pulled under into unconsciousness.

***

The hunter twitches and passes out in his arms. Her lips start to turn blue from lack of oxygen as more black tendrils infest her skin, spreading and splitting like tree branches to fill every vein, artery, and blood vessel with shadow. When Sylus addresses the woman in the cage, he doesn’t raise his voice. He never has and he probably never will, but his tone is as sharp as a blade’s edge.

“Mira, that’s enough.”

The woman blinks slowly. Her pupils, irises, and even the whites of her eyes are pitch black. She meets Sylus’ unrelenting ruby gaze and tilts her head to the side in an odd, bird-like manner. Slowly, she pulls her hand back inside the cage and the dark claws of her Evol wisp away to nothing. The hunter convulsing on the floor stills, and color begins to return to her face. Tenderly, Sylus picks her up in his arms and carries her to a cot near the back of the room, far out of reach from the cage. Once Sylus determines that the hunter’s heart has returned to a normal rhythm, he traces gently over her brow and then leaves her to rest. Rolling his shoulders back, he turns and walks slowly towards the cage.

“...Sylus?” Mira’s body shudders, torn between relief and manic desire. Her long, talon-like nails scratch at the air, but Sylus purposefully remains out of reach. Shaking, Mira slips down to her knees and whimpers. “Sylus, please. I’ll be good. I’m a good girl. I’m your angel! Your little bird!” 

Behind her, two large black wings spread and flap against the air, sending dark feathers scattering across the floor. The wings do make her look like some twisted dark angel, but he knows they’re as real as Mephisto is: a wonder of biomechanical engineering fused to her spine, fully-functional but not natural or mystical by any means. 

“That was naughty, Mira,” he says. “She’s a guest.”

Mira’s eyes glisten with tears and she smiles, half-laughing with madness. “She wanted you. She can’t have you, Sylus! You’re mine. I’m yours. Always. ALWAYS!” 

Mira’s voice rises in a shriek, the harsh screams echoing as her demeanor changes from pining to violent. She beats her arms against the bars, black smoke rising around her form like jagged lines of lightning. Another wave of volatile energy pulses from her, but only some of it is contained by the metaflux suppression devices around the room. Her power is overwhelming the system; she’ll rip a hole in the fabric of space if he doesn’t get her under control. 

“Mira.” His voice is calm, quiet. He reaches out and grasps her hand, holding it tight even as her nails sink into his flesh. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t let go. “I’m here.”

His words feel like a cool breeze over Mira’s feverish mind. She blinks and her eyes are no longer black voids. They’re human and warm and brown, just the way he remembers.

“Sy…Sy, it’s not my fault. Please. I don’t want to be down here anymore.” Mira starts to weep, her free hand clawing at her hair and scalp. “It’s so dark. I don’t like the dark, Sylus!”

His chest aches to hold her, but the best he can do is grab her other hand so she can’t hurt herself. “I know,” he says. “I’ll get more lights for you. I’ll make it look like you’re under a galaxy of stars. Anything you desire.”

“I desire you,” she cries. Mira rests her head against the bars of the cage, anguished sobs shaking through her body. For someone so consumed with power, she looks so frail.

He places a gentle kiss on her forehead and her skin feels like it’s on fire. The fever is worse than he thought. She’s been fighting too long. “Your Aether Core needs to be reset before you cause too much damage.”

“Damage…the Wanderers,” says Mira, sitting back and looking up to the ceiling. “More keep coming, Sylus, and I’m so hungry.”

Mira pulls one of his hands to her cheek and nuzzles against him tearfully, tears as thick and dark as crude oil staining her cheeks and spilling onto Sylus’ calloused hands.

“I don’t think I can do this much longer, Sylus,” she whispers, turning his palm to her lips as she lays kiss after kiss against his skin, desperate to keep him close. “Please let me come home. Please.”

Sylus closes his eyes, fighting the pain ripping through his chest, an old wound opened anew. Reluctantly, he pulls his hands from Mira’s grasp and steps back until he is out of reach again.

“Your Aether Core needs to be contained, Mira. If you keep going like this, you know what will happen.” There’s no point in lying, even if the truth feels like a knife twisting in his ribs. It has to be done and Sylus knows that. “We have to reset. Start over.” Mira moans in pain and grief. “No…no, don’t do it, Sylus. Not again! Please!”

Sylus looks away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “You won’t even feel it, little bird. I’ll be as gentle as I can.” 

Mira’s eyes shift back to black and her pathetic demeanor abruptly transforms into something dark and vengeful. “Give me what I want, Sylus! I want you! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT, SYLUS!” 

Tentacles of stygian smoke race outward towards Sylus and he holds up a hand. Black-red mist meets the shadows and they tangle together in a knot, the two Evols wrestling like snakes in the air. Unimaginable power from two competing Aether Cores surges through the room and Sylus can feel space and time starting to fracture around them.

His right eye glimmers, finding the cracks in her mind and suppressing her rage. For all of Mira’s raw power, she doesn’t have control. She is instinct and primal needs, born from the foams of the universe, so Sylus uses her own undisciplined nature against her. 

It feels like snipping invisible threads in her mind, surgically separating the Core’s dominating hunger and giving Mira’s mind the smallest moment to breathe. Her power fights him relentlessly, but he persists, the effort causes sweat to bead on his brow. His own Aether Core strains, its power struggling to not be consumed into hers. It’s an agonizing few moments before something in Mira’s mind gives out and he can release his Evol. He watches her cautiously, panting for breath and feeling more drained than he has in a very long while. 

Finally, Mira’s body twitches and staggers as her power dissolves into the air and she falls to her hands and knees, crawling towards him again, wings drooping at her side.

“I…I’m sorry. Sylus. You have to…you have to do it.” Her voice trembles. She looks so tired.

“I know,” he says.

Mira’s shoulders sink as hopelessness crushes against her like gravity. She looks around, taking in the state of her world, and then her gaze falls on the hunter still asleep on the bench. 

“She’s…?”

“A kindred spirit,” he says, with no small amount of irony.

“An Aether Core,” Mira realizes. She gazes over at the unconscious hunter, her expression one of pity and profound, aching sadness. “The Unicorn. You found her. Is she…is she everything you desired?” Her voice breaks, a sob snatching the last word from her throat.

“No, not yet.” Sylus uses his Evol to gently caress Mira’s cheek as another black tear spills over from her eye.“But I think she can help me to help you.”

“Sylus… Don’t love her. Don’t love her the way you loved me,” Mira begs. Her voice is weak, even pathetic, but Sylus’ gaze visibly softens.  She looks up at him again, eyes brown and human once again. “Please.”

The words feel worse than any dagger in the heart. 

“Loved?” His lips curl into the faintest, saddest smile. “I never stopped.” 

His voice is just above a whisper and tender as a kiss. It’s almost enough to break Mira in half. Desire. Love. Jealousy. Pain. Anguish. The torrent of emotions begins to rise again and the sleeping hunter’s watch pulses as the fluctuations–which had briefly stabilized–begin to rise, too. Mira’s wings twitch and her body starts to shake. The dark tendrils shadow seep through her talon-like fingers, reaching out to devour all the energy in the universe.

“Just a little longer, my angel. My little bird. Just a little longer.” Then he snaps his fingers and his Evol wraps around Mira’s body in coils of crimson mist. She screams as the mist twists around her tighter and tighter, her own Evol clawing against her restraints but to no avail. 

***

That’s when you wake up. You’re not dead, which you think is a miracle, and you’re looking over at some strange woman-bird hybrid in the cage. For a moment, you wonder if it’s a type of Wanderer…it certainly didn’t look human. But it doesn’t give you the same feeling. No, this is something different. Something unnatural, but not a Wanderer. There are tendrils of red mist all over the monster’s body and you hear her cries of absolute agony. Sylus. You sit up, still woozy, and try to reach out to him.

“S-Sylus, don’t–!” You can’t get the words out fast enough. You hear a sickening snap and the angel monster suddenly goes silent and limp. Your Aether Core aches in your chest as the figure collapses to the floor of the cage. Sylus’ Evol dissipates and deafening silence envelopes the room. You glance at your watch which shows the fluctuations have subsided, but you still don’t understand. 

Is it…? 

You jog over to the cage and look inside. It’s a young woman, you realize, not  much older than you. Her great black wings drape over her body and her brown eyes stare half-lidded into nothing. A black, oily substance is dripping from her nostril and tear ducts. Her skin is pale as snow and there’s an undeniable beauty to her. Or, there was. She’s so still and you realize through a wave of nausea and horror that she’s dead. You force yourself to look away from the girl’s corpse and focus on Sylus. He’s not hurt, but his breathing is unsteady and he’s staring down at the girl, his expression inscrutable. 

“Sylus?” 

He doesn’t respond. You take one of his hands, pressing your palms together, and try to resonate with him. He’s always been a master of disguising his true emotions, but you’ve learned how to see under the mask through your Evol. You can’t help but close your eyes as you’re swept into the current of his own frustration, remorse, loss, and heartbreak. It’s dark and tangled and painful, but you endure it with him. A gaping hole suddenly forms in the picture of him that you had just started to puzzle together.

“Who was she?” you ask quietly.

He sighs and turns, pulling out of your grip and ending the resonance. “The world is safe again, for now, Hunter. It’s time I let you go home.”

You both head back toward the elevator platform and you give up on asking questions. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, you think. 

As the heavy doors begin to slide back into place, you look quietly over your shoulder at the girl lying in the cage. Just before the room is completely sealed from view, you think you see a thin trail of black smoke begin to rise above the body and reach for the unseen sky.

***

For a time, you’ll avoid bringing up what happened that day. He won’t talk about it either, but you deserve to know, so I’ll tell you instead.

You see, you were lucky, little hunter. When the Chronorift Catastrophe descended on the world, you were lost in the chaos. You fled the research lab and survived. Better yet, you found someone to care for you. You grew up loved and protected. You had a guardian. Friends. How sweet for you. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you made it out of the hell that the EVER biomedical group put us through. I want you to be happy. Why? Because you are the hero in this story. Not me.

A small part of you was thankful that Pepper and Tony had given you a few days to settle back in before having you go to work, but if you had known your mother had planned this, you probably would’ve told them that you didn’t need any time to get back used to the city and you would start back as soon as the movers left your apartment. Not that it would’ve prevented your mother from setting up this date. Your whole life she’d been practically forcing the two of you to hang out, whether by inviting Marsha and Alexander over for dinner, or just by hosting parties and he happened to be there, Liam Stinson was always around.

He was the kid to pull on your hair and make fun of your bows or your pink dresses when you were in elementary school. In fact, Liam Stinson picking on you was how Bucky and Steve became your friends in the first place.

Twenty Years Ago

“Leave me alone, Liam!” You yelled as he tugged your hair in between his fingers, laughing as you struggled to get away. He managed to successfully free your bow from your hair and was now dangling it in front of you face as he teased.

“Awww, does the wittle baby want her bow?” He pushed out his lips in a mock pout as he held it just out of your reach, making you stand on the tips of your toes to try and wrangle it out of his grasp. An evil grin took over Liam’s face as he flung your bow into the mud puddle, your jaw dropping and tears welling up in your eyes as you watched your favorite bow sink into the puddle. Liam’s laugh was cut short by a loud “ow!” The noise had you whipping around to see Liam holding his face and running away from two boys. 

“Are you okay? Did Liam hurt you?” the blonde one asked, the brunette still watching the path that Liam had taken to make sure he didn’t run to one of the teachers. 

You shook your head softly, unsure if they were going to pick on you like Liam, before answering, “I’m okay, he just pulled my hair and threw my bow in the mud…” you trailed off to see that the brunette had picked up your bow from the mud puddle and was in the process of wringing it out before handing it back to you with a grimace, almost as if he was apologizing for not being able to clean it all the way.

“Thank you…?” You questioned, waiting for the boys to introduce themselves.

“Oh, I’m Steve, that’s Bucky,” the blonde spoke with a smile as he nodded his head in the direction of his friend. The first thing you noticed about Bucky, besides that you thought his name was funny, were his eyes. A blue so deep you almost got lost in them at just eight years old. You knew that the polite thing to do would have been to thank them for helping you and getting your bow but your mouth spoke before your brain could stop you.

“Bucky? What kind of a name is Bucky?” Your nose wrinkled a little before you realized what you had said but before you could apologize the boy in question was laughing.

“It’s my nickname, Stevie gave it to me. My real name is James Buchanan Barnes…but we agree that’s just a lot,” he spoke as if he’d had to explain his nickname a thousand times over in his short lifetime. 

You nodded your head slowly before responding, “I like Bucky…but why not Jamie?” 

His lips quirked up into a little grin, “you can call me Jamie if you like it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up and Steve to laugh at his friend. 

“Well thank you Steve and Bucky for helping me…do you wanna play with me? We could play tag?” Twin grins etched upon their faces, the three of you chased each other around the playground of the rest of recess. You had always wondered what Steve and Bucky had said to Liam to make him run away but not tell any teachers about what had happened… but then you just considered yourself lucky that no questions were ever asked.

And thus a tight-knit friendship was formed. Or so you thought.

“You look great,” Liam drawled, his eyes raking over your body, as you had to force yourself to not roll your eyes and to thank him instead, returning the compliment as ‘sincerely’ as you could as he ushered you inside the restaurant. You weren’t necessarily lying. Liam Stinson was attractive in the robotic, young politician way. With short brown hair and brown eyes, a polite smile that could sometimes be viewed as a sneer, he looked like every young Senator you’d ever seen. All you could do was cross your fingers that the date would be over before you knew it and pray that your mother had only promised one date and not a follow up. 

After the incident with Bucky and Steve all those years ago, Liam hadn’t teased you again. In fact, for high school his mother and Alexander had actually moved Liam to another private school closer to his house so you weren’t forced to see his face every single day. But, his mother was close with yours, which meant that you would occasionally see each other or be forced to hang out when there were parties hosted at your house. Occasionally, Bucky was there to act as a buffer, especially when his parents were invited, but the invitation extension to the Barnes family became less and less common as the years went on even as you and Bucky had grown closer, something that had confused you to no end. 

“So your mom tells mine that you’re back in town for good. You’re working with Stark Industries now? Secretary?” Liam questioned as he leaned into the booth, smoothing one arm over your shoulders, making a shiver crawl down your spine. 

Taking a sip of your wine for a little liquid courage you corrected him, “I am back in town, for as long as Stark Industries is at least. And no, I used to be an Executive Assistant, I’m now their lawyer.” Liam’s eyes bulged at that last tidbit, as if it was the first time he was hearing it and it wouldn’t have surprised you if it was. Your mother was not super thrilled when you had told her you were going to law school for corporate law. She had wished you would have stayed as a receptionist or secretary instead so that you could start a family faster. You’d very quickly shut those hopes down.

“Wow, corporate lawyer…that’s…wow,” he muttered as he sipped his own drink. You were about to question his run for Senate, something that you really didn’t care all that much about but you figured it was an easy turn of topic, when a voice you hadn’t heard in years interrupted you.

“Oh my god, Y/N L/N is that you sweetheart?” The all-too-familiar voice of Winnifred Barnes broke out as your attention was turned to the entirety of the Barnes family. Next thing you knew, you were being engulfed in a hug by Winnie, the comfort of her hug forcing up reminders of days past when she would hug you and tell you she loved you, and how lucky she and her family were to have you in their lives. George was next. When you were younger, he always acted a little more aloof than his wife, but he never failed to tell you how proud he was of you and how he knew you were going to go far. 

When George pulled you in for a hug of his own he whispered in your ear, “heard you kicked the Bar Exam’s ass, superstar,” he winked as he pulled away, a look of mixed confusion and embarrassment pulling over your features. You knew after Bucky had left you that your parents had begun to massively limit their interactions with the Barnes family so the fact that George knew you were a lawyer had you slightly confused. 

The only member of the Barnes family that was reacting in any fashion of ‘normal’ was Bucky. He didn’t say a word the entire interaction, merely keeping his eyes narrowed on you and Liam. The only words he spoke were to his parents so they could return to their table, yet another cold and harsh interaction to remind you that he was not the same man you had once loved. 

“So…you seemed…pretty close with the Barnes family…what was that about?” Liam questioned right as your food was arriving, your stomach clenching at the mere thought of how close you’d truly been to them once upon a time.

“Oh…um…Bucky and I used to date. That’s all,” you offered the information as nonchalantly as you could, to try and make it seem like it was no big deal, but either the information or your delivery startled Liam as he almost choked on his lamb. 

“Wait…you…and James Barnes…used to date?” His question sounded almost non-believing and borderline teasing, with a hint of interest as if he was digging for more. The tone made you square your shoulders and face him with as serious a look as you could muster.

“Something funny?”

“No it’s just…hard to imagine you with a mobster.” 

Liam spoke lazily but intentionally, as if he was trying to get some information out of you or embarrass you or…both. But you weren’t having it. And as much as it pained you, you also weren’t about to out Bucky or his family legacy to Liam Stinson.

“James Barnes isn’t a mobster. He’s a businessman. Enough about the Barnes family. Tell me about your run for Senate.” The topic change worked because Liam launched into his story about fundraising, attending multiple charity events and even droning on and on about how helpful Alexander was during the whole thing. The topic became boring rather quickly but it gave you something else to focus on than the George and Winnie Barnes shaped hole that was re-forming in your heart. When the meal was finally over you thanked the universe that you didn’t run into Bucky or his family any more, and that Liam had stepped back from offering you a ride home. You thought that was it as you waited for your ride…until Liam brought up a little piece of information that you’d not been given.

“I had fun, Y/N. Can’t wait to do it again next week.”

The moment was spit take worthy, but sadly for you there was no drink to be found. Your head whipped towards him, eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that he was joking. 

“What do you mean next week?”

“Your mom told me that we’d be going on these dinner dates once a week for the next month…she must’ve forgotten to remind you. But don’t worry, I’ll pick you up next week. Wear something like this again, your legs are killer,” he offered a sleazy winky before heading to his chauffeur and riding off into the night, leaving you in front of the restaurant with your mouth agape at the news bomb he’d dropped.

An earful. That’s what your mother received when you’d returned to your apartment and called her immediately to fuss at her for promising something you had no intention of delivering. 

“Mom, no. I told you one date. Not one date a week for a MONTH!” You had practically screamed into your phone, trying to keep your heart rate normal as you listened to her tone deaf apology.

“Oh sweetie, it couldn’t have been that bad! I’m sure you had a great time, and it’s a free meal! Oh please just indulge your poor mother for a little bit,” she’d pouted, weakening your resolve until you finally groaned out a partial agreement to her plan. Promising to go on only one more date with Liam but no more after that. She agreed to the compromise pretty quickly, alarmingly quick if you had thought about it, but you merely brushed it off. Your first day at work brought up even strange news.

“A gala, Tony? Really?” you groaned after Tony entered your office to tell you all about the welcome home party he’d been planning under the guise of a gala. Tony Stark liked to party. You knew that. Hell everyone in Manhattan knew that. And a small part of you knew that you wouldn't be able to worm your way out of attending.

“Come on, Stark Industries is back in the city! We’ve got to celebrate it in style and YOU, my little cutthroat lawyer, are going to party and you’re going to like it,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, looking to Pepper in hopes that she’d be able to assign you with something to keep you busy but she just shrugged her shoulders as if to apologize and squeezed your arm.

“I know it’s soon to drop it on you, but we bought you a dress. And shoes. And we know you don’t have anything to do thanks to the fact that you have your personal calendar still linked with ours-OW!” Tony exclaimed, Pepper’s lips drawing together in a tight line after she elbowed him to get him to shut up.

“What Tony means is, we would love to have you there. We do already have some clothes purchased for you if you do come, but we’re not going to force you to go,” Pepper spoke calmly, her eyes glaring daggers at a somewhat sheepish Tony. Your sigh spoke volumes but you agreed, knowing that it would give you an excuse to not see Liam for your second date.  Sadly, Liam only stated his understanding and how he would just reschedule your dinner for another time. The silent groan of dread filling your mind as you read his text to reschedule for the following week. 

The gala, much like the first date with Liam, arrived quicker than anticipated. Even though Tony hadn’t given you enough time to truly prep for it, he’d obviously given Pepper enough time to plan a gorgeous party. The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was practically glittering from all the camera flashes as more members of Manhattan’s elite began to crowd the hall. Sadly, a number of Manhattan’s elite included people you hadn’t seen in years, but they seemed to recognize you. One by one half of the parents of your old classmates, your parents’ old friends, and even neighbors you hadn’t seen in years approached you, asking how you were and what you were doing, how your parents were and if you were single. And one by one, their conversations became more and more overwhelming. 

Your shoulders grew tense as you tried your best to find a way out of the conversations when all of a sudden, a warm hand slipped around your waist and a smooth voice spoke, “excuse me everyone, but Ms. L/N owes me a dance.”

Bucky Barnes stood next to you in his tuxedoed glory with a cocky smirk plastered onto his lips as he pulled you away from the growing crowd and forced you onto the dance floor. Anger simmered in your stomach at his manhandling and you attempted to rip yourself from his grasp, but his hands only tightened as they moved to your waist and your free hand, moving one to his shoulder. As he began moving the two of you around in a waltz he leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms/ L/N. The way I see it, I saved you from the overstimulation you were receiving back there.”

His voice was cool, knowing, as if to prove that he could still read your body language after all these years. But the cockiness in his smirk only angered you more causing you to hiss, “I don’t owe you anything, Mr. Barnes. Now if you wish to keep your hands attached to your body, I recommend you letting me go. Now.”

Bucky chuckled at your threat but only continued to dance with you, even going so far as to pulling you tighter to him, as if proving that your threats meant nothing.

“I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready, Ms. L/N. But first I have a few questions for you.”

“Well I have a question for you. What the fuck are you doing here?” You spat, hoping your tone would show that you were only seconds away from completely losing your cool. Again, your tone and your threats seemed to do nothing to Bucky as he shrugged lightly and responded.

“Didn’t you hear? Stark Industries and Barnes Inc. have been connected for years. One would think a corporate lawyer would have done her research for the company she works for,” his voice was teasing but his eyes were serious and the pit in your stomach returned at the realization that by moving back to New York with Stark Industries you had unintentionally opened yourself up to Bucky and his ‘family.’ 

So that’s how George knew I was a lawyer…he’d talked with Tony…Tony and I are gonna have to have a real serious conversation after this…

“Now that I’ve answered your question you can answer mine, what were you doing with Liam Stinson the other night?” Bucky quipped, pulling you from your thoughts. You tried not to let the confusion show on your face at his question and instead attempted to goad him a little.

“Why? Jealous?” You cringed internally at the juvenile way you’d shot back at Bucky, but didn’t let that embarrassment show on your face. Instead, you focused on his eyes. They always told you how he truly felt when you were younger but now they were merely two balls of steel blue sat on his face, not conveying a twinge of emotion. 

“How could I ever be jealous of him,” Bucky sneered as he spun you around before pulling you tight to his chest again, “only one of us has ever truly known you….”

Your anger bubbled over at what Bucky was insinuating and you ‘accidentally’ misstepped and stomped on his foot in the process. The brief stint of pain was enough to distract Bucky and allow you to stagger out of his arms. “Fuck you, Barnes. You don’t get to speak about me like that. You don’t get to touch me. If I want to go on a date with Liam fucking Stinson I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Bucky straightened himself up, his eyes aflame with an emotion you couldn’t quite read. 

“Liam fucking Stinson,” he growled before taking a step closer to you, keeping his hands to himself in fists by his side this time, “is dangerous, Y/N. You’d do well to keep away from him.” Something in Bucky’s eyes flickered as he spoke the last part, something akin to pain, before his harsh mask returned.

Your mouth twisted into a sneer at his audacity to speak to you like he knew what was best for you, “I’ll do. Whatever the fuck. I want,” you bit before whirling away and heading away from Bucky. Not looking back once at the man you left on a crowded dance floor. 

Your heart thundered in your chest as you made your way to the born, requesting an Old Fashioned as soon as possible. Downing one. And another. And another. The booze coating your stomach as a way to try and drown out the sound of your heart in your ears. Bucky must have left, or at least he didn’t approach you for the rest of the night. And at some point between Old Fashioned 1 and 2, you pulled out your phone to let Liam know you’d see him tomorrow…and the week after that…and the week after that. 

Because what better way to get James Barnes out of your head than by doing the thing he’d warned against?

a/n 2: Also, if there are any grammatical/spelling errors in this chapter, I apologize! I’m not feeling 100% today but I wanted to get this out to yall before my ridiculously busy work week!

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@youngblood199456

Chapter Two

Five months later, and you were still sitting at your desk in the late hours of the night. 12:34 AM. Too late. You had been staying at the bureau after hours to make it look like you were already taking this job as seriously as you could. To be fair, you were taking it seriously, but you figured the late hours being noticed would be a benefit.

So when your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"L/N."

"Hey, Y/N, it's JJ. Can you come in for a case? Hotch just called and woke me up. I know it's pretty late, but it's a pretty bad one, we're going to Michigan."

"Yeah, not a problem. I wasn't asleep yet." You don't lie necessarily, but it's a half-truth for sure. JJ doesn't need to know that you were already at the BAU building, less than fifty feet away from the briefing room where you would all be meeting.

"Great, thanks Y/N. See you soon."

She clicks off the phone and you sigh before pushing yourself off of the desk.

"L/N." You almost drop the coffee you had been about to sip as you spun around in your swivel chair.

"Yes, sir?" You ask casually, deciding it was better to play dumb.

"Stand."

Obeying your order, you narrow your eyes and stand up, squaring your shoulders and trying to look bigger than you are.

"Now, explain." Hotchner stands in front of you, arms crossed.

"Explain what? That I'm here and we have a case?" You shake your head as you turn away from him.

"Did I say you could turn, Agent?" His voice sends a shiver through your core and you mentally slap yourself. Now is not the time.

Spinning back around, you catch a glimpse of Derek and Garcia walking in to the briefing room. "We have a case, Hotchner. Let's ignore the fact that I was just doing my paperwork and get in there please." It takes everything in you to turn away a second time. You bend down and grab your shoes, sliding them onto your feet before walking away from him and into the room.

You can feel his gaze on your back, but you ignore it, slipping through the conference room door and letting it fall shut behind you.

"Hey guys." You greet as you sit down.

"Hot mama-"

"Hey, beautiful-"

Derek and Penelope greet you at the same time, causing you two girls to giggle and Derek to stifle his laugh because, 'men don't giggle'.

The three of you exchange small talk until the others walk in, most of them looking like they had been in the deep clutches of sleep.

Spencer's already messy hair looked ten times worse, and Emily wasn't wearing a bra, which she was subtly trying to hide by hunching her shoulders forward.

She sits beside you and you send her the 'you good?' look.

"Don't even mention it, Y/N." She threatens lightly with a laugh before Rossi, JJ, and Hotchner walked in.

You kept your gaze down, but you knew his eyes were on you.

"Garcia, you have the slideshow pulled up?" JJ asks gently, knowing that the other blonde woman absolutely despised cases like this. Really the whole team did.

"Yeah... It's a doosy, team. Not pretty at all." She shakes her head and starts the slideshow before handing the tablet to JJ.

"Okay. Ariel Stanton, Franklin Lewis, and Ella Craft. Three kids, all mutilated with their heads severed and preserved. Their bodies were found in the same area of the Raisin River in Petersburg, MI. The heads-"

Penelope got up then and mumbled a string of 'I'm sorries' before all but running out the door.

Your fingers clutched at the dress pants you were wearing as JJ asked, "Does anyone else need to leave before I keep going?"

A collective shake of the team's heads is enough to convince JJ that she can keep going.

"Their heads were all found beside the river bank, fully intact. Two of the bodies came with a note to the precinct, it read: "Fear me, for I have God on my side. God will help me cleanse the Earth of its sinners. These children had to go, for they were not with God.""

You start speaking when the profile is complete, "Okay, so the references to God and doing His work suggests that this unsub sees himself as holier than thou. Most likely a man, age 30-40 and probably grew up in a family that was very religious; they would have prayed before meals and there would be records of this family donating very generously to the church that they attended."

"No. That profile is wrong, L/N. If you had paid any attention, you'd know that the use of the word 'cleanse' means that he thinks these "sinners" are dirty, he's not thinking that he is necessarily better. I don't need your input again."

"Hotch come-"

"You do not have the right to call me that. My team calls me that. To you, I am Agent Hotchner." His gaze was cold, but there was something there.

"Fine. I'll be on the jet." You stand up and as you bend to pick your purse off the ground, Emily whispers in your ear.

"I agreed with you. I'll brief you on the jet."

You nod once and swiftly walk out of the room, "accidentally" bumping Hotchner on your way out. Luckily, he doesn't say anything about it.

Later on the jet, you have your headphones in and are listening the your favorite song of the week. Your taste in music changes frequently, but right now, you were into the old rock and were listening to Journey.

Your lips press into a hard line when you see Hotchner walking up to you. Taking your headphones out and sit up straighter.

"What do you want?" Your voice is bratty and you sigh, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

"I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am."

You just stare at him.

"What, Y/N?"

"You had something to say?" You cross your arms and lean back in the seat.

His eyebrows furrow when he thinks about what you said and gets a bit confused. "What do you mean? I just said it."

"Oh, did you?" You turn to Spencer, who was sitting across from you, and said, "Did you hear what Hotchner just said?"

"Uh, yeah. I did, why?" He looks up from the book he was reading.

You smirk slightly at Hotch before saying, "Can you use that amazing brain of yours to tell me what he said?"

""I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am." Why did you need that?" He says after repeating the sentences word for word.

Hotch glares at you a bit as you shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know... I just didn't hear an apology in that." You bat your eyelashes up at the older man and add, "You said that Rossi told you to apologize, but you never said that you were sorry."

"Really, L/N? You want me to get on my knees and beg you?" He asks, spitting the words out like incredulous knives.

You keep the snide tone as you reply, "If you'd like to get on your knees, I may be more inclined to accept the imminent apology."

"Don't be a brat, L/N. I get that some of your past lovers may have liked that, but it has no place in this team. I am still your superior and I recommend you treat me like one."

He walks away without having ever apologizing, and you're left there with your jaw on the floor from his parting message.

"-Yeah! And then he was like, 'Don't be a brat. Your ex probably liked it but I'm your superior-"

"O-M-G, O-M-G. What did you say back to him?!" A very excitable Emily asks from you shared hotel room in Michigan.

"Nothing. I couldn't say anything to him because he just spun and WALKED. AWAY." You nod your head at her, your eyebrows raising as you conveyed your own disbelief at the story. "Yeah, it was horrible. I was so mad."

Emily wiggles her eyebrows, causing you to shake your head.

"Whaaat? No. No!"

"Yeah, Y/N. There's some MAD sexual tension between you two."

"Oh, get out!"

As you laugh at her statement, you pick up the pillow behind you and hit her in the side of the head with it.

"You're gonna get it now."

Faking a gasp, you stand and say, "Is that a threat, Emily?"

"Yes. Now run, bitch."

Yu both giggle and spend the night acting like teenagers again. You didn't have time to think about Aaron if you wanted to which you... no.