#click to actually read things rip

[ama3003]

Everything's Just Perfect

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: Yes

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“So…” John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield — warped, twisted, folded . “What now? Because we just got annihilated.”

“No shit,” Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. “I say every man for themselves. Bob’s gone full horror movie. This was fun — goodbye.”

She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished — until Yelena’s voice cut through like a knife.

“We can’t leave him.”

Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. “Leave who? That wasn’t Bob back there. That was... I don’t even know what that was.” She turned, folding her arms. “Definitely not the guy who saved us.”

“No,” Yelena said, voice tight. “But he’s still in there. Somewhere.”

“Unless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,” Ava snapped, “what exactly is your plan?”

“I don’t have one yet,” Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. “But we’re not leaving him. Not like this.”

Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. “If we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Let me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.”

“We’re not finishing him,” Yelena snapped, rounding on him. “We’re going to help him.”

“Oh sure,” Ava muttered. “We’ll just hug the powers out of him.”

“He ripped Bucky’s arm off like it was a doll’s toy,” Alexei added. “We go in like this, we die.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. “Happens more than you think.”

John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. “He folded it. I mean—folded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?”

Ava raised a brow. “So… not vibranium?”

“It’s vibranium-adjacent,” John muttered defensively.

Yelena didn’t even look at him. “Maybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldn’t look like a gas station burrito.”

Alexei lit up. “I could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.”

John groaned. “Focus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"

“Yeah,” Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. “He’s not shy or nerdy anymore.”

That shut them all up.

Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.

He looked at them — bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip — and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.

“There’s a place we can crash. It’s not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.”

Yelena eyed him suspiciously. “Where?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned and started walking.

The group hesitated, then followed — slow and shuffling.

A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at John’s mangled shield. “So… can’t you, like, unfold it? You’ve got super strength, right?”

“I have super strength,” John snapped. “Not unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. It’s toast.”

Alexei squinted. “Is that, like… covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?”

John gave him a deadpan look. “Do I look like I kept a receipt?”

“And you—” he pointed at Ava “—Ghost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?”

Ava raised her brow. “I walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.”

“She literally did,” Yelena added, smirking.

“I-oh. Right. I forgot,” John said, flustered. “In my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.”

“How convenient,” Ava said flatly.

Their argument began escalating again — nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos — until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.

“Enough.” His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. “We’re almost there. If you keep yelling, she’s not going to open the door.”

They all stopped short.

“She?” they echoed, suspicious in unison.

“Yes. She. No more questions.” He resumed walking, jaw clenched.

Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. “Is this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. “Is she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?”

John nodded sagely. “I bet she’s way out of his league.”

“Maybe she's his girlfriend,” Yelena offered with a shrug.

“Highly doubtful,” Ava muttered.

“She’s not my—” Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. “Just... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.”

They finally quieted.

The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings — not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.

Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.

He hated this.

He hated that he’d brought them here — hated the pit growing in his stomach — hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.

Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.

“Does she cook?” “I hope she has a comfy couch.” “If she has tea, I’ll marry her.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.

He almost turned around — almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.

But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Too late.

The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.

Your eyes landed on Bucky first — bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.

“Bucky,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.

Then it was gone.

“What do you want?” you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.

Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. “I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.”

“I don’t play superhero anymore,” you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.

“I know,” he said quickly, “I’m not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.” He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.

“Please, doll,” he added, quieter now. “I wouldn’t have come if I had any other option.”

The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting — wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.

Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.

“Come in before the neighbors start watching.”

The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered — warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.

Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.

Then something soft brushed against his leg.

He glanced down and froze.

A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shifted—stunned, tender.

“Hey, Alpine,” he murmured, crouching carefully. “Hi, pretty girl. I missed you.”

She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.

You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you — your life was stable, his wasn’t. It had made sense. But it hadn’t been easy.

Behind Bucky, the team just… stared.

“Are you seeing this?” John whispered to Yelena.

Ava elbowed him without even looking. “Shut up.”

It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.

The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the “punch-me” face.

Bucky nodded toward the group. “Uh, yeah. That’s Yelena, Ava, Alexei, and... that’s John.”

They all gave awkward waves. Alexei’s was the most enthusiastic.

You nodded politely. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you offered.

“Water, please,” Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.

John raised his hand like a kid in class. “Same.”

Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. “Do you have tea?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Anything.”

You turned to Alexei.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” he asked, hopeful.

“How strong?”

“Very strong.”

You smirked. “Got it.” Then disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky — still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.

“So…” Yelena drawled. “You and her?”

Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

John leaned closer to Ava. “There’s definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?”

“She also looked like she wanted to slam the door,” Ava replied.

“She likes him,” Alexei declared confidently. “There is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.”

Bucky glared at all of them. “If you value your limbs, you’ll stop talking.”

Yelena held up both hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.”

A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.

“Bucky, seriously?” you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. “You could’ve told them to sit down.”

He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. “Didn’t want to break anything.”

You waved the team toward the couches. “Please. Make yourselves at home.”

John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.

“You, my dear, are an angel,” he declared reverently. “Is this whiskey?”

“Only the best for unexpected guests,” you replied dryly. “I was meal-prepping earlier,” you added, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ve got a big pot of soup if anyone’s hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Soup would be heavenly,” John mumbled, eyes already closing.

You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.

Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.

You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadn’t quite decided if he should be there.

“Do you need anything?” you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.

He offered a faint smile — the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. “You all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.”

“Look, Y/N—”

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. “You don’t have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. It’s fine. Really.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.”

“That's fine.” You turned back to fill the bowls. “Alpine misses you.”

His voice was softer this time. “I miss her too.”

You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.

“Lunch.”

A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived — but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.

Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.

Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.

John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.

“And then—oh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakin’ taco,” Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. “Just snapped it like paper!”

Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.

John looked personally offended. “It’s not that funny.”

“And then—wait for it—he ripped off Bucky’s arm.” Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.

Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression — real concern flickering beneath practiced calm — his demeanor softened.

“It’s fine,” he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. “Reattached it without a problem.”

“Are you sure?” You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. “Did you check everything out?”

“I’m okay,” he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you weren’t convinced. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. “I promise. I’m okay.”

His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them — something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.

Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain should’ve been.

It wasn’t there.

His stomach dropped.

Bucky’s fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.

No. No no no.

He never took it off. Ever.

His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.

“Bucky?” you asked, watching him unravel. “What’s wrong?”

“The chain,” he said hoarsely. “My chain. It’s gone.”

Panic etched across his face.

At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there — something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.

When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.

It was a chain.

And dangling from it — a simple gold wedding band.

“Holy f—” she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned to look.

Bucky’s head snapped up.

She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. “This is yours.”

He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.

Relief washed over his features — raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“You still have it,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.

“I—I…” Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.

Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. “Wait—you’re married?! Congratulations!” he bellowed, raising his glass. “That’s adorable.”

Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.

The silence that followed was very loud.

He looked at you again — the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once — then abruptly stood.

He didn’t say anything.

He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.

“Did I…” Alexei frowned. “Did I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?”

Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. “We’re gonna need way more soup.”

“Uh… we’re not married anymore,” you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.

Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didn’t look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room — your feet already knowing where to go.

Of course you knew where he was.

You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadn’t changed — not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.

You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.

“You kept everything the same,” Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was you.

You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice gentle. “It was our home. It felt wrong moving your things…changing your designs.”

Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy — just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.

“They’re a good bunch,” you murmured. “Very entertaining, too.”

Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck — barely visible, but there.

“You kept the ring,” you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.

He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. “It helps me. Grounds me. I didn’t have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring… it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldn’t get rid of it after the divorce. I didn’t want to.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. “So you’ve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?”

He nodded again, this time more slowly. “Every damn day,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t take it off. It’s stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.”

You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.

“You’re not a fool,” you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."

His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.

“I really wanted our marriage to work,” he said, the words coming out like a confession.

“I know you did.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“I know you are.” You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same — steady, calloused, familiar. “You needed to find yourself, Buck. I should’ve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then… you got into politics. You’re actually a congressman now.”

He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.

“I couldn’t keep up,” you continued. “And that was on me.”

“No. It was on me,” he said firmly. “I didn’t prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out — thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasn’t a good husband.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and shook your head.

“Bucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.

His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.

“I’m also sorry,” you whispered.

Bucky’s laugh was soft and bitter. “What the hell happened to us?”

“I don’t really know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.

And for a while, it was enough.

Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.

And then—

CRASH.

You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.

“Did you seriously just break their bowl?” John’s voice rang out, horrified.

“Well, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!” Ava snapped back.

You giggled, forehead still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. “We should go before they break more of our dishes.”

He smiled — a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. “A few more minutes. They’ll survive.”

You didn’t argue.

And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.

********

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up, Alexei. You’re being too loud.”

“We should wake him up, though. We haven’t even talked strategy.”

“We can’t. Look at them.”

“They look like a cute, happy family.”

“We should take a picture.”

The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.

Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap — Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.

For a second, he didn’t move.

This was what peace felt like. This was home.

“You woke him up,” Yelena hissed. “Seriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!”

Bucky looked at them — bleary-eyed and still half-asleep — and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave,” he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. “And if you don’t… Bob will be the least of your problems.”

The team scrambled out of the room like they’d seen a ghost.

He sighed, then looked back down at you — just as you stirred.

You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if you’d pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.

But you didn’t.

You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.

“Everything’s just perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)

[parfaitblogs]

hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you. 

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now. 

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust. 

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it. 

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening. 

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed. 

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you. 

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway. 

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose? 

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it. 

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features. 

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door. 

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways. 

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him. 

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says. 

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash. 

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back. 

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!" 

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier. 

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest. 

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back. 

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears. 

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools. 

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ For me?

‧✧̣̥̇‧ : Lads men when you give them what they were looking for.

No warnings for this post! Just posting something to hop back on tumblr, request me your ideas, I will do my best to write them all!

Ps I know this is bad but bear with me it’s been a year since I last wrote anything…

Part 1: sylus

⨯ ◞ Sylus

Sylus had been looking for a specific item, it was a protocore, one he had been looking for relentlessly, every wanderer he had hunted down or ordered someone to go after, lacked what he needed.

there was the noise again— you blinked up at the ceiling, sylus tripping over an open cabinet door at your apartment, if his biggest enemies couldn’t take him out, your bathroom would. “Too small and too tight, out for my blood” he complained.

He left you with no sleep that night, it wasn’t his fault really, nights were his morning and vice versa. you got out of bed and went to the living room, the room lit up with a notification buzzing from sylus’s phone, curiosity got the better of you and you leaned over, reading the message.

Unknown: “We didn’t find the protocore tonight either, sorry boss—“

Huh, how odd, you clicked on the message. There was a picture attached. that protocore’s shape looks like the one in the hands of the hunter association, you can attempt to get it. The idea of getting Sylus that protocore lingered in your mind, even as you yawned and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. It was the first time you had seen him chase after something, and as such seeing him frustrated was a rare thing.

— Wouldn’t it be interesting if you got to it first?

The Hunter Association was no joke, though. They weren’t the type to hand over rare artifacts just because you asked nicely. Still, you had your own ways of getting things.

Next evening at your shift, you went to look for captian Jenna

“Captain, excuse me! Protocore delta-6, I need it for the mission I’m going on, do I have the permission to borrow it?”

you suppose it did work, you had managed to borrow it, but still not safely secured as an owned possession. The second step of your plan was a bit more tricky, having to go to a field of wanderers and making the excuse of the protocore breaking in your bag.

…wincing as you walked back to your apartment, avoiding your neighbors, not wanting them to look at you while you resembled a wet homeless rat, muddy shoes and hair clinging to your forehead like a miserable pet being bathed.

Great, house was empty. No sylus in sight, tiptoeing to the bedroom you pulled out the gift box and sat on the ground, injury from the wanderer be damned, thinking about actually surprising sylus with something good gave you enough good spirit and motivation to wrap the gift up. As you placed the protocore on the plush bedding of the box, a shadow loomed behind you.

“Of all people…”

The voice sent a chill down your spine. You barely had time to react before Sylus was looming over you, his sharp gaze locked onto the protocore nestled in its plush box.

“Get out of my room!” You snapped, instinctively pulling the box closer, but it was useless. Sylus moved fast—too fast. Before you could blink, he was crouched in front of you, his fingers already curled around the edge of the box.

He didn’t take it, though. Not yet.

Instead, he studied you, eyes flicking over your disheveled state—the ripped sleeve, the way you shifted slightly to favor your injured side. His expression darkened.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, attempting to brush it off, but he wasn’t listening. His hand darted out, grabbing your wrist with controlled precision. You hissed as he pushed your sleeve back, revealing the fresh wound underneath.

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose. “You went into a Wanderer field.” That didn’t sound like a question.

You yanked your arm away. “It was for a good cause.”

His gaze flicked back to the box. “You stole that.”

“I borrowed it,” you corrected. “Technically… At first.”

For a long moment, he was silent. Then, in one smooth motion, he plucked the box from your grasp. You tensed, expecting him to scold you, but instead, Sylus just stared at the neatly wrapped gift, his fingers resting lightly on the edges as if he didn’t quite believe it was real.

“You did this for me?” His voice was quieter now, carrying something unreadable beneath the usual sharpness. Before his stupid handsome face returned to the usual smirk.

You shrugged. “I figured if you were gonna be obsessed over it, I might as well beat you to it.”

Something flickered in his expression— amusement, surprise, something softer you couldn’t place. He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “You are getting brave kitten, doing dirty work? should I hire you as my assistant then.”

“You’re welcome,” you huffed, shifting to stand up. “Now, if you’re done being dramatic, I’d like to clean up and—”

You barely made it to your feet before Sylus moved. before you could step away one hand caught your wrist again—gentler this time. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied you, eyes sharp and calculating. Then, before you could protest, he raised your hand and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip.

[oceantornadoo]

“captain john price. surely you’ve heard of him?” the secretary blinks at you, faking a smile. “oh, that john! and who are you?” you want to rip her lashes off one by one. “his wife.”

that gets her to stop blinking, to actually look at your ID. “your last name isn’t price.” the gall. “it’s the twenty first century, sweetheart. now check the list and let me through.” she diligently checks the list, nodding at the match. seemingly gone mute, she gestures at you to follow her as she walks down the base hallway, passing countless doors and plaques. she stops outside of his door, doe eyes locked on the name plaque. one knock, then two. “sir, there’s someone here for you. your wife.” a pause and then. “send ‘er in.”

she opens the door and gestures you in. you can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you take in the sight of your surly man, a cigar in hand as he overlooks paperwork. he looks up at the click clack of your heels with a smirk matching your own. dropping your bag on the nearby couch, you round the very large wooden desk to stand in between his legs, john already having turned to welcome you in. there’s just one thing missing. “you can go now.” you turn your head owl-like to meet the secretary’s eyes, noting the shock on her face. she closes her gaping mouth abruptly, then shuts the door with no further ceremony.

“wasn’t aware we got married.” you turn your attention back to john, whose hands are already trailing down your calves to take off your heels as you stand on his comfy office rug. you hum as he removes them one at a time, callused hands brushing the frail bone of your ankle, the arch of your foot. once that’s done, your hands slide into his beard on instinct, settling yourself in his wide lap and thanking the ikea gods he has a humongous chair. “your secretary is pushy.” he snorts, leaning a weathered cheek into your touch. “she’s new.” you cut him off with a kiss, lips brushing his like you’ve been wanting to for days. missing the feel of his skin, the scent of cedar and cigars, lonely and pining for him in bed.

“you haven’t been home in three days, johnathon.” the full name comes out when you’re mad or playing at it, a sly trick to make sure he doesn’t know which is which. unfortunately he can read you too well and ignores your schemes anyways. “mission’s movin’ fast, lovie. been only sleepin’ a couple hours here and there.” you steady yourself on his lap, pushing closer and closer until your pelvises meet. “where?” his eyes flick to the office couch and you hum.

“i’ve missed you.” it rushes out like a wave, too intimate to take back. you shouldn’t be showing your cards so soon but he smiles anyways, blue eyes gleaming. “that why you’re terrorizing the office staff?” you nod against him, too choked up for a proper answer. can’t describe how cold and desolate you are without him to warm you up, inside and out. “i’ve missed y’ too, sweetheart. your feelings aren’t too big f’ me, don’t worry.” he always gets you, unfortunately. you lay your head down on his heartbeat, purring as his hands caress your ass and thighs. “i’ve missed my big strong man taking me to bed.” you emphasize it with a hip roll, grinning at his groan.

“ yeah, baby? missed daddy treating you righ’?” you groan at his embarrassing words. “johnnn, you can’t just say shit like that.” he laughs again, beard brushing the top of your head. “can if it’s true.” you sigh, planting a kiss on his collarbone. “hav’ to get used to that talk if you want the wife excuse to be real one day.” you freeze at his words. surely not. but…maybe? you have to check. “your wife?” the hands that have been exploring pinch your ass, sending you further into his arms. “tha’ alright?” you contemplate it. mrs. price. nice ring to it. “yeah,” you nod, and that’s that.

—

slight misogynistic undertones at the bitchy secretary but it’s fiction oops

[absurdthirst]

The Last Piece of Us {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Lingerie, birthday sex, riding, mentions of birth control, cannon violence, broken legs, car accidents, end of the world, regret, anger, harsh words, reunions, oral sex (female receiving),

Comments: When the world ends that night, Joel has to make a choice between you and his daughter. You encouraged him to save Sarah and twenty years later, he finds out that you survived that night when he sees you in Jackson.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"Happy birthday, baby." You coo down the phone, twirling the cord around your finger. 

"Thank you." Joel flusters as he holds his cell phone in his hand while he watches Tommy carry some lumber across the yard of the home they are working on. 

"I have your present waiting for when you come over on your lunch break." You promise and Joel smirks, "yeah?" His voice is rougher, hoping that his present is you in that little silk number he barely managed to not rip off of you the first time you wore it. 

"Yeah...and sex. Birthday sex." You say bluntly and he chuckles at how eager you are. He's just as eager. Life is perfect. The only thing that could make it better is if you move in with him. He wants to ask Sarah about you moving in and see if she is upset with him before he takes the next step. "I'll be there for lunch." He promises just as Tommy spins around and calls out for him to work. "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you get the day off, asshole." Joel snorts, "I gotta go baby. See you soon." He promises and hangs up, shoving his Nokia back in his pocket to help his brother because he heads over to your place for his birthday lunch.

Only an hour remains until Joel should be here and you bite your lip as you look around. You had gotten him a cake, a small one from the grocery store, but knowing him - he hadn’t arranged for anything else. Joel doesn’t like to fuss over himself, but he deserves it. You’ve never met a man who does so much, works so hard, to provide a solid and stable life for his daughter. You had met him at the grocery store two years ago. He had been slightly panicked in the pads and tampons aisle, unsure of what to get his daughter. You had taken mercy on him and it had turned into flirting every time you ran into each other, and eventually you asked him out for a drink. Now, you are head over heels for Joel Miller and you hope that soon enough, you will take your relationship to the next level.

Joel takes his break after Tommy notices that distracted, lovesick look on his face. “Get the fuck out of here. Me and the guys will handle it.” He promises and Joel doesn’t look back as he grabs the keys to his truck and drives over to your place. He rings the doorbell and you open the door, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. “Happy birthday, baby.” You coo and kiss his lips. He grins, pushing you into your hallway and he kicks the door closed as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into Joel’s mouth, tangling your fingers into his head and breathing him in while he kisses you. He smells like sunshine and sweat. Like man. You have no problem with your hardworking, blue collar boyfriend. You love it actually. His hands are rough, but he’s gentle with you unless you don’t want him to be.

He groans into your mouth, loving how you respond and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through the pretty sundress you’re wearing. “You look good enough to eat.” He groans, kissing along your jaw as he backs you against the wall to push his hardening cock against your hip.

“You’re just horny.” You tease, eyes closing and you have to admit you are just as horny. You’ve been imagining him inside you all day. Especially when you put on these panties. “Fuck, baby. Tell me you can take a full lunch.” You beg, reaching for his belt between your bodies.

He nods, "Tommy has it under control. Wanna celebrate my birthday with my lady." He murmurs, kissing along your neck and his hands slide under your dress to squeeze your ass again, feeling the lace. "Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard." He groans against your neck. He knows he should sit down and have lunch with you before having sex but he's been thinking about you all damn day.

“You want to fuck me against the wall or go to the bed?” You hum, pushing on his chest slightly so you can drag him to your bed. “It’s your birthday, so I figured I would ride your cock and let you lay back and relax.”

"You are spoiling me." He grunts, letting you take his hand after he says, "bed." You escort him up the stairs to your bedroom, squealing when he smacks your ass playfully, and he groans at the flash of your panties when you are a few steps ahead of him. When you stumble into your room, he grabs the hem of your dress and drags it up your body. "Happy fucking birthday to me." He hisses, dark eyes taking in your lingerie.

You giggle, unbuttoning his jeans and reaching in to cup his cock. “I could say the same thing.” You coo, squeezing him gently. “Fuck, I’m always amazed at how fucking thick you are.” You moan. “Perfect to fill me up.” He groans and reaches for the collar of his shirt to pull it off, batting your hand away to shimmy out of his jeans and boxer briefs. “Are you going to wear the panties or fuck me.” He demands, making you grin. “They’re crotchless.”

"Jesus Christ." He hisses, "you're trying to kill me. I won't make my next birthday." He groans, stumbling as he kicks his jeans aside and reaches for you, his fingers cupping your cunt through the lace and he hisses at the slick he discovers.

“Thirty-“ you break off a moan when his fingers brush your clit and he starts to rub. “Thirty-six is old enough.” You joke, holding onto his shoulders and trying to steer him to the bed while his hand is still between your thighs. “I can claim I fucked you to death.”

"Put it on my headstone." He chuckles, shifting onto the bed after reluctantly pulling his hand away from your pussy. "Death by orgasm...not a bad way to go." He smirks at you as you straddle his stomach and he can feel how wet you are. His hands slide up your sides until he's cupping your tits, admiring the lace that is covering them.

“Happy Birthday, old man.” You grin as you start grinding down on his cock, feeling how much he loves that as his fingers dig into your skin and he squeezes. Leaning down to kiss him lets your lips catch on the head and you start to push your hips back, letting him break you open as your tongue slides against his.

His hands let go of your tits, sliding down to grab your hips as you sink down onto him with a moan into his mouth. He responds with his own and his cock twitches as you engulf him in your wet, hot heat. “Fuckkk.” He finally pants against your mouth as you take all of him.

You smirk, eyes glazed over from how good it feels. “Fuck is right.” You pant, kissing him again and again as you enjoy the pinch of him filling you and pausing so you can adjust. He’s thick and a lot to take so you give yourself a minute before you start riding him.

Joel slides his hands behind your back, wanting to unclasp your bra, and he drags the straps down your arms to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He tosses the bra across the room and his hands find your tits again, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you slowly start to move on top of him.

“Fuck Joel.” You moan softly, always loving the way he touches you. Joel hadn’t dated a lot before you, being super protective of having people come in and out of Sarah, his daughter’s, life. You respect it, but it gave a greedy, hungry edge to his touch, like he had been so starved for it for so long he was going to gorge himself.

He hisses when your walls flutter around his cock, loving the way you moan his name. “God, baby. You feel so fucking good.” He rasps, trying to not thrust up into you. He went so many years after Helen left without touching anyone, only focusing on raising Sarah, so when you came along, he was greedy for your body, for your touch.

You agree with a hum, rocking on him a little faster. Greedy yourself for his cock inside you. “Fuck.” You moan softly. “I love you.” You promise. “So much.”

"Love you too." He promises, dark eyes watching you as you move on top of him. The best fucking birthday present he could ask for. He hisses when your walls squeeze him, "so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart. So fucking perfect." He grunts, thrusting up into you.

You chuckle breathlessly and grind down into his lap more. Feeling his cock twitch and pulse inside you. “Tomorrow- tomorrow do you want to go out?” You ask, leaning down and kissing him again. “Have Tommy watch Sarah?”

He nods, knowing that Sarah will want to spend time with Tommy. "Yes. Wanna - let me take you out for dinner. Wanna treat my lady." He declares, sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass and he shifts to sit up, wrapping your legs around his waist so he can surge forward to kiss you.

You had been thinking about treating him, but you can squabble over that later. Now you kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and desperately needing more from him as you start to bounce on his cock.

He grunts as you start to move faster on top of him, his hands caressing your back while your tongue tangles with his. His hands slide down to grab your hips, rocking you on top of him a little faster. Your whimpers against his chin tell him you're close and he is desperate to hold off from cumming inside of you. He wants to feel you squeeze his cock.

“Love you, love you, love you.” You chant, over and over again. Feeling your entire body light up with the purest pleasure. Making you gasp and whine as you rocket towards a familiar peak with Joel. “Baby- I’m gonna- cum- I’m gonna - gonna cum!” You squeal when he hits something perfect inside you and your vision goes white, body locking up in pleasure.

Joel hisses when you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with your cum, and he groans your name. He grabs your ass, lifting you and shifting to lay you down on the bed so he can work you through your orgasm and thrust to his own. He leans down to kiss along your neck, "fuck. I love you, baby. Shit, gonna - I'm gonna cum. You're too fucking tight." He groans, thrusting a half dozen more times before he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed.

You whimper, stroking his back as he cums. Filling you up in a way that makes your eyes roll back in bliss. You’re on the pill, so you can enjoy yourself like this. You took them every morning with the antibiotic for the root canal you had just had done. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur, kissing his jaw.

Joel turns his head to kiss you properly, his tongue lazily sliding against yours as he savors this time with you before he has to go back to work. He’s having dinner with Sarah later, relaxing and he can’t wait for the days when you are curled up beside him as you watch TV with them. “I love you.” Joel murmurs, “best birthday ever.” He grins and nudges his nose against yours until he pulls out when he starts to go soft.

“You know this wasn’t your actual birthday present, right?” You laugh, watching him flop onto his back and spread his legs wide to let his cock dry. “I got you a present.” He perks up at that, his face softening. “You did?” He sounds almost surprised but you nod and climb off the bed to get the gift you had wrapped for him.

Joel takes the wrapped gift from you after you come to sit down beside him and he takes it from you, eyes wide at the beautifully wrapped gift. “You didn’t have to get me anything baby.” He tuts even as he rips off the paper and opens the box. “Oh shit!” He exclaims, eyes widening even more at the sight of the beautiful knife inside. “It’s engraved.” You tell him, pointing to the handle and he traces your initials and his on the handle. “It’s beautiful. I- I love it.” He assures you, leaning in to kiss you.

You are so fucking happy he likes the knife, you had worried that it was too personal. Then you wondered if it wasn’t personal enough. “You always complain you never have a good knife when you need one.” You remind him. “This one can clip onto your belt and you can carry it around anytime.” He’s a working man, handy as fuck and you want him to be able to use something you get for him instead of it just collecting dust.

“It’s so perfect. Just like you.” Joel murmurs, reaching up to caress your cheek, “I’m sorry I can’t go out for dinner tonight. I promised Sarah to spend tonight together and I want to make sure she knows I have time for her. She’s been so good about us and I just - I want to make sure she knows that she’s important. You’re important too.” He adds, “my girls.”

“Baby, I completely understand.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. “Your daughter will always and should always come first. We can go out tomorrow. Tonight is for you and Sarah.” You never want the little girl to feel like you are trying to take her dad away or trying to become her mother. You’ve met her a few times, and you want to ease into a friendship with her.

“Jesus Christ, I’m a lucky bastard.” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. “Now…you said something about lunch?” He raises his eyebrows, his stomach rumbling and you giggle, nodding as you shift off of the bed and he carefully puts his knife back in the box. You clean up and redress just as Joel’s phone rings. He scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and he sees it’s Tommy. “Hey man, what’s up?” He asks and Tommy sighs, “I’m sorry. I know you’re having your birthday sex but we had a pipe burst over here. We need you.” Tommy says and Joel huffs, rubbing his cheek. “Sure. I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and looks at you, “I’m so sorry baby. I gotta - pipe burst over at the house. They need me there to help clean up and fix the mess.”

“Okay.” You nod quickly, knowing that he can’t help that. “Let me fix you something to take with you.” You insist, rushing to the kitchen to put some of the lunch you fixed in a Tupperware. “Shit!” You are rushing and accidentally knock the cake to the floor as Joel walks in. “Damnit, I’m so sorry.”

Joel looks down at the floor and up at you, "baby. Shit - let me-" He kneels down to scoop up the cake. It's completely smashed and he feels awful. "I'm so sorry. Fuck. I - this was supposed to be our time and it's - it's been screwed up." He shakes his head, putting the pieces of cake back in the box, "we can still eat it. Five second rule."

“No.” You huff, not finding the idea of eating cake off the floor appealing. “I’ll get you another cake.” You promise. “Or, I’ll bake you one.” You decide. “I just hate that you don’t have it to take home tonight. I know you haven’t picked up one for yourself.”

Joel stands up, walking over to the sink to clean off his hands. “It’s okay, baby. I don’t need a cake. I got you. And an incredible knife. That’s all I need.” He assures you, cupping your cheeks and leaning in to kiss you. His phone rings again and he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” He promises as he grabs his jacket.

You watch as he rushes out of the door and sigh heavily. Looking over at the Tupperware. “Damnit.” You hiss, feeling like a failure because you couldn’t even feed him lunch.

​​Joel is exhausted by the time he makes it home and he grins when he finds Sarah waiting. “I’m sorry.” He promises, Sarah reaches for his present. He playfully shakes the box, humming out and he is shocked when he opens it to discover his watch is repaired. “Thank you, baby girl.” He murmurs, kissing her hair.

Watching the news, you frown at the reports of violence escalating and you turn it off. Joel would be in the middle of a movie with Sarah and you won’t disturb them. Instead, you decide to go take a long bath, wanting to soak the day away.

Joel sighs as he hangs up, shaking his head at his brother who had gotten into trouble. He knew it was his movie night with Sarah, his goddamn birthday, but he still went out and got into it with some asshole at the bar and now Joel’s gotta go bail him out. He strokes Sarah’s hair and shuts the TV off before he carries her to bed. Kissing her forehead, he makes his way to his truck, wondering if you’re still awake.

 ****

 “Shit. What the fuck happened back there?” Tommy pants as Joel speeds away from the station. “I don’t know.” Joel shakes his head, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. People were fucking biting each other, running fast and making a clicking noise. Like nothing he’s ever seen. “We gotta get out of town.” Tommy declares and Joel agrees. “Let’s get Sarah, get my girl, and get the fuck out of here.” He decides, pushing his foot to the gas to get to his girls faster.

You wake up shortly after midnight, sirens wailing and then there’s a giant explosion. It jolts you out of a dream and you jump out of bed to rush to the window. Opening the curtains and gasping when you see fires, lights and people running and screaming in the streets. “Holy shit!” You gape, standing there for a second before you are running to get dressed and pack a bag. You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you are going to Joel’s.

Joel speeds up, running over the next door neighbor he’s never really liked, and he panics when he sees Sarah standing outside the house, a terrified look on her face. “It’s okay, get in the car. In the car!” He shouts, ushering his daughter into his truck. He’s already tried calling you but the phone lines are down. He just hopes you stayed home to wait for him.

Your bag is slung over your shoulder, bat in your hand and you can see the car. It feels like a million miles away and you have already attracted the attention of some crazy person by unlocking the doors with your key fob. They are running back and forth in front of the door and screeching. “Fuck! Fuck!” You take the chance when they out of sight nto run out to the car, screaming when they appear out of nowhere to chase you, slamming their head into the window when you close the door in time. Fumbling with the keys, you finally get the car started, backing out of the driveway with the tires screeching and you throw it into drive.

Joel frantically drives through the streets, passing a family calling for help and he tells Tommy he can’t stop, he needs to get to you. He drives faster, squealing the tires as he turns into your neighborhood. Your car isn’t on your driveway when he drives past and he starts to panic until he finds your car crashed into a porch of the house down the street, smoke coming from the engine. He gets out, slamming the door, and he runs over to you, trying to get the car door open but it’s stuck. “Baby, are you okay?” He shouts, banging on the window but your face is resting on the steering wheel.

You groan quietly, feeling like you’ve been hit in the head with an anvil. “Wha-“ winching, you open your eyes slowly to find yourself behind the wheel and then you remember. The person who had been attacking you had jumped out in front of you and you had swerved. You jump when Joel bangs on the window again and looks over at him. “Joel!” You cry out, looking around. “Be careful- a man- he- he attacked me!”

Joel spins around when he hears a growl and he grabs the knife you gave him that put on his belt after he rescued Tommy. He raises his arm and stabs the guy in the head. You scream and Joel withdraws his knife and the guy falls to the ground dead. Joel’s heart is pounding and he turns back to the car. “Baby, the door is stuck. Can you climb to the other side?” He asks, banging on the glass.

“I-I think so.” You struggle with the seatbelt for a moment. Nearly panicking when it wouldn’t come undone right away. Finally free, you crawl over the console to the passenger door. Pushing on it for a second before Joel is there to help.

He pulls on the door, trying to open it, and he lifts his leg to brace it on the car. Sarah and Tommy watch as Joel pulls until finally, the door opens and you scream as you try to get out of the car. “What’s wrong, baby?” Joel catches you. 

“My leg. I- I think it’s broken.” You choke, the pain suddenly hitting you and Joel catches you. 

“It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He promises, lifting you into his arms. 

“We gotta go!” Tommy shouts and Sarah opens the back door for Joel to put you in the back seat. Tommy shifts into the driver's seat and Joel shuts the door, getting into the passenger seat. “You doing okay?” Joel turns to ask you and Sarah after Tommy squeals down the street.

“I think- what the fuck is going on?” You demand, making both Joel and Tommy tense up slightly. Sarah is wide eyed and frantic beside you. 

“They’re saying it’s some kind of virus.” Tommy answers, twisting his hand around the steering wheel. You listen as Sarah starts to question them about possibly having it and you wrap your arm around the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I think we would already be sick.” You try to comfort her. She turns and huddles against you and you try to ignore the way your leg is starting to throb. It feels like a fracture, which can cause problems so you need to find a pharmacy or something for a splint and antibiotics. “Joel…..I need to stop for medicine.” You know the goal is to be safe, but you also know that your leg could get infected.

Joel nods, turning to look at you and Sarah. “Tommy. The pharmacy. On Main Street.” Joel says and Tommy nods, speeding down the road. When you arrive on Main Street, it’s carnage. People screaming and running. Joel is tense, knowing he needs to help you with your leg but he’s also wanting to drive far away right now. “Tommy!” He shouts as a truck speeds down the street just as a plane overhead starts to fall from the sky.

The next few moments seem to go in slow motion. Joel demanding that Tommy plow through the crowd that is running in the streets and you looking back at the plane as it almost slowly hits the ground, although you know it’s traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. The fireball erupts and both you and Sarah cry out as the shockwave sends the force of the explosion and debris into the truck, flipping it. Your world goes dark.

……“Wake up. Baby, wake up.” Joel begs, turning to see your head lolling and Sarah groans as Joel scrambles to get out of the truck. People are screaming and running, others attacking and his heart is pounding in his chest. Joel manages to get Sarah from the truck, pulling her free and he calls out to Tommy. His brother is trying to get out still and Joel curses as he sets Sarah on the ground. “Can you walk?” He asks and she groans, “my ankle.” He growls, “stay here” and crawls back over to the truck. “Baby. Baby, can you move?” He asks, reaching for you.

Groaning, you try to move as Tommy pulls free of the truck, shaking your head. “Joe-“ you are cutting off with a scream and the truck is jolted forward as the back of the upside down truck is smashed into by a police cruiser. “Shit!” You start to panic as the cop car catches on fire. “Joel! Joel!” Your legs are pinned and even if you are able to get free, you still have a fractured leg. You can hear the panic in Joel’s curses and you know you are going to just make it dangerous for him and Sarah. “I’m stuck!” You yell. “Take Sarah and go!”

“No!” He yells, looking up to see Tommy on the other side of the cop car. Sarah is still on the ground. He can’t take both of you. “Tommy! Can you get over here?” He shouts to his brother, desperation in his voice. “Baby, baby. You gotta - just try and crawl out. I can’t reach you.” He is hyperventilating, trying to save you. “Just try!”

“Go on Joel! Get her out of here!” Tommy shouts over the noise of the fire and the chaos around you. “I’ll get her out and meet you by the river.” You know Tommy is giving Joel hope and you look in his eyes, seeing the hesitation. “I’ll meet you there.” You lie. “Take Sarah and get her out of here baby. I love you.” You choke out, knowing you won’t see him again.

Joel feels like he won’t see you again. He swallows down the lump in his throat, tears in his eyes as he leans in, wishing he could kiss you but he can’t reach you. “I love you. I’ll - I’ll see you soon.” He promises but he can’t keep it. The truck creaks and he turns, scooping up Sarah and she screams, “you have to save her!” Joel hyperventilates as he carries his daughter away, knowing he can save her. He is distracted when he stumbles into the alleyway. He sees the man stumbling before he starts to chase them and Joel grunts, running away with Sarah in his arms. He prays that Tommy rescued you.

Tommy grunts and heaves at the section of the bench that is pinning your ankle. Keeping you in the truck. “Sweetheart…” you can hear the defeat in his voice and your own tears are sliding up into your hair. You’re still upside down and soon enough you will lose consciousness. “It’s okay.” You tell him. “Take care of Joel and Sarah, okay?” You beg him. It’s been pure luck that someone hasn’t attacked Tommy yet but he can’t stay out here any longer. “Go.”

Tommy nods, knowing that this will kill Joel but they can’t do anything without calling for machinery and that isn’t going to happen with the mess that’s happening around you. “I’m so sorry.” Tommy murmurs, reaching in to squeeze your hand. “Go.” You choke and Tommy nods, his chest tight as he lets go of your hand and runs down the street to find Joel. 

**** 

“We’re not sick. We’re not sick!” Joel shouts and tries to turn as the soldier fires his gun. He rolls down the hill with Sarah and she chokes on her own blood when he scrambles over to her. “No no no no. Baby girl. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” He promises, pulling her against him and pressing his hand to the wound to try and stop the bleeding. He’s losing her. He knows he is. He’s losing her and he’s lost you. His girls. “Baby girl. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He chokes, kissing her hair and he feels her go limp in his arms. Sobs escape his lips as he cradles her just as Tommy arrives without you. It’s his worst nightmare and it’s come true.

**** 

Joel is tense as he rides into the town, Ellie clinging to him. His heart is still pounding from nearly losing her to a rabid dog, and that’s when he hears his name. “Tommy!” He shouts, swinging off of the horse and rushing towards the brother he thought he had lost. “Tommy!” He shouts again and wraps his arms around his brother.

Your head pops up from where you were working on the lights. Knowing that voice, a ghost from your past and the sounds that haunt your dreams at night. Tommy Miller arriving in Jackson had been a complete surprise, but you hadn’t talked to him about Joel. Now even when he had offered to tell him that you were still alive. You had made him promise not to send that message. Maria had agreed and asked Tommy to stop sending communications from the tower. Watching, you see the brothers embrace in the middle of the street and know you need to rush home but before you can turn away, brown eyes that you remember so well turn and lock onto you.

Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut. You’re standing there staring at him, mouth open like his and he drops his arms from Tommy as he murmurs your name. It’s definitely you. You look older but just as fucking beautiful. He swallows harshly and his heart thumps in his chest. “I need - it’s her. She’s alive.” He chokes, his heart pounding and he feels sick, knowing he left you there alone.

Tommy follows Joel’s gaze and shuffles guiltily. “Yeah.” He nods. “Surprised me when I saw her here.” He admits quietly, still feeling guilty about that night and you being left behind. “Joel-“ he doesn’t have the words to properly apologize, but he has regrets to last a lifetime. “I’m sorry.”

Joel shakes his head, unable to say anything. Ellie looks on as Joel practically stumbles over to you. His hands reach for you and he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re alive.” He chokes, “you are here.” He declares in awe.

“I’m here.” You whisper, knowing that you’ve aged and so has Joel, but you can see that he’s still the same man you had been with so many years ago. Just with a little more mileage on him and what looks like a lifetime of regret. Tommy had told you about Sarah, so you know that in one night he had lost everyone he loved except for his brother. That’s why it’s not surprising to you to see Joel here.

He caresses your cheeks, trying to experience every year you have survived without him by your side through the stories your skin tells and you grip his wrists, clinging to him as a gruff voice calls out, “who the fuck is this?” Joel turns to look over at the guy, ready to defend you or himself in case it’s your husband, but he freezes when he sees the boy. He’s about twenty. His eyes and nose are like Joel’s. “Mom. Are you okay?” The boy comes over to you and Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“JJ…..” you turn your head to watch your son closely, feeling Joel stiffen and you step away from him. “Baby, this is Joel Miller.” You explain carefully, making your son’s frown deepen into a fierce scowl. 

“This is the asshole that left you to die?” He scoffs, glaring at Joel as he looks him up and down. “JJ!” You hiss. “It wasn’t like that!” You had never told your son about that night, but Tommy had told his story and it had gotten around. JJ had taken to thinking the worst of his father.

Ellie watches in shock as she tries to put the pieces together. Joel is still in shock. He has a son. He left you to die and you were pregnant. “I - you were - and I-” He chokes and JJ scoffs, “yeah. You left her to die, you piece of shit. And she was pregnant.” He growls and steps towards Joel who holds his hands up, ready to take what your son gives him. He deserves it.

“STOP IT.” You step in front of your son, your hand on his chest and you push him back to wag your finger in his face. “Joesph Joel Miller, you go back to the house right now.” You scold him. “I will talk to you later, but don’t you dare step foot out of that house until I get back.”

Joel is speechless and your son clenches his jaw, knowing it’s best to not argue with his mother so he steps back from Joel and storms off to your house. Joel watches him, his eyes wide as he looks back at you, desperate for an explanation to be spoken instead of his mind whirling.

Tommy steps up, looking around and the curious spectators. “Maybe we can talk while we get them something to eat?” He asks you. “I know that my brother has the same questions I had.” You look at him and nod, gesturing towards the meal hall. “Come, I - is your little girl hungry?” You ask, trying not to be upset that Joel has another child.

Joel doesn’t explain, he can’t. He’s still in shock so he nods and beckons Ellie to follow as you guide him to the canteen. Tommy gets some food brought over and the woman from earlier sits down. “I think this is a conversation best left between family.” Joel hints and Maria snorts, “I am family.” She holds up her hand to display her wedding ring and Tommy takes her hand in his. “She’s my wife.” Joel is shocked once more, shaking his head. “I- I can’t - when - how?” He needs answers. Now.

You don’t answer, letting Tommy tell his story as he sees fit. He explains how Maria had found him after he left the Fireflies and brought him here. “And I was surprised as shit to find her here.” He nods towards you, bringing Joel’s attention back to you, although he had kept looking at you the entire time. Apparently now it’s time that you explain your story. “That night- uh, Tommy couldn’t get me free.” You know Tommy had told him about leaving you, but only you know what happened after. “Another- there was another car that hit the police cruiser.” You wince slightly, remembering how hot it had been. “It shifted the seat and I could crawl out of the truck. The chaos-“ you shake your head. “It was- quiet then. Not many were left alive.” You look down at your hands. “I crawled to the pharmacy and managed to get inside. It was where I stayed for a week.”

Joel sets his fork down, running his fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. He didn’t try hard enough to get you out. He left you alone. He left you alone and pregnant. The guilt claws at his insides but he doesn’t interrupt you, wanting you to tell your story.

“The pharmacy had a boot and I could use that to walk, so I waited until the antibiotics were in my system and the food in the store was gone.” You huff at yourself. “You remember when I had that root canal?” You ask and he frowns and nods. “Well….antibiotics, umm, they make your birth control not work.” You admit with a small shrug of your shoulders and a wry smile. “The best I can estimate is that we conceived JJ that day, on your birthday.” You admit quietly. “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until months later. When I was at a refugee camp.” You sigh softly, remembering how you had wondered if Joel survived, looking for him everyday during that time. You never found him.

Joel shakes his head, finally opening his eyes to look at you. "I- I left you and you were - Jesus Christ." He hates himself. The loathing from Sarah's death explodes and he chokes. "I am - shit - I am so sorry. I can't - there's - I should've tried harder to get you out of there. I should've - fuck." He feels tears sting in his eyes and he rubs them.

“You had Sarah to take care of.” You remind him softly, reaching out and touching his arm. “I always told you to put her first. I’m not- I don’t blame you Joel. And I’m so sorry about Sarah.” You murmur, ignoring the way that Ellie looks on with fascination between slurping bites of her soup. “JJ doesn’t know the entire story.”

Joel swallows harshly, “I don’t - he’s gotta hate me.” He murmurs and Maria looks at Tommy before her gaze slides to Ellie. “Hey. Why don’t we get you a shower and some new clothes? I can cut your hair too.” Maria offers and Ellie opens her mouth to protest leaving Joel when he says “let’s go. I need some air.” He stands up and grabs his backpack, needing to be outside so he can think. Maria and Tommy stand up and Joel looks at you. “You need some time. I’ll find you later.” You promise and he nods, “soon.”

​​Walking slowly back to your house, you can’t believe that Joel is here. Feeling guilty for the shock of learning that you had his child at the end of the world. You had honestly never expected to see him again. You know about Tess, learning from Tommy that Joel had found some semblance of happiness. You could never begrudge him that. Not even if you had never been involved with anyone yourself. You had been too busy raising JJ, helping build Jackson into what it is now. Surviving this cruel new world. Reaching the near home you share with your son, you sigh and watch as he comes charging out onto the front porch, oddly deflating when he sees you are alone. “He already left?” He demands bitterly and you shake your head. Everyday you are reminded how much JJ is like his father. More serious in his young life, but circumstances had dictated that. “JJ….” You sigh softly. “Sometimes you are so like him.”

Your son shakes his head, “I’m nothing like that piece of shit. He left you alone to die, mom. He left you in that truck. Everyone said uncle Tommy stayed behind to save you but he couldn’t. That bastard ran away, he left you. He left us.” JJ spits as he looks down the street as if he’s looking for Joel.

“You have- had a sister, JJ.” You reach out for him and take his hand, not letting him shake you off. “Half sister. Her name was Sarah and she was twelve the night the world ended.” You explain quietly. “That night, I was trapped in the truck and Sarah was hurt. Joel couldn’t get me out and protect her. Just like I’ve always protected you, Sarah was his priority. That’s how it should have been. How I wanted it. I told him to go. I thought I was going to die and I didn’t want them to die with me.”

JJ shakes his head, trying to process that his half sister died that night. That you sent his father away to save her and he failed. “I can’t - you have never talked about him. Why? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” JJ asks, wanting to know why he’s been kept in the dark.

You swallow, your eyes starting to get watery and you bite your lip for a moment before you compose yourself. Needing to not sob out of anger at the way your life had turned out. “Because he’s- your father is the great love of my life.” You admit quietly, reaching under your shirt and pulling out the heart charm that you have always worn. “For a long time, I had thought he had died. So many died, and I couldn’t-“ you break off when your voice cracks. “I thought it would be easier, but you look just like him. Act just like him.”

JJ reaches for you, knowing that you’re upset. “I’m sorry, mom. Shit. I’m sorry.” He pulls you into his arms, wanting to comfort you. He’s still conflicted but he knows that you will be strong like you always have. “He’s not dead. He’s here and he - he’s got another kid.”

You hum, knowing that it’s surprising. “I can’t blame him. He thought I was dead.” You remind your son. The son you created with Joel on that fateful day. You hug him tightly. “Life is harsh. You find happiness where you can. I found my happiness in raising you. Keeping a piece of him safe.”

JJ sighs, pulling back to look at you. “I’m really like him?” He asks and you chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Yeah. You have his stubbornness.” JJ snorts and smiles at you, “I want to meet him properly.” You nod, “we can arrange that.” 

**** 

Joel sips the whiskey Tommy handed him, admiring the bar they have set up. A fucking bar. While he’s been out there fighting for his life to get Ellie where she needs to go, to find his brother, the brother in question was drinking in a bar and knew the love of Joel’s life was safe and had his kid. He downs the drink, tapping the bar to silently ask for another. Tommy raises his eyebrows but pours another measure, grabbing himself a glass. “I’m gonna be a dad.” Tommy announces and Joel can’t feel happy for him. Smothered by his own failures as a parent, he scoffs and Tommy shakes his head, “you can’t even be happy for me.” Joel shrugs, “you’ll be fine.”

Tommy sighs, exasperated. “I’m sorry about Sarah, Joel.” He huffs. “But just because she died doesn’t mean I stopped living.” He tells his brother. “You have a grown son.” His brow lifts slightly. “Maybe you should get to know him.”

Joel stares at the wood grain on the counter, knowing that his son will hate him for leaving you. He doubts he’ll ever establish a relationship with him. “I need to take Ellie to Colorado first.” He declares, “I need to help her.” 

Tommy sighs, “you better go find your girl and talk to her. Ellie will be fine with Maria.” Tommy assures his brother who nods, knowing he needs to talk to you properly. He downs the rest of the whiskey and pushes away from the bar, “show me the way.”

You bring JJ into the house, setting the kettle on to boil so you can sit down and talk with him. Answering any question frankly and telling him more about the man who had helped create him. Sharing parts of yourself that you had kept private for so long and smiling at the memories.

Joel shuffles awkwardly on the threshold of the place you call home. It’s so bizarre being in Jackson, like a mirror image of a time he thought was long gone but this little piece of paradise in Wyoming has his heart relaxing. He’s not worried about dying here. He’s not worried about Ellie getting hurt. He knocks on your door, anxiously awaiting your son to come and punch him. He deserves it and more.

Your forehead furrows slightly and you look up from your tea. “Do you-“ 

JJ stands, shaking his head. “I’ll get the door. It’s probably Matt. We were going to catch the movie after we feed the pigs.” Everyone has their assigned chores and JJ and his best friend were currently on duty with the animals. 

“Okay.” You nod, looking back down at the tea.

Joel looks up as the door opens and he inhales deeply when he sees JJ standing there. “I, uh, guess I should introduce myself properly. I’m Joel Miller.” He holds his hand out and the boy takes it, squeezing it harder than necessary but Joel understands his protectiveness and anger. 

“Joseph Joel Miller.” He responds and Joel can’t believe you named the boy after him when he left you for dead. 

Joel waits until his hand is freed before he scratches his cheek, “I didn’t want to leave your mother. I just - that night - you didn’t live through the chaos. I should’ve stayed. I have regretted it every damn day of my life.” He confesses, “and I’m sorry.” He adds and JJ nods, pushing the door open. “Better if you said it to her.” Joel nods, stepping into the house and he looks around, “she’s in the kitchen.” JJ announces and Joel steps further into the house until he finds the kitchen and you.

When you hear footsteps approaching, you look up, surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway. “Joel.” You shoot out of your seat and stand awkwardly. Wondering if he is here to chew you out for keeping your son from him. “I- do you want some tea?”

Joel knows he should have something to counter the whiskey. He wants to be lucid when he has this conversation with you. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart.” He steps towards the table and JJ nods when he pulls out the chair. He sits down and watches you pour out some tea for him. You’re still as beautiful as the day he left you.

“I’ve been talking to JJ.” You explain. “Telling him about that night in more detail. So he can apologize for being so rude to you.” You glance at your son pointedly, and he sighs, toying with his teacup. 

“Sorry I was rude to you.” He tells Joel, not exactly sincere but it’s not as hostile as it had been before. You snort to yourself and bump him when you move to put the kettle back on the stove.

Joel shifts in his seat as he nods at his son, "if it was my momma, I would've punched the asshole who left her to die so I think I got off easy." He says to the boy who has his eyes but your hair and mouth. Joel knows he must have your smile "I am sorry for what happened that night, I never forgave myself. I had nightmares for a long time after that night. Because of all of it." He admits and JJ fiddles with the delicate cup in his hands. "Mom said you lost your daughter...my half sister, Sarah." Joel sighs, his chest tightening in the same way it has since losing his little girl. "She got shot by a soldier. He thought - he thought we were infected and there was nothing - she died in my arms." He finishes with a whisper.

You close your eyes, almost ready to sit down when he says that and you reach out for his arm. “I am so sorry.” You whisper quietly. You had respected his love for his daughter, but it was after you had JJ had you truly understood that willingness to die for your child, or kill for them. 

JJ looks down sadly. “What was she like?” He asks curiously

Joel offers his son a rare smile. “She was funny. She would gang up on me with Tommy, play pranks on me. She was so damn pretty. I was worried about when she was gonna start dating. I was preparing my 9 mil for the boys…if she liked boys. We never established that.” He frowns, “she was a girly girl. Loved pink. She was caring too. Looked after me. Loved cooking. She practically kept me and Tommy fed.” He gets lost in his memories as he taps his fingers on the kitchen table.

JJ listens closely, building a vision of this sister he will never know in his mind. He doesn’t even know if there is a picture of her around and he doesn’t want to ask. “Well, Tommy is still a horrible cook.” He offers with a grin. “Mom and I eat at home on nights he helps in the communal kitchen.”

Joel snorts, “he’s a terrible cook. So am I. I can skin and cook a rabbit but actually spices? Hopeless.” He admits and JJ chuckles. “What about…you have another daughter?” He inquires and Joel places his hand flat on the table. “She’s not mine, biologically. She’s from Boston. Her mom died when she was born and she needs to get to Colorado. Someone I know asked me to take her there and I am.” He discloses, “she’s important. She’s -” He doesn’t know if he should say why because of Ellie’s safety but it’s you, and his son. “She was bitten back in Boston. She’s still alive. She’s - she could be the key to a cure.”

You rear back in surprise. Trying to comprehend what that might mean for the curse that has plagued the world since that night twenty years ago. “Joel-“ you shake your head and huff. “That’s- you can’t tell anyone here.” You caution him. “Tommy, that’s it. I don’t know what the council could do, but we don’t have the facilities here. What’s in Colorado?”

"Doctors. Apparently they are working on a cure. She wants to get over there and I need to take her. She's - she's important to me now." He admits, "I have to help her."

Joel has had an entire life without you. Loved and lost and apparently lost again since Tess isn’t with him. Tommy had explained their relationship and while your heart ached at Joel moving on, it was natural. You couldn’t have expected him to pine over you for the rest of his life. It wouldn’t be fair. It doesn’t matter that you have done that exact thing. “I see.” You nod and look down at your tea cup. “We will help however we can.”

Joel reaches for your hand, “I have to finish my journey with her but then I’ll come straight back. We need - I can’t - unless you want me to stay away.” He murmurs, knowing you might hate him for leaving you to die.

“I don’t want you to stay away.” You murmur softly. “I know that you didn’t have the best introduction to your son, but I want you to know him. For him to know you.” You smile at him, wondering if he’s just trying to understand the last twenty years or if this means he still cares about you in some small way.

Joel nods, offering you a smile and it feels strange on his face. Foreign. He doesn’t smile often. He swallows harshly and looks over at JJ who nods, reluctance and curiosity in his eyes. “As soon as I help Ellie, I’ll come back and we will get to know each other.”

“Did Tommy get a house sorted for you to stay in?” You ask, wondering if he’s going to need to stay with you. Or if Tommy had been planning on that.

Joel frowns, the concept of a house is also foreign to him. “I haven’t - we didn’t really get a chance to discuss where we would stay.” He admits, “Ellie is with Maria. I need to find her and speak to Tommy.” He also needs some air, a moment to process everything he’s discovered today.

“Oh, okay.” You pull your hand out of his and stand up. “She’s probably at Maria and Tommy’s house.” You move to the window and point. “Two blocks that way.”

Joel stands up, brushing down his pants, and he needs a shower but that can wait. He makes his way down the hall followed by you, JJ still in the kitchen. He reaches up to cup your cheek, “I’ll be back if you want me. I’m so sorry I left you, baby.”

“Joel….” You don’t want him to leave and feel guilty. Being distracted out here can get you killed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” You murmur gently. “I’m sorry that leaving didn’t save Sarah.” You cover his hand with your own. “Be safe and come back as soon as you can.”

He nods, “I gotta - I’m gonna find Ellie and then I’ll be back.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead. He makes his way outside and follows the directions you gave him until he comes to Tommy’s house and he knocks on the door.

Tommy opens the door to find Joel on the porch and he glances behind him to see if anyone else is there. “You looking for Ellie?” He asks, not sure if Joel is still in a tizzy about Maria being pregnant, or you being alive.

Joel nods, “can we talk first? I just - I need to talk to someone about all of this.” He confesses, knowing he isn’t someone who bares his feelings but he needs to talk to his brother, the one person who knows about everything.

“Yeah.” Joel looks almost panicked, or defeated and he looks down at his boots. They are worn out and held together with duct tape. “Come on, let’s get you some shoes.” He grabs his jacket and steps out of the house, pulling it on.

Joel follows his brother to the cobbler. It’s insane to know that there’s a cobbler in this world he has yet to experience. He removes his tattered boots and sits down, swallowing harshly. “I was so afraid.” Joel confesses, “and I have dreams. Every night.” 

“What kind of dreams?” Tommy asks, frowning at his older brother. 

Joel shakes his head, “I don't know. I can't remember. I just know that when I wake up ... I've lost something. I'm failing in my sleep. It's all I do. It's all I've ever done ... is fail her. Again and again." Her is the women closest to him. Sarah. Ellie. You. He has failed you all and tears sting in his eyes as he tries to process that he’s failed again. He failed you by leaving you pregnant in a world that wanted you dead.

“You can’t blame yourself.” Tommy shakes his head. “There was no easy way out of that situation. She was stuck. Hell, she still walks with a limp on really cold days. If you had got her out, you don’t think those sons of bitches wouldn’t have shot her too?”

Joel chokes at the thought. “I can’t have her again. I failed her. She should hate me. She shouldn’t be with me.” He shakes his head, a tear falling from his eye. “He should hate me. He does. I deserve to be sent away and never let back in.”

Tommy snorts, hating that Joel is letting his demons overrule his heart. He deserves this, he deserves to be free to love again. Especially since he lost Tess. Tess had been a saving grace for him, and even if he didn’t love her completely, it was only because he still loved you. “You wanna know why she wouldn’t let me tell you that she was alive?” Tommy asks Joel, waiting until his older brother looks up at him. “Because you had moved on. You had Tess. You were….content.” Tommy shrugs. “She loves you so much that knowing you were okay was enough for her.”

Joel wipes his cheeks, “I can’t let her have me back. I need to go. You need to take Ellie to Colorado for me. I need to go.” He chokes, knowing he won’t be able to be the man that you need.

“You are your own worst enemy.” Tommy tells him, shaking his head. Joel closes his eyes but whispers a quiet “please”, his tone agonized. “Yeah, alright.” Tommy sighs. “I’ll do it.”

Joel exhales shakily, standing up, and Tommy works on getting him a pair of shoes. He sighs and tries the shoes on, knowing this will be the pair that last him till the end of his days. He knows he won’t make it alone in the wilderness and he deserves to go. It’s time. When he comes back to Tommy’s house, he’s exhausted but he finds Ellie reading a diary. “Is this all they had to worry about? Boys and school?” She scoffs, flipping the page. The next words that come out of Joel’s mouth are ones he will regret. Saying that Ellie isn’t his kid.

Ellie’s face drops as Joel slams out of the room she had picked for herself. Hurt and furious at what she feels like is a betrayal. She hears Joel slam the door shut of the room down the hall before she grabs her jacket and slips out of the house. She needs to talk to someone and it might as well be you.

Joel exhales shakily, his hands shaking and chest heaving while his heart pounds in his chest. He’s failed again. He has failed everyone in his life and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He can’t fail Ellie again. He decides then and there that he’s taking her to Colorado.

The knock on the door is later than you expected. JJ is still at the movie and you wonder if Joel has come back with more questions. Opening the door, you find Ellie, her face drawn and distraught and you immediately step back. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Ellie shakes her head, tears in her eyes, and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around your waist. “He- he doesn’t want me. No one wants me. I just - I feel so fucking lost.” She chokes, burying her face into you.

It must be because you are a mother, or maybe because of your history with Joel for her to come to you. Wrapping your arms around her, you hug the distraught teen tightly. “He does want you.” You promise her softly. “He’s afraid of losing you.”

Ellie shakes her head, “he doesn’t want me. No one wants me. I’m an orphan and I don’t know where the hell I belong. I need - he was gonna take me to Colorado and I wanted him to take me. I thought - I kinda wanted him to love me.” She chokes, “as a daughter.”

“Sweet girl.” You hold onto her tighter, unsure of why she’s orphaned, but she’s pretty sure it has something to do with the fucked up world. “That’s what scares him. He does.” You rub her back gently. “He loved Sarah with every fiber of her being and Tommy has told me what her dying did to him. It broke him, made him brittle and hard. He’s scared to open himself up again. But he will. He will, for you.”

Ellie sniffs, unused to being so vulnerable. Her whole life she’s had to be strong, to act like nothing bothers her. She swallows harshly and pulls back from you. “Can you walk me back to Tommy’s - I don’t - I don’t know where it is.” She admits, feeling embarrassed by her outburst.

“I can.” You nod and drop your arms from around the younger girl. “Or I can make you some tea?” You offer, knowing she still might be emotional. “You don’t have to go. I was planning on making some for myself and then baking some scones.” You smile. “We’ve grown our own wheat last summer and we are finally able to bake safely again.

Ellie’s eyes widen. She has never baked. She nods, wiping her eyes, and she follows you into the house. She is happy that you comforted her, helped her through a difficult moment. She’s never had a mother figure. Even Marlene was such a brief interaction in her life.

You find Ellie to be completely amazing. She’s witty and sarcastic, harder than Sarah was, but much the same with her sense of humor. It makes sense, because Sarah had been allowed to be innocent whereas Ellie has grown up in a harsher world. Once the scones slide into the oven, you set the timer and smile. “Now, you will have to take half of them when you and Joel go on your trip to Colorado.” You tell her. “You did most of the work.”

Ellie wonders if this is what life was like before the outbreak. If it was this easy and safe and fun. "I don' think Joel is going to take me to Colorado." She sighs, "so looks like more scones for me."

“I don’t know…” you smirk slightly. “You might not want to share them with him once you try them.” It’s a joke, not a particularly good one, but she does huff in slight amusement. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.” She reveals, “I want to get there as soon as possible because…” She steps towards you, pulling on the sleeve of her shirt to show you the healed teeth marks on her arm.

“I think I am the cure to all of this bullshit.”

You had heard it from Joel, but to see the not one, but two scars on her arm is nothing short of amazing. You know it must be true, she would have never gotten past the dogs otherwise. “Amazing.” You whisper quietly, reaching out to tracing the marks. “That’s- you’re amazing.”

Ellie scoffs, “I don’t know about that. I want to give people a chance. To have the life that we used to have. Go to the mall. The movies.” She sighs, dreaming of a future where she could be a normal teenager.

“We are starting to reclaim some of that.” You remind her gently. “Here. We are expanding our lives from just survival. And you are welcomed to stay here and not go to Colorado.” You chuckle quietly. “Saving the world is a tough burden to shoulder and no one would blame you if you didn’t want to.”

Ellie shakes her head, “I need to. It’s what I need to do. I need to save someone. I couldn’t save my friend. She - she got bit when I did and I - I have to save someone. Even if it’s one person.” She murmurs, closing her eyes for a second.

You reach out for her, patting her hand gently. “I understand.” You promise. “I feel guilty now, I got to keep my child and raise him, while Joel lost his.” You sigh softly. “Life sucks sometimes, huh?”

She snorts, “yeah. It does. So…Joel’s got a kid?” She asks and you nod, “yeah. He’s just like him sometimes.” Ellie whistles, “oh boy. That’s gonna be interesting to see.” You giggle, “he has his father’s stubbornness. Something I’m sure you know.” You nudge her and she nods, “abso-fucking-lutely.”

The two of you sit in the silence for another moment until Ellie clears her throat. “What was he like before? Before the outbreak?” She asks curiously. 

You smile, thinking about that time fondly. “Hard working. A flirt.” You giggle quietly when Ellie makes a disgusted face. “He was a single father, so he did everything for Sarah. Loved music, loved, loved going out where live bands were playing classic rock. And a surprisingly good dancer.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, “Joel used to dance? No fucking way!” She shakes her head and you nod, “he was good.” She can’t believe it but she knows that the harsh man he is today isn’t the same man he was before he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Joel…dancing.” She trails off and snorts, “can’t believe it.”

You hum, trying to remember that Ellie only knows the man after the heartbreak. “Joel wants to come back to Jackson, after you’re done saving the world.” You tell her. “Maybe you’ll come back with him?”

Ellie nods, "I would like to but this is important. The cure. A possible cure. I need to do what I can." She declares and you nod, "let's get you back to Tommy's. I'm sure you want to sleep in a proper bed." Ellie grins, "fuck yeah."

You insist on walking Ellie. It doesn’t matter that Jackson is safe. She feels lost and alone and you want her to know that she isn’t. That she has someone who will look after her. When you round the corner and Tommy’s comes into sight, the house next door has a single light on upstairs and you can see a figure pacing in front of the windows. “Joel is still awake.”

Ellie turns to you, "thanks for...well, you know." She shrugs and you reach out to squeeze her shoulder. "I am always here. I'll be here if you decide to come back." You promise and she surges forward to hug you. "Thank you." She whispers, squeezing you for a second before she pulls away and makes her way into Tommy's house. You look up at the window where Joel is pacing, wondering what he's thinking, and you turn on your heel to head home. Joel needs time to process and so do you.

**** You don’t sleep well, up before the sun and you get dressed in the dark while JJ snores away down the hall. Making your way to the stables with the hope that you didn’t miss Joel and Ellie leaving. Despite what the teenager told you, you know that Joel wouldn’t be satisfied unless he saw it through. He was the one that delivered her safely to the doctors for a cure.

****

Joel pats the horse as he finishes strapping on the saddlebags when Ellie arrives with Tommy in the stable. His dark eyes flick to where you are standing with JJ behind them. "You ready to go, kid?" He asks Ellie, not wanting to address the elephant in the room.

You step out from the stall, holding Joel’s bag as you smirk, Ellie immediately choosing Joel over Tommy as her travel companion. You had found Joel thinking about sneaking away and unable to do it, especially when he had seen you had come to see him off. “Told ya.” You tell the younger girl, pleasantly surprised to see JJ with them.

Joel doesn't let his happiness show on his face. The kid picked him. His heart nearly bursts and he knows he has to protect her, see her to the end of her journey. Joel helps her onto the horse and he steps over to you, reaching for your hand. "I am going to come back...if you want me to."

You stare into his eyes and nod. “You better come back, Miller.” You threaten softly. “Keep her safe. She loves you.”

He nods, "I'll be back as soon as I can." He promises even though you both know deep down it's impossible to keep it when he's out in the wilderness. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his eyes closing as he breathes you in.

JJ shuffles, coming up beside you and when Joel pulls away, you see the worry in your son’s eyes. “When you come back, I’d like to- to, uh, talk.” He admits. “So, uh, try not to die?”

Joel snorts, reaching out to squeeze his son’s upper arm. “I’ll be back.” He promises just as much as he can to his son. “You keep each other safe, yeah?” He says and JJ nods, standing straighter. Joel’s eyes flick over to Tommy who offers him a nod and Joel steps back, swinging his leg over after placing his foot in the stirrup.

You help Ellie up, patting her leg gently and smiling at her. “Share the scones.” You remind her with a wink. She nods, although she’s pouting so you wonder if she had already eaten some and really didn’t want to share. Stepping back from the horse, you meet Joel’s eyes again and you smile at him. “Be safe.”

Joel offers you one more nod, kicking the flank of the horse as he starts to move, beginning the journey to Colorado and the venture back into the unknown. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen but he will fight tooth and nail to get back to you and JJ. He owes you his return so he can make up for leaving you that fateful night.

****

It’s summer and there still hasn’t been any sign of Joel. You’ve gone on the scouting parties, manned the walls, talked to everyone who had come back. It’s been months, and you are worried. Of course, you don’t say anything to JJ, not wanting to upset your son, but it shouldn’t have taken this long. A few weeks, a month at most. Something’s happened and you’ve been talking to Tommy about going out to look for them. He says no, but you need to.

Joel stumbles slightly as he and Ellie walk the final stretch back to Jackson. He’s filthy, exhausted, hungry, and the guilt hangs over him that he saves Ellie, but damned the world to continue to exist in this damned reality. He is about to approach the gates when Maria rides out on a horse with several others and her eyes widen at the sight of her brother in law. “Get them inside.” She demands, seeing how exhausted the pair are.

The knock at the door comes rushed, and you hurry, not sure who it might be. But your gasp of surprise is loud when you see Maria and Tommy with an exhausted and bedraggled Joel and Ellie. “You’re back!” You leap back to let them into the house and you can tell that it’s been a hard journey. “Oh god, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Both.” Ellie groans, her body aching from the arduous journey on foot and Joel reaches for you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest. He knows he stinks but he just needs to know he’s alive, that he made it back to you.

“You’re here.” You sag in relief against him, almost in tears for how relieved you are. “Thought you might want them to stay with you.” Tommy speaks up and grins at you with a small wink. “I’ll send some clothes over for them both after they get a bath and sleep for a few days.”

Joel lets go of you, the weight of the word still on his shoulders and he hates how his eyes water with unshed tears. He turns his head away so no one sees and you distract Ellie, “you want a shower? We have hot water and I just made some new soap.” 

Ellie grins, “fuck yes.” She is ready to clean up and she follows you upstairs while you give Joel a minute. He looks at JJ and the boy steps forward to hug his father. He’s seen the worry in your eyes as you wait each day, watching to see if he would return and JJ realized that a man like that, a man that you would wait for, must be a man he could aspire to be. His uncle Tommy had explained more about what happened that night and he understands a little more about how Joel felt, how torn he had been to make the decision to leave you. Joel is shocked but pats the boy’s back, comforting his son. The son he now can get to know properly.

Upstairs, Ellie gives you a big hug. Just as emotional as the one Joel had given you and despite the fact that she desperately needs a bath, you kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re back, kiddo.” You murmur softly, squeezing her tight. You are glad to see her, just as much as Joel, the girl meaning the world to your former lover. The man you still love.

JJ steps back, clearing his throat, and Joel offers him a small smile, knowing it’s got to be hard for him to process all of this shit. Ellie is showering so Joel hovers until JJ escorts him to the kitchen, preparing him a drink and starts on something to eat.

You set a set of pajamas down on the bed that Ellie will use. The house is a three bedroom and you always keep the other room ready for anyone that might need it. She can claim it forever for all you care, although you aren’t sure if Joel wants to share a room or a bed with you. You come downstairs and smile at JJ cooking. “You want me to finish up?”

JJ shakes his head, "I got it, mom." You nod and look over at Joel who is sipping a glass of water. "You want something stronger? Tommy gave me a bottle of whiskey for my birthday." You declare and Joel sighs softly, "I missed so many birthdays." He looks over at JJ, wondering how his birthdays were as a kid.

“You’re here for them now.” You remind him softly, aware that no matter what he wishes, you can’t turn back time. You walk over to a cabinet to pull out a couple of glasses and change your mind and get three. Your son can have a drink with his father. You smile as you get the ice and move over to the table. “I’ll grab the bottle.”

Joel watches you as you move around the kitchen. You’re still fucking gorgeous and he feels so lucky to have found you again, that you didn’t die that night. You pour three measures and slide the glass over to Joel and you look over at JJ just as he turns off the stove. “Here you go.” You nudge the glass towards him and he raises his eyebrows, “you sure, mom?”

“You’re old enough.” You promise, grinning at him. “I think it’s a right of passage to have a drink with your dad.” You tell him, pulling out a seat and sitting down.

JJ grins, shifting to sit down and he picks up the glass. He sniffs the liquid and winces, making Joel chuckle slightly. “To survivin’.” He toasts, knowing that the only thing anyone wants is to survive but it looks like you and JJ have been thriving in Jackson.

“To surviving.” You agree, holding your glass up and JJ does the same. You take a sip of your drink and your son follows his father’s example and tosses back the entire thing. It’s funny to watch him choke and sputter, a light hearted moment for you to share.

Joel smirks at the boy struggling to drink the harsh liquor and he winks at his son who looks down at the table in embarrassment. “The food is ready.” JJ announces and Joel clears his throat, “I should shower first.” You shake your head, “don’t be silly. The food is hot. Shower after. I’ll go get Ellie.” Joel nods and pours himself another glass, needing it after he nearly died out there.

You stand up and move to the staircase so you can get the younger girl, finding her coming out onto the landing. “Dinner is ready. I know you have to be ready for a hot meal.”

Joel watches JJ serve up the food and he sets the plates down on the table just as Ellie comes downstairs. The guilt swirls in Joel’s stomach. He lied to her. He did it for his own selfish reasons. He swallows harshly and sets the glass down just as Ellie sits down at the table. “Taking a shower with hot water is the fucking best.”

You laugh and nod as you sit down. “I agree. Getting electricity back has been amazing for us. Hot baths do wonders for cramps too.” You inform her with a wink.

Ellie flushes but offers you a small smile, picking up the fork so she can dig into the first hot meal she’s had for weeks. Joel watches JJ dig in and his eyes flit over to you, knowing he still needs to talk to you. He’s had a lot of time to think during the long journey and he realized during the moments that he nearly died that he doesn’t want to keep living in the past.

“Is something missing?” You ask, making Joel shake his head as he picks up his fork. “No.” He assures you, digging in. You smile and watch as Ellie clears her plate quickly. “There’s more.” You promise, nodding towards the stove. “Take as much as you want. There’s plenty for everyone.”

Joel eats enough until he feels sick. He doesn’t want to make himself sick, or to waste the food. He stands up, ready to clean the dishes when JJ places a hand on his shoulder. “I got it, dad.” He says and Joel’s heart clenches at the word. He nods and reaches up to touch his son’s hand. “I better shower.” Joel says, suddenly feeling the grime on his skin.

You nod and push back from your place. “I’ll show you.” You offer quickly, ignoring a smirk from Ellie. You only want to show him to the master bathroom and lay out some sweats and underwear that the long dead last owner of the home had left behind. They were soft and fresh, you kept the clothes in a cedar lined trunk after washing them, knowing they might be useful.

Joel follows you up the stairs and into the master bedroom, past the bed you sleep in to enter the bathroom. You turn on the shower for him and he sits on the toilet so he can remove his boots and socks. Wiggling his toes in relief, he works on shrugging off his shirts.

“Oh my god!” You gasp when his chest is revealed, a torn, jagged wound in his side that is most definitely fresh on display. “Fuck. What happened?” You demand, moving over to him and touching the ragged scar gently. It’s obvious it had been stitched closed, but it’s still very tender looking in your opinion.

He winces, “I - I got stabbed. We got to Denver and no one was there. Well, that’s what I thought. Raiders were there. They found us and before we could escape, one of them stabbed me with a broken baseball bat and I nearly died. Ellie - she saved me but she was taken and she nearly - the leader. He nearly - I failed her again.” Joel finishes in a whisper, his head dropping between his shoulders.

“Oh shit….” You whisper softly, imagining the horrors she had endured until Joel had rescued her. “But you got her back. You saved her.” Joel snorts and shakes his head. “She saved herself.” He argues and you know there is more to it than that. “And how many did you kill to get to her?”

Joel exhales shakily, “they were gonna- she hasn’t been the same since. He took something from her. Thank fuck he didn’t touch her but he changed her. When we got to the doctor. They were going to kill her. Take her goddamn brain out and I- I couldn’t let them do it. I kept thinking about Sarah and how I couldn’t save her but I could try and save Ellie. I was fuckin’ selfish. I saved her over the world possibly getting a cure and she would hate me. I told her that there wasn’t a cure. I couldn’t let her die.” He chokes, reaching up to rub his eyes.

You try to keep up with his rambling explanation and all you really understand is that he saved her from dying and the world was going to continue on. “Oh my god.” You sit back on your heels in front of him and shake your head after a moment. “You saved her, Joel. Her life matters and if a doctor was going to take her brain? Well, they are wrong. Jesus.” You huff. “Ethics went to shit in this world, I know, but doctors? They aren’t supposed to murder people for some hypothetical cure. What if it’s just not possible? They would have killed an amazing kid for fucking nothing. Nothing. You weren’t selfish. You were being her protector. Her dad.”

Joel swallows, “I lied to her. Told her there was no cure. I couldn’t tell her that I saved her because I was selfish. That she didn’t get a damn choice because I can’t live without her.” He lowers his hands and looks at you, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You don’t have to.” You promise quietly, even though you can’t guarantee him anything. You couldn’t even guarantee him that in the old world you both knew.

He closes his eyes again, “I never stopped loving you, you know? Even when I thought you were dead. No one could ever replace you in my heart. The woman I was with in the QZ…Tess…I could never give her all of me and she knew it. I explained that I’d lost you and she understood.” He confesses, “I know…you might’ve moved on but I just want you to know that I will always love you.”

“Joel….” You know that he might blame himself for living once you tell him this, but you feel like he should know. “There’s never been anyone but you.” You murmur softly. “I had JJ, I had a piece of you, I didn’t need anything else.” You reach under your shirt and pull out the necklace he had given you not too long before the world ended. “I kept this close the entire time and never stopped loving you. That’s why I wouldn’t let Tommy tell you I was alive. You were happy, I thought.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the sight of the small gold heart still around your neck that Joel had gotten you for Valentine’s Day before the outbreak. “God, baby.” He reaches out to caress the gold heart until he lets go of it and reaches up to caress your cheek. “Can you shower with me?” He asks, not wanting to let you go just yet.

The request isn’t sexual, but it is intimate. Still, you don’t hesitate to nod. You don’t want to let him go and you can help him clean up. He’s exhausted and worn down. In need of some tenderness, something you can provide. “Let me help you.” You agree quietly.

Joel nods, relieved that he can finally let go of the tension that’s been coiled inside of his body for so long. He stands up, reaching for his belt to remove it and he pushes his tattered jeans down along with the threadbare boxers, standing naked in front of you for the first time in decades.

He’s older, softer slightly than he had been when he was in his thirties, but he’s still handsome. His body had somehow gotten broader, there’s still strength rather than weakness. You stand up and slowly start to undress yourself. Still watching him as he keeps his eyes on you. Your heart beating faster and your body tingling.

He watches you strip off and his stomach twists. You’re still so fucking gorgeous. Still so incredibly out of his league. You kick your clothes aside and reach in to check the water temperature. Joel groans as he steps into the shower, the hot water hitting his back and he watches blood and dirt swirl down the drain. “Let me clean off first.” He tells you, not wanting you to be in the dirty water.

You smile and just watch. Feeling yourself starting to get wet. This is the man you have longed to touch again for the past twenty years. The man you’ve loved for all that time. Your attraction to him hasn’t faded, it’s still as sharp as it was the last time you touched him, the day you made JJ. Joel groans slightly and his cock twitches, making you aware that you had been staring at it.

Joel watches you as you watch him, washing his hair as more grime flows down the drain. When he's certain he's clean, he reaches for you. "Come here, baby." He murmurs, helping you into the shower. He turns so you are under the water, and he reaches for the soap to wash you, his calloused hands gentle as he rubs your skin

“I should be washing you.” You murmur softly in protest, but Joel just huffs and continues to touch you. You can’t help the small groan of pleasure, always loving how he touched you and it’s been sorely missed since you had been apart.

"I have missed out on far too much. Leaving you in that truck...I should've tried harder to save you. Maybe Sarah would still be alive if I had." He voices a thought that has haunted him since he found out you are alive. "I've lost so much time with you...with JJ."

“I never blamed you.” You promise, reaching up and caressing his shoulders. “You did the best you could that night. You were - you didn’t run off because you were afraid. I know you didn’t want to leave me, baby.”

Joel sighs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours while the hot water hits your back. “I still love you. Never stopped.” He confesses, his hands caressing your back, pulling you closer so you are pressed against him. His cock is half hard between you, pressing against your hip.

“I still love you too.” You promise. “I told you, it’s always been you, baby.” You close your eyes and sigh, enjoying the closeness between you. “Do you want to get some rest? I know you have to be exhausted. You and Ellie are safe now, you can sleep.”

"Yeah." His voice is gruff, rough with lust for you. "I want - I want you first. If you want that." He sounds unsure but he doesn't want to push you into anything.

Your cunt clenches and you nod. “I want you too.” You confess. “Let’s go to bed. I want you to relax and let me ride you again. Like the last time.”

Joel nods, reaching behind you to shut off the water and he twists so he can grab a towel, wrapping you in it before grabbing his own to dry off. He feels so much better now that he's clean and he's exhausted but he also wants you. He needs you.

You set out a tooth brush for Joel, knowing that it feels amazing after being able to brush your teeth and you quickly grab your own. You’re sure that after you have sex, Joel will fall asleep.

He grabs the toothbrush, scrubbing his teeth until he feels satisfied that they are clean. He looks at you in the mirror, watching you do the same thing and it's like a flashback to a time when getting ready was a normal occurrence between you. He spits and rinses his mouth and you do the same. When you turn off the faucet, he cups your cheeks and leans in to kiss you, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

You whimper into his mouth. Not caring that you are still in towels, you turn to guide him back to the bedroom. Wanting to feel him inside you again. Groaning and reaching for the towel at his waist so you can pull it off him. “I love you.” You gasp when he pulls back.

Joel caresses your back, ripping the towel from your body to toss it to the floor and he spins to lay you down on the bed. He's been gone for so long, there's not enough kisses he can press to your skin to make up for his absence, for leaving you. He kisses you again, hovering over your body, and he migrates his kisses down your neck. Pressing a kiss to the gold of your necklace, he continues his journey until he's taking your nipple into his mouth.

It’s been a long time since your breasts carried milk, but you feel as if Joel is trying to feed from you. Moaning, you sink your fingers into his wet hair and arch your back to let him explore as he wants.

He sucks on your nipple, biting and licking at the bud until he’s satisfied and he kisses down your stomach. Lathing extra attention on the faded stretch marks that display where you carried his son inside of you. “Fuck, I love you.” He chokes, pushing your thighs apart so he can settle between them.

"Joel." You shiver in anticipation. It's been a long goddamn time since you've had pleasure that didn't come at your own fingertips, over twenty years. Oral had been a favorite of yours and Joel had always been amazing at eating pussy. "Baby, you don't have to- I know you are tired."

“I want to.” He promises, leaning in to nudge his nose at the neatly trimmed curls at the apex of your thighs. He breathes you in and caresses your thighs, leaning closer to slide his tongue through your folds. He groans at the familiar heady taste of your arousal, and he lifts his gaze to watch you as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

With a groan, your head slips back on the pillow a little, already overstimulated by just the first licks of his tongue. "Oh shit." You whimper, reaching down and running your fingers through his hair as he slowly savors you. Even though things have changed, he's obviously the same when it comes to giving you attention.

He sucks on your clit and slides his tongue lower to push inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit. His hand slides up to squeeze your breast, wanting you to fall apart before you take him inside of you for the first time in twenty years. He loves the way your fingers tug on his hair, still wet from the shower, and he groans into your flesh.

You can’t help the way your hips start to rock down onto his face. Grinding down on his tongue and moaning softly. He squeezes your breast again, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. He remembers how you like a little pain with your pleasure.

Joel curls his tongue inside of you, shaking his head so you are stimulated more. He wants you to cum for him, to make up for lost time. His other hand reaches for yours, squeezing it as he slides his tongue through your folds.

All you hear is your own panting moans and the slick sounds of Joel’s tongue as he laps at your clit. Making you bite your lip and whimper as your orgasm looms close. “Joel-“ you whine. “I’m so close.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit a little faster, wrapping his lips around your clit to send you over the edge. He desperately wants you to cum for him, to taste you again.

You don’t cum with a scream, it’s not ripping through you like a freight train. It floods your body with pleasure and makes your body tighten, shaking silently as you gasp. It’s better than anything you’ve had in so long and your stomach heaves in pleasure.

He works you through it, lapping at your cum, and he loves how you run your fingers through his hair, pulling on it as your hips jerk. "I fucking love you." He murmurs, kissing along your thigh.

Panting quietly, you can’t help but giggle. “I love you too.” You promise. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want me to ride you?” You ask breathlessly, greedy for more of him. Ready to feel full and complete for the first time in twenty years.

"I want to fuck you." He murmurs, kissing along your body until he's hovering over you. His lips find yours as he kneels between your legs. He reaches down to squeeze his cock, positioning himself at your entrance, and he starts to push inside of you.

You would close your eyes, but you want his rugged face etched into your mind. Watching the weathered brow and eyes that have been haunting you as he sinks into you. Your legs hitch up at his waist so he can push deeper, whining softly at the gorgeous stretch of him inside you.

He closes his eyes, taking in the feel of your hot, wet heat surrounding him. He leans in to kiss your chin, his breath mingling with yours. “I love you.” He murmurs, starting to move inside of you.

“I love you too.” You gasp out softly, holding onto his shoulders and giving into the urge to close your eyes. It’s perfect and slow. Both of you are older and you’ve got all the time in the world tonight. There’s just the two of you here. You know JJ will show Ellie her room if you don’t make it back downstairs and all of you are safe here. You’re safe and back together.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time moving inside of you. Yes, he’s overwhelmed with his emotions because you are the love of his life and he’s got you back. He’s back in your arms and he doesn’t plan on leaving. He’s safe. Ellie is safe. He can get to know his son. It’s more than he can handle but he inhales deeply and kisses along your jaw, enjoying the way you caress his back.

You move together, sedately and lovingly. You let him kiss you all over, but you prefer when his lips are pressed against yours and his cock is buried deep inside you. You rock together slowly, and your fingers learn the new scars and marks on your lover’s body.

He’s in no rush but it’s been a while since he was inside someone, especially the woman he loves so much. “I love you, darlin’.” He murmurs again, sliding his hand between you so he can rub your clit.

One his side, he can see all of you. He can touch you as you need him to. Not that you can’t cum from his cock alone but you are happy that he cares about your pleasure. “I love you. I love you so much. Always dreamed of having you back like this.”

Joel groans, rubbing your clit a little faster as your words wash over him. “That’s it, baby. Want you to cum for me.” He murmurs against your chin. He rocks into you a little harder, needing to hear and see you fall apart beneath him.

It’s almost too much, the way he rocks into you and he also touches you. “Joel, Joel.” You moan quietly, starting to shake and quiver under him. “I’m going to cum baby.”

He feels your walls fluttering around his cock and he groans, pushing into you until you’re clenching down around his cock. “That’s it. Fuck, such a good girl for me. Shit, feel so good. So tight.” He coos into your ear and works you through it. His hand drops from your clit and he grabs your hip, shifting to lay down. “Want you to ride me when you can.” He demands, letting you slump against him as you enjoy your orgasm.

You hum, throwing your leg over his waist and shifting to straddle him. “You want me to ride you?” You lean down and press your lips to his as you reach between you and line up with his cock to sink down onto it. You moan his name quietly as the new angle presents a much fuller feeling.

“Fuck.” He pants, his dark eyes taking you in as you start to rock on top of him. “I’ve missed you. I missed you every goddamn night in my dreams. Imagined what could’ve been if it weren’t for the fucking outbreak.” He confesses, sliding his hands up to cup your tits. “Imagined what you’d look like pregnant. Bet you were fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Ha.” You snort and kiss his chin. “I was waddling around. He was a big baby.” You don’t mention how scared you had been, how dangerous it had been for everyone around while you were pregnant. You were slower and ungainly, some of the men overly protective and others wanting to leave you behind. Still, you prevailed. You’re here and that’s where you want to be.

“Wish I had been there to see it. To protect you.” He murmurs, looking at you with sad eyes as his hands slide down to caress your waist, sliding around to squeeze your ass. “I wish I had been there for you.”

“You’re here now.” You remind him softly. “That’s all that matters.” You slowly rock on him, peppering his face with kisses as you caress his arms and chest. “We are together again, that’s all that matters.”

He sighs, knowing he can’t keep dwelling on the past. He knows that. He kisses you, helping you rock on top of him by squeezing your ass. “Want you to cum again for me.” He murmurs, “cum with me.” He demands with a slight whine, wanting you to fall apart around him.

“Still so greedy.” You tease quietly, rocking onto him faster, and feeling the way his cock twitches up inside you. You know that he’s had past lovers before, but you don’t worry about that now. Now, you are with him and you want to do exactly as he wants. You want to cum for him. “Play with my tits.” You beg quietly.

He obeys, his hands cupping your tits. He squeezes them. “Cum for me, baby.” He demands, pinching your nipples. He desperately wants you to cum for him, to feel you clamp down on his cock again.

It takes just a minute more, mouth hanging open slightly and you moan, your walls tightening around him. Soaking him with a wave of your juices as you groan out his name. “Joel! Shit- so good.”

He grunts when you clamp down onto him, making him thrust up into you. You fall forward onto his chest and he hisses when he starts to twitch inside of you. Cum spurts out of his cock to cost your walls and he lets out a strangled groan of your name as he fills you up.

You would have worried about him cumming inside you, fearful of another pregnancy, but you had stopped having a menstrual cycle a few years ago. Instead, you moan softly and close your eyes, pressing your lips to his.

Joel caresses your back, reveling in how you feel around him, above him. “I love you.” He murmurs, knowing that he is finally where he belongs. Back in your arms and he’s safe. Ellie is safe. He doesn’t have to fight anymore. He can stay in Jackson and create a life with you, get to know his son. It’s more than he could’ve ever asked for. He smiles against your lips and you lean back, looking at him. “What?” You chuckle, “nothing. Just - I’m happy.” He confesses and you caress his cheek. “Me too.” You whisper, knowing that nothing will get the time back that you lost out on with Joel but you have him now. Now, you get to be together. The way it was always supposed to be.

[afreakforyautja]

Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 5

[And to think this started as a silly little prompt 🤭 can’t wait for your reactions on this one!!! Can you guys guess the characters intentions for each other? 💚]

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 💚

You looked at the Yautja, unsure if it actually expected you to come closer… maybe even help it.

You gulped, still anxious, still wary of the closeness. Let’s not forget, this thing had every intention of hunting you before the Xenomorph showed up.

Clutching the container of salve you had grabbed from the cabinet, you took a step toward it, avoiding its piercing gaze.

Its eyes were already on you. You could feel them, watching. Scanning. Maybe trying to figure you out, what kind of creature you were and why weren’t you attacking like the rest of the humans. You had no doubt it was still deciding whether you were a threat or not. Humans were the ones who captured it, after all. You couldn’t imagine it had any fond opinions about your kind.

You sighed, maybe louder than you wanted.

The Yautja tilted its head slightly and let out a soft clicking sound, as if wondering why you had frozen up, standing there with the medicine in hand, like a lost kid.

You blinked at the noise. It pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. It was studying you again. The slight head tilt, the narrowed gaze… unmistakable.

You finally opened the small container. Inside was a blue, slimy substance. Strange, slick, almost glowing faintly. You hesitated, then slowly held out your hand, offering it for the Yautja to decide whether it wanted to take it and use it itself.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it looked you right in the eye and then, oddly, almost proudly, pushed its chest out, like it was presenting itself. Like it was… expecting you to help.

You blinked again. That wasn’t right. From everything you had read or heard about them, Yautja were loners. Fiercely independent. They didn’t want help. They didn’t need help. But this one…

It was just waiting for you.

Did it… somehow know you were the one who tried to treat its wounds when they first brought it into the lab? You hadn’t done a great job then. There were scars along its arms now, stitches that healed badly (you partly blamed yourself for that). Human medicine hadn’t worked, you hadn’t even thought to use this balm at the time.

But now… now it was letting you try again.

You dipped your fingers into the gel and instantly jumped back, gasping. It was freezing! So cold it burned. You dropped the container in surprise, your fingers stinging.

The Yautja growled. A low, amused kind of growl… almost like a scoff.

You frowned at it. “Was that a laugh?” you muttered, annoyed but a little thrown off.

You bent to grab the container from the floor and spotted a nearby lab spatula. That would have to do. You didn’t trust your fingers to survive another dip in that blue stuff.

You approached again, slowly, and for a second you considered asking if it was okay to apply the balm, but what was the point? It probably didn’t understand you anyway. So you dipped the spatula in the gel and brought it toward its bleeding arm.

The Yautja didn’t move.

You took that as permission and carefully spread the salve over the deep slice in its right arm.

The reaction was immediate. It let out a sharp roar, head thrown back, mandibles flaring. The sound made your chest rattle.

You flinched hard, stepping back, your heart racing.

Was that pain? Had you messed up?

Then you noticed. The green blood had stopped oozing. The wound was frosting over, the salve turning dusty and hard on the surface. It was… working.

There was another gash near its chest, and you figured you should deal with it fast, before the Yautja had second thoughts and ripped you apart.

You scooped more of the gel and applied it quickly.

Another roar, louder this time.

Its hand, gripping the edge of the operating table, crushed the metal like it was tinfoil… You shifted back, staring wide-eyed, caught somewhere between fear and awe. That grip alone could have turned your bones to powder…

But the grip slowly loosened. Its chest rose and fell. Its breathing slowed back to normal.

You wanted to ask if it’s okay, but it wouldn’t understand anyway, so you ignored the urge.

The Yautja shook its head, dreadlocks swaying with the motion, and then looked at you again. Directly. Expecting.

You held its gaze, confused. Was it angry now? Offended? Or just enduring the pain?

You took a hesitant step forward and the low growl that rumbled from its chest made your human instincts scream. Like a lion warning you to keep your distance.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath. “Message received,” you lied.

Ignoring its warnings, you moved fast, hoping maybe the last scratch on its forehead wouldn’t sting as much if you applied the salve quickly.

Bad idea.

Its hand shot up and gripped your wrist, tight enough to hurt, but not enough to break. You made a pained sound. Its claws pricked your skin. It was letting you know, it could hurt you. It was a warning.

Your breath hitched.

“I just… I thought if I did it fast, it wouldn’t hurt as bad” you said, voice trembling. “I just wanted to help…”

The Yautja didn’t move for a moment. You could feel it calculating, its grip flexing and relaxing slightly over your wrist, as if testing how easy it would be to crush you.

But then, slowly, it let you go.

It took you a second to gather courage, before you decide to help again. Carefully now, you spread the salve across the scratch near its eye, this time without breaking eye contact. Neither of you flinched. Neither of you looked away.

You were too aware of it now.

It just breathed. Heavy, steady. Taking the pain silently.

Then its eyes shifted, not to the salve, not to the next wound, but to you.

Specifically… your head.

You noticed the way it looked at you, just a little sharper than before. Its head nodded slightly, and it let out a low growl.

You blinked. “What?” you mumbled.

It’s eyes dropped to the side of your head.

Instinctively, your fingers went to the spot.

You pulled your hand back, blinking at the smear of blood on your fingertips.

You hadn’t even realised, not until now. The pain had been buried beneath adrenaline and noise. But now, as you touched the torn skin again, you remembered. The Xenomorph. Its clawed grip, fisting a handful of your hair before the Yautja intervened. The skin must have torn when it pulled. You hadn’t had time to notice. Until the Yautja did.

You turned away quickly, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from the nearby shelf and pouring some on a gauze.

A sharp burn bloomed beneath your skin as you pressed the soaked cloth against the wound. You sucked in a breath between your teeth, muttering curses under your breath.

The Yautja observed in silence.

Its eyes lingered on the wound, then the blood, then the way your body reacted to pain. You could feel it watching, dissecting the moment, trying to make sense of it… of you.

And then, it’s eyes darted to the small container of the blue alien medicine, and then back to the blood on your fingers.

Unlike its own, your blood hadn’t crystallized. The antiseptic hadn’t frozen to your skin. Your biology worked differently. Messier.

You glanced at the container and let out a dry breath, half a laugh.

“I wish I could use that stuff,” you said softly, nodding toward the blue gel.

The Yautja didn’t move, or made any noise. Still studying you like some strange creature it didn’t quite understand yet.

That made two of you.

God, if only you could communicate. This would be so much easier. But then again… maybe you didn’t want to know what it thought of you. What if it was just weighing when to peel your skull off?

Then it hit you.

“The helmet…” you muttered “it has a translator, doesn’t it?”

You stepped forward, almost too fast, a little more excited than you intended. “I know where your armor is. The helmet, it can translate, right?”

You saw no recognition in its eyes. Not yet.

You then decided to motion over your own head, trying to mimic the shape of its helmet. When the Yautja didn’t react, you used your hands to gesture around its head instead, hoping it’d get what you meant.

The Yautja tilted its head again, like it did whenever it was studying you.

Did it understand?

“If I help you find it,” you said slowly, “will you help me get out of here?” You didn’t know what else was crawling outside of this lab, you definitely needed some help to survive.

It stood up. Towering over you.

You held your breath by the sudden move. You noticed your head barely reached its chest.

You felt small, fragile, completely exposed in front of it.

You looked up and it suddenly roared, a sound that slammed into you like a wall, mandibles flaring and mouth wide open.

To your surprise, you didn’t back down. Didn’t flinch. Maybe you should have, but something told you this was a test. A show of strength. And maybe… just maybe… it respected the fact that you didn’t fall over yourself.

Its mandibles relaxed, and its gaze softened… or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Then it turned to the dead Xenomorph in the corner of the lab.

It walked over and ripped off the end of its tail with both hands. A clean, brutal snap, like most of its movements.

The Yautja kneeled, nodding towards you, like a command. You followed, kneeling beside it without a question.

The Yautja pressed the tip of the tail to its own forehead and growled low, carving a mark into its skin.

You winced at the sight of its flesh burning. But the scar it left behind, you recognized it. A rite of passage. It had marked itself as blooded. As worthy. As a survivor.

You stood with it, still stunned. Had it… shown you that on purpose?

Maybe.

It glanced at you, then puffed its chest slightly. Almost proud looking.

It had let you witness the ritual. That had to mean something. Right?

Then it looked past you, toward the door. A silent command.

Time to move.

Time to get its armor.

Had you just made an alliance… with a predator?

[themidnightcrimson]

nosferatu ࿏ wm

summary: in which you are much too trusting of a creature who wants more than a dance with you.

words: 6.0k

warnings: blood, supernatural, horror, gore, dubcon/noncon, top!wanda, fem!reader, biting, oral, breastplay, bondage, victorian era

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

Your corset was so tight around your waist that you could not breathe. It was a sickening shade of pink that was supposed to portray girlish innocence about you. It was made specifically to match the color that imbues your cheeks, though now it was more of a sharp crimson red.

“I cannot believe your impudence,” your mother breathily spoke in a vexed air as she stiffly ripped the white gloves from her hands. “Your audacity.”

Rolling your eyes, you threw your head back against the wall of the compartment, feeling the familiar but nauseating shake of the carriage, the click-clack of the horse’s hooves going as fast as your heartbeat. Biting your lip to ward off any retaliating remarks towards your mother, you reached behind your waist and fiddled for the bow of your corset, snapping the ribbon undone and inhaling the first large breath of fresh air since the night began.

“At this rate, you’ll never be wed,” your mother continued to grumble as she neatly folded her gloves in her lap and looked out the window of the compartment door, the tree-lined field flickering past her eyes as the carriage moved on down the sandy country road. “I wouldn’t know what gentleman in all of England would wed such a usurping, galling, exasperating little—”

“Please, Mother, I haven’t had my vocabulary lesson yet this week,” you sarcastically battled as you ripped the matching pink ribbon out of your hair, letting your long waves flow down your shoulders. Your mother especially hated when you wore your hair freely down like that, citing that it reminded her of the harlots of Dorset Street.

You had to admit that your behavior was not the most ladylike this evening, but that was your entire mission. Your mother had been trying to marry you off to every man that comes across your path since you were of age. What she didn’t know (or rather was entirely aware of but simply unable to comprehend or acknowledge it under both societal implications and her own personal dogmas) was that you actually preferred the company of women.

It was just another fancy political ball she’d dragged you to. As always, she put you in clothes you didn’t want to wear, made you speak to people you didn’t want to speak to, and expected you to take it all with sugar and a big smile.

“Is this how you behave at those other parties you attend? Those invalids might be able to handle your inexcusable behavior, but I certainly won’t.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties at all. You actually very much enjoyed going to the parties you liked to go to with people you actually liked to be around. Could these parties become a little unsavory if warranted? Yes, they could. But you yourself never participated in those things. You just thought the people there were nicer and didn’t have giant sticks shoved up their bums. Plus, the food was always better.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, young lady, but there will be no more attending these parties of yours.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed, looking at her with eyes of disbelief. “I am a grown woman. I will go wherever I please!”

“Not with what’s been happening,” she argued, glancing at the folded newspaper sitting on the cushion beside her that she had picked up on the way to the ball. The Old Post. The front of it read Vampyres in the Village.

“You can’t be serious,” you grumbled, turning away from her with a pout. “You really believe in that stuff?”

“It’s devil-work, dear,” she said in a quieter, more serious tone. She stared at you for a moment from across the compartment before slowly leaning forward. “I’m not saying this to try and… control you. I’m saying this to you because… because you are my daughter, and I want to keep you safe.”

You could tell she was biting back vomit at saying kind words to you. “And things have been… happening in the city. Horrible things. And it seems to be happening only to people like you. Pretty, single, young girls. But most importantly, naïve girls.”

You rolled your eyes and turned further away from her. “You say my head is full of air, but I’m not the one who believes in fairytales here.”

“Miss Margaret’s daughter is still missing.”

Miss Margaret was a close friend of your mother’s, which you found surprising because Miss Margaret was one of the kindest women you’d ever met. Her daughter was your age, maybe a year or two older. She hadn’t been seen for two months now since she attended one of the parties you liked to go to in the city.

“She probably ran off with a boy,” you argued even though you knew that was not her daughter’s character.

Your mother didn’t even bother to argue that because you already knew. She only shook her head and turned back to the window, taking a deep sigh. “I’m only trying to keep you safe. It’s one thing to have an unwed daughter, but it’s entirely another thing to have one that’s dead.”

“I’m sure that’s what you’d prefer.”

You shouldn’t have said that, and you didn’t even need to look in your mother’s general direction to feel the look of shocked hurt on her face.

Maybe if your mother hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep a noose around your neck your whole life, you might have listened. You might have heeded her advice.

Things might not have ended up the way they did.

If only.

࿏

You knew exactly how to scale your own house by now. Granted, you had to be barefoot while you did it.

Clutching your shoes in one hand, you teetered on the edge of the windowsill of your room, carefully stepping down on the ledge of the roof. From there, you could set your foot on the top sill of another window, and then catch the vine-wrapped lattice going up the side of your parent’s estate, and it was a breeze from there on. You always enjoyed this feeling. The chilly autumn night air breezing between your legs as you wore a more casual dress that did not require a skeleton of its own. The wind fluttering through your loose locks of hair. The light of the full moon above you guiding your way down. Feeling agile and smart, free and unfiltered. Sometimes, your favorite part of these nights was just the sneaking out.

You always enjoyed the feeling of the dewy grass on the bottom of your feet when you finally hopped down to the ground. You’d jog like this, barefoot and wild like some kind of heathen, all the way down your country driveway to the main road where your friends had a carriage waiting for you.

When you said these parties could be a little unsavory, you meant it. While you mostly stuck with your friends and did not participate in these acts, all around you people were doing all kinds of unknown drugs, being lude with each other, engaging in certain dares or pranks. Sometimes there was a theme to all this, and tonight happened to be a masquerade, except instead of socialites and rich people, it was the ones of society who yearned a more stained quality of life.

This party was especially sex-driven, you realized with an air of shock as you walked in behind your group of friends. They were handing out masks at the front, and beyond that, you could see people basically eating each other at every sitting area in the large auditorium. Someone was throwing this at a large estate where everything around you seemed to be made of gold.

See, there were a select few rich people that participated in and most importantly, funded and housed these parties. There was a group of people, higher on the social ladder, who liked to throw these unsavory parties sometimes in their own homes. You could tell that this party was definitely one of them. They always seemed to get much more extreme when one of these people hosted it in their own home. The odd thing about it was that no one really knew who they were other than that they were seemingly nocturnal and rather pale, possibly as a consequence. Nightcrawlers, they sometimes called them. They always infested the local bars in the later hours of the evenings.

“My Lord,” your friend whispered under her breath as she eyed the couples (sometimes multiple couples all in one cluster) all around. “I think I’ve seen three bare buttocks already.”

Uneasiness settled into your stomach. While you normally enjoyed these parties, you usually tried to stay away from the ones that appeared to have a more carnal purpose, mostly because you did not want to have to fight off random men under the impression that you wanted to be a part of it. To your surprise, though, you actually saw a few women together, and a few men together also.

A mask was flung in your direction, and you took it. It was black and gold with a sharp nose, covering the top half of your face and leaving your mouth exposed. Trying to clear your vision as you stared out of the eye holes, you followed your group of friends into the party. It became denser the further they led you into it, and soon you could feel bodies touching yours.

“Wait!” you called when your mask slipped and covered your eyes, blinding you in the thickly packed room. You stumbled over someone’s foot as you tried to adjust your mask, and by the time you finally corrected it over your eyes, you could not locate your friends. Starting to panic as you were packed in a sea of people, feeling eyes behind odd foreign masks staring you down, you looked around for your friends, frantically calling their names.

You were turning in circles, growing dizzier and fainter by the second. This was a horrible idea. You should have listened to your instinct and turned around as soon as you walked in and saw what was going on at the party. Even now, in the crowd of people dancing to the oddly calm music that did not match the strong energy of the dancers, you could hear faint moans and the vague smell of sex drifting in the air.

You were about to melt to the floor and curl yourself into a sobbing ball when suddenly you felt a purposeful hand press into the small of your back. Gasping, you turned sharply, ready to slap the man who dared think he had a right to touch you, when you were faced with something unexpected.

The only thing you saw that was expected was pants—a men’s dark red velvet suit, decorated with lacy white wristcuffs and a rather poofy white chestpiece beautifully ruffled. But instead of seeing broad shoulders, you saw softer ones, and a curve at the chest and hips. This person wasn’t as tall as you expected, though they were several inches taller than you. Instead of a cropped cut, or perhaps a shaggier cut with handsome curls around the ears, this person had long, silky, wavy red hair that went down to their chest, flowing like a beautiful lake of deep rust.

A pitch-black mask covered the top half of their face, but instead of whiskers, or a beard, there was smooth, pale skin and delicately soft pink lips. The jaw there was strong, but there was a feminine curve to it.

A woman. This was a woman who was now curling your hand around the small of your waist, somehow enveloping it completely around you, pulling you against her and taking your hand in her other hand.

Gasping, you stumbled as she strongly started pulling you into a gentle dance through the crowd that seemed to make way for her.

You struggled to see her face, as the mask covered the top half. Those deep pink lips curled into a cupid’s smirk that brought some sort of chill up your spine. Even in this crowded room, with all the unpleasant noises and smells, your entire focus was on this woman pulling you to her breast and holding you with an iron strength that shocked you.

Though her mask, like the others, had carved holes for eyes, the lighting cast a shadow over the material that kept her eyes from view, and it was rather dim in the room anyway.

You opened your mouth to speak but failed to find words as the redheaded woman in a man’s suit spun you in a circle, and as she did, the source of light from a chandelier above finally glared through the holes of the mask, and you jolted in shock when you saw a flash of red eyes behind the mask.

Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but her arm would not budge. Had you ever known a man to be this strong, let alone a woman?

“Who are you?” you asked, but it came out in a tiny, hoarse whisper that surely only you could hear. Somehow, she heard it.

“Your dream woman,” she smoothly husked with an impish smirk, and you saw another flicker of red in the eyes of the mask as she spun you again before it went dark again.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you stumbled to keep up as she spun you. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“Because it’s so much more fun when I don’t,” she said with a small chuckle. You noticed that her hand holding yours was ice cold. “Besides, you looked a little lost back there.”

“I was perfectly fine,” you argued, finding it incredibly rude that this woman would not let you go, though being so close to her was making your spine tingle with something that bordered attraction and the urge to run for your life.

“You were far from fine, though you sure look fine,” she said, and you noticed how nice her voice was, such a pleasant cadence, like honey to your ears. Suddenly her arm around your waist disappeared, and she was spinning you around. Losing your balance, you let out a gasp, feeling yourself about to fall until she spun you back into her, wrapping her arms around you and leaning you backwards in her strong hold.

She grinned down at you, and you almost didn’t notice.

“What—” you said, startled. Her teeth, ivory white, were sharp. Like, as sharp as your father’s hunting knives. Glistening even in the dim light. Some unsatisfactory stain of red between them that made your stomach uneasy. It was strange, to see such a pleasant pair of lips stretched around teeth that looked so deadly.

“You’re beautiful,” the woman whispered, her eyes lowering down your neck and to your chest left exposed by your dress. You’d picked this dress because your mother hated how particularly revealing it was.

You saw the flash of scarlet irises again through her mask. They seemed to glow as she drank you in with her eyes.

“You can’t even see my face,” you whispered with a tone of playfulness at the fact that the woman was obviously staring at your chest with a look of hunger that you could see even through her mask.

Glancing back up to your face, she smiled handsomely and reached towards your face. Your instinct was to push her hand away, berate her for daring to take off your mask without asking, but for some reason your body did not budge. You involuntarily let her remove your mask, her eyes drinking you in.

“I didn’t have to take it off to know that you are the most beautiful woman in the room,” she flirted shamelessly, her hand on your back gripping you. She was still holding you in a leaning position.

Deciding to have fun with this odd woman, you smirked and said, “Your turn. Remove yours so that I may see who is holding me so.”

The woman hesitated but smiled again, reaching up and slowly removing her mask.

She was beautiful—like the kind of beautiful you had never seen before. An alien, strange beautiful that did not feel real. Something churned in your gut, some kind of knowing, a fear, but it was muffled. Her red eyes, her sharp smile, it was suffocating down the instinct in you that was telling you to get away from her as fast as possible.

She cocked her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “Come with me,” she spoke, and it sounded like many voices at once. Her grip on you was hard now, and if she hadn’t been compelling you with her magic, you would have seen the bloodlusting look on her face.

You didn’t remember leaving the party. You also suddenly couldn’t even remember arriving at the party. All you knew was that suddenly you could hear the click-clack of hooves against cobblestone and the cold night air blowing through your hair, and something else in your hair, too.

You sharply turned your head to see the same redheaded woman walking next to you, her hand in your hair, stroking it softly, playing with the strands between her long-nailed fingers.

“Where are we?” you questioned, slowing your walk and looking all around you. You did not recognize this street at all.

“We’re on a walk, my love,” the woman cooed, cradling her arm around you and pulling you into her. “You were becoming faint at the party.”

Your head felt fuzzy. Muddled. Like you needed to remember something that you just couldn’t remember, but you knew you desperately needed to.

“I’m… I’m confused…” you cried, clutching your hands to your face. You wanted to ask her where she was taking you, what she was going to do to you, why her teeth were so sharp and her eyes so red, but something was stopping the words from coming out of your mouth and even stopping these anxious feelings from being realized by you. There was a false blanket of calmness over you that was not coming from within you. It was suffocating you.

“Do calm down, beautiful girl,” she said in a velvet tone in your ear, suddenly very close to you. The moonlight rained down over you as she pressed her lips to your ear in a soft kiss. Something hard grazed the skin there, but it wasn’t enough for you to really notice.

The street was nearly empty. There were a few shops that were all closed down at this time of night. As you passed one that had a string of garlic hanging down over the door, which a lot of shops had now with all the rumors flying around, you felt the redhead stiffen beside you. When you were far enough away, she let out a breath as if she had been holding it.

Stupified, you hadn’t noticed this.

You also didn’t notice the way she walked faster, goading you forward with a hand at your back, as you passed by a church with a large cross on its steeple. The church also had garlic over the door, and had even built a fence of sharp whittled stakes all around the front. This city was so paranoid.

“Where are we going?” you question, noticing finally that the more garlic-protected doors you passed, the more the false sense of security lifted from you. Unbeknownst to you, the protections were interfering with the woman’s magic on you. “Where are you taking me?!”

“Be quiet!” she hissed at you suddenly, her red eyes fiery in the dark night. She looked monstrous now, albeit beautiful, and you finally realized the fear inside you.

“Get away!” you yelled, slapping her hand away from your waist and stepping away from her. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” You glanced around to see if anyone was around, but there was no one.

“Don’t yell!” the woman said louder this time, and her teeth started to look even sharper than before.

Finally, with all the garlic and crosses and stakes preventing her from being able to stop you from thinking your own thoughts, you could hear the instinct, loud and clear within you, telling you to run from this woman, this witch, this monster, this…

Vampire.

You ran as fast as you could on the uneven cobblestone. You were a very agile girl, thanks to so many times sneaking out of the window and running away. You always impressed people with how fast you could run, and you knew you could definitely outrun a woman in a stiff suit.

Until she appeared right in front of you with lightning speed. You didn’t even have time to be shocked. Her hand passed over your eyes, and you were asleep, falling limply into her arms like dead prey.

The last thing you thought of was if your mother had noticed you were gone yet or not.

࿏

You could tell it was dark before you even opened your eyes. When you did manage to finally flutter your eyes open, the first thing you saw was candlelight. A dark room with red carpet and black walls. Candles, everywhere. Some semblance of a bed that you lay on, naked. Something wooden in front of the bed on the floor which you realize to your sleepy horror is a coffin. And worst of all, to your upmost terror, standing to the side of the bed you lay on staring at you with a vile look of hunger, the redheaded woman.

She was holding a glass in her hand that held what appeared to be red wine, but it was way too dark. As the last memories flood back into your mind as she takes a slow, sickly sip, you realize that it is not wine in her glass.

“I know you’ll be much sweeter than this,” she thickly says after swallowing, lowering the glass and grinning at you with reddened teeth. “I could smell your blood as soon as you walked in.”

You attempt to sit up but there was an invisible force keeping you pressed flat on the bed. “Please let me go,” you whisper, your eyes welling with tears. You can’t exactly feel the fear inside you, not with whatever magic this vampire was putting inside you, but your body felt it and informed you of it in the form of hot tears rolling down your cheeks in an emotionless cry.

She laughed and started towards the bed, the movement causing you to jump. She set the glass down on the table beside the bed, eyes flickering at you as she slowly leaned over you, the weight of her hand on your pillow tipping your head closer to her. She was so close now. Deep scarlet eyes, pointed teeth, locks of her rust hair grazing your bare chest and tickling your nipples which you realized now were erected. Her breath smelled of iron, of old iron that had been sitting out in the rain. It smelled of flesh and of blood casting over your face for how close she was to you.

“Don’t be so frightened,” the vampire cooed, reaching her hand under you. You gasped at her cool touch, her oddly delicate and soft hand which glided across your back which arched for its way, coming to the other side of your waist and holding it gently so that her arm was completely curled under you. She had you trapped now, hovering over you, holding you. There was a crazed look in her eye now as her skin touched yours, as she smelled your scent and felt your warm flesh in her hand and listened to your heart beating so fervently, so frightened.

“You will enjoy this, love,” she continued, her nails digging slightly into your side as she lowered herself down further on the bed. She parted your legs with her knee, and it made you gasp in shock as she slid her other knee between them also, forcing your legs to spread. You felt the cool air of exposure in your middle, feeling now the strings of wet between your folds. She could smell it, you knew, by the way her nostrils flared and her beautiful lips twisted into a knowing smirk. This woman was an animal, a beast with senses that far outpowered yours. She could smell and hear and feel and see everything, down to the hairs on your arms that stood on their ends.

Were you enjoying it already? Why was your skin basically vibrating as she laid herself over you? Why were you slick as if you were with a lover? Why was your back and hips arching towards her hungrily as if you were the one thirsting for her and not the other way around?

Was she persuading you? You had heard of these vampyres being skilled in the art of witchery, particularly in the use of persuasion. It was heard of vampyres luring their victims to them willingly, as if the humans were offering themselves to them. Was that how she got you outside of the party in the first place?

You could feel the radiation of her powers vibrating through you, her red eyes seeming to glow in the dark room. “Oh, darling,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to your face and caressing your cheek. Your cheek was burning hot against her cold hand, which only invigorated her more.

“Your body is so warm against mine…” she murmured, her eyes trailing down your body to your bare chest. Lowering herself, she moved her head towards your neck area.

“No!” you instantly screamed, jerking your body against her as her face disappeared below your face. She dug her nails hard into your side, causing you to squeak, and then her mouth was on your neck. “Please! Stop! Don’t!”

You writhed and shrieked until you realized that you felt no intrusion of teeth into your veins but rather just a forceful yet gentle kiss of heavenly lips on your neck. The vampire’s breathing was heavy and thick, blowing hard against your skin as her entire body went rigid over yours like a predator. Her hips were the only thing that trembled, pressing hard between your legs.

“Fuck,” you heard the vampire curse into your neck as she pressed more kisses, letting her body push harder into yours. She was salivating, leaving your neck slick as she pressed more and more flurrying kisses against your soft skin. “So soft and warm,” she murmured, rubbing her entire face into the expanse of your neck, digging the bridge of her nose into your collarbone.

You were shocked when a gentle moan left your lips. She was kissing and rubbing her face all over your clavicles and chest, rolling her hips into you with a steady rhythm. You were starting to feel dizzy with warmth and lust that throbbed sinfully through you as this monster had her way with you.

She lowered further and finally was met with the pillowy hills of your breasts. She nuzzled herself right into them, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your flesh there that was so tender it gave way to the slightest of her touch. It felt like she was vibrating against you now, breathy and rigid and drunk. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and lapped over the peak of your nipple, earning a loud gasp from you. Her eyes flickered open, alert at the sound, and looked deviously at you as she started to lap at your tit, the points of her fangs sticking through her lip like a kitten.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you squirmed under her, unsure of what, if anything, was going through your head. There were your thoughts, and the thoughts she wanted you to think, and thoughts your body was sending up your spine to your brain, mostly sinful and desirous.

Chuckling throatily against your nipple, the vampire grinned, which caused her fangs to scrape your skin.

“Ow!” you exclaimed at the tiny but strong sting you felt. It only felt like a papercut until the woman’s pupils went large, and she sunk her fangs into the soft flesh of your tit. You gasped in shock at first, watching the readhead’s long fangs sink into your breast, blood immediately streaming out of where she bit.

The scream that left your mouth was loud and burned your throat. The vampire grunted and groaned as she tasted your blood, her hips fully grinding into you now, her body melting on top of yours as she moaned huskily into your wound that she drank from.

You were at a loss for words as you thrashed against her strength and clawed at the pillows and blankets around you. The worst part was that, as much as it hurt and as much as you feared for your life, your middle was throbbing and more slick than ever as she ground herself into you, turned on from the mere taste of your blood.

Finally, the woman retracted, gasping open-mouthed, her lips and mouth smeared with the bright red of your blood. Her pupils were blown, red barely visible, your blood dripping from her fangs. She breathed heavily against you as your blood streamed down your breast, trailing to your stomach.

“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” she breathed almost inaudibly. She looked completely different now, like drinking from you had changed her features in some fundamental way that you couldn’t describe. She looked more beautiful than ever, and whether it was her persuasion or the sinner that had been hiding somewhere deep inside you, it made you even more slick to see this woman so beside herself, hovering over you, her mouth and chin covered and dripping with your blood, declaring you to be the best.

Seeming to still be gasping for breath, the vampire lowered herself more down the bed until her shoulders were what kept your legs spread open.

“My heavens,” she breathed as she inhaled the scent of your arousal, her eyes focused between your legs. “You sick little thing.”

Shame blushed across your face, but it was replaced with the blush of pleasure when the woman put her mouth over your clit. Her hands curled around your hips, holding them with iron strength as she devoured you. Your cum mixed with your own blood over the vampire’s mouth as she lapped at your soaked folds, somehow masterfully avoiding nicking you with the blades in her mouth. Her tongue plunged inside you, supernaturally long as it curled to reach your pleasure spot deep inside.

You were the one absolutely beside yourself now, grabbing at the sheets, at her soft red hair, arching your back off the bed and pushing your hips into her face. Any thoughts of life or death, the risk of it, being a prey trapped with its predator, your blood leaving your system through the deep bite on your breast, were all gone. All you knew now was this beautiful woman’s tongue deep inside you and the bridge of her nose digging against your clit.

A burst of pleasure exploded inside you, and you found yourself screaming out, blinded, only urged on with a more vigorous effort from the vampire’s tongue. Her nails had dug so hard into your hips that there were ten bleeding marks in the shape of fingernails on your skin, unbeknownst to the vampire who was joyously overwhelmed with the taste and smell of your blood and juices in her mouth.

Finally, when you had relaxed, she pulled away, looking up at you from between your legs. The blood on her face was still there but had been wiped away in most spots, turned pink by the mixing of your wetness which glistened over the bridge of her nose and down her chin. Her long tongue came out from her mouth to lick at her lips, her throat clenching as she swallowed.

You had never felt such physical bliss in your life. Your entire body throbbed and ached wonderfully, churned with the duality of it being so sexy and so morbid at the same time.

In fact, you’d nearly completely forgotten about the morbidity of it all until the vampire, eyes crazed even more, gazed down at your fleshy thighs. Her lips twitched in a smirk before she dove down and bit right into the inside of your thigh.

Reacting with a shriek and kicking your legs, you could feel her bite this time was much more painful and aggressive. She was not just biting you, she was sucking your blood.

“Stop!” you exclaimed, trying to kick at the vampire that seemed to be made of steel. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

She did stop. She pulled away sharply, face bloodier than ever, and lunged upwards. In a flash faster than you could realize, she grabbed your jaw and snapped your head to the side, digging her face down into the crook of your neck and sinking her teeth into your throat. The weight and strength of her body naturally held you down against the bed as she devoured you now in a more real way. You could feel your blood draining from your veins, leaving them cold. You could feel your head get lighter and lighter, your arms and legs feeling more and more numb until finally you went limp in her arms like a lamb. Vision blurring, you were moments away from death when finally the monster pulled herself away from you with a heavy sigh.

The redheaded woman had to stand up out of the bed to restrain herself. Your blood streaked darkly down her chin, staining the white lace of her chestpiece which she clawed at to give her throat room to breathe. You were a pathetic thing now, covered in your own blood at your breast and thighs, laying limply on the bed, eyes rolling as you tried to jolt yourself awake.

“My dear, I believe I’ve found heaven in you,” she whispered, recovering herself as she approached you again. You were half-conscious as she easily picked you up in her arms, holding you bridal style. Your head and arm hung down limply, the both of you blood-streaked and throbbing with different sorts of feelings that were somehow mutual. She carried you to the end of the bed where, at the floor, was the wooden coffin with the lid open. Gently, she laid you down into the soft red velvet of the wooden coffin.

She was about to stand up before you weakly grabbed at her collar. She paused, something glistening in her eyes as she stared down at you with a sewed brow.

“I don’t want to die,” you coarsely whispered. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear you but, either because of the kind of monster she was or because your blood was running through her body, she understood exactly what you said.

“Don’t worry, my lamb,” she said with a crimson grin. “I wouldn’t let a treat like you go to waste. I’m going to keep you, pet. You’ll sustain me for as long as your body can take it. For now, you must sleep and rest, for my satisfaction is brief, and my thirst comes in quite short intervals.” She paused and stood up, letting your hand fall away from her collar. “Sleep well, little lamb.”

She closed the lid on your bleeding body, leaving you locked in the dark coffin.

[lilianne-tarot]

Pick-A-Card: If They Could Speak to you, This Is What They’d Say…‎✧˚₊‧

I know many of you are carrying unanswered questions from someone who disappeared, whether they ghosted, blocked, or drifted away. Just because they’re silent doesn’t mean they don’t feel something. This reading will reveal what they feel now, what they wish they could say, and the truth behind their silence. If you’ve been searching for closure, this might be exactly what your heart needs. This is a timeless reading.

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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જ⁀➴PILE I

Cards pulled: 10 of wands, the chariot, knight of pentacles, 9 of wands, 5 of cups.

Omg, lovely, I can already feel the weight of this situation. Your person is literally carrying the weight of regret on their back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they go about their day pretending everything is fine, but the moment they’re alone? Boom. The reality of what happened between you two slams them like a truck. This disconnection is heavy for them. There’s guilt, sadness, and this exhausting feeling of, “Did I seriously let this go? Did I mess this up beyond repair?” They’re haunted by what went down, but instead of dealing with it, they’re burying themselves in responsibilities, work, distractions, ANYTHING to avoid facing their own emotions.

And can we talk about the 9 of Wands real quick? Because this is telling me that even though they feel all this, they are STUBBORN AF about actually doing something about it. Like, they’re standing behind this emotional wall, peeking out every now and then like, “Should I reach out? Should I say something?” And then immediately retreating like, “Nah, can’t risk getting hurt again.” It’s this push-and-pull energy where they miss you like hell but are too scared to face what reconnecting would mean. It’s frustrating because I can FEEL their emotions bubbling under the surface, but their pride, fear, or past pain is making them act like they don’t care. They care. A LOT.

Are They Still Thinking About You? Oh, 1000%. This person might be hyper-fixating on work, hobbies, or even other people as a way to convince themselves they’re “over it,” but the gag is… they are NOT. This was a lesson in emotional growth, resilience, and learning to let go of what isn’t serving you. This wasn’t just a random breakup or separation, this was divinely orchestrated to push you BOTH into a new phase of life. Whether that’s healing, self-worth, or realizing that love isn’t meant to be this exhausting, this situation was meant to wake you up. The universe was like, “Okay, I’m gonna rip this band-aid off because y’all clearly aren’t doing it yourselves.” For them, this disconnection was supposed to teach them how to actually process emotions instead of avoiding them. For you? This was a test in knowing your own worth and not waiting around for someone to figure out theirs. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already outgrown this situation in some ways. Like, you’re looking back and realizing that this person’s emotional immaturity, avoidance, or inability to take action was something you deserved better than.

Because right now, you’re The Chariot. You’re the one being pushed forward by the universe, stepping into your power, and realizing that you don’t have to keep carrying the emotional weight for someone who won’t even acknowledge theirs. I feel like if there’s a reconciliation, it’ll be one of those moments where they show up out of nowhere, suddenly ready to talk, but you’re already at peace with how things played out.

At the end of the day, bestie, the choice is yours. Do you want to wait and see if they finally grow up emotionally? Or do you want to fully step into your Chariot era and say, “If they wanted to, they would.” Whatever you choose, just know you are NOT the one who lost here. they are. The universe didn’t remove this person from your life to punish you, it did it because you deserve someone who isn’t emotionally constipated. Whether this person ever steps up or not, you’re already on the path to something bigger and better. Don’t let their slowness keep you stuck when you’re meant to soar. Period. 

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જ⁀➴PILE II

Cards pulled: 2 of cups, empress, 4 of cups, 3 of wands, 8 of wands

Let’s start with the 2 of Cups + 4 of Cups because, this is a whole messy situationship in their heart. On one hand, they KNOW what you two had was special. Like, deep down, this person still feels so connected to you, there’s love, attraction, and this magnetic pull they can’t explain. BUT, instead of embracing it, they’re in a situation which is like, “Ugh, I don’t know what to do with these feelings, so I’ll just pretend I don’t have them.” Make it make sense. This person is giving emotional avoidance at its finest. They’re sitting there thinking about you CONSTANTLY, yet they’re also refusing to act on it. Why? Pride? Fear? Stubbornness? Check, check, and check. This person is SO in their feelings, but they’d rather stare at their phone in silent suffering than send that “I miss you” text.

If you ever doubted your impact on this person, let me tell you right now—you are THE standard. The Empress energy is giving “no one else compares”, and trust me, they feel that. You weren’t just another person in their life; you were a whole universe, comfort, love, beauty, growth. They looked up to you, even if they never said it. And now? Now they’re sitting in that misery like, “Wait… did I actually fumble them? Did I just ruin the best thing I ever had?” And babe, the answer? Yes. Yes, they did. Instead of owning their feelings and reaching out like a normal person, they’re watching from the sidelines probably lurking your social media, let’s be real. It’s like they’re waiting for you to make the move, but at the same time, their ego is screaming, “No, don’t do it! Stay mysterious and suffer in silence!” The duality is strong.

Do they still think about you? LOL. the cards said said, “Let me be so serious right now.” YES, bestie, they think about you ALL THE TIME.

The 3 of Wands tells me they’re waiting, but for what?? A sign? Divine intervention? A carrier pigeon with your message? SERIOUSLY, this person has a very princess energy ( i mean it sarcastically🫠)  It’s like they’re standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out into the distance, wondering if you’ll come back, BUT THEY WON’T MAKE THE MOVE. They’re definitely thinking about reaching out, but they’re terrified of rejection, of things not going how they want, of you realizing you deserve better (which you do, btw). This person is itching to talk to you. Like, the urge to break the silence is REAL, but their fear of vulnerability is holding them hostage. They want that fast, passionate, “let’s fix this” conversation, but at the same time, they don’t know how to start it. So instead, they overthink, procrastinate,

For you, this was about realizing your worth, stepping into your Empress energy and knowing that you don’t have to chase love or beg for emotional availability. You’re learning that if someone isn’t showing up fully and completely, they aren’t worth your energy. For them? This was a harsh lesson in what happens when you take something beautiful for granted. They had the 2 of Cups connection in their hands, and instead of nurturing it, they let their own fears, ego, and hesitation sabotage it. Now, they’re left staring at their phone, wondering why it feels like something’s missing. (Spoiler: It’s you.)

It depends on them. The 8 of Wands is the biggest clue here, IF they find the courage to reach out, this could move FAST. Like, once the dam breaks, expect texts, calls, maybe even some dramatic love confession energy. BUT, and this is a huge but, are they actually ready to show up for you the way you deserve? Because if they come back with the same inconsistent, emotionally avoidant energy, then babe… NEXT. 

The universe didn’t make you go through this pain just for you to settle for half-assed love. If they step up, if they come back genuinely ready to make this work, then cool. But if they’re just coming back because they’re lonely and miss your warmth? You already know the answer.

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જ⁀➴PILE III .

Cards pulled: temperance, queen of swords, 3 of swords, death, lovers

Omg, buckle up, bestie, because this reading is major. Three out of five cards are Major Arcana? Yeah, this isn’t some casual, “Oh, we drifted apart” situation. And I’m already getting chills.

First off, yes, this person still thinks about you. Like, a lot. But here’s the twist: their thoughts are a mix of regret, self-defense, and straight-up emotional exhaustion. I’m seeing someone who’s torn between wanting to reach out and knowing that doing so might just reopen wounds they aren’t ready to face. This is giving heavy "I messed up but I don’t know how to fix it" energy, mixed with a sprinkle of "but also, am I even ready to?" vibes.

Let’s talk about the situation here, because ouch. This was not a simple falling-out. This was heartbreak in its purest form. Whether it was betrayal, a painful truth, or just the gut-wrenching realization that you two couldn’t continue as you were, this was an ending that HURT. The kind that still lingers, even if you try to act like it doesn’t. And the thing is? This connection had to break apart. The universe literally forced this transformation on both of you. Death isn’t just about loss, it’s about endings that lead to major rebirth. Whether you wanted to or not, this separation changed you both. This person sees you as someone who’s balanced, mature, and, dare I say it, lowkey intimidating. Like, you’re in your healed era (or at least you seem like you are), and they don’t even know how to approach you anymore. There’s a sense of, “Would they even give me the time of day?” but also, “I know I need to be on my best behavior if I even think about coming back.” It’s like they know they can’t play the same games or bring the same energy they did before.

And The Lovers? Whew. This is deep. On a soul level, this connection was REAL. Like, cosmic contract, past-life, meant-to-be-a-lesson kind of real. Whether that means “meant to be together” or “meant to change each other’s lives” is another question, but the bond? Unbreakable. Even in separation, you two are still energetically linked.

So, what’s the truth they’re not saying? I’m getting that they regret something big, possibly a choice they made, something they said, or maybe just how they handled the situation as a whole. But their pride (or fear) is stopping them from admitting it. There’s also a level of stubbornness here. Like, they don’t want to come back unless they’re sure they’ll be received well. They don’t want to be vulnerable unless they know it’s safe. Why did this happen from a higher perspective? Because, bestie, you needed to step into your power. The Queen of Swords isn’t here by accident. This situation forced you to set boundaries, demand better, and step into your own clarity. You’re wiser now, sharper, and honestly? You won’t tolerate the same nonsense anymore. The universe was like, “Let me remove this person so you can actually step into the next version of yourself.” And whether they realize it or not, they were also meant to learn something from you. They may not have grown as much as you (yet), but your impact on them? Unforgettable.

So… reconciliation? Here’s the thing: It’s possible, but it wouldn’t be the same. If they were to come back, they’d have to be a whole new version of themselves, and honestly? You might not even want them anymore once you fully step into your power. This isn’t about waiting around for them, it’s about knowing that you’re on a completely new path, and if they can’t meet you at your level? That’s their loss.

Final advice? Trust this transformation. Even if it hurts, even if you miss them, know that this ending was a divine redirection towards something so much better. Whether that means a renewed version of this relationship or a completely new chapter, either way, you’re leveling up, and that’s the real takeaway here.

Sending you all the love, bestie. And remember, you’re THAT person. Don’t let anyone make you forget it. ✨

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[cookiedough77]

hey so, more peacock!adrien au uhm

oh you want the rest of the conversation? oh here you go, read under the cut!

(sorry if the writing isnt my best, lowkey rushed it)

Adrien's face flushes, and he holds the bouquet closer. "I'm not dressed."

Luka waves a hand dismissively. "Ohhh, don't worry about that, you're handsome even just in plain old pajamas." He leans in closer, a smile widening across his face.

Adrien crooks a brow. "Well I can't get up to dance, so..." He trails off.

"Thennn, it's just a party! Not everyone dances at a dance, we can just hang out here." Luka pulled up his other leg up on the bed, sitting crisscrossed.

If Father had seen it, he would be angry about shoes being on the bed. But Adrien has always liked Luka for the very reasons Father wouldn’t like Luka. Of course there were other things, but this just made Adrien like him more.

Plus, Luka's shoes were nice. Actually, seeing Luka in a suit is nice, he looks great.

A giddy smile comes across Adrien's face. "Does that mean snacks? Parties always have snacks."

"Oh- I did plan on that- Too worried about getting the bouquet on time. I can go get some real quick if you want?"

Adrien giggles. "Not yet, I still want you here." He looks down at the bouquet crinkling in his hands. "You did all this for me?"

Luka shifts closer, pointing to the flowers in the wrapping paper. "I knew you liked roses, and I know you like orange, so, orange roses."

"There's red roses too." Adrien smirks, shifting the bouquet to show Luka.

"Well." Luka clicks his tongue. "You like romantic too, needed classic red roses."

Adrien just smiles, staring down at the flowers.

Luka continues, "When's your birthday?"

"What?"

"When's your birthday? I can do more then. You haven't had a birthday come up yet, aaannnddd I know it's gotta be some time."

Adrien rolls his eyes. "October 13th."

Luka nods, taking in the information. "You've never had a proper birthday party, right? That's why the bubbler happened?"

Adrien pursed his lips. "Yeah, Nino was upset Father said no."

"That was before you were Indigo. What did akuma attacks feel like then?" Luka tilts his head.

"Life felt... Normal then. I was just glad my Father got me an actual gift, not some lousy pen for the 3rd year in a row." Adrien lets out a huff of amusement. "It was one of the times I thought Father cared."

"I'll get you a gift."

Adrien's face felt flush, he tried to conjure up a proper smile, playing it off as cockiness. "You already got me a gift."

"I'll get you more, birthdays are usually filled with them."

"That sounds... nice." He breathes a sigh of endearment.

Adrien ghosts his fingers over the flower petals. They feel soft, and he rubs one of the petals in between the pads of his fingers. He'd apply more pressure if he could, but that would rip the petal, and Luka got these for him as a gift.

His face drops, because he loves gifts, Luka loves giving him gifts.

He can't let Luka continue doing this for him.

He's not going to make it to his next birthday.

"Adrien? What is it?" Adrien blinks, looking up at Lukas concerned face.

"Luka I..." He glances back down at the bouquet. "We can't pretend this will last forever."

Luka is quiet for a moment. His face softens. "You deserve to be happy."

"And you dont?"

Silence again. The soft sound of Adrien touching the single petal back and forth in his fingers fills his ears. 

He shouldn't have said that. They have talked about this before, many times, but tonight wasn't a time for that. Luka was trying to do something sweet, he didn't need a reminder their relationship is on the clock. 

Adrien doesn't want to be reminded of that either. He's just reminded of it every time he coughs, every time he even attempts to stand, to get up.

Adrien exhales. "I’m sorry, you were doing something nice and I ruined it."

"No no, It’s ok." Luka stares down at his lap. "I just meant... We deserve to be happy, even if it's not permanent."

"That doesn't bother you?"

Luka swallowed. "Just... Don't worry about it."

A petal rips, and Adrien bites his lip. Luka doesn't need this, he doesn't need a doomed relationship, he doesn't need someone who will let him get hurt.

But he also wants to indulge Luka.

He knows he's close to the end, he knows any day, hell any moment, it'll be over. He can't get out of bed without wobbling, he feels weak, he can feel his body wanting to give up.

"How about those snacks, huh?" Adrien swiftly says, changing the conversation.

Luka blinks and drops his feet to the floor, still facing Adrien. "Uh, yeah, I can do that." He leans forward, pushing adriens bangs out of the way and kisses his forehead. 

He then backs off the bed, smiling now. "I'll be back, I know what you like." He starts walking backwards, like he wants to keep looking at Adrien, and it makes Adrien smile.

"Plagg, claws out." With an electric green light, Kitty Khaos finally turns around and climbs outside the window.

Adrien sighs, and closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his knees and pressing his forehead into them. 

[writeriguess]

AUUHGYUFJSGKUHIAJL I love your writing sm!! can I request maybe like Denki or bakugou with a reader who's super stressed with parents who like...always drag down her hopes? if not then it is totally fine!! thank you so much for reading!!!!!!! <33 keep up the great work xoxoxo /p <33

Explosive Comfort

You were curled up on the couch, phone pressed to your ear, Bakugou sitting nearby with his arms crossed, scrolling through his own phone. He wasn’t paying attention at first—not until he noticed how still you’d gone, your knuckles white where they gripped a throw pillow.

Then he started listening.

Your parents’ voices came through the speaker, cutting and cold.

“You always expect too much, and then you’re disappointed. We’ve told you before, haven’t we? Maybe if you were more realistic, you wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.”

Your heart sank, but you bit your tongue. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” your father interrupted. “That’s the problem. You keep thinking life is supposed to turn out a certain way, but it doesn’t. You’re wasting time on things that won’t get you anywhere.”

Your stomach churned, but you forced out, “It’s not a waste.”

Your mother sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not trying to hurt your feelings. We just don’t want you to get your hopes up when we know how things will turn out. You should focus on something more practical instead of chasing—whatever this is.”

Bakugou tensed beside you, his fingers tightening around his phone. His sharp red eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips trembled even though you weren’t crying. The way your shoulders curled inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

It pissed him off.

But then your father spoke again.

“You’re not special. Stop acting like you are.”

The phone was snatched from your grip before you even realized Bakugou had moved.

“Oi, you miserable bastards,” he growled, voice rough with unfiltered rage. “The hell kinda shit is that to say to your own kid?”

A pause.

“Excuse me?” your mother’s voice asked, suddenly wary.

“You fuckin’ heard me,” Bakugou snapped. “What kinda parents tear their kid down instead of buildin’ them up? You think you’re helpin’? You think you’re bein’ realistic?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Sounds more like you just don’t want her to do better than you ever did.”

“Who is this?” your father demanded, bristling.

“I’m the guy who actually gives a shit about her,” Bakugou snarled. “Unlike you, apparently.”

“Now listen here—”

“No, you listen!” Bakugou cut him off, voice crackling with fury. “She’s smart, she’s talented, and she’s got more heart than either of you could ever dream of having! And you sit there tellin’ her she’s not special? That she should just give up? Like she’s not worth anything?!”

You had never heard his voice so sharp, so raw.

“If you don’t wanna support her, fine,” he went on, seething. “But you don’t get to drag her down just ‘cause you gave up on your own damn dreams. She’s already stressed enough without you two tryin’ to rip out whatever confidence she’s got left.”

Your mother tried to stammer something, but Bakugou wasn’t done.

“She doesn’t need your bullshit doubts. She doesn’t need your negativity. And she sure as hell doesn’t need your permission to be somethin’ great.”

Silence.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, hands clenched together in your lap.

Then Bakugou exhaled sharply and spat, “She’s done listenin’ to you.” And with that, he ended the call.

The room was eerily quiet. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Bakugou ran a hand through his hair, still buzzing with anger. Then he turned to you, his expression softening—just a little.

“You okay?”

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded. You weren’t okay. Not really. But for the first time in a long time, someone had stood up for you. Someone had fought for you.

And that meant everything.

Bakugou clicked his tongue and ruffled your hair, his way of grounding you. “They don’t know shit. You hear me?”

You swallowed hard and nodded again, this time with a bit more strength.

“Good,” he muttered. “Now c’mere.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pulling you into his arms, holding you tight, safe, warm. And for once, the words that had always made you doubt yourself didn’t seem so loud anymore.

[rosachae]

sell your soul, not your whole self | sophia laforteza

⁍ song: afraid - the neighbourhood ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon. ⁍ genre: twilight au. slowburn! fluff, angst. vampire!sophia, telepath!sophia, good old 'i can read everyone but you'. ⁍ a/n: this is part two. please click here for the first part. this fic is set in 2004 around the time of the first movie. sorry for the delay in getting this out! ⁍ w.c: 19k ⁍ warnings: mentions of blood, death, illness. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n swore that forks froze over the day she left. when she returned six years later after a death in the family, she realized that nothing had changed. same old fog, same faces, same silence tucked between the trees. at least, that was until she met sophia laforteza. beautiful, aloof, and strangely out of place in the cold little town. when sophia offered to help fix up her brothers car, she soon realized she was in for more than she bargained for.

part two

‎you didn’t know what you expected after sophia’s confession in the woods, but it certainly wasn’t this.

when you came down the stairs the next morning, the last remnants of sleep still pronged through your system and your legs ached from the amount of walking you did through dirt and bark the night before. you were already wracking through your brain the different ways you’d be able to make it through your third week at forks high without having a car to drive, dreading needing to take the bus or god forbid walk through the rain. 

just as quickly as you sprung up at the sound of your alarm, however, you froze. the last thing you thought you’d see was her. standing just before the front door at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. jaehyun stood beside her, a friendly grin on his face. 

you did a double take. then a triple. maybe even a forth. 

she hadn’t noticed you at first. actually, scratch that, you know she did. she very well probably heard you the second you groaned at the feel of cold air hitting your skin when you ripped your blankets off of yourself. she probably heard your grumble when you almost tripped over the cord to the box computer in the corner of your bedroom. if her words from yesterday meant anything, she heard everything. well, except for your thoughts. perhaps that was for the better. 

if she knew what you were thinking then, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot. 

the second your foot hit the last step, she turned around. 

sophia looked even better than usual, if that was possible. she wore a white blouse with the buttons undone halfway down just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach, a denim skirt that showed off long legs, and black boots that stopped just below her knees. a brown fur lined leather jacket draped around her shoulders, guarding her from a coldness she couldn’t even feel. but it was her face that really did it.

when her eyes met yours, the ghost of a smile tilted the corners of her lips. not wide nor dramatic, just a small, easy curve. it was almost as if she was happy to see you, if that was something she even allowed herself to be. in that moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. perhaps it was just for show, with jaehyun standing just an inch to her right. but you felt it in your chest anyway.

truth be told, you were surprised she even used the front door after the events of the night before.

‎ 

at some point, you found yourself sitting beside sophia in a wide clearing where the grass whispered in the wind and the sunlight filtered through the trees in scattered beams, soft and golden, catching on her skin until it shimmered like a thousand tiny diamonds. she let you look at her. she always had this impossible beauty, something effortless and slightly unreal, but in that moment, with petals drifting lazily through the air and the world gone still around her, you could’ve sworn you were looking at something divine. she wasn’t looking at you, her eyes were tilted toward the sky, following the slow drift of clouds, but she felt your gaze like a pulse against her skin. eventually she turned her head, just slightly, until those golden eyes met yours, steady and unguarded, like the weight she usually carried had slipped off without her noticing. she spoke softly, but every word filled the space between you.

“nineteen twenty-two,” she said, and for a second, the number felt like a thread pulling you both back through time. “i was eighteen when insung turned me. i was already dying. pneumonia. he found me in a sanatorium in some forgotten corner of the philippines. he was passing through after the war, just traveling, i think. maybe looking for something. maybe trying to forget.”

“how old is he?”

sophia smiled, but there was something ancient behind it, something that didn’t quite belong to the girl who looked barely older than you. “far older than me,” she said. “centuries, probably. he doesn’t like to say. but i was the first of us. then came daniela. his mate, yejin, was third.”

“mate?” you asked before you could stop yourself, your eyebrows furrowing. 

she hummed. “he met her during the korean war in nineteen-fifty-one. yejin was a nurse. the base had just been hit by a bomb that should have killed her instantly. he saved her, too.”

“so… they’re mates because he changed her?”

”they’re mates because they fell in love.” she speaks with a kind of faraway tone, as if she was recalling insung’s memories like they were her own. in some way, they probably were. just another caveat of reading into people's minds when thoughts were too loosely unguarded. then a frown of her own crossed her pretty face. “it’s almost tragic, don’t you think?”

“what?”

“our hearts stopped beating the minute we died, yet somehow, he found the one that would make him whole again. pity he had to curse her soul forever just for a semblance of humanity.”

you didn’t know what to say. so you said nothing. something told you her feelings on vampirism were complicated. truthfully, you didn’t want to ask too much and risk ruining the comfort she’d fallen into. 

she continued after a beat, her words hanging through the silence by a thin thread. 

“yoonchae was the latest. there’ve been others, here and there, but for most of the last decade it’s just been the five of us.”

she paused, eyes drifting back to the sky, lashes catching the sunlight like threads of gold. the silence stretched, not awkward, but full. like something living between you. it clung to the air, light and heavy all at once, like a breath held too long.

“can they all read minds like you?” you asked, your voice quiet, like anything louder might disturb the delicate balance of the moment.

she shook her head slowly, the movement small but certain, her mouth settling into a line that looked almost reluctant. “no,” she said, barely above a whisper. “just me. even then…” her gaze returned to you, sharper now, more focused, like she was trying to see past your skin and into the bones of you. “i can’t read you.”

your chest tightened. “is that why you’ve always asked me what i’m thinking?”

she didn’t look away. “yes.” another breath passed. then, quieter, she continued.  “what’s on your mind right now?”

you didn’t hesitate.

“you.”

‎ 

your heart still hammered when you remembered the way her face changed. just slightly, but enough. it was like something inside her had exhaled, some quiet tension uncoiled, like your confession had reached a place in her no one else could touch. for a second she looked almost human. and then the moment passed, delicate as glass, and she stood without a word. she took you home in silence.

‎ 

you said goodnight to jaehyun, the man half asleep on the couch with a book splayed across his chest, the tv humming something low and distant. he gave you a lazy wave without looking up, muttering something about leftovers in the fridge. you mumbled ’thanks’ and climbed the stairs slowly, still carrying the weight of her eyes in your chest. but when you opened your bedroom door, you stopped cold.

she was already there.

sophia stood by your window, the curtains pushed aside just enough to let in the pale moonlight. it carved soft shadows along her features, turned her into something both unreal and impossibly solid. she didn’t turn around when she spoke.

“i didn’t want to leave. not yet.”

“you could’ve just walked in the front door with me.”

you stood there, watching her watch you, the space between you humming like a wire pulled too tight.

“are you staying?” you asked.

she nodded once. “if you’ll let me.”

you stepped closer. “you don’t sleep.”

“no.” she tilted her head. “but you do.”

you slipped past her and into the bed, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper in your bones now that she was near. she lay down beside you a moment later, her movements weightless and careful, as if she was afraid of breaking something. maybe not you, maybe just the quiet.

she didn’t close her eyes. she lay still, on her back, one hand resting near yours on the blanket, not touching but close enough to feel the coldness radiating off her skin.

after a few minutes, you spoke. “you’re just gonna watch me sleep?”

“maybe,” she murmured, a soft smile playing at the edge of her lips. “if you let me.”

your breath slowed. her presence wrapped around you like fog, quiet and constant, and even though she didn’t move, didn’t say another word, you felt her there with every heartbeat.

you were asleep before you could ask her what she was thinking.

‎ 

you’re torn from your thoughts when jaehyun turned to face you too, the movement slow, like even that took effort. for a second, you almost didn’t register what he was wearing. not until the dull navy of his uniform caught the morning light slipping in through the window. your heart sank.

the shirt was neatly buttoned, his badge pinned to his chest like always, but the fabric hung a little looser around his midsection than it used to. he still looked pale, the kind of pale that didn’t come from the weather, and one of his hands hovered near his ribs like he was still trying to hold himself together from the inside out.

your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “jae, what are you—”

he lifted a hand and waved you off with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“it’s okay, y/n. i’m feeling much better.”

he said it like it was nothing, like he hadn’t spent the past day drifting in and out of sleep on the living room couch. but you saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his voice caught for just a second too long. you didn’t believe him. you opened your mouth to respond, questions on the tip of your tongue, seconds away from triple checking. but he cut you off before you could do anything when he turned to look at sophia. 

“i don’t know why you didn’t bring sophia around sooner. she seems like a nice girl.” jaehyun grinned, still leaning against the wall like his ribs didn’t hurt at all. “and hey, it’s awfully kind of you to drive y/n to school.”

drive…?

the word hit you like a delayed echo. as realization settled in, a warm flush crept up your neck and fought its way across your cheeks. you hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

sophia answered before you could. her voice was soft, melodic, almost too polite. “it’s not a problem, sir.”

“sir?” jaehyun chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. “i could get used to that.”

you groaned under your breath and rolled your eyes. without thinking, you clutched your bag tighter and moved on instinct, barely aware of what you were doing. you brushed past them, reached for sophia’s shoulder, and gently (though with a clear urgency) nudged her toward the door and out of the house at an almost comically fast pace.

“okay, that’s enough of that. bye jaehyun~”

you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him as the door clicked shut behind you.

stepping outside into the cold, you were hit with a biting chill that sank straight through your clothes. the air fogged with your breath the second you exhaled, a thin mist curling up into your face. a shiver ran down your spine.

that was, at least, until you realized you were still holding onto sophia’s arm in a grip just shy of iron. heat flushed your face as you quickly let go, dropping your hands to your sides before shoving them deep into your pockets. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted, the spark that jumped through you just from being that close to her.

if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. if she was bothered, she didn’t show it.

instead, she looked at you with a kind of quiet, undivided attention that made your breath catch. her gaze never wavered. it was soft, unreadable, but steady in a way that made you feel like the only thing in her line of vision was you.

your eyes dropped to her lips before you could stop yourself. they were glossy, like always, catching the dull grey light just enough to make your stomach flip. you looked away, fast.

“driving me to school?” you asked, the words coming out clumsy and too loud in the still morning air. you cringed the second you heard yourself.

sophia shrugged. then, without another word, she started walking, her steps light and precise as she carefully avoided the small puddles of rainwater scattered across the porch.

“why not.”

if you’d been paying closer attention, maybe you would’ve noticed the way she slowed her pace. how her posture shifted, just barely, senses attuned to you. ready to catch you, to steady you, if your foot so much as slipped on the wet wood.

instead, you were too busy rolling your eyes. “did you have to call him ‘sir’? i’m never going to hear the end of that one.”

“he cares for you deeply. i think that deserves respect,” she said simply, her voice light and soft.

it still caught you off guard, how nice her voice sounded. it was like hearing the most beautiful chord in a chorus for the first time. clear, warm, unexpected.

she continued after a beat, an almost amused tone lilting her voice. it didn’t take long for you to realize she must have been reading his mind on the other side of the door. “besides, he’s funny. he’s already planning ways to embarrass you when you get home.”

you groaned. you could already see it. his smug face, the annoying quips, the way he’d drag it out for days just because he could.

you’re again drawn from your thoughts as you watch the girl beside you. instead of heading for the sleek silver volvo parked by the curb, sophia turned and walked toward the garage. you stood there, confused, watching as she crossed the driveway and stopped beside the old blue chevrolet truck. she moved to the passenger side, pulled the heavy door open with a loud, familiar creak, and looked back at you.

her eyes met yours, calm and expectant.

you blinked. “what are you doing?”

“driving you to school,” she said, like it was obvious.

your eyes narrowed. “okay, you can stop fucking with me.”

you stared at her, deadpan. the two of you had only just gotten the engine running. it coughed to life, sure, but in no universe was that thing road safe yet. you weren’t even sure if all four tires were properly fitted. the brakes? questionable. the seatbelts? probably decorative.

but sophia only nodded once, slow and deliberate, her voice calm and final.

“get in.”

no room for questions. no hint of hesitation. just that steady look and the open door. waiting.

you hesitated. then you moved.

you inadvertently swallowed as you stepped under her arm, close enough to catch the soft scent of her perfume. something sweet and earthy, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. she closed the door behind you as soon as you settled in.

you flinched when, in the blink of an eye, she was gone from your side and suddenly in the driver’s seat. one second she was holding the door, the next she was turning the key in the ignition like she’d been there the whole time. you didn’t think you’d ever get used to that.

and then, somehow, low and behold, the truck started. the engine sputtered to life like it had simply been sleeping, and sophia shifted into reverse with calm precision. you turned to her, wide eyed.

the truck was driving.

“wha— are you serious? when the hell did this happen?!”

“when you fell asleep.”

you stared at her, jaw slack. “you mean to tell me we could’ve had this truck fixed two weeks ago?”

“yes.”

flabbergasted didn’t even begin to cover it. “wha— why—”

sophia almost answered. the words hovered at the back of her throat, ready to spill. she wanted to say that insung asked her to keep an eye on you. that she was supposed to make sure you didn’t tell anyone what you saw in the woods. that getting close to you had been part of the plan.

but maybe, somewhere deep down, it wasn’t about that anymore. maybe she just wanted to keep seeing you.

she said none of it.

instead, she kept her eyes on the road as the blue chevrolet rolled down the driveway, moving smooth and free for the first time in six years.

“stop talking,” she said softly.

and so you did.

__

sophia kept her eyes forward, her fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel as the truck rolled smoothly down the long stretch of road in the direction of the highschool. the trees blurred by in a wash of green and gray, and though she appeared calm on the surface, her thoughts stirred restlessly beneath the stillness.

you sat beside her, quiet now, your presence humming in the space between you like a frequency only she could hear. it should have been a peaceful drive, uneventful, maybe even pleasant.

it was in that silence she let her mind wander to the week she was away. 

‎ 

she hadn’t meant to stay away that long. at first, she only meant to give herself a day. a few hours, even. enough time to quiet the ache in her throat, to stop her hands from shaking, to think clearly. something cracked open in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in so long it was almost unrecognizable. she was afraid.

the moment she smelled your blood, all she could hear was silence. complete and unbearable. it wasn’t the usual stillness that came with immortality. this was louder, crueler. it swallowed every thought and filled the space with instinct. it had taken everything in her not to reach out and touch you. not to sink her teeth into the soft skin of your wrist where the blood still beaded. she remembered the shape of your mouth when you winced, the furrow between your brows as you shook your hand out, thinking it was nothing. and maybe to you, it was.

but to her, it was everything.

bloodsinger. the word rang in her skull like a bell.

she drove. she vanished into the trees and didn’t stop until the scent of you had faded, burned away by wind and moss and damp pine. by the time the sun fell, she was already home. locked in the quiet of their glass house, tucked away in the thickest part of the woods where no one could find her unless they knew exactly where to look.

home. if you could even call it that.

the place had always felt like a monument to all the things they tried to forget. too beautiful, too hollow. high ceilings, clean lines, walls made of glass and quiet wealth. the kind of house that was meant to feel lived in, but never truly was. a house made for pretending. she could see her reflection in every surface. the pale curve of her jaw. the stillness in her face. the monster hiding beneath the skin.

for days, she didn’t move. didn’t speak. she sat near the massive window overlooking the edge of the cliff, watching the fog roll through the trees. she didn’t even turn on the lights. she didn’t want to see herself.

she hated this. all of it.

she hated what she was. hated the thirst that lived in her throat like it owned her. hated the way her body betrayed her. hated that no matter how much she tried to build herself into something soft and good and calm, she would always be this. a thing. a threat. even to you.

especially to you.

what scared her most wasn’t the blood. it wasn’t the hunger, or even the way she could still smell you in her hair. it was the way her chest tightened when she thought about you. the way your voice echoed in her memory. the way she had started to look forward to seeing you, even when she tried not to. that kind of hope felt like a mistake. something dangerous.

scared. the word didn’t belong to her. not anymore. not since the night she died, lungs filled with blood, body burning with fever, insung’s face the last thing she saw before everything went dark. she didn’t remember the pain. only the silence that came after. the cold. the hunger. the stillness.

and now here she was, a century later, scared of a single human. scared of your laugh, of your kindness, of the way you had looked at her when you handed her a wrench like it was some kind of gift. scared of what it would mean if she let herself stay. scared of what she would do if she didn’t leave.

so she stayed home.

she let the days pass. she didn’t tell insung. she didn’t even tell yoonchae or daniela. she let them assume she needed space, which wasn’t unusual for her. they gave it. 

it was yejin who finally asked. 

one of the cruelest truths about being a vampire, sophia had come to understand, was not the thirst or the isolation, but the simple fact that she would keep going while everyone she ever loved withered away. time did not touch her the same way it touched humans. for them, it passed gently, then swiftly, then all at once. for her, it just stood still. it watched. it waited. and it took.

she learned this lesson many times over, in many painful ways, but none hurt more than losing her mother.

her mother had been everything to her. gentle and fierce, full of stubborn love. the kind of woman who held the world together with a quiet strength, whose hands had always been warm no matter how cold the house had gotten in winter. she remembered the curve of her mother’s back as she worked in the garden, the lull of her humming in the early mornings, the softness in her voice when she called her by name.

as a newborn, she had no control. the thirst ruled her like a tyrant, leaving no room for thought, no space for love. it took everything she had to stay away, and even more to watch from a distance.

her mother sat beside her grave every day for weeks. she never cried in front of anyone else, but sophia had seen her there, shoulders hunched forward, fingers tracing the engraved letters like they still held warmth. she spoke to her sometimes. told her about the neighbors. about the flowers that refused to bloom that spring. once, she even brought sophia’s old cardigan, the one she used to wear on rainy days. she folded it carefully and laid it on the grave like it might protect her from the cold. sophia stood in the trees, just far enough away that her scent wouldn’t reach. she stayed still for hours, letting the bark dig into her palms to keep herself grounded.

her mother died there, not long after. the townspeople said it was heartbreak. she passed peacefully, slumped against the headstone with one hand resting over her heart. she could have stepped forward. could have spoken. could have touched her. but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

the hunger had been too loud. too sharp. even with every ounce of love in her, sophia knew she wasn’t safe. not then. not around the person who mattered most. and so she stood there, unmoving, as her mother’s heart beat its last. she stayed until the sun came up, and by the time the light touched the tips of the gravestone, she was already gone.

perhaps that’s exactly why she connected with yejin, the woman who lost her own son in the korean war when he was sophia’s age. yejin was the closest thing she had to a motherly figure. it was perhaps for that same reason, too, that the woman knew she wasn’t okay. 

she didn’t knock. didn’t call out. she just came into the room like she always did, quiet and steady, moving with the kind of ease that came from decades of knowing someone too well to ask for permission. sophia didn’t look up. she didn’t have to. she knew that scent, that presence, the careful stillness yejin always carried with her, like she never wanted to disturb anything she didn’t have to. hell, she could hear her thoughts, the way they flickered between worry and concern. 

“something’s wrong,” yejin said eventually, her voice quiet but unwavering. “and it’s not the usual kind.”

sophia didn’t answer right away. her jaw tensed. her gaze didn’t move. her hands, tucked against her knees, stayed perfectly still.

“i can feel it coming off you like static,” yejin added, softer now. “like it’s eating you from the inside.”

sophia closed her eyes. the words caught in her throat, tight and jagged. she hadn’t meant to let it show. not to anyone, and especially not to her.

“y/n’s blood,” she said. “it hit me like nothing else ever has.”

yejin waited.

“i’ve hunted beside humans before. i’ve cleaned wounds. it never mattered. but hers—” sophia shook her head, jaw clenched. “i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t think. i wanted to tear through her. and at the same time, i couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.”

she didn’t have to say it aloud to know the others would hear. every one of them. yoonchae, somewhere on the first floor pretending not to listen. daniela, probably frozen mid page in a book. and insung, in his study, already piecing together the implications before the words had even finished leaving her mouth. nothing would ever stay secret living in a house of vampires. 

“she’s my bloodsinger,” sophia said at last. 

“you should have told us sooner,” yejin said gently.

“i didn’t want to.”

“why?”

“because once i say it out loud, it’s real. and if it’s real, it becomes a problem. and if it becomes a problem, the volturi find out.”

yejin frowned. she shook her head, her lips pulling into a grim line. “you shouldn’t even be thinking about the volturi. you’ve done nothing wrong. i fear you’re getting too far into your own head that you’re driving yourself crazy worrying about issues that may never come to pass.”

sophia’s eyes finally tore away from the window and instead to the woman beside her. when she speaks her voice is quieter now. “perhaps. but i thought i could handle it. i thought it would pass. i’ve never felt anything like this. i don’t want to scare her. i don’t want to become the thing i try so hard not to be.”

yejin placed a hand gently on the back of her shoulder, grounding her.

“you are not that thing,” she said. “you’ve proven that to yourself, over and over. this doesn’t change who you are.”

sophia said nothing.

yejin gave her a moment before she continued. “but if you want to keep her close, if you want anything real, you will have to steady yourself. this feeling will not go away. you will have to live with it. learn to carry it.”

she wanted to argue. wanted to insist that distance was the only safe choice. but she didn’t. because even now, even after days of silence and self loathing, she still couldn’t stop thinking about you. the way you smiled when you spoke. the warmth of your skin when your hand brushed hers. the way your blood had made her want to rip herself in half just to keep from losing control.

for the first time in days, sophia nodded.

‎ 

“what’re you thinking about?” you asked, the silence between you broken. 

her focus snapped back to the present. your heartbeat echoed in her ears like a metronome, steady and maddening. it was always like this now. the way your blood moved under your skin, the warmth of it, the way it called to her. her memories were no longer at the crux of her mind. now, it was you. only you. 

last night, she’d laid beside you just to see if she could do it. if she could be close without caving to the pull. she stayed perfectly still, every muscle locked, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of your chest. the scent of you pressed in around her like fog. sweet. sharp. unbearable. there was a moment, brief, where her hand hovered just inches from your neck. she could hear your pulse there, strong and exposed.

when your question registered fully, she nearly laughed. not from humor, but from disbelief. she almost confessed the only reason your brother’s car was fixed in record time was because she needed something to stop her from losing control. something to keep her from becoming the very thing she hated most. anything to keep her from drinking you dry.

the thought stuck to her like poison. thick and corrosive, eating away at what little self control she had left.

instead, she hummed. 

“why aren’t you scared of me?”

you thought about it for a long time, weighing the words on your tongue. then you offered a small shrug. 

“you’ve given me no reason to be.”

it was maddening. confusing. it felt almost bizarre, this romanticised view. it unsettled her, the ease of your trust. like you were seeing something she didn’t believe was there. some gentler version of herself she didn’t recognize.

if only you knew what it took for her to keep still beside you. what it cost her not to pull over right now and press her mouth to your throat, just for a second. just to taste.

you said she hadn’t given you a reason to be afraid. if you only knew how many she kept hidden.

but of course, if only you knew what your words did to her. how they softened something sharp in her chest. how, for a split second, they made her feel like less of a monster and more of a girl. just a girl, looking at someone who trusted her without question. someone with eyes so open, so achingly sincere, it made her want to believe she was good.

sophia clicked her tongue against her cheek, trying to shake the feeling off before it could settle.

“you should be.”

__

the parking lot was loud with thought.

sophia heard it the second she pulled in. flickers of boredom, caffeine crashes, the low buzz of unfinished assignments. someone was trying to work up the nerve to talk to their crush. someone else was imagining a fight they’d never have. it was all familiar noise, a background hum she’d long since learned to ignore.

but the second she stepped out of the driver’s seat, it changed.

she was used to being watched. used to the shift in atmosphere when she entered a space. the way minds scattered from innocent curiosity to something sharper. her expression didn’t change. she kept her gaze straight ahead, her walk measured and light, like the earth barely held her.

you, on the other hand, were visibly spiraling.

you weren’t used to this. not the staring. not the way conversations dipped when you passed. not the sudden, quiet pull of attention toward your orbit. you’d never been invisible, but you’d always managed to fly just low enough that no one ever really looked.

until now.

you stepped out of the truck and circled around to her side, your pace steady but your pulse uneven. sophia didn’t need to glance at you to feel it. your shoulder brushed hers for half a second, and your heart gave you away.

you walked beside her like it was normal. like this wasn’t the most attention you’d gotten all year. your bag swung loose from one shoulder, your hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, your mouth pulled tight at the corners. every nerve in your body felt like it was vibrating.

she listened to the flood of thoughts crashing around you. the confusion. the judgment. the curiosity. but yours stayed silent. still unreadable. all she could track was the rhythm of your breathing and the deliberate evenness of your steps.

“they’re really staring,” you muttered.

“they’ll stop eventually,” she said.

“you think so?”

“no.”

you laughed, short and under your breath, but it slipped past your teeth before you could catch it. it made something shift in her chest. she didn’t look at you, but she heard it. felt it. wanted to hear it again.

“you always make an entrance like this? or is everything just confused why you wear skirts during winter in forks.” you asked as the two of you reached the doors.

“i usually don’t bring anyone with me.”

“besides your sisters.”

“besides them.”

across the lot, daniela leaned against her convertible with yoonchae beside her. both of them staring, less than subtle in the way they stood stiff. dani’s eyes narrowed. yoonchae tilted her head, unreadable as ever. sophia didn’t flinch. just glanced once and hummed low in her throat.

“they’re mad,” she said, eyes still ahead.

“why?”

“because now they know i told you what i am. and telling you means they can’t pretend anymore.”

you nodded like it made sense. like you were in on something bigger than you were. but the truth was, you didn’t understand. not really. you hadn’t even met her sisters yet. and now they were staring at you like you were already a problem. the last thing you wanted was to start off on the wrong foot. to be resented. to be the human who made things complicated.

you forced yourself not to look. not to shrink under the weight of their stares. you kept your eyes on sophia instead. the sharp line of her profile. the way she moved through the halls without flinching, like none of it touched her.

she didn’t slow down, didn’t change pace. but somehow, she stayed beside you the whole way. like she’d decided, without question, that if anyone had something to say, they’d have to get through her first.

somehow, it made the stares all the more bearable.

at least, that was until lunch.

you were sitting with lara, megan, and manon at your usual table, the one tucked near the back where the light didn’t hit too hard. your tray sat mostly untouched. manon had already stolen half your fries. megan was flipping her water bottle upside down over and over, like the steady rhythm might distract her from the obvious. lara sat leaned back with her arms crossed, legs stretched beneath the table like she was bored by the mere act of existing.

you knew what was coming before anyone said a word. megan, of course, broke first.

“so,” she said, dragging the syllable out until it lost all meaning. “how long have you been secretly dating the school’s most terrifyingly hot girl?”

you didn’t look up. “i’m not.”

“you dirty little liar.”

lara let out a soft laugh through her nose. “you’re blushing.”

“no i’m not.”

“you are,” manon said, deadpan. she reached over and stole another fry like it was part of the conversation. “it’s freaking me out.”

you sighed, shoulders already tense. “we’re not dating.”

megan leaned forward, elbows on the table, her voice dropping just enough to sound conspiratorial. “but she did drive you to school.”

“yeah,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “my brother’s truck works now.”

lara raised an eyebrow. “how convenient.”

“we’ve been trying to fix that thing for weeks,” you muttered. 

“hot and good with her hands,” lara mused, staring at the ceiling. “god really doesn’t play fair.”

“do you think she could fix my microwave?” manon asked. 

“she probably could,” megan said, nodding. “and she’d do it without blinking. then she’d walk away in slow motion while a storm rolled in behind her.”

you groaned. “you’re all insane.”

“we’re just observant,” megan shot back. “you’ve been here for like five minutes and suddenly sophia laforteza’s playing chauffeur? please. even mr. alberts did a double take when you walked in together.”

“did you see his face?” manon added. “he looked like he saw god. or like… a tax audit.”

lara shook her head, ignoring her friends. she levelled you with a firm look, one that pushed for ‘no bullshit’. she uncrossed her arms, an appraising hum tearing from her lips. “you’ve got everyone curious. not that i blame them.”

you shifted in your seat, hyper aware of the glances still being thrown your way across the cafeteria. some subtle. some not. you caught someone whispering and felt your stomach turn. you weren’t used to this. not the attention. not the speculation. not the feeling of being dragged into someone else’s orbit and forgetting how to find the ground again.

“we’re just friends,” you said quietly. “she’s just being nice.”

lara leaned over and rested her chin on her hand, watching you like she could read something on your face that you hadn’t said yet. too focused. too steady. not teasing anymore. it made your skin prickle in a way that felt different than before. like she was trying to pin something down. or maybe waiting for you to.

“what?” you asked, your voice lower than before. quieter.

lara shrugged, like the question hadn’t surprised her. “nothing.”

you didn’t believe her.

megan tapped her water bottle against the table, breaking the weird lull. “okay, but, hypothetically… if you were into her, and she was into you—”

“she’s not,” you interrupted.

“uh huh. anyway. if,” megan continued, undeterred, “would that mean you’re, like… off limits now?”

you blinked. “off limits?”

manon raised a brow. “what is this, a game of tag?”

megan waved a hand. “you know what i mean. the dramatic declaration kind. no one else can flirt with you now because you’re spoken for. or… silently glared at by a girl with cheekbones that could commit war crimes.”

you looked at her flatly. “no one’s spoken for.”

lara leaned in a little closer, voice smooth. “good to know.”

you glanced at her. and something in your chest shifted. not in the same way it did with sophia. not even close. but lara was looking at you differently now. not in a just teasing way. not exactly. there was something else behind her eyes. something unreadable.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but manon interrupted.

“i just want someone to glare at me from across a parking lot and make me feel violently safe. is that too much to ask.”

“so true,” megan said. “and maybe carry me around like a sack of flour if i break my ankle.”

“romantic,” manon said.

“i have layers.”

lara sat back again like nothing happened. like she hadn’t just looked at you like she wanted to be the one walking you to class. she stretched her legs out again, arms folded, unreadable. but her smile lingered.

you poked at your food, your thoughts a mess. sophia was nowhere in sight. hadn’t been since the start of the school day when she walked you through the halls as if nothing was different. and now lara was looking at you like maybe she was waiting for her chance.

you weren’t sure what to do with that. you weren’t sure what any of this meant.

‎ 

after school, the air smelled like wet pavement. the kind of afternoon where the sun had already given up by midday, swallowed whole by clouds, the sky still weeping from the downpour that started around seven and never really stopped. everything felt damp. slower. like the town itself was waterlogged. you stepped outside with your backpack slung half off one shoulder, head down, footsteps dragging. the halls had felt heavier today. tighter somehow. like every conversation curved in your direction, even when your name never left anyone’s mouth.

you spotted the truck almost immediately.

sophia was already there. she stood with her hands buried in the pockets of her fur-lined brown jacket, the collar of her blouse turned up against the breeze. seeing her again still sent a chill down your spine. it was disorienting, almost. how everyone looked at sophia and only saw her beauty. the way her long legs crossed as she leaned against the truck bed, black boot tapping idly against the wet pavement. she was stunning. the kind of stunning that made people stop mid sentence, like they’d seen something divine or dangerous. like medusa, but lovelier.

then there was you. wrapped in a coat that wasn’t much to look at, something plain and oversized. yet somehow, she found her way to you. it felt unreal. doubt crept in, quiet and slow, tugging at your thoughts until you had to press your lips together just to keep it from spilling out.

she wasn’t looking at you. not directly. her eyes lingered somewhere across the parking lot, above the roofs of cars, distant and unreadable. but you knew. somehow, you knew she caught every step you took. every shift in your breath. the exact moment your heart picked up pace the second you saw her.

you started walking toward her, only you didn’t make it far.

“hey,” lara called from behind you, voice easy, like she’d just decided it was worth the effort. “wait a sec.”

you turned.

she strolled up with that same confident slouch, hands shoved in her back pockets, hair catching the light like it didn’t care who noticed. her gaze flicked to sophia, then back to you. something sly in her smile. something effortless.

“you doing anything this weekend?” she asked, casually, like the question barely mattered.

“uh,” you said, blinking. “i don’t know. maybe?”

lara tilted her head slightly. “dawn of the dead is playing in port angeles. new one. zach snyder, fast zombies, lots of blood. looked stupid in the best way.”

you huffed a soft laugh. “you inviting me to a horror movie so you can pretend not to get scared?”

“nah,” she said, grin widening. “inviting you so you can pretend not to get scared.”

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered anyway.

lara shrugged. “it’s whatever. just thought it’d be fun. better seats than that trash theater by forks hospital. and i don’t really like going with people who talk during movies.” she paused, then added, like it was nothing, “you don’t strike me as someone who does.”

you hesitated. your eyes darted back toward the truck.

sophia hadn’t moved. but she wasn’t ignoring you, not really. her posture shifted, just barely. her head was still tilted away, but her body faced the truck now, angled subtly toward you. her eyes hadn’t landed on you yet, but they would. you could feel it. like a thread pulled taut between the two of you, waiting.

lara noticed the pause. didn’t push.

“you don’t have to decide now,” she said, cool and unconcerned. “just… let me know.”

you nodded once, slowly. “i’ll get back to you.”

she offered one last tight lipped grin and turned away, already halfway across the lot before you could think of anything else to say.

you took a breath and headed back toward the truck. when you got close enough, sophia finally looked at you.

her gaze tracked slow and deliberate, starting from the ground up, like she was seeing all the pieces of you and weighing each one. her expression didn’t shift. not even a little. unreadable. not cold, not warm. just… distant.

you paused beside the passenger door. she didn’t open it. didn’t move to help you like she had that morning. no soft glance. no reaching for the handle before you could. just silence. you climbed in on your own. the door creaked as it shut behind you, and she got in a beat later.

the engine rumbled to life. within a matter of moments, the blue chevrolet was cruising down the long roads of forks away from the high school. 

for a long while, the drive was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful. the kind of silence that filled every inch of space between you like fog, thick and hard to see through. the kind of silence reminiscent of the first drive back from the hospital after jaehyun’s attack. it wasn’t comfortable. not like the stillness that fell over you in the clearing and her presence felt like safety. this was different. tight. brittle. the kind of quiet that pressed against your ribs and made it hard to breathe right. neither of you spoke. neither of you looked at each other. the only sounds were the low rumble of the engine and the occasional hiss of the tires over wet asphalt. you didn’t know what she was thinking, and she couldn’t know what you were. but something about the air told you she was doing everything she could not to ask.

sophia broke the silence first.

“you should have said yes.”

the words came quiet, but not uncertain. like she’d been holding them in her mouth the entire drive, rolling them around until they lost their sharpest edge.

you didn’t answer right away. your gaze was fixed on the blur of trees outside the window, your fingers fidgeting with the frayed seam of your jacket sleeve. the heater was on low, barely warming the truck, but your palms still felt clammy.

“what?” you asked, even though you’d heard her.

her eyes stayed on the road. she didn’t flinch.  “lara. you should have said yes. she likes you.”

you turned to look at her, but she didn’t meet your eyes. her grip on the steering wheel was steady, too steady, like she’d rehearsed every word and was determined not to let them slip out wrong.

you scoffed under your breath, not quite amused. “is that just your educated guess, or did you read into her, too?”

for a second, she didn’t say anything. her jaw tightened, just slightly. one hand lifted from the wheel to rake through her hair, slow and deliberate, before settling back in place. her fingers flexed once, then stilled.

“her thoughts are loud,” she said. “annoying. all day she thought of the same thing. your smile. your laugh. sitting in a movie theatre with your hands locked together. what you would look like beneath her.”

her voice stayed calm, but her jaw clenched at the end. you caught the flicker of something behind her eyes before she looked back at the road.

your stomach twisted. “you don’t seem too happy,” you said, careful but firm. “why’re you trying to encourage me to go?”

she exhaled through her nose, slow and shallow. another long beat stretched between you, thick and sharp at the edges.

“because she’s human.”

the words landed like a stone tossed into a still lake. nothing loud, but they rippled through everything.

you stared at her. she didn’t elaborate.

you sat with it, trying to understand. trying to translate what she wasn’t saying out loud. the way her shoulders had gone rigid. the way her voice had softened like she was speaking through a wall of glass.

you shook your head, brow furrowed. “what does that have to do with anything?”

she didn’t answer right away. instead, she eased the truck over to the side of the road, letting the tires crunch softly against the gravel until the engine hummed low beneath you. outside, the world was quiet, boxed in by trees that swayed slightly in the wind, tall and unmoving like they were keeping watch.

then she turned toward you, the movement fluid but deliberate, like she was bracing for something. her left hand stayed locked on the steering wheel, knuckles pale from the tension she refused to release, while her right arm reached behind you, resting against the top of your seat. it brought her close, too close, and though the space between you was small, the weight of it was enormous.

your breath hitched in your throat, not from the nearness but from the look in her eyes. it was the most emotion you had ever seen from her, intense and unguarded, flickering like a fire she hadn’t meant to let you see.

“everything, y/n,” she said, her voice sharp and steady, even though her jaw was set like she was biting back something worse. “it has everything to do with it. lara is human. she could give you a future. one with light in it. one where you get to grow old and fall in love and fight over furniture and apply for student loans. you could date. go to college together. get sick and recover and be happy. you could live your life without looking over your shoulder.”

you blinked, confused, the back of your neck prickling.  “sophia,” you said, your voice soft. “why are you saying all of this?”

she inhaled slowly, the sound too heavy to be casual. then, after a beat, she let it go. “you’re my bloodsinger, y/n.”

you stared at her, your lungs tightening like they’d forgotten what to do.

“i’m drawn to your blood in a way that defies logic. i crave it. i crave you. i can’t think when i smell it. i can’t breathe right when you’re too close. i have wanted to kill you more times than i will ever admit, and not because i want to hurt you, but because i want to feel your blood inside me like it belongs there. like it would make me whole.”

her eyes flickered down, and you followed her gaze to the base of your throat. when you swallowed, she saw it, and her expression twisted into something almost pained.

“you have no idea what it takes for me to be near you,” she continued, the words almost a whisper now. “what it costs me to sit in silence and pretend like the only thing i’m thinking about is the weather.”

then she turned away. her arm slipped from your seat, her shoulders curling inward as she settled back against her side of the truck like she couldn’t stand to be that close anymore. she stared at the dashboard as if it held all the answers she didn’t want to give.

“but my want to protect you,” she said quietly, “is stronger than anything else.”

you sat in silence, your heart racing. something in you trembled, not with fear but with something else entirely.

“now i’m scared,” you said.

she nodded once, not looking at you. her hand shifted slightly, as if she was about to open the door and leave before she could make things worse.

but you reached out and caught her shoulder, your fingers gentle but sure.

“but not of you,” you said, the words falling like truth. “i’m scared of you shutting me out because you think you’re no good for me. i don’t want lara, sophia. i never did. i want you.”

her breath caught, but she still wouldn’t look at you.

“you shouldn’t,” she whispered.

“but i do.”

the silence that followed felt heavier than anything either of you had said. she didn’t move. neither did you. her eyes stayed forward, locked on nothing, like if she just stared hard enough the moment might pass on its own. but it didn’t.

you were still holding her shoulder. you could feel how tense she was beneath your hand, like her body was caught between instincts. like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or stay exactly where she was.

you didn’t speak. instead, you let your fingers slide down, slow and careful, until they hovered just above her wrist. she didn’t pull away.

“sophia,” you said, barely above a whisper. her name felt fragile in your mouth. “look at me.”

she hesitated, then turned.

when her eyes met yours, something shifted in the air. the look on her face was unreadable, all soft edges wrapped in fear. but it was also open. more open than you’d ever seen her.

you leaned in first. not all at once, just enough for your forehead to brush gently against hers. she inhaled sharply, but she didn’t back away. her eyes closed for a second, like the weight of being that close was something she had to hold with both hands.

you didn’t kiss her then. not yet. you waited. you let her feel you there, warm and steady, letting her decide if it was too much.

when your nose grazed hers, she tilted forward. just a little. just enough.

her lips met yours with a softness that almost didn’t feel real. tentative, searching, like she was afraid to touch you too much. you kissed her back with the same care, your hand coming up to rest lightly against her jaw, fingertips brushing the edge of her cheekbone.

she moved like she was learning you in real time, every shift of her mouth restrained and delicate, like too much pressure might break the moment wide open.

but just as your heart began to steady into the rhythm of her, she pulled away.

slow. reluctant.

she blinked once, then twice, like she was trying to reorient herself. her breathing was shallow, and she wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

“i can’t,” she said, the words barely holding together. “if i stay in this too long, i’ll want more. and if i want more, i won’t know when to stop.”

you stayed quiet, your heart still pounding, your lips still tingling from where she touched you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” she said again, like that alone explained everything.

you didn’t press her. you just watched her, still and quiet, giving her the space she needed even if you didn’t want to.

and she stayed there beside you. trembling, but still choosing not to leave.

__

the days began to fold into each other. weeks passed, then eventually three months.  there was a steady rhythm to the mornings that started before you even noticed it. sophia would already be outside your house, the keys to your blue truck in hand as she turned the ignition. she still insisted on driving your brother's chevrolet, even though her volvo probably handled much better over the forks roads. the sound of the trucks familiar hum always told you it was time.

she drove you to school every day, and it became part of your routine. some mornings the car was quiet, the only sounds the soft engine and pelting rain. those were the moments when the world seemed still, like the empty space between the pages of a book you wanted to keep reading.

other days she played music, strange and beautiful songs in languages you didn’t know. sophia hummed along sometimes, her voice low and steady blending with the melody. you never asked her to stop because the sound felt like a secret just between you two.

your favorite days, however, were the ones when she told you stories from her past. stories about her mother, a woman she loved deeply, both in life and beyond. the way she spoke of her carried a quiet reverence, like those memories were treasures she held close even now.

she’d tell you about gabriela, a stray dog who used to wander near her childhood home. sophia’s voice softened as she described the little dog’s stubborn loyalty and the way she’d curl up beside her on cold nights.

then there were stories about another vampire she once knew, part of a distant coven in olympia. he had taught her the basics of mechanics, patiently showing her how things worked. sophia’s eyes would light up as she recalled the wild tale he shared about single-handedly taking down a tank from the inside during world war one. those stories made you see a side of her you never expected. one that was fierce, curious, and deeply connected to a history much older than you could imagine.

those drives with sophia became the small thread that held your mornings together.

she started walking you to class. just a few steps inside the doors, nothing dramatic. your friends noticed. everyone noticed. but no one said anything until the day she sat down at your lunch table. it was a tuesday. she walked past your usual spot like she wasn’t headed there at all, then doubled back and sat right beside you. your friends froze.

megan’s hand jerked suddenly and her water bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter. her eyes were wide and frozen in shock. manon’s mouth hung open, caught between disbelief and surprise. she looked like she was searching for words but couldn’t find any. lara stared at sophia as if she had just seen a ghost sitting down at her grandmother’s kitchen table. her eyes were wide and unblinking, filled with a mix of awe and confusion. no one spoke for five long seconds.

then sophia said, “hey,” simple and calm like this was the most normal thing in the world.

the tension broke slowly, awkward and uneven. your friends tried to pretend it wasn’t strange but everyone knew something had changed. things never went back to how they were before.

every day she sat with you. sometimes she talked. sometimes she didn’t. but she always looked at you first, like she was checking to see if you wanted her there. and every time, you nodded.

she still brought you to the clearing. that space remained yours alone. the grass always felt softer there, like it remembered your weight. sometimes she read to you. sometimes she let you nap against her shoulder in the sun while she traced lazy patterns into the dirt with her fingertip.

you didn’t kiss again. not yet. but the weight of that first one lingered between you, soft and unspoken. though you did come close.

‎ 

you were in jaehyun’s garage, standing near the open hood of the blue chevrolet. well, pretending to. your eyes were on her. sophia moved around the space with quiet focus, crouched by the front tire she was replacing. you’d hit something in the road on the way home, a clean, brutal pop that made your stomach drop. you remembered groaning in frustration, muttering something about your cursed luck and the fact that the truck had only just been fixed.

she’d just laughed, low and amused, already rolling up her sleeves.

but this time was different.

a month ago, she’d fixed the entire truck in a single night while you were asleep, vampiric speed and precision making it easy. now, she moved slower. deliberate. she handed you a lug nut with a slight grin and asked for the socket wrench like she didn’t already know exactly where it was. she took her time brushing past you, checking things twice. you weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or hers.

“just want to enjoy this,” she said casually, barely looking up.

you didn’t need her to explain. you felt the meaning in your chest before it ever reached your head.

you handed her a tool without her asking, and she looked at you with that soft, barely there smile. it made your pulse skip.

then came the moment you weren’t expecting. she’d just finished tightening the bolts, stood up, and stepped closer without warning. her hands found the workbench behind you, boxing you in.

your breath caught, heart stuttering. the only sound was the faint ticking of the cooling engine and the distant rustle of trees outside. her eyes searched your face for something, quiet but intense, like she was memorizing everything before it could change.

you weren’t sure who leaned in first.

but instead of pressing a kiss against your lips, she leaned in and let her lips brush gently against your cheek.

it was soft. unexpected. the kind of moment that felt heavier than it looked, like it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. her hand lingered near your hip, not quite touching, but close enough that you felt her there, steady and quiet.

you didn’t speak. neither did she. but you felt your face grow warm, the skin where her lips had touched tingling like it had caught sunlight in a place that rarely saw warmth.

when she pulled back, her eyes met yours for just a second too long. then she turned back to the truck like nothing had happened, and you were left standing there, breath held in a chest that suddenly felt too small.

‎ 

then came the dinner.

she didn’t make a big deal of it. she mentioned it offhandedly in the car, her voice low, careful. said she wanted you to meet her family. said they’d been asking about you. she didn’t say why that mattered. she didn’t need to.

of course, you said yes. the memory of meeting her family for the first time, minus insung, clung to your mind like a tune you’d never forget.

‎ 

the house was unreal. towering windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in sharp slices of pale light that made the air feel colder somehow. outside, ancient trees leaned close, their branches brushing against the glass like they were trying to whisper secrets inside. the whole place looked like something out of a dream or a carefully crafted movie set. 

sophia walked beside you up the long driveway, her steps steady but a little less guarded than usual. you noticed she was talking more, laughing quietly at things she might have brushed off before when others were around. it felt like you were seeing a side of her only reserved for moments like this, away from everyone else.

“you holding up okay?” she asked, glancing over with a quick tilt of her lips. something reminiscent of a smile, but not quite.

you nodded, trying to keep up. “yeah, it’s just… a lot.”

she hummed. “yeah, it can be. my sisters can be a bit much sometimes, just so you know.”

you smiled back, feeling some of the tension slip away. “thanks for the warning.”

she shrugged, then glanced back at the house. “don’t let them scare you off. they’re harmless… mostly.”

there was something warmer in her voice, a softness you hadn’t heard before. the sharp edges around her seemed to dull just enough to make the space between you feel less heavy.

when you reached the door, sophia stopped and looked at you again. “ready?”

you took a breath and nodded. she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the quiet pulling you both in.

the floors gleamed beneath your feet, polished so smooth they reflected your steps. the walls were painted in muted shades that made the rooms feel quiet and serious, like they held memories you weren’t meant to touch. there was an almost invisible weight in the air, a mix of beauty and something just beyond reach. it was like stepping into a different world, one where time slowed and everything felt sharper and colder at once.

you caught your breath, trying to take it all in without seeming like you didn’t belong. every detail pulled you in. the way the light caught on the glass ornaments, the faint scent of something old and clean, the silence that felt heavy but not empty. 

yejin was the first to find you, stepping softly from the shadows of the hallway with a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through the cold. she moved with an easy grace, her eyes warm and kind as she reached out a hand, gentle but sure.

“you must be y/n,” she said quietly, voice soft and steady like a calm breeze. “sophia’s told us about you.”

there was no judgment there, only something comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket after a long day. yejin’s presence eased the tightness in your chest without trying too hard.

“welcome,” she said, her smile widening just enough to make you feel seen, not just another visitor passing through.

sophia stayed close but didn’t say much, watching you both with something almost like relief. yejin’s kindness was a quiet reminder that maybe this place, with all its sharp edges and cold light, had pockets of warmth hidden beneath.

“come,” yejin said, motioning gently toward the living room. “make yourself at home.”

sophia knew the worst was yet to come when you’d meet her sisters.

yejin led you quietly down the long hallway toward the kitchen. the kitchen was striking, ultra modern and almost too perfect, with sleek, polished surfaces that gleamed under the soft lights. it looked untouched, as if no one ever really cooked here. not a single pot or pan left out, no crumbs or spills. just an immaculate space that felt more like a showroom than a place people lived in. and there, in this spotless room, stood insung, daniela, and yoonchae.

daniela stood near the counter, her eyes bright but cautious. she didn’t rush to fill the space with words or energy. instead, she observed quietly, taking everything in before deciding what to share. there was something reserved about her, a quiet strength beneath her careful smile. yoonchae leaned against the doorway, calm but watchful. her presence was steady and quiet, like she understood more than she let on. when she looked at you, it felt like she was reading the room without needing to say a word.

sophia’s shoulders tensed for a moment as you were introduced. you caught the flicker of something in her eyes. a warning, perhaps. 

“this is insung,” yejin said softly. “he’s the one who keeps everything together.”

insung looked up and nodded at you, his voice warm and steady. he smiled, the kind that lit up his handsome face. “we’ve met. it’s nice to see you again under much better circumstances.”

your mind flashed back to jaehyun’s room in forks hospital, where insung was his attending doctor. now that you thought about it, perhaps insung was to thank for your growing relationship with sophia. he was calm and steady, the kind of man who carried the weight of everything without showing it. now, watching him move around the kitchen, stirring a pot of alfredo sauce with careful hands, it almost made you laugh. you couldn’t remember why you felt so suspicious of the man when he was here in this moment making you dinner.

“daniela,” yejin added, motioning towards the latina girl standing by the counter.

daniela offered a small, polite smile, her dark eyes flickering with a quiet curiosity that made you feel like she was quietly weighing you up without judgment. her long, dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, framing delicate features that held an effortless elegance. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” she said quietly, choosing her words carefully.

then yejin turned to the lurking korean girl by the doorframe. “yoonchae.”

when yoonchae spoke up, her voice was soft and hesitant, barely louder than a whisper. you remembered sophia mentioning she was the newest in the family, still learning to adjust to everything that came with this life. a quiet pang of guilt settled in your chest as you stood there, knowing yoonchae was still getting used to feeding only on animals. if sophia’s words about the scent of your blood held any truth, it had to be a difficult change for her. a constant reminder of what she was missing, what she was trying to avoid.

“hello,” yoonchae said simply, her steady eyes meeting yours with a calmness that felt both reassuring and distant at the same time. there was something fragile in her presence, like she was holding herself together carefully, balancing between who she used to be and who she was becoming. it made you want to reach out but also reminded you to be careful. this was a family full of silent struggles hidden beneath their composed faces.

you felt sophia’s grip on your arm tighten just slightly, a silent reminder of what her family meant. the weight of their presence, the lives they carried with them. they were different from each other, but together they made this house feel alive in a way that was almost overwhelming.

dinner was strange and elegant. the room was quiet in a way that made you wonder who was actually eating and who was just pretending. someone asked if you liked the music playing softly in the background, and you realized it was the same song sophia had hummed in the car the day before. the melody lingered in the air, familiar yet mysterious.

daniela and yoonchae slowly began to warm up to you. daniela more easily than yoonchae, who kept her distance carefully, standing far enough away to avoid the risk of your blood scent reaching her. it made you feel both welcome and painfully aware of the invisible lines drawn between you.

later, when daniela was telling a particularly embarrassing story that had you laughing quietly, sophia quietly slipped away and took you to a quiet room with old records and long curtains pulled halfway closed. you guessed it had to be her bedroom.

the first thing you noticed was that there was no bed. no mattress. instead, there were rows and rows of cds and books lining every shelf, most of which were unfamiliar to you. the space felt intimate and strange, like a secret sanctuary built from memories and forgotten sounds.

you sat on the floor together, your backs resting against the cool wall. soft orchestral music filled the room, the kind of sound that wrapped around you like a slow, steady breath. sophia didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to. the silence between you spoke volumes, comforting and unspoken.

‎ 

after that night, daniela and yoonchae started sitting with you at lunch. they didn’t ask. they just appeared one day, elegant and terrifying, and took the two empty seats like they belonged. your friends didn’t ask questions. they didn’t dare.

you watched them try to act normal, try not to be obvious, try not to whisper when daniela smirked or yoonchae laughed softly at a joke no one else caught. it was chaos in the most controlled way possible.

and somehow, through all of it, sophia stayed steady by your side. in the quiet, in the noise. in the in-between. the months passed like that. simple. strange. unreal.

you stopped trying to make sense of it. it felt like falling into something deep. something warm, dangerous.

you weren’t sure you were ready to climb back out.

__

you were alone. the house felt too big when it was this quiet.

it was a friday night, and somewhere in the background, the muted roar of a high school football game buzzed through the tv, voices rising and falling with each shift of the score. jaehyun turned it on before he left, a half hearted attempt at filling the room with sound, like it might keep the silence from creeping in too fast. he laughed softly, told you not to wait up, and promised it was nothing serious. just a late patrol on the reservation. someone called in a sighting, probably another bear. he said it the way he always did when he didn’t want you to worry, casual and light, like it was routine, like it wasn’t a thing that pulled him away from the dinner table before he’d even touched his food.

you didn’t ask too many questions. not because you weren’t curious, but because you’d learned to recognize the look in his eyes when something was bothering him. he didn’t lie, exactly. he just kept the weight of things to himself. so you nodded. you let him go.

and now here you were.

the blanket you’d pulled off the back of the couch was bunched around your waist, not quite doing its job. a book lay open in your lap, forgotten somewhere between chapters. your feet were tucked beneath you, socks worn thin at the heels, toes curled against the cushions. the living room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the soft flicker of the television and the small table lamp near the far wall. the shadows stretched long across the hardwood floors, catching on the corners of furniture, making everything feel stretched and slow.

outside, the rain had started again. soft at first, just a murmur against the roof, but it grew steadier by the minute. you could hear the water trickle down the gutters, the occasional spatter of wind pushing droplets hard against the windows. the air inside was warm, but the kind of warm that clung to your skin and made the stillness feel heavier, like the house was holding its breath.

your thoughts refused to stay put. they drifted, restless, circling around all the things you didn’t say when jaehyun left. around the silence he carried in his shoulders, the way he winced when he thought you weren’t looking. but mostly, they circled around sophia.

you hadn’t seen her since this afternoon. even though she’d told you she was going hunting and that she’d come by before the night ended, it didn’t stop the way your mind kept returning to her. wondering where she was now. wondering what she looked like in the dark, with moonlight cutting across her skin like silver. wondering if she’d think of you when the woods went still and all she could hear was the rush of wind and her own breath.

you imagined her moving through the trees like a ghost, quiet and sure, golden eyes cutting through the dark. you imagined her scenting the air, picking up trails no human could ever notice, her body moving like a thing built for the hunt, all strength and grace and restraint. but even in those thoughts, the violent ones, the ones that should have scared you– she never frightened you.

what scared you was how much you missed her.

not in the way you missed people who left for a day or two. this was different. this was the kind of ache that made time move wrong, that made every hour stretch too long, that made you glance at the window even when you knew she wasn’t there yet. you’d grown used to her presence, to the quiet way she existed beside you, never too close, but never far enough to forget. she didn’t fill the room, she haunted it. like a song you could almost hear if you listened hard enough.

your eyes drifted to the window again.

nothing. just trees swaying in the wind, branches wet and heavy. the porch light glowed dimly, casting golden circles onto the soaked wood.

you reached for your phone, checked the time.

still early. still waiting.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. you told yourself she’d come when she could. but you didn’t believe it. not really.

and the thing that scared you most, more than whatever jaehyun might have run off to, more than the shadows clawing at the corners of your vision when you stared at the window too long– was the thought that maybe sophia wouldn’t come at all. maybe this time, she’d let the silence stretch just a little too far.

maybe you’d be alone for more than just tonight.

so when the knock came, sharp and deliberate against the front door, you didn’t think.

you got up, book sliding off your lap, blanket falling around your ankles as you padded across the hardwood floor. your socks made no sound. the house felt still in that strange, suspended way it always did right before something happened.

you crossed to the door, hand already reaching for the knob. you didn’t check the peephole. you opened it.

and everything stopped.

he was standing there.

the man standing at your door hadn’t changed at all. the vampire from the woods, the one who had thrown jaehyun like he was made of nothing, the one who had lifted his head with blood dripping down his chin and stopped only when something in the forest howled loud enough to rattle your bones, was now just a few feet away, solid and terrifyingly real. he looked exactly the same as he had in that clearing. his frame was too tall, too thin, stretched in a way that seemed unnatural, like something that had been put together by mistake and left that way on purpose. his arms hung loose at his sides, long fingers curled just slightly, like he hadn’t decided yet whether to use them. his coat clung to his body, soaked through from the rain, the fabric hanging heavy and dripping in slow, deliberate lines onto your porch. dark hair stuck to his forehead in wet clumps, and his skin, even under the low porch light, looked pale enough to pass for bone. but it was his face that made your stomach twist. something about the sharp angles of it, the way his cheekbones caught the light, made you think of broken glass left too long in the sun. his eyes were the worst part. they weren’t glowing the way they had been in the woods, but the color was unmistakable. a deep, rotted red, the kind that didn’t just look hungry but ancient in its hunger, like it had been starving for something more than blood. and when he saw you, really saw you, his expression shifted. it wasn’t surprise exactly. it was recognition, and something darker threaded just beneath it, something that told you he remembered everything.

you saw it hit him. the shift in his expression. the way he tilted his head just slightly to the side, lips curling like he was trying to decide whether to smile or bare his teeth.

“well,” he said, voice low and almost amused. “look at that. i knew i remembered something.”

you reacted on instinct. tried to slam the door shut.

but he was faster.

his hand snapped out, catching the edge of the door before it could close, shoving it back with a force that made your shoulder jolt from the recoil. you stumbled backwards as he stepped inside like the threshold meant nothing.

“the girl's scent was all over the woods,” he said, eyes sweeping across the room like he was cataloguing every corner. “every rock. every branch. she tried to cover it, but not well enough. and then i found yours.”

he turned to face you fully now, slow and deliberate, the weight of his gaze making your skin crawl.

“imagine my surprise when i realized you weren’t just a bystander,” he continued, voice curling with something sharp. “no, you’re something else. something closer. the one she’s trying to hide.”

you backed away without meaning to. one step, then another, until your heel bumped into the edge of the coffee table.

“she’s not here,” you said. you tried to sound firm, but your voice cracked halfway through.

his smile deepened. “i know. but you are.”

you reached for your phone without thinking, your fingers fumbling toward the edge of the coffee table where you’d left it earlier, but you never made it. before you could even register the space between you, he was there. one moment he was standing by the door, still and watchful, and the next he had crossed the distance like it didn’t exist at all. his hand closed around your wrist with a brutal kind of precision, fingers locking down hard, cold and unrelenting, and the pressure was instant. it wasn’t just firm, it was cruel. you felt the pain bloom sharp and sudden beneath your skin, something deep giving way with a sickening twist that shot white-hot up your arm. your phone slipped from your hand and clattered uselessly to the floor as your knees buckled slightly under the shock of it. he didn’t let go. his grip only tightened for a second, like he was testing how much you could take, and then held steady, his eyes watching your face with detached interest while your breath hitched and your body fought not to cry out. the pain throbbed through your wrist in waves, pulsing in time with the panic flooding your chest, and all you could do was try not to let him see how much it hurt.

“you’re not very smart,” he said, and this time the amusement had slipped away, replaced by something colder. “but you’re brave. i’ll give you that.”

he tilted his head again, the movement small and strange, like a bird studying something it didn’t quite understand, then leaned in close enough that you could feel the cold of his breath against your cheek. his voice dropped, quieter now but more pointed, laced with something that felt like genuine curiosity wrapped in malice. 

“what is it about you that’s got her playing protector? what makes you so special?” the words slipped between his teeth like they tasted wrong on his tongue.

you couldn’t answer. your mouth wouldn’t move, your thoughts were all noise, and your heart pounded so loudly in your chest it felt like it might shatter your ribs from the inside. you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, barely even breathed.

then something changed. a flicker of tension ran through him, almost imperceptible at first, but then his body went still in a way that was unnatural even for something like him. his eyes shifted, unfocused, as if he’d just heard something from a distance only he could make out. 

he loosened his grip on your wrist, not out of mercy, but distraction. his head turned slightly toward the hallway, toward the dark stretch of night beyond the porch. it was already too late.

wood splintered inward, the frame buckling in a violent rush of sound and motion, breaking apart so fast you barely registered it until fragments hit the floor like scattered bones. the room seemed to lurch with the force of it, the air pulled from your lungs as the pressure shifted. and then sophia was there. she moved like she had been carved from the storm outside, every inch of her soaked through, rain dripping from the ends of her hair where it clung in dark strands to her cheeks and jaw. her clothes were heavy with water and streaked with mud, but there was something else too, something darker smeared across her sleeves and collar, something that hinted at the violence she had already passed through to get here. her chest rose and fell in sharp, measured bursts, her eyes locked on the vampire with a focus so absolute it made the space around her feel colder. she wasn’t wild. she wasn’t shouting. she didn’t bare her teeth or let her hands shake. her fury wasn’t loud, but it was consuming. it lived in the set of her jaw, in the precision of her steps, in the way her entire body radiated a promise that she would not let him leave this room whole. it was not chaos. it was not panic. it was the kind of fury that only came from something ancient, something honed, something that knew exactly how to destroy.

“step away from her,” she said, her voice not wavering for even a second. it was low and calm, steady in a way that cut straight through the tension.

her eyes locked onto the place where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and in that instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. his fingers tightened, either out of spite or instinct, and this time the pain was immediate and brutal. it surged up your arm once again like fire, hot and blinding, and before you could stop yourself, a cry tore free from your throat. small, raw, and involuntary. the sound cracked the silence in a way nothing else had. your knees buckled slightly, vision going white at the edges, and you felt the bones in your wrist shift under the pressure like they were beginning to give.

sophia didn’t move yet, but you saw it in her eyes, the way her expression darkened. something in her snapped, quiet and final, like a wire pulled too tight. she wasn’t just furious now. she was poised. ready. seconds from becoming something unstoppable.

“so this is what you’re protecting?” he said, voice low and almost amused, but thin at the edges. “you’re willing to die for her?”

sophia didn’t blink. “no,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “i’m willing to kill for her.”

for the briefest second, something in the vampire faltered. not much. not enough to make him let go. but enough that his stance shifted, enough that his head turned toward her just slightly.

“you shouldn’t have followed me here,” he said, and though he still sounded sure of himself, there was a crack in it now.

sophia’s eyes narrowed. her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. “you shouldn’t have touched her.”

then she moved. but, only a second too late.

in one brutal motion, he shoved you backward with a force so sudden and unforgiving that your feet left the floor. the room spun, a blur of movement and pain, and your body slammed into the wall with a sickening crack that stole the breath from your lungs. your already shattered wrist folded beneath you at the wrong angle, bones splintering even further under the pressure. your shoulder crashing through the narrow pane of glass on the wall, a mirror. it shattered around you, cold and sharp, a single shard slicing deep into your skin and embedding itself beneath your collarbone. the pain was immediate, staggering. and then your blood hit the air.

he turned toward you like something snapped loose inside him. his head tilted, nostrils flaring, and for a moment, he looked rabid. eyes darkening, jaw tightening, his entire body tensed like he was preparing to lunge. he looked at you the way a starving thing might look at its final meal. 

but sophia was already there.

she slammed into him before he could move another inch, her body a blur of force and fury. they collided in the center of the room with a sound that cracked through the air like thunder, raw and deafening. the floor groaned under the weight of it, wood splitting in jagged lines beneath their feet. your lamp exploded behind them, shards of lightbulb scattering across the floor like sparks. your breath caught in your throat, shallow and ragged, as you watched them twist together, all limbs and teeth and fury, moving too fast for your eyes to keep up. she didn’t hesitate. she didn’t hold back. her face was carved into something ruthless and unrecognizable. this wasn’t the sophia who walked you to class. this was something else.

he clawed at her, snarling, trying to get past. she drove him backward, slammed him through the wall. glass rained down.

he was strong. but she was stronger. and she was angry.

his hand caught her arm, sharp and sure, twisting hard, but she let him. she leaned into it, let the momentum pull her just enough to pivot, and then her elbow came up hard into the hinge of his jaw. the crack of it was deep and solid, like stone breaking under pressure.

he hit the floor with a sound that felt final.

she didn’t pause. not even for breath. she was on him before his body settled, knees pinning his ribs, one hand locked in the collar of his coat. her weight held him down, steady and unrelenting, her body curved over his like a storm still gathering.

her face hovered inches above his. her breath ran hot between them. strands of wet hair clung to her cheek, stuck by rain. her eyes burned gold through the dark. her teeth were bared, not in warning, but in promise.

“if you ever come near her again,” sophia said, her voice coiled with something that didn’t belong to this world, something colder and older than the rain still dripping from her sleeves, “i will end you.”

he didn’t flinch. didn’t speak. the corner of his mouth twitched, but whether it was mockery or instinct didn’t matter. in one fluid, unnatural motion, he tried to shove her off of his body and lunge forward. not at her. at you.

your body was still slumped against the wall, pain pulsing through every breath you tried to take. your wrist throbbed with a hot, raw ache that made your vision swim, and the shard of glass beneath your collarbone pulsed like a second heartbeat. you tried to move, tried to push yourself upright, but everything inside you felt too heavy, like the impact had pressed you into the floor and left you there to wait.

all you could do was watch.

sophia was on him before he could make space between them. she didn’t shout, didn’t make a sound, just moved with the kind of speed that didn’t seem possible. the air seemed to bend around her as she struck. her hands found him with perfect precision, one at his jaw, the other braced at the back of his skull, fingers locking down like she had done this before, like she had practiced it a thousand times in her head while waiting for the right moment.

she twisted with her full strength, her entire body moving with the kind of force that didn’t belong in something shaped like a girl. the sound that followed didn’t belong in a living room. it was hard and brutal, like stone shattering. like something hard like marble snapping apart under pressure that had built too long. there was no blood. no gore. just the clean, echoing crack of something that had never been meant to break, breaking anyway.

his body dropped first, folding inward at her feet, limbs buckling in a way that made it clear the life inside him– whatever twisted, wrong thing had been animating him– was already gone. his head followed half a second later, slipping from her grip and landing with a weighty thud that shook the floorboards beneath it.

she didn’t look at him. didn’t spare the remains a single glance. she let his head fall like it meant nothing, like it was exactly what she had intended from the start.

the room was silent. not the kind of silence that comes from quiet, but the kind that follows something catastrophic. like the house itself had been holding its breath and was now waiting to see what would happen next.

sophia stood there for a long moment, her clothes clinging to her like a second skin. her eyes were fixed on the space where he had been. her expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted, like whatever had been coiled tight inside her had finally been released.

then she turned to you.

her gaze found yours instantly, cutting through the dim light like it had been trained there all along. she crossed the room with steady steps, the wreckage of the fight scattered around her feet, glass and broken wood crunching beneath her boots as she moved toward you.

she didn’t speak, not right away. she just knelt beside you, careful.

“i’m here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

and for the first time since the knock on the door, your body began to believe it was safe to breathe again.

she didn’t move right away. her thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone, featherlight, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch you yet. her other hand hovered just beneath your elbow, steadying you without pressing too hard. she was trying to be gentle, trying to be careful, but her eyes kept shifting. you noticed the way they darted across your face, then lower, like she was tracking something she didn’t want to see.

then she saw it.

the blood.

her gaze dropped to your shoulder, to the place where the glass had broken skin and left something jagged behind. she went still. the kind of still that didn’t belong to anything human. her breath caught, quiet and shallow, and for a moment she just stared. her fingers moved instinctively, brushing closer, and when they came away stained red, she stared at them like they didn’t belong to her.

your blood was warm against her skin.

something inside her shifted. not visibly, but you could feel it. the air between you grew tight, almost electric, and her eyes darkened at the edges. she looked at her hand again, then back at your face. her expression didn’t change much, but her body had. her spine straightened just slightly. her shoulders locked. there was a tension now in her jaw, in her neck, in the way her teeth pressed together behind her lips. she was holding something back. fiercely.

she didn’t breathe in again. you realized that after a few seconds. she was forcing herself not to.

you could tell how hard it was. her hands had stopped shaking, but only because she wasn’t letting herself move at all. it would have been easy for her to lean in. too easy. the scent of you was everywhere now, filling the room, thick in the air between her fingers. it wasn’t just the blood. it was you. the heat of your skin. the way your pulse still beat beneath the surface. everything about you called to her.

but she stayed still.

her body was quiet and closed off, like she had thrown a wall up around herself, one built from willpower alone. you watched her jaw flex again, a small motion, barely visible. her throat moved once. and then again. her eyes flicked down to your collarbone, where the glass was still buried, and then back up to your face.

she blinked. slow and controlled.

“you’re bleeding,” she said, and her voice was quiet. too quiet. not from fear, but from focus. it sounded like she had pulled each word from the center of a storm.

her fingers brushed your arm again. steadier this time. not because the hunger was gone, but because she had chosen not to let it win.

she was still choosing. every second.

and even though you could feel how close she was to slipping, she held herself back for you. completely. entirely. because she would rather fall apart piece by piece than ever risk hurting you.

the room tilted. not sharply, but in a slow, disorienting way, like the floor was drifting out from under you inch by inch. sophia’s face moved closer, her hands cupping your cheeks again, firmer this time, trying to keep you here.

“stay with me,” she said. her voice trembled now, only slightly, but you caught it. she was scared. she was trying not to show it, but it was there in her eyes.

you opened your mouth to say something. you weren’t sure what. you didn’t get the chance.

everything pulled back. the light in the room dimmed, not because the lamp flickered, but because your body couldn’t keep up anymore. your heartbeat thundered in your ears once, twice, and then it faded beneath a rising hush. the edges of everything softened until even her face didn’t look like a face anymore. just light and shadow and warmth.

you wanted to tell her you were okay. that you’d be fine. that she didn’t have to worry.

but the words never came. the last thing you felt was the press of her fingers against your skin.

then everything went dark.

‎ 

‎ 

you wake to a strange kind of quiet, the kind that doesn’t feel peaceful so much as suspended, like the whole world has pressed pause around you and is waiting to see what happens next. the ceiling above you is a dull white, too bright in some places where the overhead light reflects against the sterile paint, and too shadowed in others where it gathers into corners like dust. the air smells clean in that oddly suffocating way hospitals always do, a mix of antiseptic and something older that clings to the back of your throat like memory.

your eyes don’t adjust right away. your body feels heavy, as if your limbs were stuffed with sand, and the muscles in your neck protest when you shift your head even slightly to the side. everything aches, but not sharply. it’s a dull, muted kind of pain, like your body hasn’t fully decided whether it’s finished being scared yet. your wrist twinges beneath the weight of a cast or a brace or maybe just thick gauze. you can’t quite tell.

for a moment, you forget where you are. or maybe you’re hoping that it’s a dream, that if you close your eyes again, you’ll wake up in your own bed, tucked beneath blankets that still smell like rain and soft detergent. but then your gaze lands on the edge of the IV stand, the pale blue curtain pulled halfway around your bed, and the machine beside you humming in a slow, even rhythm, and it all comes back.

the hospital.

only this time, you’re the one in the bed.

you’ve been here before, but not like this. last time, it was jaehyun in this room, half conscious and pale with bruises pressed into his ribs like fingerprints. you remember sitting right where he is now, curled in a chair that didn’t recline, your legs going numb after too many hours in the same position. you remember counting his breaths. memorizing the beeping patterns on the monitors. trying to stay awake because closing your eyes felt too much like giving up.

and now here you are, on the other side of it. wrapped in layers of hospital linens, muscles still stiff from whatever drugs they gave you, head pounding like something’s still trying to shake loose. your mouth is dry. your lips are cracked. and the silence of it all feels colder than it should.

it’s not just the shift in roles that rattles you. it’s the sheer stillness. the vulnerability. the quiet realization that someone else had to carry you this time, that someone else sat through the night not knowing if you’d wake up.

you drag in a breath that doesn’t quite fill your lungs. your eyes drift, slow and unfocused, and then they find him.

jaehyun. sitting at your bedside, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them like he’s trying not to wring them out. he’s wearing the same hoodie he always reaches for when he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. the one with a small tear at the sleeve and faded lettering on the chest. his hair is a mess. he looks like he hasn’t slept. he also looks like he hasn’t moved since you were brought in.

you shift slightly, and it’s enough. his head snaps up.

“y/n?”

his voice sounds strange in the quiet. too loud, but too careful. like saying your name too hard might break something.

your eyes meet, and the relief that floods his face is immediate and overwhelming. he exhales, all at once, like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

“jesus. thank god. i didn’t know when you’d—”

he cuts himself off, leaning forward, one hand reaching for yours instinctively but hovering just before he touches it, like he’s still unsure if it would hurt you. his eyes are glassy. the kind of glassy that comes from sitting in too many waiting rooms without answers. the kind that makes you want to say something to comfort him, even though you’re the one lying in a hospital bed.

“you scared the hell out of me,” he says, quieter now. “you really did.”

your throat feels like it’s full of gravel, but somehow, your voice finds its way through.

“what happened?”

jaehyun hesitates. and that’s when you know something’s wrong. not just the kind of wrong that ends in stitches and gauze, but the kind that leaves invisible bruises on the people who weren’t even the ones bleeding.

he leans back, scrubs a hand over his face, and says, “they think it was an animal. must’ve broken into the house. you were lucky. they said it could’ve been worse.”

you watch his expression closely. the crease between his eyebrows. the way his mouth doesn’t quite settle after he speaks. he’s trying to convince you, but you can see it. he doesn’t believe it either.

and neither do you. not when the memories filter back through your mind. images of the vampires red eyes, the way sophia saved you.

you glance past him, toward the corner of the room, where the shadows gather more tightly. and there she is. sophia. curled in the hospital chair, still and silent, pretending to sleep. your heartbeat skips. but you don’t say her name, not yet. not with jaehyun still sitting there, looking at you like he might fall apart if you say the wrong thing.

you just squeeze his hand. lightly. enough to let him know you’re still here. still trying. still breathing. and for now, that’s enough.

“thank you,” you say.

he frowns. “for what?”

“for being here.”

he lets out a slow breath. something in his shoulders loosens. “always.”

the door creaks open just enough for a sliver of warm light to slip through. a nurse leans in, her voice gentle, practiced, the kind you’ve heard before in long hallways and late nights.

“just checking in,” she says with a soft smile. “i’ll come back in a bit.”

jaehyun nods without turning. “thank you.”

she disappears with the same quiet she came in with, and the door eases shut behind her. jaehyun stays still for a moment, then stands with a quiet breath, his knees stiff from sitting too long. his eyes flick toward the corner of the room, just briefly, like he’s checking for something he already knows.

“i’ll give you two a minute,” he says, voice low. he lingers in the doorway, hand resting lightly on the handle. “she hasn’t left your side. not once.”

his words land like something soft and solid in your chest. they settle there.

and then he’s gone.

you turn toward the corner, a second away from gently calling her name. but her eyes are already open. wide and gold, catching the light from the window in a way that makes them almost unreal. she must’ve heard everything. your voice, the nurse, the quiet shift in the room when jaehyun stepped out. or maybe she never stopped listening in the first place.

she sits perfectly still, legs folded beneath her, arms tucked around herself like she’s holding something fragile inside her chest. she doesn’t speak right away. just looks at you, expression unreadable, like she hasn’t yet decided what emotion she’s allowed to show. the sharpness she usually wears like armor is still there, but beneath it, there’s something else. a tension pulling at the corners of her mouth. a tightness in her jaw. nerves, maybe. guilt, definitely.

she looks good. impossibly good. even in this ugly, overlit hospital room with linoleum floors and stiff curtains and the scent of disinfectant still lingering in the air. she looks like she doesn’t belong here. like something carved out of a different world entirely, dressed in shadows and softness. her hair is loose around her shoulders, her jacket draped over the back of the chair. and yet her posture hasn’t relaxed once.

you stare at each other for a second too long. then her gaze shifts, just barely, to your wrist, wrapped in bandages, resting on top of the blanket like it doesn’t belong to you. her lips part like she wants to say something, but the words get caught in her throat. you can see it. the flicker of emotion tightening behind her eyes. fear. maybe shame.

you open your mouth first.

“sophia.”

the sound of her name does something to her. not visibly, not at first, but you see the way her throat moves when she swallows. like the weight of hearing you say it is almost too much.

she stands slowly, quiet as ever, and crosses the room in three unhurried steps. when she reaches your bedside, she doesn’t sit. she just stands there, close enough to touch, far enough to hold back. her hands curl slightly at her sides like she doesn’t trust herself to get too close.

“you’re okay,” she says, finally. but her voice is tight. cautious. like she’s still trying to believe it herself.

you nod, slow. “thanks to you.”

she shakes her head, barely. “you got lucky.”

you blink at her. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

she flinched, just slightly, and then her eyes met yours again. this time she doesn’t look away. and you can see it, clear as anything. the nerves. the guilt. the panic she’s trying to keep buried under all that stillness.

“i should’ve stopped him faster,” she says, voice low. “i should’ve gotten there sooner. he touched you.”

you watch her, heart aching, because you know what it cost her to say that. what it’s still costing her to stand here and not reach for you. to keep that part of herself locked up tight because she’s still scared of what it would mean to let it out.

you reach for her hand. slowly. carefully. your fingers brush hers, and she flinches again, not from you, but from herself. like she’s afraid she might break something just by touching it.

“i’m so sorry,” she swallowed, the words catching at the edges like they had claws.

“you came,” you said, barely a whisper. “that’s more than enough.”

she didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed on you, locked like they didn’t know how to look anywhere else. it was the kind of look that felt like falling and being caught all at once. like she was afraid you might disappear if she blinked. like you were the only thing in the room holding her together.

“i would always come back,” she said. “i will always come back for you.”

you swallowed hard. your throat was tight, and your chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries.

“sophia...”

she shook her head slightly, like she already knew what you were going to say and couldn’t bear to let it come first. then she stepped closer, just barely, enough for the shadows to shift around her, enough for her voice to land between you like something irreversible.

“i love you.”

the words didn’t feel soft or gentle. they felt raw. exposed. like they’d been ripped out of her, unpracticed and desperate and real.

you blinked, stunned. “what?”

“i love you,” she said again, more certain this time, like she couldn’t un-say it even if she tried. “i’ve tried not to. i’ve tried to stay away. but i can’t. i love you. completely. horribly. every part of me is yours, and it terrifies me.”

you didn’t realize you were crying until the tear slipped over your cheek, slow and silent. your hand moved before your brain could catch up, lifting shakily from the blanket, reaching up until your fingertips brushed the curve of her face.

she leaned into your touch like it hurt to resist.

“i love you too,” you whispered.

and for a second, neither of you breathed.

the air between you shifted, quiet but full. it felt like something had cracked open in the middle of the room. something too sacred to name. not a declaration. not a promise. something older. something that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be seen.

her eyes closed. her hand came up slowly, covering yours.

you didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. or the day after that. but right now, in this too-bright hospital room that smelled like bleach and fear and hope, she was here.

and that was enough.

then she leaned down, slow and careful, like she was afraid the moment might break if she moved too fast. her face hovered just above yours, close enough that you could see every detail. the soft curve of her mouth. the flicker of gold in her eyes. the tension in her jaw that hadn’t quite let go, like part of her still didn’t believe this was real.

she didn’t kiss you right away. she just looked at you, like she was memorizing something. like she needed to be sure this was allowed. this close, you could feel the cool of her breath against your skin. the weight of the moment settled around you like fog, heavy and quiet.

then, without a word, she sank into the chair beside your bed. the same one jaehyun had been in only moments before. her hand never left yours.

she kissed you. not rushed. not messy. not like the world had just tried to end.

her lips met yours with a kind of reverence, like she’d been holding the feeling in her chest for so long it had started to fray at the edges. the kiss wasn’t desperate. it wasn’t loud or wild or filled with panic. it was steady. certain. like she needed you to know this wasn’t just adrenaline or fear or some fleeting, storm-tossed thing. it was quiet and patient, like she had all the time in the world to learn you this way.

her hand rose to your jaw, fingers cold but touch impossibly gentle, and she tilted her head just enough for the kiss to deepen. not in pressure, but in intention. the kind of kiss that asks a question and offers an answer at the same time.

you kissed her back like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. like every slow brush of her mouth against yours stitched something back together inside you. like you could still feel the echo of her voice in your head, saying she would always come back for you.

you kissed her like she was the reason the world kept going.

because maybe she was.

__

you’re sitting on the bed of the blue chevrolet, legs curled beneath you, good hand cradling the paper cup yejin handed you before the game started. it’s warm now, not hot, the cocoa inside starting to cool with the breeze. the air smells like wet moss and mountain wind, thick with the memory of rain. it’s been a month since you left the hospital. your wrist is still splinted, sore in the mornings, but healing. everything is healing. slowly. awkwardly. like you’re still remembering how to live in your body again.

the clearing stretches out before you, slick with light. the sky is all deep blue and streaks of dying sun, clouds barely clinging to the edges. someone brought bases. someone else dragged out old gloves and bats. you’re not sure who started it. maybe daniela, maybe insung. but now they’re all playing.

you watch them blur through the trees, flicker across the grass like light itself. not human. never human. not even pretending to be. sophia's hair whips behind her as she chases a fly ball like she was born to move like this. her laughter breaks the air sharp and sweet, a sound you never thought you’d hear from her. it sends something through you. warmth. disbelief. maybe even hope.

she’s changed. not all at once. not in the big ways. she still watches the world with those heavy eyes. still carries her stillness like armor. but you see it now, in the way she teases daniela when she misses a catch. in the way she glances at you between plays, just for a second, like she’s checking if you’re still watching.

you are. you always are.

the others treat you gently. careful around your wrist. careful around your space. daniela offered you her jacket when the wind picked up. yoonchae brought extra pillows to prop against the truck bed so you wouldn’t ache by the time the sun dipped. insung gave you a small nod earlier, almost approving. maybe you’re part of it now. maybe not fully. maybe just enough to stay.

you sip from the paper cup and let the quiet settle.

it’s strange, you think, how this became your life. vampires playing baseball in a clearing like a dream someone forgot to wake up from. you, sitting in the bed of your brother’s old truck, splint wrapped tight around your arm, watching sophia run like the wind answers to her. if someone had told you this six months ago, you would’ve laughed. or cried. maybe both.

now, it feels like the only version of peace you understand.

your eyes find sophia again. she’s up to bat. daniela’s pitching. the others are scattered across the field, ready. sophia leans forward, eyes sharp, grip firm.

then crack. the sound splits the air. the ball rockets up, vanishes into the sky. you can’t even track it. she doesn’t wait. her body moves like instinct, like music. one base. two. three.

home.

and then she’s not on the field anymore. not even a blur. just a rush of wind and the flicker of a grin before her hands are on the edge of the truck bed and she’s vaulting up beside you.

you don’t have time to react before she leans in, one hand catching the side of your face, the other bracing against the metal, and her mouth meets yours.

it’s not slow. not shy. but not hungry either. just sure.

when she pulls away, her smile is crooked. you don’t know if she’s breathless, or if it’s just the way she looks at you now. like you’re the only thing she lets herself want.

you reach up with your good hand and tug her jacket until she stays close. the others are still laughing in the distance. the clouds stretch wide above you. the night hasn’t fully arrived yet.

you’re not sure what’s coming next. not exactly.

this, you think, blinking against the quiet between your heartbeats. this would be your normalcy.

at least for now.

part two

[niccolites]

i don't wanna break the heart of any other man (but you)

johnny (soap) mactavish x fem!reader, brother's best friend au. cw dub-con

read on ao3 here, originally based off of the very talented @ceilidho 's ask here

--

It starts with a ribbon in your hair, neat and pink, ripped out by Johnny’s hand. He laughs in your face, all gummy smile at the age of eight, grinning as you cry and try to get it back.

You are seven-years-old, and you don’t know why your brother hangs out with this bully. Even worse, the inaction. Your perfect big brother, reduced to a faceless bystander.

Lungs catch and then stutter, devastation as you learn and relearn the same lesson until it sticks. A boy can treat you how he wants, as long as he minds his ps and qs about it.

The world around you is defined in the short-term - the sky is blue, your mary-janes have a scuff on them that your mother is worried people are going to notice, and you hate Johnny Mactavish.

He becomes friends with your brother and steals him away from you. Best friends once, you and your brother. Now you've been replaced by some snotty little boy who is constantly yanking on your pigtails. In your own living room, your brother is silent when you run from the room crying.

He's your bully, a twist in your stomach when no one seems to understand this. You sit on the back step, hiccuping tears as you listen to Johnny and your brother have fun in the living room. Only Johnny seems to notice your tears when you come back in and sit, sullen, in the corner. His gaze is a living thing that crawls over you, something alive that shudders like a second skin over yours.

The defining story of your childhood is told like this, after the fact: Johnny keeps picking on you, one day he steals your ribbon and you cry. He keeps the ribbon to this day. Cue the hand on the heart and the coos from the audience. A hit every time, an instant classic.

(One part of the story that is always missed out when this is told and retold again and again is how you actually swing at him. The last time you’re on an even playing field because he unwillingly takes it on the chin.)

Respective parents swoop in, fussing and pulling the two of you apart. Injustice doled out swiftly as Johnny clings to that ribbon, as no one takes it off of him.

“Oh, honey, boys do that when they like you,” your mum coos at you. It's a pathetic attempt to comfort you, leaving you confused more than anything. Here is the sharp reality, your perfect hair undone and mussed. Here is the crack that distorts the image, smoothing over the edges and makes it more palatable.

Johnny catches this, mouth agape as he takes it in. There’s a red mark on his chin from your hand, blue eyes wide and watery.

You wonder if Johnny remembers this. You can see the exact moment that this registers with him, as if he had never considered the ‘why’ of what he was doing to you. And here was the reason, delivered to him from the woman who always gives him an extra cookie when he comes over to play. A click, the universe has righted itself. Something slotting into place according to some higher power. Path set, direction coordinated. Your ribbon clenched in his fist. Meaning applied, after the fact.

It matters to you, you suppose. A politically incorrect statement that alters the start of your life, for all intents and purposes. Here is the centre of it, tattered ribbon and throbbing knuckles, and a lie that is swallowed and turned into truth. Johnny probably doesn’t care. The centre of his entire infatuation does not matter as much as the gulf of the rest of it. Who cares about him snapping your training bra, what matters is the image of his fingers as they wriggle under the strap, the warmth of skin before the snap of plastic. Johnny’s vision of you seems to be half-eclipsed by what he does to you.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Johnny is a lesson that the bitterness is quickly forgotten once the pill hits the bottom of your stomach. Well, then there’s just the acceptance of how things are meant to be, right?

//

What starts off as the play fighting of a rough child in puppy love becomes the earnest approaches of a lovesick teenager. Supposedly.

Before, maybe someone would have eventually stepped in. Maybe there is a finite number of times that a girl can come home crying after having her hair pulled before someone does start to get concerned. Maybe you were a few hundred short when puberty hits and Johnny makes a sharp pivot.

Gone are the shoves, Johnny sticking his foot out to trip you up. Pulling your hair and dashing away, as if unable to stand being near you. His attention is an ugly thing that sits between you. Even he doesn't seem equipped to handle it, breath always coming a little bit too sharp when he steals your teddy, eyes on your reaction even as he tries to dart away.

Now, Johnny is always near. He doesn’t shove anymore, just stands, always too close. You start wearing a training bra and he is a bit too focused about it. Asks you how it feels, gaze hot on your face, like he wants you to say something hot. (You know it doesn’t matter what you say, he’ll likely think that anyway). Petty at the age of 13, you spit into his drink to try and gross him out and he downs it like he had been waiting for it.

Years are not defined by time passing, but rather Johnny and his relationship to you. Years pass with the deterioration of the two of you, scratches in the wall to track the history of how bad everything spirals out of control.

You’re thirteen, and Johnny is pinging your bra strap. He's fourteen, and now he's a few inches taller which he starts using to his advantage, leaning over you when you try to get by him.

You're fourteen, and Johnny is telling you that he jerked off to the thought of you last night before smiling at your mother while you scoff in disgust. He's fifteen, and deciding he wants to start heavy-lifting, wanting to get in shape for you.

You're fifteen, and Johnny is begging you to come swimming with them, hands smoothing over your hips while you try to shove him off. He's sixteen, and he’s holding an enlistment pamphlet and asking how much you would miss him if he went.

You’re sixteen, and Johnny is yanking up your jumper and his breath comes out as a wheeze when he sees the light blue cups that he is convinced match his eyes. He’s seventeen, and trying to get you to drink with him, pupils blown as he tilts the bottle to your mouth and some of it spills over your bottom lip.

You’re seventeen, and Johnny is shoving his hand down the front of your panties, won’t you let him see his favourite girl before he leaves? You don’t know if he’s even really referring to you anymore. He’s eighteen, and he’s almost gone. The weight on your shoulders is heavier, the way it must be before it’s lifted. Almost out, the crack of light in a tomb, mouth watering for it.

He’s trying to be gentle with you, he explains, nights before he leaves. Your nipples are raw under your shirt from where he had yanked your shirt up and ducked down to bite them with a groan. You scowl.

Sitting in your room, your family downstairs. He had asked for a moment with you, for the third time that day and your mother had been charmed. She had been blubbering since she found out that he enlisted, back bowing as you seem to lift higher with each hour that passes.

He needs to make you understand what is going on between the two of you. Needs to make it clear to you before he goes. “We’re meant to be,” he says, patient, even as his hands flex, smoothing over your knees. A creak of bone against muscle, seconds away from wrenching your thighs open and taking what he believes he is owed.

It seems like some kind of stupid honour code. You’re too wriggly. He can have his pound of flesh but he wants the full slab. Maybe he thinks he has to earn it, wants you to spread your legs and let him in.

Fat chance. You tell him as much, delighting for a moment at the way that dopey smile drops off his face. You imagine punching him now, wonder if you could break his nose this time, you think you have enough anger built up to really manage it.

Before you get a chance to really think it over, he grabs you, hands hard on your hips. Yanking your leggings down, and you think that you were wrong, if you didn’t bring over the full cow he was just going to and wrangle that fucker himself.

Minutes later and he’s puffing hot breath into the crook of your neck, the head of his cock between the gusset of your underwear and your pussy. He had gripped your hand and guided it around his dick, up and down. You would stop, but his hand is manacled around your wrist, palm hot against the pulse of your veins. Two layers of skin between your respective flesh, nothing really.

He whines when pre-cum aids the way, huffs a laugh when he nudges against your clit and you tremble. Barely any slick between your folds but he hones in on it like he does with everything to do with you. Dips the head of his cock further down to catch it, forehead thumping against your shoulder to watch as his cock shines with the slightest bit of your juices.

Here is the body’s natural reaction to stimulation. And here is Johnny taking the explanation that he has been waiting for.

“A knew it,” he mutters, feverish as his hips stutter, your hand tightening for a second as he nudges against your clit again. “Knew you were wantin’ it, lovey. But you had tae act like a right cow, eh?” He chuckles, dark before he yanks your chin up (you had been staring as well, you realise with a flush of shame), slants his mouth over yours.

He’s still angry, thumb digging into the soft flesh beneath your skin as he drags his tongue over yours, sucking it into his mouth until you hiccup.

He’s big like this, eighteen, and the puppy fat had shrank off years ago. Shoulders hunches to reach you, hand cradling your jaw in place, almost ear to ear.

He pulls back and you loll forward, pressure that had been holding you in place suddenly gone. You reel with it, almost falling forward before he nudges you back again. He huffs, a mean thing into your temple, hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Ye wantin’ it?” he asks. You wonder if he actually wants an answer, know that he already has his confirmation between your thighs.

His hand squeezes your wrist, and you clumsily twist your palm when you reach the top of his shaft, morbidly curious. He told you how he liked to jerk off two New Years ago, did it how he thought you would do it for him. Prophesied.

His shoulders shake, moaning wantonly as if you aren’t in your bedroom with your parents watching TV just downstairs. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes on how your hand barely covers half of his cock as you stroke him. His hand thumps into the wall beside your shoulder, other hand flexing with his thumb on your wrist bone.

“Ah, fuck, dae that again,” he huffs until you do, again and again until he whines, head back into the crook of your neck as he drools into the collar of your shirt.

Both his hands are on your arse now, squeezing and kneading as he humps like a misbehaved dog into your hand. “I know you didnae mean it,” he mutters, pulling the spit soaked collar of your shirt down to kiss and lick and bite your collarbone. “You were jus’ missin’ me already, eh? A know, lovey, a know, there we are, just havtae show you the way sometimes, my poor wee angel, a forgive ye, a dae, a swear.”

He grips the backs of your thighs and squeezes when he comes, pushing until the head of his cocks kicks up near the entrance of your cunt, whining and shuddering through it. He pants as he comes back down, cock jerking idly in your now loose grasp, red hot against where you are now wet. Probably, mostly with Johnny’s cum.

He gives a heaving sigh, pushes his palms against the wall to look down at you. He likes what he sees - spit slick mouth, red neck, bare pussy with his cum staining you and your underwear.

“A willnae be gone long,” he says, as if you had been mid conversation. “A will come back f’ you, angel,” he promises, gaze hot on the crux of your legs.

You stare up at him, hand still loose around his shaft before you let go. A curdled desire settles in your stomach. Always for Johnny, and always half ruined at inception because it’s for Johnny.

Hours later and he’s gone. You sit at the breakfast table, your mother fussing in her upset about him being gone. Your brother is quiet as always, gives you a strange look. Johnny’s cum is dried out in your favourite pair of panties upstairs. You bite into a piece of toast, feel each crumb as it digs into your gums and dirties you.

//

It gets worse again after he officially enlists in the army. Before Johnny is the cute teenager that trails after your every move, intent and so so sweet.

Now he is Johnny, the childhood sweetheart. Before both of your parents had viewed you as scorning a poor lovesick puppy. Now you are a couple, constantly bickering about something or other. You insist that he is not your boyfriend, and are met with rolled eyes and knowing looks.

Johnny’s mother confesses that half of his calls to her are asking for you. You briefly consider moving to another country.

He sends pictures of his cock while he is away, the head red and you hate that you know how hot it would be to the touch. You reply and tell him to cut it off and he tells you that you’re the one.

Your mum doesn’t understand when you complain so heavily about him. Every complaint is met with a rebuttal, as if Johnny’s hand is at the back of everyone’s throat, puppeting everything that they say.

He’s too touchy. Because he loves you sweetheart, my god, I wish someone would want me that much.

He’s too close. God forbid someone enjoy your company.

Don’t you think he’s a little bit strange? He’s in the army, you dick, don’t you think you could be just a little bit nicer about it?

You feel half insane, the only one protesting the way that he treats you, the way he has always treated you. The capacity for cruelty has just shifted. Johnny has always worked within the parameters that were available to him. Sure, he can’t get away with yanking on your pigtails anymore, but biting a bit too hard at your neck has the same result. Tears in your eyes, and everyone tells you that this is how Johnny shows you he likes you.

After his first deployment, he gets so close to fucking you that you get spooked. Eighteen now, and suddenly ten years younger, Johnny taking something that doesn’t belong to him. You let him fuck up the length of your cunt, let him lick his cum off of you. He keeps his head between your thighs, eats you out like a man starved until you shake, tears in the corners of your eyes. Shame again, at how sloppy he is, spit and slick and cum everywhere. He likes it, likes how shameful you get about it. Laps that up too, tongue buried in you like he wants to get to the back of your throat. He always wants more of you than you think you have to begin with.

He lies back, barely sated but will at least lie still now and pulls you over to drape over his chest. He’s getting bigger, you think. Maybe he’s taking parts of you, squirreling them away in himself, until you don’t know you unless you find it in him.

You curve one hand over his barrel chest, barely any give in the muscle. He hums, a booming noise beneath your ear. “Tha’s all it took,” he murmurs, hand smoothing over your head like you’re a cat. “A bit ae missin’ me and yer as sweet as a kitten.”

You’re too tired to give a snarky response, though you briefly wonder if you can get away with pinching his side a bit too hard in retribution.

You know he’s going to be even more pent up the next time he gets back, that he’s going to think he’s owed your virginity. You refuse to give him another reason to tie the two of you together indefinitely. You think he’ll propose if he does, he has already been messaging you about it, asking when the two of you were finally going to walk down that aisle that he’s been building around you for years.

You go to a pub the next time he leaves, ignore his messages to call because he misses you so much. Sit at the counter until some sleazy guy who looks double your age saunters up and offers to buy you a drink. You shouldn’t, it is so dangerous. You barely have to cut your eyes towards him before he’s taking this as forwardness. Offers to take you home and immediately starts pawing at you in his truck.

You let him bend you over, the clink of a belt and its all over. You rock with each thrust, hating yourself for catching sight of the man’s hand on yours and knowing that Johnny’s is bigger.

You bring a hand down to rub along your clit, but the first whine that leaves your mouth brings the entire show to a close and you stand up, furious. The man wheezes in the seat as you barely say goodbye, wrenching your panties up and storming home.

Johnny’s been calling you, must be on whatever type of break he gets wherever he is, and you answer after the third missed call. Low timber floods your ear and warms your bones.

He’s so excited he caught you, been missing you so much, baby. Thinking about you all the time, he got in trouble for not being able to focus. Asks if you’ve been taking care of his pretty girl for him?

You let him yap in your ear the whole way home, wanting desperately for your vibrator. “You missin’ me too, baby?” Johnny huffs in your ear. You hum, absentmindedly in response. He’s on it, scenting blood.”Aye? Tell me, how much, eh? You been petting yourself thinking of me?”

You’re home, Johnny still trying to goad you on over the phone, the connection is bad but he seems to overcome it. Hulking, even over a wire to get to you. Maybe you could get him to talk through getting yourself off. It’s disgusting, but maybe you could give yourself a pass this one time. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants, where are your allowances? Johnny gets to hop back and forth over the line of propriety, you’re allowed one slip up before you return to your factory settings.

Your vibrator, hidden in the back of your bedside table, gone. You know it was him, know he binned it. Know he probably didn’t want anything getting you off except him.

You stare at the empty space in the back of your drawer, cold water down your spine that douses any flames of arousal you think you have ever felt and maybe will ever feel again. Anger is back, and so beautifully familiar. Johnny is still droning on, something about letting him see a picture of how much you’re missing him.

“I fucked someone else,” you say, voice gritty.

The line goes quiet. Small buzzes that make up the distance between the two of you, the call dropping and reconnecting. Universe bringing you back together again.

“That’s not fucking funny,” Johnny says, voice low in a way that you don’t think that you’ve heard before.

“Good thing I’m not joking,” you snap back. You feel frightened, eyes darting to the window as if he is about to start running in your direction, all the way across the globe. You wouldn’t put it past him. But never let it be said that you wouldn’t put your hand to the snapping teeth of a rabid dog.

He’s silent, breath heaving before the line goes dead.

You drop your phone to the floor and stand in the quiet of your room. A bird chirps in the distance, life reinstating itself even in the absence of Johnny. You crawl into bed and refuse to get off tonight. A competition where you are the only participant and the only loser too. Fitting.

//

You don’t see Johnny for months after that. Which makes sense, because he is across the globe. But the silence feels eerie, the way you imagine it might be for him. The thunder of a gun and the shutter after. Silence ringing, not due to quiet but because of the absence of sound.

He doesn’t message you at all during this period. Clearly he says something to his mother, because she gives you a frown at church that Sunday. “You must’ve done something,” your mum hisses at you, embarrassed that the story of childhood sweethearts that she gave birth to has become a story of a surly woman who cannot appreciate the man who loves her as he risks his life for his country.

You don’t bother replying. There’s no point, really. Everything has been set in motion and everyone had climbed on board. You were the one that derailed the track and upset everything.

You refuse to admit that you miss Johnny. That your phone buzzes and there is a moment where you think it could be him. For months, it isn’t. You feel like you’re floating out in orbit and your lifeline has gone silent on you. Drifting, the cold slowly creeping in, nothing around to propel yourself off of. Gain some momentum, do something.

You sit and wait for Johnny’s judgement day.

He gets back on a Friday, and he doesn’t come to see you. You know he’s back, because you can hear your brother on the phone to him, asking if he got back alright. You skulk around the corner, waiting for any mention of your name. If there is any, you don’t hear it.

You sit in your room, uncertain. The thing that you hadn’t considered is that while you had been complaining about how you and Johnny had been set up in the direction that you were going in, you hadn’t thought about what you would do if you weren’t doing this. You have derailed the train now, but you don’t remember when you got on, or how to get back there.

You mull this over, legs tucked to the side as you lean into the large bear on your bed. Won for you, by Johnny of course, at some fair when you were kids. Maybe you could leave. Nothing as drastic as another country, but another town maybe, escape the suffocation that comes with being here and everyone knowing you as Johnny’s girl.

Daydreaming, imagining yourself in a place where no one knows who you are, you are startled out of your thoughts when your window slams open. Soap hoists himself up and into your room, with an ease you imagine he must not have had before.

You blink at him as he stands next to your open window, gaze hot on you without saying a word. You shuffle a little, uncertain, refusing to speak first. You feel bizarrely guilty, as if you have done something wrong. Even though you know you haven’t. Just because a man decides he is owed your virginity, doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong for not giving it to him.

Still, you swallow an apology on the back of your tongue and it tastes like ash.

Johnny quietly reaches over and slams your window shut, making you jump.

“Y’know, a went around town and tried to figure out who ye cheated on me wae,” he says, at last, face darker than you have ever seen it. His hair is slightly grown out along the sides, mohawk less stark like this. Hair like he had when he was ten, almost.

“I didn’t cheat on you -” You try to interject, remembering your indignation more than anything.

Johnny lunges for you, hand hot around your ankle as he yanks you down the bed. “Who fuckin’ was it, huh? Y’ know, ave been tryin’ so hard wae you, thinkin’ that you’ve been missin’ me just as much as a have you, but instead you’ve been tryin’ tae hurt me, whorin yourself fae anyone -”

You reel your arm back to punch him in the face, and he catches your wrist just before you can make contact with his jaw. “I didn’t fucking whore myself out, I’m sorry that you’re fucking delusional -”

A hand in the length of your hair and he wrenches your head back, slamming his mouth against yours. It’s sore, all teeth as you both hiss and spit at each other. It feels like an even playing field again, even though you feel swallowed up in his bulk. His hand leaves your hair and grips you everywhere he can, like everything belongs to him already.

You feel white hot, letting him lick across the back of your teeth like he doesn’t want any part of you untouched by him. You hold onto his shoulders, letting him pull you all over, leans back and hooks a finger over your jaw. Pulls your mouth open. You realise what he’s going to do a moment before he does it, spit landing on your tongue. Instinctive to swallow it.

He moans wantonly at the sight, a sound that flushes you in embarrassment. For god’s sake, you’re in your mother’s house. He’s licking into your mouth, spit everywhere and making you feel sticky.

His hand slides between your thighs and you feel the moment that he finds out how wet you are, his hips stuttering a quick grind against your hip. “Jus’ for me, huh?” he asks, feverishly hot. He pulls back as he yanks your shorts off, panties dragged along with. Groans at the sight of you, wet and swollen between your legs. “Eh? Is this what ye did wae that fuckin’ boy?”

Your thighs shake, hands trying to catch his wrist as he slides two fingers into you, thumb mean against your clit. “What?” you croak, blinking up at him.

“Whatever loser you took home with you,” Johnny asks, hawk-like focus on your face. Strange for him, when your pussy is on show. “You take him back here and did ye let him dae this tae y’? Ye think aboot me when he brought his small dick oot?”

You don’t respond and he pinches your clit until you squeak, trying to buck away from him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he coos suddenly, eyes no longer on your face but between your legs. “My pretty girl, you just need someone to show you, right?”

He fingers you, thumb intent on your clit until you start to shake, voice getting higher, Then he stops, fingers slipping out of you (when did it become three?), with a wet noise that if you were more in your mind, you would flush about.

You start to whine, and he flips you over onto your front, hikes your ass in the air and coos of the sight of your cunt throbbing at the injustice of it all. “A know, angel, A know. A want to give ye what yer wantin, but a don’t know if you deserve it,” he hums. Fucking liar, if the clink of his belt is anything to go by, then the hot stroke of his cock between your sticky folds that has you arching your back like a cat in heat. He’s trying to be teasing, but his voice shakes, restraint held together by a thin chain and he is a big man.

He holds you still with a hand on your hip, the heat of it sinking into your skin. You can hear him beating off, using your slick to aide the way as he stares at your holes. You feel like you want to cry, sitting on display for him to get off on. You do, but it also makes you feel piping hot all over. There’s a sickness in him and he’s been dosing you up on it for years. Viral disease, his spit in your mouth until it clogs the back of your throat and finally takes root in your bloodstream.

“Was thinking about this so much,” he murmurs, as if caught up in a dream. “Wanted tae be the one to make y’ a woman - “

“It was bad,” you manage, throat dry, gaze on the opposite wall. The slick noise behind you stops and you can only hear the sound of his breathing. His scrutiny of you on the back of your skull pulling you down. You don’t know why you’re saying this. There is a cliff edge and you want to say you stepped off of it with your next words, but you’re already freefalling, and you’re hoping for the crash into him rather than the cold dirt. “I didn’t know him, I didn’t get off, and I thought about you and how good that you would have made me - “

Half a sentence in and he sinks in, cock splitting you open. He groans, loud and shameful as you whine, thigh kicking until he stills it, pushing down to get further into you, It may as well have been your first time, it takes a few shallow thrusts and Johnny reaching down to rub at your clit to ease the way before he manages to get balls deep into you.

“Oh fuck,” you wheeze, full. At capacity. You can’t think beyond the stretch of yourself around Johnny, air knocked out as he pushes more weight onto you.

“Fuck, this fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. Hands smooth over your arse, spreading your cheeks to better view what he’s doing to you. “Knew ye would be so good, dreamed ae this - ah - you just wanted tae deny yerself. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give ye what ye need.”

Then it starts, the pulling out just bottom out again, fast and hard and any air you manage to suck in is immediately shot out.

Your head lolls to the side, you think you might be drooling onto your sheets, but can barely find it in you to care. His balls slap against your swollen clit, so loud and yet you cannot remember why you should care about that beyond getting him to keep doing that. You realise that your muttering please, over and over again, not even aware of it.

He shifts to the side, and suddenly his thrusts are deliberate, and you tense up even more. No pause, no grinding out, you come and he keeps going, grunts as you tighten up and spasm, sobbing into your sheets.

It’s like a point is being hammered into you. You suspect if you hadn’t admitted that you didn’t come with the other guy, then Johnny wouldn’t have given a shit. But this is purposeful, a lesson being taught until only the whites of your eyes are showing. It always did so many times for you to take a telling, Johnny coos in your ear. Thank god he’s here, he’s got you.

He comes with a groan, mouth hot against the back of your neck as he mouths at your nape, teeth a little bit too sharp for your liking. Damning, feeling his cum in you. No part of you, untouched.

//

You want to say it gets worse from this point again. You think that it has actually just always been the same level of awful, the scale has just broadened.

Johnny tells everyone that you’re engaged after you let him cum in you again. There’s not even an engagement ring. Spitting in anger at your future being decided for you again, Johnny interprets this as you being upset he didn’t take you ring shopping. Drags you to the bathroom and fucks you on the sink with your ankles over his shoulders.

It’s relentless. There is a hairline fracture along the tender tissue of your brain and Johnny has pried it open to fit himself, crawled in and made himself at home.

He tells you that you were made for him. That he had came first, that he had wished for you and you were delivered to him. Guides your hand to his ribcage, tells you there is one missing. “Would give that an’ mare,” he vows, hands swallowing up the arch of your torso, a perfect ring made with the circle of his hands.

He’ll probably marry you the next time he’s back. He can barely be held back from it just now, that leash he places in your hand even if he yanks so hard that the control is all just for show. Just another link between the two of you, his neck yanked back to you up at you.

He sleeps in your childhood bed, muscular arm a band around your waist. There’s a version of you in the corner. She’s still weeping and now only you know. A tear against Johnny’s shoulder and he shuffles closer, tucking you under his chin. “Ave got ye, angel,” he slurs, half-asleep.

You feel restricted, unable to move. And it soothes you to sleep.

//

(Johnny begs you to suck him off just before he leaves for his next deployment. His come tastes bitter as you swallow. Go figure.)

[rabotimagines]

I keep rereading your decepticons with a cybertronian reader who calls them pet names, and j wanted to share the mental image I had.

Skywarp seeing them enter the room and sliding on his knees like “there goes my babyyyy” meme.

Meanwhile you, unphased just place a servo on his head as you inform Megatron of your lastest report.

I’m down bad 😔 and ily.

-Applin

*YouTubes meme* OH YEAH, totally 100% he would. Pspspsps Moot, come get your food @smallestapplin

Summary: GN Bot reader using human pet names!

G1 character: Skywarp!

Genre/Theme: Platonic but flirting

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Skywarps getting reamed out by you for a prank he pulled on Astrotrain. At least you didn't beat him if he didn't start slag himself first (like Screamer or Megatron). So Skywarp just stays where he is and waits for your mouth to stop moving. They won't punish him again for the same thing if you've already done it. But he's got more important things to do, y'know! Okay, maybe he stops listening and only starts again when you just up and grab Skywarp's jaw and yank him to focus back on your optics.

"Now c'mon babe, we both know we don't want to be here right now. Do us both a favor and focus the first time." Babe? Babe??? Skywarp didn't care a lot for the squishies and their culture but Skywarp knew what "babe" meant. His optics cycle once but he stays where he's staring at your faceplate as you keep ripping him apart with your words. You finish and Skywarp only realizes you're done after you wait for a klick for a response. When he doesn't respond you actually brush your em field up against his frame- You open your mouth again and Skywarp's still staring right into your optics when you start speaking again "Got that, sweetspark?"

Skywarp's wings hike up and his plating fluffs. "Uh yeah- yeah! I got it! Don't put dye in the communal wash racks- or something- got it!"

Your blank expression shifts and you smile at him. "Good boy. Don't do it again." Your em field brushes along the side of his helm and you just turn and leave him standing there. Skywarp watches you leave before his mouth shuts with a click.

Skywarps like a starved mech- it wasn't like any of them were getting any stuck on this mud ball in the middle of nowhere of the galaxy. He's not wasting the chance at something even if it was just affection and not interfacing. And slag it all it's been wayyyy too long since Skywarps even gotten flirted with by anyone. Yeah the violence and fighting of being a con was fun and all but he doesn't realize how much he missed the fun of this until you started flirting with everybody. Which, the fact you flirt with everybody? Skywarp gets annoyed over it. Skywarp wants your attention on him- c'mon he's doing soooo much better than Thundercracker right now! Stop calling him cute and start calling Skywarp cute instead!

It's like night and day suddenly when it's you he has to answer to vs Starscream or Soundwave. (Primus, below he's actually behaved- well as behaved as Skywarp can be.)

Then you come waltzing into the meeting room, and Skywarps warping out of his chair- Thundercrackers got his face in his servo already, and Starscreams already glaring in your direction knowing exactly where Skywarps going. You don't even flinch when Skywarp wraps himself around your waist. Servo petting Skywarp's helm while you just casually start reading off your report. Megatron bluntly asks if you rewired Skywarps personality module due to this being the first time he sees it. You just grin and give Megatron a look- which is apparently enough for an explanation and Megatron just scoffs and goes "I see." As they watch you praise Skywarp for completing what you asked him to do earlier in the cycle.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Cain (p4)

Tw: Cain is really violent, like verbally violent. Tantrums, toxic relationships, isolation from friends and family, sexual content, sexual descriptions, profanity- like a LOT of them, Cain losing his shit really frequently. Gender neutral reader, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 4.

Click here for part 5

Click here for part 1

Cain tries. He really did.

The first week or so after his earth shattering confession, Cain was elusive. You hardly see him at home, not even for meals. But you know he's eating, because you would leave leftovers in the fridge and it would disappear the next day. You thought he was avoiding you, and you understood, because you practically rejected him at first.

He came back one day, seemingly waiting for you in the living room. To your surprise, instead of only acknowledging each other with a split second glance, Cain tried to make a conversation.

"How was it?" He asked.

You asked him what he meant.

"Your day." Cain continues, looking right into your eyes, which caught you off guard. Usually, eye contact means he's about to stir some trouble up, but you think this time he's actually making an attempt to communicate. "How was... your day?"

You told him that it was okay. Then you asked him about his day.

You could definitely see that he physically stopped himself from responding like he used to. Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

"My day is okay too."

And both of you left it at that, as you did your own thing, he did his own thing... which happened to be reading a book of sorts? Strange, he doesn't seem like the type to even be remotely near words. But you didn't want to pry and potentially get your head bitten off.

"It's cold." You turned to him and finally noticed that he's actually bundled up in a hoodie instead of his usual sleeveless shirt. That made sense, the seasons are changing, and very soon you would see frost on the sidewalk again.

Come to think of it, he has recently changed up his fashion sense to cover up a lot more, adjusting according to the weather. No more ripped jeans, instead opting to wear a pair of thick cargo pants with numerous pockets. He also got himself a new pair of shoes, trading in his tattered sneakers for a new pair of combat boots.

You asked him if it bothers him. Cain seemed to pause and think about his answer for a moment before replying.

"I always hated the fucking cold." He spoke with a sense of dread in his voice. Cain knows that he can't change the weather, and he just needs to tough it out. He has done this for years, ever since he was abandoned in that dumpster. But it doesn't make it easier, and each winter feels as intense as the last. And the worst part is, he doesn't understand why the bites of frost disturb him so much. Cain never found out how he was abandoned by his parents; he only knew that they did.

You nodded and decided to just... put aside a bit more cash for the heating bill. You cranked up the heat enough at home to make it comfortable for him. The water heater is also switched on 24/7 now, even if it does hike up your bills. Sometimes you even think the apartment was a little too warm for your liking, but seeing Cain being a lot less miserable made you suck it up and just wear lighter clothing instead.

And you didn't think much of it, until there was one night, when the wind was howling and all you could see was powdery white outside; You heard a knock on your bedroom door, and you were about to fall asleep in a pair of shorts and shirt, because the thermostat is dialed all the way up that it felt like summer. Upon opening it, you saw Cain towering over you, exuding vulnerability. He's not wearing his hoodie, but a white t-shirt, a pair of comfortable plaid shoes, and warm, fuzzy slippers. You were surprised that he showed no signs of sweating, unlike you, struggling to cope with the artificial heat, yet you do so for the sake of your troubled roommate.

You asked him if he needed anything from you. Only to be pulled into his arms for a tight hug. You were about to say something, but you felt wetness on your shoulder. Cain was crying.

"I don't... I don't know what I'm feeling..." Although muffled, you could hear how pained and conflicted he was.

You patted his back as he let it all out. You were dying to ask him questions, but knowing Cain, it wouldn't get you very far if he wasn't ready to share it in the first place.

"It feels good. I-It's warm." He spoke between sobs. "Please... let me stay."

You didn't understand what gave him the impression that you were planning to kick him out anytime soon. You told him that he's welcome here. And that was all he needed to hear tonight.

And what neither of you knows is that today was his birthday, or rather, the day those bystanders found him discarded like trash. Cain may not remember, but his body does. And it was the first time in his life that he wasn't shivering on this special day.

And Cain is afraid, utterly terrified to lose what he has now. Yet he doesn't know how to keep it. So he latches on, he does his best, he tries.

He slept in the same bed as you that night. It wasn't comfortable at all; his body ran hot. And on top of the running heaters? You felt like you were in a furnace. Cain had his arms wrapped around you at all times, constricting your movements, but he wouldn't budge, no matter how much you squirmed. His hold felt desperate; you could feel the aching yearning he held in his body for decades. Cain would bury his head at the back of your neck, making you wonder if he just liked the feeling of being suffocated by his own breath.

You woke up the next day earlier than he did. Cain was still clinging to you with dried tears on his face. But you didn't have the heart to wake him up, because he looked truly peaceful. Though you didn't have to wait long until he opened his eyes and groggily rubbed them, freeing you from his prison.

You greeted him and asked him how he slept last night.

"Good..." He yawned and stretched his arms. Well, at least one of you had a good night's sleep. Cain doesn't seem to be particularly embarrassed that he reached this level of intimacy with you; hell, he doesn't seem to see it as anything out of the ordinary at all. It's as if he were sleeping in the same bed as you for months.

He got out of bed to freshen up, leaving you to finally reclaim your space and take your turn to doze off. Luckily, today is an off day for you, or you would have gone to work in a sour mood.

"Who the fuck are you all?!" You were jolted awake by Cain's sudden outburst in the living room. You heard extra voices and assumed he had opened the door to someone.

An argument ensued, making you scramble back up on your feet to see what was going on. Upon poking your head out of the door frame, you saw Cain heavily berating someone outside your apartment.

You called him by his name, and that caught his attention. "I don't know who these assholes are, they are not coming in!" He yelled, attempting to shut the door on the visitors.

You caught a glimpse of your long-time friends' confused and horrified faces before he slammed the door loudly against them.

Oh.

You forgot that they were visiting. Shit.

You see that Cain was agitated, threatened, even. He began hurling profanities at them, wishing doom on them, so on and so forth. He was panicking; the only way he could express this was by lashing out and pulling on his already messy, short, fiery hair.

You tried calming him down, but that only made him spiral more.

"They said that they're your friends-- They're nothing! They're nothing to you, they don't fucking matter! They're scum, they're trash!" He screamed as tears streaked down his frenzied face. Cain began hyperventilating, the more you tried to get him to see reason. "I'll fucking kill them, I fucking will!"

You decided to shut up and let him burn all his fuel out. All this while, you were extremely baffled as to what suddenly set him off. You know, Cain could be somewhat decent to strangers; he doesn't go off on the delivery men that sometimes come here to give you your packages or food. He would sometimes even be the one who signed the delivery confirmation form with no issue. Not even door-to-door salesmen would make him erupt like this; at most, he would just close the door on them. Why is he suddenly so territorial?

And as predicted, his explosion ended with him curling up into a pathetic ball of misery on the floor. You think your friends decided to leave you and him alone for a while, you're definitely getting a very concerned phone call later.

So, you did. And you managed to convince that you're okay, and Cain is a good man. It was challenging, but they decided to respect your wishes. Or maybe they also didn't want to deal with that unstable landmine of a person.

You don't think he left the apartment without you during the entirety of winter. He would flare up as soon as he felt a draft, and you wonder if it's a traumatic response to something. Either way, you don't think you should pry if he's not ready to talk about it.

Cain got very comfortable with you now. The sofa bed is left empty, now he goes straight into your bedroom. It doesn't matter if you're purposely hogging the bed, he would either manhandle you as if you're his beloved stuffed teddy bear, or have the audacity to say, "Scoot your ass over."

He developed a habit of possessively wrapping his arm around your waist whenever both of you were out. Instead of waiting for you to move out of the way or barking commands to move aside, Cain would just manually move you by guiding your shoulders or sometimes, your hips.

He seemed to be starved of touches. Whenever you take an afternoon nap without him, you would wake up to find Cain holding you in his arms. And he gets annoyed at you for waking him up. When you would spend the day watching television on the sofa, Cain would either lie his head on your lap, or trap you into his- making you his personal lap table for the bowl of popcorn you two shared.

Cain needed something to occupy his hands. So he chose to massage yours instead to soothe himself. It felt nice to apply pressure to your palm and fingers, but sometimes he wasn't aware how strong he was. You would wince at the pain, which caused him to frown, and spit,

"Fucking wimp."

But then, he would bring your hands to his lips to kiss them, and adjust his strength to not hurt you anymore. He wouldn't outright apologize or thank you for most things, but he has his own way to express remorse, guilt, and gratitude.

It felt... strangely natural. He wasn't making it awkward at all when he transitioned from not touching you at all to giving you regular cuddles, kisses, and even sharing beds. Cain moved like it's always been this way, as if he had always given you a kiss on the forehead before dropping you off at your workplace, as if he had always kissed you on the back of your neck to thank you for the meal. Whenever you stood in front of him to say something, he would have his large, calloused hands gripping your arms in place as he listened. You never knew what the purpose of it was, as he doesn't seem to be aware that he's doing it.

You're not necessarily complaining that whenever the two of you waited at the bus stop, in the cold, he would bury you in his chest. It's ridiculously warm, and he would wrap his heavy coat around both of you. Cain would absentmindedly rub your back up and down, stroke your hair as he remains hypervigilant for any assailants that could attack the two of you. And you would be lying when you said that it doesn't make you feel all fluttery inside.

Cain was willing to open up even more on how he feels about various things. But it was still excruciatingly difficult.

One day, he decided to talk to you about your giving nature. It occurred when you decided to give a homeless man some spare change.

"Why did you do that?" He asked when you and he reached the comfort of your apartment. Cain didn't remove his coat just yet, while you're practically stripping everything off yourself because your heating system is too efficient.

"Why did you give that bum money? He didn't work for it." He clarified what he meant. You can see that he's asking from a place of curiosity, not hostility or judgment.

You shrugged and said that it makes the world a better place.

"How?" He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

He would have enough money to buy himself something hot to eat and drink.

"That's bullshit. He's going to waste it on booze and drugs."

You asked him how he would know.

"All these bastards think about is their next high." He frowned bitterly.

You said that everyone can change. You wanted to tell him off for being a hypocrite, but it probably isn't a good idea. He vehemently disagreed.

"No they fucking can't. You're being used, you're being a damn jackass! You should have kept that for yourself, these fuckers can't even give you anything of worth back but have the balls to ask for a handout!" He was getting more and more exasperated by the second.

You decided to clam up.

"They're scum, they're all fucking good for nothing pieces of shit!" He continued his angry ranting as he entered the bathroom to freshen up.

And conversations that were deeper than small talk usually go something like that. You refused to be the one who started chatting, allowing him to take the initiative. It seems like he's jealous that you're also generous to other people, as anytime he sees you doing a good deed, he would be throwing a tantrum about how you're letting others walk all over you.

You can't really do donations under his watchful eyes anymore, because he would find a way to get it back from them and return the cash into your wallet.

He's always the nicest when it's just the two of you, and the concept of the world stopped existing. The apartment is his safe haven where nothing outside matters. He is in no way romantic, but he would be much, much tender compared to when you first met him. However, it is actually agonizing to live with him hovering over you every waking minute. If the shows you watch involve the topic of child neglect or even families in general, no matter how mild, no matter how positive or negative, ten times out of ten, he would have one of his infamous, explosive meltdowns.

Oddly enough, he's mostly unaffected by documentaries, even if they potentially touch on his traumatic experiences. He tends to watch those that describe how everyday things are made, unfazed by true crime.

You avoided nature and animal documentaries because Cain would get unbelievably distressed if they involved the abandonment of their young.

Outside of that, you don't know what else to do with him. Cain seems uninterested in anything creative, but recently got obsessed with chess for some unknown reason. Regardless of your chess skills, he would beat you in almost every game, only losing to you when he first started out.

Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was arousal, but you and Cain would begin to frequently have sex. And he fucks like a rabid animal, forceful, angry, desperate and primal. Cain would leave bite marks deep enough to bleed, as if he's trying to shred you into pieces. The curtains are always drawn shut because of his inclination to go down on you anywhere in the apartment. He has no problem bending you over the kitchen counter, making your legs spread on the sofa bed, pinning you against the wall, pounding you deep into your bed, letting the sound of the shower drown out your moans... The only place that's off limits is whatever table that held his valuable chessboard and pieces.

And you know that it just takes a deep kiss on the lips to initiate it, where both of your tongues must dance together. Cain would escalate quickly by rubbing his hands under your clothes. But he wouldn't press it if you decided that you're not in the mood anymore; he would just need to deal with his disappointment and sexual frustration on his own, in pure silence.

Cain doesn't say anything when fucking you. There will only be grunts and groans, but no dirty talk. Probably since he's too busy biting the hell out of your flesh.

His aftercare is a bit strange to you. It would be a strange mix of his usual harshness and an unusual dose of sentimentality:

"Get up." He would order you after a long session of post sex cuddling. Knowing him, you shouldn't oppose it.

"Go shower. I'll clean up." He began chucking the blankets, bedsheets, and pillow cases into the laundry hamper. Once he's done and sees that you're still there, he would turn to you and give you an affectionate peck on the forehead.

"You've been so good to me." He then squeezed the cheeks of your face firmly, causing you to pucker. Cain would chuckle at how silly you looked before kissing you lightly on the lips.

"I love you." He would whisper in your ear before letting you go, patting your head in praise.

However, if you just stood there and watched him ready the laundry basket, he would get annoyed.

"The fuck are you doing there, standing ass naked? Either put on some clothes or go take a damn shower." He would point in the direction of the bathroom. This would be enough to send you on your way.

Overall, you think Cain is a confusing man with moods that swing like a pendulum. You don't think he really feels shame towards you, just familiarity, trust, and comfort. And you feel honoured that you get to see his sweet side (sometimes), no one else outside of this apartment could ever hope to witness it, as he's just so spiky towards everyone. You're still so curious as to what sets you apart from all the other people who tried to help... You assume that Cain does have people who tried putting him on the right track in his life, but he pushed them away.

So one day, you mustered the courage to ask him about it. Expecting nothing more than some deranged yelling, you braced yourself:

"They shoved their help down my throat."

To your surprise, his response is as if you asked him for the time. Your speechlessness prompted him to continue.

"I fucking hated them. None of them really wanted to help me; they just wanted to feel good." He scrunched his nose as if he recalled something disgusting. "To them, I'm nothing more than a broken pet to fix. Something that should get no respect. Something practically useless in everything else, but gets them off like some street whore."

That sounds similar to what you thought of Cain. But you didn't say that out loud.

"They can take their fake sympathy and shove it so far up their asses that it kills them. Fuck them all." He snarled.

You let him release whatever steam he had for them. Well, that made sense that he gets crazily upset when you try to impose help without his request in the first place.

Once he's done, he decides to get up from his seat and pick up his now-worn duffel bag. You didn't have to ask him where he's heading out to.

"I'll be back by eight, I just need to get some stuff. Leave your bedroom door open for me." He pecked you on the cheek and smoothed your hair.

You watched him open the door and turned back to face you one more time:

"And don't fucking open the door to anyone that isn't me! You have a habit of doing stupid shit that's going to get you killed if it wasn't for me looking out for you!" He scolded before slamming the door behind him.

You wonder if Cain thinks of you as someone needing his protection, and so that's why you're not a threat to him but an object of his affection. You sat with this question, and you pondered if Cain genuinely thought of you as someone who is handicapped in some way. Made sense, your boundary-setting skills are non-existent, and you're always people pleasing, no matter how detrimental it is to your wellbeing. That's how you scored Cain.

Finally home alone after a while, you felt a little clueless as to what you should do. You know you should update your friends and family that you're doing well, and Cain is nothing they should worry about. Then again, you don't feel like talking to anyone right now.

The apartment looks pretty messy, with all the random junk Cain would bring back. God knows where he gets this merchandise, or where he got the money to buy it. You are actually in heavy denial that he's been shoplifting and wanted to believe that he's living honestly.

You thought it would be a good idea to tidy up a bit before he gets back and unloads more things from his duffel bag. It's a mystery how that bag could contain ungodly amounts of stuff.

You decided to start with the most cluttered part of your living room: the sofa bed. You know these are things that Cain would use daily, but it wouldn't hurt to organise them a bit.

The first thing that caught your eye? The book that Cain was attached to lately, and was almost obsessively reading. You wonder what was so interesting about it until you read the cover of the book.

It was a copy of "How to Be a Good Boyfriend".

[only4riwoo]

paper hearts 🏹 k.dh

genre smut 941 words cw MDNI!! sub!leehan, lowercase intended, unprotexted sex (big nono!!), cum eating, handjob (m), overstim, pet names (pretty, princess, love etc), if im missing smth lmk!! note i would tag liv (our beloved liverspaghett) because she helped me write a piece of this but since she deactivated her account, we will instead mourn the loss of our pookie. we will miss you liv rip!! this post is way over due, i was supposed to upload this on valentines day but i fell back and it definitely affected me :^ i know this is a super short read but enjoy this little treat my lovelies & make sure to keep urself hydrated; also that posture ml, sit up straight! < 33

"hi pretty.." leehan hums, his voice scratchy as he plopped down onto the mattress of your shared bed.

his hand was splay across your lower abdomen, the bed dipping a tad bit more under his weight when he scooted closer behind you.

although leehan was usually pretty good at keeping it in his pants, the smell of your freshly shampooed hair invading his nose was making his randomly speratic hormones go extremely haywire.

a sudden shift in what was, on a normal day, a comfortable type of tension, became very heavy and almost 'nose-stuffing'.

you clear your throat in an attempt to catch his attention since you noticed he was starting to stare directly at you with a blank expression. "you okay?"

your tone was softhearted with no intent of offense, your left hand reaching back to rest on the underside of leehan's arm, the one he used to keep a tight grip around your waist.

after a moment of complete silence, the only sound being your breathing and the quiet hum of the ceiling fan above.

he eventually answered, but of course, it wasn't a normal response to someone asking if you're okay.

"you smell good" leehan suddenly blurted, ripping a short giggle from your throat. "baby, you know you can tell me that there's something wrong, right?" you reassure, knowing leehan has a tendency to stay quiet and keep things to himself.

"yeah, i know," he subtly nods at you before continuing to speak. "i just.. need you so bad"

it was a given that he was reluctant to speak but he knew you care and will do everything in your power to help him when in need.

an almost silent noise came from your noise, the quietest laugh.

you didn't say anything, the hand on his arm coming down to pause just over the spot he wanted you so badly.

leehan whined at the slightest of touch, his hips pushing forward a bit to chase the feeling of your hand.

you knew your way around leehan's body. you also knew his limits, what he could take and what he couldn't take.

"really, hani?" that damn nickname. he cursed under his breath at your sultry tone. "please.." leehan whispered, desperately longing for your touch.

you laugh at his desperation, eventually giving in and sitting up before turning around, pushing leehan to lie on his back. pressing your palm flat against his clothed boner, you earn a sigh of relief from leehan as his hips involuntarily jumped forward into your hand.

with his chest heaving, breathless whimpers roaring up, he subtly humped against your fingers. leehan barked up a pathetic whimper when your hand slipped past his waistband, his eyes threatening to roll back as you thumb at his slit.

"fuck," he groaned, his hips slowly thrusting up. "ah ah, no sir." you warn with a click of your tongue, shifting your body to help him pull his sweats off before sitting on his thighs to hold him still.

leehan decided to actually listen to you, keeping still despite the obvious need in his watery eyes. the tip of his cock was flushed pink, just like his cheeks. you could hear he was breathing heavier. his cock stood up, aching for your touch. he wasn't beyond begging, never was. and that's exactly what he would do if you kept teasing him like this.

you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, dragging it up until you reach the top. you circle the head with your thumb before pushing your fist back down. leehan let out a quiet sob in response, drowning in the feeling of your touches.

you smear the small bead of precum that formed at his slit and spit in your palm to wet his cock. your hands move quicker and grip him harder, leaving him wriggling and whining under your weight, but unable to escape. it wasn't like he wanted to anyways. he rolled his hips into your palm, desperate for release. the moment you noticed his breath got shaky and uneven, you knew he was getting close. just as you feel his cock twitch, you pull your hand away.

leehan lying all desperate underneath you was really a sight to see, cupping the side of his face to admire his beauty before pulling him in for a long awaited kiss. you felt leehan’s hands come up to rest on your hips but you ignored it, continuing to kiss him while your free hand reached down to fondle his balls.

his fingers clung to your waist, pulling you closer to him to deepen the kiss. leehan’s tongue slipped through the small gap between your parted lips, moaning into your mouth as you start stroking him again.

the moment was heated and heavy, leehan’s chest caving as his dick twitched sporadically in your palm.

“ngh.. “ he whimpered against your mouth, his hips twitching up into your hand. “i’m-” he pulled away to make an attempt to speak but cut himself off with a soft groan, his cock pulsing as you graze your fingernail on his head. “fuck, wait i’m gonna cum”

leehan shudders harshly as you continue milking him. his stomach muscles clenched, his dick twitching again before it spurted hot and sticky semen all over your hand and his thighs. your hand doesn’t stop, working leehan through his orgasm until he’s shaking from overstimulation.

it’s when leehan pushes your hand away that you stop and lick his cum off your hand. suddenly gasping as your back hit’s the mattress. “your turn, princess.” he whispers teasingly from above you, a shit-eating grin spread across his face.