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rosachae · 2 days ago

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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

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barnesmutt · 23 hours ago

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tease him

perv boss!bucky x perv employee!reader ᥫ᭡.

fic warnings: smut, nsfw content, groping, no protection, slight power dynamic, mentions of y/n, p in v, f!reader, not proofread.

kinda part 2 to the blurb, didn’t know what direction to take it

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀

your mind had been elsewhere, especially today, 3 days ago around lunchtime everyone was over-poured with work, you had already finished yours for the day, thus-far trying to help others, your coworker had asked you kindly to make coffee in the lunchroom, slightly rushing you had knocked a container of creamer over, increasingly frustrated your breath picked up before your boss, james, walked up behind you. pressing his pelvis against the back of you, grabbing the creamer and cleaning it up. “i’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

back to the present, today was practically the dead opposite, only half the workers really needed to come in, it was a quiet day and your mind was racking the entire time, especially being near bucky, his cologne only sending you straight back to the other day.

you wondered if he did it on purpose, jutted his hips against you in the middle of the day, just to throw you off. maybe he thought-

a snap of fingers in your face draws you out of trance. “hey? are you listening to me?” he groans at you, pinching his brows together. “i’ve been talking about our plan for 10 minutes, what planet are you on?”

“i-i’m sorry sir, i just didn’t get alot of sleep and-“

“sure you didn’t.”

slightly startled when you look up, he’s refusing to break eye contact, his breath heavy.

“stay late tonight, come to my office before you head out.”

that night, around 9pm, your heart racing as your last coworker says bye, grabbing her bags and leaving, you glance around, the lamp still on in buckys office, blaring thru the curtains. before you can even knock he cracks the door, waving you in desperately.

the second you’re inside his hands are around your hips tightly, staring down at you intensely.

“you gonna tell me why you’ve actually been walking around like you’re drugged, y/n?”

“I don’t k-“

“stop. don’t lie to me.”

“I just haven’t been getting rest, y’know stress and all sir..”

“it isn’t cause you felt how fucking hard i am for you?”

the silence instantly drags on, he should’ve known your throat would go dry.

“come on, baby, you’re always so good for me, don’t lose it now, is that why? you can tell me.”

despite your better judgment, and the fear of him firing you. (which he would never do anyways, not to his best girl as he calls you.) you nod, too nervous to look up at him.

“good, you know how hard it is to hold back when i see you? you weren’t wearing a bra that day.”

“i- huh?” you stiffle out, completely oblivious.

“yeah baby, running around helping everyone, could see your fucking tits thru that blouse all day.

so,, it was on purpose, he was doing it to fuck with you.

you’re bent over his desk, papers and pens scattered across the floor, a broken mug.

he’s fucking into you, raw on top of it, your skirt ridden up and your panties around your ankles.

he slaps your ass with one hand while speeding up, the other groping your chest. groaning loud enough you can tell he’s been dying to be inside of you.

“you’re the biggest fucking tease ever, think i can’t tell when you pout your fucking chest forward, i can see when you stare at my bulge baby, not even fucking trying to hide it.”

oh he was so right, you were just as sick, you even stole one of his ties before when everyone went home for the day, excusing “it’s okay, i can close up” just to press it against your face while fingering yourself.

on the other hand, currently he’s fucking losing it at every noise you make, rubbing your clit till you cum on him, which doesn’t take long before you breakdown. whining to himself anytime you twitch, sweat pooling on his forehead as his hand pushes you down roughly, spilling inside of you.

“ohhh fuckkk me baby you’re so good-“ he whines out shakily, panting in your ear and wrapping his arms around your stomach to keep you held up.

that night he ends up driving you back to his house, collapsing in bed with you after making you tea, contently falling asleep on him, trying to forget you literally just had sex with your boss.

—————

i need to recreate secretary (2002) with him..

also i hate this and wanna cry convince me it’s good before i lose it

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #marvel x reader #winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan #need that #x reader #smut

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zablife · 3 days ago

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Our Little Secret

Harry Da Souza x female Harrigan reader (Kevin's daughter)

Harry Da Souza Masterlist

A/N: I wrote these headcanons based on a request sent by @weepingnimulot1995 for some Harry drama!

Warning: infidelity, mention of pregnancy, kidnapping

🪽Harry had been best friends with your father since their teens though you'd rarely seen him around. He lived a busy life in London, often traveling much further to handle the problems your family was adept at creating. Everyone except you, of course.

🪽Nicknamed "Angel" for your kind disposition and heart of gold, you never caused trouble for anyone. That's probably why your parents placed their trust in you, allowing you more freedom than your incorrigible younger brother, Eddie.

🪽But despite your best intentions, trouble found you in the early hours of a sleepy Sunday morning. Harry was getting some much deserved rest when the phone startled him awake. "You stay there, I'm coming for you," he reassured you after listening to your tearful plea for help.

🪽It wasn’t like you to cause a scene which is why it distressed Harry to see your hotel suite torn apart in a violent fit of rage. He knew you couldn't have done this, your meek posture and the blood trickling from your lip enough to tell him the real culprit was elsewhere.

🪽 He didn't rush you to talk about it, accepting you into his muscular arms for a long embrace. He waited for the sobs against his chest to subside before learning the truth about the volatile boyfriend responsible for the damage. With one large hand stroking over your hair, he whispered a promise to make it right.

🪽 And he did, though he would never divulge the gory details to you in full. "He won't be a problem for you anymore," is all he would say on the matter. The news should have been cause for celebration, instead your heart sank as you thought of more birthdays and holidays alone.

🪽 Like a loyal guard dog, Harry stayed by your side until your mood lifted, listening to every anxious thought in your head that kept you from sleeping. When you eventually tired, you made one small request. "Stay with me tonight, Harry."

🪽 He tucked you into his side, stroking along your back in soothing circles as one might do for a frightened child. He didn't dare leave you in this state, so unlike the other women in your family who hated to show an ounce of vulnerability. And tho he only held you on the sofa as you slept, it felt far more intimate than anything he'd done with Jan in years.

🪽 It wouldn't be the last time he was called to keep you company during a difficult evening. He told himself he wasn't taking advantage of the situation, but in his heart he knew better. It was wrong to lead you on when he had a wife and daughter at home. And wasn't that what he was doing making jokes and ordering your fave takeaway? It all felt too comfortable.

🪽 He tried to remind himself of his duty to protect your family. If he allowed his emotions to get involved, he could no longer remain objective. However, his affection for you was rapidly compromising any shred of integrity he had left.

🪽 Meanwhile your sweet smile was giving him all the justification he needed to remain in your life. When he was with you, you made him believe in the goodness he was capable of. Not only that, you rewarded his tenderness with a patience of your own, listening to his problems in compassionate understanding.

🪽 That's when he slipped, taking you to bed if only to show you how a man ought to treat you. And once he'd made you his, there was no return, despite the numerous promises he made to himself as he washed your perfume from his skin to return home to his wife. You called to him like a siren and he returned night after night.

🪽In truth, he'd anticipated Jan's tears, but never yours. That's why it came as such a shock to see your red rimmed eyes staring back at him as you wordlessly pointed to a positive pregnancy test.

🪽 While the old Harry might have tried to compartmentalize it, treating you like another Harrigan problem to be solved, his love for you wouldn't allow him to disconnect so easily. When you asked, "What am I going to do, Harry?" he swiftly replied, "What we are going to do, yeah, is sit and make a plan. Then we have to be sure you and the baby are healthy, don't we, Angel?"

🪽 Using his connections, Harry secured a doctor who offered complete discretion. In that way, he was able to accompany you to all your appointments and watch the little life you created growing inside you. If he was nervous, he didn't show it, beaming whenever he had the opportunity to splay a hand across your growing belly to feel his son kick.

🪽 It was safer to keep this little secret for yourselves so you remained adamantly silent on the paternity of your child. And to your surprise, your parents didn't press you on the subject. They came to believe it was an old flame who had abandoned you and sympathy for your plight only grew. Somehow Jan ended up throwing the baby shower, quite unaware that the child was Gina's half brother.

🪽 Harry was at the hospital under the guise of providing protection the day his son was born, coaching you every step of the way. It was the comforting sound of his voice that guided you through labor, his tender words of love and devotion welcoming baby Theo into the world.

🪽When you succumbed to the exhaustion of the birth, he held his son in his arms for the first time. As the infant's tiny hand grasped his enormous pinkie, he swore to protect you both, not knowing how quickly that day would come.

🪽 Mere days after returning home from the hospital, you and Theo were taken in the night by a vengeful Richie Stevenson. Harry worked tirelessly for your return, going days without food or rest.

🪽 Once you'd safely arrived in the Cotswolds, he felt free to breathe a sigh of relief. That is until he was asked to a family meeting where not only the Harrigans but Jan and Gina were also present.

🪽"Harry, we wanted to convey our gratitude for your service," Maeve smiled at him sweetly, placing her hands on his shoulders to deliver a quick peck to each cheek. She took the opportunity to lean in for a private word that sent chills down his spine. "Shall I tell them about Theo or would you like to do the honors?"

#Harry Da Souza fanfiction #Harry Da Souza x reader #Harry Da Souza #Mobland fanfiction #Mobland

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runforthehillsbestie · 3 days ago

Text

Sympathy For The Devil

Part 4 - hunting season

Pairing - Thomas Hewitt x Female reader

Read the story context and warnings here

You wake up to the cold barrel of a gun patting your cheek. The craggy, grinning face of Sheriff Hoyt hovers over you.

"I see you survived the night in one piece! That's never happened before."

You sit up on the thin mattress and wince. You're sore all over from last night, especially your jaw and throat. You hadn't been expecting to get a place to sleep, so when Tommy took you over to the stained, worn mattress in the corner of the basement, you curled up without complaint. It was hardly as comfortable as the bed you'd slept on the night before, and that said a lot. You wonder if it was his sleeping spot you had occupied.

"Where's Tommy?" You rasp.

"What, want me to call him?"

"No!"

Sheriff Hoyt laughs. "Then let's get you upstairs before Mama starts hollering at me."

Hesitantly you follow him up the stairs, eyeing the holster at his hip. He rests his hand on his gun as if he can sense what you're looking at.

"Oh, child, you look a fright!" Luda Mae says when she sees you. "Charlie Hewitt, what on earth did you do to her?" She strokes your hair away from your face, clucking like a hen.

"Mama, I told you, it's Hoyt. Sheriff Hoyt. And I didn't do more than what needed doing," Sheriff Hoyt says. "She'll be fine."

Luda Mae smiles at you. "We don't only eat meat," she says. "We have ourselves a balanced diet with what humble bits and pieces we can rustle up."

The early morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window feels good on your skin after your long night in the basement, and it casts a warm glow over the room. If you don't look too closely at the dust in the corners and the stains on the walls it looks almost cozy. You inch closer to the stove and warily peer into the pot, relieved to see it's just oats.

You sit at the table. Monty comes rattling in on his wheelchair with the dog trotting after him. "Hey Mama, you got any of that balm left over? Think I got myself a pressure sore again."

"Because you sit in that damn wheelchair all day," Sheriff Hoyt says.

"Well you cut off both my legs, what else am I supposed to do?" Monty shoots back.

"Why did you do that?" Your voice draws the attention of both men.

"Eh, he was shot in the leg. We had to do something," Sheriff Hoyt says with a shrug.

You grimace and make a mental note not to get seriously injured unless you want to lose a limb or two. You eat your oats with relish. It's enough that there aren't any human parts in it, but Luda Mae has heaped it with plenty of brown sugar and cream too.

"What about Tommy? Is he going to have breakfast?"

"He comes and goes," Luda Mae shrugs. "Can't rightly guess when he'll come around for something to eat." She turns to the Sheriff. "Drive us down to the shop, will you? The place needs tending."

"Why? What's wrong with Henrietta?" Sheriff Hoyt demands.

You perk up at the mention of a new name.

"Her baby's got a cough," Luda Mae says.

"You think taking the girl with you is a good idea?" Uncle Monty pipes up.

"She'll be good. Won't you?" Luda Mae turns her kind but firm eyes in your direction.

You nod. The thought of staying with Uncle Monty isn't very pleasant.

"Take my pistol just in case she makes a run. Tommy likes her but he'll understand if you have to use some of those bullets," Sheriff Hoyt says.

"It's not like I have anywhere to go," you mumble.

"Atta girl! Then we shouldn't have a problem!" Sheriff Hoyt says before hunching over his bowl of oats and scooping the rest into his mouth.

"This was once a lively town, you know," Luda Mae says to you.

You have just enough time after breakfast to change the bloodied rags out for fresh ones and wash your face before you leave. The car ride is awkward. The interior of the vehicle is ripe with the scent of salt and blood. Luda Mae doesn't seem to notice. You look out of the window and watch the scenery go from farmland to abandoned houses.

"A damn shame," Sheriff Hoyt adds and hocks a wad of spit out the window.

The shop turns out to be a low, squat building with a sign above the door that says "General Store". There's an ancient-looking gas pump outside. You both get out and you pretend not to notice the Sheriff pressing his pistol into Luda Mae's hands. You step into the shop and a bell tinkles overhead. Cobwebs inhabit every corner and the shelves are mostly empty, save for a few canned and packaged products. Luda Mae bustles in, humming to herself. She puts the gun behind the counter and then sits down.

"And now we just wait for some travelers to stop by for gas," she says, picking up a yellowed newspaper and beginning to read it.

You fidget for a moment before you blurt out, "Can I clean up a little? For something to do?"

She looks at you over her glasses, her eyebrows raising. "You can try," she says. "The floor will need multiple scrubs before you can even make a dent in the grease. I just couldn't keep up with it."

She supplies you with a bucket of water and a scrub brush and you get to work. It brings back memories of your mother who would make you scrub and mop and polish until your fingers ached and the shine of the floor could be spotted from a mile away. When she grew sick and began to cough up blood she'd spit on the floor and yell at you if you missed even one splotch of it. You could never hate her because she had it just as bad as you, head bowed to her husband.

Her only way of releasing steam was to take it out on you. Even on her deathbed. I could've run away earlier and left her to wallow in her filth. The darkness of the thought startles you. It's the thing your father hated about you, the demon he tried and failed to exorcise. You blink and realize you've been scrubbing the same spot for ages. The stained tiles are as clean as you're going to get them and the water in the bucket is the color of mud. Sweat rolls down your forehead and you wipe it away with your forearm before it gets in your eye.

"Where do I throw this out?"

"Shame on you, Jeremy Shaw!" Luda Mae cries out. "You get out of my shop!"

Luda Mae points you to the back of the shop. You pass through a cluttered backroom and step out the screen door. The grass growing at the back of the shop is sparse, and the ground is blackened and greasy in some places. You pitch the water out and watch it soak into the soil. There's no fence, nothing to stop you from running if you wanted to. Luda Mae is slow and probably not a good shot. You stand there for several minutes, holding the empty bucket.

There's nothing for me out there, same as here.

The thought is black and bitter. You've never been the adventurous type. All you've ever really wanted is a place where you belong. You can't say you feel like you belong here with a family of cannibals, but at least Tommy wants you. You've never been wanted before. Maybe you'll have to settle for that. The sound of breaking glass brings you out of your thoughts.

You pull open the screen door and poke your head into the main room. There are diced apricots and pieces of glass all over the floor you just scrubbed so nicely. A man stands in the middle of the mess. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, with a slightly crooked nose and squinting blue eyes. He gives Luda Mae a devilish grin.

"It's been a while. How's that freak show of yours doing? Thought I saw him down by the old slaughterhouse the other day. Reliving his glory days, I bet."

"You let him alone," Luda Mae snaps. "He's not a little boy anymore, you know. He will get you, and you'll be sorry."

"Oh yeah?" Jeremy snorts. "He never cried, you know. We'd bully him, throw rocks and call him names, even pissed on him once. Not a single emotion on that torn-up face. He's got nothin' between those ears of his."

"Get the hell out, or so god help me, I'll blow ya to pieces," she says, her voice eerily calm.

Luda Mae bristles. Her hand slips under the counter and she grabs the gun and points it at Jeremy.

"Shiiit. That's some weapon alright. You know how to operate that thing, Gran?" Jeremy picks up another jar and tosses it carelessly from one hand to another.

"I could shoot a beer cap off a bottle back in the day," Luda Mae says. "I think my aim is still good enough to get you right in the dick, tiny as it is."

Jeremy hurls the jar onto the floor and Luda Mae pulls the trigger and clips him on the ear. An inch closer and it would've been his head.

"I was being generous that time," she says.

You barely hear her over the dull ringing in your head. Jeremy's face pales as he clamps a hand over his bloodied ear. Before she can pull the trigger again, a voice behind you says,

Before you can react a pair of burly arms lock around you. Jeremy forgets his fear and his eyes light up when he sees you.

"I'd think twice about that if I were you, Ms. Hewitt."

"Wow, Gran, where'd you get this hot piece of ass?"

"Didn't know there was a Hewitt this pretty," the man behind you says, stroking your hair.

"You let my girl go!" Luda Mae shouts, her hand beginning to waver.

A warm feeling blooms in your chest at that. My girl.

"I'm not a Hewitt," you mutter, shuddering violently when he nips at the shell of your ear.

Luda Mae shoots him for that. The bullet grazes his arm and he spews curses, rounding the counter and backhanding her across the face. She topples into the chair and the gun falls out of her hand.

"Damn," Jeremy says, licking his chapped lips. "She looks like she'll be tight. Maybe we should take her for a ride, Matthew?"

"Shit," Jeremy curses again, grabbing the gun. "Fucking hell, her aim isn't bad. Not good enough, though. Looks like I'll live."

He hits her with the gun, which makes a cracking sound as it smacks against her face.

"No!" You gasp.

Luda Mae's head lolls to the side and a trickle of crimson rolls down her cheek.

"Thomas," she mumbles, looking dazed.

"He ain't here, and he ain't coming," Jeremy says.

Luda Mae's eyes fall shut. Jeremy strides up to you. You're imprisoned in Matthew's arms, so you wait till he's in range before you lash out, kicking as hard as you can. Matthew drags you against his chest but your foot still manages to make contact with Jeremy's groin. He doubles over with a screech and grabs at his junk.

He rears back up and punches you in the stomach, knocking the air out of you. You spit in his face even as you wheeze. He wrenches you out of Matthew's hands and throws you on your back on the ground. His face is red with rage as he straddles you and grabs your hair, lifting your head. You know from experience that he's going to bash your head against the floor and you struggle against his hold, a cry slipping from you.

"You scream like a girl," you taunt.

"Cool your tits, Jeremy," Matthew grunts. "I want her wide awake. I want her to feel everything."

Jeremy groans as you buck underneath him.

You look up at him. He looks a lot like Jeremy but older, with a buzzcut and a scar that cuts across his left eyebrow. They're brothers. You curl your lip and struggle under Jeremy's weight, desperately wishing you had your razor blade. You'd stick it in his stomach and open him up.

"Bitch!" He points the gun in your face. "I'm gonna fucking thoot you," he lisps.

"They're hot when they fight," he says, grabbing your jaw and leaning down to kiss you.

His breath is thick with the scent of cigarettes and his tongue bitter with the taste of stale coffee. You open your mouth to lure him in and then you bite down as hard as you can. You feel your incisors poke through the fleshy muscle and come together with a click. Jeremy howls, yanking back as his mouth fills with blood.

"Stop fucking around," Matthew says. "If you're not gonna spend your time wisely then I want her."

You reach blindly for a piece of broken glass. It cuts into your palm but you ignore the pain and slice it at Jeremy's face. It misses by mere centimeters and he looks surprised.

You headbutt him and scramble to your feet as he falls to the side, gripping his nose. Matthew grabs you but only catches the sleeve of your dress, ripping it clean off and exposing one of your breasts. You run because your life depends on it.

"You're out for me, aren't you?" He laughs painfully. "Wild cat."

Which way is back to the house?

Maybe you can lose them in the trees. Jeremy's brother gives an appreciative laugh like he's enjoying the chase. You chance a look over your shoulder. It's just you and Matthew, Jeremy is falling behind. You can just about make out his voice, cursing shrilly as he complains about his wounds. You trip over a tree root hidden in the grass and fall hard, scraping your hands and knees. The weight of a fully grown man crashes on top of you and you scream.

You dart down the road. You're good at running and you think you might have a chance at getting away but you're also concerned for Luda Mae. She's already hurt and you know the two men won't have a problem going back to rough her up some more, just for fun. You stumble when you hear a gunshot, bracing yourself for pain that never comes. It's just Jeremy messing with you, wasting bullets, whooping with laughter. Matthew comes up fast behind you, his long legs eating up the distance. Your blood rushes in your veins and your heart pounds madly to keep up with the demand. Come on, just a little further. Instinct drives you to get off the road and out of the open where Jeremy can easily shoot you, plunging into the ditch and scrambling up the other side.

"Go ahead, darling. That's the fucking beauty of ghost towns. No one will hear you," Matthew says.

He smells like cigarettes and metal and grease.

"Tommy, huh? Have you been openin' your legs for that brainless animal?" He growls in your ear.

"Tommy will hear," you say, attempting to throw your head back into his nose.

He's smarter than his brother and keeps well out of range. His calloused hand grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back. You moan in pain and discomfort at the vulnerable position, gulping in breaths as your heart flutters in your chest like a wild bird.

A stick pokes painfully into your ribcage.

"Fuck you, asshole." you hiss. "Do you have to force girls because no one will say yes to you?"

"Jeremy likes to talk, but he'll never know what to do with the likes of you," he says, bunching your dress over your back and letting out an appreciative whistle.

Matthew chuckles. "Hey now, you have it all wrong, sugar. This is my guilty pleasure."

He drapes himself over you and you kick your legs at the clinking sound of his belt unbuckling, but other than that you can barely move. He rips your panties off, using his body to keep you still as he wedges himself between your legs. He grunts as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy.

"You're wet," he says. "Oh, it's that time of the month, huh?"

You grit your teeth.

He hums. "Just more lubrication."

He nips your earlobe and you can't help but shiver again. His cock digs against your entrance and he starts to slide into you. You let out a stifled shriek into the dirt.

"Fuck yeah," Matthew groans as he seats his cock deep inside you.

It has been months since you slept with anyone, and the sting of him stretching you out makes you whimper.

He knows better than to try and kiss you, settling for mouthing at your jawline and the back of your neck instead, sucking a bruise onto the spot between your neck and shoulder. You have to turn your head sideways to breathe, and that's when you notice a familiar broad figure standing just a mere few feet away by a tree.

"Come on, cry for me," Matthew groans. "That'll be so fucking hot."

"Tommy!" His name escapes your mouth in a breathless squeak.

You tug your wrists out of Matthew's loose grip and brace them against the ground so you can prop yourself up and get a better look at him.

Why is he just standing there?

Tommy's head is tilted to the side, studying the scene playing out in front of him. Matthew groans and huffs into your hair, his body rippling against you. Eventually, he senses your distraction and looks up. Instead of fear at the sight of the man in the filthy apron, he laughs.

"Thomas Hewitt, long time no see. Getting a good show?" He sneers, fucking into you so deep that you shriek. "Bet you've got no clue how good it feels to sink your cock into a hot cunt, you bastard."

He flips you over so he can paw at your breast through your ripped dress. "Maybe I'll even let you have her when I'm finished."

"Hell, I'm close," he pants. "You're going to take all of my cum, aren't you? Like the good Hewitt whore you are. Ngh--"

With the way he's holding your legs open you have no doubt Tommy is getting an eyeful. You can picture what he's seeing, your body being jangled up and down against the ground, your bouncing tits streaked with dirt and sweat. And below, your pussy is rammed by Matthew's throbbing shaft, blood, and precum squelching lewdly with each thrust. You can hear it yourself. You moan at the feeling of Tommy's heavy gaze on you, his eyes flicking over your form like he's learning something new, putting the puzzle pieces together. Matthew feels your pussy clench and thinks it's for him.

Tommy bends down and picks up a chainsaw from the ground by his feet, yanking on the cord. It comes to life with a roar. Matthew's head jerks up and his jaw drops, hips stilling against you.

"What the fuck?"

"No, Tommy," you croak. "Put that down."

Those are his last words as Tommy steps forward and sweeps the chainsaw through the air with practiced ease. Blood mists all over you as the chainsaw detaches Matthew's arm right above the elbow, making a grating sound as it saws through the bone. Matthew tries to scream and only manages a wheezing sound. The saw sinks into his torso next, in an arc that starts at his ribcage and swoops down to carve into his stomach, grinding and splattering. You shove Matthew away before his unzipped innards land on you. Shiny, stinking coils of shredded intestine splat into the grass, and the rest of Matthew follows landing in a wet, steaming pile.

You scrabble backward. Tommy turns to you with wild eyes filled with bloodlust. He's erect, straining against the front of his pants. His shoulders heave with each ragged breath he takes. The muscles in his arms ripple as he holds the chainsaw like an impatient horse chomping at the bit. You scramble to your feet, cupping a hand against your sore cunt.

He takes a menacing step forward. You've already seen the effortless carnage the spinning serrated blade can do, and you don't want that to happen to you. You spin around and force your legs to carry you, bursting into a run. Tommy lets out a wordless roar that is almost drowned out by the noise of the chainsaw and chases after you. Your skin is hot and sticky with blood and other fluids. Leaves and dry blades of grass stick to your arms and legs as you tear through the trees and into a field of wild wheat. You're sobbing noisily, Matthew's savaged body fresh in your mind.

Tommy crashes after you, drawing closer by the second. Up ahead you see an abandoned building that has been boarded up and locked with heavy chains. A weathered sign on the wall says Lee Bros. Meat Processing Plant. You spot a hole in the chainlink fence and run towards it and wiggle through. The sharp edges cut into your legs but you ignore the pain and press on. You pull yourself through just as Tommy bursts out of the field. The murderous darkness in his eyes scares you just as much as the chainsaw he carries. You get to your feet. Luckily the door is cracked open, the padlock hanging loose and broken from a chain. You run into the building.

The interior is dim, the dusty atmosphere cut through with thin beams of sunlight. The air reeks of iron and meat. There are vats filled with bloody liquid the consistency of thick soup. Animal and human parts drift in there, and the portions that are above the surface of the liquid are clumped with flies and squirming maggots. You gag and back away, searching for a place to hide. The chainsaw has gone quiet. You hear the door squeak open and quickly duck behind some old machinery, curling in a ball, hardly daring to breathe in case he hears you. His boots thump against the ground as he pads around. From the intermittent shuffling sound, he's checking the vats. You'd never in a million years think of hiding in one of them, though. The contents alone would probably cause you to contract some horrible disease.

The thought makes your stomach turn and a small gag escapes you before you can stop it. The footsteps pause. You press your hand over your mouth, your heartbeat so loud in your ears that you can't even make out if he's continuing to walk around. Maybe he spots a piece of your dress or the dim light glinting in your hair because his shadow suddenly falls over you. You leap to your feet.

He grabs you by the throat and slams you against the wall, stunning you. You feel all your bones rattle from the force, and when he releases your throat you slide to the floor. Your face presses against the ground, dirt and grit coating your cheek and lips. You spit the dirt out of your mouth in disgust. Tommy sets the chainsaw down with a clank and presses his grimy hand between your breasts, flattening you to the floor.

"Please--"

You're bloodier than he is, which is quite an accomplishment. It's all Matthew's blood, except between your legs where your uterus continues to shed, unbothered. Tommy's big hands tremble slightly as he yanks off the shirt underneath and you get to see his bare skin. His gaze flicks downward and he pauses almost bashfully, displaying himself for you. His torso is pale compared to the tan of his forearms and neck. There are fewer scars here, and his skin is patchy with dirt and ripe with the scent of sweat. He's thick with muscle and fat, built like a bear, and as strong as one. Hair scatters across his pecs, meeting in a whorl at his belly button and thickening into a trail of leads down.

You flail until he squeezes his hand around your throat, a warning for you to stop struggling. You let yourself go lax and look up at him pleadingly, feeling like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. He rucks your dress up high on your belly and looks at your scratched, bleeding legs. The worst scratch is on the side of your knee, beaded with blood. He hitches your leg up and leans over you. You wince at the feeling of his warm, slippery tongue laving over the wound. He grunts at the taste of your blood and drops your leg, looking at the rest of your body, poking and prodding like you're a prized cow bred for slaughter. He pinches your hip hard enough to leave a bruise then shoves your legs open crudely to get between them, his breathing growing heavier as he studies you closely. His thick finger runs between your folds, gathering blood and cum. He rubs it between his fingers and then wipes it on his apron before shucking it off.

"Thomas!" You shriek, slamming your fist against his shoulder.

He stands to shove his pants down and you swallow hard. The mask remains, but you doubt you'll ever see him take that off around you. When you make a move to sit up he presses his muddy boot down on your thigh. Stay. Your thighs twitch at the sight of his cock, swollen and thick with veins, which has been rock hard ever since he caught Matthew fucking you, It bobs heavily when he falls to his knees and pries your legs open. Your hip pops from the force and you grimace. He falls on you like a hungry animal and you squeal when he yanks your ripped dress out of the way taking your nipple into his mouth and biting.

He pulls away with a pop. Your nipple is hot and swollen but at least it doesn't look like he's broken the skin. He roughly kneads the other breast, shoving your hand away when you try to stop him from squeezing so hard. It hurts, but it also makes your body come alive. Your nerve endings are electrified by the feeling of his body, his hairy thighs pushing into yours and forcing them open to make room for him. He supports his weight with one hand, grabbing your face with the other, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips push into a pout. You're certain he would kiss you if he knew how. Instead, he rubs his calloused fingers over your lips and presses them into your mouth to catch your tongue, tugging on it slightly before he lets go and presses the pads of his fingers to the velvety texture of your tongue.

"Tommy," you whine urgently. "Wait, it's too much!"

His cock, trapped between your bodies, oozes hot precum against your stomach. He pulls his wet fingers out of your mouth and rubs them against his cock, pausing only to spit on his fingers and lubricate his shaft some more before he grips it and angles between your legs, prodding around. He's entranced at how silky your pussy lips feel, rubbing his cockhead in wide passes that tap against your clit now and then. You feel yourself giving in, arching your hips to chase the pressure. The rocking movements you make cause his cock to catch against your entrance and he leans forward and begins to push in. You're not surprised to discover he's much bigger and girthier than Matthew as you shudder at the burning intrusion.

Overwhelmed by the sensations you begin to cry, ragged sobs that burst from your chest. He leans over you, his belly and chest pressing against you as he licks the tears from your cheeks, petting your cheek with the backs of his fingers, almost comfortingly. You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull on it, angry at him and yet growing wetter. Tommy's first few thrusts are clumsy and uncoordinated and he keeps pushing your legs open wider until your hips ache from it. When he finally gets the hang of it he sets a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard you have to clench your teeth to keep them from clicking together. You wail his name but you're impaled on his cock, unable to get away. All you can do is bear with it instead, clinging to him.

He's fascinated by the wet, addicting clasp of your cunt squeezing down on him so tight. He rocks his hips into you, pushing past your resistance and forcefully making room for his cock. He groans when you scratch his arms and chest, close to crying from the deep ache. He isn't listening to you. In a last bid to catch his attention, you reach up and hook your fingers against the mask, trying to yank it off. You briefly feel divoted scars and mottled skin underneath before he drags your hand away, his grip crushing against your wrist. You cry out as he growls at you. It almost sounds like the word no. He draws back only to slide in again, his body working like a well-oiled machine to reach into your depths and unravel you. You're not proud of the sounds you make.

A hint of pleasure lingers somewhere on the edge of the pain but he's overwhelming you, taking far more than you can give, uncaring of your attempts to push him away as he plunges into you again and again, addicted to the feeling. He ruts into you like an animal. You know he's close when his breathing gets even more ragged and his hips punch into yours, becoming sloppy and uncoordinated again. You hear the faintest rumble of a low whimper catching in his throat.

"No--wait, you can't cum inside me. Tommy!"

One last grinding thrust and you feel his hot cum bursting into you, painting your insides, filling you up, and dripping out. He hovers over you for several seconds as he spills into you, breathing hard. A bead of sweat rolls off his forehead and drops onto your cheek. You sniffle, bleeding from all your stinging scratches, leaking between the legs, utterly undone. He finally hauls himself up to his feet and leans heavily against the wall, just observing you. You don't have the energy to get up and you hurt all over, so you simply lie there quietly and let him watch.

There is no remorse in his eyes, just a deep, yawning, tender hunger. As though he's found something he can't get enough of, and he wants to savor it and make it last.

Part 5 - still beating heart (Coming Soon!)

@typicalchaos, @slut4acotar, @lovelymindescape, @dabisnympho and @thetoastghost222 asked to be tagged! I'll add anyone else who asks <3

@runforthehillsbestie

#my writing #the texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt fanfic #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher x reader #x reader #reader insert #slasher #slashers #slasher boyfriend #fem reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writing

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strnilolover · 1 day ago

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⌗ . . . I COULD NEVER HATE YOU

WARNINGS : ANGST. MANIPULATION. HURT NO COMFORT. and more?

you always come back when something’s wrong—after you upped and left right when you were better, not answering anyone.

it was like you only came back for the thrill of it—knowing you could get anything out of him if you gave him those big sad doe eyes. or if you stuck around long enough to whisper sweet words into his ears, knowing he couldn’t resist.

it doesn’t matter how long it’s been—three weeks, three months—your name always shows up on matt’s phone, like you never left. his heart always jumps before his brain can tell him to stop caring about you. before he can remind himself what happened the last time.

and the time before that.

it was always “can i come over?”, “can you send me something for gas?”, “i just need a place to think, i promise i won’t stay long.”

it was never to text asking how he was or how he was doing. it was never to ask if he’d finally found himself someone or if he was sleeping okay at night. you never called.

it was never things he hoped you’d say.

and even though he knows he should say no to you every time—he can’t bring himself to. that’s not who he is. so instead he’ll give chance after chance, telling himself that one day you’ll change and maybe he’ll finally hear the words he wants to hear from you.

but you never change—it’s always the same—no matter how many times it’s happened.

and he always lets you.

matt doesn’t ever ask you questions about things. he doesn’t say, “why didn’t you text me?” or “how many times are you going to keep doing this?” he can’t ever bring himself to. maybe it’s because he cares for you—he does—or maybe it’s because he loves you.

so when you show up—he just hands you a hoodie and asks if you’ve eaten anything that day—every time.

he’ll let you crawl into his bed while he takes the floor.

he’ll give you money and never ask you when you’ll pay him back.

he’ll listen to you cry about other people who never showed up for you, like he isn’t sitting right there.

you never stopped for a moment to notice how tired he looked when you talk about people who aren’t him. never stopped to consider how draining it was for him to keep doing all of this—you never notice how much of him you take.

or maybe you do and it’s just easier to pretend you don’t.

the thing is—you’re not a bad person. you never did bad things—you were always so kind to everyone else around you. everyone portrayed you as an angel who just had a fun side.

you’re not a bad person—you’re just hurting.

and surely matt knew that with how opening and welcoming his arms always are for you, right?

you don’t mean to use him…you just—know that he’s safe. you know that he’ll answer. and you know that he’s not going anywhere, even if you do.

a lot of the time you seem to love him in the way people love blankets when they’re cold oddly enough—only when they’re cold and need something warm.

and then when you’re doing better, you vanish completely. no texting, calling, letters—nada.

you’d start going out again. posting again. and laughing at the things he doesn’t get to see. like you were mocking him—telling him he has to sit there and suffer while you go out and give all of your—his—happiness away to other people who aren’t him.

you don’t ever tell him when you’re leaving—you just up and leave and stop answering all together.

and matt? he never texts twice. he never wants to be the one who’s too much for you—because maybe too much of his love might just push you away for good. so he just watches your stories and double taps your selfies—because he’s still allowed to be proud of you, right?

not like he didn’t help pick you up off the floor two weeks ago. like you didn’t cry into his t-shirt at 2am and tell him, “i don’t know what I’d do without you.”

chris brings it up once to matt—he didn’t want to be too harsh to him about it. but he could see what was happening and didn’t like it. “do you ever think she only calls when she needs something?” he asked.

and matt just shrugs. “so?” but chris knew his brother better than that—could see the way matt’s expression wavered just the slightest when the thought of you using him came up.

so chris urged on. “so… maybe you should stop answering?” matt knew chris was right. that he shouldn’t answer your calls and texts when you needed his help. but every time he thought about it while laying in his bed at night—or even now. he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“she needs me.” matt replied back quietly, his gaze now avoiding his brother completely so he wouldn’t have to see the look on chris’ face. it wasn’t disappointment—he was just worried for matt’s health.

but chris doesn’t argue after that.

because everyone who knows matt—would know he would rather break his own heart than let you sit with yours alone with no one to hold you.

you text him again eventually and he just stares at your name, his thumb hovering over the keyboard, and for a second—just a second—he thinks about ignoring it. just to see what it feels like to not have to bear your weight in his shoulders anymore.

but he doesn’t. of course he doesn’t.

so when his fingers type “hey, are you okay?” in reply to your simple “hey.” he knows you’re not. and of course he still cares even after people have told him to not—his own heart even.

you’ll show up at his door, looking tired and cold. and beautiful to him, somehow.

you’ll smile at him like you didn’t disappear for months on end. like you didn’t take whatever was left of his heart and crush it into a million little pieces. like none of it ever happened.

he’ll step aside to let you inside—because no matter how many times you leave, no matter how much of him you take, and no matter how much it hurts—

he could never hate you.

even if he should and even if part of him wants to. and that part—soon enough it’ll grow stronger and bigger. big enough to finally let his finger click the block button on your contact. big enough to finally end it all.

but for now you’ll stay for a little while.

and you’ll get better.

and then you’ll go.

and matt will wait for the next time you fall apart. because that’s what you do. and that’s what he does.

it’s a never ending cycle—because he could never hate you.

a/n : more angst :)

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bewitched-hours · 2 days ago

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I'M BACK WOTH ANOTHER ELLIOT REQUEST!! I literally cannot get enough of your writing, it's so inspiring and captivating I can't help but kick my feet and giggle. Anyways, how about some Elliot x GN!Reader where Elliot comes home from a stressful day of work and to help him feel better, Reader cuddles him and gives him kisses? (I'm a sucker for physical affection). Please take your time and don'tfeel pressured to write it! (Also a good song recommendation that makes me think of Elliot is Boyfriend by Hot Freaks so give it a listen if you can hehe) - Lume

Lume you are a goddamn genius, I'm in love with this band now- And I'm a sucker for physical affection too(touch starved mf right here) so you best believe I'll be putting my heart into this one!

As requested, reader's pronouns are they/them!

You and Elliot had been living together for almost 4 months now.

You'd met way back when you worked together because you were just trying to get out of your parents' place.

Not that you had a bad relationship with your family but you felt guilty about living with them without at least a job.

It took 5 months for you two to fall in love. But you made sure to wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over before you suggested moving in together.

And it was the best choice Elliot could've made.

You brought peace to his chaos, even when you changed jobs to something that spoke more to your hobbies but paid almost triple with only night shifts. He didn't fault you for jumping at the opportunity.

And now? You were happily playing the 'house spouse' and have a routine of getting home, waking up Elliot for his work and having breakfast with him before he disappears for the day and you get to sleep.

Usually, you had made it a habit to wake up at least an hour before he was set to come home and getting things ready for him to get comfortable after the stress of working at a pizza place.

It was bliss. It was a life you two built together and enjoyed more than anything.

Even your families loved each other and family gatherings would always include both families betting on how long it'd take for either of you to propose. You'd always play into it while Elliot tried to shut you up with a cute and flustered look on him.

And tonight was another night evening.

Elliot came home early for once, almost immediately ranting about 007n7 and c00lkidd while you quickly finished up dinner and quietly rushed to hug him.

That was usually already enough to help him feel better.

You were his peace. His lover. His bliss.

Sometimes he wondered how he got so lucky with you. Little did he know you were dead set on making that last forever.

As you both hugged and kissed each other both gently and passionately, you subtly led him to the kitchen and perhaps you were acting a little too cheery~

"You have a surprise for me, don't you?" He giggled, seeing your cute but shocked face as you knew you were busted.

You hesitated and just told him to eat as you sat down. "It's in the bedroom but I wanted to save it for later because I got a couple days off..." You sheepishly admitted, soon realizing the adoring gaze Elliot gave you. God, it still gave you butterflies to see him look at you so lovingly...

When you were both done, he offered to do the dishes and you took the time to set up the bedroom with a romantic display.

When he walked in, his face was flushed immediately upon seeing you lying in bed and giving him your most un-serious flirtatious look. He almost couldn't stop laughing and it only made you laugh along.

You knew this was a horrible setup usually but for Elliot and you it was perfect.

As dramatically as you could, you rushed to his side and began asking him what was wrong in an over-the-top tone. But soon he began to notice you were calling him your 'husband' and the surprise made it easier to calm down.

That's when you shocked him with a small box and a ring inside.

"Elliot... I know this might be a little soon but I really do mean it when I say I can't see a future without you..." You'd tell him with the softest of voices. "I don't want anything expensive or elaborate. I just want to be able to call you my husband and it being the truth... Will you marry me?"

He was stunned into silence, only to start chuckling which got you confused.

Until... He pulled a ring box of his own out of his pocket.

"I guess we had the same idea... I even took off the next couple of days for this." He'd return your softness and you both quickly slipped the rings on each other's fingers before falling into each other's arms and kissing passionately like there was no tomorrow.

Tonight... You two were more than each other's bliss and peace...

You were each other's everything...

Kicking my feet over my own writing all casually over here-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #elliot forsaken #elliot x reader #fluff #comfort #domestic fluff

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ladsrlife · 12 hours ago

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What are you doing step brother???!!!

Caleb x Reader

Where you start living with your step-brother for uni and the relationship starts to take an interesting turn...

tags: slow burn, angst, taboo, obsessive/yandere caleb 😋

Chapter 1💗 Chapter 2💗 Chapter 3💗 Chapter 4💗 Chapter 5💗Chapter6💗

Also started posting on ao3 :)

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

Chapter 7

You wake up to the weight of another body tangled against yours. For a moment, you forget where you are.

Jessica’s breath is soft against your shoulder, her limbs wrapped around you like you’re a body pillow. You gently pry yourself free, trying not to wake her. She murmurs something in her sleep and shifts, giving you just enough room to escape.

The floor is cold, and the room is quiet. You suppress a sigh as the memories from last night flood into your mind. You stand by the sink and start brushing your teeth ritually, all the while staring back at your two eyes in the mirror, something you can’t fully stare back at these days without feeling guilt.

You step out of the bedroom with a quiet breath.

Ethan’s already at the dining table, red hair mussed and falling into his eyes as he scrolls through his phone, chewing on last night’s leftovers. He looks up when he sees you, offering a small, sleepy smile.

“Hey.”

“Morning.” You grab a banana from the cluttered pile and sit across from him. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “You?”

He scratches the back of his neck, then runs a hand through his hair. His ears are red.

You also realize that it’s the first time you’ve ever been alone with him. You internally swallow a bitter smile at the irony.

“Yeah.” You reply. “Jessica was hugging me like a teddy bear though.”

“She can be a bit overly affectionate sometimes.”

The two of you share a chuckle.

“Did Caleb go running?” you ask as the laugh dies down, unable to suppress your curiosity. The door to the boys’ room is ajar enough to see that no one is inside.

“Yeah. He should be back soon. Knew he ran, but didn’t know he was so dedicated to it.”

“Me too. Apparently he needs to train for pilot school.”

Ethan shakes his head like Caleb belongs to another dimension. “Ever since freshman year, he’s had such a clear goal in mind. Meanwhile, I’m just winging it and barely surviving junior year.”

“You let yourself down too much. I heard from Caleb that you’re an awesome friend and a lot of people love you for it. I think that in itself is amazing.”

You weren’t intending anything with your statement. It was true. Everyone had their own life, there was no right or wrong way to live. Plus, you had always been thankful to Ethan for being such a good friend to Caleb.

But it seemed to have an impact on him, way greater than you anticipated.

You watch his face turn red in an instant, as he struggles to stumble for words.

“Thanks.” He says. “You too. I mean, not you too. I mean-”

While he’s stumbling, the condo door opens and Caleb steps in. He’s in his running clothes - a white tank top and grey shorts. His face is red from the exercise, and sweat hangs on his toned arms and calves.

You freeze, mid-bite, banana slipping from your hand as your eyes trace the flex of his biceps when he runs a hand through his damp, luscious hair.

You awkwardly reach for a tissue to clean the mess, heart hammering in your chest.

As Caleb’s eyes find yours and Ethan’s at the table, his usual upbeat face, elated from the running, falls ever so slightly as he approaches.

“…Why are your faces so red?” he asks, brow raised.

“It’s not.” You say. “It’s the kitchen lighting.”

He doesn’t respond to that. Instead his face is uncharacteristically expressionless as he pulls out a chair next to you and grabs an apple from the pile. All the three of you really do is exchange glances in silence, and the air grows heavier each second. Ethan is the first one to succumb to the silence and break it.

“How was the run?”

“It was great. It’s not everyday I get to run on sand.” Caleb’s expression lightens up as he visibly relaxes in his chair. The heavy atmosphere lifts in an instant. “It looks like they have the net up today. Wanna play volleyball later?”

“Sure. Don’t go whining when I whip your ass.” Ethan says confidently, crossing his arms.

“It was that one time.” Caleb retorts.

“Yeah, the last one time.”

Just as they start to bicker, the girls’ bedroom door opens and Jessica stumbles out, wearing oversized pajamas and rubbing her eyes. She looks as miserably hungover as you’d expect.

“You guys are up early,” she grumbles, plopping into the last empty seat across from Caleb.

“Here comes the devil herself,” Ethan says with a half-smirk. “You better pay for my liver transplant.”

Jessica grins, clearly proud and not an inch guilty.

“How’s your hangover?” you ask.

“Ugh,” she groans, burying her face in her folded arms. “Kill me.”

“Should we go by the café for brunch? I heard carbs are good for hangovers.”

Well, the one who told you is sitting right beside you. But most of your common sense trace back to him anyway.

“Yeah. And some coffee please.” She replies.

Caleb checks his watch. “We need to stop by the rental place for the volleyball anyway,” he says. “How about we split up-”

“How about you and Jessica head to the café first?” you cut in smoothly, voice bright. “Ethan and I can get the volleyball.”

There’s a pause.

Jessica glances at you in surprise, then quickly masks it with a tiny, grateful smile.

Caleb, on the other hand, briefly glances at you, eyes full of question. However, it’s too fleeting for anyone else to notice. But you noticed. And its like his violet eyes pierced an iron rod through your heart, swiftly and precisely. You try your best to ignore it.

“Alright. Let’s get ready then.” Caleb answers with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

You begin to rethink everything the moment you walk into the café after renting the volleyball with Ethan.

Well, it’s because, you see two figures sitting at a table by the window. The warm sunlight illuminating the two figures who are chatting, smiling, laughing and having coffee with toast. To you, their table seems to glow as an insulated island amongst the bustling background - and they seem to be a picture perfect couple - without shame or guilt - something you know deep down that you can never be with Caleb.

The scene etches itself into your mind.

And for the first time in your life you can really, sincerely visualize Caleb’s life without you in the center of it.

It makes you nauseous to the core.

You don’t even realize your phone slipping out of your hand, like a bar of soap.

“Woah. Y/N?” You hear Ethan call out from beside you. “Y/N?”

“…huh?” You turn your head to him.

He bends to pick up your phone and gently hands it back, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Thanks,” you murmur, barely registering his presence.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply faintly.

And then, as if summoned by the pull in your chest, your eyes find Caleb’s, violet and sharp, fixed on you from across the room.

You don't know how long he’s been watching, but Jessica, noticing his shift in attention, turns and sees you too. Just like that, the delicate little bubble around their moment bursts, and you wonder if it had even existed in the first place.

As you approach, Caleb pulls out a chair for you.

“Here,” he says, handing you your usual café drink, like it’s something the two of you had decided on in advance.

You stare down at the cup and quietly thank him. But as your hands close around it, you notice your fingers are trembling. You press both hands to the cup to hide it.

“We were talking about how you’d hide the weirdest things under his bed when you were little and call it a gift.” Jessica tells you, her face slightly elated.

“Do you remember?” Caleb asks, looking at you fondly.

“Of course.” You answer. “You remind me every few years so I don’t forget it.”

“Yeah, can’t let you forget that. Though I could never scold you, you were just too cute.” His face brightens up into a genuine smile.

You turn your mouth upwards to smile back. You don’t know if you’re any successful though.

“I get it.” Ethan chimes in. “If my little sister was half as nice as Y/N, I wouldn’t be so mean to her.”

“Maybe if you were nicer, she’d be nicer to you?” Jessica snaps back.

“You just don’t get it. She’s like an ogre at home.”

While Ethan goes on about his sister, you steal a glance at Caleb.

Caleb is so selfless when it comes to you. He’s always been.

But instead of repaying him with gratitude, you’d been so, so selfish.

You’d acted on your flimsy desires, nudged the boundary, leaned into it, ignited something in him and watched it bloom without ever properly thinking of the consequences.

You should have known better.

Caleb doesn’t deserve to be dragged into your mess. He deserves a life that’s whole and simple and good. Not one where every glance, every touch, carries the weight of things unspoken and forbidden.

And yet, when you saw him sitting there with Jessica, you felt something ugly rise inside you. Possessiveness, envy, a desperate, childish wish to rip that moment away from her and take it for yourself.

But if you really loved him, truly, wouldn’t you would want the opposite?

“Moral of the story: every household needs a big brother Caleb.” Jessica sips her drink and declares.

“Yeah. But sometimes I worry,” you say, putting strength to your voice to hide it from shaking, making it sound deliberately casual as you turn your head away. “He’s way too attentive to me. How is he going to find any girls like this?”

Ethan and Jessica laugh and agree. But through their laughter, you hear a faint scoff escaping Caleb’s lips after a pause, like he can’t believe what he just heard.

“Yeah Caleb, not just you, but how is Y/N gonna find a boyfriend if you hover around her like a drone all the time?” Jessica jokingly jabs.

An awkward silence ensues on the table for barely a second.

Caleb chuckles dryly. “Right.”

He stands. “Excuse me.”

The smile on his face is paper-thin.

You watch him stand up and walk in wide strides to the bathroom.

“…Must be the caffeine.” Ethan says, trying to lighten up the mood.

When Caleb returns, you notice that the hair framing his face is damp.

And for the rest of brunch, he doesn’t look at you once.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The beach is loud with laughter, crashing waves, and the distant cries of seagulls overhead.

The sun seems harsher than yesterday, its heavy rays shining down on you like a spotlight.

You look up to see Caleb chatting with Jessica by the net. You shut your mouth, which had been open to call out his name, more out of habit than anything.

He hasn’t looked at you once since the café. The heat of the beach feels suffocating, and you feel like the sound of crashing waves are coming from within you, rather than from the distance.

You fidget with the sunscreen in your hand. You turn to Ethan who’s unpacking his belongings.

“Ethan, can you help me with this?”

He seems startled at your request, double checking the sunscreen pointed to his direction.

“Sure!” He says, ears tinged pink, taking the sunscreen in his hand.

You turn around and lift your hair. His fingers are hesitant at first, then warm as they glide across your back. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to feel something other than the dull ache in your chest.

“Thanks.” You turn and tell him. “Do you need help too?”

“Yeah, actually.” He smiles sheepishly. “If you don’t mind-”

“I’ll do it for you.” Caleb’s voice cuts in.

You look up to find a pair of violet ones looking down at you. He must’ve walked over while Ethan was helping you out. You catch that Jessica’s still over by the net, on her phone now.

Even though Caleb is addressing Ethan, his stare is fixated on you, with a coldness to them you’ve rarely, if not never seen before. It makes you look away first.

“Oh, yeah sure, thanks.” Ethan says, obliviously.

Frozen in your seat, you watch Caleb put sunscreen on Ethan’s back, and vice versa, while they make light conversation. The way Caleb responds, he doesn’t seem to be in a bad mood, but you know something’s off.

“C’mon, let’s play!” Ethan says as he bolts out of his seat and heads to the net first.

You get up and are about to follow him, when you feel a large hand pressing on your back. It makes you stop in your tracks.

You look up at Caleb, who was walking beside you, like nothing happened.

“You had something here,” Caleb murmurs, brushing something invisible from your skin.

You look up at him. “Oh. Thanks.”

How can the same touch by two people feel so different? It’s like Caleb’s hand has a way of touching your heart at the slightest contact.

You walk beside him in silence toward the net, and you realize that you’re beyond relieved he isn’t ignoring you anymore.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The beach volleyball session turns out to be way more competitive to be considered a ‘friendly match.’

For some reason Caleb is way too eager and serious to win, and he ends up setting the tone.

He spikes, hard, and you end up running to receive it, tumbling into the sand as result. Ethan barely manages to send it over before rushing to your side.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a bit of sand off your arm. You nod, but your attention is already pulled elsewhere.

Across the net, Caleb’s eyes find yours. His gaze is blistering, intense, and scorching hot, like he’s trying to burn through you with nothing but the sheer weight of it.

It makes you upset. You feel like he’s being way harsher than he needs to be. You swallow the wave of emotions threatening to overflow once again, while you steady yourself to receive again.

Jessica ends up scoring the match point, and you watch Caleb and Jessica share a high five and a smile with a sour taste.

It riles you up even more.

As the serves and spikes get more and more powerful, even a crowd gathers to watch the game.

“Are they, like... pro or something?” someone whispers.

“I don’t know,” another voice answers, “but this feels like a Love Island episode. I’m invested.”

The next few plays blur together: your serve, Jessica’s receive, Caleb’s quick pass, your toss, Ethan’s spike, Caleb’s dive. The ball ricochets wildly, and Jessica, moving far too eagerly, lunges to save it-only to catch it square in the face.

“Ah-“

She crumples with a soft groan, clutching her face. A wave of gasps breaks through the spectators. Caleb’s already on his feet, darting toward her with visible concern.

“Jessica, hey - you okay?” He asks, crouching beside her, voice low and careful as he places a gentle hand on her back.

“Yeah-just, ow-“

You and Ethan rush over, just in time to see dark red droplets staining the sand. Caleb swiftly grabs a towel and helps her place it beneath her chin.

“Does your nose hurt when I press?” He asks, to which Jessica nods yes.

“We should go to the infirmary to check if it’s broken.” He says, helping her get up.

His warm tone and mannerisms is so strikingly different from how he’s been with you all day.

“You guys should stay here and watch over our belongings.” He says in your direction, barely looking.

You and Ethan nod.

You watch him support her, with an arm around her shoulder, watching over carefully to see if she’s okay, walk further and further away from you and towards the looming outline of the resort.

You let out a frustrated sigh you didn’t know you were holding.

“Should we go back to the condo first?” Ethan asks, voice quieter now. “It’s about time we started packing, anyway.”

You nod wordlessly, barely pulling your gaze from Caleb’s retreating figure before moving to gather your things from under the beach parasol.

“She’ll be okay,” Ethan says as you walk, both of you carrying bags in hand. “It wasn’t a direct spike. Shouldn’t have been too bad.”

You nod, not knowing, or feeling like saying anything in return.

“…You just looked worried. That’s all.”

A pang of shame washes over you. You know that the reason behind your solemn expression is because of far more selfish thoughts. You should be worried. You really should be. But instead all you can think about, ruminate about, is the way Caleb was attentive to her, wrapping an arm around her, caring about her… that maybe even he’s started developing feelings for her, in just a day… it scares you so much that it’s like nothing else in the world matters anymore.

You didn’t know you were this selfish.

Worry and jealousy sickens you so much that you end up unable to socialize with Ethan after arriving at the condo.

You manage to offer him a half-hearted excuse, and retreat to the girls’ room, trying to ignore his fallen face, and bury yourself in the white bedsheets.

You wish you could rather fall asleep, but even that’s impossible with your head racing, wondering if the two have made it to the infirmary, whether Caleb still has his arms around her, whether he’s looking at her like he does to you… full of warmth and love…

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear Caleb and Jessica return. You hear their muffled voices over the closed bedroom door. By the lightness of it, it seems that Jessica is alright.

You don’t have it in you to greet them with a smile, so you pretend to not notice their return, and continue to lie in bed.

That's when you hear a careful knock at the door.

Though you fail to answer, the door creaks open anyway. You hear the sound of Jessica and Ethan talking in the background - then the door clicks shut behind whoever stepped in, muffling the outside world again.

You don’t look up, your head still deep in the covers.

You hear clothes rustling, and just by the measured, steady footsteps alone, you know it’s Caleb. No, you hope that it’s Caleb, but you don’t want to look up only to have your hopes shattered.

A warm hand brushes your forehead.

“You okay, pips?” A soft, worried voice asks.

It's Caleb.

Warm, loving, gentle Caleb.

Your Caleb.

And just like that, something in you snaps.

You reach up to find his hand, and wrap your fingers around his to lace them tight.

You hear his breath catch just a little, startled.

And in one swift motion, you sit up, sheets sliding off your shoulders, and pull him in for a chaste kiss.

You pull back and stare directly into his violet, startled eyes.

You’ve realized now.

This isn’t some fleeting desire.

Or some half-assed crush.

It’s true, genuine, heart-aching love.

And you’d rather die than not have him.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

This chapter was really hard to write..... I think I still have a long way to go to improve my writing :')

Hope you guys enjoyed this!!!

Will try to update at least once a week :D

Likes and comments are life <3

tagged readers💕: @noxus123 @plzdonutpercieveme @captainstarnoir

#caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x y/n #caleb x you #lads #lads caleb #lads fanfic #love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #xia yizhou #yandere caleb #love and deepspace fanfic

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hungermakesmonsters · 1 day ago

Text

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Nineteen

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut, smut, smut. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : 😅 another long-ass chapter

Master List

Chapter Nineteen

You barely slept.

The closest you got was a couple of hours of dozing before you snapped awake, feeling like you were falling, unable to calm your racing heart.

Fortunately, you were used to surviving on little to no sleep, though it had been weeks since you’d had to. You should have known that the calm wouldn’t last. It never did.

In a change from the norm, you were up before Billy, shuffling around the kitchen and fixing yourself breakfast by the time he appeared. You hadn’t dared to look at the time, not wanting to know how little sleep you’d gotten.

When he appeared just as tired as you, a part of you was glad. You hoped he’d been kept awake thinking about what he’d done.

He flashed you a look of - questioning? concern? - but he didn’t ask. Instead all you got was a grumble that sounded like good morning. You returned the quiet greeting in kind and let your eyes follow him as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

And then, nothing.

No apology, no explanation. He didn’t even ask if you wanted him to order anything for breakfast.

It was like a switch had flipped, like he’d turned off the part of him that claimed to care about you, about your wellbeing. And it hurt. It hurt far more than you cared to admit

You’d always known that this day would come, that things between you would end, but you expected more than this. You at least expected a conversation, a fond farewell. Something. But he gave you nothing. Part of you was desperate to rationalise it; he was tired, hungover. He probably didn’t even realise the pain his silence was causing you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, needing to break the silence, once you’d finished your cereal.

“Fine.”

“Okay, great,” you muttered, not bothering to hide your annoyance as you stood. “For the record, I wasn’t waiting up for you last night, I fell asleep watching a movie.”

His lips parted, a single indistinguishable syllable sounding, but you didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. You didn’t even think to grab your coffee as you turned and retreated to your room.

He was nowhere to be seen when you slipped from your room to use the bathroom, and you didn’t see him again until you were pulling on your jacket by the elevator, thirty minutes earlier than usual.

The sight of you about to leave was enough to drag more than a couple of words from him.

“Where are you going?”

“Work,” you said sharply, jabbing the elevator call button. “I’m taking the subway today.”

“You don’t need to -”

“Yes, I do,” you interrupted. “You clearly need some time alone to get over whatever the fuck is going on with you.”

“Don’t be -”

Thankfully, you didn’t have to hear whatever he was about to call you - stupid, ridiculous, dramatic - the elevator doors opened just in time and you stepped inside. And he just stood there, watching as you left.

As much as you hated the subway, you felt like you could finally breathe again as you walked the two blocks to the station, though your exhaustion and lack of caffeine quickly started to manifest as a headache. Your foul mood had you almost shoving your way out of the subway, no longer content to be jostled and bumped by people who didn’t even know you existed.

You stopped at The Bean Grinder, purchasing a pain au chocolat and a large latte with an extra shot, hoping it’d help you feel better. But, when you didn’t order for Billy, you caught a look from the barista, a subtle lifting of her eyebrows, and knew you’d be the subject of gossip for the rest of the day.

Billy arrived about ten minutes after you, his phone pressed to his ear and sounding angry at whoever he was talking to. Your stomach knotted when he looked at you, though you couldn’t tell if that split-second glance was one of contrition or discomfort. He slipped into his office without a word and you let him go.

Unfortunately, your coffee didn’t help with your headache, but you did your best to get on with work until Billy emerged almost an hour later.

“Can we talk?” He asked softly. “About last night... and this morning. I -”

“You’re supposed to be meeting Mr Castle on the third floor.” You didn’t look up from your laptop, even when he drew an unsteady breath.

“That’s not important right now. I just need you to -”

“The new recruits should already be there waiting for both of you,” you added, knowing that he wouldn’t - couldn’t - blow off orientation in favour of whatever he wanted to say to you. “If you want to talk, you can do it at lunch time.”

Even you weren’t sure what that had come from or if he deserved it, but your clipped tone gave no room for argument, and for all his usual confidence, he was rendered speechless for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

When you looked up he was halfway to the elevator, and you almost wanted to apologise and ask him to stay when you noticed his slumped posture. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. As much as you hated seeing him looking so defeated, you needed him to understand that he couldn’t just run hot and cold with you. You wouldn’t put up with whatever last night had been.

The moment he was gone, you forced yourself to get back to work, trying not to think about the looming lunchtime deadline you’d put on yourself. The more you tried not to think about it, the more you felt like you were ignoring your own upcoming execution. You hoped for a text, a call - anything to cancel it.

But the call you got was not the one you wanted or expected.

The desk phone ran and you answered.

“There’s a Catherine Van Der Koy down here; she’s not on the list, but she says she’s a friend of yours?”

Your heart lodged in your throat as you told Carl to send her up. Panic set in immediately, and you straightened everything you could, trying to make the office look presentable.

Thirty seconds later, you were on your feet and rushing to meet her.

“Catherine,” you greeted, trying to sound airy and nonchalant but, instead, soundly flustered. “What brings you here?”

“I came to invite you and William to lunch,” she said, looking at you in that scrutinising way that you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to.

There was a flash of confusion on her face, but it was gone before you could think to question it.

“Billy’s in a meeting right now, but I can -” you grabbed your phone and started to type a hasty message while Catherine took a seat, “- I’ll let him know you’re here. He should be done soon.”

His reply was instant. Had he been waiting, expecting you to text?

“He’ll be right up.”

Catherine nodded. “Did you and William receive your winnings from the auction?

“We did,” you answered, “- though most of it was for Billy.”

“But he got something for you?” She prompted with a telling smile.

“Oh, yes; he got me a bear,” you said, your cheeks warming at the memory of the gesture.

“Did -”

The ping of the elevator cut her off.

“Catherine,” Billy greeted.

“William.”

His attention fixed on you and, before you could think, he was in front of you, his hand tenderly cupping your cheek as he leaned to kiss you. For a few wonderful seconds, you forgot about everything; the argument, Catherine, and the anxiety causing your chest to tighten.

You thought back to your last kiss, the kiss you weren’t sure had even happened. Had the tender and gentle moment in his bed been nothing more than a dream?

He pulled back and you blinked, noticing the easy smile on his lips. Words from weeks ago echoed in your mind and felt like a knife between your ribs; you make it easy for me to lie.

Still, you managed to force a smile for him as he pulled you into his side with an arm around your waist.

“Catherine would like to take us for lunch,” you said.

“Great,” he said, manoeuvring you towards where your jacket was hung, “I was just about to come get you for lunch.”

Catherine got to her feet as you and Billy pulled your jackets on.

“Excellent,” she said, “my car is waiting downstairs.”

And that was how you ended up sitting across a table from Catherine Van Der Koy in one of New York’s most exclusive Italian restaurants.

Between sitting down and opening your menu, Billy had placed his hand on your lap, the tips of his fingers hanging over the hem of your skirt and lighting pressing into the bare skin of your thigh. You weren’t sure if the display was for Catherine’s benefit or your own.

“Are you happy with your auction winnings, William?” Catherine asked as you helped yourself to some bread.

It was strange that she brought up the auction again, stranger still that the very mention it caused Billy’s hand to curl on your thigh, gripping the hem of your skirt.

“I am,” he answered. “Very happy.”

A silent understanding passed between them, but you were too tired and hungry to worry about whatever mind games Catherine was trying to play, and too distracted by Billy’s grip on your skirt.

However, your silence did not go unnoticed for long.

“She looks tired, William,” Catherine said. “When was the last time you let this poor girl have a day off?”

“I’m fine, really,” you answered before Billy could.

“What you need is a vacation,” Catherine continued; an instruction, not a suggestion. “And that’s what I’ve come to offer you.”

Both you and Billy stared blankly, waiting for her to explain.

“Every year we host a weekend getaway at our home in the Hamptons,” Catherine said. “Nothing too fancy, just a social gathering of family friends and business partners. I’d like for both of you to come.”

“When?” Billy asked.

“Next weekend, Friday to Sunday.”

“I’m needed in Vegas for a few nights for -”

The words that followed were drowned out by a mess of noisy thoughts flooding your head.

A few nights in Vegas? Since when? More importantly, when had he been planning on telling you? Was he expecting you to drop everything to go with him? No. No, you couldn’t go to Vegas, you couldn’t be that far away from Seb.

Or, was he going to Vegas to get away from you?

“- but I’m sure we’ll be able to make it, won’t we?”

The both looked at you expectantly and, since you didn’t want to reveal that you hadn’t been listening, you nodded.

His grip loosened but his hand lingered on your leg, his fingers lightly pressing into your inner thigh. The shift in his hand had heat rising in your cheeks, and you debated pulling away from his touch. But you didn’t. You couldn’t in front of Catherine.

(And, honestly, some part of you wanted to be touched.)

“Excellent,” Catherine said, smiling at you. “You look like you’ll benefit from some time away from the office, and the beach is lovely this time of year.”

“A couple of days off will do us both some good,” Billy said, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

It only occurred to you then that you were smiling, that you’d been smiling since you sat down. Not a genuine smile, not a happy smile, but the same smile you’d spent years hiding behind. Neither of them even seemed to notice.

Billy’s hand finally moved when your food arrived; spaghetti carbonara. At Catherine’s insistence, you both had a glass of wine, which did nothing for your headache, but it was easier than saying no.

They made polite conversation about business and, occasionally Catherine’s attention would turn to you and she’d tell you about her Hampton’s home and how the weekend would allow you to meet the women who made up New York’s elite. And she even admonished Billy for keeping you hidden away for so long.

Before you could defend him and say you hadn’t been hidden away, Billy calmly explained that you preferred smaller, more personal gatherings. He wasn’t wrong, in fact his response showed that he’d come to know you well, but you still wished he’d let you speak for yourself.

You got back to Anvil less than an hour and a half after you’d left, and the moment you stepped into the elevator with Billy, you felt the weight of expectation slowly start to press down on you.

He looked ready to burst by the time you reached the seventh floor, but you stopped him before he could even start.

“You’re going to Las Vegas?” You asked.

“Just for a few nights, Me and Frank are -”

“When exactly were you planning on telling me?”

He stared at you for a moment, blinking.

“I didn’t realise I had to run every little thing by you. We’re not even -”

“I wasn’t talking about us, Billy. I was talking about this,” you waved your hand at the office around you. “First it’s the strange appointments, now you’re disappearing to Vegas. I need to know these things so I can do my job.”

“Your job?” He repeated. “That’s what you want to talk about right now?”

“Yes, because my job is real and it’s all I’ve got, remember?”

He let out a ragged breath, biting back whatever it was he really wanted to say, and took a second to calm down.

“It’s not -” he started, then shook his head. “We’re going tomorrow, and we’ll probably be gone until Wednesday.”

It was a white flag, and you were glad he didn’t want to argue.

You returned to your desk and opened your laptop, ready to get back to work, starting with rearranging his schedule. Billy lingered, looking lost in his own office, but he didn’t speak again until you looked up at him.

“Can we just talk? Please?” He asked. “I don’t like when you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, Billy,” you said. “I’m annoyed.”

“What’s the difference?” He didn’t even try to hide his frustration.

“The difference is that talking isn’t going to help.”

“Then what will?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Maybe a few days apart will do us good...”

When you finished you realised how the words sounded; like a break-up, like you were ending things. But that wasn’t what you wanted.

A flicker of pain crossed his face and your heart started to ache.

“I didn’t mean -” you struggled to find the words, “- I just need you to understand that I’m not some toy you can play with when you feel like it and throw away when you’re bored.”

That was not what you wanted to say.

“Right,” he said, and finally started to move towards his office.

You let him go. You’d only make things worse if you tried to stop him.

He barely said two words on the way home, his icy silence leaving you wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut. Billy didn’t seem angry though. That was what really got to you. He seemed hurt, like something you’d said had wounded him.

It hadn’t been your intention but, the more you thought about it, the more you realised you were right. You needed some space, some time apart. Things between you had become far too complicated and, now, you were hurting each other without meaning to.

The next morning, you woke just in time to watch him disappearing into the elevator, suitcase in hand. He gave you a sad smile just as the doors shut.

And, just like that, you were completely alone.

Billy didn’t call, didn’t text. He didn’t even let you know that they’d arrived safely.

The only person you heard from was Karen;

Hey, so this is going to sound weird but... is everything okay with you and Billy?

You stared at the text for at least ten minutes before replying.

Everything’s fine. Why?

Dread coiled in your stomach, terrified that she was about to tell you something awful.

It’s probably nothing just... the last time Billy dragged Frank to Vegas, it was after his last break up...

Again, you stared at your phone, trying to make sense of the very simple words on the screen. Billy had dragged Frank to Vegas? He’d been there before to get over a break-up? Was that what he was doing now? Getting over you?

You took so long to reply that Karen added;

I’m sure it’s nothing.

You fought the urge to call her, to question her about everything. It would only make thing worse, you decided, so you simply replied;

Everything’s good with us. We’re going to the Hamptons for the weekend when he gets back.

She didn’t respond after that and you were left to worry, tearing yourself apart over every stupid thing you’d said before he’d left.

Without him, the penthouse felt cold and empty, and you’d never felt like more of a guest in his home. You spent hours at Saint Martin’s just to avoid the quiet loneliness, staying every night until the end of visiting hours. And you spent hours in the hell that was the Apple Store, deliberating on iPads before buying one for Seb.

Then, each night, you’d return to the penthouse, sit in front of the TV and pretend like there wasn’t an empty space at the end of the sofa where Billy belonged.

Though loneliness wasn’t the worst of your problems.

Late Sunday night you were wrenched awake by a nightmare that left you sobbing and gasping for breath, and it became a nightly occurrence. You barely slept and, as a result, you had no appetite and didn’t eat. The days quickly blurred and you lost track of them.

By the time Billy came home, you were barely functional.

You agreed to go with Karen to collect them from the airport because it was easier to agree than think of an excuse not to. (You wanted to see him, but you still had no idea what to say to him, how to explain all of your messy emotions to a man who wanted an arrangement not a lover.)

He looked as bad as you felt as he moved past Frank to get to you. Regardless of everything that had passed between you before he’d left, you let him take your face in his hands and kiss you softly. And, while you hated that your first thought was that he was putting on a show for his friends, your arms wrapped around his middle and, when the kiss broke, you held on tight, pressing your face against his chest.

You’d missed holding him and being held.

You were bundled into the back of Karen’s car and Billy surprised you by reaching across and taking your hand in his, holding it on his lap all the way home. It gave you hope that the time apart had done him some good.

His hand found yours again the moment you were dropped outside his building, and he hung on all the way up to the penthouse. But he didn’t speak, didn’t give you any sign that he even wanted to, until you were home.

“Are you ready to talk?” He asked softly.

You weren’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were exhausted and you knew that the words would come out all wrong if you tried.

“Can - can we talk tomorrow?” You asked. “It’s been a long week...”

Protest flickered on his face but the second his eyes caught yours, his expression softened.

“Okay,” he said.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just -”

“It’s fine. You look exhausted, and I’m tired too,” he said, offering you a gentle smile that caused your heart to ache. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

He kissed you softly on the forehead and sent you on your way.

But, tired as you were, you didn’t sleep. It took an hour of tossing and turning for you to drift off and, when you did, you were woken by another nightmare less than two hours later.

You were already up and making coffee by the time Billy emerged for breakfast, his phone in hand, ordering pancakes and waffles for both of you. He looked better and you were glad that one of you had managed to sleep.

He took one look at you and ushered you towards the table, sitting you down and taking over making the coffee.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he placed your coffee down in front of you.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, so you added; “I think Catherine was right. I need a vacation.”

“You can take the day if you need to.”

“We’re already taking tomorrow off, and there’s things I need to get done,” you said, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip of coffee.

Billy sighed but didn’t argue. “Fine, but next week we’re going to have a serious discussion about you taking some time off.”

Breakfast felt normal, both of you avoiding the elephant in the room by making meaningless conversation. He told you about Vegas; the crowds, the weather, the Anvil security teams he was checking up on. And you listened, just glad that he was home.

He didn’t ask to talk and you didn’t offer, both of you knowing that you were still in no fit state.

At Anvil, Billy was in back-to-back meetings most of the day, and you were left to get everything finished before your weekend at the Hamptons. Towards the end of the day, you had everything ready, files alphabetised and sorted ready for Billy to look over on Monday, the last of your work finished.

But, the moment you stepped into his office, everything went wrong. You stumbled and the files slipped from your hands, hundreds of pages spilling out across the floor. Swearing under your breath, you dropped to your knees and started to gather up and reorganise the paperwork, trying to ignore the rough scrape of carpet on your skin.

You didn’t hear the elevator or notice Billy until he was right in front of you. He dropped to a crouch, and your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

Your gaze dropped and you continued to try and tidy the mess, until his fingers slipped beneath your chin and forced you to lift your head again.

“You’re exhausted,” he said.

You didn’t say anything, instead you focused on trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“When was the last time you slept?”

You shrugged, knowing that lying was pointless.

Billy took a slow, measured breath and then stood. “Get up.”

“I need to -”

“I wasn’t asking.”

No, he wasn’t. He was demanding, ordering.

Your mind instantly started to blank and you reached for his offered hand, letting him help you up. Part of you knew that you shouldn’t indulge in this until you’d had a proper conversation about last week with him but...

But you were just so fucking tired, and all you wanted was some comfort.

(You didn’t want to feel like this anymore.)

You allowed yourself to be moved, to be led across his office until you were standing in front of his desk. Then you felt a gentle pressure on your back, urging you to bend over. And you did, without hesitation or question.

His fingers tugged at the zipper of your skirt and you felt it fall to the floor around your ankles.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers ghosted the backs of your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. It was enough of a distraction that you barely noticed his other hand settling between your shoulder blades to hold you in place.

You let him pin you down, let him take control. You didn’t even think about where you were or the myriad reasons it was a bad idea. You wanted it. No, you needed it. You needed something to silence the noise in your head. And, judging from the way Billy was breathing, he needed it to.

“Do you know why I’m going to punish you?” He asked.

Arousal instantly sparked at his words, your body automatically responding to the threat of punishment and his dominant tone.

“No,” you answered softly.

“I’m going to punish you because you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

Oh.

Uncertainty filled you, leaving you conflicted. How many times had he asked you to let him take care of you? How many times had he told you that you were his responsibility? Had that changed? Would you now be expected to go back to looking after yourself?

You closed your eyes and tried to force the thoughts away, your cheek resting against the hard, cool wood.

As the pain of the first spank shot through you and faded just quickly, you gripped the edge of the desk. Tight.

Another spank quickly followed, then another.

It was easy to get lost in it, to surrender and submit, letting all thoughts in your head slowly slip away into the static. You embraced it, craved it. After so long without this - without him - you succumbed to his dominance and allowed yourself to get lost.

Moans started to spill from you with each spank. Arousal pulled between your thighs and a fire sparked to life in your belly. Each strike felt less of a punishment and more like a reward and, by the time he was done, your wet panties were clinging to your skin.

Your heart was racing, breathing uneven. It felt like every nerve in your body had been set alight.

Billy’s hand soothed your aching backside, drawing more moans and whimpers from you. A low sound rumbled through him as he pulled your lace panties aside and easily slid two fingers inside of you.

Another moan, this time wild and loud, escaped you. You didn’t care where you were or the fact that the office door was wide open while you were crudely bent over his desk. You were too far gone to even consider shame or embarrassment. All you cared about was Billy and his finger as they started to move.

He set a slow and deliberate rhythm, silently telling you that he was still in control, and he’d decide how much pleasure, if any, you were allowed. Every breath you took was punctuated with a soft, keening sound, perfectly in time with each drive of his fingers.

Your own fingers ached from your tight grip on the desk, still holding on for dear life.

“I’ve got you,” he cooed. “I’m here. I’ll give you what you need.”

He told you all the things you’d been longing to hear; how good you were, how well you were doing, that you were his and he was going to take care of you now.

Every word, each artful shift of his finger, pushed you deeper and deeper into the blissful haze.

Fingers twisted and bent inside of you, easily finding all the right places to push you closer and closer to the precipice. You tried to arch your back, tried to grind back against his hand, but he held you in place, wanting to be entirely responsible for your pleasure.

Your body clenched around his fingers and, just before you could come, his fingers slowed.

“Not yet,” he said. “You’re not ready yet, little dove.”

He knew you so well. Too well. Your body was an instrument that only he knew how to play and, currently, he was in the middle of composing a symphony with it.

And who were you to try and stop him?

Over and over, driving you to the brink of pleasure, only to slow again at the last second. You lost track of how many times he denied you, and how long you’d spent bent over his desk. Your whole body was a trembling, shaking mess, and every sound that escaped you was desperate and eager.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes when he finally let you come. Violent shudders racked your body and your knuckles ached from gripping the desk. You didn’t even have the strength to lift yourself when his hands pulled away from you.

He let out a thoughtful sound, then you felt your wet panties slipping down your legs. You couldn’t think clearly enough to argue, to tell him that you couldn’t spend the rest of the work day without your panties.

Little did you know that you wouldn’t have to.

Your work day was over.

Billy helped you up, sitting you on the desk as he knelt before you. He pressed a kiss to your thigh as he pocketed your panties, then he pulled up your skirt.

Then, you were on your feet, pulled tight against his side as he led you out of the office, stopping only briefly to grab your jacket and bag, leaving paperwork strewn across the floor.

Before you knew it, you were in his car. Billy sat beside you, in the centre seat, giving you no space, no time to escape from the haze of static in your mind.

His hand sat high on your thigh, fingers dipping beneath your skirt and drawing lazy patterns on your skin, keeping you from crashing back to reality. And, ever so often, his fingers would reach a little higher, brushing against your bare folds and teasing over your swollen clit, but never enough to do more than cause little sparks of arousal.

You were so exhausted you didn’t even consider the drive and whether he could see Billy’s hand. All you could think about was Billy; the warmth of his body against yours and the teasing touch of his fingers.

It wasn’t long before your head lolled to the side and ended up on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you let out a contented sigh, finally feeling alive again after a week of living like a zombie.

He helped you from the car and immediately pulled you to his side again, possessively holding you on the trip up to the penthouse. You let him lead, not thinking twice when he led you into your room and not his.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t care about anything as long as he was touching you.

Your skirt was unzipped and allowed to fall to the floor before he sat you on your bed. Billy knelt before you again, and slowly started to unbutton your blouse. You felt your lips pull into a lazy smile as he pushed the fabric from your shoulders and allowed his fingers to caress your bare skin.

Your bra quickly followed and you shrugged out of it, leaving yourself naked in front of him.

He took a ragged breath and leaned closer, and began to pepper your skin with kisses. He started with your neck, drifting to your collarbone, then to your breasts, worshiping you with every press of his lips. Soft, needy whines started to bubble out of you as his tongue dragged over your breast and his lips captured one of your peaked nipples. Then came a suck and a nip, followed by a dull ache, placing his mark on you.

As he sunk lower, his hand slid up your thighs, holding your legs spread and ready for him to sink between them. The sensation of his tongue parting your folds and greedily running through your arousal was enough to have you falling back onto the bed.

There was no slow teasing, no playful build-up. Instead, he was ravenous, devouring you with lips and tongue, pulling your legs over his shoulder so he could get closer. Your hips bucked and your fingers tangled in his hair.

“Billy!” You gasped, over and over.

You came easily and you came hard. And his tongue continued to work against your trembling flesh until he was certain that the very last thought had left your head and only pleasure remained.

Everything was blurry as he sat you up and dressed you in your pyjamas. You were so exhausted that you didn’t realise you were crying softly. Billy pulled back the covers and placed you in bed before stripping down to his boxers and crawling in behind you. He pulled your back to his chest and held you tight.

You eyes closed and you let out a soft sigh as his hand slipped into your pyjama bottoms and he slowly started to circle your still so-sensitive clit.

“There we go,” he murmured, hot breath caressing your ear, “just relax. I’ve got you.”

Exhausted, you felt like you were melting into the mattress and he easily made you come again.

You muttered his name, so tired that you couldn’t even open your eyes as his fingers slipped inside of you again. They didn’t move and you were glad; you couldn’t come again. You didn’t even think you could stay awake long enough. He just held them inside of you possessively, making you feel safe, like you really were his.

“Billy...” you murmured.

He shushed you softly.

“Just let go,” he said, lulling you to sleep with gentle kisses on your neck. “Go to sleep, my sweet little dove.

My sweet little dove...

Hours later your body contorted in his grip, legs thrashing as you tried to curl in on yourself. Somewhere in the darkness you could hear a voice calling your name, could feel an arm around you, holding you tight through the worst of it.

A loud sob tore from your lips as your eyes finally opened.

It took a few moments to realise where you were and remember who was sleeping behind you.

His arm loosened around your waist as you curled into a ball, burying your face in your hands in a desperate attempt to muffle your sobs. Billy stayed still, his hand pressed lightly against your stomach, not moving, not pulling away.

Minutes passed before you were able to pull yourself together enough to wipe your eyes and sit up, legs dangling out of bed, putting your back to him. You didn’t move, not sure you could stand even if you’d wanted to - you were still too exhausted, too shaken by the nightmare.

Another minute ticked by before you felt the mattress dip behind you as Billy slowly moved to sit next to you. He didn’t wrap his arm around you, didn’t touch you at all save for his thigh brushing against yours.

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?” He asked.

You nodded, and something threatened to break inside of you when you heard his sharp inhale.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Did he really want to know, you wondered. Or did he feel bad because he’d punished you for something out of your control?

“You haven’t been here to tell, Billy.”

The unexpected sharpness in your voice caught even you by surprise. Somehow, you found the strength to move, standing up and walking out before he could think to respond. You moved on autopilot, heading for the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said from somewhere behind you.

For the first time ever, he kept his distance, and you couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

“It’s fine,” you said despondently.

“It’s not fine,” he answered back. “If I’d known, I -”

“I’m not some broken... thing you can fix, Billy.”

“Is that what you think I want to do?”

“I don't know. I don’t know what you want anymore, and -” you took an awkward breath, blinking back fresh tears, “- I don’t think you know either.”

The comment was met by another uncomfortable silence.

“I do know what I -”

“No,” you interrupted, “it’s - it’s not fair. Getting me to open up, to rely on you, only for you to -”

You were cut off by the coffee pot starting to sputter, but it was too late, the damage had been done.

You turned to find his gaze fixed on the wall just to the left of you, his jaw set tight. You hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but he’d made it impossible not to, and you felt awful as a result.

This wasn’t what you wanted; the anger and uncertainty between you. It wasn’t fair, not when this thing between you wasn’t even real, but he hadn’t been fair to you either. He’d made you feel like you weren’t alone, like you finally had someone in your life who was willing to support you, and then he’d pulled away.

“I should...” he glanced towards his bedroom.

“Yeah... we’ve got a long weekend ahead of us...”

The corner of his lips tugged upwards, but there was no real joy on his face. If anything, you assumed he was just glad you weren’t backing out of the weekend with the Van Der Koy’s.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

And, then he was gone.

A/N : 😅 firstly... don't panic. Second, sorry that replies to the last chapter are so late (I'd love to tell you it's because I've been busy doing exciting things but honestly, I started playing The Blue Prince and that games has stolen 90% of my free time this week) though I think all of the comments were just threatening to hurt Billy if he continued to be a dick which I am 100% okay with 🤣. Third, DO NOT PANIC. Trust me you'll love what I have planned for their weekend away. (At least, I hope you will...) Also we will find out eventually why Billy was acting weird (if I didn't already secretly put it in there -winkwink-) But, yeah, hope you like this one!

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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