#this final moment where you knew something would have to break

[planetaryupscaled]

Summertime Sisters

Male Reader x Yuna x Anna

Tags: 9k, smut, creampie, oral, threesome

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

Watching two naked young women splashing joyfully in the moonlit waves was just what I needed to restore my worn-out soul.

They were too far to see in detail from my perch high on the bluff overlooking the beach. Only during the moments when the moon peeked from behind the thin clouds could I make out more of them.

Both had lovely figures: fit, with wide hips and average breasts. Their laughter was an uplifting symphony of delight, though muted by distance and the onshore breeze as they attacked the rolling surf.

By coincidence, I was naked too.

I don’t know why I’d stripped off. After a full day driving to the island, then having to find my campsite in the dark then fumbling around setting up the stupid tent in the car’s headlights, I was pissed off and full of reckless energy.

The midnight breeze was warm, the beach was just on the other side of the hill, and no one was around, so why the hell not? I stripped off, grabbed my stash, and picked my way through the beach grass to a bare spot of sand on the dune bluff. The sand was cool. I sparked up a joint and took in the nearly full moon and the low waves breaking on the beach below.

The two girls showed up minutes later, laughing and talking as they strolled across the sand, their words masked by the wind and surf.

At first, they stood together, halfway between the bluff and the waves, talking quietly. Hidden by the dark and the beach grass, they didn’t notice me watching from the bluff.

One said something and the other exclaimed in protest. They talked more then the first girl threw up her hands, stripped off her sun dress and ran naked to the water’s edge. She beckoned to her friend, then waded deeper and dove under a crashing wave, reappearing waist-deep, wiping water from her eyes, her skin slick in the moonlight.

The other girl stood on the sand with arms wrapped around herself, looking around nervously.

After many minutes of encouragement by her friend in the water, she took a final careful look around, then stripped off her shorts and shirt and joined her friend. She squealed when the cool surf first splashed her. The other girl grabbed her arm and pulled her further into the waves.

I finished my joint and sat admiring the scene of carefree beauty. The pair splashed and shouted, jumping each time a wave rolled past or ducking under as one raced over them. The girls steadied each other as each wave hit or helped the other up when one got swept over.

They seemed to be around my age—early or mid-twenties. I wanted to trot down the hill and join them, to splash naked in the cool surf, but I knew better.

Eventually, the cool water must have got to them. The pair emerged and strode to their clothes, wrapping arms around themselves. With no towels, they struggled pulling their clothes on over wet skin.

They talked a little longer, then hugged. The girl in the shorts and t-shirt went back along the beach the way they had come, leaving the other behind.

The fun was over. I pulled out another joint to fortify me for the trip back to my tent, crouching to shield the lighter from the breeze. When I looked up, the girl in the sundress had walked nearly to the bottom of the bluff, where the path led straight to me.

If I stood to run back to my camp site, she would surely see me in all my naked-ass glory. So, I crouched low, hoping she would stay down on the beach. But she started picking her way up the narrow sandy path directly to where I sat.

Before she got too close, I called out.

“Hey? I don’t want to scare you, but there’s someone up here.”

She froze and looked up. I sat up and waved an arm.

Peering up quizzically, she called, “Is it just you up there?”

“Yup.”

“Were you spying on us?”

“Uh, no. Not on purpose. I was sitting here watching the waves way before you and your friend showed up.”

She nodded. “Is that you smoking that?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. The smell of weed carries like nothing else.

“Yup,” I said. “That’s me.”

“Mind if I take a hit?”

I grinned. “Uh, sure. But...”

Before I could finish, she marched up the path towards me. I could see more of her now: a pretty girl-next-door face, her hair a mess. Modest breasts filled out the top of her dress.

There was no time and nothing for me to cover up with, so I clamped the joint between my lips and covered my crotch with my hands.

She stopped. “What the…? You’re naked? You’ve been watching us and jerking off, haven’t you?”

I explained how I had just arrived after hours of driving and felt like doing something a little wild. After all, it was long past midnight and no one else was around, at least until her and her friend showed up. And lovely as they were, I was too tired and too stoned to jerk off.

Approaching, she eyed me critically, then nodded to herself. Tucking her dress under her ass, she sat cross-legged on the sandy path, just out of reach.

She leaned over and plucked the joint from my lips.

“I can relate,” she said. “My sister and I have been doing nothing but work. We were too tired to sleep, and it was too hot. We came here to let out some steam.”

She took a long drag, then she threw her head back to exhale.

I said, “That was your sister with you? You work here?”

She handed back the joint. “We are waitress over at the lobster suppers. Did it last summer, too. Pays for almost the whole year of college in the fall.”

I told her I’d heard tourists came from everywhere for the beaches, the summer theater, and the lobster suppers. Busloads visited them all summer. I didn’t know they were so profitable.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “We all get a cut from the tour bus companies. And rich tourists bring their entire families or treat their business buddies. We smile, show some cleavage and if you ignore the occasional pat on the ass, most tip really well.”

“Never ate lobster,” I said. “So where do you stay? Gotta be expensive in a resort town like this.”

“We rent a site for the season here in the campground. Our dad leaves our pop-up trailer here at the start of summer.”

“That’s smart,” I said, taking back the joint. “I worked construction after high school. Pay was okay, but it’s hard work.”

She looked me up and down. “Is that why you’re so fit? Or do you work out?”

I laughed. “My family run a farm. Guess how I spent my summers growing up? Both are plenty good for staying in shape. Also, hard work.”

“Yeah? Serving tourists is no picnic either,” she said. “And this time of year, it’s non-stop.”

She looked out over the ocean and breathed in the salt air.

“Mmm. It’s pretty when the sea is like this.”

“It’s incredible,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen the ocean.”

“Seriously?”

“I grew up where we’ve got mountains, some big rivers, a few big lakes, but nothing like this.”

“So, why’d you come here?”

“One of my friends grew up here. He never stops going on about it. I really needed a change of scenery, so I said fuck it, borrowed some camping gear and drove twelve hours to get here.”

“We only have a four-hour drive,” she said. “My family came here every summer when we were growing up. Lots of good memories. But it’s different when you work here. It’s just work, sleep eat, and repeat. This is only the second time this summer we got to go for a swim.”

“Naked?”

She grinned. “Was that a treat for you? I’ll skinny-dip any chance I get. It feels sooo good. And no one seemed to be around, so why the hell not?”

“It looked like your sister took some convincing.”

“Yeah. She’s the cautious one. Always a little shy. Speaking of which...”

She reached for the joint, watching with amusement as I handed it to her while keeping one hand covering my crotch.

“...it looks like you’re a little shy too.”

“Uh, well, it seemed polite to cover up. Didn’t want to seem like any more of a creep, you know? I’ve never been caught naked before.”

“No?” she laughed. “I have. And I’ve seen a dick before, too. So, relax. You saw us, after all.”

“Yeah, from way up here. Not up close.”

Taking a long drag of the joint, she gave me an expectant look. Reluctantly, I moved my hand away.

She looked briefly and gave an appreciative nod. “There. Isn’t that better?”

“Uh, guess so.”

Grinning, she sucked back the last of the joint.

“That was good stuff. Where did you buy it?”

“I brought it with me.”

She wagged a finger. “Ooo, naughty. You know, it’s only legal here if you buy it here from the official stores.”

I smiled. “Gonna turn me in? Report me as a nudist drug smuggling peeping tom?”

She laughed. “Not if you share. My stash ran out two weeks ago. The closest store is way back in city and we don’t have a car.”

“Well, I do,” I said. “I plan to drive into the city in a day or two. I’ll bring you back something good.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” she said. She got to her feet, brushing off her dress. “Do that and maybe I’ll find some way to thank you.”

She grinned, looking me up and down again, then started picking her way down the path to the beach.

Scrambling to stand, I shouted, “Hey, wait! What’s your name? Where do I find you?”

She called over her shoulder. “Yuna. Meet me here tomorrow. Midnight.”

Without looking back, she waved an arm and started walking down the beach.

I yelled, “I’m Andy,” but I couldn’t tell if she heard or not.

—

That night I couldn’t stop thinking of the girl, Yuna. How open she had been, sharing a joint with a complete stranger, especially one she’d caught naked.

In the morning I explored the resort town, though calling it a town was a bit much: it was just a long strip of road packed with attractions, motels, tourist shops, and restaurants.

Everything was family friendly without a single bar or nightclub. All of it was sandwiched between rolling farmland on one side and the endless ocean on the other.

The beach was almost as endless. White sand stretched as far as you could see. Walking on the sand was exhausting, so I strolled barefoot on the damp packed sand by the water. Tiny birds pecked the sand as each wave receded, then scurried away each time one came in.

Bikini-clad women passed, and throngs of families huddled under beach umbrellas and built sandcastles. Tiny white fishing boats puttered around on the wide ocean.

The surf was mild, so later I went for a swim and discovered salt water tastes terrible and jellyfish stings hurt like hell.

Far down the road, I found the famous lobster suppers, the parking lot crammed with tour buses, motorhomes, and family SUVs. Curious, I stepped inside.

It reminded me of the big steak houses back home: one huge dining hall partitioned in sections of individual tables by low walls. But instead of decor being junk, everywhere was garish maritime kitsch: lobster traps, ships wheels, fishing nets, model boats and red plastic lobsters.

A group of sweaty older men barged past, crowding out the door. The last guy turned to snarl something foul at the cute but exasperated girl behind the reservation counter and gave her the finger.

With a sympathetic look, I asked, “Was it something you said?”

“Only that we couldn’t change their reservation for two to a reservation for seven buddies at the last minute. Apparently, that makes me worse than an ugly bitch.”

I laughed. “You look all right to me.”

She smiled and did a little curtsy, casting me a flirty look. “Why, thank you. So do you. Do you have a reservation?”

“Oh, I just came in to look.”

“Well,” she said sweetly, “we happen to have a table just open up. Want it?”

“I dunno. I’ve never had lobster. What if I don’t like it?

“Not a problem. You can have steak. Or scallops. Or lobster and either one on the side.”

They sat me at the far end of the hall, by picture windows overlooking fishing boats tied to the wharf. The paper placemats had printed instructions on how to open and eat a lobster. It seemed like a lot of effort just to eat a big sea insect. I opted for pre-shelled lobster with a small steak on the side.

I ate while scanning the room for Yuna. Then I spied her far on the other side, looking harried, being pulled in all directions at once. I waved, trying to catch her eye, but the place was hopping, and the servers were scrambling to cater to the crowd.

One time she saw me waving, but there was a crash as a table with restless kids knocked a plate of food to the floor. She scrambled to deal with the mess.

When I finished, I couldn’t see her. I wanted to hang around, but the place was so noisy and busy I needed to leave.

—

At midnight, I sat on the bluff watching the ocean, this time dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

By twelve I was about to give up, then nearly jumped out of my skin when a hand touched my shoulder from behind.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yuna said. She wore a tighter-fitting sundress this time. She sat close on the sand.

“Anna—that’s my sister—didn’t want me to come. She freaked out when I told her about last night. She’s sure you’re a serial killer or a drug fiend.”

I lit up the joint I’d been holding on to and took a drag.

“Maybe I’m both,” I said, handing it to her.

Yuna chuckled. “Nah. I’m a pretty good judge of people.”

“I went to the lobster supper for dinner,” I said.

“Yeah? You were lucky to get a table. I didn’t see you.”

“I saw you. But you were being pulled six directions at once. Is the place always that busy?”

She nodded. “Always. Told you it was no picnic. Wait... who was the host? The greeter? Was it a tiny girl?”

“Yep.”

“Did she flirt?”

“A little.”

Yuna made a face. “That was Yeojin. The little slut. She hits on everyone. Anyway, next time, throw a bun at me or something. I’ll comp you a free bowl of chowder. Did you like the lobster?”

“Not a lot. The steak was better.”

“You know we sell almost as much steak as lobster?”

“Well, cows are tastier. And a damn sight prettier.”

Yuna grinned. “There’s a joke: ‘The first person to ever eat a lobster must have been pretty damn hungry.’”

I laughed. “So, which do you like?”

“Neither. I don’t eat anything that has a face, pretty or ugly.”

“Wow,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone that. Vegetarians aren’t too welcome here. So, I guess that makes you a vegetarian pot smoking nudist.”

She laughed and shoved her shoulder against mine.

“You bet,” she said. “And proud of it. Want to know what I’m studying at college?”

“Ecology,” I guessed.

“Close. Environmental science.”

“Great. So, you’re a vegetarian pot smoking nudist tree hugger.”

We laughed, watching the ocean and sharing the joint. When it was done, Yuna stood and stretched.

“Time for a swim,” she said.

“You mean...”

She pulled me to my feet. “Yup. Get your clothes off.”

We ran down to the water’s edge, stripped, and waded into the nippy water until we were waist deep.

The moon was bright enough to get a look at her. Her breasts were pleasant handfuls, beautifully shaped, with tiny nipples erect in the breeze. She had wide hips, giving her a bottom-heavy look.

Yuna was playful, splashing and trying to dunk me under. She was beautiful, smiling and splashing waist deep, naked in the moonlight. She swept my feet out from under me, and I went under. When I surfaced, wiping the stinging salt water from my eyes, Yuna stood just out of reach, laughing and teasing.

I caught her, lifted her over my head as she wriggled and squealed, then threw her into an approaching wave. I got concerned when she didn’t surface immediately. I yelled with fright when something grabbed both my ankles under the water and yanked me off balance. Yuna, again.

Soon we were tired and cold. We ran back to our clothes. It was impossible to pull them on over our wet skin, so we bundled them up and found a driftwood log to sit on near the base of the sand dune bluff.

The warm ocean breeze dried us quickly, but Yuna made no move to get dressed. Neither did I. We sat side-by-side watching the waves and stars.

A welcome sense of peace settled over me. Back home, we only had oceans of grass. Or corn. Or wheat. Seeing all that water was strange, but somehow comforting.

Yuna nudged me. “So what’s your story? What did drive so far to escape?”

“Just needed a change, that’s all. The factory I worked at shut down. Then my girlfriend left me for someone else.”

“Ah, there we go—the truth! Were you together long?”

“Two years.”

“Ouch. Let me guess—the guy she left you for doesn’t deserve her, right?”

I sighed. “No. He does. He’s my friend—Was my friend.”

“Well, that’s shitty.” She chuckled then laughed.

I turned to Yuna and smiled. She met my gaze and smiled back.

“You know,” she said, “Too bad you didn’t like the lobster. They say it tastes like pussy.”

She grinned like a kid who just told their first dirty joke.

“Oh, do they?” I said. “Don’t see how. Every pussy tastes different.”

“An expert, are you?”

“Nah. I’ve never had any complaints. Been a while, though.”

Yuna hesitated, scanning me, then leaned forward to meet my lips.

Her lips were sweet and as soft as the breast she guided my hand to. We kissed, hands roaming over each other as the ocean breeze caressed us both.

When we finally separated, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Yuna picked up her sun dress, shook it and spread it out on the sand behind the log. She stood, then lay back on it, inviting me to join her.

“We could go back to my tent, you know.”

She just shook her head.

We kissed and caressed each other, our need growing. I had never met anyone like her, and never before been so comfortable with someone so quickly.

She sighed happily and held me to her when I slid lower to take a breast into my mouth. I massaged and teased her other breast, then caressed her tummy, her thighs, then finally touched her pussy.

Yuna pushed up her hips to meet my fingertips and widened her legs. She was already slick. With the pads of my fingers, I teased all around her mound and delicate lips, briefly brushing the hood of her clit then avoiding contact.

She stroked my cock and spread the leaking precum over the sensitive head.

Her eyes were wild with need as she urged me onto her, guiding my dick towards her opening.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“Not just yet. I wanna check something.”

Yuna giggled when I escaped her grasp and slid lower, planting kisses along the way: between her breasts, over her tummy, then to just above her pussy. Her skin tasted of ocean salt.

Moving lower still, I parted her legs. Her clit was peaking from under its hood, so I gave it a tiny lick of my tongue.

“Oooo,” Yuna moaned, and spread her legs wider.

Settling in, I began exploring every part of her with fingers, lips and tongue while Yuna pushed her hips to meet my face, gasping and groaning as I caressed and rubbed every part of her tender folds.

Carefully, I introduced first one, then two digit into her warm, slick tunnel while teasing around her clit. Yuna cried out and bucked, grabbing my head, trying to force my face into her.

I held on as she writhed, playing, rubbing and teasing, building her excitement.

Never had I been with someone so animated and was thankful for the darkness and sound of the surf masking her cries and groans.

When it seemed right, I took her tiny nub between my lips and suckled gently while twisting and probing my fingers inside.

Yuna mashed my face into her, then came with a gurgling groan.

I lifted up to watch, still massaging her gently. She was beyond beautiful: her eyes were screwed shut, back arched, head thrown back, one hand gripping my head, the other flung out to claw and grasp the sand, her skin glowing under the moon.

Before Yuna completely recovered, I slid up, careful to get any sand off my dick, then nudged the tip at her entrance. Her pussy seemed to be pulling me inside.

Still panting from orgasm, Yuna grabbed my hips and urged me into her.

I pushed and retreated, pushed and retreated, inching deeper each time. Yuna’s mouth was open, and her eyes were locked with mine as we joined. Finally, when I was buried fully within her, she locked her legs around me and pulled me into a kiss.

It wasn’t one of those frantic first-time fucks. We started into a sensuous, slow summertime mating, neither of us in any hurry for it to end.

The warmth of Yuna’s body beneath me and the heat of her snug clasping passage contrasted with the cool night air. Each time I entered her, she sighed and moaned and met each thrust, angling her hips seeking the best angle, the deepest penetration.

Soon I was losing control and from Yuna’s increasing energy, it seemed she was getting close too. She ground against me each time I bottomed out, clinging with arms and legs as I took her.

Suddenly, she gasped, and her pussy began rhythmically clutching at me. I pushed into her once more as deep as possible and tumbled over the edge.

It seemed to last forever: Yuna locked onto me, riding out another orgasm as I pulsed inside her, filling her eager body with jet after jet of cum.

Finally, all strength left me, and I collapsed, sliding to one side so as not to crush her. Yuna hugged me to her as I recovered.

She was smiling when I opened my eyes.

“Someone should write a song about that,” she said, stroking my head.

“I don’t think any song could capture it. That was incredible. You’re incredible. And you taste way better than lobster.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks. I try to maintain a crustacean-free flavor down there.”

I laughed.

She kissed me. “You can taste me any time you want. Don’t even have to ask. No one’s ever made me cum like that.”

We lay beside each other, gently caressing, until Yuna said, “I want to do it again. But my shift starts at two and I know my sister is still awake worrying about me.”

We made plans to meet the next day, but earlier. We dressed, then she walked back along the beach. I went back to my tent, drained, but happier than I’d been in a long time.

—

The camp sites like mine next to the beach were on open ground. With the ocean breeze blocked by the rising lip of the sand dune bluff, my tent became unbearably hot by the time I woke around nine.

Yuna was all I could think about. I didn’t want to wait until that evening to see her again, so after a quick breakfast, I grabbed the campground map and set out on foot to find her trailer.

All the other campsites were sheltered in among the pine forest far from the beach. I walked the looping dirt roads past sites with everything from pup tents to bus-sized motorhomes. The sites were close, but separated by alders or pines, each with a regulation picnic table and firepit.

Pop-up tent trailers were everywhere, most with small kids playing or at least a car parked in front.

Finally, I spotted an older tent trailer with no car. Judging from the pine needles accumulated on the roof and how deep the wheels were sunk in the soil, it looked like it had been parked for months.

Cautiously, I crept up to see if anyone was home.

The inside flap of the screen window beside the door was half-unzipped. I stood on the step and stretched up to peer inside. On one of the fold-out bunk ends, Yuna was sleeping on her side, facing me. She was naked except for a light sheet pulled over her rump. No one else was inside.

She looked angelic. Images of our midnight mating on the beach came back, getting me aroused. There was time for a quicky before she had to leave for work. And she did say I could taste her anytime.

I hesitated. Should I surprise her? She was bold and outgoing, so I figured she’d like it. Quietly, I opened the door and padded inside. Though shaded by trees, the trailer was already roasting inside. A light sheen of sweat coated Yuna’s skin.

Shedding my clothes, I slid onto the bunk beside her and ran a hand down the soft skin of her back.

Her eyes blinked open, then widened in surprise. When she let out a yelp, I put my hand over her mouth.

“Shh,” I said. “You’ll scare the neighbours.”

Yuna’s eyes darted from me to around the trailer.

“It’s okay. Your sister isn’t here. Surprised I found you?”

When I uncovered her mouth, she said, “A-Andy?”

“Shh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came to take you up on your offer.”

Pushing her back, I quickly slid down between her legs. Her pussy looked even lovelier in the dappled shade of the tent trailer than it had in the moonlight.

She fumbled, trying to push my head away. “Wait! I’m not... you can’t... oh, fuuuck!”

I dove the flat of my tongue between her folds, lapping, savouring her taste while skirting her clit with my thumb. Her hips lifted instinctively, pushing into me.

“Ohgod…” Yuna breathed, her head falling back on the bunk. “Please... oh, please just...”

With one hand I reached to massage a boob and tease the hardening nipple while worshiping her pussy with lips, tongue, and my other hand.

Yuna responded instantly, gasping and moaning, though quieter than the previous night. Campers on adjacent sites would hear us if we weren’t careful.

I never thought my oral skills were anything great, but Yuna’s responses made me feel like a champion. She panted, working her arms and legs against the sheets, twisting her hips, then lay still, giving into the sensations, making sweet little mewling sounds interspersed with sighs and groans.

We didn’t have much time, so I worked her harder than before, sliding fingers into her, curling them inside, fucking them in and out while lapping and pressing all around her mons. I followed by attacking her sensitive little clit then purposely avoiding it.

Like before, Yuna grabbed my head with one hand, trying to force my face into her while clawing and flailing blindly with the other.

Soon, she seemed to be close, so I introduced a third finger into her tight pussy then sucked and pressed directly on her clit.

“Oh my gaahh!” Yuna cried, lifting her hips off the bunk. Then she flopped back boneless while inside her warm passage contracted, flooding generous wetness over my fingers.

Stroking her gently, I lifted up to watch the spectacle of her orgasm.

The trailer door opened. Yuna stepped inside. What?

It was like having a stroke, or an out-of-body experience. Yuna at the door had a towel draped around her neck, a toiletry bag in her hand. Her hair was damp.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes flared. “What the fuck are you doing?”

She ran forward, wrapped an arm around my neck and yanked me off the bunk onto the trailer floor. Before I could react, she had my arm twisted painfully behind me, pinning me to the floor.

“Anna!” she screamed, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

The girl on the bunk sat up, dishevelled and fazed. She had trouble finding words.

“It’s... it’s okay, Yuna. I’m okay. It’s my fault. I... he...”

She petered off in confusion and flailing hands then fell back onto the bunk and groaned.

—

“How the hell could I know you’re twins? You never said!”

The three of us were sitting at the picnic table outside, the sisters sitting opposite me. Anna and I had dressed. She looked as embarrassed and confused as me.

“I thought I did. But even if I missed that detail, it doesn’t give you the right to walk into our trailer and stick your face in a girl’s cunt.”

Anna touched Yuna’s hand. “No, it’s my fault. I’m the one who didn’t stop him.”

“You were too shocked.”

Anna studied the table and shrugged. “Yes. True. I was shocked at first. Then I realized who he was. Who he had to be. And after what you said about what you guys did last night and how great it was, I...”

Yuna said, “You just let him do it? A complete stranger? What the fuck, Anna?”

Anna slumped further. “No. Not exactly. I tried to say something. Then... oh, it was so good. And it was so, so, bad. You know... your boyfriend doing that to me like he did to you. Thinking I was you. Fuck. I don’t know, Yuna.”

Yuna studied her sister. I didn’t dare say a word. I just wanted to crawl away and die.

“I can’t believe you’re not even angry,” Yuna said to Anna then she glared at me.

“Yuna,” I said, “Trust me. I’ve never, ever done anything without full consent. We get too much of that shit back home. My first girlfriend, she... well, never mind. If for a second I didn’t think it was you...”

Yuna shot me a withering look, but Anna flashed a shy smile then leaned to Yuna’s ear.

“He made me cum,” she whispered, a little too loudly.

“What?” Yuna pulled back, looking at her sister. “No way.”

“I did,” Anna said. “Hard. Oh my god, Yuna, it was good. I’m still like jelly inside.”

—

Yuna ordered me off their campsite, and I slunk back to my tent. The morning had gone from a surprise I thought Yuna would love to a disaster that might land me in jail.

I decided to drive to the city, an hour away. Even from the highway the island was quaint rolling hills covered by farmland and off near the horizon, the endless ocean loomed.

The city was known for a play that had been running for twenty years. It was sold out, so I wandered around, bought groceries and ice for the cooler, some drinks, firewood and then visited the overpriced official cannabis store.

—

It was dusk when I pulled into my camp site. One of the girls was waiting at my picnic table.

“Yuna?” I said.

“Oh, so I guess you can tell us apart.”

Sitting across from her, I slid the canister of weed to her.

“Like I promised,” I said. “The store said it was the best they had.”

She looked inside. “Holy shit. This is a lot. Feeling guilty about something?”

“Of course I’m feeling guilty. I ate out your sister thinking it was you.”

“You also made her cum.”

“Well, good. Doesn’t change anything.”

“She doesn’t cum.”

I blinked. “Sure she does. She did. Or she’s one hell of an actress.”

Yuna shook her head. “She’s been able to make herself cum maybe once. And never, ever with someone else.”

“Uh...”

“Do you know any twins?”

I thought about it. “No. At least not what do they call it... identical twins, like you.”

“Well, we have a bond, you know? Way closer than most sisters. Anna is my best friend, my confidant. My partner in crime. I go to her when I need anything, and she comes to me.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve heard that. So—”

Yuna held up a hand. “So, we look the same, but we’re not the same. She’s smarter, for one. And she’s always been shy, cautious, overly polite. I’ve always been outgoing, jumping into things without looking. And I always get the guys. She doesn’t.”

“Oookay. Are you telling me Anna’s a virgin?”

Yuna sat back. “Oh, she’s had boyfriends. The sweetest guys you can imagine. And she enjoys sex. Lots. But she doesn’t cum. Not everyone does, you know. Even by herself it just never happens. Lord knows we’ve tried. She says it happened once, but I think it was a mini-cum, or she’s kidding herself. So, this morning when you... when she came? It’s kind of a big deal for us.”

“I didn’t do anything special. I just—”

“Whatever you did, it worked. And like she said, that you thought Anna was me and the surprise and naughtiness of it all helped put her over the top.”

I digested that for a moment.

“So, you’re not going to press charges?”

Yuna laughed. “We want to see if you can do it again. Tonight.”

I pondered that for a long while.

“No,” I said.

Yuna blinked then leaned forward.

“Didn’t you hear me? Come back to our trailer. I’ll go for a walk or whatever. Do your magic with Anna again and make her cum.” She grinned. “Then after, if you wouldn’t mind, fuck my brains out, okay?”

“No. It’s not okay. Yuna, I loved being with you last night. Because I like you. A lot. You’re like no one I’ve ever known. And we’ve really hit it off, haven’t we?”

“Oh, yeah. So—”

“So, you said it yourself... you and Anna look the same, but you’re not the same. Anna’s your sister and she seems really sweet, but I don’t know her. I’m not some... some... orgasm vending machine. Some guys will fuck anyone any chance they get, but I don’t.”

Yuna stared in surprise.

“Would... would you do it as a favor for me? Anna really likes you. She’s so excited you made her cum.”

“She doesn’t know me, except maybe for what you’ve told her. I’d never ask a woman to do anything sexual as a favor. You think it’s okay to ask something like that from me?”

Yuna pursed her lips and sighed. She was quiet for a long while.

“Okay,” she said in a falling tone. “I get what you’re saying. Sorry. We thought you’d want to. We’re just really excited about what happened, that maybe a few more times would... help her. Break her out of her shell. So maybe she could cum as easily as I do.”

Yuna stood, taking a breath and forcing a smile.

“You know what? Forget it. You’re right. Stupid idea. I guess this fucks thing up between us now.”

It hurt to see her troubled expression. I stood and put my arms around her.

“It doesn’t change how special you are, Yuna. It doesn’t change me wanting to be with you.”

She smiled up at me.

“So... have you eaten yet?” she said. “I didn’t eat dinner.”

“Help me get the stuff out of the car. We can start a fire and grill something.”

“I’m vegetarian, remember?”

Yuna laughed when I showed her the groceries: veggie cutlets, veggie burgers, fresh corn, and certified organic apple pie.

“Turning over a new leaf?” she said.

“Thought I’d give it a try. I know people can’t keep on eating cows—or lobsters—forever. My family might disown me if they ever found out I bought this, though.”

—

“I never knew you could cook corn on a campfire. We always boil it.”

Yuna was finishing her second cob. I pulled out my last piece and unwrapped the foil.

“Back home there’s corn far as the eye can see. We have ten billion ways to cook it, pop it, turn it into fuel, turn it into ham...”

“What? Into ham?”

“Pig feed.”

She made a face. “Poor little oinkers. They’re smarter than dogs, you know.”

“Well, when it comes to escaping their pen, they sure are.”

Yuna looked at my tent, one of those nylon dome things from a big box store. Despite staking and tying it down, it wobbled precariously in the ocean breeze.

“So glad we have a tent trailer,” she said. “I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“It’s not so bad. I got one of those queen-sized air beds. Almost as high as a real bed. But then I didn’t bring a pump so had to blow the damn thing up with my mouth. Took over an hour and I nearly passed out.”

Yuna laughed and was about to say something when we noticed someone standing just at the edge of the firelight: Anna, twirling a finger in her hair, looking uncertain.

Yuna went to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You were supposed to be back by now.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Anna. But you knew I was here.”

The sisters exchanged whispered words for a long while, then Yuna took Anna’s hand and pulled her closer to the fire. Anna stood stiff and awkward.

“Hi,” I said. “What can I get you? Roasted corn on the cob? Veggie burger? Beer?”

“I ate. Look, I don’t want to interrupt.”

Yuna nudged her. Anna scowled at her sister then said, “Well, maybe a beer.”

The temperature had dropped the moment the sun set. We sat clustered around the fire, watching the flames.

The silence dragged on. I cleared my throat and said, “Anna, I owe you a huge apology. I’m so sorry for this morning.”

She looked straight at me. “I’m not. Not at all. Yuna told me you don’t want to... you know... do it again. And you’re right. It was the height of hubris to assume you’d be okay with that, so I’m sorry for that.”

“Uh, hubris?”

“You know. Excessive pride. Arrogance.”

“Hmm. Yuna said you were the smart one.”

“And she’s right.” She glanced at her sister and smirked.

Yuna stuck out her tongue.

“But,” Anna continued, “if you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting with open legs.”

“Holy sh… Anna!” Yuna gasped.

I chuckled. “She also said you were the shy one.”

Anna twirled another finger in her hair. “Well, no point being shy with a guy who’s had his tongue up my cunt.”

Yuna sputtered, trying to form words.

I laughed. “It was my fingers. My tongue was busy elsewhere.”

“Well, whatever you were doing down there, it was pure magic.”

She wet her lips, fixing me with a hungry stare.

“Oookay,” I said, standing, “I think I’m ready for that apple pie now. Who wants some?”

—

Yuna wanted to try the weed, so we rolled a few joints of the stuff.

After a couple of hits, Yuna said, “They call this a monster? More like a mouse.”

She offered it to Anna. She stared as if it was sprayed with ebola.

Yuna assured her it was from the cannabis store and unadulterated. Anna took a drag.

We only had the picnic table to sit on, so we dragged it close to the fire. We sat on the bench, backs to the tabletop, me sandwiched between the sisters.

Chatting and sharing a joint, we warmed ourselves as the night air cooled. Anna was quiet, letting her sister carry the conversation, then she slowly relaxed.

When I asked about college, Anna said she was entering third year of a data science degree. She explained what that was, but it all seemed very abstract.

Both sisters had endless stories of working at the restaurant. Yuna had me laughing with tales of rude and entitled customers, incidents of abrupt projectile vomiting, and a five-person fistfight that ended with wiping out the salad bar.

“It’s not all bad,” said Anna. “We have huge family birthdays and get-togethers. People fly in from all over the world. And how many proposals have we seen, Yuna? Six? Seven?”

“Including the guy who stuck the ring inside a biscuit then forgot which one it was? The girl nearly choked to death.”

Anna chuckled. “Then there was that missing toddler. Everyone stopped to search everywhere. He was napping in the pile of stuffed lobsters in the gift shop.”

Being twins, Yuna and Anna tried to work sections in the dining room the furthest apart, but they were constantly mistaken for one another. Servers had to wear the same uniform, so Anna always wore her hair up, Yuna wore hers down. They wore different makeup, different earrings, but still they were confused by customers and even managers and staff.

“After this summer,” Anna said, “we are never, ever, working together again on anything.”

Yuna glanced at her sister. “Well, maybe on one more thing.”

—

By midnight, the three of us were mildly buzzed, chatting, and laughing like old friends. The adjacent campsites went dark as one by one each family got their kids settled, put out their fires and went to bed.

The stars were brilliant pinpoints of light with the Milky Way arcing from horizon to horizon. Having nowhere to go and nothing to do but relax and enjoy, the weight of my recent personal disasters lifted away.

Yuna sat leaning against my side, hand stroking my leg. Her eyes were alive with mischief and lust, mirroring my own feelings. Our desire for each other had been simmering all evening.

I hoped Anna would soon leave us alone, but she seemed comfortable. The weed, mild as it was, seemed to have relaxed her. She was rattling off more stories about the restaurant, the island, college, and human existence in general.

“I mean, why are we here if not to love each other, take care of each other and learn about the wonders of the universe? It’s all in the numbers, you know. Newton was the first to really get it. Too bad he died a virgin. If I’d been around back then I’d have... oh, wow, man. Look at the moon!”

Yuna and I chortled.

“Is this Anna’s first-time smoking?” I said.

Yuna grinned. “Oh, no. She gets all animated and philosophical when she drinks, too.”

Then we noticed Anna was looking back towards the ocean.

Behind the tent, the full moon was rising above the lip of the bluff, huge and brilliant orange.

We walked to the edge to see the whole thing. Glowing and split by wisps of cloud, the moon painted a fiery path towards us across the calm ocean.

Yuna and I stood side-by-side with arms around each other’s waist. Anna appeared at my other side. She looked uncertain again, so I wrapped an arm around her too. She melted against me, slinking her arm around my back.

The magic of the view was surpassed by the magic of having Yuna and Anna to share it with.

Only a light breeze was blowing from the ocean. Gentle waves lapped the beach below.

“Anyone want to go for a swim?” I said.

When I looked at Yuna, I caught something wordless passing between her and Anna.

Yuna gathered us into a three-way group hug.

“Not me,” she said with a coy smile.

“Yeah, maybe later,” said Anna. She rocked from one foot to the other looking up with huge pleading eyes.

We stood looking at each other, then Yuna gently guided my head towards her sister until our lips almost touched. Anna wet her lips, her breath quickening, then pulled me into a hungry kiss.

Her lips were so soft and tasted faintly of strawberry lip balm. Anna cautiously pressed the tip of her tongue past my lips, and I responded by pressing mine into hers. With Yuna watching, it was intensely intimate. My simmering lust went to full boil.

We separated. I looked from Anna to Yuna and back. Yuna glanced purposefully at the tent.

My objections evaporated.

“We’d be more comfortable in your trailer,” I said.

Yuna beamed. She grabbed Anna’s hand and mine.

“We don’t want to wait,” she said, pulling us to the door of the tent.

Yuna said, “Take off her clothes.”

Anna gasped, drawing an arm to her chest. She flashed her sister an incredulous look then darted her eyes to the other camp sites. I looked around too: we were the only ones awake.

Anna lowered her arm, faced me and bit her lip, giving a tiny nod.

I drew her t-shirt over her arms and off then undid the front clasp of her bra and removed that too.

She stood naked from the waist up, her eyes on mine, huge and trusting.

Anna’s shorts and underwear were next. I crouched to slide them down her long legs, bringing me face-level with her beautiful pussy—for the second time that day.

I stood to take in the entrancing sight of her naked body lit by the moon and flickers from the fire: her lovely breasts, her womanly hips with an enticing gap between her thighs.

Anna breathed excitedly, but stood with hands at her sides, letting me admire her.

From behind, Yuna asked, “You want to strip him, or should I?”

Anna raked me with her eyes. “You, Em. You do it.”

Without hesitation, Yuna yanked off my shirt and shorts. She gave my back an affectionate pat. Anna stared at my rising cock pulsing slightly in time with my thudding heart.

Inside, Yuna stripped, and we lay on the air bed with me between them. Yuna kissed me passionately then pushed me to face her sister.

Anna immediately pulled me close and met my lips. She glided her hands all over me as I did the same to her. She found my hard cock and stroked and squeezed while jamming her tongue into my mouth. She was so excited I wondered if she would cum the moment I touched between her legs.

I separated and bent to nuzzle her neck while stroking and massaging one soft boob. Anna sighed and lay back, still grasping my dick, stroking idly.

Anna’s hips rose and churned. I bent and took a breast into my mouth and trailed fingertips down along her tummy and across her sparse triangle of fur. She parted her legs in welcome and I lightly stroked up along the sides of her pussy.

“Ooo,” she breathed. “That’s nice. More. Please?”

Laying half across her, I switched to suckle her other breast then ran fingertips over her inner thighs, down her legs then up, swiping the back of my hand lightly over her mons.

Anna held my head to her breast with one hand and tried to force my hand back between her legs. At first, I resisted, then started touching her more and more directly as she moaned and writhed.

She groaned when I introduced first one finger then a second inside her. She was wet, but not yet ready. I curled my fingers up, seeking her g-spot. Anna moaned and bucked when I pressed and massaged the right spot.

Behind, Yuna began kissing my neck and shoulders then raked my back with her nails. “I think she’s ready,” she whispered.

I thought so too. Sliding down, I kissed down Anna’s tummy and got between her widely spread thighs.

Unlike that morning, we weren’t in any rush, so I took my time teasing, licking, rubbing and exploring every wonderful part of her. Above, Anna was panting steadily, groaning and sighing, head thrown back and to the side.

With one hand she was pleasuring one of her boobs while guiding my head with the other. Using every technique I knew, I built her passions right to the edge then backed off, pressing a palm firmly against her mound until she calmed, then started her up that hill again.

A warm mouth engulfed the head of my cock. Yuna had moved to kneel on the floor of the tent. She pumped my dick while swirling her tongue around the tip, an impish gleam in her eye.

Anna regained my attention my mashing my face into her and I resumed my quest. Trying to ignore the incredible sensations of her sister skilfully stroking and sucking my cock, I worked to bring Anna to the edge once more. Her little cries and gasps were like music.

Finally, I worked my fingers back and forth inside her while lapping and carefully sucking her clit. Anna inhaled one raspy breath, arched her back and froze.

Yuna lifted her mouth from my dick to watch her sister. I grounded Anna again with my palm against her and watched the breath-taking beauty of her being swept away. Anna’s eyes were closed, her eyebrows raised, and mouth wide in an expression of pure angelic bliss.

I looked down and shared a smile with Yuna. She scooted up to lay beside Anna, brushing strands of hair from her forehead.

Sliding up to Anna’s other side, I kissed her cheek. Her eyes blinked open, and she looked from me to Yuna.

“You okay?” Yuna asked.

“Oh, god. That was even better.”

Anna brushed my cheek. Then reached down to grasp my cock again. Her chest was still rising and falling.

She looked at Yuna. Again, something unspoken passed between them.

Yuna nodded then reached across to touch my arm.

“Fuck her,” she whispered.

I was hard and beyond ready, but I thought Anna was off limits.

“Are... are you sure that’s okay?”

Anna gazed at me with smokey, needful eyes, looking even hungrier than before.

“Only if you want to,” she said.

The thought of burying myself in that sweet girl, maybe even bringing her to another orgasm, had my heart racing.

“Oh, Anna,” I said, “Yes. I really, really want to.”

She growled and pulled me onto her, spreading her legs while I got into position.

My cock found her entrance on its own. She wrapped her arms around me and I pushed inside her in one slow, exhilarating motion.

Anna stared, wide-eyed, moving her hips with tiny motions, feeling me speared so deep inside. I moved too, eager to get even deeper, overcome by the sensations.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Fuck me hard.”

Slowly I withdrew, feeling her passage grasping my shaft, reluctant to release me. When again I was poised just at her entrance, I teased her nudging just in and out. Anna groaned and wrapped her legs around me, desperate to draw me in. She gave a guttural grunt when I pushed in hard, stuffing her full in one merciless stroke.

We began to fuck. Anna grunted each time I impaled her, then urged me to do it again, harder. Soon I was pounding into her, my nuts slapping her ass, lost in raw animal need to mate, to drive deep into her then fill her with come. Anna took it gleefully, meeting each stroke, groaning, grunting, urging me on.

“Anna,” I groaned, “gonna come.”

“Wait,” she said, then rolled us over. She began riding me like an animal, her hands planted on my chest, impaling herself, rutting and sliding, boobs bouncing.

I held her hips, fighting the urge to come. Sweet Anna became a wildcat, sliding and grinding, keeping my cock stuffed deep inside her. I grabbed her boobs, massaging them and sliding thumbs over her nipples, marvelling how she was using me for her pleasure.

She worked away for a long while and I knew I couldn’t last. At last, Anna stopped, head up, eyes glazed then wriggled, her mouth wide. Then inside she began pulsing and gripping all around my shaft.

Anna let out an explosive breath and dropped her head between her shoulders. I exploded into her, losing my grip on her boobs as my muscles went slack, flooding her with everything I had.

After, we lay facing each other, caressing. The tent air was heavy with the smell of sex.

Anna had one leg over me. She looked between us at the globs of cum leaking from her freshly fucked pussy.

“You’re the first,” she said, and smiled.

“What? You weren’t a virgin.”

“No. You’re the first to cum in me. I’ve always used condoms.”

“But... you’re protected, right? Birth control?”

“Well, of course.”

“Told you she was cautious,” Yuna said.

I turned. Yuna was laying on the air bed behind me, head resting on one arm. I’d forgotten she was there, having focused entirely on Anna.

“You watched?”

Yuna shrugged. “I sort of participated. Couldn’t watch you two without taking care of myself, too.” She kissed me. “But I’m hoping for a little more. Think you’ll get some energy back later?”

“I dunno. Anna is pretty fierce.” I laid my head down. “I’m a little worn out.”

Yuna smiled at her sister and nestled against my side. Anna did the same.

“Mind if we sleep here for a while?” Yuna asked.

I didn’t mind at all.

—

Sometime during the night, I woke, hard and horny, spooned behind Yuna. She woke when I slipped my dick into the gap between her legs from behind.

“Mmmm,” she said, pulling my hand to her breast. “You got your energy back. But we’ll wake Anna. She gets grumpy without enough sleep.”

“Then come with me.”

Yuna giggled when I quietly unzipped the tent door and led us, still naked, outside. After zipping it back up, I took her hand and led her to the sandy path at the top of the bluff. It was pre-dawn—the sky had just barely begun to lighten.

We looked over the ocean then I pulled her into an embrace, and we kissed.

Yuna pulled back. “Thank you for doing that with Anna.”

“Only too happy to help a woman in need,” I said. “Is she vegetarian too?”

“No, just me. Why?”

She tastes a little like lobster. For some reason, now I really like it.”

Yuna stared, then covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. She swatted me.

We embraced again, kissing and running hands over each other. She stroked me and I felt her getting wet.

“I want you,” she said. “Now.”

She looked around. “But there’s nothing to lie on. One grain of sand in the wrong place and it gets really unpleasant.”

I stepped behind her, turning her to face the ocean beyond. “Kneel down.”

I helped her to her to her knees then pushed between her shoulders.

“Head down, ass up,” I said.

She turned and smiled, then went on all fours.

Wiggling her broad ass, she said, “Okay, cowboy... should I oink, bark or moo?”

I laughed. “You are so nasty.”

Yuna grinned.

I kneeled behind her and ran a hand over her puffy lips. Positioning at her opening, I nudged. Yuna pushed back a little. Slowly her wetness grew, and I slipped a little deeper inside her with each push. Finally, we were fully joined.

I withdrew, then impaled her with one measured stroke.

“Guh!” Yuna huffed, going down onto her elbows.

“How about you just grunt?” I said.

She peered back with lidded eyes. “Now who’s nasty”

Grabbing her hips, I started taking her. Yuna gasped and moaned, pushing back to meet each thrust, twisting and angling herself for the best angle. as I fucked her with careful deep strokes. Then she reached between us to strum and tease her clit.

I loved the sight of Yuna’s upturned ass in that submissive position—completely exposed and vulnerable.

We were quickly losing the cover of night as dawn broke in earnest. Though partially hidden by the tall beach grass, soon we’d be easily seen from the beach.

Fortunately, we were reaching our limit. Yuna met my thrusts with an increasingly irregular rhythm as she frigged her clit. I bent over her and nipped her shoulders while grabbing one bobbing breast, squeezing then teasing her nipple.

I tried to hold out, but then sailed past the point of no return. Straightening up, I grabbed Yuna’s hips and jammed into her, unloading deep. Within moments, Yuna cried out as orgasm overtook her too.

Yuna was still squeezing around my dick, and I was still throbbing within her when we noticed a jogger running along the wet sand of the beach. We collapsed onto the sand, hoping to be out of view.

Yuna rolled over, still catching her breath. We shared a smile and laughed.

—

“You know, you never said when you had to go home.”

Yuna bit into her bread and peanut butter. It was the only food I could offer her while Anna and I had scrambled eggs and bacon.

“Before my severance pay runs out, I guess. But this is the last day I have this campsite. I have to clear off by 2 PM.”

The sisters looked at each other, again exchanging some wordless communication.

“The bunks in our trailer are queen-size,” Anna said. “Lots of room, if you’d like to join us.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “Er, am I going to be in the middle of some kind of sibling rivalry?”

“You’ve seen us,” said Yuna. “We share very well. Oh, and for reference, I sleep on the right-side bunk, Anna sleeps on the left.”

“Exactly. So where would I sleep?”

The girls exchanged a look.

To Yuna, Anna said, “Should we take turns, or flip a coin every night?”

[zoyaspoetry]

I know that you guys could be surprised cuz last few posts were about Halsey. Ah, i knew that this moment will come here one day and basically i should explain why i like her so fking much.

I'm gonna do this in 2 versions - polish and english cuz i know that i have both types of readers here. ;-)

There we go - english at first (polish later, after my shift at work).

I was 19 when I discovered Halsey here on Tumblr. I was 19 and depressed, so Tumblr was some kind of med for me. First her song - Young God, which i reconized cuz of this post. I was looking for a new music anyway, so maybe that was a sign, huh? It was something new, something magic... And i was like "wtf, it can't be true, why is she so fking great?" - i swear, i was shocked for next few days. Finally i found someone who understands me in 100%. This is how i discovered BADLANDS - her 1st album. Now i just feel tears in my eyes, cuz i didn't expect then that her music is gonna save my life... like 665734 times. She was first person, who understands what i had in my head and what i wanted to say. Do you know how is it when you don't understand yourself, when people around you don't understand you and then you discovered artist, who FINALLY KNOWS WHAT DID YOU MEAN? I was devastated. Her music shocked me at first and broke me into small, tiny pieces. So many memories i have in my head right now. I posted a video from her yesterday's concert where she's singing "Drive" and i just felt like Im 21 again and all what i can see is colorful sky, 5 a.m, and my ex-boyfriend sitting with me in his car and we are sooo tired, happy, even when Im manic again and Im gonna break him. This song is about him, i swear. It's about every fking moment, when we were drinking raspberry tea, smoking cigarettes at 3 a.m, talking and laughing. I think BADLANDS changed something in me. This is one of my favorite albums EVER. All of this is about my roots. About being a Tumblr princess, colorful hair, glitter, tiny dresses, heavy shoes (I should focus on my job right now, but all what i can do is being crushed cuz i feel like 19 again).

Halsey is a great lyrics creator. Her words every fking time resonate with me (maybe cuz she's bipolar as well, which i realized few years later). Sometimes she's just singing something what i can't even describe. She's brave and in simply way saying everything what i wanted to say, but sometimes i just couldn't. Today, almost 10 years later, I can't imagine what could happen with me without her music. I'm so grateful that i could discover her music. This is one of many good things Tumblr gave me.

I believe that one day I'll meet her at her concert and I'll be able to say how grateful I'm. She was my support in almost every moment of my adult life. When i was broken, depressed, crazy, insane. When love sucked for me, when i felt misunderstood, when i needed power and being sure that i'm doing right things. Even when i didn't understand myself. SHE LITERALLY SAVED MY LIFE. When i was sure I'm gonna die soon, i just listened her music and i was better.

This is one of the most personal thing in my life, more personal than things i did when i was manic. I wish that everyone can discover her music and her as a person. Everyone should be grateful cuz without her... I would be fking dead long time ago.

(polish version later, so stay tuned and sorry for my being emotional lol)

Thank you @tiredandlonelymuse for everything. You're my queen since you started your music adventure and it's not gonna change, like never. You have saved many, many lives. Mine as well.

hold me down x roman holiday x young god

halsey + swimming pools

do not remove caption

[dark-fanfics-moon]

THE PET Remmick x Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: You try to stay sane as Remmick attempts to make you warm up to him. But…will it work ?

(This is my first Sinners fanfic. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, you have French ancestry here.)

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783014726264291328/the-pet-remmick-x-reader?source=share

Remmick’s eyes glinted as he watched you intently, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked grin. He was enjoying every second of this—the power, the control he had over you. It made your skin crawl, but you were too tired, too broken to protest.

You shivered and asked, “Why didn’t you kill me ?”

The vampire’s expression darkened for a moment, but the smirk never fully left his face. He stepped closer, his cold fingers brushing your cheek. “I ain’t gonna kill you, lass,” he said with a slow, deliberate drawl. “I told ye: yer mine now. And I don’t break me toys. I like to play with ’em first. Maybe get a lil’ love, ye know ?”

A chill ran through you at the thought of being his “plaything.” The very idea of it made your blood run cold, but there was no denying the hunger in his eyes. That unspoken desire, mixed with a twisted sense of affection, filled you with dread. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Why take me ?” You finally dared to ask.

Remmick leaned back, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, before he answered with a hint of something like nostalgia. “Difference between me hive and humans is… we ain’t really all that warm. Don’t get me wrong, I love me family. But hum…I discovered I liked keepin’ warm ones too. They make good companions on the road and can keep us safe during the day…”

Fear twisted in your gut as the realization hit. You’d heard the myths, the whispers about vampires keeping humans as pets, but never in your wildest nightmares did you think you’d end up as one. It was all too real now, and the terrifying truth was sinking in deeper with each word.

The vampire chuckled darkly, as if enjoying the look of horror in your eyes. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll keep ye fed and safe…but I gotta warn ye…life with me will be different than what you’re used to. I ain’t like anythin’ y’ever experienced.”

You felt a sick mixture of terror and curiosity. You knew the life he had planned for you would be nothing short of a nightmare, but there was a strange thrill in the thought of living on the fringes of society—living a life so twisted that others would never imagine it. Still, you tried to cling to whatever shred of normalcy you could.

“Could I write to my brother on occasion ? To let him know that I am alive ?” you asked, hoping for some semblance of freedom.

The vampire paused, his red eyes calculating as he considered your request. “I suppose I could allow that. But no more than once every few weeks. And I’ll read every word ye write. I don’t need ye tellin’ someone where we are.”

You let out a small, relieved breath, at least a tiny victory amidst the horror.

Remmick smirked, amused by the display of sheer relief. “Now…Don’t get too excited, darlin’. I’m still in charge here. And I expect yer complete obedience in exchange for these lil’ niceties.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate. “I understand…”

“That’s a smart lass,” Remmick approved before he pointed a finger at you. “Yer learnin’ already. I think yer gonna be a fast learner—unlike me other pets.”

He stepped away, sizing you up with a calculating look before continuing. “Now that we’re on the same page…it’s probably a good idea to go over some house rules.”

You felt your stomach twist in dread at the thought of following his rules, but you knew you had no choice. With a hesitant nod, you gestured for him to continue.

Remmick leaned back with a wicked grin. “First rule: You do what I say without question. If I say jump, you ask ‘how high.’ If I say kneel, you hit the ground. Understand, darlin’ ?”

You clenched your jaw, suppressing the anger bubbling up inside, but you nodded reluctantly. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He smirked approvingly. “Good. Second rule: Yer my responsibility. Which means, I don’t want ye goin’ off on yer own. Everywhere ye go, I’m there with ya. You ain’t goin’ nowhere without me permission, got that ?”

Your brow furrowed. “How about during the day ?”

He chuckled again and shook his head. “Oh darlin’…You’re adorable. During the day, ye go nowhere. Ye watch while I rest. You’re goin’ to be stayin’ with me. That means no goin’ to town, no goin’ to church. Just sittin’ tight until night falls again.”

His smirk deepened. “But if ye get bored ? You can always be buddies with the other pets of the hive ! Wouldn’t that be nice ? Besides, we’ll need ye to move us when the sun is out. But don’t worry. The other pets will show ye how it’s done.”

A wave of helplessness swept over you, but you knew there was no point in protesting. You nodded again. “I understand.”

“Good. Yer really catchin’ on quick,” he said, clearly pleased. “Third rule: Ye don’t put up a fight. I ain’t in the habit of wastin’ me precious time and energy on stubborn pets. If I ask ye to do something that makes you unhappy ? Well, you’ll do it anyways. Yer gonna follow me rules, and the rules of the hive, even if it makes you angry.”

You bit your lip to keep from speaking, from snapping at him. You knew better. “I understand. I won’t give you any trouble.”

Remmick smiled, pleased with your compliance. “That’s what I like to hear. Fourth rule: Ye don’t say no to me. Ever. If I want yer blood, I take it. If I want yer company, I take it. If I want ye in bed with me as a damn cushion fer me head ? I’m doin’ that as well. No complainin’, no fightin’, no refusin’, no resistin’ or anythin’ else along those lines, m’kay pet ?”

You shuddered at that despicable word. ‘Pet’. But you nodded nonetheless, unable to do anything else.

Remmick continued, his tone turning more serious. “If I tell ye to do somethin’, you do it. No ifs, ands, or buts. You’ll keep me hunger satisfied and do whatever I want, when I want.”

You scoffed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice this time. “Didn’t know I had a vampire toddler on my hands.”

Remmick’s grin widened, but there was something predatory in his eyes now and drool fell from his chin. “Mouthy, are we ? Fine by me. You’ll learn real quick, darlin’. Real quick.”

You shuddered at the sight and looked away prompty. He seemed to understand your discomfort and sighed before wiping his chin. He then realised that his clothes were still soaked in blood. He got his shirt and undershirt off before throwing them at you.

"Wash those."

You looked at the blood there and your whole body shivered at the realisation that it might be your own father’s blood on those clothes. You let them fall on the floor. You couldn’t help but shudder, the sickening thought creeping into your mind that this could very well be your father’s blood—the man you’d just buried.

Your hands trembled, and a cold sweat broke out along your skin as the room seemed to close in on you. The reality of everything—your father’s death, the way you were now under Remmick’s control—felt too much to bear all at once. The blood on those clothes felt like it was crawling up your spine, a silent reminder of what you had lost.

Remmick’s voice broke through your panic, calm and detached. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ ? Get to it.”

You swallowed hard, your body stiffening at his words. The last thing you wanted to do was touch that blood, to remind yourself of the violence that had ripped your life apart. But you knew better than to refuse. You didn’t have a choice. You bent down slowly, gathering the clothes from the floor, trying to keep your composure. The blood seemed to burn your fingertips as you picked them up, but you forced yourself to hold onto them. It was just another part of this twisted new life Remmick had made for you—one you were still trying to make sense of.

With a quick, stiff nod, you turned away, heading towards the exit of the trailer. The cool air hit your face as you made your way to the nearby stream, the rhythmic sound of rushing water offering little comfort against the storm of emotions swelling inside you. You kneeled at the edge of the stream, the bloodstained clothes still clutched tightly in your hands.

As the cold water touched the fabric, your sobs began to escape, raw and uncontrollable. Each tear felt heavier than the last, like it was pulling you deeper into the darkness of what had become your reality. The blood didn’t just stain the clothes—it stained your soul, a constant reminder of the horrors you could never unsee. Your father, the village, everything you’d once known, all shattered in an instant.

The water seemed to mock you, its gentle flow unable to wash away the heaviness in your chest, the memories, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. The clothes slipped from your trembling fingers as you cried harder, the water barely able to cleanse the stains on your hands, let alone the ones buried deep inside you.

You wanted to scream, to run far away from everything. But where would you go ? What would you do ? Remmick’s shadow loomed over you, both a constant presence and an ever-present threat, and you had nowhere to turn. You sank to your knees, your body shaking as you held the bloodied fabric to your chest. The stream, though it tried, couldn’t carry away the burden you were now bound to. And yet, here you were, sobbing in the cold, wishing for something—anything—to make it stop.

…

Once the task complete, you approached the carriage and the faint, haunting sound of Remmick’s banjo drifted through the air. The low, rhythmic plucking of strings mixed with the night’s silence, the eerie melody fitting in with the dark weight of the evening. His dark eyes glinted as he played, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up briefly, catching sight of you.

The sound of his banjo was a strange comfort, but it didn’t ease the dread pooling in your stomach. The blood still clung to your memory, even though you had washed it from the clothes. It was impossible to wash the images from your mind.

He didn’t speak immediately, as if waiting for you to say something first. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremble from your voice as you spoke.

“…I’ve done what you asked.” Your words felt empty, hollow in the air between you.

Remmick’s smirk deepened, though it was softer now, more amused than predatory. “Did ye now ?” He set the banjo aside and stood. “I’m glad to see ye’ve come back. Thought I might’ve lost ya to the night.” He stepped closer to you, his presence, as always, dominating the space. He then added with a grin. “Woulda hated havin’ to chase you all night, puppet. But am fast. Hella fast. Ye wouldn’t have made it through the night.”

He then playfully pinched your nose and smirked before taking the clothes from your arms.

You couldn’t help but flinch, the memory of his cold blood-soaked chin still fresh in your mind. “I did what you wanted,” you repeated, the words somehow a bit stronger now, despite the gnawing fear inside you. “Now what ?”

“Now, I’d say we take the next step. But before that…” He leaned closer, his voice low, “You’ve been through quite a bit tonight, haven’t ya ?” He reached for your arm, his touch light but firm, pulling you gently inside the carriage. “Come on in. We family now, ain’t we ?”

The chill from outside still lingered in your bones as you stepped into the warmth of the carriage.

“Family…” you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of the word like a cold iron shackle around your heart.

He then tapped the place on his knee.

"C’mere me puppet."

You froze.

His voice was gentle—mockingly so—but the command behind it was unmistakable. “C’mere me puppet.” He repeated. The words laced with false affection, like a hunter calling to a wounded animal. Your eyes flicked to his knee, where his hand patted expectantly, and then up to his face. That smug, knowing smirk never wavered. Every inch of your body screamed at you to run, to escape, to do anything but obey. But your legs moved before your mind could catch up, conditioned now by fear, by exhaustion, by the brutal reality of your new existence.

You stepped closer.

Remmick’s eyes followed your every movement, his eyes dark and gleaming with twisted satisfaction. You lowered yourself slowly, tentatively, onto his knee, barely touching him. He laughed softly, almost like a purr, one hand snaking around your waist to pull you in tighter—until you were perched fully across his lap, your side pressed against his chest.

“There we go,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that only made your skin crawl. “See how easy that was ?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The weight of his gaze pressed down on you, making your mouth go dry.

He studied you for a moment, his thumb running idle circles along your side. Then he leaned in, nose brushing your cheek, his breath cold and smelling faintly of iron. “I ain’t gonna hurt ye tonight,” he whispered. “Not unless you make me. You’ve had enough, haven’t ya ?”

You nodded, barely able to breathe.

He chuckled. “That’s my good lil’ lassie.”

Your stomach churned.

Then, to your surprise, he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back into the plush seat, arms still around you, his banjo resting against the opposite wall like a discarded thought. You remained frozen. For a moment—just a moment—you let yourself breathe and listen. To the soft sway of the carriage from the blowing wind outside, the horses’ hooves trampling the ground, the dull thrum of blood in your ears. You couldn’t trust him. You wouldn’t trust him. But as your body sank involuntarily into the exhaustion gnawing at you, and as his hand stroked your hair absentmindedly, you realized:

This was your life now.

And you would have to survive it. Even if it meant pretending to be his puppet…for now.

He then whispered in your ear. “Sleepy, puppet ? You can rest yer eyes fer a few minutes. I’ll watch over ye.”

You were too exhausted to deny and simply closed your eyes…falling into a light sleep.

A few minutes later…Remmick woke you up and led you out of the carriage. The carriages were nestled together in a circle, their wooden exteriors glowing faintly in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the ground. You could hear the soft murmur of voices, a mixture of laughter and whispered conversations, though it was clear this was no ordinary gathering.

“Don’t be scared, doll,” Remmick’s voice purred as he guided you forward. The scent of burning wood and fresh night air mixed together in an unsettling blend.

There, standing in the center of the gathering, were the other “pets”—humans, like you, who had been taken by the vampires. They were dressed in strange, mismatched clothes, most of them looking weary but oddly content. Some were sitting by the fire, a few leaning against the side of a carriage, while others were interacting with the vampires in a way that, to you, felt disturbingly normal. They all seemed so…comfortable in this twisted existence.

One of them, a young woman with wide eyes and a soft smile, stood up as you approached. She wore a simple dress, but there was an aura of weariness around her, as if she had long accepted her fate. Her voice was soft but welcoming when she spoke.

“Remmick’s new one, huh ?” she asked, looking you up and down with a curious gaze. “I’m Lyla,” she introduced herself, extending a hand towards you. “Annie’s familiar. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. We all do eventually.”

You looked at her hand for a moment, your stomach turning. How could anyone get used to this ? You had seen the blood, smelled it. Felt the weight of it on your skin. You had seen what Remmick was capable of.

You didn’t take her hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she withdrew it with a soft chuckle, not offended. “You’re still fresh,” she murmured understandingly. “It’ll take time.”

Another figure stepped forward—tall, with sharp features and a quiet presence. His eyes were dull, as if the life had been drained from them long ago. He nodded at you but said nothing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, cold and distant. He looked like someone who had long since given up on hope.

“Don’t mind Aidan,” Lyla said softly. “He doesn’t speak much. He was one of the first brought in. He’s Stack’s familiar.” She glanced at you knowingly, her eyes narrowing. “Some of us don’t last as long as others. Don’t let that scare you.”

You swallowed hard, looking at each face in turn. They were all different, but the same in their quiet acceptance of a life they hadn’t chosen. Their eyes were haunted, but resigned.

“You’ll get used to the rules around here too,” Lyla continued, her tone more serious now. “Stick close to Remmick. Don’t step out of line. Don’t make waves. He’s not one to take kindly to disobedience.”

You felt a pang of fear, the weight of her words sinking in. You had already witnessed how quickly things could spiral out of control. Remmick’s smile, his twisted pleasure in your discomfort, still lingered in your mind. But there was something else too. A strange attachment, an odd affection from him that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You looked around. Remmick had stepped away momentarily, talking to another vampire who had appeared from one of the nearby carriages. The moment he was out of earshot, Lyla leaned closer, her eyes darkening slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “He likes you. That means he’ll keep you around. But just remember—you’re a possession, not a person here. Never forget that.”

You wanted to protest, wanted to scream, but all you could do was nod weakly. In this strange, twisted hive of vampires and their pets, what else could you do ?

You were trapped.

Lyla’s words rang in your ears like a dull bell tolling in the distance—ominous and final.

A possession, not a person.

You stood there, surrounded by strangers who shared the same chain, the same fate, their expressions dulled by time and routine. You didn’t want to believe this was your life now. But as you looked around the circle—at the flickering firelight casting grotesque shadows across tired faces—you knew it was.

You were still staring at the fire when Remmick’s arm slithered back around your waist.

“There now, doll,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and sweet, like poisoned honey. “They treat ye alright ?”

You didn’t answer at first, the tension in your shoulders betraying every thought racing through your mind. But then you nodded, barely, your lips pressed into a thin line.

Remmick smiled, pleased. “Good. I knew you’d blend in just fine. Some don’t take to it well—always fightin’, cryin’, refusin’ to listen. Makes it messy. Makes me messy.”

He turned you gently toward him, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand, eyes lingering a little too long. “But yer different, aintcha ? Got fire, but ye know when to keep it on low.”

The words made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself not to pull away. Behind him, Lyla had already moved on, settling down beside Aidan again.

“You’ll sleep with me tonight,” Remmick said casually, as if announcing the weather. “Best to keep ye close. First few days are always the hardest.”

A sharp chill twisted through your spine.

He leaned in again, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry, puppet. I’ll take good care of ye. I won’t bite—unless you ask me real nicely that is.”

There was laughter nearby. A low cackle from one of the other vampires watching from the shadows. It made you flinch, and Remmick chuckled at that, turning you with a firm hand and guiding you back towards his carriage. As you stepped away from the fire, the sounds behind you grew muffled, as though the world itself was slowly sealing you in.

You glanced back only once.

Lyla was watching you, her smile gone now, her eyes sharp with a kind of knowing pity. You weren’t sure what she saw when she looked at you—maybe someone who reminded her of herself. Or maybe it was just the face of despair.

Your eyes caught sight of the fire burning bright next and you stopped. The fire crackled, its orange and red flames dancing in the cool night air, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the vampires and their pets. The flickering flames seemed to beckon to you, promising an end to all the horror, the fear, and the suffocating uncertainty that had plagued you since the night Remmick had taken you.

You wondered how long it would take for the fire to consume you if you simply stepped into it. Would it be fast ? Would it hurt as much as you thought it would ? Or would it be a final release—a way to escape this twisted life once and for all ?

The flames roared in response to your thoughts, each crackle like a whisper of temptation. You felt the heat on your skin, the air thick with the scent of burning wood, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. The others—Lyla, Aidan, and the rest of the pets—became distant, like figures in a fog. All that remained was the fire, and the suffocating weight of your own despair.

But as you stood there, frozen in your thoughts, you heard Remmick’s voice—low, mocking, but tinged with something darker.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout jumpin’ in, are ye ?” he asked, his tone playful. “That ain’t gonna get ye what you want, lass. Ain’t no release in that. I told ya, yer mine now. And I don’t take kindly to me toys tryin’ to break themselves.”

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, reading you, studying you.

“You think this fire can end it all ?” he continued, his voice calm but menacing. “Nah. It’ll just burn ye up. And then where will ya be ? Gone. Just like that. Poof. A pile of ashes. Useless to me. Useless to everyone.”

You didn’t look at him. You felt something twist inside you—anger, frustration, and the overwhelming weight of your helplessness. But you didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.

He stepped closer and slowly backed you away from the fire.

“Instead,” he cooed, “let’s see how long you last in me world, eh ?”

You shuddered, the desire for escape still lingering in your chest, but now you knew. The fire wouldn’t set you free. Remmick, in his twisted way, held that power over you. And whether you wanted to or not, you were stuck playing by his rules. The fire no longer looked like an escape. It looked like surrender. And he saw it. Remmick saw everything—your hesitation, your pain, the spark of rebellion trying to stay lit beneath the weight of fear. He fed off it. It thrilled him.

His hand slid slowly up your arm, deceptively gentle, but there was nothing kind in his grip. It was a warning.

“I’ll say it again, sweet thing,” he murmured, almost tenderly, but his breath was ice. “Don’t break yourself. That’s me job if it comes to it.”

You finally looked at him, really looked. The firelight made his face seem inhuman—shadows twisted across his sharp features, accentuating the unnatural stillness in his eyes. And yet…there was something feral in him, something restrained. A hunger barely tucked beneath that silken voice and practiced odd charm.

He was beautiful in the same way a tiger might be—impressive, powerful, deadly.

“What if I want to step into the fire and end it all ?” You asked and Remmick stayed silent for a moment before humming.

“You want to be ashes ?” he whispered, thumb brushing your jaw. “Who said ye were allowed to ? Have ye already forgotten about our lil’ rules ? Yer me responsibility, pet. And I would be real sad if you decided to deprive me of yer lovely company. And ye wouldn’t want me sad now, would ya ?"”

You jerked your face from his hand. Subtle, but he noticed. His smile curled into something crooked, pleased.

“Still got fight in ye. Good. Now, c’mon, pet. You’ve had yer moment. Let’s get ye warm somewhere else.”

You stared after him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest as you stared at his back.

When the time came…You would burn him down to hell.

…

A few minutes before sunrise:

Without a word, Remmick took out heavy iron shackles, cold against your skin as he fastened them to your wrists, attaching them to the sturdy post of the carriage. The act was casual for him—like a routine he had done countless times before. Once the shackles were secure, he stepped back, admiring his work, his smirk wide. “Now, don’t go anywhere, darlin’. I’ll be back after me lil’ nap,” he told you, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though it still held that chilling undertone that made your blood run cold.

He then opened the lid of a box situated at the back of the trailer with a quiet, eerie creak. He glanced back at you, a final, mocking smile spreading across his face. “You’ll be safe here for the day, lass. Don’t try anythin’ funny. I’ll be right back when the sun sets again.”

Then, without another word, he climbed into the box, closing the lid with a dull thud that reverberated in the silence around you. You were left alone, shackled to the carriage, the stillness of the morning pressing in around you. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. You sighed. You weren’t going to resign yourself to this fate. You were going to find a way to escape. Maybe not today, but you weren’t going to just give in to this life. Remmick might have had the upper hand for now, but you weren’t going to let him completely break you. Not without a fight.

You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself. Whatever came next, you’d be ready. Or at least, you’d try.

Lyla’s footsteps were soft as she approached and broke you out of your thoughts, the sound of her shoes on the grass muffled by the stillness of the morning. She came into view with a tray of food in her hands. She set the tray down in front of you, her hands gently brushing over the shackles as if she could somehow will them to vanish. Her gaze lingered on them for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you before she finally spoke.

“Don’t you worry, hon’. Remmick’s not cruel like this all the time,” she tried to reassure you, her voice low and comforting. “He’s just cautious. But, when he starts trusting you, he won’t keep you shackled anymore. I promise. It was the same when Annie chose me. She had to make sure I wouldn’t do anything to harm the hive.”

You looked up at her and almost laughed. How could someone like Remmick ever trust anyone ? And what did it even mean for you to be trusted by something like him ? You might as well sell your soul…Still, Lyla’s words offered you hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to change things. You looked inside the tray—bread, a few vegetables, and something that resembled meat, though you didn’t care to question the source.

Lyla smiled softly. “He’s not as bad as he seems. He just…needs to control things. If you show him you’re not a threat, he’ll ease up. He always did with the others eventually.”

You looked up at her. “What happened to them ? To the…other people he took as pets before me ?”

She smiled. “He turned most of them since they wanted to become vampires. He just had to wait to make sure they were ready and deserved to be part of the family.”

You knew you would regret asking—but still asked next. “What about those he didn’t turn ?”

At that, her smile faltered slightly. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Maybe she didn’t know and preferred not to. Or maybe she did and didn’t want to frighten you. Either way, you knew you didn’t want whatever fate came to those who disappointed Remmick.

Lyla’s gaze flickered to the carriage where Remmick had gone to rest. “Don’t worry. You’re strong. You’ll survive. I can see it in you. You can adapt—you can change. He likes people who can surprise him. Just…don’t let him get bored. I know it sounds crazy but….Remmick is a very simple man and he likes very simple things. Family, music, passion…He is very passionate. He won’t kill you as long as he can still sense passion inside you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it was the weariness of everything, or maybe the fear that had taken root deep inside you. But for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel something other than dread—something faint, but growing stronger with each passing moment: the smallest spark of defiance.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to be anyone’s pet—especially not his.”

Lyla’s eyes softened. “I know. But it’s not always about what we want, darling. It’s about survival. If you’re going to make it out of here with your soul intact, you have to play the game. You’ll see.”

You didn’t know if she was right. But you also didn’t know what else to do. You finally nodded. Lyla’s words echoed in your mind long after she left, the tray of food untouched by your feet. Play the game. That was what she said. You huffed and started eating.

You want to play Remmick ?

Fine.

Let’s play…

…

That evening:

You stared at the shackles on your wrists, the metal now warming slightly under the sun’s slow crawl through the trees. Every second Remmick slept in that box was one step closer to sunset, and the nightmare resuming. But you couldn’t sit here all day waiting. Not without trying something. The others were beginning to stir. You could hear distant murmurs—other “pets,” as they were so disgustingly called—moving about the camp. A laugh. A cough. The subtle noise of life continuing under the weight of captivity. And none of them tried to run.

Not because they didn’t want to. But because they knew better. But you didn’t know better. Not yet. And maybe, just maybe, that was your advantage.

You leaned forward, testing the slack in the chain. There wasn’t much. Just enough to sit upright, shift your position, maybe stand if you were careful. It was designed to humiliate—not to break your body, but to chip away at your will. And yet…something was off. One of the links near the post looked slightly thinner than the others—worn, maybe, or badly forged. You stared at it for a long time, then tucked the thought away like a blade hidden in cloth. Not yet. Not now.

You needed more than broken metal to escape. You needed a plan. A weapon. A place to run to. And someone willing to help. The thought of Lyla returned. Her sorrow. Her softness. She hadn’t just brought you food. She brought you a warning, disguised as comfort. He always eases up. But only if you stop being a threat. If you become…tame. But you would never be tame. You just had to look it. That’s how you’d survive. That’s how you’d earn his trust.

And then, when the moment was right…You would stop playing the game. You would end it. But, Lyla had also said not to bore him…You wondered how to do that ? So far, the only moments he had seemed to enjoy himself were moments when you had tried to defy him. Was that what he wanted ? Was that something he enjoyed ? Suddenly, the lid from the box went off inside the trailer and there he was.

He smiled at you.

“Here ye are, me dolly !”

You stiffened as Remmick’s voice reached your ears, the smooth Irish drawl dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker. Your gaze remained fixed ahead, pretending not to notice that he was awake. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. You tried to step away, but the chain tugged at your wrist, the weight of your situation pulling you back into his grasp.

Before you could make any further attempt to retreat, his hand shot out and seized your arm, his grip firm as he forced you closer. You looked up at him—eyes cold, face set in a mask of defiance, though your pulse betrayed you.

His smirk widened, knowing exactly how you were trying to keep your distance.

“Hey, me pet. Miss me ?” he teased, the edge of his voice as sharp as the fangs that were hiding behind that grin. However, he frowned at your answer.

“No,” you muttered firmly.

After a moment, he chuckled softly, tightening his grip as he stepped even closer. “Aw, don’t be like that, darling. I can feel it. Yer just a bit shy, aintcha ? But don’t worry, I’ll warm ye up.”

His voice made your skin crawl.

“Let go of me,” you demanded, glaring up at him.

Remmick’s eyes twinkled with malicious amusement as he slowly dragged you closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “Now, now. Calm down, me pet. What’s gotten into ya ? Ye were so sweet last night. What made ya suddenly so hostile towards yer poor master, hmm ?” His smile widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light.

The suffocating heat of his presence filled the space between you, and every instinct in your body screamed to break free—to run. But the chain held you in place, and for all the words you could muster, there was nothing you could do but meet his gaze, steely and unyielding.

The vampire’s grin never faltered as he leaned towards you. “C’mon…Tell me, pet. Tell yer Master Remmick what happened and maybe he’ll be able to help ? I’ll make it go away.”

He sat you down on his lap, the cold, hard surface of his body pressing against you. He waited for an answer but got none and sighed. He then decided to grab his banjo. You were being cranky and he sought to soften you up with a bit of music.

“Sing,” he commanded, his voice soft but laced with expectation.

You stared back at him, defiant. “No.”

The vampire’s smile slowly faded, replaced by a low growl of displeasure. “Don’t push it, darlin’. I’m tryin’ to be nice. I ain’t used to puttin’ up with a disobedient doll fer more than a few nights.”

You huffed, your denial burning even brighter. “I wonder why…”

You were determined to test boundaries and see just how far you could go.

His eyes narrowed, the playful glint vanishing, replaced by something colder and darker. “I ain’t askin’ fer much, darlin’. Just a bit of obedience, a lil’ cooperation. Is that really so damn hard for ye to understand ?”

You stared back at him, your gaze hard. “Yes, ‘master’…or whatever…”

He chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk, amusement taking over his annoyance. “Don’t get cheeky with me, darlin’. I ain’t playin’ that game. You belong to me now. You’ll call me ‘sir’ or ‘master’ in public. And in private ? Well…You’ll call me whatever I tell ye to—like a good lil’ well-behaved pet should.”

You raised an eyebrow, a challenge in your gaze. “What now ? What should I call you ? Remmick ? Or was that just a fake name you gave me for the fun of it ?”

His lips twitched. “Remmick’s fine. But if ye ever feel the urge to get affectionate, ye can call me—”

You rolled your eyes, your patience thinning and cut him off. “Not interested.”

Some of the vampires who had just woken up started laughing or growling nearby. And some of the pets were actually horrified or in shock at your sudden defiance. You huffed. If Remmick wanted to get rid of you ? Then he might as well do it. But you were done being his nice little pet. You didn’t want his caresses or treats or anything else. You glanced around at the vampires nearby, your mouth curling into a sneer. “Bloodsucking fuckers.”

The other vampires snarled and bared their fangs, but Remmick’s smirk never faltered. With a commanding growl, he spoke to them. “Back off. Me pet seems moody tonight. Ain’t yer problem.”

The others instantly backed down, understanding who held the true power. His attention returned to you.

You scoffed, your words dripping with disdain as you dared to reply. “…Fuck you, demon.”

But instead of getting mad, Remmick chuckled at your curses, but his amusement was quickly replaced by a more dangerous edge. “Now, don’t ye use that nasty language when speakin’ to me, darlin’. I don’t like it when ye swear.”

You shot him a glare and then flipped him off, your determination unyielding. He didn’t like your curses ? Good. You wanted him to hate you. If he thought you would graciously offer your belly and submit—he had another thing coming.

His expression darkened, his grip tightening around you as his tone turned colder. “I’m givin’ ye a warnin’. Don’t push me. Especially if ye like yer fingers.”

Reluctantly, you lowered your middle finger, your rebellious streak still strong but you did like your fingers. “Sorry. It’s genetic. A human thing.” You grinned, clearly enjoying the small victory.

Remmick rolled his eyes, not buying your excuse for a second. “Sure, darlin’.”

Then his expression shifted to something playful again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ye know what ? I got one of those habits too. A vampire thing. Ready ?”

Before you could respond, he lifted you with ease and threw you into the air. You screamed, panic rising as your body went up in the air and fell towards the ground. But in a flash, Remmick caught you, his arms wrapping around you just inches before you hit the ground. He laughed, his deep voice vibrating through your body as he held you.

“First time catchin’ a flyin’ human. Ready fer another round, darlin’ ?”

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart racing. “No, no, no, no… Don’t you dare !”

He simply smirked, clearly relishing the fear in your voice. “Oh, darlin’…”

Before you could protest further, he tossed you in the air again. You screamed, your fear turning into pure panic.

“YOU ASSHOLE !” you yelled, your body twisting mid-air as you waited for him to catch you again, the blood pounding in your ears.

The vampire’s laughter echoed in your ears, a chilling sound that seemed to enjoy every moment of his entertaining game. “Don’t whine now, darlin’. Yer gonna be doin’ a lot of flyin’ with me.”

He caught you again, a smirk playing on his lips at your heart pounding in your chest and as you literally clung to him with both arms and legs. “Now that I know you’re afraid of heights, I’m gonna be takin’ ye higher and higher every chance I get…”

You screamed as he effortlessly loosened your hold on him and tossed you once more, the world spinning around you. “You’re gonna end up breaking my bones if you keep doin’ this, you idiot !”

His laughter rang louder, more sinister. “Just gettin’ ye used to the sensation, darlin’…This is gonna be yer life from now on, I’m afraid…and I’m gonna relish every scream you make.”

By the time he finally stopped, you were shaking, your breath coming in short bursts. You could feel the adrenaline still rushing through your veins, your body stiff with fear.

“Please…stop.” You finally begged and held him tightly—breathing heavily against his neck as you tried not to vomit. One of your hand was almost digging into his head and the other in his shoulder as you desperately tried to stop him from throwing you up in the air again. “I’ll stop being rude…just please. No more of this or I will die. My heart will stop.”

Remmick smirked at the plea in your voice and knew that he had won. He relented, a smug expression curling across his face. “Oh, fine…fer now. I’ll save the torture fer later.”

You were left panting, your body trembling from the shock of the repeated tosses. The world still spun around you as you clung to his neck, trying to catch your breath. Remmick’s chuckles were dark, rumbling from deep within his chest, but he finally set you down gently on the ground, his fingers lingering on your skin, just in case you would fall straight to the ground.

“Aww…What’s wrong, lassie ? Can’t handle a lil’ uppies session ?” He taunted you with a smirk full of smug satisfaction.

You glared at him, still trying to steady yourself, but your voice was hoarse. “You’re a monster…”

His smirk never faltered. “Oh, darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”

The other vampires who’d been watching, their fangs still bared and their expressions twisted in varying degrees of hunger and amusement, slowly started to step back, their interest in you fading as Remmick regained control over the situation.

Lyla, who had been hovering in the background, stepped forward, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet resignation. She glanced at you, her eyes softening with sympathy. “Master Remmick, please, do not push her too hard. It has only been a couple of nights. She just…”

He shot her a warning look, his gaze dark and challenging. “She’ll learn. She has to. Now get back to your own master, lassie. Annie must be wonderin’ where ye went.”

Lyla sighed, shaking her head. She shot you one last glance before stepping back. “Stay strong,” she whispered under her breath, and then disappeared into the shadows—back to her own master.

Once she was gone, Remmick returned his attention to you.

“Let’s get one thing straight, darlin’,” he said, his tone dark and serious. “Ye belong to me now. You’ll get used to it, and you’ll like it eventually. This isn’t some game. This is yer life now.”

You clenched your fists, the rage within you bubbling to the surface once more. “You’re wrong. I won’t get used to this. I won’t ever like it.”

Remmick stepped closer, his face inches from yours. His eyes were cold, but there was something in them—a dark amusement, mixed with the weight of authority—that made your stomach churn.

“Oh, darlin’, you’ll come around,” he whispered with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

His words echoed in your mind, chilling you to the bone. You weren’t sure if he actually believed what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t let him win. You couldn’t.

…

For the next few nights, you remained shackled to Remmick’s trailer. Every so often, Remmick would appear, casually strolling in with an eerie sense of satisfaction, bearing a new gift.

At first, it was a brooch—delicate, intricately designed, and clearly stolen from a victim. Its dark, weathered beauty sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to acknowledge it. His eyes would gleam with pride as he presented the object to you.

“Ye like it, don’t ya, darlin’ ? Innit pretty ?” he’d ask, his voice dripping with amusement, though his tone was just a touch of mockery.

You refused to respond, your eyes narrowed, refusing to show any interest. But he didn’t seem to mind; he simply dropped the brooch on the floor in front of you and sauntered off.

The gifts continued: a delicate necklace made of silver and blood-red jewels that looked far too beautiful to have been anything but plundered from a corpse. His eyes would sparkle when he’d hand them over, watching your every move as if waiting for you to break, to show some hint of gratitude, or even just curiosity.

“See, darlin’ ? I know how to treat me special dolls,” he’d croon, always reveling in the sick pleasure of your silent disdain.

Then came the earrings—simple, but elegant. You stared at them for a while, wondering who the unfortunate soul had been. He seemed to take great delight in the thought that you might be considering their origins.

“Ye like those ?” he asked one night, dangling them just out of reach, taunting you. “They’re the best I’ve found so far. Real fine quality.”

You refused to take them, even though the beauty of the jewelry almost tempted you. The thought of touching something that had once belonged to a dead person—and had come from his hands—made your skin crawl.

Every time, you would remain silent. Your response to him was one of defiance, even in the face of his twisted generosity.

And each time, Remmick would leave you alone with the gifts, taunting you with the thought of them being so close, yet so far from your grasp. He knew you wouldn’t accept them, but that was part of his game—the pursuit, the insistence that you would come to him eventually. Despite your anger and resistance, the days wore on, each one blurring together in a haze of unease and fear. You hated the way he was slowly eroding your resolve, bit by bit, with every visit, with every gift. He had a way of wearing you down, his presence so overwhelming and unyielding, it felt as if there was no escape.

But no matter how much he tried to get you to accept his offerings, you refused. You couldn’t let him win. Even if it was only through the smallest acts of defiance, you would resist him—because if you gave in to him, even in the slightest way, it would mean surrendering everything.

“Not taking me gifts, darlin’ ?” he’d ask with a knowing smile when he’d see you leave them untouched. “After all the trouble I suffered to get ‘em and give ‘em to ye ? Am hurt. Truly. But…I suppose we’ll just have to see how long that lasts, won’t we ?”

And you would stare back, your expression hard, but beneath the cool mask of defiance, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this up before the weight of your situation would finally break you. For now, though, you held on—clinging to whatever remnants of yourself you had left, despite the chains that bound you, the gifts he left, and the darkness of his presence that slowly began to seep into every corner of your life.

…

A few nights later:

The night had passed in its usual eerie silence until you heard it—an unsettling, low whine that echoed through the walls of the trailer. It wasn’t a sound you expected to hear. You peered inside the trailer—curious. Was that Remmick ? What was going on ? You had heard him do and say many things. But, this was different. His voice was strained, filled with an animalistic desperation, as though he was fighting something internal and out of his control inside his box.

Your curiosity, mingled with a sense of unease, pushed you to your feet. You tugged at the chains reflexively, but there was no escaping the confinement, so you carefully moved towards the box. You hesitated before taking a tiny look, peering inside to find him thrashing, his hands curled into fists as he twisted inside his prison-bed. His face was contorted in pain—something was tormenting him. The usual confident, unnerving smirk that always tugged at his lips was gone. Instead, his mouth was open, letting out animal-like whimpers—like a wounded beast.

You didn’t know what to do. The Remmick you knew was not the type to show weakness. He was always the predator, never the prey. This…this wasn’t like him at all.

You watched for a moment longer, unsure of how to handle the situation. He groaned again, louder this time, and you could hear the desperation in the sound. Your chest tightened as a strange sympathy for him stirred, even though everything inside you screamed that this was wrong. That this was some kind of trick, a manipulation to draw you in, to make you soften towards him.

But as you stood there, uncertain and unsure, the instinct to do something—anything—took over. You sank to the floor in front of the box, your body tense as you rested your palm on the surface of the box. The cool wood felt oddly comforting beneath your fingertips, grounding you in the midst of the strange moment. You could feel the vibrations of his groans through the box, his body still writhing in torment. You didn’t know what kind of nightmare could be twisting him so badly, but you felt compelled to stay. To offer something, anything.

“Remmick ?”

The groaning stopped for a brief moment, and the silence was deafening. Then, just as quickly, he let out another low moan, the agony in his voice palpable. You bit your lip, a wave of uncertainty rushing over you. Hesitating for only a second, you slowly pressed your palm more firmly against the surface of the box, as if somehow, that small gesture could offer him some sort of comfort.

Another groan escaped his lips, this one lower, almost guttural. “No…please…” he mumbled, his voice faint, almost unrecognizable.

…He was clearly scared.

You furrowed your brow, unsure of what to do next. You had no experience with this—no experience with him like this. But some part of you didn’t want to leave him in his suffering, even if it meant putting aside your hatred for a moment. You swallowed hard, barely daring to speak as you repeated his name, this time more firmly. “Remmick, what’s happening ?”

There was no response at first. His groans quieted for a moment, and you almost wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But then his voice cracked again, that broken whine slipping from his throat, so much more vulnerable than you had ever heard him.

“I…can’t…” he whimpered, sounding so far removed from the taunting predator you knew him as.

Something inside you shifted—a strange, reluctant empathy for him, despite everything that had happened between you. You weren’t sure if you were doing the right thing, or if this was some kind of trap, but all you could think of was that he was hurting. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t just turn your back on him now.

“Hey. Everything’s alright, okay ? You’re safe…” It felt almost ridiculous, offering comfort to a monster like him, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was real.

His body jerked violently inside the box, and for a split second, you thought he might lash out at you, but then he simply collapsed into silence. His breathing was ragged, and you could hear the exhaustion in every breath he took. You didn’t know what to do beyond the simple touch of your hand against the box. But you stayed, waiting for him to regain control, unsure if you should say more. You had never seen Remmick so…human before. And while you would never admit it, that moment made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

And about yourself.

…

The next night, you didn’t speak about what had happened during the day. The flickering flames cast wild shadows as the vampires were all reunited once more around the fire, making the camp look like something out of a fever dream. You could see Remmick, wild and free, dancing with the crowd after they had fed once more. His feet moved with precision, a blur of quick steps that made you pause, staring in awe at the speed and rhythm of his movements.

Irish dance, you realized, the steps so fast they looked like they could fly off his body at any moment. He laughed, a sound so unburdened by malice that it seemed foreign coming from him. It was a joy you hadn’t seen from him before, not in the way it radiated out of him now, his face illuminated by the firelight. For a moment, he looked like the man you had met that night when he came to your village.

You felt a strange tug, a sense of something—maybe longing, maybe curiosity—that pushed you to stay where you were, hidden in the shadows of the trailer. The horses were nearby, their breath steaming in the cold night air, but you were too focused on the memory of his steps to pay much attention to them.

Slowly, and with a hint of hesitation, you began to mimic his movements. At first, it was clumsy, your feet tripping over themselves, each step too wide, too stiff. You had little experience with dancing, much less something as precise and fast as Irish tap dancing. But still, you tried, feeling the rhythm build in you, even if it was a shaky imitation. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes as your feet started stomping on, tapping and stomping the ground.

You didn’t notice when Remmick stepped out of the firelight circle and moved closer to the trailer—wondering where you had disappeared to.

It wasn’t until you felt the shift in the air—the faintest crackle of energy—that you realized he was watching. You froze, half caught in a step, one foot lifted in midair as your heart skipped. But he didn’t say anything. He simply leaned against the side of the trailer, arms crossed, a small amused smile tugging at his lips. His expression was soft, almost fond, as he observed you. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air, but all you could hear was your heartbeat. Remmick didn’t mock you, didn’t tease you, just watched you from the shadows, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You felt a warmth spread in your chest despite the cold night air, a strange sense of camaraderie that you hadn’t expected. There was no mockery, no cruel remark. He was simply there, watching you dance in your own uncoordinated way.

The silence between you both stretched for a while before he finally spoke.

“Havin’ fun, dolly ?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing but without the usual bite. “Keep at it, and ye might just get the hang of it.”

You blinked, surprised by his comment, and then, without really thinking, you let out a breathless laugh, the tension easing in your shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s true. I feel like I’m tripping over my own damn feet here.”

Remmick pushed himself off the trailer, stepping closer to you—but not too close. Instead, he gave you space, just enough for you to feel his presence but not so much that it was oppressive.

“Ye just need practice, honey,” he told you.

You stood still for a moment, considering his words. The warmth that had blossomed in your chest stayed there, lingering longer than it should have. It was strange—this moment of connection, of unexpected kindness from him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you realize there might be more to him than you’d thought.

For a moment, you didn’t mind that he was watching you. You didn’t mind at all.

Remmick’s grin widened as he stood next to you, his movements sharp and fluid as he proceeded to demonstrate the steps to you. He didn’t rush—he simply showed you, step by step, with the same casual confidence that made him so dangerous and yet, oddly, reassuring.

“First. Foot here,” he instructed, lifting his right foot and placing it firmly on the ground, a steady foundation. “Then here,” he added, guiding his foot to a new position with smooth precision. “Then there,” he finished, completing the step with a flourish.

You watched his feet closely, trying to mirror the movement, your body stiff and unsure. But Remmick was patient. His gaze never left you, and he didn’t smirk or laugh at your clumsy attempt. Instead, he nodded approvingly as you tried to follow his movements.

“Now, faster,” he urged, a glint in his eyes that made you feel both challenged and…oddly encouraged. He demonstrated again, quicker this time, the steps flowing into one another with fluid grace, the sound of his feet striking the ground in perfect rhythm with the pulse of the night. You tried to follow, the movement awkward at first, your feet stumbling over themselves. But there was something in the way he moved, something in the way his confidence made you feel like you could do this too.

“Faster, huh ?” you muttered under your breath, focusing harder as you tried to speed up. It felt like you were tripping over air, but Remmick’s voice was there, soothing as he corrected you with gentle guidance.

“Foot here. Now here. Then there,” he repeated patiently, moving with you, showing you again. The rhythm of his feet became contagious, the beat pulsing through you as you tried again, your feet growing less awkward with every repetition.

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows over the both of you as you danced next to each other, and for a moment, the world outside this moment faded. It was just the two of you—his guidance, the rhythm of the dance, and the strange, unspoken understanding between you.

When you finally moved through the steps without stumbling, he let out a low chuckle, his eyes bright with amusement. “Look at ye, darlin’,” he noted appreciatively, giving you a proud grin. “Ye gettin’ the hang of it pretty good.”

You stopped, breathless but with a grin tugging at your lips, a small but genuine accomplishment simmering in your chest. “You really think ?”

Remmick took a step back, watching you carefully, the soft glow of the firelight outlining his features. He didn’t look like the same man who had teased and mentally tortured you for nights on end…

“Just keep practicing, doll. You’ll be dancing like me in no time,” he promised you and smiled—a genuine smile. There was something warmer to his smile—tender almost.

For a moment, you stayed silent, processing the shift in the air between you two.

“Thanks, Remmick,” you replied softly, offering him a brief smile before returning to your position, eager to try the steps again, more confident this time. He chuckled but didn’t comment, merely crossing his arms and watching as you danced, his eyes following your every move with an approving glint.

“Me thinks we gonna make ye a professional Irish tap dancer in no time, me dolly.”

Remmick’s presence beside you gave you just enough confidence to believe, if only for a moment, that you might actually get it right.

But confidence had its cost.

You lifted your foot for the final tap and stepped just a little too far back. The loose gravel shifted beneath you, and suddenly the ground tilted—the world slipped. You let out a startled gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself.

Before your body could hit the ground, a firm hand closed around your waist.

In a blur of motion, Remmick pulled you back towards him, your momentum swinging you forward—and instead of stopping, he spun you. Your breath hitched as he guided you in a full circle, your feet barely brushing the ground, his arm secure around your middle as he laughed. The world wheeled past in firelight and sparks and shadows, until he slowed and brought you to a clean, almost theatrical stop. One of his hands found yours without thinking, the other still bracing your back.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You were inches from him, your breath uneven, caught between shock and thrill. His eyes flicked over your face—not mocking, not smug. There was surprise there. Maybe wonder. Maybe...something you didn’t want to name yet.

“You alright there, lassie ?” he murmured and his eyes gave you a quick once-over.

You swallowed, nodding slowly as you caught your breath. “Yeah. Just...missed a step.”

He didn’t let go immediately. Neither did you.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and this time there was the ghost of a grin on his face.

You laughed, breathless. “Hey. That was gravity and panic, alright ?”

He tilted his head, considering you. “Maybe. But for a moment...ye actually looked happy, lassie.”

That made your heart stutter.

He let go then, slowly, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than they needed to. He stepped back, but not too far—just enough for air to pass between you again, enough for the moment to settle between you like ash from the fire.

“Let’s try it again,” he said quietly. “This time, I’ll catch ye before ya fall.”

You didn’t doubt that he would.

You steadied yourself, still catching your breath from the unexpected spin, when Remmick took a step back, eyes watching you intently. Then, without warning, he spun on his heel and darted in front of you. You blinked in surprise as he landed squarely in your path, boots tapping a rhythm into the dirt that made the earth seem to thrum beneath him. His shoulders rolled back, chest lifted like a showman stepping onto a stage.

“Alright then, dancer,” he declared, laughter already bubbling in his throat as he then challenged you. “Yer turn now. Let’s see what ye got.”

You hesitated for half a beat, but then your feet moved—on instinct, on rhythm, on the sheer stubborn urge not to be outdone. Gathering the rhythm you’d just learned, you lifted your foot and tapped it out: left foot up then down, right foot up then down, left, right…Then, barely daring, you added the little hop he’d shown you. The gravel under your boots crunched in time, sparks from the fire catching the movement of your feet. You stomped the beat he’d taught you, mimicking the steps as best you could, moving forward even as he matched you, step for step.

For a few seconds, it was awkward—a stumble here, a missed tap there—but it didn’t matter. Because Remmick was laughing.

A real laugh.

Not the cold, taunting chuckle you’d come to brace for—but something honest, bright, sharp with joy. It escaped his lips like something unguarded, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed.

Remmick’s eyes lit up and he chuckled—a rich, warm sound that echoed against the night. Encouraged, you pressed on, matching pace and then quickening the beat: tap–hop, tap–hop, until your legs felt like hummingbird wings. Suddenly, he laughed again and, almost on impulse, mirrored your steps. His feet flew in perfect rhythm: a flourish here, a stamp there, each motion precise and alive. 

“You tryin’ to steal me spotlight, dolly ?” he teased, his voice breathless from the laughter. “Because yer makin’ a fine mess of it !”

“That’s not fair ! You jumped in front of me !” you shot back, matching his grin, breathless and a little wild with giddiness.

“And yet here ye are, still tappin’ along,” he said, lifting his foot in a flourish and tapping out a rhythm that challenged you to follow.

You met him step for step now, the two of you mirroring each other, dancing in sync—his precision and flair meeting your determination and growing confidence. Your shoes struck the dirt, echoing off the trailer walls and the trees beyond, and for a few heartbeats, it felt like the rest of the world had gone still, watching.

He twirled again and your promptly followed. “Ah ! That’s it, lassie ! Look at ye ! Me pretty lil’ dancin’ queen !”

You snorted. “Please, I look like I’m trying to chase off ghosts.”

“Aye, and dancin’ ‘em straight back to hell, I’d wager,” he laughed, stepping closer now, tapping a slower rhythm, waiting for you to match.

You did. And when you moved in time with him, he gave you a crooked, approving smile.

The fire cracked behind you, the night wind rustling the horses and tents, but neither of you noticed. Not when your feet moved in tandem and your laughter mingled with his, echoing into the dark like a promise.

Just for tonight, it wasn’t hate. It wasn’t fear. It was dancing. It was you and Remmick, face to face, tapping out a rhythm that no one else could follow. You were sweating and exhausted…but when you looked up and saw the genuine smile on Remmick’s face.

…You realised you could have danced all night that you wouldn’t have complained once.

[universefcb]

hey! Can you make one which reader and Pedria are arguing because Pedri is jealous, like they really fight but them they get all fluffy

ROLLERCOASTER, PEDRI GONZALEZ.

→ Summary: You fight because of his jealousy..

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff/angusty. Obsession.

→ Author's note: I love him.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The door to the room slammed shut. It wasn't an accident.

She turned back, startled, meeting Pedri's heavy gaze. He was standing, the key still in his hand, his jaw clenched.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Who is he?” he asked directly, without beating around the bush.

"What?"

“The guy who had his hand on your waist at dinner tonight. The same guy who texted you last night.”

She closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She knew exactly who he was talking about. And she knew where this was going.

“Are you jealous of Rafa?”

“I'm jealous of the guy who is clearly hitting on you and you pretend not to see it.”

“Don't pretend anything. I just don't see the world the way you do.”

“Oh no? Because everyone at that table saw it. Only you were too busy laughing at his jokes.”

“Because I was trying to be polite! I don’t even like him like that! Why do you always have to create drama?”

Pedri paced around the room, restless. He glanced around as if he were looking for something to hold on to, something that would help him not explode.

“I’m not making anything up. I’m just saying it hurts to see you opening up to another guy like I’m not there. Like he can make you laugh more than I can.”

She felt the pain beneath the surface. It wasn't just anger—it was insecurity, pure and raw.

“I never meant to hurt you. But you’re projecting things that aren’t there. I’m not with him. I’m with you.”

“But for how long?” he asked, his voice breaking at the end.

That hurt. It hurt because it felt fragile. Like he didn’t trust that what they had was real enough to withstand a conversation with another man.

“Do you really think I’m going to leave you for someone I barely know? What kind of person do you think I am?”

He sat on the couch, covering his face with his hands. He didn't answer. He just took deep breaths, trying to compose himself. She stood for a moment, unsure whether to leave or sit next to him. In the end, she chose to stay.

“I’m not perfect, Pedri. But I choose you every day. And if that’s not enough, maybe we need to think about what we’re doing here.”

He took his hands from his face and looked at her. His eyes were red, but not from crying—from wounded pride.

“I don’t want to think about it. I’m just… afraid of losing you. I’ve never cared about anyone like this before.”

She sat down slowly, without touching him yet.

“Being afraid is normal. But you can’t let fear turn you into a person who distrusts everything. Otherwise, you’ll end up pushing away the very people you want to be around.”

He looked at her more calmly. The anger seemed to have turned to regret.

“I was an asshole.”

"He was."

“And you’re still here.”

She gave a half smile.

“Because I’m stubborn. And because I love you, even when you act like a possessive jerk.”

Pedri approached, hesitantly, and rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were softer now, his features relaxed.

“I promise to try to be less of an idiot.”

“I promise nothing,” she replied, with a teasing smile.

They laughed together, finally. And he pulled her into a tight hug, as if silently apologizing. They stayed like that for long minutes, breathing in the same rhythm, feeling the warmth of a new beginning.

In that room full of tension now dissolved, Pedri understood that loving also meant learning to trust. And she understood that sometimes the other person's fear just needed a little more patience.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinott @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[sturnlsstuff]

CELEBRATING YOUR BDAY WITH

GHOSTFACE!CHRIS

[ smut, eating pussy] — requested by anon.

it started like any other night with your half-sarcastic texts, the usual back-and-forth. with one difference— chris was sitting in his car, observing your house for what felt like hours, waiting for a good moment that finally came.

chris stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering like he might send something else— but didn’t. instead, he dropped his phone onto the passenger seat beside him and looked up at your bedroom window across the street.

lights still on.

he sat there in the dark for a bit, chewing the inside of his cheek. you hadn’t told him where you were going tonight. no mention of any big party, nothing. besides it was the middle of the week so he assumed that you're staying at home, in your room that he knew way too well by now.

you were always taking forever in the shower, so it was his chance. he grabbed his stuff, leaving his car before he could talk himself out of it.

a few minutes later, he climbed through the window like muscle memory, landing silently on the floor. the room was warm, dimly lit by your bedside lamp, and soft music played from the speaker on your dresser— some song he recognized but couldn’t name. you always did that, always had something playing, even when you weren't in the room.

the bathroom door was closed, a faint glow spilling out from underneath. chris could hear the water running as he stood there for a second, looking around, noticing the book you told him about laying on your nightstand, or his hoodie hanging off your chair like it belonged here. he never asked you to give it back.

he sat on the edge of your bed, twirling the black folding knife between his fingers, fidgeting in the only way he allowed himself. it wasn’t really a gift, just something cool. functional. the idea of doing this— showing up, giving you anything, made something twist in his chest, but he ignored it. after a moment he set the knife into the small black box with a little bow on it, closing the lid and putting it on his lap.

chris waited for a long while until finally, he heard the bathroom door creak open, the soft thud of your feet as you stepped into the room, wearing some oversized shirt and panties, casually drying your damp hair with the towel you had in your hands. but then you froze, your heart jolted. you actually jumped, letting the towel fall onto the ground, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as your eyes locked onto the figure sitting on your bed like he lived there. for half a second, instinct kicked in— fight, scream, anything, before your brain caught up and recognized him. chris. no matter how many times he would do it, sometimes you still got scared.

you pressed a hand to your chest, pulse racing, eyes narrowing. "holy fuck— what the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, trying to sound annoyed instead of shaken.

"took you long enough," he smirked, pulling the hood off his head.

"you scared the shit out of me, you psycho."

chris shrugged, "you're the one who leaves your window open."

you rolled your eyes, walking over to him. "yeah, but it's not exactly an invitation for you. doors exist, y'know? you don't have to break in through my window."

“technically, i broke in to give you something. so…” he tossed the small box to you, more abrupt than he meant to. you caught it, suspicious. “give me something?" a frown appears between your eyebrows as you look at the box. did he...? nah, no way.

"yeah, open it."

you give him a glance, "if this explodes, i swear—”

"kid, c'mon. you think i would put a bomb in it while i'm still in the room?" he mutters sarcastically, leaning back on his hands, remaining nonchalant. "just open."

you sigh unamused and finally flipping the box open to reveal the matte black knife inside— sleek, cold. beautiful, in that twisted way you understood. your eyebrows lifted. “what is this?”

he replies as it was the most normal thing in the world, "a knife."

"i know it’s a knife, genius.” you take the knife out of the box, putting it on the nightstand beside your book, and looking at the knife from all sides. it was similar to the one chris had, and you had seen many times before. "what, no bloodstains?" you joked.

"thought i'd let you christen it," he said sarcastically, but his body was still a little tense.

"why are you giving me this?" your eyes meet his.

chris shrugs again, stretching like it was no big deal, but his eyes remain on your face, searching for your reaction. "figured you’d want somethin' practical. use it on me if i ever get all soft and start writin' you poems or some crap.”

a small smile appears on your face, surprise clear in your expression. your fingers lingered on the handle longer than you probably meant to. "it's actually…cool.”

“i know."

then there was a pause— a weird one. you put the knife back in the box just as chris clears his throat, and without looking at you, he pulled the rest of his gift out of his hoodie pocket. he handed it to you with a muttered, “here.”

it was a ziplock bag of your favorite candy— hard to find, the kind you once mentioned in the past, but didn't know he was listening.

a polaroid, creased at the corners. it was you, snapped mid-laugh months ago, hoodie half-off your shoulder, sun in your hair. you didn’t even know he took it.

and a small red USB. no label.

your eyes move over everything that was there, placing the candy on the bed, your fingers running over the polaroid. it was a nice shot, capturing the way he sees you. but your attention is caught by the red USB. "and what is that?" you glance at him curiously.

“just some music. stuff that doesn’t suck,” he shrugged. “don't get all weird 'bout it.”

you picked it up and after his words something shifted behind your eyes. "you made me a playlist?” you ask with a hint of disbelief, just in time as some song starts playing from your speaker— a song he knows. one of the ones he'd thrown onto that USB like it was nothing.

have you got colour in your cheeks?

do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type?

that sticks around like summer in your teeth?

"it's not— not really a playlist, just... music. that i happened to put together.”

are these some aces up your sleeve?

you were aware that it's a gift for your birthday, which is really surprising because you haven't expected anything from him— especially not this. but the small red USB you hold in your hand, and the rest of the gift throws you off. it's so casual, but knowing chris nothing he does is ever just that.

have you no idea that you're in deep?

the fact that he had to put effort into this was making your stomach twist. he had to thought about it, which track was gonna be first, which last, what songs to add, what it'd say without using words. it was making chris feel exposed and uncomfortable, and he knew you weren't expecting it.

i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week.

he finally looked at you, there was hesitation under the way he held his jaw tight, like he regretted bringing the whole damn thing. this wasn’t his kind of thing and he knew it, but at the same time it was worth it.

how many secrets can you keep?

“you didn’t have to do this,” you said, voice quieter now, as you stand right in front of him, putting the red USB on your nightstand. chris's eyes roam all over your body.

'cause there's this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow

“yeah, well. but i did.” he cleared his throat, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. "you ain't gonna start cryin' or anything, right?” he asks sarcastically, pulling you onto his lap. you straddle his thighs, hands wrapping around his shoulders immediately as you let out a small chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"nah, i'm good." you shake your head, while chris's hands move under your big shirt, brushing against the skin on your waist.

and i play it on repeat until i fall asleep

“happy birthday,” he said, barely above a murmur. "or whatever."

the smile on your face makes him sick. "thanks. or whatever." he smirked, hiding the relief that cracked through him.

spillin' drinks on my settee

(do i wanna know?) if this feelin' flows both ways?

his breath hitched at the intensity of your gaze, the air pulsed between you two, thick with everything unsaid. chris leans in, crashing his lips against yours, getting a hum in approval. all heat and hesitation he felt the whole day, became one desperate kiss as your tongue dances with his, your hands clutching at the fabric of his hoodie, dragging him closer like space itself was enemy.

(sad to see you go) was sorta hopin' that you'd stay

his hands move higher up underneath your shirt, every touch stoked the fire higher— fingers threading through hair, a low gasp swallowed between kisses, the edge of a moan bitten back.

his hand found your jaw, tilting your face to the side slightly, and his lips dragged down your neck, sucking and biting on your skin.

(baby, we both know) that the nights were mainly made

for sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day

he flips you over so that your back hits the mattress and he's on top now, his hands already taking off your shirt and throwing it somewhere aside. you gasp softly when his weight settled over you, his lips just beneath your ear where your pulse betrayed you, sending shivers down your spine. then he moves lower, each kiss leaving a scorch behind, breath catching in your throat when his tongue barely traced your hardening nipple.

crawlin' back to you

you can feel the wetness pooling between your legs while he plays with your tits, getting a whimper from you. his lips give attention to every inch of your skin but your most sensitive area, avoiding it intentionally to build a slow burn within you.

ever thought of callin' when you've had a few?

'cause i always do

"chris..." you whine, watching as he moves downwards, gently biting on your inner thigh while his fingers keep playing with your breasts.

"ah, ah, ah," he cooed, feeling your hand in his hair, trying to push his head towards your core. "be patient," he murmurs, his breath fanning across your lower abdomen. his eyes move to the clear wet spot on your panties, a smirk appearing on his face. "this is just another one of my birthday gifts for ya," he looks up at you from between your legs, eyes dark with desire. "but you gotta stay still."

maybe i'm too

busy being yours to fall for somebody new

his fingers trace the edge of your panties before he hooks one under, slowly pulling them down. you're laying there with your chest falling and raising rapidly, hair spilled across the pillow, watching him purposely teasing you and knowing you're completely at his mercy. his hands gently spread your thighs wide, looking at your glistening pussy and he feels his pants growing tighter.

"fuck, you're drippin'," he growls, placing small, feather-light kisses close to your center, torturing you intentionally and drawing out the moment.

now i've thought it through

crawlin' back to you...

your voice slightly shaky with desire as you mumble, "it's my birthday and— and you're being cruel to me...."

chris' smirk grows, his fingers spreading your folds, pressing a gentle kiss, his tongue just barely grazing your heat. "i think m'being really generous, actually." he avoids any contact with your clit, instead using the top of his tongue to tease the edge of your folds.

"that's unfair—" you whine, hips twitching upwards but he presses them back down with his hand.

"i don't think it is," he mutters, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "it'd be if i just pulled back now, but i assume–"

"no!" you immediately say panicked.

yeah, thats what he thought.

"no?" he slowly repeats, driving you crazy with his little satisfied smirk and the look in his eyes. "you don't want that? should i make you beg for it?"

he puts your trembling legs on his shoulders, dragging the flat of his tongue up one side of your entrance, then down the other. a low groan leaves his mouth, his dick uncomfortably straining against his pants. your fingers tighten in his hair as the frustration and desperation keeps building up within you. the wetness starts pooling beneath you, soaking the sheets and it's incredibly hot for him.

"please, chris." you mewl, clenching around nothing.

"please eat you out? please make you come with my tongue?" his tone is mocking, he clearly enjoys making you struggle and that makes your stomach flip. his eyes flash with triumph and desire when finally he gives your clit a quick flick with his tongue before slightly pulling back, being a cruel tease on purpose.

you're losing your mind.

"what else do you want me to say?! yes, i want whatever you give me. i'd get on my knees if i could just for you to—"

a loud moan is ripped from you when he suddenly gives in to your desperate pleas and dives in, sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around it while pushing two fingers inside of you. he curls them upward, hitting that sweet spot deep within.

your mouth goes slack, eyes roll back when he finally gives you what you craved. chris growls against your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through your entire body. his fingers fuck you slow and deep while his tongue laps at your clit mercilessly, and you're already embarrassed, knowing you won't last long.

"holy— shitt..." you whine, looking down at him with your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure.

the sloppy, wet slurring fill the room as he devours you like a starving man, redoubling his efforts when he feels your legs trying to close around his head. his fingers dig onto your thigh as he keeps your legs spread on his shoulders, his cock twitching at the sounds you were making. "chris, i— fuckk, oh my god—" the grip on your sheets gets tighter as you grow closer and closer to the edge. he hums, eyes locked on your face, letting you grind against his face while his tongue skillfully swirls around your clit. he can sense your walls sucking his fingers in, causing him to go even faster and deeper.

he has you right where he wants you, a moaning mess, squirming around on your bed and pulling on his hair as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

"so close— gonna... c— oh!" he sucks on you even harder, his fingers hitting your g-spot, making you come undone into his mouth. he licks and swallows every single drop as your juices flood his tongue, savoring the taste of you and letting you ride out your orgasm.

your vision goes blurry at the intensity of your release, your body slightly shaking as you gasp softly for air.

he pulls back moments later, pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean, making sure you watch him. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself and by the look on his face you can tell that there's a long night ahead of you.

"happy birthday, princess," he says again, followed by the sound of his belt hitting the floor.

a/n; look at this romantic fella 😻

taglist; @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @brazyturtleneck @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10 @chriss-slutt @icrazy106 @ribbonlovergirl @izzylovesmatt @trevorsgodmother @sturniolo101 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @bernardsbendystraws @loser41ifee @cleolovespepsi @joanakaulitz @oopsiedaisydeer

[heartyluv]

⋆⁺₊❅. ⋆꙳*̩̩͙ ❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Note: I know we’re in May, but I felt like it being Christmas works well in this little story and I’ve had this idea for a few days so I’m excited. I listened to Love Wins All by IU when I wrote this and would I be crazy if I got a littleeee emotional?

Creds to @/anitalenia for the dividers!

Warning: Nothing, honestly. I’m using Caleb becoming a Colonel as the reason you divorced. This is just angsty Caleb declaring his love to his ex-wife.

Word Count: 2,362

Summary: Letting your ex-husband come over for Christmas was bound to stir the pot.

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader

You loved your children with everything in your being. They were the most precious things to you in the world and you’d do anything to make them happy. It’s why when they begged you for days to let their father be here when they open their Christmas gifts tomorrow morning, you couldn’t tell them no.

Many people would look at you crazy for letting your ex-husband come into your home and play house, especially with the divorce being so fresh. It’s only been a year since everything was finalized and to this day, your heart still aches when you think about how everything transpired between you two.

When Caleb became a colonel, you thought it was the beginning of something monumental. And in hindsight, it was. It just led to the end of what you both thought would be forever. You found yourself home alone with your first born baby boy all the time, never getting to see your husband in the daylight because he was coming home so late. He missed so many of your son’s milestones and no amount of apologies and kisses made up for the fact that you felt like you were doing it all on your own.

You knew that the job was challenging and demanding, but it was changing him in a way you couldn’t understand. Caleb didn’t agree, telling you at the time that he had to be this dedicated, that he didn’t get to where he is by not giving it his all. He used the fact that he needed to take care of his family as a crutch as to why he was letting the job consume him, but you knew better. His position is something he’s always longed for and you’ve known that in all the years you’ve been together.

But even if you did know better, you still stayed because you swore it would get better.

It’s why you ended up pregnant again with your precious girl not long after your son turned two. But when you saw that the cycle only repeated itself, that it seemed like you lost your husband entirely, you knew what you had to do, even if it broke you.

There was too much fighting, too much back and forth, and it became all consuming in the way that you felt like you were losing him and yourself. It’s why you offered a proposition that nearly drove Caleb mad. But when he saw how unhappy you were, how drained you became, even in the end if it meant breaking his own heart and destroying himself, he’d always put you and the wellbeing of your children above himself. He wasn’t stupid, Caleb knew how he failed you as your husband and he’d always regret it because he wished that it didn’t happen and that he tried harder before it became too late.

You two went your separate ways and it took both you and the kids time to adjust, but you were making it. If it weren’t for them, you don’t know how’d you be. It was so hard telling them that their dad wouldn’t be around at all, that they’d be going to him without you from now on and vice versa.

Caleb was still taking care of you, even if you weren’t together. You told him over and over that it wasn’t necessary, that you’d find a job and handle your end. But he wouldn’t have it.

“You only need to be the mother and woman I fell in love with. There isn’t a thing that you could say or do that would make me stop being there for you and our children.”

In that moment, you felt like your resolve almost broke. But you stood your ground and reluctantly accepted his care, seeing as you really had no choice. He made sure you kept the house, paid for the bills, gave you extra money for yourself and the kids, always stocked up on food. He was treating it like you were still a unit, and you never knew how to feel about that.

Despite it all, you could never deny that Caleb has always been a phenomenal father. It was only being a husband that it seemed to not grasp the entirety of. He gave your babies the world and you couldn’t ask for a better man to have as the father of your children.

It’s Christmas Eve evening as your kids sit in front of the TV, watching classic holiday films you grew up, with when you hear the doorbell ring. You dry your hands, stepping away from the now empty sink and walk to the front door. As you open it, there stands Caleb with a slightly red nose from the frigid temperature. Some snow sticks to his jacket and hair, making him look like a scene out of a movie. He gently smiles at you and you reciprocate, and you step over as the kids come running at him full speed.

“Daddy!” they exclaim with joy as they wrap themselves around his legs.

He chuckles before he kneels down to take them into a tight hug. “My two favorite people in the world,” he hums as they giggle in his hold. “You excited for tomorrow?”

“Yeah!” your son says enthusiastically before he frowns. “Santa hasn’t come yet.”

“I want see Santa!” your daughter folds her arms dramatically. Caleb kisses her cheeks and she giggles. She’s always been a daddy’s girl.

Caleb looks behind them to see that under the tree is empty. He already knows the tradition. You guys always put the presents under when they fall asleep, and it’s no different now. He looks up at you while you watch the exchange, winking with a sly smirk. You shake your head, unable to stop the smile that decorates your face.

“You guys eat?” he asks as he stands to usher them inside the warm home.

Your kids talk his ear off as they tell them about their dinner, the breakfast you plan on cooking, what they asked Santa for, all while you sneak out the back to take the presents he bought and put them in the side closet so they can be added to the collection you have.

It’s not long until Caleb tires them out from all the playing and conversation, tucking them into bed with gentle kisses to their foreheads. After he leaves their bedroom, he walks in the living room to find you already stacking presents.

“Let me help,” he voices. After grabbing some gifts from the closet, he kneels beside you to start laying everything out, just how you like.

“How’ve you been?” he asks. You swallow, clearing your throat. You haven’t really uttered a word to him since he got here and now that you’re alone, for the first time since the divorce, it all feels so surreal.

“I’m okay,” you answer gently. “How are you?” He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Just,” he sighs. “Talking to you like it’s the first time we’ve ever spoken in our life feels…wrong? I don’t know.”

Your jaw tenses. “I get it.” You think of how to shift the conversation, not quite ready to delve into this. “Thank you for coming, by the way. The kids really—”

“I miss you,” he interrupts, and this time you freeze.

“I miss you and the kids. I miss being home. I miss us.”

“Caleb, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Tell you that I never wanted this? That we’re supposed to be together? That not having you makes everything feel fucking impossible?”

“You should’ve throught about that before you put being colonel above being a husband.”

That stings him, slaps him in the face. Feels like it shot him in the stomach. He gulps, staring at you even if you won’t look at him.

He looks down at his hands, watching them turn to fists because of the anger he holds toward himself. “I messed up.”

“You did.”

“Let me fix it,” he begs. “It’s not too late for us, I know it isn’t. I know you still want me, still love me.”

“You’re being so unfair,” you shake your head, feeling the tears burn your eyes. “This isn’t what you came for.”

“I came for my family, and that has and will always, include you.”

You don’t answer and that frustrates him. The way you keep sliding festively wrapped boxes under the tree like he isn’t telling you that he wants a second chance, is enough to make his heart thump even faster in his chest.

“Look at me,” he commands shakily.

“You don’t get to see how much you hurt me, how lonely you made me, watch our marriage fall apart, then try to come in here for redemption after all this time, Caleb!” When you notice how raised your voice has become, you press your lips together to collect yourself. The last thing you want to do is wake up your kids. “Even though we signed the papers a year ago, there hasn’t been nothing family about us for even longer.”

“I was selfish, I know that. I needed to do better, I want to, I always have. Baby, I will. Every time I walk into my empty apartment without you to kiss, to love, to hold… Without my kids…I feel the weight of my stupidity suffocate me with every step I take.”

“I can’t do this,” you sniffle, getting ready to stand, but Caleb grabs your hand before you can. His silver necklace glimmers against the warm lamp light beside him and your eyes trail up his neck, past his perfect nose and into his.

Your lip quivers as he pulls you up. He grabs your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours as a tear falls down your cheek. You brace your hands on his wrists as he holds you, unable to open your eyes.

“I never stopped loving you. I never will,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your skin. “I was lost, and instead of leaning on you, I abandoned you. But know that there is no lifetime, no timeline in any universe, that could keep me from you. Every part of me will always belong to you.” His voice cracks at his admission.

“Caleb…” you say his name as if it was a stress reliever. Like voicing it could make all the ache in your chest dissipate.

“Don’t you remember? How good we used to feel? How good I made you feel? I know your body and soul better than anyone—not even you could take that privilege from me, baby. I was too late before. Let me do better now.”

With shaky breath, unbridled emotions, and conflicting thoughts, you tilt your head up. He looks down at you with pain that mirrors your own, desire that matches your being. And he doesn’t ask for permission, doesn’t wait because even while he’s chipping away at your walls, he knows you’ll try and swiftly put them back up—and he kisses you.

His tongue mingles with yours as you hesitate to feel him.

“Touch me,” he begs. “Please, touch me.“

When you succumb to his request and your hands grip his hair for the first time in what feels like forever, he melts into your hold. He devours your mouth like you’ll slip away from him at any moment and based on the reality, it’s a strong possibility. So he relishes in your taste, memorizes you all over again because divorce and pain changes a whole person’s being. He knows this because it did it to him.

He’s not the same man he was. In fact, he believes he’s a better one. He just needs you to give him the chance to show you. It’s unfortunate that it took losing you to correct himself.

“Let me come home,” he bites your lip, groaning at how you whimper. “Let me come home to you and our babies.”

You just keep kissing him because you don’t know if you’re ready to give him what he wants, even if you want it to. It’s because he knows you so well that he doesn’t need you to say it. He just needs you both to stay right here for as long as you’ll allow it.

When you finally pull apart, he’s caressing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Why now..?” you ask.

“I finally got the courage to face my mistakes. I wanted to fight the divorce the moment you asked for it, and with the little fight that I did give, I only hurt you more. I knew there was no winning side of it all for either of us. Being together hurt and being apart proved to do the same. But we’re here now,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Let me be what I should’ve been, right now. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

Your eyes soften, one of your hands gently tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m scared, Caleb. I don’t… I can’t be hurt again.”

“You won’t be,” he promises. “I’d rather die than put you through anything like this again. You and the kids.”

“Will you give me time? To think?”

It’s not what he wanted to hear, but it’s not a no. So for now, it’ll have to do.

“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. Not if my family isn’t with me.”

It takes all your strength to separate yourself from him. He promises to finish putting the gifts beneath the tree because distance is needed right now. So when you retreat to your bedroom and shut the door behind you, your press your back against it and put your palm to your mouth.

You suppress the sounds of your weeping, feeling the emotions rack and shake your body. You’ve missed him so much, you knew the man you loved was never gone. And now that he’s seems to be back, you have to decide for you and your children if starting over is something you’re prepared for. If it’s something you should even consider doing.

If Caleb really wants this, if he’s truly ready, then you’re sure that the love you’ve always had for each other, will win above all.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can I request reader helping calm down series ENA when she’s in full sad mode, if you haven’t written it before? I just really want to hug her and tell her everything is going to be okay. :(

To say that Ena's emotions were like a box of chocolates would be a grave understatement.

It'd be much more accurate to instead say they were like "a pandora's box of chocolates", as she could be in a relatively normal (or at least "normal" by her standards) or a relatively awful state of mind. And you wouldn't have a clue until you saw her.

Today, you stopped by her place to visit her and Moony. It was a perfectly average afternoon, nothing too significant going on, so you figured spending it with your girlfriend and friend was fine.

But unfortunately, you'd come to discover that what came out of that metaphorical box...was an emotion you hoped to never see again.

Full, unbridled, uncontrollable sadness.

You knew something was wrong when Moony called you up in a panic, and you could hear Ena crying in the background and unwillingly converting her friend's words into white noise.

So when you arrived, it wasn't any surprise when the celestial entity swung the door open on the first knock. Her mannequin arm practically dragged you inside the house, closing it behind you in seconds, as her eye remained wide. "Where have you been, dude?!! I've been calling you for HOURS!!"

You were about to correct her with "you actually called me five minutes ago", when the sight of your grayed-out girlfriend stomping around the living room without having any sense of direction--or any acknowledgement of your presence--made you reconsider.

Now you understood why Moony was so panicked. "Ena?? How long has she been like that?"

"Forget it! We gotta evacuate the premises now! She's gone AWOL, I fear."

"No, no. I...got an idea." You shook your head. "She'll listen to me. I've gotten her out of that mood before."

"Yeah? Well good luck." She grunted, watching you approach Ena cautiously. She stayed by the window in case she had to break through to escape, but curiosity made her linger long enough to see how you handled this situation.

At some point, your arms managed to surround the polygonal woman before she could ram headfirst into the wall, stopping her dead in her tracks. "Ena, it's me. I'm here. I'm here now." You try to tell her.

But she didn't instantly recognize your touch, and she felt even more overwhelmed and wanted whoever was making her feel like this to go away forever. So she began thrashing around violently, blocky fists hitting your body--although they were rather soft, not doing any actual damage.

It made you wonder if she subconsciously knew it was you...but couldn't do anything, as she wasn't in total control over herself right now.

You knew that, and you didn't waver, keeping your hold on her firm. Her muffled screaming and glitched-out sobbing created a symphony of unpleasantness that'd make anyone's ears bleed, yet you were willing to endure it all if it meant she'd recognize you through her tantrum.

"Ena, it's me." You repeated, softer this time. "I'm here now, love. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Luckily, your words seemed to be taking effect as her fists slowly stopped hitting you, eventually bringing them back in front of her. And for a moment she was still, attempting to speak your name, which you could hear despite all the garbled mess.

"Yes. It's me." You pulled away a little, gently taking her wrists and looking at the tearful triangular eyes on the back of them. The two halves of her mouth were full of static, hence why it's so difficult for her to talk. "You can see me, right? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

She just sniffled, and you glanced up at her blank face. On the empty canvas, you saw hints of blue and yellow trying to reappear as small glitches and static overlay. It made you think the worst was finally coming to an end. "Ena?"

"Mmm...m-mhmmm....U̴W̸A̸A̶A̶A̶H̸H̴A̸A̸A̶!!!" Just like that, her full-sadness took over again as she ripped her hands out of yours and covered her face with them instead.

But instead of having another violent fit, she seemed to accept that you were actually here, and not some stranger, as she melted into your embrace, wanting to hide away from the world. Like you were the only thing anchoring her to reality right now (and in truth, you were indeed).

You decided to sit down on the couch, holding her closely, grateful that you've gotten through to her before she could bring any harm to herself or others. Immediately, you felt her tears soaking through your shirt as she sobbed into your chest, curling up into a ball.

After that initial startling wail, she was a lot calmer now than before, but obviously she still wasn't anywhere near okay. And while you rubbed her back and murmured sweet affirmations and condolences, you wondered what could've possibly led to her being stuck in this state for so long--to where not even your words could pull her out of it right away.

The only other person who was with her before all of this went down was-

"Moony, what did you do?"

"H-Hey! What are you accusing me of??" The lunar entity gasped, appalled that you dared to suspect she had something to do with Ena's current near-inconsolable emotional state. "She's your girlfriend, right? Thought you two had some sort of telepathic connection...or "deeper understanding" of whatevertheheck goes on inside her head."

"...deeper understa--....that makes no sense. You two have been friends longer than I've known either of you." You sent her a glare. "You, of all people, should know-"

"Uuhuuhuuu..."

"Huh?" Feeling a tug on your shirt, you looked back at Ena, who was now covering her ears, whining all the while. And it took you a second to understand what got her upset just now. "Crap..I'm sorry. I know you're feeling overwhelmed...but everything's okay, my love." You went back to comforting her, running a hand through her hair. "Don't mind us. We're just...being stupid. Right, Moony?"

"Hey, you said it, not me."

"Oh for the love of....will you just-?!"

"S-Stop awrguing, guys! Let's just...l-let's just all agwee that I'm the stupid one here!!"

"No you're not.....wait..." You blinked, realizing that your girlfriend finally sounded normal again. Her colors have returned to her body--and somehow you completely missed it despite her not leaving your arms once.

Moony was surprised, too. "Oh cool. Glad that's over." She sounded totally and utterly disinterested. "Imma sneak on outta here. Give ya'll some....alone time. Bye, [y/n]. Bye, Ena...Zena. Bye." She ended up going through the window, shattering it as the glass bits dissolved into pixels by the time they touched the floor.

You were a bit glad she left, as you could now fully focus on the person who was still cuddling up to you. "Are you okay now, Ena? You had me worried."

"I'm fine. Bu...But I'm sowwy for being a mess. My head huwrts." Ena's blue half spoke as she nuzzled her face into your chest, hiccupping. "Do you have a baseball bat I could borrow?"

"Not on me. And I wouldn't let you borrow it anyways." You shake your head. "If it's okay to ask....what made you go all-gray on Moony? Did she say something?"

"....no."

"Then..what happened?"

"I..erm...forgot." Her happier side took over, looking up at you with a smile. "But that's okay. It was probably over something rather silly, anyways. We needn't concern ourselves with that. I feel much better, and it's all thanks to you, my dearest love."

With a small giggle, courtesy of her more feminine voice, she hugged you tightly and kissed you on the cheek. "Apologies for any distress I might've caused. I..really don't mean to--act like such a buwrden..." Her sadness uttered briefly.

Out of nowhere, she went from having a full-blown meltdown in your arms, being virtually mute, to acting like nothing happened?

You should be used to her emotions flip-flopping like this...yet she always seems to surprise you.

Nevertheless, you're relieved it's over, and that this pandora's box was sealed for the time being.

So you smiled softly and hugged her back. "You're not a burden. I'm just glad I could be here to help."

[nthewriter]

“Since when?”

“A very long time.” Simon replied, throat dry, as he observed her shaking hands getting away from the stove and the skillet she was using. It was the hardest thing he was doing and going through ever since he had lost Johnny. “Love, sit down please-“

“Don’t call me love!” She roared back, tears rolling down her cheeks, vulnerable and hurt and broken.

She slid down the kitchen counter, with a breaking wail, the kind that tore someone apart, the kind that shook the entire body. in this instant, Simon felt like watching a woman breaking down, the pieces falling apart quickly, like a building being demolished by a bomb. Everything came back to Johnny, he realised.

Slowly, he crouched down next to her, his wife, the woman who had abandoned a lot for him, who had stood there in the hospital after he deliberately let himself be shot so he could be reunited with Johnny, grabbing his hand, soothed his nightmares and for once, he felt regret. Regret that he hadn’t have the bravery to tell her that he had liked another, regret that he had pulled her into his own mess.

“I’m really sorry.” He spoke, and he didn’t realise his own tears were rolling down his cheeks, splattering around the orange tilted floor. Why was he crying? He didn’t ruin his own life, he ruined hers.

“I was just some fun for you?!” She yelled and she was right to yell, to be angry, furious at him. As quickly as it came, her ferocity died down. “You never loved me…”

What to do now? Simon had decided to take the sofa, sleeping on it in the one bedroom flat he had bought because he knew she had loved it. Now that his secret was out, that his failure and cheating was known to the one person that never hurt him, that put himself before herself, what was there to do?

He couldn’t possibly leave. Where would he go? His meager disability allowance from the UK government was not enough to cover another move. He couldn’t rent a flat. He was stuck.

He heard her waking up for work. He slowly sat down, his hip pain bursting through his body, as he watched her walk around quietly, as if to not disturb him. Even if he had hurt her, she was still caring for him. And it made his heart break even more.

When she came back, she sat down at the table. He took a seat in front of her. She looked calm and put together despite what he had revealed to her last night, but in her eyes, he could see the storm.

“What do we do now?” She had asked out loud. But in a way, Simon knew she seemed to have her own idea about their situation. “Did you ever love me?” She then questioned, this question came from her broken self esteem, he realised.

“I love you.” Simon spoke in a confident tone. It was the truth. He loved her.

“Then why did you say you were in love with someone else?”

“It’s the truth.” He replied to her questions with an honesty he didn’t believe he could manage. No more lies. “I… I fear Johnny will always be my true love, my soulmate.”

“And I am just the dumb chick that you married?” She told him with sarcasm.

“No. Don’t say that.”

“But here we are! Do you only love me because I cook for you, I pay for everything, I wash you-“

“You make me a whole again.” Simon cut her mid sentence. “You may not believe me, and I am sorry, it’s really my fault. I don’t know how to say it but- Johnny was my other half. When he died, I felt… dead inside. But you came in, you brought your sunshine with you and you put something back into me.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t my intentions. But I will die again if you leave.” And he knew she would die too if he left.

There was a very heavy silence. He could see different emotions in her eyes. In a moment, he was frightened she would throw him out and file for divorce. Everything he had said was true. Johnny had been his soulmate yes, but this woman was the missing piece of the puzzle that made him a human. And who said you only had one soulmate?

“I will cook spaghetti.” She finally whispered, tears in her eyes as she stood up and went around in the kitchen.

For Simon, it meant everything.

[iluminatka16]

"From beyond the stars" Chapter 3

Chapter 2 [Chapter List]

Summary: Why it's not worth insulting the Emperor and a conversation with the main culprit of the whole Heresy, Horus.

Tags: isekai, ending up in a fictional universe, primarchxf!oc, found family trope, emperor and horus make an apperance

Warnings: mention of failed suicide attempt, cursing, typical canon violence, mention of child abuse

Word count: 2773 Edit: FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHIG THAT IS HOLY AND UNHOLY, I ACCIDENTALY PUT FEW WRONG TAGS, AND TUMBLR ISN'T ALLOWING ME TO DELETE THEM (*screams of despair*). no, this isn't emperor x reader fic

Unfortunately, she was not given peace of mind this time either. Before either brother had time to answer her, heavy rhythmic footsteps sounded behind them. Yelena turned toward the sound and sighed quietly. It seemed that Custodian had returned to his post. But since he was walking towards them, it meant that either they were in trouble for talking to her, or the Neoth wanted something from her.

“The Emperor is expecting you.” briefly without explanation. Of course, she could have tried to inquire, but she knew perfectly well that it would have accomplished nothing. The bodyguard of the most powerful man in the galaxy probably didn't know himself what exactly was going on. Because why share his plans with anyone? What could have gone wrong? Let's think. Ah well! All this mystery led to a fucking heresy and Neoth looking like a zombie from The Walking Dead.

“Looks like I'm in trouble. Farawell gentlemen, if I survive then I definitely need to have a chat with you.” Yelena extended her finger in front of her and moved it to none other than the primarch, after whom the aforementioned heresy was named. “Especially with you Horus.”

“Horus? I thought most baseline humans call me My Lord.”

Yelena only smiled.

The road through the golden corridors was a torture. Lack of sleep, hunger, anxiety. All this made her think she was going crazy. She had barely been here, and she had managed to insult the fucking Emperor himself and break his ban. Three times! She was not supposed to talk to the primarchs, and she talked to three of them. And also with Curz. It's a good thing the Heresy of Horus hadn't happened yet, because if she had met that version of Konrad… well, she still remembered the passage in the book about him, where he decided to murder almost the entire crew of the ship and torture the only survivor. On top of that, there was still that fucking Custodian. Not only did he not react when the Night Haunter followed her footsteps into the garden, even though the primarchs were also forbidden to go near her, but he also walked away from the site of his post-

Wait a moment.

Custodian is no ordinary soldier who simply runs away from his post to go play cards. Even if his family was dying in front of him, he wouldn't move unless the Emperor himself gave the order… THAT BASTARD.

The door to the spacious study closed behind her, and Yelena was left alone with Neoth. The man was staring at a holographic map projector of some planetary system in front of him, not even raising his eyes to look at her.

“You set me up.” Yelena didn't care about the titles at this point, feeling her rage boiling inside her. She thought that she was indeed going mad from lack of sleep.

“You said they could be saved. Testing your words was the only option. Admittedly, my plans for your first confrontation looked a bit different, but you handled everything yourself by running out into the garden. It was a matter of time before Curze followed you. From what I noticed, you are like a magnet for my sons. I was honestly surprised that none of them broke my prohibition and entered the chamber I assigned to you. But I must admit that you have done remarkably well.”

“Talking to him was "doing remarkably well"? He didn't take anything from my words, an-”

“Konrad spent the whole night talking to you.” The Emperor interrupted her, finally lifting his gaze from above the map. “That's more than his brothers accomplished in their years of Crusade together. And you managed to get him interested in just a dozen minutes of discussion together.”

“So what do you expect me to do?”

“Since you were able to get to Konrad, it should go easily with the other primarchs. You know their mentality, past and future. You know what awaits them.”

“And then what?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Yelena slowly approached the table. She didn't even think about her next words.

“Let's say I'll stop the heresy, which might be difficult, because there's a chance I'll accidentally make things worse. Great, you have your generals, you're not trapped in a golden chair, undergoing torture for ten thousand years. You've conquered the entire cosmos. What's next? Are you going to get rid of them like you got rid of the Thunder Warriors?”

Neoth slowly straightened up. Probably it was the action of his power, but Yelena felt an unpleasant shudder run through her body under his gaze. She felt so small, so insignificant. Like a bug that he could trample with his shoe. Well, and here his was a mistake. She was so familiar to this feeling, that it only fueled her rage.

“Careful…”

“Because what? Are you going to kill me?” Yelena hissed, clenching her hands into fists. “Just like you killed those who opposed you? Because so far I am the only one who knows the exact course of events of the heresy. You don't know them, otherwise you wouldn't have ended up the way you ended up in the books with the whole Imperium going to shit.”

“Don't overestimate yourself. You are not as important as you think. The fact that you're still alive is due solely to my grace. One more word and you'll end up in a cell, where I'll extract this information from you with torture.”

“Even knowing the exact course of the heresy, you wouldn't be able to stop it. Do you know why? Because you are an bad father who sees, men who blindly obey you, as tools in your Great Fucking Plan.”

After that, there was only pain. Yelena felt like her body went up in flames. Blood gushed from her nose and filled her throat, running down her chin. Suddenly standing became too painful and before she knew it, she was collapsed onto the floor, convulsing in pain. She had no idea what was happening, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was hard to tell how long it lasted, but suddenly everything went quiet. She was still on the floor, choking on her own blood, and standing over her was none other than Neoth.

“Maybe the world you were born into is much softer and merciful, but there are different rules here. I have killed for lesser offenses than loudly insulting me. You are weak. You are a nobody. And killing you will be like squashing an ant with a shoe.”

As if to confirm her words, Yelena felt his boot resting on her head. She wasn't stupid. She knew that he could easily split her skull, mix bones and brain. One push. That was all it took. The fact that he hadn't done it yet meant that he was giving her a chance to apologize. For her to beg for mercy.

The problem was that she felt no fear. Only rage. It was as if she was again a child being beaten by her father using his belt, trying to break her. If he wasn't able to do it, she'd sooner die than let a fucking fictional character do this. Even if she was going to die for it.

“And you're an arrogant prick whose own personality made all the perpetuals run away from him, then his sons, who loved him above life, betrayed him, and his Great Plan went to shit.”

Yelena was panting like a wild animal caught in a trap. Her eyes were wide open, and although her view was partially obscured by the man's boot, she stared ahead with almost burning gaze. Her bloody face was contorted in a grimace that she had worn more than once when dealing with bad fathers.

“I can kill you at any second, and yet you are not afraid. All I can sense from you is rage. You are filled with hatred. You say I am arrogant, yet look at yourself. Too proud to yield even in the face of death.”

Yelena did not answer him. She merely clenched her jaw, waiting for a push to fix what should have happened when she jumped off that bridge. But to her surprise, no, shock, instead she felt the pressure on her head disappear and a strong hand grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. Oh fuck, how painful it was. Her muscles forced to move ignited, drawing a broken whimper from her mouth.

“The pain will go away soon.”

Easy to fucking say. Yelena had no idea what was going on until someone pushed her to sit on a armchair, clearly made for the measurements of primarchs, and a silk handkerchief was placed in her hand.

“Get yourself in order.” The Emperor muttered, resting his hands on the beautifully decorated table. “You mentioned two times that… how did you put it? The Imperium went to shit. What is the fate of humanity after my sons betrayed me?”

Yelena thought for a moment about telling him to fuck off after the way he treated her, but decided she didn't feel like testing her luck any further. “Ten thousand years have passed, you are immobilized on the Golden Throne, the Imperium is attacked from all sides. It is ruled by corrupt fanatics and the Inquisition… ah yes, the Inquisition are also corrupt fanatics.” With a quick movement, she wiped the blood from under her nose and moved her handkerchief to her chin. “Chaos is attacking with new power, on top of that new enemies have appeared - Tau, Necrons, Tyranids. You almost became the fifth god of chaos, and ten thousand years of constant torture probably destroyed your psyche to the point that you were probably no longer yourself. And also they made you into a god in whose name they kill others or even themselves.”

Fucking Lorgar.

Neoth nodded slowly. “What do you expect in return for your help?”

“Excuse me?"

“You don't want to help me kill potential traitors, so I expect you to help me stop them from descending into chaos. Death threats don't work on you, so I'm asking what you want from me in exchange for your help.”

Yelena thought for a second. “First of all, nothing will succeed without your help. Be their father, even if you don't see them as your sons. Teach them about the threat from the chaos gods, explain Warp to Magnus, help Konrad with his madness. Just… take care of them. Second - when the Great Crusade is over, don't kill them. Let them live in peace, in the way they choose. Third… if you decide to kill me after all this is over, I ask that you do it quickly. Don't send me to the Astra Militarum to die there, just kill me in my sleep. So that I don't have to suffer.”

“You're not going to beg for your life? You know that I am able to make you a lord of some rich pleasure planet, or give you a place in one of my offices. Why don't you beg for it?”

Yelena shrugged her shoulders. “You will do what you think is right. I only ask that if you decide you want to kill me, that you spare me the suffering.”

“It's a deal then. I will change my attitude toward my sons, and your death will not be painful. You have my word.”

She had no idea if he was lying. He had done it many times in the books, so she could expect pretty much anything. This time, however, she did not question him. If, after what she told him, he still decided, to be stubborn, there was nothing she could do. They talked for a good hour, where she briefly had to explain to him what tyranids and tau were, but in the end, perhaps seeing that she was actually barely keeping her eyes due to the exhaustion, he took pity on her, ordering the Custodian to escort her to her chamber. Unfortunately, she couldn't have a moment of peace here either, as she was caught on the way by none other than Horus. Primarch, of course, demanded an explanation, which she refused to give him until they were both in her chamber.

“Can you explain why you insist so much that we talk in private? You run like a rabbit from me.” Horus began, watching as Yelena sat down on the bed

“Because if anyone were to hear that you were responsible for the heresy named after you, which almost killed your father, placing his almost corpse on the golden throne and led to the death of most of the primarchs, one of us would be in a lot of trouble.” The girl fixed her green eyes on him, silently hissing in pain as she moved her aching body a little deeper into the bed.

“Oh”

“Oh, definitely. The corruption wasn't necessarily your fault, but what happened next… well. The death of trillions of people, with the Imperium in shambles. Also you killed Sanguinius.”

Horus stared at her in silence. She wasn't sure if it was due to disbelief in her words, or if he simply ran out of words.

“How do I know you're telling the truth? That sounds absurd. Even leaving aside my loyalty to my father, I would never hurt my closest friend.”

“The gods of chaos make mush out of your mind. And why would I lie? It was your father who first tried to boil my blood alive and then almost smashed my head with his shoe. All because I called him out and refused to give him your name, among other things, as a potential traitor.”

Silent footsteps sounded and after a moment the mattress next to her depressed downwards under Horus' weight.

“Why did you risk so much? And if it's true… what made me turn my back on my family?”

“Well… I think each of you has a chance to avoid this fate.” Yelena took one strand of hair between her fingers, trying to brush away the dried blood that was on the tip. “Your fall to chaos was the fault of Erebus and Lorgar. You were seriously wounded in battle and a ritual was performed on your dying body. Erebus appeared to you as someone you trusted, unfortunately I don't remember the name, and showed you a vision that after the Great Crusade was successful, the Emperor would rule as a god and kill the primarchs as soon as they were no longer useful. You believed this vision, and then after talking to Erebus, you joined the chaos gods.”

“Lorgar? How long has he been a traitor? Has he already become one?”

“Has the Monarchia been destroyed?”

“No.”

“So he hasn't become one yet. I have no idea exactly where in the timeline we are, but incydent in Monarchia was actually the beginning of what I know as the Horus Heresy. Erebus, on the other hand… well, he's been a pawn of the chaos gods basically since he was a child and is currently manipulating Lorgar.”

Another moment of silence from Horus. “We need to get rid of him, but we can't openly kill him without evidence. I'm guessing that father prefers that your… origins remain a secret, so I can't use your words as evidence. I also can't attack and kill him without reason, after all he is an acolyte of Lorgar.”

“We need to talk to your brother. And actually with all the brothers. If the original heresy can be stopped, there is a chance that another of its variants will happen. From what you said, Lion is already furious with your father for giving me so much freedom.”

“Don't worry about Lion, I'll talk to him.” Horus got out of bed and walked toward the door. “You'll have a chance to talk to the other brothers, because they're all coming together for the great feast father is throwing to celebrate the tremendous victories during the Great Crusade. I, Sangunius, Lion and Curze arrived first, but from what I've heard, Magnus, Guilliman, Vulkan and Perturabo should show up in a few days. The rest will show up within a month.”

“Oh Lord…” Bonus: The collage I created for Yelena. Yes, she was a singer and performed in the theater.

Author's note: I would like to apologize for going so long without a chapter and for this one being so short. A lot has happened in my life, and college has done to me what Vulcan did to Konrad using his teleporter, which was also a hammer. In addition, the writer's block is still biting me in the ass. The plot begins to slowly unfold, and I guarantee that not every primarch will be so friendly (calling Perturapo a “manchild”? what could go wrong). Tag list: @beckyninja @athenaremo @justfreakynothingelse @lukarus @synfiction @thatnightlamp @pirateshippers-first-mate @amoelcafe12345 @zyra-7 @walking-natural-disaster @vithralith @ihasnopen @mooniequeen @kit-williams @roxygobyebye

[laursdomain]

i lost something, but not you

pairing: sawyer henrick x fem!reader

genre: angst & fluff

synopsis: The Battle of Basgiath was brutal, to say the least. Sawyer Henrick lost a leg, and you aren’t sure how to deal with the aftermath of it. The only thing you can truly do for him is be by his side during the entire process, comforting him though his new developments.

warnings: takes place during end of IF, established relationship, mentions of injuries, anxiety, overthinking, fluff at the end, happy ending!

w/c: 2.0k

a/n: just a lil smth i wrote during my study break

ྀིྀིsawyer henrick masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰

To say you were frantic was an understatement. You had no idea what had happened with Flame Section’s Second Squad during the Battle of Basgiath. Dain Aetos had assigned your own squad to a completely different area, covering a less vulnerable spot for the war college. You had no idea that when you had landed on your dragon, hoping to find your boyfriend, you would instead be approached by Ridoc Gamlyn, breaking the news to you.

Sawyer had gotten wounded.

Badly.

He lost a leg, Ridoc says. 

You didn’t even let him tell you how it happened, all that was running through your head was that you needed to get to Sawyer, and you needed to get to him now. You ran past him, ignoring Ridoc as he shouts your name from behind. You make it to the healers quadrant in record time, practically running on new adrenaline. Your eyes dart everywhere, not sure where he could be. You don’t see anyone you recognize, noting how Rhiannon Matthias, his squad leader, wasn’t even present while he was here.

Eventually, your eyes fall on a pair of light blue robes, noticing a healer putting some paperwork down at the main table. You don’t waste any time, quickly approaching her.

“Excuse me,” you get the healer’s attention, her head whipping up at the sound of your voice. “Can you point me in the direction of one of your patients?”

“What’s their name?” She questions, moving behind the desk to access all the records.

“Cadet Sawyer Henrick.” You speak, balling your fists as your fingertips bite into your skin. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

She looks through a couple of files, finally finding his file. You hold your breath, fearing the worst. Was Rhiannon not here because he didn’t make it? Would Ridoc have told you first-hand he hadn’t made it? Maybe Ridoc didn’t know the answer himself, and is simply a messenger.

“Ah, I see. May I ask what’s your relationship to the patient? I apologize, it’s protocol.” She gives you a sympathetic smiling, knowing how badly you want to see Sawyer.

You take a deep breath, leveling yourself. You knew you needed to keep your anger in check, being rude and angry would get you nowhere. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Got it.” She scribbles something down, presumably your status to him. “He’s currently in surgery, but the moment the leading healer is out of surgery, I’ll have him inform you of everything since you are the closest thing to family.”

“You can’t tell me yourself?” The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, yet you don’t regret it.

“I’m not one of the healers on the case, so I don’t know the full specifics of it. I don’t want to give you any wrong information, but as far as I know, he’s staying strong throughout the surgery.”

You nod, not really taking in her words. 

“You’re more than welcome to have a seat, or we can have a healer come find you when he’s out of surgery.”

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, loud enough for the healer.

She gives you a sympathetic nod, watching as you slump down into one of the uncomfortable waiting seats in the quadrant, mindlessly watching as blue robes pass by you in a hurry, attending to the multitude of injured cadets from the battle. You allow yourself to cry silently, praying to Amari that Sawyer will survive this. You aren’t sure what you’d do if he didn’t make it, and you pray that you don’t have to live through that. You can’t imagine a world in which you live without your Sawyer. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there, but it’s long enough for your ass to be numb and for there to be no more tears to shed. It isn’t until an older man with dark blue robes approaches, bending down to get your attention. Once he does, he rises back to his full height with a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re Cadet Y/L/N?” He questions, taking in your riders uniform.

You stand, he was probably the head healer for Sawyer, right? “Yes, that’s me.”

He curtly nods, “I’ve been told you are here for Cadet Sawyer Henrick?”

“Yes, is he okay?”

“He made it through surgery,” his words ease over you, calming your racing heart. You knew there was a but, though all that mattered to you was that he was alive. “He had a very severe injury. One that’ll change his life.”

You furrow your brows, “how bad is it?” The healers were a powerful quadrant, to say the least. Considering how powerful riders could be, you assumed it’s possible for them to reattach a lost limb.

“He lost his leg, along with a handful of blood. We were able to close the wound, but he’ll have to get used to not having one.” The words hit you like a truck, not sure how to process it. Your mind went straight to Sawyer, you knew how distraught he’ll be. He bleeds rider, and you know that this changes everything about his future. The healer doesn’t say it, but you know he’s saying he’ll never be able to ride his dragon again.

You gulp, feeling pins and needles go down your throat. “Can I see him?”

The healers nods, leading you to one of the bays, enclosed by a light blue curtain. The healer grips one of the ends of the curtain, hesitating. “He’s not awake. Try not to freak out.” With that, he opens the curtain, allowing you to step inside before giving you privacy by closing the curtain behind you.

You understood why he told you not to freak out. You were grateful you weren’t there when it had happened, because if you could barely stomach it now, you wouldn’t have been able to in the moment. He was switched out of his flight leathers for a blue hospital gown, but you could see his flight jacket draped over the chair next to his bed. You assumed his leathers had gotten ruined from the injury—most like discarded or burned by the healers. You eyes trail down to his leg, tears prickling at your eyes at the sight of his leg ending at his knee. 

The wound was bandaged, but you knew there was a very prominent line from sewing his skin together. Seeing the difference between his wounded leg and his uninjured leg was startling. You weren’t disgusted or repulsed, just startled. You stepped forward, past his legs and towards his upper body. Other than his leg, he was perfectly fine. With the small space between his hip and the end of the bed, you sit there. Watching him. 

Eventually, you pluck up the courage to cup his jaw, feeling the warmth under his skin and feeling his pulse under your pinky fingers that lay directly above his pulse. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding—relieved. You find yourself laying your forehead against his, allowing the feeling of his presence to ground you from the aftermath of the battle.

You stayed like that with him for a while. You knew it’d be a couple of hours until he awoke from the pain medicine they administered to him during surgery. You never left his side, and only because the healers pitied you—they allowed you to stay overnight even though it was strictly forbidden. 

You didn’t move from your spot. 

You didn’t take your eyes off of Sawyer.

When your eyes started to become too heavy, you nearly succumbed to sleep until you felt it. Sawyer was stirring in your hands, lightly groaning. He was slowly coming out of dreamland, and any weight of sleeping quickly dissipated as you watch your boyfriend. You anxiously wait, wait for his eyes to open. You keep your hands where they are, hoping they help ground your boyfriend as he awakes from his surgery. 

Then it happens.

You see his oh so beautiful pale blue eyes open, blinking away sleep as he takes in his surroundings. Your posture straightens, waiting for him to adjust to the light before his eyes fall on you. A sleepy smile coats his face, moving his hands to rest on your waist.

“Sawyer,” you whisper his name, disbelieved he’s actually awake. You can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes, a couple dropping onto your cheeks.

He frowns, bringing up a hand to wipe away the tears with his calloused thumbs. “Why are you crying?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I was scared.” 

“Scared of what?”

“That you were gone,” you confess, thankful the remaining patients were sound asleep—voluntarily or involuntarily. 

Sawyer gives you his usual reassuring smile, one that you swore can stop wars. “I’m right here, sunshine.” 

You smile, dropping your head into his neck. He welcomes your embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he sighs out in content. You weren’t sure if he was simply ignoring the fact that his leg was gone or simply didn’t realize. You knew you’d have to tell him, but for now—you let him hold you. You both needed it. 

“I won’t ride again, will I?” Sawyer whispers after a couple of moments.

“The healer didn’t say,” you speak, trying to give him some hope. You tried recalling any historical texts you’ve read, trying to find a rider who was still able to ride their dragon after losing a leg—but you come up short. He could be the first.

“So that’s a no,” he dryly chuckles, and you can tell he’s holding back tears. You wish you could do something to help him. You knew there was nothing you could do but comfort him, the same way he has comforted you since threshing. 

You sit up, leaving his embrace. You cup his cheeks, noticing how glossy his eyes are since waking up. “If there’s anyone who can ride again after losing a leg, it’s you,” you whisper, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes. 

“You don’t know that,” a tear escapes from his eye, sliding down his freckled cheek.

You kiss the tear away, “yes I do. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Sliseag doesn’t need to be embarrassed by me,” he mumbles, casting his eyes down.

“Hey,” you force him to look at you, mimicking his own actions to you. “Unless Sliseag says it, it’s not true. Any dragon would be proud to allow the first amputated rider to ride them.”

Sawyer’s pale blue eyes gaze into your own, holding your stare. Eventually, he nods. You aren’t sure if he believes your words or is simply agreeing because he has no energy to argue about it—but he accepts defeat. 

“Can you stay? I don’t want to be alone,” he whispers, vulnerability lacing his tone.

“I’m never leaving your side, Sawyer. Prepare to get tired of me,” you tease, dipping down to place a soft, loving kiss on his lips. 

He laughs at your antics, breaking the kiss. “I lost something today, but it wasn’t you. I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible,” he retorts, earning a giggle from you.

You don’t argue back, you simply wrap your arms around his neck again, cuddling his face into your neck. You couldn’t really hold him yourself from his injury, and you didn’t want to move him without knowing it’s okay. So you settled on the position you two were in, and as long as Sawyer was content, so were you. He let out a contented sigh into your neck, nuzzling his nose into your skin. His arms wrap firmly around your waist, using your presence to ground himself. He was alive. He places a soft kiss on your neck, nuzzling closer to you before his breathing evens out, falling asleep. You fall asleep with him, finally able to succumb to sleep knowing he was okay.

Sawyer would ride again, you were sure of that. There is no other rider capable of doing so than him. And you would be right by his side during the entire process, cheering him on like he always does for you. 

✰ ✰ ✰

[boyofsorrow]

“What We Never Said”

Rain drummed against the windows of the house in Godric’s Hollow, like impatient fingers knocking on a door no one would ever open. James sat by the fireplace, a half-finished glass of firewhisky in hand. The flickering light sparked against his glasses, but couldn’t reach the cold in his chest. That place—right there beneath the sternum—had been frozen for years. Since that night.

Harry was asleep upstairs. Lily too, unaware of the weight suspended in the air, of the nearly vanished scent of a story never spoken aloud. And James remained below, awake, haunted by a guilt he no longer knew how to quiet.

He held an old wooden box in his hands—the same hands that had once trembled when they touched his. A box no one else knew about. He’d found it at the back of the closet while moving old Hogwarts things. He rarely touched it. Afraid the memories might bite.

He opened it.

A snake-shaped ring, blackened by time. A letter written in silver ink on fine parchment. A lock of black hair, tied with scarlet thread. And a black-and-white photo where two figures barely looked at each other, yet said everything. Just four objects. Enough to make the world sway.

Regulus Black wasn’t just another name on the Black family tree. To James, he was a crack in reality. A necessary break. A wound he never knew how to close.

“James, if you're reading this, I'm dead. So typical of me to leave notes, right? The perfect Black—even in goodbye. I wanted you to know I have no regrets. Not about the betrayal, not about loving you in that forbidden hollow of the world we shared…”

Regulus’s voice—cold like the moon and warm like the last time they met—echoed in his mind.

James collapsed to the floor. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. Not when the memory of that final encounter still burned inside him.

They’d argued in the old astronomy tower. Regulus had pushed him. James had kissed him. They hated each other for how they felt, and loved each other for what they never said.

---

They had started talking in secret in sixth year. The youngest Black was never part of the Marauders, nor did he want to be. He was cold, distant, disciplined. But his eyes… his eyes always seemed to be hiding an unasked question.

“And what do you think you’re going to change, Potter?” he once said in the corridors, while Sirius and Remus debated the future of the Order.

“Enough so my son won’t have to grow up afraid,” James replied, not even knowing why he said it to him.

Regulus didn’t smile, but lowered his gaze. As if those words had brushed against something broken inside him.

After that, their meetings became more frequent. First arguments, then shared silences. Then, one night in the Astronomy Tower, they kissed. Quick, almost angry. They didn’t know if they hated themselves for doing it… or for wanting to do it again.

James never told Lily. Not because he didn’t love her. He did. In a healthy, bright, peaceful way.

But Regulus… Regulus was the dark side of the moon. The corner of the soul that couldn’t be shown in daylight.

---

The letter was worn, but James knew every word by heart.

“I never wanted to compete with her. I never could. I just wanted to linger a little longer in your shadow, even if it was only at night, and in silence. I know you won’t come for me. I know you’ll choose the straight path, the family, the light. And I understand. I just wanted someone to know I was more than a Black, more than a traitor. I was yours—for a moment. And in this rotten world, that was enough.”

That’s how the letter ended.

James closed his eyes, folded it, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robes.

He found out weeks later. That Regulus had died. That he’d vanished somewhere deep in the underbelly of dark magic. That no one mourned him, except Kreacher—and James.

And James did cry. But in silence. Because crying for Regulus meant admitting he had loved him.

He stood, the letter pressed to his heart. Climbed the stairs quietly. Entered his son’s room and watched him sleep.

Harry breathed calmly, little fists clenched like he was fighting in his dreams. James leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Your mother was my home,” he whispered. “But there was a part of me… a dark, misunderstood part… that only he ever touched.”

“I promise you’ll grow up without secrets, Harry,” he murmured. “But there’s one I’ll carry to the end.”

And in the dark, he swore he’d visit Regulus’s grave before the week was over. Not as a Potter. Not as a husband. But as a man who loved another… and never forgave himself for surviving him.

The fire still burned downstairs. But that night, James Potter slept with ashes beneath his skin. And a name on his lips he would never say aloud.

Regulus.

[gwenie-creates]

Petals Of Death

A Landoscar FBI Au

TW - this chapter contains mentions of r@pe, SA, & descriptions of violence

read on ao3 here!

Chapter Seven

Oscar sighed deeply, his eyes locked on the board in the back of the room, with the pictures of the victims taped to it. 

Ever since he had come to the realization that the victims had a striking resemblance to Lando,– the Brit he had met at the diner two nights ago– he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong going on. 

It was normal for unsubs to have victim types,– hell it was helpful when they did since it made it easier for them to figure out who would most likely be the next target– but something about this unsub’s victim type left Oscar deeply unsettled. 

He tried to play it off as a coincidence that Lando just so happened to look like all the victims, but the more Oscar thought about it, the more he knew that wasn’t true. 

Oscar had noticed how skittish Lando had seemed. 

Nervous eyes constantly flickering around. 

And when he had seen Max and Oscar looking at him he had freaked out. 

Oscar didn’t want to directly assume anything but there was no way Lando didn’t know something. 

The question was, what could he possibly know? 

***

While Oscar had been internally spiraling, his mind coming up with all kinds of theories about how Lando was involved with this case, Max suddenly barreled into the room interrupting the quiet atmosphere. 

“Guys, I think I found something!” Max said, excitedly making his way over to where Oscar and— hold up, since when had Lewis and Carlos been sitting at the table? 

“What have you found?” Lewis asked, interrupting Oscar’s confused thoughts. 

Seriously, Oscar needs to become more aware of his surroundings, because when the fuck did Lewis and Carlos get there? 

“So I called Charles to ask him to look into the victim’s drug use history, right?” Max started, waiting for Lewis to nod before continuing, “Well he did, and because he’s great at what he does he found the jackpot of dirt on those supposedly ‘goody two shoes’ college students.” 

Oscar raised an eyebrow, intrigued as to what Charles could have possibly found. 

So far from their basic checks, the victims were all good kids. Stayed out of trouble with the law, didn’t really party, had good grades, and so on. 

It’s why the whole drug aspect had been such a shock and had thrown most of them off. 

“What did he find?” Carlos asked, sitting up straighter in his chair, clearly just as intrigued as Oscar. 

“Well, he found out that they weren’t actually as clean-cut as we thought they were.” Max looked at them and wiggled his eyebrows, Oscar tried his best not to snort at the pinched look Lewis was giving him. 

“Go on Max,” Lewis replied exasperatedly. 

“Apparently each of them had a history of drug abuse and different drug-related charges on their juvenile records,” Max explained. 

An understanding look crossed Lewis’s face, “But they were expunged and their records were sealed when they turned eighteen which is why none of this came up in our initial search.” 

“Exactly,” Max said, before continuing, “Charles also found out that all of the victims attended the same university which we had known, but apparently it’s spring break for them right now and a bunch of the students who are from here are home visiting right now.” 

“How did he find that out?” Oscar asked, feeling skeptical about how Charles could have come across that information. 

“Well, it wasn’t all him,” Max sheepishly replied, before a smirk landed on his face, “I also happened to overhear the conversation of those young guys from that diner. Y’know the friend group of the one who Oscar had been eye-fucking the other night?” 

Oscar choked on his saliva and all eyes turned towards him. 

Thanks a lot, Max. Thanks a fucking, lot. 

***

After Oscar collected himself (read as: stopped choking on his spit and his cheeks finally returned back to their normal color) and a few awkward moments of silence passed, Lewis cleared his throat and asked, “What do you mean you ‘overheard them’?” 

“I mean just that.” Max cheekily replied before relenting with a sigh when Lewis gave him a look. “I overheard them talking to our server about how they had been enjoying their semesters at their university. Apparently, the curly-haired cutie is very into photography.” He winked at Oscar before continuing, “Plus the tall blonde one was wearing a sweatshirt that said ‘West Virginia University’ so pretty self-explanatory.” 

Oscar wanted to punch the smug look off of Max’s face. 

God, he could be so insufferable at times. 

“Right, so how does that information help us?” Carlos asked, and for once Oscar had to agree with him. It was starting to seem like this was all just a ploy for Max to make fun of him. 

Oscar certainly wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Becauseee,” Max said, dragging out the ending of the word just to be annoying. “Don’t you guys think it’s a little odd that they suddenly show up here when bodies of students who attended the same university as them have randomly started turning up dead with their hearts carved out?” 

“Max,” Lewis said, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Maybe, they are just here to visit their families because this is their hometown and they are currently on spring break, y’know as you said before.” 

Max scoffed, “Oh please, then explain why the curly-haired one was acting so suspicious. C’mon Osc, don’t tell me you were too blinded by your horniness to notice the way his eyes were nervously fluttering around the room and the way he would duck his head the second he noticed us looking at him. I mean the guy looked guilty as hell.” 

Oscar felt heat creep up the back of his neck at Max’s bluntness. 

The guy could be such an ass sometimes. 

“Maybe the guy just has anxiety,” Oscar tried, “I mean, you were practically staring him down.” 

“Only because he was acting suspicious!” Max exclaimed. 

Oscar felt stuck, he had noticed the Brit’s odd behavior but had wanted to brush it off as nothing. 

But now he wasn’t so sure they could do that. 

“I mean it’s definitely not a coincidence,” Max stated. “The guy’s practically a carbon copy of all the victims.” 

“Ok, so say this guy is somehow connected to this case,” Lewis started, “What’s his role in it? How does he fit in? There’s no way he could be the unsub if you’re saying he looked like all the victims.” 

“Maybe the poor guy just came to the same realization as the rest of us,” Carlos suggested. “The news of the bodies has spread like wildfire, so maybe he saw the pictures, realized he looked like the victims, and that he went to the same university as them so he got all freaked out. And if you were staring at him, that probably only made it worse.” 

“That is a possibility, Max,” Lewis said, giving him a look that said ‘at least consider it’ before he sat back, resigned, knowing that Max was about to go on a rant about how his theory was ‘100% correct and that they were all wrong’. 

“There’s just no way he’s not involved.” Max started, but Oscar interrupted. 

“Max. Remember the guy, remember what he looked like. Did he look strong enough to be able to manhandle those guys? And let's not forget CARVE OUT THEIR HEARTS!” 

Max paused, clearly thinking it over. 

Oscar saw the moment he came to the exact same conclusion as him. 

“Well, I mean, no. He was quite small and didn’t really look like he could hold the weight of a grown man.” 

“Exactly,” Oscar murmured. 

“But maybe he has a partner!” Max exclaimed accusingly. 

Oscar threw his hands up in frustration. 

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He had been having these same thoughts a few moments prior to the conversation, but Max constantly accusing the curly-haired Brit of committing the horrible crimes made Oscar mad. 

“Max,” Lewis started, “Nowhere in our profile does it say that the unsub has a partner.” 

“Well, maybe he does,” Max replied petulantly. “His M.O. is too specific and intricate–” 

Suddenly Oscar looked up, “Maybe that’s just it.” 

“What?” Max asked, confused. 

Oscar got up from his seat and headed towards the board with all the crime scene pictures. 

“Maybe that’s what we’ve been missing all along.” He grabbed a marker and quickly started scribbling down words in his messy handwriting next to the pictures. 

“Oscar mate, what are you on about?” Max asked. 

Oscar quickly turned to face the rest of his team, “I’ve been thinking, this Unsub’s M.O. is so specific there’s no way he could have just randomly learned it. Not if he’s in his late twenties to early thirties as we profiled. And he’s only had four victims so far.” 

“I-I don’t understand,” Carlos said, looking at Oscar confused. 

“The Unsub has only had four victims so far, so that means there should be signs of hesitation and mistakes.” Oscar said, “If the guy has never killed before but has such a specific M.O.– he wouldn’t just automatically be perfect at it, now would he?” 

“No, he would need practice.” Carlos slowly answered.

Nodding his head in understanding Max quickly added, “But all the kills have been perfect so far.” 

“Exactly, no hesitation marks, the cuts where he removed the hearts were clean, and he made sure not to leave any evidence on the bodies. Scrubbed them clean of his DNA and made sure that no remains of the assault were detectable.” Oscar finished. 

“Which only an experienced killer would know how to do,” Carlos said, a look of horror crossing his face. “B-but we’ve only found four bodies.” 

“Well that’s what I was getting to,” Oscar said, “I think that maybe instead of a partner, our unsub had a mentor.” 

Silence filled the room as each person took in the new revelation. 

This case just got so much worse than any of them expected. 

*** 

“A mentor?” Chief Cooper asked warily. 

“Yes, we believe so,” Lewis replied. “It’s the only thing that could explain how he’s able to operate at such a skilled level when he’s so inexperienced.” 

“So what…? He’s just got someone, like, teaching him how to kill?” Chief Cooper asked. 

“Not exactly,” Oscar answered, “we believe that what most likely happened is that his mentor, probably someone in his family or another trusted adult he would be around a lot as a child, taught him his M.O.” 

“How?” Chief Cooper asked, looking increasingly more confused. 

“Well, he would have been taught young. Probably made to watch the process at first and then slowly allowed to help as the mentor progressed. He would have been taught what to do and what not to do.” Oscar explained. 

“Imagine it the same way as a dad teaching his son how to hunt,” Max said. “First he’s brought along when he’s young so he can get introduced to it slowly, then as he gets older he’s allowed to try.” 

“Right,” Chief Cooper said, “so the unsub started by watching his mentor, and then what? Just suddenly decided to take things into his own hands?” 

“Well, you know what they say ‘The student outgrows the master’.” Lewis continued, “the unsub either no longer needed to rely on his mentor for the kills because he had learned how to do them himself or something happened to the mentor and now he feels obligated to continue his ‘legacy’.” 

Max nodded, “I’ll go call Charles and see if he can find anything on other victims who were sexually assaulted and had their hearts carved out.” 

“Good idea, but make sure to tell him to expand his search outside of the state.” Lewis said, “They probably hopped states to not cause suspicion since the M.O. is so specific.” 

“Will do,” Max said with a nod, before grabbing his phone and exiting the room. 

Oscar sat back down staring at the board. 

Hundreds of theories filled his head about the mentor. 

Who the hell was this unsub and why had they only discovered him now? 

***

By the time lunch had rolled around, Max had gotten information back from Charles. 

Over forty other victims had been discovered in neighboring states. 

All kidnaped, raped, and with their hearts carved out. 

The only difference was that they were women. 

***

“What do you mean they were all women?” Lewis asked incredulously. 

“Mate, what do you want me to say!? They were all women. Every last one of them.” Max irritably replied. 

“But that makes no sense, the unsub has only been going after men,” Carlos said. 

“No shit Sherlock,” Oscar replied, a scowl on his face. 

“Oh-kay, maybe we should all calm down and get some lunch?” Logan suggested. 

Lewis had flown Logan out this morning since the news of the bodies had been spreading quickly and the media was getting more and more difficult to handle. 

“Good idea Logan, why don’t we–” Before Lewis could finish a deputy burst through the door. 

“There’s–there’s been another body, it’s–it’s…” he trailed off, eyes frantically bouncing from agent to agent. 

Lewis quickly stood up, the others following suit. 

“Where was the body discovered?” he asked, already making his way out the door while the rest of his agents rushed to grab their things and follow. 

“In the middle of town, near the local diner and all the local shops and businesses,” the deputy replied. 

Quickly making their way through the precinct to their SUVs and cop cars, Lewis continues to fire off questions. 

“Who found the body?” 

“One of the servers from the diner. Said he found the body propped up against the fountain,” the deputy replied. 

“Fountain?” Oscar asked, confused. 

“Yeah, there’s a big fountain in the middle of town. You get a perfect view of it from the diner so it makes sense that the guy had spotted the body.” 

Before any of them could ask any other question they arrived at their cars. 

“Alright, Max, Oscar, you guys take that car, Carlos, you’re with me,” Lewis said, pointing to one of the SUVs, his voice slipping into its Unit Chief mode. 

Nodding they all made their way to the cars, getting in and waiting for the deputy to start driving in the direction of the crime scene. 

A sudden thought struck Oscar as Max sped after the deputy, sirens blaring. 

All the bodies had been dumped in secluded areas until now. 

The unsub was getting bolder.  

***

Arriving at the crime scene, Oscar was immediately overwhelmed by the chaos. 

Cars filled the streets, making it impossible for anyone to get through. 

All the owners from the shops and businesses stood in their doorways trying to get a look at what was going on. 

Too many voices talked over one another. Cops trying to give instructions to townspeople, attempting to calm down the rising hysteria. Said townspeople demanded answers, attempting to look around the barricade the police had set in place. 

Other noises overlapping the voices drew Oscar’s attention. 

The sound of blaring car horns filled his ears. 

People confused as to why they weren’t being allowed to go and had to wait for their cars to be searched by the deputies. 

A sudden wail snapped Oscar’s attention off to his right. 

A woman was being held back by officers. She was screaming and kicking out at them. 

“Let me see my baby!” she sobbed, “You have to let me see him!” 

Oscar cringed, if who he assumed the lady was– the victim's mum– already knew it was her son who had been killed, then that meant news had probably already spread to the whole town already. 

God dammit! 

Oscar swore, annoyed that the investigation was now going to be hindered by the town's hysteria. 

“Piastri over here!” A voice called, causing Oscar’s head to shoot up. 

Max was waving him over towards the fountain where the body now laid, covered by a white sheet in an attempt to shield it from the public’s eye. 

Oscar quickly crossed the street and ducked under the police tape so he was standing next to Max. 

“Is it the same as the others?” Oscar asked. 

Max nodded his head grimly, “Exactly the same, but…” he trailed off making a face. 

“But what?” Oscar prompted, confused as to why Max had trailed off. 

“It’s… there was so much aggression with this kill.” Max finally said. 

“What? What do you mean?” Oscar asked. 

So far all the victims had been brutally killed by having their hearts carved out, but their bodies always showed signs of being well cared for and never showed any signs that they were treated aggressively. 

“See for yourself,” Max replied, motioning for Oscar to lift up the sheet covering the body. 

Oscar did and felt a gasp leave his lips at what he saw. 

The body of the victim who looked exactly like the others had a flower crown of roses laid atop his head. The stems still had thorns protruding out of them. 

But that wasn’t what had made Oscar gasp. 

No, it was the victim’s body itself that had made Oscar step back and bile rise up his throat. 

Instead of clean cuts where the heart was removed, there were deep jagged lines showing where the heart had been crudely cut out. 

But that wasn’t all. There were words carved into the victim’s flesh. Deep jagged cuts forming each one.  

‘Slut’ 

‘Whore’ 

‘Sinner’ 

‘Bitch’ 

With each word the cuts got deeper and more jagged. 

Oscar could feel the anger behind each wound. 

 The closer he looked, the more he saw. 

***

After gently placing the sheet back down Oscar turned towards Max. 

“So clearly the unsubs devolving,” Max said. 

Oscar looked at him inquisitively. “Not necessarily,” he started, “It could just be that something set him off, I mean it’s a huge deviation from his M.O.” 

Max nodded, “Maybe it’s the sudden media coverage.” 

Oscar hummed thoughtfully before an idea struck him. “Or he’s trying to convey a message to someone.” 

Max’s eyes lit up as he connected the dots. “Yes, it has to be that. The victims all look the same so clearly there's someone he’s trying to target. Maybe they interacted and they upset him. So he did this as a way to show ‘look what I can do, don’t mess with me’.” 

“We should tell Lewis,” Oscar said. 

Max nodded looking towards the line of cars being searched by the deputies. 

“He’s over there,” Max said, pointing towards where Lewis stood talking to the driver of one of the cars a deputy had just finished searching. 

They quickly made their way over to Lewis and waited for him to finish talking to the driver before informing him of their current theory. 

“That sounds like the most likely option so far,” Lewis said, his eyes looking past them and landing on a man who was currently being interviewed by Chief Cooper. 

“That’s the guy who was our server last night,” he said motioning towards the man, “he found the body this morning when he had looked out the window before opening the diner.” 

Oscar and Max both looked towards the man, the stark difference from the man they had met at the diner to now was startling. 

The smile that Oscar had assumed was permanent was now nowhere to be seen. 

Makes sense, the guy did just discover a dead body. He thought, feeling a shiver run up his mind as the image of the latest victim’s body flashed behind his eyes. 

A sudden noise pulled Oscar from his thoughts and he looked over to where the commotion was coming from. 

One of the deputies was arguing with a driver who had gotten out of his car. 

The driver pointed towards the server and made a move to get closer but the deputy stepped in his way. 

Huh, this guy looks awfully familiar. Oscar thought to himself. 

“I just need to see if he’s ok, Deputy, he’s my friend.” The guy said, and Oscar immediately realized why the guy had seemed so familiar. 

He was one of the guys Lando had been at the diner with. 

Oscar felt a surge of hope that maybe Lando was with him before he guiltily pushed it down. 

Keep it together, Oscar! You’re at work, currently investigating a crime scene for God’s sake. 

Max seemed to notice the guy too as he spared a look at Oscar before a smirk made its way onto his face. 

Oscar felt his stomach drop as Max made his way towards the man and deputy. 

“It’s alright Deputy, let him through,” Max called, nodding for the deputy to step out of the way. 

“But–” The deputy stated but Max shut him down. 

“We can take it from here, thank you,” he said, and the deputy turned towards him with an annoyed huff before stomping away. 

“I-is my friend alright?” The man asked. Oscar noticed he also had a British accent which surprised him. 

“Yes, he’s fine, now why don’t you pull your car over to the side so we can have a little chat?” Max suggested though it was clearly more of an order. 

When the man gave him a nervous look, Max sighed before saying “I promise you will be able to talk to him after we chat. Now do you have any passengers in your car?” Max motioned towards the man’s car. 

The man nodded before moving back to his car and pulling over to the side. 

Oscar saw him turn towards the backseats of his car and say something to whoever was back there. 

Oscar prayed it wasn’t a child. 

Thankfully it wasn’t and he saw two other guys exit the car. 

When they turned towards Oscar it felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. 

Standing between the two tall guys– Oscar should really learn their names– was Lando. 

He was practically huddled into the other guy who had been sitting in the back with him. 

Oscar vaguely thinks he remembers the guy’s name being George. 

Whatever, whether that’s true or not it’s going to be what Oscar calls him for now. 

Lando’s hair was a disaster, his curls unstyled and sticking up this way and that, while his eyes were red-rimmed from what Oscar could only assume were tears based on the dried tear tracks covering his cheeks. Lando’s face also had a slight sleepy disgruntledness, as if he had just been woken up from a nap. 

His appearance must have caught Max off guard too because he quickly looked back towards Oscar before asking, “Is he alright?”and motioning towards Lando. 

Lando shrunk back into George’s hold, shying away from them while George started rubbing his hand up and down his back in soothing motions. 

The guy from before who had been driving the car cleared his throat before responding, “Yeah, he’s fine, it’s just been a tough day.” 

Max nodded but Oscar gave no sign he had heard him. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off Lando. 

Both shame and an overwhelming surge of protectiveness had taken over him. 

He wanted to find out what had happened to Lando and fix it immediately. 

Even if it meant he had to kill someone, because no one should ever make Lando cry. 

But shame also sat deep in his stomach as he pushed back the thoughts of how absolutely gorgeous Lando looked with tear-stained eyes. 

Oscar couldn’t help it. The tears had brightened Lando’s eyes making the already vivid mix of blues and greens even brighter. 

Max cleared his throat and subtly jabbed a finger between Oscar’s ribs, breaking him out of his distracted thoughts. 

Oscar felt his cheeks heat as he realized he had just been caught staring. 

He chanced a look back, only to see George whispering something to Lando and Lando’s shy gaze suddenly meeting his own. 

A bright blush broke out on Lando’s cheeks before he quickly turned to bury his head back into George’s chest. 

Oscar couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming feeling of want and need to reach out and touch as Lando shyly peaked out at him from where he had buried his face. 

I really should be focusing on this case, Oscar thought to himself, hearing Max begin to ask the guy who had been driving some questions. He didn’t bother to take his gaze off Lando though. Too worried that if he did for even a second he would miss something. 

Whether that be a micro-expression or something bigger Oscar didn’t know. 

All he knew was that he couldn’t take his eyes off Lando now that he had laid them on him. 

He was already holding back by not reaching out to touch him. 

There was only so much he could take with Lando’s big doe eyes staring at him. His lip was spit-licked and red from where he had been gnawing on it throughout their entire conversation. 

At the sound of Max clearing his throat for the third time, Oscar reluctantly pulled his gaze away from Lando. 

Not missing the small smile that made its way onto Lando’s face when he noticed the way Oscar struggled to look away. 

It made his heart flutter with the overwhelming need to see that smile every minute of every day for the rest of his life. 

What is happening to me? 

Is all Oscar could think, as he tried to will his mind to focus back on the case. 

The feeling of eyes remained as he turned to look at Max, and a small smile graced his face when he realized Lando couldn’t look away either. 

Not if the way he was slowly blinking, eyes trained on Oscar’s back meant anything. 

Maybe, just maybe, Lando felt the same way as him. 

Thanks again to @l-vroomvroom for offering to beta for me 🧡

[mmrcr8tivity]

ECLIPSE RAMBLING!

Not sure if this would be considered a theory or headcanon or what, but-

Do you think Eclipse has problems with his identity? I mean like his actual identity, who he is.

From the very beginning Eclipse struggled with coming to terms with who he was now. In one of the earliest episodes (one where Sun was destroying the old pizzerias) Eclipse comes out at some point. During this time he shouted "I AM MOON!" Then had to correct himself realizing that he wasn't and he was supposed to be mimicking Sun. If I'm remembering correctly, this was before Eclipse revealed himself as Eclipse. Meaning he was still in the mentally that he was Moon.

We see something like this much later when Nexus, before he was Nexus, took him to Earth for therapy. He started rambling on and at some point said something along the lines of ". . And being the original m-" then cut himself off. You can hear that M sound before he stops implying he was about to say Moon. So even then he was still clinging to the idea of being his old self again.

Once he gets to his new dimension in EAPS, he starts to talk about how he used to be a killcode. Not THE killcode because he knew that guy was dead and he couldn't be him. He also talked about how the Moon here was acting how he used to. However he would always say something like "back then" instead of "when I was still Moon", suggesting he's come to terms in a way that he never was Moon.

Now we have some of our more recent moments with other characters having the same name as him. Starting with Eklipse. The second the guy found out who Eclipse was he started to call him "the fake one" or "the imposter". Our original retaliated with calling the other "freak", but now he's stopped. If you hear him mention the broken down version he will call him Eklipse.

Leading into our next guy, Ruin. In one of the most recent episodes "Ruin Snaps", Monty calls Ruin by his original name. Eclipse responds with: "What?" Likely out of confusion because she was on Ruin's side. But then she responded with. "His name's Eclipse, not just Ruin." And after that Eclipse stays silent. I can't be the only one to think that had some sort of impact on the guy. Because then he says if anything goes wrong he's doing his plan and leaves.

A slight moment here, not really involving other people, is Eclipse's break down. When he starts to cry to Roxy about the problem at hand and how he's failing, he starts to question he purpose. Saying things like "If I can't fix this, what am I good for?" And "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I?" This shows that Eclipse puts more on what he can do than who he is as a person.

Getting a little obscure here, but I don't think it's too far out. Let's focus on Solar. We all know Eclipse and Solar don't like each other. Solar because Eclipse was, and still sort of is, a terrible guy. Eclipse hates Solar, not just because he hates everybody, but because he sees Solar as the preferred version. In one of his conversations with Puppet (Matt), she tries convincing Eclipse to stay because there are people who care about him, and that he could become a part of the family. Eclipse responds with saying something along the lines of "They have the one they want." I'd say Eclipse is kind of jealous of Solar, because he got to have everything that was taken from him since day 1. He got the life Moon had taken from him with the separation. And I'm sure Solar getting better and being a part of the family doesn't help because it shows that Eclipse had multiple chances to make that a reality, but didn't do it.

Finally I'll end with the Mimic. The Mimic showed that people really didn't like Eclipse's personality. He could go by any name and have any face, but if it's the real him in control then people will steer away. This is seen especially on the first day Mimic has control. They started to act a little bit nicer to everyone and immediately everybody said how much they prefered the "New Eclipse". The Mimic had also made multiple mistakes on Eclipse's behavior, but nobody seemed notice. The Mimic was making people happy even when he went back to being more mean like the real Eclipse. It took people a month to find out and by then the Mimic had basically revealed himself.

I feel like all of this is creating this identity crisis in himself. Because if he isn't Moon, Solar, KC, or Eclipse. Who is he? The smart one? No, because there are more people just as smart or smarter than him. Maybe if he was someone else? But that wouldn't work because he'd still be the same jerk everyone gets mad at.

Yes, Eclipse needs to work on his attitude in order to improve, but if we're going on the idea of "his true self", then he might feel like he's running out of options.

Anyway. Thanks for listening to my ramble. Have a nice day!

[chqrrysturns]

never meant to call ˖ ࣪ . ° ׂ

warnings: angst, breakups, breaking no contact? idk lmk if i missed any

your apartment was quiet in a way it hadn’t been in a while.

not peaceful. hollow.

the kind of silence that hums, that stretches itself across the room like fog.

you sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curled loosely around your phone, who could you even call?

you found your fingers wandering to matt's contact, maybe it was muscle memory, or maybe it was something else. something buried deep inside you.

you pressed the button delecatly, the line ringing twice before what you had just done had truly set in.

your mind began to race, you hadn't spoken to matt in over two years, and now you're calling him over some dumb breakup?

you reached for the button to cancel the call but then the ringing abruptly stopped.

"y/n?" he said it the same way he always had — like the name still felt like home.

you both sat in silence, just long enough for your heart to remember what it was like to be his. how his arms felt wrapped around you. how you would sit with him for hours, reminiscing on times you had together.

you felt tears well in the corners of your eyes, mumbling a soft apology before ending the call.

you let your phone slip out of your hands, not bothering to care where it would land.

you sunk into the soft material of your bed, balling up the corner of your comforter, just so you would have something to hold on to.

you laid for a few moments before your phone buzzed against the hard flooring of your bedroom.

you sat up, just enough to see the name on the screen.

matt.

you couldn't bring yourself to answer it, staying in place until the screen finally went dark.

immediately after, you started receiving texts.

y/n? are you okay? what's going on?

another call.

y/n. if you don't answer im coming to your apartment. y/n i swear to god.

you finally caved in, grabbing your phone off of the cold floor.

matt you don't have to come over. im fine.

then why'd you call me?

you watched the text come in, staring at it for a minute.

why did you call him?

you had your best friend, your mom, anyone would've answered in a heartbeat truly.

but you chose to call matt.

i'm coming over.

your heart sunk.

you knew. you knew that the second you glanced into his eyes again that you would fall back in love with him.

you wanted to tell him not to come, but deleted the words as fast as you had typed them.

because the truth was, you wanted him there with you.

even if it broke you all over again.

the knock on the door came all too soon. too soon to prepare, not enough time to run away.

with weak legs and trembling hands, you reached for the doorknob.

your heart pounded as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was.

with the same tender expression on his face as the last time you saw him, as you said goodbye.

you didn’t move at first. just stood there, frozen in the doorway, as if your body remembered everything your mind had tried so hard to forget.

you crashed into him, arms wrapped around you tightly as you sobbed into his chest. you could smell his cologne, the scent reminding you of all the nights you would spend with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

you felt his arm move along the small of your back, the sensation making you feel secure and like you belonged here. in his arms.

and maybe you did.

𝘹𝘰 𝘹𝘰: i lowkey hate this but tell me if you like it and also how i could improve 😛

also no promises, but lakehouse part 4 will probably be out by the end of this week since im not drowning in school work anymore

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

drop any madcom shipping thoughts you've been having. any ship. any way. multiple ships if you want. im giving you permission to ramble

oh man that's way too much power for one me

below the cut

2bmos

gotta start with my reason for breathing. Doc and Deimos have such a fun, interesting dynamic to me. I kind of wish I'd started Tear in My Heart a little further back in time instead of where I did because Doc really did consider Deimos his friend before things got complicated, and that's something I'd wanna explore eventually. the late night talks out on the balcony, the business trips Deimos would tag along on both as protection and just as company, every doctors appointment that Doc attended with Deimos to make him feel more comfortable because he knew these things stressed him out. the yearning. it wasn't love at first sight for Doc but when he did finally fall it was hard. sure, always found Deimos physically appealing, but it was the loyalty, the devotion, the resilience, the ferocity; it was watching Deimos laugh to the point of tears over something ridiculous and seeing him genuinely smile for what might've been the first time in his life. he loves Deimos as a friend, a partner, a favorite weapon, a head trophy, and a priceless possession

on Deimos's end, it's more complicated. difficult for him to put into words. Doc is master, first and foremost, regardless of the nature of their relationship. not to say that Deimos doesn't have his own opinions or blindly follows orders. he follows orders with eyes wide open knowing damn well whether it's morally correct or not, and he does it because Doc is his entire world from the moment he leaves the Agency. everyone else is either afraid of him, wants to fix him, or wants him dead, but not Doc. Doc trusts him as he is and welcomes him with open arms even when he's angry and hurting. it takes Deimos a long time to sort out his own feelings, at first only viewing Doc as another leader to follow, this one much kinder than the last. a source of comfort when he feels like he's going to break. a distraction from the rest of the world. a scapegoat for every evil he commits, because at the end of the day he's just following orders. he wants to think that Doc could love him but considers it just a fantasy until he sees Doc hurting in his absence. when it's Doc's turn to drop to his knees and weep at the sight of him, clinging to him in any way he can and telling him outright that he loves him

and all of this could've been made way easier if they weren't stupid and Doc went "hey, I like you like you and want to be more than friends" or if Deimos grew a spine and said "tell me what we are or I'm done here." but they don't do that because they suck

hankford

specifically gonna blab about my vampire/vampire hunter au because I've been meaning to do that. total canon overhaul where Sanford is a vampire hunter that's been following a trail of grisly murders for months now, tracking something more intelligent and ellusive than he ever has before. entire families slaughtered, throats torn out, bodies left completely unrecognizable

which leads to Hank, skipping from small town to small town out west where these things can be blamed on wild animal attacks, never sticking around long because they know they're being followed. they could kill Sanford pretty easily but know better than to attract the attention of other hunters, and somehow their kills getting more and more gruesome isn't shaking him off their tail. gonna save myself a little time and put screenshots from discord rambling

I swear I'm gonna write it at some point

but yeah throughout this whole ordeal Sanford is convinced he's under some sort of mind control/poison that's making him feel like this because there's just No Way he's hot and bothered for a vampire. but he is and Hank knows it

[magical-reid]

Yours, Whether You Know it or Not

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Setting: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Timeline

Word Count: 1K

Summary: You’ve been running missions with Sam and Bucky for a while now, and everything was fine—until John Walker started showing up and taking an interest in you. Bucky isn’t having it. Not because he’s jealous. Definitely not because he’s jealous. He just doesn’t trust Walker. Right?

Unwanted Attention

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking, but you knew Bucky was beside you—silent, brooding, and absolutely vibrating with tension.

Again.

It had started a week ago. After the whole Flag Smashers fiasco in Munich, John Walker and his annoying sidekick, Lemar, had started appearing more often. They were always just there, cocky and insufferable, flashing that stolen shield like they had any right to it. But that wasn’t what had been bothering Bucky the most.

It was Walker’s interest in you.

Ever since you’d first been introduced, Walker had made it painfully obvious that he found you attractive. The first time, it was a comment—something about how you were “too pretty to be running around with these two grumps.” You’d rolled your eyes, but Sam had snickered, and Bucky had muttered something under his breath that you hadn’t quite caught.

Then, it became touches—a hand on your lower back, a brush of fingers against yours when he handed you something, a lingering grip on your wrist after a mission. It was all casual enough that you couldn’t really call him out on it, but you weren’t an idiot. Walker was testing boundaries. And every time, Bucky got pissed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

At first, you thought it was just his general hatred for Walker. But then you noticed other things.

Bucky started standing closer. His arm would “accidentally” brush against yours when you were walking. He’d place a firm hand on your back before Walker could, guiding you away without a word. And, most notably, whenever Walker so much as looked at you, Bucky’s jaw would tighten, his fists clenching like he was barely keeping himself from decking the guy.

Which led to this moment right now.

You, Bucky, and Sam were walking back to the safe house after a tense meeting with Walker and Lemar—one in which Walker had, yet again, spent way too much time trying to get your attention.

“You don’t have to act like I’m gonna drop dead if he talks to me, you know,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

Bucky didn’t look at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on.” You stopped walking, turning to face him. “Every time Walker so much as breathes in my direction, you look like you’re about to rip his throat out.”

Bucky scoffed, looking away. “I just don’t trust him.”

Sam, who had been trailing a few steps behind, smirked. “Right. That’s what this is about.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam just shrugged.

“Man, you’re jealous,” Sam said. “It’s written all over your grumpy little face.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re so jealous.”

“I—” Bucky cut himself off, taking a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself. “He’s an asshole.”

“No arguments there,” you said. “But if you don’t like him flirting with me, there’s a pretty easy solution, Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”

You smiled innocently. “You could just tell me why it really bothers you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, blue eyes dark and unreadable. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he muttered, “Let’s go,” and kept walking.

Sam sighed. “Man, you are hopeless.”

You didn’t disagree.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A Game of Possession

The next time you saw Walker, things escalated.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission—stakeout, gather intel, get out. But, as always, Walker found a way to insert himself where he wasn’t wanted.

“You know,” Walker said, sidling up beside you, “we’d work a lot better together if you ditched these two and joined Lemar and me.”

Bucky, who was standing just a few feet away, tensed immediately.

You sighed. “Not interested.”

“Come on,” Walker pressed, flashing that annoyingly charming smile. “I’d take good care of you.”

Before you could retort, a heavy, warm weight settled around your waist.

Bucky.

His metal arm wrapped around you in an unmistakably possessive gesture, tugging you snugly against his side. His fingers splayed against your hip, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous.

“She’s already taken care of.”

The air went thick with tension. Walker’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “By who?”

Bucky’s grip tightened. “Me.”

Your heart stopped.

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the type to settle down, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”

Walker let his gaze linger on you for a beat too long before smirking. “Alright, alright. No need to get your vibranium arm in a twist.”

And with that, he strolled off.

Bucky didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, you found your voice. “So. That was… something.”

Bucky let out a breath through his nose. Slowly, his hand eased away, though his fingers brushed lightly against your side before leaving entirely. “Sorry.”

You turned to look at him. “Are you?”

He hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he admitted, “No.”

You bit your lip, heartbeat unsteady. “So… am I actually taken?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Do you want to be?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the space he’d left between you.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you murmured.

Bucky swallowed hard. His eyes flickered to your lips. His fingers twitched at his side like he wanted to touch you again.

Before either of you could do anything about it, Sam’s voice rang out from across the way.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’ve got work to do!”

You pulled back, trying not to grin. Bucky just sighed.

“This is your fault,” he muttered.

You smirked. “If you say so, boyfriend.”

Bucky groaned, but the tips of his ears burned red. And you had a feeling that, jealous or not, he wasn’t going to let the title go.

Not anymore.