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rosachae · 3 days ago

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sell your soul, not your whole self | sophia laforteza

⁍ song: afraid - the neighbourhood ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon. ⁍ genre: twilight au. slowburn! fluff, angst. vampire!sophia, telepath!sophia, good old 'i can read everyone but you'. ⁍ a/n: this is part two. please click here for the first part. this fic is set in 2004 around the time of the first movie. sorry for the delay in getting this out! ⁍ w.c: 19k ⁍ warnings: mentions of blood, death, illness. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n swore that forks froze over the day she left. when she returned six years later after a death in the family, she realized that nothing had changed. same old fog, same faces, same silence tucked between the trees. at least, that was until she met sophia laforteza. beautiful, aloof, and strangely out of place in the cold little town. when sophia offered to help fix up her brothers car, she soon realized she was in for more than she bargained for.

part two

‎you didn’t know what you expected after sophia’s confession in the woods, but it certainly wasn’t this.

when you came down the stairs the next morning, the last remnants of sleep still pronged through your system and your legs ached from the amount of walking you did through dirt and bark the night before. you were already wracking through your brain the different ways you’d be able to make it through your third week at forks high without having a car to drive, dreading needing to take the bus or god forbid walk through the rain.

just as quickly as you sprung up at the sound of your alarm, however, you froze. the last thing you thought you’d see was her. standing just before the front door at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. jaehyun stood beside her, a friendly grin on his face.

you did a double take. then a triple. maybe even a forth.

she hadn’t noticed you at first. actually, scratch that, you know she did. she very well probably heard you the second you groaned at the feel of cold air hitting your skin when you ripped your blankets off of yourself. she probably heard your grumble when you almost tripped over the cord to the box computer in the corner of your bedroom. if her words from yesterday meant anything, she heard everything. well, except for your thoughts. perhaps that was for the better.

if she knew what you were thinking then, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot.

the second your foot hit the last step, she turned around.

sophia looked even better than usual, if that was possible. she wore a white blouse with the buttons undone halfway down just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach, a denim skirt that showed off long legs, and black boots that stopped just below her knees. a brown fur lined leather jacket draped around her shoulders, guarding her from a coldness she couldn’t even feel. but it was her face that really did it.

when her eyes met yours, the ghost of a smile tilted the corners of her lips. not wide nor dramatic, just a small, easy curve. it was almost as if she was happy to see you, if that was something she even allowed herself to be. in that moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. perhaps it was just for show, with jaehyun standing just an inch to her right. but you felt it in your chest anyway.

truth be told, you were surprised she even used the front door after the events of the night before.

‎

at some point, you found yourself sitting beside sophia in a wide clearing where the grass whispered in the wind and the sunlight filtered through the trees in scattered beams, soft and golden, catching on her skin until it shimmered like a thousand tiny diamonds. she let you look at her. she always had this impossible beauty, something effortless and slightly unreal, but in that moment, with petals drifting lazily through the air and the world gone still around her, you could’ve sworn you were looking at something divine. she wasn’t looking at you, her eyes were tilted toward the sky, following the slow drift of clouds, but she felt your gaze like a pulse against her skin. eventually she turned her head, just slightly, until those golden eyes met yours, steady and unguarded, like the weight she usually carried had slipped off without her noticing. she spoke softly, but every word filled the space between you.

“nineteen twenty-two,” she said, and for a second, the number felt like a thread pulling you both back through time. “i was eighteen when insung turned me. i was already dying. pneumonia. he found me in a sanatorium in some forgotten corner of the philippines. he was passing through after the war, just traveling, i think. maybe looking for something. maybe trying to forget.”

“how old is he?”

sophia smiled, but there was something ancient behind it, something that didn’t quite belong to the girl who looked barely older than you. “far older than me,” she said. “centuries, probably. he doesn’t like to say. but i was the first of us. then came daniela. his mate, yejin, was third.”

“mate?” you asked before you could stop yourself, your eyebrows furrowing.

she hummed. “he met her during the korean war in nineteen-fifty-one. yejin was a nurse. the base had just been hit by a bomb that should have killed her instantly. he saved her, too.”

“so… they’re mates because he changed her?”

”they’re mates because they fell in love.” she speaks with a kind of faraway tone, as if she was recalling insung’s memories like they were her own. in some way, they probably were. just another caveat of reading into people's minds when thoughts were too loosely unguarded. then a frown of her own crossed her pretty face. “it’s almost tragic, don’t you think?”

“what?”

“our hearts stopped beating the minute we died, yet somehow, he found the one that would make him whole again. pity he had to curse her soul forever just for a semblance of humanity.”

you didn’t know what to say. so you said nothing. something told you her feelings on vampirism were complicated. truthfully, you didn’t want to ask too much and risk ruining the comfort she’d fallen into.

she continued after a beat, her words hanging through the silence by a thin thread.

“yoonchae was the latest. there’ve been others, here and there, but for most of the last decade it’s just been the five of us.”

she paused, eyes drifting back to the sky, lashes catching the sunlight like threads of gold. the silence stretched, not awkward, but full. like something living between you. it clung to the air, light and heavy all at once, like a breath held too long.

“can they all read minds like you?” you asked, your voice quiet, like anything louder might disturb the delicate balance of the moment.

she shook her head slowly, the movement small but certain, her mouth settling into a line that looked almost reluctant. “no,” she said, barely above a whisper. “just me. even then…” her gaze returned to you, sharper now, more focused, like she was trying to see past your skin and into the bones of you. “i can’t read you.”

your chest tightened. “is that why you’ve always asked me what i’m thinking?”

she didn’t look away. “yes.” another breath passed. then, quieter, she continued. “what’s on your mind right now?”

you didn’t hesitate.

“you.”

‎

your heart still hammered when you remembered the way her face changed. just slightly, but enough. it was like something inside her had exhaled, some quiet tension uncoiled, like your confession had reached a place in her no one else could touch. for a second she looked almost human. and then the moment passed, delicate as glass, and she stood without a word. she took you home in silence.

‎

you said goodnight to jaehyun, the man half asleep on the couch with a book splayed across his chest, the tv humming something low and distant. he gave you a lazy wave without looking up, muttering something about leftovers in the fridge. you mumbled ’thanks’ and climbed the stairs slowly, still carrying the weight of her eyes in your chest. but when you opened your bedroom door, you stopped cold.

she was already there.

sophia stood by your window, the curtains pushed aside just enough to let in the pale moonlight. it carved soft shadows along her features, turned her into something both unreal and impossibly solid. she didn’t turn around when she spoke.

“i didn’t want to leave. not yet.”

“you could’ve just walked in the front door with me.”

you stood there, watching her watch you, the space between you humming like a wire pulled too tight.

“are you staying?” you asked.

she nodded once. “if you’ll let me.”

you stepped closer. “you don’t sleep.”

“no.” she tilted her head. “but you do.”

you slipped past her and into the bed, feeling the exhaustion settle deeper in your bones now that she was near. she lay down beside you a moment later, her movements weightless and careful, as if she was afraid of breaking something. maybe not you, maybe just the quiet.

she didn’t close her eyes. she lay still, on her back, one hand resting near yours on the blanket, not touching but close enough to feel the coldness radiating off her skin.

after a few minutes, you spoke. “you’re just gonna watch me sleep?”

“maybe,” she murmured, a soft smile playing at the edge of her lips. “if you let me.”

your breath slowed. her presence wrapped around you like fog, quiet and constant, and even though she didn’t move, didn’t say another word, you felt her there with every heartbeat.

you were asleep before you could ask her what she was thinking.

‎

you’re torn from your thoughts when jaehyun turned to face you too, the movement slow, like even that took effort. for a second, you almost didn’t register what he was wearing. not until the dull navy of his uniform caught the morning light slipping in through the window. your heart sank.

the shirt was neatly buttoned, his badge pinned to his chest like always, but the fabric hung a little looser around his midsection than it used to. he still looked pale, the kind of pale that didn’t come from the weather, and one of his hands hovered near his ribs like he was still trying to hold himself together from the inside out.

your brows pulled together before you could stop them. “jae, what are you—”

he lifted a hand and waved you off with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“it’s okay, y/n. i’m feeling much better.”

he said it like it was nothing, like he hadn’t spent the past day drifting in and out of sleep on the living room couch. but you saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his voice caught for just a second too long. you didn’t believe him. you opened your mouth to respond, questions on the tip of your tongue, seconds away from triple checking. but he cut you off before you could do anything when he turned to look at sophia.

“i don’t know why you didn’t bring sophia around sooner. she seems like a nice girl.” jaehyun grinned, still leaning against the wall like his ribs didn’t hurt at all. “and hey, it’s awfully kind of you to drive y/n to school.”

drive…?

the word hit you like a delayed echo. as realization settled in, a warm flush crept up your neck and fought its way across your cheeks. you hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

sophia answered before you could. her voice was soft, melodic, almost too polite. “it’s not a problem, sir.”

“sir?” jaehyun chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. “i could get used to that.”

you groaned under your breath and rolled your eyes. without thinking, you clutched your bag tighter and moved on instinct, barely aware of what you were doing. you brushed past them, reached for sophia’s shoulder, and gently (though with a clear urgency) nudged her toward the door and out of the house at an almost comically fast pace.

“okay, that’s enough of that. bye jaehyun~”

you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him as the door clicked shut behind you.

stepping outside into the cold, you were hit with a biting chill that sank straight through your clothes. the air fogged with your breath the second you exhaled, a thin mist curling up into your face. a shiver ran down your spine.

that was, at least, until you realized you were still holding onto sophia’s arm in a grip just shy of iron. heat flushed your face as you quickly let go, dropping your hands to your sides before shoving them deep into your pockets. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted, the spark that jumped through you just from being that close to her.

if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. if she was bothered, she didn’t show it.

instead, she looked at you with a kind of quiet, undivided attention that made your breath catch. her gaze never wavered. it was soft, unreadable, but steady in a way that made you feel like the only thing in her line of vision was you.

your eyes dropped to her lips before you could stop yourself. they were glossy, like always, catching the dull grey light just enough to make your stomach flip. you looked away, fast.

“driving me to school?” you asked, the words coming out clumsy and too loud in the still morning air. you cringed the second you heard yourself.

sophia shrugged. then, without another word, she started walking, her steps light and precise as she carefully avoided the small puddles of rainwater scattered across the porch.

“why not.”

if you’d been paying closer attention, maybe you would’ve noticed the way she slowed her pace. how her posture shifted, just barely, senses attuned to you. ready to catch you, to steady you, if your foot so much as slipped on the wet wood.

instead, you were too busy rolling your eyes. “did you have to call him ‘sir’? i’m never going to hear the end of that one.”

“he cares for you deeply. i think that deserves respect,” she said simply, her voice light and soft.

it still caught you off guard, how nice her voice sounded. it was like hearing the most beautiful chord in a chorus for the first time. clear, warm, unexpected.

she continued after a beat, an almost amused tone lilting her voice. it didn’t take long for you to realize she must have been reading his mind on the other side of the door. “besides, he’s funny. he’s already planning ways to embarrass you when you get home.”

you groaned. you could already see it. his smug face, the annoying quips, the way he’d drag it out for days just because he could.

you’re again drawn from your thoughts as you watch the girl beside you. instead of heading for the sleek silver volvo parked by the curb, sophia turned and walked toward the garage. you stood there, confused, watching as she crossed the driveway and stopped beside the old blue chevrolet truck. she moved to the passenger side, pulled the heavy door open with a loud, familiar creak, and looked back at you.

her eyes met yours, calm and expectant.

you blinked. “what are you doing?”

“driving you to school,” she said, like it was obvious.

your eyes narrowed. “okay, you can stop fucking with me.”

you stared at her, deadpan. the two of you had only just gotten the engine running. it coughed to life, sure, but in no universe was that thing road safe yet. you weren’t even sure if all four tires were properly fitted. the brakes? questionable. the seatbelts? probably decorative.

but sophia only nodded once, slow and deliberate, her voice calm and final.

“get in.”

no room for questions. no hint of hesitation. just that steady look and the open door. waiting.

you hesitated. then you moved.

you inadvertently swallowed as you stepped under her arm, close enough to catch the soft scent of her perfume. something sweet and earthy, grounding in a way that made your chest tighten. she closed the door behind you as soon as you settled in.

you flinched when, in the blink of an eye, she was gone from your side and suddenly in the driver’s seat. one second she was holding the door, the next she was turning the key in the ignition like she’d been there the whole time. you didn’t think you’d ever get used to that.

and then, somehow, low and behold, the truck started. the engine sputtered to life like it had simply been sleeping, and sophia shifted into reverse with calm precision. you turned to her, wide eyed.

the truck was driving.

“wha— are you serious? when the hell did this happen?!”

“when you fell asleep.”

you stared at her, jaw slack. “you mean to tell me we could’ve had this truck fixed two weeks ago?”

“yes.”

flabbergasted didn’t even begin to cover it. “wha— why—”

sophia almost answered. the words hovered at the back of her throat, ready to spill. she wanted to say that insung asked her to keep an eye on you. that she was supposed to make sure you didn’t tell anyone what you saw in the woods. that getting close to you had been part of the plan.

but maybe, somewhere deep down, it wasn’t about that anymore. maybe she just wanted to keep seeing you.

she said none of it.

instead, she kept her eyes on the road as the blue chevrolet rolled down the driveway, moving smooth and free for the first time in six years.

“stop talking,” she said softly.

and so you did.

sophia kept her eyes forward, her fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel as the truck rolled smoothly down the long stretch of road in the direction of the highschool. the trees blurred by in a wash of green and gray, and though she appeared calm on the surface, her thoughts stirred restlessly beneath the stillness.

you sat beside her, quiet now, your presence humming in the space between you like a frequency only she could hear. it should have been a peaceful drive, uneventful, maybe even pleasant.

it was in that silence she let her mind wander to the week she was away.

‎

she hadn’t meant to stay away that long. at first, she only meant to give herself a day. a few hours, even. enough time to quiet the ache in her throat, to stop her hands from shaking, to think clearly. something cracked open in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in so long it was almost unrecognizable. she was afraid.

the moment she smelled your blood, all she could hear was silence. complete and unbearable. it wasn’t the usual stillness that came with immortality. this was louder, crueler. it swallowed every thought and filled the space with instinct. it had taken everything in her not to reach out and touch you. not to sink her teeth into the soft skin of your wrist where the blood still beaded. she remembered the shape of your mouth when you winced, the furrow between your brows as you shook your hand out, thinking it was nothing. and maybe to you, it was.

but to her, it was everything.

bloodsinger. the word rang in her skull like a bell.

she drove. she vanished into the trees and didn’t stop until the scent of you had faded, burned away by wind and moss and damp pine. by the time the sun fell, she was already home. locked in the quiet of their glass house, tucked away in the thickest part of the woods where no one could find her unless they knew exactly where to look.

home. if you could even call it that.

the place had always felt like a monument to all the things they tried to forget. too beautiful, too hollow. high ceilings, clean lines, walls made of glass and quiet wealth. the kind of house that was meant to feel lived in, but never truly was. a house made for pretending. she could see her reflection in every surface. the pale curve of her jaw. the stillness in her face. the monster hiding beneath the skin.

for days, she didn’t move. didn’t speak. she sat near the massive window overlooking the edge of the cliff, watching the fog roll through the trees. she didn’t even turn on the lights. she didn’t want to see herself.

she hated this. all of it.

she hated what she was. hated the thirst that lived in her throat like it owned her. hated the way her body betrayed her. hated that no matter how much she tried to build herself into something soft and good and calm, she would always be this. a thing. a threat. even to you.

especially to you.

what scared her most wasn’t the blood. it wasn’t the hunger, or even the way she could still smell you in her hair. it was the way her chest tightened when she thought about you. the way your voice echoed in her memory. the way she had started to look forward to seeing you, even when she tried not to. that kind of hope felt like a mistake. something dangerous.

scared. the word didn’t belong to her. not anymore. not since the night she died, lungs filled with blood, body burning with fever, insung’s face the last thing she saw before everything went dark. she didn’t remember the pain. only the silence that came after. the cold. the hunger. the stillness.

and now here she was, a century later, scared of a single human. scared of your laugh, of your kindness, of the way you had looked at her when you handed her a wrench like it was some kind of gift. scared of what it would mean if she let herself stay. scared of what she would do if she didn’t leave.

so she stayed home.

she let the days pass. she didn’t tell insung. she didn’t even tell yoonchae or daniela. she let them assume she needed space, which wasn’t unusual for her. they gave it.

it was yejin who finally asked.

one of the cruelest truths about being a vampire, sophia had come to understand, was not the thirst or the isolation, but the simple fact that she would keep going while everyone she ever loved withered away. time did not touch her the same way it touched humans. for them, it passed gently, then swiftly, then all at once. for her, it just stood still. it watched. it waited. and it took.

she learned this lesson many times over, in many painful ways, but none hurt more than losing her mother.

her mother had been everything to her. gentle and fierce, full of stubborn love. the kind of woman who held the world together with a quiet strength, whose hands had always been warm no matter how cold the house had gotten in winter. she remembered the curve of her mother’s back as she worked in the garden, the lull of her humming in the early mornings, the softness in her voice when she called her by name.

as a newborn, she had no control. the thirst ruled her like a tyrant, leaving no room for thought, no space for love. it took everything she had to stay away, and even more to watch from a distance.

her mother sat beside her grave every day for weeks. she never cried in front of anyone else, but sophia had seen her there, shoulders hunched forward, fingers tracing the engraved letters like they still held warmth. she spoke to her sometimes. told her about the neighbors. about the flowers that refused to bloom that spring. once, she even brought sophia’s old cardigan, the one she used to wear on rainy days. she folded it carefully and laid it on the grave like it might protect her from the cold. sophia stood in the trees, just far enough away that her scent wouldn’t reach. she stayed still for hours, letting the bark dig into her palms to keep herself grounded.

her mother died there, not long after. the townspeople said it was heartbreak. she passed peacefully, slumped against the headstone with one hand resting over her heart. she could have stepped forward. could have spoken. could have touched her. but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

the hunger had been too loud. too sharp. even with every ounce of love in her, sophia knew she wasn’t safe. not then. not around the person who mattered most. and so she stood there, unmoving, as her mother’s heart beat its last. she stayed until the sun came up, and by the time the light touched the tips of the gravestone, she was already gone.

perhaps that’s exactly why she connected with yejin, the woman who lost her own son in the korean war when he was sophia’s age. yejin was the closest thing she had to a motherly figure. it was perhaps for that same reason, too, that the woman knew she wasn’t okay.

she didn’t knock. didn’t call out. she just came into the room like she always did, quiet and steady, moving with the kind of ease that came from decades of knowing someone too well to ask for permission. sophia didn’t look up. she didn’t have to. she knew that scent, that presence, the careful stillness yejin always carried with her, like she never wanted to disturb anything she didn’t have to. hell, she could hear her thoughts, the way they flickered between worry and concern.

“something’s wrong,” yejin said eventually, her voice quiet but unwavering. “and it’s not the usual kind.”

sophia didn’t answer right away. her jaw tensed. her gaze didn’t move. her hands, tucked against her knees, stayed perfectly still.

“i can feel it coming off you like static,” yejin added, softer now. “like it’s eating you from the inside.”

sophia closed her eyes. the words caught in her throat, tight and jagged. she hadn’t meant to let it show. not to anyone, and especially not to her.

“y/n’s blood,” she said. “it hit me like nothing else ever has.”

yejin waited.

“i’ve hunted beside humans before. i’ve cleaned wounds. it never mattered. but hers—” sophia shook her head, jaw clenched. “i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t think. i wanted to tear through her. and at the same time, i couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.”

she didn’t have to say it aloud to know the others would hear. every one of them. yoonchae, somewhere on the first floor pretending not to listen. daniela, probably frozen mid page in a book. and insung, in his study, already piecing together the implications before the words had even finished leaving her mouth. nothing would ever stay secret living in a house of vampires.

“she’s my bloodsinger,” sophia said at last.

“you should have told us sooner,” yejin said gently.

“i didn’t want to.”

“why?”

“because once i say it out loud, it’s real. and if it’s real, it becomes a problem. and if it becomes a problem, the volturi find out.”

yejin frowned. she shook her head, her lips pulling into a grim line. “you shouldn’t even be thinking about the volturi. you’ve done nothing wrong. i fear you’re getting too far into your own head that you’re driving yourself crazy worrying about issues that may never come to pass.”

sophia’s eyes finally tore away from the window and instead to the woman beside her. when she speaks her voice is quieter now. “perhaps. but i thought i could handle it. i thought it would pass. i’ve never felt anything like this. i don’t want to scare her. i don’t want to become the thing i try so hard not to be.”

yejin placed a hand gently on the back of her shoulder, grounding her.

“you are not that thing,” she said. “you’ve proven that to yourself, over and over. this doesn’t change who you are.”

sophia said nothing.

yejin gave her a moment before she continued. “but if you want to keep her close, if you want anything real, you will have to steady yourself. this feeling will not go away. you will have to live with it. learn to carry it.”

she wanted to argue. wanted to insist that distance was the only safe choice. but she didn’t. because even now, even after days of silence and self loathing, she still couldn’t stop thinking about you. the way you smiled when you spoke. the warmth of your skin when your hand brushed hers. the way your blood had made her want to rip herself in half just to keep from losing control.

for the first time in days, sophia nodded.

‎

“what’re you thinking about?” you asked, the silence between you broken.

her focus snapped back to the present. your heartbeat echoed in her ears like a metronome, steady and maddening. it was always like this now. the way your blood moved under your skin, the warmth of it, the way it called to her. her memories were no longer at the crux of her mind. now, it was you. only you.

last night, she’d laid beside you just to see if she could do it. if she could be close without caving to the pull. she stayed perfectly still, every muscle locked, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of your chest. the scent of you pressed in around her like fog. sweet. sharp. unbearable. there was a moment, brief, where her hand hovered just inches from your neck. she could hear your pulse there, strong and exposed.

when your question registered fully, she nearly laughed. not from humor, but from disbelief. she almost confessed the only reason your brother’s car was fixed in record time was because she needed something to stop her from losing control. something to keep her from becoming the very thing she hated most. anything to keep her from drinking you dry.

the thought stuck to her like poison. thick and corrosive, eating away at what little self control she had left.

instead, she hummed.

“why aren’t you scared of me?”

you thought about it for a long time, weighing the words on your tongue. then you offered a small shrug.

“you’ve given me no reason to be.”

it was maddening. confusing. it felt almost bizarre, this romanticised view. it unsettled her, the ease of your trust. like you were seeing something she didn’t believe was there. some gentler version of herself she didn’t recognize.

if only you knew what it took for her to keep still beside you. what it cost her not to pull over right now and press her mouth to your throat, just for a second. just to taste.

you said she hadn’t given you a reason to be afraid. if you only knew how many she kept hidden.

but of course, if only you knew what your words did to her. how they softened something sharp in her chest. how, for a split second, they made her feel like less of a monster and more of a girl. just a girl, looking at someone who trusted her without question. someone with eyes so open, so achingly sincere, it made her want to believe she was good.

sophia clicked her tongue against her cheek, trying to shake the feeling off before it could settle.

“you should be.”

the parking lot was loud with thought.

sophia heard it the second she pulled in. flickers of boredom, caffeine crashes, the low buzz of unfinished assignments. someone was trying to work up the nerve to talk to their crush. someone else was imagining a fight they’d never have. it was all familiar noise, a background hum she’d long since learned to ignore.

but the second she stepped out of the driver’s seat, it changed.

she was used to being watched. used to the shift in atmosphere when she entered a space. the way minds scattered from innocent curiosity to something sharper. her expression didn’t change. she kept her gaze straight ahead, her walk measured and light, like the earth barely held her.

you, on the other hand, were visibly spiraling.

you weren’t used to this. not the staring. not the way conversations dipped when you passed. not the sudden, quiet pull of attention toward your orbit. you’d never been invisible, but you’d always managed to fly just low enough that no one ever really looked.

until now.

you stepped out of the truck and circled around to her side, your pace steady but your pulse uneven. sophia didn’t need to glance at you to feel it. your shoulder brushed hers for half a second, and your heart gave you away.

you walked beside her like it was normal. like this wasn’t the most attention you’d gotten all year. your bag swung loose from one shoulder, your hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, your mouth pulled tight at the corners. every nerve in your body felt like it was vibrating.

she listened to the flood of thoughts crashing around you. the confusion. the judgment. the curiosity. but yours stayed silent. still unreadable. all she could track was the rhythm of your breathing and the deliberate evenness of your steps.

“they’re really staring,” you muttered.

“they’ll stop eventually,” she said.

“you think so?”

“no.”

you laughed, short and under your breath, but it slipped past your teeth before you could catch it. it made something shift in her chest. she didn’t look at you, but she heard it. felt it. wanted to hear it again.

“you always make an entrance like this? or is everything just confused why you wear skirts during winter in forks.” you asked as the two of you reached the doors.

“i usually don’t bring anyone with me.”

“besides your sisters.”

“besides them.”

across the lot, daniela leaned against her convertible with yoonchae beside her. both of them staring, less than subtle in the way they stood stiff. dani’s eyes narrowed. yoonchae tilted her head, unreadable as ever. sophia didn’t flinch. just glanced once and hummed low in her throat.

“they’re mad,” she said, eyes still ahead.

“why?”

“because now they know i told you what i am. and telling you means they can’t pretend anymore.”

you nodded like it made sense. like you were in on something bigger than you were. but the truth was, you didn’t understand. not really. you hadn’t even met her sisters yet. and now they were staring at you like you were already a problem. the last thing you wanted was to start off on the wrong foot. to be resented. to be the human who made things complicated.

you forced yourself not to look. not to shrink under the weight of their stares. you kept your eyes on sophia instead. the sharp line of her profile. the way she moved through the halls without flinching, like none of it touched her.

she didn’t slow down, didn’t change pace. but somehow, she stayed beside you the whole way. like she’d decided, without question, that if anyone had something to say, they’d have to get through her first.

somehow, it made the stares all the more bearable.

at least, that was until lunch.

you were sitting with lara, megan, and manon at your usual table, the one tucked near the back where the light didn’t hit too hard. your tray sat mostly untouched. manon had already stolen half your fries. megan was flipping her water bottle upside down over and over, like the steady rhythm might distract her from the obvious. lara sat leaned back with her arms crossed, legs stretched beneath the table like she was bored by the mere act of existing.

you knew what was coming before anyone said a word. megan, of course, broke first.

“so,” she said, dragging the syllable out until it lost all meaning. “how long have you been secretly dating the school’s most terrifyingly hot girl?”

you didn’t look up. “i’m not.”

“you dirty little liar.”

lara let out a soft laugh through her nose. “you’re blushing.”

“no i’m not.”

“you are,” manon said, deadpan. she reached over and stole another fry like it was part of the conversation. “it’s freaking me out.”

you sighed, shoulders already tense. “we’re not dating.”

megan leaned forward, elbows on the table, her voice dropping just enough to sound conspiratorial. “but she did drive you to school.”

“yeah,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “my brother’s truck works now.”

lara raised an eyebrow. “how convenient.”

“we’ve been trying to fix that thing for weeks,” you muttered.

“hot and good with her hands,” lara mused, staring at the ceiling. “god really doesn’t play fair.”

“do you think she could fix my microwave?” manon asked.

“she probably could,” megan said, nodding. “and she’d do it without blinking. then she’d walk away in slow motion while a storm rolled in behind her.”

you groaned. “you’re all insane.”

“we’re just observant,” megan shot back. “you’ve been here for like five minutes and suddenly sophia laforteza’s playing chauffeur? please. even mr. alberts did a double take when you walked in together.”

“did you see his face?” manon added. “he looked like he saw god. or like… a tax audit.”

lara shook her head, ignoring her friends. she levelled you with a firm look, one that pushed for ‘no bullshit’. she uncrossed her arms, an appraising hum tearing from her lips. “you’ve got everyone curious. not that i blame them.”

you shifted in your seat, hyper aware of the glances still being thrown your way across the cafeteria. some subtle. some not. you caught someone whispering and felt your stomach turn. you weren’t used to this. not the attention. not the speculation. not the feeling of being dragged into someone else’s orbit and forgetting how to find the ground again.

“we’re just friends,” you said quietly. “she’s just being nice.”

lara leaned over and rested her chin on her hand, watching you like she could read something on your face that you hadn’t said yet. too focused. too steady. not teasing anymore. it made your skin prickle in a way that felt different than before. like she was trying to pin something down. or maybe waiting for you to.

“what?” you asked, your voice lower than before. quieter.

lara shrugged, like the question hadn’t surprised her. “nothing.”

you didn’t believe her.

megan tapped her water bottle against the table, breaking the weird lull. “okay, but, hypothetically… if you were into her, and she was into you—”

“she’s not,” you interrupted.

“uh huh. anyway. if,” megan continued, undeterred, “would that mean you’re, like… off limits now?”

you blinked. “off limits?”

manon raised a brow. “what is this, a game of tag?”

megan waved a hand. “you know what i mean. the dramatic declaration kind. no one else can flirt with you now because you’re spoken for. or… silently glared at by a girl with cheekbones that could commit war crimes.”

you looked at her flatly. “no one’s spoken for.”

lara leaned in a little closer, voice smooth. “good to know.”

you glanced at her. and something in your chest shifted. not in the same way it did with sophia. not even close. but lara was looking at you differently now. not in a just teasing way. not exactly. there was something else behind her eyes. something unreadable.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but manon interrupted.

“i just want someone to glare at me from across a parking lot and make me feel violently safe. is that too much to ask.”

“so true,” megan said. “and maybe carry me around like a sack of flour if i break my ankle.”

“romantic,” manon said.

“i have layers.”

lara sat back again like nothing happened. like she hadn’t just looked at you like she wanted to be the one walking you to class. she stretched her legs out again, arms folded, unreadable. but her smile lingered.

you poked at your food, your thoughts a mess. sophia was nowhere in sight. hadn’t been since the start of the school day when she walked you through the halls as if nothing was different. and now lara was looking at you like maybe she was waiting for her chance.

you weren’t sure what to do with that. you weren’t sure what any of this meant.

‎

after school, the air smelled like wet pavement. the kind of afternoon where the sun had already given up by midday, swallowed whole by clouds, the sky still weeping from the downpour that started around seven and never really stopped. everything felt damp. slower. like the town itself was waterlogged. you stepped outside with your backpack slung half off one shoulder, head down, footsteps dragging. the halls had felt heavier today. tighter somehow. like every conversation curved in your direction, even when your name never left anyone’s mouth.

you spotted the truck almost immediately.

sophia was already there. she stood with her hands buried in the pockets of her fur-lined brown jacket, the collar of her blouse turned up against the breeze. seeing her again still sent a chill down your spine. it was disorienting, almost. how everyone looked at sophia and only saw her beauty. the way her long legs crossed as she leaned against the truck bed, black boot tapping idly against the wet pavement. she was stunning. the kind of stunning that made people stop mid sentence, like they’d seen something divine or dangerous. like medusa, but lovelier.

then there was you. wrapped in a coat that wasn’t much to look at, something plain and oversized. yet somehow, she found her way to you. it felt unreal. doubt crept in, quiet and slow, tugging at your thoughts until you had to press your lips together just to keep it from spilling out.

she wasn’t looking at you. not directly. her eyes lingered somewhere across the parking lot, above the roofs of cars, distant and unreadable. but you knew. somehow, you knew she caught every step you took. every shift in your breath. the exact moment your heart picked up pace the second you saw her.

you started walking toward her, only you didn’t make it far.

“hey,” lara called from behind you, voice easy, like she’d just decided it was worth the effort. “wait a sec.”

you turned.

she strolled up with that same confident slouch, hands shoved in her back pockets, hair catching the light like it didn’t care who noticed. her gaze flicked to sophia, then back to you. something sly in her smile. something effortless.

“you doing anything this weekend?” she asked, casually, like the question barely mattered.

“uh,” you said, blinking. “i don’t know. maybe?”

lara tilted her head slightly. “dawn of the dead is playing in port angeles. new one. zach snyder, fast zombies, lots of blood. looked stupid in the best way.”

you huffed a soft laugh. “you inviting me to a horror movie so you can pretend not to get scared?”

“nah,” she said, grin widening. “inviting you so you can pretend not to get scared.”

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered anyway.

lara shrugged. “it’s whatever. just thought it’d be fun. better seats than that trash theater by forks hospital. and i don’t really like going with people who talk during movies.” she paused, then added, like it was nothing, “you don’t strike me as someone who does.”

you hesitated. your eyes darted back toward the truck.

sophia hadn’t moved. but she wasn’t ignoring you, not really. her posture shifted, just barely. her head was still tilted away, but her body faced the truck now, angled subtly toward you. her eyes hadn’t landed on you yet, but they would. you could feel it. like a thread pulled taut between the two of you, waiting.

lara noticed the pause. didn’t push.

“you don’t have to decide now,” she said, cool and unconcerned. “just… let me know.”

you nodded once, slowly. “i’ll get back to you.”

she offered one last tight lipped grin and turned away, already halfway across the lot before you could think of anything else to say.

you took a breath and headed back toward the truck. when you got close enough, sophia finally looked at you.

her gaze tracked slow and deliberate, starting from the ground up, like she was seeing all the pieces of you and weighing each one. her expression didn’t shift. not even a little. unreadable. not cold, not warm. just… distant.

you paused beside the passenger door. she didn’t open it. didn’t move to help you like she had that morning. no soft glance. no reaching for the handle before you could. just silence. you climbed in on your own. the door creaked as it shut behind you, and she got in a beat later.

the engine rumbled to life. within a matter of moments, the blue chevrolet was cruising down the long roads of forks away from the high school.

for a long while, the drive was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful. the kind of silence that filled every inch of space between you like fog, thick and hard to see through. the kind of silence reminiscent of the first drive back from the hospital after jaehyun’s attack. it wasn’t comfortable. not like the stillness that fell over you in the clearing and her presence felt like safety. this was different. tight. brittle. the kind of quiet that pressed against your ribs and made it hard to breathe right. neither of you spoke. neither of you looked at each other. the only sounds were the low rumble of the engine and the occasional hiss of the tires over wet asphalt. you didn’t know what she was thinking, and she couldn’t know what you were. but something about the air told you she was doing everything she could not to ask.

sophia broke the silence first.

“you should have said yes.”

the words came quiet, but not uncertain. like she’d been holding them in her mouth the entire drive, rolling them around until they lost their sharpest edge.

you didn’t answer right away. your gaze was fixed on the blur of trees outside the window, your fingers fidgeting with the frayed seam of your jacket sleeve. the heater was on low, barely warming the truck, but your palms still felt clammy.

“what?” you asked, even though you’d heard her.

her eyes stayed on the road. she didn’t flinch. “lara. you should have said yes. she likes you.”

you turned to look at her, but she didn’t meet your eyes. her grip on the steering wheel was steady, too steady, like she’d rehearsed every word and was determined not to let them slip out wrong.

you scoffed under your breath, not quite amused. “is that just your educated guess, or did you read into her, too?”

for a second, she didn’t say anything. her jaw tightened, just slightly. one hand lifted from the wheel to rake through her hair, slow and deliberate, before settling back in place. her fingers flexed once, then stilled.

“her thoughts are loud,” she said. “annoying. all day she thought of the same thing. your smile. your laugh. sitting in a movie theatre with your hands locked together. what you would look like beneath her.”

her voice stayed calm, but her jaw clenched at the end. you caught the flicker of something behind her eyes before she looked back at the road.

your stomach twisted. “you don’t seem too happy,” you said, careful but firm. “why’re you trying to encourage me to go?”

she exhaled through her nose, slow and shallow. another long beat stretched between you, thick and sharp at the edges.

“because she’s human.”

the words landed like a stone tossed into a still lake. nothing loud, but they rippled through everything.

you stared at her. she didn’t elaborate.

you sat with it, trying to understand. trying to translate what she wasn’t saying out loud. the way her shoulders had gone rigid. the way her voice had softened like she was speaking through a wall of glass.

you shook your head, brow furrowed. “what does that have to do with anything?”

she didn’t answer right away. instead, she eased the truck over to the side of the road, letting the tires crunch softly against the gravel until the engine hummed low beneath you. outside, the world was quiet, boxed in by trees that swayed slightly in the wind, tall and unmoving like they were keeping watch.

then she turned toward you, the movement fluid but deliberate, like she was bracing for something. her left hand stayed locked on the steering wheel, knuckles pale from the tension she refused to release, while her right arm reached behind you, resting against the top of your seat. it brought her close, too close, and though the space between you was small, the weight of it was enormous.

your breath hitched in your throat, not from the nearness but from the look in her eyes. it was the most emotion you had ever seen from her, intense and unguarded, flickering like a fire she hadn’t meant to let you see.

“everything, y/n,” she said, her voice sharp and steady, even though her jaw was set like she was biting back something worse. “it has everything to do with it. lara is human. she could give you a future. one with light in it. one where you get to grow old and fall in love and fight over furniture and apply for student loans. you could date. go to college together. get sick and recover and be happy. you could live your life without looking over your shoulder.”

you blinked, confused, the back of your neck prickling. “sophia,” you said, your voice soft. “why are you saying all of this?”

she inhaled slowly, the sound too heavy to be casual. then, after a beat, she let it go. “you’re my bloodsinger, y/n.”

you stared at her, your lungs tightening like they’d forgotten what to do.

“i’m drawn to your blood in a way that defies logic. i crave it. i crave you. i can’t think when i smell it. i can’t breathe right when you’re too close. i have wanted to kill you more times than i will ever admit, and not because i want to hurt you, but because i want to feel your blood inside me like it belongs there. like it would make me whole.”

her eyes flickered down, and you followed her gaze to the base of your throat. when you swallowed, she saw it, and her expression twisted into something almost pained.

“you have no idea what it takes for me to be near you,” she continued, the words almost a whisper now. “what it costs me to sit in silence and pretend like the only thing i’m thinking about is the weather.”

then she turned away. her arm slipped from your seat, her shoulders curling inward as she settled back against her side of the truck like she couldn’t stand to be that close anymore. she stared at the dashboard as if it held all the answers she didn’t want to give.

“but my want to protect you,” she said quietly, “is stronger than anything else.”

you sat in silence, your heart racing. something in you trembled, not with fear but with something else entirely.

“now i’m scared,” you said.

she nodded once, not looking at you. her hand shifted slightly, as if she was about to open the door and leave before she could make things worse.

but you reached out and caught her shoulder, your fingers gentle but sure.

“but not of you,” you said, the words falling like truth. “i’m scared of you shutting me out because you think you’re no good for me. i don’t want lara, sophia. i never did. i want you.”

her breath caught, but she still wouldn’t look at you.

“you shouldn’t,” she whispered.

“but i do.”

the silence that followed felt heavier than anything either of you had said. she didn’t move. neither did you. her eyes stayed forward, locked on nothing, like if she just stared hard enough the moment might pass on its own. but it didn’t.

you were still holding her shoulder. you could feel how tense she was beneath your hand, like her body was caught between instincts. like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or stay exactly where she was.

you didn’t speak. instead, you let your fingers slide down, slow and careful, until they hovered just above her wrist. she didn’t pull away.

“sophia,” you said, barely above a whisper. her name felt fragile in your mouth. “look at me.”

she hesitated, then turned.

when her eyes met yours, something shifted in the air. the look on her face was unreadable, all soft edges wrapped in fear. but it was also open. more open than you’d ever seen her.

you leaned in first. not all at once, just enough for your forehead to brush gently against hers. she inhaled sharply, but she didn’t back away. her eyes closed for a second, like the weight of being that close was something she had to hold with both hands.

you didn’t kiss her then. not yet. you waited. you let her feel you there, warm and steady, letting her decide if it was too much.

when your nose grazed hers, she tilted forward. just a little. just enough.

her lips met yours with a softness that almost didn’t feel real. tentative, searching, like she was afraid to touch you too much. you kissed her back with the same care, your hand coming up to rest lightly against her jaw, fingertips brushing the edge of her cheekbone.

she moved like she was learning you in real time, every shift of her mouth restrained and delicate, like too much pressure might break the moment wide open.

but just as your heart began to steady into the rhythm of her, she pulled away.

slow. reluctant.

she blinked once, then twice, like she was trying to reorient herself. her breathing was shallow, and she wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

“i can’t,” she said, the words barely holding together. “if i stay in this too long, i’ll want more. and if i want more, i won’t know when to stop.”

you stayed quiet, your heart still pounding, your lips still tingling from where she touched you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” she said again, like that alone explained everything.

you didn’t press her. you just watched her, still and quiet, giving her the space she needed even if you didn’t want to.

and she stayed there beside you. trembling, but still choosing not to leave.

the days began to fold into each other. weeks passed, then eventually three months. there was a steady rhythm to the mornings that started before you even noticed it. sophia would already be outside your house, the keys to your blue truck in hand as she turned the ignition. she still insisted on driving your brother's chevrolet, even though her volvo probably handled much better over the forks roads. the sound of the trucks familiar hum always told you it was time.

she drove you to school every day, and it became part of your routine. some mornings the car was quiet, the only sounds the soft engine and pelting rain. those were the moments when the world seemed still, like the empty space between the pages of a book you wanted to keep reading.

other days she played music, strange and beautiful songs in languages you didn’t know. sophia hummed along sometimes, her voice low and steady blending with the melody. you never asked her to stop because the sound felt like a secret just between you two.

your favorite days, however, were the ones when she told you stories from her past. stories about her mother, a woman she loved deeply, both in life and beyond. the way she spoke of her carried a quiet reverence, like those memories were treasures she held close even now.

she’d tell you about gabriela, a stray dog who used to wander near her childhood home. sophia’s voice softened as she described the little dog’s stubborn loyalty and the way she’d curl up beside her on cold nights.

then there were stories about another vampire she once knew, part of a distant coven in olympia. he had taught her the basics of mechanics, patiently showing her how things worked. sophia’s eyes would light up as she recalled the wild tale he shared about single-handedly taking down a tank from the inside during world war one. those stories made you see a side of her you never expected. one that was fierce, curious, and deeply connected to a history much older than you could imagine.

those drives with sophia became the small thread that held your mornings together.

she started walking you to class. just a few steps inside the doors, nothing dramatic. your friends noticed. everyone noticed. but no one said anything until the day she sat down at your lunch table. it was a tuesday. she walked past your usual spot like she wasn’t headed there at all, then doubled back and sat right beside you. your friends froze.

megan’s hand jerked suddenly and her water bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter. her eyes were wide and frozen in shock. manon’s mouth hung open, caught between disbelief and surprise. she looked like she was searching for words but couldn’t find any. lara stared at sophia as if she had just seen a ghost sitting down at her grandmother’s kitchen table. her eyes were wide and unblinking, filled with a mix of awe and confusion. no one spoke for five long seconds.

then sophia said, “hey,” simple and calm like this was the most normal thing in the world.

the tension broke slowly, awkward and uneven. your friends tried to pretend it wasn’t strange but everyone knew something had changed. things never went back to how they were before.

every day she sat with you. sometimes she talked. sometimes she didn’t. but she always looked at you first, like she was checking to see if you wanted her there. and every time, you nodded.

she still brought you to the clearing. that space remained yours alone. the grass always felt softer there, like it remembered your weight. sometimes she read to you. sometimes she let you nap against her shoulder in the sun while she traced lazy patterns into the dirt with her fingertip.

you didn’t kiss again. not yet. but the weight of that first one lingered between you, soft and unspoken. though you did come close.

‎

you were in jaehyun’s garage, standing near the open hood of the blue chevrolet. well, pretending to. your eyes were on her. sophia moved around the space with quiet focus, crouched by the front tire she was replacing. you’d hit something in the road on the way home, a clean, brutal pop that made your stomach drop. you remembered groaning in frustration, muttering something about your cursed luck and the fact that the truck had only just been fixed.

she’d just laughed, low and amused, already rolling up her sleeves.

but this time was different.

a month ago, she’d fixed the entire truck in a single night while you were asleep, vampiric speed and precision making it easy. now, she moved slower. deliberate. she handed you a lug nut with a slight grin and asked for the socket wrench like she didn’t already know exactly where it was. she took her time brushing past you, checking things twice. you weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or hers.

“just want to enjoy this,” she said casually, barely looking up.

you didn’t need her to explain. you felt the meaning in your chest before it ever reached your head.

you handed her a tool without her asking, and she looked at you with that soft, barely there smile. it made your pulse skip.

then came the moment you weren’t expecting. she’d just finished tightening the bolts, stood up, and stepped closer without warning. her hands found the workbench behind you, boxing you in.

your breath caught, heart stuttering. the only sound was the faint ticking of the cooling engine and the distant rustle of trees outside. her eyes searched your face for something, quiet but intense, like she was memorizing everything before it could change.

you weren’t sure who leaned in first.

but instead of pressing a kiss against your lips, she leaned in and let her lips brush gently against your cheek.

it was soft. unexpected. the kind of moment that felt heavier than it looked, like it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. her hand lingered near your hip, not quite touching, but close enough that you felt her there, steady and quiet.

you didn’t speak. neither did she. but you felt your face grow warm, the skin where her lips had touched tingling like it had caught sunlight in a place that rarely saw warmth.

when she pulled back, her eyes met yours for just a second too long. then she turned back to the truck like nothing had happened, and you were left standing there, breath held in a chest that suddenly felt too small.

‎

then came the dinner.

she didn’t make a big deal of it. she mentioned it offhandedly in the car, her voice low, careful. said she wanted you to meet her family. said they’d been asking about you. she didn’t say why that mattered. she didn’t need to.

of course, you said yes. the memory of meeting her family for the first time, minus insung, clung to your mind like a tune you’d never forget.

‎

the house was unreal. towering windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in sharp slices of pale light that made the air feel colder somehow. outside, ancient trees leaned close, their branches brushing against the glass like they were trying to whisper secrets inside. the whole place looked like something out of a dream or a carefully crafted movie set.

sophia walked beside you up the long driveway, her steps steady but a little less guarded than usual. you noticed she was talking more, laughing quietly at things she might have brushed off before when others were around. it felt like you were seeing a side of her only reserved for moments like this, away from everyone else.

“you holding up okay?” she asked, glancing over with a quick tilt of her lips. something reminiscent of a smile, but not quite.

you nodded, trying to keep up. “yeah, it’s just… a lot.”

she hummed. “yeah, it can be. my sisters can be a bit much sometimes, just so you know.”

you smiled back, feeling some of the tension slip away. “thanks for the warning.”

she shrugged, then glanced back at the house. “don’t let them scare you off. they’re harmless… mostly.”

there was something warmer in her voice, a softness you hadn’t heard before. the sharp edges around her seemed to dull just enough to make the space between you feel less heavy.

when you reached the door, sophia stopped and looked at you again. “ready?”

you took a breath and nodded. she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the quiet pulling you both in.

the floors gleamed beneath your feet, polished so smooth they reflected your steps. the walls were painted in muted shades that made the rooms feel quiet and serious, like they held memories you weren’t meant to touch. there was an almost invisible weight in the air, a mix of beauty and something just beyond reach. it was like stepping into a different world, one where time slowed and everything felt sharper and colder at once.

you caught your breath, trying to take it all in without seeming like you didn’t belong. every detail pulled you in. the way the light caught on the glass ornaments, the faint scent of something old and clean, the silence that felt heavy but not empty.

yejin was the first to find you, stepping softly from the shadows of the hallway with a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through the cold. she moved with an easy grace, her eyes warm and kind as she reached out a hand, gentle but sure.

“you must be y/n,” she said quietly, voice soft and steady like a calm breeze. “sophia’s told us about you.”

there was no judgment there, only something comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket after a long day. yejin’s presence eased the tightness in your chest without trying too hard.

“welcome,” she said, her smile widening just enough to make you feel seen, not just another visitor passing through.

sophia stayed close but didn’t say much, watching you both with something almost like relief. yejin’s kindness was a quiet reminder that maybe this place, with all its sharp edges and cold light, had pockets of warmth hidden beneath.

“come,” yejin said, motioning gently toward the living room. “make yourself at home.”

sophia knew the worst was yet to come when you’d meet her sisters.

yejin led you quietly down the long hallway toward the kitchen. the kitchen was striking, ultra modern and almost too perfect, with sleek, polished surfaces that gleamed under the soft lights. it looked untouched, as if no one ever really cooked here. not a single pot or pan left out, no crumbs or spills. just an immaculate space that felt more like a showroom than a place people lived in. and there, in this spotless room, stood insung, daniela, and yoonchae.

daniela stood near the counter, her eyes bright but cautious. she didn’t rush to fill the space with words or energy. instead, she observed quietly, taking everything in before deciding what to share. there was something reserved about her, a quiet strength beneath her careful smile. yoonchae leaned against the doorway, calm but watchful. her presence was steady and quiet, like she understood more than she let on. when she looked at you, it felt like she was reading the room without needing to say a word.

sophia’s shoulders tensed for a moment as you were introduced. you caught the flicker of something in her eyes. a warning, perhaps.

“this is insung,” yejin said softly. “he’s the one who keeps everything together.”

insung looked up and nodded at you, his voice warm and steady. he smiled, the kind that lit up his handsome face. “we’ve met. it’s nice to see you again under much better circumstances.”

your mind flashed back to jaehyun’s room in forks hospital, where insung was his attending doctor. now that you thought about it, perhaps insung was to thank for your growing relationship with sophia. he was calm and steady, the kind of man who carried the weight of everything without showing it. now, watching him move around the kitchen, stirring a pot of alfredo sauce with careful hands, it almost made you laugh. you couldn’t remember why you felt so suspicious of the man when he was here in this moment making you dinner.

“daniela,” yejin added, motioning towards the latina girl standing by the counter.

daniela offered a small, polite smile, her dark eyes flickering with a quiet curiosity that made you feel like she was quietly weighing you up without judgment. her long, dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, framing delicate features that held an effortless elegance.

“it’s nice to meet you,” she said quietly, choosing her words carefully.

then yejin turned to the lurking korean girl by the doorframe. “yoonchae.”

when yoonchae spoke up, her voice was soft and hesitant, barely louder than a whisper. you remembered sophia mentioning she was the newest in the family, still learning to adjust to everything that came with this life. a quiet pang of guilt settled in your chest as you stood there, knowing yoonchae was still getting used to feeding only on animals. if sophia’s words about the scent of your blood held any truth, it had to be a difficult change for her. a constant reminder of what she was missing, what she was trying to avoid.

“hello,” yoonchae said simply, her steady eyes meeting yours with a calmness that felt both reassuring and distant at the same time. there was something fragile in her presence, like she was holding herself together carefully, balancing between who she used to be and who she was becoming. it made you want to reach out but also reminded you to be careful. this was a family full of silent struggles hidden beneath their composed faces.

you felt sophia’s grip on your arm tighten just slightly, a silent reminder of what her family meant. the weight of their presence, the lives they carried with them. they were different from each other, but together they made this house feel alive in a way that was almost overwhelming.

dinner was strange and elegant. the room was quiet in a way that made you wonder who was actually eating and who was just pretending. someone asked if you liked the music playing softly in the background, and you realized it was the same song sophia had hummed in the car the day before. the melody lingered in the air, familiar yet mysterious.

daniela and yoonchae slowly began to warm up to you. daniela more easily than yoonchae, who kept her distance carefully, standing far enough away to avoid the risk of your blood scent reaching her. it made you feel both welcome and painfully aware of the invisible lines drawn between you.

later, when daniela was telling a particularly embarrassing story that had you laughing quietly, sophia quietly slipped away and took you to a quiet room with old records and long curtains pulled halfway closed. you guessed it had to be her bedroom.

the first thing you noticed was that there was no bed. no mattress. instead, there were rows and rows of cds and books lining every shelf, most of which were unfamiliar to you. the space felt intimate and strange, like a secret sanctuary built from memories and forgotten sounds.

you sat on the floor together, your backs resting against the cool wall. soft orchestral music filled the room, the kind of sound that wrapped around you like a slow, steady breath. sophia didn’t say much, but she didn’t need to. the silence between you spoke volumes, comforting and unspoken.

‎

after that night, daniela and yoonchae started sitting with you at lunch. they didn’t ask. they just appeared one day, elegant and terrifying, and took the two empty seats like they belonged. your friends didn’t ask questions. they didn’t dare.

you watched them try to act normal, try not to be obvious, try not to whisper when daniela smirked or yoonchae laughed softly at a joke no one else caught. it was chaos in the most controlled way possible.

and somehow, through all of it, sophia stayed steady by your side. in the quiet, in the noise. in the in-between. the months passed like that. simple. strange. unreal.

you stopped trying to make sense of it. it felt like falling into something deep. something warm, dangerous.

you weren’t sure you were ready to climb back out.

you were alone. the house felt too big when it was this quiet.

it was a friday night, and somewhere in the background, the muted roar of a high school football game buzzed through the tv, voices rising and falling with each shift of the score. jaehyun turned it on before he left, a half hearted attempt at filling the room with sound, like it might keep the silence from creeping in too fast. he laughed softly, told you not to wait up, and promised it was nothing serious. just a late patrol on the reservation. someone called in a sighting, probably another bear. he said it the way he always did when he didn’t want you to worry, casual and light, like it was routine, like it wasn’t a thing that pulled him away from the dinner table before he’d even touched his food.

you didn’t ask too many questions. not because you weren’t curious, but because you’d learned to recognize the look in his eyes when something was bothering him. he didn’t lie, exactly. he just kept the weight of things to himself. so you nodded. you let him go.

and now here you were.

the blanket you’d pulled off the back of the couch was bunched around your waist, not quite doing its job. a book lay open in your lap, forgotten somewhere between chapters. your feet were tucked beneath you, socks worn thin at the heels, toes curled against the cushions. the living room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the soft flicker of the television and the small table lamp near the far wall. the shadows stretched long across the hardwood floors, catching on the corners of furniture, making everything feel stretched and slow.

outside, the rain had started again. soft at first, just a murmur against the roof, but it grew steadier by the minute. you could hear the water trickle down the gutters, the occasional spatter of wind pushing droplets hard against the windows. the air inside was warm, but the kind of warm that clung to your skin and made the stillness feel heavier, like the house was holding its breath.

your thoughts refused to stay put. they drifted, restless, circling around all the things you didn’t say when jaehyun left. around the silence he carried in his shoulders, the way he winced when he thought you weren’t looking. but mostly, they circled around sophia.

you hadn’t seen her since this afternoon. even though she’d told you she was going hunting and that she’d come by before the night ended, it didn’t stop the way your mind kept returning to her. wondering where she was now. wondering what she looked like in the dark, with moonlight cutting across her skin like silver. wondering if she’d think of you when the woods went still and all she could hear was the rush of wind and her own breath.

you imagined her moving through the trees like a ghost, quiet and sure, golden eyes cutting through the dark. you imagined her scenting the air, picking up trails no human could ever notice, her body moving like a thing built for the hunt, all strength and grace and restraint. but even in those thoughts, the violent ones, the ones that should have scared you– she never frightened you.

what scared you was how much you missed her.

not in the way you missed people who left for a day or two. this was different. this was the kind of ache that made time move wrong, that made every hour stretch too long, that made you glance at the window even when you knew she wasn’t there yet. you’d grown used to her presence, to the quiet way she existed beside you, never too close, but never far enough to forget. she didn’t fill the room, she haunted it. like a song you could almost hear if you listened hard enough.

your eyes drifted to the window again.

nothing. just trees swaying in the wind, branches wet and heavy. the porch light glowed dimly, casting golden circles onto the soaked wood.

you reached for your phone, checked the time.

still early. still waiting.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. you told yourself she’d come when she could. but you didn’t believe it. not really.

and the thing that scared you most, more than whatever jaehyun might have run off to, more than the shadows clawing at the corners of your vision when you stared at the window too long– was the thought that maybe sophia wouldn’t come at all. maybe this time, she’d let the silence stretch just a little too far.

maybe you’d be alone for more than just tonight.

so when the knock came, sharp and deliberate against the front door, you didn’t think.

you got up, book sliding off your lap, blanket falling around your ankles as you padded across the hardwood floor. your socks made no sound. the house felt still in that strange, suspended way it always did right before something happened.

you crossed to the door, hand already reaching for the knob. you didn’t check the peephole. you opened it.

and everything stopped.

he was standing there.

the man standing at your door hadn’t changed at all. the vampire from the woods, the one who had thrown jaehyun like he was made of nothing, the one who had lifted his head with blood dripping down his chin and stopped only when something in the forest howled loud enough to rattle your bones, was now just a few feet away, solid and terrifyingly real. he looked exactly the same as he had in that clearing. his frame was too tall, too thin, stretched in a way that seemed unnatural, like something that had been put together by mistake and left that way on purpose. his arms hung loose at his sides, long fingers curled just slightly, like he hadn’t decided yet whether to use them. his coat clung to his body, soaked through from the rain, the fabric hanging heavy and dripping in slow, deliberate lines onto your porch. dark hair stuck to his forehead in wet clumps, and his skin, even under the low porch light, looked pale enough to pass for bone. but it was his face that made your stomach twist. something about the sharp angles of it, the way his cheekbones caught the light, made you think of broken glass left too long in the sun. his eyes were the worst part. they weren’t glowing the way they had been in the woods, but the color was unmistakable. a deep, rotted red, the kind that didn’t just look hungry but ancient in its hunger, like it had been starving for something more than blood. and when he saw you, really saw you, his expression shifted. it wasn’t surprise exactly. it was recognition, and something darker threaded just beneath it, something that told you he remembered everything.

you saw it hit him. the shift in his expression. the way he tilted his head just slightly to the side, lips curling like he was trying to decide whether to smile or bare his teeth.

“well,” he said, voice low and almost amused. “look at that. i knew i remembered something.”

you reacted on instinct. tried to slam the door shut.

but he was faster.

his hand snapped out, catching the edge of the door before it could close, shoving it back with a force that made your shoulder jolt from the recoil. you stumbled backwards as he stepped inside like the threshold meant nothing.

“the girl's scent was all over the woods,” he said, eyes sweeping across the room like he was cataloguing every corner. “every rock. every branch. she tried to cover it, but not well enough. and then i found yours.”

he turned to face you fully now, slow and deliberate, the weight of his gaze making your skin crawl.

“imagine my surprise when i realized you weren’t just a bystander,” he continued, voice curling with something sharp. “no, you’re something else. something closer. the one she’s trying to hide.”

you backed away without meaning to. one step, then another, until your heel bumped into the edge of the coffee table.

“she’s not here,” you said. you tried to sound firm, but your voice cracked halfway through.

his smile deepened. “i know. but you are.”

you reached for your phone without thinking, your fingers fumbling toward the edge of the coffee table where you’d left it earlier, but you never made it. before you could even register the space between you, he was there. one moment he was standing by the door, still and watchful, and the next he had crossed the distance like it didn’t exist at all. his hand closed around your wrist with a brutal kind of precision, fingers locking down hard, cold and unrelenting, and the pressure was instant. it wasn’t just firm, it was cruel. you felt the pain bloom sharp and sudden beneath your skin, something deep giving way with a sickening twist that shot white-hot up your arm. your phone slipped from your hand and clattered uselessly to the floor as your knees buckled slightly under the shock of it. he didn’t let go. his grip only tightened for a second, like he was testing how much you could take, and then held steady, his eyes watching your face with detached interest while your breath hitched and your body fought not to cry out. the pain throbbed through your wrist in waves, pulsing in time with the panic flooding your chest, and all you could do was try not to let him see how much it hurt.

“you’re not very smart,” he said, and this time the amusement had slipped away, replaced by something colder. “but you’re brave. i’ll give you that.”

he tilted his head again, the movement small and strange, like a bird studying something it didn’t quite understand, then leaned in close enough that you could feel the cold of his breath against your cheek. his voice dropped, quieter now but more pointed, laced with something that felt like genuine curiosity wrapped in malice.

“what is it about you that’s got her playing protector? what makes you so special?” the words slipped between his teeth like they tasted wrong on his tongue.

you couldn’t answer. your mouth wouldn’t move, your thoughts were all noise, and your heart pounded so loudly in your chest it felt like it might shatter your ribs from the inside. you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, barely even breathed.

then something changed. a flicker of tension ran through him, almost imperceptible at first, but then his body went still in a way that was unnatural even for something like him. his eyes shifted, unfocused, as if he’d just heard something from a distance only he could make out.

he loosened his grip on your wrist, not out of mercy, but distraction. his head turned slightly toward the hallway, toward the dark stretch of night beyond the porch. it was already too late.

wood splintered inward, the frame buckling in a violent rush of sound and motion, breaking apart so fast you barely registered it until fragments hit the floor like scattered bones. the room seemed to lurch with the force of it, the air pulled from your lungs as the pressure shifted. and then sophia was there. she moved like she had been carved from the storm outside, every inch of her soaked through, rain dripping from the ends of her hair where it clung in dark strands to her cheeks and jaw. her clothes were heavy with water and streaked with mud, but there was something else too, something darker smeared across her sleeves and collar, something that hinted at the violence she had already passed through to get here. her chest rose and fell in sharp, measured bursts, her eyes locked on the vampire with a focus so absolute it made the space around her feel colder. she wasn’t wild. she wasn’t shouting. she didn’t bare her teeth or let her hands shake. her fury wasn’t loud, but it was consuming. it lived in the set of her jaw, in the precision of her steps, in the way her entire body radiated a promise that she would not let him leave this room whole. it was not chaos. it was not panic. it was the kind of fury that only came from something ancient, something honed, something that knew exactly how to destroy.

“step away from her,” she said, her voice not wavering for even a second. it was low and calm, steady in a way that cut straight through the tension.

her eyes locked onto the place where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist, and in that instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. his fingers tightened, either out of spite or instinct, and this time the pain was immediate and brutal. it surged up your arm once again like fire, hot and blinding, and before you could stop yourself, a cry tore free from your throat. small, raw, and involuntary. the sound cracked the silence in a way nothing else had. your knees buckled slightly, vision going white at the edges, and you felt the bones in your wrist shift under the pressure like they were beginning to give.

sophia didn’t move yet, but you saw it in her eyes, the way her expression darkened. something in her snapped, quiet and final, like a wire pulled too tight. she wasn’t just furious now. she was poised. ready. seconds from becoming something unstoppable.

“so this is what you’re protecting?” he said, voice low and almost amused, but thin at the edges. “you’re willing to die for her?”

sophia didn’t blink. “no,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “i’m willing to kill for her.”

for the briefest second, something in the vampire faltered. not much. not enough to make him let go. but enough that his stance shifted, enough that his head turned toward her just slightly.

“you shouldn’t have followed me here,” he said, and though he still sounded sure of himself, there was a crack in it now.

sophia’s eyes narrowed. her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. “you shouldn’t have touched her.”

then she moved. but, only a second too late.

in one brutal motion, he shoved you backward with a force so sudden and unforgiving that your feet left the floor. the room spun, a blur of movement and pain, and your body slammed into the wall with a sickening crack that stole the breath from your lungs. your already shattered wrist folded beneath you at the wrong angle, bones splintering even further under the pressure. your shoulder crashing through the narrow pane of glass on the wall, a mirror. it shattered around you, cold and sharp, a single shard slicing deep into your skin and embedding itself beneath your collarbone. the pain was immediate, staggering. and then your blood hit the air.

he turned toward you like something snapped loose inside him. his head tilted, nostrils flaring, and for a moment, he looked rabid. eyes darkening, jaw tightening, his entire body tensed like he was preparing to lunge. he looked at you the way a starving thing might look at its final meal.

but sophia was already there.

she slammed into him before he could move another inch, her body a blur of force and fury. they collided in the center of the room with a sound that cracked through the air like thunder, raw and deafening. the floor groaned under the weight of it, wood splitting in jagged lines beneath their feet. your lamp exploded behind them, shards of lightbulb scattering across the floor like sparks. your breath caught in your throat, shallow and ragged, as you watched them twist together, all limbs and teeth and fury, moving too fast for your eyes to keep up. she didn’t hesitate. she didn’t hold back. her face was carved into something ruthless and unrecognizable. this wasn’t the sophia who walked you to class. this was something else.

he clawed at her, snarling, trying to get past. she drove him backward, slammed him through the wall. glass rained down.

he was strong. but she was stronger. and she was angry.

his hand caught her arm, sharp and sure, twisting hard, but she let him. she leaned into it, let the momentum pull her just enough to pivot, and then her elbow came up hard into the hinge of his jaw. the crack of it was deep and solid, like stone breaking under pressure.

he hit the floor with a sound that felt final.

she didn’t pause. not even for breath. she was on him before his body settled, knees pinning his ribs, one hand locked in the collar of his coat. her weight held him down, steady and unrelenting, her body curved over his like a storm still gathering.

her face hovered inches above his. her breath ran hot between them. strands of wet hair clung to her cheek, stuck by rain. her eyes burned gold through the dark. her teeth were bared, not in warning, but in promise.

“if you ever come near her again,” sophia said, her voice coiled with something that didn’t belong to this world, something colder and older than the rain still dripping from her sleeves, “i will end you.”

he didn’t flinch. didn’t speak. the corner of his mouth twitched, but whether it was mockery or instinct didn’t matter. in one fluid, unnatural motion, he tried to shove her off of his body and lunge forward. not at her. at you.

your body was still slumped against the wall, pain pulsing through every breath you tried to take. your wrist throbbed with a hot, raw ache that made your vision swim, and the shard of glass beneath your collarbone pulsed like a second heartbeat. you tried to move, tried to push yourself upright, but everything inside you felt too heavy, like the impact had pressed you into the floor and left you there to wait.

all you could do was watch.

sophia was on him before he could make space between them. she didn’t shout, didn’t make a sound, just moved with the kind of speed that didn’t seem possible. the air seemed to bend around her as she struck. her hands found him with perfect precision, one at his jaw, the other braced at the back of his skull, fingers locking down like she had done this before, like she had practiced it a thousand times in her head while waiting for the right moment.

she twisted with her full strength, her entire body moving with the kind of force that didn’t belong in something shaped like a girl. the sound that followed didn’t belong in a living room. it was hard and brutal, like stone shattering. like something hard like marble snapping apart under pressure that had built too long. there was no blood. no gore. just the clean, echoing crack of something that had never been meant to break, breaking anyway.

his body dropped first, folding inward at her feet, limbs buckling in a way that made it clear the life inside him– whatever twisted, wrong thing had been animating him– was already gone. his head followed half a second later, slipping from her grip and landing with a weighty thud that shook the floorboards beneath it.

she didn’t look at him. didn’t spare the remains a single glance. she let his head fall like it meant nothing, like it was exactly what she had intended from the start.

the room was silent. not the kind of silence that comes from quiet, but the kind that follows something catastrophic. like the house itself had been holding its breath and was now waiting to see what would happen next.

sophia stood there for a long moment, her clothes clinging to her like a second skin. her eyes were fixed on the space where he had been. her expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted, like whatever had been coiled tight inside her had finally been released.

then she turned to you.

her gaze found yours instantly, cutting through the dim light like it had been trained there all along. she crossed the room with steady steps, the wreckage of the fight scattered around her feet, glass and broken wood crunching beneath her boots as she moved toward you.

she didn’t speak, not right away. she just knelt beside you, careful.

“i’m here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

and for the first time since the knock on the door, your body began to believe it was safe to breathe again.

she didn’t move right away. her thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone, featherlight, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch you yet. her other hand hovered just beneath your elbow, steadying you without pressing too hard. she was trying to be gentle, trying to be careful, but her eyes kept shifting. you noticed the way they darted across your face, then lower, like she was tracking something she didn’t want to see.

then she saw it.

the blood.

her gaze dropped to your shoulder, to the place where the glass had broken skin and left something jagged behind. she went still. the kind of still that didn’t belong to anything human. her breath caught, quiet and shallow, and for a moment she just stared. her fingers moved instinctively, brushing closer, and when they came away stained red, she stared at them like they didn’t belong to her.

your blood was warm against her skin.

something inside her shifted. not visibly, but you could feel it. the air between you grew tight, almost electric, and her eyes darkened at the edges. she looked at her hand again, then back at your face. her expression didn’t change much, but her body had. her spine straightened just slightly. her shoulders locked. there was a tension now in her jaw, in her neck, in the way her teeth pressed together behind her lips. she was holding something back. fiercely.

she didn’t breathe in again. you realized that after a few seconds. she was forcing herself not to.

you could tell how hard it was. her hands had stopped shaking, but only because she wasn’t letting herself move at all. it would have been easy for her to lean in. too easy. the scent of you was everywhere now, filling the room, thick in the air between her fingers. it wasn’t just the blood. it was you. the heat of your skin. the way your pulse still beat beneath the surface. everything about you called to her.

but she stayed still.

her body was quiet and closed off, like she had thrown a wall up around herself, one built from willpower alone. you watched her jaw flex again, a small motion, barely visible. her throat moved once. and then again. her eyes flicked down to your collarbone, where the glass was still buried, and then back up to your face.

she blinked. slow and controlled.

“you’re bleeding,” she said, and her voice was quiet. too quiet. not from fear, but from focus. it sounded like she had pulled each word from the center of a storm.

her fingers brushed your arm again. steadier this time. not because the hunger was gone, but because she had chosen not to let it win.

she was still choosing. every second.

and even though you could feel how close she was to slipping, she held herself back for you. completely. entirely. because she would rather fall apart piece by piece than ever risk hurting you.

the room tilted. not sharply, but in a slow, disorienting way, like the floor was drifting out from under you inch by inch. sophia’s face moved closer, her hands cupping your cheeks again, firmer this time, trying to keep you here.

“stay with me,” she said. her voice trembled now, only slightly, but you caught it. she was scared. she was trying not to show it, but it was there in her eyes.

you opened your mouth to say something. you weren’t sure what. you didn’t get the chance.

everything pulled back. the light in the room dimmed, not because the lamp flickered, but because your body couldn’t keep up anymore. your heartbeat thundered in your ears once, twice, and then it faded beneath a rising hush. the edges of everything softened until even her face didn’t look like a face anymore. just light and shadow and warmth.

you wanted to tell her you were okay. that you’d be fine. that she didn’t have to worry.

but the words never came. the last thing you felt was the press of her fingers against your skin.

then everything went dark.

‎

you wake to a strange kind of quiet, the kind that doesn’t feel peaceful so much as suspended, like the whole world has pressed pause around you and is waiting to see what happens next. the ceiling above you is a dull white, too bright in some places where the overhead light reflects against the sterile paint, and too shadowed in others where it gathers into corners like dust. the air smells clean in that oddly suffocating way hospitals always do, a mix of antiseptic and something older that clings to the back of your throat like memory.

your eyes don’t adjust right away. your body feels heavy, as if your limbs were stuffed with sand, and the muscles in your neck protest when you shift your head even slightly to the side. everything aches, but not sharply. it’s a dull, muted kind of pain, like your body hasn’t fully decided whether it’s finished being scared yet. your wrist twinges beneath the weight of a cast or a brace or maybe just thick gauze. you can’t quite tell.

for a moment, you forget where you are. or maybe you’re hoping that it’s a dream, that if you close your eyes again, you’ll wake up in your own bed, tucked beneath blankets that still smell like rain and soft detergent. but then your gaze lands on the edge of the IV stand, the pale blue curtain pulled halfway around your bed, and the machine beside you humming in a slow, even rhythm, and it all comes back.

the hospital.

only this time, you’re the one in the bed.

you’ve been here before, but not like this. last time, it was jaehyun in this room, half conscious and pale with bruises pressed into his ribs like fingerprints. you remember sitting right where he is now, curled in a chair that didn’t recline, your legs going numb after too many hours in the same position. you remember counting his breaths. memorizing the beeping patterns on the monitors. trying to stay awake because closing your eyes felt too much like giving up.

and now here you are, on the other side of it. wrapped in layers of hospital linens, muscles still stiff from whatever drugs they gave you, head pounding like something’s still trying to shake loose. your mouth is dry. your lips are cracked. and the silence of it all feels colder than it should.

it’s not just the shift in roles that rattles you. it’s the sheer stillness. the vulnerability. the quiet realization that someone else had to carry you this time, that someone else sat through the night not knowing if you’d wake up.

you drag in a breath that doesn’t quite fill your lungs. your eyes drift, slow and unfocused, and then they find him.

jaehyun. sitting at your bedside, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them like he’s trying not to wring them out. he’s wearing the same hoodie he always reaches for when he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. the one with a small tear at the sleeve and faded lettering on the chest. his hair is a mess. he looks like he hasn’t slept. he also looks like he hasn’t moved since you were brought in.

you shift slightly, and it’s enough. his head snaps up.

“y/n?”

his voice sounds strange in the quiet. too loud, but too careful. like saying your name too hard might break something.

your eyes meet, and the relief that floods his face is immediate and overwhelming. he exhales, all at once, like he’s been holding his breath for hours.

“jesus. thank god. i didn’t know when you’d—”

he cuts himself off, leaning forward, one hand reaching for yours instinctively but hovering just before he touches it, like he’s still unsure if it would hurt you. his eyes are glassy. the kind of glassy that comes from sitting in too many waiting rooms without answers. the kind that makes you want to say something to comfort him, even though you’re the one lying in a hospital bed.

“you scared the hell out of me,” he says, quieter now. “you really did.”

your throat feels like it’s full of gravel, but somehow, your voice finds its way through.

“what happened?”

jaehyun hesitates. and that’s when you know something’s wrong. not just the kind of wrong that ends in stitches and gauze, but the kind that leaves invisible bruises on the people who weren’t even the ones bleeding.

he leans back, scrubs a hand over his face, and says, “they think it was an animal. must’ve broken into the house. you were lucky. they said it could’ve been worse.”

you watch his expression closely. the crease between his eyebrows. the way his mouth doesn’t quite settle after he speaks. he’s trying to convince you, but you can see it. he doesn’t believe it either.

and neither do you. not when the memories filter back through your mind. images of the vampires red eyes, the way sophia saved you.

you glance past him, toward the corner of the room, where the shadows gather more tightly. and there she is. sophia. curled in the hospital chair, still and silent, pretending to sleep. your heartbeat skips. but you don’t say her name, not yet. not with jaehyun still sitting there, looking at you like he might fall apart if you say the wrong thing.

you just squeeze his hand. lightly. enough to let him know you’re still here. still trying. still breathing. and for now, that’s enough.

“thank you,” you say.

he frowns. “for what?”

“for being here.”

he lets out a slow breath. something in his shoulders loosens. “always.”

the door creaks open just enough for a sliver of warm light to slip through. a nurse leans in, her voice gentle, practiced, the kind you’ve heard before in long hallways and late nights.

“just checking in,” she says with a soft smile. “i’ll come back in a bit.”

jaehyun nods without turning. “thank you.”

she disappears with the same quiet she came in with, and the door eases shut behind her. jaehyun stays still for a moment, then stands with a quiet breath, his knees stiff from sitting too long. his eyes flick toward the corner of the room, just briefly, like he’s checking for something he already knows.

“i’ll give you two a minute,” he says, voice low. he lingers in the doorway, hand resting lightly on the handle. “she hasn’t left your side. not once.”

his words land like something soft and solid in your chest. they settle there.

and then he’s gone.

you turn toward the corner, a second away from gently calling her name. but her eyes are already open. wide and gold, catching the light from the window in a way that makes them almost unreal. she must’ve heard everything. your voice, the nurse, the quiet shift in the room when jaehyun stepped out. or maybe she never stopped listening in the first place.

she sits perfectly still, legs folded beneath her, arms tucked around herself like she’s holding something fragile inside her chest. she doesn’t speak right away. just looks at you, expression unreadable, like she hasn’t yet decided what emotion she’s allowed to show. the sharpness she usually wears like armor is still there, but beneath it, there’s something else. a tension pulling at the corners of her mouth. a tightness in her jaw. nerves, maybe. guilt, definitely.

she looks good. impossibly good. even in this ugly, overlit hospital room with linoleum floors and stiff curtains and the scent of disinfectant still lingering in the air. she looks like she doesn’t belong here. like something carved out of a different world entirely, dressed in shadows and softness. her hair is loose around her shoulders, her jacket draped over the back of the chair. and yet her posture hasn’t relaxed once.

you stare at each other for a second too long. then her gaze shifts, just barely, to your wrist, wrapped in bandages, resting on top of the blanket like it doesn’t belong to you. her lips part like she wants to say something, but the words get caught in her throat. you can see it. the flicker of emotion tightening behind her eyes. fear. maybe shame.

you open your mouth first.

“sophia.”

the sound of her name does something to her. not visibly, not at first, but you see the way her throat moves when she swallows. like the weight of hearing you say it is almost too much.

she stands slowly, quiet as ever, and crosses the room in three unhurried steps. when she reaches your bedside, she doesn’t sit. she just stands there, close enough to touch, far enough to hold back. her hands curl slightly at her sides like she doesn’t trust herself to get too close.

“you’re okay,” she says, finally. but her voice is tight. cautious. like she’s still trying to believe it herself.

you nod, slow. “thanks to you.”

she shakes her head, barely. “you got lucky.”

you blink at her. “is that what we’re calling it now?”

she flinched, just slightly, and then her eyes met yours again. this time she doesn’t look away. and you can see it, clear as anything. the nerves. the guilt. the panic she’s trying to keep buried under all that stillness.

“i should’ve stopped him faster,” she says, voice low. “i should’ve gotten there sooner. he touched you.”

you watch her, heart aching, because you know what it cost her to say that. what it’s still costing her to stand here and not reach for you. to keep that part of herself locked up tight because she’s still scared of what it would mean to let it out.

you reach for her hand. slowly. carefully. your fingers brush hers, and she flinches again, not from you, but from herself. like she’s afraid she might break something just by touching it.

“i’m so sorry,” she swallowed, the words catching at the edges like they had claws.

“you came,” you said, barely a whisper. “that’s more than enough.”

she didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed on you, locked like they didn’t know how to look anywhere else. it was the kind of look that felt like falling and being caught all at once. like she was afraid you might disappear if she blinked. like you were the only thing in the room holding her together.

“i would always come back,” she said. “i will always come back for you.”

you swallowed hard. your throat was tight, and your chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with your injuries.

“sophia...”

she shook her head slightly, like she already knew what you were going to say and couldn’t bear to let it come first. then she stepped closer, just barely, enough for the shadows to shift around her, enough for her voice to land between you like something irreversible.

“i love you.”

the words didn’t feel soft or gentle. they felt raw. exposed. like they’d been ripped out of her, unpracticed and desperate and real.

you blinked, stunned. “what?”

“i love you,” she said again, more certain this time, like she couldn’t un-say it even if she tried. “i’ve tried not to. i’ve tried to stay away. but i can’t. i love you. completely. horribly. every part of me is yours, and it terrifies me.”

you didn’t realize you were crying until the tear slipped over your cheek, slow and silent. your hand moved before your brain could catch up, lifting shakily from the blanket, reaching up until your fingertips brushed the curve of her face.

she leaned into your touch like it hurt to resist.

“i love you too,” you whispered.

and for a second, neither of you breathed.

the air between you shifted, quiet but full. it felt like something had cracked open in the middle of the room. something too sacred to name. not a declaration. not a promise. something older. something that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to be seen.

her eyes closed. her hand came up slowly, covering yours.

you didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. or the day after that. but right now, in this too-bright hospital room that smelled like bleach and fear and hope, she was here.

and that was enough.

then she leaned down, slow and careful, like she was afraid the moment might break if she moved too fast. her face hovered just above yours, close enough that you could see every detail. the soft curve of her mouth. the flicker of gold in her eyes. the tension in her jaw that hadn’t quite let go, like part of her still didn’t believe this was real.

she didn’t kiss you right away. she just looked at you, like she was memorizing something. like she needed to be sure this was allowed. this close, you could feel the cool of her breath against your skin. the weight of the moment settled around you like fog, heavy and quiet.

then, without a word, she sank into the chair beside your bed. the same one jaehyun had been in only moments before. her hand never left yours.

she kissed you. not rushed. not messy. not like the world had just tried to end.

her lips met yours with a kind of reverence, like she’d been holding the feeling in her chest for so long it had started to fray at the edges. the kiss wasn’t desperate. it wasn’t loud or wild or filled with panic. it was steady. certain. like she needed you to know this wasn’t just adrenaline or fear or some fleeting, storm-tossed thing. it was quiet and patient, like she had all the time in the world to learn you this way.

her hand rose to your jaw, fingers cold but touch impossibly gentle, and she tilted her head just enough for the kiss to deepen. not in pressure, but in intention. the kind of kiss that asks a question and offers an answer at the same time.

you kissed her back like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. like every slow brush of her mouth against yours stitched something back together inside you. like you could still feel the echo of her voice in your head, saying she would always come back for you.

you kissed her like she was the reason the world kept going.

because maybe she was.

you’re sitting on the bed of the blue chevrolet, legs curled beneath you, good hand cradling the paper cup yejin handed you before the game started. it’s warm now, not hot, the cocoa inside starting to cool with the breeze. the air smells like wet moss and mountain wind, thick with the memory of rain. it’s been a month since you left the hospital. your wrist is still splinted, sore in the mornings, but healing. everything is healing. slowly. awkwardly. like you’re still remembering how to live in your body again.

the clearing stretches out before you, slick with light. the sky is all deep blue and streaks of dying sun, clouds barely clinging to the edges. someone brought bases. someone else dragged out old gloves and bats. you’re not sure who started it. maybe daniela, maybe insung. but now they’re all playing.

you watch them blur through the trees, flicker across the grass like light itself. not human. never human. not even pretending to be. sophia's hair whips behind her as she chases a fly ball like she was born to move like this. her laughter breaks the air sharp and sweet, a sound you never thought you’d hear from her. it sends something through you. warmth. disbelief. maybe even hope.

she’s changed. not all at once. not in the big ways. she still watches the world with those heavy eyes. still carries her stillness like armor. but you see it now, in the way she teases daniela when she misses a catch. in the way she glances at you between plays, just for a second, like she’s checking if you’re still watching.

you are. you always are.

the others treat you gently. careful around your wrist. careful around your space. daniela offered you her jacket when the wind picked up. yoonchae brought extra pillows to prop against the truck bed so you wouldn’t ache by the time the sun dipped. insung gave you a small nod earlier, almost approving. maybe you’re part of it now. maybe not fully. maybe just enough to stay.

you sip from the paper cup and let the quiet settle.

it’s strange, you think, how this became your life. vampires playing baseball in a clearing like a dream someone forgot to wake up from. you, sitting in the bed of your brother’s old truck, splint wrapped tight around your arm, watching sophia run like the wind answers to her. if someone had told you this six months ago, you would’ve laughed. or cried. maybe both.

now, it feels like the only version of peace you understand.

your eyes find sophia again. she’s up to bat. daniela’s pitching. the others are scattered across the field, ready. sophia leans forward, eyes sharp, grip firm.

then crack. the sound splits the air. the ball rockets up, vanishes into the sky. you can’t even track it. she doesn’t wait. her body moves like instinct, like music. one base. two. three.

home.

and then she’s not on the field anymore. not even a blur. just a rush of wind and the flicker of a grin before her hands are on the edge of the truck bed and she’s vaulting up beside you.

you don’t have time to react before she leans in, one hand catching the side of your face, the other bracing against the metal, and her mouth meets yours.

it’s not slow. not shy. but not hungry either. just sure.

when she pulls away, her smile is crooked. you don’t know if she’s breathless, or if it’s just the way she looks at you now. like you’re the only thing she lets herself want.

you reach up with your good hand and tug her jacket until she stays close. the others are still laughing in the distance. the clouds stretch wide above you. the night hasn’t fully arrived yet.

you’re not sure what’s coming next. not exactly.

this, you think, blinking against the quiet between your heartbeats. this would be your normalcy.

at least for now.

part two

198 notes · View notes

firingstars · 2 days ago

Text

neighborly advice | ch. 10 [FINAL]

bucky barnes x reader

summary: you and bucky finally discuss what your relationship is.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, oral (male receiving), riding, language, bucky's kinda? submissive, angst, fluff, happy ending! yippee!, no use of y/n, alternating pov's, bucky briefly gets in his head with the self loathing, he stalks for like two seconds, peter is your best friend now!

word count: 7.8k

a/n: its over :') what am i to DOOOOOOOO i will miss this characterization of reader i thought she was so funny lmfao idk if anyone does this but i legit made myself giggle more than a few times

previous chapter | masterlist

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to approach her in the upcoming days. He was home, and realized quickly that he shouldn’t be avoiding the apartment he paid for to hide in the compound because he was afraid of a little confrontation. Or rejection, actually. Bucky was very clearly hellbent on the fact that this was a rejection waiting to happen.

Even when he was in his apartment, he stayed silent. He didn’t want her to know he was home. He knew it was foolish, stupid, that he was just delaying the inevitable, but he couldn’t help himself. Bucky was at a loss.

It wasn’t difficult for Bucky to find out that she had finally gotten a new lab and new sponsor– both of which were long term commitments written out by contract that would not be broken any time soon. It also wasn’t that hard to find out that Peter was her only teammate helping her work on her technology.

How close were the two of them able to get in his absence? They had to be close enough, he realized, for her to have gone out drinking with the guy then bring him home.

Bucky didn’t even want to imagine what happened once they crossed the threshold of her apartment door. Did anything else happen where he couldn’t hear? Did things progress quickly between the two of them? Was there someone else that she looked at with that fond smile and sparkling eyes that he adored?

Bucky was never an insecure man. Though he had baggage and some self loathing issues, he had no issue with himself in terms of appearance. Sam never stopped reminding him, either. Yet, this boy, this other man seemed to fit her side much better.

Another university student, much closer to age to her than he would ever be. This kid understood technology, and the two of them would be able to bond over their shared love of science on a level that he wouldn’t be able to converse with her on. Peter looked softer, kinder, and seemed much more gentle than he could ever be. Bucky even looked into Peter’s background, just to make sure that he wasn’t secretly a criminal. Bucky’s heart dropped when he realized he couldn’t even hate the kid. There was nothing that he had done wrong in his entire life.

So, Bucky watched from afar. He felt like some sort of fucking stalker doing this, but he couldn’t help himself. If she was happy with someone else, then who was he to deny her of that happiness? He watched as the two of them would grab lunch together in between research and classes. He felt every inch of pain radiate through his body when she would laugh at something that kid said, and hate seeing the smile on her face– hate that it wasn’t him that she was smiling for.

Peter was a stable choice for her, Bucky decided on his own. Perhaps it would be better for her to find someone normal, he thought. Someone that wouldn’t leave her behind for days to weeks at a time because the world needed him, when all he wanted to do was stay by her side. Bucky realized that he wouldn’t be able to provide her the stability that she deserved, no matter how hard he would try to provide it to her.

“So your boyfriend–”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“So your not-boyfriend, hot neighbor that you’re sleeping with goes on business trips that call for absolute silence, and you’re still pining for him? Am I getting this right?” Peter asked you with a raised eyebrow.

You let out a deep sigh, burying your face in your hands. “You make it sound so bad.”

“I’m not gonna lie… I think that’s kinda bad. Really bad,” Peter said, giving you a look from across the lab table. You groaned deeply.

“Why did I even ask you for advice if you were just gonna point out the obvious?” you asked him with a frown.

“Well, hold on. I’m still trying to process this,” Peter said quickly, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat up straight on the lab stool. “Have you tried texting him first? Calling him?”

“I mean– I did. The other day,” you admit– because you did. You texted him in the middle of the day, hoping that wherever he was the sun was also out. It wasn’t anything large or grand, but just a simple question.

Are you doing okay?

Your phone alerted you that your message was not delivered almost immediately. Multiple scenarios were running through your mind at the time. Maybe his phone was dead or turned off. Dead, since Bucky’s possibly always on the move during his missions. Turned off so there would be no signal interference, or maybe someone was tracking his phone and he needed to go off the radar.

Or maybe, he blocked your number. He didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

You didn’t even think of the possibility that he was dead somewhere. It was the most unlikely scenario to you. Bucky, in all his glory and strength, couldn’t die. Maybe he would sustain one bad injury every once in a while, but the super soldier was resilient.

You were more than certain that he blocked you.

“And what? Nothing in return?”

“He can’t have his phone with him during these… business deals…” you said slowly, trying to find the right words to describe his job. Honestly, you might be making Bucky sound like even more of an asshole by not being truthful about his job, but you can’t just expose him like that.

“Right… Why? Did he ever say that? Tell you why he can’t?”

“It’s sensitive information that he deals with.” You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant about the fact the man you have a crush on has a metal arm, and was recently a wanted criminal all over the world.

“Do you realize how insane you sound?” Peter asked, giving you a look of concern.

“Yes! Okay, God– Can you be better at girl talk? Why do all guys try to solve the issue at hand when girls complain? I just want you to listen to me, agree that it’s a problem, and then whine with me!” you exclaimed at him.

“I’ve never had girl talk before, so I’m also learning the fundamentals on how this works,” he quickly said.

“Did MJ not ever complain to you about issues she had with her friends?” you frowned at him.

“Well, MJ was kinda a self made loner,” Peter said, a small smile coming onto his face as he recalled memories of his maybe-ex-girlfriend. “She became friends with my best friend because I introduced them. Otherwise, it was just the three of us together. She didn’t really have other friends to complain about.”

“Why don’t you get Dr. Strange to undo the spell he did?” you sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“Because it would destroy the multiverse. Weren’t you listening when I told you?” Peter asked, frowning.

“I mean, I was, but I still think you’re full of shit,” you tell him. “Come in here with the suit on and then I might believe you.”

Peter sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face.

The two of you had gotten especially close after that night you went drinking. He crashed on your sofa after you dragged him up the five flights of stairs, and thankfully did not throw up everywhere. When you woke up, he seemed to remember what he had told you the night before and looked absolutely horrified that you knew his ‘secret.’

After telling him that you didn’t really believe a drunk man’s words, he ended up confessing to you about the whole situation. You’d be lying if you said you understood everything right away. The multiverse? Different versions of him coming to Earth, along with other enemies that were going to threaten the collapse of all universes?

Then again, you remember Thanos and being snapped out of existence, so maybe it wasn’t such a far fetched story in the end.

Either way, it seemed like a weight had been lifted from Peter’s shoulders after he confessed it to you– to somebody. You still weren’t sure if you believed it, but the look of desperation on his face was enough for you to tell him that you were someone that wouldn’t forget him. He cried that morning, saying that he’d felt so alone for so long.

You felt a sort of kinship with the guy.

“How many times have you contacted him since he left?” Peter asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Just… once,” you muttered, looking away. You can feel the weight of Peter’s eyes on you, taking in the two words that you managed to force out.

“Are you sure that you like him?”

“I don’t like your accusatory tone right now, Parker,” you said, head turning to look at him again. The boy raises an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to explain yourself. You sigh deeply. “I– I’m not his girlfriend, you know? What if I’m clingy about it? If I start texting him all the time when he’s gone, then what does that look like? What if I bother him?”

Peter sighed deeply. “I honestly don’t even know what to say about this. I’m bad at relationships, but this just seems messy in a way that I can’t help.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, dropping your head onto the lab table.

At the very least, finally being able to talk to someone about all of this made your shoulders feel lighter. Peter, despite his comments, had no judgement in his eyes. Honestly, you think he’s just worried for you. Which, you can’t even be mad about. If this were someone else’s situation, you would be reacting the same exact way that Peter was.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said with a sigh, standing up.

“Where?” you asked with a sad frown.

“To the deli. I realize that girl talk makes me hungry.”

You let out a scoff at that, but move to grab your things as well. You shove some notebooks into your bag as well as a couple of other trinkets that you’ll work on at home tonight, and you pick up your phone. You swallow as you tap on the screen, watching it come to life.

You can’t hide the disappointment on your face.

No new notifications.

Your phone gets shoved to the deepest part of your bookbag as you follow Peter out the door. You have no appetite to eat. You haven’t had an appetite the past four weeks at all. You know that Peter would break down your apartment door if you didn’t join him to eat at least once a day whenever you guys were together– which was almost every single day at this point. You were certain that you saw his face more than you saw your own in a mirror.

“What if he hates me?” you suddenly asked him.

“Oh my God. Please, no more,” he begged you, sincere.

Peter walked you back to your apartment after the two of you ate at the deli. The sun was going down, and it was a common occurrence for him to bring you home on the late nights that you guys worked together.

“Spider-Man things,” he said with a shrug. “I feel better knowing that you got home safe.”

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, huh?” you chuckled as you got up to the fifth floor. You’re unlocking the door when Peter grabs your arm, stopping you.

“You said your neighbor isn’t home, right?” he asked, frowning.

“He normally texts me when he is,” you nod. “Which he hasn’t.”

“I can hear movement on the inside of his apartment,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stared at Bucky’s door. You pause, trying to focus on your own hearing. You don’t hear jack shit. You turn back to him with a frown of your own, and he lets out a deep sigh. “Spidey senses.”

“Spidey senses,” you repeat, your voice dry. “What’s next? You're gonna tell me the deli meat was two hours from expiring because of Spidey taste buds?”

“Okay, founder of regenerative nanotechnological medicine, I’m sorry that I don’t have long scientific names to explain what my abilities are!” he hissed at you.

“It’s just a little hard to believe that you’re fucking Spider-Man when you refuse to stick onto the wall like a spider!” you hiss back. You’re not even sure why the two of you are whispering. Bucky isn’t here.

“Oh my God, is that what it’ll take for you to believe me? For me to hang upside down on the ceiling?”

“Wouldn’t that make you Batman?” you asked, fighting a grin.

“HA! HA!” he laughed sarcastically at you, with just those two syllables.

You’re about to burst out into real laughter when the door beside yours opens. You both freeze, turning to the door. Your mouth falls agape, staring. Bucky’s there, staring right back at you– staring at where Peter has a hand on your arm.

“Buck–”

“Your boyfriend is the Winter fucking Soldier?” Peter asked, cutting you off. Your head whips over to him now, eyes wide in panic and shock.

“What the fuck! Keep your voice down!” you whisper-shout at him. “How the hell do you know that–”

“Holy shit! You got a vibranium arm now, too? I thought King T’Challa hated you,” Peter continued, ignoring you to stare at Bucky’s metal arm.

You’re staring at him, more confusion painting your features as you do. Then, Peter turns to face you, pointing at Bucky.

“I fought him, as Spider-Man. Do you remember that Sokovia Accords bullshit? I was on Iron Man’s side,” he quickly tells you, and there's a notable excitement in his voice. “I was like, fifteen years old, and he punched me real hard a couple times. Steve, too. I had a black eye for like, two weeks.”

You take a deep breath, your mind spinning. “Peter. What the fuck ar you talking about?”

“Don’t Peter me!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You made him seem like such an asshole, ignoring your texts for a business trip? You could’ve just said it was the Winter Soldier and I would’ve understood why he has to fucking ignore you when he’s on those so-called business trips!”

“Peter–”

“You texted me?” Bucky asked, his voice soft, cutting the two of you off. Your breath hitches as you turn to look at him again, and you nod wordlessly. Bucky blinks at you, eyebrows furrowing. “My phone… is in the ocean, somewhere. I have a new number– just got a new phone the other day.”

“See!?” Peter exclaimed. “The Winter Soldier– oh my God. You’re insufferable, you know that? You really could’ve just said it was him–”

“You’re so fucking loud, we’re in the middle of the hallway, Parker,” you hissed, pushing your door open to shove Peter inside. “Why don’t you just announce his identity to the rest of the damn building?”

“Sorry, Sergeant!” Peter called out to him from inside your apartment. Then, he takes the door from you, and gently pushes you further into the hall while taking your bag and keys from you. “You go talk to him though. I’ll work on the regenerative piece.”

Then, he’s closing your own door in your face, leaving you in the hallway with Bucky still staring at you. Your mind is still spinning at how fast everything just happened, the amount of information that was just thrown at you, and you bury your face in your hands. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Do you want to come inside?” Bucky suddenly asked, his voice still soft. You lift your face out of your hands to look at him. He’s already opened the door wider for you to come in, and stepped to the side as well.

He looks… exhausted. It’s not the same sort of tired that he usually looks when he comes back from a mission, either. This is different. It makes your chest hurt to see him like this.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and move to enter his apartment.

You can’t help but feel a bit awkward in his apartment. You’re not sure why. The air is different for some reason. Tense. You try to be natural, moving towards his couch like you always do, and sit down. You try not to notice the way that he’s basically dragging his feet to join you, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m sorry about… him. Peter, I mean,” you finally speak, clearing your throat. Your leg is bouncing up and down, your throat feels like it’s about to close in on you, and your hands are becoming clammy.

Bucky’s quiet. He’s leaned forward, elbows on his knees, flesh and metal fingers interlaced tightly. His gaze is trained on the wall, the coffee table, his feet. Everywhere but you. You begin to feel a bit restless.

“I didn’t– I didn’t tell him anything about you like that. I mean, I talked about you to him, but I didn’t tell him who you were. I was talking about us, and how worried I was that you were gone and that I haven’t heard from you in a while– I never said that you were an asshole,” you quickly said, and you feel like you’re rambling. Your voice dies out on your tongue as you stare at your own fidgeting hands.

“You told him that I was your boyfriend?” Bucky asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s still not looking at you. Your heart quickens in your chest. Did he hate it? Hate the idea of it?

“No!” you exclaimed immediately, feeling your face turn red with embarrassment. “I said you were my neighbor and we had something going on and that I wouldn’t mind if you became my boyfriend but I– I didn’t say…”

A strange silence fell between the two of you. You didn’t necessarily feel uncomfortable, but you would be lying if you said that you felt comfortable, too. This was the longest that you had ever been in Bucky’s presence and he hadn’t looked at you. You were used to being under his constant watch, every movement and shift of your body being quietly recorded into his head.

“Bucky?” you whispered, swallowing thickly. “Was… Did the mission go well?”

You can’t think of any other reason for him to be acting like this, truthfully. Something must have happened for him to be acting like this. He said he got a new phone the other day, meaning that he was home. He was home, and he just didn’t want to see you. You lived right next to him, and you didn’t even know he was there.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” you tried next. Your eyes scanned his body. You didn’t see any wounds on him, but then again he had already been home for a couple of days. He would have already healed all the minor injuries.

You felt like you were talking to a wall. There was no response from him. He didn’t even move to indicate that he had heard your words. Nothing about this was natural or normal behavior. You wanted to be upset that he didn’t let you know that he was here– ask why he didn’t think to contact you immediately.

But you didn’t have that right to demand that from him.

So, you sat there silently. Waiting. You watched him carefully. The only telltale sign that he was even here in front of you was the slight movement in his chest to let you know that he was breathing. Every second that passed felt like an hour in the room. Yet, you decided you would hold on, and patiently sit there until he gathered his thoughts to be able to speak to you.

“I thought you and that kid were involved.”

You recoiled at his words, eyebrows furrowing. “Peter?”

“I saw you both. Saw you bring him to your apartment when he was drunk,” he confessed, burying his face in his hands. “I thought you replaced me while I was gone, so I didn’t want to bother you. Then today, I heard you two talking outside– and I just… I wanted to see your face.”

“Wait,” you said, blinking. “You avoided me because you were jealous?”

“I thought you were dating him, doll. Not just jealous,” he corrected, sighing deeply.

“Dating– in just three weeks?” you asked, even more confused. “We’ve been seeing each other for almost much longer than that, and we aren’t even official–”

“That’s why!” he exclaimed, finally turning to look at you. “That is exactly why!”

“There’s no way you’re trying to say that I deserve better. Are you?” you ask, eyebrows raised. The way Bucky’s jaw clenched told you all that you needed to know. “Bucky. Are you serious?’

“He’s a good kid,” he dismissed, looking down. “Smart. Bright future. A bit of a tragic past, but you seem to attract people that are mildly to severely depressed anyways–”

“You did a background check on him?” you cut him off, eyes wide.

“I needed to make sure that he wasn’t a psychopath with mental issues that would kill you!”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” you asked.

“Yes, so that’s what I’m saying– he would be a much better fit. He helps you with your research and he’s apparently fucking Spider-Man which has yet to be proven–”

“I’m not attracted to him! Did you not hear any of that conversation out there? I talk about you to him. Extensively! He listens to me complain and whine about the fact that I miss you!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he is a much better choice!”

“Is that what you want? You want me to walk out of here and choose somebody else?!” you demanded, standing up. You were heading towards the door, trying to prove your point when he grabbed your arm, forcing you to stop.

“No! I don’t! Why would I ever want that?!” Bucky shouted back at you. He looked scandalized, as if you’d asked him to wear a maid costume in the middle of Central Park.

“Then what do you want?!”

“You! I want you!”

“I’m yours, Bucky! I’m already yours, what don’t you understand?!”

“What– just like that?”

“Yes, just like that!”

“Fine!” he scoffed.

“Fine!” you mocked.

The exchange happened so fast, so quick. You two were staring at each other, breathing heavily. Then, he released your arm, dragging a hand down his face in frustration as he took a deep, controlled breath. His eyebrows were pinched close together as he tried to gather himself.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” he murmured.

“How you wanted what to go?” you frowned. “Your self deprecating, loathing speech or this stupid argument?”

“Well, I didn’t want either of these to happen at all, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head as he dropped his hands to his sides. “I… God. I just– I missed you.”

“And I missed you,” you said, your body relaxing from tension you didn’t know you were holding.

Bucky clenched his jaw, and swallowed. “You weren’t mine. Officially, at least. So if you found someone else while I was gone, then I figured that I couldn’t have a say in it. That it was my fault for just… disappearing this time for three, four weeks.”

“The way I looked at it,” you sighed, “I couldn’t be mad that you didn’t tell me anything. I figured the silence was for your safety.”

“Yours, actually,” he shook his head. “There was a possibility of my phone getting tracked, and I didn’t want anyone being able to get back to you. Which is why my phone ended up in the ocean– it was compromised. Took the battery out and removed the SIM and threw everything out after shattering it.”

“But other than that?” you asked softly, feeling worry course through your veins. “You’re okay?”

“Mission’s over. Chapter closed,” he reported, letting out a breath. “Minor injuries, but nothing that hasn’t already gone away. I’ll be home for a while. Nothing’s on the books right now.”

You nodded slowly, sighing in relief. That was all you wanted– not him staying home, but just knowing that he was safe.

“And… us,” you said softly. “What about us? Where do we go from here? Because I really don’t know if I can handle another month of silence like this. I’m not asking for daily updates or classified information. I just want to know that you’re alive, Bucky.”

“I can do that,” he quickly said, hands reaching for you. They rested on your arms, and his eyes locked with yours. “We can get encrypted phones that send scrambled data so even if there were someone trying to track messages, they wouldn’t be able to trace ours– no one would be able to get to you. I already have a few people keeping an eye on a couple of your lines to ensure your safety, and will have them report to me if there’s a flag somewhere.”

You blinked. “What– Right now?”

Bucky paused, his mouth falling open briefly he closed his eyes tight. “I… also needed to make sure you were safe while I was gone. My line of work isn’t the best thing, doll. I might be doing good things, but there are some fucked up people that would do anything to stop me and the people I work with.”

“No, I mean… We’re not even… together. Why would you go that far for me?”

“So?” he frowned at you. “You’re important to me. I don’t want anything to happen to you regardless.”

“Bucky, how deep are your feelings for me?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Doll, I’m falling so hard for you and I never want to stop,” he answered immediately. “I think you’re it for me.”

“And you were going to let me go?”

“I just want you to be happy. With or without me– and with what I do for work, I can’t blame you if you end up choosing to walk away from me. I know you plan for the future, and everything you do is carefully thought out. I just… I don’t want to hold you back from anything.”

You were at a loss for words. He was sincere. Both the tone of his voice and the look on his face let you know that. You couldn’t even conjure up a simple sentence to reply to his confession– the feelings that you wanted to hear from him. So, you reached for him instead. You pulled him down to you, angling your head up towards him into a devastating kiss. He reciprocated immediately.

You missed him so much.

One arm wrapped around your waist, the other one snaking up your back to have his hand cradle your neck to deepen the kiss as he held you even tighter to him. You sighed against him, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your lips.

“Doll? Does this mean–”

“You’re mine, Sarge,” you confirmed, a little breathless. “Lost your chance to get rid of me.”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it,” he chuckled, a smile ghosting on his lips as he caught you in another kiss.

You both tumbled into his bedroom, clothes being haphazardly shed as you two made your way there. His shirt came off first. Yours followed quickly after. While you undid the ties of his sweatpants and began to shove them down his legs for him to step out of, Bucky unclasped your bra and threw the underwear somewhere off to the side that you weren’t even sure that you would find later. Your jeans came off last, and you were thankful you wore something baggier today to be able to shimmy off easily.

Your hands ran all over his body, feeling for any cuts, maybe any swelling. To your relief, you saw none. You squeezed his sides experimentally to test if he would flinch slightly under your grasp, and quietly thanked every deity out there when he didn’t react.

He laid you down onto the bed, only for you to use every ounce of your own strength to flip the two of you over. You straddled him now, but did not sit fully on top of him. You simply hovered, keeping your weight off of him.

“What are you doing, baby?” he chuckled, hands resting on your thighs.

“I’m still mad,” you said with a fake, deep sigh. A hand rested on his neck, then slowly trailed down to his collarbone. “I don’t really think you get to touch me tonight.”

“No?” he asked, eyebrow raising.

“No,” you echoed, a small smile playing on your lips as your hand continued its journey down his sternum, moving to feel the ripples of his abdomen under your fingertips. You hummed in approval, stopping at the waistband of his briefs. “If you touch me, I might just pack up and leave. Go back home. Peter’s waiting for me, after all. We were supposed to finish the antiseptic release component of our second prototype for the regenerative nanotech. I’ll probably just send him home early and use that vibrator that you hate so much.”

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered. Your hand moved slowly, just ghosting over the length of him. He was already hard.

“You always get so excited for me, so easily,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

“What can I say? You have that effect on me,” he grunted, his hips bucking up to meet your hand. Your other hand moved, pressing against his thigh.

“Nuh uh,” you clicked your tongue at him. He groaned, closing his eyes tight.

“Doll.”

“Just relax, Sarge. Let me take care of you for once. The mission was long, right? I made you stressed out and jealous, right? I wanna show you how much I really like you,” you hummed, grinning at him.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, “You said no touching?”

“No touching,” you confirmed.

“Fuck,” he grunted, removing his hands from your thighs. You beamed at him, pressing your hand against his length fully now. At the same time, you pressed your chest against his as your lips attached to skin where his neck met his shoulder. Bucky let out a soft groan, moving his head to the side to grant you more access to him.

You had to admit, this was different. You hadn’t expected him to let you just take over like this without a fight. All the other times you spent with Bucky, he never gave you the impression that he would want to be in this position. Maybe today was just a special day.

You left a dark bruise on his neck. Happy with your work, you gave him another one on his collarbone, and another one on his chest. Then, you slipped your hand under the waistband of his underwear to touch him directly. Bucky moaned softly at the first contact, eyes closing shut as you took him in your hand, slowly spreading the precum from the tip of his cock down the sides and starting a lazy pace.

He was so pretty like this. You never really had the chance to admire him while he was in such a vulnerable state. Bucky was always so focused on you, getting you to be in this kind of headspace. You could see why. You could get addicted to seeing him like this.

You moved once more, kissing lower and lower.

“Buck, help,” you murmured, tugging on his briefs with your free hand. He opened his eyes to look down at you, where you were. His eyes went wide, just slightly.

“Jesus, doll,” he moaned. “You gonna suck me off?”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug. “Wanna taste.”

“Shit,” Bucky whispered, but lifted his hips up slightly for you to help remove the last piece of clothing off of his body. The thick length of him hit his stomach with a soft thud, and you stared for just a moment, feeling your stomach jump at the sight. Your own walls clenched over nothing, but you ignored it for now.

You reached for him once more, holding him at the base loosely. You watched him as you licked a thin strip up from the base of his cock all the way up to the tip, seeing his eyes close tight, watching him fist the sheets by his side. Then, you licked up the cum that had leaked out as you had stroked him earlier. You moaned at the saltiness of him– he tasted exactly like you thought he would.

His chest was falling and rising at a faster rate now.

Bucky’s jaw clenched as your lips closed around the tip of him, and he swallowed thickly as you started to take him in deeper. You may have been way over your head. You thought you knew the length and size of him from him being inside of you multiple times, but fuck he was large. You opened your mouth wide to take him in, your jaw already beginning to ache as you sucked your cheeks in to create a seal.

When you finally fit him, you started to move, bobbing your head up and down while keeping your tongue flat against him.

“You’re so good, sweetheart,” he praised from above you, his voice coming out as a wrecked noise.

You hummed from beneath him, his hips jolting in response to the vibration. The tip of him hit the back of your throat, and you choked, freezing in place as you tried to calm yourself down. Bucky, on the other hand, reacted positively to the feeling of being in your throat. His thighs clenched under your hands and his abs tensed.

You forced your throat to relax, and you reached for one of his hands. You could feel the hesitation when you touched him, but he allowed you to guide him to your head– and he weaved his fingers through your hair as you took him deeper into your mouth. Your eyes prickled with tears that ran down the sides of your cheeks, but you couldn’t seem to care with the reactions that he was giving you.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky moaned out your name, his hand tightening around your hair as he pushed. You moaned into him, eyes falling shut as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, not when he was this responsive. He was damn near trembling underneath you, moaning like you’d never heard before. You were high on endorphins and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Then, you felt it. The jump and twitch in his cock that you often felt inside of you– the telltale sign that he was going to cum. You heard the broken moan fall from his lips next, another indicator. You wanted it. You wanted to taste all of him.

“I can’t– Shit– Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warned you, his voice coming out broken and desperate. You moaned around him, trying to tell him that it was okay and to please cum. You weren’t sure if it was the vibration from your throat or if he understood, but he was moaning your name a moment later.

You always loved the feel of him filling you up to the brim. This was a different feeling, and you loved it all the same. The salty bitterness of it was delightful, and you swallowed up every drop greedily. It came out in thick, hot spurts, filling your mouth so full that you thought you were going to leak out from the corners of your lips.

When you finally released Bucky from your mouth, he looked down at you, breathless.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coming out slightly hoarse from having him in your throat. Bucky stared at you for a few moments before you were both sitting up.

You were pulled into his lap, legs on either side of his hips, his mouth on yours. If he cared about tasting his own release, he didn’t voice it. His tongue was on yours, licking into your mouth like a man on a mission.

“Gotta be inside you, doll. Please? Let me touch you now?” he begged, kissing down your neck. A shiver ran down your body at the sound of his voice. He was so needy.

“Wanna ride you,” you told him, reaching between your bodies to feel him– he was already hard again, as if he didn’t just release a fat load into your mouth. His refractory period was always short.

You pushed against his chest next, his back hitting the headboard as you quickly moved. You took off the final piece of clothing that separated the two of you, discarding your underwear somewhere to the side. Bucky groaned at the sight of your pussy glistening, exposed to him.

You positioned yourself over him, both of you letting out a soft moan as you let him slide against your folds, wetting him with your own juices for a few moments. His hands rested on your hips as you did, but he took no charge in moving you. You finally shifted properly, catching the tip of him in your entrance, slowly sinking down on him.

You hadn’t had him in a month.

The stretch was delicious, your eyes falling shut, your moan mixing with his as your forehead rested against Bucky’s. His hands tightened on your hips, letting you know how much he was being affected by just the feel of you surrounding him like this. He waited for you to be ready, to move first.

You grinded against him experimentally, whimpering at the feeling. Then, you started. You lifted your hips, then slammed back down onto him. You watched as his head hit back against the headrest, his eyes closing shut as you fucked yourself on his cock.

“You feel so good,” you whispered, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Yeah? Let me make you feel better, baby,” he grunted. “Let me fuck you even better.”

You weren’t the most athletic person ever. Your thighs were beginning to burn, your legs were getting tired, your core was getting sore– and you wanted Bucky to fuck you. But you wanted to watch him like this just a little bit longer.

“Mm… Not yet,” you said, letting out a breathy giggle as you ground your hips against his again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, leaning his head against yours. He started rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs, trying to coax you as you continued to ride him. “Come on, baby. I know you love it when I fuck you– when I play with your clit and press against your stomach. You want me to do that for you? I’ll fuck you through your orgasm, make you cum again and again for me. It’ll feel so good, doll.”

You whimpered at his words, eyes rolling back. You were breaking. You did want that.

“I’ll put a pillow under your hips, too. It’ll let me hit inside you deeper. You always ask for me to go deeper, don’t you?” he continued, voice low and lips close to your ear. “Always want me so hard and deep– never fast. Just always wanting to feel all of me.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, gripping onto his forearms.

“Just let me know when, pretty girl. Tell me when, and I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised, squeezing your hip again.

You let out another breathy moan, contemplating your options, recognizing your burning hips… Then nodded. A moment later, you were on your back with a pillow folded in half under your hips– and Bucky snapped his hips into you with enough force to move the bed a couple inches.

“There you go,” Bucky whispered, eyes roaming all over your figure as he set a slow, yet punishing pace. He fulfilled everything he said he would.

His fingers were dancing on your clit, another hand was pressed against your abdomen, he was fucking into you hard and deep– everything to make you fall apart as quickly as possible on his cock.

“It’s too much,” you gasped, eyes falling shut.

Bucky chuckled from above you. “Too much? You wanted this, doll. Do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head violently, unable to find the words. You gripped at the pillows at your head, feeling the thread within you begin to pull taut as Bucky continued to play your body like a well tuned instrument. At this point, he might as well be a master at your body.

Bucky knew your body better than you knew it.

You didn’t even need to tell him that you were about to cum– he was already moving faster, trying to get you to the end quicker. He never stopped fucking you as your body tensed under his. Bucky moaned, hips stuttering as your walls clenched and fluttered over his cock deliciously.

“Bucky, please,” you moaned, grabbing at him as your hips moved to meet with his. “More–!”

“Don’t worry, doll. I’m not finished with you yet,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

“Personally, I think it would be smarter for both of you to just move to the compound. Safer, too,” Sam said as he helped carry the last of the boxes into the truck downstairs.

“And see you every single day? No,” Bucky said, crossing his arms.

“The new apartment is closer to the lab, anyways,” you said, smiling at Sam. “Bigger place than either of these spaces, so it’ll be good!”

“Which means you won’t have to bring work home then,” Peter said, sounding hopeful.

You made a face at that. “If anything, I think I might end up at the lab earlier and later because I live closer.”

“Peter, change the codes in the lab every once in a while,” Bucky told him. You froze. Peter nodded immediately. “Don’t let her do that.”

Neither man would listen to your protest as Bucky escorted you into his car– Steve’s old car. Both Peter and Sam piled into the back as Bucky got into the driver’s seat, the moving truck driver following behind you guys as you moved to your new apartment.

The space was definitely bigger, and it was a nicer place. You found out there were some great financial benefits to whatever mission Bucky had last went on, and even more financial benefits that Bucky hadn’t even touched that the Wakandans had given him when he had left their kingdom to come back to the states. You had originally protested the idea of using the savings, but he insisted, saying that he didn’t have anything to spend it on to begin with and there was nothing more that he wanted but to spend it on you.

Besides that, the two of you were already living together already. If you weren’t at his place, he was at yours. There was no logical reason for the two of you to be paying for two apartments at this point, so you looked for a bigger space. One that would allow you to be able to do some work from home if you ever ended up without a lab, and a space for Bucky to be able to have some peace and quiet away from the world that he lived in.

Sam and Peter were here just to help bring boxes up to your new place, which had an elevator. Most of these boxes were yours, anyway. Other than the couch, coffee table, and the bed, all of the furniture was yours.

It took the two of you the entire weekend to unpack, and another weekend to decorate .

“This is why I didn’t decorate before. Takes too damn long,” he murmured.

“Is that it, or you just didn’t know what to add?” you asked with a grin.

You didn’t want to make the space look like a museum, but you wanted to bring back pieces that you thought Bucky would appreciate. You had an old record player that was rigged up in a way to be able to play both old record vinyls and connect to bluetooth, as well as forties vinyl records to match it. You included a copy of The Hobbit on the bookshelf next to your textbooks. There were some plants around as well, something to brighten up the space and give Bucky something to do and take care of when you were at the lab.

As you placed the last picture on the wall– memorabilia of Captain America– you felt Bucky’s arms slide around your waist. Then, his lips were pressing against your shoulder, your neck, and your cheek.

“Hi,” you hummed, leaning into his touch.

“Hey,” he whispered back.

You paused at the tone of his voice, and turned in his arms. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry when you saw his face. His eyes were glassy, his own eyebrows knitted together as well.

“Buck?” you asked, holding his face in your hands. “What’s going on?”

“I love you.”

If he wasn’t already holding you, you were sure you would have fallen over at his confession. Fainted even. However, there was still something else to address at this moment.

“You’re crying because you love me?” you asked, blinking. The confusion must have been evident on your face because he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“No, doll. I'm crying because I’m happy. Overwhelmed. I didn’t think that I would be able to get this in my life. Get someone like you,” he said, smiling. A tear slipped down his cheek, colliding with your thumb. “I feel so damn lucky to have you in my arms every day. I just… I love you so much. You don’t know how much I love you. I think I’ll spend the rest of our lives together trying to prove how much I love you.”

You let out a soft sigh, eyes scanning his face. You smiled back at him, feeling your own emotions begin to get the better of you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you grinned at him. “Thank you for taking care of me when I was drunk that night.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at your words, then pushed his forehead against yours. “You are an awful drunk, you know that?”

“Can’t be too bad though, since you fell for me,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Bucky scoffed, “Yeah, sure. That’s what made me fall for you.”

“Looks like I can’t go out drinking anymore. Wouldn’t want more people falling for me,” you joked.

“Mm… Let them fall, doll,” Bucky hummed. “Doesn’t matter. I’m never letting you leave my side.”

masterlist

taglist: @iyskgd @falconxsoldier @1967barracuda @retrxgreyde @lemonpiegurl @lokiofasgard616 @local-crazy @tor-tor8 @shortandb1tchy @mxgcalvi @dixondystopia @thesmolishbean @againnagainnagainn @im-feeling-blue-today @theycallmemaniac @sebastians-love @oliviamitchy @angelli14

please let me know if you would like to be added to a general bucky taglist for when i post other fics for him :)

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bililyy · 1 day ago

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Best friend!Billie - Pt2

This has a Drabble at the end that you guys will like lol

Warnings! Cheating, probably homophobic parents, Reader is a bit confused, Billie desperate for Reader's love, no use of Y/n

read the first part, so this one makes more sense.

Masterlist

"He's no good for you."

"You don't even know him!"

"No one is good enough for you."

Bestf!Billie who reluctantly agrees to meet you, but only because she needs to find flaws to show you.

"Billie, please smile."

"What? I don't want to smile at him, I want to smile at you."

Bestf!Billie ho almost rolls her eyes forever as soon as she sees him walk into the restaurant with a stupid smile.

She hates the fact that he just kissed the lips that should have been hers.

"I've heard so much about you."

"I wish I could say the same." She smiles innocently.

Yes, she thinks she's being tortured by being in this situation.

"Don't interrupt her!" She says as soon as your boyfriend interrupts you as you excitedly tell about your day.

"She talks too much."

"You talk too much!" She says pointing her finger in his face

Well, that left an awkward atmosphere for the rest of their night together.

"Can we kill him?" She says watching his back walk away.

"Billie!"

You already know that she showed you all of his possible "flaws", right?

"He has ugly hands."

"He interrupted you twice, damn it!"

"He didn't even bring you flowers."

"He didn't even offer to take you home."

"You didn't leave Billie."

"It doesn't matter, he should have tried harder."

But hey, a man wasn't going to stop her from being close to the love of her life, so it was okay.

Best friend Billie! who always puts on a lot of perfume when she comes to see you, so when your boyfriend asks:

"Is that perfume new?"

You'll always answer:

"No, I was with Billie before I came here."

He doesn't suspect you, but he finds it strange how attached to you she is.

"Does she... sleep in bed with you?"

"Yes, we're best friends!"

Best friend Billie! Who starts doing... not so friendly things to you.

She pulls you into her lap when you walk by and sits hugging your waist with her nose in your neck.

She keeps on like that.

Giving you little kisses on the mouth sometimes

Pulling you into her lap.

Sometimes even kissing your neck and leaving a soft mark.

You had to say something, you know you should but... it's such a good feeling.

Until one day...

Best friend Billie is lying on top of you (as always) and starts to caress your belly under your shirt.

"Billie, what are you doing?" You answer with your eyes closed.

She gets up a little and is inches from your face.

"I love you." She says seriously, those blue eyes staring at you as if you were her whole world.

"I love you too." She closes her eyes at that.

That's not what she meant.

"No... I love you much more than that, please break up with him."

"What? Billie that's-"

"I promise to treat you much better, I promise I'll take care of you." She says kissing your cheeks.

"Where does this come from?" You ask a little incredulously.

"My love for you? It's always been there." She smiles a little and gives a wet kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"Billie I can't... fuck, I can't break up with him like this now." She looks at you sadly.

"Why not?"

"Billie I don't know how I feel about liking a girl and... my parents like him." You say the last part quietly and Billie feels her head spin.

"It's okay you... you don't have to figure all this out right now just... let me have you."

"What?"

"I don't care that you're with him I just... yes, I really want to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone but... if you're not ready for that yet, I'll wait for you, but don't push me away."

"Billie, this is wrong."

"Let's solve this together, please give me a chance." She begs with her eyes, and damn you are so in love with those eyes.

"I don't know what to do."

"Let me love you, my love." She says, leaning down and kissing your neck, and you sigh, smelling her hair.

And wow, you've never felt so good having someone's hands on you like this.

She gets up from your neck, and speaks against your cheek.

"Please? I promise he won't find out." She approaches your mouth, and waits a while, giving you the chance to move away from her, but is surprised to feel you pressing your lips to hers in a kiss (which she returns immediately) full of sighs and longing.

Damn, where have you gotten yourself into, huh?

Maybe I'll do a part 3 with a one short lol

Thank you for your support and affection, please comment what you think 💕

#billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #lesbian #billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie x reader

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delphi-shield · 3 days ago

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— 「 SPITTING IMAGE 」

Hugo Vlad x fem!Reader — drabble

cw: pregnancy

Hugo tried not to linger on the notion of family.

It had a tendency to sour his mood, his thoughts spiraling down to the miserable pit of his childhood. He could languish there for hours, spend his free time cutting open old wounds just to twist the knife and keep them fresh. He had let that fuel him for years.

Now that he's finally put the knife down, thoughts of family crept in unbidden. Often, it was the same malignant memories that plagued him - but sometimes, on quiet evenings, hope filtered through.

He could have this, couldn't he? He could have peace. A family that isn't built on bones and betrayal, that doesn't slip on the blood of those that came before every time they took a step forward. Seeing you, soft and peaceful in the morning light, he wants to believe that this is forever. He wants to believe that he can keep this - that you can add to this.

He dances around the idea until you finally grow sick of the hints and the innuendo and ask him flat out – "Do you want a baby with me?"

Yes. Of course. Absolutely. He had sputtered some variation of all of that in between backing you against a wall the moment you had expressed agreement. Reality only slams into him the next day.

A flesh and blood child – what is he thinking?

She'll have his eyes and she'll be doomed, just like him. He'll condemn his own child by the sole virtue of being her father. He'll ruin your life and his child's life. Not now, perhaps not even in a few years - but he will.

The selfish part of him wants to suggest adoption. He couches it in altruism; there's so many children in New Eridu who need a home. With his resources, you could provide a wonderful life to a child in need of a home. Yes, he knows about the foibles of the adoption system. Yes, he knows it isn't sunshine and roses. But god, it has to be better than passing a child this cursed blood, doesn't it?

You're not pregnant, not yet, but when Hugo crawls into bed next to you, his hand magnetizes to your stomach.

"If there's any mercy in this world, she'll look just like you," he murmurs into your hair. The dark of your bedroom was the closest thing he had to a confessional.

"I hope you'll love them either way."

Hugo's hand stills against your stomach. His jaw ticks. He swallows down the defensive instinct, breath puffing out slow against the back of your neck. He could argue. He could snap, tell you that you don't understand, that he doesn't want his life for your child - that if there was anything could give the Ravenlock's claim over her, then it was his fault.

But you press back against him and sigh. Your body slackens. You cup his hand tenderly with your own and guide it lower, press his touch just beneath your navel. Soon, your breathing evens. The pull of sleep tugs at him.

Hugo lets it pull him under. He mulls your statement in his mind. Of course he would. Can't you see that's why he's worried? That if she winds up like him, she'll only be set up for suffering?

His thoughts soften as sleep takes hold. The answer becomes a comfort, tumbled around in his head so much that it has lost its edges. Yes, of course he'll love her, even should she have the misfortune to inherit his eyes. Of course. No matter what, he will love her.

There will be time for his fears in the morning. Tonight, when he pictures his daughter, she has his eyes and she is loved.

#hugo vlad x reader #zzz x reader #hugo x reader #zzz fluff #zzz imagine #divider by diviniyae

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xiletay · 1 day ago

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Holding you through it

TW: Depression, depressive thoughts, emotional exhaustion, low self-worth, mental health struggles, emotional breakdown.

Please take care while reading. This is a comfort fic that touches on mental health struggles. If you’re going through something similar, know that you’re not alone. 🤍 you can always talk to me.

You didn’t even know how it all went downhill so fast.

Yesterday was a good day, great even. You laughed, made jokes, and actually enjoyed being present.

But as soon as you woke up this morning, your eyes felt heavy. You couldn’t really stand still, curled more into yourself. Your mind was clouded with bad thoughts and overwhelmed with a feeling of numbness that only existed to mask the flood of emotions beneath. Breathing felt like a task, and all you wanted was to go back to bed and sleep this feeling away.

It felt like someone had punched you right in the gut. You had been doing so well. Days became something you looked forward to, no longer trying to prevent time from slipping through your fingers. Social interactions felt easier, and you even joined in on conversations. Sleep was no longer rare, it actually gave your body the rest it deserved. Food tasted good again. Life was finally working out for you. Or at least it felt like it did.

But that’s the thing with depression, it never fully leaves. It gives you hope that everything is better. But then the illusion shatters, and it feels like you are right back where you started. It feels like the world ended, because for you, it did. Life becomes painful and exhausting. What others see as a chance to fulfil their dreams and live to the fullest becomes a nightmare for you.

It’s heavy. Everything is.

Billie was always there during times like that. Always a steady presence when everything else fell apart. She never pressured you. She simply caught you when the monsters in your mind became loud again, when they whispered lies and planted sharp thoughts. It had been hard at first, showing someone your vulnerable side. Especially your girlfriend. You wanted to be strong for her. You didn’t want her to see you as weak. But that’s the thing, depression doesn’t make you weak, and it also doesn’t stop you from taking care of Billie as well. You are there for each other. Always.

So today was a setback, one you didn’t want to accept.

──────────────

The apartment was quiet when you came home. You dropped your keys in the bowl by the door with a soft clink and leaned your back against the wall for just a second, closing your eyes. Just to breathe. Just to gather yourself.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a warm glow coming from the living room. Billie had lit one of the little lamps she loved, the one that made everything feel softer. She was curled up on the couch in one of her oversized hoodies, scrolling slowly through something on her phone, a blanket draped over her legs.

And then her eyes met yours. She noticed immediately but didn’t ask anything. Didn’t rush you. She just watched and opened her arms. It was like something inside you cracked open at the sight of her. You were safe now. You could let go. You moved slowly, like you were underwater, like your body wasn’t really yours.

Billie scooted over, lifting the blanket just slightly. “Come here, baby,” Billie said softly, opening her arms for you to fall right into her. With small steps, you walked to her, and without saying another word, went limp against her. It was comforting, having her near you, being able to smell her, feel her. Letting yourself exist in that moment without needing to explain it.

One of Billie’s hands went under your (her) T-shirt, gently rubbing your back, while her other played with your soft hair. It felt like finally taking a breath after holding it in for too long.

“Bad day?” Billie asked, while you just closed your eyes tighter and enjoyed her embrace. You just gave her a small nod, being too drained to give her more. Billie pulled you closer, like she was trying to shelter you with her body, not just hold you, but protect you.

“That’s okay, my love. I am here. We will get through this together,” your girlfriend said, with so much love and support. Something in her words made you realize she really meant it and that she truly believed it would get better again. And you couldn’t help but believe her, too.

It was quiet for a while. You were simply enjoying each other’s presence. You broke the silence: “It is so unfair. I know people have it so much worse, but I don’t want to keep feeling like this. My heart is too heavy, my mind is one big storm. I am rotting from the inside out, and I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“You are not rotten. If anything, you, my love are so pure and pretty, flowers would bloom from your inside if they could. And I know everything feels like too much right now, but your feelings are valid. Just because people have it worse doesn’t mean your pain doesn’t matter. Your pain deserves to have space, so you can heal. And you will heal. You did it before, and you certainly can again.” Her words had barely left her mouth when your body began to shake, tears streaming down your face. A few even tickled down her neck, but that didn’t bother Billie. She just wanted to make sure you were okay.

“It’s okay, my strong girl,” Billie whispered, kissing the top of your head, before you calmed down a little bit. Slowly, your breathing steadied. Billie didn’t try to fix you — she just held you through it. “Let me protect you from the world for now,” she added, resting her chin on top of your head.

And for the first time that day, you didn’t feel like you had to fight.

──────────────

this is my very first fanfic ever so i’m a little nervous but also super excited to share it with you! I hope this story makes someone out there feel a little less alone. feel free to leave some feedback or just a little comment, that would make my day.

Thanks for being here💌

#billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem! reader #billie fanfic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish #billie eilish x y/n #billie x fem reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie x reader #billie imagine #wlw #billie eilish angst

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dreamertf · 2 days ago

Text

A Little Shaping

/contains ai video, use of the f slur

/contains muscle growth tf, suggestion, hypnosis

Carlos was tired of living the same horrible life every single day. He lived in a conservative area that constantly reminded him he was in a convervative area. The college he went to was no different. Everyone treated him like dirt, including the professors. It wasn't hard to tell he was gay, one look at his shapely eyebrows and pristine clear skin and the word faggot would immediately come to mind.

His only friend was Jeremy, a nerdy short computer science major who definitely had his own biases and judgment towards carlos' "lifestyle" but he was at least cordial and treated him like a human.

Carlos had to admit. Although nerdy, Jeremy had been a bit attractive. Maybe it was just because he was the only one who was nice to carlos-- but carlos swore that Jeremy's skinny slightly muscled frame, messy hair, and square glasses were attractive.

"Whats up carly"

Carlos smiled as jeremy showed up on screen. Jeremy had one airpod in, leaned over his bed. Fuck, he was cute.

"Hey jeremy. You ready?"

"As ready as i can be, what should i do?"

Carlos has promised him he had found some sort of magic hypnosis thing that would help bring confidence to him. Jeremy, being the insecure needy nerd he was, obliged.

"Just sit there and relax"

"Done"

"Focus on my lips, im gonna count back from three, with each number you'll fall deeper into sleep."

Jeremy's eyes focused on carlos' lips.

"3"

Something clicked in jeremy he continued staring at Carlos' lips, his pupils dialating.

"2"

His eye lids felt droopy, he struggled to keep them open- but something compelled him to stare at Carlos' lips, no matter how tired he was.

"1"

The phone fell onto his bed as jeremy conked out.

"Can you hear me jeremy"

"Yes" jeremy replied in a monotonous voice.

"Great, pick up your phone so i can see you."

Jeremy did as he was told, swatting around on the bed a little looking for the phone, his head and shoulders slowly came into view, his eyes still closed.

"You have immense confidence and have no difficulty doing anything as you know you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. You border on cocky but you know when to humble yourself."

Jeremy's posture shifted a little bit as his brain rewired itself. Now it was time for carlos to have some fun. Getting Jeremy in this position was the hardest part. Now all he has to do is shape him a little.

" I want you to describe our friendship to me."

"You're a great friend. You're always there when i need help or advice, but I wish that you weren't gay. It makes me uncomfortable sometimes."

That stung, although he feared that was the case before. When they were at school or in public together, Jeremy kept a clear distance between them so that they wouldn't look like a couple.

"Jeremy, you are the most confident guy on the planet, but when it comes to your sexuality and me, you're not so confident. you're deep in the closet. You've had a crush on me since you met me. You are gay, girls just don't do it like guys do. You've tried but no dice. That's why your friends with me, to get closer. Isn't that right?"

"Yes"

"You find me irresistible, you love twinks and you'll always forever be loyal to me. I am your world, you try to impress me everyday and you'll do anything i say."

"Yes"

Carlos was getting hard at the thought of jeremy being secretly into him and being too deep in denial to say anything. He couldn't stop making changes.

"Although you're a computer science major, you've always been a jock. You are on our college's football team. Brains and brawn. You spend your time in the gym, at football practice, studying, or with me."

"Yes"

"When you wake up, you will transform into a 6'5" power top that loves me. Although you still haven't come to terms with your sexuality. You will work up the courage to confess to me soon. Reality will change around you so that everyone remembers you like this."

"Yes"

"Wake up, hunk."

Jeremy's eyes open slowly as he stood up. His spine cracked as it grew longer. His shirt melted off of him as his body instanteously exploded woth muscle from hard work on the football field and gym. His hair lengthened to a shag as his face became more structured. His acne cleared, his eyes fixated on the twink in front of him.

"Sup carly" jeremy purred, his voice deep and demanding.

Carlos was so hard he could bust a load right there. His nerdy friend had turned into a nerdy hunk in front of his eyes.

Jeremy stretched his arms up as his muscle rippled underneath his skin, clearly showing off, but playing it off. Jeremy grunted as he cracked his back and stretched.

"Hey uh quick question. What are you studying again?"

"Comp sci with a minor in kinesiology, why dude?"

"Just wondering, full ride right?"

"Ya, got that scholarship money from football. You know all of this why are you askin?"

"no reason"

"K weirdo. So do you wanna play tf2 or something before i have to leave for practice?" Jeremy said as he moved his phone to his desk. As he moved, it was clear that he was hard, and the thing was huge! Carlos hadn't even changed anything there, thats just how he was naturally.

"Sure stud" carlos said flirtatiously, seeing jeremy's dick twitch in response.

Boy was he excited to watch his stud of a friend navigate being in the closet.

#male tf #muscle growth tf #mtm tf #tf #nerd to jock #straight to gay #ai tf #male muscle growth

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 2 days ago

Note

i know you’re planning on making bucky eventually dom reader

i just wanna ask if you could make a fic where we punish bucky into a drooling mess, forcing orgasms and everything (as a part of not:3)

i'm not planning to make it fully dom!bucky, cuz there's already so much content 💔 i got carried away with this idea, and kept expanding on it til i reached 10k words so.. i'll seperate it into a few parts, cuz 10k words all at once is not for the weak

+18 mdni! watch your mouth; a fic where bucky's your boss, and you're his secretary. he ends up getting himself into a lot of trouble with you.

cw: dom!m!reader, sub!bucky, somnophilia, overstimulation, bucky has a wet dream, delirious bucky, sleep deprived bucky, praising, use of 'sir', softness (??) at the end

word count: >3.6k

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9.1] [9.2] (soon!)

!! @swiftie-fault

-------------------------------------------------------

by the time bucky fell asleep, the world was spinning. his thighs ached, and his skin hot. his cock was flushed, and throbbing, untouched for hours because you didn’t let him. he had whimpered into the pillows, sprawled across your sheets, until sleep finally dragged him under.

but even in his sleep, he wanted.

the dream was hazy, all pressure, heat, and soft touches. he was dreaming that you had tied him up. he couldn’t see you in the dream, he could only feel you.

the bed dipped with weight, and a hand stroked up his thigh.

‘you don’t need to think, buck. not right now.’

he shivered in his sleep, legs shifting restlessly beneath the sheets.

‘you’re so good when you let go.’

bucky’s cock twitched in his sweats, already hard, and leaking. that voice, your voice, was closer now, firmer. he imagined a thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, and physically jolted. he gasped, legs parting slightly. he was drenched in the dream, all pulse, and sensation, lost in the submission.

then he whined, audibly this time.

---

it started as a sound.

you stirred in the dark, barely awake. you reached for your phone, it was 6 am.

the room was quiet, but not still. a whimper threaded through the silence again, and again. it was soft, breathy, and weirdly familiar.

“mmh- nnh..”

it was bucky.

you blinked slowly, turning your head towards him. moonlight spilled in through the curtains in soft slivers across the bed, just enough for you to make out the shape of his body beside you, flat on his back, legs splayed under the covers. you slid closer towards him, only to find him grinding against the sheets.

the movement was barely there, subtle, and desperate, as if he was trying to not wake you, even in his sleep.

“need.. it..” he mumbled in his sleep.

that got your attention.

you turn fully now, silently watching as bucky’s hips rolled with precision, a little sharper this time. a tiny, shaky moan slipped out from his lips as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

bucky was dreaming, and so fucking needy in it.

you exhaled once through your nose, eyes half-lidded. you watched him rut against the sheets once more, then shifted the covers down, careful to not wake him. your hand trailed lightly up his thigh, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. when you finally wrapped your fingers around that pathetic, weepy cock of his, he gasps, but doesn’t wake up. instead, his hips jerk helplessly into your grip.

“so hard, even in your sleep. so desperate.”

your hand brushes over his cock, and he whined, letting out a small, pathetic sound.

“sir.. i.. mmgh.. sorry.” he moaned softly, too tired to move, yet too far gone to wake up. his hips shifted weakly, chasing your touch. he thought he was dreaming, no, he had to be. there was no way you would.

“you’re so good when you’re quiet like this, letting yourself be used without fighting.”

bucky whimpered, his whole body was boneless, and limp. you were in the dream, he thought vaguely, you had to be. because you wouldn’t be this gentle in real life. your hand around his cock stroked a little faster, and he moaned helplessly, head turning against the sheets.

he’s still dreaming, he doesn’t even realise what you’re doing to him.

“still dreaming, sweetheart?”

he mewled, not answering. he didn’t have words, not when he was asleep. his cock throbbed in your hand, overly sensitive from being teased in his sleep. your fingers stroked him with quiet patience, steady, and cruel.

in his dream, you were saying something about how pretty he was like this, but it was all muffled, dreamlike.

“you don’t even know this is real, do you?”

bucky moaned, hips rocking helplessly, but still caught up in his dream, not quite awake enough to process it all.

“i’m so tired, sir..” he whined.

“i know, but you’re still hard for me.”

it was true, his weepy cock was leaking all over your hands.

he moaned again, a high, fragile sound. his thighs shifted uselessly under the sheets, trembling with each slow drag of your hand on his cock. he was so hard, and so on edge that he couldn’t tell if the pressure on his cock hurt, or felt good, maybe both, but he didn’t have the capacity to know anymore.

“you’re such a mess, so wet.” you leaned down, and kissed his jaw. your hand kept moving, fingers slick with pre-cum as you dragged every drop of sensation out of his body. you kept the rhythm lazy, just enough to keep him in that floaty, dreamy headspace.

bucky whined into the mattress as his hips bucked. the dream hadn’t faded yet, your voice still echoed in his head, while the in-dream version of you, and the real you blurred together.

‘you want to be good for me, don’t you?’

his body answered for him, hips jerking at every slow pump of your hand, leaking steadily onto your fingers. he was so sensitive, as if his nerves were exposed.

you pulled the sheets away, fully this time. you pressed a kiss to his temples, and wrapped your hand back around the base of his cock, though just a little firmer this time.

“bet your whole body’s sore, all that tension from last night. poor thing couldn’t sleep, could you?”

bucky tried to shake his head, but gave up halfway. his mouth opened, but only a breath escaped. he was panting now, soft, and rhythmic, like a puppy.

you chuckled, and shifted, kneeling beside him. you spread his thighs with gentle pressure.

“you have no idea how much i love it when you’re like this.” you whispered into his ear. “so fucked out, tired, and dazed you can’t even talk.” your other hand came up to toy with his nipple, rolling it slowly, but with firm pressure in between your fingertips, all while your grip on his cock became more deliberate. you stroked, squeezed, and dragged your hand in all the right ways.

“mm.. haa..” a strangled moan slipped out of his throat, his whole body jolting away from the bed. he was close again, his spine arched, painfully almost, and a full-body shudder that made you pause just long enough to pull a desperate whimper out of him.

“you’re going to cum for me.” you spoke softly. “and i’m going to do it again, and again, until you’re too tired to grind on me like a needy little brat.”

bucky gasped as he came with a helpless cry. his cock twitched in your grip, his body completely at your mercy.

you didn’t stop, just kept stroking him through it, slow, yet cruel, keeping him right there.

“that’s it, you’re not done yet.”

his thighs trembled, while his body flinched from every single touch of your hand. he wasn’t sure how long it had been, he couldn’t think, or speak. he didn’t end up cumming a second time, you just drove him far enough for his brain to turn to mush.

the dream still clung to him like sweat. he felt wrung out already, he must’ve came already, hadn’t he? his whole body throbbed like he had, so why did it feel like this?

reality slammed into him like a wall.

‘oh fuck. fuck. i’m awake? that’s- that’s his hand.. on me.’

bucky’s eyes snapped open, the ceiling swam, his mouth parted, but no words came out, just a high, helpless sound that cracked into a moan.

‘he’s still going. didn’t even wait for me to wake up.’

‘i was dreaming. i thought i was dreaming? he was whispering, saying i’d be good for him.. had me tied down.. and now it’s real?’

the thought was disbelieving. your hand never slowed, just kept dragging stroke after stroke on his cock. his cock pulsed in your grip, overstimulated and so hard it fucking hurt.

“wa- wait..” he gasped, voice completely wrecked. he couldn’t even breathe right.

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. you kneeled beside him on the bed, calm yet cruel. his whole body jolted when you circled the tip with your thumb again, dragging out another spill of pre-cum.

his cock should’ve been soft by now, it wasn’t though.

“fucking- fuck..” he sobbed against the sheets, the aftershocks hitting him like electricity. he was awake now, but you weren’t letting up.

you were using it, taking advantage of his morning sensitivity, the rush of testosterone still thick, making every touch feel sharper, heavier, and harder to endure.

bucky wasn’t going to last, no fucking way he could. you knew exactly how to make it worse for him. the way you pressed your thumb under the tip, the slow twist of your wrist.

‘did he even let me sleep? was i dreaming at all?’

‘he just keeps pushing my thighs apart, as if it’s nothing.’

‘he’s making me think i belong here, shaking in his hold, whining, cock soaked, and twitching in his hand like a toy.’

‘at least i’m his toy..’

his stomach clenched, and his legs splayed wider, as if he was admitting defeat.

“took you long enough.” you leaned in, voice low beside his ear.

bucky’s panting now, his chest rises, and falls in quick, shallow bursts, fingers clutching weakly at the sheets.

‘i already came.. my cock, fuck, it hurts. there’s no way i can-’

your hand slid up, slowly, tracing a tight circle around the tip that makes him jolt violently. a whimper escaped him before he can swallow it down.

“f-fuck.” he gasps. his hips twitch, but you pressed your other hand into his thigh, holding him down with firm pressure. he shudders under it, whining lowly.

‘he’s going to keep doing it. i can’t- can’t handle another one. it’s too much.’

it felt like pressure in bucky’s spine, like every nerve of his is on fire. he keeps twitching in your grip, wet, and overstimulated, his mouth hanging open, barely making any coherent noises.

‘i should ask him to stop.’

he doesn’t.

because you’re looking at him like that, in that sickly sweet, yet condescending way, like this is exactly what he deserves for grinding on you the night before. he had wanted this, and now you’re giving it to him, just slightly meaner.

even now, even when it’s too much.

bucky lets out a choked-out noise when your thumb slides under the tip, pressing just right, and his whole body spasms.

“ah- fuck, fuck, i-” his voice cracks into a sob, hands going slack against the mattress. his body jerks again, hips twitching up, uselessly trying to escape your touch. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t beg for you to stop.

‘i should ask him to stop.’

‘but if i do, he might actually stop.’

‘but i don’t want him to.’

‘not if he’s going to stop looking at me like that.’

‘not if it means i don’t get to feel this.’

another stroke.

bucky’s hips jump, and his eyes roll back. his cock twitches again, it was too soon. there was no way he’d be able to cum again. he can’t, but he’s going to.

and you knew it.

he whined in a weirdly high pitch. and then he came again. there was no warning, just a wrecked, ruined sob as his cock jerked in your hand, oversensitive and hot.

and you didn’t stop.

bucky doesn’t say anything. he can’t. his lips parted, eyes unfocused, chest trembling with every shallow breath that he took, and your voice pours in again.

“you’ll keep going for me, won’t you?”

he moans, just barely. the motion was jerky.

you stroked him once.

his entire body jumps as if he just got electrocuted. a strangled noise escaped him, half-sob, half moan.

‘it’s too- too much.’

‘but it’s him.. it’s- fuck, fuck.’

another stroke, and he can’t stop shaking. his thighs twitch open wider, while his cock leaked against your fingers, dripping like it’s trying to apologise for how greedy it’s being.

‘i already- did i? i came- didn’t i?’

‘feels like.. like..’

another swipe of your thumb over bucky’s tip, and he wails, hand holding onto your bicep. he can’t tell if he’s begging you to stop, or to keep going. his brain is gone, all the thoughts crashing into each other like waves.

‘i can’t- can’t.. ’

‘it feels- i don’t.. know’

‘hurts.. so good..’

“you’re doing so well.” you said with a gentle voice, as if you aren’t slowly destroying him, as if you weren’t dragging him towards another orgasm with the same slow pressure that makes him forget his own name. “just like that, let me take care of you.”

all he did was just moan, weirdly high-pitched, hips jerking forward as his body answers for him.

‘his voice, fuck.’

‘wait- i can’t.. can’t think.’

‘please.. don’t stop. he- he can’t stop. not right now.’

another stroke, slow and sure, and bucky’s breath catches while his body coiled tight. his thighs keep twitching, opening wider, and wider. his cock pulses, and throbs in your hand, flushed, and leaking as if it was trying to catch up.

‘is this- fuck?’

‘already? did i-‘

‘did i cum?’

‘no way. i.. i don’t’

your thumb rolls over the tip again, and he mewled. he doesn’t know if he was begging or thanking you now. his brain is gone, just static, just warmth, and your hand dragging him closer to something he doesn’t have a name for anymore.

‘fuck- fuck, i can’t.. can’t..’

‘so.. warm..’

that’s the only thing bucky’s body could register, warmth. it was sudden, flooding through his chest, all the way down to his toes, and spreading like a wave. he doesn’t even realise what it is, only that it’s soft, and full, makes his back arch without permission.

‘what was that..?’

he twitches. his cock pulses in your grip, but the connection’s gone. all he knows is that something hit him, and he’s dizzy from it.

“that’s it, baby, i’ve got you.”

he shudders all over, his skin is so tender, his muscles feel like jelly.

‘still.. going?’

another stroke, wet, and slow, and he mewls.

‘did i..?��

‘did he make me..?’

‘i didn’t even- fuck.’

bucky’s crying now, he doesn’t even know when that started. his thoughts are crashing into each other in loops.

‘please, please, i don’t- don’t..’

‘hurts so good but- fuck, fuck..’

his body keeps giving, even if his mind can’t make sense of it anymore.

he sobbed, it wasn’t loud, wasn't clear. it’s just this cracked, helpless sound that slipped from his mouth. he lifts his hand, barely, and with shaky fingers, he reaches for your wrist, closing his hand around it. he doesn’t tug, doesn’t try to stop you, just held onto it, like he didn’t know what else to do.

his thumb brushed over your skin, the touch was featherlight, his grip barely there.

‘please.’

please what? he doesn’t even know anymore.

everything feels the same now, pleasure, and pain blurred together to the point that he didn’t know where they ended. he opens his mouth to speak.

“mmm- ah- s..” and then a gasp, a cry.

your hand strokes again, slick, and steady.

bucky’s entire body arched, he didn’t even know he could cum again. he doesn’t know if he just did. it’s all just heat, and wet.

‘i can’t..’

‘but it’s.. it’s him.’

‘he’s touching me.. like i wanted..’

his grip on your wrist tightens slightly, as much as he’s capable of. his lips form another shape, but it’s not a word, just a soft, broken sound.

you leaned in closer, your hand slipping under his jaw, and tilting his face towards yours.

“shh, you’re okay.”

‘am i?’

‘i don’t know, i don’t-’

“i’ve got you.”

the bedroom was quiet now.

bucky was still trembling in your arms, flushed, lashes damp with leftover tears. he feels as if he just had his soul ripped out, then forcefully returned, boneless in a way that only comes after being completely wrung out over, and over again. he barely remembers anything, just the heat, and the ache of it. his eyes are barely open, glassy, and unfocused.

now, you’re holding him close, a warm palm rubbing lazy circles along his back.

“you’re alright. did so well, baby.”

he makes a choked sound in response, he can’t quite form words yet.

“easy now, don’t have to move.” you didn’t expect him to answer, instead you reach for the damp cloth he brought earlier, and begins to carefully clean his thighs, and stomach.

bucky’s fingers twitched, as if he was searching for something.

you grabbed them, and squeezed gently.

“i’m here.”

once he was clean, you shifted him, gently, and slowly, onto his side, and curled around him. your arm draped over his waist, while you pressed soft, grounding kisses to his shoulder.

“still with me?”

he let out a tiny, broken exhale.

“can’t speak yet? that’s alright.” you spoke, while rubbing soft circles into his back.

bucky’s skin was warm, and sticky with sweat, but pliant. his body was pliant, like a puppet with its strings cut.

you don’t rush, just let him feel safe. every now, and then, he makes a soft noise, his breath catching as the last tremors ease out of him. when you speak again, it’s a whisper meant just for him.

“you were so good, such a good boy.”

a broken sound escaped his throat once more, and you soothed him.

“that was too much for one morning, wasn’t it? maybe that was a little cruel.”

he nodded into the pillow.

you shift just enough to grab the glass of water from the bedside table, then pressed the rim to his lips. then, you set the glass down. you let him stay wrapped around you for a little longer.

when bucky finally shifts, blinking slowly up at you with sleep-heavy eyes, you kiss his forehead.

“you ready to get up?”

he gives you a small, almost reluctant nod.

you sit up first, helping him slip into a soft t-shirt, and ease boxers over his shaky legs.

the both of you move slowly into the kitchen.

bucky’s trailing behind you, fingers curled into the hem of your shirt, as if he needed the contact to ground himself. he sat quietly, watching with wide, glassy eyes as you cooked. there was something soft, and vulnerable in his expression. he was completely blissed out, and now he’s drowning in euphoria.

‘how does he ruin me, take me apart until i don’t know my own name, and then turn around, and treat me like i’m something fragile, like i’m worth tending to, like i’m worth feeding.’

‘he’s the same person who made me cry, and now he’s watching over scrambled eggs like they’re fucking sacred.’

‘he scares me more than he thinks he does.’

by the time you set a plate in front of him, he’s already sitting up more upright. his fingers still trembled when he picked up the fork, but he manages a small bite.

“you okay?” you ask softly.

bucky nodded, chewing softly.

“yeah..” he cleared his throat. god, his voice was so hoarse it was embarrassing. “just.. floaty.”

you grinned, brushing your knee against his underneath the table.

the both of you ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until you break it with a glance at your phone.

“so we’re back to work tomorrow. you’ll have to go back home.”

“don’t remind me.” bucky groaned.

“we should talk about cues. for the office, i mean. can’t have you going glassy-eyed every time i go into your office.”

“i do not go glassy-eyed whenever i see you.” he muttered, face heating up.

“you got flustered when i stood behind your chair.” you raised a brow.

“you were breathing down my neck, of course i would be flustered!”

“right.. so we need a system.”

bucky swallows a mouthful of orange juice, and props his chin in his hand.

“okay.. something subtle?”

“mhm.” you nodded. “non-verbal, if possible.”

“i.. can’t think of anything.”

“i wonder why.” you joked. “no ‘sir’, no hesitation, don’t act different.”

“what if i mess up?”

“you won’t. but in the event that you do, you’ll find out just how creative i can be with office furniture.”

bucky almost whimpered at the sheer thought of it.

“okay, if i call you by your last name, that’s neutral. if i use your first name, that’s cue for.. you know.” your hand slides along his arm, and he twitches.

“and if i call you into my office, and say it’s about a ‘performance review’, that’s a command.”

“great. i’m never surviving this.” he sighed, thinking about just how difficult tomorrow would be.

“you’ll live.” you took a slow sip of your coffee. “tap of the pen means you’re reacting too much.”

“so.. no obvious reactions.”

“if i say ‘check the printer’?” you asked.

“uh.. bathroom?”

“which means?”

“you.. want me to meet you there..?”

you nodded.

“if i ask for your schedule, that means you need to stop squirming. and if i fix my sleeves while looking at you, you stop what you’re doing immediately.”

bucky nodded.

by the end of the discussion, the both of you had finished breakfast in contentment.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #x male reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #bottom bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #top male reader #dom male reader #buckfics

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fiamat12 · 20 hours ago

Note

We know JD is probably involved in a project with Chris Chung. They all but advertised that with their picture at the Baftas and Chris saying see you soon. I mean the dude is from Australia. I hear people saying the pair on the street isn't Nic or Luke or JD at all but decoys but there's really only a few reasons for that and it's not for Lukola's privacy. They could have said or hinted toward absolutely nothing and escaped anywhere in the world. They did that during the holidays. So there's strategy here and it's not to toy with fans. Those negative nellies need to get some sleep or sunshine

We never saw their faces only their bums, so decoys are always possible and you're right, say nothing and they could've been gone w/out a trace on holiday. I guess it depends on their goal as to whether they used look alikes, or appeared themselves, which would then depend on if it was intentional misdirection or they got caught together. Also, if they are in AUS on other business anyway, why pay decoys? Just go do what you do! ACT! Lol.

Overall, they would need a decoy situation if, 1- the contract period isn't up yet (so they need to play out the adjacent narratives), 2- the contract is up and they want to subtlety start hinting toward a Lukola launch or 3- another reason altogether that we'll find out months from now lol.

All I know is something's rotten in the state of Denmark again - or in the city of Adelaide as it were 🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♀️

#adjacents out #lukola in #all in time time will reveal

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moodient · 1 day ago

Text

sev week: angst 1/7

tags: implied cheating, angst, tw// starvation(?), malnourished, tons of crying

a//n: so sorry, but i need the angst in my life right now- but the next one will be fluff or smut, who knows.

Out of Love

you and sevika's relationship was like a rubber band, its rough but stretchy texture held you two together but at any moment, it could snap quickly. one day it's an argument about seeing her hang out with another woman. another, it's work taking up all of her life and you're just about done with her.

don't get me wrong, you absolutely adore her but she never makes time for you.. never devoted herself to you.. never made time for you. you couldn't remember the last time she kissed your lips, the last time she held you in her arms, protecting you from the world, not even the last time you've heard her say i love you.

this has went on for months and months on end, and she has completely forgotten about you. your birthday, her birthday, your anniversary, all the big and small things that she used to remember is all gone. you can't even remember the last date you've both been on.

but today was the absolute worst, today was your 5th year anniversary, you even try to put yourself and planned a reservation to her favorite restaurant.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, you got your eyes suffered from too many nights of crying yourself to sleep, your body whimpers and groans, screaming at you for nourishment but you ignored it every time. you frown at yourself.. sad, disgusted.. disappointed in yourself but you've decided you want to do better for yourself with or without her. you went into the kitchen to make something that your stomach could take, maybe some fruit? You grab an apple and bite into the apple and the crunchy texture and sweet taste sends you over the moon, eating it almost animalistic. the juices all over your mouth and bits of apple on your cheeks. you even grabbed some water and downed it like it was a shot.

The bedroom door opened quickly and shut hard.. every day without fail, she kisses your head and completely walks past you, not even noticing your crumbled state. She walks towards the door opening it swiftly but before she leaves, you grab her sleeve.

"where.. are you going?" your voice silent but you're trying to at least say something. anything to make her speak to you.

"... work." she says, before yanking you off her sleeve and looking back at you but all she can see is your face being covered by your hair.

"don't.. forget today, i've made a reservation for us." you said, keeping your head down. she nods and slams the door shut.

you were going all out tonight especially for her, you set a hair appointment, bought a brand new dress and a pair of shoes and even, bought a lingerie set that she would love. at this time, it's around 6pm and the reservation is at 8pm, which gives you some time to do make-up or comfortably get ready.

you took a shower, put on your lingerie and dress, did your makeup and you took a final look in the mirror and you absolutely loved how you looked. checking the time one more time, 7:25pm.. perfect. you took your car to the restaurant and make it there before 8pm and now you wait..

and wait..

waiters came to you asking, if you wanted something small to eat or at least but you insisted that she'll be here soon. you called her and messaged her and absolutely no answer.

the restaurant is now completely empty besides the waiters and chefs and you. it's now 10pm and the restaurant was soon to close so instead of making it their problem, you left a tip and left out. your heart ached with pain and if you didn't run to your car, you would've broke down at the restaurant.

your makeup ran down your face, head aching from all of the crying and you couldn't take it anymore. you laid back in your car seat and just sat there.. your mental was fucked, you were physically exhausted and your lover couldn't even give a fuck to show up.

you drove home, completely silent.. no radio, no one on the phone.. just you, yourself.. and your thoughts. you didn't really know what to think, or really how to think, were you really shocked that she didn't come or did you just let your delusions fuel you? whatever the case may be, you believed her and she left you down completely.

...

"sevika?"

"sevika, are you home?"

you opened your bedroom door to see the lights dimmed, her sleeping body rising and falling, but there's something beside her, is that.. your eyes widened and your tears fell.. you couldn't make a sound and quickly packed a bag with tears and soft whimpers coming from your mouth, you left a note, and ran out the house completely crying.

you spent the night at a hotel room and try to think of excuses for her.. maybe that's a friend, or a family member.. but she was topless, and so was her "friend".. fuck, what did you do to deserve this? how could she do this to you.. if this was a sick twisted dream, you wanted... needed to wake up.. please, wake up.. but it was real.

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika angst #sevika x you #sevika x female reader #moodie 💫#i'm sorry

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prettydaisygirl · 6 hours ago

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Congratulations on 500 followers, you're amazing!! ♡♡♡

🌼 Let's dive into James Potter's angst with the phrase “i’m not ready to live without you.”

Perhaps where the reader is gravely ill and while she sleeps cuddled to him, James cannot bear the bad thoughts about losing her. 😭😭😭😭

AND Hello! I hope you're having a good day ♡ I came to ask for a James Potter drabble haha 🌼 Where reader knows that being so sick is wearing James down and even though it hurts, she decides that she doesn't want to drag him down with her to her inevitable death, so she breaks up with him. 😭😭😭 “please don’t make me go, i want to stay.”

the fact that two of you had the audacity to ask me for this (im just kidding). In all truth though, I cried the whole time wriitng this. So if angst is what you want, angst you shall get (with a bit of fluff because obvi you know me, I did not have them break up). Hope you both enjoy, thanks for requesting my loves! <33

🌼 daisy (innocence, loyalty, pure love): pick a character and an AU from the lists above & a prompt from this list and I will write a <500 word drabble

daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet

James Potter and "I'm not ready to live without you."/"Please don't make me go, I want to stay."

cw: reader has a terminal illness with a bad prognosis, very sad

°˖✧✿✧˖°

It’s nights like these where James feels it the most. In the quiet, there’s no hiding the grief. He can’t laugh and bounce around and smile like his world isn’t ending, because in the darkness of your bedroom, it’s the only truth. His world is ending.

You’re laying next to him, your breathing slightly wheezy as you snore. You look… dull. Even in your sleep when you’re supposed to be the most peaceful. James remembers when you were vibrant, shining and beautiful, and James thought he’d found an angel on Earth. He still does, he just… doesn't know why you have to leave so soon. It’s not fair.

He turns on his side to face you. You’re thinner than you used to be, the changes in your body evidence of its struggle against itself. He can remember the day the two of you received the news. ‘It’s malignant.’ They’d said. ‘The prognosis is… not good. A year at best.’

A year at best.

Everything has changed since then. You, obviously. Him, more than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t think it’s fair for the two of you to be this young and going through something this devastating.

“I’m not ready to live without you.” James whispers, reaching a hand out to brush your cheek. It’s more hollow than he remembers. You stir, and he immediately feels guilty. Maybe you weren’t as asleep as he thought you were. Your eyes blink open, duller than he’s ever seen them, and your smile is too.

“What time is it?” You ask, voice slightly slurred and raspy from sleep. “I don’t know.” He answers honestly. Your eyes scan the bedroom, finding that it’s the middle of the night. You frown, and something seems to settle over you. James is already shaking his head, he knows what you’re about to say. You’ve had this argument before.

“James-” You start, and he tries to finish this before you continue, desperate to stop your words before you can even say them.

“I’m not leaving.” He presses himself closer to you, his hand finding your lower back. He handles you as gently as he can, and he watches as your eyes turn glossy in the dark. “Please don’t make me go, I want to stay.”

Your eyes pinch shut, and he both hears and feels your shaky inhale. “I hate seeing you like this, James. You need to just… let me go. Go be young like you’re supposed to.”

“And what about you?” He asks, offended that you would ever ask that of him, that you continue to ask that of him. “I’m not abandoning you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You finally break, sobs wracking your frail body as you lean into him. “But I don’t want you to die too, Jamie.”

“I’m not leaving.” He repeats himself, and he hugs you closer. He lets you sob into his shoulders, and a few tears of his own fall too.

He’s not letting you go. Not now, not ever. He’s with you until the end.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's 500 follower celebration bouquet #daisy’s writings #james potter #james potter angst #james potter x reader #james potter au #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #hp marauders #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders fic #james potter fanfiction #marauders angst

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nowimjustastranger · 3 days ago

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Sooo if it’s cool with you, could I possible get more ‘so far from home’ content?? I just find it such a cool au + I really want to see they family get comforted and find out what happened in Stan’s au

Stan watched the niblings sleep, one tucked in each arm.

The four of them had migrated inside the busted up shack after their cry-fest ended, Ford firmly guiding Stan to a familiar chair. The niblings immediately climbed into Stan’s lap as soon as he sat down, clinging to him. Mabel had tucked her face into the crook of his neck while Dipper had rested his head against Stan’s chest, the twins obviously listening to his heart beat and his steady breaths.

With everything that’s happened lately, from Bill’s ‘Weirdmageddon’ to Stan being all but served to them on a silver platter by some weirdo in a helmet, he wasn’t surprised that they were so exhausted once things calmed down a bit. Stan stayed still and kept his breathing even to avoid startling them into wakefulness, entertaining himself by watching Soos and his brother putter around the living room.

The two were busy tidying up the immediate area around Stan and the niblings, starting with picking up the larger debris and damaged items to deposit it into a pile outside before sweeping up the rest. Ford was never out of sight for longer than a few moments, frequently glancing at Stan with haunted eyes. And Stan’s chest clenched at the sight because anything that made Ford look like that was bad. Really fucking bad.

Stan had a feeling that the expression of utter devastation and guilt tied into what that helmeted guy had said about the Stanley from this dimension sacrificing himself. Now, what exactly that entailed, he didn’t know; but whatever went down had everyone rattled. Stan hadn’t seen the body of his variant in the clearing, or even any blood for that matter. There had just been an alarmingly vacant Ford and the wailing niblings.

Stan hesitated to ask Ford about the whole ‘end of the world’ business for fear of seeing that blank look on his brother’s face again.

“...Boss?” Soos timidly asked and Stan grimaced as the title raked across raw nerves, though he was struck by instant regret when Soos’ expression crumpled as he shrunk in on himself; as if Stan had struck him. Stan swallowed thickly as Soos subconsciously took a step back, his eyes downcast as he hastily tried to fix his perceived blunder. “Sorry, I–”

“Call me Stan, kid.” Stan interrupted, jerking his head in a silent bid for Soos to come closer. The kid had been persistently invading Stan’s personal space –and his heart– since he was still a snot-nosed little brat. And, even though Stan didn’t know what kind of relationship the Stanley here had with Soos, he was done pretending he didn’t give a shit. That he didn’t need anyone.

Soos was just as much his as the niblings currently curled up in his arms.

“Oh! Really!?” Soos exclaimed, excited and apprehensive in equal measure as he tentatively closed the distance between them. Stan ached to reach out and ease the turmoil that he could see in the young man’s eyes as clear as day, but he couldn’t yet find it in himself to pry his hands away from the snoozing niblings.

However, Soos needed him too, and Stan wasn’t about to leave the young man unmoored.

For the longest time, Stan used to believe he was a ball and chain, weighing those he loved down and trapping them. Though he had never actually looked at the end of the chain before because he was afraid that his worst fears would be confirmed. It was only later in life, years after he pushed his brother into the portal, that Stan had realized that he was something else entirely.

An anchor.

He made those around him feel secure by keeping the boat in place while at rest in the water, preventing it from drifting due to wind or current when no one was paying attention. He also served as a safety measure in case of engine failure or other unforeseen circumstances, preventing the boat from drifting onto rocks, shoals, or other hazards that could cause the boat to sink or get grounded.

Stan’s problem was that, as a kid and later a teen, he had selfishly refused to let Ford go where the current that was his massive intellect would take him. And in doing so, he began to inadvertently drown Ford, pulling his brother down beneath the choppy waves. No wonder his brother had found him so suffocating, Ford was never able to get a full breath of air before he was dragged under again.

Stan had no one to blame but himself when his brother inevitably cut the chain that was weighing him down, leaving Stan to sink into the inky depths.

“Course, kid. C’mere.” Stan coaxed, gingerly shifting to sit up straighter as Soos shuffled even closer with an expression that was equal parts uncertain and hopeful. Stan swallowed, hand shaking as he reluctantly unwound his arm from Mabel’s waist to reach for Soos, who snatched up the offered hand like Stan was his only lifeline in a raging sea.

Stan tightened his grip on Soos and tugged him closer and down until their foreheads were touching, something in Stan unwinding as he felt the younger man’s warmth. The last time Stan had seen Soos, he had saved Stan from the beast with 8-Balls for eyes, bravely taking an axe to one of the monster’s ankles so Stan could gain more ground.

Stan hadn’t looked back, couldn’t. The whole town was fighting and dying to buy him time to get to the Shack and he could not afford to look back at his son because then he would start running in the wrong direction. It didn’t stop him from hearing the vicious brawl happening behind him though, the wet sounds of splitting flesh and cracking bone and the beast’s roaring echoing long after they were out of sight.

There was no doubt in his mind that Soos had died there, holding that thing back for as long as he could.

“Stan?” Soos tentatively whispered, his brows drawn together as he squeezed Stan’s hand with both of his own. Stan blinked and distantly realized that he was crying. How embarrassing. Even Ford was hovering, having abandoned his current task to rush to Stan’s side. Ford looked terribly lost, wide eyes fixated on Stan as he wrung his hands together.

“I’m so damn proud of ya, Soos.” Stan blurted, sniffling pathetically. Despite his own misgivings about vulnerability and feelings, he needed Soos to know. Soos had spent the vast majority of his life waiting for someone to want to be there. And, while Stan hadn’t been able to give him that back in his dimension, the least he could do is make sure this Soos knows how appreciated and loved and wanted he is.

“You’re such a good person, Soos, so don’t let anyone else try ta convince ya otherwise. An’ don’t ever change for nobody.” Stan croaked, closing his eyes in a futile effort to hide from how raw the words were. Praises that he would think in the privacy of his own mind but never utter. He hoped that his Soos somehow knew how important he was.

Soos had come to Stan during a low point, when he had been ready to throw in the towel with that fucking portal and make use of his handgun. Stan had hired him on a whim, not really expecting much and promptly being thrown for a loop when Soos just… seamlessly slotted into his usual routine. The kid came later in the evening, happily following Stan around until closing, which is when he would fix what needed fixing.

Eventually, Stan found himself cooking the kid a hearty meal at the end of the day because he felt bad about just sending the twerp back home with an empty stomach. Soos worked so hard, so it was only fair that Stan even things out a bit since he refused to raise the kid’s pay. So they began eating dinner together, two lonely people finding company in each other.

And, when Stan inevitably trudged back into the basement, things didn’t seem quite as hopeless as they had before.

“I love ya. More than you'll ever know.” Stan confessed, eyes snapping open when Soos’ hands pulled away, heart in his throat as he jerked back to look up at Soos. All he saw was Soos’ wobbling lower lip and huge wet eyes before Soos was lunging for him, still mindful of the niblings even as he gathered Stan up into a desperate hug and began sobbing.

“Thank you! I love you! I love you too!” Soos bawled, getting snot and tears all over the shoulder of Stan’s already ruined suit. Although even if it had been in pristine condition, he would’ve only had a passing thought of protest before just letting it happen. Clearly the kid needed this and, if Stan was being honest, he did too.

“Ya don’t gotta thank me for lovin’ ya, kid. It’s really too damn easy.” Stan said thickly, titling his head to nuzzle Soos as he tightened his grip on the niblings. They had stirred from all the movement and noise, Mabel instinctively snuggling closer to Stan’s side while Dipper sluggishly rubbed his eyes with an adorable yawn.

Despite all odds, he had been given another chance, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

#gravity falls #somebody to call my own au #stcmo au #stcmo mini series #mini series #so far from home au #ford pines #stan pines #stan and ford #stan twins #pines family #writing

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letdevabe · 14 hours ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Worth staying for ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Pairing: daryl dixon x reader

Summary: In the quiet aftermath of another supply run, you find yourself waiting again for Daryl to come home. Between silent conversations, shared glances, and the ever-watchful eye of Carol, you and Daryl begin to confront the unspoken bond that’s grown between you. It’s slow, raw, and a little broken… but in a world falling apart, maybe love doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to feel like something worth staying for.

Setting: Alexandria, safe-zone

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

The moon hung heavy over Alexandria, casting silver lines across the porch. You sat on the wooden steps, the cool air brushing your skin, one of Daryl’s jackets wrapped around your shoulders. It still smelled like him — pine, sweat, smoke, leather.

You heard the crunch of boots before you saw him.

“You gonna freeze out here, sittin’ like that.”

You smiled into the night, not turning yet. “Was waiting on you.”

Daryl shuffled closer, hesitating a beat before he sat next to you, crossbow still slung over his back. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It never was with Daryl — more like a blanket you both could breathe under.

“Everything went okay on the run?” you asked softly.

“Yeah. Nothin’ we couldn’t handle,” he grunted. Then, a pause. “Saw a pack near the gas station though. Might need clearin’ soon.”

You nodded, trying not to look at the dried blood on his sleeve.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

He glanced over, eyes softening under the mess of his bangs. “Yeah. Me too.”

⸻

Later that night, the living room glowed dimly with lantern light. Carol sat across the table with a mug of herbal tea. You stirred a half-cup of beans in a pot, trying to make them stretch.

“You two keep doing that weird thing,” Carol said, sipping. Her smirk was slight but unmistakable.

You blinked. “What weird thing?”

“That thing where you’re talking without talking. It’s cute. But also kind of maddening.”

You laughed. “It’s just how we are.”

“Mhm. Maybe. Or maybe Dixon needs a little push.”

“I don’t think he needs pushing. I think he needs… space. To come to things on his own.”

Carol studied you, then looked past you toward the hallway where Daryl had disappeared moments ago. “You give him a place to land, you know. That matters.”

You didn’t say anything, but your fingers tightened slightly around the wooden spoon.

⸻

You found Daryl outside again, tinkering with his bike, fingers black with grease. He didn’t look up as you approached, but you knew he knew it was you.

“You ever sleep?” you teased.

“Could ask you the same,” he muttered, tightening a bolt.

You leaned against the fence beside him. “Carol thinks we’re weird.”

“She’s not wrong,” he said after a beat, and you both chuckled quietly.

There was a beat of silence before he set the wrench down and finally looked at you.

“You scared me today,” you admitted. “When you didn’t radio back.”

His jaw clenched slightly, eyes darting to the side. “Didn’t mean to. Got caught up.”

“I know,” you said. “I just… I wait for you, every time. And I hate that I don’t always know if you’re coming back.”

That got his attention.

Daryl stood up, rubbing his hands on a rag, the tension in his shoulders unreadable.

“You think I don’t wait for you too?” he said, voice low. “You think I don’t count every damn second you’re not in sight?”

You blinked, surprised.

He stepped a little closer. “Ain’t good with this stuff. You know that. But I feel it. Every time you’re out there. Every time I don’t know if I’m gonna see you again.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, but he cut you off.

“I wanna,” he said. “Just… let me do it my way.”

You nodded, heart thudding as he hesitated — then reached up and brushed a bit of grime from your cheek with a rough thumb. His touch lingered.

“You feel like somethin’ good,” he murmured. “Like maybe there’s still things worth stayin’ for.”

Your eyes stung, and you leaned into his touch.

“You are worth staying for,” you whispered. “You always have been.”

He kissed you then, quiet and raw, like the world might break around you but he’d keep you standing through it. Like maybe this little piece of safety was something he was finally ready to believe in.

Tags:

#norman reedus #megadeth #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n

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virelaisnox · 7 hours ago

Text

Twice Loved, Once Cursed

Summary : Sacred, yet despicable. You were the lover who was lost in the long night, a night that continues to live in every beat of time that has followed him until now.

She is the symbol of a broken promise, a protection that has failed to be kept.

Previously, her body was tied to a stake, burned alive on accusations of being loyal to dark powers.

A blood-sucking devil—a creature of the night who destroyed cities, who stole and tore apart mercilessly.

Now, that same soul returns —born in the body of a holy, pure, and untouchable person.

And for the second time... he came bringing a fate that could not be avoided.

Warning : Dark religious imagery & spiritual conflict, themes of death, burning at the stake, and reincarnation, forbidden romance & morally complex relationships, power imbalance & emotional manipulation, mild sensuality. Pairing: Remmick x Fem!Reader

⚠️MINOR DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

[Chapter 2]

The creaking of the front door opening made you cringe and send shivers straight to the back of your neck. “Keep quiet. You can’t sleep on the couch. My father will be back soon.” You said in a tone that is so low, almost like a whisper trying to make your arrival unknown. Stepping lightly into the entrance of your house, crossing the sacred threshold that spiritually visited and under the sprigs of overhanging palm trees your movements were hurried as you took off your robe, set down your weapons to where it was usually kept, and the rest of your belongings. You didn’t light the firewood. No, you have to keep it discreet. Since you have no other sensible excuse to reason with your father because the groceries you had bought were scattered around the ground somewhere near the cotton field—you're supposed to make it seem as if you have never left the house.

The lack of response from the man behind you made you wonder and turned,

"Why are you still there?"

He took a breath in as if preparing what he's going to say next. “ —W-well, you didn’t invite me in,” He almost seems like he could trip over his own words, as if he tries his best to sound very convincing when he doesn't need to.

“It's rude to enter someone’s house uninvited, ya know?” He added, with a stiff laugh after. Odd. It is not that you did not appreciate the politeness of a guess. But, I mean, we are already all the way down here—why does he need another invitation from me?

“Oh you need that? why?”

As your question lingered in the air, he began to appear very frustrated, restless. He scratched the back of his head, and his eyes never seemed to meet yours. Avoiding.

You’d wait, yes, of course. After all, we have all the time in the world until Dad gets back, right? Therefore, with no further ado you chose to follow his need to be such a civilized person at just the right fuckin’ time.

“Alright, come the fuck in then.”

His grin spreads wide, seeming almost devilish and proud, as if he had just won a lottery when he stepped inside with a wide smirk plastered on his face.

“Quite a mouth you have there..” The man said.

Something else suddenly clicked in your brain, yet another one of the many to prove that this man was, in fact, who you’d wished him not to be. Nevertheless, you kept your mouth sealed.

“Poor little unfortunate soul had welcomed the grim reaper himself inside her house..” The spirits whispered.

“Here, clean yourself first ‘fore my father comes back.” You tossed him toiletries and clean clothes, a sleeveless shirt and pants that reached below his knees. Borrowed from your Father's.

“You've got to be in my room immediately. He’ll kill me if he finds out I brought a stranger home.” Your tone was assertive, carrying an undertone warning. — “Oh, don’t say that, we ain’t no strangers, eh?” His tone conveyed light-heartedness.

“Yes, we still are. What are ya talkin’ about? I don’t know you, you don’t know me. Far as I know we are strangers.” You turned your back at him.

You could hear him shrug, yet another tease fullness noted in his voice. “you’re in such a hurry to get me in your room?” his voice was low and gravelly. You could feel his piercing gaze even with your back turn to him.

“I don’t speak nonsense, now better get you ass cleaned up ‘fore i change my mind and tell you to get the fuck out my house.” He only returns your scolding with a pleased grin, as if he found satisfaction in riling you up.

†

After a few minutes, the man stepped out of the stall washed up. And by the Mother of God, you didn't realize your mouth was almost watering at the sight. How could you not? After all, no tale of yours has ever included a man setting foot inside your home—your father, God resting him, would’ve drawn his gun before the poor soul even took his next breath. It was hard to deny, his body, that was not completely dry, glistening under the dim white light making his lines and muscles stand out, toned and lean. His biceps contracted with each movement made as if to show off their glory. The v-line that disappeared under the towel wrapped around his waist made your mind wander wild, further than any good Catholic girl supposed to.

As luck would have it, again, he noticed. You quickly snapped out of your daydream. He saw how your eyes wandered across his bare body, the way you swallowed hard, how your legs trembled and pressed together in the mere sight of him.

“Like what you see, lil’ miss?” Goddamn right, i do.

He walked closer, his steps were certain and purposeful, like a wild animal eyeing its prey, his gaze piercing cold to your bones.

“I’m goddamn sure you crave more than you are afraid o’ me, lil’ missy..” He coos, his lips were moist, teasing the tender flesh on your earlobe, the kind of touch he reckon will make your body give out.

“Ey, didn’t i give ya clothes?” Your attempt to change the subject came to no fruition.

The space between you was scarcely more than a breath—too near to dismiss, yet just far enough to remain untouchable. One wrong move, and you'd find yourself entangled in something you couldn’t undo. After all, he was still a stranger, and you knew nothing of what he might be capable of if provoked.

“Oh, yes, yes you did—but I bet you’d prefer me without ‘em” He replied with a smirk, leaving you speechless. These feelings are truly mingled and overwhelming your reason—He was the demon who had charmed his way into the easily swayed hearts of mankind—and somehow, he had slithered his way into yours. But what was it that he truly wanted? What was he scheming behind those eyes that gleamed with too much knowing? As far as you knew, his kind never asked for permission. By his kind, specifically, those whites. They took. They plundered. That was their nature, but for whatever reason—spirits whisper different tales of this man—in his silence, there was something soft and suffocating about him. As if he knows your body can be owned, but your soul must be invited.

His gaze penetrated beyond the naked eye. He read you like the sacred pages of an ancient book that had almost been washed away by time. There was something deeper in his gaze beyond what you could ever know. It was as if he knew you more than you knew yourself.

“We've met before?” You asked once again, only to be certain. It is quite preposterous for two strangers to meet, and such as spider webs, they knead into each other.

“I don’t know—have we?” The question flew right back at you. His gaze filled with sorrow, regret, and longing. Your hands came up to caress his face with tenderness that almost brought tears to his eyes. The sight moved you to witness such a beast being unguarded, like a wound that had learned to stop bleeding. “Why are you crying?” You'd ask in a whispery tone. Your hands that were framing his face made him pull his gaze back at you. But instead of answering you, quiet sobs escaped him, barely audible, unable to contain the feelings that overflowed. Longing. Yearning.

All at once, the air around him transformed into the haunting refrain of a melancholic song, heavy with unspoken sorrow—Remmick despised this situation, as a man and a full-fledged threat like him, he appeared incredibly weak with tears that began to run down and dampened his cheeks.

“Oh, no, you poor darlin’ come here…”

With a quiet pull, you wrapped him in your warmth, allowing his heart to speak where his lips could not

“You’re safe now…” you whispered, though the words felt foreign in your own mouth. Strange, how you’d become the anchor when you were the one still adrift. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel your skin starting to get wet from his tears. He sobbed softly against you.

“It’s alright, darlin’... you must be exhausted…” The loving nickname easily slipped past your lips, as if it was second nature to you. He then replied with a nod.

“Have you…eaten yet—are you hungry?” Your voice a low hum. You certainly didn't know any better with the question you just inquired him with, thus, he replied with a crooked smile;

“Oh, i have more than enough…”

He looked you over with a slow, deliberate gaze—something in it set your nerves on edge.

“Aight’ in you go, sir.” Your movement was graceful as you led him by the hand towards the entryway of your bedroom. You felt his fingers twitch in your grip. He then obliged so without question, unclothed, unapologetic. His shy steps were tailing you from behind, resembling a puppy.

The door shut softly behind you. Your eyes flicked across the room, searching for any place he could rest. He cleared his throat,

“I could sleep on the floor—anywhere, really. You don't need to trouble yourself.” At his words, you turn to face him.

“No—I don't think so, no.”

He came up yet with another clever remark;

“It's fine, y'know, it's your house, your rules—”

You cut him off before he had the chance to run his mouth any further, “You right—my house, my rules.” Not another word spilled from his mouth, he just stood there and stared at you.

Suddenly, a foolish and irrational decision formed—yet, you were clearly aware of it. “We share, yeah? Just... leave me a little space to breathe—don’t take over the whole bed.” Your tone carried a hint of playfulness. He met it with a shrug, as if silently agreeing. “I'll be right back.” His eyes were practically glued to you, following, until your figure disappeared behind the slowly closing door.

†

Matthew 22:39

“And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

-`♡´-

The land breeze swept across the exposed skin on your back from the opened window, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The reflection of a girl across the silver oracle, was unblinking, staring back with a wavering gaze. You have vowed your unbroken promise before God for he is the one who owned you body and soul, your deepest, darkest secrets and desires was nothing left behind the veil, laid bare before the all-knowing. Your father wouldn't want more than for you to find yourself a man who is kind, loving, and catholic. Yet, here you are, the daughter of this town's sermon-weaver dressed in nothing but a piece of white—draped in silk. The length of the gown itself couldn't quite reach above the knee, laced underneath with a color that matched the wings of an angel.

You turned and clicked open the door handle, only to be met with the sight of the man lying peacefully, eyes sealed and relaxed, as if he had finally found a home, safe enough for him to rest, unharmed. Your steps approaching and your presence didn't go unnoticed. His eyes slowly fluttered open. The lighting in your room is always a shade too bright, though. His eyes always appeared darker than most, lifeless and empty, but now there is something otherworldly reflecting on his gaze. He watched you, then eased himself to the side—a silent invitation, the kind that didn’t need words. Your body landed softly at the edge of the bed with a soft thud.

“I didn't quite catch yer name, Sir.” You spoke softly. He was a breath away from doubt before he opened his mouth, at last, “Remmick. Name’s Remmick.” The man spoke, and I offered him a warm smile.

“Nice to meetcha’, my name is—” His interruption cuts you off before the first letter of your name even gets the chance to leave your lips.

“No. I don't need to know your name.” weird. But, probably better off staying that way.

“Alright, Remmick, whatever suits you.” You gave him a playful wink, a mischievous smile curling at your lips, enough to keep his gaze fixed.

It didn't escape your attention, how the light in your room made him feel uneasy—the way he frowned, squinted, and deflected as though was trying to dodge the radiance spilling from above.

Your arms slowly reached for the switch—the lights went off, and the room stilled in darkness. “Better?”

His smile bloomed as he nodded, clearly pleased,

“Yeah, better.”

The memories of the state he was in when you first saw him, somehow swims back up into the surface—brought back by the darkness that carries heavy secrets the spirits haven't told you about. The sharp crescent of his teeth, the eyes that glows crimson, although, that could be your mind pulling wild tricks on you. You weren't sure, you hoped it to be fully mistaken and proved faulty.

Somehow, you felt your body moved on its own, drawn, you found yourself lying quietly at his side. He shifted, subtly, gaze meeting yours—eyes wandering slow as if soaking up every edge and corner of your face and immortalized the sight of you for eternity. His fingers trembled as he found himself longing to feel you—then went completely boneless when you suddenly pulled his hand closer to your mouth, raining it with kisses. His breathing grows unsteady, eyes closing, sinking in the warmth of your lips.

“Yeah.. yeah.. you sure is. You sure is she..”

“Who?”

“Don't worry ‘bout it, don't you worry about a goddamn thing no more, sweetheart, I'm here.. I won't ever let ya go, no more.” His voice raspy, tone's unyielding as he whispered it against your skin like a silent prayer, sealed with his lips pressed to your wrist where your pulse fluttered.

“Why are you so cold?” You asked, eyes glinting with a flicker of light in the darkness.

A silence lingered in the air as he left you longing for his next words. “—I don't belong to this world no more, sweetheart.” He answered, spoken in a casual tone. You simply nodded, unwilling to press him for more. The night grew warmer, though he remained cold to the touch.

You leaned your head where his heart should've beaten—yet it was quiet. There was no sound, save for your own breathing. His arms found their way to you, encircling you—folding you into a different world of comfort you never knew could exist. You felt yourself grow weary, lids heavy—the Lord's prayer spilled past your lips. Your voice was low, faint against his chest. At that moment, your prayer was a quiet act of resilience—at once a plea, a hope that God might be willing to redeem this man and love him whole.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done,

on earth as it is in heaven,

Nobody disrupts you, he leaves you reciting the Lord’s Prayer to a God who might have long abandoned you both. You had just come aware—after halfway through a prayer, there was another voice whispering the words alongside you, in perfect unison.

“—Give us this day our daily bread. (Give us this day our daily bread)

And forgive us our trespasses, (And forgive us our trespasses,)

as we forgive those who trespass against us. (as we forgive those who trespass against us.)

And lead us not into temptation, (And lead us not into temptation,)

but deliver us from evil. (but deliver us from evil.)

For thine is the kingdom, (for thine is the kingdom)

and the power, and the glory, (and the power, and the glory,)

for ever and ever. Amen.” (for ever and ever. Amen.)

“Amen..”

Before you drift into a deep slumber, he cups your face and catches your lips in a kiss filled with intimacy, slow yet certain, his kiss almost rewarding—the world seemed to pause for a moment just for the sake of you both. His kiss was a promise, unwritten yet delivered. His petal-cold lips made a trace of wet trails along your neck, like a prayer casted to a living altar, your body—a temple where he kneel, worship, and plead. Your bodies intertwined in a melody that could only be understood by silence and desire. Like an instrument, he picked your strings in an unmatched balance, heaved, and created a choir of heaven. Your bodies danced to precise rhymes—he - the artist, you were the muse. He was a musician, and you were the instrument. You were the lyrics. He was the tune. A fair trade. He leads this dance and lets you pick the song.

A breath that linked to a wild melody, chasing one after another, like wind that blows dandelions in a wild field. His movement was heavy and edged with a rush, like a wild cat hunting down its prey. Too fast, you had to remind him with a firm grip on his hair.

“Hey. Easy, beasty,”

He stared at you and nodded. A flash of guilt evident in his eyes. He kissed your shoulder as a form of apology that seemed too sincere for your own good. As if he was truly concerned for you.

Your smile was welcoming and inviting him to continue his ministration. His kiss grew bolder and purposeful, mapping down your body, trailing below your stomach. At that very moment, the whole world somehow stopped and stared, the deed of two sinners was occurring at the small, heated, oak wood room. As his movement grows urgent, you, on the other hand—grow nervous and anxious once you feel his hands halfway sliding off your laced knickers. He stopped and stared, waiting for you to give him a ‘go’. Your breath came out a shudder, he noticed. His hand reaches yours and gives it a gentle squeeze, reassuring. He kissed the wrist where your pulse is beating.

“Trust me,” He said, almost in a whispering tone.

To be frank, at this given moment, I wasn't even sure if I could trust myself. Yet, something in his eyes speaks aloud more than words ever could. There's a deeper meaning behind those gaze. That once upon a lifetime, I could read it clear as day, with ease, like how I read a Bible my father gifted me.

“I- I haven't—” You couldn’t finish your sentence. If speaking logically, there was nothing to be ashamed of, you couldn’t help yourself but feel so. The self-image of being a Preacher's daughter already comes naturally, from when people were starting to learn you by name and background. They'd expect nothing but a woman who celibate. A holy virgin.

There wasn't a hint of mockery coming from him, not one bit, never. Only the same familiar look he had been giving you from the beginning. You were hesitant, though something in the air tells you to trust him. It was likely the whispers of demons. Tempting you into sin. Thus, you nodded, blessing him with your approval. The rest of the fabric lacing you underneath was peeled off easily by his skillful hand.

Your spine instinctively arched at the feel of something moist and forked—splitted in half. Exploring free along your impatiently waiting bundle of nerves below. The motion was repeating, yet somehow variative enough to send you over heaven to hell. Eden to earth. He slowly brought his fingers toward his mouth, wrapping it around his lips—you almost moaned at the sight of him practically making out with his own two fingers that made you wish it had been you. The mischievous grin that was so distinctively his returned—before you felt his fingers slipped and pushed open the pearly gates underneath. Your jaw slack open, eyes shot wide, you couldn't tell why this man owned some kind of claws—pumping in-and-out of you and making your spine arched.

“Remmick.” You called out.

“Remmick..” The sound of his name spilled past your lips, making him tongue-tied.

“Remmick..” Your voice low. He turned his attention quickly to you, like a puppy whose favorite word had been uttered

“Yes.. what do you need?”

“I- I can't.. I can't..” You whined.

“Yes you can… you can do it for me…" Say it..” he coaxed, which now sounded more like a demand, not a request.

“Come on, who's the good girl..? Say you can finish it for me.” There is a softer edge to his tone this time.

Remmick was a restless, sleepless creature. His stamina was not bound by limit. Despite being the one who had to catch up with his pace. You still feel the need to prove that you were the one he needed, that you were perfect for him, that you were just as he expected.

Curses that spilled past your lips sync in tune along his. He groaned and sent vibration straight into the center of your need. Your body squirmed—the sheets on your bed were all wrinkled. Remmick consumed you whole like a man possessed, dying of thirst, and you were the springs, an antidote to a deadly disease which his soul. He sips it clean, drowns, and is drunk in your love liquor. He gasped, rushed in urgency to drink you down.

Despite the roller-coaster you were put into, you still spare a glance to see how he's being.

The beast mourned you like you were his last meal. He devoured and weeped for you as though he greets you a goodbye, a farewell of which hadn't yet to come. Well, shit! It couldn't be that good, could it?

Your body arched like a bow shoots freely, fingers’ gripping the sheets as if trying to find something to hold onto whilst the world around you collapses in euphoric waves. Your voice was a holy whisper free from the altar, muffled and holy, chanting his name like a prayer you've learned as easy as breathing—and as you are nothing without it.

He stays there, movements growing weary and slow, and he finally learned how to take his time, absorbing the final offering.

And once the storms calmed, the world slowly returned. The pounding of your heart, the sound of your breath, the night humming. He crawled beside you, his face looking like an ancient secret which you have unlocked, no words needed, only a gaze that speaks, and gentle wrapped around your waist. A peaceful silence stretched. It was not an empty silence. But silence that filled with meaning and bond. And you know, even in this state of tiresome, you didn’t feel empty. On the contrary, for the first time in your life, you felt found.

Found.

You exhaled out a breath, like the first breath the earth blows when dawn comes. His hands stroked your your dark-silken locs with such gentleness, tucking them behind your ears. An appreciation formed in a kiss landed on your temple before he started speaking.

“You alright?” he asked, which you replied with a nod.

“Yes, I'm - I'm fine..” Still with the same pace of your heart pumping and your pulse thrumming. You were standing on a thin line between needing to ask or just leave the curiosity unanswered. You'd choose the second option in a heartbeat had it been someone else. But, it's him. A man who had just given you a piece of heaven.

“Rem..” A beat falls after. He responded, with a slow turn of his head. “Yeah, princess..?”

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Depends. But, ask away.”

“I saw you cry, you know? Why is that—somethingyou wanna tell me?” he stared back at you with a plain gaze, as if he was some kind of innocent creature, like he wasn't the one behind all those deaths and havoc—succeeded to make it to the newspaper.

You felt a wave of possession washes over you. No. Scratch that question.

“No. Tell me. You better tell me. Why did you cry? Something the matter?” My tone thick with urgency—forcing the answer out of him.

“..it was nothing, just—just that you kinda reminded me of someone from the past.” Your gaze automatically dropped to the eye-catching, sparkly golden object, enlacing his ring finger. The ring appeared too ancient. Too old. An untold history wrapped in gold. The kind of gold that costs an undying oath until death does its part.

There was a comforting silence lingered that none of you need to fill, but you spoke up anyway.

“Was it your lover? Your family?” you asked, your question linked to his last statement.

“She was.. she was both at the time.” He answered, tone sorrowful.

“Oh you poor baby..” Your voice was a melody to his ear. “No, it's fine. I already made peace with it.”

He was the kind of man who viewed kindness and affection as something that came with a price. And he doesn't have enough to pay. Something rough and merciless acts were the only ones he had grown too familiar with.

You could tell, from the moment that feeling touched him as a feather-light touch, he always seemed to force you away. Though as much as he craved for you—he didn't seem to quite let you in, like when you invited him inside tonight.

“Baby, don't be like that..”

“I'm not being like anything, darlin’” his words defensive.

“You're being distant. Yes, we are just two strangers who met in a not very promising circumstances. But, please.. don't push me away..” you had hoped that it would somehow soften his heart. Your tone pitiful, pleading to him. “You may call me naive but.. I care for you..”

A mockery laugh escapes his throat,

“what—cause you is a good Christian girl? Thy shall love thy neighbor as thyself. I'm no neighbor of yours, you know that.” as if the sky is falling onto me, his revelations had my heart dropped. With the way he casually quoted the Mosaic Law, he touched you without laying a hand on you. He sounded better saying it, beats your father. The pastor himself.

“No, it isn't like that.. I..” you rubbed your face in frustration.

“I love you.. more than what the Bible told me too.. more than I'm allowed.. I love you like.. I was a part of you.. men to women, women to men.” He considered your words for a moment before speaking up again, decided to give it a playful twist.

“Lust?”

“Oh God, you seriously think that lowly of me?” you swing your fist, only landed as a light punch to him, he groaned, as if the punch affected him in one bit, then chuckled.

“God ain't here darling, just me an’ you..” with that, you leave him without a choice and give him your name. And you thank the heavens, your father must've been kept up the night, and probably went home by the dawn.

That night, the moon was a silver, a hole of light. Wind breezed in past the halfway closed window, sorrowful, as if heaven turned her face from you and another gate opened—with an entryway burning like amber.

#sinners remmick #remmick sinners #sinners 2025 #remmick x reader #jack o'connell #sinners fanfiction

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