vivilvr

[vivilvr]

Safe from Harm

✧ Pairing: Manon Bannerman x Fem Reader

A routine winter patrol turns deadly when you rescue Manon from a swarm of infected. After taking shelter, you tend to her wounds and promise to lead her to safety.

✧ An: You dont really need to know anything abt The Last of Us to read this is basically just that there are zombies (aka "infected") around. The rest is explained in context.

✧ Wc: 3k ✧ Status: Completed

✧ Tags: Fluff, Descriptions of Violence, Zombies, tlou au, tending to wounds gotta be a love language

♫ Now Playing: Mojo Pin ♫

Snow is beginning to fall harder now. The wind snaps at your cheeks, biting through the scarf that’s pulled up over your nose. Sophia allowed you to be sent out on patrol solo. It was supposed to be routine today, check the old gas station, check the row of stores, swing by the train tracks and loop back to Jackson before dark. This route is one of the easiest. Safe. Usually so quiet you can hear your horse’s hooves crunching in the snow like a heartbeat. Maybe that's why Sophia let you basically own the route. You were always patrolling back and forth on this same path, you could practically navigate it with your eyes closed. You roll your eyes while thinking of the older woman’s overprotectiveness.

But hey at least you managed to find that absolute gem of a music store on the way. It made the patrols worthwhile. I mean of course ensuring the safety of the vicinity and the people of Jackson was worthwhile too but you get what I mean.

That’s why the sound of screaming freezes you.

It’s sharp, clearly human and VERY panicked. It cuts through the white noise of wind and creaking branches. You don’t think. You just dig your heels into your horse’s sides, the animal surging forward as you scan for movement.

Then you see her.

She’s sprinting down an alley between a chain-link fence and the side of a building, her boots slipping slightly on the icey floor that had formed. Her breath comes in sharp clouds, and there’s a wild desperate look in her eyes. She stumbles once and barely catches herself but then the fence groans under the weight of five infected slamming into it from the other side.

The metal gives way.

One runner bursts through immediately snarling and jumping at her. She goes down hard, snow clinging to her scarf, hair and jacket. The runner’s on top of her when you fire, its teeth in the process of biting through the sturdy leather on the arm of the girl’s jacket. The crack of your rifle echoes. Headshot. The infected is blown off the girl from the sheer power of the bullet and drops into the snow inches from her.

The sound draws the two clickers that hadn’t made it through the fence yet to you instantly. Their heads jerk toward you as haunting guttural clicks rattle in the cold air. You step back behind the corner of a building, drawing them away from her. Their hunting noise grow louder, closer, until they’re just around the corner.

One deep breath.

You dart forward, knife in your right hand and drive the blade up under the base of the first clicker’s skull. It collapses with a twitch. The second doesn’t even get the chance to screech in your face before you pull out another blade and shove it into its neck with your left.

By the time you've retrieved your weapons and turned, the girl is back on her feet. She’s reloaded her pistol, hands still trembling (with cold or fear who knows?) and is shooting at the last two runners. The first drops instantly, the second puts up more of a fight but eventually staggers and falls into the snow with a wet thud.

For a second, the world is silent again except for the faint sound of both your breathing.

You walk toward her slowly, lowering your rifle and shielding your eyes from the onslaught of snowflakes with your arm. “You hurt?”

She shakes her head, still catching her breath. “I… think I’m fine.”

“Come on.” You tilt your head toward your horse. “We gotta get out of here.”

You guide her into the saddle before climbing up behind her, feeling the faint tremor in her body even through the thick layers. You keep your arm braced across her just in case the ride jolts her too much.

-----

The storm hasn’t let up by the time you reach the abandoned music store. If anything, it’s gotten worse. The fallen sign is half-buried in snow, and the front windows have been long boarded over but you know the way in. There was a side door tucked under a collapsed awning, which conveniently kept it covered from the ravage of the storm.

Inside, the air is cold but still. You sweep the rows of dusty vinyl’s with your flashlight, glancing past shelves stacked with old CDs and various other small musical equipment. There’s a couch near the the back wall, one you’ve used before when patrols ran long or just to take a little break from the chaos of the world. You guide her to it.

Once she's seated you can see her whole body is still trembling and this time its definitely not because of the cold. You pull off your scarf and begin to comfort her.

"Hey.. hey dont worry you're safe here. I've got you."

You grab a lantern you left during the last patrol and quickly light it with your match. As the flame roars, the soft golden light pours across the girl’s features. You finally look at her face clearly for once. Her brown eyes shine like no other. Wow. Truly. Wow.

“What’s your name?” You inquire with a soft smile.

“Bannerman. Manon Bannerman.”

“Well then Bannerman, this place’s clear don’t worry,” you say shrugging off your backpack to break you out of the trance of her eyes. “One of the safest spots on this side of the mountains. What happened out there… that’s not normal.”

She shifts her seated position but winces as her her knee moves. It seems that as the adrenaline from the earlier fiasco has worn away her injuries are becoming more apparent. Her once blue jeans are soaked in a deep crimson on her knee. A raw scrape peeks through a tear in the denim.

“Guess I got lucky you showed up then. What’s the name of my saviour?”

You pretend to ponder for a moment, “You haven’t earned those privileges yet Ms. Bannerman.”

You kneel in front of Manon, pulling out a med kit from under the couch.

“It’s not a bite, I’m not infected!” she says quickly, defensive.

“I know. I know. Either way I could take a bite if it’s from you.” You pull a bottle of antiseptic from the kit.

Manon giggles slightly as she speaks, "What’s that supposed to mean?" and it sounds majestic. Oh Lord, everything about her seems to be trying to hypnotise you. The few strands of hair peeking out from under her scarf. Her perfectly shaped brows. Her smooth skin that has slight pink undertones from the cold. Her lashes- STOP. She is in pain right now. But the furrow of her eyebrows and the bite of her lip as she tries to supress any whimpers while you try to move the ripped scraps of denim out of the way is so- Get back to your senses... tch tch.

“Hmm, yeah I can’t clean it like this. You're gonna have to take your leg out.”

Manon blinks at you, the faintest crease forming between her brows. ��Out?”

“Of your jeans,” you clarify, a corner of your mouth quirking up. “Unless you want me to try clean a gash through denim. As the wet soaked fabric makes its home rubbing inside your open wound. Small pieces of string breaking off and burying themselves deep within your flesh. Which I don’t recommend.”

She exhales sharply, the vivid images you created giving her heebie jeebies. “Okay fine just never make me imagine that again.” She responds in half a laugh, half a sigh and starts working at the button. Her hands are probably still a bit numb from the cold and you see her struggling, so you reach forward without thinking, tugging the zipper down just enough to give her some slack. Your knuckles brush warm skin.

Manon freezes for a fraction of a second, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. The corner of her mouth tilts like she’s deciding whether to make a stupid comment or not. Luckily, both your brains seem to work on the same wavelength.

“Relax,” you mutter, more to yourself than her, as you shift back and give her space. “You’re not my type anyway.” If your pants spontaneously combusted into flames right now I think we all know the reason.

“That so?” she says tugging her leg free from the jeans. The movement’s awkward in the narrow space between your bodies, and she hisses when the fabric snags against the scrape.

“Careful,” you murmur, steadying her calf with one hand. Manon’s skin is still cold from the snow, but there’s a subtle heat radiating from the wound itself that’s angry and raw.

You uncap the antiseptic as the sharp scent cutting through the dusty, faintly sweet smell of old wood and paper of the music store. “This is gonna sting.” you warn.

“I can take it.” Her voice is lighter now but her hands are curled tightly into the couch cushion as you dab the liquid onto the scrape. She flinches with a sharp inhale slipping past her teeth. You try to work fast, dabbing away the dirt with practiced movements.

The lantern’s flicker throws soft gold against her bare thigh, her wounded knee, the curve of her shin. You’re hyper-aware of everything, every sense and everyone in the room (which is just you two).

When you start wrapping the bandage, your fingers brush her skin again which is a lot warmer now. You feel the muscle in her leg tighten and her gaze lingers on your face for just a beat too long.

“All done,” you say finally, sitting back onto the floor. “You can put the jeans back on now.”

She smirks faintly. “Thanks Doc.”

You stand, putting your med kit away on a nearby shelf. Which was really just an excuse to turn away from Manon. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ve still got to get you to Jackson.”

“Jackson? Who’s that?”

“It’s not a who it’s a where: a settlement. With lots of people and walls and warmth. You’ll be safe there.” You meet her eyes, steady. “I promise.”

She studies your face for a long moment, as if weighing whether your word means anything in a world like this. Finally, she nods.

“I’d show you right now, this place actually has a pretty nice view of Jackson.” You ramble on while rummaging through your backpack like a raccoon in a trashcan. “Like oh my god, you should see it at night all the lights actually look majestic. Okay maybe majestic is a bit much. But there’s extra lights for Christmas and whatnot so it’s lookin reallll good. Its just over the- AHA found it!”

You were about to radio to Jackson to update them on your patrol. That your route was no longer clear and that you had faced some trouble on the way. That they’ll have to send in a squad once the storms over to clear out the place and figure out where those infected had come from. That you’ll be bringing a new survivor back to the settlement. But due to the heavy snow the signal seemed to be jamming.

“Ugh *hit* fuck *shake* this *hit* stupid *slap* device.” Unfortunately slapping it did not make it work, who would’ve guessed. You sigh, "I guess we should wait here till the snow dies down a bit."

-----

Its been a few minutes and the storm isn’t letting up at all. You can hear it gnawing at the boarded windows violently. Manon pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders and glances toward the dim aisles. “Mind if I… take a look around?”

“Go ahead,” you say waving a hand toward the stacks. “Just don’t knock over anything that looks like it’s been balanced there since the dawn of time.”

She smirks stepping away from the couch slightly limping. The wooden floorboards creak under her boots as she moves deeper into the shop. Even in the limited flickering light, you can tell that dust is everywhere. Its laying thick over the shelves, softening the colours of faded posters on the walls and coating the old amps.

But she notices something else too: certain patches, little rectangles of brightness where someone’s clearly wiped the dust away. Places where a hand has lingered cleaning off the face of a CD player, or the lid of a vinyl turntable.

Her fingers hover over the rows of CDs until she plucks one out at random. The jewel case is coated in enough dust to leave a smudge across her fingertips. She lifts it to her mouth and blows.

The dust doesn’t go far. It puffs right back at her face.

She coughs, but not a delicate little cough, but the kind of hacking bark you’d expect from a chain-smoking 81-year-old grandpa on his fifth whiskey. The sound echoes in the quiet store, she sounds so ridiculous and so human, that you can’t help but laugh.

“Grace,” she says between coughs, squinting at the cover. “Jeff Buckley?”

“YOU FOUND IT! That’s one of my favourites,” you admit rushing over in excitement. Then you nod toward the boarded-up window. “Honestly, we could use some grace right now to get us out of this storm.”

She rolls her eyes at the pun but there’s warmth behind it. “Seems like you’re here a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” You look around your gaze softening. “It’s my sanctuary I guess. Is it a bit dirty? Yeah. Falling apart? Sure, but it’s like a second home.”

You cross to one of the CD players in the corner, brushing a fingertip over its controls. “I keep it as clean as I can, especially the music stuff. Got some electricity going a while back, enough to get the players working here and there.” Your mouth twitches into a wry smile. “Couldn’t fix the lights, though. Figured I’d leave that before I ended up dead from electrocuting myself.”

Manon smiles but there’s something quieter behind it now, something endearing and thoughtful. She tucks the CD under her arm and glances around again, as if seeing the store the way you see it. Not just as a dusty ruin (well it kinda is you could definitely use some help cleaning it up but stealing anymore supplies from Jackson would’ve raised suspicion, this renovation is a long time investment) but as a place where something still matters, a place where you could find refuge in music.

“You can play something if you’d like, I keep the trail clear so no infected get drawn to the noise.”

The storm continues to howl outside. But in here, in that little pocket of the world you’ve kept alive for yourself… and maybe now for her too. It was quieter. It was nice.

-----

You wrap your arms around yourself, teeth chattering more for effect than reality. “Bannerman, I’m telling you. I’m seriously about to freeze.”

She snorts while pulling her leather jacket tighter around her like that’s gonna help. “If I freeze to death in here, I’m haunting you. And trust my ghost will be wayyy fucking scarier than any clicker.”

You laugh, the sound bouncing off the cracked walls but the cold quickly steals the warmth from your chest.

“Yeah, well unfortunately there’s no heating in this dump,” you say, voice a little rough from the chill. “So unless you wanna start doing jumping jacks, we’re stuck with the cold.”

Manon raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Or maybe we could… share body heat?”

You freeze for a heartbeat, a slow grin spreading across your face. She shrugs, pretending to be casual but not looking away. “Science says it works.”

You step toward the battered cabinet you keep just for moments like this. You open it carefully, proud of your one tidy corner in this dusty chaos.

“I got just the thing.” You pull out a blanket, neatly folded and shockingly dust-free, and a small stash of snacks.

Manon raises an eyebrow. “Wow, look at you. All prepared and organized. I’m impressed.”

You smirk, tossing her a snack. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

She bites into it her eyes flicker up to yours. “Maybe you should surprise me more often.”

You sit couch and pat the spot beside you. “Come, it’s your only chance to get cozy.”

Manon slides in, the blanket stretching just enough to cover both your legs. Your knees brush, sending an unexpected spark up your spine. A warmth begins to brew between you and it suddenly feels… different.

Outside, the storm pounds against the boarded windows like a wild animal desperate to get in. Inside, it’s quiet except for the soft rustling of the blanket and the faint crackle of static from the old radio.

Manon’s voice cuts the silence, quieter now. She asks a bit more about the shop. About this Jackson place? About what music you like to listen to and you ask her the same. The words slow down after a while. You reach out, fingers brushing against her hand “accidentally” on purpose. The contact lingers longer than necessary.

“Better than freezing to death outside.” she murmurs, voice low and a little breathy.

You shrug trying to play it cool but your heart’s racing. “Yeah. Better than freezing.”

She shifts closer, her shoulder pressing lightly against yours. Your breath catches when her soft curly hair brushes your cheek. Manon’s head tilts, and before you realize it, she’s resting gently on your shoulder. Your arm moves on its own, curling around her, pulling her closer beneath the blanket.

The world narrows to the soft weight of her, the faint scent of pine and cold air, the faint scent of lilac from her and the steady beat of your own heart.

Minutes pass. The storm’s roar fades into a quiet lullaby. Your eyes grow heavy. Manon’s breathing slows to become steady and warm against you.

You’re both drifting off, wrapped up in the fragile heat you’ve found together. Then, just as sleep is about to claim you both completely, the radio crackles suddenly:

“Route 26, this is Jackson Hole, do you copy?”

But neither of you stirs, too busy tangled beneath the warmth of the blanket. Comfort holding you two together as the storm rages on outside.

[vivilvr]

ILL GET TO WORK RIGHT NOW 🫡🫡

I owe you a black eye and two kisses

SERIES MASTERLIST

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader x Daniela Avanzini

As tensions between rival gangs reach a breaking point, Y/n, a university student with no part in their world is taken as collateral. When she’s kidnapped, the two members that got her caught in the crossfire must put their personal rivalry aside and go rogue to get her back. They're caught between their duties, guilt and something dangerously close to love.

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ Tags: Love Triangle, Fluff, Angst, gangmembers!sodani, Descriptions of violence and death, Swearing, Smoking

♫ Now Playing: Crush ♫

MAIN STORY

PART ONE

EXTRAS

MEET THE CHARACTERS

(more coming soon)

A/n: All related yap can be found under #ioyabeatk

[vivilvr]

Beso de Tres

✧ Pairing: Megan Skiendiel x Fem Reader x Lara Raj

It’s late. The three of you are alone sitting too close and saying too little. You know what they want. But once Megan was on your right and Lara on your left, one kiss turns into two. Then something shifts. You pull back and what follows feels less like a choice and more like gravity taking control.

✧ Wc: 1.7k ✧ Status: Completed

✧ Tags: Suggestive, Making Out, Kissing, Megara kiss too, three way kiss, yes this is just THIS scene from challengers

♫ Now Playing: Hermanas de leche ♫

Somewhere in Hotel Room Number 103…

It smells faintly of a mix of industrial carpet cleaner, cheap deodorant and something teenage boys would call victory. Megan’s hoodie is draped over the tall standing lamp in the corner and Lara’s duffel bag, that you almost tripped over on the way in, lays discarded on the floor. The window’s open a crack letting in the hum of a vending machine and the distant chatter of a group of guys somewhere outside. The air felt different it gave off the vibe of a liminal space where life itself feels unreal.

Lara and Megan are both sitting on the floor.

Lara’s got her back against the wall with her long legs stretched out but one knee bent. Her arms are folded and reserved, but her eyes aren’t. They flick toward you every few seconds like she’s trying not to be too obvious but has no intention of pretending she’s not watching you. Her dark hair falls in thick waves down her shoulders and her skin glows soft in the low light of the lamp, all warm with bronze and shadow.

Megan’s cross-legged between the TV and the beds but she’s leaning forward on her hands facing you. Her black hair is in that slightly shaggy, deliberate mess kinda style and her bangs that are dyed this pale, almost cotton-candy pink keep slipping into her eyes. She doesn’t push them back. She just looks up at you with them half-covered, like she’s hoping to observe but not be seen.

They’ve been talking here and there. Something about training. A memory from their previous competition. Lara teased Megan for messing up last time. Megan said something about nerves and then tried to turn it back on Lara. You didn’t listen too closely, just watched.

Eventually, you shift where you’re standing and without a word, you sit down on the bed. The mattress springs groan a little under your weight and suddenly the energy shifts.

They look up at you in unison. You stretch your arms back and let your legs dangle so your toes just brushing the carpet. You feel tall like this. Elevated. Both observed and observing. You don’t mind it. Then you say it.

“Come here.”

It’s not loud but it lands like an invitation and a command all in one.

Megan blinks. “Which one of-”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Lara is already moving. She practically bolts upright, like she’s been waiting for permission she didn’t need. She crosses the short space in two steps and climbs onto the bed to your left with fluid movement.

Megan on the other hand scrambles up a second later, bumping her knee and muttering something under her breath as she slides in on your right. She looks between you and Lara and tries to play cool but the corners of her mouth betray her as they’re pulled into the beginning of a smile she can’t suppress. You say nothing. You just lean back on your hands and let the silence grow between the three of you.

Lara is the first to move. She shifts toward you, slow and deliberate in that way that makes time feel like its ascended beyond the laws of physics. Her hand grazes your thigh. Her eyes ask the question before her mouth ever could. She leans in, close, close, closer…

And you stop her.

Right before your lips touch, you turn your head just slightly.

She stills.

You don’t meet her eyes right away. You just feel her stillness and the held breath and the flicker of hurt she won’t show. Then you turn your face the other way toward Megan and cup her cheek in your palm.

You kiss her.

Megan kisses like she means it. Like she’s thrilled to be chosen, like she doesn’t entirely know what to do with herself but is trying to follow your rhythm. She tastes like sugar and nervous energy. Her hand finds your knee, squeezing once and trailing up a bit, then staying there.

Lara watches you kiss Megan. You can feel the heat of her stare on your back. The sharp edge of silence where her pride sits. You let it stretch a little longer. Let it burn.

Then you gently pull away from Megan and finally meet Lara’s gaze. You lean toward her now. She doesn’t wait this time.

She kisses you like she’s been dared to as if she’s got something to prove. Her lips are firm and her hand slides to the back of your neck to anchor you in. There’s no hesitation, only heat and gravity coiled together threatening to snap at any moment.

You kiss her back slowly. Deeply. When you pull away your breath is short and your pulse is obvious. You cant help but to smile a bit as you tilt your head back, exposing your neck.

It’s not a request.

It’s a gift.

They hesitate, but only a second.

Megan leans in first and her mouth pressing soft, messy kisses just under your jaw. She sighs against your skin like she forgot to breathe until now. Then Lara joins, her lips tracing the opposite side at a slower pace. She mouths at your pulse point like it’s something sacred.

The warmth of both of them at once with your body caught in the middle, their hands finding your waist, your thigh, your wrist, it undoes something in you. But you don’t show it.

You just stay still letting them take. Then gradually, you tilt your chin down. You softly grab both their faces in each of your hands and encourage them to move closer together. You look at them like really look and then, wordlessly lean forward just enough to initiate what you already know is coming. All three of your faces are extremely close to each other now.

Your mouth finds both theirs in quick succession left, right, back again. Until your lips blur, overlapping and you’re not sure whose breath you’re taking, whose hand is where, whose moan that was. It becomes one kiss. Three mouths. One circuit.

Megan kisses you like she’s trying to memorize it: eager, open, just a little clumsy in a way that feels honest. Her mouth is soft and quick and her hands are gripping your thigh like she’s anchoring herself to this moment. You can feel her breath catch when you deepen it, and she follows you without question, without hesitation.

Then Lara.

She kisses you like she knows what she’s doing and knows you know it too. Her lips are stronger, slower, more controlled but there’s tension behind it like she’s holding something in. Her fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, barely brushing your skin, and your body answers her before your mind does.

Back and forth.

Their lips are different but both familiar now. You take from both of them. You give just enough to keep them hungry. Your mouth shifts, dips and parts gliding from one kiss to the next until your breath mingles with both of theirs. It’s heavy and hot. A tangle of tongues and lips and heat. You don’t know whose moan shivers into your mouth, whose hand is now pressed to the small of your back, whose thigh is pressed against yours so tightly it feels like one of your own.

It stops mattering. Three mouths with one rhythm and one body between them both holding it all together.

And then, slowly very slowly you start to slip out. Not obviously. Not all at once. Just a gentle tilt of your chin. A lightening of pressure. A subtle retreat as you begin to lean away back onto your elbows.

Their eyes are still closed. Their mouths still parted. Still chasing you. So when you stop, they keep going. You feel the moment their lips miss yours and find each other instead. And neither of them notices that you’re gone.

There’s no pause. No shock. Just contact.

Their lips connect with the same urgency they had with you but now redirected, redirected and amplified. Like their bodies already knew how to move in tandem with one another, how to kiss, just needed to be given the chance.

Megan makes a sound, something between a sigh and a whimper as Lara presses in harder, one hand tangling in Megan’s hair. Megan responds with a hand at Lara’s waist, gripping her like she needs her closer. Their kiss grows deeper and messier, mouths parting fully as the soft sound of it loud in the quiet room.

You don’t move. You barely even breathe.

You’re still between them, their bodies pressed close to yours but their focus is no longer on you. Their mouths are hungry now, moving in sync, learning each other in real time. Megan shifts onto her knee. Lara’s fingers dig into her side. Their kiss is greedy. Raw. Like something inside them just snapped loose.

And you… you're watching it happen from inches away.

Your lips are tingling. Your chest is tight. You can feel the heat between your legs pulsing like a second heartbeat. You thought this would satisfy you. The control. The spark you lit. But instead it ignites something deeper.

You thought you’d be above it, orchestrating the pieces like a conductor. But you’re not above anything now. You're right in the centre of it and it’s taking you under.

They don’t realize you’ve stepped back. Don’t realize they’ve been drawn into something without direction. Their hands roam, mouths open, breath heavy. You can feel the heat of them rising, flooding, spilling into each other. And it’s beautiful.

Truly.

Its both too much but also not enough. You lean back slightly more, just enough to give them space but not to end it, not to stop anything, but to watch.

To see what you made when you removed yourself.

You swallow hard, but your throat is dry. Your thighs press together almost involuntarily. You can’t tell if you’re trembling or holding yourself still to keep from reaching back in. You’ve never been kissed like that by either of them. You’ve never watched anyone kiss like that.

And now that you have, now that they are, it’s like watching your own desire reflected back at you, magnified and multiplied.

And you smile. Not in triumph but in awe. Because they don’t even know they’ve crossed a line. And neither do you.

Not yet.

[vivilvr]

Join Me in Death

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader

Your vampire girlfriend finally asks the burning question. But are you willing to spend forever with her? Are you willing to turn into what she is?

✧ Wc: 1.6k ✧ Status: Completed

✧ Tags: Vampire!Sophia, Human!Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship, Proposal?? kinda, i think this is very romantic, vampire wedding when

♫ Now Playing: Join Me (Razorblade Mix) ♫

The old vinyl spun, playing a haunting waltz by some long gone dead composer you definitely couldn’t name. Your girlfriend probably knew him personally though. The sound of the instruments glided through the air. The almost abandoned ballroom around you is dressed in shadows with dust glittering like ash in the candlelight. Velvet drapes pool at the windows and the chandelier sways gently overhead.

Sophia holds you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

One of her hands rests on your back and the other clasps yours in a delicate grip as if you're something fragile. But her touch is steady and her movements graceful. She moves like someone who’s danced these steps a thousand times and yet still treats this one like its the first.

You sway together slowly, her body is close enough for you to feel the cool stillness of her skin against your own warmth. You wonder if she can hear your heartbeat; she probably can. It’s been louder lately getting especially loud every time she looks at you like this.

“I used to love this song,” she says softly, her lips brushing your ear as you turn together. “a long time ago.”

You glance at her lips as she speaks. “Stopped loving it?”

She shakes her head with a faint wistful smile showing her fangs just slightly as they glisten under the moonlight. “I just stopped having anyone to dance to it with.”

Your fingers tighten around hers. She leans into you again but her voice quieter now. “But tonight... tonight it sounds like it’s meant for us.”

The song carries you through the silence. You try to memorize everything: the weight of her in your arms, the feel of her black silk dress against your hand, the way she looks at you, that feeling that time has finally slowed for her for once. Like maybe, just maybe, eternity can be gentle. There was this look in her eyes though, a sentiment that you couldn’t quite place a name to.

“Sophia, you’re getting all poetic again” you break the quiet with a giggle. “What are you thinking about?”

Her head rests against your shoulder for a moment longer before she lifts it and meets your eyes. There's something behind them, something soft and yet also something scared.

“I’m thinking… about how impossible this is.”

“What do you mean?”

Her gaze drops to your chest where your heart still beats.

“I was never supposed to fall in love again,” she says. “Not like this. Not with someone who breathes.”

You can feel her fingers trembling in yours.

“And yet,” you say gently, “here we are.”

Her laugh is quiet. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

“I hope it’s something good.”

She looks back up at you. And for a moment all the centuries seem to fall away. There’s no predator here. No creature of the night. Just a woman, ancient and aching, trying to find the right words to say something she never thought she’d say again.

“I don’t sleep,” she begins. “Not like you do you know that. But when I rest, I dream of you. I see us over and over, dancing in empty churches, lying in ruins under the stars, laughing in places the world has forgotten.”

You don’t speak. You let her go on.

“I try not to,” she sighs. “I try not to want it. But you make me selfish. You make me want things I shouldn't.”

She pulls back a little while still holding your hand. Her other hand rises and brushes along your jaw. “Your life,” she whispers. “It’s this beautiful brief flame and every time I touch you, I feel like I’m setting it closer to the edge of going out.”

“Sophia-”

“I’m not finished.”

You go still.

“I have loved people before,” she says. “I have watched them grow old. Watched them fade… and every time I swore I’d never do it again.”

Both her arms reach to wrap around behind your neck and you two continue to sway. The music shifts, it’s still slow but a bit heavier now. Weighted with a variety of instruments, strings and sorrow.

“But then I met you and suddenly I wanted forever again.”

Sophia’s eyes search yours.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she says quietly. “I don’t want a church or a white dress or a ring that rusts.”

You manage to muster a small nervous smile. “That’s… okay.”

She doesn’t smile back.

“I want more than that,” she whispers. “I want the kind of promise that defies mortality. I want to love you through centuries. I want to see the world collapse and rebuild and collapse again and still find you at my side.”

She swallows.

“I want to give you my curse. Or my gift. Whatever you want to call it.”

Your breath catches.

Sophia steps even closer now, and her voice softens to become more fragile than you’ve ever heard it.

“Will you join me in death?”

The question hangs there, it’s her version of a shiny ring in a velvet box. Sacred. Terrifying.  You look into her eyes and for the first time she lets you see the fear there. Not fear of rejection, but of hope.

She continues her speech just above a whisper. “Say no, and I’ll stay with you until the end. I’ll hold your hand through every breath including your last. But say yes…”

She presses her forehead to yours.

“Say yes and I’ll make you mine. I’ll love you until the stars die and the sky forgets how to hold them.”

The candlelight flickers. The music plays on. Her hands are ice cold and steady in yours. And now the silence waits for your answer.

You don't answer right away. I mean how could you? It isn’t something to be taken lightly. And she knows that, you both know that. She doesn’t rush you. She just watches with her eyes steady and hands trembling faintly.

Join me in death.

She hadn’t said it like a threat or even like a question. It had come out like a promise, a vow waiting to be completed. A ring without a finger. A key with no lock unless you say yes.

You take a breath, deep and mortal, and your throat tightens. You look at her and for a moment you see everything everywhere all at once;

You see the first time you touched her hand and noticed it was ice cold. The first time she smiled like she wasn’t pretending. The first time you saw her fangs. The first time you realized you weren’t afraid of her. The first time you realized you loved her.

And now this.

“Forever’s a long time.” you say with your voice barely above a whisper.

Sophia nods slowly, her gaze flicking away like she’s bracing for the word no.

“It is,” she says. “I’ve felt every second of it.”

You swallow. “And you’d do it all again?”

“If it meant you were with me, yes.”

Silence.

You look down at your joined hands. Her skin is cool against yours. Unchanging. Eternal. You wonder what your hands would feel like in hers once your warmth is gone. Once your blood is stilled. Once you’ve crossed that invisible line and become the kind of thing you feared or at least used to.

She hadn’t felt what it meant to be alive in centuries and yet... her touch never felt like death. It always felt like home. Still your mind races. You ask the questions you’ve kept hidden, questions you didn’t know would matter so much now that the moment is real.

“What if I change?” you ask.

“You will,” she answers without hesitation. “But not in the way you're afraid of. You won’t lose your soul or your laugh or the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. You’ll still be you just... different.”

“What if I’m not strong enough?”

She steps closer, her body resting gently against yours. “Then I’ll nurse you and hold you up until you are.”

“And what if I regret it?” Your voice cracks and your hands tighten gripping on the silk of her dress.

She closes her eyes. “Then I’ll carry that regret with you. Every step. Every century. And love you anyway.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until she reaches up and wipes the tears away with her thumb. It’s a tender human motion, and it undoes you.

“I’m not asking you to die tonight for love,” she says gently. “I’m asking you to live in a different way. With me. Only If that’s something you want.”

And there it is again.

The space between if and forever.

You breathe in again, still feeling your mortality. Still deciding. Still holding everything that’s about to change. As she looks at you with those earnest eyes, she’s waiting, breaking and hoping; In that moment you realize there is no other answer. Not for you. Not here. Not with her.

You reach up brushing your fingers along her cheek, feeling the chill of her skin and the warmth of her eyes all at once.

“I want it,” you say. Steady now. Clear. “I want you. Whatever it means. Whatever it costs.”

Sophia doesn’t move - not yet. Her lips part like she’s about to speak but nothing comes out at first. She’s stunned. A creature who has known everything... now struck wordless by a single yes.

“You're sure?” she breathes.

You nod. “I don’t want a just a single lifetime with you.”

You lean in close enough to kiss her and whisper the rest against her lips:

“I want forever.”

She shudders. Then softly responds smiling showing off her sparkling fangs as her eyes turn into crescent moons:

“Then forever begins tonight.”

[vivilvr]

I was that hyperfixated with Michaeng and Twice. The Twice Member x Reader stories that I was planning to publish is still in my drafts yk lmao

You love cheese kimbap girlie eh? Same, I actually love them all but I'm not hyperfixated on them that much anymore

Im not into twice that much anymore but sana will always have a place in my heart, she was like a first love to me

[vivilvr]

just read your sodani fic and holy moly guacamole

what is your fav fic you have written?

Im gonna assume the holy moly guacamole is good? 😰😰

Thankyou for reading and as for MY favourite thats a hard question. My loona fics were really self indulgent so i guess i'll always have a connection to them. But out of katseye i'm gonna havebto say my manon x reader silver springs fic

I LOVE THAT SONG the lore is crazyy, also it was inspired by macbeth absolute banger of a play tbh shakspeare ate with that one AND fear street 1666 which is my fav film from the trilogy

So i guess i really love the inspirations for the fic and thus i love the fic 🤷‍♀️

[vivilvr]

Cannibalism? You're really something else eh? In a good way, of course.

I guess that's what really happens when you're a criminology/psych student, hm? It's actually nice, I used to write for TWICE in Wattpad, for MiChaeng, I actually wrote like a similar theme to that (I discontinued it because I lost my passion in writing a while back)

Mina's a serial killer buuut she kills the evil people, not random ones and Chaeyoung's friends with the "FBI" on my book. They weren't called FBI but a different one.

xoxo Tatorz

I also wrote for TWICE on wattpad back in the day 😭😭 mainly sana shes my bias what can i say

[vivilvr]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses

MEET THE CHARACTERS

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader x Daniela Avanzini

As tensions between rival gangs reach a breaking point, Y/n, a university student with no part in their world is taken as collateral. When she’s kidnapped, the two members that got her caught in the crossfire must put their personal rivalry aside and go rogue to get her back. They're caught between their duties, guilt and something dangerously close to love.

✧ Navigation >>> SERIES MASTERLIST

✧ A/n: just a little bit about the characters, and an explanation of the gang dynamics, essentially who is who, no spoilers for major story events, technically I probably should've posted this before part one but its whatever, might add onto this in the future

✧ SOPHIA LAFORTEZA

ROLE: Leader of the Katseye Unit, Not the top-boss of the whole gang but trusted by the higher ups

COMBAT STYLE: Prefers to take high ground and use of weaponry/tools, chooses the correct tool for each situation to ensure maximum efficiency, skilled at close, mid and long range combat, she's always prepared for whatever, is tactical and focused

BACKGROUND: Grew up rough but earned respect for herself through the gang, climbed the ranks quickly by planning, leading and following orders, reminder that past mistakes will always bite you in the ass (feeling evil and mischievous rn), met Y/n at a university charity even while undercover, becomes a regular and Y/n's café

✧ DANIELA AVANZINI

ROLE: Member of the Katseye Unit, led by Sophia, usually the designated driver when on group missions

COMBAT STYLE: Thrives in the chaos, likes to stay on ground level in the heat of the combat, prefers to use her fists, if she has to use a weapon she'll opt for brass knuckles, knifes and blades over a gun anyday, highly favours close-range combat, confident in her abilities, is impulsive and bold

BACKGROUND: Joined the gang young alongside Megan (MEIZINIIIII), holds a great grudge again the rival gang 'The Hounds' for reasons you'll discover soon, ABS, boxing gym is essentially her second home and also the place she met Y/n, the only people she lets call her Dani are Y/n and Megan

✧ Y/N aka READER

ROLE: Protagonist, begins outside of the criminal world until she is dragged in

COMBAT STYLE: boxing classes are not useful when you are distracted by a latina with amazing abs for the majority of the time, regardless is able to put up a fight to defend herself, but is it enough??

BACKGROUND: University student, part-time barista at local coffee shop, picked up boxing as a hobby

✧ THE GANGS

the rivalry is real

[vivilvr]

The hounds is actually waayyy better! Suits their dynamic and yeah, we don't like them, nu uh!

They need to step up their game though, SoDani's already on their way to save the reader slash us— a damsel in distress but modernized, you get what I mean?

OH AND IT'S GRUESOME BUT IT SUITS YOU! Like it does! With you loving vampires, I actually love that, I'm probably weird but carving the numbers and make it as sort of a coordinate? BRUTAL! GRUESOME! GORE-Y!

I can totally imagine a vampire going all out on their soulmate though lmao but probably worse 💀💀

Tysm for sharing your talent to the world, 🧛! Keep it up!!

xoxo tatorz

Yes yes i love vampires and another arguably more gruesome thing too.... 🥁🥁🥁 cannibalism!!!

I do have something in the works related to that, not everyones cup of tea but its a little passion project for me (this is what happens when u have a criminology/psychology student writing fanfiction)

[vivilvr]

YEAH, SO THAT WAS GREAT! You should have seen how wide my eyes were while reading the story.

I meant it in a good way.

Wdym they're going to cut off our fingers? Not my fingers!! (not even kidding, my mind went into the gutter when I read that part)

Keep it up, 🧛!!! You write soo well.

xoxo tatoz

THANKS TATO OMG YES THAT PART okay i didnt explain it that well in the story really (i didnt know how to fit it in seamlessly) but my idea was that the hounds were going to cut off Y/n's limbs (eg fingers ear) and on each wouldve been carved a number. These would be sent over to 9lives as a message. And if arranged in the correct order wouldve stated the coordinates of the warehouse.

BUT THEIR PLAN WAS FOILED‼️‼️ They didnt even have the time to set up the trap or ambush they had planned as sophia and dani arrived ao quickly

Yes its a bit gruesome but theyre the hounds.. we dont like them nuh uh 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

I was so tempted to name them dogsear for funzies but i went with the hounds

[vivilvr]

Oh no hun, both our layout's amazing! No comparison heree!

I haven't read it actually! I liked and reblogged it first because I was planning to read it later. I'm a bit busy writing the other parts for that SoDani au but trust that you'll hear from me after I'm done!!

It's very intriguing though, keep it up love! :)

Ready to read ur reaction 🫡

[vivilvr]

YES! That's why it was really easy to find you. When you said it was up, I only had to look up SoDani x Reader for you to show. Nice layout btw!

Thankyouuu i think ur layout is 10x more spectacular

Anywaysss, did u read it do u like it 🤭🤭

I'll be reading urs soon too once i find the time 🫡

[vivilvr]

hello 🧛, I found you.

Hello, yes you have 😰😰 Now do u understand why my hint was a 🧛

[vivilvr]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses

PART ONE

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader x Daniela Avanzini

As tensions between rival gangs reach a breaking point, Y/n, a university student with no part in their world is taken as collateral. When she’s kidnapped, the two members that got her caught in the crossfire must put their personal rivalry aside and go rogue to get her back. They're caught between their duties, guilt and something dangerously close to love.

✧ Wc: 12.8k ✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ Tags: Love Triangle, Fluff, Angst, gangmembers!sodani, Descriptions of violence and death, Swearing, Smoking

♫ Now Playing: Crush ♫

✧ Navigation >>> SERIES MASTERLIST

The first thing I notice is the heat.

It's suffocating and sticks to my skin, its thick with the sour scent of sweat and rubber. My head throbs in time with my pulse - a dull beat behind my eyes - and when I try to move, a jolt of pain shoots up my spine. My knees are bent awkwardly against metal with my arms numb beneath me.

It hits me slowly. Tight space. No light. Engine humming distantly through steel. The unmistakable scent of gas and rust. I’m in a trunk.

Fuck.

I try to breathe but the air is thin and tale. I can feel the dryness of my throat and something sticky is crusted at the corner of my mouth… blood, maybe or spit. My jaw aches, like someone got tired of me talking and made it known with a fist.

I press my hands against the lid above me but doesn’t budge. There was no sign of a handle inside or an emergency latch of sorts just smooth, indifferent metal. Panic slips in like a whisper. My heart kicks faster making everything else louder alongside it: the ragged breath in my chest, the groan of tires on gravel, the muffled chaos outside the car.

I swallow, then immediately regret it. My tongue is dry and tastes like copper. I blink against the dark, trying to focus, trying to count how many seconds I've been awake. Trying to remember anything from before this. There was coffee. My shift. I was waiting for a text from- My thoughts crash. Sophia? Dani?

There are loud sounds outside but I cant identify what they may be as they’re drowned out by the uncontrollable ringing in my ears. The sudden screech of brakes jerks me sideways. My shoulder slams into the wall of the trunk, and I let out a raw, involuntary noise. They car continues swerving as I’m thrown around in the trunk.

The car stops.

Silence. Then footsteps.

I tense and hold my breath. Every nerve in my body lights up, aching to scream, to run, to do something but there’s nowhere for me to go.

A low click.

Then light yellow and harsh hits my face like a slap. My eyes squint hard against it, watering instantly. The silhouette above me is just a blur at first, all shadows and movement. Then it sharpens.

Two faces. Two voices I know by heart.

“Shit,” Dani hisses, voice cracking like thunder in a storm. Her eyes are wide, wild with rage and disbelief written all over her face. “Y/n- what the fuck-”

Beside her, Sophia says nothing for a moment. Just stares. Her hands are still. Her mouth is a flat line. She’s always calm, always composed. Yet I can see it in the way her throat moves, how her eyebrows furrow and how her eyes flick to my busted lip, my bruised temple.

“…Y/n?” she softly says finally, like if she says it wrong I might vanish.

I try to sit up but my legs are jelly. My arms shake under me. I manage to prop myself up, just barely, looking up at them from this pathetic curled position like a kicked dog.

I want to say something anything but my voice breaks before it forms.

You’re probably wondering how I ended up here. What the heck happened?? Folded into the trunk of a car, bruised and bleeding, looking up at the two women who may or may not be in love with me. It’s a long story.. But here we go. (yoonchae voice)

-----

The university campus was trying too hard.

Colourful tents lined the open courtyard flapping gently in the breeze. Banners with handwritten slogans stretched between poles: Clean Water for All, Mental Health Matters, etc etc. Free tote bags were stacked like bribes near registration tables, and pitiful music thumped from a small speaker.

Y/n sat behind a folding table under one of the lesser-trafficked tents with her elbow propped against a stack of pamphlets, chin in her hand. The sun glared off the white plastic overhead, turning the inside of the tent into a low-budget sauna. Her drink was already lukewarm. She hadn’t slept properly in three days.

Her phone buzzed.

[10:03 AM] Yunjin hey… yh I cant make it oops don’t miss me too much

Y/n stared at the screen.

“That bitch.” she muttered.

Yunjin had dragged her into this. “We’ll just show up and sign our names and bounce. Free credits.” That was the pitch. That and maybe some free food. Y/n had barely made it through her 8 AM lecture, still smelled like espresso from the café and hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t from a vending machine in nearly 24 hours. Her back ached and her feet throbbed, it was her fault trying to pick up a hobby like boxing when she clearly wasn’t athletic enough. But hey we all start somewhere but clearly the classes were taking a toll on her body. Her soul was held together only by caffeine and spite.

She stared out across the field of booths, watching other volunteers wave flyers and students shuffle past. She wasn’t here out of the goodness of her heart though, to be fair, she did think the causes were important but what she really needed was the credit that came with “community engagement.”

She rubbed at her eyes. “Oh God burn me at the stake for wanting to graduate.” she muttered into her hands.

A shadow fell across her table. She looked up.

Standing there was a woman long black hair framing her face, in a navy button-up and sleek black trousers. Her sleeves were neatly rolled, revealing sharp wrists and on her head were these delicate silver sunglasses. She smelled wonderful but with a faint undertone of cigarette smoke, a whiff that left just as quickly as it came. She was composed like she’d stepped out of some fashion magazine and accidentally landed here.

“You look like you’re about three seconds from snapping.” the woman said calmly.

Y/n blinked at her. “What an observation, you offering to countdown?” The heat had gotten to her head, she DID NOT feel like conversing with this unfortunately insanely beautiful woman.

A slow amused smile touched the woman’s lips. “Nope. Just wondering if you needed help handing out those.” She gestured to the stack of neglected leaflets and what not between them.

“I don’t think anyone wants these,” Y/n said. “I barely want them and it’s my job to sit here.”

“Well I’ll take one anyway.” The woman reached for one, fingers brushing Y/n’s as she picked it up. “Can’t hurt to know what cause I’m supposed to pretend to support.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, half-suspicious. “You volunteering too?”

“Something like that.”

There was a pause. Not awkward exactly more like a pocket of silence. Y/n couldn’t place it, but something about the woman felt deliberate and she was drawn to it.  Like someone used to watching a room from the corners rather than walking through it.

“I’m Sophia.” the woman added her eyes scanning over the leaflet.

“Y/n,” she replied, “You don’t go here do you?”

Sophia tilted her head, amused. “What gave it away?”

“You dress too well… and you’re not carrying a single tote bag.”

“Guilty.”

They shared a brief smile. Sophia didn’t linger, but she didn’t walk away either. Her eyes skimming the crowd, like she was here for something else. Or someone.

“Are you like… with one of the campaigns or something?” Y/n asked carefully.

Sophia glanced back at her, then nodded once. “Kind of. Just observing today.”

“Observing?”

Sophia smiled but didn’t elaborate.

Y/n felt a flicker of curiosity coil low in her ribs. Something about Sophia’s vibe didn’t quite match the event energy. She seemed a little too…composed. She definitely knew more than she let on.

As time went on Y/n kept glancing sideways, trying to be subtle but wanting to catch a glance of the spectacle of a woman that was wondering around through the stands. Sophia caught her once and Y/n pretended to be reading the back of a donation flyer like it was the most engaging, life changing, interesting, riveting sequence of words ever printed.

Eventually, Sophia returned and leaned against the table beside her. “You work weekends?”

Y/n blinked. “What gave it away?”

“You keep shifting your weight like you’ve been standing on hard floors for hours. And there’s coffee grounds on your jacket sleeve.”

Y/n looked down. “…Damn.”

Sophia’s smile was small. “You a barista?”

“Yeah, its not far from campus just down the road.”

Sophia hummed and glanced down at her watch.

“I have to go,” she said. “But this was… interesting.”

Y/n shrugged. “Yeah. Same time next fundraiser?”

Sophia gave a quiet laugh. “Maybe.”

Y/n watched her walk away, blending into the crowd like she’d never been there. She didn’t know what this Sophia girl was doing at a university charity event or why she seemed to watch everything like a chessboard.

But the weird thing was, she kind of wanted to find out.

The coffee shop buzzed softly around Y/n as she wiped down the counter, but her attention was pulled to the door the moment it chimed. It was the same woman from the fundraiser: Sophia.

Y/n blinked, momentarily startled. She hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, actually, hadn’t expected to see her again at all. Sophia was a striking figure that always seemed perfectly put together. She had this quiet intensity that seemed out of place amidst the casual hum of the café.

Sophia glanced around, her eyes landing on Y/n, who met her gaze with surprise.

“Its you..” Y/n said, voice low.

Sophia nodded as her lips curving into a faint almost shy smile. “I thought I’d find you here.”

Y/n shrugged while brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah I work here part-time. Not exactly a dream job but you know it pays the bills.”

Sophia’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary before she said, “It suits you.”

There was a pause, neither rushing to fill it.

Sophia ordered a coffee, and Y/n prepared it with care, watching as the steam curled up and mingled with the air. (yo that rhymed) Sophia thanked the girl quietly as she took her drink then settled into a corner seat by the window.

Y/n found herself stealing glances at her whenever she could, watching as the sun caressed the girls face in the gentlest manner, She was a quiet presence. No phone, no book, just watching the street outside and the occasional sip of coffee.

Days passed and Sophia’s visits became routine. She essentially became a fixture in the café always settling into that same spot; the small table tucked into the far corner where the sunlight filtered gently through the glass. Y/n began to anticipate the soft jingle of the door and the steady rhythm of footsteps moving toward that corner seat.

It was strange how something so small started to matter.

The way Sophia’s fingers wrapped around the coffee cup with her knuckles pale and delicate. How her hair fell in a neat waves. How her bangs framed her face perfectly. How her lips always looked so soft and glossy. How her iris’ shone in the sun. How her movements carried this admirable effortless grace. How her shoulders- okayyy pipe down romeo.

They didn’t talk much. Just the occasional nod or a brief smile exchanged across the counter. But in those moments something shifted.

One warm evening, the café nearly empty, Sophia leaned over the counter slightly, lowering her voice.

“Work’s been… difficult lately,” she said eyes flicking away for a heartbeat before meeting Y/n’s again.

Y/n paused as she was surprised by the hint of vulnerability in her tone. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sophia shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe another time. It’s just a lot.”

Y/n nodded while smiling. “Well, I know you know where to find me.”

Sophia’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between them hummed with something unspoken. Sophia gathered her things and began walking away just before pausing at the door.

“See you tomorrow?”

Y/n’s smile was genuine. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

As the door chimed behind her, Y/n’s heart fluttered in a way she hadn’t expected. Days turned into weeks and Sophia’s visits never wavered. The coffee shop became a small refuge for her, a place where the chaos of outside never seemed to seep in.

Y/n found herself looking forward to those quiet moments with the stolen glances, the brief smiles, the way Sophia’s presence softened the edges of her own worn-out days. She felt like a giddy schoolgirl seeing her hallway crush each time.

There was something about Sophia. A quiet strength and a calmness that promised something steady in Y/n’s life.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep waiting for each time she’d be coming back.

-----

The boxing gym was a world apart from the quiet hum of the university library or the comforting bustle of the coffee shop. It smelled of leather and sweat with heavy bags hanging from the ceiling. The sound of gloves hitting pads echoed sharply through the space, punctuated by the occasional shouted instruction or grunt.

Y/n wasn’t here because she dreamed of becoming a fighter. Far from it. She’d picked up boxing almost on a whim, a way to vent frustration and push back against the exhaustion that followed her through long days of classes and work shifts. Her punches were light. She liked the movements and the way it distracted her from everything else.

That afternoon, as Y/n bounced lightly in her own bubble in the corner, from across the gym a burst of energy caught her attention. A woman was sparring with a partner. She moved with sharp precision, throwing punches that looked effortless at a bulky man. Her toned muscles rippled beneath her tank top, abs clearly defined and every movement confident and full of purpose. She was impossible to miss.

That was Daniela.

Their eyes met for a moment as Y/n tried to focus on her own gloves. Daniela smiled a cocky, almost mischievous grin as if amused by Y/n’s hesitant punches. Minutes later, after the coach called for a break, Daniela walked over to Y/n’s corner.

“Your punches are too soft, you know that?” Daniela said, a teasing lilt in her voice. She wore a loose ponytail with two curly strands out falling on her face and her stance was casual but charged, like a cat ready to pounce.

Y/n gave a small, dry smile. “I’m just here for fun.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow. “Still you gotta hit harder if you wanna make this count.”

Y/n shrugged, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead. “Not like I’m training for a match.”

Daniela leaned closer, lowing her voice slightly as she spoke, “Doesn’t mean you cant get better” She began bouncing back and for on her feet, hands guarding her face, and throwing slomo punches at Y/n after each sentence as she continued to monologue. “You’ll feel it soon once you let yourself get more into it. The rush. The heat."

Y/n rolled her eyes but studied Daniela’s face, noting how at ease she looked. Even in the middle of all this chaos there was something magnetic about her.

They didn’t talk much after that first exchange, but Daniela didn’t disappear. Over the next few weeks she began slipping into Y/n’s orbit with a kind of easy certainty. They couldn’t help but cross each other’s paths.

Sometimes, Daniela was just sitting by the water fountain when Y/n came out of the locker room. Other times she’d be finishing up a session cool and collected while Y/n caught her breath (lets be real she was completely out of breath and dry heaving in the corner).

Each time, their eyes would meet and hold for a beat longer than necessary. Y/n found herself watching the way Daniela’s grin curled when she teased another boxer, the way her shoulders relaxed when she laughed. Or how her muscles tensed during each punch and dodge. She could’ve swore Daniela lifted up her shirt to wipe the ‘sweat’ off her face on purpose when she knew Y/n was looking.

One evening, Daniela caught up to Y/n as she headed toward the exit.

“You’re still throwing soft punches,” she teased her voice warm but challenging. “Come onnn show me something.”

Y/n shook her head with a smile, feeling a tug in her heart telling her not to deny the girl’s request. “Maybe next time.”

Daniela didn’t give up. “Remember your words yeah, we WILL be sparring one day.”

Y/n laughed softly, the sound mingling with the background thud of punches. Okay maybe boxing was somewhat enjoyable now.

-----

The docks always smelled like rust and salt. Like the air had become one with rotting half-forgotten machinery that laid not far off the bay. Even at this hour of the night when the city lights barely reached the water, it felt like eyes were lurking. Like the shadows themselves were keeping score of who came and who left.

Sophia Laforteza stepped out of the car in a long black leather coat and sleek black leather gloves already on. Her heels were soundless but her presence wasn’t. The man waiting near the container flinched when he saw her. He had an average build and forgettable face, his jaw twitched as he tried to stand tall. He had two others with him: young, probably hired as muscle. One of them had a bat. The other had nerves. Neither would be useful.

“Ms. Laforteza,” the man greeted, falsely confident. “Everything’s ready. You’ll find-”

“You were late,” she said coolly.

He blinked. “Only by a few minutes.”

She turned her head slightly - an almost imperceptible motion - and from the shadows behind her, a second car arrived.

The silence that followed was sharp.

“Your job,” she continued, “was not to improvise. It was to deliver. On time. With discretion. Which you didn’t.”

“I-I had to reroute. One of the hounds were patroli-”

Sophia lifted one hand. The man quieted instantly.

She walked toward the container. It was already open. Her eyes scanned quickly: the markings matched what she’d been told. Nothing had been tampered with. But that wasn’t the issue anymore.

“You brought two men I didn’t clear.” she said, voice flat.

“They’re just backup. Insurance.”

Wrong answer.

With swift practiced motion Sophia stepped to the side and drew something from under her coat.

A small knife flashed in her hand, she moved it so fast it looked like a glint of water catching moonlight. The first man - the one with the nerves - cried out as it sank into his thigh. He dropped to the ground screaming and clutching at his leg. The second one raised the bat but didn’t get a chance to swing. A second blade hit the concrete beside his foot. It didn’t strike him but it was a warning. He dropped the bat.

“Leave,” Sophia said to the bat boy. “And take your friend bandage him up. You’ve been warned.”

The man obeyed instantly, dragging the injured one behind him, pale and shaking. Sophia turned back to the original contact who stood frozen.

Her tone dropped even colder. “You deal with me directly or you don’t deal at all. Next time you bring an audience, I won’t be so generous.”

He nodded swallowing down the lump in his throat hard. “Understood.”

Sophia took a photo of the crates and gave a nod to her hidden backup. People exited from the second car. The real muscle. Real loyalty.

Crates were offloaded clean and fast. Sophia watched every movement. Her hands no longer held blades, but they might as well have.

She was the blade.

Now back in the car, the engine purred beneath her. The driver didn’t speak, he knew better. Sophia leaned back in the leather seat with her coat folded neatly beside her. Her gloves came off one finger at a time, placed deliberately on her lap. Her posture remained straight. Always composed.

Only when they were several blocks from the docks and her job fully complete did she allow her hands to move toward her phone. She unlocked it, the bright light of the screen slightly stinging her eyes.

A photo sat open in her gallery next to the one of the crates. Taken two nights ago. A candid.

Y/n mid-laugh with a coffee cup held just below her face, sleeves pulled over her knuckles. The photo was slightly blurry as Sophia hadn’t meant to take it. She’d swiped wrong but she hadn’t deleted it either. That day Sophia came in just before Y/n was about to close up for the night. The girl had offered to sit with Sophia as they conversed over their own respective drinks. She stared at it now, the image a stark contrast to the cold breeze of tonight. To the part of herself she’d spent years polishing into something sharp and untouchable.

Y/n had no idea.

And that blissful ignorance was a kindness Sophia wasn’t sure she could keep offering. Her reflection stared back faintly in the car window illuminated by the phones light: A weapon.

She turned the screen off as the car drove on into the dark.

-----

Daniela Avanzini has always been fire. But tonight, she’s a tsunami.

The alley behind the shuttered bar smelled like metal and piss and the neon signage flickered weakly through the smoke fogged air. Daniela moved like a shadow with her hood up, boots soaked and breath tight.

The tip had been vague; just a Hound spotted near the old shutdown strip of shops down by Lunar Street. It could’ve been nothing. But she didn’t care. She hadn’t cared in weeks.

She was done waiting.

The gang had told her to stand down and stick with her unit. “Let Katseye handle the recon as a group.” Which basically just mean let Sophia handle it.

Yeah. Sure.

Daniela’s fists clenched inside her gloves as she stalked along the building’s edge. She could hear something… footsteps, careless ones, crunching glass. Whoever it was wasn’t subtle.

Good. Made them easier to bleed.

Her mind flashed again to a voice she couldn’t shake. "You’re too hotheaded, Dani. That’s how they’ll get you." Then laughter, warm and brash. Back when nights were stupid and safe. When someone had her back.

She swallowed hard.

The chain-link fence ahead rattled. She rounded the corner fast and quiet. Light on her feet just like Coach taught her - and there he was.

A Leashboy.

Not one she recognized. Shaved head, jacket with the Hounds’ bone motif. Mid-conversation on a burner phone. Alone.

Perfect.

She didn't hesitate. She lunged. The fight was brutal, fast and one-sided. He tried to swing; she ducked and drove her elbow into his ribs. Then her fist collided with his solar plexus. He gasped, stumbled. She grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the brick wall hard enough to crack the stone.

He dropped the phone as she kicked it across the pavement.

"Who sent you?" she growled, shoving her forearm under his throat.

He choked with his eyes wide. “I-I don’t even know you-”

Wrong answer.

She punched him. Not once. Twice. The kind that came from somewhere deeper. Not strategy. Not training. Rage.

"You should’ve waited."

"Why did you go alone..."

She didn’t stop until his lip split and his body sagged dazed and blood painted his collar.

Then came the voice that pulled her out.

"Enough, Avanzini."

Cold. Familiar. Commanding.

Sophia.

Daniela didn’t turn around at first. Just breathed heavily with her hands shaking as she stood over the barely-conscious Hound.

“Want to tell me what part of the plan this was?” Sophia’s voice was sharp, intentionally meant to wound.

Daniela finally turned. Her eyes were wild and a smear of blood across her cheek. damnn sexy

“You weren't coming. So I handled it.”

"You disobeyed a direct order."

“He’s one of them,” Daniela hissed. “They got sloppy. I wanted to remind them we didn’t forget.”

Sophia’s gaze dropped to the man still groaning on the pavement. “You call this a reminder? He’s barely breathing.”

“Good.”

The silence after that was sharp. Drops of rain began to trickle slow and cold.

Sophia stepped closer, voice lower now. “You want to get yourself killed?”

“If it takes one of them down with me…” Daniela looked right at her. “Maybe it’s worth it.”

Sophia flinched barely, but Daniela caught it. Afterall, they trained and worked together on countless tasks how could she not? Neither of them moved for a moment. Only the sound of rain hitting metal and the ragged breath of the man in front of them.

Daniela stepped back, suddenly drained. She wiped her hands on her pants pretending not to feel the tremor in her fingers. She stuffed her hand in her pocket, fiddling with broken pieces of jade. Pieces that if held wrong could easily cut you. Pieces of a bracelet that was once around a wrist that no longer existed.

Sophia’s voice, quieter now: “You can’t bring her back by destroying yourself.”

Daniela didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. The look in her eyes said it all.

She turned and walked into the dark not bothering to check if Sophia followed.

Behind her the rain washed blood into the gutter.

-----

Y/n doesn’t know what she’s walking into. But she feels it something shifting under her feet.

The semester was creeping past that muddy midpoint. When you’re too far from the excitement and motivation of the start but too close to the pressure of finals. The city felt heavy with a kind of fatigue, the sky was constantly grey these days, like it hadn’t fully woken up in weeks. But Y/n wasn’t one to complain about dreary weather it was a world better than the sickening heat of summer.

Y/n sat on the curb of the café, legs stretched out, coffee cup in hand. Her apron was still tied around her waist, half-stained from an accident where she bumped into a coworker during the morning rush. She was done with her shift now, but the café had become her second living room. Familiar noise. A place to think, or to not.

And lately, a place to see her.

The café sat on the corner of the street, and Y/n had chosen the side wall away from the main entrance, where she could stretch out and watch one of the intersecting streets in peace. Sophia always came from the other street, the one that ran perpendicular, and slipped in through the front door without ever passing Y/n.

Right on cue, the bell above the café door jingled. Sophia walked in, coat neat, posture impossibly straight. She didn’t glance around just made her way to the window seat. Her window seat. Y/n watched her from the curb.

It had become a quiet routine. Sophia came three or four times a week now. She never said much at first just a nod or a small thank you when Y/n brought over her drink perhaps even some very surface level small talk. But over time, their exchanges stretched became deeper leading to longer conversations.

Sometimes Y/n would make a stupid joke. Sophia would blink once, and then a soft and slow smile would curl like it had to work its way through layers. And Y/n would look away too quickly choosing to listen to the soft giggles that left Sophias mouth rather than watch them.

Sometimes Sophia asked about her day. Her voice always low, warm, like she was talking just to Y/n and only her even when the café was full. And sometimes Y/n would say too much. She’d catch herself rambling about her classes or the weird customer who kept trying to pay in singular coins, or her terrible sleep schedule. Sophia never interrupted. She listened with this focused stillness that made they younger girl feel like every word mattered.

It was… weird. But good-weird. Calm in a way that snuck up on her.

But then there was Daniela.

Y/n zipped up her hoodie and started toward the gym.

It had started as a joke really, the signing up for boxing that is. She didn’t even know why she stuck with it. The classes were exhausting, her arms constantly ached, and she still couldn’t throw a punch without overthinking it. But it had become a ritual. Something about the rhythm of it. And something about her.

Daniela Avanzini had swaggered into Y/n’s life out of nowhere. Tank top, sharp smirk, confidence bordering on being reckless. She flirted like it was second nature, throwing compliments like jabs and jokes like punches, they were fast, sharp, and always aimed right at Y/n’s weak spots.

And Y/n?

She rolled her eyes. Every time.

And still came back. Every time.

Daniela always made a show of stretching. Mid-class, post-class, whenever by pulling her shirt up to dab sweat from her stomach, or tugging it casually higher to wipe her face. Her abs were ridiculous: carved, gleaming under the gym lights. And she knew exactly what she was doing. Y/n had caught herself staring more than once, and Daniela? She always seemed to notice by offering a smug half-smile, like she’d just won a game Y/n hadn’t realized they were playing.

After class that night, Y/n sat on the bench unlacing her gloves. Daniela strolled over, towel slung around her neck, sweat still gleaming across her shoulders.

“You’re dropping your guard again,” she said casually. “makes you an easy target.”

Y/n didn’t look up. “Maybe I want to be an easy target.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

The seated girl snorted. “Grow up.”

Daniela chuckled dropping onto the bench beside her. Their shoulders brushed but neither made the effort to move away.

“Why’d you come back?” Daniela asked, quieter now.

Y/n glanced at her. “To box?”

“To box,” Daniela echoed unconvinced. “Sure.”

There was a pause. Long enough to feel like something more should could be said but Y/n just stood shaking her arms out.

“I like the sound it makes when my glove hits something,” she said lightly. “Feels honest.”

Daniela grinned. “That’s the most poetic thing I’ve heard in this dump.”

Y/n gave her a half-smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

They walked out of the gym together side by side. Again.

-----

Rain slid down the city like it was trying to wash something off.

It was the kind of night that clung to everything your clothes, breath, old mistakes. Sophia crouched on a rooftop above 6th and Gabriela avenue, gloved fingers resting lightly against the slick concrete. Below, the Hounds were making a move.

A black van was parked up by the curb. Three of the hounds’ men stood nearby trying to look casual yet their shoulders were rigid with discipline. They were dressed in military cuts and stupid matching jackets were they a dance crew? You could spot them a mile away.

Sophia adjusted the scope on her rifle; not to shoot, just to watch. Tonight wasn’t about bullets.

From her earpiece, a voice cut in: “Okay, not to be dramatic, but I’m like ninety percent sure my ass is freezing to the roof.”

Sophia didn’t blink. “Wear better pants.”

“Um okay rude. Theyre stylish you wouldn’t get it.” Daniela corrected. “Also why am I on the side with the birdshit view?”

“Because you’re louder. Now shut up I can’t focus.”

A low scoff responded. Sophia let the silence settle again.

“You seeing this?” came Daniela’s voice in her ear, a whisper of static and sass.

Sophia didn’t answer right away. No shit she has eyes. It was as if this girl was born to get on her nerves but her annoyance was unjustified here.

A fourth man exited the van. He was definitely not part of the hounds probably a middleman from the look of him. He was in a clean suit holding and umbrella with that too-smooth kind of walk that said he’d never had to get blood on his own hands. He popped the rear doors of the van open revealing a pair of nondescript crates.

Sophia’s voice came low and precise. “Unmarked. Movement consistent with weapons, not drugs.”

Daniela gave a short laugh. “Of course. Gotta love the classics.”

A pause.

“They’re moving in,” Sophia said, more to herself than to Daniela. “This is the third border push in a week.”

“They’re bored. Or stupid,” Daniela replied. “Maybe both.”

Sophia’s eyes stayed fixed on the scene. “They’re arrogant. Still think this city answers to them, stupid Lapdogs.”

Daniela snorted. “Personally, I prefer saying ‘leashboys’ it has a nice ring to it.”

Sophia sighs.. “Of course you do.”

Sophia leaned back from the scope and swept her gaze along the perimeter. There were quiet alleys, dim streetlamps and rain pooling in the cracks of a city that pretended not to notice what happened in the dark. But Sophia noticed. Always had.

The Hounds had been bleeding into 9Lives territory for months now. They never said it outright, never open declarations of threats. That wasn’t how the game was played. But territory spoke louder than words. A deal here. A car parked just a few blocks too far. A crate delivered without permission.

And this? This was a statement.

“You want to disrupt it?” Daniela asked her voice more eager now.

“No. We follow,” Sophia said. “The middleman’s the key. Not the dogs.”

“Copy that.”

Sophia packed the rifle away, sliding the case across her back with practiced ease. Below, the men were finishing up, papers were exchanged and crates were pushed to the curb for another vehicle to retrieve.

Sophia moved from the rooftop like water. Down the fire escape, across the alley. Invisible in plain sight. Sophia slipped deeper into the shadows. Rain ran down the back of her collar, cold against the heat of the adrenaline tat swam through her bloodstream.

9Lives didn’t bark. It didn’t show its teeth. It waited. It watched. It stalked. And then it struck.

When Sophia finally stopped moving, tucked in the dark curve of a stairwell, she pulled out her phone.

No messages.

She opened her gallery anyway.

The photo was still there: Y/n. Hair a little messy. Eyes soft. Sophia stared for a few seconds. Longer than she should have she couldn’t afford distractions but she couldn’t help it.

The rain didn’t stop. The city didn’t care. But something in Sophia’s chest twisted quietly but persistent and completely unwelcome. She tucked the phone away just as Daniela's voice buzzed in again.

"Target's on the move. Umbrella guy. Headed east on Gabriela."

Sophia was already moving. “Stay wide. We don't need to spook him.”

“Wide, sure. But if I get mugged back here, I’m haunting you.”

The man didn’t hurry. He walked like he had somewhere to be but no reason to rush. His umbrella tilted slightly against the wind, his coat was too neat for this part of town. He didn’t look up. Didn’t scan his surroundings.

"Too clean," Sophia murmured. “He’s not used to looking over his shoulder.”

“Which means he’s not the one making the real calls,” Daniela replied. “Bet he doesn’t even know what’s in the crates.”

“He doesn’t need to.”

A few blocks later the man crossed into a quieter street one that skirted the edge of 9Lives territory. Parallel to that shut down strip Daniela had seen the hound in previously. That was telling. No one came down this way by accident. Sophia followed along the rooftops her steps careful and fluid. Daniela kept to the alley below her boots splashing through puddles.

The man stopped in front of a grey building with shuttered windows and a security camera just barely angled away from the front door. He pressed a code into a keypad, waited and then stepped inside.

Sophia watched the door close. “He’s in. Let’s wait.”

There was silence, just the sound of rain ticking off her hood. Then Daniela, dry as ever: “I’m just saying, we could crash it. Quick and easy.”

Sophia’s jaw tensed. “And blow the whole operation?”

“Or make a point.”

“We don’t need a point. We need leverage.”

“God, you’re so fucking boring when you’re cautious.”

Sophia leaned back slightly from the ledge, eyes narrowing. “You know what’s worse than being cautious?”

“Don’t say dead.”

“Sloppy.”

Daniela didn’t respond immediately. Then, quieter, “You weren’t this tense a few months ago.”

“Things change.” Sophia’s gaze dropped back to the building. “And it’s your fault we didn’t find this place earlier. You should’ve let us all do recon and not rush in recklessly to fight some random hound.”

There was a shift in the air between them. Daniela wasn’t stupid she’d seen how Sophia pulled away recently. Less fire, more calculation. She seemed more defensive than offensive. Maybe it was the territory. Maybe it was the growing tension with the Hounds. Maybe it was something else.

Sophia didn’t offer an explanation. She didn’t need to.

After twenty or so minutes the buildings door opened again. The man emerged alone, umbrella still intact, his phone pressed to his ear now. His face was sharper and eyes flicking a little faster.

“Something’s up,” Daniela muttered. “He looks like a squirrel right now.”

“He’s expecting a follow-up. Keep pace.”

They tailed him for another ten blocks. Past shuttered shops, past drunk college kids pretending they ruled the sidewalks, past corners that felt like open throats. Finally, he ducked into a late-night diner. Cheap lighting, all white and red booths.

Sophia paused on the rooftop opposite it. “We wait again.”

“Fucking hell, you ever get tired of waiting?” Daniela groans.

“No.”

“Figures.”

A breath passed between them. Sophia crouched lower, scanning the windows. Inside, the man sat across from someone new. Too far to ID from here. Their conversation looked calm on the surface but the body language screamed otherwise.

Daniela clicked her tongue. “Want me to go in? Order a milkshake, maybe stab him in the neck?”

Sophia’s voice was dry. “You’re not funny.”

“You’re no fun.”

The contact slid a small folder across the table. Middleman opened it. His hand hesitated.

Sophia zoomed in.

“Photos. Schematics. Could be locations,” she said.

“What’s the play?” Daniela asked less sharp on the edges now.

“We wait. Let him walk out again. Then we take the folder.”

“And if it doesn’t leave with him?”

Sophia exhaled. “Then we go in. Quiet.”

Daniela didn’t say anything. She just waited beside the alley’s edge, fingers twitching like she was itching for the louder version of this job. Sophia kept her scope and eyes locked on the window. Her pulse had evened out, her face calm. But under all that stillness, something was starting to crack.

Y/n’s laugh had replayed in her mind more than once without permission. It had made the rain feel warmer for half a second. Then she’d shoved it back down. Because here, in a life like this, softness could kill.

And softness lately had a name.

-----

Y/n didn’t think much of it when she sent the invites. It was just a campus exhibit. A little pop-up installation curated by a few overzealous art majors and hosted in one of the older lecture halls with free wine and questionable lighting.

She was going to invite Yunjin but they see eachother too often as is so there was no need. She figured Daniela might like it because of the loud colours, strange angles, weird sculpture pieces that she could make fun of. And Sophia… well, she didn’t know exactly why she invited Sophia, only that she wanted her there. They’d been talking more. Sometimes Y/n caught herself watching the way Sophia’s eyes moved when she was reading, like she was studying something much more delicate than text.

She didn’t expect them both to show up. Not at the same time. Not alone.

Y/n was halfway through greeting a friend near the gallery entrance when the door creaked open and Sophia stepped in. Sophia always looked like she didn’t quite belong at these kinds of things as she was too precise and too sharp around the edges. Tonight, her coat was lighter and her hair styled with effortless elegance. You’d think she was at some rich man’s private art auction. Her gaze swept the room once before landing on Y/n, and it softened just a little.

Y/n smiled. “Hey. You came.”

“I said I would,” Sophia replied, voice warm  andcalm. “You look… comfortable.”

Y/n looked down at her jeans and oversized t-shirt. “Hey what’s that supposed to mean!”

Sophia’s mouth twitched. “It’s code for ‘you make it work.’”

Before Y/n could come up with a comeback, the door opened again.

Daniela.

She entered like she always did: loud, physical and wholly unbothered by everything else. Tank top under an unzipped jacket, leather pants that fit too well, and a cocky grin that sharpened when she spotted Y/n.

“Damn,” she said walking over. “They’re really just letting anyone hang art these days, huh?”

Y/n blinked. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Daniela said eyes flicking briefly to Sophia as she furrowed her brows. “Didn’t know it was gonna be a formal event, though.”

Sophia turned, slowly. “I wasn’t aware casual meant dressing like an old biker.”

Daniela’s grin widened. “Nice to see you too mystery woman.”

Y/n’s smile wobbled. “Wait… you two know each other?”

“Not exactly,” Sophia said, cool.

“We’ve... crossed paths,” Daniela added deliberately vague. “Didn’t know we shared hobbies.”

Sophia didn’t respond. Just tilted her head and no matter how hard Y/n tried to figure out what weird thing was going on right now her gaze remained unreadable. The energy shifted. It was small but it was there, tension blooming in the quiet and it was growing each second.

As they moved through the exhibits, Y/n found herself sandwiched between two entirely different gravitational pulls. Daniela made loud comments about the sculptures, she leaned in close to whisper sarcastic critiques, her breath warm against Y/n’s neck. Sophia kept a step behind observing the art with that unreadable focus but her occasional glances toward Daniela were sharp.

At one point, they reached a minimalist piece; white on white on white. Daniela stared at it unimpressed. “Did someone forget to finish it?”

Sophia folded her arms. “The absence is the point. It’s about tension. What isn’t said.”

“Oh,” Daniela said smirking. “So like your whole persona.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “It’s better than performing everything for attention.”

Y/n let out a strangled laugh, she was confused but at least these shitty insults were entertaining. “Okay okay alright we’re not critiquing each other, just the art.”

Both women looked at her then. Daniela’s smile softened. Sophia’s expression did too. But it didn’t last.

Later by the snack table, Daniela leaned against the wall beside Y/n. “So,” she said quietly, “how do you know her?”

Y/n blinked. “Who, Sophia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/n tried not to smile. “She’s… just someone who comes to the café. You know the place I told you I worked at. We just talk sometimes.”

Daniela raised an eyebrow responding with a hint of jealousy in her voice. “You talk to a lot of people?”

“Not like that.”

Something flickered behind Daniela’s eyes. She looked away chewing her lip, then glanced across the room. “She’s watching you, you know.”

Y/n followed her gaze. Sophia stood near the exit with a glass of wine in her hand. Again her expression was unreadable but her eyes were absolutely on them.

“I invited you both,” Y/n said, more to herself.

“Didn’t say it was your fault,” Daniela replied. “Just interesting.”

At the end of the night when the crowd thinned and the light outside dimmed, Sophia slipped out first. She didn’t say goodbye verbally. She just brushed past Y/n gently, a barely-there touch on her wrist. But enough to linger.

A minute later, Daniela looked down at Y/n, serious for once. “Just tell me if I’m wasting my time.”

Y/n blinked. “You’re not.”

Daniela gave her a nod bidding good bye with something heavier than a smirk and turned to leave, a sense of pride swelling in her chest.

Sophia stood under a streetlamp down the block, her umbrella folded but unopened. Rain slicked down her coat. She watched the gallery door. She saw Daniela step out. Saw her glance back twice at the girl that invited them.

Sophia’s hand clenched at her side.

She hadn’t expected that feeling. Not jealousy no, it was something colder. More surgical. Recognition.

Someone else saw what she saw in Y/n.

And they weren’t backing down.

-----

The door clicked shut behind Yves the leader of 9lives with a sharp finality, sealing the small room in silence. Sophia remained seated with her posture rigid, every muscle tense beneath the weight of the conversation. Yves had come not just with questions, but with a presence that commanded the space. And beneath her calm exterior lay a blade sharp enough to cut through any pretence.

“Tell me about the middleman.” Yves began, voice low and steady but her dark eyes piercing through the dim light. “Did you follow him? Did you lose the tail?”

Sophia met that gaze evenly. “I followed. No mistakes.” Her words were clipped and practiced. But inside a storm raged, how close had it come to unraveling? How many variables had she barely held in check? Don’t forget the most unpredictable variable. Daniela.

Yves leaned forward slightly, folding her hands with quiet authority. “Good. I expect nothing less. But I’m not here for reports.” Her tone shifted to be more pointed. “I know about the coffee shop. About your... visits there.”

Sophia’s breath hitched. She had been careful but Yves’ knowledge was a reminder: in the shadows of this city nothing stayed secret, everything comes out sooner or later. If Yves noticed then others surely had as well.

“You think this is a game?” Yves asked, voice laced with barely concealed contempt. “You think you can carve out moments of peace in the middle of a war?”

Sophia said nothing but the weight of those words pressed deep. There was no escaping the world she belonged to.

Yves’ gaze hardened. “You’re losing focus. I don’t tolerate liabilities. Not in Katseye. Not in 9Lives.”

A cold knot tightened in Sophia’s chest. But Yves was far from finished.

“Remember Yoonchae.” The name was a blade cutting through the room’s stillness. “The girl you pulled into a life that wasn’t hers. The life you condemned her to. She died because of a call you made. Innocent civilians died too, caught in the crossfire of decisions made far above their heads. Do you want to make such a mistake again? Or have you forgotten?”

Images flashed behind Sophia’s eyelids: Yoonchae’s young face, eyes wide with fear and hope; her laughter cut short; the life stolen before it had truly begun. The youngest recruit in Katseye, a girl who should have been in school, at home, making memories or something not wrapped in the violence and betrayal that had defined Sophia’s world for far too long. That mistake, the call she’d made, had cost lives. Innocent lives. And for that Sophia carried a guilt heavier than any burden Yves could impose.

Yves’ voice softened almost cruelly. “You’re not the leader here. I gave you command over Katseye because you were the best fit. But don’t forget you’re a piece in the machine. You answer to me. Remember your place.”

The reminder was cold and absolute, stripping away any illusions of control Sophia might have held onto. She nodded silently while swallowing the sting of humility. When Yves left the room felt emptier and colder like the echo of her words had sucked the warmth out from the air itself.

Alone. Sophia’s mind churned through a relentless tide of thoughts and regrets.

Sophia couldn’t shake the doubt gnawing at her: Did she deserve to be near someone like Y/n? Did anyone who walked in her world deserve to be close to a girl so untouched by its cruelty? Every connection risked dragging Y/n deeper into a dangerous game, a game Sophia knew all too well.

Her thoughts shifted then to Daniela. The way she flaunted her strength, the smirk that seemed to mock the world and everyone in it. Sophia had been quiet, distant, even dismissive at times but now she wondered if it had been fear. Fear of what getting close meant. Fear of losing control. Or perhaps simply not knowing how to let anyone in.

There was an unspoken tension between them all, thick and electric. Both drawn to Y/n in their own way yet held back by invisible walls.

Sophia’s mind wandered again to Yoonchae; her shadow stalking every quiet moment. The bitter irony was unmistakable. Dani mourned just as Sophia mourned. Different ghosts, yet somehow the same.

She had made mistakes. Grave ones. Yet beneath the countless layers of guilt and regret a small ember of hope persisted. A fragile whisper that maybe someday she could be more than the sum of her sins.

Maybe someday she could deserve peace.

-----

The night air was cold against Daniela’s skin. She perched on the rooftop ledge of the boxing gym, the city’s distant noise muffled beneath the pattering rain. Her shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably, and the dark bruise blossoming across her cheek was impossible to ignore. She traced it lightly with her finger tips the sting both physical and something deeper.

When Y/n’s footsteps approached, hesitant but steady, Daniela didn’t try to hide it.

Y/n’s eyes immediately locked onto the dark mark. “Dani… what happened? Did you get hurt?”

Daniela shrugged her voice clipped and defensive. “It’s nothing. Just some rough sparring. Got a little out of hand.”

Y/n’s gaze didn’t soften. “Since when does sparring leave bruises like that?”

Dani forced a small, bitter smile. “It happens. It’s boxing.”

The girl didn’t press further but the doubt lingered in her eyes. “Are you sure? You don’t have to lie.”

Daniela turned away, shoulders stiffening. “I said I’m fine.”

The silence between them thickened. Y/n wanted to push and know more but something in Dani’s guarded posture told her it wasn’t the right moment.

After a long pause, Y/n sighed and finally asked, “Why do you always hide what’s really going on?”

Dani’s breath hitched, her voice quieter, rawer. “Because some things... you just don’t talk about.”

Y/n didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she waited for the bruised girl in front of her to elaborate.

Her fingers clenched the edge of her shirt. “I lost someone. A friend. Someone really close.”

Y/n’s expression softened. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

Daniela hesitated, then nodded, her eyes fixed somewhere far away.

Megan and Daniela had been inseparable for years. Before the world they lived in carved lines of violence and chaos into their lives, they were just two girls who found each other. They even dyed their hair together over a dare, Megan chose ginger and Daniela went blonde. Megan was reckless at times but fiercely loyal and impossibly warm in a way that made people want to be near her. She and Daniela were like a match and a flame, they kept each other alive until eventually time ultimately ran out. The match had burned past what it could handle.

They shared everything: late-night talks, laughter that echoed under streetlamps, secrets traded like precious currency. Megan was quick with a joke, quicker with a plan. When the darkness started creeping in around them, Megan was the one who made Daniela feel like there was still light left somewhere.

Daniela essentially jumped onto Megan giving her a hug as the latter looked at some schematics for a warehouse.

“Ugh… get off of me you fatass” The ginger giggled trying to push her off so she could focus.

“You know you love it.” Dani responded getting further into her personal space.

But everything changed that day.

Megan had gone out on a mission alone, volunteering to run backup for another unit under 9lives called OEC. Daniela begged to come too but Megan insisted she stay behind. “I’ve got this,” Megan had said, with that reckless smile that made Daniela trust her.

Dani waited and waited, the hours stretching unbearably long. When Megan didn’t come back, her heart twisted with dread. She searched the streets, followed rumours, but it wasn’t until she found Megan’s body almost lifeless in a deserted alley that the weight of everything crushed her.

Megan’s eyes fluttered open briefly when Dani reached her, a fragile flicker of life that didn’t last. Dani held her close, feeling the warmth slip away too powerless to stop it. Megan’s last breath was a whisper of a goodbye never meant to be said so soon. It was as if her body had waited just to see the other, just to feel Daniela one last time before she moved on.

Daniela was in denial. She didn’t believe what had just happened in front of her. So she sat there straightening up the girls clothes with trembling hands, collecting pieces of her broken bracelet that she never took off. It symbolised good luck and protection, what utter bullshit.

“Come on Megan, get up I’m not washing your clothes for you.” she stuttered out with a trembling lip. She began sobbing after there was no response. She couldn’t hold it in anymore no matter how had she tried. She clutched the limp girl in her arms as tightly as she could, but there was no movement to push her hugs off this time. After that day Daniela dyed her hair dark again.

Dani never told Y/n any of that… not the fear, not the real danger, not the violence that shadowed every moment of that day. She simply said the girl had gotten mugged by some thugs on her way home. An accident she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and it had gotten violent. Back on the rooftop, Daniela’s voice cracked slightly as she finished the false confession.

“If I’d been there… maybe she’d still be alive. Maybe things would be different.”

Y/n reached out instinctively brushing her fingers against Dani’s arm. Daniela gave a shaky laugh trying to mask the ache inside. Then, her voice softened, almost breaking.

“I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

For a breathless moment, Dani leaned closer, the tension between them pulling tight. Y/n’s breath caught; the world around them seemed to slow.

Their faces were mere inches apart. Daniela didn’t pull away. Neither did Y/n. But neither fully closed the distance either. The air thickened with something unspoken. Was it desire, fear, uncertainty? Neither knew.

Finally, Dani pulled back, trying to laugh it off.

“It’s cool. I get it.”

But the pain beneath her words was raw and Y/n felt it too.

-----

Y/n felt like she was standing at the edge of a fracture pulled apart by forces she couldn’t control. It wasn’t just the fatigue settling into her muscles or the long days juggling classes and work for finals. It was something heavier, this sort of slow-burning ache.

Sophia was slipping away, bit by bit.

She’d been coming to the café less and less lately, the quiet routine they’d shared slowly fading into unfamiliarity. Calls to her phone went unanswered or left ringing until voicemail; texts were read but never replied to. The small connections they used to have were cracking and it felt like Sophia was retreating deeper and deeper into a place Y/n couldn’t reach.

The careful warmth Sophia once carried, the way she could calm the noise inside Y/n’s head with a single glance felt like a distant memory. Now when Sophia looked at her, there was a coldness behind her eyes, like she was fighting off a storm only she could see. The way Sophia would pull back, avoiding the easy closeness they once shared, left Y/n twisting inside. She was losing a part of herself she hadn’t realized was tethered so tightly to Sophia’s presence.

And Daniela.

Daniela was the opposite. She was all fire, crashing into Y/n’s world without warning. She showed up suddenly - grinning, teasing, pushing every boundary Y/n had tried to set. Sometimes, it felt like Daniela was testing the limits of how close she could get, how much space she could claim in Y/n’s life before she blinked away or pulled back.

The girl didn’t know which was more exhausting; the absence of Sophia or the overwhelming presence of Daniela.

There were nights Y/n lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering how things had gotten so complicated. How could two people she cared about so much pull her apart in opposite directions like this? How was she supposed to hold onto either one when it felt like the ground beneath her was cracking open?

She hated feeling torn.

She hated the guilt that came with wanting both, and fearing that wanting one meant losing the other. Most of all, she hated how little control she had over it all. Y/n caught herself watching them more often than she wanted. The way Sophia’s gaze would flicker away when their eyes met. The way Daniela’s laugh sometimes caught in her throat like she was holding something back.

She wondered if they were even aware of the effect they had on her; if they saw the way her heart clenched with every distance and every push. Sometimes, Y/n felt like she alone was the only constant in a world that kept shifting under her feet.

And that scared her.

Because if she couldn’t keep steady, if she couldn’t hold onto even herself, what did that mean for the people she cared about? Y/n exhaled slowly, tomorrow she’d see Sophia again. And Daniela. And she’d have to keep pretending she had it all figured out, that she wasn’t unravelling in the quiet moments between.

But tonight under the dim city lights and the weight of everything she was holding inside, she let herself admit something she barely dared to whisper:

She was scared.

-----

The streets were mostly empty by the time Sophia reached the café. The sky was starless, their shimmer choked in clouds. She stayed across the street hidden in the darkness of a nearby alley for several minutes, watching through the window as Y/n wiped down the counters, flipped chairs, locked the till.

Alone. Finally. That was the only reason Sophia came.

She waited until the lights inside dimmed and the sign turned over to CLOSED before crossing. Her boots made no sound against the slick pavement. She moved like smoke that had already seeped in like something too late to stop.

Y/n was just about to lock the front door and pull down the shutters when she turned and flinched.

“Sophia!” she breathed surprised. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Sophia didn’t answer. No greeting. No small talk.

Y/n blinked her smile slowly fading. “What’s wrong?”

Sophia stepped forward, just enough for the distance between them to feel intimate yet dangerous. Her voice was flat. Blunt.

“We need to end this.”

Y/n laughed once. Confused. “End what?”

“This.” Sophia gestured vaguely between them. “Us. Whatever the hell it was. I’m bored.”

Y/n stared at her. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

A pause hung in the air, thick and choking. Y/n’s voice was quiet now. “Where is this coming from?”

“I got tired. I’m bored.” Sophia shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Of the pretending. Of you. It was a mistake.”

The youngers expression cracked. “A mistake?”

“Yes,” Sophia said not blinking. “It was convenient. Comfortable whatever. But I’ve had enough.”

“Soph, you don’t-”

“You think I actually cared?” Sophia cut in harsher now. “You were... a distraction. Some soft little habit I picked up when I got bored.”

Y/n looked like she’d been slapped. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean,” Sophia snapped. Her voice had turned sharp and jagged, it was louder than Y/n had ever heard it. “This was never going anywhere. You're naïve. And slow. And honestly? I don’t need someone clinging to me like a lost puppy every time I walk through a door.”

Y/n stepped back like there was no floor beneath her. Her mouth opened then closed.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “What the hell happened?”

Sophia didn’t answer. Couldn't.

“You show up at my café for me for weeks, months, and now suddenly I’m- what? A waste of your time?” Her hands clenched. “Is this about Daniela?”

Sophia’s jaw tightened. But her face stayed unreadable.  “I liked the attention. That’s it,” Sophia continued, as if trying to carve a canyon between them she couldn't ever cross again. “You were easy. Predictable. Sweet in that pathetic, tame way people like you always are.”

“Right,” Y/n muttered flinching at the venom in the other girls voice.

Sophia said nothing.

Y/n stepped back into the doorway. The key in her hand trembled slightly as she shoved it into the lock.

“Don’t come back,” she said voice hoarse. “Don’t even look at me again.”

Sophia didn’t say a word.

The lock clicked. The door shut. And Sophia was left in the dark.

She didn’t move. Not for a long time. The rain started again soft, then steady. She didn’t even flinch when it soaked through her coat. Just stared at the door where Y/n had disappeared behind.

She wanted to run back. Apologize. Tell her everything.

But she didn’t.

Because Sophia had seen what those lapdogs were planning. She’d seen the photo earlier that day. Y/n, exiting the café, timestamped, targeted. A note scrawled in handwriting Sophia knew too well: ‘Soft spot?’

The hounds had figured it out. They’d begun circling, waiting, watching. Y/n had no idea how close she was to becoming leverage. A liability. A target.

Sophia had only one option left. So she set the house on fire to keep the wolves from entering. She turned down the street eyes stinging with unshed tears and something worse than grief. Sophia knew absolutely, without a doubt that if Y/n stayed close she would become a weapon used against her. Against Daniela. Against all of them.

So Sophia did the only thing she could. She made herself the villain. She buried the part of her that wanted to love, to protect, to be held. And left it bleeding on the doorstep.

Because if keeping Y/n safe meant letting her go?

Then Sophia would burn it all down.

Even herself.

Sophia had never been a smoker. Not really.

It started with a borrowed drag behind a warehouse wall - years ago now - passed from trembling fingers in that anxious dead space between missions. Manon another girl in the unit used to light one up like it was armour. Said the smoke made her lungs feel fuller than the silence did. Sophia never understood it. Not then.

But after Yoonchae, everything changed.

The first cigarette after the funeral wasn’t about comfort. It was punishment. Sharp and bitter, a cough dragging its way out of her chest like something rusted. Her hands shook when she lit it.

Marlboro Reds. The harsh kind. The kind you don’t smoke unless you mean it. (guys idk I don’t smoke, I only picked these bc of the song lyrics oops)

One became two. Then a pack. Then routine. No one ever said anything they were all grieving their own ghosts.

Eventually, she weaned herself off. Told herself she was done letting the dead steer her lungs. Weeks turned to months and she kept the habit on ice. One every few months. Then none.

But the night she told Y/n to leave, to stay gone, she found herself alone behind a building in the quiet city and the ache in her throat unbearable.

She didn’t remember keeping the pack.

But there it was. Flattened in the pocket of her old field jacket, the warning label worn off from years of rain and blood and time.

She slid one out with steady fingers.

Lit it.

Inhaled.

And for the first time in months Sophia tasted the fire she thought she'd buried.

-----

It started like any other night.

Raining again but a bit harsher than the past few days. It was approaching winter. The streets breathed in low light and loneliness. Cars passed splashing water from puddles onto the pavement and the occasional umbrella wielding pedestrian hurried by. But as time passed the frequency of passersby decreased to essentially none.

Y/n zipped her jacket up to the collar and stepped out into the chill. The last of the café's lights flickered out behind her as she locked the front door, twisting the key until the bolt clivked into place. Her hands were red from wiping down the espresso machine and her fingertips smelled faintly of cinnamon and lemon sanitizer.

It was routine. The smell was comforting in its own little way.

She tied off the trash bag, hauled it out to the dumpster around the back. The air smelled like wet concrete and burnt coffee grounds. She tossed the bag into the bin with a satisfying thunk, wiped her hands on her jeans and turned toward the mouth of the alley-

And froze.

There was a man standing at the far end of it.

Still. Too still. Shoulders squared, face half-hidden under the brim of a cap pulled too low. His coat was dry… too dry given the rain that had been falling steadily for hours. He didn’t move and didn’t speak.

Just watched.

Y/n’s pulse stuttered.

Something about him didn’t fit.

Her instincts kicked in honed from years of subtle unease of working late, of avoiding dark stations at night, of walking with her keys laced between her fingers. She took a careful step back.

Then another figure moved behind her.

She turned startled but it was too late.

Cold metal jabbed against her side. She gasped and the man said almost too gently, “Don’t scream.”

Her reaction was instinct and a bit of recall from boxing sessions.

Y/n twisted hard, elbow snapping backward, connecting with something solid. A grunt. The syringe in his hand clattered to the pavement. She bolted toward the end of the alley but the first man was already moving, fast, faster than he should’ve been.

Y/n fought.

She punched, kicked, clawed, bit. A knee to one man’s groin dropped him to the ground with a muffled curse. She grabbed the fallen syringe and tried to stab it into the taller one’s arm but he caught her wrist, twisting hard. The syringe dropped.

Then came the cloth.

Sweet. Sharp. Too strong.

She thrashed. A hand pressed against her mouth firm and unrelenting. Her vision swam. The alley stretched and twisted.

She tried to hold on. Tried to stay awake, she really did. Tried to remember if she’d locked the café properly.

Then-

Darkness.

Sophia was smoking her 4th cigarette of the day although it was barely midday. She was reviewing perimeter footage from a failed smuggling op a different unit had done when the envelope appeared.

No postage. No label. Just sitting on her desk like it had always been there.

She stared at it for a second too long before looking at what’s inside. It was already opened so she assumed Yves had left it there.

Inside: one photo.

Y/n. Bound to a chair. Hands tied behind her back. Blindfolded. A bruise blooming across her jaw. Her posture was stiff but upright. Brave.

The background: concrete walls. A dangling bulb. Industrial shadows. The kind of place you never walked out of if your name wasn’t on the right list.

Sophia flipped the photo.

Two words, scribbled in jagged black ink:

‘Still bored?’

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper until they bent.

She didn’t knock.

The doors slammed open. Daniela was already inside, pacing like a caged animal, fury evident in tenseness of her jaw.

Yves didn’t look up.

“I heard,” the older woman said, flicking ash from her cigarette.

“She’s been taken,” Sophia said. Her voice didn’t rise but it cracked in places.

“Of course she has,” Yves replied. Calm. Cold. Inevitable.

“Let us go after them,” Sophia said, fists clenched. “We can find her.”

“No.”

Daniela stepped forward. “This isn’t a request.”

Yves looked at them like they were just children throwing a tantrum.

“This is exactly what they want,” she said. “They took someone important to you. They want it to hurt. They want you to be stupid.”

“She’s not leverage,” Sophia snapped. “She’s not a-”

“She’s a civilian,” Yves interrupted. “She was never meant to be part of this world. Neither of you had any right-”

“She matters,” Sophia said, louder now. “To me.”

The room dropped into silence.

Daniela’s eyes never left Yves. “If we don’t go, no one will.”

“And if you go rogue, you go alone,” Yves said, voice like a slammed door. “Don’t expect backup. Don’t expect mercy.”

Sophia stared at her with a disbelieving look. Then she turned without another word. Daniela followed.

The safehouse they travelled to wasn’t technically approved anymore. But it had weapons, gear and intel maps still tacked to the corkboard from last winter’s warehouse raids.

Sophia slid on her gloves with mechanical precision and laced her boots. Checked her sidearm was loaded, then her rifle. The old one. The one with the notches carved along the stock not for kills, but for losses. Names she would never say aloud.

She didn’t want to carve Y/n’s life into that wood.

Daniela packed fast and efficient, no hesitation. There was a blade tucked in her boot, brass knuckles into her jacket lining. She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and laid it on the table.

Warehouse coordinates Lara had scouted months ago during scheduled recon. Remote. Unregistered. It was quite far away but it had the highest probability of being the location currently in use by the hounds.

"Too clean," she muttered. "It’s gotta be there."

Sophia nodded as they loaded all supplies into the car.

Neither spoke. They didn’t need to. Y/n had been taken not just as a pawn in some larger game, but as a message. And both of them had received it loud and clear. Daniela slammed the car door. Sophia adjusted the passenger seat. The engine started. The streets blurred past. They were two ghosts in the night and this gang war had just gotten personal.

Meanwhile, Y/n stirred.

The floor was cold beneath her cheek. Her arms were numb. She was still tied to the chair but now on the floor, some petty hound that had job to keep an eye on her for the night had kicked her down while she was still unconscious. There was a low and constant humming in her ears like a generator or something nearby. The blindfold scratched against her skin.

Someone passed by boots echoing faintly. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Somewhere inside her, a steady fear had settled in. Not the frantic panicked kind. No, this was slower. Heavier. A fear that felt like holding your breath underwater knowing time was running out.

Sophia had pushed her away.

Daniela had gone radio silent too which was out of character.

And now this.

Why?

Why me?

Back on the road, the city blurred outside the windshield. Rain coated the windows, streaked red and orange from passing traffic lights. Daniela gripped the wheel like she wanted to strangle it. Her eyes stayed locked forward.

Sophia stared out the passenger window.

“She trusted us,” Daniela said.

Sophia didn’t answer for a few seconds “Maybe we shouldn’t have let her.” She added on quieter.

The silence that followed was deafening.

They didn’t know if Y/n was still alive. They didn’t know if this was a trap. They didn’t care. This wasn’t a mission. This was a reckoning. And the only way it ended was with blood.

-----

Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long jagged shadows that crawled along cracked concrete walls of the warehouse.

Inside, Y/n sat still bound to the chair with her wrists chafed raw and bleeding from coarse ropes. Her body ached and yearned for a peacfull sleep that wont ever come. Bruises bloomed in dark purples and reds across her ribs, her temple throbbed with a relentless pain. Each shallow breath drew in the sour scent of the room.

Across from her sat a man with a large build compared to her. His cruel eyes glinting in the dim light. He was a Hound, one of the most vicious among the rival gang. He seemed to hold some position of authority.

“You hear me, soldier girl?” he sneered stepping closer. His voice was low, evry syllable deliberate. “We’re gonna make you scream so loud the whole city hears. Maybe then your precious little girls will think twice.”

Y/n’s heart hammered in her chest but she didn’t respond. She met his gaze as best she could showing silent defiance through her red swollen eyes.

The hound’s grin twisted into something darker. He brandished a small wicked blade. “We start with a finger. Maybe the pinky. Then the ear. You’re gonna leave this place a map for the others to find. We’ll have the message carved right into you.” Touching and caressing each limb as he named it.

The threat wasn’t empty. The Hounds were known for their brutality merciless, remorseless. Y/n had heard whispers, seen the scars of victims who never got a second chance. But she never really paid much attention. For these crimes seemed a worlds away, simply something shed hear on the news not something shed experience herself. That was her mistake. She had been so disconnected from the reality of her safety.

Another man stepped forward chuckling as he cracked his knuckles. His eyes sparkled in savage anticipation. They circled her like wolves.

Y/n’s breath hitched. The knot of panic twisted tighter in her gut.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the distance and gunshots could be heard.

“Shit!” The big guy cursed, shoving Y/n roughly to her feet. “Move. Move, move, move.”

The Hounds scrambled, their plan slowly unravelling. They grabbed her too roughly and hustled her toward the waiting car. The cold metal of the trunk yawned open like a trap. Y/n stumbled forward, her head colliding with the unforgiving edge of the trunk. Stars exploded behind her eyelids and the world slipped away.

Sophia and Daniela sprinted across the cracked asphalt toward the rusted warehouse. Flashlights bobbed aheadtoo many and too close. The Hounds were mobilizing fast.

Sophia’s heart hammered in her chest as adrenaline sharpened every sense. She tightened her grip on the pistol in her hands. Daniela pulled two knives from her sleeves, eyes cold and focused.

“There,” Sophia hissed spotting the black sedan parked in the alley behind the building. Its headlights cut through the darkness but it didn’t move yet.

“That’s our ride,” Daniela said, voice low but fierce. “No time to waste.”

They moved with deadly precision as they were slipping between crates and broken machinery. Making use for their environment for cover, silent but deadly. A pair of Hounds guarding the lot spotted them, weapons raised.

Daniela sprang forward, in a blur of motion one blade slashing across a wrist, the other slicing tendons. The first leashboy gasped dropping his gun. Sophia fired twice a sharp crack that echoed off the walls. The second collapsed clutching his chest.

No hesitation.

The car roared to life its tires spinning on wet pavement, trying to escape. Sophia fired at the rear tires, the bullets striking the rubber with a harsh pop as sparks flew.

The car fishtailed wildly. Sophia fired again, precise getting another shot to a tire. The sedan spun uncontrollably, fishtailing through the puddles and finally slamming into a chain-link fence that covered the perimeter of the warehouse.

Daniela didn’t wait.

She vaulted onto the driver’s side and snatched the door open, and in a smooth, practiced move, slashed her knife across the driver’s throat. Blood spluttered onto Daniela’s face. The man’s eyes went wide then dark. He crumpled, dead before he hit the ground.

Sophia sprinted around to the trunk as Daniela stood guard knives ready.

A dull click as Sophia’s fingers found the latch. The trunk popped open.

A/n: Sooooo, what do y'all thinkk?? How we feeling. Im deffo gonna write a pt 2 I just donr know when. I'd like to work on some extra world building and stuff first before I do a pt 2 (everything will be added to the masterlist you can find a link to at the top of this post as I upload)

[vivilvr]

I owe you a black eye and two kisses

SERIES MASTERLIST

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader x Daniela Avanzini

As tensions between rival gangs reach a breaking point, Y/n, a university student with no part in their world is taken as collateral. When she’s kidnapped, the two members that got her caught in the crossfire must put their personal rivalry aside and go rogue to get her back. They're caught between their duties, guilt and something dangerously close to love.

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ Tags: Love Triangle, Fluff, Angst, gangmembers!sodani, Descriptions of violence and death, Swearing, Smoking

♫ Now Playing: Crush ♫

MAIN STORY

PART ONE

EXTRAS

MEET THE CHARACTERS

(more coming soon)

A/n: All related yap can be found under #ioyabeatk

[vivilvr]

Ive been searching for this damn image ever since I wrote this

A Little Death

✧ Pairing: Sophia Laforteza x Fem Reader

Y/n visits the old chapel on the edge of town in the moonlight to sketch the architecture and the statues of angels. Definitely not to catch a glimpse of the unnaturally beautiful girl that lurks in the shadows.

✧ Wc: 0.9k ✧ Status: Completed

✧ Tags: Vampire!Sophia, Human!Reader, if fwb was a vampiric arrangement, Vampire Bites, Suggestive??

♫ Now Playing: A Little Death ♫

A glimpse of her silhouette was sharp against the chapel ruins, moonlight tangled in her hair. Y/n watched from across the graveyard path, heart beating so loud anyone within a 3 foot radius would be able to hear it.

She had been sketching the graveyard every night for weeks now, pretending it was for her final portfolio. But it wasn’t about the statues or the crumbling angels. It was about her.

Sophia.

The woman who never blinked. Who never changed. Who never breathed. And yet, Y/n had never felt more alive than when she was near her.

Y/n learned to read the signs: the flicker of movement behind stained-glass shards, the way the shadows pulled tighter around a gravestone. That’s when she’d find her. Always waiting. Always distant.

But that night was different.

Sophia wasn’t in the shadows. She stood beneath the ruined chapel’s broken arch. Where the moon poured down on her like melted silver. Y/n hovered at the edge of the entrance, eyes on her like she might vanish if she blinked.

“I dreamt about you again,” she said.

Sophia’s voice was low, smooth as dusk. “What happened?”

Y/n’s gaze dropped to her hands. “You looked at me like I was… something worth remembering.”

A pause followed. The kind that made everything feel suspended. Sophia stepped forward, slow and certain. “And did it feel real?”

Y/n met her eyes. “You touched me like I mattered.”

That stopped Sophia. Just for a moment. As if the words had rung through her like a bell.

“I don’t dream,” she said finally. “But I remember the way your voice sounds when you say my name.”

Y/n’s breath hitched as the older girl stepped closer and then she kissed her.

It wasn’t tender, not at first. It was sharp with longing, cold, startling, like water flung onto coals. For Sophia it felt like dipping cold hands into hot water, it burned but felt so good. The kiss softened quickly, deepened into something slow and consuming.

Like being seen.

Like being chosen.

Fangs brushed against Y/n’s lip, and her breath caught. But she didn’t pull away.

She leaned in.

And Sophia who was centuries old, silent and still for too long, finally let herself feel want.

-----

After that night, something between them shifted.

The graveyard no longer felt like a place of the dead. It pulsed with quiet heat, with breathless tension, with the magnetic pull that only existed between two people on the edge of surrender.

Y/n would arrive just after midnight. She never had to look for Sophia anymore. She was already there.

They didn’t speak much. The silence between them was sacred.

But when Sophia touched her, it was reverent and holy ike brushing dust off an ancient relic. When she kissed her, it was never greedy. It was slow and soft.

And sometimes, when Y/n asked for it, Sophia’s lips would find her neck. Just under the jaw. Where the skin thinned and blood hummed loudly.

A single bite.

Never deep. Never cruel. Just enough to leave her breathless.

A little death.

Sophia’s lips hovered just below Y/n’s jaw, she could feel the blood beneath moving, pulsating, calling her name… She moved with careful grace, as if biting was not just out of hunger but a kind of worship.

Y/n tilted her head in quiet offering, fingers curling lightly into the folds of Sophia’s clothing.

Pressure.

The slow slide of fangs, not sudden but deliberate, like the first breath after holding it for far too long. Not cruel. Not rushed. Just the sting of vulnerability.

Y/n gasped, not from pain, but from feeling. It was overwhelming with a shocking sense of intimacy to it. Sophia’s mouth at her throat, cold and impossibly gentle, drinking not to survive, but to remember. To taste life at its most fragile and tender.

Sophia held her close the entire time, one hand steady at Y/n’s waist, the other at the back of her neck, thumb brushing skin in quiet circles.

It was not about blood.

It was about closeness.

It was about trust.

And when she finally pulled back, her lips were stained red, but her eyes were soft, almost human.

Y/n swayed forward with her head feeling light and heart fluttering aimlessly.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

-----

On one night, as pale morning crept along the horizon, Y/n lingered longer than she should have. She stood at the gate, dazed, her throat marked by a delicate crescent.

“Do you miss it?” She asked. “Being alive?”

Sophia’s eyes flickered. “Not in the way you think.”

“How, then?”

“I miss feeling like I had something to lose.”

Y/n stepped closer, pressed a hand to Sophia’s chest. There was no heartbeat beneath.

“You still do,” she whispered.

They made no promises. No one asked for forever. Just this hush of midnight, the thrill of teeth, the weightless beauty of not belonging fully to either world.

Y/n never became what Sophia was. And Sophia never asked her to. It was enough to keep returning.

To kiss. To be touched. To feel.

A little breath. A little blood. A little death.

But always just enough to go on living.

-----

Derived from the French phrase "la petite mort" which translates to "the little death" is a euphemism for an orgasm. This term is used to describe the post-orgasmic state where some individuals may experience a brief loss of consciousness or a feeling of being "dead" for a moment, as they appear to faint or become unresponsive.

[vivilvr]

Sientate

✧ Pairing: Daniela Avanzini x Fem Reader

Your girlfriend, Daniela, has been spending too much time on these damn games sigh it was time to figure out a way to get her attention.

✧ Wc: 1k ✧ Status: Completed

✧ Tags: Fluff, Tension, Gamer!Daniela, Gamer!Megan, Established relationship, Self Indulgent, Swearing, live laugh love d4vd live dani, trigger warning: fortnite...

♫ Now Playing: Sientate en Ese Deo ♫

It starts with the sound of gunfire and swearing.

You’d been curled up in the bedroom supposedly reading, but your eyes just glanced over words not actually registering what they meant as your mind was busy just listening to the chaos echoing down the hallway. Every now and then: “MEGAN THERES TWO GUYS ON ME” followed by, “I need shield”

Clearly, she was losing all will to live in Fortnite again.

You stretch and yawn a little too dramatically for an audience of none then pad barefoot toward the living room.

There she is, Daniela, sitting dead centre on the couch with her headset on. Legs slightly spread, elbows on her knees, controller in a tight death grip. Her jeans ride low on her hips, giving you a glimpse of her toned lower stomach although she was sitting down. The big TV bathes the room in a wash of electric light. That tiny furrow between her brows? Pure concentration. Those dimples that make an appearance every time she gets a kill? Pure beauty. Truly a sight to admire.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, taking in the whole scene. She’s wearing your favourite black hoodie, its only half zipped and pushed off one of her shoulders. Underneath it was a flash of red, her Bulls jersey. You can just barely make out the curve of the number on the back when she leans forward, swearing at Megan again through the headset.

“Push them from the right.” A pause. “MEG WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO??”

The blue beanie sits snug on her head, but two blonde curls have slipped free and frame her face perfectly, I mean of course they’re perfect, they always are.

“NOT THAT WAY… we have the same right you dumbass” She sighs. “Im gonna slap you up one of these days watch your back”

You watch her fingers work the controller like it's an extension of her body. She's a little too good at this, looks a little too good too and it’s starting to offend you.

So you make a decision.

You move closer. Quiet. Slow.

“Don't even think about it,” she says without turning.

“What?” you ask, all innocent smiles and hands behind your back.

“I can feel the mischievousness radiating off of you. Back up baby.”

You stop just behind the couch, lean down so your chin rests on her shoulder. “You're imagining things,” you murmur.

“Uh-huh~” she hums, clicking furiously. “Meg, you got any shotgun ammo?”

You let a long, exaggerated sigh flutter against her exposed neck. “I’m lonely.”

“You’re dramatic.”

You stop for a moment just to admire her absently biting her lip. Tension in her shoulders. Barking directions through her headset with a level of urgency typically reserved for people defusing bombs. You kinda wished you could hear what Megan was saying, that girl might be arguably funnier than Daniela. But you would never say that to Dani’s face.

“Daniiii~ give your poor girlfriend some attention~” The addressed doesn’t budge. Shes hyper focused on trying to snipe another duo that was building towards them.

So you take a seat. Right on her lap facing her.

Not gently. Not apologetically. But a full straddle like you’re mounting a motorcycle and she’s the seat. Her whole body jolts beneath you.

“Babe..” she warns, instantly.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

“We’re in the top three.”

You smile only increases as she exhales sharply through her nose. Her arms are pinned a little now, she repositions them awkwardly around your waist as she tries to keep the controller from getting completely wedged between your bodies. You rock slightly in place, letting your hips settle into her lap with just enough motion to make her shift.

“Stop it,” she says, low and strained.

“I’m literally doing nothing,” you reply with innocent eyes and the guiltiest smile on Earth.

You hook a finger into the edge of her hoodie, unzipping and tugging it slowly. She twitches, but still focused. Focus is strong.

Until the hoodie’s off and she’s just in the jersey now, skin warm beneath your hands. You trace the edge of her V-line lazily where the jersey fails to cover, fingers brushing the ridges of her abs. Her jaw tenses like a vice.

“You are so annoying,” she mutters.

“You know you love it”

You lean forward, barely brushing your lips along the side of her neck. Her breath hitches. On screen, gunfire explodes as her poor Deadpool skinned character is hit. (danipool is real)

“SHIT NO! MEGAN I’M DOWN! I’M DOWN! COME REV”

She tries to crawl behind a wall as the enemy trails right behind her, wildly tapping buttons, but it’s over. Eliminated.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Oops.”

Daniela takes the headset off and sits back on the couch like someone just kicked the bucket on her soul.

From the headset you can now faintly hear: “DANI?! What happened?! WHERE ARE THEY? I CANT CLUTCH ON MY OWN.. OH MY GOD THIS GUN IS BULLSHIT. You were fine two seconds ago…. hellooo?”

You can hear Megan on the other end, frantic and confused. The girl went through the 5 stages of grief in the span of 5 seconds. Daniela doesn’t answer.

Instead, she reaches up, presses a button on the side of her headset and the mic light clicks off. Call muted.

Then she blinks up at you, utterly defeated, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“You suck,” she says.

But she’s already pulling you in. Her hands slide up your back and the kiss that follows is slow, warm, and full of the kind of surrender that doesn’t feel like losing at all. The controller thuds to the floor, forgotten, and her mouth finds yours like you’ve both been waiting all day for this exact moment.

Somewhere far, far away, Megan is still yelling.