#gaslighting at its peak

[kinardsheart]

bucktommy broke up and the fans just said no? they didn’t?

[miyku]

[utterqueerdisasterthesimp]

aaaand there it is

[lil-vibes]

bro kaeya's hang out event was so good it singlehandedly cured my genshin burnout 😭😭

[pinkumiilku]

I think makeup is a satanic cult.

[rixsjwb]

MY ROOMIEㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ suguru geto x fem!reader

roomie geto who would always wake up before you, wearing his baggy grey sweats with a tight t shirt gripping his well built body. sometimes on facetime with satoru talking about literally anything as he eats his breakfast.

"Your roomie awake yet? still sleepin' her head off?" the speaker blared. suguru shifts his phone so the camera would catch your face in view, you stare at the phone groggily, your hand itching your stomach which revealed abit of your middriff. but you didnt seem to care, gojo lets out a cheerful greeting at this early time asking you typical question like 'how are you?' and throwing in occasional flirting that you didn't really register due to lingering sleepiness.

you stand up from your seated position next to suguru at the dining table, as suguru munches on the fruits his eyes drag over your body as you stretch. a tattoo peaking from just under your shorts, causing suguru to graze his finger over it. lightly tugging your shorts down to see the tattoo. "getting worked up this early in the morning suguru?" satoru teases with his charming smirk. his camera catching his face as he seams to be lying down shirtless in bed.

"no, s'just curious." he says withdrawing his fingers, he watches as you look around cluelessly, causing a slight chuckle to slip from his baritone voice. his hand snaking around your waist pulling you closer to his body. positioning the camera back to him witch also catches you leaning into sugurus soft touch.

"pretty y/n looks tired." satoru says his keen eyes staring at you through the camera. watching as you rub your eyes underneath your glasses aggressively. before reaching over the phone to grab something. the camera doesn't fail to pick up your breast spilling from your low cut tank top and in your drowsy state you don't even realize what your doing.

suguru notices this and can smell from a mile away a cheeky remark satorus gonna day, "don't even say it." suguru says a smile, breaking out onto his tired yet handsome face, watching as satorus face breaks into airy laughter. "I wasn't gonna say anything!" satoru says, rolling his eyes. Both him and suguru know he was gonna say something to ruin the intimate yet tranquil mood that was going on. so it was better left unsaid.

roomie geto who always refill things without your knowledge, you could run out of your favorite moisturizer and suddenly it feels shallow and empty to heavy and full. and you'd always ask if he bought it but he's so good at gaslighting and manipulating you into thinking it was always full.

your current moisturize had been full for the past 2 months, and you're starting to think you're going insane.

every time you try to recall going out to buy one or even a bunch, it never comes to mind. and here you are making your way to the bathroom, taking your glasses off being met with blurry vision but still able to see, you go in to grab your moisturizer that had been pretty much empty since yesterday. fully expecting the container to feel light but taken aback when it feels heavy yet again.

you screw open the cap to be met with a brand new looking moisturizer and your quick to confront your roomie about it.

"suguru, did you buy me a new moisturizer?" " nuh uh, didn't you buy yourself one like a couple days or weeks ago?" he questioned and you actually start to think about it, but every day is just as blurry as your vision so you genuinely have no idea. you watch as suguru continues scrolling on his phone not at all phased at your question.

and you start to question if you have dementia. because you have so little memory of what you did this week, you cant press him any further so you reside to the bathroom as you continue to ponder on how your moisturizer suddenly just regenerates its product again along with your favorite snacks suddenly being refilled, too.

roomie suguru who's whipped for your touch and melts innit.

being in close contact with you is something suguru loves, taking pictures with the friend group he automatically moves over to you so he can slip his hand around your waist and get a whiff of your sweet natural perfume. which sends heat into his pants. feeling your plush breast push against his chest makes him feel like a shy boy, suddenly reduced to a stuttering and jittery mess.

when taking pictures with you he doesn't even know where to put his hands anymore, and making eye contact with you just worsens everything.

you're just as calm as him,aloft and more composed, yet he's losing his shit over a girl around the same age as him. whether it's you doing simple tasks like reaching over him to get something, the arch of your back just hovering over his lap as he gets a whiff of your scent. and how close the curve of your ass is to his body.

he has to use his hands to gently push down on your plush hips to sit down while he gets what you need before you notice the growing bulge in his heavenly gray sweat pants.

any chance he gets, to lay his head on your stomach, breast, lap he'll take it.

roomie geto who goes on regular bike rides with his friends and alone and always asks you if you'd like to come.

the first time you found out suguru had a bike was when you were sitting outside on a sunny day enjoying the vitamin d from the sun while scrolling on your phone outside of the building complex you and suguru live in. you're listening to music as you play with the ruffles on your tank top before staring at your cargo shorts while ajusting your hair curling inwards to your face.

but your trance was snapped out of when you heard loud revving of a car or bike nearing. at first you were annoyed because it's irritating hearing cars revv their loud engines in a quiet residential neighborhood. but when you see 2 bikers pull up one biker accented with blue and the other completely black you noticed their sature looked familiar.

as the man on the black bike hits the stand up on the bike before turning the ignition off. he hops off the bike seemingly typing something on his phone.

the other one on the blue bike was goofing off laying on his bike like it was a bed, before his head flicks in your direction. he lightly revs his bike which catches your attention as he waves you over lifting his viser up and your met with all too familiar cerulean blue eyes.

you stand up heading closer to the 2, before being engulfed in a hug by satoru. "I didn't know you rode a bike." your voice flowing like the wind soft yet velvety at the same time. "you tryna go f'a ride?" satoru says excitedly as he adjust his seating on the bike, moving back more so you can sit in his lap. you lightly slap his hand at his insinuation before turning to face the all black biker.

his viser now up and you're met with familiar purple eyes, "suguru." you say before giving him a hug for a greeting. his hands automatically wraps around your waist. "I sent you a message, wanna go on a ride?" he says his eyes crinkle hinting a smiles on his face. you don't reject the offer as you wait along side satoru while sugurus fetched for a bike helmet.

satoru kept you close his hand over your shoulder, while he had conversation with you. and when suguru came back he was quick to help you put it on. buckling the strap underneath. and knocking on your helmet to ensure it's sturdiness, and just like that off you go!

roomie suguru who sometimes suffers from nightmares and tends to stay up at ungodly hours, because he can't find himself wanting to go back to sleep.

you've never caught suguru up at an ungodly hour because you were already dead asleep. but due to your now heavy schedule at college, you'd end up waking at 5 am still night preparing for a class.

you'd always see the tiredness in sugurus eyes, bags showing how much sleeps he's missed out on.

as you get ready after taking a shower, you leave your room, heading to the kitchen that was completely dark, but because you're still abit tired you sluggishly move through the dark clumsily before finding a light switch. when you turn it on, you jump back startled by suguru sitting on the couch manspread as his head is thrown back.

he seemed still for a second before his head lifts making eye contact with you. your quick to come by his side wondering why he'd ever be awake at this time. "shouldn't you be asleep?" you ask sitting down next to him.

"m'yea but can't." he says wryly. you stare at him with concern in your eyes. your hand coming to caresse his arm to sooth him."do you want tea maybe? it could maybe help with your sleep." you say not even sure about your own words, but suguru doesn't answer his eyes closed like he's resting them.

you rise from your seat eventually packing your stuff, and once you were ready it was 5:46 am you still have time to eat breakfast so you cut up some fruits to munch on before coming back to meet suguru on the couch with a hot brewed tea in your left hand.

you place the plate down as quietly as possible before gently shaking suguru to open his eyes, giving him the tea which seems to calm his nerves.

"do you wanna talk about it?" you watch suguru as he takes a small sip of the tea before placing it down. suguru's heart melts at your question, you're to sweet for your own good. "just had a nightmare" he says plain and simple.

you grab the plate of fruits eating them one by one as you rest your head against sugurus shoulder and as time flows you feel his head limp right onto yours. when the clock hit 6:30 you carefully slipped out of his grasp before grabbing your bag and headphones. you grab a blanket nearby, throwing it over sugurus body, fluffing a pillow so his head could rest on it before you took your leave.

roomie suguru who enjoys your cooking so much, that he craves it like a pregnant woman craves food

sugurus not sure what you're cooking, but it smells good enough to lure him out of his room. he chats with his friends on facetime as he sits at the dining table with the perfect view of you in his sight. he watches as you move throughout the kitchen, putting and taking stuff off the shelves.

he could tell the dish is definitely not a Japanese dish.

"not gonna lie. Your roommate is a pretty girl, suguru." toji says blatantly on call. "I agree with toji. she's hot as fuck! I never thought I'd be into girls with calm and aloof personalities. and her glasses just makes her the more attractive!" satoru says shamelessly letting out a moan as a joke as he moves around his house ploping on the couch. suguru sends satoru a dirty look causing satoru to cackle like a maniac.

sugurus holds back a scoff before he answer. "you'k she's right here right?" he says showing you in view. you top the pot with a lid to let the food simmer before coming over to suguru to say hi to a couple of his friends.

"hi toji, hi guys" you say, waving to the camera. you seemed almost bashful at their comments, which was pretty rare considering you always have this reserved personality. "y/n, I love you! mwa mwa!" satoru kisses his phone repeatedly as you come in view. causing you to laugh at his antics.

"Hi sukuna," you say, remembering his face from one of your classes, "Hello, woman." "That's not how you talk to a lady!" yuji is heard from chosos phone. "You have the brat with you, choso?" sukuna asks gruffly, staring at choso through the corner of his phone, eventually seeing the salmon haired brat.

you take a sip of cold water as you listen to the conversation everyone has on the phone. but sugurus gaze seemed fixated on you.

"suguruuu! should I host a party? maybe toji and sukuna can finally get some bitches." "suck my dick you albino bitch" sukuna says aggressively. before toji speaks up "aren't you a virgin?" and eventually the call goes crazy with satoru, toji and sukuna arguing with one another you briefly see nanami join the call for 5 seconds before he leaves, shoko coming back into the cameras view. you wave towards her in the mist of the argument.

you eventually leave to go check on the food which was done from how most of the liquid had evaporated from the rice yet still enough to make it soft and moist to eat. you plate the brown rice and chicken on the plate for both you and suguru adding some pickled cucumber on the side with a small salad.

turning off the stove top you check the cookies you were baking that almost looked ready, grabbing a knife to poke into it seeing very little batter on the knife before closing the oven.

you hand suguru his plate before putting yours down, getting cups to poor some juice into, handing sugurus his cup while taking a sip of yours.

you watch as sugurus head subconsciously nods up and down almost like he's aproving how tasty your food is, letting out a hum of delight. suguru ends the rowdy call before powering off his phone to enjoy his meal in peace. to say this was the best meal of his college life, it is the best.

"what is this?" he asked curiously still taking bites of the food. "it's called pelau my mother always made it for me when she felt like cooking for little."

suguru would for sure continue buying ingredients for the house just so he can try the multitude of dishes you have in store.

[muntitled]

𝙄𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙋𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙀𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Toji is intent on ruining every other man for you

Warnings: Language, Toxic Relationship, fwb, Age Gap, Minor Gaslighting, Jealousy, Slight Angst, Coercion, Manipulation, Manhandling, Possessiveness, PDA, Threats, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, DUB/CON, Grinding, Forced Orgasm, Rough Sex, Toji Filming You, Video Sex?, Humiliation Kink, Exhibition Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Neediness, Mutual Masturbation, Humping, Spitting, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, DDLG, Massive Praise Kink, Threats, Slight CNC, Extreme Humiliation, Forced Breeding

A/N: Please proceed with caution, I beg

Perhaps your first mistake is assuming you could open his message, glance over it with hooded, glossy eyes, and swipe out, with the blatant intention of ignoring him.

Toji is rarely someone who fancies wasting time. He types like the old man he is, with messages devoid of emoji's or textual abbreviations.

He had simply and succinctly written:

I miss your face.

His message is unambiguous with the expectation that you are now supposed to drop every commitment you might harbour on this thunderous Thursday night to accommodate him and his nighttime hard-on that probably hit him in a slump of boredom.

It irritated you to imagine how secondary you always seem to be in his mind's eye. It pissed you off to think that his words when he fucked you, his blatant degrdation, may hold a sliver of truth. Perhaps you really were just a sex toy he only makes use of when he wishes for a break from the rest of the world and its obligations. That piercing thought that he used you accommodate all his kinks, while he continuously failed to claim you amongst his associates... it broke you. It left you feeling cheap and ragged and worthless and-

another message peaks over your home screen:

I know you're seeing this. Tell him to fuck off.

"Everything okay?" Your head snaps up from your phone, immediately meeting the eyes of the man you had just kissed under the awning of your Townhouse patio. His warm eyes which had stayed warm throughout the duration of your date are now hooded in concern.

"Everything's perfectly fine," You attempt to reassure your coworker who had just taken you on a fantastic date. There is an inflection in your voice which you quickly attempt to clear, "Just a message from one of my students-"

You're interrupted by another incoming notification which you instinctively check.

I miss your cunt. Need to see you touch yourself.

Swiping out of that particular message had been significantly more difficult, and it took all your willpower to ignore the slew of notifications.

"My kids tend to send messages outside office hours too," your date soldiers on, bending his tall frame hoping to draw your attention once again. "It's like they don't understand the concept of school time and downtime. Teachers have lives too,"

Your eyes narrow infinitesimally at the strain in his voice when he says, "I like seeing you in academic work mode, though. It's hot." You immediately notice his words as a veneer to mask the irritation at having your date interrupted by your notifications. All that hangs between you two now is the rites of passage one is expected to complete at the end of every date.

'Ask me up' his eyes practically pleaded, as you noticed him send tiny glances at your front door, 'Ask me up and let's get this over with',

And perhaps, maybe you would have invited him up. Lord knows your own arousal had been building with the steady stream of Toji's messages, one more quick glance revealed the final message:

Do you honestly imagine yourself calling that puny little thing, Daddy?

A shuddering breath leaves your throat as a million questions bombard a million other statements racing through your mind. Questions of how the fuck Toji knew you were on a date were overshadowed by the realization that you are going to sleep with this stranger tonight. You are going to find a new anchor and a brand new distraction.

"Would you like to stay for a drink-" You asked, or would have asked, had it not been for the sheer shock at having your own door open behind you. You spin around, utterly speechless as you and your date both watch Toji answer your door.

"She doesn't drink," He says, leaning his bare, muscled shoulder against your doorframe, the rest of him is clad in his sweatpants, the drawstring left lazily to hang, "So finding any beverage alcoholic enough for her to negate the fact that you're not going to make her cum, will be quite the feat." Your coworker bristles at Toji's remark, but you're corralled into silence. It is as if your brain can not comprehend what your eyes are seeing in front of you. Your voice is dwindling as you attempt to ask,

"Where did you… How the hell did you get my keys?" But Toji disregards you as easily as he has been doing for the duration of your relationship. Arousal be damned, all you allow yourself to feel in this very moment is red, white, and hot, anger.

It is so easy for him to look past you, so easy for him to pretend you're not there when his cock isn't forcing you to take his cum. The anger pulsates through you, straining your tear ducts. If it weren't for his sudden, inexplicable movements you probably would have cursed him out with tears streaking your face.

With his eyes still on your date, Toji pulls your limp body against him. He dips his head to splay a calloused kiss at the side of your head before letting his hands drift over the curvy outlines of your body. He rubs you soothingly, in a way he knows would get you into a compliant, likely sated state as he pushes your head onto his bare chest.

"You're still standing here?" His head tilts as he stares down your date; a scarred lip curling at the end. "Would you like to watch?" By this point, you're so deep into detangling your own conflicting emotions that you're not even sure who Toji is speaking to. What you are aware of is his bulge rubbing against you from behind. His grip on your hips are concrete as he looks at the now utterly angered man, "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to," Toji's lips graze your ear, "She does enjoy putting on a show,"

You're utterly horrified that his words and raucous display have your colleague lumbering away from your doorstep and racing to his car, never looking back.

"That is an utter shame. I think he would've liked to see how needy you get when you wanna cum-" But you've finally gained enough sensibility to push him away from you. Your heart is beating loud in your ear as you push past him and into your living room.

"Where is it,"

"My dick? It's in my pants and it wants your attention-"

"Your shirt!" Your voice thunders up into the rafters of your living room's ceiling, likely in vicious combat with the thunder groaning outside. "You're going to get your shirt and you're going to leave my house and you will then proceed to leave my fucking life!" You're pushing over cushions and decorative pillows as you search frantically for Toji's shirt, "Give me my fucking house keys and leave me the fuck alone, Toji, I'm serious!"

In the tempest of your movements, frizzy hair wild from your outburst and your manic movements, you are utterly seething to find him directly behind you. His head, dipping into the nape of your neck, deposits a row of kisses as he pushes himself up against you.

"I really need to fuck you." He says, completely reducing your earlier words into nothingness, "I need to hear you make those needy little whimpers of yours and I need you to call me Daddy, okay? I need you to tell Daddy you want him to make you a Mommy," He is utterly delirious as he fists your breasts over your buttoned shirt and thrust his hips into your backside. He is deluded by his own fantasies, guided by his own arousal with little to no thought for your own feelings. You hated that his desires flowed parallel to yours. You hated that you wanted exactly what he wanted. You hated that your panties were already steadily getting soaked at just the thought of him needing you so much he started humping lazily into your ass. "Daddy needs you to take care of him, hm? Can you do that, pretty girl?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, afraid that it might bleed into a horrendous moan, "When have you ever taken care of me, Toji? You fucking humiliated me-" He spins you around until your chest is facing him. You fight to evade the sight of his cock straining against his grey sweatpants as you stare blankly up at him.

"You like it," Toji says, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your cheek, "And I like that you like it." And perhaps, maybe a sick, emotionally damaged part of you did enjoy it when he made you suffer a little. His words bring revelation, as you think back to seconds ago, how him touching you - disrespecting you in front of your coworker brought on a heightened state of arousal.

"Make yourself cum." He commands as he hurriedly undoes the buttons of your blouse. You quickly notice that his patience has finally cracked, and a vexed scowl now dances on Toji's face as he discards your blouse on the floor, "No more questions. Make yourself fucking cum-" He growls, as he forces you down onto your couch with a hand gripping your scalp and another, pulling a wayward pillow in front of you.

"Make yourself cum because when I touch you, your pleasure is going to be the least of my fucking concerns."

You eye the pillow with slight trepidation while Toji eyes you from above. His hand is still firmly placed on top of your head, lightly craning it backwards to see every emotion running through your face.

"Keep the skirt on," He orders, and watches with hungry eyes as you slowly take off your underwear and mount the cushion in front of you.

"Give me your phone," he is already grabbing at your device, fumbling for the camera.

"Toji, please-"

"It's Toji, now!?" He asks, laughing breathlessly as he presses record and pushes the camera into your face, "Who the fuck is Toji to you?"

Your eyes snap shut, hoping to get away from the invading insectile lense or fresh coat of arousal betweenyour thighs. Your mind is utterly fried by the stimulation you're getting from every output. Your hips have started languidly moving against the pillow, feeling pathetically satiated by the friction against your soaked little clit,

"Look at you- Fuck!" Toji removes his hand on your head to lightly paw at the bulge so deliriously close to your face, "Look at what a fucking slut you are! Do your little work friends know how stupid you get when you're on the verge of cumming-"

"Toji-"

"I said who the fuck is Toji to you!?" The sheer and utter cruelty in his tone has you humping the pillow faster, while you clumsily raise a hand to paw at your breasts. Unable to keep his composure any longer, Toji's hand descends into his sweatpants as he begins to stroke his aching dick in unison with your hips. You watch with hooded, fucked out eyes. Your pillowy lips pull in between your teeth as a pornographic moan bubbles from within your chest.

You decide to give in. "P-Please Daddy, Please fuck me- I fucking need you to cum inside me- p-please-" You're unable to stop, feeling your wetness spread along the pillow, as you watch him stroke intently, "Fuck me- I need you to fuck me, fuck me please, Daddy-" You're utterly breathless, repeating your words like a wanton, desperate whore, "Please… Daddy," you continue to whisper, "Daddy,"

"Fuck-you look so fucking sexy, baby," He doesn't know whether to look at the video of your hips moving greedily against the pillow, or to watch the real thing: your hips making a web of sticky trails of arousal on the couch.

"Apologise to Daddy, like a good girl," He really wants to fuck you but his own pride, the curse of his averous stands in his way, "Tell Daddy you're sorry for being a foolish little whore. Tell him you'll never ignore a message from him ever again-" your shoulders flinch at the sound of your phone being discarded on the floor but still, your hips are unrelenting as you say, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry." Drool drips from the side of your mouth, falling along your exposed breasts, which Toji squeezes recklessly. "Never! I'll never ignore another message from you ever, ever, ever," you're operating on autopilot, as you watch him release his cock from inside his sweatpants, his fingers prod and twist at your nipple.

"I miss your mouth," He utters drunkenly as he bends down, "Kiss me," And you obey as you rise to meet his lips. The soft roughness of Toji's lips only has your hips humping desperately against the pillow once more, his tongue forcing its way inside until you're both kissing with lewdity and ferocity. "Fucking slut-" he says, pulling back to push you backwards,

"My horny humping girl is so ready for Daddy to fuck her isn't she?" You're completely flooded with anticipation, it flows through your arteries, alerting every part of your brain. You feel as though you're about to taste euphoria as Toji roughly pulls your hips to the edge of the couch, lifting it to meet his cock which he hurriedly slams into you.

He fucks you, hard and rough and as needy as you feel- hovering above you so every stroke has his pelvis pushing against your clit as you fucks you into your own couch.

"You thought you could just fucking get away from me, hm?" There's a heavy condescending tone in his voice, one that has you arching your back with your lips pulled between your teeth. You're striving to get away from his harsh thrusts because the pleasure is way too much . It's all bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out everywhere and anywhere.

"I fucking told you, didn't I!?" Droplets of water fall from his hair as he watches you so intensely. You think you might cum on the spot, "Daddy fucking told you that you can't ever say no to him- you can't ever tell him to stop- Stop fucking moving!" But your movements have him more turned on than you'd initially thought, allowing him to use the advantage of his brawn, to lock you down with his iron grip at your hips. You're trapped on the couch underneath him, as he continues to fuck you like you don't exist,

"If you keep moving like that- fuck! If you keeping fucking trying to get away Daddy will have no choice but to cum inside you," Your legs tingle with the nearness of your euphoria, it only expands as he brings his lips directly onto of yours as he mutters, "Daddy's going to cum inside you, okay? Maybe that's what you need to realise you can't talk to other men? Maybe getting you fucking pregant will make sure you'll stop being a fucking slut-"

His cock is shallow and relentless inside your soaked, gummy walls, it pushes against everything it can find and is utterly relentless on that one sensitive bundle of nerves that only he seems to be able to find.

"Are you going to cum!?" He asks, "Because I'm so fucking close baby- I want you to cum with Daddy, okay? Be a good girl for once in your fucking life-"

"FUCK-" You're a screaming, wet mess as you cum so violently, it disrupts the flow of your entire body, "Thats it… Gonna get you pregnant- oh fuck-" he exclaims, his white hot seed exploding inside of you, prolonging the overwhelming sensation of your own orgasm. It completely takes over your mind - feeling so completely full of him. Toji's hips lightly shudder as he attempts to milk as much of himself up inside of you, before pulling away. He is utterly mesmerised by the sticky, white cum oozing out of your puffy vagina. He watches, transfixed, as he brings his fingers up to slide as much of his cum inside you but it all comes sliding back.

"What are you," You're barely able to find your voice, "What are you doi-"

But he already has you upside down. His muscles flex he holds you carefully by your hips, with your head grazing the carpet. You recognize the movement as a relic of the old wives' tale. The second his cum is swimming inside you, you need to lay upside down to help it along.

No scientific evidence that this guarantees any sort of pregnancy, of course, but Toji strikes you as the superstitious type.

"Making sure the job's done." He says, "You think I was kidding about getting you pregnant?"

I can explain...

[lifetooshortlovetoolong]

Okay so I know everyone loves our little trifecta of TLT unreliable narrators because the variances of liar/oblivious/in denial are perfect but I think the Peak Combination of all three is embodied by IANTHE in The Unwanted Guest. Oh, and sprinkle gaslighting into that mix, too.

Girlie had Palamedes forcibly enter her head and immediately just starts to absolutely warp the narrative both knowingly and unknowingly.

Oh, you want control of the body she puppeting? Well, she's gonna create a complex scenario in which a stage play is taking place in her literal mind palace where she's gonna sit here and be kissed and attended to by figments of her subconscious while you have to answer her riddles three about where Bab's body is (well, technically one riddle, but whatever).

And she seems so on-top of this narrative, which is reflected in the choice of framing the entire short as a play, a format in which plot/setting circumstances compel a character's story, not vice versa. Ianthe makes it seem as if everything is as it should be, which what “should be” is her in power/control.

And yet, the entire time this trap of her own design is happening, she has no fucking clue what she's doing. She's making the riddle shit up to throw at Pal because she doesn't know where Bab's body is, she doesn't know why she doesn't know that, and she is also scared that not knowing that means that his soul is ultimately hers now. Not to mention the fact that Pal is metaphorically breathing down her neck to take control. She lies, she's oblivious, and she's completely in denial, all to save her own skin.

And so this perfectly lit (or should I say gaslit) scenario of the play comes crashing down around her as the core realities of Ianthe's psyche and soul are deconstructed by Pal. The attendants are gone, the coffins are empty, and Ianthe is left alone on stage while Pal leaves the auditorium altogether when he's figured her out. Her narrative power, in all its lying, obliviousness, and denial, is literally wrenched from her by him leaving the space she's shaped her truth in. It's an absolutely banger choice.

All this to say, Ianthe is the true neutral of unreliable TLT narration. Yes, she does know she's being unreliable, but she has no clue why and that's as intriguing as it a little unsettling and upsetting.

[tallulah477]

Playing Dirty

Survive the Night Day 3: Drugged

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Reader, Toxic!Reader, Jealous!Reader, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Alien Genitalia, Drugging, P in V, Slight Thigh Riding, Oral (male receiving), Creampie, Knotting, Size Difference, Sex while one person is under the influence of drugs, Kuru/Queue Play, Belly Bulge, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Manipulation/Gaslighting, Toxic Relationship, Brief Body Shaming (Reader body shames another female out of jealously - not to her face, but in her thoughts), Name Calling (significant use of the word "bitch"), Forced Cheating (not on Reader - Neteyam is kinda dating someone else although you can argue they aren’t together yet), Reader is a straight up bitch and completely unhinged ngl, She is horrible

Word Count: 10.3K

A/N: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

Summary: Neteyam is supposed to be yours. Your mate. So who the hell does he think he is running around with someone else? You need to do something. In this game, you'll be the victor - not her. Even if that means you have to play a little dirty.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Kuru - Neural Queue

Kaltx�� - Hello

Tanhì - Star, bioluminescent freckle

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Teylu - Beetle Larva, food and source of protein for the Na'vi

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

He’s starting to piss you off.

Nope. Wrong. Too late. You’re already pissed. Beyond pissed. 

Who the hell does he think he is? Running around with another woman like that right in front of you. What does he even see in her anyway?

Iäle. What a stupid name.

She’s not even pretty. And her tits are way too small - nonexistent actually. Neteyam wants someone with a little more to give. Like yours, for example. Although, it’s not very hard to have more than her. You may be smaller, the comparison of a human to a Na’vi structure is very stark, but you’ve got a lot to compensate for that. Plenty of bounce and soft curves for him to play with and enjoy. You’ve seen him appreciating the view before, when your v-neck t-shirts or tank tops ‘accidentally’ ride a little too low to be considered modest and his pretty golden eyes follow the movement, tracing the curve of your breasts and lingering on the hardened peaks of your nipples where they poke through your top on the days you forget to wear a bra.

You’ve been forgetting a lot more recently. Wow. Crazy. 

And since you’re smaller, your pussy is clearly going to be tighter too. You think about it all the time, taking Neteyam’s thick cock between your slick walls, feeling him spear you open and filling you up so much you hope you feel him in your throat. He needs someone who’s going to treat him right, squeezing around his length and working him up like it’s your sole purpose in life to be his personal living fleshlight. Iäle can’t give him that. She has ‘selfish lover’ written all over her. She’d probably just chase her own release, make him get off just to say she did and then that’s it. You, on the other hand… you would milk him dry - pulling orgasm after orgasm from his gorgeous muscular body like he deserves until he’s a twitching and overstimulated mess. 

You want to see it so bad - the way his spent cock would shrink and retract back into its sheath in protection from your oh-so-giving hands and mouth and pussy. You want to see the goofy and satisfied smirk on his face as he shivers from the aftershocks, just like the one he gives you when you race through the forest and he pretends like you can keep up with him only to completely demolish you in the final stretch. 

Only this one would be better, with his amber eyes so dazed and hazy and not able to focus on anything at all. You’d fuck him so good you think there might even be drool trailing down his cheek from the corner of his mouth, visual proof of a job well done. 

The point is you have more than her. Would be a million times better than her. Duh. 

You see it clear as day every time you close your eyes. You and him taking the next step and moving from just best friends forever to mates - a bond stronger than forever, an eternity bonded together in an unbreakable connection that can never be severed. You’d be his and he’d be yours. Permanently. You know Eywa would agree with you. You may not have your own kuru, but she would find a way to unite you both. 

And if she won’t. You will. 

So now here’s the riddle: If you see what the future will be every time you close your eyes, then why the fuck is it that when you open them right now… he’s with her. 

Smiling at her, holding her hand, their tails flicking behind them and occasionally brushing against each other as they walk towards you. 

Bitterly, you close your eyes and open them again. Nope, still there. You do it again. Still here and closer. You do it again and again, rapid frustrated blinks make your eyelashes flutter as you hope that the next one will show just him. That she will disappear and cease to exist, stop even breathing the same air as him, but she never does. The quick blinks just serve to tire your eyes and make the couple flicker in and out of sight, getting closer and closer to you with each blink. 

“Kaltxì, tanhì.” Neteyam says with a grin. “What’s wrong with you? Something in your eye?”

Iäle smiles at you too, sending you a small wave with the hand not currently on trial and being threatened to be cut off for touching what’s rightfully yours. “Kaltxì, y/n,”

You force a bright smile on your face as you look up at them. “Hi, you two! No, yeah. Just something in my eye, I guess. It’s out now though,” You eye them suspiciously, gaze unable to help but fall to where their hands are still joined together. “Where are you off to?”

“We were going to head to the river,” Iäle responds, and you just barely hold off a wince from how her voice grates on your ears. How can Neteyam stand to hear her speak without wanting to pluck out his own eardrums? “There’s a spot there that’s really nice that has a view of the whole length of the water.” You let out a small hum of acknowledgement instead of rolling your eyes the way you want to. “But Mo’at has called for me. She was going to prepare the paints for tonight’s celebration, but some of the little ones have become ill and she needs to tend to them, so the task falls to me, I guess.”

“Aw, too bad,”

Iäle shrugs, small smile still present on her lips. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Anything I can do to help is an honor,”

Ugh, spare me. 

“Okay, well, I’ll be heading over there now,” She says, finally. To your relief she lets go of Neteyam’s hand, but your perceptive gaze doesn’t miss the way she squeezes it as she does. Nor do you miss the way Neteyam grins at her in response. “I’ll see you both tonight at the celebration!”

“Byeee,” You respond. Neteyam doesn’t look at you in confusion or pinch his lips together at your tone, so you suppose you were successful at making it sound friendly. 

Your eyes follow Iäle as she heads back towards the center of the village, disappearing behind the group of training warriors on her way to the healer’s tent. As soon as she’s out of sight, Neteyam turns to you and crosses his arms across his chest. Your eyes zero in on the corded muscle of his arms, pulling taut as they flex with his movement, but your ogling opportunity is cut short when you spot the knowing look on his face as he stares down at you. 

“What?”

“Go on,” He prompts. “Say what you’re going to say.”

“How do you know I was going to say anything?” You reply, sass heavy in your voice. Neteyam just raises a hairless brow in response. “You two seem close.”

“There it is,”

“I’m just stating a fact,”

Neteyam sighs. “I like her. That’s what happens when you like someone,”

“Is that right? Then maybe you should hold my hand more often,” You grumble, turning on your heel to walk back towards the lab. He’s quick to follow you just like you knew he would. 

“I hold your hand all the time,”

“Is that right?” You repeat. 

“Y/n,”

You stop suddenly and turn to look back at him. He towers over you like this, so close that if you just took a step closer you would be face to face with the little (yeah fucking right) funzone hidden safely underneath his loincloth. You don’t, instead choosing to crane your neck back to look up at his face, your own brows furrowed as you snap your fingers together twice and point down towards the ground. 

“Really?” He asks, exasperated. Your only response is another rapid round of snaps and an aggressive point downwards. 

Watching Neteyam crouch down in front of you at your beck and call makes heat spark in your core. He’s such a good boy - would be such a good, good boy for you if he could just get his head out of his ass. In the crouch he’s closer to your height, still taller but not so much so that you're craning your neck to see his face, and he holds your gaze as you glower at him. 

“Serious time now,” You say. “Eyes on me.”

“They already are,” He shoots back, and grins in satisfaction at your glare. “Fine. Yes, ma’am,”

And Eywa, it’s like he’s trying to get you to cream your pants saying it like that. 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again–hey!” You shout, watching as his amber eyes roll upwards at your words. “I. Do. Not. Like. Her. I don’t trust her.”

“So you say, but I still don’t know why–”

“I have my suspicions, Teyam. I don’t trust her intentions with you.” Like intending to take you away from me when you’re MINE. “She’s no good.”

“Why is she no good?”

Cause I said so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Neteyam sighs again, eyes softening as he looks down at your serious face. “Of course I trust you, tanhì,”

“Then trust me now,” You say, voice soft with sympathy as your hand reaches out to caress his arm. His big and muscle packed toned arm. “She’s going to do something to hurt you.”

You want to grind your teeth into dust at the way Neteyam clearly wants to argue with you, but the corner of his mouth just lifts into a pacifying smile. “I know you’re looking out for me. I promise I’ll be careful,”

Liar. 

“You’re such a good friend,”

Fucking ouch. 

Your eye twitches at the words, a grimacing smile pulling at your own lips. “The best friend! Of course,”

“Hm,”

He stands up from his crouch and you turn to resume your walk back towards the lab. Neteyam is a gentleman through and through, so even though he needs to go home and prepare for tonight’s festivities, he walks you home to make sure you're safe. He would do it for anyone - his daddy raised him right like that. But it makes you feel all warm and gooey inside to think that he would only do it for you. You’re his best friend, his future mate, and it’s his job to keep you safe from anything and everything that might try to hurt you. He loves you. You smile smugly at the thought. Neteyam, the mighty warrior - your own personal protector. 

It’s mighty dangerous in the Pandoran forest for a human. Anything could happen. You could break your mask and die of suffocation in a matter of minutes. A thanator could lunge from the dense treeline and gobble you up like you were no more than a midday snack. You could trip and twist your ankle, maybe even sprain it, and Neteyam would have to pick you up in his strong arms that could toss you around like a ragdoll if he wanted to and carry you all the way back to the lab, cradled against him for safety.

Hm. 

You yelp as you quickly catch the toe of your sneaker on the slightly uneven ground on your next step, purposefully throwing yourself onto the ground with a pained gasp as you clutch at your ankle.

“Shit!” Neteyam curses, crouching down and looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Ow,” You whine, hands still wrapped protectively over your ‘injured’ ankle. “Teyam, it hurts!”

He studies your ankle carefully, his hand reaching out to brush gently across the soft skin to check for tenderness or swelling.

“OW!” You squeal, tears welling up in your eyes at the imaginary pain. 

“Okay, okay,” Neteyam relents, pulling back his hand so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you further. “It doesn’t look broken, but we should probably still get it looked at.”

“No,” You say, voice wobbling as your lower lip trembles. “No, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“Tanhì, it’s their job. We need to make sure its not–”

“No,” You interrupt. No way. The nurse would take one look at your ankle and bitch you out for wasting her time. No thank you. “It’s fine. I promise. Just twisted and hurts right now. But…”

Neteyam looks unsure. “But what?”

You can’t help how your eyelashes flutter at him. “Can you carry me? I don’t think I can walk right now,”

“Of course, tanhì,”

He picks you up bridal style, which is fitting considering you’ll be his bride one day, and effortlessly cradles you against his chest. You tilt your head to the side, leaning your head against his shoulder as you look up at him with a small smile and a sweet ‘Thank you, Teyam,’ on your lips. His chest is hard and warm against your ear as it presses against his skin, and you wish that you didn’t have to wear this stupid mask to survive outside so you could press your entire face into the solid wall of muscle and inhale his scent. 

The walk back to the lab nearly puts you to sleep with how comfortable you are against him. His steps are careful and smooth, barely jostling you at all and making it feel more like a gentle rocking as it soothes you into a peaceful state. You haven’t felt this calm in a long time. Neteyam has been stressing you out - courting that bitch and parading her around right in front of you. You don’t know why he’s trying to make you jealous, but it’s making you more angry than anything else. This is making up for it though. You think you could forgive his little games and lapse in judgment if he just carries you around pressed against his body a little bit each day. 

He’d have to do other things too, of course. But this would be a start. 

He carries you through the airlock, taking your mask from you and placing it with the others along the attached shelf before grabbing a carbon mask for himself all without letting you touch the ground. He moves with a flawless confidence as he loops the mask around his neck, feet barely pausing in their journey as he takes you all the way up to your room. It’s like something out of your dreams when he lays you on your bed, and for a couple blissful seconds you have the soft mattress at your back and Neteyam’s large hulking figure overtop you just like it’s always meant to be. You wish that he would kneel down on it too, hold himself over you as he sweeps his pretty golden eyes along your sprawled out frame. You’d stretch out even more, putting the entire length of your body on display for him, maybe even let out a small enticing moan just to give him a little show - a little taste at what was to come.

But he’s off the bed and kneeling at your side all too soon, fingers reaching out again to brush against your ankle in concern. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks. “I can still get Jane to come look at it.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. Just twinged it a bit, that’s all. Jane would just get pissed we wasted her time,”

“If you’re sure,”

“I am,” You insist. “Thank you though, Teyam. For carrying me. You’re really strong.”

Neteyam hums, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am,”

He stands up, taking a breath from his mask, and you can tell he’s gearing up to leave. The selfish part of you doesn’t want him to. He should be around you all the time. The thought of leaving your side shouldn’t even pop into his head. And if he has to, if he really has no other choice, you should see pain burning in his amber eyes - the feeling of sorrow so overwhelming that he feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest just to have to leave you for a moment to go on a hunt or use the bathroom.

Annoyance sparks when you don’t see that pain evident in his face. He looks fine. He’s getting ready to leave you, while you’re hurt, and he’s fine. 

“You’re coming to the celebration tonight, right?” He asks when he pulls the mask away, and you plant another sickly sweet smile on your face in response.

“Yeah! I’m gonna be your plus one, of course,”

“Yeah, okay,” Neteyam chuckles. “I’m going to head back. I have some things I have to do before tonight, but I’ll be back to come get you in case you’re still having ankle pain.”

“Sounds good! Thank you, mighty warrior,”

He smirks at the nickname, but doesn’t reply. And then he’s walking out of your room, beautiful expanse of back curving as he ducks under the doorframe, tail flicking out lazily behind him, and wow…

You hate to watch him go, but love to watch him leave. 

The more you think about it, the more you determine that no - you’re not going to stand for this nonsense anymore. 

This little game has been going on for far too long, and it’s about time that this victor claims her prize. That doesn’t mean you have to play by the rules though.

Besides, what fun is a game without playing a little dirty?

The people in the lab are more than helpful without even realizing it. You listen, enraptured, as they tell you about a new plant discovered just off the side of the Hallelujah Mountains. It’s a rare find, and they tell you that the effects when ingested are shockingly similar to some other drugs found on Earth. 

Despite the similarities to some not-so-nice Earth drugs, the scientists in the lab are excited about it. 

“Mo’at says it might be useful for the children that have been sick recently. They’ll be groggy and probably not remember anything, but it will force their bodies to relax and recover instead of them wasting energy being uncomfortable or in pain,” One of them tells you, opening the small jar of powered plant. “It’s potent as a powder so it only takes a small amount to be effective.”

Frankly you don’t know why they’re telling you all this. You don’t have anything to do with the science side of anything here, but you listen with rapt attention as they unknowingly tell you the answer to all your problems. You can practically see the little invisible label on the side of the jar now:

Mating Powder for the Hardheaded Na’vi

Side effects may include dizziness, confusion, mental fog, memory loss, or unconsciousness. 

Warning: For best effects, keep bitches named Iäle away from the consumer so that the provider may have the night of her life that she deserves. 

“Oh, how intriguing,” You tell them. “Very interesting indeed.”

Yeah. Sounds pretty damn perfect. 

You wait until everyone goes to dinner before sneaking back into the lab. They said the powder is potent, just a little bit needed to have the effect on the Na’vi children, so you think that amount plus a little extra should do the job for your stubborn Na’vi male. Slipping some into a small plastic baggie you steal from one of the tables is easy enough, and you're in and out of the lab with no one the wiser to the small little pouch of wish granting power stashed safely in your pocket. 

By the time Neteyam arrives back at the lab, the baggie is already hidden away out of sight, tucked between your breast and the cup of your bra. You don’t want to wear one, it would be so much better to tease Neteyam with the sight of your unbound tits through the thin material of your pretty party dress. But alas, you’ve also chosen to forego panties and you need a place to keep the baggie. So bra it is. 

You’ve made sure it’s at least a sexy lacy one though. You’re gonna get fucked in it tonight, you’re sure of it. 

“What do you think?” You ask him, twirling in your spot and posing to give him a little show of the outfit. “You like?”

Neteyam nods. “Yes, you look beautiful, tanhì. You always do,”

“Do you think I look sexy?”

The slight flush visible on Neteyam’s cheeks is confirmation enough despite his silence. 

“Mate worthy, one might say?” You continue, and this time his hairless brows shoot up. 

“Mate? Are you searching for a mate?”

You hear it in his voice. The jealousy. It’s very subtle, barely even noticeable - most people wouldn't have even caught onto it. But you’re smart, you’re brain in tune with all things Neteyam and Neteyam-like, so all you need is the smallest hint and you can tell it’s there. You just barely hold off a smirk, instead choosing to stare at him with wide eyes. “Jealous?” 

“No, I just didn’t know you were interested in finding one. Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe,”

Neteyam lets out a harsh rush of air that you think could be a laugh. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Eywa, you made this man so… beautiful. 

“Nope,” You smirk, coyly. “Guess you’re just gonna have to wait and find out.”

The walk back to the village is a slow one. You need to be gentle on your ankle, it’s still pretty tender after your fall earlier after all. Plus the longer alone time with Neteyam is an added benefit. You’re going to have to see her at this celebration, so you’re going to need a little bit of extra incentive to get through it. 

By the time you make it to the village’s center, The People are dancing. A flurry of bodies flowing and twisting to the steady beat of the song take up most of the site. The fire sparks at the center of it all, bright and sparkling as it shoots out crackles that arch over top the heads of the dancing Na’vi. There’s people crouched or sitting along the outer ring of the celebration, indulging in food and drink rather than dance and you nudge Neteyam’s thigh, smiling as you point to a small opening of the circle just perfect for the two of you to claim as your own. 

This is how it’s supposed to be - just you and Neteyam enjoying the pleasures Pandora has to offer, side by side like a true mated pair. 

But the moment you sit down on the seating log, your irritation floods your content peace of mind. She’s here. 

She’s got such an attitude about her, pushing her way through the barely there space of the dancing clan and the resting members in the outer circle. What makes her think she’s good enough to make that space for herself? Just go around like a normal person. 

When Iäle makes it in front of you, you notice she only has one swoasey in each hand. 

“Kaltxì,” She smiles, handing one of the cups to Neteyam. She keeps the other one in her hand though, curling her now free hand around the rounded shape to cradle it. “Y/n, I thought to bring you one but I wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol as a human, but you can have this one if you want.”

This fucking bitch. How disrespectful. 

“Oh,” You say, and if you add a little more disappointment and sadness into your voice than you actually feel, that’s your business. “That’s okay. I’ll just go get my own.”

“I’ll go get you one, tanhì,”

“No,” You insist. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in just a minute.” 

You ignore Neteyam’s responding frown (and Iäle completely) as you make your way around the outside of the edges of the gathering. Your heart is pounding in your chest, anger boiling there like a pool of molten lava even as you try to keep your features neutral and smile at the Na’vi you pass. You’ve had enough - enough of this. You’re not going to let her embarrass you anymore. 

Wasn’t sure how you would handle the stronger alcohol - fuck off. 

The drink that finds its way into your hand is just as big as the ones Neteyam and Iäle are holding. It’s too much alcohol for you, that’s true, but fuck her for saying it out loud like your size is an insult. You take a sip from the cup, face twisting in disgust as a harsh shiver rocks your body at the taste. Gross, but much needed. 

Your eyes flicker around, searching for wandering eyes as you reach your fingers into your bra. The small baggie is still there and the opening pulls apart easily with a quick swipe of your thumb and pointer finger. Finding no prying eyes, you dump the contents into the cup. The powder dissolves into the drink almost as soon as it touches the liquid, and by the time you’ve shoved the empty baggie back into its hidey spot and swirled the cup a little in your palm, all remaining evidence of what you’ve just done have disappeared completely. 

When you return to the seating log you claimed, Neteyam and Iäle are still there too, and it seems they’ve found some food while you were gone. They’ve switched seats too - Neteyam taking up crouching facing the seats while Iäle has taken the space he was in when you left, leaving you to sit next to the absolute eye-roll of a Na’vi on the log. 

“Here, tanhì,” Neteyam says, handing you a small leaf holding some cooked teylu. You thank him with a pretty smile, pleased with the small declarations of loyalty he has shown for you despite his games. If he’s going to try to make you jealous, at least he’s man enough to still take care of you while he plays around. 

“Y/n,” Iäle says as she bites off a piece of her own teylu. “I hope I didn’t offend you earlier by not getting you a drink. That wasn’t my intention. I just thought—”

“No, it’s okay,” The forced brightness in your voice makes you want to throw up. “Of course it’s okay. No harm done.”

And you wish you could smack her responding smile off her face. 

Iäle’s voice grates on your nerves as she speaks, telling you both about her afternoon of painstakingly mixing together the paints for the newly passed warriors to wear. You pretend to sip at your drink throughout dinner, listening with rapt attention when Neteyam talks about how the day’s training session went and then with barely concealed boredom when Iäle mentions the sickness plaguing a few of the kids. 

“Mo’at thinks they should be well enough in a few days. Especially with the new medicine we are trying out to help keep them calm and rested as they recover.”

“That’s good,” Neteyam says and you quickly nod in ecstatic agreement when his eyes flick over to you.   

He’s done his first drink, the swoasey empty on the ground beside him, so you feign one last sip of your own before shoving it in his direction. 

“Teyam, you wanna finish it for me? Guess it was a little too much for me to handle after all,”

“Oh, okay,” Netayam says, taking the cup from your outstretched hand. “Thanks, tanhì.”

You watch in barely contained satisfaction as he takes a few large gulps of the drugged drink. You wonder how long it will take for it to start affecting him. It can’t be long, maybe just enough time to make up some excuse to leave and then make it back to the lab before it hits. And you can’t be around people when it happens. Especially not her. 

It’s just another confirmation that Eywa wants you and Neteyam to be together when another of Mo’at’s healers-in-training runs up and taps Iäle’s shoulder. Mo’at is busy with the celebration - the Tsahìk is needed to give her speech and blessing for the new warriors - but a few of the little ones are fretful and need an experienced healer’s attention. There are stars in your eyes as you watch Iäle solemnly get up from her seat and wave goodbye to you and Neteyam. You can tell she doesn’t want to leave, wants to stick around and possibly try to dance with your man, but luck happens to be on your side and now you have him all to yourself. 

You’re almost sad you can’t stay and enjoy the celebration as a couple. But there’s no rush. After today, he’ll be yours forever and every celebration from now on will be spent with you in his arms as his girl. 

Neteyam gulps down the rest of the alcohol as he shoves the last bite of teylu in his mouth, and you decide that that’s your sign to move this night along. 

“Teyam,” You whine, eyes wide as you reach down to gently touch your ‘injured’ ankle. “My ankle is starting to hurt again.”

Neteyam’s hairless brows furrow in worry, eyes shooting down to your ankle for just a second before meeting your own again. “You should really see Jane so she can make sure it’s nothing serious,”

“It’s fine,” You say. “Just too much walking on it too quickly I guess. Can you carry me home?”

Instead of answering, Neteyam licks his fingers clean and moves the two empty cups against the log so they’re out of people’s way before scooting around so that his back is to you. You happily wrap yourself around him, arms locked around his neck while his big hands catch your thighs as you jump to wrap your legs around his torso. 

You dig your face into his back as he walks, Neteyam hissing lightly as the cold glass of your mask presses into his spine. You ignore him though, instead enjoying the feeling of his muscles shifting against your front as you press yourself harder against his sturdy frame. Your dress is too long and not being a team player right now - because if it was, it would be hanging differently. As it is, the little excess fabric it has is settling between your thighs and acting as a barrier between your bare pussy and Neteyam’s sculpted back. 

Which is a problem, obviously, because Neteyam’s back muscles should be massaging against your clit right about now. 

Neteyam makes it about three-fourths of the way back to the lab before the drug starts to hit him. He stops suddenly mid-stride, swaying slightly as one hand drops its grip on your thigh to press against the side of his head. 

“Teyam?” You say, voice soft and full of concern. Oh nooooo, what could possibly be wrong? “You okay?”

“Yes,” He grumbles, breathing coming out just a little bit shaky. “Just dizzy.”

“Maybe you had too much alcohol. Let’s hurry up and get back and you can lay down in my bed.”

You watch as he shakes his head as if to clear it, hand coming back down to hold your thigh as he forces himself to continue the rest of the journey. But once the drug starts to take effect on your large Na’vi, it shows no mercy as it wraps him tighter under its powerful grip. His first dizzy sway soon turns into another, and another. 

“Neteyam!” You shout, your grip around his neck tightening as you brace yourself against him when he stumbles forward.

“S-sorry,” He gasps, hands trying to hold you steady as he rights himself. “Sorry, tanhì. Sorry. I-I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It’s okay,” You soothe, gently reaching up to brush your hand across his damp forehead and swiping a few braids out of his face. “Just a little farther and you can rest.”

The last trek of the walk takes significantly longer than it should have and Neteyam is not doing well by any means. His breathing is harsh now, nearly panting as he struggles to fight off the nearly constant dizziness that he’s feeling. His skin is hot to the touch, sweaty as he stumbles through the Pandoran forest, mumbling obscenities to himself in between nearly incoherent sentences as he pushes forward. You feel a little bad seeing him this way. You love him and you would never want him to suffer, but he brought this on himself. 

When another one of his stumbles nearly throws you from his back entirely, you think that maybe you gave him a bit too much. Maybe you should also get off of his back since it would probably be easier for him to walk without your additional weight on him and having to make sure you don’t fall off every five seconds, but that would mean not feeling the stretch and shift of his hard muscles under your body and, well… you never said you weren’t selfish. 

“I was thinking,” You start, voice low in his ear as your hand once again finds the expanse of his forehead, pressing against it to help keep his head up. “We didn’t see where Iäle got the drink from. Maybe she did something to it.”

“W-what?” Neteyam whispers, brow scrunching under your touch. 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. You’re not even sure if he’s really going to remember this all anyway, but you smile to yourself regardless, pleased at the seed of doubt you’ve planted. 

The door to the lab is just in sight when Neteyam collapses for the first time. It’s a testament to how strong the Na’vi are, truly, because you know that you gave him a hell of a dose and he was still able to make it all the way back from the village before his body completely gave up on him. You do fly off his back this time when he goes down, landing heavily on your side as he crumples beside you. 

He’s not in his right mind now, so you don’t have to worry about keeping up pretenses with your imaginary injury. Instead, you scramble up, grabbing hold of his arm and urging him to stand back on his feet again. “Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He collapses again at the door, his body falling into the thick metal of the airlock with a loud bang, and you let out a startled gasp at the sight of his head nearly colliding against it too. Fuck, that would have sucked. You want him lax and vulnerable, susceptible to your desires as you guide you both towards becoming one - you don’t want him knocked the fuck out by taking an accidental blow to the head. 

He mumbles something when you help him up again, and even in his disoriented state he’s still a gentleman as he tries his best not to put too much of his weight on you. Your hand smacks against the open button, ushering Neteyam inside the chamber as it depressurizes from the carbon filled Pandoran air to breathable oxygen. Neteyam takes a knee to rest as you pause next to the mask station, replacing your mask and pack on the shelf and grabbing a carbon mask for Neteyam. You loop the carbon mask around your own neck, worried that taking the time to try to fit it around Neteyam’s might mean the difference between making it to your bedroom and dealing with a passed out Na’vi in the middle of the hallway. 

“Come on, baby,” You say, cupping his cheek and tilting his head towards you. His big amber eyes are glazed over. You think they look so beautiful. 

It seems like forever by the time you finally make it into your bedroom. Neteyam collapses on the bed, large body taking up the entirety of the mattress as he sprawls out, legs dangling off the edge. You pull the carbon mask from around your neck, smiling softly down at Neteyam as you place the mask over his parted mouth. Your hand slips underneath the back of his head as you try to lift it up. It’s heavy in your hold, and Neteyam does nothing to help you as you try to work the strap of the mask underneath it. It takes some adjusting, but a brief moment of perseverance and you’re able to get it under and looped around his neck.

The mask itself is fogged up with Neteyam’s quick breathing and, after a few seconds, you pull it off and rest it on his sternum. 

“I feel heavy,” Neteyam slurs, golden eyes closing for just a second before opening back up, but they’re still unfocused - seeing things, but maybe not actually seeing things. 

“I know, baby. I know,” You coo, a slight pout pulling at your lips as you squeeze reassuringly at his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. I’m here.”

You know the drug is supposed to put him to sleep, and that’s fine - that’s the goal actually - eventually. But it’s not ideal for right now. Things have to happen first. And with the way Neteyam is looking… well, you don’t know how much time you have left so you need to work fast. 

You climb on the bed, tossing one of your legs over Neteyam’s thighs so you can straddle it and fuck. Oh God, fuuuuckkk. The feeling of his muscular thigh against your bare pussy already makes you want to cum. You’re so wet - have been for a majority of the walk back from having Neteyam’s irresistible body pressed against yours for so long, his muscles teasing their strength as they ripple under his skin. His thigh is no different. Just a block of hard, solid, corded muscle that presses just perfectly against your throbbing clit. 

You allow yourself one experimental rock, dragging the swollen bundle of nerves across his skin. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, hands subconsciously gripping onto his waist to hold him close. You hear Neteyam let out a noise similar to a hum at the movement, too, and the sound shoots straight to your core. 

“Fuck,” You whimper. Get it together. You need to focus on the prize. 

You force your hips to stay still and move your hands inwards, slowly caressing the flat, toned plane of his stomach as you go before tracing the bottom of Neteyam’s cummerbund with the tips of your fingers. 

“Let’s get you comfortable, okay?” You say, softly. “So you can relax.”

Perhaps you should have thought this through a little more. Neteyam’s laying down and the cummerbund ties at the back, so it's another game of ‘shove your hands under the massive amount of deadweight and see if you can fanegal your way around it’. You do, of course. You're persistent in getting what you want. But it takes longer than you would have liked and more effort than you wanted to give, especially given that you have your drenched pussy pressed against his thigh right now and you want nothing more than to hump him like a thanator in heat.

But when it’s finally off, it’s worth it to see that little extra strip of skin. You can’t wait to trace every single one of those exposed bioluminescent freckles scattered around his waist with your tongue. 

“So much better, huh?” You say, tossing the cummerbund to the floor. “Not as restricting.”

Your hands find the hem of your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your pretty lacy bra as your dress joins Neteyam’s cummerbund on the floor. Neteyam’s hazy eyes do their best to follow your movements, and even though the confusion you see in them, they can’t leave the sight of your scantily clad body.

A satisfied smirk pulls at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your hands against his belly as the tops of your arms push your breasts together. The movement makes your clit brush against Neteyam’s thigh again, and you want to whine, want to do it again and again and again until you drench his gorgeous blue skin in your juices. But you’re caught in his gaze as his large golden eyes track your movement, unable to help tracing the curves despite his current state. 

Slowly, your hands drag down his belly, curving to his sides and messaging his hips for a moment before your fingers find the knot at the side of his loincloth. 

“Let’s get this off too,” You whisper. The knot stands no chance against your prying fingers and comes apart easily with just a few flicks and pulls. 

It feels like unwrapping a present as you pull the loincloth from Neteyam’s hips. You’ve seen down there before. The Na’vi aren’t as body conscious as humans are. Plus he’s your best friend, and there’s no need for modesty between friends. If you’ve taken a few extra peeks while he’s changing or bathing then that’s your business, just like you’ve caught him returning the favor more than a few times. 

But it still feels brand new as you stare at the flat space between his thighs. Excitement courses through your veins at the sight of it, your mouth watering at the thought that soon it’s gonna be glistening and puffy and parting at the center to make way for the real prize to come out. 

“Tanhì,” Neteyam mumbles, but you’re quick to shush him.

“Just relax, Teyam,” It hurts to pull your pussy from his thigh, but you have something more important to sit on soon. You just need to coax it out first. “Just feel.”

You settle between his legs on your stomach, hands pressing against his inner thighs and urging them apart a little further to give you better access to his center. You bite your lip to hide your smile, running a teasing finger along the slit before your lips replace your finger with a gentle kiss. 

The first drag of your tongue along his slit already has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve never gotten to do this before. You probably could have had other Na’vi lovers before if you really wanted to. You’re gorgeous and Neteyam isn’t the only sexy blue alien who you’ve caught staring at your assets before. But why would you ever want anyone else when you have your mighty warrior right here in front of you. Finally. 

Neteyam grunts above you as you lick at him, long and thorough swipes of your tongue across the slit, again and again, laving the area and coating it in your saliva until you taste the first signs of his arousal seeping from inside. You hum as the first bit of slick touches your tongue, coating your tastebuds and making your thighs clench together in pleasure. Your thumbs press into either side of the slit, pulling it apart slightly so your tongue can push in deeper, desperate for more of Neteyam’s delicious taste. 

Your tongue is relentless as you eat at him and you know that if he had control of his body, his hips would be canting up towards your face. You can picture it now - how next time will be. You’ll be between his legs again, mouth teasing at the flat alien space he has between his legs as you coax his cock out further and further out of its protective sheath with each swipe of your tongue. He’d have one hand clutching at your sheets, fisting them so hard you would probably have rips in them from how hard his fingers would dig into it. His other hand would be on the back of your head, large palm cradling the entirety of it as he presses you harder against him, moaning for you to lick faster, harder, deeper. You wonder how sensitive this part of him is. He’s moaning so much already, quiet punched out sounds that serve to urge you on, and you wonder how much louder he would be if he wasn’t so tired and drugged up. 

The taste of his slick makes your pussy gush, the more you lap up the more your body feels like it's on fire. You’ve heard about the Na’vi having something in their slick that’s intoxicating - your head feels fuzzy, feels good, like you're levitating on air and Neteyam is the only focal point you can see. And when you feel the first poke of Neteyam’s cock peeking through the now puffy and soaking opening of his slit, your hips can’t help the way they grind into the mattress.

You’re quick to wrap your lips around the protruding head, suckling gently at the exposed tip as your thumbs continue to rub soothingly up and down the sides of the now open slit, using the slick there to help the glide. Neteyam grunts at the feel of your lips around his cock, and he has just enough movement of his body left to be able to give a slight arch as you suck a bit harder. 

“Y/n,” He groans, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like that makes you want to scream. 

That’s right, baby. Say my name. 

It’s a blissful experience - Neteyam’s cock slowly filling your mouth more and more as it emerges from its sheath. Another inch and then another, each new barb and bump sliding across your tongue until the very tip of it hits the back of your throat. Despite him not being able to move much, you pin his hips down anyway - a dual combination of your own intense desire for him mixed with the increased need brought on by whatever is in his slick. 

His cock feels so good in your mouth, the texture along his length dragging against your tongue as the cone shaped tip of his cock bumps the inside of your cheek. You adjust again, opening your throat and forcing your head downwards. You gag when his cock breaches your airway, sputtering and choking yourself on him as you do your best to take him in. Fuck, he’s so big. You can’t breathe, can’t even think he’s so big, but you don’t want to move away. You’ve wanted this for so long so if you have to ruin your throat a little bit to make it happen, then so be it. 

The need for air cuts your plan short, and it takes the knowledge that this isn’t the last time you’ll be able to do this to allow yourself to pull off. Neteyam’s cock is shiny and glorious as you free it and allow it to slap against his lower belly. The base of his cock is the same gorgeous pattern of blue stripes that adorn the rest of his body, littered with bumps and barbs and tiny bioluminescent freckles that you know are going to feel magical inside of you. The tip is a pretty lavender color, the colors blending together almost artfully as it spreads towards the slight cone shaped head. Finally being able to look at it properly has you feeling feral, and you can’t resist the temptation to give one last sloppy lick along the entire length of it, the tip of your tongue gently teasing the ridges on the underside of the head before pulling away for good.

Neteyam’s panting is matching yours - deep, heavy, and quick as you both try to catch your breath. You climb up his body and straddle his waist. Your fingers are still a little wet from his slick as you cup his face and tilt it up, bringing his lips in alignment with yours. You press your own against his and you feel so small compared to him. His lips are twice the size yours are and wonder what it would feel like if the positions were reversed right now. You think you would burst into a ball of flames if you had him on top of you like this - his large, heavy body covering you completely and pressing you into your own mattress. Your tongue slides between his lips and glides against his own, and you moan at the rough feel of it.

“Next time we do this,” You murmur against his lips. “I want you to eat my pussy, okay?” You pull back, thumb caressing his bottom lip briefly before you bring the carbon mask back up to his mouth. “Wanna feel what that textured tongue of yours feels like.”

Neteyam gulps down the carbon like it's the only air he’s ever gotten, hazy golden eyes locked on yours as you scoot your hips back without ever breaking eye contact. Your ass meets his cock and you greedily drag your pussy along the length as you let him sip from the mask. The bumps along his length feel like heaven against your drenched cunt, the additional texture so foreign and blissful on your swollen clit. 

When you deemed he’s had enough, you drop the mask back on his chest and place a steadying hand on his stomach. Your other hand reaches behind you, guiding his cock up until the tip of it is nestled against your entrance. 

“Fuck,” You giggle, nervously. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. You’re ready, you’re so so ready. He just feels so big. He is big. He’s going to stretch you out so much. His cock is going to bully its way into your guts and you’re going to feel so full. The very thought of it makes you as terrified as it does excited. Maybe there will even be a bulge. You want to know - you want to know so badly.

With a deep breath, you start to lower yourself down on him. The stretch as the head of his cock penetrates your slick walls has you gasping. Fuck, it feels so intense, so much as his thick girth spears you open. You’re so wet, so ready for him, and the added slick from his slit and your saliva still coats his cock so the slide is as easy as it ever could be. The pressure is there as you bear down on him harder, desperate to feel more of him inside you, but to your complete shock, there is little actual pain.  

The barbs decorating his length scrape deliciously against your insides, dragging across your sensitive walls and pressing into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had. You let out a relieved laugh when you finally fit in all that you can take. You’re so full, so amazingly full that you feel like you want to cry. There is a bulge - you can see it clear as day, pressing from the inside of your belly, and your hand caresses the bulge lovingly. 

That’s your mate’s cock inside of you. 

Finally.

When you look back up at Neteyam, you see that his eyes are rolled back in pleasure, just the bottom of his golden irises and his blown pupils are visible underneath his hooded eyes. 

“Feel so good inside me, Teyam,” You whisper, and you think the slight grunt he lets out at your words is him agreeing. “So, so good.”

His cock feels even better when your hips start to move, slowly raising up until only the tip is left inside you before sliding back down, your own pussy becoming its new protective sheath. You keep it safe inside you, cradled and protected within the loving hug of your slick walls as you ride him faster. Harder. Each push of his cock inside you feels like you're being blessed. You’ve been a good girl, you’ve earned this. And now, despite you having to play a little dirty to get to this point, your efforts are being rewarded. Neteyam is your god and you’ll worship the ground he walks on until the day you die. And from this day forward, he’ll worship you in return. 

The bulge in your belly disappears and reappears with each movement of your hips, and your clit throbs, pulsing with need and begging for you to give it some attention. You don’t want your own fingers. You’ve had more than enough of your own touch over the years. Your eyes land on Neteyam’s hand still lying limp next to him. His long fingers are curled slightly against the bed, his best attempt at clutching the sheets just like you know he would be now if he could, and you’ve imagined those fingers playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves more times than you can count. 

Your hand goes to reach for it, set on feeling Neteyam’s beautiful fingers between your thighs even if you have to guide his movements yourself. But then your eyes fall on the carefully maintained braid lying just a few inches next to that hand and your priorities change.

Yes. 

He’s your mate. He’s yours. You deserve this. You get to touch it. 

Your hips slow to a careful grind as your fingers clasp gently around the bottom of his kuru. It feels good in your hand, the hair covering the neural queue feels glossy and perfect against your palm. A small smile creeps onto your lips as you flip open the very tip of it, and you stare greedily as the hair falls away revealing the bright pink wiggling extensions of Neteyam’s nervous system. 

From behind the wriggling tendrils, you see Neteyam’s head shift towards you again, his golden eyes hooded and a little bit teary from pleasure as he watches you hold onto the most sacred part of him. 

“You’re mine, okay?” You tell him. “Only mine. Forever.”

To seal your words, you bring the pretty pink tendrils to your lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to them before caressing them with the flat of your tongue. You watch Neteyam react to the feel of your tongue licking against them. His pupils blow out more than you ever thought was possible, black overtaking his eyes and leaving only the thinnest band of gold around the edges. The sounds leaving his mouth now make your pussy clench around him tighter, and you’re again cursing the fact that you’ve even had to do this because they could be louder. He could be screaming right now, but he can’t because of the stupid drugs hold on him. 

Next time, y/n. Next time, you have to remind yourself, or you think you might go mad.  

You lick them again, already obsessed with the way they feel against your tongue and the giddy thought of ‘I licked it so it’s mine’ has you grinning in victory. 

You pull the tendrils away from your tongue and start to drag them slowly down your body. They slide wherever you take them, still wiggling and searching for purchase but never finding any as you drag them down your neck, over your collarbone and the tops of your breast. You want to pull down the cup of your bra and see if it would latch onto one of your nipples, desperate to know what they would feel like and how Neteyam would react to it, but the pulsing need between your thighs refuses to be ignored. They wriggle along your belly, over the bulge still present there, and tickle the inside of your thigh as you guide it closer and closer to your intended bonding zone. 

When they reach for your clit, the feeling has you squealing. They’re relentless, determined to find something to wrap around and latch onto, but the wetness between your thighs has them sliding and squirming and unable to bond to you. It feels so weird, so weird and so good as they try to wrap themselves around your clit. Your hips move again on their own accord, riding him harder and faster while the tendrils inadvertently play with your clit, and holy fuck - fuck fuck fuck you think you might be going insane. 

Somehow the tendrils find purchase through the wetness, a few wrapping themselves around your clit while the others stick themselves to the inside of your folds. And you can feel it - can feel the energy radiating from them. 

It’s not how it’s usually done, but you’re not the usual couple. You don’t have a kuru so it shouldn’t be possible for you to bond fully with Neteyam, but you never believed that. And now you’ve proven that you were right. You can feel the bond forming from where you’re connected - from his most intimate part to yours. 

Neteyam’s eyes are rolled back into his head again, so far gone that you can only see the whites of his eyes at the bottom. His chest is heaving under your palm, small grunts and moans spilling from his lips and even though his body can barely move, his cock twitches and pulses wildly inside you. 

You can feel his knot forming at the base of his cock, the thick ball of tissue swelling and expanding with each thrust. It’s starting to catch at the rim of your pussy and each pass over it gets harder and harder to not get caught on it. 

“Ooooh fuck,” You whine. It already feels so big. “Teyam, fuck,”

You don’t have to take it. You could pull off now and wrap your hand around it to help finish him off. But why the fuck would you do that? He’s yours. You were made for him. Meant to take him. All of him. And you’re not letting this opportunity pass without taking everything. 

The next downward push of your hips is the last one you’re able to make. Neteyam’s knot is so big and you push your hips down on it harder, making it force its way inside you under your bodyweight. You can’t help the small scream that tears from your throat as it locks inside you, tethering you to Neteyam for who knows however long - and then you’re cumming.

Your orgasm tears through you relentlessly, body shaking and spasming as your hands reach out and hold onto Neteyam for dear life. Neteyam’s cock pulses inside you, warm ropes of cum painting your insides as he pants beneath you. When your orgasm is through and you’re done shaking enough to lift yourself up again, you notice Neteyam’s eyes are closed.

He’s sleeping now and you’re exhausted, so you lay your head down on Neteyam’s chest and try to get as comfortable as possible.

His knot stays locked inside you and the tendrils of his kuru remain wrapped around your clit as you drift off to sleep with him. 

By the time Neteyam wakes up, it’s almost like nothing has even happened. 

You’re free from his knot and his cock has since retracted back into its sheath. You’ve cleaned you both up a little, wiping away the evidence with a damp cloth and even though you know he’s going to be able to smell everything still, it’s not like that matters. You’re not trying to hide what happened between the two of you - just how it happened. 

You’ve disposed of the baggie which is the important part anyway.

Somehow you’ve managed to get Neteyam’s loincloth back on. It was tricky given his sleeping position, but you’ve always been a little crafty. His cummerbund is still on the floor though along with your dress, but you’ve decided to go for a more comfortable t-shirt look after wiping yourself clean.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed playing with Neteyam’s songcord that was at one point looped around the band of his loincloth when his eyes flutter open. He groans, one hand coming up to press against the side of his head as he looks around the room in confusion. He seems to relax a bit when his eyes land on you. 

“Wha–what happened?” Neteyam asks, voice no louder than a gruff mumble. 

He still looks a little out of it, the drugs not quite completely out of his system yet. When you look into those big beautiful golden eyes of his, they’re wide and confused. But, more importantly, they’re clear and haze free. He’s himself - he’ll remember this.

So you say your next words carefully with the confidence that he’ll remember them. 

“Iäle drugged you,” You tell him. “She drugged your drink and tried to take advantage of you. But she got called away before she could.” You reach out and cup his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheekbone lovingly. “I took care of you.”

You hate the spark of doubt you see in his eyes at your words, no doubt thinking that Perfect Iäle would never do such a thing, but you know he trusts you. You’ve never given him a reason not to. You’re the perfect friend - kind, loyal and trustworthy. You wouldn’t say something like this if it wasn’t true. 

“I knew she was no good,” You add. “I felt it in my heart. But it’s okay. I’m here, Teyam. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Neteyam’s lips part like he wants to speak and you know there’s probably a barrage of questions on the tip of his tongue, but the leftover drug still in his system forces him to be silent. You watch, pleased, as his eyes slip shut again, sending him into another round of haze filled sleep.

You hope he dreams. Maybe he’ll dream of what you just told him - see a different version of reality in which Iäle really did drug his drink instead of you and believe that that is this reality. Or maybe he’ll dream of you - your smile, your voice, your touch.

He’ll feel it now. When he wakes up again, he’ll feel it. The undeniable pull towards you as his mate. He’ll realize that he’s been a fool, wasting his time messing with another girl when he’s had you here, perfect and pretty for him this whole time. 

Bye, Iäle, you think smugly, resting your upper body out along Neteyam’s hips and propping your chin up against his stomach.

I win.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella @sbrn0905

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[lacybunie]

your sweetheart

“why do you look so scared?”

pairing: afab!reader x leon kennedy

warnings: smut, dark content (not dead dove (i think)), established toxic relationship, degrading, suicidal thoughts, implied forced self-harm, gaslighting, heavy manipulation, possessive behavior, praising, semi-soft sex, pet names, tummy bulge, slight strength kink, unprotected sex, biting, ooc leon, he’s crazy

note: you can use any leon for this!

there’s two sides of being in love: being in love and being loved. you always blushed at the hopeful future that you’ll be with the man of your everlasting dreams. a picture of him in a heart locket, your things in his bathroom drawers, knowing how he likes his coffee, his favorite scents, building a domestic life together. although two other men have ever been with you, you were sure this man was special. since by the second date, you were already planning out a wedding.

but leon couldn’t have been the man of your dreams if he was a nightmare in your life. bitter kisses and rough touches are embroidered into your skin that it’s hard to believe that this is the same man who laughed at all your jokes and fake proposed to you with a candy ring. almost two years of agony-filled tears and broken belongings, yet you can not bring yourself to break away from him. maybe the toxicity is what you like. maybe you’re the reason why he’s yelling at you right now.

“you’ll never find someone better than me.” leon spits, grabbing your face with such anger that he could break your jaw if he really hated you. you peer up at him through glassy eyes, tears dried up, and lips cherry bruised. “there’s nobody else for you.” leon manages to still look so divine when he speaks to you like this, star colored hair covering his sapphire eyes just enough for them to peak through. the warm lighting of the kitchen brings out his soft features that pathetically make you swoon.

“i love you.” you whisper, feeling your heart pounding painfully harder and harder as leon stays silent. his grip on your face leaves as his lips tug into a grin, tongue between his canines. “of course you do.” leon gloats as if he’s won the lottery, intertwining his hand with the handle of the kitchen knife residing in the wooden cube. the food you made for dinner is threatening to come back up when leon waves the knife in front of you. “don’t please.” you plead softly as the blood pumping in your veins becomes ice cold.

“think i’m gonna hurt you?” leon breathes lowly, getting closer to your weak form. your doe eyes take in the way his eyes glimmer with amusement, a smirk finding its home on his lips, he’s clearly basking in this. “no.” you mumble, swallowing dry saliva when the tip of the knife brushes against your neck. you don’t think, you know he would but he chooses not to. “i could kill you.” leon hums, dragging the knife across your forearm before letting it linger on your wrist. his eyes capture yours, a faint flame flickering behind them. free falling down to the concrete pavement would be more peaceful than this.

“you could kill me.” he suggests, forcing the handle of the knife into your hand. you shake your head, stomach eating itself when leon leads your hand to his chest. “you’d like that.” “i wouldn’t.” “don’t fucking lie.” he spews as if you’re the one who said it. lips tremble in frustration as you cannot comprehend what leon is doing, you don’t even know how it all went wrong ten minutes ago. how washing dishes together suddenly became leon degrading you, threatening you. the pitter-patter of rain against the roof is the only thing keeping you from vomiting, and leon yelling at you for doing so.

“would you die for me?” leon questions, closing the gap between you two, the knife quickly withdrawing to your side. the warmth of his body radiates to you, making hell seem cold. your eyebrows knit together at his words, why would he ask that? “i’d do anything for you but-” “i want you to die for me.” leon interrupts you with a exasperated tone. your hands shake as tears welled up in your exhausted eyes, you just want to go to bed. you carefully place the knife on the kitchen island, unsure of what to do as leon’s eyes bore into yours.

“leon, can i please get ready for bed?” you sigh, wiping at the tears barely escaping your eyes. the echo of thunder booms throughout the apartment causing the atmosphere to be more daunting. a scoff leaves leon’s mouth, his jaw tightening at your response. you pissed him off. “hate me so much that you can’t answer a simple question.” leon sneers with venom on his tongue. his stature towers yours, your gut churns at the feeling of being so weak. runny eyes divert down to your ruffled baby pink socks, they’ve never seemed more interesting.

“your question is stupid.” you mutter under your breath before your jaw is gripped once more as leon forces you to look up at him. the blue hues swirling in his eyes are dark and cold, matching the storm outside. bones ache at the posture leon holds you in, he can snap your neck if he pulled back just a tiny bit further. “who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” leon’s words cut through your head and pierce your brain. the tears you cry match the pace of the rain knocking at the windows. “i’m so sorry, leon. i’ll die for you, i’ll do anything for you! please let me go to bed.” you’re so pathetic.

“is that so?” “yes! please!” you cry into his palm, looking up at him and hoping he has mercy on your damaged soul. leon’s eyes glance at the kitchen island as a smirk slowly finds its way on his pink lips. relief hugs you when he finally lets you go, your shaky hands rub the tender skin of your jaw. of course he doesn’t let you leave yet, of course he doesn’t let you go find peace in the one place where you’re the most safe. “carve my name into your wrist.” leon says so nonchalantly that you think he’s almost joking. the kitchen knife is placed back into your hand, you’re so dumbfounded that you stare back at yourself in the blade’s reflection.

“what?” you exhale out, ridding yourself of the fear from seconds ago only to breathe it back in. the blue-black eyes looking back at you are unrecognizable. “i’ll do anything for you!” leon mocks, you want to vomit. you want to scream and rip your hair out, you want to jab the knife into your heart instead. death would be much more blissful than being here right now. “i don’t want to do this, leon.” “i’ll do it for you.” leon threatens, his warm hands grab at your wrist but you quickly step back to get them off you. “i’ll do it.” your voice is barely audible, your mouth becomes dry when you shakily place the blade onto your wrist. what are you doing? “just four letters and you’ll go to bed.”

leon’s educated hands carefully bandage up your wounded wrist. your face rests in his chest, slowly breathing in the scent of vanilla. “you did so great.” leon smiles before placing tender kisses upon the white fabric covering your arm. the numbness drowning your body is blocking any feeling, including your thoughts. you’re surprised you didn’t cut a vein. you wished you did. “you’re so mean to me, leon.” you whisper, eyes blurring in and out from drowsiness. why couldn’t he be nicer to you? why couldn’t he leave you alone? why can’t you quit him?

“i’m not mean to you, doll. i wouldn’t be doing this if i didn’t care about you.” leon reassures you with eyes shining like blue akoya pearls. your mouth can’t get any words out when the cologne lingering on his skin has your stomach in knots, reminding you that you’re the one who bought it for him on his birthday. he gives you the same wry smile that was on his lips that day. maybe you’re the mean one. maybe this is all your fault. “you would’ve killed yourself if it wasn’t for me.” he’s right, you would’ve bled out on the pearlescent tiled kitchen and suffer a painful death if he didn’t care. there’s a sharp pain in your head that has you wondering if this is all just a horrible nightmare.

needles prickle into your sore body as leon carefully picks you up, you catch your reflection in the mirror for a spilt second. eyes puffy and skin pale, drained. before you can react, you’re in sweet relief when the comfort of leon’s bed engulfs you. “such a gorgeous girl, how did i get so lucky?” leon hums as his eyes link with yours, affection glosses over the blue. the dim lighting illuminating this somber room, accompanied by the rain outside, is enough to lure you to sleep. the blur in your eyes goes dark for just a moment as your slumber takes over. yet you can’t seem to rest with the way leon is soothing the skin of your thighs. your cunt is throbbing.

“take it off please.” you whimper, gesturing to the blood stained dress hugging your figure. your body trembles as the cotton fabric is slowly ripped away, leon’s hands tenderly kneading warmth into your cold flesh. dark eyes locked onto your lips with each soft gasp you make, observing how you react to the gentle touches to your thighs. the fuzziness in your stomach heats gradually, just enough for your panties to get damper. leon’s fingers stray away from the thin silk covering where you need him most. your thighs rub together as you whine. “what do you want, hm?” his voice is an octave lower, raspy. he wants you just as much.

the echos of thunder are as loud as your pounding heart when you grasp leon’s hand, leading it to your cunt. a tongue in cheek smirk is hazy in your vision when leon hovers over your frame. “c’mon sweet girl, use your words. don’t get shy now.” his voice is sugary water for your dry throat, the want is burning you alive. lips impatiently connect with his in a desperate attempt for leon to stop stalling and fuck you right there. a gasp is caught in your chest when his fingers harshly rub your covered clit before pulling away from your blushed lips. the thumps of your heart rings in your ears.

“i want you to fuck me.” you mutter with a mouth full of cotton, running a hand over his chest and under his tightly-fitted shirt. the precum sticking to your panties is soaking the fabric as your fingers trace over leon’s toned stomach. “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me tonight.” leon smiles while kissing your cheek. his mouth finds solace in your neck, sucking pinks into your skin. “i need you.” the smirk he makes against your neck gives you whiplash. he can probably feel your racing heart pulse against his lips.

leon swiftly takes off his shirt, scattered scars compliment his sculpted build so well that you feel nauseous with desire. “i need you more, baby.” he cooed. his lips find yours again, the taste of mint coats your tongue. you like the way he kisses you, as if your lips are a blaze that he needs to warm up. leon’s hands make quick work of your panties, nudging his knee in between your thighs which has you grinding on his leg. “dirty girl.” he breathes out. the friction is not enough for your soppy cunt, needing more, needing his cock to relieve you. you want him to break you open, to ease the pain he put you through moments ago.

the crackle of lightning illuminates the room in blue, combating the blue in leon’s eyes. hands shake ever so slightly as you impatiently unbuckle his belt, your wrist is on fire when the metal buckle grazes against the bandage. “you’re gonna hurt yourself.” leon warns, replacing your hands with his. you suppress a moan once leon finally rids himself of his jeans, his cock slapping against his abdomen as he shoves his boxers off. you’re salivating like a starved animal at the sight, the tip of his cock shines with precum. death couldn’t be more blissful than leon.

“you look so cute like this, your body begging f’me.” leon smirks, rubbing the tip of his cock on your clit. the moans vibrating through your throat almost hurts. you’re fiending for him, weeping for him, you could cum at the thought of him fucking you. there’s a hand caressing your cheek, breaking you out of your hypnotic state. leon looks at you with infatuation, or lust, you can never differentiate the two. you do know both looks has your heart bursting. “i love you.” “i know.” he kisses the apple of your cheeks as his cock stretches you out, the air in your lungs exits out in broken whimpers and moans.

leon hides his face in the crook of your bruised neck, his hips slowly snapping against yours. fingertips trace the scars etched into his back, creating new ones as your nails break his skin when the curve of his cock hits your cervix so sweetly. the rhythm he keeps up is enough to make you dizzy. the low moans eliciting from his lips are intoxicating, you grow wetter at the sound. “love this tight pussy, so perfect.” his teeth bite into your shoulder, lapping at the irritated skin with his tongue. you think you see god when the repeated thrusts and bites to your skin is twisting the coil in your stomach in knots.

leon’s hands grip your hips as your cunt tightens around his cock, the loudest spark of lightning hits your ears when leon presses a hand down your lower abdomen. you think you’ve lost it at the feeling of leon’s cock rubbing against his hand, against your stomach. your hand reaches down to feel him and god, you want to cum so badly. “harder, please.” you moan out, chest heavy at the feeling of him splitting you open. his head rests up against yours, eyes searching your tear stained face as his thrusts become harsh. a stray tear cascades down your cheek at the sudden change yet you’re still pathetically moaning out leon’s name.

“greedy little thing you are.” leon groans as he catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. you’re sharing moans in between breaths as leon relentlessly buries himself into your cunt, his fingers finding their place on your clit. the smell of sex and mercury blending into the sounds of skin against skin and thunder makes the pounding in your head almost pierce your ears. you feel faint, like the ecstasy you’re receiving is too much for your body. legs wrap around leon’s hips in an attempt to get him closer to you, his chest is sweaty against yours. hearts beating in sync, both racing erratically.

the overwhelming desire flowing throughout your veins is lethal, an overdose of leon. your chest heaves as you try to gather your surroundings as leon fucks you as if you’re everything yet nothing. there’s tears on the brink of pouring out of your itchy eyes but you hold them back. you wonder what leon is thinking, if he’s overdosing on you as well or if he’s thinking about getting off. “fuck, keep squeezing my cock like that.” he moans, biting the flesh of your neck.

the fuzziness in your stomach is too much to bear when leon’s cock abuses your gummy walls repeatedly. you can’t feel your face, your body, just leon. fingers tug at his hair which earns a grunt from his lips as his own fingers messily rub at your clit. the whines drawing out from you are pitiful, letting leon know you’re about to break. but he knew that before the whines left your mouth, the way your desperate cunt is gripping around him is enough to make anybody get the hint. “cum on my cock, sweetheart. can you do that f’me?”

the nails clawing at leon’s back sink into his flesh as your orgasm crashes into your body. mouth agape yet nothing comes out, eyes screwed shut, back arching off the soft mattress, legs shaking at the intensity. “there you go, baby.” leon praises, kissing you gently as he continues to fuck your cunt. you hold his face as if he’s the only thing keeping you from blacking out. “i love you.” you confess for the umpteenth time as you’re gasping for air, heart punching itself out of your chest. leon weakly smiles, muttering something incoherent against your lips before pulling his cock out of your bruised cunt, cumming on your stomach and thighs with the sweetest moan.

leon’s body collapses on top of yours, exhaustion consuming you as you come down from the euphoric high. the sound of leon breathing and the soft knocks of rain at the window are a lullaby for your depleted mind. the colors of warm white and blue are blurred as your eyes struggle to stay open. a sting in your arm pulls you back into consciousness. you wince at the feeling. eyes drift to look over at your bandage wrist. leon’s hand is gripped around your injury, squeezing with such strength that reminds you that he could break you if he really hated you. you almost forgot why there’s four letters carved in your wrist, why your mind is exhausted from crying, why you got fucked so lovingly yet so resentfully.

a giddy smile hurts your cheeks as leon suffocates you with peppered kisses around your face. “let’s get you ready for bed.” leon says on your damp skin, his hand leaving his name on your wrist.

[satinroses]

Off the beaten path

Yan! Albedo x reader x Yan! Susbedo

4874 Words

GN! reader

Summary: Albedo has been frantic about keeping you far away from Dragonspine for reasons unknown but when Sucrose asks you to go to Dragonspine to gather some ingredients for her you can’t help but go there however when you arrive Albedo doesn’t seem at all upset over your sudden arrival in Dragonspine… rather he seems uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

guys this is my first fic so erm I'm sorry if it’s really bad :[

Warnings: typical yandere behaviours, non-con kissing, both Albedos being little creeps, Y/N needs a break and has official permission to execute them both, Y/N is a smidge naïve, Manipulation, gaslighting

The brisk air of Dragonspine doesn’t sit gently in your lungs, instead its crispness demands your attention. Each breath is invigorating. You were never one to focus on meditation or breathing techniques, seeing little interest in self-reflection or mindfulness however on mornings like this one on Dragonspine with the bright morning sun rising to full mast you couldn't help but feel rather contemplative. 

Admittedly you were not as alchemically inclined as your lover, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius however when sucrose entered Albedo’s office late at night in a state of utter disarray as the samples of flora she had procured from Dragonspine had seemingly vanished from under her very nose you couldn’t help but take pity on the poor girl in her panic. Tomorrow morning she would be too busy refining the remaining electro hypostasis’ lightning prisms from her last journey outside the walls of Mondstadt for yet another experiment… She simply wouldn't be able to make the trek to Dragonspine and back while also completing all of her tasks but despite her pleading the knights were far too busy to waste their time collecting mere greenery.

You shifted on your feet, you always thought she held herself to a far harsher standard than she deserved, constantly focusing on her shortcomings as Albedo’s apprentice rather than acknowledging what an accomplished and gifted alchemist she was in her own right. You walked towards the distraught green-haired alchemist, firmly grasping her on each shoulder. At your steady grasp sucrose looked up at the reassuring smile you gave her “Sucrose! Don’t fret so much, you’ve already done more than enough. I’ve got it handled, I’ll head to Dragonspine first thing tomorrow morning and I'll have the samples for you before lunchtime.” For the first time since Sucrose entered the room you could feel your lover's eyes rising from the notebook where he had been scrawling away his recent findings for the past few hours, his turquoise eyes piercing into your body as though if he stared hard enough he’d be able pierce your subconsciousness and reprogram you, as though if he impressed his vision into you long enough you would eventually be remade in his vision, as though staring could somehow convince you to rescind your offer. 

Although Albedo was typically indifferent about how you spent your time and who you associated with, you couldn't help but notice that recently he had been very clearly trying to shepherd you away from the snowy peak of Dragonspine. Any ideas of visiting him while he was working was quickly shot down with a “It’s not worth the trek, most of my work in Dragonspine will be done soon enough, there is no point in journeying all that way”. Any mentions of stopping by to drop off some warm food for himself, Sucrose and Timaeus was quickly halted with a “we pack more than enough food and there are plenty of braziers around the camp, please don't worry yourself” much to the dismay of Timaeus. It felt as though every attempt to come see him working had been instantly stopped by some rebuttal he had regarding it as a waste of time and energy.

It would be a lie to say your heart didn’t ache with every blatant refusal to your attempts to visit him on the mountain. He let Kaeya, Klee and Sucrose visit him freely but he seemed particularly insistent that you do not come to Dragonspine, that you don't even entertain the idea. In spite of Albedo's recent reluctance for you to venture to the frozen mountain, you refused to be deterred. This particular voyage was not a selfish endeavour for your own entertainment… no! Sucrose needed your help and you refused to let her down. It would be a breeze to wander about the mountain picking flowers for a little while before meandering back to Mondstadt to what would likely be a hero’s welcome from the young woman, besides with your pyro vision strapped to your waist you sincerely doubted any hillichurls would be causing you issues and you knew well enough to steer clear of any Fatui outposts placed along the winding frozen pathways.

The mint-haired woman let out a deep sigh of relief, her breathing steadying as she looked at you hopefully “really?! You will? Thank you so much Y/N I- I don't know how to repay you I-'' you laughed warmly at the girl’s gratitude “think nothing of it! It’ll be a piece of cake, besides I haven't left Monstadt’s walls in weeks, going out and exploring will do me some good.” It seemed as though this past month almost every commission took place within the walls of Mondstadt, if you had to clean that blasted statue of Barbatos or tell that creep Albert to knock it off one more time you were going to go crazy, on the rare occasion you were given a commission that left the walls of Mondstadt it was something mundane like a food delivery to Springvale and back. You hadn’t had a single combat commission in weeks. you had filed several complaints to Katherine about the distribution of commissions and despite her promises to reach out to her higher ups regarding potential flaws in the commission distribution system, she still hadn't gotten back to you.

With Sucrose’s issue resolved and her mind soothed you gently guide her to the door of Albedo’s office “It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll have a busy day tomorrow” you say to her, clasping the bronze door handle and holding the door open “I’ll see you tomorrow, verdure in tow!” you exclaimed as you watched the girl amble over to the exit of the Knight’s headquarters, waving you a polite goodbye. 

You softly shut the thick oak door to Albedo’s office not wanting to disturb the diligent genius, taking his silence during your conversation with sucrose as a sign of him returning to his work. Ever the academic, Albedo rarely allowed himself to be distracted from a task once he had dedicated himself to it, however upon turning around you were greeted by Albedo still staring at you intently, his eyes having never once left your frame. His pupils were dilated, the darkness engulfing his iris leaving only a sliver of blue as an outermost ring. He didn’t blink as though afraid you would slip from his grasp the moment he shut his eyes. His body was still, his entire being focused on watching you as though he was waiting for something to happen. He hadn’t written a word since your mention of Dragonspine, his studies completely paused as his pen stayed pressed on his crisp white notepad, a thick ink blot seeping into the page and staining it but in spite of this, the observant Albedo didn’t make any effort to move the pen.

Seeing Albedo so on edge subsequently had you unsettled. You gently walk across the plush red carpet approaching Albedo, taking the pen out of his hand and setting it down on his desk before he could further sully his work. Only upon your contact with him did he seemingly snap out of the daze he was in, blinking softly. His eyes still zeroed in on you but they seemed softer, less frantic. Upon setting the pen down you began to wrap your coat around your shoulders “you know what i said to sucrose is right, i should be heading home soon before i have to bump into the crowd of tavern crawlers on their way from The Cat’s Tail to The Angel’s Share” you joke gently attempting to lighten the mood, Albedo barely manages a smile at your jest. instead getting up and shoving his arms haphazardly into the sleeves of the jacket he stripped off hours ago “let me walk you home. It’s getting far too dark for you to be wandering about Mondstadt alone. I wouldn't be able to rest well unless I knew you made it back safely.” You smile bashfully at the consideration he's shown for you.

“Oh Albedo, i don't want to be a bother I'm sure you have plenty of things to-”

“I insist.”

“Well if you insist” you smile softly, your heart fluttering at his show of chivalry

You nodded and fiddled with the buttons of your coat, your fingers trembling as Albedo stood by the door waiting for you to be ready to leave. Upon noticing your battle with your buttons Albedo quickly faced you as he placed your hands by your side to instead button your coat up himself. The moment you were suitably clothed to brace the cool Mondstadt evenings Albedo’s arm snaked around your waist as he ushered you out of the Knight’s headquarters. Your cheeks warmed at his gesture as the reserved alchemist’s hand enclosed your waist tightly, pulling you closer into him as though he was trying to mould you together, unable to be separated by anyone or anything. You attempted to initiate some small talk as you wandered through Mondstadt, however Albedo hardly noticed. He muttered vague replies or made noises of affirmation as you discussed your day and how cold it had been recently and how excited you were for the next Windblume festival. Instead Albedo’s eyes were fixed intently on the shadows the dim streetlamps of Mondstadt cast as though a ghost was about to peer out from one of the alleys. As you reached your home you opened the door yet Albedo's hand didn't move from your waist. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to release you from his grasp but he didn’t move his hand until several awkward seconds had passed before he hesitantly allowed you to walk through your front door. “Goodnight Albedo” you whisper gently before pressing a gentle peck to his cheek. You disappear behind your door trying to forget about Albedo’s peculiar behaviour tonight, fretting about what could have possibly made him so troubled. In spite of your concern about Albedo’s recent behaviours you slipped into an uneasy sleep, unaware of how he remained steadfastly on your doorstep like a statue keeping watch until the sun began to peak over the rolling hills of Mondstadt and he reluctantly retired to his own abode.

●・○・●・○・●・

The crunch of the fresh layer of snow beneath your shoes invigorated you as you continued your trek along the mountainside. Your head felt light as you inhaled the overwhelming saccharine scent of the half dozen sweet flowers you had found, your hand clutching the stems of the flowers gently, determined to bring Sucrose back the best possible samples. Alas you couldn’t help but feel as though your luck had all but run out when you began to search for mint. Perhaps some traveller had plucked the last of it in this area or maybe you were just unlucky. You bent over in the snow, your head almost grazing the ground as you sifted your hands through the snow hoping your fingers might latch onto even a mint sapling, that perhaps the constant winter snowfall had simply covered up all the fresh mint. After a few minutes of sifting through the mountainside snow you began to instinctively reach for your weapon as a distinctly humanoid presence loomed over you… there shouldn't be Fatui this far from the main path but perhaps these were scouts for a larger group. You held your breath not wanting the person to realise you were aware of their presence until you were ready or you were forced to act, likely the latter. As several minutes passed and you still pretended to be focused on the frost dusted ground beneath you rather than the presence looming over your form you were confused as to why they hadn’t approached yet… perhaps it was just some freezing adventurer too sheepish to ask for help so they were simply waiting to be noticed… or perhaps it was an inquisitive little snow fox or boar who would scurry away the moment you acknowledged it yes, that sounded much better. You would turn around and be greeted by some shy little forest animal who would flee the moment you acknowledged it. Yes. That was it. Nothing bad is behind you. You began to repeat in your head as you rested your numb hands on the hilt of your weapon before taking a deep breath and turning around.

Of all the potential scenarios you imagined being greeted by, seeing Albedo staring at you in utter shock was not one of them. You exhaled softly before you began to chuckle in relief, pressing your hand over your thumping heart as you chastised your over-active imagination. You smile gently “‘Bedo I didn't think I’d bump into you, what are you doing on this part of the mountain?” You awaited a response yet you weren’t greeted by one, you looked back up at Albedo but instead of him offering you a small smile or him trying to usher you off the mountain he simply stood there staring at you as though it was the first time he had truly seen you. He drank in deep breaths, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes danced across you, blinking softly as though trying to dispel some sort of illusion “Albedo? Everything okay?” you ask gently, your mind already on slight alert after his peculiar behaviour last night. Suddenly he let out a deep gasp as he stuttered out “what are you doing here? I thought… i thought you weren’t fond of Dragonstone…” you look up at Albedo in utter confusion “Not fond…? Albedo what are you talking about, you’re the one who practically forces me off the mountain” you say, half joking, half serious.

Albedo’s gaze becomes cold as he spits out “of course I do” with a venom unfamiliar to his voice, his eyes glaring into the ground with such profound hatred it startles you. He quickly remembers your presence and haphazardly attempts to regain his composure with a deep breath and a few blinks before he says in an even tone “then what are you doing here then Y/N? Shouldn’t you be in Mondstadt?” Your heart beat steadily accelerates as you feel your skin crawling as Albedo stares at you, his gaze seeping into your skin as he drinks in every little detail, his eyes fixating on every mole and birthmark and freckle, desperately imprinting them into his mind like this is the last time he might ever see you “we discussed this last night remember? I’m looking for some flowers for Sucrose’s experiment” you state, your voice tight as my body tense like a coiled spring ready to launch itself out of the grasping hands of the alchemist.

Albedo puts his hand on his chin as he begins to mutter “Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose!” he had sounded utterly befuddled by the mention of her until the final mutter of Sucrose seemed to ignite some spark of familiarity, like Sucrose was more of a passing acquaintance rather than his most promising protégé. 

“Yes of course Sucrose needed some flowers like we discussed last night”

“Yes that would appear to be the case” You giggled breathlessly, trying to ignore the pit of bile bubbling in your stomach “I just want to find some mint and then I'll begin the trudge back to Mondstadt”

“Oh… some mint? I think I know where you might be able to find some”

“O-Oh are you sure I don't want to be a bother and I don't want to get in the way of anything or be a nuisance or knock something important over in your lab” You stuttered out sheepishly, trying to find any way to get back to Mondstadt.

“Nonsense I’ve set up a temporary second camp just a little ways up the mountain, follow me. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of flora up there”

“Okay yes you’re right” You beam trying to ignore how tight the grin feels, like your skin is cracking underneath it. He holds out his soft cool palm waiting for you to grab it. You gently settle your hand in his unable to hear how his breath hitches softly as your numb fingers are clutched by his, a barely noticeable flush spreading across his complexion. Each step in the direction of this second camp makes your foot feel heavier until eventually you’re practically shuffling through the snow. As you wind through the passageways of the mountain you can’t help but feel like you’re going far too high but each time you ask Albedo about the new camp’s location you’re greeted by the same excuse “just a little ways further.”

“‘Bedo…” you stutter out “I should turn back, I need to get these flowers back to Sucrose soon. I promised she’d have them by lunchtime and the sun is getting rather high” 

He stopped in his tracks, the hand that had been grasping onto yours tightens with an unnatural grip “but we’re almost there” he smiles out, the smile far too large and toothy to look natural on him, mimicking a lion baring its teeth far more than a reassuring grin “just a little further” he repeats once more as he continues up the path, your hand still held tightly in his. You had followed him for as long as your reason had allowed but now you were venturing into parts of Dragonspine unknown even to you as he dragged you up yet another beaten path. You smile half heartedly, trying to ignore the primal sensation of fear when Albedo smiles at you, the undeniable emotion of something being deeply wrong every time he tightens his hold on your hand.

You stop walking and begin to try to coax your limb out of his grip but the gentle tugging of your hand out of his makes his smile drop. He balls his now empty fist as he pauses and stares down the offending limb as though it had personally wronged him. you stare at your feet, your eyes darting between your snow scuffed boots and the sweet flowers clasped tightly in your other hand as you try to avoid albedo’s gaze permeating through you. Albedo’s lack of social adeptness was often something you found endearing, another quality which raised the alchemist’s standing in your eyes but right here in the crisp morning air of Dragonspine with the sun shining far too bright, there was never another quality you despised more. The chief alchemist simply stared. you tried to move. You could apologise to Albedo for your behaviour later but as you were about to move your legs his fist grasped onto your wrist with a bruising grip. You reflexively dropped the sweet flowers that you had kept grasped securely in your hand as Albedo’s cold hand fixed around your wrist. You couldn't find it in your panic stricken haze to even think about the flowers that were now resting on the cold mountain snow. 

You yelped out in pain before looking up at Albedo for an explanation for his sudden change in demeanour. He offered none, instead he shifted his cold, stiff body closer against yours so your fronts were pressed together, chest to chest. He breathed down on your face, his breath wasn’t warm or wet like you had expected, instead it felt cool on your skin. Snowflakes settled on his long lashes as his pupils dilated, flickering to your lips. You stood stock still as confusion began to cloud your mind. Albedo’s gloved other hand rose to your lips, gently caressing them. “So warm…” he muttered absentmindedly as he traced the curve of your cupid's bow before his finger fell down to your lower lip. You enclosed your only free hand around Albedo’s, coaxing his fingers away from your lips instead you placed it down by his side “‘Bedo… I promised Sucrose those flowers, I need to get back to Mondstadt soon” his expression hardened before he finally acquiesced. Albedo’s dismay at you having to leave so soon was apparent until a mischievous glint alit in his eye. He tightened his grip on your arm before he whispered against your lips “I'll let you return to Sucrose if you promise me adequate compensation…” you could have laughed at the absurdity of Albedo’s demands “compensation?” you guffawed “You can't be serious Albedo.” he pulled you closer, no space was left between you as he tittered airily, running his hand softly through your hair “shh shh shh… I don't want mora and I don't want favours, I just want” his cheek flushed pink in spite of the confidence he exuded as he breathed out “I just want a kiss. That's all.” You were perplexed at Albedo’s request, since your relationship with the chief alchemist had been formalised he had rarely felt the need to formally ask for permission to kiss you but the Albedo here and now was blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of it. 

Typically you might have questioned his sudden change in behaviour but with some divine intervention seemingly handing you a way out of this awkward exchange on a golden platter you didn’t feel inclined to throw it back in the face of whichever archon had decided to bless you with this opportunity. Instead you leaned in softly before pressing a gentle, hesitant kiss to Albedo’s lips. To your relief his remaining grip on your hand loosened as your lips skimmed his but the sudden slackness didn't seem to affect just his hand but rather his whole body as he didn't kiss you back. Instead Albedo kept his eyes tightly shut as his entire body froze, the only part of his body that seemed tense was his furrowed brows. It was as though he were in a state of deep contemplation, focusing only on memorising the feeling of your warm lips on his. With his attention completely on the feeling of your mouth slotted against his own and his arms resting loosely by his sides, you took the chance to quickly separate yourself from him, turning away and fleeing along the frosty pathway down the mountain in a desperate attempt to escape the unnerving encounter.

You couldn’t hear Albedo calling out to you or following behind you so once you had made significant distance between where you and Albedo had been standing you turned to face him. To your surprise Albedo hadn’t moved an inch, he stayed exactly as you had left him, as though suspended in the moment in which your lips left his. The only difference is that this time his eyes were ignited with a cold determination, a look you knew to be unique to Albedo when he made a breakthrough experiment, when he found an ingredient he had been scavenging for months to find, when he finally located a dusty old tome or scrap of paper which had the information he needed and now when he stared at your frame scurrying down the mountain. As the base of the mountain came into view and your nerves began to settle you realised that in your desperation to get away you had left the flowers on the snowy ground. You halted for half a second, your foot pivoting as you prepared to venture back up the winding path but as your eyes met the incline up the mountain you were filled with paralysing nausea. Every single instinct in your body was fighting against the idea of going back up the mountain. Whatever interaction you and Albedo had shared up there, a raw, primitive, instinctual part of you knew that it had been wrong, that it had been off, that if you went back up the path then you truly believed you would not make it back down the mountain for a second time.

●・○・●・○・●・

Almost slipping down the mountain in your haste to escape your peculiar encounter with Albedo you didn't dare stop until you reached the Adventurer’s camp on the outskirts of the mountain where you finally felt the hammering of your heart slow for the first time this morning now that you had escaped the sheer cold of Dragonspine but even then with Albedo’s peculiar behaviour these past few weeks and in particular today you still couldn't feel at ease, even as you began to trudge out of the Adventurer’s camp and back towards Dadaupa Gorge.

You almost did a double take when you saw a frantic Albedo hurrying towards Dragonspine, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his cinnabar spindle, his body tensed and ready to pounce. “...Albedo…? How did you get down here so fast?” you called out, eyeing the alchemist wearily. You had never felt more bewildered. Upon hearing you call out to him Albedo’s hand loosened on the hilt of his blade. He ran to you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, one arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it was suffocating you, the other clawed into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pulled you close as he had on the mountain however this time he buried his head into your neck as he inhaled deeply.

As you stood there embracing the startled alchemist you could feel just how intensely his hands were trembling but you couldn't help but pry for answers in your state of bewilderment. You were certain Albedo had been behind you as you descended the mountain and even if he had followed you down (which you suspected he had) how would he have gotten ahead of you? Albedo hadn’t been leaving Dragonspine when you met him here but rather he had been approaching, he had to have come from the direction of  Mondstadt. You asked louder this time “Albedo, how did you get ahead of me?” You were up on the mountain last time I saw you.” At your declaration Albedo finally peeled his from your neck, his manic eyes darting across you assessing for any damage before he finally seemed to regain some semblance of awareness “how did i… i know dragonspine like the back of my hand Y/N. it wasn’t hard to overtake you” Albedo stated trying to steady his voice. Although it’s likely the Alchemist knew the Mountain far better than you did… you didn’t fully believe him. You couldn't fully believe him. Not when you saw how terrified Albedo had seemed as he bounded towards the mountain in such a distressed state you almost didn't recognise the alchemist, not when you felt just how tightly he had clutched onto you as though you were about to slip through his fingers, not when you could feel how frantically his heart was beating as he held you to him. 

You continued to insist Albedo explain what had happened, why he had been acting so strangely. The expression in Albedo’s eyes was unreadable, something you had never seen in the chief alchemist’s eyes before, something almost reminiscent of fear. As you both traversed down galesong hill towards the city of freedom you stopped Albedo and turned him to face you as you whispered in a pleading tone “Albedo please… just explain to me what happened up there. I’m not upset with you, I'm just confused. What happened up there? You seemed rather out of sorts.” Albedo’s lips grew into a thin line, the expression on his face was a grim one but instead of any explanation he simply pressed the back of his palm to your forehead “you’re burning up” he mutters. Yet again Albedo’s actions fill you with nothing but confusion.

“Burning up? What are you talking about Albedo? I feel fine just please, answer my question” you cry out, frustration beginning to rise as he dances around your question yet again

“Yes, you’re shivering too and it’s clear you’re in a state of confusion, from these symptoms I’d estimate that you’re suffering from the early stages of hypothermia” Albedo says in an even, methodical tone

“H-hypothermia? Albedo what on Teyvat are you-?” you pause as Albedo begins to take off his coat, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders

“Honestly you should have dressed warmer if you were planning to go to Dragonstone, you need to take better care of yourself Y/N. now come on, you’ll need to be treated for this but I'll only be able to do it back in Mondstadt where we can warm you up” Albedo said wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to walk even faster towards Mondstadt, keeping you tucked closely into his side. You didn’t feel weak and you didn’t feel tired, the rational part of your mind wanted to doubt Albedo’s diagnosis but an equally significant part of you wanted to accept what Albedo said, to dismiss this whole morning as some strange illness induced hallucination. yes that must be it... You insisted internally. You’re unwell and this illness is messing with your head like Albedo says. You’re not being completely rational so right now just need to trust Albedo and head back to Mondstadt for treatment and you need to forget how Albedo keeps glaring at Dragonspine with pure loathing as though daring the mountain itself to come and try to take you from him, It must just be the cold getting to you.

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ who are you?

vampire series | shuri udaku | part 1

Pairing - vampire!shuri x black fem!reader

Word count - 17k (yup)

Contains - smut (18+), fingering, cunnilingus, clit play, overstimulation, choking/breathplay, biting, edging, strap-on sex, blood drinking, descriptions of blood, gaslighting (it’s a vampire story, so it’s a whole bunch of shady shit going on), and probably more I forgot

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - “Shuri…baby…” Your breathless whimpers forced Shuri to release you, her face drawing closer to yours, yet she looked so different. Her dark brown eyes transformed into a blood-red hue, her fangs fully extended, and her mouth stained with your blood. The image frightened you at first and Shuri looked away in shame, attempting to conceal the face she despised so deeply.

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @amplifiedmoan @vampzxi @abenomeiiii @heejayy @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @shuriszn @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pocketsizedpanther @gardenof-venus @tiii-iiiiii @verachii @ihearttish @playhousedistee @somethingcleaverandwhitty @niyahwrites @tishsrealwife @oceean @sookiesookie @myaraines @cafehyunji @6-noir @ventingfanfics @marsology @imjusthere2readbruv @desswright29 @ooglyboooglybitxh @sweetalittleselfish-honey @kisskourt @shaiwritesss @sapphicbarbz @darkangelchronicles (comment if you want to be tagged in future fics, 18+ only)

Writers Note: whew fuck, this was definitely the most challenging thing I’ve ever written for tumblr. I could’ve went on and on, but I realize that’s not ideal. This is part 1 of a three part story, this part is mostly just an introduction to Shuri and her character, delving into her past and her life as vampire while introducing the vampire lore. Reader is nosey af but who wouldn’t be if they got to question a vampire? I hope you guys enjoy this read! I always love reading your comments!

“If I touch a burning candle I can feel no pain, If you cut me with a knife it's still the same

And I know her heart is beating, and I know that I am dead

Yet the pain here that I feel, try and tell me it's not real

It seems that I still have a tear to shed” - tears to shed, the corpse bride

November 23rd, 2411, New York

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You found yourself sitting in a bar, one that sat high up in the air as most buildings did in the now 25th century. The night sky enveloped you, its vastness serving both as the reason you are able to walk the earth and the reason you want to leave it, yearning, if only for a brief moment, to bask in the sun's warmth seeping through your dark skin once more. Those days were dearly missed. You missed early morning brisk winter breezes. You missed chocolate sundaes on balmy afternoons. It was the little things that made life meaningful, and you missed it all but most importantly, you missed her and this couldn't possibly be her. It would be too much of a coincidence to cross paths in this exact space at precisely the same time, especially when space and time had lost their significance to you ever since your transformation…that was until this very moment. Moving closer cautiously, you walked in silence, struggling to stifle your gasp.

It was her.

She retained the same appearance as the day you first encountered her; ageless, timeless, and effortlessly divine. That finely chiseled jaw remained a masterpiece, her dark skin still the epitome of flawlessness, and her hair wore the same exact short curls that framed her face in a manner that rendered her the most attractive person you have ever encountered. Even after nearly four centuries, you have yet to meet someone like Shuri Udaku. If a heartbeat resided within you, it would undoubtedly be pounding against your rib cage. If breath were still at your disposal, it would stagger beyond your control. However, for the past 400 years, you possessed none of the two. No breath. No heartbeat. You were frozen.

Closer and closer, you moved forward, until finally you took the empty bar stool next to her in the very empty bar.

“Shuri?”

She paused. Her body stayed deathly still right before she turned to see the face she missed so much.

“Y/n…?”

“Yeah…”

And while your heightened senses surpassed any human perceptions, the world seemed to suddenly go quiet, embracing a rare moment of absolute silence. It was a profound silence, the kind you craved after a prolonged period of listening to the world and all its presence for so long and it seemed Shuri felt the same. Both of you embraced this quietude, finding solace in its embrace, until she eventually broke the stillness with the very mouth you had once intimately known.

“It’s been…it’s been almost 200 years, s’thandwa.”

That name. Oh, how you missed that too.

“Yeah…I guess it has been.”

February 16th, 2022, New York

The day was warm, the sun reaching its peak in the sky while your dark attire absorbed its radiance. You reveled in the comforting sensation it provided, a soothing contrast to the ache settled within you, a certain feeling of content that masked the emptiness you felt. Yes, the sky was bright, the day was warm, but your heart was not. Not with the scene that surrounded you.

“We gather here today to commemorate our brother Jonathan. He was a friend to us all, a person that will truly be missed and cannot be replaced….”

You found it impossible not to internally sneer at the kind and flattering words used to depict your former partner, Jonathan, during his funeral. To everyone present, he was a gentle and caring man, someone adored by everyone who had crossed paths with him. However, you were all too aware of the person he was behind closed doors; a coward, a despicable individual who was good for nothing but the depths of pockets. He had used you as a mere pawn in his life, exploiting your exceptional beauty. You were nothing more than an object, a prized possession desired by many men, but he had claimed you. Your parents had practically arranged your marriage to Jonathan, a companion chosen for you due to his wealth. The plan was for you to marry him and become his perfect wife. That was until a week ago when he passed away.

“My son was everything a mom could want…,” Jonathan’s mother began, breaking into sobs as she mourned for her son you hated so deeply.

“He was…the most perfect boy. My baby boy. And y/n…” Her gaze connected with yours, her eyes filled with a pitiful sorrow that you could not reciprocate or even pretend to, and so you did nothing but offer her a weak smile as she proceeded. “My boy loved you, baby. He loved you with his entire being and I hope you know that.”

A pitiful smile graced your face, the only response you could possibly give her amidst your numbness. The pain and hollowness residing in your heart were not born from sorrow or profound grief over Jonathan's death, but rather from the absence of love and affection he gave you. The lack of love in a relationship that had consumed three and a half years of your life weighed heavily on you. All you had received was a shattered heart, and there was no one there to assist you in gathering the fragments except for yourself.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The moment you closed your apartment door, a long exhale escaped you; a mix of relief and stress as you stepped into your now quiet space. It was vastly different from the usual banter Jonathan would welcome you home with, his tendency to pinpoint faults in you as an outlet for his anger that had nothing to do with you in the first place. Yet now, you stood alone. The sentiment was uncertain and you were not sure how to feel about it, but there was an odd form of comfort in the deafening silence. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a tangled maze of broken strands. Amidst the chaos, your mind always retorted back to one single thing: your friend, Shuri.

You had arranged to meet with her in a couple days and finally address your suspicions head-on. You were well aware that you were most likely overthinking, perhaps being overly dramatic or even irrational, and that your theories might be far from the truth. But after a year of friendship, the burden of skepticism had become overwhelming. The feeling of being kept in the dark, the feeling that she harbored secrets and consistently hid things from you, had pushed you to a breaking point. You couldn't bear this constant uncertainty any longer. You were fully prepared to demand answers and possibly present an ultimatum because you were simply exhausted and as much as it would break you to have to remove Shuri from your life, it was what you needed to do if she refused to provide you with the solace and closure you needed, especially in times like these.

You proceeded with your night routine, changing into your pajamas and getting comfy in your now very empty bed. Was the bed always this large? Or did Jonathan just always make you feel small? Finally, after a long day, you allowed yourself to weep, sensing the tears tracing their path down your cheeks and absorbing into the softness of your pillow. You cried yourself into the most serene sleep you had in years.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You sat at the diner where you and Shuri would always meet at late hours, waiting for her to appear so you could finally voice the subtle anger that had been building within you over the course of a year-long friendship. It wasn't just a matter of her being a weird individual disinterested in sharing about herself—it was everything about her. The way she spoke, the way she was ridiculously smart, the way she has done absolutely everything and been absolutely everywhere in her short 26 years of being on this earth. It seemed she spoke an almost inhuman number of languages, and you couldn't recall ever seeing her eat, despite her assurances that she did. Her handling of alcohol was reckless, yet you'd only witnessed her drunk once, maybe twice.

There were countless aspects that unnerved you, but the most unsettling was her adamant refusal to meet during daylight. She claimed it to be solar urticaria, a supposed sun allergy, and you believed her initially. However, her increasing avoidance of daytime interactions left you puzzled and frustrated. She wouldn't respond to your texts or answer your calls during daylight hours, making it impossible for you to visit her, even when she didn't have to leave her home. Strangely enough, you had never even seen her house.

The mounting suspicions were overwhelming, and you wondered if you were being silly. It couldn't be true, right? There was no scientific proof or evidence to support such a claim. But what else would your suspicions add up to? What other explanation was there, except that she might be a va--

"Hey, y/n," her velvety voice broke through your thoughts. She settled into her seat across from you, and you couldn't deny how fine she looked. She had always held a certain kind of beauty, and not in a friendship type of way; it was a beauty impossible to overlook, one that left a lasting impression on everyone, yourself included. It was an ethereal allure, almost divine in nature. She gave off an attractiveness that surpassed ordinary bounds, and you were no exception to its impact. It was a challenge to put into words, but she seemed otherworldly, perhaps even godlike in her allure. She was undeniably attractive, captivating beyond what your body could handle, yet you continually suppressed any attraction you felt towards her. After all, you were in a relationship, a terrible one, but a relationship nonetheless. The last thing you needed was to lose the only person you believed truly understood you because of a silly attraction you may have felt for her.

"Hello, Shuri," you responded, your voice carrying a hint of tremor from the nerves that had crept in. Shuri caught on, and her self-assured chuckle let you know she sensed the anxiousness that had taken hold of you, further quickening your heartbeat.

"You look beautiful," she remarked, attempting to ease your nerves, though both of you knew that did nothing but make it worse. Her words carried a magnetic charm, one that surpasses the human experience, causing the hairs on your arms to stand up. You managed a soft smile in response, genuine but subdued, as that was all you could offer right now and Shuri immediately picked up on the fact that something was off about you. There was a subtle shift in your demeanor and posture, a slight dimming of the twinkle in your eyes but it didn't escape her notice.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” You’re caught off guard because you didn’t think yourself to be that obvious. You knew for a fact you were never that transparent. But to Shuri, you almost always were.

“What do you mean?”

“Well there’s obviously something wrong.”

“Obviously? I’m just sitting here, I’ve said all but five words to you, how is it obvious??” Your tone turned a touch harsh, frustration evident as you were tired of Shuri's ability to see through you. Raising an eyebrow, she chuckled, revealing her perfect set of pearly whites.

“I’m sorry for your loss, by the way,” she said once she stopped her laughter. You huffed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms.

“No need to be sorry…I’m almost relieved he’s good and gone.”

Shuri softly smiled, a smile you knew she tried to contain but it was no use.

“What?”

“Nothing…I just think…I think you’ll be much better without him. You never needed him, y/n.”

For a moment, you almost got caught up in her, lost in her words and the enchantment that peered behind her beautiful dark brown eyes but you remembered what you were here for, and you weren’t about to succumb into her hypnotic gaze as you often do.

“Shuri…I-I need answers…like…like, right now.” Even though your voice trembled, your request was resolute. You yearned for something from her, anything at all. And just when you thought you had the advantage, that same self-assured smirk reappeared on her face, as if she had been waiting for you to bring up the conversation.

“What?,” you questioned her facial expressions.

“What?,” she challenged back.

“No, you’re the one giving me that look so you tell me what's up.”

“The floor is yours, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, inhaling deeply as you debated whether to continue with this conversation. If your suspicions were wrong, you'd feel like a damn fool. Shuri would undoubtedly tease you relentlessly, something she already enjoyed doing. But you pushed aside all doubts and plowed forward despite the hesitations that surfaced in her presence. Clearing your throat, you released a hefty exhale before proceeding.

“Shuri…I know you’re gonna think I sound insane but I’m getting to a breaking point, and I just have to ask…”

“Then ask.”

You paused, glaring at her as you proceeded. “We’ve been friends for about a year now, and there’s no better way to put this but there’s just something incredibly off about you…like, it’s fucking with my head.”

Shuri bit the inside of her cheek, trying to contain her laughter.

“You are insanely talented at like…everything, you’ve been everywhere, you speak multiple languages, I’ve never met your family, or seen your house and I’m starting to question whether you even have a family…or a house…”

“Are you done?”

“Not even close. You never eat…or drink, but you drink an insane amount of alcohol almost everytime we go out yet I’ve seen you get drunk maybe once…?? Shuri, that's not humanly possible.”

“You’re listing things about myself like I don’t already know, pretty girl.”

She always knew her way with words.

“I’m not done.”

She gestured for you to proceed, resting her back against her chair.

“The sun…what is your deal with the day time??”

“I already told you, y/n.”

“No, don’t give me that shit. I don’t buy it…so you’re allergic to the sun or whatever…you can’t pick up your phone?? Answer your texts?? But as soon as the sun goes down…”

Shuri just sits there, interested but also unbothered and you weren’t sure how that made you feel. There was silence for a moment.

“You gonna say something or just sit there and look good all evening??”

Shuri said nothing but another chuckle.

“What’s so funny, Shuri? You’ve been saying nothing but laughing at me the whole time.”

“I was waiting for you to finish what you were saying.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

Shuri leaned in, placing her forearms on the table, her smug grin never wavering. Her eyes shifted between the two of your own, delving into the depths of your eyes. You swallowed, nerves building up in anticipation.

“Come on, y/n. You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I—“

“I don’t need to repeat everything you just listed. Why must I answer what you already know?”

“What are you saying, Shuri??”

“Don’t be stupid now. You know.”

“What do I know??”

Shuri arched an eyebrow, and you took in a sharp breath. It couldn't be. There was just absolutely no way.

“Uh uh. Don’t fuck with me, Shuri, this isn’t fucking funny!”

“I’m not playing with you, princess. I have no reason to anymore. You know.”

“Anymore?? What does that mean?? Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

A lengthy silence ensued as you both locked eyes, glaring eachother down. Shuri appeared unbothered, almost captivated by your frustration and that only fueled the fire that was coursing through your veins.

“Uh uh, there’s just no way. No fucking way,” you uttered in disbelief as you made your way out of the diner, coming face to face with the dark night that surrounded you every single time you were with her. Shuri rolled her eyes before she got up to follow you. You hurried behind the restaurant, hoping to get a moment of privacy to collect your thoughts, but that hope dissipated as you felt Shuri's firm grip on your wrist, causing you to flinch at her harshness. Shuri let go abruptly, offering no verbal apology, but her eyes held a silent regret at the action.

“Shuri, what the fuck is going on??,” you asked, attempting to keep your voice down but your mind was too boggled to remember you were still out in public.

“I’m gonna need you to keep your voice down, y/n.”

“Keep my….excuse me?? No! Don’t fucking tell what to do, Shuri! Tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“Y/n…,” a voice of warning, one that was accompanied by her firm stature.

“No, don’t fucki—,” but before you could complete your sentence, your body was wedged against the building wall, Shuri's palm firmly covering your mouth as her body trapped you in. She held you like that for a moment, admiring how you so easily yielded to her control even after your mouth refused to shut up for her.

“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” Your face softened just a bit, almost relaxing into her touch.

“Are you going to listen to me, y/n?”

You nodded, a smirk appearing on her face at the gesture.

“Good girl.” She let your mouth go. “No wonder Jonathan could not handle you.”

You scowled at her, eyebrows furrowing together as Shuri pinched your chin and tilted your head up just a bit. “Let me take you home and I will tell you everything you need to know. I’ll answer any important questions you have, baby, but you have got to listen to me. Do you understand?”

You were trembling, and though your pride nearly kept you from acknowledging it, fear gripped you. Fear of Shuri and whatever her motives might be. Your heart felt like it could burst through your rib cage at any given moment.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just let me take you home. Please.” Her plea seemed to carry a hint of desperation and it provided an odd sense of comfort. You knew that you would be okay and so you agreed.

The car ride remained silent, only the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the car window and Shuri's old tunes playing softly. Your heartbeat felt so loud, you swore you could almost hear that too…or maybe she could.

Once you get there, Shuri swiftly makes it to your side, helping you get out as she softly massages the skin on your wrist.

“I don’t need your help getting to my door, Shuri.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

She lets you go, trailing behind you as you make your way to your apartment.

You made yourself a cup of tea in an effort to soothe your nerves but the absence of conversation between you two left an eerie atmosphere in the space, one that surpasses the fact that you now live alone in a space that was once for two. The rain seemed distant, tapping lightly against your balcony window. Suddenly, the sound of her presence broke through your state of mind.

“So…are you gonna tell me what’s going on, y/n?”

You swallow, trying to contain your composure. “Nah, I’m waiting for you to tell me, Shuri.”

“I think you’ve gotten it all figured out now. Am I right?”

“But I want to hear it come from your mouth, Shuri. I wanna know it’s true because you told me.”

Shuri reclined, stretching her arms casually against the sofa, adopting an almost cocky posture as she grinned at you.

“You gonna fucking say something or what?,” you snapped in impatience.

Shuri raises an eyebrow as she releases a breathy chuckle. “You have such a mouth on you.”

Your eyebrows lightly furrowed together, before you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Fine. Let’s have it your way then. Let me reintroduce myself to you…Hello, y/n. My name is Shuri Udaku and I am a vampire,” she said with a nod of her head, as if the fact meant nothing. Your heart stops for a second before it begins beating uncontrollably, consumed with pure shock. Even though you already knew, you were never prepared for how it felt once it was made real.

“I can hear your heartbeat, princess. Tell me what you’re feeling. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I…I need some time to p-process…”

Shuri remained silent, her eyebrows knitting together as she observed you, appreciating the way you stumbled over your own words. She was captivated by you, by the way your body responded to her and to this newfound piece of information that you were trying to keep your composure over.

“I want you to go, Shuri.”

But she did not budge. Perched there, she observed you, and an increasing fear of her began to gnaw at you and Shuri seemed to sense this. She rose from her seat, advancing toward you, firmly placing her hands on the armrests of your chair as she hovered over you. Her lips were mere whispers away from yours, and the desire to both flee from and lean into her lips was a thin line in difference. You were torn between pushing her away and surrendering to the magnetic pull. Even though she had always held a certain dominance in your relationship, it was different now. It was hunter and hunted. Predator and prey. You felt so small, utterly defenseless, and you swallowed in anticipation, awaiting her next move.

“Shuri…please,” you choked out.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I—please don’t hurt me. Please.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and though it wasn't inherently menacing, it sent shivers down your spine. Shuri leaned down, her lips almost brushing against the side of your throat, and your entire body quivered the closer she got.

“Please,” you said softly, unsure of what it was you were pleading for at this point. Did you want her to stop? Did you want her to keep going? There was a thin line between the two and the beat in your heart found its way between your legs and you could only hope she couldn’t sense that too. Shuri pressed her lips into your throat, kissing the sensitive skin as you sigh in relief. You tried so hard to contain the moan that was threatening to escape you but you swallowed it, clenching your thighs together instead. The feel of her soft lips against your throat was threatening to undo you and the sound of her voice nearly made you bring her face into yours.

“I would never hurt you,” she hums as her lips continue to softly assault your throat. A soft whimper escapes your lips, an unwilling beg for her to give you more and Shuri took note of it but did not give into it. She removes herself from your body, coming back to face you and your eyes that drown in both fear and want. She takes your cheek into the palm of her hand, pressing firm into your warm skin.

“If I leave now, are you going to be ok here on your own?”

You nod and she smirks at you, admiring how you and that smart mouth of your was at loss for words and how she was the one that got you that way.

“I’ll see you whenever you want to see me. Let me know and I’ll give you all the answers that you need. Just reach out to me, yeah?”

You nod again. She grabs your hand and helps you off the chair, pulling you in by your hips until your pelvis bumps into hers and suddenly all fear is replaced with pure lust and this was nothing new. You always had an attraction for Shuri, even when you were with Jonathan, you could never ignore how beautiful she was and how her beauty lit a spark in you and though there were never any official titles placed between the two of you, you always knew a part of her wanted you too.

“Shuri,” you groaned, completely overtaken by her and her presence.

“What is it?,” she asked, her voice winning you over with the bass it held. You swallow harshly, embarrassed with yourself and how much you were leaking onto your panties.

“I want…I n-need…”

“Tell me.”

You remained silent, hoping that the desperation in your expression would convey what words could not but that was not enough for Shuri. She let you go and your body immediately ached at the emptiness you felt. Then, she gently gripped your chin, tilting it slightly to ensure your gaze was locked onto hers.

“Call me when you’re ready.” Shuri heads towards the balcony door and opens it, and the coolness from outside immediately strikes your skin and you shiver.

“Shuri, what the fuck are you doing?? It’s raining and it’s damn cold, close the door!”

Shuri only smirked at you, scanning her surroundings before she effortlessly jumped off the balcony as if it was nothing. You immediately gasped, rushing to the edge to search for her, but she had vanished. All that remained was the sound of the pouring rain and the rustle of the wind in the air, clogging your senses and sending a sharp shiver up your spine. You had received the answer you sought, the one you needed, but now you were left with nothing but an insatiable craving to know more.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A week had passed since that night with Shuri, a week of solitude spent grappling with troubled thoughts that ignited an overwhelming sense of desire. Finally, you summoned the courage to reach out and arrange another meeting with her. Shuri agreed, relieved that you were willing to take it up a notch.

“So what about mirrors?”

“What about mirrors?”

“You know…that dracula shit, how he can’t see his reflection and all…is that real?”

Shuri chuckles. “False. I can see my reflection perfectly fine.”

“Ok…uhhh, what about the whole thing with crosses, crucifixes, holy water and all that…?”

“False. Although I do not like being in the presence of those things, only because I find religion to be messy and I never really believed in it.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Okay, ummmm…what about garlic?”

Shuri burst into laughter. “You watch way too many movies, y/n.”

“Well shit, I don’t know. Pop culture got you guys all kinds of fucked up.”

“I know, it’s ok. I just…keep going,” she assures, coming back down from her laughter.

“Okay um…the sun.”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I know but I want to hear it come from your mouth, Shuri.”

“You must have heard enough lore to understand that we cannot go into the sun, princess. It is one of our greatest weaknesses. If I go in the sun, I’ll die. It’s simple really.”

A part of you went numb as the fragments and clues started to unravel and fit together before your eyes. Yet, you knew there was a crucial aspect of her you needed to confront, the elephant in the room that you were eager to discuss as soon as she disclosed her true nature as a vampire.

“W-what about your…your diet?,” you ask, already knowing the answer but afraid to hear it anyway. Shuri goes silent, as if she wants to keep the obvious all to herself.

“Shuri, baby…you said you would talk to me.”

“I know what I said.”

“So then talk to me. You’re the one that came into my life. You knew you would eventually have to have these conversations. So tell me.”

“They never last this long,” she replies, her eyes no longer on yours.

“What? Who never lasts this long?”

“What I am trying to say is, y/n…I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of having this same conversation over and over and over again just for that person to run. No one has lasted this long.”

And that’s when it hits you. That’s when you remember that vampires are immortal beings. “Wait…how…how old are you?”

“I’m 26.”

“You know what the fuck I mean.”

A subtle tilt graced her lips as she smiled, exuding the same self-assured manner she always seemed to have.

“I was born in 1794, turned in the year 1820. And I’ve been this ever since,” she says so matter of factly. It startled you at first, leaving you trying to do the math in your head and Shuri notices right away.

“228.”

“What?”

“That’s the answer you are looking for.”

“Wait, how’d you…?? Wait…can you read minds??,” you ask startled, worried she may have heard all the dirty thoughts you’ve had about her. Shuri laughs.

“No, not necessarily. I don’t need to read your mind directly in order to know that is what you were thinking. Your body language says it all.”

You glare at her in confusion.

“I have been around long enough to understand what someone is trying to say or what they are thinking through their body language, princess. A skill humans think they have but I promise, you truly do not.”

“Uh huh…so you can’t read minds? Then what can you do? What kinds of powers or whatever do you have??”

“Powers??”

“Yeah or whatever the fuck its called!”

Shuri chuckles. “We don’t have ‘powers’. We have abilities. Take for example…the cheetah. The fastest land species…well not necessarily but you wouldn’t call its ability to run fast a power would you? Or the owls' capability to see at night? Is that a ‘power’ to you? How about the elephant's strength? A power? No. They are abilities that help them run from predators and catch their prey. It’s no different for a vampire. We have…capabilities that make it easy to catch our prey.”

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond to the snarky yet intelligent way she put it.

“Throw that knife at me,” she commands, pointing to the knife you used to cut your steak.

“What??”

“Do it.”

“Shuri, I’m not gonna throw a knife at you, are you mad??”

“You cannot hurt me, y/n.”

You glanced around, surveying your surroundings and noting the nearly empty restaurant as the night advanced. Gradually, you picked up the knife, taking a deep breath before hurling it towards her. She effortlessly caught it in the palm of her hand, as if she had performed the act a million times before, the blade no more than an inch from her eyes. She then opened her hand, revealing the deep wound the knife had left from her grip and the blood that started to pool. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you observed her flesh healing at an inhumane speed. It was no different than the healing process for a human but sped up by 100 times.

“Whoaaaa,” you say, like a child seeing something extraordinary for the first time.

“I can also communicate to you telepathically,” she says, but her mouth did not move. It was as if she had placed her voice inside your mind and spoke to you that way.

“Wait…how’d you?? Do it again! That was cool!”

“I’ll leave it for another time,” she laughs. “I also have senses beyond the human capacity to even dream of. When I…turned…it was as if I was blind my whole life, like I was a deaf and could finally hear. My senses overwhelmed me, I swore I was going to die with everything that was raging through my body. I’m fast, strong, never get tired…I can talk about my ‘powers’ for a long time. But really…it loses its touch overtime. I often forget those abilities are there.”

At this moment, your jaw dropped in astonishment, completely enthralled with what truly existed and that it had been right in front of you all along.

“So you’re like…a superhero…with super cool powers and shit.”

Shuri's presence briefly darkened as a glint of emotion shimmered in her eye, a momentary pause that was so brief but felt long.

“Superhero,” she repeats. “No…nothing like that. Not anymore.” She mumbled that last part and it caught your attention but you chose to ignore it for the time being, steering back to the original point of conversation.

“Shuri…your diet.”

She looks away in shame, closing her eyes before she proceeds to answer. “I drink blood.”

“Ok…and what else?”

“That’s it. That’s all I eat. Human food tastes like nothing to me, it’s disgusting really. It does not give me any nutritional value either. The longer I go without drinking blood, the more I’ll start to feel it.”

You take a sharp gulp. “So how often do you feed on people?”

“Often…as much as I can.”

“D-do you…kill people?”

A brief pause ensues but Shuri's intense gaze stays fixed on you all the while, her jaw tensing before she continues.

“I have.”

Heat rushes through you. “Do you kill people often?”

“Not anymore.”

“...anymore?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

You looked away, almost disgusted with the person you were sitting in front of.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, y/n.”

“No I…I want--I need to hear this. When…when was the last time you killed someone?”

Shuri refrained from speaking immediately, choosing to study and began to grow queasy.

“Not that long ago.”

“How long ago?? Did I know you??”

“Yeah.”

Another deafening silence engulfed the space between you two. There was no need to voice your next question; she already anticipated what you were going to ask.

“It was February 10…2022.”

Instantly, a sinking feeling gripped your stomach, and your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest as tears welled up, ready to surface.

“J-Jonathan?,” you whispered as you choked on your tears. She nodded her head, almost unbothered by the tears you were shedding for him.

“What…what the fuck is wrong with you??!”

“Y/n…”

“No! No, don’t fucking touch me!”

Despite the near emptiness of the diner, the few present all had eyes only looking at you before you stormed out with both confusion and hurt coursing through you. You climb into your car with determination before driving home, the desire to distance yourself from her was overpowering but when you got home, you were heavily startled to find her seated on your couch, indulging from your stash of whiskey.

“What are you doing here?? How’d you even get in here?!”

“Through the balcony.”

Your fractured sobs were on the verge of breaking free, and your tear-streaked cheeks were evidence of the intense breakdown you had in the car ride back home.

“You can’t just break into my house whenever you want to,” you managed to spit out.

“Can’t I?,” she challenged.

“Shuri…get the fuck outta my house. Get the fuck outta my house, I swear to god, Shuri…”

“I did you a favor, y/n.” The audacity she displayed left you stunned, as you pressed your temples in an attempt to ease the throb in your head from all the tears you cried.

“I never liked him. He never treated you the way you deserved and you just let him treat you that way. I was so sick of seeing you cry, y/n. Is that the life you really wanted for yourself? I mean, let’s be honest. You’re more than happy he’s gone. Now there’s nothing in the way of going after what you really want, seeking for the life you deserve, princess. I did it for you.”

“I--wow. You are mentally insane. What is that, some kinda romantic vampire notion??”

“It can be,” she responded, and you struggled to discern if she was being sarcastic. Nothing could be certain when she wore that enigmatic grin on her face.

“None of that was for you to decide, Shuri! You can’t just go around killing people and for what?? Cuz you don’t like them? That’s a life…a human life you just took away…”

“I’ve decided a long time ago to not care too much for human life anymore. There is no point and it does nothing for me.”

“I…what? Ok…yeah…Imma need you to get the fuck outta my house…like…now.”

Shuri rises from her seat, advancing towards you, and soon you're caught between the wall and her imposing presence once more. Your breath hastens, and the hairs on your arm stand on end as she takes you in. Shuri takes pleasure in the way your body reacts to her, attempting to decipher just how frightened you truly are. You swallow nervously.

“What are you scared of, princess?,” she asks with low lids, her eyes glazed with desire.

“Y-you.”

She lets out a soft chuckle as she fakes a frown, almost mocking your fear.

“Why?” Gently, she runs her fingers across your cheek as she speaks softly, a sly smile appearing on her face while she observes your pleading eyes locked onto hers. “Tell me why I scare you, baby.”

“You kill people, Shuri.”

Shuri nods, humming in agreement.

“You could kill me.”

“I could…but I won’t. You know why? Cuz I care for you…I care for you and it scares the absolute shit outta me.” She utters these words with a hint of sorrow in her eyes, as if a fracture lies beneath the confident facade she typically displays when you're around. Strangely, this vulnerability lessens your fear. You reach out and touch her face, gently placing your palm against her cheek, and she leans into your touch.

“Do you care about me?,” she asks, her voice coming to soothe you.

“Hmm?”

“Do you care about me, y/n? Tell me, please. I need to know.”

In an instant, any remnants of warmth and comfort vanish, swiftly replaced by a surge of anger within you.

“Shuri, how the fuck are you even asking me this right now? Do I care about you?? You killed Jonathan!”

“Yeah, and he tasted fucking delicious,” she snarked back. At that moment, you no longer cared about holding back the tears you had struggled so hard to keep in check in front of her. It felt futile.

“Are you…? Shuri, I beg, fuck outta my house…like right now!”

“Do you really want me to go though?”

You did, you wanted her out of your face but there was a part of you that wanted her to stay and learn more, though you decided to push it to the farthest corner of your mind for now.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you were relieved that he was gone.”

“That doesn’t make it ok,” you spat. Shuri sits back down, manspreading on the couch and she looks ridiculously delicious. How pathetic of you to find the attractiveness in her even in the midst of the anger she fueled through you. She tells you to come sit beside her but you opt for the couch in front of her instead and she chuckles at you.

“I just…you can’t be mad at me for reacting the way I am.”

“Who said I was mad?”

You took a brief pause, granting yourself a moment of composure as you regulate your breathing and wiped away your tears. Shuri sensed the warmth emanating from your body and tuned into the steadier rhythm of your heartbeat before she proceeds.

“I just have one question for you, is that ok?”

You nod.

“Are you relieved because of who he was? Or are you relieved you no longer have an obstacle that is getting in the way of going after what you really want?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t play stupid.”

“I-I don’t--”

But you were cut off by the swiftness of her body approaching you and it startled you. She was in front of you in less than a second, her figure was nothing but a blur as she ran to you, traveling at the speed of light.

“How did you--” and once again Shuri hushed you with the raise of her finger.

“You ask me about honesty, telling me to come clean to you and all I’m asking is the same from you. I need your honesty as well. And maybe you won’t give it to me today and that’s ok because if there is one thing I have in this life of mine, it’s time. But I need you to relax, just breathe. I know there’s a lot more swimming in that mind of yours and I am willing to clear it for you if you let me.”

You finally allow yourself a moment of calm, inhaling deeply numerous times as your mind relaxed into her even just for a brief moment. She made it so hard to stay mad at her, even for something as viscous as the things she did, she always, always knew her way around you. The two of you sat back down, eagerly waiting to see who would break the silence. You had a multitude of questions to pose, but for now, you chose this one.

“So are you like…dead?”

A soft smile appears on her face. “I prefer the term undead but yes, I died so technically that makes me dead.”

“You died,” you repeat her words to yourself and Shuri nods and there is most definitely a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“How?”

Her manner transforms, her brows knitting together as she adopts a more rigid seating posture. “It just happened, I guess.”

Confusion sets in. Why would she permit you to ask all the questions you need, only to respond on her own terms?

“Shuri, your hostility is really starting to piss me off.”

She pauses, her face tainted with frustration.

“You said I could ask anything and you would tell me.”

“No, I said I’d tell you anything you need to know.”

“And I don’t need to know this??”

“No, you really don’t.”

“So one minute you're telling me I can ask all the questions I want but when I overstep your boundaries, you back away. Uh uh, that’s not how we’re doing this. I ask. You answer. Or I’m not doing this, Shuri.”

“This? And what exactly would this be, y/n?”

“That’s not my point.”

“Then what is your point?? Don’t I deserve answers too?? Don’t try to play stupid with me, y/n. It may have worked for him but that shit does not work for me.”

A brief interlude of silence engulfed the space, one that almost broke you but Shuri continued to speak.

“I’ll just leave you be for now because you clearly have a lot of thinking to do as well.”

Once more, she leaves you, leaves you with just enough to drive you mad.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

2 weeks pass by and you have not seen or spoken to her since that day but your thoughts have been consumed by her non-stop. You took the time to do your own research, trying to find things out for yourself but you were met with even more questions by the end of it. You continuously pull your phone out, wanting to meet with her again, but everytime you gather up the courage to type the message, fear would make you delete it.

You prepare for bed, doing your usual night time routine and when you turn around to go to your bedroom, she is standing right behind and it scares you out of your mind.

“Shuri, what the actual fuck??? You scared the living shit outta me!!”

Shuri laughs lightly, finding amusement in your pissed off state.

“That shit ain’t funny, you almost gave me a heart attack. Quit doing that.”

“I don’t know, your reaction is kind of funny.”

“Shuri!!”

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. It’s just…you never called, I was beginning to worry.”

“There’s no need to worry, I’m perfectly fine. Plus these things go two ways. Haven’t heard from you either.” Your torn is harsh and short tempered.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“Yes.”

“What did I do now?”

“Are you here to tell me what I want to know?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t know what that means”

“You will.”

You maintain silence, growing weary of her ongoing games. You walk right past her, rolling your eyes in frustration as you head toward your bedroom, and she trails behind, following you inside.

“If you’re not gonna tell me anything, you can go,” you say as you plop into your bed.

“Actually, I was thinking I could stay the night,” she remarks, casually taking a seat on the bed beside you and getting comfortable. The idea triggered a mix of unease and excitement. Having Shuri in the same bed as you opened the door to countless fantasies your mind could explore, but it also carried the potential for things to become…ugly.

“What? I’m not going to eat you,” she quips, reading your unease and responding in a playful manner. You clench your teeth, attempting to conceal the subtle fear creeping in because even though you know she was simply toying with you, it raises another question: did she have an appetite for your blood?

“I’m serious, y/n. You know that right? I won’t hurt you.”

You pondered it in silence a bit longer before responding to her.

“Fine…but stay on your side of the bed and don’t even think of trying anything,” you remark with attitude and Shuri, per usual, only laughs at you.

“Whatever you say,” she replies with her hands in the air. You roll your eyes in aggression before shifting in your bed, making yourself comfortable as you endeavor to drift off to sleep, lulled by the sound of your own breath and the absence of hers. Your heart races for a while until it finally settles into a deep slumber, a sleep in which you experience the most vivid dream in your entire life.

➳ the dream:

You wake up to the sound of unsettling echoes of a distant battleground, the anguished cries of people you loved and cared for pierced your ears. You had never felt so much fear in your life, disoriented and overwhelmed by your grim surroundings. You never felt so willing to help and use your Bast-given powers that had been passed on to you ever since your brother entered the ancestral plane but it was when you attempted to get up that you realized you were deeply wounded and you could barely move, the healing effects of the heart-shaped herb becoming slow. You were overcome by an excruciating physical agony, you struggle and weep, the most horrific pain you've ever known taking over you. Amidst this suffering, a distant cry reaches your ears, nearly snuffing out your last breath.

“YINTOMBI YAM!!” (“SHE’S MY DAUGHTER!!”)

“Akayi kuphumelela, kumkanikazi wam! Ukuba uyahamba, siya kufa sonke! Uya kufa!” (“She won’t make it, my queen! If you go, we will all die! You will die!”)

“Hayi, hayi intombi yam! Hayi Shuri yam!! Bast ndicela ungamthathi uShuri wam! Sele uno T'challa, hayi uShuri wam, nceda !! NDIYACELA!!" (“No, not my daughter! Not my Shuri!! Bast please don’t take my Shuri! You already have T’challa, not my Shuri, please!! PLEASE!!”)

The cries were violent, compelling you to move toward them, yet your feeble body refused. Your heart raced, the blood pulsing through your veins as if in a rush, leaving you breathless, and the world seemed to constrict around you under the scorching rays of the sun. The warmth enveloped you, vibrant and teeming with life, a stark contrast to the disturbing sounds that surrounded you.

“Uya kuba kunye nezinyanya, uKumkanikazi uRamonda. Uzakuba noT’Challa.” (“She will be with the ancestors, Queen Ramonda. She will be with T’Challa.”)

"Hayi hayi!!” (“No…NO!!”)

The echoes of agonizing cries gradually diminished until they were nothing, your vision faltering as breathing became a struggle, your body shutting down faster than the healing effects of the heart-shaped herb could manage. Your life was slipping away, breath fleeing your lungs, and you made the decision to embrace it as you faded into a state of nothingness and you saw the ancestral plane for a small moment, its beautiful sky right within your grasp until you suddenly awoke with a sharp inhale and a vicious cough.

You were greeted by the serene night sky, accompanied only by the chirping of crickets and you were startled once you noticed a woman seated before you, her face unfamiliar and her accent foreign to your ears.

“Who—who are you??,” you asked, but she did not answer. “How did you get into Wakanda?”

You adjusted your body to stand, surprised that you were completely healed with no sign of injury or pain. “Did you do this?? Heal me??”

Again, you were met with silence until finally she spoke with a grin. “Something like that,” she quipped, teasing you as she sat man spread on the log below her. The treescape surrounded you, the darkness overwhelmed you and you should be cold but you weren’t.

“How did you do it?? What kind of science is this??!!”

But the woman merely chuckled, finding amusement in your perplexed state and the endless questions you directed at her. "Science," she reiterated, almost tauntingly.

“Who are you??,” you asked once more, this time with more demand but still, she gave you nothing. “I-I have to go back to the palace. I have to see my mom, she thinks I’m dead! I heard her cries!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You won’t even tell me who you are! Why should I listen to you??”

She shifted her posture, and under the moon's gentle glow, you noticed an unusual quality about her. Her face, though seemingly perfect, bore eyes that were anything but human; glassy, with a hue of blood-red. This sight filled you with fear, urging you to flee, racing into the forest in a desperate bid to reach the safety of the palace and escape the woman who instilled such terror in you.

As you ran, you began to realize how you moved much faster than ever before. Your senses heightened, capturing details and sounds that were previously beyond your perception. The overwhelming influx of sensations left you both stunned and astonished. The world appeared silent, yet it roared with sound. Every rustle, every detail in the darkness of the forest was vividly clear to you.

You pinpointed this experience to the heart-shaped herb, pondering the potential existence of Bast. Could this be a miraculous gift from the ancient power? But when you got to the palace, that was when you would learn, learn it had nothing to do with the herb or Bast. You climbed the towering walls, reaching your mother's bedroom window, opening it cautiously to avoid startling her but your unexpected appearance had the opposite effect. Fear flashed in her eyes and she wanted to scream but she didn’t.

“Unyanisile ntombam?? Usisiporho??" (“Are you real, my daughter?? Are you a ghost??”)

“Hayi mama, ndim! Ndiyaphila! Ndilungile! Andifanga…” (“No mother, it’s me! I’m alive! I’m ok! I didn’t die…”)

“Kodwa…sikubonile. Ubumkile...njani-” (“But…we saw you. You were practically gone...how-”)

“Kulungile mama, Bast undigcinile! Wandomeleza, wandomeleza, ukuze ndoyise iintshaba zethu. Ndiphilile, mama." (“It’s ok mother, Bast saved me! And he made me powerful and strong so I can overcome our enemies! I’m ok, mother.”)

Your mom was taken aback, startled by the way you so openly claimed that Bast saved you when you never believed in such spiritual things before but she did not question you. Her overwhelming emotion was simply relief that you were alive. Your mom was sobbing, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably as she embraced you, holding you as if it were her last moment and you welcomed her in, finding solace in her warmth and familiar scent as you nestled your nose against her neck..and that is when you heard it.

A distinctive rhythm that captured your attention, the steady thump of her heartbeat, so pronounced that it drowned out any other ambient sound. The pulsating rush of blood through her veins accompanied it and it brought you a feeling that was so unclear yet simple at the same exact time. You struggled to comprehend what you were feeling, but the more you resisted, the harder it became to contain. A fiery sensation engulfed your body, saliva pooling in your mouth beyond your control, an overpowering urge rising within you, craving her life source more than you craved anything else before.

“U…uyayiphunga?,” (“Do…do you smell that?,”) you asked, your face still buried into your mothers neck.

“Unuka ntoni?” (“Smell what?”)

"Ndiya yidinga." (“I need it.”)

“Ufuna ntoni, ntombi yam?” (“Need what, my daughter?”)

“Momma…”

"Yintoni, Shuri??" (“What is it, Shuri??”)

You held her so tight, you felt like you could break her and your mother screamed in pain as she felt a crack in her ribs. You were breaking her.

"Umama?? Mama ndiyaxolisa...ndiyaxolisa kakhulu," (“Mother?? Mother I’m so…I’m so sorry,”) you choked out in a state of terror, the sound of her ribs cracking haunted your ears as you held her. Tears brimmed to your eyes as you struggled to let her go, your eyes burned with a wicked venom as your thirst gnawed at your whole body and took away any sense of rational thinking. And suddenly she was gone, no longer in your arms as you looked at the mirror in front of you and saw Shuri’s reflection staring back at you, her mouth covered in blood.

Abruptly, the scene changed and it was no longer your mother in your arms but another woman. She was beautiful. She had deep, dark eyes and skin to match. Her hair was as thick as a lush forest, full of vitality and texture. Her lips are as full as ripened fruit, tempting and inviting.

“What are you waiting for, Shuri?,” she said to you, her voice breaking through your psyche in such a calm, inviting way and you wanted her. Wanted her to be yours forever.

“I want to be with you. Forever. Turn me.”

A surge of guilt briefly tugged at your emotions but that was quickly overridden by an intense longing to be with her until the end of time, an overwhelming love that you had never thought was humanly possible and probably because it was not humanly possible to feel as deeply as a vampire feels.

“I want you to do it, Shuri. Turn me. Please. I want this.” Her dark brown eyes shimmered with a blend of desperation and love and you were so scared. So scared to cross your boundaries once again but the thought of not being with her forever scared you even more.

"Please," she pleaded one final time before you pressed your lips to hers, savoring the warmth of her human essence before trailing down to her throat, delicately grazing your mouth across her tender skin and her pulse whispered against your lips. Opening your mouth, you descended, piercing her veins with your teeth and you moaned as her life source flowed into your mouth, embracing the flavor you desperately needed. And you did this until everything dissolved into an abyss, an engulfing darkness that consumed you until finally, you woke up. And you were you.

You woke up with a commotion of feelings; you were confused, hurt, and scared. Glancing to the side, you found an empty bed, leaving you to wonder if Shuri had even visited your place last night or if it was all part of a dream.

The day unfolded, besieged by thoughts you struggled to push away. No matter how hard you fought, your dream clung to your mind, refusing to dissipate. As night descended, Shuri arrived along with it, standing on your balcony and for the first time, she knocked.

“Shuri?”

“Nkosazana.” The sudden language change throws you off as you step aside to let her in. She has food in her hand, no doubt for you of course.

“Shuri…what language is that?,” you ask with the most curiosity you have ever had so far.

“Xhosa,” she replies without so much as looking at you, emptying the bag of food as she assembles it on your dining table.

“Is that your native language?”

“You never noticed the accent?,” she responds, still not looking at you.

“No, of course I noticed the accent but…Shuri…where are you from?”

Shuri pauses, her entire body freezing momentarily before she resumes.

“Are you Wakandan?”

“So you know about Wakanda?”

“Of course I know about Wakanda. I couldn’t escape it not too long ago, it was all over the news and everything. The world’s most powerful and technologically advanced. A secret hidden in Africa. Home to the…Black…Panther,” your voice trailed off towards the end as you suddenly remembered the reflection staring back at you in your dream. The reflection of Shuri with blood on her lips wearing what you now recognize to be a Black Panther suit.

“Shuri, I need you to tell me something.”

She looks at you for a split second but says nothing.

“Were you…were you the Black Panther?”

Once more, she remains silent, almost entirely disregarding you as she finishes preparing the food. You stand there, observing with genuine admiration. On any other day, her tendency to ignore you would drive you up the wall, your lips ready to hurl curses and demand answers, but this time, you allow her the moments she needs to compose herself. You saw her in a whole new light and you sympathize with her.

Shuri pulls out a chair, signaling for you to sit, and you comply without zero fight on your end as she takes a seat across from you. You bite your inner cheek, plagued with even more questions than you had before.

“You can talk now,” she said, breaking the silence. You took a bite of your food, before proceeding with your abundance of questions.

“What happened last night? What was that??”

“I little trick I like to call ‘dream manipulation.’”

“So you were in my head?”

She nods.

“You made me see…your past?”

Another nod.

“But it’s not like I was watching you. It was as if I was you. I could see, hear, and feel everything you felt as if it was my own. I felt everything.”

Shuri sits there and remains in an unbothered state, only waiting to hear what else you had to say.

“So you were the Black Panther then? A long time ago…or whatever.”

“Mhmmm.”

“What happened?”

“You saw what happened.”

“I know but…I want to hear it from your mouth! A lot happened and I need answers, Shuri! Enough with this unbothered facade you got going on here and fuck you! Answer me!”

Shuri’s nostrils flare as you push her temper, but she quickly swallows it down as she comes to realize that you have every right to be upset.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized for your outburst.

“Don’t be. You have a right to know. It’s just…my brother, T’Challa was the Black Panther up until his life was taken from him and the mantle was passed down to me and then I became the Black Panther. We had enemies, enemies that wanted our resources and our vibranium…stories that are still happening today. I was seriously injured one day in combat, so injured that my loved ones left me for dead. And then I met her. I still don’t know who she is but I know what she was. A monster who turned me into this. Thinking she gave me a second chance at life when she should’ve just let me die so I could be reunited with my brother.” Her voice sounded shattered, burdened with hurt and remorse, and your instinct was to comfort her, to alleviate her pain. But as a feeble human, what could you possibly offer to ease her suffering?

“I never saw her again, the woman that turned me. My maker.” She said that last part with nothing but disgust. “And I hated her…for a long fucking time. I still do. I had to learn to fend for myself, had to teach myself to control my thirst and survive in this human world on my own. It’s been such a long and lonely journey. And everybody leaves. Everybody.”

You sat there, your ears and heart open to her as she fought the tears that loomed on the brink of falling. You so badly wanted to jump into her arms and cradle her, promise her everything was going to be ok but those were not your promises to make. There was nothing you could give her and you felt so small and helpless.

“Shuri…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I just…it has been years since I have said that out loud.”

A faint smile touched your lips as you extended your hand towards her. Despite harboring more questions and unresolved moments, you decided to set them aside, at least for the moment. Shuri reciprocated, reaching out and delicately taking hold of your hand, pressing it to her lips in a desperate gesture as she kissed your skin.

“I want to take you somewhere,” she says.

“And where would that be?”

“It’s a surprise.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You are in your car, but Shuri is at the wheel, navigating deeper into the dense forest. It's dark and somewhat intimidating, and you begin to wonder how Shuri is driving without headlights down the quiet road, until you recall her mention of her incredible eyesight. Finally, after what feels like an hour, Shuri steers into an extremely secluded area. The quietness is disrupted as you hear something other than the chorus of crickets; a gentle sound of water and soft waves. It's a vast lake, so expansive that it could easily be mistaken for an ocean from your perspective.

Shuri opens the car door and extends her hand, and this time, you accept her gesture. Leading you to the lake's edge, the moon was so big and bright, casting a luminous glow upon the night sky and the surrounding stars. The scene is breathtakingly beautiful and grand, the most picture perfect setting for a perfect moment with the person you wanted to be around the most.

“It’s beautiful as fuck out here,” you commented.

“This is where I live. You see that house hiding behind us? That’s my place. It’s where I come every morning and hide away. It’s where I come to just be…free. Free from this world and be who I was made to be.”

“So you do actually have a home? No coffin??,” you joked and she lightly laughed with you.

“So what else can you do? Show me. There’s no one around us, I want to see you being you.”

Shuri raised an eyebrow. “What is it you want me to do?”

“When I was…you…in my dream, you gave me a taste of what it felt like to have your body. When you ran through the forest that night to go back to your mom, I felt your strength, your speed, all that stuff. I want to see it. Show me the cool side of vampirism.”

Shuri tilted her head in contemplation, a pensive smile appeared on her face as she pondered the idea. Typically, she engaged in these activities alone, leaping through the trees, melding with the forest, maneuvering in ways the human body couldn't fathom.

"Fine then," she says, rising swiftly before running towards the trees at an astonishing speed. As she reaches the trees, the reality is beyond your imagination. Her body effortlessly launches onto a branch, beginning a mesmerizing journey from tree to tree, flipping and diving in ways that leaves you smiling in complete and absolute awe. It appears as if she's floating, moving with such speed that gravity seems to chase her, almost a blur in motion. You had never seen someone look so…free. And as she comes back down to meet you, moving faster than your eyes can track, there's no sign of fatigue or weariness. It's the most alive you had ever seen her.

“That was…wow,” you say in complete shock and Shuri laughs at you.

“It’s pretty neat, I guess,” she replies with a smug grin and it makes your stomach tingle. Shuri sits in the sand near the lake and you follow her.

“Do you like being one?”

“Hmmm?”

“A vampire…do you like being one?”

“Sometimes.”

“What’s your favorite thing about it??”

Shuri chuckles, dipping her head between the arms she has perched on her hiked up knees. “I like being able to manipulate people’s dreams,” she replies, shocking you with her answer. “I don’t sleep so it’s the only way I can dream, I guess.”

“No sleep??”

She shakes her head.

“What about your least favorite thing?”

Shuri goes quiet before answering, pondering the many ways she could answer this question.

“The blood lust. Being frozen. Watching the world change but staying the same.” She says this while looking out at the lake, taking her bottom lip into her mouth.

“Do you think you’re a bad person, Shuri?”

Shuri looked at you, eyes scanning your genuinely curious face before she proceeds. “I’m not sure. It’s not so black and white. It’s this weird thing, like…vampires emotionally feel so deeply but we were cursed with the primal instinct to hunt, feed, and kill. It’s like…with humans…when you guys get hungry, you simply go make yourself a sandwich or something, right? Fix yourself a quick meal. With vampires, it does not matter what we feel…that feeling always becomes hunger. If I’m angry, I want to eat someone. If I’m sad, I want to go eat someone. Horny? Eat someone,” she chuckles. ���And then you’re left with nothing but an overwhelming guilt. It’s exhausting. Humbling, in a way, to say the least.”

You swallow, utterly captivated by her and every word she has to give you. This version of Shuri is vastly different from the person you've known over the past year. Seeing her in all her openness and vulnerability makes you realize that you never really knew her and it's only been in these recent days that you've felt so deeply connected to someone in a way you've never experienced before. You could sit here and ask her question after question after question, but there were a few that burned at your heart and it hurt you to ask, but she placed the questions there with the dream she fed you last night.

“Shuri…may I ask you something else?”

“It’s all you’ve been doing, princess. What’s to stop you now?”

“Well…I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to your mom.”

Shuri hung her head low, trying to get lost in the grains of sand and the mere sight of her made you regret your question but once she let out a hefty sigh, you knew it would be ok.

“I went back to the palace that night…the night my life was taken from me and to this day, it was the biggest mistake I had ever made. I thought my senses were some kind of spiritual doing from the heart-shaped herb, that Bast had given me a second chance, how foolish of me!” She buries her head into her hands and you lean forward, not sure what to do but let her have this moment of mourning.

“She thought I was a ghost at first, that I was reaching her from the ancestral plane, claiming that she had watched me die and she most definitely did but I did not know that…yet. She held me in her arms and I did the same and it was at that moment I knew something was off. Her heartbeat was so loud…like a drum pounding in my ears and it overtook me. My throat burned and I could smell her blood and I had never wanted anything more in my life. I wanted it so bad and it scared me. And I made sure that…that I would have it…” She choked on her tears, sobbing into her forearm and you kneeled forward to bring her head into your chest.

“I was brand new, y/n. It was damn near impossible for me to control it. And with no maker to rely on, no counseling or guidance, I was ruthless. An infant vampire and the taste of her blood was the most…feeling that for the first time, it surpasses any human experience. And it disgusts me to say it but I am being honest.”

She sobs in your arms, accepting your embrace as she feels comfort for the first time in years. The feeling was so foreign to her, to feel loved and accepted for who she was, despite acknowledging that she was the monster she believed she was.

“You didn’t know any better, Shuri. You can’t blame yourself for being thrown into this against your will and not knowing how to cope with it. It’s not your fault, baby,” you cooed, lulling her into your warmth as you comforted her.

“That’s what I thought at first, what I told myself for years. But that was my mother, y/n. My flesh and blood. You would think a daughter's love would surpass anything but that just goes to show how strong the thirst for blood is, especially in the beginning. No human equivalent. And it haunts me to this day.”

“Shuri—“

“I left Wakanda, for good, after that. Left them without a protector, without a ruler…I don’t know how they managed to pick themselves up after that but clearly they did. And I’ve never been back. I would love to…go back, one day. But I can’t. Not with the reminders it would bring.”

She lets out a few more soft sobs before she proceeds. “But hey, I managed to make it on my own. No maker, no guidance. I was ruthless in the beginning. Most vampires are.”

You feigned a smile, one that was just for her. “And what about the girl in my dream? Who was she?”

“That was…she was a dear friend of mine. Someone I loved. Someone I cared for.” A tear falls down her and washes into the fabric of your shirt. “But it does not matter anymore. She’s gone now.”

“What happened to her?”

“What happens to all humans, I suppose. She died. Never got close to a human after that. I tried…many times but they would all run eventually and understandably so. You are my first--the first person who has stayed with me. It scares me, really.”

Shuri gets up, coming face to face with your own tear-stained cheeks as she gently wipes them away with her thumb and you let out a soft smile.

“Soooo…no fangs? No cool eyes? Aren’t vampires supposed to look cool?,” you joke half-heartedly in attempts to lighten up the mood and put Shuri’s aching heart at ease and it seems to work because Shuri lets out a beautiful laugh, that laugh that you have loved for a long time.

“Would you prefer I walked around with red eyes and fangs??”

“I don’t know, you’d look kinda hot,” you half joke and she glares at you in both confusion and admiration.

“Walking around like a twilight vampire,” you tease and she makes a face of disgust. “Heyyy, don’t do Twilight like that. They’re good movies.”

“Fuck that,” she laughs and you laugh along with her.

“You’re really beautiful, Shuri,” you say, leaving Shuri in a subtle shock.

“Where did that come from?”

“I’m not blind. I may have been with someone our entire friendship but I always saw you and you were always beautiful to me.”

“Oh, so now you’re being honest with me? After you had me begging like a fool,” she teased.

“I’ve always loved you Shuri, you know that. You just wanted to hear me say it.”

Shuri chuckles. “Love…what a strong word, thrown around like it weighs nothing.”

“No but I do love you, I’m not playing. I love this version of you. The version of you where I actually know you. Where you let your guard down and just be…you. I love you.”

Shuri sighs, basking it all in. It’s been so long since she’s heard those words and it scares her.

”I wanna try something, if you’ll let me.”

“Anything,” your words rushed out with a tinge of desperation, revealing more than intended, driven by an urgent longing. You craved her, yearned for her presence. Her gaze locked onto yours, her eyes mirroring the same desire, as she tenderly traced your cheek. Finally, she leaned in, her lips meeting yours, and in that moment, you both embraced each other as if it were the last breath you'd take. The kiss ignited swiftly, your breaths turning erratic as you struggled to match her fervent passion. Gradually, she lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around her, never wanting to break away. She carries you across the small beach, bringing you into her house and not once did you two disconnect your reckless lips. The kiss itself spoke volumes, telling a story of how much you two yearned for one another, conveying unspoken feelings that had resided within long before you ever knew of Shuri’s true vampire nature. The heat between your legs began to rise, becoming warmer and wetter as you felt your clit brush against Shuri’s lower abdomen and that minimal friction alone felt like it was going to be the death of you. Shuri feels what you are trying to do and she grabs your ass in response, helping you feel more as she pushes you into her and it causes you to moan into the kiss.

“Mmm,” you moan, a sound that drove Shuri mad.

“That was fucking sexy,” she remarks and you cannot help but feel a tang of embarrassment for the lust you had for her. Jonathan was never one to tell you how sexy you were to make you feel desired, but instead to feed into his own ego of having you underneath him.

Shuri sits on the couch as you situate yourself on top of her, your crotch above hers, still kissing in pure intensity as the spark between you both transforms into an uncontrollable flame. Your lips were so swollen and sore, but it's inconsequential in the face of everything else. In that moment, nothing exists except Shuri, and your determination to be with her is unwavering. Shuri's kisses leave your lips, shifting towards your jaw and down to your throat as you struggle to hold in the moans that threaten to spill over, your heart beat intensifying. Shuri grasps your ass once more as you begin to grind, your actions portraying sheer desperation as you chase the friction that Shuri’s body gives yours. Shuri's hands reach for hips, guiding your movements and you squirm under the weight of her direct kisses upon your throat. Your heart thumps erratically, syncing with the pounding in your pussy and you are drenched.

“Shuri…please,” you whined, as she bruised and marked your tender throat. “I need you, please.”

Your desperate plea drives Shuri insane, hearing your voice in its deepest sensual urgency was enough to make her take you right there and then.

“You have made me wait way too long to have you like this, s’thandwa. I hope to fuck you at least half as long.”

Shuri lifts the hem of your skirt before her hand finally finds her way to that spot she needed for so long and she groans at how much you are soaking through the material of your thin panties.

“Bast, baby. You’re soaking wet,” she murmurs softly, and you nestle your face into the arc of her neck, concealing both the embarrassment and the warmth that rushes to your cheeks. But she assures her baby girl that there's nothing to be ashamed of, affirming that she had always sensed when your pussy longed for her.

“It’s ok, baby. I love seeing you like this. Let me see you.” Her voice was so smooth and sensual, a velvety depth mixed with a husky rasp that made your head spin as she stroked you though those thin panties, pressing the fabric between your folds as she taunted your throbbing clit. Your whimpers were small and short-breathed as you came back up to face her, your hopeless expression coming to meet a face that was ready to tear you apart.

“I could always tell when you were turned on, nkoszana. I could always smell when this little pussy needed me, so there’s no need to shy away now, do you understand me?”

And you’re nodding your head fervently, almost absentmindedly as you struggle to truly grasp your surroundings with Shuri’s long fingers playing between your dewy folds.

“Want to watch you cum in these little panties of yours.”

“Unh.”

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Look at you. You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

“Shuri…unh…pl-please.”

“Did he make you cum?”

“Mmmm…huh?”

Shuri chuckled in a cocky manner, a self-satisfied sound that rolled off her tongue as she felt a sense of superiority over you and your body.

“Jonathan? Was that his name? Did he ever make you cum?”

You can hardly even think with the way she was touching you, her firm fingers deliberately swiping at your clothed clit.

“S-sometimes,” you managed to say and that much was true. Sometimes he would make you cum, not because he was taking the time to learn and understand your body but usually it happened as a result of him chasing his own high. A lot of the time you would not even finish and he did not even care to make sure you did.

“Only sometimes?,” she teases, a deliberate tactic to understand how to handle you while also reveling in the sight of your mouth faltering and stumbling.

“F-fuck h-him. Unh…fuck.”

“Hmm?”

“Fuck J-Jonathan. I’m glad he’s g-gone. Oh.”

Shuri smiles at you, an arrogant grin as she basked in the mess you were as she toyed with you. Shuri’s fingers pick up the pace, pressing firmer into your clit and the waves of your orgasm begin to crest through, approaching in silence as your firmly gripped Shuri’s shoulders. Your hips are bucking into her as your pussy drools through the fabric, leaking directly onto Shuri’s fingers and the sounds coming out of you are too far gone for your control.

“Shuri, Shuri…yeah! Unh!”

“Cum, y/n. I want to see you fall apart from my fingers.”

“Mhm.”

Your orgasm quietly emerges, a slow, measured sequence that pulsates through your pussy walls as you surrender entirely, collapsing into Shuri’s arms as you ride the waves of your high. And Shuri talks you through it, whispering assurances of love and telling her girl how pretty she looks as her greedy pussy soaks all over her fingers and slutty panties, caressing your clit through the lingering aftershocks as you grapple with the descent from your gradual climax. Overwhelmed, you clutch her wrist, the struggle evident in your lungs as they battle to regulate your breathing, your mind lost in a haze.

“Shuri...I…fuck, baby.”

“You’re so messy,” she remarked with a smirk, hooking those dangerous fingers underneath the fabric of those panties that hugged your waist, tugging until the thin material pressed into your clit and you moaned at the sensitivity. She brings her fingers down and pulls them to the side, your slick sticking to the fabric and Shuri’s eyes flood with lust and desire, burning with a deep hunger that surpasses the blood that lives in your veins. She craves you in every single way. She brings her lips to yours, her eyebrows scrunched together as she ripped the panties off of you and you gasp, finally free of the thin line that was keeping you from Shuri’s skin and she lifts you up once again, taking you into her kitchen as she roughly knocks away anything in her way and places you down on the cold marble countertop. Shuri lets go of the kiss, crossing her arms as she removes her top, coming face to face with her defined abdomen and lean arms.

“Open your legs, y/n. Let me see her.”

You oblige, opening your thick, brown thighs and your pussy glistened before her. There were strings of cum that stuck to your inner thighs as your slick refused to detach from your pussy, creating a web of your arousal and the look on Shuri’s face sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, I have to taste her.”

“Then do it. Let me use your mouth.” You were still so delicate and sore from Shuri’s overwhelming touch but you desired more. “Let me fuck your face.”

Shuri got on her knees, bending before the melanated goddess before her as she wrapped her arms around your thighs, resting the back of your knees on her shoulders as she spread you open, coming face to face with the mess she created. You look down at her, admiring the way her arm muscles flex as she wrapped them around your thighs, watching the way your cream stuck to the side curls on her head as she dove into your ocean, wrapping her lips around your swollen clit and you arched your back at the sensation.

“Oh fuck…yes, Shuri, YES! Just like that, baby.”

Her mouth and tongue played with your clit, fucking in and around you in an overwhelming harmony that had you grinding into her face and she allowed it, allowed you to use her face as a means to please yourself. She moaned into your clenching cunt, finding the taste of you being better than she had ever imagined and her fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs, sure to leave an imprint the following day.

“Unh, unh, unh, oohhh. Yeah.”

She could tell you were getting close, the way your thrusts into her face became more aggressive, the way your pussy continuously got wetter by the moment, and the louder your moans were getting, it was all telling of your impending climax. But she tells you to hold it in, keep it in longer so she can play with you more, feel your pussy clench around her tongue for a few more moments as she watches your clit grow larger with each slurp.

“I c-can’t, baby. Please. I'm gonna cum.”

“Not yet.”

“B-but—”

And your pussy is met with a sharp slap of Shuri’s hand that makes you yelp.

“I said not yet. Understand?”

And you nod your head frantically, your knuckles losing its color as you clutch to the ends of the marble countertop.

“Good girl.”

And Shuri dives back into you, consuming your essence as if she was ignoring your whimpers of overstimulation above her but she heard you, and she enjoyed the sound of you. Your cries were soft and fragile, a mere whisper of distress as you struggled for the woman below you, wanting to make her happy, give her the pleasure she received by pleasuring and having her way with you. You grasped onto Shuri’s curls, feeling her coiled hair through your fingers as you tussled with your orgasm that was on the brink of breaking through.

“Sh-Shuri…please.”

“Hmmm??”

“Please, baby, please. I have to.”

“I know, my impatient girl. You can cum now.”

“Oh…OH. FUCK.”

You fucked yourself against her face, her tongue moving in and out as her nose bumped your clit and you watched your cum trickle along the angular contours of her jaw, glistening against the richness of her beautiful complexion.

“Oooo fuck. Shuri.”

Shuri took one last lick through your folds, attempting to clean you dry but your continual leaking for her made it impossible. She stands on her two feet, resting between your opened legs as she’s greeted with the most vulnerable version of yourself, visibly struggling to recover from the intensity of your orgasms and it was that sight of you that nearly caused her to lose complete control.

“You’re shaking, y/n,” she cooed with a tease. “I’m just getting started with you. I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Mmmm.”

“Is that what you want from me? Does getting fucked by a vampire make you wet?,” she asks in a condescending tone. You cannot answer with words, no matter how hard you try and so you nod your head in sheer desperation.

“You will be broken by the time I am down with you. Ruined for anyone who tries to come after me.”

You could hear her voice, yet you were deeply disconnected, unable to fully grasp the profound meaning behind her words and it was so apparent to Shuri that she felt she had to resort to communicating to you telepathically in an attempt to reunite your mind with your body.

“You’re ok, s’thandwa. Follow my voice.” The voice in your head pulled you back to reality, your pussy was still aching but your mind was at ease.

“Now listen to me, y/n. Being with a vampire is nothing like being with a human, especially that little boy you almost called a husband. I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to fuck you good. If at any point I’m going too hard or I’m hurting you, I need you to let me know.”

“Mhmm,” you manage to say. She cups your face in her hands, brushing the tears that sat on your waterline with the tips of her thumbs, and god, she was in love with you.

“You’re so pretty, y/n.”

“Please, Shuri.”

“Please, what?”

“I want—need you…”

“Mmmm,” she hums knowingly, her eyes dark and seeping in lust as she teasingly drags a finger through your sopping folds, and you wince at her touch, simultaneously wanting more and running away from the stimulation her touch gave you.

“Please? Please, Shuri? I n-need you. Unh.”

“Ssshhh, I know baby, I know. I want to take my time with you.”

Your soft whines of overwhelming pleasure climbed up your throat as she brushed her fingers between your puffy folds, purposefully avoiding your clit and it is enough to make you lose your mind but this is how she wants you; desperate, needy, craving more. But once she presses your clit, you let out a wail as you softly cry at her touch, tears falling down your cheeks.

“My little cry baby.” Her voice is condescending, belittling as she plays between the swollen flesh.

“That’s right, y/n. Cry for me. Show me how much it is.”

“Fuck me?,” you whimper.

“Bast, you’re needy, huh?” she says with a smirk, your desperate plea shooting an ache into Shuri’s pussy because she needed you just as bad, her vampire lust surpassing that of a human experience.

“I know I am…it’s just Jonathan…he n-never—”

“I know, princess. It’s ok. I got you now, I’ll take care of you.”

“Unh.”

“Oh sthandwa, I’m going to fucking ruin you.” She said this like it was a promise, like she was sure no one would come after her and if they did, they wouldn’t make it too far. You moan as Shuri plunges her fingers into your cunt, falling in love with the way you immediately clench around her, your greedy cunt letting more slick pour out for her.

“My pretty slut to ruin.”

“I don’t care, just ruin me.” You buck your hips into her fingers in desperation, craving more and more from her and you were so embarrassed with how loud your pussy was, how much your clenching walls needed her but you didn’t care enough to stop yourself.

“Please, baby, pleeaseee,” you beg. “Fuck me, Shuriiiii.”

Shuri chuckles, licking her lips as she salivates at the sight of you, finding it increasingly more and more challenging to restrain her hunger. She could sense your heartbeat growing louder, sense the blood flowing through your veins and your pussy walls, and she wanted it, wanted you. She wanted to witness your struggle as she claimed from you what sustained her life as she fucked you into another realm of sex.

“Oh fuck,” you whine as Shuri's touch finds the bundle of nerves inside you, intensifying the throb within your walls as your pussy squeezed her fingers. She swiftly took her fingers out, leaving you to whimper at the emptiness you felt yet that sensation quickly dissipates as Shuri starts swishing your clit from side to side. Your eyes roll back, and uncontrollable groans take over.

“Unh…Shuri…fuck, I’m gonna—you’re gonna make me—“ but Shuri immediately detached from you, your slick sticking to her fingers and creating a trail on the floor.

“You’re a messy girl, huh? Fuck…open your mouth for me.” And you do, moaning at the taste of your own flavor and the sight makes Shuri so horny, so wet, she cannot stand to not be inside you any longer. She wanted to feel how deep you were as she buried herself inbetween your dark thighs, get lost in the way your pussy swelled up with each hard thrust she fucked into you. Shuri removes your top and her bottoms, leaving you both in nothing but your bras just before Shuri fiddles with the device on her wrist, her strap snugly fitting to her waist. Your eyes subtly widen at the size of her, she was much bigger than that fucking man you hated so much. Shuri grabbed her shaft, slowly pumping it as she brought it to the swells of your folds, rubbing her tip against your overwhelmed clit and you whimpered at the touch. She puts the tip in, and you immediately clench around the sheer girth of her tip, letting out a soft scream as your body grapples with her size.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be fun to play with,” she comments with a sly smile. She lifts you up and you wrap your legs around her once more, your clit is pressed into her dick making your kisses turn into cluttered moans as you pant into her mouth. She grabs your ass and presses you into her, guiding your hips to grind into her until finally you meet her bedroom and your back hits her mattress, her lean but muscular body hovering over you as she purposefully made sure her shaft caressed your clit. She continued to press fervent kisses into your mouth, in awe of the way your mouth struggles to reciprocate those kisses as you feel her dick moving between your folds, caressing your bulging, beating clit.

“Look at you, how helpless you are,” she taunts as your breathing picks up.

“Shuri pleeasseee,” you whine, so overwhelmed and loving the way she took her time with you. This was all a new feeling to you, your mind and body being loved and explored and it was almost all too much, but your need for her overtook that feeling. Shuri removes herself from on top of you, resting her back against the headboard and she gestured for you to come sit on top of her.

“Take this off,” you complain, gesturing to her bra. She grins before crossing her arms and removing her bra. Her perky breasts were so beautiful and you could not help but take one of her erect nipples into your mouth and it causes her to moan, a sound you could never get tired of.

“Turn around for me.”

“But I won’t be able to see you.”

“That doesn’t matter, you’ll feel me.”

“But—” and she cuts you off by snaking her hand around your throat, causing an immediate gasp to escape your lips. She applies a gentle pressure to your windpipe, deliberately restraining her vampire strength to avoid hurting you. You revel in the way she makes you feel, sensing her containment of crossing the boundaries of her strength and it makes you feel dizzy. Using your throat as a grip, she turns your body towards the mirror.

“I love how you look when you shut up,” she whispers into you, her palm still firmly placed around your neck and you stifle a choked whimper, grasping onto her forearm as you feel her veins protruding through her human-like skin. She takes her tip once again, placing it between your sopping wet folds and your eyebrows clench together in anticipation.

“You ready, princess?”

You nod, and finally, finally you feel full, filled to the brim as her dick moves inside you, stretching you out in ways you have never before and she feels devine. You knew in that instant, she had left an eternal mark on you and you wanted to keep her inside you forever. Shuri whispered praises into you, making sure you knew just how much your needy pussy was squeezing her dick, how deep and wet you were as she thrusted slow, harsh movements that reverberated into your pussy walls and it fucked your mind up. Your moans were staggered, uncontrolled sounds as Shuri’s hand remained around your throat, pressing kisses into your shoulder.

“Shuri,” you cried and she removed her hand from your throat, and when you thought it was over, she unclipped your bra, grazing the material over your nipples as she brought the skimpy fabric to your throat, brushing it over your trachea and you swallowed in anticipation, understanding what she was going to do next and you allowed it. She pulled it, pressing the fabric hard into your windpipe, not enough to choke you completely, but just enough to have you gasping as you left your breathing to her. The act was so sensual and heightened the pleasure that coursed through you as she continued to thrust into you, trailing her other hand down your torso until she reached your clit, circling your bud excessively.

“Oh fuck, Shuri…yes, YES. UNH.”

She admired the view in the mirror in front of you two, got lost in the way your breasts bounced with each hard thrust she pounded into you, the sweat and drool that trickled down the valley between them and you were both a wreck, both so close to your release.

“That’s it…that’s…fuck. That’s a good girl. My good girl.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum again, Shuri. Can I? Please?”

��Mhmmm,” is all Shuri can manage to say as she approaches her own orgasm, tugging the fabric into your windpipe and you let out a strangled moan.

“Sh-Shuri…I’m cumming. Shit, don’t stop fucking me. Keep ch-choking me j-just like that. Oh…unh.”

Your orgasm surged within you like a forceful, tumultuous wave, roughly rushing through every aspect of your existence. It started in your pussy, pounding through your throbbing walls before spreading through your veins and dominating your entire body. It was seraphic, a celestial pulse that made you squirm against her, moaning through it as you noticed Shuri approaching her own high but she quickly dug her face into the nape of your neck, an attempt to contain her own moans that threatened to escape her throat.

“Fuck…y/n…,” she sobbed into your skin.

“No, d-don’t do that. Fall part for me, Shuri. I w-want to see it. Let me see what I do to y-you, baby.”

“N-nkoszana…”

“Cum inside me Shuri. Please.”

With her vampire speed, she switches the position so you’re lying on your back and you’re met with the hunger that surged through her eyes right before she pressed her lips into the side of your throat as her moans sink into your skin.

“I-I can’t,” she whimpers. “I need it. I need you.”

And immediately you understand what she’s talking about. She wants you. All of you.

“Unh.”

“Ssshhh, baby, it’s ok. Drink from me, Shuri. I know, just…please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she struggles to say in your neck and your heart races. Everything is pounding. Your head. Your heart, Your pussy. And you were so overwhelmed but she was buried so deep into you, her thrusts were so surreal and you were no longer fearful of the woman above you. She was unraveling before you, revealing her true self and desires, baring it all before you.

“I-I—“

“I know Sh-Shuri…it’s ok. I promise, it’s ok.” You’re grasping her curls, moaning into the curve of her neck and she lets out one last beaten whimper before she sinks her teeth into your throat. It hurts at first, a sharp pain that scared you but the more you basked in it, the better it felt. Her plunges into you were getting sloppy and uncoordinated and it did not take long before you could feel her dick twitch inside you, grazing your walls as her cum spilled into your used pussy. It was an exchange of want, giving you her cum as she took your blood and it only took a few more messy pumps until you were cumming as well, one last blissful orgasm as your mind danced with stars. You are both moaning in each other's necks, the pulse in your pussy slowing down, a hard yet slow beat that had you twitching and your heartbeat felt the same. As Shuri continues to drink from you, you begin to feel dizzy, lightheaded, your physical body needing her to stop but your mind and your pussy ached for more.

“Sh-Shuri…I-I think—unh.”

“Mmmm,” Shuri moaned, struggling to detach from you, in a world she craved for for so long as your blood brought her to a state of ecstasy. You were addicting, making it a struggle to stop as her body rushed with pleasure.

“Shuri…baby…”

Your breathless whimpers forced Shuri to release you, her face drawing closer to yours, yet she looked so different. Her dark brown eyes transformed into a blood-red hue, her fangs fully extended, and her mouth stained with your blood. The image frightened you at first and Shuri looked away in shame, attempting to conceal the face she despised so deeply.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, ashamed of herself.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Don’t hide from me, Shuri. I-I want to see you. The real you.” Raising your hand to her face, you guide her gaze back to yours and slowly, she complies, exposing herself openly, displaying her true self and she was hauntingly beautiful. You tenderly caress her face, appreciating the intense red in her eyes, the sharpness of her fangs, and your blood trickling beneath them, her mouth colored crimson from the intimate exchange.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats and you gently hush her.

“Ssshhh, it’s ok, baby, it’s ok. I’m not hurt, ok? You didn’t hurt me. You did amazing, my love. You did so well.”

She nods and as you lean in to kiss her, the flavor of your blood meets your taste buds and though it isn’t pleasant, the significance of the act outweighs the taste. Shuri cleansed your lips of your blood by licking them, then did the same for herself before withdrawing her strap that was still buried inside you.

She runs her tongue over the blood that stains your neck before planting a kiss on your forehead. Cradling your head in her hand, she gently leans your forehead against hers and whispers:

“That was better than I ever imagined.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Both of you lay sprawled against her bed sheets, cuddling against her chest as you bask her scent while the sound of waves crashing not too far away filled the air.

“I have one more question, and then I think I’m done.”

Shuri chuckles at you. “And what would that be, s’thandwa?”

“So vampires are like…dead, right?”

“Undead.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever…I just wanna know…how exactly does one become a vampire?”

Shuri raises her eyebrow. “Why do you need to know that?”

You roll your eyes. “No reason, I’m just curious. Like there obviously has to be some kind of process.”

“Well of course there is.”

“So then tell me.”

Shuri gets up, presses her back against the headboard and you straddle her. She eyes the bite mark on your neck, tracing the unhealed scar and you wince.

“So fragile,” she whispers, almost mockingly and your heartbeat escalates and Shuri hears it, causing her to softly chuckle.

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re always laughing at me, so what’s funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I love the way your body responds to me.”

You gaze at her in confusion and she only stares at you in admiration, a profound sense of affection and tenderness reflected in sharp gaze. Her expressions held an unspoken language, a silent conversation that speaks volumes of how much she loved you.

“To become a vampire, you need to be dying, at the threshold of death. Then a vampire will give you their blood to drink, once that blood enters your system, it will kill you completely.”

You softly gulp.

“And then the blood will ‘fix you.’ Rid you of any scars and imperfections, rid you of wounds and disease until your body is brand new and strong and gives you back your life, making you the strongest you’ve ever felt. But not without consequence…of course.”

“That sounds…terrible,” you softly laugh.

“Trust me…it is,” she chuckles along with you, drawing you closer for a kiss that you wish could linger forever.

“The sun will be coming up soon. You’ll have to stay here until it goes back down, I won’t be able to drive you home until then.”

“That’s fine,” you reassure. “I’m tired as fuck anyway, I’ll probably just sleep here.”

She nods in agreement.

“Shuri…?”

“Yes, y/n?”

“I lied earlier…I actually have one more question.

Shuri sighs. “Last one?”

“For now.”

Shuri rolls her eyes. “I’m all ears.”

You place a quick peck on her lips before you proceed. “You know I love you, right?”

“For a while now,” she teases and you flick her shoulder. “Is that your question?”

“No.”

“Well I’m waiting…”

A deafening silence enveloped your surroundings, overpowering Shuri's heightened senses, allowing only the distant waves' sound, the rhythm of your heartbeat, and your faint breath to echo through her ears. Your palms began to sweat, and you nervously bit on your bottom lip as you contemplated whether to proceed with your question. Shuri gazed at you, filled with anticipation, almost wishing she had the ability to read minds so she could put her own at ease.

“Y/n, you’re scaring me…what is it?”

Your eyes glistened, and she sensed the hairs on your arms standing on end, yet your voice shattered the silence with your burning question; one she had hoped never to hear again.

“Turn me?” ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Whew fuck, I need her baadddddd. Also, thank you so much for 800+ followers on here, that’s insane! Love you all and congrats if you made it through that long ass fic

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Private Dances [2]

Club!Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info • series masterlist •

A/N: A massive thank you to the amazing @midgardian-witch for being the best and proofreading this nonsense and another huge thank you to the wonderful @lonelyisamyw-0love for tipping my ko-fi, this series is especially for them💚

Warnings: overuse of italics, sub!Blue, choking, biting, hand job, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a dancer (but like Blue is getting his ass handed to him), swearing, Blue crying, p in v sex (Blue fucks another dancer at the beginning), please let me know if I've missed a warning.

There are 5 main ‘stars’ in the club: Peach, Trixie, Songbird, Sweetie Pie, and Crystal. Crystal is usually the favourite but is currently in Blue’s bad books for reasons unknown to the reader. Reader is a backup dancer.

Word Count: 2679

Rouged Lips in the Gaslight

Trixie was bent over the arm of the velvet sofa in Blue’s office, sharing its colour with the name of its owner. 

He hadn’t even bothered to fully undress himself or her. Just hiking up her short skirt (the same one she had been wearing for her routine half an hour ago) and pushing her underwear to the side while he unzipped his fly. 

She felt good, she always did. Warm, tight, and the sounds she was making alone, enough to make a porn star blush, should have been doing it for Blue. 

But they weren’t. And it was the fucking seventh time in barely two days. 

Every time he tried to get off it just didn’t work. He’d tried all the classics, combinations of his personal favourites, different dancers, different positions, different times of day, anything he could think of. 

He got hard, sure. Hell, that was the problem to begin with, he was horny. Fucking desperate to come. It just never happened. 

“Blue, fuck, please!” Trixie’s moans increased, getting louder as she neared her high. 

He picked up his pace, thrusting harder, tightening his grip on her hips and slamming her back to meet his; trying to satisfy that itch that just would not be scratched. 

He snarled, closed his eyes, and -  you with one hand on his throat and the other wrapped around his dick squeezing as you bit his lip until it bled. His blood on your mouth as you kissed him possessively, laying claim to him as he came; ruining him for anyone else. 

Trixie screams as she comes, snapping Blue annoyingly back to reality. 

It feels good, the way her cunt squeezes and flutters. Usually, that would be more than enough to bring him to his peak, to make him pump her pretty pussy full of him. He just can’t get there. 

He sighs in frustration, sweat on his forehead as he pulls out and quickly stuffs his painfully hard cock back into his trousers. 

Trixie breathes hard, a little dazed and shaky as she stands. There’s a little frown of confusion on her face, any hope that she hadn’t noticed Blue’s lack of orgasm quickly dissolving. 

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. But it does. 

“Get the fuck out.” 

His voice is hard and cold and Trixie doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He sits on his desk when the door closes and runs his hands over his face. This was getting fucking ridiculous. He was Blue fucking Jones for god’s sake. He couldn’t let anyone, especially you, one of his dancers, his property, do this to him. 

He breathed out roughly and stood again, his mind made up. It was just a little blip, nothing more than that. He just needed to show you who was boss, bend you over and fuck you until you begged him to stop. That would fix all of this. 

.

You sigh loudly as you finally find the correct gloves. They’re a deep scarlet, the only remaining matching pair that goes with the outfits of the seven other backup dancers. When Gorski told you they were in the tiny storage closet on the upper levels you had to bite your tongue to stop the groan that had threatened to escape. 

The storage closet was a mess to put it politely, random junk just dumped in there when there was nowhere else to put it. It was only because Blue had wanted Song Bird to have eight backup dancers for the routine, when for the past three weeks it had been seven. 

The gloves are a little battered, but nothing that would be noticeable to the patrons of the club, not when you were up on the stage anyway. 

You catch your reflection in the full length mirror that is jammed a little haphazardly in the corner. For a second the gloves in your hand look like blood. 

You put away the things you pulled out as best you can, not such an easy task in the mayhem mess, and turn to the door. 

Your hand barely grazes the cool metal of the handle before it’s wrenched out of your grasp as it’s flung open. 

Panic grips your heart and you visibly jump back just about managing to keep the little yelp of surprise that wants to escape quiet. 

And when your eyes land on the figure in the doorway, you’re more than glad you did. 

Blue glares at you, his eyes dark and shining in the dim light. He has a small, tight smile on his face. One of those practised expressions he wears at the club when he’s charming customers. 

He closes the door behind him, not taking his eyes off you and stalks forward, expecting you to back away. 

You hold your ground, annoyance fizzling in your blood at the gall he has to try to intimidate you and for a second you forget yourself. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

He pauses mid-step, blinking before he tries to pull that mask of superiority back on. “That’s not a very nice way to greet me now, is it?” He spits. 

“What are you doing here?” You repeat, your tone firm and fierce, unimpressed by how he bristles and tries to square up to you. 

“I own this place, and everything and one in it.” He leans close, his hot breath hitting your face. “I can go wherever I like.” 

You hold his gaze for one long moment before you swallow and step ceremoniously to the side, planning to walk past him. 

Blue matches your step, blocking your path. “What are you doing in here?” 

You hold up the gloves. “For Song Bird’s routine.” 

He stares at your hands for a moment, picturing you in the backup dancers' outfits. His throat bobs as he swallows before he grits his jaw. He had to focus. Had to get you out of his system. 

“What do you want, Blue?” Your voice is firm and sure, covering up the spike of uncertainty that has settled in your chest. 

He pauses, finally glancing up from the gloves to your face. Though now that he is looking directly at you it feels worse, blistering to be under the intensity of his gaze. He licks his lips. “You.”  

You stay quiet. 

“Just you.” He repeats, taking a step forward and placing a hand firmly on your shoulder. He pushes you back into the row of hanging clothing forcefully and leans close as the gloves slip from your hand. “You know, I thought you were just a scared little Bunny I could have some fun with, but you’re not.” He growls.

You swallow, fear swimming in your stomach, mixing with a dizzying haze of emotion. 

“You’re… dangerous. A Lion in rabbit’s clothing.” He mutters, tracing his fingers lightly along your jawline. 

Instinctively you smack his hand away. 

He grins at your gall. “You know… I’ve hurt people a lot more important than you for less.” He whispers. 

“Then why don’t you?” 

Blue pauses, his expression frozen on his face like a tableau, a tiny spark of uncertainty flickers into life behind his eyes. “I don’t… want to right now.”

“Liar.” 

He scowls. “Listen-”

“No, you listen.” You grab a hold of him, placing your hand firmly over his mouth and pinching his cheeks. 

His eyes widen, darken as arousal burns along his veins. 

You have no idea what’s gotten into you, why you’re doing this again. He could kill you on a whim, a snap of his fingers and a flick of his head would be all it took for his goons to empty their clips into your chest. 

Still, it seems like you’re in too deep now to change directions. 

You push him back a little, giving yourself some breathing space. “You don’t want to hurt me because you want me to hurt you.” 

He swallows, his throat bobbing. His hands still at his sides, making no effort to even wriggle out of your hold. 

You lean a little closer, echoing his teasing tone from before. “You like it.” 

There is the tiniest hitch of his breath and it’s all the reassurance you need. 

When he doesn’t respond quickly enough for your liking you squeeze a little tighter, feeling the imprint of his molars through his cheeks as you nod his head up and down. 

“There we go, did no one teach you it was rude not to answer a question?” You loosen your hold on him, revelling in the red impressions left on his skin. It shouldn’t thrill you, shouldn’t excite you. 

You trail your fingers along his jaw, running your thumb over his plump bottom lip and he shudders, closing his eyes for a second as he fights the urge to grab your arm and pull you closer. 

Instead he darts out his tongue, swiping it lightly over the tip of your thumb and groaning. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

The snarl in your voice makes his eyes snap open, makes him open his mouth for a frantic apology. 

The second his lips part you push your thumb inside, pressing down on his warm tongue to silence him. 

He startles, eyes going wide for a second as he grabs hold of your wrist instinctively. But the second his mind catches up with your actions he doesn’t pull back, only presses closer. 

He groans around your thumb, running his tongue along the length as he pushes his body flush against yours, grinding his aching cock against your leg. 

He’s so hard, throbbing as he rubs against you. A small whimper echos from his throat. 

You bite your lip, a wave of arousal washing over you at the sight. “You’re so pathetic, you know that?” 

He moans louder, frantically nodding his head as he thrusts his hips, sucking on your thumb for all he was worth. He squeezes your wrist, wrapping his other arm around you to hold you in place. 

You pull your thumb from his mouth suddenly, smearing his salvia on his chin and grabbing hold of his throat as you push him back away from you. 

Blue whines, his forehead pinched in distress and hips bucking aimlessly, trying to seek out that delicious friction again. 

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?” You growl, loosening his tie and roughly pulling it free as you undo the top three of his shirt buttons. “Fucking pitiful.” 

“S-sorry.” He mumbles, biting his lip as he gazes at you. 

You smack his cheek lightly and he groans, the sensation striking down to his cock like lightning. He’s dazed for a second as you manhandle him, too wrapped up in the feel of your fingers digging into his skin to even have one coherent thought. 

You twist his tie around his wrists, binding them harshly before you gather the last of the material and wrap it around your right palm. 

He gasps as you step behind him, your chest pressed against his back, and grab hold of his neck, pulling his wrists up in the process. The material digs in, makes his skin sing and fingers throb. It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Blue bites his lip again, trying to keep some of the obscene sounds to a minimum. He feels dizzy, lightheaded as you squeeze his neck and use your free hand to slide down his chest to his trousers. 

The amount of times he’d tied up others, whipped and beaten until they’d crying and begging and pleading. It had felt so good, so right. But this… god it was nothing compared to this. 

You sink your teeth into the side of his neck and he keens, his back bending. He gasps, shivers and tries to breathe deeply through the wonderful pain, but your grip on his neck tightens, pulls him back further under your control. And he nearly comes on the spot. 

You bite harder. Niping and sucking at his skin, only soothing with your tongue for the briefest moment. 

He squirms under your hold, pressing up against your mouth and whimpering nonsense. 

He cries out when you unbuckle his belt, unbutton his trousers and unzip his fly. His heart thuds under your hand as you let his trousers fall to the floor and push his boxers down his thighs. 

“Please, oh god,” he whines when you squeeze especially hard on his neck and then gasps when you wrap your hand around his leaking cock. “Lion,” he stretches the word, rolls it around in his mouth desperately as you jerk your hand, your pace hard and brutal. He follows with his hips as much as you let him, tightening around his neck and pulling him back against you if he moves too much. 

“Lion, please!” He sobs. 

You break your mouth away from his bruised skin to hiss in his ear. “Look at yourself, look at how pathetic you are.” You tug his neck, forcing him to look at himself in the floor-length mirror. He lets out a sob as his own reflection stares back. How flushed his skin is, how desperate his eyes look. The way he barely struggles. How hard he is, leaking and throbbing under your hand. 

“Lion,” tears build at the corner of his eyes, “please.” 

“You’re wretched, despicable, barely worth the energy it takes me to make you come.” You sneer. 

And Blue screams. 

The knot in his stomach twists, liquid fire running along his spine as your words push him violently over the edge. He comes hard, spurting all over the floor. The force of it even hitting the edge of the mirror as he jerks and bucks and cries under your hold. 

For a moment it’s like he’s floating, light and far away from himself. Warm and safe under your touch. 

You loosen your grip around him instantly, worried for a second that he’s passed out and then silently hating yourself for enjoying that idea so much. 

He stumbles a little without your firm hold, but you guide him back to sit on the edge of a large box. 

He breathes deeply, spaced out as you slowly unwrap his tie from around his hands. His wrists are red, fingers off colour. He shivers slightly, his trousers still around his ankles. You pause, questioning if you’d be able to get him standing to do them back up without Blue falling over. 

Instead you turn to pull out a long, fluffy coat that had been used in a dance months ago to drape around him. 

He softly grabs your forearm as you turn, the touch a stark difference from earlier. 

“Please,” he looked up at you, his eyes hard and voice weak. “Don’t go.” 

The silence seems to hang for a long second. 

You swallow and take the coat off the hanger before wrapping him up. You squeeze his hand and move closer to him, intending to just stay a moment, but he grabs hold of your arms, pulls you closer still and buries his face into your stomach. 

He stays still for a moment, his fists tight as he hangs onto your shirt. 

You don’t know what to do, your hands hover in mid-air and… then his shoulders start to shake as he cries. 

“Hey, hey,” you lightly touch his head, running your hand through his short hair. “Hey,” you soothe and he looks up at you weakly. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles between sobs. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you squat down to his level and stroke his cheeks. There’s a whirlwind of emotions fighting in your chest. 

He shakes his head. “Did I… Did I make you angry?” 

“No, no.”

“Did I disappoint you?” His voice breaks at the last word, fresh tears streaming over his skin. 

You lean forward, kissing his lips gently, then his cheeks. 

He swallows, hiccuping from the sobs he’s trying to fight back. He kisses you back softly, reverently, his hands warm and gentle on your arms and back as he holds you close. 

What the fuck had you got yourself into? 

Thank you for reading!

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[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

[hey-kae]

A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack

Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.

a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃

A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:

He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.

He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.

Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.

The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.

The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.

He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.

Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.

“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.

It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.

Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.

Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.

His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.

You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.

An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.

Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.

He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.

Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.

With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”

Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.

“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.

However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.

“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.

Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.

“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.

“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.

“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.

“Baguettes?” He frowned.

“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”

Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.

The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”

Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.

You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.

“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.

“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.

Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.

“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.

However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.

“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”

You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.

By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.

Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.

Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”

However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.

His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.

“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.

With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”

“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”

His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”

The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”

“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.

“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”

“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”

That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.

“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.

Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.

“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.

✩★✩

A cake and a weird smell:

The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.

And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.

In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.

Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.

Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.

Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.

“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.

Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.

Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.

Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.

Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.

Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.

“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.

With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.

It was bad.

His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.

Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.

The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.

What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.

He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.

His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.

Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.

“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.

The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.

Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.

“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.

Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.

He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.

He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.

“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.

Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.

Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.

Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.

You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.

He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.

Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.

His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.

He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.

Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.

There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.

He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.

His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.

He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.

He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.

That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.

His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.

He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.

Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.

“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.

“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.

Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.

“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”

You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.

He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.

“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.

Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.

You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.

“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”

You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.

He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.

However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.

“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.

It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.

✩★✩

A flight and a bit of a fight:

Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.

For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.

Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.

It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.

Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.

He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.

“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”

No response.

He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”

No response as well.

“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.

He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.

He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.

“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.

He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?

Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.

He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.

“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.

“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.

“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.

Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!

“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.

“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.

“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.

“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.

“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”

The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.

All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.

“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.

Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.

You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.

“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.

Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.

“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”

With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.

“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.

You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.

“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.

On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.

“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.

“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.

“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.

✰★✰

A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:

Charles was so sure he had it covered.

As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.

He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.

Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.

He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.

Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.

Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.

He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.

Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.

His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.

He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.

Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.

Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.

“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.

“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.

“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.

“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.

“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.

Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.

“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.

“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.

“I’m sure, don’t worry.”

You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.

It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.

“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.

“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.

“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”

You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.

His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.

Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.

The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.

He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?

What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.

He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.

Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?

The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.

With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.

He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.

Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.

“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.

The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.

“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.

Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?

He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.

Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.

He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.

It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.

He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.

Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.

Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn’t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.

Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.

In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.

His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.

He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.

Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.

In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.

Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.

“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.

Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.

You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.

“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.

“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.

His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.

“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.

With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.

Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.

Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.

He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.

“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”

“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”

Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.

“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”

“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.

“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.

You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.

“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.

You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.

Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.

Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.

“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.

“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.

He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.

“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.

Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.

You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”

Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.

“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.

Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.

a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him

[amarasletters]

⟡ ݁₊ . 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲: 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ༘⋆ ྀིྀི

"white swans of secrecy, drifting and drifting, secretly dividing, the still waters of infinity." — D.H. Lawrence (Swans)

The lake is still, a mirror of the glass kissed by the silver strings while the swans lay upon it—as if carved by winter itself. It wafts along like its reflection, rippling like a half-forgotten dream.

Well, Tchaikovsky's swan, Andersen's enchanted bird, Leda's omen—swans have always belonged to the world in between. But to us, they are very much miraculous universe travelers. They're more than feathery birds and ballet, perhaps symbolism at its peak.

I think swans are symbols because they've appeared countless times at the most unexpected places and incidentally each of these occasions I wasn't exactly in the best mindset sooooo…

here's a rant from my delusional mind as to why swans are NOT just swans and are in a very biblical, metamorphic, liminal-ish symbol, WHICH humanity really isn't uncoding. (code for why did *i* realise earlier?!?)

one.

swans are always depicted as creatures that glide effortlessly, with one such certain grace, poised, untouched by urgency, always calm, as if it knows the outcome…

they always seem unattainable, as if all there was to achieve they already did.

very similar. yes. it's you, it's me, it's US.

now, sure, maybe it's not us now, but it's us exactly right now because you and I, are basically gaslighting ourselves into this void that convinces us we don't know much but, then again, you say you believe in shifting, you long for people you've never met, you find comfort in books and movies you cannot perceive and that is because it's calling you again, back to that lake, to go home, to that swan.

*.`

two.

they exist in all three— land, water, sky, all three states of being, but its associated most with water?

water, to me, represents distortion, a blurry layer of what-ifs, very much of an illusion. much like shifting, it bends realities.

the duality of swans on the water is that it's serene, and elegant, yes BUT, it's hidden, mystical, and even though I know how a bird floats off the water I think it's much more than that. shifting is much like that, we make it a whole thing— (as we should, ofc) make an aura, a feeling, an emotion, etc. But, what if it isn't oh-so-mystic, what if you just need to close em eyes and flap away?

*.`

three.

they have forever soulmates.

(I really fought myself to not put in lobster references)

they could swim through countless lakes, but that one other means forever to them and so, what if the universe is your lake, and its just you and your other swan (that sounds bad I know, but ugh yk what I'm saying)— sure, in different bodies with different faces but that one person that's always there and is waiting even now for you to finally swim over and reunite?

*

so, if we say shifting is an act of reinvention, then perhaps love— much like that of swans— is the thread that ties us to our truest selves across lakes, or shall we say lifetimes, across realities, across everything we have ever been or hoped to become.

.

..

.....

*