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#you should still try to work on your own behavior
animeyanderelover · 3 days
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Anon: Could I please request yandere headcannons for: gokudera, yamamoto, spanner, dr shamal, basil, ryohei, dino, hibari, haru and squalo from khr?
Yandere Katekyo Hitman Reborn Hc's
Miura Haru
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👘​There is no chance in heaven nor hell that people won't know about Haru's feelings for you because she is anything but discreet about how much she loves you. She is openly declaring how much her heart is pounding whenever she sees you and she often awakes the impression that she is retelling a love poem whenever you are around as she confesses every sappy thought she has in her mind. Haru is very obsessive because she is very firm in her decision that she will be your future wife so she is already busily memorizing everything she can about you. This may already be a tad bit disturbing as it is although it could still be trivialised as her just being very attentive when it comes to you. The attentiveness probably stops when you realise that she has even memorized where you walk as soon as you leave the house and at which times you are most likely to go out to buy some groceries.
👘​The innocent-looking cinnamon roll takes it with her observations maybe just a tad bit too far as she essentially stalks you and lies in wait for you to turn up. She would like to see her behavior as dedication to the person she loves most in the world. Can you not understand her desire to spend time with you? You wouldn't think about sending her away after she has waited for you here all this time, right? Haru is extremely single-minded in her pursuit and this makes her very delusional and dismissive if you should ever try to explain to her that she couldn't be more wrong with her assumptions. Instead you will only hurt her feelings. Whilst she would never be truly angry with you, when you see the tears bubbling up in her eyes you can't help feeling like you are the bad guy. Since Haru won't even hold her emotions back when in public, everything is made even more complicated because the last thing you want is making her cry whilst others are watching.
👘​Haru gets quite easily jealous but it is at the same time also quite easy to de-escalate her emotions if you explain to her who the person is or if you simply involve her in the discussion. Her social attitude will solve the rest and by the end of the conversation she has probably made a new friend. That is if you actually notice that she is watching because otherwise things can take a more interesting turn. Haru has a very lively imagination to the point where she feels like she is witnessing a scandal in the making whenever you converse with someone she does not know and don't introduce that person to her afterwards. For whatever reason instead of simply asking you about it, she comes up with the most complex solution of stalking you and the other person in one of her questionable outfits she chose to blend in mission failed as she follows you two around. Safe to say, you have spotted her every single time and managed to untangle the misunderstanding which quickly lifts her mood.
👘​Whilst Haru could always take the easy route of asking Tsuna for help who just happens to be the head of the mafia, she likes to take matters into her own hands. As kind and caring as she is, she can be very assertive if she wants to be and can whop someone's ass verbally if they should have wronged you. Her persistence and stubbornness are her finest weapons and she can very likely wear someone down by remaining so single-minded as she can use her stalking tendencies to find out where someone lives if she is upset enough with them. In situations where more caution would be adviced you better stop her because she doesn't seem to work with a rational mindset at times when she tries to solve even such problems for you by dressing up as a samurai or another fitting costume in her arsenal to defend you. Asking her friends for help is a last resort, especially since they are real mafioso.
👘​She has already envisioned it all. From the house you two will buy to the colour you paint the walls with the every single furniture you're going to have in your shared home. She has even started practicing to cook your favorite meals to be able to make you really happy as soon as the both of you live together. Don't even try to shatter her dreams unless you want to summon her tears. It isn't like Haru would actually ever kidnap you because she does not have the heart to do so. She would never hurt your feelings like that. At the same time she is so painfully optimistic and delusional about the matter. She is saving up money already to buy the house of her dreams and she is even telling all the people around her very excitedly about her visions. You just have a hard time ruining her her dreams because whilst she would probably accept your decision, she would never recover from her crushed dreams and hopes.
👘​Haru is very clingy and since she is always waiting for you to turn up to have the chance to spend as much time with you as she possibly can, it is quite hard to shake her off. She already has a "Haru Appreciation Day" and you get an appreciation day once a month too. It is a day where she is going to be even more affectionate and will spoil you even more than she normally does already and it is very likely that she will very soon make one to celebrate the fact that you two are a couple as well. She has a fascination with cosplaying and costumes already so she will 100% want you two to wear matching outfits or cosplay as fictional couples. She's even sewing you shirts with embroidery stating that you are her lover and she gets sad if you don't wear what she has sewn you. She doesn't understand your uncomfortableness with wearing something that has such cheesy words written on it.
Gokudera Hayato
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🧨Above all else, Gokudera will be the most loyal simp you have ever seen in your entire life. He is infatuated with you to the point where he can even justify some stuff that normally should demand an apology from you as he likes to think that you are a good person through and through and that it's the fault of the people around you for triggering you. Whilst he can be a tad bit delusional with this particular way of thinking, he won't let everything you do just slide like this because even he can recognize if you were clearly in the wrong in a certain situation but even then he will probably go easy on you. Hayato, even if he likes to let you off the hook easy with his mindset, is up to a certain point still more aware of his obsession that is rapidly evolving and funnily enough he is a tad bit embarrassed about it initially. That is only a short phase though before he throws all worries out of the window and just dedicates himself to you.
🧨His dedication can go indeed quite far as he does some good research on you because even if he has quite a bit of a temper, Gokudera is also awfully smart and methodical. That naturally includes that he literally notes down the habits and preferences he is able to figure out by observing you and he will even go as far as casually stalking you, although he is smart enough to not let himself get caught. There is a possessive streak he has and he likes to express that often because of his hot-tempered nature. He has sworn loyalty and dedication to you after all even if you never asked for it and due to this oath he has made he tends to be more arrogant as well as very protective. After all none of the other people you waste your time with would know as much about you as he does not would they be willing to go as far for you as he would. If you don't see that yet, he will gladly prove himself to you.
🧨His explosive temper is going to be quite difficult to handle as he is almost always irritable and hostile to the people around you. It is because he has promised himself that he would be the one to love and protect you best that he gets even more frustrated and angry whenever someone else thinks they're the shit and can do what he can obviously do better. If his patience snaps he will beat someone up and that without much consideration or regret. Hayato is still lucid enough to realise that you probably wouldn't appreciate him beating someone up in front of you so he tries to not get physically violent if you are around, although he certainly can't hold back all of his jealousy as he instead vents out his frustration through his words. He can always beat them up later when you aren't around. Everyone who tries to charm you and protect you is his rival but he will most certainly fight for his spot for you to want him as your lover and protector.
🧨I believe the most evident sign of his sheer dedication and willingness to really uphold his oath of protecting you from all harm is shown in the almost jarring difference in his attitude when he is presented with no other choice but murdering someone. His jealous and violent behavior, as immature and harming it can be, is still a mere child's play. Even Gokudera knows about the weight of killing someone and that hasn't changed even if he is the Storm Guardian of the current mafia generation. Taking someone's life is a serious matter and for that reason he will take it just as serious as well. Instead of impulsively storming to his victim and killing them, he is far more methodical and meticulous with his plans. Depending on whom it is he sees the need to murder he either only uses his dynamite to set a trap or uses his Box Weapon. If he is going to murder someone in cold blood, he will do it properly and not play around.
🧨He will most likely show enough understanding that an abduction might be a bit more extreme but at the same time he is a part of the Vongola Family. He knows very well that the life he has chosen is not safe and that is why he tends to be very overprotective and in urgent situations even controlling as he then wants you to listen to every instruction he gives you. There is this bad reputation clinging to the mafia so Hayato greatly hesitates to even inform you about his occupation. A scenario where you get kidnapped by him is usually one where he finds himself in a desperate situation that could either include the danger of your own life or the danger of the relationship. Whilst it will be more of a spontanous decision, Gokudera still somehow manages to squeeze in a plan as he has to act swiftly, especially if your life is indeed in danger due to another gang targeting you. He knows that it'll be confusing and frightening but he is begging you for a chance to listen to him at least.
🧨Despite the bad boy image that Hayato is often cultivating, he gets surprisingly easily flustered whenever you pay any attention to him. He always becomes hyper-aware of every twitch of his lips and tries his best to not embarrass himself. Instead he's always trying to use the chance to look cool and impress you so if someone else steals your attention away whilst he is in the middle of attempting to amaze you, his jealousy quickly returns. You will be the sweetest thing to him with every small affection that you give him because he will always turn a bit red in his face. His tough appearance melts when he is around you and specifically if he is alone with you because then he can truly dedicate all of his attention and focus to you instead of getting triggered by the people around you. As soft as he can be with you though, Hayato is very serious and will enforce decisions on you if he should ever suspect your life to be at risk.
Yamamoto Takeshi
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💧​Yamamoto is terribly oblivious as he will probably remain forever ignorant of his obsessive feelings. This is after all the same boy who has been treating the whole mafia affair as some sort of role play and even as he grows older and matures more, you can not hope him to ever consider his love as something that could potentially be a tad bit dangerous. At least you are lucky enough though that Yamamoto is such an easy-going and relaxed guy who isn't very possessive nor is he really controlling. What he will be though is protective and I can definitely see this as a trait that will amplify as the years go by and he gains more knowledge and especially more battle experience as the Rain Guardian of Tsuna. After all he can be as relaxed in battle and with his overall life only as long as no one he cares about greatly is brought in danger because of it. He learns that it isn't all fun and games to him the moment you are in danger.
💧​Even if you were to somehow know of his obsession with you, you will have a very hard time convincing others of it and chances are that even you will have troubles believing it. It is Takeshi's very personality that makes it so hard to accept and believe it. He is kind and warm-hearted and he has a very special ability to get on friendly terms with most people he engages with. This will mean that you will be in troubles if you would try to avoid him because not only is he going to charm most of your acquaintances and friends anyways but they will most likely pick his side and would think that you are in the wrong. If Yamamoto wouldn't be such a good and kind individual, he would be a frighteningly good manipulator so just be thankful that he is always so painfully sincere with every gesture and word of his. That doesn't mean that you will be able to avoid him if you choose to do so though as even your own friends might try to help Takeshi.
💧​Differently from Hayato, Yamamoto will showcase a great amount of patience and respect with most people you engage with. His own willingness to befriend the people you hang around with regularly only aids in this as this means that he is already familiar with most people around you anyways. Even if he were to feel jealous it is not like he is going to make a big drama about it but is going to handle the situation maturely. If he doesn't know someone yet and he gets uncomfortable with the way they behave around you, he will tell you so whilst also asking who that was. He's just informing you whenever someone has made him slightly uncomfortable with the way they are behaving around you and he will tell the other person about it just as much. It is all fine though but only as long as he can expect the same level of respect and maturity from the other person. If they instead choose to act immature, Yamamoto will make sure to keep them away from you.
💧​Usually known as a peacekeeper, Takeshi is fully capable of acting accordingly if a situation should turn dire and that is easier if you are involved than if it would be only him. He is able to maintain a level of calmness in combat but he tends to be more frantic and panicked if you should get involved which is why he takes according preparation to ensure that you won't get involved and will be used as a distraction against him. He has a code of honor though as he doesn't walk around and beats everyone up who gets on his nerves nor does he stain his sword in needless blood. He only ever draws his sword in a dire situation. Whilst he is considerate enough to give someone a warning if they should slowly get on his bad side, the fun has already stopped for him there. All signs of a warm smile on his face are already gone at that point and instead there is this serious and almost somber aura around him that makes the air heavy. Don't underestimate him, although be reassured that at least he will give his victims a swift death.
💧​Despite the existing obliviousness that he has when it comes to the ability to recognise his own wrong feelings for you, Takeshi also draws a line he tries to not tresspass under normal circumstances. Next to the act of taking a life, the act of abducting his darling is also something he normally wouldn't dare to do. His position as the Storm Guardian may be one filled with more risks and danger but he also makes sure to enable you to live a normal life. I don't really see him permanently abducting you but he will take certain meassurements for your safety if the situation calls for it. That can include relocating you to a safer and better guarded and protected place and restricting your ability to walk freely and alone around for an unknown period of time. Those conditions are never something permanent though as they only last as long as the situation is still grave.
💧​His good-natured personality might to more harm for you than it can do good for you at times because you somehow always end up being blamed for misunderstanding the situation if you truly try to avoid him or just aren't interested in him as he ends up stealing the hearts of all the people around you. Almost chivalrous in his courting, Takeshi is also unable to be stopped in his attempts to woo you. His determination is overflowing and he never gives up his hopes no matter how much you try to tell him that you aren't interested. Even if he may be considerate enough to back off and stop, you can always sense that he is waiting for the next chance. He often invites you over to the sushi bar his father owns and ends up preparing you sushi for free, even if you insist on paying.
Sasagawa Ryohei
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👊​As someone who lives by the motto of living to the extreme, you can probably already imagine how Ryohei is. He gives 120% all of the time and that naturally includes his behavior around you. Ryohei dabbles into the full-blown delusional area of his obsession. You are his passion, his heart is set on fire whenever he sees you and all the potentially worrying behavior he starts exhibiting due to his feelings all fly over his head as he can easily dismiss them as acts of his passion for you. You think that it is quite creepy that he is always insisting on following you around wherever you go to the point where he even sprints to you if you try to leave earlier in order to be freed from his company? You're being silly, he just wants to make sure that he can protect you if something should happen. A particular focus of his seems to be his fixation on thinking that it is his job to protect you since he is your boyfriend.
👊​His delusional streak makes the normally already obstinate boy even more sturdy as every rejection coming from you flies over his head to the point where he even forgets that you ever had the conversation with him in the first place. Whilst he is at least not that bad to the point where he literally misunderstands everything from you as a sign of your secret feelings for him, he is still quite good in erasing everything "inconvenient" from his mind. Did I mention that he is clingy? He has to be involved in your life as much as he can and he does so even if he ends up making you a tad bit more uncomfortable by inserting himself arguably more forceful into your daily routine. If he doesn't do exactly that, he in fact can get quite twitchy as he doesn't really like not being up to date and actively involved in your life for a longer amount of time.
👊​Bring. It. On. Jealousy from Ryohei's side can very quickly activate his competitive nature where he sees every provocation from someone else as a challenge and since it really isn't his personality to back away from a fight, he will accept the challenge that probably only exists in his own mind. It isn't even out of character for him to actually ask someone if they would fight him in a boxing match. He really doesn't think such things through and he is quite fine with that as he is always ready for a fight and that eagerness is especially triggered if he finds a "rival" he has to compete against. The problem here is thst Ryohei is exceptionally quick to feel jealous, don't underestimate how passionate his feelings for you actually are. Chances are due to this that someone gets involved who isn't even interested in you and Ryohei insists on a fight because if someone isn't even couragous enough to face him, they are not worthy of you.
👊​His willingness to battle even extends to more life-threatening fights where his own life is on the line as he sees every obstacle as a chance to grow stronger. However, Ryohei is firm in his belief that his lover has nothing to do with his battles so he always makes sure never let you get involved in any dangerous activities, especially once he starts working for the Vongola Family. The thing is that he doesn't really think too much the moment someone infuriates him because then the result is usually a broken jaw as he impulsively punches them. His passion can turn quite deadly if you are at risk as it can turn into mindless wrath where he just starts violently attacking someone without stopping until he has calmed down. Whilst this reckless and impulsive behavior dies down a bit as he gets older, I would argue that the new maturity he brings to the task is perhaps even more terrifying as he lets his victim know that he is going to kill them and that they should at least show him that they have some honor by fighting back instead of begging pathetically for their life.
👊​As a student this is honestly a tad bit amusing but for the biggest portion just scary. Ryohei doesn't force you in his life because it has always been the other way around. He forces himself in your life. Whenever he is in the mood, he just pops up in front of your house and screams in front of your window that he wants to see you. The whole neighborhood knows about his feelings because he really doesn't hold back to express them to you in about every loud way possible. So during his younger years he always comes to you when he feels like you might be in danger, fully prepared to defend you. He only really gets the needed capacities to kidnap you when he joins the mafia and matures as it is only then that he realises that an abduction is a thing. At this point he has fallen out of his worst delusional phase though and only uses that option if your life is in grave danger. The whole plan will be more or less a spontanous act though as he is the one who then comes storming to your house to bring you to a safer place.
👊​Ryohei is not a good planner, especially during his time as a student. He tends to forget important stuff and details though and he becomes quite conscious of this when he starts gaining feelings for you. It would be incredibly unfitting for him to forget important details about you since he wants to be your man so he starts writting memos to not forget it. He has those same memos still years later although he doesn't need them anymore at that point. He is quite verbal and physical to express his love to you and at times he even sees it as a challenge to show you as much of his love as he can, especially if someone else is very nice to you and in this case it doesn't even matter if they are interested in you or not. He's constantly begging you to visit his boxing club or to just watch him train because he does like to show off his skills at time. Whilst the wildest parts of his personality weaken over time as he grows older, his feelings for you certainly don't.
Hibari Kyoya
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🐤​Hibari is going to pose a big problem for you due to his solitary and indomitable nature as well as his naturally scary appearance. He is very possessive and shows little to no consideration to you nor to others as he wants you and he does whatever it takes to have you. Your consens isn't even really needed for that matter because as long as Hibari knows that you are his, he is going to be satisfied no matter how you may currently feel. Whilst he is actually not blind to the fact that he is very obsessed with you and that he does a lot of things that are anything but good and moral behavior, he just frankly doesn't care. Hibari is only interested in what he values and wants so he doesn't have time considering everyone's feelings, not even your own. Since he is known to use authority and even violence to everyone who doesn't follow the rules or who gets on his nerves, you can probably already imagine what that implies for you.
🐤​You have your own lovely set of rules he has made for you and he expects you to follow them as well. It is quite hypocritical that he despises being controlled or restrained but inflicts the very things he hates on you. You may be tempted to try to escape or simply ignore the rules because Hibari is actually not that present in your life but whenever you do such a wasted attempt, he finds out and will approach you quickly after with a displeased glint in his eyes. What you don't know is that whilst you may not see him every day, Hibari is watching you more often than you think. He is stalking you often from somewhere, those cold eyes trailing after you as he mentally notes every thing you do. It is due to this stalking nature that he has gathered a ton of information on you, more than you are confident with. His lonesome and possessive nature is going to isolate you naturally more, even if you aren't a social butterfly to begin with.
🐤​He values rules and expects others to stick to them. The moment he sets his eyes on you, one unspoken rule instantly becomes that no one should dare to get close to you or try to take you. Since Kyoya is quite confident in his own abilities and his strength, jealousy is perhaps not the right word to use. He is displeased and annoyed more than anything because some idiot here thinks that they can just ignore his rules. Well, it usually doesn't end well for the person anyways and unfortunately even you may become a victim to his displeasure if you should have acted in a way that has awoken the impression that you forgot that you belong to him. If this should happen often, whether it is your fault or someone else's, Kyoya will see it through to isolate you from people a lot more so that you learn your lesson. Honestly, he is being unnecessarily harsh with you but that is mainly to blame on his introverted traits.
🐤​Due to his little regard for the well-being of others, Kyoya will be especially ruthless if he decides to attack because he is always going to hurt someone. Whilst he doesn't let people die needlessly for his own interest, he will be everything but gentle on them as he just believes that people who don't value rules have to be punished. He knows that establishing his own dominance and letting others know what happens if they break rules or annoy him is the most efficient way to make them listen and obey so he does exactly that. Since you are his possession after all, he won't allow anyone to touch you nor will he allow anyone to hurt you. As cold and scary as he may be, this makes him awfully protective over you as he will go after everyone who does as much as threaten you. He is not joking around in the least bit and that means that Hibari will have a considerable kill count as the years pass by, especially once he gets involved with the mafia.
🐤​He hates crowds, he hates people, he just hates being around others in general. He prefers to be alone and he prefers you to be alone as well. It is easier to keep an eye on you then and see what you do and he also doesn't have to get irritated by the people around you. Yet I don't see Hibari going instantly for the forceful abduction because he likes to believe that you will know what you are and aren't supposed to do without him needing to actively surveil you. Don't get cocky though because if you misbehave one too many times, he will lock you away in his house and not let you leave until he believes you have learned your lesson. A permanent abduction doesn't sound appealling to him because he doesn't want to become some sort of caretaker for you as that would just tie him down. He wants you to be independent enough to get through your normal life by yourself yet obedient enough to him to know what you aren't supposed to do.
🐤​Sometimes days go on where you do not see Hibari personally but you never know if he is currently watching you from elsewhere in that moment or not. Truth is that Kyoya actually needs his solitude as well and will leave you by yourself then. If you break any of his rules, he will find out somehow after all but sometimes he just needs some time for himself. Whilst he has been acting on his possessive feelings for the most part, sometimes he gets really strict with you precisely because he has a soft spot for you. In a way one could see this as a way of you having control over him too but to not let you even get the idea that you may use his feelings against him, he is very keen on establishing his own dominance over you. It is this mindset that gives him a tough time being soft around you although he eventually mellows out slowly as years pass by until he even entrusts you with the care of his Hibirds.
Basilicum
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🟤​Basil may be a part of the CEDEF but don't even expect for a minute that this means that he is aware enough to know about his own feelings. He is quite a good example of being a delusional Yandere though because despite working for a Secret Intelligence Organisation, he is quite prone to misunderstand things. Yes, he will completely misunderstand it whenever he catches you looking at him or whenever you are just simply polite and helpful around him. Apparently politness from your side is seen as signs of attraction for him from his side. This can get quite out of hand as he slowly starts reciprocate your gestures in the way he thought they were meant. He also starts helping you in your daily life and he even buys you small gifts every once in a while which he gives you whilst a blush is on his face.
🟤​He is quite shy though because whilst he is talented in many things and is the apprentice of Iemitsu, he has never been trained how to court someone and how to confess to the person he loves. This does cause him to feel awfully hesitant and insecure at times because he is constantly worrying that he does something wrong and tends to dramatise gestures and behavior from your side to the point where he believes that he has done something terrible to offend you. Whilst Basil is quite gullible and for that fairly easy to manipulate the tables can turn quite a lot when he gets desperate and looks like he is genuinely about to cry. He's on his knees and begging you then to forgive him because he doesn't know how he could continue living happily if he wouldn't have you in his life. If you think that this outburst is only going to last for a little while, you couldn't be more wrong. Are you really heartless enough to let him drown in such eternal misery?
🟤​If you worry that his insecurities might make way to jealousy, don't. He's got you covered already. He has gotten over those feelings by pretty much keeping tabs on all the people around you and spying on them as well as stalking you and noting down who all the people are you have in your life. This might be quite disturbing for you if you were to ever find out but knowing such things is very reassuring for Basil who feels less threatened by having potentially someone else who would be interested in you. If he ever does feel jealous, there is always this black hole that is mainly there because he feels like he doesn't understand them enough so he intensifies his research until he digs very deep into their life just to fill that empty hole in his heart. If he knows them after all, he can prepare himself accordingly and that helps him to feel at ease.
🟤​As a member of the CEDEF, despite his innocent looks Basil actually holds a lot more power and possesses much more skill than the average person could ever hope to have. As such he would be in theory quite dangerous but luckily he is on the kinder and polite spectrum. He may know at one point everything about you as well as all your family members, friends and acquaintances but that is just how he works as he feels uneasy if he doesn't know everything. His obsession really won't let him rest when it comes to this. This automatically means though that he can use his position as a member of the organisation to dig up some secrets that shouldn't be known if he should ever classify someone as a threat to you. There is no real use for violence for Basil unless it is a last resort because he can just blackmail someone with the information he has obtained about them.
🟤​He would be lying if he would claim that he has never imagined living with you before. In fact he starts fantasising about it quite a lot the more time you spend together with him and the more he finds out about you. He has his hopes even up that those dreams won't be dreams anymore as soon as the both of you are old enough because he tends to see things with rose-tinted glasses. There is no real threat for Basil to kidnap you though, at least for the most part. He may start shedding tears the moment he asks you if you want to move in with him and you reject him, he may beg you to change your mind but he won't do much else. You do think you see him at night standing in front of your house at times though. Basil can be quite efficient though with the load of stuff he knows about you as well as your family and friends which can be used as a very lethal way to blackmail you into doing as he says. Let's just hope that it doesn't get that far.
🟤​His extremely obsessive tendencies imply that he also knows all about your secrets and fears that only very few people may know but at least he seems to possess enough common sense to understand that he shouldn't let you know about the knowledge he possesses about you. At times he may slip up though by accidentally mentioning something to you that he shouldn't know about you but he is smart enough to always cover his mistakes up. Basil definitely uses the huge amount of information he holds in his hands to charm you as well as all the people who are important to him in hopes that they will like him. It is quite important to him that all the people you love will like him so he would be quite distraught if one of them wouldn't think much of him or even go as far as thinking that he isn't suited to be your partner.
Dino
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🐎​Dino is just smooth. He is tall, he is handsome and he is quite skilled with his words as well, sure to flatter all the women around him, Dino has set his eyes on you though so he only cares about how his charm will affect you. Dino is actually quite lucid about the entire situation and he won't lie, he has spent some nights thinking about how he should feel bad about it. After all he is a very caring individual to everyone who works for him and who means something to him. Despite the hint of guilt that he manages to experience at times though, for the most part there is just a dwelling possessive feeling that demands him to claim you as his. He is careful with the way he approaches you though as he keeps his identity as well as the true extend of his feelings a secret. Even as a mafia boss, he chooses the honest route of courting you for the most part and he is actually quite confident in his ability to pull it off.
🐎​Nevertheless though, a sprinkle of manipulation here and there will still be used to just stir you in the right direction. His mature and calm exterior combined with his good looks and his smooth words can make a quite lethal combination after all and he even learns to use his occasional clumsiness to make himself appear even more endearing in your eyes. He only uses subtle manipulation for the most part though as he still wants you to choose him out of your won free will. Quite protective of those who mean something to him, this naturally starts applying to you as well to the point where his skills even increase when around you. Whilst his clumsiness then doesn't work anymore, he learns to act like he is sometimes still quite ditzy either to make you smile or de-escalate a possibly tense situation between you two. Whilst he ensures that he never reveals his more intimidating side to you though, he will be much more willing to reveal it to others.
🐎​How blessed you are to have someone like him who is not only skilled and handsome but also so mature and collected. Confidence really can do wonders and Dino showcases that perfectly. He knows that he is physically appealing and since he has gotten so insanely dedicated to you which has led to the disappearance of his clumsiness when he is around you, he is very skilled in most things he does. There aren't many people who can do the same so he can be quite relaxed as he lets you spend your time with other people. Even if there should be someone who tries their luck with you, he just watches with an amused look on his face. He doesn't even have to say anything as most lose their courage the moment he steps next to you and just looks at them with that entertained look on his face. He can switch a flip though by becoming more serious when someone is actually more than just talk. He respects that but that doesn't mean that they can just think about trying to court you.
🐎​He is not going to take it lightly the moment someone threatens his darling. Dino is very protective because he is a mafia boss who has been in this business for quite some time now. He knows how dangerous it can get in his world and that you wouldn't last long if you were to get ever involved. He is vicious to guarantee that no one can ever get that close to you simply to protect your unawareness of what he really does. Perhaps it also the fear of what you might do if you were to ever figure out that he is the head of his own mafia family. It is going to be difficult to touch even your hair in any harmful way though because not only is his organisation very big but his subordinates are also extremely loyal to him. Then there is of course also Dino who is a force that has to be acknowledged because Reborn has trained him truly well as he murders anyone who poses a serious threat without any hesitation. You must never know about all of this though.
🐎​He is definitely going to ask you to move in with him after a while of being a couple. If you reject him, that is fine. He understands that it may be still a bit too sudden and then he just waits for a while until he repeats his question to you. If it would be someone else than Dino, you could get in trouble but to your huge luck Dino is as composed as he is. There is a limit to this all though and that will be when he decides to propose to you within only two years of being a pair. That is your last chance to accept him on your own free will because after that Dino will get involved otherwise to give you the needed push to accept his offer. Even if he attempts to not be too horrible in the course he chooses to take, what he does cannot be excused as he gives you some financial troubles or sees it through that some essential things like your car or your keys get stolen.
🐎​Your life is going to be quite an easy one as long as things between Dino and you go smoothly. You will be pampered and spoiled by him a lot as a sort of excuse for his absence whenever he has to fulfill his role as the mafia boss. Lavish clothes, delicious food and expensive trips around the world all become part of your life and technically everything could go smoothly. Unfortunately Dino has never really told you what he really does for a living so the essential break might happen if you find it out in a most unfortunate moment and react horribly to the reveal. Because at this point in your life, you won't go anywhere anymore. He hasn't married you for you to leave him just because you found out who he really is. He feels sorry and believe him, he understands. He didn't desire to be the boss of the Cavallone Famiglia until Reborn trained him either.
Squalo
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◻️​Whether Squalo really has any understanding for his obsession or not is not really of importance, although I like to imagine that as a second-in-command he is smart enough to recognise it. Even if he knows about it though, it does not matter in the least bit to him as he just takes it as it is with no signs of guilt or mercy which spells trouble for you, my dear. Squalo has an awfully huge ego and is very possessive to top it all as he takes pride in his strength and his skill. There is no such thing as courting you or trying to win your heart over as this is way too time-consuming and too much work for this man and since he is as powerful as he is, the easiest way is just forcing you into everything by abusing his influence and his power. You are just his one day suddenly and from that day on he makes sure through often radical ways that you learn to understand this by adjusting your social activities and your closeness to others.
◻️​Squalo has no troubles simply blackmailing you into doing as he tells you to do and isn't even shying away from threatening those around you to make everything even more efficient. His overly possessive antics definitely lead you into an isolating condition where you are partially stuck because you are too scared of him and are partially stuck because you are too scared of what he may do to other people if you would break his rules. You are constantly put under stress as you are never feeling safe even if he isn't pysically within your proximity. Your unease is not unjustified because even if Squalo has a short temper it is important to consider that despite everything he is still part of the Varia and an extremely talented assassin. It is part of his skill to watch people silently from afar to wait for the right moment so you never know when he might watch you either.
◻️​Squalo is threatening and noisy if he should ever feel jealous because he for sure will let you and the other person know about how he is feeling. You should know better than to engage with someone else, you should know better than to question his possession over you like this but sometimes you just seem to be amazingly stupid. Think about it and consider that this man is very violent and extremely deadly too. He could probably murder someone within only a few seconds, if he is feeling merciful that is. Needless to say, such events never end well for you as he is not only threatening your company but will also violently drag you away from the scene. You cannot say anything unless you dare to add fuel to his flaring temper as he frags you away, his grip on you tight and painful but it's not like he cares. You better pray that he won't search for that bastard later on to quench his anger.
◻️​Squalo is arguably one of the most vicious and violent people you could have in this cast. He is already a trained assassin, he loves fights and he has been described by Dino as a shark that has smelled blood. The only thing you can do is pray when he leaves to hunt someone down. He kills everyone who has gotten on his nerves or triggered him in regards to you. Whether the poor victim he hunts down is someone who would have been an actual threat to your life or is just someone who you seem to be too attached to is of no matter. He experiences a euphoric bloodlust whilst hunting his prey down as he displays a sadistic vein, enjoying the sight of them trembling in fear and begging for their life. Even more twisted is the fact that he tends to take his time when he is feeling especially sadistic, cutting his victims slowly down until they have either succumbed to their injuries or he got bored of them.
◻️​Technically he already exhibits a great influence over your life even whilst you are still living by yourself but as he wants complete submission from your side, you just have to wait for a bit until he finally makes the decision to relocate you somewhere else. He does it as he has always done everything in your life which is using force to have you comply with his demands. The new place you can call your home from that day on is isolated which reduces your social contact significantly and will also be installed with cameras and a security system so that you don't get any stupid ideas if he should be gone on missions. You still receive everything you need to survive and keep the house clean as he doesn't want to be your babysitter and whenever he returns to the place where you are stuck, he sort of expects from you to have taken care of the house in his absence.
◻️​He displays an extremely shitty and arrogant attitude around you where he isn't even scared to draw his sword against you if you should get on his nerves too much. Other members of the Varia definitely know you as he sometimes drags you along to show you off like a trophy, looking and sounding unusually proud as he shows you off and actually getting mad for your sake if someone else from the other assassins should insult you. That is only as long as you behave yourself because Squalo will punish you if you were to embarrass him in front of other members of Varia. He is actually willing to give you compliments if you happen to be exceptionally talented in something he deems as useful as he likes having something he can brag about to the Varia about you. He also expects getting a lot of compliments from you because of the pride he takes in himself. Don't try to insult him though because he will be quick to make you regret it.
Spanner
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🔧​Spanner is willing to betray his own side when it helps him to find out more about something he is interested in. Now crank that up a few notches and give him an obsession centered around his darling and you have yourself a prime example of an obsessed man. Spanner is very willing to break private rights and throw away commonly accepted morals if it helps him to find out more about you and whilst he is careful about not to betray the Millefiore, he is willing to lie to them to keep them away from your life as much as possible. Despite those actions he takes, he is actually quite good in deceiving you to see him as someone else. He just presents himself with a laid-back and chill exterior which manages to make you feel at ease around him. What you don't seem to notice for a long time is how he observes you as you let your guard down around him, gauging your every reaction with a keen interest.
🔧​He is an engineer and he is quite talented as well so obviously he is going to abuse the skills he has to spy on you even better. Whether he wires your house when you invite him over or even installs a tracker on your phone to always be able to know your exact location, he is not holding back. He in fact occasionally even causes some devices in your house to malfunction without your knowledge when he is in your house just to have you spend more time with him because he is always the one who offers to repair them for you when you complain to him that they aren't working properly anymore. If he considers his feelings and the actions he has chosen to take so far more carefully, he guesses that his interest in you might be quite unhealthy but somehow he is far too nonchalant to really care. He doesn't have any bad intentions after all and is actually even protecting you so it can't be that bad.
🔧​With the way he is installing the listening devices and at one point even tiny cameras in your house and tracks you down via your phone, it is safe to assume that he has a very good idea with whom you choose to spend your time with when either he or you don't have a chance to see each other. He thinks it is better that way because by being able to hack your phone or other technical devices, he always knows what is going on between you and others and it saves him from being worked up over nothing. There is very little chance for him to misunderstand the situation as he can constantly spy on you. He handles jealousy fairly composed in comparison to some other members but he is definitely going to have to know more about anyone who triggers such an emotion inside of him. He just likes to be prepared in case he has to interfere before they get any closer to you by being able to blackmail them a bit.
🔧​I'm pretty sure he is just going to invent something instead of killing someone with his own hands. It's not like he is just going after everyone's threat because he actually enjoys his peace and wouldn't want too much trouble in his life. Sometimes Spanner knows that he has to do something before something happens, especially if your own life is in any danger. Then he has of course also the option of asking Shoichi for help if your life should be in potential danger and he does use the influence of his friend at times. Other times he feels like he should be the one to make sure that your life is protected though because he is the one obsessed with you and then he just builds something to assist him in his task to protect you. He is uncomfortable with killing someone personally but this seems to be a different matter if he kills someone with one of his inventions and just watches from the sideline or from behind a monitor.
🔧​With the data he collects on you as time passes by, he has technically quite a bit he could use against you if he were to ever feel like forcing you. For some reason Spanner instead likes to savor the time he has with you right now as it is. The time where you don't know that he has cameras and listening devices in your home, has a tracker installed in your phone and has hacked into your laptop and phone already multiple times. He isn't as optimistic as to believe that it will all stay a secret forever though. After all life can always take an unexpected turn and so he starts thinking ahead how he should react and what he should do the moment you would find out about the people he works for as well as his own creepy behavior he has secretly done without your knowledge. He's sure he would have to restrict you within your life somehow, partially also to protect you from the Millefiore.
🔧​You are going to be given quite a few of his lollipops and depending on what your favorite flavor is, he will adjust his candies accordingly whenever he gifts you some. He will even shape them differently if you would ask him to do so. If we ignore the fact that he always sabotages your electronical advices to his own advantage, Spanner is actually quite helpful as well as useful in your life. He is an expert when it comes to everything electronical and next to fixing your stuff for free whenever he has time, he even builds you some devices to help you in your household. He's normally quite relaxed and just likes to lean back and listen to you instead as he is not a big talker and thinks that whatever you could tell him would be much more interesting over what he could talk about. Well, not like he can really talk about some of the activities he does in his daily life to you anyways unless he wants to scare you away by revealing that he has been spying on you.
Doctor Shamal
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🩺​´Shamal is a simp who is down bad for his darling and their gender doesn't even play a role in this case because will act even worse than he has already done with every other woman he has been trying to flirt with. It is highly likely that his darling thinks of it as nothing serious because Shamal is such a womanizer and has been flirting with a lot of people. You'd think that the doctor would assume so too, especially if his darling is biologically female. However, somehow Shamal has known that he feels differently for you after only meeting you one time. You are different and the fact that he feels something very special when he as much as thinks about you causes him to be quite clingy and obsessive as a reaction. He wants to be with you as much as he can and he will openly creep you out with it as he has no shame to follow you around in public and even wait for you in places he eventually comes to realise you tend to visit often. That or he's just standing in front of your door all of the time.
🩺​In Doctor Shamal's mind though, he doesn't see any of this as scary or creepy. Instead he goes down the delusional path as he is absolutely enraptured with you. He has fallen in love with someone for the first time and he just knows that his feelings for you will always be there and that he will from now on always be genuine when around you. So he makes absolutely no attempt to try to hold his feelings for you back as he showers you in presents and even tries to steal kisses from you even if you do not consent to it. He is downright reckless at times in his attempts to declare his love to you. If you lock the door and refuse to acknowledge how he is knocking on your door, it has happened that he has even climbed up the roof of another house or to your window to see you and to make you see him. As you can see, he really has no chill.
🩺​Struck with the attention-seeker-syndrome that he has, he will never be happy if you ignore him for someone else and you do it quite a lot. That's alright though, he likes how you try to play the tough game with him but he is still quite unhappy if you ignore his presence even if he is standing right next to you. You may hope that you will discourage him by doing so but instead you only fuel his passion as he sees it as a sign that he has to fight for you and prove to you that he is the right man to be your lover so in a way all people you rather spend your time with become his rivals. He is especially competitive against those who are neither family nor close friends of yours as he views them as love rivals. This all seems ridiculous and pathetic until he pulls out his mosquitoes to inflict someone with a harmless, but still severe disease because if they don't appear, you won't be able to ignore him.
🩺​All of his silliness aside you better keep in mind that this is a notrious assassin who was even offered a position in the Varia for his skills. The best and simultanously scariest part is that Shamal doesn't even have to do much to kill someone. He merely has to send one of his mosquitoes after his victim and then has to simply wait until they die from the deadly disease the insect has infected them with. He isn't a crazed doctor though so he at least doesn't let anyone around you drop dead within a day. His main motivation behind it is mainly that he doesn't want to push you into the depths of despair so we can argue about whether he is acting noble or not. He has no such problems if it concerns people who endanger your life or just don't treat you right as he can switch to a more cunning and serious side then. Everyone who doesn't respect you or even dares to hurt you will receive no mercy from him and he will get rid of such people quickly before they can pose a even bigger threat in your life.
🩺​Shamal is totally convinced that you two will live together later on. He has envisioned it all. You two will move in together, he will propose to you and then both of you will get married and be the sappiest and most lovely couple that people will have ever seen. You may not share those fantasies and dreams of his but it is not like you will ruin them for him anyways. There is going to be no competition to consider besides him anyways because all of them are battling with some tough diseases and as soon as they seem to recover, they are struck with the next illness. You see, you won't have any other choice besides him. That's alright though because he is the only one who can truly love and worship you as you deserve to be treated.
🩺​There is a potential where he could simply use his mosquitoes against you and weaken you to force you to rely on him but that is a more unlikely scenario. As indecent as he can be towards you at times, he genuinely doesn't intend any harm to come your way. Whilst he will openly admit that he enjoys it whenever you do come down with something and need his medical assistance to get better, he would never infect you with something. He can use the illnesses of others around you though to boost his image as he will offer you his assistance for free only to then take advantage of the debt you oew him after, even if he doesn't demand any money from you. You just feel too guilty to deny him some of his requests where he wants you two to spend some time together. He's going to praise you nearly all the time though for everything as your mere existence is wonderful.
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ozzgin · 2 months
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)
In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.
Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
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"Damn it!"
The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.
"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."
You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.
"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"
"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"
"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 
"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.
"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.
"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 
You swallow. 
Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 
"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 
"No." 
That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.
Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.
Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?
You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 
Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 
"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."
"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"
You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 
"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"
"H-huh? What for?"
You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 
"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."
You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.
"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.
"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"
"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 
The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 
The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.
Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 
"Wakasugi has been taken."
A chaotic murmur ensues. 
"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."
Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 
If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 
"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 
"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 
"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.
"What did you say?" 
Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.
"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."
"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.
There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.
"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 
He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.
"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.
"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."
The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 
"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."
Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.
"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 
Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.
"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.
"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."
No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.
He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 
He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 
"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.
If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.
"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."
The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 
Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 
The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 
"Where's everyone?"
"They ran away."
"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.
"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."
He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.
"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.
"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"
"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."
He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.
"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"
Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 
"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"
"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 
But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 
You grimace a little at the mental image. 
The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.
You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 
"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.
"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."
He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.
"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.
So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.
"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."
"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  
Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie
(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)
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back2bluesidex · 3 months
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Closer To You - JJK (18+)
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Pairing: Rich, spoilt brat!Jeongguk X Doctor! Reader
Theme: Angst, smut, kinda yandere if you squint, toxic relationship au.
Wordcount: 1k+
Summary: You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.
Warnings: Angst, heavy language, swearing, not super explicit sex, jeongguk is kinda mean, he refuses to wear a condom (don't do the same), obsessive behavior, hints of class difference, kinda dirty talk, reader is trying hard to push him away but he won't budge. NSFW!!
Minors are not allowed in this blog!!
Listened to Closer To You by Jungkook.
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It feels weird to enter your own apartment. 
Your skin crawls underneath the heavy trench coat, as if your sixth sense is telling you that there’s something or someone waiting patiently for you inside. 
Your suspicion is confirmed when you see his silhouette prominent against the bright backdrop of your otherwise dark apartment window. 
He sits still, patiently. His eyes are focused on something you can’t tell due to the darkness. 
“What are you doing here?” you finally let your breath go and you didn’t even know you were holding it on for so long. 
You turn on the lights, slip out of your shoes and coat and walk towards the couch where he is sitting currently. He turns his head to look at you. 
“Why? Expected someone else?” Jeongguk stands up on his toes and takes a few steps towards where you are standing. 
His dark jeans, dark shirt and dark expression, everything complements the dark aura he is oozing right now. But he looks beautiful regardless. 
You scoff, “Is it not justified for me to expect anyone but you? Especially when you are the one who has been ignoring me for two weeks and three days to be precise?” 
“You fucking ditched me during the party, Y/N! You made me a look like fool before my friends just because you got called at work! How would you treat me if you were in my shoes?” Jeongguk screams at your face. His height looms over your small figure. The weight of his gaze intimidates you but you know how to shake that off. 
He is angry, you know. But you also know that his anger is not justified. 
“I would have understood, Jeongguk.” you pause, taking a few steps away from him, “you need to understand that I lead a completely different life. I don’t have time to waste sipping champagne wearing over-expensive silk dresses. I am a doctor! And I need to sacrifice my personal time for the sake of my patients! If you can’t get that in your head, if you can’t respect what I do then just fuck off! Let’s break the fuck up!” 
Your voice feels hoarse instantly. You have hardly ever screamed so much. This is so unlike you, you can’t recognize yourself. Jeongguk really pulls out the worst of you. 
Jeongguk scoffs, then he is grinning and then he is laughing at the loudest possible volume, “What? What did you say? You are going to what- break up with me?” 
You hate this side of your boyfriend. 
When you first met him at the hospital, he had minor scratches and a set of big puppy eyes. When he cutely told you how he fell down while snowboarding, you couldn’t help smiling. 
Only if you knew he is just like other rich brats sporting a “I want it, I get it” attitude, you would have resisted his bunny smile and big doe eyes, you would have stayed professional when he asked for your number, you would have turned him down when he asked you out. But now you are here, 8 months into this relationship with Chaebol Jeon Jeongguk, standing on the verge of the end because you just can’t stand being with him anymore. 
“Jeongguk please… Please just stop treating me like a possession. I am not your shiny new car. I am a human being! If you don’t love me, just- just let me go.” your voice comes out weaker than it should. Even though it has only been 8 months, even though Jeongguk is not the most ideal boyfriend, even though you two have hell and heaven difference between you, you still fell for him regardless. And you know it’s a mistake because there is no way you are more than just a fancy doctor girlfriend for him. It hurts but you know rationality is more important than your feelings right now. 
You are so busy gathering your own wits that you don’t notice the heartbroken expression that takes over Jeongguk’s beautiful face. 
“I- I don’t love you? I don’t treat you like a human?” his voice weavers. The tremble in his words makes you look up at him. 
“No you don’t.” you say briefly. 
“Oh?” his eyes start glistening with moisture and he diverts those away from yours. Running a hand through his hair out of frustration he groans, “then why do you think I am with you?” 
That’s a million dollar question, you don’t know the answer properly. So, you reply with what you think is the most appropriate answer, “it makes you look cool. A normal working class girlfriend to a millionaire chaebol… What a good match!” 
As soon as your answer ends, you see Jeongguk taking fast steps towards you. He grabs you by your neck and pulls your face closer to his. You stumble, being unable to keep up with his actions. 
“I love you, Y/N. You better get that inside your head. I am not letting you go, not now, not ever.” he breathes on your face, pinning you down with a sharp, piercing look in his eyes. 
You don’t know what to feel, not when you see a weird determination in his eyes, not when his mouth is crashing on yours, not when Jeongguk is devouring your lips fervently. 
Minutes pass and you find yourself naked in your bed, with Jeongguk in between your thighs, kissing your mound, licking your clit and saying “I love you” in every interval. 
You don’t know what to feel when he pushes his girthy length inside you but refuses to wear a condom claiming to “shoot his babies inside you”. 
You don’t know if your stomach is filled with butterflies or fear or is it just Jeongguk’s bulge, when he fucks you relentlessly murmuring how much he worships your body, how he wants to fuck you every day after marriage. 
You don’t know whether to kick him out of your apartment or keep him with you forever when he cleans you up, places a kiss on your forehead, tells you that he loves you again and again and gradually falls asleep beside you. 
You only know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you. 
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yandere-daydreams · 1 month
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Title: Mesmerized.
Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin).
Word Count: 0.8k.
TW: Hypnosis, Unhealthy Relationships, General Lose of Autonomy, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.
[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]
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“You’re getting crueler, brother.”
Lynette watched you stir at the sound of her voice, nearly identical to that of your dearly beloved, but you slackened as soon as you realized it was only his sister, melting back into place against Lyney’s side. Your expression was one of vacant bliss; all glassy eyes and careless smiles, worry only visible in the dark circles laced under your eyes, the pained creases folded into either corner of your mouth. A poor imitation, altogether. You looked more like yourself when you were angry.
Lyney hummed, resting his head on your shoulder. As if trained to, you cooed softly and raised a hand, carding your fingers through his hair as he spoke, self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Is it cruel to want to spend time with one’s dearly cherished?”
“Father said not to let the public see them until—”
“—until we’ve fallen in love,” Lyney finished. It was a clipped summary, to say the least. In reality, Lord Arlecchino’s order had played more closely to the tune of ‘until you’ve collared your pet properly’, but admittedly, Lynette might’ve missed something. She and Freminet had been listening from the other side of a steel door, and Lyney hadn’t been eager to discuss their conversation after her lecture ended. “And I’m sure, if you bothered to ask, you’d already know that we’re quite in love. Aren’t we, beautiful?”
“Quite in love,” you parroted. There was something strange about your inflection, as if you were trying to speak in a language you hadn’t yet mastered, but Lynette chose not to dwell on it.
“And I’d hardly call this the public,” Lyney went on, when Lynette made it clear that she had yet to be impressed. He made a quick, sweeping gesture to the rest of the backstage area – as if the technicians and stage-hands rushing between lighting rigs and half-assembled props were no more real than the silhouetted figures painted onto the set dressing they were hauling into place. “Think of it as… a trial run, to see how much we’ve improved. If everything goes well tonight, perhaps we’ll be able to attend Father’s next banquet together, too. I’ve been dying to introduce them to the rest of our family – preferably without all the screaming and biting, this time.”
That, Lynette could admit, would probably be for the best. She still had a bruise in the shape of your teeth on her left wrist from the day she’d met you, but Lyney still claimed it’d been one of your better first impressions.
“I’ve always wanted to see one of your shows.” You were cupping Lyney’s face, now, using your thumb to draw tender circles into his cheek. “I’ve always loved the opera. You’re playing the male lead, right?”
Lynette pursed her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she turned her attention pointedly towards her brother. He looked away. “I’m still working out the kinks. By this time next week, it should all be right as rain.”
Reluctantly, Lynette let her attention shift back to you. Your sleeves were long, dense with lace and tulle, but a patch of reddened, raw skin where the shackle had been wrapped around your wrist was just barely visible underneath the frivolous material. There was a slight tremble in your stiff shoulders, and when she looked closely, she could see that you were swaying; your legs weak from disuse, barely able to hold your own weight. Her brother, on the other hand – she could remember the last time she’d seen him smiling so widely. He been in a state of pure, untethered euphoria since the moment you were dragged, kicking and swearing, into one of the Fatui’s lesser-used underground holding facilities, and she rarely saw him without a glint in his eye and a light flush painted over her cheeks. It was almost upsetting, to see a face so much like her own so distorted. If she hadn’t been so used to his sudden flurries of passion, she might’ve been disturbed.
“It can’t last.” Lyney straightened, but she didn’t give him a chance to cut in. “The—the trance, I mean. You’re a magician, not a hypnotist. It’s going to wear off, eventually.”
“I’ve always hated stage magic,” you muttered, dreamily. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I hate feeling like I’m the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“It doesn’t need to last forever, just long enough.” This time, it was Lyney who caught your chin in his hand, pulling you just close enough for a quick, shallow kiss. Lynette looked away before she could be forced to endure yet another unabashed show of affection, but she could still hear him far too clearly when he spoke seconds later, his voice now nearly distant as your own.
“Until we both manage to forget how we could ever live apart.”
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yestrday · 1 month
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— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four
⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno
introducing ! at the altar decorated by the blooming lotus flowers, your wrist is bound to your husband with a red string and a promise of togetherness. while the people dance and sing in celebration of the newlywed, his eyes are on you and you only— possessive through and through, even in parabandhana.
[ surpriseeeeeeee yea you did not expect this did you yeah neither did I. i just sat on my computer and decided to be productive. also did not include baizhu and mika for now cuz I got lazy. ]
warning ! yandere behavior, drúgging, manipulation, mentions of locking you away and múrder
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— ADMONISHING INSTRUCTION. alhaitham | الهيثم
[ “sure, sure, i’ll clean up after you go. hm? i’m not being lazy at all, just enjoying my peace and quiet.”] 
⇢ my boy is living the dream life. no nosy seniors, demanding bosses, and curious co-workers. just him and his hardworking partner and the freedom to do his research at his own time. when you’re around, he tends to slack off (though he denies it) but he does his part of the chores anyway, so you don’t really have any complaints. he’d already been living the cushy life before, but now this lifestyle is more than comfortable.
⇢ he helps you out with your work when he sees you struggling, and he lets you use him as a soundboard to work out solutions. sometimes even lets you complain. keyword: sometimes. most of the time he’ll distract you with a movie or just bring you to the bed so the two of you can read a book together. unfortunately, his tolerance towards whining is very low (reminds him too much of a certain blonde), but he still loves you enough that he’s willing to let your stress out through other means.
⇢ marriage seems to have made him a bit of a romantic, though he’ll tell you that he’s stayed the same as he was when he was still your boyfriend. whenever you’re squinting at your computer screen in frustration, you’ll be caught offguard when he presses a tender kiss to your temple and sets down a mug of coffee next to you. or while you’re talking about something or another as you eat, he’ll clasp your hands in his and press a chaste kiss to each knuckle. these gestures has you blushing and stammering all the time, reverting you back to the naive student you were when you met him. this makes him a bit smug, so you often hit him in embarrassment.
⇢ he would never look down at you. marrying you means he has acknowledged you his equal, and to be fair he doesn’t really have a habit of looking down on others. however, when he sees some pesky flies fly a bit too close, he often gets too full of himself. someone trying to smooth talk you at the cafe? haitham’s not one for pda, but he’ll wrap a sturdy bicep around your waist and watch as the poor thing trembles from his gaze. 
⇢ haitham doesn’t always tell you this, but he admires you for a lot of things. but sometimes you get a bit too… irrational, and he knows that he has to be the one to bring you down sometimes. you’re not a kid, so you should know better. besides, haitham’s always been the more rational between the two of you. sometimes bordering on…heartless, but you never tell him that. you don’t have the heart to.
⇢ he’s often the decision-maker, most of the time not even asking you what you want. he says it’s not about want, he has to take the rational decision for the both of you. you’ve always been a little… dull. it’s an endearing trait, but it’s something that has to go away as you both age. he sees the hurt flash in your eyes when he tells you this, and he thinks he can make up for it with a gentle kiss between your pretty eyes. he loves you like his equal, really, but sometimes (most of the time) you need a good talking down to.
“so you’ll continue to let your brother exploit you, despite everything he’s done to you in the past?” haitham shuts his book and stares at you with a seemingly bored gaze. “you know you don’t need to give them that solicitation, right? he’s not worth it.”
“it– it’s not about him, haitham, believe me!” you plead with him. “i’m, i’m doing this for his wife, okay? she doesn’t deserve to deliver a baby in his dingy apartment with no professionals around. it’s not fair! just because my brother was a díck doesn’t mean she deserves the cold shoulder too! have some compassion for once!” he rolls his eyes and gets up, towering above some good inches. his eyes look down at you, but his hand rests heavy on your shoulder as if trying to calm you down. “it’s not about compassion, dear. it’s about being rational. once your brother sees you softening, he’ll start asking for more and more and more and well, we know what kind of person you are.” you open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head. “you’re too soft, [y. name]. chasing around the affection of others… you don’t have to do that anymore.”
[ “this is for the both of us. i’m sure you can’t tell now, but sooner or later, you’ll thank me.” ]
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— EMPYREAN REFLECTION. kaveh | کاوه
[ “you’re the — hic!— the best thing’s that ever happened to me! of– of course i’m crying! i’m not heartless!” ] 
⇢ for kaveh, your marriage was both a blessing and a cause of distress to him. a blessing, of course, because what sane man would not want to get married to you! his darling, light of his life, the one who tolerates his flaws more than any other person on teyvat! but at the same time, he can’t just let you shoulder his burdens! he can’t give you the luxury you deserve to have, you don’t deserve to be saddled with his debt, it’s– it’s just not fair!
⇢ with kaveh’s sense of aesthetics and talent for architecture, you two will have the prettiest home around! it is a must for this architect to gift you with the prettiest home you’ve ever laid eyes on. sure, he can’t give you the grandiose mansion that you deserve even with both of your savings joined, but a master architect will make the most of what he has. this is the place where he’ll make memories with you, where you’ll grow a family and your chi… children (?!??!!!!) will live. it has to be as beautiful as you.
⇢ complains like you’d never believe. he’s always been chatty, but he gets even chattier after a disagreement with a client or a run-in with a certain someone or when he hears whispers of your horrendous workplace. to anyone else, his overdramatic flair might be a bit too much to handle, but you can’t help but listen with amusement as your husband drones on and on and on and embellishing his rants with over-the-top remarks. nevertheless, in the case that you do get weary, just press a kiss on his lips— it will surely leave him an incoherent mess in no time.
⇢ a bit too eager for your praise. it’s not like people don’t praise him all the time, but it’s only your approval that he cares for. when he makes a meal that he’s proud of, he’s squirming nervously in the seat across you as he watches you take bite after bite. when he finished his part of the chores, he tends to be a bit clingy with you as he tries to fish for compliments. it’s your choice to cave in so easily or play around with him, but when you do utter a compliment, know that you’ll be left with a gooey pile of mush cuddling into you.
⇢ on the other hand, kaveh absolutely cannot handle fights with you. fighting is a normal thing between couples, but he gets so absolutely wrecked it’s unreal. your look of disappointment, the glare you gave him, the fed-up sigh when you push him away and say that you need some time away from him… they all drive him insane. he curses himself, wondering why’d he have to go and open his stupid mouth and fuck everything up. you’re not wrong, never wrong, and it should be him to take the blame. the longer the fight, the more his wellness and self-confidence cracks. it’s a common sight to see him groveling on the ground, for your forgiveness, begging for you to notice him again. the sight is so pathetic that you can’t bear to look away.
⇢ the most insecure husband to ever exist and grows even worse with every fight you two might have had in the past. anyone who approaches you has him tensing up and tightening his grip on you, but a raised brow from you has him reluctantly loosening his grip and shamefully looking away. he’s plagued with thoughts of you leaving (because why would you stay with a wreck like him?) and overthinks every friendly gesture you give towards anyone who isn’t him (is that how you smile with someone who isn’t a complete fool?). he’s a pushover and craves your love and attention the most. if you love being an asshole and having someone completely around your finger, there’s no perfect husband to get more than kaveh.
“kaveh…” you start hesitantly, brows furrowed as you put a hand on his shoulder. “kaveh… there’s really no need for you to do all this.” but despite your gentle words, it only makes kaveh flinch and bury his weeping face even more into your chest. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he keeps whispering with a voice ragged from the amount of apologies he’s repeated. “i won’t do it again. whatever i’ve done please just forgive me. i can’t, i can’t stand it!” he looks up at you and that pretty face of his is ruined with tears. “please come back to me. you don’t have to sleep at that inn anymore. i can’t handle you not being with me anymore.” your grip on his shoulder tightens, and your expression seems to twist between a grimace and guilt. the only reason you stayed at an inn was because you were a coward, and you couldn’t handle watching kaveh break down as he beats himself up for a mistake that you caused. this fight was your fault to begin with, but the only one ruined was the innocent one. “i… i forgive you, dear,” you hushedly whisper, with the audacity of a man who did nothing but take advantage. “i forgive you. no matter what you’ve done.” and when he brightens up and smiles so prettily, your heart squeezes in your chest as he pulls you into a kiss sweeter than you deserve.
[ “wh… what are you apologizing for…? there’s no need to look at me like that…! you can blame me all you like!” ]
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— VERDANT STRIDER. tighnari | الطغنري
[ “once again, i told you not to eat your boss’ baking! no, i don’t care if they looked nice! they. are. poisonous!” ]
⇢ he’s more at ease now that he doesn’t have to tolerate idiots who think eating poisonous mushrooms recklessly count as experiments or co-workers who tell him stupid jokes all the time. it’s a less stressful environment now… at least, that’s what he thinks. so why do you keep coming home barely alive?! you’ll find tighnari fussing over you and nagging at your office’s poor working environment.
⇢you’ll have the prettiest garden in the whole neighborhood, if not the whole world! the research data he can acquire from the plants in his backyard is limited, so it’s mostly a hobby of his. of course, he doesn’t just grow whatever there! there’s tons of medicinal herbs growing there and there’s a shed you both built where he can experiment wherever he likes. whenn you’re off work, you like to idle the time away in the garden while tighnari is hard at work on another of his concoctions. simply admiring his focused face is enough to put the stress of work behind you, and you think it’d be prettier if you tucked a flower behind his ear. but you never learn, do you? he launches off to another lecture about why you shouldn’t pluck flowers thoughtlessly while you daydream about his pretty face.
⇢ please please please don’t bring him to any work parties, lest you want to see the entire world burn. he still has that dry sarcasm that you oh so love, but he’s ruthless when it comes to your boss and your more unpleasant co-workers. if any of them try to act chummy with you, he immediately raises a brow and gives them the side-eye. he combats whatever fake-ass comment they have with a dry retort, leaving you panicking and trying him to stop it. but no one stops tighnari in verbal combat, and before long he’s revealed your boss’ and co-workers' vulnerabilities and have them deflating like a balloon.
⇢ tighnari always knows how to make the perfect brew, his teas always the perfect blend of both taste and remedy. it’s too bad though, that you always fall asleep before you can manage to finish a single pot. whenever you awake from a tea-induced slumber, your body feels strangely heavy but you can’t complain about the sleep. your husband is always the first thing you see from these naps, his fluffy tail wrapped around your legs and his big eyes staring intently at your face.
⇢ whenever he mixes in the drugs in your food or tea, tighnari’s tail swishes back and forth as he begins thinking of your cute expressions while you’re half-sober. sometimes he doesn’t put the usual dose and instead just halves it, just to see you flailing to get a grip on your senses and reaching out to your oh-so-innocent husband for help. he often chastises himself for this… dirty behavior, but the devil in his mind gleefully reminds him that this counts as research. the test subject just happened to be his trusting partner for life.
⇢ tighnari isn’t above imprisonment. it’s less for the thought of protecting you and more for his personal benefit. he likes to tell himself this is strictly research, but he can’t deny the awestruck look on his face as he greedily eats up every expression of your drugged face. when you grasp onto his clothes and lean on him for support… it makes him shudder with delight. you’re so cute when your system is laced with drugs, and even cuter when you look at him like he’s your entire world. he wants you to rely on him… and in turn, he wants to abuse that over reliance.
“you look better like this,” he murmurs as he brushes your freshly bathed hair. your figure is slumped in your chair like a doll, which isn’t far from the truth from how he handles you like one. he holds you gently, like porcelain, but you don’t react. you are too knocked out from the dose he had slipped into your tea awhile ago. he leans into your face, tutting at the dark circles under your eyes. “look at this… clear neglect of your health. i keep telling you to sleep, but you never listen to me, do you?” he sighs before focusing his attention back to your hair. “you’re so stubborn sometimes, you know. i barely know what to do with you.” he spends the next few moments in silence, rubbing cream into and ointments into your face. you smell slightly of lemongrass now, thanks to the bath he’s given you. tomorrow when you wake up, you will marvel at the softness of your skin and the clearness of your mind, before you throw yourself into another week of overwork. like always. tighnari regrets giving you the sleeping drug now. maybe he should’ve added a dose of the aphrodisiac drug he’s just finished. with the way his feline eyes zero into your blissful face and the eager swaying of his tail, he can just barely hold himself back now.
[ “aaah, i’ve run out of your meds again. oh, don’t you worry, i’ll make you some more. it’s nice how your body is so… receptive to my medicine ♡” ]
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— JUDICATOR OF SECRETS. cyno | κύων 
[ “... we’re married… …what? i honestly didn’t think i’d come this far.” ]
⇢while there’s no other man you could imagine to spend the rest of your life with, you’re inwardly groaning about the amount of dad jokes you have to put up with later on in life. sure, you love cyno’s goofy lil personality, but you think you can only take too many stupid jokes before you go crazy. you voice this concern to cyno, who just gives you a reassuring hand on your shoulder and says he can handle you just fine if you do. you’re not quite sure what this implies.
⇢ quite sulky, but he refuses to own up to the fact. sometimes you get a little distracted with one of the neighborhood children, start chatting up one of the kind neighbors, or meet one of your co-workers. you tend to get a little bit distracted by them, and while cyno believes that he’s not overly bothered by this, he admits that he is a little bit miffed about you not paying attention to them. he also gets pouty when work starts taking up of your time and you start to neglect him, so expect him to just shut the laptop close and demand you to eat dinner with him without rushing to get your job done. 
⇢ he used to scare the neighborhood kids away with just one look and you always had to comfort him and pat him on the back in sympathetic understanding. “maybe you’ll get them next time,” you had joked, handing him an ice cream as he sulked on the park’s bench. “one of your jokes should do the trick.” you really shouldn’t have suggested that, because after another trip to the park he stared those kids down with his same stoic expression and cracked one of the corniest jokes known to man. every kid looked at him like he was stupid. now no one takes him seriously. well, at least they like playing with him now???
⇢ overprotective, like over overprotective. he knows you can handle going outside the house on your own, and hell, he might have no qualms with your workplace. but the more you complain, the more paranoid he gets until he’s staking out the site for himself. touchy co-workers? cruel bosses? he could easily have their corpses fed to the dogs. he is a protector of justice, after all, and what is justice but not killing those who lay a hand on their partner?
⇢ it’s not very easy to just push him over the edge, but he can and has the will to lock you away. it’s the modern world, no one’s going to have it out for a salary worker slaving day in and out for a corporation, but still. he’s made plenty of enemies when he was still in the force and there’s a paranoia eating at him whenever you go out of the front door. when he does lock you away, he’s as gentle as he can be, even with the stench of blood all over him. this is all for your sake after all, and he couldn’t bear to see you hurt when he had the power of protecting you.
“cy,” you huff in exasperation, looking up from your laptop as he glares down at you from behind it. “what in the world are you talking about? they’re my co-worker, my superior. you can’t just tell me to stop talking to them. i need their help!” “what help could you possibly need from them when you have me?” he huffs back, crossing his arms. “i’m telling you. they’re dangerous. i… i just know it, okay?” “what could a retired general possibly know about handling excel sheets?” when his face falters, you sigh and shut the laptop closed. “look, i know you just want to protect me and i appreciate that, really. but come on, cy, don’t be unreasonable.” the pressed line of his lips tells you that he has something against being called that, but you press on. “the company does background checks on their employees. it’s safe, i promise.” you press a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. “sit here and calm yourself down, okay? i’ll handle dinner tonight.” he watches your back as you disappear into the kitchen, humming a bright tune that offsets the stormy look in his eyes. he could tell you all about his time in the workforce— the violations he’s made, the blood on his hands, and the enemies he’s made— but he won’t. not if it means breaking this beautiful life he’s created with you. but that’s okay, that’s fine. he’s been trained to adapt to the situation and to work with the shadows.
[ “even if you don’t have a care in the world… i’ll be right behind you. wherever. whenever.” ]
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screeching-bunny · 11 months
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Yandere! Supernatural Harem
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Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
A/N: This idea was inspired by a Reddit prompt.
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Ever since you were little, you’ve always attracted unwanted attention from supernatural creatures. You were like a magnet, a special enigma that only certain entities were aware of. Werewolves would try to take you to their dens, sirens would always try to lull you towards the sea with their voices, fairies would try to guide you to their forbidden forests. The list could go on and on.
Mythological creatures thought to be made up scary bedtime stories would always line up outside your door. It didn’t matter how old you were. Childhood memories consisted of these monsters trying to kidnap and force an adoption upon you. Teenage/adult years consisted of marriage proposals and courtship. No matter where you were, there was always a stalker up your trail following you.
Having friends was basically impossible. Every interaction you’ve had with another person has always ended up badly for them. Whether they be mutilated beyond recognition or become a seeping liquid you knew better then to go out and make friends. Thankfully, you’re family was never harmed by this ordeal and you moved as far away from them as possible to keep them safe.
Currently, you have a dilemma on your hands and right now it’s because of a certain Naga.
“Do you like my skin?” He asked in a tense voice. As he stands before you with his long serpent tail wagging through the air like a dog.
“It’s very pretty” You knew better than this. You felt like an absolute fool for picking up his shedded skin. Honestly, you should have just ignore it and went on with your day as if nothing was there.
“I’m so happy you think that way. If you like it that much let’s get married and I can give you as much as your pretty little heart desires. I’m so happy I decided to approach you. It took me months of prepping and working my skin to make sure that it shined brightly when it came off”
“It’s happening again,” you thought. Interactions like this happen on a daily basis. It would be strange not to see one marriage proposal a day from these guys. No matter what you did or how much you changed your appearance, these guys would always come back with eyes filled with love. Everyone of those supernatural creatures had their own unique version of courting and expressing their love.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready for marriage”
“You don’t have to be, as long as you come back with me I’ll make sure to treat you right and absolutely worship you. Being in your presence and being the only thing to brace your eyes is enough for me.
“I need some time to think about this, my emotions are still unclear”
“I understand this concern of yours and shall agree to give some time to ponder about this. However, I shall be coming back within a month's time and if you are still unsure I will take you back with me whether you like it or not” The naga states as slithers out of your yard and back into the forest.
The day just started and you were already exhausted. It honestly did not matter if he came back or not because, as said before, at least one supernatural creature was at your side. When he comes back, there would most likely be a bloodthirsty fight between two entities and you were sure as hell not going to get in the way by stopping the fight.
Well, there’s no use in moping around might as well just go back inside to make dinner for yourself. Walking towards your kitchen you go to pick up some food but before you could everything in your house was being knocked over.
“Seriously, again?!” You were honestly getting so sick of this. Your ghost admirer seemed to have barged into your home and was making a mess of it.
“If you’re going to stay here you might as well help me cook dinner” Honestly, the audacity of this man has you appalled. Out of all your obsessive admirers, the ghosts were definitely the most annoying. Every single day they always barge into your home and there’s nothing you can do about it because they can quite literally go through your walls.
“I’ll do it but only if you call me husband” he says lovingly as he starts to make his form appear visible to your eyes.
“Please, husband” And just like that, ingredients start to fly through the air. Hey, I mean who are you to deny free labor. If they're always going to make an appearance in your life might as well just make them useful.
After dinner, you decided to take a long needed bubble bath. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if you were just a normal and average person. It didn’t really even matter anyways, it’s not like those wishes would ever become a reality.
Moving your way out of the bathroom you start to make your way to bed. As you lay there your eyes begin to droop and sleep begin to succumb to you.
It would have been a peaceful scene had it not been for the vampire staring at you through your window…
Pt.2
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nathaslosthershit · 1 month
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The Truth Behind It All
Summary: Charles didn't cheat on his ex with his current gf, but due to not wanting to cause further issues with his ex, he can't really come out and give the true story.
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The speculation had started to get out of hand. Suddenly, comment sections became bombarded with the most disgusting and hateful things she had ever heard. But Charles’ comment sections remained fine, as long as he didn’t post her. Sure, his pr team was most likely deleting anything on there that wasn’t positive, but compared to his girlfriend’s page, he still had tons and tons of love. 
She understood it, somewhat. She knew she would never support someone who cheated on their partner. But that isn’t what happened with her and Charles. After his unexpected break up with his ex following her own affair, he went out drinking that same night. Charles had always said it was a blessing that ‘his darling found him then’, when he was at his lowest, and had been his saving grace. There was no cheating on his part.
Charles hadn’t noticed the change in behavior coming from his girlfriend. He had been away for the weekend for some work related events. Her texts didn’t particularly seem off, but they were only words, it was easy to fake enthusiasm through messages. He should have checked in sooner given what he had seen on twitter.
The house was dark and quiet when Charles got back. It seemed to be unoccupied until he made it to their shared bedroom and saw his girlfriend under the covers. 16:00 was an unusual time to be asleep, but he soon realized she was awake as sniffles became audible in the once silent room. 
“Darling, what is wrong, huh? I thought you would be happier to see me” He teased, trying to get a feel for the situation. 
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even sit up.
“Honey? Come on, what is bothering you?” He cooed as he knelt by her side.
“As much as you say it, you aren’t stupid, Charles, you know what's wrong.” He finally got a good look at her tear stained eyes as she pulled the covers off slightly. He knew then should have checked in.
“They are just comments. Rude ones, I know, but simply comments. I have gotten bad ones before. It will all go away, honey, this isn’t the end of the world-”
“It feels that way.” She said as she sat up. “Charlie, do you see the comments I’m getting on instagram? The more comment sections I disable, the farther back people go. Someone was just commenting on my middle school graduation post that they hoped I was bullied. What kind of insane person does that?”
He hadn’t realized they had gotten that bad. Seeing how swollen her face was from crying, he felt tears threatening to fall himself. 
“I just want to be enough, Charles, but I don’t feel like I ever will be as long as you let the media dictate how you feel. I want you to love me because you love me, not because the media does. As much as it is unfair and as much as it sucks, you are a public figure. You aren’t just an athlete, you are a brand. You need to be in the spotlight and be loved by fans to sustain yourself long after you retire. You can’t have both me and your fanbase, they have made sure of that.”
“Honey, we can just go private. Make it seem like we broke up until they stop caring.”
“But we shouldn’t have to! I know you don't want to bash your ex but having people think that we were the ones cheating when it was her is unfair. Plus, you're not the one getting harassed, they act like this is only my fault.”
“It is unfair sweetheart, I understand that very much, but they will forget and move on.”
“They won’t Charles, so long as you are in the spotlight and attractive, people will love you and care about who you are dating. I-” She cut herself off from what she was about to say. She really didn’t want to say it.
“What, love?”
“I cannot continue like this. If we are going to be together, we can’t keep letting the public think what they currently do. Either address it or I am done.” With that she walked out of the room, rushing down the stairs to grab her keys and put on her shoes as she left a stunned and silent Charles still in the bedroom. 
Hours passed with no hint of when his girlfriend would be back. He left message after message until he decided to let her be for the time being. He got on a call with his PR team to assess what could be done but didn’t like the answer he got.
A tough conversation was waiting to be had and both of them knew it.
Finally, around midnight, he heard the front door open. Immediately standing from the couch, he walked over to hug her.
“I was so worried. I didn’t know when you'd be back.” He whispered into her hair as he rubbed her back.
“I know, Charles, I needed to clear my head, and I think you did too.” This was it. Both felt their stomachs sink as they sat down. Both were silent as they waited for the other person to speak up.
“I had a meeting with PR. Honey, they said there is nothing I could say that wouldn’t have large consequences. To talk about everything that happened after all this time would be petty, and defending you is wrong.” “It’s wrong? Defending me for something I didn’t do is wrong? God, Charles, do you even hear yourself? How are you letting your team call the shots and ruin our relationship like this?”
“I am not ruining our relationship, you are the one who is giving me an impossible choice. And that isn’t what I meant. It would just look bad-”
“Defending me from getting death threats wouldn’t look bad. You are being so stupid right now.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. Weren’t you the one earlier saying I wasn’t stupid? But now I am because I won’t let you call the shots on making decisions that would have large impacts on my career?”
“If defending your girlfriend is going to tank your career then what kind of fucking fans do you have, Charles? Clearly not ones you would want to keep around.” “Enough! I won’t talk about this anymore.”
“Then we are done. I won’t settle for continued harassment over something I didn’t do, and if you won’t defend me then I don’t know what I am even doing here.” Charles remained silent at that. What could he even say in this situation? In his mind, his hands were tied.
Oh how unfair it all was.
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tasteracha · 1 year
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lollipop
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word count: 1.6k
warnings: afab!reader, oral (m receiving), smut - MINORS DNI
synopsis: felix has an oral fixation.
it starts with a lollipop. he hands you one while you’re working on your laptop, sat at the kitchen counter while he fixes himself a smoothie. you take it in your hand without looking at it, thanking him under your breath as your eyes glaze over on the thirty page article you’ve been assigned to read. it’s not uncommon for him to give you something sugary while you’re working, he knows you have a sweet tooth and he keeps jars of candy stocked just for you. 
“you want a taste?” you quirk an eyebrow at him when he realizes he’s been staring, holding the lollipop out at him. he nods, moving towards you with an open mouth, and you’re quick to move your own mouth to his instead. he moans in surprise into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around his, transferring the sweet taste to him. when you pull back he’s flushed, pink cheeks and ears on display, and you smirk as you go back to your article, sticking the candy back in your mouth. he gulps down his smoothie and leaves the room faster than you’ve ever seen him, but you don’t notice, too focused on finishing your work.
you’ve forgotten about it by the next day, when he deposits an iced coffee to you when he gets home from his dance studio. the straw is already stuck in the lid but the drink is full, evidence of how he tried a sip on his way back and made a face when he realized he didn’t like it. you don’t know why he does this every time, he knows he doesn’t like your coffee order and yet he needs to try it every time like one day he will miraculously enjoy it. 
you’ve forgotten about it by the next day, when he deposits an iced coffee to you when he gets home from his dance studio. the straw is already stuck in the lid but the drink is full, evidence of how he tried a sip on his way back and made a face when he realized he didn’t like it. you don’t know why he does this every time, he knows he doesn’t like your coffee order and yet he needs to try it every time like one day he will miraculously enjoy it. 
you immediately take the straw into your mouth, suddenly parched as you take several sips of the drink, enjoying the way the cool liquid feels in your mouth. 
“thanks, lix,” you smile up at him. “just what i needed.”
he’s still standing in front of you, looking down at you from where you’re sitting on the couch, and the expression on his face looks almost hungry. his eyes are dark, hooded and framed by dark lashes, and you blink up at him in confusion as you take another sip. did he put something in the drink?
“what?” you finally ask once a few beats of silence pass on. it’s a little creepy the way he’s staring, but its felix so anything he does just ends up looking endearing rather than wrong.
“nothing,” he shakes his head, pushing your drink back to your mouth. “drink.”
his eyes are locked onto the straw entering your mouth, the way your lips wrap around it, the hollow of your cheeks as you suck and oh. it clicks into place, and you make a show of taking the straw just a bit deeper into your mouth just to watch his eyes darken further. he shifts his feet a bit, uncomfortable, and you hold back the smirk your lips want to curl into.
“you should take a shower, babe,” you say sweetly, putting the drink down and leaning forward in your seat a bit so your mouth is near his hips. “you’re sweaty from practice, no?”
“yeah,” he chokes out, clearing his throat. “i’ll do. that.” 
he scrambles out of the room and you’re left alone, burdened with new knowledge. you bite your lip, a bit dazzled by his blatant self serving behavior; how often has he brought you coffee just to watch you suck on the straw like that? how have you just now noticed? how long has this been going on?
you decide to take control of the situation, having been with him long enough to know that he would keep this game up for days or even weeks until he snapped. you were not willing to wait that long. you weren’t willing to wait at all, apparently, as your feet walked you to the bathroom before you realized where you were going.  
“what are you doing?” he squeaks when you open the shower door, already stripping out of your sweatpants and t-shirt. his face is still flushed, worse from the steaming water he has beating down on him, and he moves to cover himself in a futile effort. as if you haven’t seen all of him before, time after time. 
“isn’t this what you wanted, lix?’ you purr, dropping down to your knees in front of him. “don’t get shy on me now.”
the shower tiles are hard under your knees but you don’t care; there’s more important things to worry about right now than the weird bruises you’ll have there tomorrow. for one, the flushed cock, half hard, right in front of your face. it’s pretty, of course it is, everything about felix is pretty. 
you’re sure you make quite the image yourself, wide eyes looking up at him, lips pink and bitten, hair dripping from the spray of the shower catching you around his body. 
you take him into your hand, thumbing at his slit and reveling in how he hisses and braces a hand against the wall. you let the tip of his cock into your mouth, sighing in contentment around it as you suck lightly. it fits in your mouth so well, like it was made just for you; you’re the only one who would ever see it, touch it, feel it inside of you for the rest of time and the power that gives you makes your head spin. 
he draws a deep breath when you take him deeper, and you can feel how tense he is trying to hold himself back. you suck a little harder, hollowing your cheeks and it punches out a strangled moan from him. the sound of the water hitting the floor is drowned away by the melody of sounds he’s making for you. 
“poor baby, you’ve gotten yourself all worked out, hmm? want to take it out on me?” you draw back with a pop, taking small breaths as you move to mouth at his balls. your hands drift to steady his legs when you feel his knees tremble, and you move to nuzzle his inner thigh with your cheek. his skin is soft, milky white and smooth and you want to litter it with bruises left behind by your mouth. another time though, you muse as you peer up at him and shiver at his intense gaze. 
“you drive me crazy,” he says, voice as unsteady as his knees, contested by the dark, possessive glint in his eyes. 
you jerk him off in evenly paced strokes, going back to swirl at his tip with your tongue, exactly the way you know drives him mad. you’re twirling around him like you did the lollipop he brought you, sucking like you did on the straw, the things that he’s lined up in the past 24 hours falling into place like dominos. 
you let your teeth graze the vein on the bottom of his cock, tracing against it with your tongue afterwards, your eyes fluttering when his knees go a little weaker and he dips down just a bit. 
“so pretty,” he groans out, voice impossibly deep as he’s thrusting shallowly into your mouth in a show of restraint. his dancer’s legs are coming into handy, his muscles flexing under the strain as he resists from fucking into your throat. “such a pretty mouth, hmm? and all mine.”
you hum around him in response, eagerly sucking him down as far as you can. his hand reaches to dig into your hair, grasping your strands between his fingers. he doesn’t tug, not until you moan around him and he jerks his hand a bit, and the slight pinpricks of pain shoot right down your spine; you can feel yourself getting wet, incredibly turned on, but you ignore it. this isn’t about you. 
he bucks into your mouth a bit and you choke, pulling back to squeeze at his shaft in a silent warning. tears prick at your eyes and a string of saliva connects your lips to him, dirty and lewd and he's staring at you like he wants to take a picture of you right now, lips and hand wrapped around his cock, to keep forever. he’s close, you know he is by the way his head is tipped back into the shower spray and his chest is heaving with labored breaths. 
“you’re so good, baby,” he groans, tugging you by the hair back onto his cock. “so good to me. like you were made just for this.”
you swallow hard around him before backing away, jerking him off quickly and lolling your tongue out just in time to catch his release on it. a little dribbles onto your chin as you swallow and you whine as he wipes it away with his thumb. you close your eyes and lean back, utterly content despite having not been touched at all. doing this for him, making him feel good, has always been enough to satisfy you. 
“what was that about?” he says once he gets his breath back, helping you to your feet when your knees buckle as you try stand. he turns you around so you’re under the spray and he massages expert fingers through your scalp, as if in apology for the pulling he did earlier. 
“your fault,” you breathe out, leaning back into him. you hate how spent you feel compared to him, even though he’s the one who just came. “you left me a trail of breadcrumbs, i just followed them.”
“does that make me a loaf of bread?” he jokes, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath tickling your skin. 
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peachesofteal · 2 months
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Dead Disco / Chapter 12
Dead Disco masterlist
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Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Creampie. oral sex - fem receiving. Angst. Crying. So many feelings. Relationship issues. Eating/food issues. Brief suicidal ideation. Toxic behavior. Complicated dynamics. We're getting close to the end. You make a decision
“Knock, knock.” Your coworker hangs on the door frame, fingers clutching a brown paper bag and soda cup. “There’s a truck out front, for lunch. I guess they’re buying every Friday for the rest of the year?”
“Oh, yeah.” You vaguely remember seeing that email. You think.
“Anyway, they’re just wrapping up now and I didn’t see you go down, just wanted to make sure you knew.” She means well, you know she does. She’s always very kind to you, so you smile warmly and nod.
“I did, thanks.” She makes herself scarce after that, vacating your office with another pleasantry, leaving you to stew behind your desk, trying very hard not to look at what you packed yourself this morning, a lackluster sandwich, a cluster of green grapes. The idea of eating turns your stomach, the feeling piling onto the depths of your uneasiness, pushing you to seek comfort.
You can't bring yourself to eat, but you know you have to. You know you should be, aware you cannot survive on the same three half bites of things alone. 
If they were here... 
You glance at your phone.
Stop this. 
You flip it facedown, turning your attention back to your laptop. Focus, you have actual work to do. 
The bath has gone from scalding your skin off hot, to lukewarm too quickly. It urges you to get out, tells you it’s well past time, that if you headed to bed right now, you’d still be able to manage five hours before your alarm went off.
Fat chance. 
Instead, you drain the tub. The porcelain turns to ice within a matter of moments, and you linger in the shiver, languishing in the discomfort, muscles tense, stomach sour. You nearly let yourself rot in it, knees tucked up close, goosebumps long erupted over every square inch of your skin. 
You close your eyes as the tub refills, steaming water rushing out from the tap, slowly covering your feet, then your shins, until it’s deep enough for you to lean back in again, submerging yourself as deep as possible. 
What are they doing right now? Are they working? Are they at home? Do they miss you? Is there someone- 
No. 
You’re not supposed to be… fixating on this. You’re supposed to be taking some time, thinking about what you want, what you think is best for you. This is what you wanted. You decided this. 
You asked for this. 
Why can’t you detangle yourself from them? 
Everything twists and turns inside your brain, spinning together into a murky morass that you can’t make sense of, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in your heart. An infected, weeping, organ that sits heavy inside your chest cavity, now with a giant hole in the middle. 
You don’t even notice when the first drops of water spill over the side, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You picked this rental for the tub. It’s massive, the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the cost to secure it for the entire month was probably more than you could afford on your own, but… it’s not like you haven’t made bad decisions in the past. 
The water sloshes. 
“Fuck.” You flip off the spigot in a hurry and sink back beneath the water, letting it flow over your mouth, your nose. 
You could- 
You could take a deep breath, fill your lungs with water.
You could turn it off. 
You could make everything stop. You could just close your eyes and… rest. 
“Johnny.” You breathe, surprised. Your heart bellows, begs you to fling yourself into his arms, but warning bells go off in the back of your mind, and you chew on your lip. He shouldn’t be here. They agreed. They promised. “What-“
“Ah had to see ye.” What if something has happened? You look him over, but he seems fine. What if something is wrong with Simon?
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing’s wrong-“
“Then why are you here?” It’s harsh. You cringe at the tone, at how it's so caustic, so careless, and he rubs the back of his neck, shifting unsteadily on his feet. Your resolve starts to melt, turning reticent, falling away into a slick puddle of weak opposition. He’s here. He still loves you. He’s here. 
“I know ‘m not supposed to be doing this.” He mutters, and you nod. “But… we- I miss ye darling, miss ye so much.” His cheeks are red, turning his normally tan skin a deep rogue, and he swallows between breaths. “Are ye alright? Ye look… ye look tired, love.”
“I am tired, Johnny… I’m…”
He steps forward.
You step back.  
It’s like you’re looking in a mirror.
His eyes are rimmed in stress, skin beneath them sallow, and he sags in a way that tells you he hasn’t been sleeping, bones and muscles not doing much except keeping him upright. Tears build behind your eyes, and they burn through the tip of your nose until you can’t hold them back anymore, raw agony in the form of a serrated blade cutting through your sense.
“This isn’t fair.” You cry. “Why are you here? You’re not- you’re not supposed to be here, Johnny.” His face changes, spirals through one hundred different things in the span of a second, half of them you can name. He’s still your Johnny, still the same, and you’ve never felt so homesick in your entire life, eyes stuck on the exposed skin just above his collar.
Johnny.
Your Johnny.
Simon’s Johnny. 
“Please… dinnae cry, darling. I’m sorry, I-“
“You’re so selfish.” You don’t know why you say it. It just comes out, flying from your mouth on its own. His head snaps backwards like you’ve struck him, features shifting into panic.
“No, no I’m sorry-“ A spiral swirls, sucking you in, dragging you under, and you shake your head. 
“Just… just… shut up. Please.” You whisper, fingers stretching out into the space between your bodies, tugging on the edge of his shirt. “Shut up.” The demand has more backbone now, and he blinks, confused. You can feel his heat, warm skin and breath vibrating away from his body into yours, tugging you closer and closer as you’re tipping your head back, heart overflowing with an insane, chaotic mix of emotions. You feel like you could fling yourself off the top of the tallest building in this city, and he’d still find a way to catch you.
He'd always find a way.
They both would.
“Darling-“ He's worried, rife with it, imbued with the sense of a logical man, but you don't care. You can't. You're already on a path, already made a decision, anticipated an outcome. And now... you want it. 
Rules be damned. 
“Kiss me.”
“I understand how you feel.” 
“No you don’t!” You turn your back on him, shaking your head. “You don’t, Simon. You don’t know how it felt to sit there and listen to that doctor call Johnny your HUSBAND! How it was to realize you two are married! It was like… it was like I don’t even exist! Like I’m a footnote, in your story.”" 
"We're not, I told-"
"I know what you said. It doesn't change anything. Married in the eyes of your fucking boss and your entire life is as good as being married." 
“You are not some footnote in our story. You are a part of us, love.” You haul one of the blankets off the back of the couch and try to cram it into the duffel. 
“Darling, we dinnae want ye to leave.” 
“Johnny.” Simon hisses, turning to where the other part of your heart lurks inside the bedroom doorframe. “Don’t talk right now. You’ve done enough.” 
“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry, I wouldnae-“ 
“Stop.” Simon snaps, and Johnny breaks, eyes filling with tears, frustrated fingers tearing into his hair before he stomps off, bathroom door slamming so loud it could rattle the entire flat.
Your head hurts. It throbs, pulse banging around under your skin, and the walls are too close, or too tall, everything is too much. You want to sleep. You want to disappear under a heap of blankets and close your eyes. You don’t want to face this, face either of them. 
You should have just kept walking. Should have stayed outside, shouldn’t have come back. Then you wouldn’t have had to do any of this. 
“Don’t cry.” Simon whispers. “Don’t cry, darling, please. It’s alright.” You hadn’t realized you were crying, but when he steps close, tapping his forehead to yours, strong arms holding you tight to his chest, you feel the wet stain on your cheeks, the heaviness of your lashes. 
“It hurts too much, sometimes.” You whisper, and he nods. 
“I know.” 
“Fuck.” Your mug from breakfast tips over, rolling towards the sink, and you vaguely register the brown trickle of coffee that spills over the side.
“I’ll clean it up,” Johnny’s mouth sucks a mark into your belly, shoving the rest of items that sit next to you away, either to the floor or across the countertop, hiking your knee up in their place. “later. Promise.” He’s still working himself lower, biting and kiss and snarling against your skin, strong, scorching hands spreading your thighs so he can bury his face in your underwear.
“Oh-“
“Darling.” He groans, and you scramble, trying to pull them free, trying to push him closer to where you ache, already wet, desperate and out of your mind. You want him to crawl inside you, stitch himself to your skin and devour you whole.
“Johnny, Johnny.” The world vibrates in a million different colors, and you fist his hair, pushing yourself up to his face.
“I’ve got ye. Gon’ make ye feel good, love.” He does. He does every time, and this is no different, the way his hands cup you, the stroke of his tongue against your clit, the way he buries himself as far as he can, eating your twitching cunt as you lay flat on your back atop your own kitchen counter, begging him to make you come.
Is this wrong? Is it? Are you betraying yourself? Are you betraying him? 
Are you betraying Simon? 
It’s too much. It hurts too much.
You need it turned off. You need your entire brain powered down, need to not think or feel or cry about anything for just a second, for a single second of this almost thirty days.
Johnny moves, teeth nipping at your neck, and you meet his lips with your own, panting against him, holding him in your arms just like you’ve been dreaming about.
“I need you.” You whimper, and he nods, a thumb against your cheek. “Please, I- I want… I want you inside me,” your voice hitches higher, delirious, and insane. “Please, Johnny. Please.” Turn it off, turn it off, turn it-
“C’mere, c’mon, love.” He brings you to the edge of the counter, touching you so sweetly, so gently, like you’re a fragile treasure sort of thing, something to be revered, to be cared for.
You’re none of those things. Not now. Not ever. 
It’s a mess, a tangled, fumbled mess of your mouth and his, your hands and his, clothes, teeth, hair. You claw at his back as he frees his cock, one foot on the corner, spread wide for him, and it takes nearly no time until he’s breaching you, heavy hardness pushing into you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut with a groan.
“Bleedin’ christ.” He takes his time, takes it slow, reintroducing you to a feeling that you could never forget, the pressure of his cock notching against your cervix, the fullness and weight of having him seated inside you. It’s so good, like home, like something you could spend the rest of your life with, or the rest of your life chasing, and you barely register the words he is whispering into the side of your face, spit and sweat and tears all running together.
Something's missing. Something's off. Something is missing, it's missing, it's-
“Move… p-please-“
“F-fuck.” He hisses. “Feel so fuckin’ good, darling. So perfect… missed ye, missed ye so much.” He babbles, pinning your hips in place, tendons in his forearms flexing as he thrusts harder and faster, moving your bodies together. “I love ye, cannae live w’out ye, darling. We cannae do it.” His fingers trace around his cock and then to your clit, where he starts to circle and rub the swollen bud exactly as you like it, muscle memory guiding his touch in just the right way, allowing him to drag you to another impending orgasm, cunt clenching down around him. “Ah fuck, that’s it. Squeezin’ me, ye-“
“Johnny.” You cry, and he kisses you, insistently, deeply, sealing you off from any air that isn’t his own, covering you entirely with his body, grinding his hips.
Your orgasm explodes between the two of you, and he shouts when he feels it, clutching you too tightly, chasing his own with a vigor that makes you stutter. Your legs jolt, closing around him, anchoring him, tying him to you, his body going rigid when he fills you with his cum.
Your kitchen is dead silent except for the echo of ragged breathing, sweat dotted skin and shaky hands still languishing together, aftershocks sizzling through your belly.
"Are ye.. are ye alright?" He kisses you, kisses your cheek, your temple, still holding onto your hand, cock still lodged deep inside of you, his cum leaking out between your legs. 
Are you alright? Are you? 
Your chest feels tight, brain desperately trying to catch up, heart bleeding inside your chest.
"Darling? Hey, look at me." He shifts, cupping your jaw and you blink at him, mouth moving without words. 
You wallow there, in the silence, in the little space that exists in this moment, in the in-between. 
Neither of you speak. He pulls back to cradle your face, and you see the tears again, fat ones that roll down his cheeks, illuminating the brilliant blue blaze of his eyes.
What have you done? 
You stare at each other. Realization starts to form, panic fluttering in the ache between your ribs.
Oh. 
Oh no. 
Oh god, oh what did you do, what did you-
The shrill shriek of his cellphone interrupts, forcing both of you to turn to look at the screen that proudly displays the name of the caller.
Simon. 
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cloudwonder · 11 months
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mama's back and she's horny and now ya'll have to listen to her post-nut ramblings ☁️
cw: yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, kinda somno? (he doesn't touch you sexually, but gets off watching you sleep), doggystyle, yandere favs, fingering, generally horny ramblings, mhm
minors dni, if ya age ain't in the bio, it's on sight.
okay okay but hear me out.
soft yandere bfs/husbands that love their soft lil wife so! fuckin! much!!!! they work all day to make sure your shared home is spotless, your meals for the week are prepped, and dinner is in the oven <333
when you come home tired n ready to sleep he's got no problems picking you up bridal style n setting you down on the couch telling u to just stay put n get comfy while he goes to prepare your plate <3
hes just so in love with you, he can't stand it when you're not home with him all day, everyday :(. a pout spreads across his face as he exits the kitchen, hot plate of ur fav food in his hands...only to see you've fallen asleep :((((
oh his poor sweet angel🥺, no place should be making you work this hard!!! standing behind the couch, he's running a gentle hand down your face and near your hair, his pout quickly being replaced by a hot rush of blood to his own cheeks n crotch <333
ur fav can't help it!! you look so peaceful n calm in his presence he just wants to fuck you right out of your peaceful slumber <3. he just wants to mount you, pressing his already leaking cock into you unsuspecting hole, folding your pretty legs up as high as they can go and having his way with your gorgeously plump body. fondling your tits n leaving hard, lust-filled kisses on your sleepy lips <33333
the fabricated scene only hastened his actions, quickly freeing his cock from his tight pants n boxers. the head leaked an obscene amount and he wasted no time, his breathing becoming more unstable the harder he pumped his cock to the lewd pictures in his head, panting and quiet groans ringing throughout the living room as he did his very best not to wake you :(((
but his thoughts of you are just too vivid <33. he can't stop thinking abt how you only belong to him and how he knows no one else can have you <333 he won't let anyone take his precious angel away, his plush goddess is only to be worshipped by him >:(
his eyes roll back as he releases into his hand as your pretty eyes start to flutter open, but by now???? poor man is far too gone <333
he's peeling off the rest of his clothing as he's walking around the couch, his eyes still clouded with lust n his lips wet n muttering to you to take your damn pants off and flip over.
somewhere in his mind, he's truly sorry baby :(((, he knows you're tired n ready for bedtime, but he just can't help himself! his perfect s/o being right within his reach was too much for him to bare n he hopes that a nice creampie will help soothe his demands (:>
he's quickly joining you on the couch, cock back to full attention and leaking despite having just cum from his own hand. ofc he's not a monster, though angel <3. he's whispering sweet nothings while playing with your clit, rolling it between his fingers n using his other hand to gently stretch your warm hole <3 poor boy has to suppress a moan at every twitch n spasm of ur perfect cunt around his fingers.
it's not long before he's full on abusing your sopping hole with his fingers prompting you to cum for him n make a mess all over the couch. your sweet moans are short-lived, however, when his fingers are suddenly missing!!
before u can protest, though, he's already lining up his fat cock to your hole, teasing your clit before pushing in, arching n laying over your back, hands grasping at your plush belly n tits, trying desperately no to cum too early :((((
his cock is overstimulated but he doesn't care! he allows you a moment to adjust before pulling out and slamming his pelvis against your ass with wild n reckless abandon🥺. his and your moans fill the room, his voice going from crying abt how wonderful you feel to more unsavory comments you can't be bothered to think abt rn.
he's not gonna let anyone take you away!! you're his and only his!!! he can't wait for you to have his babies n then ur lil family will be complete!!! you can't quite pick up on whe he means, but it doesn't matter now that he's buried balls deep into your warm, tight cunt <3333
and when you throw it back on him???? his soul is ascending to heaven n his moans become louder >:))) but don't stop!! he ruined your sleep n let dinner get cold! he's grabbing at your hips, trying to hold you still, but to no avail, his own hips refusing to give him a break from the onslaught of your ass against him until he cries out abt his approaching orgasm!
he releases a pleasured hiss in pure ecstasy as his eyes start to roll back again, his warm cum flooding your cunt, prompting your own orgasm as well.
against your back, and basking in the afterglow his mind finally remembers your now cold dinner :((..
once he's calmed down more, you'll let him fix you another plate, right?
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vivinens · 7 months
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a lover's game !
characters: neuvillette, wriothesley & navia.
summary: little things they notice about you.
warning, minor fontaine story spoilers. gender neutral reader. here's a few short drabbles, hello tumblr!
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Neuvillette, while famously intrigued by human behavior, often finds himself completely fascinated with you in particular.
For all his objective understanding of worldly matters, he is still confused as to why he specifically craves your attention. It's utterly strange, really, how his eyes seem to trail after your movements and expressions with more care than he would show to others.
You smile differently, when speaking to him. He's picked up on this after numerous conversations involving you two and a third party. When speaking to Monsieur Neuvillette (he often wonders about the soft way you say his name), your tone is easy and your smile is—for lack of a more appropriate word—entrancing. But, the moment your attention turns to the third party, that smile is dimmed.
At first, he simply chalks it up to you wanting to get in his good graces. After all, he's had no shortage of humans attempting to get close to him in order to satisfy their own desires. However, even with his lackluster social skills, he can see how your behavior is different from the people trying to appeal to them for their own merit. Your flustered sentences and bright eyes were not the same as others using flattery to gain status among the court staff.
...Perhaps he should ask Navia about it. Not for the first time, he curses his own lack of social understanding.
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Wriothesley is not usually the kind of man who finds himself hung up on trivial details. He spends too much time working and worrying as it is; so why should he make life more complicated for himself?
There were some things he can't help but notice when it comes to you, though. It's midday when he overhears you mumbling to yourself about a new treat from Café Lucerne you'd like to try—as well as something about you having already spent all your "fun mora" for the week. You had sighed to yourself at your own respective desk all afternoon, and the sheer longing he could sense made his eye twitch.
You arrived to your work desk the next morning to see a wrapped gift box atop it. You had gasped when you opened it to reveal the outrageously expensive cake you had been craving all week. Wriothesley couldn't stay to further see your reaction, as to not raise suspicion, but he was content nonetheless.
It was when he arrived at work the next day that he realized—after seeing a steaming hot cup of coffee set on his desk beside a signed thank you note—that you're more observant than you let on. After all, he had taken great care in not letting it be known he was the one who gifted you the cake.
He takes a sip of the coffee. It was the way he likes it. Yes, you were very observant, indeed.
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Navia has always had a soft spot for her underlings. She remembers their birthdays, their favorite songs, and those who they would prefer to work alongside. She claims it's her duty as their boss to know such things—although, in the opinion of many, she often goes above and beyond.
However, if you were to ask any of Navia's other subordinates, they would probably say she tries to understand you best of all. You have known one another for a long time, and this friendship was something she held very dearly—especially after the passing of her father. You were a beacon of light in those times, when the world seemed against her and her father's memory.
In some ways, she wondered if she was... taking advantage. You worked hard to support her and Spina di Rosula, and earned hardly nothing in return. Pay was rocky and sometimes even scarce. What if your talents could be better used elsewhere? What if you truly did want to leave? What if—
"You're overthinking again, Navia," you sigh, and before she can even think to respond, your hand is reaching to feel her forehead. You're sat beside one another on a bench, taking a small reprieve after a day spent out and about Vasari Passage. "Hm, I'm surprised you don't have a fever. You've been acting strange all day," you say, tilting your head. "You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"
The genuine worry in your voice makes Navia's heart flutter. "No, no, nothing at all!" She exclaims with more confidence than she feels. She seems to be doing that a lot lately. "But... thank you, for worrying about me. You shouldn't have to."
You frown. "I care for you—perhaps more than you understand, Navia. You don't have to speak about it now, but if something is troubling you, I will always lend you an ear."
Sometimes, Navia finds you truly are too understanding of her emotions. Instead of responding, she nods wordlessly, lest the things she wants to say so desperately clog her throat, and reaches to rest her hand against yours. You don't pull away, and the loud hammering of Navia's heart continues in her chest. It does not stop for a long while.
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trashmouth-richie · 1 year
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Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]
Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.
W.C 3.8k
Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋
{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️
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He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”
Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!
He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.
“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.
“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.
You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.
He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”
The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.
“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”
He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.
“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.
“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.
A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”
Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.
“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”
The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.
“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”
His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.
You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.
You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.
“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.
Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”
“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.
Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.
Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”
You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.
He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”
You’re so fucked.
-
“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.
“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.
“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”
You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”
Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”
“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”
She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”
“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”
“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”
“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,
“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”
“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.
“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”
“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.
The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.
It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.
Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”
He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”
You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?
“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”
Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.
Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”
“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”
You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”
“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”
“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”
Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”
“I’d rather drop dead.”
“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.
The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.
“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”
Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.
Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.
A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.
“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”
-
Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.
The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.
“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”
“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.
“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?
“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “
“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.
“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.
“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.
“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.
“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”
A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.
Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.
“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”
You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.
Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.
Oh— this mother fucker.
“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.
Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.
“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.
A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.
“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.
Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.
“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”
You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.
vol ii
volume ii
A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋
Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)
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mrchiipchrome · 26 days
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Princess Treatment
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W.C. - 2.4 k
a/n: if you've seen this before, no you haven't
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Ever since Ella was little her mum had told her that she had a ‘princess attitude’, that she only expected the best and anything less than that was unacceptable. She was also told that no boy would ever keep up with it, lucky for her, she wasn’t even into boys. 
When you met Ella you were 14, and yet you were already more than a couple heads taller than kids four years older than you. It was no surprise that people were a bit scared of you, tall and rather buff. 
But Ella saw through it all, all the snide comments from the other girls and all the rumors, she saw that you only wanted love from people, to love people just the same as anyone else. So when she started dating you only a year after your official meeting it only surprised the ones still believing the rumors and the ones who were making them up.
Ella was already getting the princess treatment when you were strictly friends, being somewhat of a people pleaser might’ve had something to do with it. But nonetheless she loved you with all your flaws, just like you did her.
The lovey dovey attitude never disappeared, even as you transitioned from being immature teenagers to being mature adults, you were still acting like lovesick teens who just fell in love for the first time. 
And not surprising was that the princess attitude never really disappeared, she was still letting you carry her training bag for her and give her massages. It wasn’t like she demanded you do these things for her, you just did them like you knew exactly what it was that she needed. Though when she was cranky her mood definitely changed drastically, princess behavior turned up to the max.
The only thing that really bothers you about the whole thing is your teammates' excessive teasing. It made you uncomfortable and you felt as though you couldn’t properly express your love for your girlfriend without being ridiculed. Despite the amount of years you’d spent around your United teammates, you were still closed off around most of them, the only exceptions being Alessia, Mary and Ella.
And while the three tried their best to get you out of your shell, it was futile to even try, you could only work and be open with them on the pitch, where you were doing your job.
Your teammates obviously felt your absence, so in an attempt to get you to open up a little, they put team bonding at a bar, thinking that a few drinks would loosen you up. 
———
“How do I look?” It had been a while since you’d been at a bar, and you didn’t exactly know what the latest club fashion was, so instead of overcomplicating it, you just settled on a black button up tucked into navy dress pants and a brown leather belt. 
“You look good enough to eat baby, are you sure we can’t cancel and take the evening for ourselves?” Ella almost had you convinced, but when you remembered exactly how many team bonding sessions you’d missed just because of that reason, you stopped. 
“No, you already know how many team bonding outings we’ve missed, they’re going to think that we’re avoiding them.” Your shorter girlfriend’s hands come up to rest against your chest, her fingers fiddling with the upper buttons of your shirt, popping two buttons open before you take her hands in yours, pulling them up to your mouth, pressing light kisses to the backs of her hands.
“You look so gorgeous my love, but maybe you should go with other shoes? I know how you get after a while of wearing heels.” When she looks up at you with the slightest attitude, the little glare that shines through every once in a while, you put your hands on her waist and pull her body flush against your own. “Or I can stop being an idiot and let you wear whatever you want.” 
Ella hums at your response, lips resting featherlight against yours, her breath ghosting over your lips as she tells you to;
“Wear that navy suit jacket, it’s warm and your arms look nice in it.” And with that she pulls away, frustrated to no end. As you turn around to get the jacket from where it’s draped on the bed, a hand slaps your ass.
“How have I never noticed how good your butt looks in these trousers babe?” The fact that she’s a hundred percent serious is what amuses you, and even though she asked you to, Ella pouts when you put your suit jacket on, apparently not happy to not be able to shamelessly ogle your ass anymore.
“Come on love, Less is outside and I’m pretty sure that she’s going to get the wrong idea if we keep her waiting for too long.” You send the girl a wink before ushering her out of the house with minimal effort. You kept your hand on her lower back, leading her towards the back seat before you took the shotgun seat.
“One more second and I swear I was going to report you two missing.” Alessia rolls her eyes at the two of you, fake annoyance spreading across her face, and you both act like you don’t notice her huge smile.
Arriving at the bar fashionably late, you immediately spot the huge group of women standing around the bar, seemingly ordering their drinks. Ella pulls your hand to go in their direction, your feet drag against the floor in reluctance.
You listen as your girlfriend and your best friend greet the women, the best you can come up with is a meek wave. 
“A coke please. Oh and just make the sweetest and fruitiest drink you can for my missus.” Your teammates look on in confusion and slight disappointment as you order a nonalcoholic drink for yourself. It was clear that they barely knew anything about you, you weren’t a big fan of the taste or the loss of basic cognitive function.
“Y/n is our designated driver, me and Less are planning on letting loose tonight.” Ella answered their unasked question, the team nodding in disappointment.
Finding a booth big enough to fit the whole team, Ella immediately settles herself on your lap as soon as you sit down, your ice cold cola being set down on the table in favour of wrapping your arms around your soon-to-be fiancée’s waist, your hands setting in her lap. 
Everyone settles into comfortable conversations with each other, you’re content to listen to the voice of your girlfriend and Alessia, tracing shapes into her thigh and taking a swig of your now nearly flat and room temperature cola. 
“Baby, my feet hurt.” Ella stops her conversation to tell you, the tight shoes squeezing her and the high heel likely poking against her heel.
“I told you this would happen, my love.” You tell her lowly, acutely aware of a majority of your teammates' eyes on you, seemingly more engaged in your conversation than their own.
“No you said ‘I know how you get after a while of wearing them’ you never told me what would happen.” Your girlfriend sasses back, saying it as if it were fact.
“Alright, then we’ll do the usual?” Ella gets up from your lap to undo the straps of her shoes as you undo the knot of your laces, sliding your shoes off your feet and onto hers. They were a few sizes too big, despite Ella being known as the bigfoot of the team, and as she settles back onto your lap, most of your teammates look on in some sort of shock.
“Did Ella just extort you out of your shoes Y/n?” Maya asks, like she wasn’t familiar with your girlfriend’s attitude. Being put on the spot like that makes you more than uncomfortable as you shift in your seat, thankfully your slightly tipsy best friend notices it and helps you out.
“Have you seriously not noticed Ella’s obvious princess attitude? God, where are you when Y/n’s away and I have to deal with it.” Alessia joked with the younger girl, teasing her about her ignorance towards her friend and national teammate.
“So you just do what she asks you to?” Millie asks, and you look at her nonchalantly.
“I mean, yeah, pretty much. Ella deserves everything in this world and if I can give her even a fraction of that then I’ll do whatever she needs me to.” You answer sincerely, there was nothing to lie about there, she was your everything. It wasn’t like they would remember it in the morning either way, they were all pretty wasted.
“Awww baby, you never told me that. I love you so much.” Ella smothers your face in kisses, seemingly forgetting the bright red lipstick she’d put on earlier. The red lip marks nearly blend into the skin of your face as you blush heavily at her actions, face closer to a beetroot than anything even remotely human.
“I think it’s time to round off the evening now before poor Y/n gets an aneurysm.” The women around the table laugh at your now significantly drunker best friend, both the blonde and the brunette being wasted by now.
Getting Alessia to pick up Ella’s shoes, you steal yours back for a more comfortable fit, Ella sneaking your jacket from its place on the chair. Turning back to see Ella basically drowning in the fabric of your jacket might be one of your favorite sights ever, she was just too adorable. 
Your hands slip around the back of her knees, the other clutching closer to her rib cage as you carry her in a bridal grip. Ella runs her hands over your flexed muscles, whistling to show off how impressed she was. Another dark blush covers your face at her drunken actions, clutching on to her legs a little tighter in an attempt to expel the embarrassment.
Ella keeps on babbling about nonsense as you bring her out to Alessia’s car, the blonde herself stumbling around behind you. She’d given you her car key at the start of the night to keep safe, and you had to shift your grip on the midfielder to be able to unlock the car.
Slinging Ella over your shoulders haphazardly, you make sure to keep a secure grip around her thighs in order to not drop her. Alessia giggles at the squeal escaping your girlfriend’s mouth, sounding almost like a creaky door.
When the car is unlocked, you carefully open the door and make sure you don’t bump the midfielder’s head, buckling her in and ignoring the way her hands travel over your body like they would at home. Making sure that her hands are inside the car so that she doesn’t get hurt when you close the door, you quickly move towards the passenger door, making sure to open it for the blonde. You were a gentlewoman after all.
After helping both the girls to buckle in, you finally get in the driver's seat, ready to transport both of them back to your house. 
They talk absentmindedly during the whole ride, light music floating through the air in its soft glow. Every once in a while you feel Ella’s hand moving up and down your bicep, seemingly entranced by the muscle. 
“Girls, we’re home. Less, the guest room is ready for you and there’s a pair of pajamas on the bed. I’ll come up with some paracetamol for you tomorrow, trust me you’ll need it.” The girl laughs at your words, exiting the car and walking up the driveway to the door of your house. 
You exit the car as well, unbuckling your girlfriend’s seatbelt and throwing her over your shoulder again. Alessia doesn’t seem to mind the wait, standing in front of your door calmly, picking at her nails.
When the click of the door being unlocked echoes through the calm night you rush into the house, leaving Alessia to close and lock the door behind you.
The blonde utters a quick goodnight before leaving you to walk up the stairs to your bedroom, the guest room on the bottom floor of the house. Ella grumbles when you place her back down on the floor, her feet likely aching still from her high heels.
“How about you take my advice next time, pretty girl? No stilettos okay.” Ella nods a little, her body swaying in an unstable way due to the alcohol still rushing through her veins, leaning against your body as you try your damned hardest to unzip her dress and get her into a comfortable pair of pajamas. 
She’s basically half asleep when you slip the oversized t-shirt over her head, the material reaching just above her knee. Pulling her into the bathroom, you make sure to brush both her and your teeth extra carefully, both of you having had sugary drinks that night.
You lift Ella up to sit on the bathroom counter as you get a makeup wipe out of her bag, carefully swiping it over her entire face, over her eyes and lips, all around her face. When you’re done, she puckers her lips for you to kiss, and when she tries to deepen the kiss even more, you pull away.
Taking out another makeup wipe from her bag, you pass it over your face, wiping away the red markings on your face. Ella frowns as her artwork is removed from your face, her pout quickly being kissed away.
Leading Ella to your bed, she quickly gets under the covers and then gestures for you to get in with her. She quickly forgets all about getting you under the covers when she sees you unbutton your shirt, mesmerized by the muscles of your stomach and arms. 
She gets up from the bed to run her fingers over them again, seeing goosebumps forming under her nails. But just as quickly as the naked skin appears, it gets covered back up again by a t-shirt, the shorter girl seemingly very disappointed with that.
She grumbles all the way until you’ve slipped in behind her in the bed, pulling her frame into yours. It fits yours like a puzzle piece, nothing more, nothing less.
Like always, Ella falls asleep in your arms rather rapidly, her drunken state impairing her ability to stay awake.
In the end, Ella’s mum had been completely wrong, she had found someone who willingly put up with her princess attitude.
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 months
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THE SOUND OF SILENT GRAVES (X)
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NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XI
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PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)
WORDCOUNT: 15.5k
WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, broody/stubborn Nikto, brief smut, etc. (Series 18+)
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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Your mind doesn’t remember the first time you looked in the mirror and saw the beginnings of the flaws. Perhaps your nose was a bit too strange—lips a bit too…there the second you turned thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Fifteen. You know it started slow, like all poison does; the point to where you actually begin to pay attention to the chains around your neck. 
Your eyes hadn’t left where Nikto’s sweatpants sat so well over your hips for at least five minutes. Usually, you’d pick at those flaws here, on the cold bathroom tile with the black and white wash of nothingness. But this is distraction enough to block it out, at least for now. 
You smell like him. 
You’d noticed after you had woken up for the second time and had found Nikto gone—his thigh no longer the firm pillow to your skull. It startled you, admittingly, and you thought it was unlike him, but then your ears had picked up on the barked Russian sentences outside the bedroom door, drifting in from under the wood as your haze cleared. Best guess? He was on the phone with someone while you kept getting the rest he said you needed; you could only speculate how he got out from under you without making your eyes snap open. But, yes, it was undeniable that every ounce of your skin was bathed in his scent; marked, branded as if a sheep. 
Rotting wood coated in gunpowder, and gnawing metal that peels back flesh. 
It’s stuck in your nostrils as you itch at the side of your nose, blinking away from your reflected visage as if it’s on fire. 
Focus, you plead, and you don’t even know to whom. 
So much had happened, that the thought of your brain calming down was impossible. Nikto knew. He knew about the purpose of the parties, he knew about your doubts and fears, he knew your body. 
As you exit the bathroom, your mind slips into a dark thought—maybe learning to care about someone turns you into a bit of a stalker of your own. No one else could say they knew you as well as Nikto now does: your fears and your hopes. Not even Alyona, you flatten your lips at the realization, and you consider her your best friend. 
“Jesus,” you groan quietly after a moment, pushing your palms into your eyes with a heavy sigh. 
It can’t be past noon now, and you can’t run from this forever. 
The phone on your nightstand is taken up, and, sitting back on the bed, your eyes dart and skate past the tossed party dress on the floor, wishing someone would go out and burn it already. As the visible tear in the lace catches your attention, along with the slashed corset, there’s an unmistakable twitch at your lips, that only makes your chest tighten immediately after.
Clearing your throat, you turn back on the device and try to give it your undivided, though anxious, attention. The sound of sharp Russian beyond the door gives a sliver of comfort. 
But still…why hadn’t he woken you up? There’s a sliver of confusion that takes place in your mind, but you push it back softly.
The first wave of notifications is expected, and exactly the same as it had been before breakfast. 
Kliment Fedorov, Alyona, your Mom, even the investigators—texts and calls, ranging from clipped sentences to long paragraphs. Thumb hovering over the screen, you raise your opposite hand and rub at the base of your skull, a low sound in the back of your throat. There was so much, you didn’t even know where to begin. You should be worrying about the stalker, not your job. 
But…when had you not been worried about your job?
Just another thing to make me lose my mind faster, you think. God, this is getting to a point where I’m starting to not care if they get rid of me—at least then I’d be able to make my own decisions. You start with Aly, and you quickly slap the call icon just to ease your shaky fingers of the stuttered typing they would have had to do otherwise. Phone to ear, the ringing only persists for two seconds before there’s the hurried panic of static and a frantic voice. 
“Seraph!” 
“Aly—” You try to quickly calm her down, mouth open with the half-formation of speech.
“Bastard! Why did you not call me?!” The woman snaps, and your ears twitch, your body flinching at the guilt that grows. “I have been up all night and worried most of the morning—damn you. Everyone at AMA is silent and Fedorov won’t let me into his office.” 
That’s right, you had told her you’d call her after the party—when you’d talked to her after seeing Nikto’s back tattoo. 
After you’d touched his ravaged flesh. 
Your face heats slowly, head tilting to the floor as you clear your throat. It was all wrapped in tissue paper, those memories. The storage room, the way those pale eyes had dug into your form in that damned dress, wanting to try and compliment you in his own strange way but being unable when you degraded yourself so consistently—unsure of himself. It was addictive seeing such a frenzied and numb man walking on cracking ice.
But that doesn’t make you any more sure of yourself.
“I meant to,” you hurry into your explanation, waving a hand even if she can’t see it. “You know I wouldn’t leave you wondering unless I had a good reason.” 
Alyona huffs over the line, silence falling as her anger tapers into a line. “...I need to put a bell on you, Солнышко.”
You close your eyes and sigh, fingers moving to push into your nose bridge. 
“Yeah,” your mouth utters. “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea, Aly.” 
It isn’t long before there’s the low plea—that heavy insinuation. You know she’s still now, waiting for you to begin. “Tell me, then.”
Face tightening, you pause and listen for Nikto. You still hear the muted conversation, and occasionally, the stomp of heavy boots along the floors. He’s pacing. 
What’s going on out there? Who was he talking to? You wonder silently, perplexed. Nikto had made many phone calls before, and while he preferred to be in a nearby area and speak in his mother tongue, they hadn’t been as long as this—nor as snappy. Shaking your head, you suppose it’s a problem for later, and in the back of your mind, every word that he’d ever spoken to you rattles like rocks. 
You were nervous around Nikto now, and that doesn’t make any sense to you.
Doesn’t the nervous part come before getting touched in the back of some dark storage room? 
You grunt under your breath, clenching your jaw; becoming more and more like Nikto as the days pass, it seemed. 
“I didn’t sleep with Tarkovsky,” your words are breathy and low. Trying to hide. “...Nikto stopped it.” The heavy pause is enough to make your palms sweat. “Aly?”
“Perhaps I judged the beast of man too early.” You blink, tilting your head as your eyebrows draw in. “Christ, Seraph. I’m relieved, of course I am, but what will Fedorov do once he finds out?”
“He already knows,” you relay. “Nikto wasn’t…subtle about his refusal to let me go.”
“Blood?” Aly asks.
“And bone,” you sigh. 
“Shit,” the woman over the line grumbles. “Do you…” she trails off slowly. “Do you think AMA will keep you on?”
“This hasn’t happened before,” you shrug to yourself, hearing Nikto speaking louder. Your eyes dart to the door, and as you blink, your fingers run your thigh in a self-soothing motion. “I don’t know. Right now I’m debating if it’s even worth it.” A painful chuckle. “Any advice?”
“Keep the bastard around long enough to break someone else's bones.” Aly’s laugh is sharp and smooth. “Show them what happens when they do anything he doesn’t like.”
“The night wasn’t all bad,” you try to defend his personality a smidge. “He’s not some monster, Aly.”
“I wasn’t implying that,” there’s the sound of moving fabric from over the call, and Alyona is most likely in a fitting room herself, taking up your call as she rushed out of a photographer’s shoot at light speed. “...You like him, then? Truly? Or are you just enamored by his capacity for violence?”
Your body slows at the obvious jest, taking it seriously. Face stilling, you blink at the wall across from you. Everything else blurs for a moment, memories slashing to every opened car door and meal made with expert hands. Organized magazines on your tables and cleaned dishes. There was something funny about the way you enjoyed the stretch of his sin coating you like blood over the visible flesh of a masked face.
Nikto wasn’t a good person. You knew that.
“Yes,” you whisper regardless, feet shifting below you. “How can I spend so much time with someone and not like them?” Your words try to reason.
“Very easily,” the Russian woman scoffs, not wasting time. “You know what I mean, Little Seraph. Don’t try to push me off like I am stupid.” A low hum. “When you talk about him, your breath goes light.”
“It does not,” your voice tightens. 
“Denial,” Aly sighs. “The first sign.”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” you groan, standing up and beginning to walk the room casually. You enjoyed the banter—the teasing: you two were good at that. 
As soft chuckles waft around, your lips twitch into a smile. “He’s not horrible. That’s all I’ll say.” 
“No beast?”
“No, no beast. A stubborn brute of a dogish ex-soldier?” You roll your eyes, and the commotion outside of the door takes on a different tone. You pay it no mind. “One hundred percent.”
“You like strays, yes, Seraph?” Alyona’s line crackles.
“I was burdened with a good heart,” you joke with a chuckle, nodding. As the second of silence draws, you reluctantly push out, “I need to check in with everything else.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” is the easy reply. The next sentence is troubled. “...If you’re kept, will you have to go to the rest of the parties?”
You don’t get to reply, because there isn’t a moment to think above the sinking in your gut and the sudden shove of the door. Head snapping up, the phone is tilted from your face as your eyes bug wildly. 
Iakov makes it three steps into the room, searching for you, before a growled shout and a ruthless hand connected with his suit’s collar. Watching wide-eyed, you see the way the pale-haired man is dragged out with a loud call of alarm.
Mouth agape, all you utter is a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before rapidly hanging up and moving as fast as you can to the door.
Shoulder hitting the frame, you stutter as you right yourself swiftly. “Nikto?”
“Go back to bed,” the black void grunts, gloved hand releasing Iakov with a violent shove. The two men are in the living room, your guard glaring with venom at your media coordinator as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor. 
“She can’t!” Iakov meets that fire with fire, strengthening himself. His face is a tone darker—eyes sharply snapping. “Fedorov has been waiting all day to have a meeting, and I won’t have my job on the line because of some entitled bra—!”
Nikto’s hand re-wraps itself around the man’s collar, jerking the fabric, and in turn, the smaller body forward until the rough fabric of the lower half of his mask is nearly brushing Iakov’s nose.
“I will cut out your tongue,” Nikto eases out far smoother than you’d heard thus far in your many days together. 
Your heart skips a beat.
“...Okay,” you say under your breath, face on fire as your coordinator freezes like a bird under a cat, a flash of rage simmering in his expression. The tension was palpable.
Truth be told, you’d never seen Iakov so unmanaged before—hair this way and that, suit ruffled not only from Nikto but from the apparent running of hands. He was always so put together. You swallow down your shaky worry. 
You’d never known him to be anything but respectful. It was like a knife to the chest to see such a rabid switch of emotions—of personality. Christ, it was damn near wrong.
“Nikto,” you say quickly, and the brute only tilts his head your way, not looking at you as his fingers tighten. Your tongue darts to wet your lips. “Please.”
Iakov is pushed back once more, and your guard grunts, light gaze unwavering as he backs up only a half-step nearer to you, widening his shoulders as the trunks of his arms cross his chest. Suddenly, thoughts of sex, power, and a stalker boil down to the sight in front of you instead, and the great confusion gets larger still.
Nikto is back in full gear, and here you are in sweatpants and an oversized shirt. When had your Russian bear managed to change? Had he left the bedroom far sooner than you’d thought? And…why? Keeping the Russian in the side of your narrowed eye, you take a breath and quickly address the greater problem. 
I thought Nikto was only on a phone call.
“How did you get in here?” Your voice is low, riddled with exasperation and a tinge of stiffness. Would Nikto even have let someone in without talking to you first? It seemed unlikely.
Iakov sneers, clenching his jaw—the void beside you is silent. 
“Key.” Long fingers disappear into his suit, peeling out the gray face of a hotel room key and holding it between two fingers. Eyes pierce you, narrowed with a wave of horrible anger and swirling contempt that makes your breath hitch as if under the scrutiny of a wolf.
Your lungs hold themselves in your ribs like prisoners at the confession; eyes widening. 
Key?
Nikto levels out slowly, shifting with canid-like movements. “Walked in when we were speaking to the investigators over call.” He breathes out a rumble. “Nearly shot his head off.”
“You would have had a harder time than that, Хуй,” Iakov barks, dress shoes clicking as he slaps a foot forward. 
Heart hammering, your anxiety dances—questions muddling. Paranoia. Why would Iakov be allowed to have a key to your room? Had he always had one when you were sent out to parties?
What if he’d walked in before….?
Shaking your head at the implication, you step in before Nikto has a chance to jump the man, snapping out in a fashion that was unlike you, but came from both a place of desperation and nervousness. Your face pulls into a sharp display of panicked anger.
“Both of you shut up and listen!” Nikto freezes, eyes flashing instantly to shock. After a moment, any discernible emotion vanishes from his pale eyes, and he blinks down to you; shoulders lowering as if a display of submission.
While you can’t see it, Nikto’s heart sputters. He hadn’t expected that from you. 
Even back in Yekaterinburg, you were more prone to letting the course go calm—letting others lay themselves over you to avoid confrontation. You were still like that, of course; that was plainly seen in your unwillingness to explain before the party what was going on, but an outburst like that Nikto had never seen before. 
He watches you closely but remains mute even if his throat cages in a grunt of surprise.
Iakov freezes as well, neck snapping over like a fish on a hook. He was rageful and arrogant, you could now see it plainly. Even if he was always composed, you weren’t blind to the looks he would give you when he passed you in AMA—the discreet touches to the back of your shoulders or arms when you’d be given schedules face-to-face. 
You were stuck in a circle of distrust and lustful eyes, and the only reprieve was a man with more blood on his hands than a butcher holding a pig’s heart. 
Trying to calm yourself, you shake your head softly.
“Iakov,” you utter at the glaring face, hate and disgust stuck behind pupils. “Explain it to me.”
“You fucked it all up,” he growls, and Nikto’s gaze snaps to return to a pale face. Yet he still doesn’t interfere, hanging around like a puppy lacking his needle teeth. Muzzled. It doesn’t stop his eyes from sparking, however. “There is no deal with Tarkovsky! You know what that means, Seraph?” His hair is flattened down by a fast hand, tongue licking at his lips. “No money. Fedorov is wringing my neck! Why have you not answered the phone?!” 
“I was resting,” you mutter stiffly, face a tension-ridden mess. Glancing at Nikto and his tight pupils, the Russian doesn’t look over, only his hips moving in a small shuffle. You clear your throat with a small ache starting to form at the base of your skull. “Just got up.”
“It is past noon,” the shorter man barks. “This is absurd!” 
“Lower your tone,” Nikto utters. 
“I will speak what I will,” Iakov’s expression is like a knife as you stuff your shaky hands into your pockets. “Seraph needs to listen to what I tell her to do before—”
“Before what,” your guard interrupts, tilting his head. Around him is a false calm that somehow seems more violent than if he was yowling like a mutt. Your lips thin into a line. “Hm? Speak. You were doing it not a second ago.” 
Your coordinator stills and he wisely keeps his tongue from flapping.
“We will say it only once more,” you watch Nikto from the corner of your eye, breath trapped in your throat as his hips tighten and arms slip to hang by them; gloved hand flexing where the lack of a digit is glaring at you. “Watch your tongue.”
“I’ll call him,” you comply to Iakov’s complaints after a moment of heavy silence, face on fire and your chest being hit by every palpitation of your heart. Your mind is airy, and that scent of rotten wood is back as your legs push in on themselves. “I’ll explain what I can and—”
“Too late,” is the hissed answer. “He already gave me my workload. You’re going out tonight if you still want your job.” Your spine goes rail-straight. “This is the last chance, Seraph,” the pale-haired man spits. “This is it—you’ll put on what I have for you to wear, you’ll give yourself to the man who wants to invest into AMA, and you’ll keep doing what I tell you to. Your dog,” Iakov stares at Nikto for a long while, opening and closing his hands like he wants to say more, but only growls, “will do as he is ordered.” 
Nikto is about to punch him, you can tell by the roll and shake of his wrist. In an instant, you have your hand grabbing at his bicep, barely applying pressure beyond the initial grasp and yank. It does the trick though. 
Nikto’s body halts.
“Give me the key and get out,” you say in a monotone to the raging coordinator. 
Iakov looks like he’s going to fight on that, and your unease at his presence gets larger. The knowledge that he had access to your hotel room the entire time makes your muscles writhe with something dangerous—alarm bells. But the stalker isn’t here with you, is he? He’s back in Yekaterinburg unless there’s something you don’t know about.
Before you can pull on your guard’s arm again, Nikto pounces and slaps the key to the floor, which skids along the white tile as you gasp softly. Great hand connecting with a shouting Iakov’s collar, Nikto doesn’t let go as he begins dragging the man away like a toddler with ease, dress shoes scuffing the floor. 
Face loose, your eyes follow as the Russian grasps the door handle, yanks the barrier open, and tosses the coordinator out with a snarl. 
“You need to obey what I tell you—!” The scream is cut off as the door is slammed shut in Iakov’s face ruthlessly. A lock clicks in place, and that’s the end of it. 
Nikto stays to stare through the peephole, eyes beady and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Under the mask, his skin is taut with feral tension. 
In his youth, the Russian had been unswayable in his anger—a fact that resulted in many a school fight and bloodied faces, usually not only his own. It’s what brought him to the military, to be completely honest with himself. A lust for something he could control like a pocket knife in his hand, but bigger than two teenagers wailing on each other in some field while a gaggle cheered them on. Split knuckles and cut lips. One thing never got any easier, though. 
That damn spark of animalistic loyalty.
He’d formed some bond with you, that was certain. Mutual gain? Who knows. Bodily need? Maybe. Actual care? …Curse him, but perhaps. Yet, hold his toes over a fire if he didn’t feel a horrific rage at some man he could break over his thigh speaking to you like that. 
He feels your gaze on the back of his head even now, as he watches that media coordinator scurry off like a rat, and he flashes to the ongoing gag the two of you had formed. 
Looks like a Shrew. Little rodent.
Nikto sighs under his breath, fingers coming up to rub at his covered chin, scraping gloves against the thick canvas. He backs up with a scoff and stalks away. 
“The man is weak,” Nikto says to you, keeping a tight side-eye. “Get a better one before we dispose of him.”
You strangle down a quick laugh, mouth slowly opening as you think over your words. The comment, said in that rough and sandpaper-like accent, flows through you like water. You should be put off by it, you think to yourself in the back of your brain, especially after the explosion in the bakery and the death of your three previous guards; of Yefim.
Yet…
Your throat tightens. “You think he was being serious?” You ask. “About the party tonight? My job?”
“You are not going.” It’s immediate. 
“Nikto,” you frown, stepping forward as he brushes past you to grab his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. “There are parts that I won’t be a part of again, but I know that you know, that I need to keep my position at AMA. With any hope, showing up will be enough—I can speak, persuade, the person who—”
“Why?” he spits, shoving the device away as his pale eyes glare, head tilting. 
If you knew any better, you’d compare this to a boy pouting. Just perhaps a bit more serious. 
“Oh,” you vaguely motion with a hand, sarcastically uttering as your heart slows now that it’s only the two of you. “I don’t know—food, rent, the ability to live comfortably. You know, the usual.”
Nikto huffs, taking out his baretta and placing it on the table before the cleaning rag is slipped from his belt. He sits down near the neatly folded blanket and perfect pillows, silent. You’d have to keep this conversation going later, there was a low curiosity in your stomach. His phone—the speaking you’d heard from the bedroom. 
“Who were you talking to before I came out?” Walking forward, you listen to the click of dark metal as Nikto takes apart his gun piece by piece, setting them all down in a well-thought-out order. He glances up, and you see his lashes dip in a blink. As usual, his expression is unreadable while behind that mask. You almost missed the balaclava—at least you could see the outline of his lips that way.
“Anything important?”
“Investigators,” Nikto grumbles. “They have taken Sergi into custody, but can get nothing out of him,” he pauses, troubled though you can’t see it as your eyes widen, body going to sit beside his own before intently listening. 
“That’s perfect!” You speak, a smile overtaking your lips. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any more texts from the stalker. Do you think that they’ll keep him there?”
“No,” you still, smile freezing. “They cannot.” Pale eyes stare into your own smoothly before they break away. Nikto clears his throat, fingers twitching as more bits and bobs are polished. “DNA does not match those found on the letters from your lockbox. It is illegal to falsely detain someone for over forty-eight hours. He will be released unless further evidence is discovered.” 
It’s a slow moment before you swallow down the sharp disappointment in your gut, attention darting from the silent Russian to the table. 
“Oh.”
Nikto’s muscles tense the longer this silence permeates, eyes unconsciously darting back from his gun to you. After a long while, he sighs aggressively, dropping the rag and the slide he had been polishing without thought as it thumps to the table.
“Птичка,” he turns, and you blink back to him just to notice the instant tension as your eyes lock. 
Such grays and blacks make up his being, that you wonder if color even mattered when it came to him—you already know those shades of in-between things, and Nikto could certainly be described as in-between. The activities of the storage room flash behind your vision, and your lips part softly. 
But something isn’t right. 
You’d thought that maybe Nikto would always be something of a blank slate to you—obviously, you could tell when he was frustrated and such, but anything beyond that was still up to your imagination. But it’s especially telling when you can understand the way he hesitates to touch you when his hand rises. 
The limb moves to your bicep before the Russian drops it back down, turning back to his rag, and gets back to work with the lines beside his eyes visible as if grimacing. Beyond the anxiety, and the paranoia, you find the hurt burns sharper than those two ever could.
Not to mention the uncertainty. 
You stare openly for upwards of three minutes, hesitant with the white noise in your brain overtaking your thoughts. 
Nikto’s head is thumping—attacking every ounce of common sense to be found. The picture on his phone; the implications. The stalker wasn’t Sergi, because Sergi was at this very moment still detained and had been since last night…how could he tell you that? A man who was already horrible with words, so used to barking out his true feelings to soldiers and civilians alike. He can’t be that with you. Not anymore. He doesn’t want to be. But he’s stubborn—he’s prideful. Arrogant. It’s easier for him to figure it out himself than burden you, and in many ways, you were the same beast.
Mutt, mutt, mutt. Golden chains around supple flesh.
Nikto opens and closes his mouth many times, not knowing how your heart is cracking piece by piece; so averse to speaking about yourself. He’d left while you were still asleep to make the phone call himself to your investigators, not able to stare at your face any longer or feel your flesh. It had made his attention slip, and his focus fail. 
The lack of control where he already had so little. He couldn’t take it, and in that, he felt dirty. Tainted. 
The knowledge that someone had a picture of you in perhaps the most vulnerable moment he’d ever seen you in was worse, still. Like the blood on his hands was smearing itself over you, dipping along your waist and hips; sinking its dripping knuckles into the tight clutch of your welcoming walls. Fingerprint marks over your navel, clawing. 
Nikto flinches subtly in his seat, a low sound echoing in the back of his throat. He wishes he’d never known the color of blood if only to not be able to imagine it along your pretty skin. 
The Russian had only been thinking about it when you were sleeping, a slow infection seeping in as it always did—the stalker had been just behind him and he hadn’t heard a thing. The thought was enough to nearly make him vomit.
It was an utter disgrace to his skills. 
He can’t be distracted anymore; not now. Not when he feels the fingers digging into his scars, the cuts, the drags of knives, and the burn of fire. He needs that control back. Some semblance of stability. 
You try not to show how much you’re taken aback—how much Nikto’s sudden distance is a physical pain to you. The dead air settles, and you feel your pulse through your skin like a wound. 
“...Anything else, Nikto?” Your voice is deathly still. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you had pushed something too far. 
“...Нет.” The Russian’s fingers are hovering over the pieces of his gun, dismantled and laid bare to the overhead light of the blinding hotel. This place is cold; sterile. You’d said it before and you’d say it again—this was not a place you’d want to live. Now…even less so. Nikto clears his throat as you stand jerkily, sending a glance that lands on your throat and not your eyes. “There is nothing.”
You nod quickly. 
“Good. I’m, uh,” your tongue wets your lips, and pale eyes try not to follow the motion even as he finds it like a siren call. Control. “I’m glad. I’ll figure out the details about the party tonight and get back to you.” 
Nikto’s shoulders froze, but by the time his damaged brain had caught up with his mouth, you were already back in the bedroom and shutting the door with a soft hand. 
A blue gaze sticks to the barrier, but not a single sound creates so much of an echo as the seconds draw into minutes. 
“Enough,” Nikto orders himself, turning back to the table. Lips shifting into a deep frown, there’s little in the way of understanding his own actions, but wasn’t that the norm? Distance lets him think—thinking means solutions. Solutions for you; solutions for him. 
But the feeling of your warm flesh is addictive, and there are moments in between the flashes of bloodshed that circulate when your brushing fingertips scrape down his back—a bear to a deer, but now he’s not too sure which is which. There’s a need to consume and eat down sustenance until his face is bloody and raw again, that half of a Glasgow smile ripped open and hanging, brutality ingrained into his psyche by way of pain and pleasure. 
You touching him was both.
Being near you was both.
Knowing about that picture he’d been sent was worse than the former.
Nikto had thought to tell you, he’d been getting better with that, but then he’d truly thought it over and in his own way wanted you to be safe from just one more violation. It was how he was—a silent, brutish, mutt-like hired gun. He was smart, though. 
And, damn him, he liked it when you smiled. 
“Focus on the task,” he grunts, his knuckles under his gloves surely white from how hard he handles the metal of his beretta, stress cleaning even if he doesn’t know it—doesn’t acknowledge it.
His tight-pupiled eyes keep dragging themselves back to the door.
The hotel stayed in a suffocating silence even as the stylists came and went. They didn’t say a word as the hours lengthened—nervous, if you had to guess. The story of ‘the guard who snapped a man’s wrist in one motion’ had made its rounds quickly; gossip always on loose tongues. 
You’d had a call with Fedorov. You think you had only gotten through it because you’d dug your nails so hard into your hand, that the initial scrape of cartilage had distracted you from the threat of being fired. The beady-eyed CEO had been less than pleased, and that was all you wanted to comment on; to even think about.
“I’ve heard troubling things, Seraph. Very troubling. What is this about your guard? I had thought we had come to an understanding about it. Tight leash, yes?” 
Your fingers skate the smooth front of the newest dress you’ve been given, and you play with the dangle of cold metal around your fingers. Rings. You don’t know if they’re gold or silver, nor the gems set into them, but you know they’re elegant—just as the fabric you wear is.
There’s no great slit here, not in this form-fitting sleeve of white. Two pieces of fabric move up to cover your breasts and meet at a collar around your neck of the same silk, the train extending from the back of that collar that trails the ground. Lace, of course. Your shoulders are bare, just as a good ninety percent of your back is; only stopping at the small of your back where the fabric is once more tight to you. Pearls and feathers create a beaded version of a corset, tantalizingly caressing your bare flesh. 
Your first thought is that you’ll freeze in this, but the second is how you’re going to walk in the heels—a silk strap looping your ankle before a big bow meets your eyes.
And the third is even worse.
“I think I’m losing my job tonight,” you whisper, blank-faced and knowledgeable of Nikto once more waiting where he had been before. A vicious repeat, a hopeless deja vu. 
A pawn in someone else's game.
Your fingers tap your abdomen in broken intervals. There had to be a way out of this, you try to tell yourself. 
Think. 
But your mind always drifts back to the damn ex-soldier that’s in the living room. His attitude today—his distance from you was like taking a bullet to the gut. You should be celebrating the detainment of Sergi, of possible breakthroughs even if the DNA didn’t match. 
The baker’s boy knew something, that was a fact. 
But nothing. No joy—no jokes or sarcasm. 
As you look at yourself now, you can only now recognize the expression of utter defeat you wear so plainly like a burial shroud. This was a cruel game. But there was something truly frightening about how close you and Nikto had become in such a relatively short period. Akin to soulmates finding one another, except for the simple fact you didn’t believe that was what the two of you were anymore. 
It had been a brief hope, truly. But one that you’d wanted more than anything, and you don’t know why. You don’t know why you let him touch you; let him be so near—it runs around your brain to speak itself in tongues just like the rest. Problem after problem. 
One at a time, you turn and exit the room, not looking at yourself longer than you have to. 
Nikto stands stiff by the door, already in his suit and balaclava—M13 and Beretta back where they belong respectively. The knife, you have no clue, though you know it’s somewhere. 
There are no compliments from the two of you. No speaking. So quickly something flipped on its head. Pale eyes dart, but when they meet yours, drip and drag away to the coat rack as you grab for your jacket. As your attention tries not to linger, you see him momentarily peel back his eyelids at the sight of your elegant dress but say nothing beyond a garbled sigh.
The air was so thick, that it was nearly enough to display how idiotic and childish the two of you were for acting like this.
You open your mouth and push out, “Ready to go?” 
In the hours you’d taken to get ready, the Russian had come up with a plan. 
He nods to you now and opens the door, allowing you out as he stays behind, making sure the lock clicks as you glance over your shoulder. Beginning to walk with him just a foot away, Nikto runs over his idea once more. 
With any hope, the stalker now had a personal vendetta against him for getting physically involved with you—he’d been looking up studies in his spare time while you were getting dressed; tapping his fingers along his phone stiffly. 
Only one sentence stood out to him, and it still stands out now as you go to wait in the elevator ahead of his looming form, eyes to the ground and hand massaging the back of your head. 
‘Stalkers like to get their target isolated; they’re selfish. They want the person all to themselves and dislike anyone who can possibly get in the way of that. Whether it’s a romantic partner, family, or friends, if they pose a roadblock for the stalker it can result in added stress or an urgency to act.’
Nikto moves to stand beside you, shoving a firm finger to the ground floor button and glaring at the wall, lips stiff from under fabric. 
If the man would come after him, then it would get you out of the spotlight at least for a short amount of time—perhaps it would even be enough to catch him. 
Maybe tonight, Nikto wonders silently, eyes narrowing as his feet settle. He will be there. We need to be ready. 
Your lungs breathe down a slow breath, taking in oxygen until your chest rises with the swell like a bag in the wind. This feeling is something you don’t know if you’ve experienced before beyond the sensation of having to relearn your limbs after your accident; an expectation and a draw, something just there but out of sight. 
Inebriating instability. 
Instead of your hands being shaky, now your mind was. 
Nikto is so close—so there beside you. You wanted to reach out to him, to hang off of his arm. To be something. It was pathetic of you, especially after he’d already assured you that you both would deal with the uncomfortableness of your prior affair. 
Was this his way of dealing with it? Avoidance? He didn’t seem the type, and you’d already known that he wasn’t. 
So it’s bigger, your face pulls in. But what? Why this…hesitation?
Your eyes spark. 
Hesitation, no. In the elevator, your arms tense as the small sound of the metal box meeting the ground floor echoes; Nikto also darts his head up, deep in his thoughts. You both share an unexpected side-eye, before the doors open and you hurry out on unstable feet as your face burns. This is fear. 
“What are you afraid of?” You whisper to yourself, hearing those boots behind you. 
At the Russian’s unease, you find your own doubling just as simply. 
Who could make a bear afraid of the forest?
As you enter the party, you go about business and try not to stay on the fact that you have just gone through one of the most uncomfortable car rides you’ve ever experienced.
Passing off your jacket and hearing the doors close behind you, your curated smile dims to an imitation of happiness, shoulders drooping. 
Nikto had only touched your arm to guide you along the sidewalk to this more humble residence—not at all like the previous party you’d been to. Every step and click off your heels had welcomed the same nervousness, however. 
You still didn’t know what you were going to do, but right now, it was more important to just calm yourself to a state of taking it moment by moment. If it all came down to it, would you need Nikto to guard you again? Order him to break more bones? Welcome the spray of black fluid and gray meat? 
“Nikto,” you address the Russian as he blinks over, fixing his hold on his M13. He doesn’t like this either—he doesn’t understand why you don’t listen to him and go to events like this. Nonetheless, he’ll follow and steer you clear of any situations you shouldn’t be in. It was his job to watch you, not force your hand.
Pale eyes level with you before they go to survey the foyer. “What is it?” 
“When all of this is over,” you utter, walking forward. “What will you do?”
The Russian pauses, heart stuttering. What would he do? That wasn’t the question he thought you were going to ask, but it’s a welcome distraction from the mess of his head. 
“Go back to KorTac,” he breathes, elbow brushing yours with his voice like rocks. “The contract will be over. I will not be needed anymore, да?”
You tilt your head, licking at the corner of your lips to push back the bead of fear that had settled into your stomach. “That makes sense,” your mind pulls a flat-falling tease. “But who will tell me what color of the paintings on the wall?”
Nikto’s hidden face is a stiff reflection of your own, scars tight. It’s a strange thing, he understands, the pressure on his chest that grows stronger. He’s so used to keeping secrets…why was this so hard for him?
“The blonde woman will be at your side, no doubt,” he grumbles, looking away from the image of your beauty and the silk of your dress. “She will tell you. I am not the only one able to understand the need for it.” Those feathers and pearls make a strung corset of utter angelic purity. 
Blood on my hands. 
He’d already tainted you enough, hadn’t he? When did sex suddenly become important to him? Weighted with…with care. There were so many times he could carelessly get his fill and leave with nothing mattering to him—just another way to get off and forget the formalities of waking up next to someone and making breakfast. 
But wasn’t that exactly what Nikto had willingly done with you? Willingly sat near you for breakfast, willingly allowed you to coax him into bed to be a pillow, willingly touched you? Like a loyal beast, he had. He had. 
You were a horrible creature. A beautiful, lovely, creature. Disgusting. Awe-inducing. As holy and as blasphemous as all of the monsters that sit on his shoulders; the ones he cannot name.
Nikto’s fingers pull into soft fists, and his gloves stretch. He grunts as your face falls a bit at his reply, your head nodding as he clenches his jaw until his molars scream. 
You were messing with his head again. It wasn’t like he wanted you to not understand his motives—he needed to focus. 
“I didn’t think Iakov was like that,” you change the subject as you both awkwardly move into the party, voices moving along the airwaves as you enter the large living room. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”
“Men like that care about money and power,” Nikto answers, keeping your body nearest to the wall as he sticks to your right. “He will never forgive you for letting him lose it.” Pale eyes jump from one set of curious gazes to another. “It is not in his nature. Waste of skill.”
“Isn’t money what everyone wants?” You mutter, staying close to him and nodding politely at those who look your way with digging gazes. “That's why I’m here.”
“You are not the same,” is the swift answer, shifting vision stilling on a man with blond hair that moves through the crowd, camera sitting around his neck as dark eyes meet Nikto’s own. The guard blinks, and the individual is lost to the crowd.
Looking at you, the Russian’s eyes narrow. “You are not selfish, did we not explain ourselves enough earlier?” 
“You said I was good,” you explain slowly. Not good enough to keep?
“I did,” Nikto grunts. “I say what I mean. We do not lie.”
“Too prideful for that,” your mouth pulls into a smile. “Aren’t you, Big Guy?”
His eyes swirl, low amusements littering the pale orbs like a sly cat. “Да, вот именно.” 
You huff, not understanding the words, but knowing they’re agreeing with you. It’s as if a glass wall is dissecting the space between your bodies. You can see Nikto—hear him and feel his presence, but you can’t touch him; can’t get the smudges off without a rag. A blurry mess of black and white, not a slash of color to be understood. 
This separation was thin but still there.
“What aren’t you telling me?” You have to finally push as you stop near the back of the room, as far away from anyone as possible, but it isn’t at all private. Eyes turn and fingers shift over wine glasses. It was quieter here, too. Not so blatant in its display of choking wealth, but still rich if decor was anything to go off of. 
Nikto’s amusement vanishes instantly, and he’s back to a careful blankness.
Stopping as well, he only waits a second before uttering, “I do not tell you many things, Seraph.” 
“You know that’s not what I mean,” you bounce off of him, hands moving up to motion softly as your face twists. Shame hits you in the chest, and you take a shaking breath. “...I knew it would end up being like this if you found out about all of it. All your job stated was a simple protection contract, not some—”
You stop yourself. 
Pale eyes don’t blink once as they keep themselves tight to you. Nikto lets his mind calm before he speaks. “Why are we here?” 
Your brows shift, and you open and close your mouth. “I don’t know. I’m hoping my boss might give me some credit for just showing up and not—”
“Then we are going now,” he growls, attention flying from one prying person to the next. There are too many eyes here—too many ears. Nikto knows who might be lurking. 
“Why,” you lightly push back, chuckling sarcastically. “I’m not in any danger, Nikto. At every turn, there aren’t any stop signs at the side of the road—at least here I have a grab at good wine and company that doesn’t hide the truth from me.”
Pale eyes flare. People start to turn your way. There’s a pause as if there’s something the Russian wants to state, but it fails on lips that you barely see rise from under his balaclava.
“I told you I do not lie, woman,” Nikto grunts, stature ridgid from where it spreads like a steady corruption; a shadow lengthening. 
You had always avoided confrontation—always. You hated it, and, currently, you hated this as well. But the stress was getting to you, the threat of losing everything on top of your own life. Nikto had become a lifeline, and now he was trying to pull back. 
Why?
Your face turns, and you stalk away. “Then do me a favor and stop telling me half-truths.”
If steam were able to come out of your ears, you would have filled the room with that heavy layer of your anger. Nikto was still stapled to you—unable to leave after what he now understood might come to fruition at these events if he did. 
So, you both stood. 
Silent.
Stoic.
Unsatisfied.
A dog without a bone left longingly glancing as if its eyes could speak all the words that needed to be explained on a human tongue. 
Your hands push at the base of your skull, massaging the forming headache that had grown from when Iakov had let himself into your hotel. You can’t wait until these parties are over—until you can get another call from the investigators saying that your stalker has been apprehended with Sergi’s statements. There needed to be a happy ending to this; needed. 
This can’t be all your life is meant to be. 
You didn’t come here thinking that you would be sleeping with someone. Currently, as you’re sipping down the second glass of wine brought to you, you can see the head of the man you’re supposed to be attending to. 
Borya Belov, or something close to that. Your coordinator had sent a text, but you’d barely looked at it and the picture attached. Large and middle-aged, he was up and coming in the city, generating impressive amounts of money and influence through his iron and steel plants. He knew your CEO, too—old family friends. 
Your eyes tear themselves away before he can look in your direction, frowning heavily. A rock and a hard place. 
You were foolish if you thought that by you being here it would allow you to keep your job without handing yourself over. It seems you’ve been foolish a lot lately. Your gaze sneaks to look at Nikto and only finds a rigid pole in his place. No under-the-breath jokes or knowing glances. No indecipherable emotions. It was just blank.
Shaking your head lightly, you bring the wine glass to your lips and take a large sip, letting the swell of it fill your mouth before it slips into your throat; tasting the bitter edge. With all of the blatant mess of emotions, it wasn’t any wonder why anyone hadn’t come over to talk to you. 
“All of these things are the same,” you speak to yourself quietly, trying not to sweat as Nikto’s body shifts closer when Iakov walks past the two of you stiffly. The pale-haired man sends you a dark look and you bite your tongue, eyelids narrowing with unease. 
Get dressed, speak gossip, get used, repeat. 
Already the trap had settled, routine following like a pet. 
Your fingers run over the glass in your hand, nails dragging as Nikto’s eyes stare from the side, thighs tightening before he rips his attention back to the party. He grunts and tilts his head, shoulders rolling. 
Focus.
It’s in the atmosphere of a taut rope that you hear the thin conversation from not that far away. 
“Look at him.”
Your ears quirk, but you don’t think of it much as you drink down the last dredges of your wine, licking at the corner of your mouth—careful of the lipstick. It was a group of women all turned into one another, muttering quickly and giggling even more so. 
“Which one?”
“The big bastard, obviously. How much do you think he eats, hm? I’m betting an entire kitchens worth a day.”
Pausing, your spine slowly begins to straighten up, face stuck staring into the wall far across the room. 
“I bet he’s hideous under all of that. Look at the mask—see?”
The round of muffled laughter behind silken gloves makes your heart jerk inside of your ribs as one of the photographers passes by Nikto and you, fiddling with his camera in his hands.
Beside you, the Russian either hears what’s going on and ignores it, or can’t and is simply not moving because he found someone in the crowd to pay attention to. 
Looking over now, you’d place your bet on the first. 
Nikto’s eyes are void, tiny pupils stuck in on themselves as he stares at nothing—his M13 is strangled under the grip of black gloves, and that little sliver of skin you see from his wrist has visible tension in it. He cracks his neck silently, sets his feet, and pretends.
Watching as he’s so apt to do to you, your anger-ridden face steadily freezes the longer your ears strain themselves to hear above the clink of glasses and useless chatter. Work and pleasure are zapped from your mind.
“You think so?”
“I am willing to bet on it—a thing like that is hiding its face because it has to. No soulmate, either. Go up and speak to him; I want to see.”
“But…what if he does have a soulmate? That woman beside him, isn’t that the one from Yekaterinburg? They could be—”
Nikto’s fingers twitch, eyes flashing. 
“If I had a soulmate that had to hide his face from me, I would think he was a beast. No one would want to be within five feet of that.”
Few things made you angry. 
Liars, cruelty, and the rest of the normal points that were on the list everyone keeps. But there was something particularly special about how you hated someone talking about Nikto like that. Forget him hiding something from you, forget his distance and his inability to speak about his emotions—you still cared about him deeply. The words he’d said to you, how he carries himself; his blunt honesty. 
Your heels are hitting the ground before you can remember you’re here to not make a scene.
“Excuse me,” you say, slipping into an easy smile as you nearly trip over your own feet as you settle near the group. All of their eyes widen, some turning around to lock gazes with the sudden arrival. “Could you repeat yourself for me?” You chuckle without humor. “I swear I had thought I heard you talking about my guard over here.”
Your chin moves to allow your eyes to settle over your shoulder, looking back at Nikto who had walked two steps after you initially before seeing where it was you were stomping to. His wide eyelids are snapped back like book covers, darting from you to the women as if utterly confused.
“That one,” you point casually before turning back. “The, uh,” your body leans a bit closer, hand coming up to your grinning mouth, “beast.” 
The gray shade on some of their faces darkened, a few stuttering through a Russian and English jumble of words. 
You blink at them as a familiar shadow begins to sit over you, heavy boots connecting to the floor. Your face burns, but there’s truth in your words—in your conviction. 
“Seraph,” Nikto says quietly in warning. 
“One moment,” is the response he gets. Pale eyes are stuck to the back of your head. He doesn’t know what to do, but in his throat, there’s an airy feeling stuck there that he can’t describe. It swells in his chest first, spreading through his veins.
Nikto was always used to being the one to stand in front of you. 
His heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop—that it doesn’t matter. The bigger question he should be asking is if he wants you to. The man wasn’t unused to comments. He can take it. But that fire behind your eyes rendered him speechless.
“His name is Nikto,” you say firmly. “Not that I expect you to remember it,” you tilt your head, looking them up and down. “In fact, I think it would be better if you didn’t.”
Huffing, you’re acutely aware of everyone watching, and your previous anxiety over your work is null. Disgust breeds like death flies. 
None of this was worth it. 
“Nikto,” you utter purposefully, setting your glass down on a side table and stepping behind. One of the Russian’s hands hovers over your back, the weapon resting on his chest clicking as it shifts. “We’re leaving. I don’t know why we came in the first place. There are more important things to worry about.”
“...Understood,” he levels, voice deep. Nikto blinks a few times, face under his mask layered with heat. There was no focusing when it came to you—his iron will was being smoothed down like a rock in water. 
You push past Borya Belov without a glance, looking to the side to see a shock-stricken Iakov burning you with his orbs. There was nothing for you here. 
Heels clicking over the floor, your dress ripples out behind you, unable to think beyond the deep insult you had taken on Nikto’s behalf. What gave those women the right to say anything? Especially about his appearance. 
When physical looks meant so much to you, you dreaded that being placed on someone else as well. Even if it was apparently obvious that Nikto suffered just as you did.
“You did not have to do that, Птичка.” A hand grasps your upper arm and guides you away from the table you were about to run into as you both enter the hallway stiffly. “It does not affect us. Useless opinions—they do not reflect my character.” Jumping only slightly from being ripped from your thoughts, your head darts over. 
You frown into a hidden face, Nikto stuck on the site of your pulled expression. 
Cute, he silently thinks in that jumbled mess of a brain before his memories flash to the sight of that picture on his phone. The hand leaves you in an instant, moving back to his M13.
“I know I didn’t,” you breathe sharply, shaking your head. Closing your eyes, your shoes halt as you stop.
Nikto follows suit, pausing before turning back with a furrow of his brows.
It’s a special thing, the way your desperation bleeds into your sentence. “Will you tell me what’s going on with you, or not?”
He stares, body pausing under your attention. 
“Nikto,” you breathe, far enough away from the main living room to indulge in a bit of horrific truth. “I like being with you,” your words slip. “I mean with you, with you. Y’know? I like you near me—watching over me. I don’t want this to become something that jeopardizes what we’ve built up. I’m not asking for a relationship, or even for you to tell me that you care about me, I just…” you fail to finish, eyes breaking off to glare at the floor; fighting against the sting. “You’re making my head spin,” your words dip lower, and Nikto flinches. “Just…tell me what’s wrong. You’re not acting right, and you’re worrying me.”
You don’t think you’ve been looked at this intently before now. Not by boyfriends, not by flings, or crushes. It’s a bare thing, Nikto’s eyes. A landscape of pale gray tundras and white snow—you don’t know what he’s thinking as he stands there like some Greek statue; Aries personified and dropped right in front of you.
You want that blood of his, that malice and incurable damage. Not to fix it—not to change what’s already scored into flesh—but just to see those eyes soften as they had a handful of times before.  
A war god and a white bird. 
Nikto’s throat bobs in a slow swallow as you finish, pulse hammering as his gloves suddenly constrict his hands far too much. He doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to explain why his distance is more for his benefit than yours. 
You push once more.
“What are you so afraid of?” 
“You.” He grunts stoic-like, and all of it falls into a swift silence thereafter. Your breath is taken on one great rapturous theft. Nikto stares as your jaw slackens, mind going blank. 
He darts his eyes away and tilts his head. 
“...Come. We do not want to be here any longer.” The Russian’s body is next to yours and in a fast movement, you find yourself being gently prodded along to the front door, jacket grabbed from the side of it and settled over your shoulders. 
Grasping at the corners, this moment is verging on irreparable—you’ve never found yourself so thrown off course besides when the inevitable advances from the stalker had come to you. 
Your hands shake in unsteady intervals as you blankly stare ahead. 
Me? 
The car is cold when you get into it, pulling your jacket closer as you slip across the seat—Nikto grabbing the long trail of your dress and making sure it stays inside. The man sits next to you, grabbing and slamming the door with a fist thumping the window twice. 
Under you both, the engine starts up and the tires push against the concrete. 
Your eyes ogle Nikto, and not once do they leave them even as the Russian pointedly ignores you by keeping his head locked forward. His body moves to the turning of the car, and your phone in your jacket pocket is going wild with call after call as his feet shift to steady himself unconsciously. It’s all a blur of needless sound and emotion. 
“Me?” Your voice finally finds itself; breathless. 
Nikto doesn’t react, spine so straight, the seats of the vehicle don’t touch anything. His fingers over his gun twitch before he grasps the cold metal harder to stop them. 
The Russian tries to halt the way his eyes want to gravitate to meet yours, trying to think over every face from the party and who had made any attempts to get near to you; just in case something pops up tonight. Yet, the hitting pain in his ribs is akin to something ripping them open with a fork, mutilating an entrance to his heart just to take and grasp it in soft hands.
He was never taught gentle love. Nikto was taught to grab and rip at it, to claw into it with fangs until there was blood on his face, seeping down his throat to settle in his stomach—hoping it might find a way to spread to his soul. 
Iakov had a key, the man catalogs, trying to fight his quivering fingers as you just can’t seem to look away from him with those eyes of yours. Does he have motive? Perhaps. We need to add him to the list regardless. I did not see any repeating faces from last night here unless they were in another room or waiting outside. 
Pale attention briefly pauses to the driver of the car, strong jaw clenching.
Drivers? Stylists? Who else could be here and not be noticed even by me? 
Eyes flash to the previous party again, back to the crunch of bone under his grip. Hands trailing flesh, ripped lace, and silk that pools at his dress shoes. The feral rubbing of a gun between two panting bodies. It should have been enough stress relief for the both of you—Nikto wasn’t lying when he equated the affair to something he could look past. He wasn’t new to flings; he considered himself a master of them in his youth. It wouldn’t have made him think any differently about the job, except for that one pin-pointed problem:
He was right behind us. 
Nikto’s mouth goes dry, anger brewing. He blinks to stare out the window, and your gaze is still present as if a knife to his throat.
It doesn’t leave once.
The hotel room is seeped in an eerie level of silence. 
You’d long since called Iakov—said a firm and swift answer of, “I’m done with the parties,” and hung up before the yelling could start again. 
You’re not even sure if you still have your job at AMA, but that’s for a later date, it seems. Not having an income was worse than the emotional turmoil that had settled right on your chest.
Leaning in the window seat of the bedroom, you keep your legs tucked in close to you with the curtain stuck at your back, head resting against the glass. White lights twinkle, but the places that aren’t illuminated are too dark to focus on—an amalgamation of shadows like a veil. The night was always difficult for you and your sight, but right now you think it’s best to just sit here and stare, even if it’s at nothing. 
Your eyes drag slowly along the thin view of the street below, feeling the cold seep in through the glass, softly easing the headache that pulses at your temple. 
“He’s…afraid of me?” The door to the room is slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the living room making its way in. Your face twists. “What does that mean?” 
You pose no threat to him without something like a gun, so it couldn’t be that. And what had changed since this morning? He’d let you lay next to him—see a part of his face. You’d traced his tattoo with willing fingers; Nikto hadn’t pushed you away then. 
What had happened? 
There’s a small squeak of the metal hinges of the bedroom door, and your head rises quickly. 
Nikto stands there, in only a white button-down shirt and his dress pants; normal mask re-stiuated. Blinking gently, a thick pause emanates before you glance down at his hands and see a soft display of an olive branch. 
The gruff hired gun holds a tiny, white, tea-cup. 
“Magnolia,” he huffs, not moving an inch as he motions with his hand, the ceramic material clinking. 
You stare, oversized shirt all to cover you besides your undergarments. You’d long since lost the sense of embarrassment of bare skin—particularly yours. 
Pale eyes slip to caress the image of your flesh bathed in the sliver of warm light, your curious eyes stuck on him as his feet re-situated themselves. 
“You remembered?” You ask, trying to sound casual beyond the surprise. 
Nikto blinks, voice muffled. “I do not forget when it comes to you,” he hums, accent thick. “Drink.”
Softly standing, your bare feet hit the coldness of the floor, yet you feel it little. Walking over to stand in front of him, your hand reaches only to bounce off the small tea plate instead, fingers flinching back lightly from the miscalculation. Your face heats, and you’re about to utter a quick apology before Nikto’s hand captures yours. 
Gasping under your breath, the warmth that seeps through his glove goes bone-deep as he manually wraps your digits around the handle. Nikto grunts in satisfaction and lets you take it to you, keeping the plate which he lowers his hand with.
After a moment, you clear your throat and say while staring down at the liquid, “Where did you get this?”
“Bag.” Your brows tighten.
He sighs gently. “We packed it. You forgot, yes?” 
“Oh,” you nod. “Yeah, I didn’t even realize I had left it behind. Thank you, Nikto.”
The Russian nods once, and then pivots to walk back to the living room, leaving you standing there as the sound of rummaging items in the kitchen echoes. Holding the mug, the tea rippling under your unsteady grasp, your head shakes itself in slow exasperation. The man wouldn’t talk about this unless you pushed him…but would that break the unsteady relationship you’d been trying to build?
“All of this is so confusing,” your lips mutter before your body follows after Nikto, slipping out into the light of the room as you blink rapidly in response. 
Locking sights on Nikto as he cleans up the counter, your form is wracked with an impending sense of nervousness. Damn him and his mask—you didn’t have something you could hide your emotions behind. 
It was times like these when you wished your mother was warm enough to ask advice from, that your father wasn’t back in the USA with limited involvement due to the peaceful contact order. You were alone here, except for Aly. But this was something that only a parent could help you with, and you were fresh out of those. You doubted that your mom knew everything going on—you weren’t about to tell her you’d allowed a ruthless killer to get you off in a storage room after you’d seen him snap a man's wrist back. 
Nor that you enjoyed it. 
It falls on me, your breath is thin as you breathe it down, steadily moving to set the teacup to one of the many tables holding useless decorations. You scowl at the boring interior design unconsciously before your focus locks in. 
What you had to do was bring up your points clearly and smoothly—
“Why are you standing there doing nothing,” your eyes widen as Nikto fluidly turns to look over his shoulder directly at you. His gaze narrows behind Kevlar and canvas. “If you want to say something, speak.”
“I want you to tell me what’s gotten you acting like a constipated bear,” you blurt out. 
It’s almost funny the way his eyes flinch. 
Nitko grinds out, “We do not understand.”
“You do,” you huff, crossing your arms as your voice bounces off the walls. “I don’t have infinite patience, believe it or not.” Inside of your sockets, you feel your gaze soften; voice lowering to the level you’d raised it. “I think I’ve been honest with you, Nikto. I’m not trying to push you into a corner. You know that. I need an explanation,” you take a breath, “and you’re going to give it to me.” 
Pale eyes move to the side, and you visibly see the large Russian’s body fighting itself both internally and externally. You had noticed a few things from the time you’d come under his protection, some obvious—Nikto valued cooking and a clean place to rest; he liked reading, and a silence built on mutual respect. Nikto’s fingers twitched when he was either nervous or trying to focus. He tilted his head when he needed to think. 
You liked to think that you knew him quite well, despite it all. You especially knew his fraying patience. 
Nikto’s shoulders roll, bones cracking from under the button-up. His masked face is the only thing he feels gives him protection. A cover. 
“It is not something,” the man begins slowly, trying to convince you, “that you need to concern yourself with.” 
Your lips thin out, feet taking you forward as you shiver from the cold of the hotel. 
“Nikto,” you utter again, softly knocking your side into the counter before you can stand in front of him yourself. He looks down at you, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. 
You know the horrors that live under that fabric. The great scars—the burns that had slipped into your dreams as you’d laid on his thigh like a child afraid of the dark. You can remember the dips of them under your fingertips; the trauma that bleeds still. 
You’d called him beautiful, and of course you had, but the very base of it still left you cold with a betraying sense of sickness. Same with the lower half of his face, which you’d only chosen to see a glance of. It was a deep rolling of your stomach. You cared more for the marks he had put on, willingly, himself; the tattoos. Dark ink.
But that didn’t stop you from reaching out to him—responding to that addictive pull that had always seemed to be there from the moment you’d first met him in the Consulate Building. 
Your fingers hover over Nikto’s pec, right above his heart as you swallow saliva and stare with parted lips. Piercing eyes give way to nothing, but there’s a knowledge in the heart that beats above your waiting touch. 
You tilt your head and wait silently.
Nikto’s pulse moves his flesh, and he can feel every drop of blood under his skin. 
“It does not need to be explained to you,” he tries again, his firm words now only comparable to the sensation of rocks thrown along the sand. Salt-stained throat raw as your fingers brush his shirt. “Seraph,” Nikto attempts a tone of authority.
“Call me by the other one,” you mutter, and it’s pathetic the way he responds to your request in that hotel kitchen. Like a soldier following an order. A whining little dog beholden to a white-lace collar.
“Птичка.”
Your smile makes him want to rip himself away from you and take a cold shower, maybe stare at his scars; even break his mind again before it slips away to thoughts of your curling lips and your shining eyes. 
“That’s it,” you whisper, and your hand flattens over his heart as his gaze breaks away to the simple contact, blinking in confusion as his flesh pulls tight. “That’s the one.” 
But he was more surprised when he didn’t flinch rather than when he shivered. 
It’s only after a small moment of nothing that he lets himself bathe in the warmth of your skin and the scent of your perfume as it slips under his mask. A mask that has seen far too much death for you to bear. Then he’d want you to bear.
Your words make his bones ache.
“Tell me,” you urge, as perfect as a bird’s dew-coated feathers.
Nikto’s vision is stuck only to you, and his greatest fear is that this is all it will ever be bound to—not by honor, the man had no such thing, but by utter devotion. There was no lying about it now as his lips parted, those cut and torn-up things like a ragged jigsaw puzzle of pain. He cares not about soulmates or brain trauma. Blood or bile.
He cares about the sound a silent grave will make when his bones are the ones that chain themselves to rest beside yours. 
Mutt.
Now that, maybe, would seem an honor-coated title to carve into his corpse, but only if it was in reference to his affection for you.
“Picture,” Nikto grinds out, fighting to step closer to the addictive sensation of your touch. The warmth. The pound of blood. You listen silently, and not once do those eyes separate.
“Sent to my phone.” He pauses, and suddenly his voice is very low—you can feel it in your chest as it rumbles the walls, the floors; the bedroom door. It’s difficult to say how you feel when he explains it to you, there’s something relieving in knowing, though. Yet, it still makes your throat close in on itself. “Of us.”
“From the stalker?” You ask, already knowing the answer but hoping it might have just been a fluke. 
Pale eyes don’t blink.
“Да. From him.”
You take a large breath, nodding as your fingers quiver over Nikto’s dress shirt, creasing the fabric slightly. He takes a quick glance down at them again, and his own twitch at his sides.
“...Don’t tell me the details?”
“Never,” the Russian sighs, clenching his jaw. “Я бы этого не сделал. We did not want to explain, regardless.” 
You shrug as well as you’re able, hand beginning to slowly slide off of him. “Still,” your lips pull into a steady smirk, though it lacks enough amusement to make it convincing. “I’m glad you told me—I was getting worried that it might have been by fault you were acting strange.” 
“My emotions are,” Nikto struggles for the correct word in English, grunting as his mouth closes under his mask. He glares at the wall behind you as if a toddler without a snack.
You tilt your skull, tiny chuckles wafting out of your mouth. 
“Stuck, Big Guy?”
“Enough,” he grumbles, feet re-situating themselves from under him. 
Your hand is only a millimeter away from his flesh before his grip finds your wrist and brings it back, digits caressing to press into your pulse. You blink quickly, air getting stalled in your nose. 
Nikto’s eyes slowly dip to stare at your hand, and you notice the shades even more clearly now that you’re so close to him—though they’d always just be pale gray to you, there were moments when you wondered the true color. A silly dream, seeing as you wouldn’t know how that color would look anyway, but, still. 
The Russian’s large fingers turn your wrist. 
“Your heart is racing,” he mutters. If having your bodyguard check your pulse was something that you found attractive, now was only the realization of it. 
Your face suddenly feels like you’re walking on the sun, and a small noise in the back of your throat makes Nikto’s attention leave the fast thump of your blood.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Your breathless question eases out past your lips like a soft flutter of wings. 
“Hm,” Nikto hums, and you can also see his throat bobbing. His hold squeezes, his face looming just the tiniest bit closer to yours. 
The Russian takes a chest-rising inhale and speaks.
“I am not good,” he mutters, eyes moving the dips and drags of your face—it feels like his gaze is touching you when he stares like that; studying your visage as if he’d be tested on it. “We are not…” He blinks, and his pupils are small voids of inky corruption. “Perfect.” 
You wonder how often he’d found you in his mind, and feel both foolish and hopelessly lost in his shadow.
“I never said you were,” you murmur back, seeing the wickedness in his heart. Painted on his skin. “I think it’s lovely.” 
Here is where this should end—you’d both had your fun previously. You’d been sipping your sugar water like a little hummingbird; reveling in the intimacy of that storage room. You should be thinking about the stalker, about your job, about what will happen tomorrow when you open your eyelids to light through the curtains. 
Not about how Nikto’s fingers would feel digging into your hips. Not the panting of fast breaths. Not how the color of his eyes would be, perhaps, the most beautiful shade you could ever hope to imagine in your damaged brain. 
“Nikto,” you breathe, body light. He’s as still as a statue above you, not saying a thing. “What color are your eyes?”
“Blue.”
And then you’re being picked up as if a doll by the back of your thighs and hefted up with a throaty huff akin to a boar. Your forehead connects with his, and your arms wrap his neck to hang off with crossed wrists. 
“Blue?” Your legs tighten around his waist, squeezing as the man’s nose pushes into yours. Breath bounces off the mask, your eyes flutter at the firm press of fabric prodding at your underwear. You fight a small whine, bodies tight to one another. “Your hair?”
“Brown,” is the puff from under the mask, and tiny pupils dilate the longer you hold eye contact.
Your hips roll, and Nikto’s strained grunt reverberates against your chest. “Tell me it in Russian.”
“Карие.” He growls, fingertips digging into your flesh like the teeth of a bear trap. Nikto thumps past the place where you’d set your tea, completely forgotten by everyone just like the previous tension was. 
When the two of you were together, things managed to get out of hand quickly—at least, emotionally-wise. You both were utterly hopeless, just as the room was now far from the cold monochrome wash of white. It was bathed in spraying sparks lit behind your eyes when one of Nikto’s hands staples itself to the base of your back, just above the curve of your tailbone, and angles your core further into the growing prod of his erection. 
You gasp as your pelvis jerks, face twisting up with your pulse impossibly increasing. 
“You are curious,” Nikto pants, pushing past the bedroom door with a shoulder as the handle smashes into the wall. Not that you care. “You push me, Woman. Leave my head loose and my body aching.” You feel the way your core burns, aches, nearly, as your underwear gets wet with the anticipation of flesh. 
Your lips sear Nikto’s soul when they push to the canvas of his mask—just as they had in the storage room though now it’s harder to feel. 
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Big Guy,” you whisper, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, eyes half-lidded. 
That pull between the two of you only seems to increase as you’re dropped back to the bed, head pointedly planned to slap a pillow as you involuntarily gasp. Your shirt is ruffled up to your breasts, and the sheets are around you like a cocoon of expensive finery—eyes darting to Nikto, you find his gaze easily standing beside the bed. 
He stares at you like you’re the greatest meal ever placed in front of him. Forget the items he cooks, forget the things he’d eaten, even forget the way it satisfies him; nothing could compare to even the thought of what he now has. 
You’re staring at a man with blood on his hands and wishing he would spread you open already. 
Nikto’s chest bounces with a pleased noise, gaze shifting to study your bare legs and arms—the stain that coats your underwear, spreading by the second as your thighs tighten in on themselves to trap the chill. Your face is on fire, and your lungs heave.
His ravaged hand grasps at your knee, coaxing them back open as he says a simple order with a raw voice, “Keep them open.” 
You’re not embarrassed with how you listen, letting the limbs be forced back to display your instinctual need to the large Russian. Your thin whine is choked back as his fingers run up and down your clothed core, teasing. 
Nikto chuckles, and you shiver. 
“We do like it,” he breathes out in response to your previous comment. Pale eyes dart to find and lock with yours—not leaving as his index and middle finger find your clit, pressing firmly and lightly rocking up and down. Your hips jerk as you bite on a shocked moan, relishing in the sudden ricochets of electricity that run your bones. 
Head tilting back, you bite your lip and pant out, “Nikto, yes.”
His fingers leave just as quickly as the words do you, and your desperate eyes move with near pain until your hand darts to grapple onto Nikto’s wrist like a cat. He lets you try and guide him back firmly, to no avail, before you grit your teeth and glare at him, opening your mouth.
Yet, the Russian’s hidden face finds your ear with no trouble and leaves your upcoming words frozen.
“But we like it better when you are too choked on pleasure to think at all.” 
Nikto moves back, taking his other hand and making yours release him before he steps away. He blinks, watching your aroused state as you stutter over your sentence; smirking to himself and tilting his head as if you’re an exhibit in a museum. The man grunts, now free grip able to slide to his belt slowly and fiddle with the buckle.
“Y-you’re horrible,” you grumble, eyes unable to stay on the image for long before you have to slash it away so you can breathe. The clinking of metal
“We did warn you,” Nikto pauses, his voice so laced with smugness that it seemed an insult. “Птичка.” 
Your lower body shifts, trying to satiate the urge for stimulation. 
Breathing heavily, you raise your forearm and put it over your eyes, expression tight as you try and focus. Your ears twitch to Nikto’s steady undressing, hearing the pull of dress pants and the unclipping of a thigh holster. Each sound sends a pulse directly to your weeping slit, and it becomes so strong that Nikto can only watch as your other hand slips under the elastic of your panties. 
He stops himself instantly, his eyes pulling back as he pauses. Slipped out of everything besides his shirt, boxers, and obviously his mask, Nikto’s shoulders tense wildly at the sight in front of him.
Your body is tight as you begin to breathe heavier, lips slightly open as your fingers idly roll your bundle of nerves a bit harder. Hips jerking every so often, your fingers stretch the fabric of your garment as your toes curl. 
“Fuck,” you breathe, jaw clenching and eyes closed from under your forearm. 
Nikto is firmly planted, the firmness in his boxers now seemingly to a point of no return—his fingers twitched to dig into your skin, his eyes stuck to how you were playing with yourself. Clothed in only a large shirt that was bunching up further to allow a glimpse of your breasts and hearing those tiny little noises escape your mouth…
“Harder,” Nikto grunts, his own hand slipping into his boxers as he hisses in pleasure at the state of himself. Firm in his grip as he wraps his fingers around the hot pulse of his cock, groaning when his thumb slips along his tip to collect the beads of pre-cum.
Your breath hitches and through your soft pants, you sigh as your arm slides, “I think I know how to—”
Your fingers twitch harshly as your eyes flutter open to lock onto the scene in front of you, causing you to moan before it strangles off with a quick noise in your throat. Eyes wide, you watch Nikto begin jerking himself off one slow stroke at a time, his thighs tense as his other hand moves to unbutton his shirt one at a time.
There was something so inherently intimate about seeing the other in the throws of self-pleasure, half-clothed and desperate for something that can’t be named. The chain of events was building, and some concerns needed to be addressed, but it isn’t fair to have to put your life on hold for them—necessary, yes, eventually. But Nikto’s eyes were so hellishly pale, and your hands were shaking, and the scent of sex was permeating inside of your nose. It’s different than the storage room, it’s hinged on the knowledge that this bear of a man is afraid of you, which in and of itself is unfathomable, and that he was in such a sour mood simply because he had been trying, once more, to spare you from the unseen threat. 
He had done it with the birds in the box, he’d done it when you’d gotten the first pictures sent to you, and he did it every time he let you hang off of his arm. 
You push your digits across your clit harder and whine out as Nikto’s open dress shirt slips to his waist, the cuffs rolled up as bare skin meets the darkness of the room. That sliver of light from the door was all that was needed, the barrier having slowly crawled its way back from where the Russian had shoved it, to witness the bulge and dip of scar tissue—the shades of hyperpigmentation. 
And you wanted to drag your nails along all of them.
“Смотреть на себя,” Nikto’s chest heaves, the bulk of his frame just the same as when you’d touched along his back. His hand inside of his boxers stutters, and his eyes flinch closed for a moment, masked face tilted. “Хорошим слушателем. Good for us, hm?”
“Touch me,” you ask, unconsciously mirroring Nikto’s pace as the sensitivity of your core heightens, leaking out to stain your underwear to the point it’s no use to keep them after this. Your spine is tight—begging to be arched just as your cunt begs to be filled. It tightens over nothing, and you whimper with a push of thin breath. “Please, Nikto, you filled me so well last time.”
His eyes glint, that Russian pride bleeding to fill the cup in his abdomen. Nikto smirks, but you can’t see it above the large hand that goes to grip your face, angling it to him as his other hand continues with the wet slapping of his cock. You want to see it—you want to watch it. Damn him he’s making this into a game of cat and mouse.
“What is that? You like when we fill your tight cunt, Птичка?”
Your face burns, and your eyes study his own as your pace below increases—rotting wood taking root beside sweat and pheromones. 
Nikto’s grip squeezes and you hear the rutting of flooded skin more clearly as he looms over your body, both fucking yourselves for no other reason than liking the sight and the sounds of the other.
“Answer.”
“Yes,” you stutter, unable to stop the thin noises from your mouth that follow—the cord in your abdomen pulling until taunt. “God, yes.”
“Not God,” the Russian chuckles before he groans, forehead connecting with yours as it rocks to the rabid abuse of his own hand, trying to imagine the sensation of your walls against them instead of his calloused fist. Your flesh would be softer than his ever could be, and the knowledge of that is enough to reduce him to a mindless beast. His breath hitches tightly, his hand moving rapidly, unconcerned about how fast his release is finding him just by hearing your little pleas. “No, Seraph, there is no God in this room.”
When he drinks down the sounds you give him he feels your body tense one final time, your lips flattening as your eyes flutter—only seconds away from your orgasm, perhaps. 
Nikto’s hands leave your face, and so does his forehead. You barely notice, truth be told until it’s not a second later that fingers are gripping the hand down your panties and dragging it out just as your hips begin rising off the bed. 
“No!” Your desperate keen echoes off the walls, eyes snapping open to rip your head down to the scene. Nikto was lacking his shirt, boxers are gone, and as he staples your arm beside your head, his body drags itself atop yours until his weight is as firm as stone. “Nikto, why did you—?”
“Hush,” he utters, knocking your leg up over his hip in a swift thrust that leaves the leaking tip of his dick prodding against your sopping cunt. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, painting only to have your breasts shove into a sweaty chest.
“So close,” you beg, the feeling of your release draining away, leaving you irritated and unsatisfied. 
Your hips roll in a play to find friction, and the feeling of Nikto’s happy trail seems promising as you grind up into it, but there’s only so much you can do when the man’s other hand snags your waist and pushes you down.
You glare heatedly up into blown and smug eyes. 
You know better than to ask him to remove the mask, and now that you look at it, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was something alluring in those eyes, set into the dark void around them, deadly and numb, yet showing more emotions than anyone else would be able to tell besides you. 
“Let us help,” Nikto pushes himself up, grinding into your core as your glare breaks away into blown need. “I have something better than fingers. Show you how good it can be, yes? Show how you are supposed to be treated, Little Bird.”
Your hands slide up to his shoulder blades and he groans under his breath, taking in the sensation of nails along flesh, catching on the scars until they settle. Had he not imagined this before? Had he not fantasized? Desired? Sinful, yes, but he’d do it again if he could still feel the wet fluids of your arousal coating his abdomen. If this was the outcome of Nikto becoming locked in his own stoic emotions, there was a part of him that was greedy because of it.
There was no possible way that this was going to continue…right? 
His ears twitch to your voice as your legs shift to wrap the top of his hips, dragging his pelvis ever closer until he’s fighting the wave of agony by not having your cunt pulse around him. 
On your part, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.
“Then show me.”
It’s easy to slip the tip of himself inside of you—there’s enough fluid to render even the thought of dry friction impossible. Nikto's body shudders at the sensation, though it’s only a small portion of what you both need.
Your head rocks back, fingertips digging into the Russian’s shoulders as you both curse at the stretch of your folds. You hadn’t been able to gawk at the build of the man tonight—both too desperate for release—but thinking about how he gives small thrusts to help himself along, his eyes not moving from you unless to blink, you’d safely say he was well-endowed.
“Fuck,” your lips quiver, sweat at your brow. Through the whimper, you moan, a large thumb finding your clit and rolling as the sound of squelching echoes between the groans and whines. You’re both nothing but damn animals. “Could have,” you gasp, and Nikto stops before you shake your head and pull him closer. “Could have given a girl a warning, Big Guy.”
His strained chuckle only makes your core welcome him more, and the feeling of textured veins and warm flesh steadily driving itself home was addicting. Sex had never felt as fun as this. As safe.
Nikto made it safe.
“Apologies,” he grunts out, great form above you before you feel the nested base of his pelvis connect with yours. 
You both shake and your face is open with a pleasure-driven emotion as the Russian slides his head to your shoulder, his breath echoing from under his mask into your ear. He licks his lips, grip on your waist and arm pulsing with steady intervals of—tense, release, tense, release…
“Are you—”
“Fucking hell, please start moving,” you gasp out, grinding into him as the string on Nikto’s caution flees like a loose animal. 
His hand travels back from your waist to your hip, the other to the back of your neck, and as he staples his forehead to yours, he grinds out a quiet, “да,” and moves himself out of you nearly all the way as your eyes roll to the feeling. 
When the bed starts knocking the wall, there’s little to the imagination as to what’s taking place, and the steadily rising sounds mean nothing as sheets rustle and skin slaps faster, both sensitive from such near releases earlier. There are mutters in Russian, fast, harsh things that hold no venom—slow mutters that make your legs go numb long after both of you had finished. 
Nikto was right: for such a brute, he did know how to treat a woman. Well, maybe he just knew how to treat you right. 
Multiple times.
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yandere-daydreams · 4 months
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tw - modern!au, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, nonconsensual touching, and stalking. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.
“I’ve been thinking about us, again.”
He was barely trying to whisper, his voice loud enough to earn several pointed looks from the people around you. You’d tried to put yourself at a distance from the rest of the class, to sit in a deserted corner of the near-empty lecture hall, but he wouldn’t have cared if you were in the first row. That was something you’d had to learn quickly about him – Kunikuzushi was shameless at the best of times, actively vitriolic at the worst. Your public humiliation wasn’t just a pleasant side-effect of his company, but an active goal he was striving towards during every minute you spent together.
“You don’t have to look so worried – if I was going to break up with you, you’d know.” You kept your eyes trained on the lecturer, your expression schooled to practiced disinterest, but his voice lulled like you’d broken into tears. You felt him shift that much closer to you – his thigh pressing into yours. “I just don’t think we spend enough time together. I know, I know, we’re both busy, but still. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
You were. Just last week, you’d spent two hours locked in your bedroom closet – lights off and knees pulled into your chest – because Kuni had somehow gotten your address and decided it would be a good use of his time to loiter on your doorstep and refuse to leave until you came out. You planned your day-to-day schedule meticulously to make sure it would never bleed into his, went out of your way not to have to go where you knew he would be, but there was only so much you could do to get away from someone willing to blow off his classes and skip work just to spend the better part of a day sending you candid pictures from one of his countless burner phones. You could only be thankful he was too caught up in his own delusions to ever let his obsession turn violent. Lashing out at you for never acknowledging whatever relationship he thought you were in would be akin to admitting you didn’t have a relationship at all, he would never do that.
He took up your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You tried, weakly, to pull away from him, but he only let out a breathy chuckle, his head soon resting on your shoulder. Compared to how he’d acted when you first met – standoffish, bristly, constantly on the verge of losing his temper – he was practically a touch-starved puppy, happy so long as he could sit in your lap and bask in your attention, positive or negative.
If only you’d ever wanted a pet.
“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it.” Another laugh, a playful squeeze to your hand. “I think we should move in together.”
You snapped in his direction, your knees jolting against the bottom of your desk and earning a few pointed glares. After mouthing a sheepish apology, you dug your nails into the back of his hand, keeping your voice as low as possible. “Kuni, I— I don’t think that’s—”
“Don’t think it’s practical?” Predictably, he cut you off. “I knew you’d say that. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to find the nerve to leave your apartment.” You felt his smile against the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “I’ve already handled it. By the time that moron—“ He rolled his eyes towards your professor. “—shuts up, everything should be taken care of.”
You felt something heavy and sharp drop into the pit of your stomach. “But, you don’t have a key—”
“I made myself a key a couple weeks ago – got tired of waiting for you to offer. I love you, babe, but you’re too timid for your own good.” His grin, pressed the curve of your throat. “You can thank me later on, after I’ve shown you our new place.”
His hand fell to your thigh, just a touch too high not to trigger some buried, primal instinct inside of you. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate – bolting upward and tearing yourself away from him. Your chair scaped against the tile floor, your palms slamming against the desk, and in an instant, every pair of eyes in the lecture hall were on you. The professor scowled in your direction, his ire tangible. “Do you have something to say, (L/n)?”
You opened your mouth, but your mouth was dry, your throat suddenly swollen shut. Your gaze fell back to Kuni – his smile still wide and his eyes still so, so dark.
Wordlessly, you shook your head and collapsed back into your seat. As the lecture picked back up and all concentration was returned to the front of the rom, Kuni latched onto you once again, his hold twice as strong and twice as suffocating as it had been.
It was almost a comfort to know that, this time, there wasn’t anything you could do to get away from him.
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forever--darling · 1 year
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iknimaya | neteyam x avatar!reader
summary: half a year later and it was finally time for you to make the trip to the hallelujah mountains and claim your ikran. one step closer to completing your training, you can't help but think about the future - specifically your future with neteyam. it's hard to get anywhere though with lo'ak trying to make plans of his own.
pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader
word count: 10.9k
warnings/notes: swearing, less enemies but not quite lovers, still very slow burn, a lot more angst to come -- fair warning, lo'ak x avatar!reader (one-sided), mutual secret pining, ikran flying, fluff
series masterlist | one of us: part four | requests are currently open for now
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When a person becomes one of the people, or in other words, when they are born twice, the clan puts on a ceremony for them. It consists of dancing, feasting, and telling stories to one another — it’s all about connection. A connection between the people, their culture, and the new person who has become one of them. Kiri had been telling you about it nonstop, trying to install some confidence in you.
You would be covered in paint and stand before the clan asking them for their acceptance. The Olo’eyktan would approach you and in his eyes from Eywa, you would either be accepted or denied. If he accepts you, he will place his hands upon your shoulders, above your heart, and in turn, the rest of the clan would follow until they form a large circle around you. Interconnected as one, before Ewya. It’s there where you’d earn your place among the people, forever. 
That isn’t the final test that decides your place among the Omatikaya, but only the ceremony. The final test is the hardest thing asked of a person; a journey, filled with an act fueled by the need to prove oneself. A journey into the Hallelujah Mountains where the individual would walk among the floating island of banshees. The most dangerous creature to fly within the sky, aside from the great leonopteryx, the last shadow. You must look one in the eye and if it tries to kill you, it means you have been chosen as a rider.
After that, it's up to you. Live or die. Walk among the people forever or become an outsider. Stay or be exiled. It all comes down to that final test. After spending six months training, learning, and integrating your entire life onto the planet you had once only seen from a glass window, you were about to face the final test. It all came down to that moment after perfecting the language, understanding the orders of energy transfers under Eywa, practicing Tsaheylu, and consummating the skill of hunting. It all came down to sealing the bond with the second deadliest creature of the sky. 
It was the morning before you were set to make the trek toward the mountains with Neteyam, Jake, and a few other young Na’vi prospects looking to prove that they should be accepted among the clan as adults. Before the village, they were hoping to be seen and accepted by their parents and other adults alike that they were no longer incompetent children, but well-working individuals of society. You had more to prove than them and everyone knew it.
For you it was everything and that thought alone had you retreating into the forest just before sunrise, the foliage illuminating under your feet, as you found yourself among the only spot you could find peace to think. The river and the waterfall that Neteyam had shown you five months ago — the night you had called a truce to the immature behavior and sharp tension. 
From that night on, that place had become his spot and yours. Most of the time, the two of you went together at night. It was a place where you could talk, swim, and whisper to one another about the inevitable future that was approaching the both of you far too quickly. Where yours hung in the balance, unknown about what was to come, his was certain.
When you finished your training, he would be close to completing his own. If you did this, completed this, he would no longer be the Olo’eyktan in training but the future Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He would work alongside Jake until one day the title would be bestowed on him when needed. He would no longer be seen as a boy but a man, and with that came making his bow from what was left of the wood of Home Tree, finishing a song bead for his songchord, and having a woman chosen for him. 
Neteyam would be old enough and prove himself to have the ability to choose a woman within the village. However, where it would be any other man’s choice, you quickly realized for the future Olo’eyktan the privilege would not be the same. He would need a Tsahik to lead alongside him and his choice couldn’t withstand being wrong. The clan could suffer and Mo’at and Neytiri would work in their power to prevent that from happening.
As soon as his training was over, they would look to Eywa and choose his mate. From that moment on, they would be engaged, and as soon as he turned eighteen he was expected to consummate their marriage and their courtship. But then eighteen came and went and he had pushed it off. He had just turned nineteen and there was chatter going around, that they were already praying and looking to Eywa to guide them to an answer, and suddenly you couldn’t bear it. 
It bothered you to no end, on top of the fear of not passing your final test. The thought of Neteyam being mated with another clan woman left the worst feeling in your stomach and made you so sick, but you shoved it down deep. So deep that no one else could possibly know about how you felt.
The very feelings that started to develop the first evening you met were later masked as dislike during that first month when you refused to listen to one another. It was seen as anger and hatred but after the night when he brought you here, to the river, that feeling still remained. The rage and the resentment were gone but the feelings deep within your stomach were still there, their grip tightly wrapped around your very being. 
You knew though that once, or rather if accepted, traditionally one day you would have been able to be matched with someone. Asked by Eywa to be someone’s mate for the rest of your life but even if accepted, not all wishes and traditions are granted to dream walkers. Neytiri had expressed to you multiple times that you would still be a dream walker, a soul belonging to two bodies after the ceremony. It wouldn’t be fair to be mated with someone during the day but separate from them at night. She had lived that life once and she wouldn’t wish that upon any of the young men of their village, let alone one of her sons, who both seemed to have a strong connection with you. Mo’at agreed and therefore forbade you from being promised or even mated to a man of the village unless you became fully Na’vi. 
That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon either because the more you wished to become full Na’vi, the more you began to separate from your former life. But Mo’at forbade that too. The transfer consisted of a ritual where the consciousness of a single being was transferred from one body to another. It had only been done twice and before that, no one knew for sure. After thousands of years, some things became more and more like folk tales. Out of those two rituals, only one survived. The one was Toruk Makto, Jake Sully.
With that case in point, Mo’at didn’t believe in your odds and she hadn’t asked Eywa enough about it to grant your request. It had been days ago when you had appeared in her hut, in a state of distress. After the whispers became louder about Neteyam’s future mate and the talk about your Iknimaya seemed to circulate the village. 
It all was getting to you, not to mention the more connected you felt to this body, your avatar the body, the less you connected to your own. The original body you had spent almost ninteen prior years in, seemed to be failing you the longer you stayed in the link pod and with the Omatikaya.
The truth was your immune system was shot and somehow months ago you had contracted a virus and from there, things began to spiral. You were taking care of yourself less; by this time, you had become far too weak. Norm and Max had been trying to treat you with everything they had but with their resources limited they could only do so much. It had become worse just a few days prior when you for the first time ever delivered a successful clean kill. The testament of whether you were ready to complete the final test. 
That night you had barely made it back to your own room by yourself as you had lost probably close to twenty pounds and had no strength left in your legs. Max had advised you or rather ordered you to take a few days off away from the link pod and lay in bed. You needed to rest and both he and Norm agreed that the strain on your body from the link process wasn’t helping you in the slightest, but you refused. You were too close, after so many long months, you were so close. 
Not to mention that in this body, in this form, you couldn’t feel it — the weakness, the limitations, the way you felt yourself losing all hope of a normal life. In this body, you weren’t that and you refused to give it all up to become that version of yourself when you were this close. You suspected that Jake knew, that Norm had gotten in contact with him and told him about your human state but he hadn’t brought it up to you yet. Instead, he communicated it through lingering stares and the sudden extra attention you seemed to be getting from both his wife and his daughters. 
On this day of all days though, that couldn’t have your attention, not when you were about to partake in the most important moment of your life. Sat at the edge of the river, you stared forward at the water, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. Your chin leaned against your knees, deep in thought about all of the worst possible scenarios that occurred if you couldn’t do this. 
You heard him before you saw him, he approached you from behind, his footsteps quiet as he stepped past low-hanging foliage like so many times before. How did you know it was him? Because it always was.
“Y/N?” The sound of your name fell from his lips like woodsprites on skin, softly, gently as if he didn’t want to scare you away. He stood behind you for a moment, staring forward matching where you were looking almost in uncertainty at your quietness. “Hey, what are you doing? You do realize we have to start making our way towards the mountains in about an hour.” 
Silence was all he got in response as you continued to look forward at the water and the ripples that formed from a fish kissing the surface. His voice broke through your fears and worries with ease but it wasn’t enough to overpower them completely. You felt him sit next to you, close enough that his leg pressed against yours. He stared at the side of your face, those gold irises of his taking in every part of it and analyzing every one of your emotions. You felt his fingers brush against your skin as his hand delicately clasped around your forearm. 
As if broken from your spell, you turned towards him, eyes swimming with every doubt in your body, “What if I can’t do this, Neteyam?” 
“What?” his brows furrowed “How could you ask that?” 
“What if I can’t claim an Ikran? Is that it? I just don’t become one of the people and then your parents exile me? I once again am nothing but an outsider? I don’t think I can do that. A life where I am not here every day in the village, or running through the forest. I don’t think I could stand it.” 
He pulled you closer to him, a light chuckle falling from his lips, “Y/N. Woah, slow down.” 
“And not being able to see everyone; your sisters, or Lo’ak, or Jake. I mean I don’t think I could ever live with never seeing any of them again. Not seeing you again…”  
His hand tightened as if your words registered in his ears, the possibility of that flashing through his mind. He shook his head and focused instead on your widened eyes and how they refused to look away from him. “That won’t happen. You have this. We have trained for months and I know that—” 
“But what if—” 
“No, but anything, because you have this,” he said, tone solid, not bothering to let you finish your previous thought. A smile broke out across his lips then, “I thought you were tougher than this, Y/L/N.”
Usually, you would defy him, and argue with him but not like the two of you once did. Now those disagreements seemed to always be interlaced with teasing tones and sly smiles. You usually gave him a look filled with smugness just asking for him to try and regain control over you. This look on your face though didn’t appear anything like that though. Instead, you were deflated and falling apart at the seams. 
“Me too,” you agreed.
“Y/N—” he started but his voice died quickly as you spoke again. 
“If I do this, do you think the people will accept me?”
There was no hesitation on his part, “Of course, they will. Why would you ask me that?” 
You looked away from him, pulling your arm away and scooting closer toward the edge of the river, disconnecting from him completely. He felt the warmth from his side disappear altogether as he watched you dip your legs into the water, your head hung low staring at your reflection. 
“Pivlltxe’u (speak up)!” his voice was commanding of you then while he watched as you lifted your hands to look down at them. 
“I can hear them, you know. After all this time the whispers still follow me around. My alien blood. That I am in a false body. That I am nothing like you but still in every way like them — the enemies, the sky people,” you admitted with a furrow in your brows. 
Neteyam wasn’t quite sure what to say as even after the countless amount of nights the two of you had spent in that exact spot, you had never talked about something so serious. Something that was your past life, who you were, or what would be expected of you after this. Most of the time, you talked about him, and his future rather than your own. 
“My father was like you.” 
You laughed dryly, your hands dropping in your lap as your head lulled back slightly, “Jake Sully was not like me.” 
“Except that he was,” Neteyam argued, glancing down at his own hands. His four-fingered hands didn’t resemble his father’s or his two siblings but something that still was deeply a part of his family. 
“No,” you said, the harshness evident in your voice as your ears flattened back and your gaze fell back to your ten fingers, “Jake Sully was Toruk Makto. He led the clan to victory against the sky people. The very people who killed hundreds of innocent Omatikaya and refuse to leave this place in peace. He is not one of them.” 
“And neither are you.” 
He slid closer to you so that you could feel his warmth across your back and side. His chest pressed against your shoulder as he reached forward, his hand ghosting under yours. He took it and held it within his, the back of your hand pressed against his palm. 
“You know what I see when I look at these hands?” he asked, voice soft, eyes locked on the side of your face, “It’s not the sky people or aliens in false bodies as everyone else calls them. No, I see my dad coming here and falling in love with my mom. I see him becoming one of the people, leading them to victory, and being appointed Olo’eyktan. I see my sister being born and then my brother.” 
His breath slid across the side of your face, and you turned to look at him. The warmth of it then spread to your lips as he sat so close, stare already locked onto your own. Those gold eyes filled with specs of yellow and green haunted you at night every time you fell asleep; this was the first time you witnessed them so up close and personal in months. His gaze flickered down to your parted lips before darting back up to your eyes. You then felt his fingers curl around the back of your hand, slotting in between yours and intertwining them together. 
You looked down at them and that warm feeling inside of you began to spread, like wildfire all throughout your entire body. He smiled as he continued, “When I look at these hands, I see you.” 
Your own breath hitched in your throat and your eyes snapped back up to his, unsure if he really said those three words to you. Words you had been trying to earn from him for months. Though often used as a greeting, to some it meant so much more. It was said out of respect and in rare cases out of love. 
“You can do this,” he said and you swore your heart stopped then and there.
You felt as if any words got stripped from your tongue and yanked back into your throat. You could only stare at him in disbelief taking note of the kindness in his eyes and how gentle his voice was. Five months ago things were so different, the way he looked at you was so different. Even if he still lectured you once in a while or hated how you sometimes did run off with Lo’ak, he was different. Ever since that night in the very same spot where he apologized and opened up himself to you, he wasn’t the same Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. From then on it was like he promised himself and his people that he wouldn’t be that person again. It started with you. 
His hand tightened around yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps and brush being pulled aside was heard. Your eyes broke away from Neteyam’s and he followed where your attention had drifted to.
Lo’ak stood just a few feet away, frozen at the sight of his brother’s hand tightly clasped around yours. When he noticed how close the two of you were sitting his hands tightened at his sides and his eyebrows raised almost in shock. You noticed the way a lump formed in his throat as his gold eyes, appearing so much like Neteyam’s, locked onto his older brother. 
It was almost as if they were having a silent conversation through their matched stares and rigid statues. Lo’ak shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he hadn’t seen the two of you like this. He thought he had known how the two of you felt about one another. His brother hated you and you couldn’t stand the attitude you got from the oldest Sully. You two never acted like this, let alone felt any certain way to justify why you sat so close, holding hands.
Suddenly, it felt like so much more than two people casually comforting one another. Because you and Neteyam were at each other’s throats for months, even if things weren’t entirely the same, the two of you never publicly acknowledged one another outside of lessons. Lo’ak wondered if it had all gone over his head. Were their stolen glances? Light touches anytime you walked by one another in the village? At night would Neteyam sneak out of their tent just to come to find you? 
He was overthinking it, evident in how his eyes flickered from you to his older brother and then down to your joined hands. But how could he not when he felt like he was getting slapped across the face?
Neteyam able to read his brother’s expression sighed and released your hand from his — almost as if it was the easiest thing in the world, almost like he needed to. You scooted back from him, putting more distance between the two of you as Lo’ak’s eyes zoned in on you, lips still parted in shock. 
“Uh what is going on? You two are friends now?” his voice was spiteful and you couldn’t help but let your mouth part in shock.
Neteyam’s eyebrows knitted together and he suddenly became annoyed with his brother’s attitude, “Lo’ak, don’t!” 
“What, I was just asking,” he rolled his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Dad says they’re ready. We should get going.” 
You felt yourself inhale, your breath hitching as Lo’ak nodded his head in the direction of the village, refusing to make eye contact with his older brother. You looked over at Neteyam despite Lo’ak’s glare on your back, needing his reassurance one last time. He nodded at you approvingly, another reminder that you had this. His words ring in your ears and it was like suddenly his opinion was the only one that mattered. That whatever happened, what he thought about you was all that mattered. 
Standing up, you approached Lo’ak as every moment of training seemed to flash before your eyes from beginning to end. It all led to this moment. Win or lose? That was up to you. He watched his brother stand too to follow the two of you as he wrapped his hand gently around your elbow.
You didn’t even question the touch from Lo’ak as over the course of the last six months he usually found some way to be touching you. Whether it was his palm on your lower back, legs brushing against one another during dinner, or his fingers trailing across the back of your hand while standing next to one another.
His physical touch had increased since you had gotten your avatar, but his flirting still remained the same. He was still the same Lo’ak you had met when you were a child and though Kiri had a lot to say about it, you constantly reminded her that things had not changed for either of you — especially for you. 
The two of you walked alongside one another with Neteyam trailing back just enough to hear your conversation but not enough to be right on your heels. Something else that had lessened too, his need to hover over you and Lo’ak. With you spending so much more time with Neteyam, there was less time to be with his siblings so when Lo’ak did manage to swoop you away or convince you to sneak off somewhere, Neteyam turned a blind eye to it.
A part of you ignored the way your stomach dropped every time he let you go even when Lo’ak was asking you to leave early during a lesson. Neteyam would stare over at his brother and simply shrug and then just like that, you were being swept away in the opposite direction. 
“You ready?” Lo’ak asked, his hand slipping down from your elbow to his side, but still close enough where you could feel his pinky bumping into yours. 
It was something that had surely caught Neteyam’s eye. The way Lo’ak’s hand so clearly matched yours and even with the two of you walking side by side, he knew that your hand fit perfectly into his younger brother’s — five fingers and all. Just as he had noticed the certain way his younger brother had been looking at you lately as well as constantly trying to get your attention.
It plagued Neteyam with the worst feeling he had yet to encounter, one that stuck to him worse than the rage he had once pushed down so far. The frustration he once held for you didn’t match the way he felt now watching the two of you interact. A green monster their father had called it when he told his sons about it a few years ago — jealousy. It was a feeling that masked all others and slowly drove you mad if you let it. 
“Yeah, I think so,” you replied softly, unable to look away from the forest before you as if you were taking it all in, in case it would be the last time. 
“You think?” Lo’ak raised a single brow, “Please tell me you are more sure than that.” 
Neteyam had heard the accusatory tone in his younger brother’s voice and he felt like scolding him for it as he noticed the way your ears twitched uneasily. What you needed right now was someone to reassure you not question you. 
“I am…” your voice trailed off, your hand pulling away from where it hung by your side next to Lo’ak’s. 
“Hey,” Lo’ak stopped, his hand grabbing your shoulder This made Neteyam pause too, a couple of feet behind the two of you. You glanced up at Lo’ak, hesitantly, gaze glancing from him and where the village sat just behind the tree line.  
Lo’ak squeezed your shoulder in his, a smile forming across his lips, “You’re going to be fine.” 
You nodded, but you seemed even less convinced now than you had been moments ago near the river, hand locked within Neteyam’s grasp. The older Sully boy cursed under his breath at his brother’s obliviousness, not able to read your feelings as easily as he could. He felt his whole body stiffen worse as he watched Lo’ak’s hand drift to your lower back and continue to guide you towards the village where their father was waiting with the other initiates. 
“My dad and Neteyam will be with you the whole time and lead you up the mountain, okay? Then I’ll meet you up there as soon as I can,” Lo’ak explained even though you hadn’t asked, already aware of how the process would go from Neteyam explaining it thoroughly the night before. 
“You’re not going with?” you asked, cautiously. 
Lo’ak smiled at the question as the three of you broke through the brush and back into the village, “I have to do some things for my mom but I’ll fly to you when I am done. I’ll be there by the time you guys reach the top.” 
You barely made a sound at his words, just continuing to walk through the village as a clear spectacle for everyone to look at. A show for them to whisper about and place bets on if you would manage to pass the final test or not. Their whispers were low and you folded into yourself as you observed the children pointing and the mumbling of the adults.
Lo’ak hadn’t spared a glance in your direction, but your frame relaxed briefly at the feeling of another person on your other side. It was Neteyam. He noticed the shift in your body language faster than anyone else. The way he walked overshadowed your figure slightly from others as if part of him wanted to protect you from everyone else and their loud mouths. 
He as well as anyone else couldn’t deny how this day had proven to be a huge deal not just for every other Na’vi attempting it but because there was a dream walker among them attempting it too. It had been nearly nineteen years since the last dream walker climbed the Hallelujah Mountains and claimed his Ikran. The legend of Jake Sully was still talked about fondly by adults to their children as he was the first sky person to ever attempt it. As he went on to become Toruk Makto, those who had been too young to witness any of it at the time found their eyes forever focused on you — the next dream walker. The next sky person to try and live among them. 
Neteyam could see it on all of their faces; the excitement, the curiosity that came when they saw you. Sure there were other young Omatikaya hoping to claim their Iknimaya but all eyes were on you. Especially considering it wasn’t just a test for you, but a test for the man who had taught you everything you knew. It was a testament to the future Olo’eyktan and if he had the capability to lead his people. Evident in the way all of the gold eyes would drift from you to him and how close he was walking next to you. 
Now add in the fact that you were walking in between both of Toruk Makto’s sons, that sure also had an effect on people, noticeable in the way they would lower their hands to whisper to one another. He heard his name float in around his ears, accompanied by his younger brother’s. It was like adding that into consideration, you were shrinking further into his side.
As you approached the small group of young hunters just at the edge of the forest, you all found Jake standing proudly, speaking to all of them. Suddenly then as you stood just a few feet away, Lo’ak turned to you, his hand drifting down to yours. He squeezed it and wished you luck before he slipped away in the opposite direction towards his family’s tent. 
Jake turned on his heels to see you standing there with his oldest son and he had to withhold the smile that was threatening to form on his face; one of pride almost even though you hadn’t done anything to have earned it. His eyes flickered to Neteyam and then back to you as the other four hunters, all many years younger than you, stared at you in wonder. 
“You ready?” he asked, the same exact words Lo’ak had said only moments before and it brought on another wave of anxiety into your stomach. 
You opened your mouth, lips parted slightly as if you were going to respond but no words emerged as you could feel all of their eyes burning holes into you. Neteyam’s gold eyes looked from his father to you but noticing your expression, he leaned closer to you, his hand ghosting over your back as he caught Jake’s gaze. 
“She’s ready,” he said, without a question as his hand dropped from where it had hung in the air just over your shoulder blades. The warmth of it still ghosted across your skin though he hadn’t actually touched you.
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Your fingers were digging into the ground above you, upper arms aching as you hung over the side of the mountain, feet barely hanging onto the side. Short of breath, you attempted to pull yourself up but grunted out of distress as your arms seemed to pop and ache at the attempt. You had felt weaker lately and you had a horrible suspicion why. Cursing under your breath, you glanced to your side, watching as each young hunter easily pulled themselves up. The nerves in your stomach increased again though Neteyam had spent the whole ride over on his direhorse, at your side sneaking you reassuring looks. It was like every few moments, his gold irises would drift back to you almost as if something about you guided him back. 
You had thought no one would have noticed the small interaction but it was clear Jake Sully, and Toruk Makto had. He had been stealing his own glances in your direction having once been in your position and he was not surprised to find you riding in silence, chewing a hole into the bottom of your lip. His look was just as protective as his son’s and the pressure of their lingering gazes felt heavy on your chest.
Not to mention, every time the Olo’eyktan looked over his shoulder, he found his son already looking at you. The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted curiously as he watched the interaction between the two of you. The stolen glances how you would nod over to the older boy to assure him that you were alright. It had completely shifted, almost like a 180 from how the two of you interacted five months prior. 
Just as you were about to try and swing your body up for the third time, a hand extended out to you. Neteyam stood on the edge, leaning forward, his arm out as any strong protector would. Jake watched closely as you shook your head at his son, eyes threatening him to back up and let you do this on your own. Neteyam sighed but took two steps back giving you a little more space. 
The ache at this point was barely tolerable as you felt the rock scratching into your knees and your side. Sucking in a deep breath, you tightened your core and pulled yourself up. Arms bent at a ninety-degree angle, you swung one leg up and stood up with ease, slightly out of breath. Jake nodded approvingly and Neteyam held his hands up in defeat. You had this. 
You followed the group across the floating mountain until you came across a waterfall, a small path hidden behind it that would lead to the other side. To the other side where all the Ikrans were, evident by the sounds of their flapping wings, and screeches. It made your ears twitch hesitantly as beads of sweat formed along your hairline.
You walked closely behind Jake, his tail flicking your leg as Neteyam stood behind you, his hand wrapping around your side to press along your hip as if to keep you from getting too close to the edge. You felt your breath hitch at the action but didn’t react to him, too nervous at the sight of the waterfall opening. Jake stopped right near the edge, looking over his shoulder to where you stood behind him 
“Y/N, you okay going first?” he asked, cautiously, lowering his voice as he reached out to take your shoulder in his hand. 
You nodded, but that didn’t feel like enough as you glanced past him to the crowd of creatures stalking around. All creatures with razor-sharp teeth and large claws. As your eyes met his again, there was a different look about you, “Yes.” 
He smiled, squeezing your shoulder. You felt Neteyam lean closer from behind you, his chest meeting your back as his hand shifted upwards from your hip to your chest, his fingers pressed along your collarbone. His mouth opened softly to speak but they closed at the sound of a screech from behind you all on the other side of the waterfall. All heads turned and within seconds, another person emerged. Lo’ak appeared, his riding headpiece pulled down across his forehead, eyes finding yours immediately. 
A grin occupied his face, “Hey, I told you I’d make it.” 
As he looked past you though, he found his father giving him an unimpressed look, eyes settled into a blank look. He clicked his tongue back as if telling his younger son not to interfere as nine out of the ten times he would probably do something to cost this for you.
Lo’ak held his hands up defensively as he wedged his way between the other hunters and his brother, “Got it. I’ll be good.” 
Sighing, you shifted your gaze back to Neteyam as his breath fanned across your face, “You can do this, okay? This you must feel inside. If it chooses you, move quickly just like we’ve practiced. You will have one chance.” 
His words absorbed into you, your attention shifting from him back to the mountain ledge before you. You scanned the area, the banshees' colors reverberating off your eyes, like a reflection upon glass. You took one last deep breath, puffing your chest out as you stepped by Jake out from behind the waterfall. Confidence filled your statue as the Toruk Makto called your name. 
Jake’s stare matched yours, flooded with determination interlaced with assurance, “Trust your instincts and trust your reflexes. Let your mind go blank and listen to your strong heart.” 
You smiled for a moment before it fell away, a tight line taking its place. With your rope in hand, you unraveled it, able to hear the shuffling of the group of people stepping out from behind the waterfall. All were eager to watch the prospect, the dream walker, the sky person take on their Iknimaya. With the rope interlaced between your fingers, you swung it around as you stalked forward, slowly, the edges of the rocks digging into the bottoms of your feet. 
Jake and Neteyam followed slowly as you stepped forward, eyes meeting each banshee you passed. A few flew off the large rock and with each one that disappeared from view, you felt the base of your stomach form into knots. The groups began to lessen as you moved forward near the edge of the mountain, saliva settling into the back of your throat.
None had shown an interest in killing you. None had shown an interest in your gold stare and sharp fangs. Not a single one could look you in the eye and bare its teeth. It was as if they could smell your alien blood, and see you as an unworthy rider, nothing like one of the Omatikaya. Your heart clenched as you slowly approached a third group of Ikrans. A bead of sweat slipped down from your forehead as you met all of their eyes, a small noise erupting from your throat resembling a yell. 
Three of them flew off, their tails practically stuck in between their legs. Your anxiety spiked again until you found one Ikran still standing in front of you, its head turning towards you as it noticed you out of the corner of its eye. Its large yellow eyes zoned in on your predatory stance. You felt your ears flatten for a moment as you took in the creature. The large creature seemed to have the widest wingspan you had yet to have seen on an Ikran. Its skin was dark blue, so dark, it was almost black, resembling the night sky with bright purple and neon green markings. 
“Shit,” you could hear Lo’ak from a few feet behind you as everyone else took in the Ikran’s large fangs and sharp talons. 
You stood there, eyes widening in shock, tail flicking wildly behind you as the sound filtered over to you of someone smacking Lo’ak across the head. It was Neteyam no doubt. Shuffling awkwardly on your heels, you swung the rope around in your hand as the creature’s claws scratched at the ground beneath it. Its jaws were razor sharp and you felt something spark in you as it leaned its head back and opened its mouth wide revealing them. The hiss that erupted in your ears snapped you out of your daze and you watched as it stood up on its hind legs, snarling nonstop. 
Tilting your head to the side, you felt all doubt, all fear be ripped free from your body. All that was left in its place was confidence in the form of adrenaline coursing through your veins. A small smirk formed across your face and Neteyam watched swelling with both pride and admiration, his eyes flicking back and forth from you to the beast before you. As the Ikran let out another loud screech, your ears flattened across your head, nose wrinkling as you revealed your fangs and hissed — a challenge you were displaying to the Ikran. 
“You gotta move, Y/N,” Jake said, lowly under his breath, but you heard it, as your entire body broke free from the hold the Ikran’s gaze had on it. 
“Let’s do this,” you mumbled, swinging the rope around in your hand as you stepped forward toward the Ikran. 
Just as you took another step forward, the creature jumped forward, its mouth opening revealing its teeth again. It chomped trying to get a hold of you but your reflexes were too fast. You dodged it by leaping to the side and swinging the rope over the Ikran’s snout. It yelled, the scream high pitched, as the rope wrapped completely around its jaw locking it shut. You swung a leg over the creature, wrapping yourself around its neck. Arms locked around its head you struggled as the Ikran began to panic. 
It stood upon its hind legs, wings flapping rapidly as its head thrashed back against you. Your grip kept slipping from around the Ikran, leaving strings of noises to slip from your mouth as it flapped around obnoxiously. Neteyam moved closer but still kept a reasonable distance between you and the beast. He hissed under his breath as he felt your window closing.
“Make the bond!” he yelled. 
With one arm banded across the Ikran’s snout, you groaned as you reached for its queue, all strength leaving your body slowly as you continued to battle the large animal. As you felt the smooth skin of the queue within your fingers, the Ikran growled and threw its head back. Connecting with your body, you felt your grip loosen from the animal and disappear completely.
A yell erupted from your throat as you bounced off the back of the Ikran and collided with the hard ground. Your side hit the harsh material with a thud and you hissed out in pain as you felt it scratch against your skin. Legs limply on the ground and chest heaving up and down, you peered up at the Ikran as it slowly turned around to face you. 
The rope was still tightly bound around its mouth but it was clear that your attempts had only pissed it off. It tried to break free from the constriction around its jaw but stopped for a moment when the cable didn’t snap. Its eyes found your frame on the ground, laying on your back, leaning upon your elbows. Body shaking, you were trying to catch your breath as the Ikran stalked forward, claws ripping holes into the ground. Remaining completely still, you peered up at it, eyes narrowed and a glare reflected across your face. This was the moment, the challenge at hand, the turning point of your entire life. 
Win or lose?
Live or die?
Lo’ak bounded forward, trying to get to you, but he was stopped by his brother throwing an arm across his chest. Neteyam’s eyes had never left you and though his heart was clenching within his chest, a greater feeling had appeared within him. One that felt as if it had been sent from Eywa. A reminder of your strength, your fierceness, and the warrior that had formed deep within your bones. A smirk formed on his face as he watched the intensity in your eyes increase. 
Your gold eyes hadn’t moved from the Ikran and as you looked deep into its black pupils, you saw your whole life flash across your eyes like a movie. Your father’s death. The great war, that convinced your mother to flee back to Earth. A newborn baby unable to travel within Cryo. A childhood stolen in replace of living in the confines of a lab. Spider’s resentment towards you. A human body you refused to accept as a reflection of who you were as a person. Arriving at the village, the constant judgments and fear sent your way from the villagers. The word alien being branded across your forehead.
It all had led to that moment and it all reflected back at you as you were able to see your reflection within the Ikran’s eyes. Smooth blue skin, gold eyes, white freckles, and a challenging curl to your lips. You, this was the real you. 
One of the people or an outsider?
Ears twitching, your stare became deadly as you pushed out another hiss from your throat, the sound igniting your whole body with all of the energy and trust you had left. Just as the Ikran bounded forward, lifting its body, claws glistening in the sunlight. You tucked and rolled to the side out of the way just as the beast slammed its feet down into the spot you initially had been.
Moving quickly, you jumped up upon a rock and leaped for the Ikran. With a huff, you grabbed onto the animal, hand locking around its queue. Your legs folded across the Ikran’s head, tucking it in closer to its body as the creature flopped down onto its side. With your shoulder digging into the ground, you yelled out in pain as you reached behind for your own queue. Tilting the Ikran’s queue upwards, you moved yours towards it and felt your whole body relax as the pink nerve endings finally connected. 
Chest still heaving up and down, your body collapsed for a moment as the Ikran’s pupils widened dilating. It convulsed again, as your hands wrapped tightly around the rope, “Stop!” 
The Ikran’s body fell limp, relaxing at your words, and within a matter of seconds, its breathing leveled out. Staring down at the creature, a smile appeared across your lips, as it stared back at you and you were able to feel the way your heartbeats moved in sync with one another. Its breath you could feel within your lungs and it relaxed under your touch.
Kneeling over the Ikran’s neck, you felt the dirt sticking to your legs as you reached for the rope locked around its jaw. It loosened and slowly the Ikran rose from the ground, stretching out its mouth. It purred underneath your palms as the Ikran slowly stood up, taking you with it. Your feet were lifted off the ground, and you settled back against the base of the creature’s back, readjusting your grip. 
Cheers were heard and as you looked up, you found the young hunters pumping their fists in the air and yelling your name. Jake was grinning from ear to ear, a look of pride swelling on his face. The same look both of his sons got when they completed their Iknimaya. Neteyam stood, shoulders pulled back, chest puffed out with the same look that his father displayed but somehow his tugged at your heart more. 
He stepped forward as if he was going to approach you, but he stopped as Lo’ak blew past him. A large smile occupied his face, but you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over his shoulder to his brother instead.
“First flight seals the bond," Lo’ak let out a yell and in an instant, there was a flash of blue and green and his Ikran was landing right beside yours. He hopped on, connecting his queue to the animal, before flying off into the sky, “Y/N, come on.” 
You waited for a moment, stuck in a place where you weren’t sure where to go — almost as if your heart was split in half. Neteyam stood in the same spot, his eyes having never left yours and from where he stood he could practically feel the anticipation buzzing through your skin.
He wanted more than anything for it to be him — to be the one you would fly through the sky with on your first flight. After so many months of teaching you and spending endless nights under the trees by the river, he hoped it could be him. But at that moment it wasn’t; even though it was Lo’ak he couldn’t steal this experience from you. He wouldn’t, especially since he knew what it was like to be in your position. 
Even when a part of you wanted him to give you a reason to stay and wait for him and his Ikran, you also couldn’t deny how restless you felt there on that rock. He could see it on your face, clear as day, like how he had seemed to learn every other one of your mannerisms in the last half of the year. Biting onto your lower lip, you couldn’t stop the way your eyes had softened over time as you had gotten to know this young man, who somehow had snuck up behind you and stole your heart.
It was something you hadn’t fully realized until that moment when he smiled over at you, his fangs poking out just past his lips. It wasn’t until he looked up after his brother and nodded his head in the direction, clicking his tongue softly in the air as if he was giving you permission.
Curling your fingers, you brought your hand up near your forehead and extended it out towards him. I see you.
With that you called out to your Ikran, the word fly falling from the tip of your tongue. It took off into the sky, wings extended out to their full length, as it dove straight down off of the mountain. Neteyam ran forwards towards the edge and peered down into the clouds where you and your Ikran had disappeared. But then in a matter of seconds, the clouds broke apart and you appeared again. Soaring through the sky, he watched as the Ikran leveled out, the image of your last action leaving an imprint in his mind and a permanent smile on his face. 
Jake had been right once, in his video log. A direhorse was one thing but flying an Ikran, a person was made for this. You were made for this. With your feet perched along the Ikran’s sides, your hands clutched around its queues, giving quiet commands — it was as if you were at peace, completely free from the cage that your human body had turned into, free from the past that had plagued your memories, and the expectations that a dream walker held.
Feeling the wind on your face and the sun soaking into your skin, you were brought back to that first day with the avatar, when you first walked out of the lab. It felt just like this, able to take a deep breath without the need for an oxygen mask. It was a freedom and a privilege, just as this was.
As you looked around at the floating mountains, and the other banshees floating around you, you knew it then at that moment that you belonged there. You were a warrior, a rider, an Omatikaya, and in one way or another you were going to convince Mo’at of that and every other Na’vi. She was going to approve your request for the transfer ritual if it was the last thing you would ever do. 
You had heard him before you saw him. A yell and then an echo across the sky followed by a shadow above you. Looking up, you found Lo’ak smiling down at you, the same look in his eye that you knew filled yours. The look of an Omatikaya rider. He veered left and then swooped down, his Ikran bumping into yours lightly. You gasped, hands instinctively tightening around your Ikran’s queues as your balance shifted.
Looking back over to Lo’ak, you found him laughing, a devious expression the only way you could describe it on his face. Withholding your own smile, silently you advised your Ikran to lean to the right, straight into Lo’ak’s lane. Your Ikran’s wings bumped into his lightly causing him to bank off to avoid the two of you colliding. When he looked over at you, you couldn’t help but let your head lean back as your sweet laugh escaped your throat. 
You flew like that for a while, him casually bumping into you just to either get on your nerves or hear your laugh again. And somehow even though you wished Neteyam was still there to share that moment with you, you couldn’t help but indulge in the happiness you felt to be with Lo’ak — your long-time friend, the boy who had been flirting with you senselessly, but someone who would never once give up on you. He was loyal and even with your heart wishing for something else entirely, you knew it was a special moment to share with him. 
Hours had gone by and finally, as the sun began to fall from the sky, Lo’ak had gotten your attention. You thought maybe he would lead you home, back to the village, but instead, he nodded his head in another direction, back into the floating mountains. Even with your lack of direction, you knew it wasn’t the right way, but you followed him anyway. He landed on one that had seemed so random to you, but you followed, commanding your Ikran to land.
Listening, it came to a stop near his, and for a moment before you got down from the creature, you looked over to Lo’ak still sitting upon his, and the largest smile formed across your face. Giggling, you shook your head in utter disbelief at the events that had happened the last few hours that were real and now engraved within your memory and soul forever. A look of his own formed across his face as both of your laughter faded. 
He tilted his head to the side, something in his eyes completely different than anything you had seen before, a fondness of sorts, “Look at you, girl! You’re a natural already.” 
His gaze was soft, too soft, you knew that. You looked away suddenly dismounting from the Ikran, letting your queue disconnect for the first time in hours. Letting out a soft breath, Lo’ak followed suit and he approached you to find you already staring over the edge at the fast-setting sun. 
He chuckled, “This was where Neteyam and I both went when we each completed our Iknimaya. We flew for hours unable to convince one another to return home to the village. Even when he had completed his a few years before I did, he always flew like it was his first time — like we both could stay up here forever.” 
You slowly turned your head to face him, his words drawing you in. He smiled at the memory, “Then even after we had been flying for hours unend we would come here, to this spot, and watch the sunset, the evening eclipse. Shit, you should have seen how mad our mom used to get at us when we would return home after dark. It was scary, honestly.” 
“You still do that?” you asked suddenly, your own voice surprising you, “Fly together long after dark.” 
Lo’ak shook his head, his smile slipping from his face just as quickly as it had appeared, “No, at least not with Neteyam. For the last year or so, he's been too busy with training. His focus is entirely put on our father and the role of being the future Olo’eyktan. Dad has him on a tight schedule.” 
“But what about now? He is done training me. Shouldn't he have some extra time now?”
“No, because even if he won't be spending all day every day with you, he'll have other things to worry about. Olo'eyktan things with my father; raids, runs, lookouts, spotting.” 
You nodded, his words making you once again realize, that this was it. Neteyam had done his job and no longer would you be spending days with him in the forest learning the language, hunting, or about the energies of the world. No more nights sneaking off into the forest just to breathe, away from the pressures the adults presented. He had done what was asked of him — teach you the ways of the Omatikaya. 
“Yeah, I guess that would make sense,” you replied, unable to stop the ache that appeared in your chest or the need to pull on the tips of your fingers. 
He examined the expression on your face and the disappointment that seemed to flood your system. He couldn’t help his next statement from slipping out of his mouth. “Yeah, so it's a good thing my mom and grandmother are choosing his mate for him? Because I don't know if he would ever have the time to do it himself."
“Hm, the next Tsahik, right? It’s an important role and an important choice. That will be happening soon then?” 
“Yes, I think so, at least announced soon anyway. Mo'at has been looking for quite a while,” Lo’ak agreed, suddenly leaning closer to you as the thought once again plagued his mind of what he had overheard days ago. “Have you thought about it at all?” 
Your brows knitted together as his question filtered through your ears. Looking away from the eclipse, you matched his stare, a questioning look filling your eyes as an unsure chuckle rumbled within your throat, “Thought about what?” 
He was quiet then, eyes narrowing as they suddenly scanned your face, unsure if he should clarify what he had asked. Lo’ak turned to you fully, reaching out as if he was going to take your hands in his but then after a moment, they dropped back to his sides, a defeated sigh falling from his lips. 
“Are you asking me about—” 
“A mate?” he cut you off, “Yes.” 
“What?” You sputtered out, eyes widening suddenly as your stomach tightened at the sudden shift in conversation. “Lo’ak—” 
“I am asking you about whether or not you’ve thought about it,” he clarified, voice once again silencing yours as his bright eyes never seemed to leave yours, “You’re already eighteen and—” 
“Lo’ak, stop,” you said, lifting a hand and sure enough his voice fell silent with the rest of his thought driting away to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that I can’t be mated with anyone. It is wrong.” 
“But not impossible. You can. It’s just frowned upon.” 
Your mouth fell open agape, afraid of where he was going with the words he had so clearly admitted to you. The way he was looking at you as he said it left a feeling in your stomach, almost as if it was dread, twisting away at your insides.
Yes, it wasn’t impossible, but Neytiri had explicitly warned you how wrong it was and what kinds of problems it would cause. Especially, considering Mo’at had denied your request, it would be even worse if you mated with someone without any of their blessings, defying their direct set rules.
It also wasn't Lo’ak that came to mind when you put in the request. Sure a large part of you could always say you went to Mo'at for yourself, for the health you were currently lacking when you left the village at night and returned to the lab, but there was another reason — another person. It had never been and would never be Lo’ak.
“I mean it clearly has crossed your mind if you went and saw Mo’at. You asked her about the transfer ritual, right?” 
Eyes narrowing in his direction, you held your ground, body tensing as he revealed that he somehow had known. Known that you had gone to see the Tsahik and asked her about the consciousness transfer. He knew and suddenly a panic filled your body. What else could he have known? The reality is there's so much he doesn't know, so that plagued you with the question.
You shook your head, annoyance evident in your tone, “Lo’ak, how did you…” 
“I heard you,” he admitted without a moment of hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but when I heard your voice with Mo’at I was curious. Then you mentioned the transfer ritual, and I couldn’t help myself but listen.” 
You exhaled, somewhat frustrated, a sudden notion to get back on your Ikran and escape back into the forest and to the village. Your body had already used up its stored energy for the day and you knew the night would be hell when you returned to your human body. But as annoyed as you were that he had heard the request you had put in with Mo’at, you were interested in why he had brought this up. Why he had chosen to mention it to you — let alone the part about mates?
“What are you trying to say?” 
He smirked then as if he had come up with the most brilliant plan but it only left your body feeling cold and slightly worried, “All I am trying to say is that you will become full Na’vi and that means you will be able to be chosen as someone’s mate.” 
“Lo’ak,” you warned suddenly, able to follow his thinking after having known him for so many years, “Please.” 
He ignored your quiet plea for him to be careful with his words as your eyes fluttered to a close. His hands taking a hold of your arms bought your gaze back to his. A small smile appeared on his lips, “What if we became mates? What if we chose each other?” 
A pin dropped as well as your stomach, as if you were back on your Ikran diving down within the sky, waiting for the air to shift. This didn’t feel like it was going to level out like the air or register in your ears anytime soon. You stared forward at him, scared to look away, scared to break the hope that filled his eyes. 
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I mean the idea is kind of all over the place, but think of it this way. My parents can’t choose my mate for me and you don’t have to deal with all of the assholes in the village that obviously aren’t good enough for you,” he explained, his hand drifting up to cup your face, “Plus, you want to stay, don’t you? No matter what happens you want to stay here with us, right? Like this, in this form?”
“Lo’ak.”
He was quiet for a moment, thumb softly bruising along your temple, gaze staring deep into yours. “We could be happy, Y/N. Just you and me.” 
You found yourself studying the ground, suddenly feeling sick and like a complete mess as your mind somehow wandered to the one person that seemed to never leave it. Neteyam, the future Olo’eyktan. The very man who would have his Tsahik chosen for him by Mo’at and Eywa herself. The very man who would have the perfect match — a woman who was strong, incredibly smart, and a gifted healer. A Tsahik that was selfless and would provide for her people. That wasn’t you. You knew it. Lo’ak knew it. He hadn’t brought up Neteyam again but the hesitancy in your eyes, the anxious thoughts that had slipped from your tongue, he knew was because of his older brother. His older brother who was already spoken for. 
“Lo’ak, where is this coming from?” you asked, hand reaching up to hold his wrist in your hand, a confused look on your face. 
He was hesitant to answer, seen in the way, his eyes shifted to the sky behind you. You made a displeased noise and his eyes found yours again, a smile forming because you knew him all too well after so many years.
“We have been friends for a long time now. For seven years I've always been used to it being us and Kiri and Spider. But somehow even with everyone, we found time just for us. I don’t know, I guess I just feel like I don’t see you as much as I used to.” 
“Yeah, well a couple of things are different now. Huge things,” You chuckled, hand reaching up to take his hand from your face, interlacing it in yours. 
His eyes followed your movement and stared down at your large blue hand that fit suddenly so perfectly in his compared to your human one that had always felt so awkward. He had never been great at communicating the hard stuff or admitting when something was bothering him, so you knew this was his way of saying that he missed you. With all of the sudden changes, he was struggling with accepting them. 
“I’m also not locked away in a lab anymore, I am here with you. Things are going to be different, Lo’ak but it doesn’t mean our friendship is going to change.” 
“I guess I just am not used to sharing you,” he admitted, a flush appearing on his face and it made you realize exactly who he was referring to. Neteyam. “What, outsider and outcast together, you don't want that?"
You sighed, his joke not pulling enough strings in your heart to change your initial apparent feelings. You knew what Lo'ak thought and you knew that he wasn’t going to willingly drop this without you taking the time to fully contemplate it even if his intentions weren’t romantic. You inhaled, the depth enough to reach your core, as his warmly coated stare seemed to engulf you whole.
His attempts were not poorly identified, casted by his loyalty to you but his execution was suffocating you. Where he could be a consolation prize, you be only an entrapment for him. He deserved more than you. “Lo'ak wouldn’t you want to be mates with someone that you love though? I mean do you even feel that way about me?”
He ignored your question and somehow that was an answer in itself.
“Look, I am not worried about spending the rest of my life with someone I may not feel for as my parents do with each other. Because I know this, us — we could make it work. Do you know why I am so sure about that? Because we have been friends for so long and it wouldn’t be so bad. We could take care of each other, be just as we are now, and build a future for ourselves. And if that's what settling for a life with you, looks like, then I’ll take it,” he paused, voice lowering as a smile fell across his lips, “I would rather settle for that than go along with whoever my parents choose for me. Plus I want you to stay, Y/N.” 
His words hit you like a ton of bricks and suddenly just as you thought everything had become so clear, so free from the downfalls of life, reality hit you again. It shifted and all of your problems returned led by an entirety of new ones. Because there's always a choice that has to be made; choose other people, choose to make them happy, or choose yourself even if there is no assurance that it'll all work out for you. Do you decide to take that risk?
Staring in the face of that question, it felt as if thousands of arrows were coming straight for you, its toxicity was inevitable and it would pierce into you, refusing to ever be pulled free from your skin. Yet, everything he said was so true, so undeniably true, but it all left you feeling uneasy for one reason only, one person only.
It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a moment where you were swelling with pride as you had completed Iknimaya. You were hours away from your ceremony with the people. The most important day of your entire life and one you had been thinking about for years. An accomplishment that would be encased in the back of your mind, as you were only the second dream walker to have ever done it.
It was supposed to be your moment but now because of this eclipse, this mountain, this ride — your moment would remain bittersweet, overclouded by Lo’ak’s proposal. 
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