#the light is at the end of the tunnel and the world isn’t ending

[tristinian]

“There’s light at the end of the tunnel” yeah well there’s a snake pit between me and the light at then end of the tunnel so I’m allowed to be a little doom and gloom about it

[livfastdieyoung69]

every year for some reason i get a motley crue phase and an eminem phase. rn i am deeper than i have ever been in the eminem phase and i don’t see any signs of leaving

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Two

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, blood and injury, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings of fear, anxiety. Panic attack. Implied past abuse. Implied stalking. Deep breath.

There is blood in Johnny's eyes.

He comes to with a start, Price’s voice barking out an order, pressure and flame and blood all washing over him, pain erupting across every receptor in his brain like he’s being shredded alive. 

“Bloody hell, hold him steady.” 

It’s still Price, roaring over the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter blades, bloodied hands trying to keep pressure on the hole in his stomach, his side. 

It burns. Everything burns, his body feels like it’s on fire, bones turning to ash inside his skin, chest being torn apart by some invisible force. He can’t get enough air. There is something shoved inside his ribs, something heavy that’s weighing his lungs down, keeping him underwater, cinderblocks tied to his feet.

He tries to move, but he can’t. 

Gaz is strapping him down to a stretcher, he thinks, and when he ratchets a strap across his legs, Johnny screams in agony. 

“’m sorry mate, I’m sorry.” 

Where is Simon? There are faces here, but none of them are the one he needs. His LT. “W-where is Si?” He slurs, and Price frowns, leaning back over his face, calling his name. 

“Johnny, Johnny. Hold still. You’re on a medevac. We’re lifting you to base.” 

“Si-“ 

“Simon isn’t here, remember? Johnny, oi. Keep your eyes open, Sergeant.” Remember? Does he remember? He tries. Tries to place his partner’s face amongst the rubble, the blast, the screaming. 

Where is Simon?

Your coffee maker sputters to life in the silence of your apartment, churning out the dark, thick, life-giving liquid, and you can’t beat back the glare that fixes your face upwards towards your neighbors, the ones who are running a marathon in their apartment at three in the afternoon.

Seriously. Is there a herd of elephants up there? 

You can’t be too disappointed in them, you know. It is normal working hours. Normal daytime hours. You don’t expect your neighbors to accommodate or understand your schedule. Still, it would be nice if they were just a bit more considerate. 

It’s not the end of the world, regardless. You're up now, already started your day, crawled out of bed and opened the blackout curtains to stand in the afternoon sunlight that streams through your studio apartment. You flick open your laptop as sip your morning coffee, logging into your banking app with quick efficiency, eyes roving over lists of numbers, figures adding and subtracting in your head. You’re so close to being able to move forward with the plan, the light at the end of the tunnel growing stronger and stronger, glowing bright with hope, something that once felt so impossible, so far away. You're going to make it. 

It’s a hike to the train.

You’re fortunate that you only have to take one, no longer having to change once, or twice, in the middle of your commute like you used to, but now you’re walking at least twelve blocks to get there, each way.

It makes you feel very exposed.

You keep your headphones in, hood of your jacket over your head, and move within throngs of people during the trek, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead, posture tilted just enough that you can watch the ground but still see in your peripheral. You don’t relax until you make it onto the platform, and even then, your head is on a swivel as you wait for the train to arrive, and you can melt into the mix of others. Seen, but not noticed. 

Old habits die hard. 

You swipe your card to proceed through the turnstile, cool metal sliding against your hands when you push forward onto the platform, settling against a pylon as you wait, flicking through the news with half interest.

The hair on the back of your neck rises.

Someone is watching you. 

Your skin goes cold, ice beneath your jacket, and your lungs stutter with short breaths. Logically, you know you’re wrong. The faces that wait alongside you are not focused on anything but themselves, too busy staring at their own devices, tablets, readers, phones. A woman fidgets with a stroller, a man wearing headphones spits some corporate nonsense out loud, obnoxiously. You’ve already looked them over, too many times. He’s not here.

You lean against the tile, rocking your back into the grimy wall, fingers clutching against the edge of your phone. He’s not here. You’re safe. The dark of the tunnel mocks you, laughs with his voice, its circular opening growing teeth like his, ready to devour you, drag you back to hell, swallow you whole and keep you there.

He's not here. You’re safe. He doesn’t know where you are. Deep breath. 

You breathe the words deep, counting the time of your inhales and exhales until the brakes of the train are squeaking and squealing to a stop, doors opening with a hiss. Everyone moves in tandem, an amoeba inching towards the same goal, get off, get on, and you go with it, pressing inside and shuffling towards the back, angling your body outwards, molded into a corner so tight your shoulders touch the walls of the train.

Deep breath. 

“Hey, you’re early!” The nurse you’re relieving smiles brightly at you, blonde hair pulled high in a scrunchie, stickers all over her badge and ID.

“Yeah, wanted to get caught up on some admin stuff but I’ve got it, if you want to…” you motion with your head, the universal signal of ‘if you want to leave’ without saying it out loud, lest you jinx it, and the place goes to chaos in the next five minutes. She nods eagerly, launching into a run-down of your beds, who’s stable, who’s sedated, who’s still on a vent. “-and two sixty-eight is about to come down from the PACU.” Your stomach clenches with anxiety, and you check your watch.

“They took him when I left this morning…”

“Yeah, I guess there was a complication. Had to re-open his chest, put in a new tube. Poor guy, he’s battered all to shit. Did you see the scans of his femur? It’s literally in pieces.” She sighs. “His partner is in the surgical waiting room, told him the next shift nurse would come find him when he could come back to the room.” Your anxiety heightens, and an alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind as you think about Simon, pacing back and forth upstairs, and Johnny, alone in the PACU, probably coming out sedation, terrified. What is wrong with you? 

“I hear those guys are like black ops or something.” Nia, the nurse who’s worked the last three rotations with you, comments over your shoulder as she drops her bag in the pit. You raise an eyebrow skeptically. Black ops? You shiver. “They air-lifted him from a military base that’s doesn’t even exist on a map. Cass and I checked.”

“Really?” The dayshifter perks up, interested, and you hold your hands out in caution.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not speculate.” You tap your number into the tablet, reading through charts and noting updates. A little green circle with an arrow through it blinks next to Johnny’s, signifying that he’s about to be moved. “Besides, he’s been through hell. Clearly. Let’s have a little, ya know. Respect?” They all cluck, rolling their eyes and groaning, but they shut up, and Nia gives you a little grin. You might not be the charge nurse, but you were the perma-night shifter on this floor, and the one with the most seniority in this moment. 

“Alright, well. You got this?” Dayshift asks, and you wave her off.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re the best. Bye ladies!”

Simon is easy to find. He’s wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, black cloth mask still covering half his face, hoodie pulled up over his head. He looks less exhausted, but no less anxious, dark circles still present under his eyes, body language tense. He looks… scared.

He spots you just as easily, shooting to his feet when he sees you coming, hands clenched together in anticipation, and you motion to the chair, placing yourself next to him, turning slightly to ensure you’re giving him your undivided attention.

He shifts in the seat, legs spreading out against the stiff frame, and his knee bumps yours, warmth radiating beneath denim bleeding into your scrubs. If he notices or cares about the contact, he doesn't say anything, only blinks at you in anticipation. His head tilts before you start speaking, and your skin heats when you realize he’s looking you over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before pinning you in place with a focused scrutiny.

“Has anyone come to speak with you?” You ask, silently hoping that the surgeon actually did the last part of his job, and didn’t neglect the family member in waiting room, the one who’s holding their breath as every second ticks by.

Simon nods. “They said there was a complication with his lungs?”

“They had to plate his ribs. It will give the bleed in his chest a better chance at healing, help keep him stable. They also replaced his chest tube.” His brow furrows, and you pause. Maybe visualization will help. “Do you want to see?” You tap on the tablet, bringing up Johnny’s last imaging, scrolling through the pictures to show Simon what it looks like, pointing out the before and after CT of his chest, explaining the white vs grey spaces on the image. Simon studies it, taking the tablet in his hand, fingers tracing over the screen reverently, carefully, like he's touching Johnny himself. An ocean’s worth of emotions reflects in his gaze, despair, sadness, grief- all sitting just on the edge, nearly ready to spill over. Your heart skips a beat.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s coming down from the post-surgery unit now. I’ll have to get him resettled in his room, but I promise as soon as I can, I’ll come get you.” He twitches in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck before he huffs out something that sounds like ‘okay’, and you give him one more small smile with your ‘see you soon’.

Johnny is conscious when he comes up from the PACU, barely. His vitals look good, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate all in target ranges, and he’s due for another round of pain medication.

"Hey, Johnny." You smile down at him, sliding the lock on his bed in place and reattaching his leads carefully, gentle enough so you don't jostle him too much. 

"Hi, pretty girl." He slurs, and you chuckle, instinctively rolling your eyes before patting his good hand. 

“Came out of sedation fine, but he’s been a bit emotional.” The PACU nurse warns you, eyes soft with sympathy when she glances at him in the bed. “He’s asking for his partner, I think. Simon?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” You scan the post op notes, hitting all the important things, logging his last vitals check so you can administer his meds. The incision in his chest has been reopened, and then closed, and his lower body is completely immobilized in the bed, his hip pinned, femur delicately pieced back together with a plethora of plates and screws, so many you think it’s probably more metal than bone now. “How are you feeling?" You ask, heart tugging a bit at the hopelessness in his eyes. “Ready to get some more sleep?” He groans a response, words jumbled together and cracking into a sob that has tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Si..”

“He’s not back yet.” You try to explain gently, grabbing an extra blanket to put over the scaffolding around his leg. “Once I get you settled, we’ll bring him up, okay?”

“H-hurts.” He cries, vibrant blue eyes finding yours, scared, and desperate. “It h-hurts.” He’s openly crying now, shoulders starting to shake, and the monitor chimes at you, registering an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

“I know. I know it does.” You clean his port, tracking the uptick in numbers on the screen. “Hey, hey. Shhh, it’s okay.” You try to calm him as you flush the line, pushing the saline from the side of the bed. “You’re alright. We’re almost,” You administer the medication easily, counting in your head, replacing it with another saline before reattaching his fluids line, all of the motions so second nature that it allows you keep your focus on him. “there.”

You expect him to calm down. Most patients do, but his heart rate continues to tick upwards, and his respirations don’t decrease, lungs heaving against the fresh sutures in his chest. His hand, the good one, skates across your elbow and down your forearm to grab a hold of you, fingers gripped onto yours tightly, like he’s afraid you might let go.

“It’s alright, Johnny. You’re okay.” His eyes don’t leave your face, his own jaw slack, pain meds coursing through his system. He's frightened, big blue eyes wide and anxious, and you squeeze his hand, stroking your thumb across his knuckles. “Deep breath.” You see patients upset, in pain, all the time. It’s an everyday part of your job. Even the hand holding is a necessary, frequent part of your profession.

But with Johnny, something feels different.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, just try to relax. Take some long breaths- good. That’s good.” You soothe him, rubbing soft touches into his skin. His head is turned to where you’re standing next to the bed, chest still heaving, and he winces with each exhale. “It’s just the last of the sedation, it can make you a little out of sorts. The pain meds are going to kick in real soon.” You reach over, and press the call button, twice. You can feel the pressure, the burn of his attention, his unwillingness to look away from you, and you hum out the softest words you can find, encouraging him to take calm, deep breaths. 

When Nia appears, she frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Hey, yes. Could you do us a favor and go up to the surgical waiting room? Johnny’s partner Simon, is waiting to be told he can come down.” She looks from you to him, reading the situation just as you would if the roles were reversed.

“Got it.” She makes her exit, fast, and Johnny gulps, still staring up at you with bright, wet, blue eyes.

“See? She’s going to get him. Everything’s alright.” He nods, barely, starting to succumb to the medication, and you exhale, letting out some of the tension from the last few minutes.

Simon comes through the door in a whirlwind, and you immediately raise your free hand, palm out, to slow his hurried panic.

“He’s okay.” You point to where Johnny is still clutching onto you. “He was still in a fair amount of pain when he came down, and coming out of sedation can be disorientating. I think he panicked a little when he realized you weren’t here.” He nods silently, taking his place bedside, towering over both you and Johnny, leaning past you to brush his lips against Johnny's forehead in a sweet, smooth kiss. 

"I'm here, sweet boy." He murmurs, voice so low you barely catch it. You step back, pulling your grasp from Johnny's, but he tightens his fingers, grip stronger than you anticipated, and you stop mid step, glancing to his partner. “I got him.” Simon reaches for where the two of you are connected, sliding his own hand overtop yours, replacing the contact before holding Johnny's hand whole. He’s so careful, lowering himself into the chair, carefully holding onto Johnny until he’s seated, bringing his palm to his mask covered lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Si.”

“I’m here Johnny. Rest.”

“Ye weren’t there.” He croaks, and Simon’s eyes shutter with a long inhale.

“I know.”

“Ah needed-“ He loses the words, dazed in a swirl of semi-consciousness. “was scared.” Simon strokes some of the hair that’s in disarray away from his forehead, smoothing his thumb back and forth above his eyebrow.

“Shhh, everything’s alright now. I’m here.”

The chair in supply closet 2b knows you well. It’s an old thing, something pulled from a patient room once it was deemed too squeaky, and too uncomfortable, shoved in here to be discarded at some point in the future.

That was months ago.

Now, it sits in a dark little corner, plastic packages of disposable PPE and gowns littered on top of it in a heap, excess supply with no place to live. Everyone takes turns in it, shifting whatever it happens to be holding that day onto the ground and settling in for what some could call a break, brief moments that could last seconds or minutes, quick opportunities to get off your feet and most importantly, not have to speak or be spoken to, for an indeterminate amount of time.

This is usually where you hide when you need a second. When there’s a lull, and the pit is full of nurses, techs, students or whoever else may have downtime, talking and laughing together, building relationships, getting to know one another. Making friends. It's a small luxury at work, to have that time, those friendships. 

Luxuries someone who wants to be seen, but not noticed, not known, does not have.

You close your eyes, head tipped back against the chair.

It’s okay to be alone. You can do this. Deep breath. 

Your mind floats to two sixty-eight, to Simon and Johnny. What is it like, to be loved like that? To be so fiercely cared for? Johnny’s teary, blue eyes and Simon’s soft, loving regard for him makes your stomach flip. You didn’t even know love like that was real. The only taste of love you’ve ever had left ash in your mouth, poison in your veins, and deep, deep scars across your body and soul that you’ll never be free of.

Deep breath. 

Your work phone and the tablet both start to beep, a shrill noise that makes you wince, muscle memory of what it indicates making you leap from the chair.

The screen shows a red flashing symbol next to room two sixty-eight.

Johnny.

“He’s tachycardic.” You tell the tech who’s fumbling with the phone, firing off a rapid text message to the on-call for this floor. You hold Johnny’s forehead still with the heel of your hand, using a finger to flick open his eyelids one by one, flashing the pen light across his pupils. “Pupils are dilated, BP is elevated- no call him- call him right now. Do what I said, I don’t care what he told you.” You bark, glancing up at where Simon is frozen across the bed from you, grip so tight against the rail that you think it might break.

“Simon-“ He cuts you off, but you’re half paying attention to him, too busy checking the site of Johnny’s chest tube, and then moving onto the dressing on his lower abdomen, ensuring it doesn’t feel scalding to the touch.

“He was fine. He was just… sleepin' and then-“ You move around the bed, pulling the oxygen tube longer, replacing the cannula with a mask.  

“Simon, I need you to step out.” You press two buttons on the machine, ensuring it’s on high flow, door sliding open with Nia’s arrival.

“No.” His refusal is steadfast.

“Simon, hey.” He lurches closer to Johnny, and on instinct, you reach out and grab his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are wild, bleak with anguish, and his chest heaves heavily, panic radiating from his massive form. “Listen to me, listen. I’m here. I’ve got him, alright? But there are about to be five other people in this room, and we can’t work if you’re in the way.” You speak firmly, clearly, trying to get your point across as the door opens again, and the on-call attending is standing on the other side. Simon glances from him, back to you, and you nod reassuringly, swallowing the lump in your throat that forms when he latches onto your own arm, squeezing it tight. “He’s in good hands.” You tell him, nodding to the tech that’s waiting to usher him towards the hallway. 

He keeps his eyes trained on Johnny, before they flick over to where you’re lowering the bed completely flat, free hand on his bicep, thumb rubbing a small semi-circle into his skin, just like you watched Simon do last night, and earlier today. He swallows, endless depths of desperation welling in his eyes, and you take a deep breath, imbuing your voice with all the strength you have.

“I’ve got him. I promise.”

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[polyamorouspunk]

I see so many posts talking about how we have to survive to show others that it’s possible. That there’s a future. That there’s a way out. Older trans people have to survive for younger trans kids. People of color have to survive for the next generations. Gay people have to survive to show that we can’t be erased by history. Disabled people have to survive to show the world that they’re just as capable as everyone else- or if they aren’t, that’s okay, and should be accommodated for.

Those of us with “scary” mental illnesses need to survive too. We need to show each other that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That we can have something close to a normal life. That we’re not destined to end up incarcerated, either in jail or a hospital. That our fate isn’t always to end up on the wrong side of a knife, or a gun, or a rope. That we can have a platform outside of a true crime podcast. That we can be proud despite of it all.

[maybesamikins]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 » 𝐬.𝐰

sam winchester x female!reader

genre: smut warnings: NSWF , 18⁺ , explicitly sexual content , mention of readers death , spoilers? wc: 2.6k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when sam faces death, he wakes up in heaven and is forced to relive one of his happiest memories with his late girlfriend who tragically passed away six years ago.

𝐚/𝐧: this idea literally came to me in the middle of the night… i’ve never written smut before nor have i ever actually posted a fan fiction, please be nice or i think i might die. and please ignore any typos and grammatical errors i don’t feel like proofreading.. ENJOYYY!! <3

ꔫ » 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟓𝐱𝟏𝟔 “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧”

the two men standing before sam exchanged looks, nodding at one another. sam’s heart was pounding so hard he swore it was about to burst out of his chest. sam clinched his eyes shut so he no longer had to stare down the barrel of a shotgun. the sound of the trigger clicking echoed through his ears, then all he remembered was the bright flash that followed. he felt his body growing cold as the world fell quiet.

“sam, c’mon we gotta leave!”

his eyes fluttered open, in a confused daze he began checking out the very familiar surroundings. his dorm. and was that her voice?

“sam? you dressed yet, babe?” after hearing your voice for the second time sam came to the conclusion that this was the light at the end of the tunnel before eternal hell.

your sweet voice came from behind the door of his room. a smile instinctively grew onto his face. the small sound of the door knob twisting followed by the larger sound of the door opening grabbed his attention, he turned to face the now open door. his eyes instantly met your face. the familiar glow of your face and the welcoming smile that had stuck with him over the years made him feel like he had just fallen in love all over again. god how he’s missed you. he had only seen your face as an image in his head for the past six years. and to see you now, so vividly, it felt so real– it made his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

“what’s got you so smiley?” you giggled at his goofy smile as you walked further into his room. he remembered now, this had happened before. a full year before you died, the night of some halloween party, which explained the angel costume, coincidentally enough. he remembered how you had wanted to go with the witch costume, which sam had talked you out of— he hated witches.

“just happy to see you.” he found himself stuttering over his words trying to gather the right things to say. sam couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face even if he tried his hardest. he walked over to you and gently placed his hands on your waist that was covered with a sheer white fabric. leaning down, not once letting his eyes fall away from you, slowly connecting his lips to yours with anticipation. it was just as he remembered, your lips still soft and sweet. the distinctive taste of the chapstick you always wore he had been dreaming of for years.

your arms flat against his chest to playfully push him off.

“alright, loverboy. where's your costume?” you stood with your arms crossed waiting for an answer. he could only smile, this all felt so surreal. to feel your lips plush against his for the first time in forever, to taste the reminisce of your sweetness lingering on his own lips. he was so happy to see your face again, this time your eyes filled with light instead of terror. for years the scared expression you had before you died had haunted him.

“you know halloween isn’t my thing.” he finally spoke.

“yeah yeah, whatever,” you rolled her eyes in a toying manner. “you ready to go then?” you gestured to his current outfit. he had on what he had every time this memory would repeat in his dreams, the button up shirt that had the sleeves pushed up a little past his forearms and his jeans that hung the slightest bit low.

sam looked at you for a moment, his eyes falling over each and every one of your features before his gaze finally met your eyes again,

“mm’ not yet.” he hummed to himself with a low mumble.

he pulled you in by the waist once again, this time with more grip in his touch. one hand falling on the small of your back guiding you closer to his body. your hands glide up his toned chest and land on the back of his neck, you pull him down to you connecting your lips with his. the hand that laid on your back moved to the warmth of your cheek only pulling you further into the passionate kiss that was growing sloppy. your hands now in his soft brunette hair, playing with it gently in your fingers— including an occasional tug. his tongue slowly grazes over your plump lips, slightly parting your lips allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth ravenously. his hand slid onto your back as you arched closer into his needy touch, he kissed slowly along the soft skin of your neck. you tilted your head giving him additional access to more of your tender skin. taking your swollen bottom lip in between your teeth clenching your eyes shut at small tickling feeling of sam kissing up your neck.

he couldn’t help but tease the skin of your neck, abusing the sensitive bits of your skin that would make your breath hitch and your heart speed up a beat. sam was like a starved man in front of a perfectly plated meal, and he just couldn’t get enough. his hands wandered over your clothed body feeling more of your warm skin. reluctantly removing his lips from your skin, he gently tossed you onto the bed with a sense of urgency. immediately climbing on top of you, your hips slotted together perfectly. he left small kisses on your body occasionally sucking harshly on your skin. leaving a trail of small pecks as he made his way back up to your lips. his arm on the side of your head caging you in propped him up over your body, while his free hand rested beneath your back. his knee between your legs supported the rest of his larger body that covered yours entirely. the hand beneath your back now grazing over the fabric of your costume. he began slowly slipping the material over your shoulder as he kissed further down your neck and along your collarbone taking note of the spots that made you let out those cute little noises. his free hand pushing more of the costume material down your body, leaving your upper half in just that white lacy bra that he could never forget. he slowly slipped the straps from your shoulders, still kissing along your skin.

“this okay, pretty girl?”

he looked up at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. begging for your permission to go any further. he already knew what your answer was, he had relieved this moment time and time again in his head and his dreams, but he just needed to hear you say it— to listen to your sweet voice telling him to continue.

nodding frantically, you answered. “mhm, please keep going, sam.”

and that’s all he needed.

the underlying hints of sultry and desire in your voice made his mind foggy. his thoughts being taken over by the pure feeling of lust. your lips link together once again, like two magnets being pulled together. warmth coursed through his core as he deepened the kiss, his body ached for more. his fingers fumbled with the clasps of the white lacy bra that had been committed to his memory by now, he was quick to discard of it by tossing it to the floor. you simultaneously run your hands beneath his shirt against his toned torso urging him to lose the layer— which he happily did. quickly unbuttoning the buttons that lined his shirt then throwing it to wherever your bra had ended up. he pulled away to take in the image of you laying beneath him; your bare chest rising and falling at a quick pace, lips parted sucking in the cold air of the room. his legs now straddled over your frame, soaking in the moment with a growing smirk on his face. his coarse hands ran up and down your body appreciating every curve, the same hands that could be so violent, but were always gentle when it came to you.

lowering his head he began leaving small kisses against your chest all while taking your exposed breast into his big hand and massaging your tender skin. he hummed against your smooth skin as you played gently with his hair, urging you to continue combing your fingers through his hair. he ran his hands down your figure, pushing the material of your costume fully off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. you now laid beneath him, almost completely bare. the only thing that was covering you was the matching lacy panties that were decorated with a small bow on the hem.

you watched his own eyes trace the outline of your body, his eyes full of lust and desire. you return his gaze with a sense of anticipation in your eyes. his hands glide up your soft legs slowly parting them to make room for himself in the middle of them. he gently rests his hand on your knee as his other hand slides over your slit that was still clothed.

he notices the way your body shudders as he teased your sensitive core, and with no rush he slowly pushed your damp panties to the side. he then ran his two of his fingers between the slick of your folds. he watched you take your bottom lip in your mouth in an attempt to suppress the small whimpers that were on the tip of your tongue. slowly slipping his index finger into you with ease, he studied your reaction before he slipped his middle finger in along with the first one. your eyes fluttered open and closed as you felt this sudden feeling of pleasure. he leaned down connecting his lips to yours as his fingers continued to work inside of you.

he’d slowly pull his fingers out, then he’d quickly push them deeper in. repeating this process over and over, pumping deeper into you with more pace each time. his lips suppressing the moans that were dying to spill from your lips. your hands run up his bare back feeling his muscles flex as he pleasured you. his free hand connected with the small of your back as you arched further off the bed trying to get closer to the pleasure sam was giving you. he watched your eyes squint shut while you threw your head back letting out a few small whimpers that sent heat coursing through sam’s body. your hands fall down to the waist band of sam’s jeans that have failed to come off. your hands fumbling with the belt on his pants, your progress reset each time he’d push his fingers deeper into you. finally unbuckling his belt, you yanked the belt from the loops of his jeans and tossed it to the floor.

“sam, please..” you whimper his name, your voice hoarse. you begged him to take it further, you needed to feel him against you. and he’d do anything you asked for.

“please what, sweet girl?” he whispered close to your ear as he began teasing at your sensitive clit. he knew what you wanted, he just desperately wanted to hear you say it. to hear you beg to feel him deeper inside of you.

your hands gripped onto his flexed biceps in an attempt to pull yourself back down from this high. “need to feel you inside me.” your words came out broken and breathy from the pleasure he was not letting up on. your thoughts were scattered, barely able to finish one thought before you’d get distracted from the satisfaction you were feeling.

“yeah? i can do that for you, baby.”

he peppered kisses down your neck while he spoke to you, a tone of sultry in his voice. he once again leaned over your body and kissed your swollen lips, this kiss being more aggressive and hungry. the proximity made you feel how hard he was against your bare pussy. you squirmed beneath him as he slowly grinded against you. he finally sat up and began to unbutton his jeans, you eagerly watching as he pushed the waistband of his jeans and boxers down at the same time, then discarding them to the floor just like every other layer of clothing that had been shed. you bit down on your bottom lip, your gaze focused on his finally completely bare body. your eyes traced over his v-line, noticing each and every vein. he took his hard dick into his hand and guided over your wet slit, coating this tip of his cock in your slick. he slowly pushed himself into you, watching your face twist as he pushed further in.

“shit, you feel so good.. so tight.” he slurred against the crook of your neck.

you were boxed in beneath him, his forearm on the other side of your head keeping himself propped up above you while he left sloppy kisses down your jawline. when he finally bottomed out in you, he found your eyes with his own looking for approval to start moving. you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. he took a moment to take in the look on your face, committing the way you looked at him to memory. the way your eyes had been lit up pretty much the whole night, and how your lips looked so soft and plush.

“my beautiful girl.” he whispered to you, his voice low and almost hurt.

he had finally started to move inside you, pulling out just enough to push further in. repeating this movement over and over picking up pace with each thrust. your hands gripping on to his back, digging your nails into his toned back as you felt him push further into you. he went back to leaving sloppy wet kisses over your body as he continued to push deeper into you. your legs now wrapped around his waist trying to get even closer against him. the sound of skin slapping synchronized with the moans and breaths you’d let out.

as you felt yourself getting closer you felt a knot growing in your stomach, your eyes closing shut as a small tear fell down your cheek. sam’s thrusts grow increasingly more sloppy as your walls squeezed tight around his cock.

“s’close..” you moaned against his neck, your words were slurred and broken. he began to whisper strings of praise against the cuff of your ear. going on about how good you were taking him, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. his thrusts not showing any signs of mercy as he continued to plunge deep into you.

“c’mon, cum f‘me pretty girl.”

you finally felt the pure bless of your release, letting out a loud breathy moans as a few tears stream down your face. at your release sam pulls himself out, and with his hand he strokes his cock over your body. within seconds he came, spurting out a stream of hot liquid onto your body, groaning as he squeezed the last few drops out.

his tired body falls next to yours after he had fetched a towel and cleaned you up. his back flat against the bed. the two of you laying next to each other sweaty and out of breath, now both of you under the covers of his bed. you cuddled up next to sam, tracing small circles over his chest as he looked up at the ceiling with his arm under his head.

seconds later the moment of peace was interrupted by the door flinging open, dean falling through. sam shooting up from his side of the bed. meeting eyes with dean, who immediately went to cover his eyes.

“jeez, you dirty dog.”

[itsjusthockey]

A Nonsense Christmas - Jack Hughes

(Fruitcake EP Series)

Finally.

Enjoy

Comment and interact, love u guys that do. Makes my night

w.c: 2,083 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

“Isn’t this illegal?” You ask, following Jack down through the tunnel of the very dark and very closed Prudential Center. “Or at least frowned upon?”

He snorts in front of you and turns to meet your eyes, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he leans toward you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Being me has its privileges, baby.”

He throws you a wink, and you roll your eyes as far back as you can as you continue to follow him down toward the devil's locker room. You’ve been to the Devil's barn many times before, but never when it was this late and very obviously closed. This little rendezvous wasn’t your plan. Things that are this extravagant usually aren’t.

You are currently in Jersey, but only for a few days. The hockey world was about to go on break, and Jack had begged you to fly in before you both headed to Michigan for the holidays. You were a bit hesitant, but after a few bribes from your boyfriend, you ended up in Jersey.

Tonight is your first night, and all you want after a long week of finals and a tiring flight is to land face-first in Jack's bed and stay there—Jack has other plans. As soon as you land and drop your stuff in the apartment, he is quick to shoo you out the door again, explaining he has a surprise date night planned after your miserable finals, and you are going to love what he has planned.

At the moment, the only feeling that is plaguing your mind is nervousness. Jack’s too cocky, and he has a slight bounce in his step which usually means he’s up to no good.

You follow behind him diligently, and soon enough, you both enter the locker room. The space is as lovely as you remember it, and you follow Jack over to his stall, which is conveniently next to his baby brothers. You watch with slightly narrowed eyes as he grabs various items from his locker and hands them to you.

It isn’t until he opens his little cubby that everything falls into place. There inside is a brand new box, and when he opens it in front of you, his stupid little smirk grows even wider.

“You like?” He proudly pulls the new Bauer skates from the box, handing one over to you.

You take in the brand new pair of skates. They’re beautiful, custom, and just your size.

“You, sir, are evil.” You give him a false mean glare, but you’re slightly being honest with your statement. “You really bought me skates and trapped me here to force me to ice skate?”

He shrugs his shoulders again, smiling. “Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes at the boy in front of you. You’ve been together for a while, a long time, and while you’re dating one of the best hockey players in the league, you can’t ice skate for shit. It’s not for a lack of trying; you really have given it your all, but you’ve just had terrible teachers. Jack has tried to teach you many times. Many, many times, to no avail.

The first time, you almost ended up with a trip to the emergency room. The second time you landed so hard on your back, you thought you were paralyzed. The third time, you almost got a concussion. So it’s simple to say you’ve tried your best, but you’ve decided to leave ice skating to the professionals.

“Come on, baby, tonight’s the night, I feel it.”

You follow him out of the locker room toward the ice. You pause when you get there, suddenly feeling a sense of nostalgia. The lights are on in the center ice, and you have to admit it looks serene and slightly beautiful in the late evening. You’ve only ever been here when it is bustling with fans, and you feel a little special getting to see it this way.

“Come on, stop stalling.” Jack teases, patting the bench for you to sit.

You follow him and seat yourself in front of him. He’s smiling big, and he looks ridiculously happy. He’s always like this when he’s here; he has a certain energy when he’s close to a rink. You’d never tell him this, but you love it when he tries to teach you, even if you are wildly nervous.

Jack kneels down, immediately getting to work. You wince slightly as he pulls the skatelaces impossibly tighter around your foot. He quickly loops them around and tucks them into the sides, ensuring there is no possibility of you tripping, which you may or may not have done before.

“There, how’s that?” Jack gently pats your ankle as he looks up at you, still kneeling on the floor.

You shake your feet around, and the brand-new Bauer skates don’t budge a bit; it’s really tight and slightly cutting off blood flow, but you would rather have that than a broken ankle.

“Feels good.”

He smiles again, standing up and grabbing your face. He pulls you in for a quick kiss, then sits next to you, pulling on his own skates. You watch as he tightens them in record speed, and soon enough, he’s launching himself across the boards.

You glare at him as he races around the ice. He skates forward, backward, and even does a little spin. He’s laughing as you’re watching him move around fluidly, and once he’s done, he skates back to you, leaning over the boards where you’re standing, safely behind the danger.

“Stop showing off J, you’re not cute.”

He barks out a laugh at your bitterness, but he smiles sweetly and extends a hand for you to grab. You hesitate, watching his open palm for a minute before you finally pluck up enough courage and swing yourself onto the ice.

As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice, you fall a bit forward, and Jack steadies your waist. You give him another glare when you catch his amused stare. He’s enjoying this way too much.

“Okay, baby, you ready for the basics?”

You nod and watch as your boyfriend goes into full teacher mode. He tells you how to go, how to change directions, and you’re off. You feel pretty good. You haven’t been injured yet, but you seem to be skating better than you ever have. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re on professional ice; maybe their talent is seeping in.

You’re moving pretty fast, actually very fast, and Jack has let go of your hands, letting you glide on your own. It isn’t until you’re getting a little too close that you realize he forgot to reach you, the most essential part of ice skating.

“Wait,” you screech a bit. “How the fuck do I stop!”

Before you can do anything, you smack into the boards and fall on your ass. You hit the ice pretty hard as you go down, and as soon as you fall, you just lay there accepting defeat.

You hear Jack's loud and annoying laughter before he gets to you. He skates up so close, and he hovers above your body, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“You were doing so good. What happened?”

You huff in annoyance, and he holds out his hands to help you up. Once you’re back on your feet, you throw him another glare.

“I’m not having fun.”

He smiles and skates in a bit close, moving to kiss your pout away. He does, and when he pulls his face back, he gently moves a piece of stray hair out of your face.

“You’re doing good. It just takes practice.”

You nod, and a newfound sense of determination fills you. This is just ice skating, literally Jack's job, and you will fucking master it if it kills you. More so, you know for a fact that there is a family skate coming soon, and you want to impress people. You know you have it in you, so you grit your teeth, use Jack to push you, and you’re off again.

An hour later, you’re quite impressed with yourself. You’ve managed to skate around and haven’t fallen once. You’re moving good, and you’re finally able to keep up with Jack to a certain extent.

“You better watch out J, I think the league might replace you with me.”

You wink at him as he watches you proudly, and you can tell this means a lot to him, so even if it means you’ll fall a few times, you’ll do this every day.

“You’re a natural.” He circles you, and you try your best not to knock into him. “You just needed to get out of your head.”

You nod, smilingly, and you both skate for a little longer. Eventually, you grow a bit tired. It’s been a long day, and you find yourself skating toward the devil's bench in search of some much-needed water.

Jack reads your mind and beats you to the bench, swinging himself over and grabbing the water bottle. He grins a little bit and melts your heart. He shakes the water bottle and holds it high. You oblige and tilt your head back as he squirts the water into your mouth. He misses a bit, causing the water to dribble down your chin. You sputter a bit and wipe at your face, playfully glaring at him.

“Oops, my bad," Jack says, chuckling as he wipes the excess water off your cheek with his hand. "Looks like I need to work on my aim."

You shake your head, feigning annoyance, but you can’t help but find his boyish antics endearing.

“You're lucky you're cute," you tease, unable to hold back your laughter.

Jake grins impossibly wider, his eyes twinkling a bit with mischief. "Well, I guess I'll have to make it up to you then."

He reaches out and helps pull you safely off the ice. He makes quick work and cups your face with cold hands, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The familiar tingle of excitement rushes through you as your lips meet, and you melt into his embrace, warming yourself up. His kiss is passionate but sweet and tender; it sends shivers down your spine. The light sounds of the empty area fade, and you find yourself getting lost with him.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull apart, breathless but grinning from ear to ear. Jack's blue eyes sparkled as he looks at you with all the affection in the world.

“Better?" he asks with a smirk, his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. "Much better," you whisper, unable to hide your adoration for this hockey-playing heartthrob in front of you.

You sigh wistfully and see the twitch of a smile tug at his lips as you cup his jaw and tug him down to meet you in another gentle, lingering kiss. The warmth of his touch sends a rush of emotions through you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Are you hungry?” Jack whispers in your hair.

You nod and loop your arms through his bent elbows, crossing it over his back. You press a soft kiss to his jaw, and he pulls you back toward the locker room. It doesn’t take long for you both to pack up, and you’re very pleased with the successful date night. It isn’t often you get to do things like this, and every time you do, you’re reminded how special your relationship is.

Ten minutes later, you’re packed into the Range Rover, and Jack is speeding toward his favorite late-night burger place. When you pull in, you see the hanging Christmas lights, and you’re reminded of the season. It’s Christmas, and you get to spend time with him, lots of time.

He leads you in hand and hand, and you can’t help but feel utter joy as you eat and spend the rest of the night together. The holdings season is shaping up to be the best yet, and you’re unbelievably excited to spend it by his side.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 9

part 1 | part 8 | ao3

cw: medical emergency

He ditches his car at the top of the street, runs the rest of the way because there are too many people standing around — a small crowd of onlookers clustered at the bottom of the lane, gawking in their sleep shirts and flannels like the world isn’t trying to end for a fourth time. Fifth? He can’t keep track. He can’t even think, numb to everything but the pounding of his shoes against the pavement, the sirens wailing in his ears, the steady prayer in his pulse not her not now not both—

“Mom?” he shouts, voice cracking and raw. “Mom!!”

“It’s not for her.”

There’s a hand against his chest then, heel of a palm pressed to his sternum, and he slams into it like a brick wall. The air burns in his lungs; he can’t focus his eyes. “Wh-what?” he gets out, voice shaking, throat thick. Cold terror drools down his sweaty neck like the breath of a hungry monster. He’s a little kid again, swept up in the mayhem of a crowded mall. Where’s his mom; where’s his mom?

“Your mom’s in my house.” The voice is deep and slow, the hand flexing against his shirt. Fingers splayed. Heavy rings.

“…E-Eddie?” Steve’s vision swims, going yellow and purple then tunneling down to black, deep water filling his ears. Nothing makes any sense. “Munson, what—?”

“Your mom’s in my house,” he repeats like a mantra. Like a lighthouse in the fog, voice rumbling and sure. “She’s safe. She’s fine. You’re hyperventilating; take a breath.”

His breath is still catching quick and high in his throat, little puffs of cold mist. Can you drown in cold air? Can it condense inside your chest?

Eddie grips his shoulder, snaps his fingers in Steve’s face. “Hey. Hey, Steve? Come on, man, look at me. Steve. Look at me.”

Steve meets his gaze like the tide drawn to the moon.

“Deep breath,” he demonstrates, sucking air through an invisible straw, letting his chest and belly swell. Steve copies him until his vision starts to clear, until his heartbeat starts to calm. "That's it," Eddie tells him. "Good. Yeah, there we go."

Some hysterical part in the back of his brain wants to laugh. To start and never stop, just laugh and laugh and laugh until his fucking head explodes.

When he can breathe again, he pants weakly, “What is going on?”

Eddie guides him to a picnic table on the outskirts of the crowd, and they perch on top of it with their feet planted on the bench. The air feels calmer here.

Steve takes another breath.

Eddie points to the single-wide right next to Steve’s. “The wagon’s for your neighbor,” he grimaces in sympathy, one eye squinting shut as he cocks his head at Steve. “Ernie. You know him?”

“Mm.” Ernie Gerwitz. Late 60s, a widower with liver spots and arthritis in both hands. Bad heart, worse drinking habit. Fucking hates Steve’s mom because she backed over his begonias. “Not well.”

They didn’t interact much beyond an occasional neighborly nod, although Steve did once earn the guy’s good graces by yelling at Misty while shooing her off with a rake. (‘Little bitch left me a whole damn weasel last year,’ he’d grumbled as he stooped to pick up the newspaper. ‘Can't shoot her, though, 'cause she scares away the possums.’) And now…

Steve can’t make out much from here, just the shape of a four-man stretcher being carried out the door, strobe light streaks in his vision as the EMTs load up the van.

“Is he…” Steve gulps, clasping his hands between his knees. He doesn’t want to ask this question. The words taste moldy in his mouth. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s hand shakes a little when he drags it down his cheek. His answer comes on a wobbly sigh, an almost melodic quality to the tension in his voice. “No-o idea, man. Your, uh, your mom, ya know, she— She found him. In, um. In the yard." "Jesus." "Said he was just, like... lying there. In the grass.” Eddie stares off into the distance like he’s seeing it right now; makes a wet clucking sound as his bottom lip quivers. “Thinks it was, a- a heart thing, or something? Shit, I don’t know. She was pretty freaked out when she knocked on my door.”

Steve can't picture it. He hasn’t seen her express a single true emotion since July.

A hesitant hitch of breath, and Eddie chews on his next words, tapping a hand against his thigh. “She’s, uh... she’s… calmer now. Or. At least-”

Steve rolls his eyes, knows exactly where this is going. Eddie tries again: “I mean, she seemed like-”

“Like a fucking zombie?” Steve supplies.

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, a nervous laugh of relief. You said it, man, not me. There’s something serious in his gaze, something curious and searching.

Something almost kind. Steve shrinks away from it like a vampire in the sun. Go on, he wants to say, ask about the fucking pills. Wants to goad him into a fight, some mean, sharp thing inside him itching to see someone else bleed.

Steve bites his tongue until he tastes metallic tang. Copper covering mildew; fresh bloom coating decay. He swallows hard, lets them both slide down his throat — blood and ghosts, life and death. The River Styx must taste like pennies.

The siren starts again, and Eddie groans and hangs his head. “Christ," he murmurs to the dirt, “Wayne’s gonna be so bummed.”

They both watch in silence as the ambulance goes by.

—

part 10

okay same deal tagging whoever commented yesterday (if your settings will let me) you’re all delightful tysm 😘 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @thefreakandthehair @slutforcoffein @manda-panda-monium @munsonfamilybandalso @aliea82 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @lololol-1234 @hotluncheddie @pennyplainknits @disrespectedgoatman @carolinachickadee @insideiscold @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @violetsteve my actual wife blessings upon your house @lighthousebeams @steves-strapcollection @sirsnacksalot @stevesbipanic @slowandsteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @so-get-this-sammy @annabanannabeth @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @a-little-unsteddie @envyadams-vs-me @ppunkpuppyy if i forgot anyone i’m sorry i am very sleep deprived

[synthetickitsune]

Ashes Settle, Left Behind ✧ y.jh [part 1]

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x ghost!reader (gn) Genre: horror-ish angst Summary: Everything eventually comes to an end. Life. Love. Even marriage only lasts until death do us apart. So why should a soul bond be any different? Word count: 10k Warnings: a lot of inaccuracies that we shall all ignore for the sake of the plot (pretty please), mentions of fire, jeonghan has an invisible stalker basically A/N: Things got a little out of hand but lately that's all they do when it comes to me and writing lmao... Anyway, excited to finally be sharing the first part of my addition for @svthub's world tour collab! It ended up being more fun (and longer) than I expected and the second part hopefully shouldn't take too long now - unless I feel like torturing these two more. Also shoutout to @wooahaeproductions for helping me find out about the fire of Seattle that started all this! -> svthub world tour masterlist -> [part 2] (coming soon!)

You feel a shift in the air.

As if a tomb was opened and you could breathe again, see the world again. You see the light at the end of a tunnel. You let it envelope you.

You take a breath but the air doesn’t reach your lungs. You feel light and airy. Not held down by gravity; your lungs not weighted down by ashes and smoke.

You raise your hands and see. See - but not yourself. Just a blur. Like looking at the world through water.

Your body’s not there.

Just a ghost. A lingering memory someone dreamed up after an eternity.

It takes an effort to come to terms with your existence. Again. With a completely new form, in a new time. You’re not sure what’s a bigger shock - your ethereal self or how much everything changed. 

You can’t wander out, caged in another memory kept preserved in the bones of the city you lived in. 

The people are different. The technology is different. It’s hard to understand, but you have nothing better to do than watch the people who come in and walk through the graveyard that is your home. And you learn. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

The modern world is easy to grasp, but life… not so much. There’s only one thing that’s for certain: something changed. 

Something made the change happen. You have no explanation as to how or why. But you know one thing. He has returned.

As if you’ve been longing for eternity, you feel so relieved you could cry.

You can clearly visualize it. Him bursting in through the door, embracing you and spinning with you in his arms with that pretty and carefree smile.

He’s coming home. Finally, he’s coming home again.

You should get the dinner started…

But…

The kitchen burned down.

The house burned down.

The city burned down.

Usually he’d be cursing his alarm right about now, but today Jeonghan is already awake and sipping coffee by the window of his little shop.

Despite only having slept a couple hours, he feels energized and ready to face the day. He’s sure the exhaustion would catch up with him later, but the benefit of being his own boss and living right above his workplace is that he could always spend his lunch break napping in the comfort of his bed if he needed to. Although he isn’t sure he’d manage to keep his eyes closed or get a decent sleep until he figured out his battle plan.

What battle?

Figuring out the decoration for the upcoming city festival. The thought alone makes him breathe deeply and bite back a smile.

It was made very clear throughout the negotiations that he and his shop wasn’t the first choice; the general mood was more along the lines of you’ll have to do because no one else would accept an offer this low. But Jeonghan truthfully didn’t mind, he didn’t even mind the low pay even though it’d barely make him any profit. It was an opportunity to put himself and his business out there and show what he and his team are capable of. 

Having only tipped their toes into the waters of providing decorations for big events, this was huge. There was nothing he loved more than making bouquets for his customers and bringing smiles to faces that he sometimes couldn’t even see, but he also craved success. Not to mention that if his shop got contracted for more deals like this (with better pay, hopefully), he could likely afford to take better care of the people helping him, which was ultimately a stronger drive to make it big than the status of a successful business owner.

“Someone’s up early.” 

He turns in the direction of the voice and sees Joshua and Seungkwan walking in, both with a cup of coffee in their hands. Seeing them, he feels like he could work nonstop for weeks, all the way until the festival.

If everything goes well, maybe they could start doing weddings. Joshua is always going on about wanting to design and make someone's wedding bouquet. He'd be ecstatic if they got the opportunity. Most of them would be, Jeonghan thinks. He's seen some of Jihoon's ideas scribbled on loose pages around the shop. They were perfect, some fit for a neat modern wedding, others straight out of fairytale. Seungkwan daydreams of making little flower crowns for the flower girls and flower boys. 

Weren’t they simply meant to do weddings? It's not an easy business venture to get into, but with the festival... It's a good opportunity. Or maybe he’s just too hopeful.

"Good morning" he greets his friends with a warm smile. "It's gonna be a busy day so why not start straight away?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Seungkwan teases, but he's smiling too. 

The morning routine is a breeze with one extra person. Eventually, Seokmin and Jihoon come in and join too as they all agreed to meet and plan for the big event ahead. The back room is cramped with all of them gathered - another sign they need to make a lot of money and expand.

Although Jeonghan likes it this way, likes how cozy the main space of the shop is.

“Is there any theme they want? Colors, aesthetic?” Joshua asks, “It’d be much easier if there was.”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs, “They didn’t mention anything, so I guess we’re free to do whatever. It’s a history faire so I guess they have no idea either.”

“So something that will survive drunk dudes pissing in it for anything that’s not hanging in the air it is,” Seungkwan claps his hands like it’s a done deal, turning the attention of everyone to himself.

“Don’t ruin your boss’ illusions, dude,” Seokmin scolds him immediately, whisper-shouting as if Jeonghan couldn’t hear.

“He’s right though,” Jihoon points out with a shrug. Jeonghan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s dream a little and aim for aesthetic over functionality, shall we,” he sighs, “Bushes and weeds might be practical and local but let’s take this opportunity seriously.”

He gives Joshua a sharp glare before he can speak up. He knows his friend isn’t entirely on board with this thing ever since he heard about the details of the meeting Jeonghan attended. He’s not stupid, he knows they’re not taken seriously and that, realistically, it will be a miracle if anyone cares what they do for the decorations. It is a good way to advertise themselves though. 

“We should do something fun,” Seokmin interrupts their little staring contest, “We could make something nice and historical.”

Jeonghan thought about the same thing, the issue is…

“Flowers aren’t really known to last long, you know,” Jihoon points out, “That’s their beauty.”

“It might be a challenge to find any historical inspiration,” Joshua hums in thought, “But it would be cool if we pulled it off.”

Everyone seems to agree, and it shouldn’t be a surprise. After all, Jeonghan's main goal whenever he was hiring was to create a team of people that would fit well together. He didn’t want them to feel like coworkers, and he couldn’t be happier that it truly feels like they’re friends first and colleagues second.

The idea grows and transforms. The idea of teambuilding is thrown around a lot, even though it sounds more like an excuse to hang out instead of doing actual research and hunting for ideas. Some suggestions are better than others, some more logical than others, but Jeonghan decides to sit back and relax. Whatever they do, he’s confident the end result will be great. They’ll do well. Even if this whole thing turns into one big hang out under the guise of working. It might do them well to have fun without any worries. There’s gonna be plenty of time for that later.

The scene is all too familiar. You feel it just as you did those twenty-something years ago, although who really keeps track.

The light returning to your life. The world welcoming you back. It feels like it’s opening its arms to you now.

His arms. The safety, the security. The love. You yearn.

You feel it now almost physically; truly an oxymoron in your predicament.

You kept looking for him in the strange faces coming day after day, but it was never him. Not until now.

He’s coming home.

He’s close.

It makes your whole being tingle, like a magnet drawn to another, like a moth flying too close to a flame yet unable to pull back.

You feel the shift in the air. A rush of fresh breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers and the scent of the meadow where he stole your first kiss.

He’s here.

“This is stupid,” Jeonghan grumbles. His arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a displeased wrinkle between his brows. He wasn’t prepared for the sudden temperature drop between outside and here.

“Inspiration is a mysterious thing,” Joshua smooths that wrinkle away and chuckles, “Besides this is research. And that was your idea if I remember correctly.”

“My idea,” Jeonghan hisses, “Was googling a bunch of stuff and then deciding what had the chance of best results. Not going on a history tour that will be useless.”

“It’s more authentic. We’re going to breathe in the atmosphere of the old city,” the other man shrugs, “And c’mon, can you believe we’ve never been on one of these?”

Yes. Yes, he’s perfectly willing to believe so, because these tours are for tourists and history nuts and they’re neither. They have a flower shop for god’s sake. 

He doesn’t say that aloud, however, because the tour guide appears and as grumpy as the cold might be making him, and as spiteful he might feel towards Joshua for dragging him here so early in the morning on their day off, he won’t spoil the mood. So he schools his expression into a curious smile and listens to the introduction.

It’s not too bad once he gets into it. Although it does absolutely nothing so far as searching for anything decoration-related goes and inspiration is yet to hit him, it’s interesting. More so than he expected. And Joshua being Joshua reads his mind well enough that he asks the questions Jeonghan is also curious about. The younger man gives him a knowing smile whenever Jeonghan nods along to the guide’s explanation. He rolls his eyes at him.

The tour is really nice - unexpectedly, they also discover a half-burned photograph of a couple with flower baskets behind them and also a newspaper clip with a photo of something that looked like a faire with flowers decorating the streets that his companion excitedly pointed out to him. Not that either of these were clear enough to get any real inspiration, but hey, at least they will have something to report back to the guys.

However, as the tour progresses, an uneasy feeling grows in Jeonghan’s stomach. He’s never had any real issue with claustrophobia, so he doesn’t think that’s it. Human bodies are weird though, and their minds even more so. He’s stronger than some irrational fear trying to pull a trick on him. Is it really a phobia though? Is phobia supposed to make him anxious to his bones and hit him with nausea that feels like a cold hand squeezing his stomach? His knees feel like they’ll buckle under him any moment now.

“Hey, Han, are you alright?”

He jumps and only the lump in his throat stops him from yelping when Joshua grabs his shoulder. He’s frowning.

“Sorry, is there anywhere my friend can sit down for a minute?”

He hears his friend speak but the words don’t really register in his mind. He lets himself be led to the side and sat down on a chair. He feels faint. His head is spinning. He barely hears whatever Joshua is saying.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And in turn, his life makes you remember what it felt like to live.

You don’t need to breathe but in the instant you see him, you forget you ever could.

He looks different, but you’d recognize him anywhere.

His hair is longer. It looks good on him, framing his face like a dark halo. He looks like an angel. Did he come to save you?

The clothes he’s wearing make him seem out of place just like the rest of the group. Just a tourist in a place that he should call home. That he once did call home. You don’t recognize the man next to him, and your heart pangs. His friends used to be yours too.

You move closer without realizing. It feels like your entire body is pulsing with life long forgotten; with a heartbeat you no longer have.

He doesn’t look good.

He seems to feel unwell. The closer you get, the more it seems to hurt him. Love truly is violence.

The man next to him calls his name.

You repeat it. It’s different. It feels different on your tongue, yet it doesn’t feel unfamiliar. You suppose that just comes with the territory.

He looks like he’s about to lose consciousness. You can’t just watch him getting hurt.

You move closer, grabbing onto his arm the second before he can fall.

He doesn’t. Instead he suddenly straightens as shiver runs through his body. He seems disoriented when he looks through you. Almost like he can tell that’s where you are.

You’re dragged along with him by his friend. Even though you’re right in front of his face, he doesn’t see you. He looks like he’s about to faint. Pearls of cold sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth chattering and face deadly pale. His friend moves right through you when he crouches down in front of him.

“Jeonghan? Can you hear me?” he taps your lover’s leg without any reaction, “What’s going on?”

“Breathe,” you whisper. Like a magic trick, he does. He gasps for air like he’s drowning on dry land and his friend panics, shooting up to his feet and shaking his shoulder. 

“Slowly. You don’t belong to me yet,” there’s a bitter smile on your face when again he follows your instructions. Not yet.

It’s a strange and nauseating feeling. You don’t wish him death, but you long to hold and be held. His soul recognizes yours, it yearns for you too. But will his heart? Would his heart?

“Shua?” Jeonghan asks, brows furrowed and eyes vacant. He looks dazed, the color still drained from his face.

“Han? Can you hear me?” the man - Shua - tries again.

“Yeah,” your lover rubs his face, “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“You scared me, man,” the other man sighs, “How do you feel?”

“Good, I’m good now. Isn’t it cold here?” Jeonghan rubs his arms, trying to get the feeling back in them as he stands up. Shua looks ready to catch him if he loses strength again and you feel a sense of pride. He always knew to choose his friends well.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a bit chilly,” Shua responds, apprehensive, and clearly not trusting Jeonghan’s legs not to give up on him again.

“We should head up,” Jeonghan says and tries to orient himself. You can’t let him go. His friend frowns. The temperature didn’t change since they entered, only Jeonghan did - you did. You latch onto his arm. You hold him like he’s the ghost that could disappear at any moment. 

His skin is warm under your touch. He shivers and looks at his arm, right where you hold him, before passing a hand over it. His fingers slip right through you. Nothing helps him chase away the cool sensation it seems.

“I’m not sure, Han,” Shua hesitates, “It’s pretty hot up there and you seem kind of… I don’t want you to feel worse because of the heat.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jeonghan manages a smile. The same smile you used to see every day.

“Are you sure? I don’t know about you but I can’t afford any hospital bill,” his friend jokes, earning himself an eye roll.

Tears burn at your eyes. His friends were always like that - caring, kind, but with a mischievous heart.

“Alright, lemme just check with the guide that it’s okay for us to just leave,” Shua finally concedes, seeing as your lover won’t budge. Jeonghan gives him a nod (and a smile when the man hesitates again - Jeonghan even sits down to finally get him going).

It’s just you and him.

He sighs. As he massages his arm to get some feeling back in it, his warm palm passes through you once more. He grimaces. Can he perhaps feel you? It doesn’t matter how little. Can he tell you’re with him? You know it’s selfish, so so selfish. But you crave acknowledgement. After so long, after waiting for so long…

He looks up, he looks in your direction - he’s still looking as confused and lost as before. A lost young man, a look you’ve seen on him before when he took you on a trip to the countryside. He always looked at you so fondly back then. And now he doesn’t see you at all. You want him to - as selfish and cruel as it is. As foolish as it is. You want it even though your heart would break. He’d be terrified. Perhaps he wouldn’t even recognize you. You don’t think he would but you hope, you wish. It’s not like you have any idea if the same feelings in your heart remained in his.

He keeps running his hand over his arm like an obsession, like he’s trying to ground himself. He massages it, he pokes at it, he pinches it. He must feel your touch somehow, he does - he just doesn’t recognize it, so can it really be said he feels it at all? You should let go. Whatever he feels, it’s not a pleasant feeling. But you can’t. You finally found him again. You can’t let go now. It’d be like letting go of the straw that keeps you from drowning.

“Jeonghan,” you try calling his new name aloud. A mere whisper.

Yet he whips his head up and gasps. His pupils shrink, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. He freezes. Not a simple scare freeze - no, the type of fear rooted deep in human instinct, the fear of something unknown and unnatural, something that seems human but isn’t.

He meets your eyes. You truly think he does. His breath gets stuck in his chest.

“-aaand we’re clear to go!” Shua announces cheerfully, returning back in a rush - then he speeds up more when he sees Jeonghan, his face immediately falling. “Hey, you good?”

He needs to shake Jeonghan’s shoulder to get his friend to look at him. He gets no other reaction than a few blinks.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he tries to lighten the mood, although his brow is furrowed in worry.

Jeonghan is pale as a sheet. You notice he bites his tongue, he resolves himself to push back his true feelings - you’ve learned to read him like an open book. It only causes you more pain now.

“I just got a bit nauseous,” Jeonghan lies through his teeth, “I think I messed up my breakfast.”

“That’s why I keep telling you to consider the kitchen more of a decoration,” Shua huffs while he helps Jeonghan stand up, insists on it despite the other’s protests. He watches out for him even as he stands straight and steady.

“Let’s just go,” Jeonghan groans, “I think I should lie down.”

You don’t let go. You see his hand twitch as if he wants to touch his arm again but he stops himself.

You hang onto his arm. You haven’t managed to leave the buried remains of the past before, held back by an invisible force. It must’ve been fate looking out for you.

Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re meant to haunt this place. 

Whatever happens though, trapped here or not, you will hold onto him until the last second.

You hold your redundant breath as you’re all nearing the exit.

You’re carried out, anchored to your lover. 

The sun shines through you.

“So, how did it go?” No surprise Jihoon is already back. They really should have bit the bullet and volunteered to drag him around. Looking back, Joshua really should’ve picked him over Jeonghan.

“Well…” Joshua hesitates and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

His arms still feels off. It’s cold - he thought maybe it was the wind blowing directly at it once they came out of the underground. (Not a leaf moved on the ground, but Jeonghan will ignore the fact. Maybe he just offended the wind in some way.) Maybe there really was something wrong with him. Could he eat some parasite in his food lately? Maybe. Honestly he would take anything over what he saw down there. Anything over being possessed by a ghost. He has too many things to achieve. He cannot afford to lose control of his body; wailing and being creepy is bad for the business.

“I feel better now,” he pats Joshua’s shoulder. It’s not a lie - or it won’t be in a while, once he gets lost in work. His arm still feels cold. Occasionally the feeling skims over his skin like a ghostly touch. He doesn’t want to entertain that thought. “Nothing to worry about, I just got a little dizzy. Maybe I slept too little?”

He thinks aloud, overacting but it works to make Joshua sigh in exasperation and Jihoon nod in understanding. Of course he would understand. 

“Look, just be careful, okay? We can get through one day without you, boss,” there’s a teasing lilt to Joshua’s voice when he calls him that but he coos at his friend anyway.

“Why don’t I start with the orders for tomorrow then, that’s easy enough,” he doesn’t wait for their agreement and instead goes to the back. Joshua will explain everything to Jihoon and he doesn’t necessarily need to be around for that. He knows they won’t protest if he takes on whatever he feels like, both a little too caring for their own good. That’s why he wants them to have easy lives, do well and be rich. A goal that will be a challenge if he starts losing his mind and seeing things suddenly. He shakes his head. Work. Focus on work and it’s gonna be fine.

And it is. They keep it cool in the back so the flowers don’t wilt as quickly. He would need to focus to feel the difference of temperatures on his body - so he won’t do that. He doesn’t need to think about much else while he prepares one bouquet after another, picking the right flowers, twisting stems together, tying bows… Although they should be getting ready for the festival and among other deals they have, they need to keep the core of the business running. It’s back to basics, but he loves it. He genuinely enjoys preparing the orders. Some of them are more specific than others, but he likes the artistic freedom of those in which he can just follow what occasion the bouquet is meant for and put his own twist to it. It’s an honor that so many people trust them to convey their feelings… or at least to create something pretty. He gets it, sometimes you just want to give someone a pretty flower without thinking about what it means.

He gets so into the work that he forgets about anything else and by the time Seokmin comes to get him, he’s done with everything. 

“You were faking it, weren’t you?” Seokmin accuses once he sees all the orders that needed to be prepared for tomorrow done and stored away. Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“Joshua is just too dramatic. You know him,” he sighs. His friend doesn’t seem convinced.

“Well, he looked really worried,” the younger man shifts on his spot nervously, “He said you looked like you’ll pass out. Like you saw a ghost.”

Jeonghan flinches a little. But he recovers quickly, gasping in a split second and hitting Seokmin’s shoulder lightly with a declaration of: “Don’t say scary things like that!”

Seokmin teases him for a while, but it’s fair enough. Jeonghan’s never been too scared of ghosts and such, never worried about being trapped underground forever - actually he doesn’t think there was ever a time his friends saw him scared, and the jokes remind him of that. Right. Ghosts aren’t real. He must’ve been just lightheaded or something. Maybe he’s more stressed about the planning than he realized previously.

“Right, I’ll do a coffee run, you want something?” Seokmin remembers, quickly getting to why he actually came.

“I’ll come with you, it’s hard to carry everything alone,” Jeonghan says as he washes his hands. 

He thinks about grabbing the jacket he keeps at the shop, but thinks better of it. It’s windy outside and Seokmin suggests he returns for it, but he absolutely won’t. The cold feeling shifted, resting around his hand as if assuring him it’s not going anywhere. Hand in unlovable hand - who said that? He shakes his head. It’s easier to ignore the sensation with the wind blowing this and that way, and Seokmin is good at distracting him.

They talk about the results of Seokmin and Seungkwan’s “research” while they wait in line and for their order to be made. It seems they were about as successful as him and Joshua, so Jihoon is their biggest hope. Not that it matters, it’s unreasonable to think anyone at the festival would care about the historical accuracy of the flowers used as decorations, and their shop focuses on the symbolism anyway, but Jeonghan likes little details like that. Even if it makes their work much harder. It would be nice to have something traditional or local for the centerpiece at least.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Seokmin asks all of a sudden. It takes him by surprise, but soon the expression is replaced by a soft smile. He nods. 

He’s not. But maybe the time he spends with his friends will help. Or maybe he’ll go mad and these are the last precious moments he has with them. Fortunately, the human mind isn’t capable of comprehending things in their entirety, and so even if his thoughts are gloomy, he can still smile. He’s grateful for that.  

“It was nothing. Maybe phobias are like allergies?” Jeonghan suggests, wondering, “Maybe they can just pop up randomly or disappear.”

“So you think I could get over my fear of bugs?” Seokmin considers the idea seriously.

“I’ll give you a raise if you do,” Jeonghan smirks and easily dodges his friend’s elbow aimed at his ribs. This is definitely better than obsessing over something out of his control. Something that might be all in his head.

(He still looks over his shoulder as they exit the cafe.)

As they sit at the round table - as Seokmin jokes - it’s very obvious everyone had a great time but it wasn’t really a productive means of reaching their research goal. They skip only quickly over his and Joshua’s trip, everyone well familiar with its less than ideal ending.

Jihoon of course agrees that local flora of history would be a great research topic for a thesis, but for now the idea remains to be extensively explored in resources that could be found at local libraries. (The silver lining though, clearly, is the stack of books in his bag resting against the wall.)

Seungkwan and Seokmin, who visited the botanical garden, did manage to get some interesting and useful information. A little miracle nobody counted on happening. They also went above and beyond to ask the visitors of the park about their favorite flowers. (“To make it like it’s made for them!” they claim, although the notion is as ridiculous as it is cute.)

Jeonghan enjoys listening to his friends, he really does. His eyes hurt with the effort to keep them on the person talking, always switching. He’s trying. But he’s so nauseous that it feels like he’s being continuously punched in the stomach.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton and fog, not a single thought forms itself in its entirety. All of them are just incoherent, broken pieces littering his mind. Jeonghan has never dived in his entire life, but he thinks he knows what it feels like now. He feels as though an entire ocean is pressing down on him. The meeting can’t end soon enough - as much as he loves listening to the chaos.

His friends fortunately aren’t blind and with all of them being aware of his almost collapse earlier, they don’t take long to catch on to Jeonghan not feeling his best. It takes some convincing that he’ll be fine, that he just needs to eat and rest, even as he’s putting all his strength into not doubling over and curling into fetal position to ease the sudden sinking fear gripping his entire body. They follow him the entire way to his door just upstairs. It’s comical, him and his four little ducklings. It eases the tension in his body and the fear, but he would lie if he said he doesn’t prefer to isolate himself whenever he’s not feeling well. He’s strong enough to lie and tell them he’ll be fine on his own.

The door closes behind him with what feels like finality. It feels like he just closed the door to his old life, though he wouldn’t hesitate to say it feels like he left his old world - whatever that means when there’s no other world. His apartment looks like it always did, like it did when he left this morning. It feels like that was eternity ago - he can summon the memories of his excitement, the energy he felt. There’s none left in him now. 

He lets his bag fall to the floor and lay there. He doesn’t bother to hang up his keys and lets them rest on the little shelf next to some trinkets the guys brought back from their holidays over the years. 

He drags himself to the living room and throws himself down on the sofa. He’s staring at the white ceiling, watches the stripes of lights and shadows following one after another where the glow of the street lamp is blocked by his blinds. It’s too quiet. 

He should wash up. There are many things he should do, actually, but he has no strength or will to get up. His stomach feels uncomfortable and his muscles are tense. That probably doesn’t help with how he’s feeling. He takes a couple deep breaths, slows down his breathing even if it feels like he’s going to pass out.

His head throbs, but it’s better than the nausea twisting his stomach. He thinks he’ll faint soon, something bad is bound to happen to him, his body overcome with heat, then cold, all within a minute. His breathing is getting heavier. He tries closing his eyes, searching for any small relief. Instead he’s more aware of his body. 

Something tells him to move, something so primal he doesn’t dare to disobey. Like his own body knows if something doesn’t happen right now, he’s gonna die. He groans when he pushes himself up, clinging to the back of the couch. He needs water. He makes it to the bathroom, supporting himself on the walls. It only gets worse. It keeps getting worse and worse and he’s lightheaded. 

He holds himself up against the sink and turns on the water. It feels icy against his skin, but that’s what he needs. He splashes his face with it, and the relief is slow but it’s there. He drinks out of his palms and the cold water sliding down his throat helps. He’s nauseous still, he feels dizzy, but not on the verge of breakdown. 

At least that’s until he looks up.

The mirror on the wall shows two reflections. 

He shrieks so loud his throat burns despite the cold water sticking to it. 

He thinks he blacks out for a second. 

But when he opens his eyes, he’s still standing in his bathroom. His hands are cramped, curled around the edges of the sink so that he doesn’t fall. 

The mirror still shows another person behind him. 

His own shriek resonates in his head and his throat burns more at the memory.

Part of him wishes that what he saw looked like a monster. Something straight out of a horror movie, something inhumane. But it’s just a person. Barely there, a shadow of a human being. Something that isn’t there when he turns to looks back.

He closes his eyes tightly and only blinks them open after a few long minutes. He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he feels is a resignation. Something in him gives up when the person doesn’t disappear when he looks into the mirror again. He refuses to check if something hasn’t changed and the stranger hasn’t manifested in his home - he’s seen enough horror movies for that. He’d rather keep his eyes on the reflection. 

“I lost my mind,” he laughs, his head hanging between his shoulders. Tears pool in his eyes. Was it stress? Was it karma for the pranks he played? What was it that finally did him in?

He looks up and the ghost is wearing a sad smile. As if it’s pitying him. He laughs again. Even the creation of his own shattering mind thinks him a pathetic clown.

“You should sleep,” a voice says, and at the same time: “I should sleep.” He says.

He hears it, but it takes a second to comprehend that the echo of his voice wasn’t truly his voice, but some other, second voice. The ghostly figure behind him never moved its lips. Never moved. Never spoke. It just keeps staring.

Has he seen the face before?

The underground flashes in front of his eyes. The split-second trick of the light he saw there. Goosebumps erupt all over his body. Could it be the same face?

Surely he just saw something, some picture - the picture on the tour? It must be a waking nightmare, just a stranger’s face he saw once. It’s said you never forget a face you’ve seen and this must be it. Maybe he slept less than he thought. He must be exhausted, his body must be shutting down. That’s why he’s losing it. His vision starts swimming. He’s dizzy from staring at the figure so intensely.

Something like sleep paralysis maybe? He’s awake but ready to pass out from exhaustion. That must be it.

“Sleep,” he speaks again, and like before, there’s the echo of the second voice. He’s sure it’s just his sleep paralysis demon speaking. He’s pathetic enough that even demons would pity him.

Sleep… He needs to go to sleep. That much is obvious. But sleep seems like the stupid thing to do. He rubs his face again, splashes more cold water on it, but the ghost doesn’t disappear. So he does the unthinkable.

He turns around suddenly. So suddenly his head hurts and he almost loses his balance. He winces, but there is no one. No solid figure, no ghastly figure, nothing. Cautiously, he reaches forward, but he feels nothing. There’s the need to check the mirror again gnawing at the back of his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns off the light so he can’t see at all. He extends his hand again but still - nothing. He takes a couple deep breaths and bolts. 

He’s stumbling and banging against the walls, but he makes it to his bedroom. He jumps on his bed, covers his body with a blanket and pants. His body is shivering, trembling, tight like his every muscle is cramped. It’s hard to breathe, the lump in his throat taking up too much space, the air can’t get through. He remembers the phone in his pocket and takes it out. It lights up and he can finally see again. 

It’s just him under the blanket. Only his body and nothing else. He sits up again. It makes him dizzy, the blanket falls. The phone lights up the room but it’s empty. It’s just him.

He sighs. 

He falls back, staring at the ceiling like he did before. The nausea is gone for the most part, and now that he’s lying down, he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna pass out in the next second. There is only the dread and anxiety left that make him lightheaded and wide awake despite the exhaustion. He knows his body will give out before his mind does, but that’s worse. He knows it’s gonna create nasty nightmares to haunt him, and it’s the last thing he needs today. He honestly feels like crying. He feels like calling someone - but what’s he gonna say? ‘Hey, I think I saw a ghost in my bathroom, can you come over?’ That sounds way too pathetic. It’s too late to ask anyone to come over, and to ask if they could stay over too. At least without a good reason. He knows he can rely on his friends, knows they wouldn’t ask questions and be there within minutes, but his pride won’t allow it. And looking like he does - he can imagine the mess that he is right now - they might not ask, but they’d be worried. Jeonghan doesn’t want that above all. 

So he takes a couple of deep breaths. If there is a ghost in his bathroom… If there is a ghost anywhere, if he is possessed… What’s he supposed to do about it at midnight? Nothing. There’s nothing he can do. 

He reasons with himself. He’s exhausted. He can feel his very bones weighing him down, and he already had some sort of breakdown earlier on the tour. Must be stress. Must be hunger - he doesn’t feel hungry at all, but except for breakfast, did he eat anything the whole day? He can only remember the breakfast and the toast Seungkwan basically forced down his throat. Must be that he’s starving. Must be the lack of sleep. Even though he felt energized, that doesn’t mean he was. His body must’ve lied to him - and now his own eyes and mind are lying to him. That must be it. There’s no way ghosts exist. 

He turns to his side and checks the calendar. It shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, that should give them plenty of chances to brainstorm about the festival some more. He focuses on that. The festival. The orders they should get done tomorrow. All the practical and necessary day-to-day things. He should get some groceries too. A warm, home cooked meal would do him good, even if it was something simple that he cooked. It all must’ve been just exhaustion and hunger. 

He lets the screen go dark. He can barely make out his reflection in the dim light coming in through the window. Only his reflection. That soothes him a little. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore anyway. He listens to the sounds of the apartment and everything sounds as it should. No movement, no steps, no doors making funny sounds. He’ll laugh about it in the morning. He’ll tell the guys and they’ll laugh about it together. That’s how it’s gonna be. He allows himself a tiny smile.

Just a sleep paralysis that came too early. 

Errors happen even in the human body. 

That’s just how it is. 

You watch him fall asleep.

You don’t have a body, yet it feels like you do all the same. The pain feels real, even if it doesn’t have anywhere to anchor itself to. Passing points, your own ghosts of neurons shooting signals to each other in a messed up web all over your being. You are a nebula of pain.

It was obvious what’s going to happen. You knew it well. Yet it left your heart shattered on his bathroom floor. 

What hurts more - the terror in his eyes or that he doesn’t recognize you? Well, he has his own life now, one without you, so you suppose there’s only so many memories he can carry with himself. And you simply have no place among them.

It hurts. You want to scream, but you can’t - not in a way that would bring relief. And what if he hears you? In what universe could you endure seeing more of his panic? You know the answer.

Seeing him so exhausted hurt you too. Was it hard carrying you around? Bringing a second soul probably leaves a toll on the body just like carrying another body would. You wished to speak to him, but how could you utter a word when seeing you made him react the way he did. You don’t want him to lose his mind. You’ll have to be smart. You don’t want to hurt him more than you’re already doing. You can carry the hurt of the situation, you can withstand the hurt he causes you because it’s not his fault. Not his fault at all. Not yours either, you think, you hope, but you definitely have more power here. You comfort yourself with the knowledge you could probably talk to him. Just not tonight when the fear is fresh. 

You move closer to him, gently move some of his hair away from his face as if you were a cold breeze blowing in through the window. He looks angelic. His features are much softer than you remember, but he’s as handsome as he always was. You lie down beside him, admiring him in his sleep. It’s not gonna be a restful night. You see the first frown twist his face, and it stabs you right in your chest. You can’t protect him from nightmares, but you’ll share the pain.

Even if he won’t know.

“Wow,” Jihoon exclaims the moment he sees him, “You look-”

“- awful.”

“- like shit.”

Both Seokmin and Joshua pipe in. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

As expected, the night wasn’t kind to him at all. Well, perhaps he could find some silver lining in the fact that despite the night being quite hot, he was so exhausted he didn’t even notice. And despite the nightmares and the heat, he didn’t wake up sweaty and disgusting.

Anyway, he didn’t have the courage to wander into his bathroom and avoided mirrors like the plague, so he probably looks a mess anyway. 

(It was pathetic enough to crawl on the floor and blindly feel for his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink without really stepping inside. To take a shower there was out of the question. Okay, maybe he was a little disgusting.)

“I couldn’t sleep well,” he shrugs, “Neighbours decided to have a party.”

The young couple living in the apartment above his own were actually the ideal neighbors, but that was good - with no reason to talk about them much, the lie would go unnoticed. He got several understanding nods in response.

“And… you feeling okay?” Seungkwan asks, and he’s once again touched by his friends’ concern that is mirrored on all three faces.

“Yeah,” he tries a small smile, “Would be better if I got actual sleep but it is what it is.”

“You can sneak out during lunch break, we won’t tell the boss,” Seokmin gives him an exaggerated wink. He scoffs, but smiles anyway. It’s genuine.

This is better. Normal is better. Last night feels like a fever dream compared to this. Just a joke played on him by his exhausted body and mind. He’s still shaken by it, though, the cracks it left in his confidence in himself and what reality is are still too sharp to joke about it. He hopes that by tomorrow he gets some quality sleep and his shit together.

“Anyway, let’s get to work so Friday isn’t a pain in the ass,” he claps, rolling his eyes at Seungkwan’s mock salute. 

He’s more grateful than he could ever express for these guys. The nightmare of last night is easily forgettable and written off as a glitch in the matrix with them around. 

When a cold breeze circles and brushes around his wrist though, as if lingering like a lover’s touch, he shivers and breaks out in cold sweat anyway. He turns around. He sees nothing. 

As it should be.

(Then why does he feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand up?)

You’ve always admired his hard working nature. The honesty and dedication with which he works. It’s quite the change from the man you used to know back then - you’d never think you’ll get to see him one day selling flowers, but it seems to suit the present day version of him. Very little of him changed in the aspects that matter. Bodies are no more than a shell to be eventually discarded - or that’s how you came to think of them over your short experience of being just a wandering soul.

You’re careful not to hover too close too often. He flinches any time the wind blows in, even if it’s a work of nature and not your touch. And so you lost your excuse to touch him. It still makes you uneasy to keep your distance. Your heart is filled with anxiety whenever you lose contact with him, terrified of being dragged back into the underground by the same mysterious power that allowed you to leave when you latched onto him.

Jeonghan’s friends watch him closely - trying to be as inconspicuous as they can to go unnoticed by him. Yet he does notice them, smiling a little to himself. He seems troubled but he hides it well. At least from everyone who can’t float around him and see him when nobody is looking. It pains your heart, it really does. But it can’t be helped - you can’t help it. Your instinct screams to stay close to your lover after what, decades - centuries? No way you’re letting him disappear from you now.

It’s painful to watch him be cautious and on guard, to be the only one aware of it, and the only one on the receiving end of this icy attitude. You don’t blame him. But it hurts. You’re tempted, oh so tempted, to take advantage of the moments when he speaks to his friends, moments when you know he’d fake being alright, to touch him. To wrap your arms around him and hold him. Just for a second.

He’s yours. Can’t he see? Can’t he feel it? His soul is yours, yours is his. Doesn’t he know?

It makes you angry. Some part of you is furious with him for not feeling the tug of your bond. It’s so deeply interwoven in your heart, bound to your very existence. Why else would you be awakened to your afterlife if not to meet him? To be one with him again?

And he doesn’t even bother to care about you.

All he seems to care about is how repulsive your touch is to him. When he’s left alone in the room, he turns around helplessly, desperately searching for something that is not there, yet something that makes his skin crawl, that invades his space, that he can’t run away from. 

Why would he run?

His eyes are wide and panicked, teary. You can see yourself in their reflection and you feel shame that makes you draw back.

But he’s still scared. He doesn’t know you back away from him.

He’s still backing himself into a corner, or against a wall, or a desk, or against soft blooming flowers that stop him in his tracks. And then you are reminded of his gentle touch and tender caresses and you want to weep. 

He might be terrified of the summer breeze, but he never harms the flowers. He stops himself before he can knock them over.

You’re a monster, and it hurts. You’re a monster but it hurts. You’re a monster despite and because it hurts. Being a ghost cannot possibly be described in any other way than the simple statement I am in pain.

You don’t want to hurt him. Yet it seems that’s all you can do.

You’re angry and you’re hurt, your emotions come and go like the waves at the sea.

And he’s hiding it all so well, acting like he lost his balance when his friends start returning. He laughs, pretty and bright. Like he was never on the verge of tears.

Truth be told though, it’s hard. He wants to break down, but he can’t and he won’t. Jeonghan won’t let them see him cry, he won’t tell them anything. He’ll let them tease him, he’ll whine at them. He’ll laugh. It’s important as a business owner to be able to act, to pretend. It’s what he’s always done. He doesn’t need help. He can do this.

It’s harder to let the work swallow him whole, however. He feels eyes on him. Hand frozen just a breath away from his skin. It makes him jumpy, but fortunately that can be easily written off and joked about as just him dozing off. It wouldn’t be the first time lack of sleep made him act weird, and for once he’s glad for that. At the same time, though, it stings. 

He wants to be comforted, to be reassured. At the same time, he doesn’t want his friends to be concerned about something that might just be his mind playing tricks on him. But it really doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. He can’t explain it; the impending sense of doom, like he’s about to have a heart attack. The fear so strong and urgent it enables him to act with absolute serenity. Jeonghan knows it’s not just the exhaustion - which means that yesterday was no play of the shadows in his bathroom either. It makes him nauseous all over again. It makes the scent of flowers overwhelming.

He makes it through the maintenance and prep for tomorrow with only a few tiny hiccups. Mostly due to the efforts of his friends to keep him entertained. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to thank them. They might quite literally be saving his life - or his sanity at the very least. But isn’t it the same thing at the end of the day - his life and his ability to comprehend that he’s living this life.

After the necessary is done at a record pace, a couple hours earlier than it would take under normal circumstances, they sit down according to plan to brainstorm. It’s more fun now that they abandoned the pressure of sticking to tradition and history - which in hindsight should be obvious to be impossible. It’s not like even if they wanted to, even if they could, it would be viable to only use the local wildflowers for all the decor.

Jihoon also shocks everyone when, unlike Seungkwan, he provides the list of artists and other entertainers who’ll be present at the festival. (“What? I have friends too, you know,” he scoffs when everyone turns to look at him with their mouths hanging open and Seungkwan grumbling to himself.) 

Most of the musicians are local and undiscovered artists, but it helps with imagining the vibe the festival will have. It’s starting to come together when they look up the official program and list of activities that will be available. Surprisingly it seems that it truly aims to celebrate the city’s history, if one’s willing to look past the few necessary activities for children that are planned. And memories, remembering, cherishing, all that is so easy to express through flower language. 

A little too easy. 

And Jeonghan is yet again grateful to his friends for a thing he’d find a little annoying any other day.

“We don’t have to have it figured out today,” he tries to join the conversation again, tries to steer it in a more productive direction. It’s hardly a conversation anymore, rather a contest of who can be the loudest. Jeonghan’s eyes meet with Jihoon’s who shrugs and lifts the paper in front of him. There’s a rough drawing of what looks like possible table decoration with arrows and names pointing to individual flowers that Jeonghan can’t make out through the flurry of hands thrown around in wild gestures. Jihoon mouths a what do you think? to him anyway, although he can’t quite respond.

He runs a hand through his hair just as Seungkwan scolds Joshua for apparently making the centerpiece look too much like a funeral decoration.

If something really has possessed him, he wonders what the entity must be thinking…

“Jeonghan was saying something,” Jihoon grumbles out of nowhere, and even though Jeonghan himself could barely make out what the other was saying, the room goes quiet and all the four heads turn in his direction. He sighs. Like he needs more eyes on him. At least these he can see.

“We don’t have to get everything finalized today,” Jeonghan reminds everyone and starts picking different colored highlighters from the table. He swipes different colors over the individual items on the list of everything they were contracted to provide. He tries to be fair with the division of labor and closely monitors the reaction when he slides the paper further down the table for everyone to check out. 

“I think it’s best if everyone picks out something and comes up with ideas for that,” Jeonghan suggests, “We have enough time, so let’s meet about it in two weeks. And if you have any ideas for the other things, write them down too.”

“Do you want to pick first?” Seokmin asks but Jeonghan shakes his head.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he waves them off. It’s not like he could get himself to consider and focus right now. Honestly he can’t be sure yet how big of a deal whatever’s happening to him is, so it’s better this way. If there’s a risk of him not doing as good of a job as he could, why take something one of the guys would enjoy?

He watches with fond eyes as his friends bicker over the colors more seriously than the tasks. He spins the pen he’s holding between his fingers. The eyes he feels on his back constantly never disappear but somehow it seems like he’s not the main focus now. Is he losing his mind for real? Jeonghan rubs his eyes. 

It’s like he can feel it. Like he can feel something hover around. He doesn’t see anything, truth be told he doesn’t feel anything unless… It feels foolish to say until it touches him because there’s nothing there but there’s no better way to explain it. If that something was a person, he can feel their gaze shifting. If it was a person, who could it be? He made his fair share of mistakes in his life, but he doesn’t think he’s ever hurt anyone enough for them to haunt him.

“Well, that leaves the centerpiece for you,” Joshua slides the paper back to him. He whines.

“Is it because Seungkwan hates your idea?” Jeonghan complains. He doesn’t care, not much anyway (although it does put a lot of pressure on him), as long as they’re happy but he is worried. It’s a big responsibility, and if this whole issue he’s having will drag on, can he do a good job? He doesn’t want to let them down.

“It’s because you’re the owner. You should be the star,” Seungkwan pushes at his shoulder. Jeonghan hopes his smile is convincing enough. He hopes they’ll read the anxiety only for the half of the worries they’re meant to see.

“Always being nice to me only when it’s convenient, I see,” he sighs, shaking his head. At least he can smile for real now. At least he can forget somewhat about the eyes when he play-fights with them. 

They throw around ideas for a while longer and go through the timeline again - when is the next meeting with the organizers, when are they going to need to make the order, when to start with the work. That’s gonna be the main issue - to manage everything in time along with the other jobs they have. It’s not like there aren’t ways to get around it, but it’s another huge thing on Jeonghan’s plate to figure out.

It’s not exactly a tiring day and all things considered, Jeonghan feels quite refreshed when he makes it home. Mostly because Joshua insists on hanging out with him for a while, so that takes away the anxious edge he feels about coming home. Still, he thinks it must be because the other man worries about his breakdown yesterday and it irritates him a little.

He doesn’t even know a half of it - if he knew the whole story, Jeonghan’s positive Joshua would treat him differently. Like a freak. Then the guilt hits. Joshua is too kind for his own good and Jeonghan’s paranoid. Of course his best friend would try to understand, he’d probably help him come up with a logical solution and offer support. It’s just Jeonghan’s mind trying to isolate him like it always does when he’s going through something. He wishes he could blame it on whatever nightmare he’s dreamed up, but he really can’t.

Once the door closes behind Joshua, Jeonghan feels like his heart dropped into his stomach. He can’t swallow. He can barely breathe. Not that there’s anything preventing him, but he can’t set any rhythm to taking breaths that would allow him not to choke. He’s gasping for breath, his ears ringing.

The eyes are on him.

They were the whole time, but he could push it to the back of his mind. Now it’s all coming back to him in full force.

He can feel them, burning into his back.

When he turns around, there will be nothing there.

He does, slowly, hesitantly, eyes glued to the floor. It takes all his will power to look up.

Nothing.

He smiles bitterly. At this point he’d prefer it if he was hallucinating as well. He wants to see that thing that he saw in the bathroom yesterday. Anything that would make it more real and less like a delusion brought on by a sudden attack of claustrophobia. Because he’s not going insane. He won’t lose his mind from a silly visit of a historical site that Joshua brought him on. 

Then a thought hits him - what if Joshua finds out about it somehow? If his best friend ever learns about what Jeonghan is going through, he’ll feel guilty. Like he’s not already beating himself over that sudden spell of nausea that overcame him then and over Jeonghan’s exhaustion and weakness.

He has to solve this. He has to figure it out, at least. Make any kind of first step of getting rid of this. Yesterday, he could easily dismiss it as a punishment for pushing himself too much - what else could he do? It was late, he needed to sleep. His own body protected him from the horrors that he can’t avoid today in the daylight. Sure, he’s still exhausted, but it simply doesn’t make sense.

Nothing makes sense. There’s no reason for him to have a psychotic break, so why? Why is this happening right when he most needs to be in a good condition? His fists clench and unclench, his jaw set. His eyes burn holes into the air in front of him. He can feel something there. He knows it’s there. He doesn’t understand why, he doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with, but he’s going to figure it out. Now.

Jeonghan struts into the bathroom and in the mirror - nothing. Only him. He takes a couple of deep angry breaths that sound too loud in the silent bathroom.

Not a speck of dust stirs. There’s no breeze. No cold ghostly touches brushing against his skin. If it was a dream, a trick of his exhausted body and mind, so be it. But he needs to be sure.“Show yourself,” he spits, “If there’s anything - anyone - following me, show yourself right now.”

[mmavverickk]

The children of the big three are painfully beautiful.

beautiful as poisonous flowers.

One touch and you're dead.

they are though—they’re venomous creatures, poisonous flowers, forces of nature. the world itself runs through their veins. gods treat them with caution; mere humans don’t stand a chance.

Percy is a riptide. he’s the calm of ocean, moments before its rage. he’s the sun on the beach, the warmth of the sand, the calming, constant crash of the waves. he’s the smell of the salt in the air and the cold of the water against your skin. you can swim, you think, you’ll be fine. he smiles and it’s more beautiful than a sunset over the shore. and then the pull starts. in seconds, you’re farther from shore than you’ve ever been before. trying to swim back tires you out and sees you no closer than before. in fact, now you’re even farther out. the water pulls you under, still as beautiful as it was from shore, and you can’t find your way back up.

Thalia is the eye of the hurricane. the deceitful calm at the end of the storm, luring you out from your shelter. there is nothing more peaceful, more still and tranquil. the sun peeks out from the clouds that surround you from all sides. the wind and rain have died. there’s a rainbow in the sky. the storm is over—except it isn’t. one moment is all it takes, and the hurricane is back with a vengeance. the wind tears at you, rain lashes at you, thunder shakes your bones in place. you walked too far from your shelter, and you might not be able to make your way back.

Jason is hail. the rain is beautiful. it’s a breathtaking storm: impressive thunder, streaking lightning, howling wind. the house shakes around you and the lights go out. the concussive sound of the rain on the roof is soothing, until it isn’t. until it isn’t rain, and the roof isn’t whole. now, the storm is invading your home. the hail is punching its way into everything it can reach. car alarms spring to life outside; those who were watching in awe are now fleeing in terror. it only takes one hit, after all—one lucky piece of hail—to end a life.

Nico is an earthquake. the planet is ancient; the ground was old before you were here and it will be old after you go. it’s sturdy, and supportive, provides life and food and shelter. long ago, when the ground danced, when it shook itself free and sent cities tumbling to the ground, they called it the gods’ wrath. now, it’s called plate tectonics. no matter what it is, no matter why it happens, it is lethal and dangerous and uncaring of those it affects. nowhere is safe when the world turns on you, and if it decides you and your shelter should fall, you will.

Hazel is a sinkhole. the appearance of stability, of rock-solid ground and firm foundations. nothing is wrong, will ever be wrong, she’s the rock that holds everyone up. and then that rock is gone, and you’re falling, down, down, down—your home collapsing around you, your belongings claimed by the morbidly hungry earth. there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but is it sunlight, far, far above you? or is it magma, far far below?

[kamotecue]

the forgotten love ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x reader

summary: you were her first love—truly unforgettable as people would say. you had met in year 5 as an exchange student from sweden, you were her defender. swedish!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ever wonder what it’s like—when you’ve forgotten someone who’s dear to you? for you, it was extreme agony, you had photographs and polaroids of a freckled girl you don’t remember.

whenever you tried to ask, the ones around you would say “she’s just someone you used to know”, or that “she isn’t that important.” but they had lied—she was your entire world, the light that you’re supposed to find in the darkness.

you met her in year 7, an exchange student coming from sweden. you had accidentally bumped into her in the hallways, and that’s how you became friends.

the history between you—wasn’t just friends. you were friends to lovers, and had become strangers again. the freckled girl who you had yet to learn the name of—was the one who got you into football.

she was your midfielder, and you were her defender. however, your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the studs that pitter-pattered on the locker room floor.

it was magda, one of the team’s co-captain. ever since you made your debut for the senior team at 15 years old, she had taken you under her wing.

“du verkar lite distraherad på sistone, n/n. [you seem a little distracted lately, n/n.]” you hummed, knowing that she was right.

“det är bara något som upptar mitt sinne. [there’s just something that occupies my thoughts.]” you confessed as magda gave you a soft nudge, taking the seat beside you.

“det finns alltid, en riktig tänkare du är n/n. men jag vill att du fokuserar på spelet idag. [there always is, quite a thinker you are n/n. but i want you to focus on the game today.]” you gave her a short nod, it was the bronze match after all—the matildas have been a powerful team throughout the tournament.

your coach had clapped, signaling for the starting line up to head to the tunnel, as the game was about to begin. you hummed, slipping on the trainer jacket, this was the first time you’d be starting—as you mostly changed the game as an impact sub.

the tunnel was filled with small chatter from both teams, but you kept silently wanting to not get distracted. you didn’t notice the way australia’s number 23 had looked at you, it was filled with pining, the need to have you in her arms again.

you knew everything was going smoothly, until it was time to shake the hands of the other players. but when you came across the midfielder, your eyes has widened in realization.

she’s the freckled girl in the photos you don’t remember. asllani, the one wearing the captain’s armband had nudged you softly as you were holding up the line.

“focus, little one.” she commented as you gave her a small nod, the game was about to start and you swiftly headed to your position in the back line.

the game started with ease, as a penalty was rewarded in the 27th minute—due to stina going down under the pressure from australia’s polkinghorne.

you watched from your side of the pitch, as frido stood up to take it. zecira had hummed beside you, as you turned to glance at her.

“när kommer du att göra ett fantastiskt kors? [when will you make an amazing cross?]” you gave her a small chuckle as you simply shrugged your shoulders.

“snart, antar jag. [soon, i suppose.]” you commented, and that’s exactly what you did. just before the first half had ended, you had sent a cross to stina who had headed it in, scoring the second goal of the match.

the first half had ended just exactly how the coach had wanted it, but there was this gut feeling that you had—as if something bad was going to happen. frido had jumped on your back, easing your worries as you stumbled a bit.

“onwards.” she joked, as you laughed at her silly behavior. you hummed, wrapping your arms around her legs to support her.

“children.” magda teased, ruffling your hair as you three entered the locker room. the tactics were interesting, as you played with the tumblr that was given to you.

yet what happened next was something you didn’t expect—no one did. as the matildas were eager to equalize the score, you had collided with mary who had went for a header.

as you headed straight to the floor, zecira was quick to get the ball—making australia have no chance at scoring that close goal. you weren’t getting up, no one had noticed you—until after zecira had kicked the ball forward.

her eyes had landed on you, your hands were holding your head—as you had groaned, loudly. she stepped closer to you, while watching ahead.

“n/n?” her voice rang, as you slightly leaked through your fingers to see a blurred face. the ringing of your ears made it harder to distinguish who it was.

“mitt huvud, det gör ont. [my head, it hurts.]” you softly said, as zecira hummed noticing how the referee had blew her whistle seeing you on the ground.

you mumbled in pain hearing the loud whistle, frido and stina were first to come beside you as the swedish medical team made their way towards you.

from afar, you hadn’t notice the way her eyes had gazed to where you were—nor did you realize how katrina gorry had looked at you. she had heard about you from kyra who was like her daughter figure.

“a terrible collision that was.” frido said as she looked at the huge screen, before kneeling down beside you—making sure she was away from the medics space as she didn’t want to interrupt.

“jag tror inte att jag kunde hålla ögonen öppna. [i don’t think i could keep my eyes open.]” you had stuttered, your eyes fluttering now and then. you heard a huge commotion, as you tried to keep your eyes open—but it was bound to happen as your eyes had closed.

zecira noticed kyra coming closer, as she extended her arm to not make her go any closer to you. but stina had spoke in swedish, the goalkeeper just hummed before bringing back her hand.

she took a deep breathe before she saw you—there was a bit of blood above your right eye, as the swedish medic swiftly did his job.

“so, you’re the one y/n had fell for.” frido spoke in english, her swedish accent was evident as kyra looked at her with wide eyes, clearly surprised at this.

[2cupids]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 — 4.1k+

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 — angst, spoilers (ch. 30, 90, 111, & 120), pet names, character death, reader finds out she’s pregnant (he already knows though 😭), other characters are mentioned, he interacts with her from afterlife.

he knows it, that his life is coming to an end.

his fight with the cursed spirit jogo left him badly injured with half his body burned, and the damage done is far beyond repair, even for someone like shoko. the pain radiating throughout his entire body is excruciating, and he’s tired. so tired. all he wants to do is sit down and rest, close his eyes and leave this unfair world behind, but he can’t just yet. he has to keep pushing onwards, there are still so many transfigured humans and cursed spirits to exorcize and kill.

does he have to keep going? the short answer is no. 

he’s not even particularly fond of this job in the first place, but since he chose this line of work, it’s his obligation to see it through.

on top of that, with gojo being sealed away in the prison realm and all, that puts the burden on a lot of the younger sorcerers. in his eyes, children shouldn’t have to bear such a heavy load, especially since they’ll have to go against higher grade curses that are out of their league that they have no business dealing with. as long as he’s still there and is able to fight, he’s going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening. or at least lessen the amount they have to exorcize.

walking down the desolate underground tunnels of shibuya station feels eerie, the blood stained walls being a haunting reminder of just how much evil kenjaku has unleashed in such a short period of time. he doesn’t hesitate to exorcize anything that crosses his path that has no place in this world during his descent towards the lower level of the station.

though everytime he lifts his undamaged arm to wield his blade and kill another monster it hurts terribly. most people wouldn’t have even survived what he did, sustaining third and fourth degree burns over half their body, but nanami is strong. his strength coupled with his willpower to kill as many monsters as he can before his body ultimately shuts down is what drives him. 

in the distance, he can hear the moans and groans of what he believes to be transfigured humans, and it sounds like a lot of them. he could turn around now and let his students and fellow sorcerers handle the rest of this, while he goes to a nearby hospital and lets them fix him up to the best of their ability before returning back home to you, but he can’t bring himself to do something as selfish as that. 

he’s going to die tonight, there’s no doubt in his mind about it. the uncertainty of not knowing what waits for him in the afterlife isn’t what worries him, it’s knowing he has to leave you behind.

miles away in another district, you sit by yourself on the big, leather couch in the living room of you and kento’s house. the movie you put on to pass the time as you wait for your fiancé to finish his late night mission is boring you, and although you try to stay awake, you find yourself nodding off every so often. the minutes on the clock feel like they’re passing by agonizingly slow and you want nothing more than to feel the strong embrace of nanami’s arms wrapped around you once again. 

speaking of which, shouldn’t he be on his way back soon?

no sooner than the thought crosses your mind does the soft buzzing and the light emitting from your phone screen on the cushion beside you catch your attention and you eagerly rush to pick it up. you take a minute to admire the poster picture you set for nanami, the picture being the time he let you wash and braid his hair, and you smile. you couldn’t ask for a better man. 

you don’t want to keep him waiting though, so you tear your eyes away from the photo and clear your throat before hitting the button to answer the phone.

“ken! have you left work? are you on your way back yet?!” your bright, cheery voice would usually cause a big grin spread across nanami’s face, but this time a sorrowful smile is plastered on his face instead.

he won’t be coming. 

nanami softly chuckles, focusing on ways to keep his voice neutral and calm before he speaks so you can’t sense the fear, devastation, anger, and every other emotion he feels as he talks to his precious girl for the last time. “no…”, nanami hesitates, thinking of a way to put it, but there’s really no easy way to say it. “i won’t be coming home tonight.” he sighs.

your smile fades and turns into a slight frown. “oh.. what’s going on in shibuya is really that bad?” you ask, playing with the hem of one of his shirts that you’ve stolen.

“yes. it’s bigger than any of us expected. i’m so sorry, sweetheart.” another long pause follows and your heart begins to race, there’s something else he’s not telling you. 

kento has never been a man who hesitates or has trouble finding the right words. in all the years you’ve known him, he’s never been one to beat around the bush, he’s always been straightforward and direct. for him to have trouble finding the words and not knowing what to say is unheard of, and it worries you.

“baby, what’s wrong? what aren’t you telling me? and why are apologizing, it’s not your fault.”

nanami remains quiet for the next few seconds as he looks for the courage to tell you everything, that this is the last time you’ll hear his voice.

“i don’t think i’ll be returning home.. ever.” and that’s when his voice cracks, uttering the words that no jujutsu sorcerer ever wants to tell their family or their partner. at least he has the chance to say goodbye though, some sorcerers aren’t even that lucky.

“i need to stay in shibuya to fight. i love you, more than you’ll ever know, and i hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.”

your mind goes blank. did you really hear what you think you heard? did nanami really just say what you think he did?

you stay silent on the other end of the phone, not sure what to say. “ken.. what are you saying? what do you mean you won’t be back?!” you laugh in disbelief as your eyes begin to water.

the world you created with kento is starting to shatter around you.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know? i’m blessed to have been able to spend these past years with you. thank you for opening yourself up to me and allowing me to be able to share your life with you. i’m sorry i have to leave you so soon. i planned on spending the rest of my life with you. i wanted to grow old with you”

hot tears flow out of your eyes and stream down your face and chin where they fall and stain nanami’s shirt. some manage to seep into the corners of your mouth, their salty taste colliding with your taste buds. you’ve never noticed how salty tears really are until now.

you cover your mouth with your hand to mask the flood of sobs coming from you, but it’s not going to take long before your cries grow far too loud to be masked.

“i knew i should’ve left this damn job sooner.” nanami’s brows draw together in anger and frustration at himself for having to place you in such a position. “i never planned on doing this forever. it’s dangerous and i planned to leave when i found the right person, that person being you, but i didn’t leave soon enough. now look where it got me. i’m so sorry, you don’t deserve this.”

“nanami please stop.” denial is hitting you hard, there’s no way this can be real. you can still vividly recall the warm spring afternoon a few months ago when he got down on one knee and proposed to you. that was the day that sealed your fate, you were going to be with this man for the rest of your life. 

now he’s suddenly being taken away from you.

could this be some sort of sick joke someone put him up to? no, even as much as you wish it was, you know it’s not. kento would never do something as cruel as this to you, much less let another person put him up to it.

“you have all my passwords to any documents you might need to access, if there’s anything you can’t find, it’ll be in the top drawer of the desk in the office, don’t forget that, okay? you have the numbers to my bank account and cards, but it shouldn’t take life insurance long to pay out.”

“this isn’t funny, stop it.” by this point you’re violently sobbing and your eyes are getting redder by the minute. nothing feels real anymore. the thud of your heart pounding in your chest fills your ears, and you think it might just explode any time now. a single tear rolls down nanami’s face, then another one follows, and another until he’s crying with you.

he inhales, taking a shaky breath and trying to regain his composure, but fails. “you remember when we were planning to have our honeymoon in malaysia? i want you to still go. do you understand? do it for me, okay love?” 

the wails that exit your mouth are gut-wrenching. each one sounds like it’s filled with more heartache than the previous one as they increase in volume as they echo through nanami’s side of the phone. he has to physically take the phone away from his ear, but even as he holds the phone down next to his thigh your loud cries can still be heard.

you don’t have to say it because the anguish in your cries speak for themself, telling kento “don’t leave me.” it breaks his heart, he would do anything to prevent having to hurt you like this but it’s too late now. he wipes away his tears with the back of his fully fleshed hand before bringing his phone back up to his ear to speak.

“you can throw away my books in the office, or you can read them and keep them if you want. i know you don’t really care much about that kind of stuff anyways though,” nanami laughs lightheartedly. a sharp pain tears through his chest and he silently winces at the pain something as small as laughing causes him. but that’s okay, he’ll only have to endure the pain a little while longer.

“i have one more thing to tell you before i have to go.”

you don’t catch what he said, your weeping drowns his voice out, only catching his words here and there. yet, you don’t miss the sternness of his voice calling your name, and you subconsciously quiet down a little.

“listen to me. i want you to be happy. don’t live your life constantly thinking of me and what could have been. do you understand?”

you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. silence follows on your end now. 

“answer me. do you think you can do that for me?” nanami asks, remnants of his authoritative tone seeping through.

a small, almost inaudible “yes”, croaks from your throat, accompanied by more sobs. 

“find a new partner, love again, start a new family. i want to see you flourish, darling. just..” nanami lets out a sigh before he continues. “just make sure the guy treats you right, or he’ll have to deal with the ghost of your ex. i can still beat his ass as a ghost. oh, and do all the things you want to do. you’re special, and i know you’ll succeed in whatever you choose.”

“kento don’t leave me! please don’t leave me! i don’t want anyone else!” you tightly clutch his shirt that you’re wearing as you beg and plead with him not to leave you. he wishes he could come give you one last hug, or a kiss before he leaves, but he has a job to finish. 

“whatever you choose to do, be happy. do what brings you joy, pretty girl. you won’t be able to see me, but i’ll always be there right next to you, supporting you. you’ll feel my presence and know i’m there. don’t come over here joining me too soon either, okay baby?” 

nanami debates on whether to mention this or not, but he decides it’s best to, he doesn’t want you to think he died without knowing. “my baby girl is gonna be as pretty as her mother. don’t you worry about a thing, everything is gonna be fine. i love you.”

his words come in one ear and out the other, it’s like you hear him, but you’re really not grasping his words. you’re trying to force your voice out to say something else and you’re finally able to. “ken? nanami?!” it’s too late now though, he’s already hung up and you find that out once you take the phone away from your ear.

on the other side of the city, nanami slips his phone back into his pocket after trying to send you a video. the reception has suddenly gotten bad down there and he tried multiple times to send it, but it’s taking forever to send, so he can only pray that it reaches you somehow.

the facade he put on and maintained fairly well while talking to you of being calm and collected, was his way to try to make his death not as hard on you. he’s found peace in knowing his time is almost up and he hopes that can help as you come to terms later. 

now, reality is crashing down on him once again and he tilts his head back, slowly closing his eyes as more tears rush out. memories run through his mind of all the times he’s shared with you; good times and bad times, intimate and playful ones, happy and sad ones. why does he have to leave? he’s finally happy for once in his life and now he has to leave the most important person in his life behind for a shitty, unfair job?

nanami catches himself, he can’t think like this. he can’t die with regrets or bad thoughts, so he chooses to simply be thankful for all the wonderful memories he was able to share with you and that he gets to reminisce over during his final moments. although he won’t be able to physically see his daughter grow up, he’ll be watching from above.

he takes a moment to collect himself then continues walking down the dark tunnel, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls being the only sound to be heard until he reaches the end. nanami turns and walks down the stairs, immediately being met with multiple transfigured humans just like he thought. his grip on his weapon tightens and he gets a running start at the monsters, catching them by surprise.

they surround him within seconds and with his blade, he slashes through as many at one time as he can, all while dodging attacks from the others he has yet to kill. 

nanami is so tired. it feels like his body will give out on him at any second. he just wants to rest. with each transfigured human he slices through, the image of him walking down the beach with the sun beaming down on his face gets clearer and clearer. it won’t be much longer now.

he tries to catch his breath as he watches the last and final monster fall to the ground. he lets the dull blade slip out of his hand and drops to his knees. suddenly he feels a cold hand on his shoulder and his eyes shoot open. “good job, i didn’t expect you to finish them all off,” a cocky voice says from behind him. 

mahito. 

nanami would be able to tell that voice from anywhere. the cursed spirit, mahito, is one he’s had multiple encounters with, the one worst being when he got trapped in the cursed spirits domain and nearly died. 

they say the third time’s charm and in this case it is. under normal circumstances it wouldn’t take a single touch from mahito for him to be able to transfigure nanami’s soul, but because he’s so badly injured and weak, this one touch is all it takes.

the footsteps of a person running can be heard, the sound of their feet getting closer by the second until the person reaches the stairs. the person rounds the corner and is met with a heartbreaking sight.

“n-nanamin?” the voice calls out.

it’s yuji.

there’s nothing kentoi can do to prevent the child from witnessing his death. he feels horrible. yuji is about to see his mentor die right before his eyes and nanami isn’t sure how it will affect him, hell it might even scar the poor boy for life. the only thing he can do is give yuji some encouraging last words. nanami turns the uncharred side of his head towards yuji and smiles. “itadori, please have ino take my belongings back to my wife. will you take it from here? i know you can handle it, you’re strong.”

a wave of calmness and peace washes over nanami as he closes his eyes. a bright light surrounds him and his old friend, yu haibara, from high school emerges from it, extending his hand out to nanami as he makes the transition to the other side. “welcome friend, what are you doing over here so soon?”

those are the last words that leave nanami’s mouth before his upper body explodes into pieces as mahito stands and happily watches. 

the horrific scene will forever be engraved into yuji’s mind.

an indescribable feeling rushes over you, one that’s unfamiliar. you’re not sure what it is, but you don’t ever want to sense that feeling again. it’s the moment you realize your everything is gone.

the night sky shines less bright as the light from a dying star burns until it flickers out completely. nanami kento is dead.

you’ve lost count of how many days have passed since kento left you. the days have started to run together and everything’s been a blur, you can barely even remember your own name.

you often find yourself staring at his blood stained watch that lays on the coffee table, one of a few items that ino personally returned to you; kento’s watch, his weapon, and his phone.

the playback of past events involving kento are constantly unfolding in front of you. when you look at the front door, you can see him coming home from a long day at work, undoing his tie and taking his shoes off. sometimes you see him in the kitchen wearing the apron you bought him. or when you pass by his office, you can see him sitting in his chair with a book in his hand. everytime you see him, he’s always see-through, it's never like it’s actually him in the flesh, and you’re not really sure what to think. you know it’s probably your mind’s way of coping and it doesn’t frighten you, but you’re not sure if it’s doing more harm than good.

students from jujutsu high and other sorcerers have both stopped by to try to comfort you in your time of grieving, including nanami’s favorite student, ino, who shares candid memories of nanami. you truly appreciate them, you really do, but unless any of them could bring nanami back, you would rather just be left alone to mourn.

more days pass and you notice your period has yet to come and that you don’t have much of an appetite, but you don’t pay it much attention, attributing it to being everything you’ve been going through the past few weeks. for some reason, you accidentally let it slip out during a conversation with shoko and she suggests you go to the doctor. you’re reluctant at first, believing it’s just late and it’ll come back sooner or later once your emotions are back in line, but you trust her and take her up on her advice. 

the next day, ijichi drives you to your doctor and you explain the situation very briefly. they perform some bloodwork and run a few tests on you, one of which is a pregnancy test that you find completely unnecessary and silly, but you do what needs to be done for the sake of this to all be over with.

the results come back particularly fast for the pregnancy test and the doctor tells you you’re expecting. 

expecting..? expecting what?

you must have not heard right, so you ask her to repeat it. “you’re pregnant, there’s a fetus inside you. i’m very sorry about the timing, but congratulations.” tears start to fall and the doctor sits a box of tissues down beside you as she softly pats you on the back.

the car ride back to the house is quiet like usual. except this time it’s quiet for a different reason as thoughts, worries, and questions invade your brain. ijichi helps you out of the car and you thank him for the ride. you slowly make your way up the steps to the house, still not believing you’re going to be a mother. you clumsily fumble with the keys to unlock the door, and take your shoes off before you walk into the kitchen and lean against the counter with a hand on your tummy.

how are you going to take care of a baby by yourself?

your vision becomes blurry with tears, which isn’t out of the ordinary considering everything that has happened these past few weeks. this was nanami’s dream, to start a family. you close your eyes and let the waterworks flow. all kinds of different emotions rush through your body as you cry for the life he won’t get to experience.

your phone buzzes and you wipe your tears before taking it out of your purse, not bothering to check the notification screen to see who or what it came from. instead, you open your messages to tell shoko the news when you notice a blue dot next to someone’s contact, you have an unopened message.

when you glance up at the sender’s name, it’s no other than nanami. you check the time and the date and see it was sent a few minutes ago, that must’ve been the reason your phone went off. 

but he’s been dead for what, two weeks now? how is that even possible? you turn your attention over to the coffee table where his phone also lays with the other items ino gave you. you haven’t been able to bring yourself to charge his phone and it’s been dead for close to two weeks as well. all the more reason this gives you chills.

you’re not sure whether to open the message and view the attachment or not. what will you find? your curiosity outweighs everything else, plus it’s supposedly from kento, it can’t be anything bad.

you open the message and it’s a video. you turn your volume up and press play. nanami comes into frame and begins to talk, “hi baby, i just wanted to say i love you. i want you to listen to this whenever you feel lonely. and you’re going to be a great mommy to our daughter.” then the video ends. his hair is down, he looks tired, and he has a few scratches on his face but he still looks as handsome as ever. you notice he only shows one side of his face, but you don’t pay it any attention. you’re just glad you get to see one final image of him.

your fingers caress his face through the screen, and you smile. “i don’t know how i’ll do this without but–“, you instantly freeze. something just touched you.

there’s no other way to explain it, but it feels like a hand just softly pressed against your stomach. no one else is here, could you be going crazy? or could it possibly be…

“tell my baby girl all about me, okay mama?”

his voice. 

it was like he was right next to you. you quickly look up and turn your head to the side where the voice came from, but no one’s there of course.

nanami told you not to worry about anything, that he would always be with you. he’s a man that always stayed true to his word, and even in death he doesn’t change.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ❀ — this is my first time writing a full angst fic so if i had to suffer while writing this y’all have to suffer too 😭. but he’ll always be my man idgaf and gege will pay for killing him off. also let me know if you’d like me add which episodes the spoilers are in too and not just which chapters. feedback is appreciated as always!! thank you for reading mwah.

[dixondystopia]

~A day to remember~

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Authors note: This was written for @dixons-sunshine ! Hope you like it :)

Summary: ~Today is the day you and Daryl get married~

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None! Just fluff

As dusk settled in, the sky began to paint itself glorious shades of orange and purple, the undersides of clouds glowing a soft shade of pink. With the beauty of spring came the blooming of wildflowers, the fenced in yard of the prison speckled with the multicolored buds. They had handled the few Walkers that had lined the fence an hour prior, leaving the space quiet, a rare amount of calm settling in. It was perfect. It was set.

Daryl stood with his hands behind his back, chewing on his bottom lip to deal with the nerves. He was dressed the nicest you had ever seen him; he wore a button-up flannel shirt Carol had found for him. He had begrudgingly let Carol brush out his hair as well, acting as though it was a hassle when in reality he was glad for the assistance. For the first time in his life, he wanted to look nice. For you, and only you.

Hershel was standing next to him, a book in one hand and a crutch tucked under his other arm.

There was no music, other than the sounds of songbirds and the wind, but that was ok. Silence was a treasure in itself.

Rick and Michonne stood at one end of the matted down section of grass, both looking towards Daryl with small smiles. When Hershel gave them a small nod, Rick extended his elbow to Michonne. She watched him for a moment before taking his arm, smiling as she did so. The two began walking down the make-shift aisle.

Glenn and Maggie followed them, hand in hand. They were followed by Carol and Beth, who held Judith, the toddler grinning as she threw flower petals about, fully enjoying herself.

Finally, it was your turn.

Everyone watched as you slowly walked down the aisle, white fabric trailing behind you. Your dress was absolutely stunning. You and Maggie had found it on a supply run, the marbled white wedding dress in somehow perfect condition. Beth had taken it upon herself to decorate it further with the blooms and buds of wildflowers, turning it into the beauty it was today. The dress, while it was the most beautiful dress Daryl had ever seen, was nothing in comparison to you, the most beautiful amazing girl he had ever met. His girl. His bride.

Daryl smiled broadly as he watched you, his face filled with love and pride. A warm feeling filled your chest as you smiled back, taking careful steps as you walked towards the man you were about to marry. Your hunter. Your love.

Finally you had taken those last few careful paces towards Daryl, standing in front of him, looking through your veil into the eyes of your soon-to-be-husband.

Hershel waited a moment before speaking. “The world is not broken,” he began. “It is bruised and battered, but not lost… This world brought two people together. As partners. As lovers. A broken world wouldn’t do that. A shattered humanity wouldn’t unite people with love.”

Daryl glanced at Hershel, watching him as he spoke. He had always doubted humanity, especially now with what the world has become. But you, his love, the one person he deeply, truly loved, was here. You were with him, hand in hand. Maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t as lost as he thought.

“Here we stand, where two people will unite their love with marriage. Let us listen as the bride and groom read their vows to one another,” Hershel spoke, and gave a nod to Daryl, who chewed his lip a moment before speaking.

“Y/n…” he dropped his gaze momentarily before looking back up at you, face coated with blush. “Y/n, ya have been by my side through everythin’. Through all the highs and all the lows. Ya are my sunshine in this world. My light at the end of the tunnel. Ya are what keeps me going… I don’t have words to express how much I love ya… I promise to be by your side through everythin’…To protect ya and love ya for as long as I live.”

You smiled at him wildly, cheeks flushed red. Your chest filled with butterflies and a deep feeling of love unlike anything you had ever experienced. His words meant more to you than any other words ever had. You looked into his eyes through the veil.

“Daryl, you are the love of my life. I can’t imagine what this life would be without you. With you I feel safe. You are my home, my light, and the one person I am truly, deeply in love with… I promise to be there for you, to be by your side with whatever the world has to throw at us. I love you, and vow to be with you forever.”

Daryl smiled, face flushed with love and emotion. Eyes welling with unspilled tears, he squeezed your hands, feeling as if he did not deserve someone as amazing as you.

Hershel smiled, waiting a moment before continuing. “Daryl, do you take Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Daryl smiled, eyes never leaving yours. “I do.”

“Y/n, do you take Daryl as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You looked into the eyes of your love, announcing without hesitation, “I do.”

Smiling, Hershel said the words you and Daryl had been waiting to hear for a long time. “I announce you to be husband and wife… You may now kiss the bride.”

You had never seen Daryl blush so much or smile so wildly. You leaned up to kiss him, and he met you halfway, cupping your cheek. There was so much more to this quick kiss than any of the other kisses you had shared before. You were officially his, and he was officially yours. Bound together forever by marriage, united by love unlike anything you had ever felt before.

The few present guests cheered, but it all sounded muffled as you separated, smiling up at the man you had fallen head over heels for. The man who had protected you, loved you, and had always been by your side through everything. Your husband, Daryl.

[moonbeammist]

The Peasant's Secret (Part 1)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

I don't give permission for any of my fanfiction to be posted, this is also cross posted on my account w/ Archive of our own :)

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: I drew heavy inspiration from the Dune Part Two Soundtrack, truly sets the mood and tone for the story if you wanna have a listen. I appreciate this community of writers/readers! Any feedback and thoughts are most welcome! The 1st chapter serves as Prologue, an introduction to your character and her world. 2 Chapters Total. Enjoy 💚

WARNINGS: (Mostly for 2nd Chapter): (Adults only 18+) DARK! profanity, extreme violence, torture, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation, light smut

SUMMARY: “You did, Harkonnen.” You agree solemnly. “But what does it matter? Don’t you treat every untrained, unprecedented fighter the same here?” you pause, seeing his deep blue eyes flicker with interest. “Unskilled fodder to fuel your own ego?”

WORD COUNT: 2.2k words

PART 1 PART 2

You were in a colourless oasis. It wasn't really an oasis in the scenery sense; it was an oasis in the sense that it felt like a bottomless void, a strange, deafening dream. It was an oasis because it didn't feel like reality. A desolate vision to where no judging eyes would befall you as you threw your whole self, your body, into its ultimate test. That’s how they all made their mark here, isn’t it?

You reflect on Giedi Prime's obscure, bone-dry alternate reality to your home planet of Caladan - you were of peasant descent in the lush, grassy, biodiverse settlements. You and your mother had strengths in labour as rice planters, trading their services to the wealthy nobles in exchange for military protection. A life of labour and sweat in the rice fields, the economy depended on their work, as such, they had little free time.

Stepping foot into the outdoors, the crunch of your cheaply-made, scraggly brown boots is heard as you line up with the rest of the prisoners. The earth smelled of crust, rot, and blood. You somewhat know where you're supposed to end up as Harkonnen soldiers round you up, but at the same time, you haven’t got a clue where you’ll be settling before battle. Wide, dark tunnels arch over the sand like a protective roof against the beating black sun.  You've been given the finest privilege to represent your low-status family members in a brutal and bloody ceremony where this pale, ghostly Harkonnen House cuts you down, down into the dirt. A death deemed worthy. 

A death is worthy when you die with passion because you’re trying - kicking and screaming. It's a beautiful way to go because you feel everything.

The height of your human complexities is shown at the forefront - pushing yourself, testing yourself.. You who initially thought fighting was for those who have a reason to fight, like for political gain and power, defending your home and planets among the stars. However, you have never felt so alive, representing the absolute bottom of the barrel. What joy it would be to see an enemy fall from not hand-to-hand combat, not brute force, but peasant trickery. 

This is worth something.

That’s what you tell yourself. What else can you cling to? You were living for the cultivation of rice before you came here.

Horns erupt in a deep, haunting bass. The ground is shaking. Shaking with such strength that your feet stumble forward, knees scraping the grainy, white sand. Your hands bite into the sand. A guttural song emits from the speakers suddenly, the force of it hitting your chest like a bang. Your body stutters.

Your fellow no-name fighters eyes snap at your movements. Hushed chuckles erupt over the heavy bass. You feel slightly embarrassed as you quickly stumble back up and rub the grainy sand away from your knees and palms. Your eyes narrow.

This is all of your first times, all of your fellow fighters' first essential phases into proving yourself worthy to Harkonnens. Granted, you were vermin first, something to gawk at, something like cattle. As far as you heard from your briefing on the way here, this whole spectacle was based on a test round. If you pass your initial testing round, then - maybe, just maybe, you can live in comfort. There was not much more elaboration than that. Either get cut down, sliced down, gutted down -  or prosper. So why do you feel like you're the only one on edge? You’re in your head too much.

Because I might fucking die.

You swallow that thought down, burying it deep in your stomach, where it should stay.

Underneath the arena, there is a place where the Harkonnen soldiers stop - a small, enclosed burrow tucked away from sight, away from the audience members that fill the seats of the large dome-like sphere of the arena. Through the dark, enclosed area you can make out the bleached atmosphere stretched and rounded out, seeing several egg-like craniums darting up and down in the stands. Their eyes were like inky, beady pools of onyx - almost insect-like. They were thrashing in excitement, the low murmur of chatter and whooping heard.

You look around to your peers. There is nothing really notable about any of you. Dressed in meek wool, burlap, or loin cloth. Prepped with various weapon satchels latched onto waists or knees. You have no advanced shields or armour, that is true. As suicidal as that may seem against these elite brutes, It’s what you represent that really matters. The peasant trickery you have up your sleeve.

You were an only child born to common people. In the small moments, you would take to the hills with your mother and run and play. Your mother's long, flowing hair would crack like a whip against the wind behind her, in a game of “cat and mouse," as she would call it. You would try to grasp at the ends of her hair - your mother's high, sing-songy laughter echoing in the distance as you chased her.

You did not know your father - just that he was a passing tradesman who fell in love with your mother’s quirks and tenacity for adventure; in the odd breaks she could have them between planting rice grain. They spent 6 months together, you heard, and it was passionate. But he could not stay on this planet.

Your mother did not know if he was alive. But despite him leaving, she spoke fondly of him.  “He defied appearances. They thought of him as a simple, dull man in the trades, a grunt. But his intellect was his greatest secret.”

You supposed that maybe you were that small reminder of him to her, as her description of your father shadowed your mother’s slow moulding of your personality over the years. A weak, feeble rice labourer by appearances, always dressed in brown, murky colours to disappear. She did not want anyone to notice you at first glance; let that be your first safety. If they must stumble on you or pester your forgettable existence, you must keep up the act at first glance. You were scared, you were begging for your life like a common peasant. If they continue to prod and seek to damage or harm you, they would pry open the bottle of secrets that came spilling out of you in this fight-or-flight scenario.

You had a lot to learn and a lot to process as Caladan civilians. The threat of Caladan’s as well as other planets' potential hostile nature was something you were keenly aware of, a foot on your back of sorts, as you couldn’t do anything formidle to stop an enemy. 

The peasants, not permitted to use weapons or obtain shields or anything of the sort, could only offer you certain wisdom that was passed among the peoples. One they passed to your mother’s watchful eye and then onto you. They call it the peasant’s secret.

The art of dodging.

“Remember the game of cat and mouse?” You remember your mother’s voice barely over a whisper as she lay beside you one night in woolly sleeping bags on the soft greenery beneath you. The weather was hot enough to enjoy a night outside.  The flow of the river’s stream is heard against her.

You haven’t used the peasant’s secret in awhile. You primarily used it against your mother and your fellow people, as they would take turns throwing you into mock battles. They didn’t have any weapons, but they did collide, push, and throw themselves into your body at full speed, so you had to react quickly. 

They did push you to the limit. Bless them. Until you were an exhausted heap of limbs on the ground and had the wind knocked out of you.

You knew that wasn’t as valuable as practicing it against someone who genuinely wanted to kill you. You didn’t know if the peasant’s secret had successfully saved someone’s life against a brutal attack or if it was just used as a quick get-away.

So yes, you could fall into the trap of thinking you knew what you were doing when, in reality, it was based on instinct. Of course, the arena was a circle. A never-ending loop. Eventually, even though your stamina was now crafted to be well above average, you would eventually get tired. The peasant community of Caladan had a careful, pinpoint focus on the art of dodging rather than hand-to-hand combat or brute force, which made for a very interesting opponent, if you could even call it that. Most of the time, if you could, you were told to outrun them first. So your speed heavily improved. If they were just as fast, then you could begin your dance.

Now, you could finally put it to the test. To see how you fare, to see if it could actually prevent you from getting sliced and diced by the Harkonnens in the arena—albeit for a while. The main thing to keep in mind, as your mother had warned, was to keep your opponent on their toes, snapping not only their mental state but their body. Then, when the time is right, you steal their weapon and use it against them. Today you were permitted a small dagger, strapped and holstered on the outside of your thigh. Although you weren’t concerned about it, you told yourself you would use it as a last resort when they weren’t suspecting you to. You didn’t know how to dance with a weapon; you only knew how to bob and weave without one.

Count Fenring, the Siridar-Absentia of your homeworld Caladan, while the Atreides occupy the planet Arrakis, had dealings with the Harkonnens prior to your descent here. You were never meant to come here. But Count Fenring had called upon the rice labourers one day for a strange proposal. Gathering in the high-esteemed buildings and feeling out of place, your people had looked upon Count Fenring’s narrow, proud face. You knew him to be conniving and manipulative in nature, a renowned assassin, and the Emperor Shaddam’s right-hand man. He was neutral toward the labourers; as long as they kept up on the plantation of their planet’s rice, he had no issues. He would often make dealings with the noblemen and women of Caladan; it was very rare that the rice labourers were added to any conversation.

“House Harkonnen of Giedi Prime is seeking entertainment, to those willing-"  Count Fenring’s voice boomed, sitting atop his makeshift throne. 

His voice is cut off by your thoughts at the Planet’s name. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime, called your Count “The ambassador to the smugglers” in spice production. 

He continues. “I know you do not get to leave your trusted duties among the fields very often, but consider this a gift of sorts - whoever is able, and willing to be “battle entertainment” to the Na-barron of House Harkonnen, Feyd-Rautha, will be permitted to win your chance at freedom to travel to a new planet, a new experience.. You don’t ever have to return.”

An audible chorus of gasps are heard amongst your peoples. Hushed angry whispers fill the room. You gape at the vagrant display of lack of remorse for human life. You knew little, but House Harkonnen enjoyed pleasures in gore and sadism, is what you did know. What’s in it for your Count? This has to do with spice dealings.

“Freedom to die?”  a male voice questioned loudly. “You dangle freedom in the air as if House Harkonnen has any, and to dangle us in front of the Harkonnen brutes like meat!”

The crowd got louder and louder in frustration and opposition. The Count’s voice bellows as his army hits their swords to the ground in a clang to signify the rice labourers to quiet their naysayers. “Enough. To those who are not interested, you may leave. You are not forced to stay. To those that are, please remain.”

A number of your people shuffled out in a hurry, their bodies a large mass squeezing through the royal entryway. You blink. This is downright morbid.  You had never considered such a thing before, as you only knew your planet to be worthy of laying down your roots until the end of time.

You feel your mother reach for your hands. They are warm, and so is her eyes as she peers into the core of your being.

Your planet is beautiful -  access to bodies of lakes, rocky mountains, majestic trees and budding flowers, delicious rice... 

“You should go.” she mutters. “Live for us.”

Her words a grim truth. Brutal honesty. And that was enough for you.

A handful of the peasants stay alongside you. Your mother places her lips upon your cheek in a chaste kiss.  Your tear ducts well with water as her hand leaves your grasp. Somehow, you know it’s too late to turn back now. You don’t know what made you follow Count Fenring onto the ship and not look back. A chaotic chance for something other than field work? A plunge into absurdity?

You could try absurdity for a while, you decided.

PART 1 PART 2

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ who are we?

vampire series | shuri udaku | part 2

Pairing - vampire!shuri x black fem!reader

Word Count - 19.4k (listen…either grab your popcorn or keep scrolling lol)

Contains - smut (18+), fingering, cunnilingus, clit play, overstimulation, choking/breathplay, biting, edging, strap-on sex, blood drinking, descriptions of blood, homophobia, angst, fluff, Shuri being a hot vampire asshole

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - As the words fell from your lips, a wave of warmth surged through Shuri’s undead heart and she swears she felt it beat for a second. Each word and syllable echoed through her vampire mind, a mind that knew loneliness and despair like no other but in came you, the light at the end of the tunnel and she swears she could die from how much she loved you. "Turn me," you repeated one last time, your voice carrying a soft insistence rather than a question. You caught a fleeting change in the color of Shuri's eyes, though she quickly masked it but you definitely noticed the subtle shift.

Tags - @inmyheadimobsessed @amplifiedmoan @vampzxi @heejayy @shurislover @shurismainbxtch @shuriszn @naomis-daydream @prettymrswright @pocketsizedpanther @gardenof-venus @tiii-iiiiii @ihearttish @playhousedistee @somethingcleaverandwhitty @niyahwrites @tishsrealwife @oceean @sookiesookie @cafehyunji @ventingfanfics @marsology @desswright29 @sweetalittleselfish-honey @kisskourt @dayedreamm @mcqueeferson @dejaonline (comment if you want to be tagged in future fics, 18+ only)

Writers Note: I’m so so sorry, this took so long, but I wanted it to be perfect and I had so many periods of being unmotivated, I didn’t want to force myself to write when I wasn’t feeling it. But thank you so so much to everyone that stuck around and was patient with me, I’m sure all the sneak peeks and shit were frustrating but we’re here! Grab your popcorn and enjoy my loves :) ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Part 1 - who are you?

November 23rd, 2411, New York (continued…)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You were at a genuine loss for words, and it appeared she felt the same way. It had been quite a while since the last time you spoke with her, and even for a vampire, it truly felt like a long time ago. You broke the silence with the first thing that came to mind; the simplest way to ease back into the dialogue and it was a question you truly wanted to know the answer to.

“How…how have you been? Where have you been?” Your voice shook with the vibrations of sheer astonishment, still attempting to comprehend the sight of her gracefully seated before you.

"I've been... well. You know, just wandering the world, experiencing new things. Nothing out of the ordinary I suppose," she responded, and you couldn't ignore the subtle reduction in her once thick accent. It wasn't a dramatic change, probably not noticeable to human ears, but your keen senses detected it. How could you ever forget the voice that once made your own heartbeat falter?

“Your voice…”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about my voice?”

“You sound…different. Your accent…it isn’t as thick as it used to be.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just…it just caught me off guard is all.”

"Hmmm," she hummed curiously. "But your voice hasn't changed. You still got that annoying whiny voice," she teased with a smirk, and it was the most familiar you had felt with her so far. That confident grin paired with the sarcastic comment, your undead heart could almost swell at how it made your body react. It reminded you of just how much you truly missed her. You playfully flicked her on the shoulder, and it sparked laughter from both of you. Oh, how you missed her laugh. You missed the way her adorable face would scrunch up, and her perfectly aligned teeth would come into view. It made your stomach flutter, reminiscent of the days when you were human, and you couldn't help but get lost in that familiar feeling that you had almost forgotten.

“Well I’m glad not all of you has changed. You’re still a dumbass,” you reply half-jokingly, making you both laugh once more. Once the laughter subsides, you find yourself aching to know more about her and what she’s been up to.

“So…you’re back in New York, I see,” you comment.

“I could say the same about you, s’thandwa.”

“Yeah well…you know…what better place for a vampire than the city that never sleeps, right?”

Briefly, Shuri falls into silence but you can see it in her eyes, the way they glisten that she feels a moment of intimacy.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I remember that, Shuri. I remember a lot.”

Shuri graces you with a crooked smile, highlighting the glossy sheen that coats the irises of her dark eyes. For an instant, a comforting warmth embraces you, as if this is precisely where you were meant to be at this exact point in time.

“And what about you, y/n? How have you been?”

You stop, your body tensing as you contemplate the myriad of responses you could provide. In all honesty, the years without her have been a collision of tides, a shifting wavelength of emotions and experiences that have caused you to both love and resent Shuri. There are moments when you despise her, yet miss her with every fiber of your being. As she poses the question, a fleeting hint of anger threatens to surface, but you inhale the breath you don't need before proceeding to answer.

“I’ve been…everything, I guess? I’ve felt everything, learned everything, and now I’m just lonely. I’ve been so full and empty at the same time…I don’t know, Shuri. It’s just been—”

But Shuri interrupts with the gentle stroke of her thumb on your cheek. Her tender caress seems to fill the void that has haunted you for nearly two centuries. You can't help but feel a pathetic sense of vulnerability as her small touch impacts you, but you permit yourself to experience it fully. You embrace the warmth she imparts with that simple gesture because, in this world of loneliness, few things compare to the solitude of a vampire. You needed this.

“I know, angel. I know. Open up to me. I’m here.” Her voice drew you in like a siren's song like it did so many years ago, guiding you to the profound depths of your emotions as you shed the first tear you had in years. She gently wiped it away with the pad of her thumb before enveloping you in the warmth of her hold, and you surrendered to her care.

“I’m here, y/n. I’m here.”

April 20th, 2022, New York

It had been approximately two months since Shuri unveiled her true nature, two months since you both professed your love, and two months since you posed the unanswered question that you still desperately held in your heart. You were reluctant to press her on the matter, yet it gnawed at you that she hadn't responded. Of course there would be good reasons as to why she never answered you, but what could that reason be?

You were together, entwined in your bed sheets as the moon light shone through your window, passionately embracing her as she kissed you. The depth of your love for her and her reciprocal feelings made you wish for this moment to quite literally be everlasting. The sensation of having her in your arms was something you could never tire of, so you reveled in what she was offering at that very moment.

“You’ve been kissing me for a long time now,” you say with a smile, lying beneath her as her smile mirrors yours. She plants another kiss on your nose before resting her head on your chest, nestling her soft curls into your skin.

“I just love you,” she replies, and she chuckles under her breath at how your heart skips a beat.

“That’s not fair, Shuri.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You laughing at the way my heart reacts to you…I know you got your incredible senses or whatever but you need to quit making fun of me.”

With a quick and fluid vampiric motion, Shuri changes positions, now leaning against the headboard while you straddle her. It almost takes your breath away, even though you should be accustomed to her rapid movements by now.

“Shuriiii, fuck,” you say, trying to keep calm the dizziness.

“Shutup,” she comments, bringing your lips back to hers. “You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And you can’t help but scoff a little. “Yeah maybe for now, until I turn old and wrinkly.”

“You humans and age. Being old does not equate to being ugly. Aging is a blessing.”

You let out a pained sigh at her statement, not satisfied with the way she tries to keep you human. “Well that would be easy for you to say. You’re gonna look young and hot forever.”

Shuri raises her eyebrow, one that shows you she has a smart remark to say.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Fuck you!,” you reply, playfully hitting Shuri’s shoulder. “You’re annoying.”

“I wasn’t so annoying when I let you ride me the other night, now was I?”

You felt your cheeks flame up in embarrassment.

“Shuri, oh Shuri! Right there, yes!,” she mocks before she subtly laughs at you. You pick up the pillow beside you and slam it against her.

“Asshole!”

Shuri could not help but laugh at you and as you attempted to hit her once again, her vampire reflexes caught you off guard, halting you before you got to her.

“Show off.”

“Only sometimes.”

Once more, her lips capture you as she draws you closer. This kiss is unhurried and seductive, syncing with the rhythm of your heart as you encircle your arms around her neck, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations she evokes within you.

“You look beautiful by the way…when you work for it.”

“Shuri—”

“Really though. I should make you ride me more often. You’re so sexy like that.”

Her words nearly elicited a moan from you, but you held back, keeping your lips connected to hers as she spoke. You were determined not to give her the full satisfaction.

“You’re a dick.”

“Watch your mouth.”

Slowly, her mouth trailed down to your throat, kissing tenderly against the scar that she left from the first and last time she drank from you.

“This is healing nicely.”

“Yeah…well,” you comment with an attitude you swore was subtle but Shuri knew you better.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with what?”

“You, y/n. Are you ok? Did I upset you?”

You said nothing.

“I know you have something to say, princess. Spill it.”

You could feel the nerves kindling within you, unable to escape the realization of how apparent it must be to Shuri that something was tugging at your heart.

“How come you don’t drink my blood anymore when we have sex?” Not exactly what you wanted to ask, but it was a question that was burning at you nonetheless. Shuri sighed, peeling her eyes off of you for a moment before proceeding. “Did I do something wrong? Do I taste weird or something??”

“Don’t do that, y/n. It’s not on you. And trust me…you are the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Then what is it, Shuri?? I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t get it. How could you?”

“Baby…please.”

Shuri took a momentary pause, a brief silence hanging in the air, as if collecting her thoughts or contemplating her next words.

“I do not want to lose control again. I almost…I almost didn’t stop the first time. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“But you did stop, Shuri. You did. You need to cut yourself some slack. You did so good and it felt so good for me and I know it felt good for you too. I want you to drink from me again when we fuck.” You couldn't avoid appearing somewhat needy, maybe even a tad bit whiny, but you were unbothered by that. The desire to experience that closeness with her again was paramount, and you were confident she shared the same longing.

“But what if I—”

“Ssshh, Shuri. You won’t hurt me. I just want us to be able to experience each other to the fullest. You’re a vampire and I love that about you. I want you to know that I’m ok and that I want you to drink from me, especially when we have sex.”

Your words made Shuri ache, her pussy clenched at the way you craved her the way she craved you. “Ok but…if I hurt you—”

“Ah ah! You won’t, baby. I trust you.”

Once again, her gentle lips found yours as she moaned into you right before she abruptly detached from you.

“Ok, now what is it you really want to say to me?,” she questions, her deep understanding of you almost angers you, especially when you wish to simply just run away from certain situations.

“What?”

“Do not play stupid with me, s’thandwa. You cannot run away from me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Shuri…please.”

“Uh uh. Speak.”

You sat there on her lap, admiring her beautiful features, the stern yet soft look she gave you now made your stomach churn, wanting to run away from your burning desire but the more you choked it down, the more it became harder to breathe.

“I…why did you never answer me when I asked you to turn me?”

The softness in her face diminished to something harsher, her features melting into seriousness and it frightened you a bit.

“It’s not what you want, y/n.”

You sneer at this, annoyed at how easily she makes that claim for you. “If it wasn’t what I wanted, I wouldn’t have asked you. Now would I?”

Shuri shakes her head at you, a smirk appearing on her face before speaking. “This mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.”

“Please Shuri, can you be serious for one second. I’m not joking.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“Then please just…stop messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Shur—”

Your words were halted by Shuri's finger pressing gently against your lips. Her eyes scanned your entire face before settling back on your plump lips, swollen from your fervent yearning for her.

“Just please…shut up for a second.”

As the all-too-familiar sensation of her lips meeting yours washes over you, you whimper into her, yearning for her and everything she embodies as you welcome her intense kisses.

“Please.” It was all you could say, and you weren’t even sure what it was you were asking for at the moment. What you do know is that your body is aflame, your mouth ablaze as her tongue glides between the curves of your sweet lips.

“I want you forever,” you moaned into her mouth.

"Mhmmm," she responded, surrendering as you trailed your kisses along her angular jawline, deepening them the further you descended down her body. It didn't take much time before she took off her shirt, providing room for your mouth to explore the curves of her abdomen, and your sloppy tongue made Shuri’s pussy clench in anticipation. Slipping your hand beneath her shorts, you ran your fingers through her boxers, chuckling at how damp she already was. All this mess between her thighs as a result of her love for you, her desperate need for you. Your poor baby was absolutely soaking the whole time.

“You’re so wet, Shuri.”

“Fuck,” she moaned, bucking her hips forward for the friction she evidently craved.

“Let me eat your pussy, baby, yeah? I wanna taste that mess between your thighs.”

“Fuck. Yes, y/n. P-please.”

Hearing Shuri trip over her words as you pleasured her was a sound you would never get tired of. It made your body ache with a passion, to hear her voice diminish down to desperate pleas as you pressed your tongue against the swell of her clit, and it didn’t take long for your mouth to find her pussy. Once you ripped off her clothing and admired the shimmer that reflected off her needy cunt, you took your fingers and splayed her folds open and your mouth found her clit like a magnet, wrapping your lips around her sensitive bud before your tongue ran laps around her.

“Oh,” she faintly moaned, a habit she would do as she struggled to contain her moans but you always took it as a challenge, making sure you left her in nothing but trembling shambles as you pleased her. It was easy to see she was trying her best to hold in her moans, the way her throat let out choked whimpers every time you lapped up into her but the minute you spat on her pussy and inserted two fingers inside, you made it a challenge on her to contain the sounds of pleasure that reckoned to rip right through her.

“OH…y-yeah…yes, y/n, just like that. Oh fuck.”

Your lips lifted into a smile, proceeding to suck on her pounding clit as you felt her pussy walls clench around your fingers. She was so needy, so evidently desperate for you and you felt nothing but the same for her.

“You taste so sweet, baby,” you hummed into her. “Cum on my face. I want you to cum on my face.”

“M’kay, okay…fuck, baby.” Her high pitched whimpers made your pussy throb, the sound and smell of her squelching cunt made you fuck into her faster and harder, continuously tapping that spot inside her that you knew would make her lose it.

“Unh!”

You gaze up at her, convinced that the sight alone justifies your yearning for eternal life. The radiance of her sweaty dark skin, the rhythmic contraction of her abs as her pussy closes around you, but her face was the purest of all. Her mouth hung ajar, jaw slack, singing profanities of pleasure, her eyes grappling to connect with yours as she resists the urge to roll them back. In this moment, she is at her most vulnerable, her weakest, and observing her let her guard down is something you desire to witness for the rest of your days. And that was not even the best part; the best part was what was to come next, as you wrapped your lips around her, siphoning her swollen clit and plunging before her body released right onto your face as she came.

“Princess! Oh…UNH!”

And there it was: your favorite part. Observing the transformation in her face as her orgasm resonated through her. The shift in her irises to a deep red hue, her fangs extending to their fullest length, all while she fought to maintain control over her body amid the orgasm wracking through her was truly a sight you alone could cum from.

“UNH!”

“Yes, baby. Keep fucking my face. Give me all of your cum.”

“Oh…fuck.”

Her pussy is hard to let go of, something you latch onto even as she’s whining and shuddering in overstimulation. You lap her up like you're starving, slurping every drop of her warm juice before she grabs your hair and forces you off of her. You whine at this, wanting more but you knew she had reached her limit as you rested your head on her chest, waiting for her body to cease its trembling.

“You c-can’t do shit like that, y-y/n. I could hurt y-you,” she struggles to say and that sight makes you smirk with pride.

“Awww, poor baby. No way you can hurt me when you’re shaking like this. You must’ve cum hard as fuck,” you taunted in faux sympathy.

“Sh-shut up. You forget I could s-snap you,” she tries to snark back, but her struggle to come back down was not helping her tough image. You chuckle before kissing her pouting lips.

“Talk like that all you want, baby, but we both know you love when I put my mouth on you.”

You kiss once more before she decides to take matters into her own hands.

“It’s your turn,” she comments, suddenly pinning you down beneath her and your body is heated, writhing in anticipation before you are inconveniently disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Fuck,” Shuri spits.

“Shit. My mom is calling me.”

Shuri groans in frustration, rolling over beside you dramatically as you answer the phone.

“I know, babe, but she never calls me. Could be an emergency.”

"Fine," Shuri seethes, with an exaggerated eye roll, and you can't help but chuckle at her flair for drama. Shuri tunes into your conversation, vampire ears catching your mother's voice on the other end of the line, and you're well aware of it.

“You were listening, weren’t you?,” you question once you hang up.

“I was.”

“You’re so fucking nosey.”

Shuri just shrugs her shoulders. “Soooo, are you going to go see your parents like she asked?”

“I really don’t want to. I already know what they’re going to talk about and I don’t wanna hear it. But I guess I should go. I honestly haven’t spoken to them since Jon…”

You chose not to finish your sentence but Shuri had no problem doing it for you. “You mean since I ate your asshole of an ex??”

“Yeah…that.”

“You know, I have yet to meet your parents. I’ve known you for just over a year now, and you almost never speak about them.”

“And what is a year to you? Aren’t you like 500?”

“You think you are so funny.”

“You love my jokes,” you tease. “But really, there’s a good reason as to why you haven’t met them. Trust me, you do not wanna meet them.”

“I think it would be good for me to meet them.”

“Yeaaahhh, no. Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so, Shuri. I don’t get along with them. And besides they’re…old school. They would never accept you and me.”

Laughter escapes Shuri, finding you incredibly adorable as you worry about what her meeting them might do.

“Do you forget who I am, princess? If there is anyone who understands old school, it would be me. I would love to meet your parents. I understand you might not have the best relationship with them, but I think it would be good for us to go together. Just tell them you’re inviting a friend, there is no need to tell them that we are in a relationship if you do not want to. You do that on your own time. But I would love to meet them,”

You say nothing.

“Please?”

“You know what? Fuck it! Fine! You can meet them but don’t be surprised when things go left. I’m warning you, Shuri. They’re weird.”

“I’m with you, aren’t I? I can handle weird.”

“Fuck you!,” you say, playfully hitting her once more with the pillow and she lets you this time.

“Wait…how am I supposed to tell them that we gotta meet them at night?”

“Just tell them what I told you. Tell them I’m allergic to the sun.”

You take a moment to ponder the situation before agreeing. She nods quietly and then departs, leaving you with your thoughts, the absence of her presence leaving a lingering sense of contemplation in the air.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Sitting at the dining room table, where Shuri had left her food untouched, and your parents bombarded you with questions about your future, felt like your heart could plummet to the depths of your stomach. The atmosphere, filled with nothing but painful memories, was sheer torture. Although you were aware that having Shuri witness the deceitfulness of your parents would be difficult, you were never truly ready for the frustration that would ignite beneath your skin.

“You barely touched your food, Shuri. Is there a problem?,” your mother asked.

“I told you she wasn’t hungry mom, just leave her alone,” you groaned, making no effort to hide your irritation.

“That is no way to talk to your mother, y/n,” your father chimed in with his unwanted comments that always made your blood boil.

“Mhmmm.”

There came an awkward silence, with nothing but the sound of utensils scraping against plates with all eyes unmistakingly fixed on you, including Shuri’s.

“What happened to you?,” your mother asked, pointing to the scar on your neck and you could just sense the subtle smirk on Shuri’s face.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Can ya’ll just say what you wanna say already?,” you slightly burst. “I know why you called me here and I think it would be the best for everyone here if we forget the fucking scar and just get on with it.”

Your parents looked at each other before looking at you, both with a stern look that truly did frighten you a little but you wouldn’t dare let that show.

“Your future, y/n. The passing of Jonathan has left you with no money for your future. He was the plan all along and now he is gone…what do you plan on doing now with yourself??,” your father asked, his demeaning voice and commanding presence reverberating through the room, making the patter of your heart quicken. Your discomfort was evidently apparent to Shuri, and this was made known with the way she discreetly rubbed your thigh beneath the table.

“Dad…please—”

“Listen to your father, y/n. We say this because we care for you.”

“Care for me?? Well that’s a first, isn’t it??,” you snarked beneath your breath, purposely loud enough for their ears to catch.

“You need to find a new partner soon. We think we have someone who is interested…”

The rest of what was said drifted from you, nothing but the sound of static overcame the nonsense that you just knew was pouring out of your parents mouths. You felt nauseous, like the wind had just been knocked out of you and you could pass out at any moment. You just wanted to be free, free from the expectations your parents have put on you since you were a child; free from them using you as a pawn to bring more wealth into their family. You wanted out.

“Y/n,” Shuri chimed in, trying her best to comfort you. “Breathe baby, breathe. I’m right here,” she said not with her mouth but with her mind.

“And who are you, may I ask?,” your father interrupted, his deep voice breaking the calm that was once Shuri’s voice and you were afraid of what his confrontation would escalate into.

“Dad, please don’t start,” you muttered with a feeling of knowing exactly where this was headed. You knew Shuri and you knew your father and neither of them made room for disrespect.

“Hey…it’s ok,” Shuri murmured to you as her gaze softened in reassurance. But the look in her eyes didn’t escape your father’s notice, rather deepening his suspicions. You could see the anger simmering behind his heavy glare, that look that always made you fearful of him as a child. His demeanor shifted, the tension thickening as he repeated his question.

"Who. Are. You??,” he demanded, each word laced with venom. You knew instantly that he’d figured it out. Your father was an observant man who never failed to hide his disdain for the gay community. His hatred ran deep, and it was precisely one reason why you had always feared introducing Shuri to him. When his cold gaze shifted to you, a wave of numbness washed through your entire body.

“You brought a dyke into my home, y/n?”

“Dad…please, not right now.”

“Oh, we are doing this right now.”

The tension in the room was suffocating, hanging thick in the air like a storm about to break. Every sound seemed sharper, every movement slower, as if the very walls held their breath.

“Sir, if I may speak—”

“And why are you here with my daughter? Who are you and what are you doing here??”

A change flickered across Shuri’s face, the look of someone ready to face a challenge and it was an expression you recognized all too well.

“Shuri…please,” you softly begged.

“He’s disrespecting you and I don’t like that.” But her eyes stayed locked on your father’s. The silent exchange between them spoke volumes, a tension mirrored in the cold expressions of both your parents. Panic rose to the brim of your throat as you shot to your feet and grabbed her wrist, desperately trying to pull her toward the door and away from this place. But she stood her ground, unmoving and frozen.

“I am her father. I’m the one who raised her. Who are you to come into my home and talk to me that way??”

“Your daughter does not want to marry whoever it is you think you have in mind. She is a grown woman and her own person. She does not want him. She will never love him. And she sure as hell will never marry him!”

“And why is that?? Because you came into the picture?? A good for nothing dyke? You are a perversion of humanity, a disgust to God’s eyes and you do not deserve to know my daughter! I will never allow this!”

Shuri’s anger flared, and you noticed the faint red glow in her eyes. Just as you moved to intervene, she did exactly what you feared; she lunged at your father, her anger uncontrollably lashing. In an instant, she was on him, sinking her teeth into his throat with a terrifying, blood-fueled rage.

“SHURI!!”

Your mother’s scream pierced the air as your father struggled, desperate and terrified, trying to shove Shuri off him. Panic gripped you as you shouted her name.

“SHURI! SHURI, STOP!”

It was the desperation and fear in your voice that pulled her back to you. Her fangs retracted, and her eyes slowly returned to their usual color as she turned to look at you. Your fathers blood stained her face, dripping down her jaw while your trembling father reached for the gun hidden in the drawer. He did not hesitate to point the barrel right at her and you felt as if your heart was going to burst out of your chest. In a second, a deafening BANG rang through the room before the bullet struck Shuri in the abdomen, but she didn’t even flinch. Blood flowed freely, yet the wound sealed itself almost instantly, faster than you could exhale. The complete and utter terror on your parents face as your father shot once more, only to have the same outcome, was enough to make you almost collapse and pass out.

“Stay away from me de-demon…,” your dad stuttered while your mother held onto him for dear life, and you had never felt so afraid for what was to come next.

“Y/n, I need you to leave the room…now,” Shuri said sternly in such a matter that you knew she meant it but you did not care.

“I’m not leaving, are you crazy??”

“Now! Before I actually hurt them!”

Her words smacked you in the face, and the look in her eyes told you she was leaving no room for disobedience. Reluctantly, you stepped away, but stayed close enough to overhear what was unfolding. What you caught were only snippets of Shuri’s voice and an unsettling silence from your parents. Curiosity gnawed at you, and you held your breath as you peeked around the corner. There was Shuri, speaking to both your parents as if she had them under a trance. Your parents stood frozen, their bodies unmoving, and a chill ran down your spine, goosebumps prickling to the surface of your skin. The sight made you shiver as you struggled to keep from collapsing. Why hadn’t she told you about this when you first questioned her about being a vampire? The realization dawned on you: mind control. And now you couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever used it on you.

“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that,” Shuri snarled, grabbing your wrist harshly as she pulled you both out the door, out of your parents' presence, and into a painfully quiet car ride.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“What the fuck was that?,” you irritably asked.

“Do not start with me right now, y/n.”

“Don’t sta—? Excuse me?? Have you lost your fucking mind??”

Shuri flopped down onto the sofa assertively, sitting man spread as she leaned back, rubbing her face with an air of agitation and impatience. It seemed as though she was deliberately ignoring your words.

“Hello? Earth to Shuri?? What, am I talking to myself here??”

“Might as well be.”

“You are…so fucking fucked up. My dad? Really, Shuri??”

“He’s lucky that’s all I did.”

You felt a jolt of shock, your eyes widening as you were rendered speechless. The nonchalant tone in her words stirred frustration in your stomach, and you struggled to contain your rising temper when upset.

“So what? Someone doesn’t like you and what, you kill them? You’re fucking unwell!”

She didn’t answer, just scoffed like you weren’t even there.

“And when were you going to tell me about how you can control minds or whatever the fuck that was?? Don’t you think that’s important information about you I should know?!”

“So you did see that…?,” she whispered under her breath with a subtle chuckle, her head bowed in shame as she fought to connect her eyes to yours.

“Yes I fucking saw that. Like you really just fucking looked at my parents and made them forget all that shit right infront of my fucking eyes like it was nothing…like you really just did that and never thought to fucking tell me??”

“So what, y/n?? Did you want me to let them remember that I almost killed your father?? Would that have been the rational thing to do?!”

“I’m only saying it would have been nice to know! That’s information I deserve to know, is it not? I’m your fucking girlfriend, am I right?!”

“If I had told you, you would walk the rest of our relationship questioning if it was real, correct?”

You said nothing.

“Yeah, that is what I thought. I have my reasons as to why I do or do not tell you things. Do not question my decisions to do so…”

“Yeah whatever, Shuri. Let’s be all dismissive and inconsiderate. Let’s all just get angry and eat people like fucking psychopaths!,” you yelled in a sarcastic tone but your anger was anything but sarcasm.

“And you want to be just like me, right? Is that not what you want? To be a vampire for the rest of your days? Let me tell you something…that is what being a vampire is!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t piss me off, y/n.”

Her words were delivered in an almost quiet and restrained manner, as if they were small and insignificant. But beneath the surface of calmness, you sensed a simmering anger that was on the brink of breaking through her skin; the intensity of her emotions was palpable despite the softness of her voice.

“Do you see what I have to go through everyday in my life?? THAT is what I’ll have to deal with and THAT is what I want to run away from. As long as I’m human, they are all I have! And I’m nothing but a tool for them! A means to bring in wealth to their pockets because they’re nothing but scum and I want out!”

“Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?” Her sudden change in tone sent a chill down your spine, its sharpness and intensity striking a nerve. “How it has been hell on earth for me??”

The hurt in her eyes and the pain in her voice gave you an immediate pang of regret and empathy.

“So what?? You want us to be together until I die? And you move on?” Your voice caught in your throat, choked by the effort of holding back tears. Each word felt like a struggle as emotions welled up inside you, threatening to spill over.

“Yes. Because that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

You were consumed by a mix of hurt and anger, emotions swirling within you like a turbulent storm. The room around you fell into an oppressive silence, a quiet that was deafening, emphasizing the profound impact of the emotional turmoil you fought so hard to keep at bay.

“When your dad said those things to me, called me those names, it stirred up old memories I thought I'd forgotten and I simply lost it. The way society used to treat people like you and me, it was so difficult to live even as a vampire. I used to be called every name in the book, treated like scum because where does a black lesbian woman fit into society in the 1800’s? How about in the 20’s? Or the 50’s? There was none. You guys have no idea what it means to not be who you are meant to be.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“What?”

“You’re a vampire. You could live anywhere in the world and anytime you wanted. Why would you stay in America of all places?”

A soft chuckle escapes her, followed by a small tilt in her smile as she quietly rolls her eyes. “I did the stupidest thing a vampire could ever do.”

Confusion washed over you like a wave, leaving your expression visibly puzzled.

“I fell in love.”

“Oh.”

“I had been alone for so many years and that was the first time in my 100 years of being a vampire, had I felt alive and full…and human.”

“Who was she?”

“She was…perfect.”

A small smile appeared on your face before it quickly washed away. “Was she…the girl in my dream? The one you gave me…”

She nodded.

“She wanted you to turn her.”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Why not? You loved her. You wanted to be with her forever, right? So why not just turn her??”

“I know what you’re doing, y/n. I’m not doing this right now.”

“But…please.”

The air between the two of you grew still and quiet, filled only with the weight of unspoken words. The silence stretched on, punctuated by the sound of distant waves rolling outside her home. It felt like there was a physical barrier between you, leaving an uncomfortable tension in its wake and so you raised your voice a little.

“Why don’t you just answer my question??”

“Do you not understand?? Being a vampire took everything I’ve ever loved away from me. That is what I’m trying to tell you. My mom, my friends, my family…the list is endless.”

You walked over to her and took your place beside her, leaning your head gently on her shoulder as the fabric of her shirt collected your tears before you kissed her shoulder. Despite the sorrow that filled both your hearts, your presence conveyed a quiet reassurance for Shuri as it always does. And that’s why she loves you; you shared an embrace in the face of emotional vulnerability.

“I’m so sorry life was unkind to you, Shuri, and I’m sorry being a vampire has been nothing but hell for you.”

You looked up at her with swollen, beady eyes; the aftermath of your tears evident in your pout.

“But the difference between you and me, Shuri, is that vampirism took from you because you actually had something to lose. You had a home, a family, friends, status…I don’t have anything. Nothing. You’re all I have…and I don’t want to lose you too.”

Shuri gazed down at you with a mixture of hurt and love in her eyes, a complex blend of emotions that spoke volumes. As she leaned forward, her lips brushed gently against your forehead in a tender gesture and you exhaled in relief before she abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go take a walk.”

“But the sun will be up in a couple hours,” you respond with genuine concern.

“I’ll be back. I just need fresh air.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A few hours passed by and you grew concerned as you waited anxiously. Finally, you hear sounds of movement emanating from the kitchen, and a wave of relief washes over you as Shuri returns.

“Finally, I was beginning to worry.” You approach the kitchen but she doesn’t respond. “Shuri?”

But it wasn't Shuri. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest with fear as you entered the kitchen to find a total stranger making herself comfortable in Shuri's kitchen. The stranger was strikingly beautiful, with a deep and flawless complexion. Her hair was intricately braided in goddess braids, a wave of intertwined hair and curls that fell down to her hips, and her lips had the rich fullness of a summer rose in full bloom. All her features harmonized to form one of the most beautiful faces you had ever seen. What intrigued you the most, however, was the uncanny familiarity of her face, despite being certain you had never met her before.

“Who…who are you?,” you stammered, your shaky voice hard to contain but the woman did not answer you verbally; instead she returned your answer with a soft smile that should have been comforting but the glassy conceit in her eyes sent shivers through your entire body.

“Who are you??,” you asked once more, raising your voice a bit but still, she said nothing.

“I’m going to call—”

“Who?? Shuri??,” she cuts you off, a villainous smirk graces her face, a twisted expression that holds genuine amusement and you could feel your heart quicken beneath your ribcage.

“How do you know Shuri?”

“Oh me and her go way back,” she says so ‘matter-of-factly’.

“Wait, are you a—”

Once more, she interrupts you, appearing in front of you in a mere millisecond with a gust of air that brushes against your body. You gulp slightly as she stares you down, her eyes tinged with judgment. Fear envelops you like a suffocating cloak, yet you remain still, unwilling to challenge the woman who seemed delighted in the fear she instilled upon you.

You hear the door open behind you, and a slight sense of relief washes over you. The woman behind you breaks into a full, sinister smile.

"At last," she whispers, taking a seat on the island in Shuri's kitchen. When Shuri entered the premises, it was the most frightened and shocked you had ever seen her, her eyes seeped in fear and confusion at the image before her. But it isn’t too long before that fear is stripped away with anger, her fists balled up in frustration as both her and the unknown woman stared each other down.

"Shuri... Who is she?," you ask, breaking the stomach-churning silence.

“Please answer her, she’s already asked me twice and it's getting annoying,” the woman snarked.

“Adanna…you…you’re alive??”

“Oh, I very much died, but you know how the rest goes, I suppose,” she replies with a smirk.

“Who is she, Shuri??” Your voice takes on an edge, the words clipped and pointed. There's a noticeable tension in your words, as if each syllable is strained through gritted teeth.

“Ugh, answer your pest-of-a girl!”

Shuri's demeanor shifts noticeably as a veil of shame descends over her, her shoulders lower with a weight of embarrassment. For a moment, she does what she usually does in times like this, avoiding direct eye contact before she speaks.

“Remember that dream I gave you? The girl I showed you…? Well…that’s her.”

You remember in an instant. Recollections flood back, including Shuri's words about her passing from old age. The anger you feel is overwhelming and beyond words.

“The girl from your dream??”

Shuri nods, not even looking at you, her eyes still on the other woman.

“You…Shuri look at me!”

And she does. Without question.

“You told me she died of old age. You lied to me??”

The woman bursts into a cynical laughter. “Really Shuri? I ‘died’?? Well y/n, tell me more. What else did Shuri say about me? I’d love to hear this,” she chuckles but her admiration was sincere. You glanced at Shuri, almost seeking permission to proceed, but the notion of needing her approval quickly faded as you uncomfortably settled into the situation you were in. You were eager to uncover more about Adanna. Things that Shuri had never disclosed to you.

“That’s all she said about you. But…she showed me you…in a dream. You were human. You wanted Shuri to turn you. She drank your blood.” The details from the vivid dream began to replay and flood back into your memory. Adanna’s expression softened, resembling the poor, desperate girl that Shuri held in your dream.

"What happened to you?" Shuri interjects, genuine concern etched across her face as she observes her from a distance. Adanna's attention swiftly shifts from you to Shuri, her whole body radiating hurt and rage before she speaks.

“How dare you…” The words were spat in such a way that made your muscles tense. “You happened, Shuri! You came into my life and now what?? You are going to do the same thing to her!”

“No…I will not.”

“It’s too late, Shuri. You’ve already thought of it. I’ll tell you what’s going to happen…” She smiles devilishly, casting a quick glance in your direction before striding towards Shuri, the sound of her heels echoing loudly in your ears. “You’re going to fall desperately in love with her, if you haven’t already, you’re going to live a short life with her and then she will grow old and die. And that’s if she’s one of the lucky ones, you know how fragile they are. As long as she’s human, death will always be simple for her.”

She moves swiftly behind you, using her speed and strength to press your body against hers, as she gently wraps her hand around your throat, not to choke you, but to evoke fear in both you and Shuri at what she was capable of.

“Don’t even think about it or I’ll hurt her.”

“Please Adanna, leave her out of this.” Worry clouded Shuri’s eyes and it broke you.

“I can tell you really love her. So why won’t you turn her?? Why keep her this fragile and pathetic human being??” Her grip on your throat slightly tightens and you thickly swallow beneath her.

“You know why.”

“Oh I know full well…but does she??” She lets go of your throat, before taking a finger and caresses the thick artery that runs along the side of your neck, Your heart is pulsing in absolute terror and she chuckles at the way your body reacts to her.

“Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“Shut the hell up!”

You unwillingly tremble at her loud words.

“Oh baby, don’t look so scared,” she taunts. She skims your throat again, caressing the fang work from Shuri’s indulgence of you. “I see she’s had her fair share of you.”

You swallow, your throat bobbing beneath her touch.

“She’s really good in bed, isn’t she?”

Fear grips your eyes as you glance at her, and she giggles at your visible apprehension.

“It’s ok baby, you can admit it. I know all too well. She used to fuck me stupid too. But back in the day, people were not as…accepting of our lifestyle. I mean, really? What could be worse than being a gay, black woman in the 1920’s?? But that only made it so much more fun, right Shuri?? We had a blast didn’t we, babe? On the bar after work hours, cars in the back lane, under my dress at speakeasy tables?? Hotel rooms, back rooms…the fear of being caught… what a thrill.”

“That’s enough!”

She smiles and strides confidently toward Shuri, standing slightly over her in tall heels. With a sudden gesture, she lightly grips Shuri's jaw, catching the both of you off guard.

“Or what? What are you gonna do, baby? Kill me? We both know you never could.” She lets go of her jaw and trails her finger down her chest, admiring Shuri’s beauty and the sight makes your stomach twist; a surge of jealousy and protectiveness washes over you but what could your fragile body possibly do in a situation like this?

“You’ve gotten even sexier over the years, mm mm mm. The way I just wanna…this same chiseled jaw, used to drive me crazy.”

“Adanna…leave.”

“I guess I should, the sun will be rising soon. Or…I could just…stay here.”

“No.”

“Loosen up a bit, I’m joking.” She strides confidently toward you, locking eyes and observing the rise and fall of your chest with each labored breath.

“It was nice meeting you, y/n.”

She departed swiftly, her presence lingering like a chilling echo in the room long after she was gone.

The silence that engulfed the space between you and Shuri after Adanna's departure was suffocatingly dense. It echoed with the weight of unanswered questions and unresolved emotions, leaving a void that seemed to amplify with each and every heartbeat and breath that escaped you.

You allowed the silence to linger before stepping up to slap Shuri—a stinging blow that likely hurt you more than it did her, though you refused to show it. Shuri adjusted her jaw slightly from the impact, further fueling your building anger.

“You got something to say?!”

Shuri scoffs and starts to walk away, leaving you feeling as if your skin is melting.

“Hey…hey! I’m talking to you!”

She paces and smashes her table as if it were made of sand. You flinch, almost afraid of her intensity, but you're determined not to show your fear.

“So you turned that bitch but you won’t turn me??”

Finally her eyes meet yours. “Have you lost your damn mind, y/n?”

“Nah, I could ask you the same thing, Shuri! Because what was that?? All of that, what was it?? You gonna talk to me about how your 100 year old ex-girlfriend that apparently died from old age, was just in front of me? As a vampire…Shuri you LIED to me!”

“I did and I do not regret my decision to do so.”

The feeling of hurt and betrayal began to manifest in your body in physical ways, a sharp pain jabbing into your chest as if your heart was physically pierced. Your throat tightened up as a rush of heat and cold scattered through the thinning veins beneath your skin. Your body physically ached for her truth.

“Shuri, what is this?? What are we?? Do you like being in control? Powerful?? Is that it?? You like that your mind games are easier to play on my human brain? I don’t understand!”

“Don’t even start with me right now, y/n. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mo—oh…ok. Ok then. I see how it is. Here you go with this bullshit. Explaining to me at your convenience! Leaving me in the dark and for what?! You know what?? I’m not doing this right now. I’m going home.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, that’s what the fuck I said.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n.”

“You gonna stop me??”

“You are not going out there! She could be out there doing god knows what!”

“I’m not scared of her.”

“Well you should be!”

“And why is that, Shuri?? Because she’s a vampire?? Because she kills people?? Last time I checked, so do you. And I’m not afraid of you. Fuck you!”

“You are…fuck…you are pissing me off.”

“Boo hoo.” You roll your eyes, a gesture that pushes Shuri dangerously close to the edge. The last thing she wants is to lose her temper like she did in front of your parents.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Put your shit down, you are not leaving here,” she comments as you start packing your things but you ignore her.

“Y/n…y/n!”

“Fuck off!”

As you're about to leave and reach for the door, she rushes behind you and slams it shut with a bang, blocking your escape.

“Shuri…move.”

“You won’t make me.”

You turn around to face her, finding yourself trapped between the door she has forcefully shut and her imposing figure. Despite her menacing presence, her face betrays a hint of worry, making it challenging for you to maintain your anger.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

You arched your eyebrow, letting out a slight chuckle while Shuri stood puzzled. What could possibly be so amusing to you at this moment?

“If you need company, I’m sure Adanna is wandering around somewhere and since you’ve fucked her brains out too, I’m sure she’s all too willing to come back and give you a mind-blowing night,” you snapped, struggling to conceal your jealousy, though by now, Shuri can easily read you like an open book.

“Now you are just being childish.”

“No. I’m leaving because you’re pissing me off.”

Your second attempt to leave was as successful as the first time, with your back against the door and Shuri's hand gently snaking your throat, careful not to cut off your oxygen intake. In that silent moment, your eyes locked, conveying a power dynamic that both thrilled and frustrated you. As long as you were human, this imbalance persisted; a blend of love and resentment. Even now, Shuri's proximity was irresistible, her scent enveloping you and despite the anger you felt, the strength she had over you went beyond mere physical, vampiric strength.

“Why must you be so difficult?”

Both of you were engulfed in anger towards each other, driven by a mutual fear of losing one another. Your actions appeared selfish and impulsive, but deep down, you both dreaded the thought of being alone, knowing that each other was all you had.

“I’m not being difficult, Shuri. My request is simple. I’m only asking you to turn me.”

“And don’t you think I would have a long time ago if it was the right thing for you?” Her voice was gentle and soothing, a juxtaposition of the rage she felt.

“This is the right thing for me. You are the right thing for me.”

Your eyes softened, and hers mirrored yours. Your breathing picked up immensely and Shuri did not even try to hide her gaze plastered on the way your breasts rose with each sharp breath you took in. Her glare evolved from soft and gentle to intense and purposeful, reflecting the shift from a pure emotional connection to a more primal and physical desire. She was lustful and so were you.

The tension in the air thickened quickly, like a weight settling over the both of you. Unspoken emotions and anticipation hung heavily between you, making every moment feel charged and intense. Gazes lingered longer than they meant to, words became unspoken, and the way Shuri’s palm stayed on your throat made you gulp in desire, wanting her to push your limits like she always does.

“Drink from me.” Your words were tinged with an unmistakable craving for her and you could not help but be slightly embarrassed; how pathetic you were to beg after trying so hard to stay mad at her. “It’s been too long, baby, I need it.”

Her palm sits fairly firm against your windpipe and you inhale sharply as you feel the warmth between your legs dampen.

“I can smell you, princess.”

“See, this is what I mean. This power imbalance between us…it drives me nuts. Nothing is fair between us if you keep this from me.”

Shuri hoists you closer to her by your throat, bringing your lips in for the ghost of a kiss, an exchange of warmth before she fully presses her lips against yours and she moans into your mouth, a sound that nestled so deeply between your thick thighs.

You jump into her arms before she carries you to the bedroom, not once detaching her lips from yours. As she steps foot into the bedroom, she places you roughly on her vanity, clearing space for your plush ass to hit the surface. Shuri tears your clothing aggressively, greedy to see your beautiful body as she leaves you in nothing but your undergarments. You gasp as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin due to the mix of sudden cold air and her warm touch. It didn’t take long before her hands found your bra and ripped that off too, getting caught in the beauty of your breasts and the way they jiggled with your pretty gasps. For a moment, your eyes connected before her gaze trailed down to the wet patch seeping through your panties and Shuri can’t help but release a condescending laughter.

“I thought you said I pissed you off. But look at you, s’thandwa. You’re so wet. Do you hate me or want me?”

"Both," you exclaimed with a desperate intensity, feeling the anger towards her fueling the fire beneath your skin, expressing just how much you craved her touch.

"Mhmm," she murmured as her hand trailed down to the damp spot between your thighs that grew by the second, creating slow circles with the pad of her thumb and you cried with ache. Shuri adored your soft pleas of desire above all else. While she relished your moaning turning into screams of overwhelming pleasure, it was your gentle whining and whimpering that stirred her vampiric instincts to the brink, challenging her ability to suppress her true nature. You were aware of this, and you reveled in it. You enjoyed pushing her to her limits, knowing she would never physically hurt you.

With care, she slid the thin panties to the side, watching the way your sticky arousal clung to the fabric. She carefully slid a finger down your slit, just enough to be overwhelming yet not quite satisfying enough.

“Oh,” you breathed out as she caressed your beating bud, her lips attacking your throat once again as your fingers cling to the coils on her head.

“I don’t care about a power imbalance…until it comes to this,” she whispered to you, bringing her hands down to your thighs, kneading the flesh before she spread them open a bit more. Her mouth on your throat went from kissing the skin to sucking it, a gesture that was sure to leave bruised marks and your heart quickened at the anticipation of feeling her sink into you.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Your heart is pounding…why?”

“Please…Shuri…”

“Tell me.”

“Drink my blood. Please, baby, please.”

A crooked smile appeared before she looked for any hint of hesitation in your eyes but there was none to be found. You wanted this, needed it, just as much as she did and that made her turn insatiable, almost afraid that her crave for you would overcome rational thought.

She grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze up on hers. “You want me to drink from you, y/n?”

You nodded with such urgency that it felt embarrassing. She smirked, lowering her mouth for a fleeting kiss just above the side of your throat. Your heart raced, nearly bursting out of your chest. Yet when she offered only a light kiss without delving deeper, you felt annoyed and disappointed, still craving the satisfaction that had consumed you.

“Please, Sh—,” but you were cut off with a slender finger to your lips, giving you one last peck on your pouted mouth before she gets down on her knees in front of you, placing wet, devoted kisses from your stomach down to the area just above your pussy. Shuri loved dragging you to your release, watching your body flare in desperation made her wet each and every time.

“You know what I love about your human skin?”

"Hmm?" Your thoughts were clouded, making it difficult to speak, and Shuri chuckled softly underneath you.

“I love that I can mark you up. Claim you as mine. As a vampire, you would just heal. Is that what you want?”

You didn’t reply, but simply gazed down at her beautiful curls settled between your thick thighs but Shuri was not pleased, and the way she lightly slapped your pussy over the fabric of your panties proved that.

“Oh,” you stuttered softly to her delicious touch.

“I asked you princess, is that what you want?”

“N-no.”

“Hmmm…that’s what I thought.”

Shuri planted several affectionate kisses on your clit, the final tender gesture before you received what you had been yearning for; the exquisite and familiar sting of Shuri’s fangs piercing your skin only this time, her head was buried between your left thigh, marking her territory with her fangs as she drank the crimson lifesource. The sensation was exhilarating, a familiar mixture of pleasure and pain, the boundaries between the sensations melding into a blurred ecstasy.

“Shuri,” you moaned out, overwhelming her sanity. She quickly detached from you, sending her love in equal measure to your opposite inner thigh, pushing your panties to the side to make room for her fingers to settle beautifully inside you.

“Hold this here,” she demanded, wanting your own fingers to hook the fabric to the side so she could focus on tending to your mind and body. And you complied, holding your panties in place before you felt her sink two fingers into you.

“Unh,” you softly whimpered, spreading your legs to the best of your ability to give your girlfriend more room to continue her work, the duality of her drawing blood from your inner thigh as she pumped into your thumping pussy walls had your heels digging into her back, your own back drawn into a soft arch as you worked her face.

“There’s my girl.”

Her persistent fingers continued their relentless nudging against your sensitive spot. She was cautious not to draw too much blood from you. As you neared climax, she withdrew, returning to meet your face now adorned with a pout, eyes brimming with an eternal longing for her to bring you to completion.

"I was almost there," you complained, your eyebrows softening along with Shuri's, before she swiftly positioned your body to press against hers, your back against her front as your reflections stared back through the vanity mirror. Her lips were stained in a deep red hue and the irises of her eyes matched the tone. It was an image that should have frightened you but it was your favorite look on her, Shuri in her true nature; predator and prey in its most sensual form.

“I know you were, but you know the rules. You cum when I let you cum, understood?”

You nod quickly.

“Good girl.”

Shuri grabs your breasts, kneading them as she kisses the crevice between your shoulder and your throat.

“Shuri…baby…m-more. I need more.”

And with your words, one of her hands travels upwards towards your throat as the other roams south, pushing her fingers beneath your now soaked panties as she skimmed your delicate clit, circling the bud before she dips her fingers into you with the goal to finish what she started.

“You know what else I love about your human body?”

“Hm? Wh-what’s that?”

“Your human breath and how easy it is to just…cut it off.” Her hand clasped your throat firmly, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to make you feel lightheaded. “Can’t do this if you don’t breathe. And I know how much me choking you gets you wet, nkosazana, do you really want that gone?”

You squirmed briefly while she maintained her grip. You looked so beautiful in your helpless state and not once did her fingers relent their persistent and calculated strokes inside you, paying close attention to the way your pussy walls responded to her presence. She had one hand beneath your panties, the other around your neck, pulling constricted whimpers from you as you struggled for air. Your little sounds got to her, and she let you go.

“Aww, you’re ok. You’re gonna let me do it again, right?”

“Yes please, choke me again, Shuri. Please. I’m so close.”

And she does, because why would she deny her love? She clasps your throat once more, your hips canting along with her thrusts, running towards your sweet, sweet release.

“That’s it, baby. Let all your frustrations out. Good girl, let it all out.”

“Sh-Shuri…,” you choked out, pouting at the way you felt your walls tighten in pleasure around your girlfriend’s determined fingers. Shuri releases you, listening to your intake of air before she gently caresses the side of your throat. Her eyes locked with your reflection in the mirror, bracing you for what's to come. She took hold of your throat again, tilting your jaw to the side to expose the same spot she had fed from the first time. The familiar mix of slight pain and intoxicating pleasure surged through you, heightening the sensation of your impending orgasm and hearing Shuri’s soft moans of satisfaction as she drank from you only deepened your bliss. Not once did her fingers halt, her palm grazing your sensitive clit drew you nearer to the end until you let out a high pitched moan that made Shuri’s pussy clench in ache.

“Unh…Shuri, Shuri…yes! Fuck!”

She took one final taste before reluctantly pulling away, but not without struggle. Your blood was like fuel to her, and once she got a taste, it was a challenge to let go and although it should frighten you, it didn’t. Turning to face her, you met her gaze with your drowsy eyes, falling into the depths of her bloodshot irises. She looked unsettlingly beautiful, and in that moment, you realized how much you missed this, how deeply you needed it. The smirk on her blood-stained lips spoke volumes of how much she felt the same.

“You always do so good for me, princess,” she spoke with softness, slipping her cum-coated fingers between your lips as you sucked the remnants of your release off of her. You let go with a wet pop, batting your eyelashes at her before you spoke.

“I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you more.”

As soon as you both finish cleaning and tending to one another, you slip back into a deep sleep, resuming the dream where you left off a few months ago, with the woman in your arms, the one you now know to be named Adanna.

➳ the dream:

The dream setting is the same as before, with Shuri allowing you to experience everything from her perspective, as if you were living it yourself. Once again, Adanna is in your arms, pleading for you to turn her.

“I want you to do it, Shuri. Turn me. Please. I want this.” Her dark brown eyes shimmered with a perfect blend of desperation and love. You were terrified, afraid of crossing your boundaries once more, but the thought of not being with her forever frightened you even more.

"Please," she pleaded one final time before you pressed your lips to hers, savoring the warmth of her human essence before trailing down to her throat, delicately grazing your mouth across her skin and her pulse whispered against your lips. Opening your mouth, you descended, piercing her veins with your teeth and you moaned as her life source flowed into your mouth, embracing the flavor you desperately needed. As you continue to drink from her, your struggle to detach your lips from her throat grows more and more and Adanna becomes frightened, soon coming to realize that she had underestimated your thirst.

“Shuri,” she softly pleads, her mind growing fuzzy as she feels life slowly drift from her. “Shuri, please…you’re hurting me.”

You tried to fight it, but you were lost, intoxicated by the blood as you sank your teeth deeper into the one you loved. Drinking from her was unlike anything else; hunger, love, and lust blurred together and you could not decipher which was which. Her blood brought you the closest you'd ever felt to heaven, your senses heightened and explosive. Yet, in that overwhelming euphoria, you couldn't feel or hear her struggling beneath you, death latching closer and closer to her.

“Shuri…Shuri…it’s too much!”

You thought you could do it, bring her to the brink of death and then feed her your blood to restore her but you could not stop.

“I love you…need you so bad,” you mumbled against her, feeling her lifesource flow through your dead body made you feel more alive than you ever felt.

"SHURI!" she screamed one final time before you felt an enormous impact that sent you flying, landing on your feet as if you were a superhero. He came out of nowhere, a tall man who stood before both you and a dying Adanna. In that moment, you realized the gravity of your actions. You had crossed a line you never intended to, and now the consequences were clear: Adanna, helpless and nearly lifeless, was pleading for the man to save her and take her away from you. It broke your heart to see her so terrified of you.

“A-Adanna??”

"St-stay aw-ay from... me," she said with weakness, gasping as death knocked at her front door. You wanted to help her, to save her, but as you moved towards her, the mysterious man dashed in front of you with a speed that startled even you, revealing his vampire nature. It was evident he had been around for a long time, the first vampire you'd encountered since your maker left you many years ago.

“Let me help her!” You yelled in terror, attempting to fight the much stronger man.

“No,” the man gently stated, as if you were not weeping in fear as the love of your life lay dying as a result of your inability to control yourself. “You will kill her.”

“No…I can do this! Let me go! Let me help her!”

“You have yet to master the art of control. You cannot do this or you will kill her.”

“And she will most certainly die if you do not get your hands off me and let me help her!” You were in a state of panic, more frightened than you ever thought possible, and your heightened vampire senses only intensified your fear and anger.

“Stay a-way…don’t touch m-me…”

“Do you hear that? She does not want you to help her…perhaps it would be better if you let me handle this. Let me take care of her. Let me rid you of the burden of having to turn her yourself and you can be free.”

At that moment, his words made sense. You felt like a burden, and the scent of Adanna’s blood still lingered within you, making you afraid of what you were capable of.

"Let me handle this," he assured once more. It took you a moment, but Adanna was dying, losing blood by the second. With every drop that hit the ground, it became harder for you to resist the urge to go and drink it, to savor her last moments as she slipped away.

"Leave." It was a command, not a suggestion. You took in the sight of her one last time before you ran, seizing this final chance before you lost all control, leaving Adanna and the man behind. That was the last moment you saw her, the last time you held her weak body as you struggled with your instincts. In that moment, you lost all hope. You were doomed, cursed to a life of loneliness. Everything you touched, you destroyed. Everyone you loved died by your hands and you wanted no part of it. You ran and never looked back, fleeing into endless darkness until you finally woke up.

You woke up to darkness, realizing how much you had adapted to Shuri's lifestyle as you drifted off at sunrise. You sensed her presence beside you on the bed, your back turned to her. Taking a moment to process the dream she had shared with you, a window into her past, you turned around. There she was, sitting with her elbows resting on her propped-up knees, her head bowed in shame, struggling to meet your gaze, afraid you would never look at her the same way again. For a moment, you both sat in silence, the sound of your soft breath and the absence of hers filling the room as you pondered what had just witnessed.

“I thought I put that day behind me, but revealing it to you stirred up old memories I wish I had forgotten,” her trembling voice broke the silence. “It’s an indescribable feeling, the all encompassing, wretched, mind-shattering feeling of drinking from someone you love, especially if you are doing it in hopes of turning them.”

The silence settled like a weight in the room, each passing second stretching longer than the last.

“Feeling love as a vampire is much much much harder than any human love, I can assure you. Once you are turned, everything becomes magnified, including human feelings. Love as a human is already too much in itself, as a vampire it’s the most burdening feeling when you constantly crave their blood as well, not wanting to hurt them but wanting a taste…it’s overpowering.”

You sit up in front of her, taking her hands in yours for a gentle kiss.

“The guilt I felt was mind blowing, doing to her the exact same thing my maker did to me. I left her, and left her to him. I had no idea who he was or what his intentions were. I was not thinking clearly at that moment and to be fair, with all her blood rushing through me, there was no way I could think properly. I was out of my mind, high on her blood and thirsty for more.

“At first, I was not sure if she was turned or if she died, and I did not want to find out as both answers frightened me. But once I heard of all the killings that were happening in the city, I figured they were coming from her and I wanted so badly to intervene and help her, be a mentor but what kind of mentor would I be?? I could barely control myself, never mind a new vampire who was abandoned by who she thought was the love of her life. I did not intervene out of fear, and because of that, she is the monster she is now.”

“No…Shuri, you can’t put that on yourself.” And you meant it. How could she place such a burden on herself? “I understand that you feel a sense of obligation to fix her, or be there for her…whatever it is, but Shuri…baby look at me…who she is, is not because of you.”

A small grin graced her face, appreciative of your efforts but did not believe it.

“At the end of the day, Adanna is her own being. Everything she did was a choice she made on her own. And she can blame you or the world or whoever she wants but we are all responsible for our own actions. Life isn’t fair to anybody, but we have to deal with the cards we are dealt with, Shuri. You were abandoned too, baby…remember that.”

She smiled gently, resting her cheek against your cupped hand.

“I remember once she had this crazy idea on turning all the black people in the city of New York into vampires so we could collectively take over colonial powers. It was tempting.”

She chuckled and so did you.

“So…why New York?”

You take the pad of your thumb and gently caress the final tears that escape her.

“You could go anywhere in the world…why some random house just outside New York? You could’ve literally gone anywhere and you chose to be here…”

“I suppose when you hear of a city that never sleeps, that is alive during the night…well which vampire wouldn’t want to go there??”

“Fair point.” You feel a fierce urge to ask her the question, fearful that it might ignite jealousy inside you or resurrect old emotions within her.

“How did you meet her?”

Shuri rose her brow, unsure if this is really what you wanted to hear right now. “Are you sure you wanna hear about my past love life?”

“No, but I can’t help but be a little curious,” you respond with a gentle smile, pecking her plush lips with a kiss before she speaks.

“I went to a speakeasy one night, and she was there singing on the stage. She was so beautiful, singing with one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard and I just could not let her go. That was my mistake, of course. She could have lived a long and fruitful life without me if I just stayed away.”

“Shuri…”

“I’m not a good person, y/n.”

“I don’t believe that. I believe your life was taken from you and you were learning to survive on your own. Everything was a first for you. Loving as a vampire was a first for you. Drinking your lover's blood was a first for you. Turning her, that was your first time. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. You made mistakes. Big mistakes? Yeah. You fucked up, Shuri. But name me one person who hasn’t.”

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Painting me like this pure person, I’m anything but. I’ve done some terrible things, y/n.”

“And we can talk about that later, but I see what you’re trying to do here. You’re trying to scare me away, make me change my mind and it’s not working. I know what I want. I wanna be with you. Forever”

“Uh uh. Not good enough. No way I’m turning you because you love me. What happens if it doesn’t work out for us down the road? And now you’re stuck as a vampire forever. What then?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“We don’t know that, y/n. And I’m not saying this because I doubt your love for me or vice versa, I’m saying this because I’ve been around long enough to see how the world works. How people change. How life and circumstances change people.”

“So then what do you want me to say, Shuri?”

“Give me a reason. A real reason as to why you want this and then I can make a decision from there.”

You pause, weighing your many reasons before you speak.

“Ok. How about this…I have nothing to live for. I have no money except my parents' money, and they cut me off. No siblings. No friends. No future.”

“And you want this to be your future?? To live with an everlasting urge to hunt and kill…”

“I’ll choose not to kill.”

“It is not that simple, y/n.”

“Maybe not. But the difference between me and you is you had nobody to teach you. No guidance. No mentor. But I’ll have you. You’ll teach me to be good, I know you will. I trust you, Shuri.”

“Bast…you’re driving me insane.”

“Come on, my love…what are you waiting for?? Don’t you want to be with me…forever?”

“Fuck. Of course I want that. More than anything in the world.”

“Then what’s stopping you??”

“It did not end well for me the last time.”

“It won’t be like that. You can stop.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Maybe not, but I trust you. If you can stop while you’re fucking me then you can stop while turning me.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Shuri, pleaassee. Bring me to my final breath, and then give it back to me. I’ll be strong and free…just like you. I won’t be this fragile, weak thing that you have to worry about all the time. I’ll be able to fend for myself and I won’t be a burden to you anymore.”

“You’re not a burden to me.”

“But I am. Even if you don’t see it. I slow you down, babe.”

Her gaze narrowed, brows furrowing slightly as they peered into the distance, lost in contemplation.

“Plus, I don’t want to grow old while you stay young. It’ll look weird on my part.”

You both laugh and she shakes her head in sympathetic disbelief.

“Soooo is that a yes?”

“Most definitely not a yes.”

“Is it a ‘maybe’?”

“Hmmm…maybe.”

“Well that’s not a ‘no’.”

“I guess it’s not.”

“So we’re getting somewhere??”

She refused to acknowledge it, to admit how you were pulling at the strings of her undead heart. She had never felt so desired, so wanted in her life, not even by Adanna, and it was driving her to madness. She longed for you in every way imaginable, wishing it didn't have to be this way, replacing your breath with one that hungered for blood above all else. Yet, Shuri was always selfish, never one to deny herself what she desired. So, for a fleeting moment, her heart and mind softened, indulging in the realm of possibilities.

“Yes princess…we are getting somewhere.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Several days had passed since the incident, spent in peaceful solitude with Shuri. One evening, you chose to rise a little earlier to catch the sunset. Despite having largely adapted to Shuri’s lifestyle, you remained human, with an innate need for sunlight and its comforting warmth.

You sat on the shore, watching the sunset painting the sky as the day gently faded away. Pastel hues glistened before your eyes, sparking a feeling of wonder and awe. It was a moment for contemplation, a brief respite from life's chaos where time appeared to stand still. As a vampire, you understood you would never have this experience again, and a part of you found solace in that. You were willing to relinquish these small, inherently human moments if it meant freedom from the limitations that came with being one.

Even after the sun fully set, you sat outside for another hour or so, enjoying your own company. You looked back at Shuri's house, finding her silhouette beaming through the window and knowing she was there drew comfort.

“I love you, y/n,” she said to you through her mind, and you smiled, impatient for the day you could telepathically say it back to her.

“I love you, Shuri,” speaking as if she was right next to you but you knew her vampire ears picked it up with ease.

“I love you.” Another voice entered your mind, a mocking one, and it left you utterly confused. It didn’t sound like Shuri’s voice, but who else could it be?

“Did you say something?,” you asked, hoping Shuri would hear you again.

“I did not,” she replied to your mind. “Why do you ask, s’thandwa?”

“Oh nothing…I just thought I heard something.”

“No baby, I said nothing,” she assured once again.

You continue to savor your moment with yourself when an unfamiliar rustling in the trees catches your attention. Startled, you glance around but see nothing. You looked at the window and Shuri wasn’t there anymore. The rustling sounds again.

"Shuri? Shuri, this isn't funny." You knew your girlfriend loved to play games and tease you whenever she had the chance, but now she was nowhere to be found. "Shuri??"

A gust of wind struck your back, accompanied by a dark presence looming over you, forcing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“You’re still as beautiful as ever.”

Your heart thudded erratically in your chest, a frantic drumroll that seemed to echo through your entire body. It pounded with such intensity that you could feel it in your throat. That all-too-familiar voice that swept through your mind, bringing back memories of darkness and unhappiness, left you in sheer terror. It was impossible. How could this be? But as soon as you doubted, the feeling vanished, replaced by the unmistakable sensation of rough, clammy hands skimming your shoulders, making your body shudder in fear.

“Turn around my love. Let me see your pretty face,” he whispered into your ear and you complied, coming face to face with him; the man you hated beyond the hatred you’ve ever felt for anyone.

Jonathan.

Only now his face seemed harsher and more sinister; his eyes glowed a vivid, unsettling red, like twin embers burning with insatiable hunger. Your first instinct was to run, but you knew better. There was no way a human could outrun a vampire. So, you stood frozen in your spot as he extended his fangs.

“You’re probably wondering where Shuri is, right? Why hasn’t she come to your rescue…?? She’s rather…occupied at the moment with her first love. Who gave me permission to kill you if Shuri even dares to come save you.”

You say nothing.

“But that’s the problem, y/n. I don’t want to kill you…I just want you.”

He reaches out to graze your face, and you dodge his touch; something you never would have dared to do when you were with him, fearing his reaction. But now, you are filled with anger with no outlet. How dare Shuri lie to you again? You felt manipulated and used, as if she had deceived you to win you over, treating you like a pawn in her own little vampire game.

Jonathan cocks his head at the action, shocked at how you so easily avoided his touch.

“I see your time with your little dyke has made you forget your manners.”

“Go to hell.”

He smirked so deviously, like the human Jonathan you used to pretend to love but even now, you could feel how becoming a vampire has heightened the terrible person he already was even before his transformation.

“I’m going to find Shuri,” but as you walked away, his vampire speed blocked you once again in a millisecond and your heartbeat quickened.

“Get out of my way,” you whisper in malice, your eyes buried into his scarlet ones as you pretend to not be afraid. But as soon as he gripped your arm with sheer vampire force, one that could have snapped your bone if he had gripped any harder, you yelled.

“Let go of me!”

“I swear to god, if he hurts you, I’ll rip him to fucking pieces!,” she spoke to your mind, and even though you could not directly hear her words, her fear for you was still utterly discernible. But that moment of ease washed away as soon as you and Jonathan both heard intense crashing and banging coming from inside the house; sounds that made you fear for Shuri’s immortal life.

“Shuri!!”

“Hold on baby, I’m coming for you.”

Shuri burst through the door with Adanna right behind her, the two of them locked in a vicious physical fight as they sped toward you with such velocity, it seemed as though they were floating rather than running. Both bore scars on their faces and bodies, healing rapidly, but you hardly noticed in the midst of their chaos. Before you could comprehend what was happening, Shuri lunged toward Jonathan with nothing but the intention to destroy him. With her years of experience, she could easily overpower him—but Adanna intercepted her, stepping between the two of them. Shuri tried to push past, but Adanna had grown stronger over the years. The entire scene was terrifying, three sets of eyes glowing and fangs bared.

Shuri is consumed by rage, too blinded by her fury to notice little ol’ you trembling in the corner. Her only focus is tearing Jonathan apart. The three vampires clash violently, with Shuri's power overwhelming Jonathan, who looks bewildered as he struggles to defend himself. Adanna, nearly as strong as Shuri, fights fiercely to protect him, their movements a blur of speed and raw strength.

You stood frozen in terror, your fear for Shuri's safety overwhelming you more than anything. Desperate, you screamed her name, and in an instant, the chaos ceased. All three pairs of eyes turned toward you, but only Shuri truly felt the depth of your fear. Her anger immediately drained from her, and her blood-red eyes faded back to their dark brown, her fangs retracting as she softened. She ran toward you, but as she drew closer, you instinctively backed away. Jonathan made a move to follow, but Adanna held him back, her curiosity piqued by what was about to unfold.

Shuri's heart broke at the subtle gesture of you backing away from her. You were just as terrified of her now as you had been when she first revealed her true nature, and she could sense it. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, and in that moment, she realized how deeply the fear had taken root.

“Y/n? B-baby what’s wrong?”

“You lied to me,” you whispered to yourself, but of course her ears heard you perfectly. You looked so small and helpless, curling into yourself.

“What?? Baby, no. I didn’t lie to you. I’m just as shocked as you are.”

"Stop lying!" you screamed, your voice trembling as you felt yourself losing control. Shuri's face was etched with shock, while Adanna looked on with a knowing smirk. “All you have done since the moment we met was a lie!”

“No! No nkoszana, I’m telling the truth!”

Shuri reached out to touch you, but Jonathan moved to hold her back. In an instant, Shuri had him in a chokehold, a position where she could decapitate him easily if she wished. Adanna mirrored her actions with you, gripping you firmly. She clicked her tongue and waved her finger in a silent gesture of warning.

“Let her go, or I’ll kill him!”

“You first.” Adanna tightened her grip on you, applying more pressure to intimidate Shuri, causing you pain. You whimpered in her hold, pleading for her to let go.

“Adanna…”

“Let. Him. Go.”

“What do you want, huh? Why have you come back? After all these years, why are you here tormenting me?”

Adanna smirked, then roughly tossed you to the ground, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of you. As you struggled to catch your breath, Shuri kept a firm grip on Jonathan, who looked terrified for his life. Slowly, Adanna approached him, her eyes cold as she scanned the fear etched across his face.

“I turned him.”

Shuri stood silent in confusion.

“I saw you that day, you took him out here in the middle of nowhere thinking you were safe. I saw you drain the life out of him, but you didn’t actually kill him…and there was your mistake. You left him for dead, had you drank anymore from him, he would have died. But you didn’t. You just…left him there. To wither away with his thoughts, ran away from the crime scene you invented and I came in…and saved him.”

“A quick death would have been too easy for him. He deserved to suffer.”

“Why? Because of how he treated her??,” she says in disgust. “What makes her more deserving than me??”

“So this is what it is about?? Revenge?? I know I hurt you Adanna and that is something I have to live with for the end of time but your anger will not change the situation!”

“Maybe not…but it will make me feel better.”

Adanna moved with terrifying precision, driving a thick stick into your side with a swift, calculated thrust. The pain was searing, a torment that seemed to stretch on endlessly, enough to potentially kill you slowly, but not immediately. The world around you twisted into a blur as the pain took hold of you.

You remembered Shuri’s anguished reaction, even through the haze of your suffering. She let go of Jonathan immediately, racing to your side with a desperate urgency. Jonathan, unable to resist the overwhelming scent of your blood, stumbled after you but Shuri anticipated his move, intercepted him by driving a thick stick into him with equal force. Although it didn't pierce his heart, it was enough to weaken him drastically, sending him sprawling to the ground; his new vampire strength unable to withstand the attack.

Your memories were fragmented and disjointed; fleeting images of Shuri crying out for help as she held your limp body in her arms, the echo of chaotic footsteps in the hallways, and blinding flashes of light as everything around you dissolved into a painful blur.

“What was the incident??”

“I-I don’t know, she just…” Shuri's panicked cries fade into the background as you struggle to cling to life.

“Send her to the E.R.!”

"Stay alive, my love. Please don’t make me turn you this way," her voice echoed in your mind, compelling you to fight to stay alive. You struggled until everything around you went silent, enveloping you in a deep, profound slumber that brought you into a dreamlike state. You found yourself free, transcending the limits of your mortal existence. You were powerful and flawless, feeling an exhilarating strength that made you believe you could conquer anything. The world outside was cloaked in darkness, but you felt no fear. Instead, you felt invincible, where every shadow and obstacle seemed insignificant against your newfound strength. Your senses were heightened; the night air was crisp and alive with possibilities, and you reveled in the freedom and dominance that being reborn gifted you.

You drifted. And drifted. And drifted. Into an inevitable nothingness; claiming you for what seemed like an eternity.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You had been confined to bed for a while, the painkillers draping you in a shroud of sleep. Gradually, consciousness nudged at you, and you fought to pry your eyes open against the blinding whiteness of hospital lights. As your surroundings started to come into focus, a sharp gasp escaped you, accompanied by a stabbing pain in your side; lingering reminders of your wounds. A gentle breeze brushed past, and you turned to see Shuri swiftly by your side of the hospital bed. Her presence was peace to your weary soul, her eyes filled with relief and affection, warming you even as your mind struggled to fully awaken.

“A-am I a vampire now?,” were your first words as you fought the effects of the heavy medications.

Shuri chuckles, tears rolling down her eyes as she plants the firmest kiss to your forehead. “Nurse! She’s awake!”

“Shuri…what happened??”

“It’s okay baby…you’re ok now, you are going to be ok. I love you so much, do you know that? Please say you know that…”

In a fleeting instant, the memories surged back, crashing over you like a tidal wave. The faces of Jonathan and Adanna flickered in your mind, their actions replaying with a vividness that made your breath catch. You could almost feel the crushing weight of terror that overcame you, the harrowing brush with death that had nearly consumed you. It was as if you were reliving the torment all over again as you struggled to grasp the reality around you. The emotional sting is almost as painful as the physical one, as though it might pull you under once more.

“Why didn’t you turn me?”

Shuri stayed quiet, her brows knitting together in a wordless expression.

“Let’s talk later princess…the nurse should be here shortly.”

After a series of tests and a checkup, you were finally cleared to leave. As you settled into the wheelchair and were brought to the car, you noticed a stain of dried blood on the passenger's seat, a haunting reminder of that day’s events. The car ride home was quiet, tension thick in the air but the moment you arrived, Shuri used her vampire speed to grab the wheelchair and bring it to you before you could even open the door.

“I don’t need that,” you scoffed.

“S’thandwa, do not be stupid. Sit in the chair.”

“No, I’m not a cripple. I can do this myself.”

“Y/n…”

“I said no.”

There’s a brief pause before she smirks, then suddenly scoops you up, cradling you in her arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a startled yelp as she lifts you effortlessly.

“You want to be stubborn? Fine, be that way.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, one you tried to suppress, hoping she wouldn’t notice. But, of course, she did. Nothing ever slipped past her.

As you entered the room, she carefully laid you down on the bed, her touch gentle and reassuring. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before settling beside you. Silence shook the room once more, but your mind was anything but quiet. Thoughts swirled in an endless stream, each one begging for attention, leaving you unsure of where to even begin unraveling them.

“I’m so so so sorry, y/n,” Shuri mutters. “I should have never brought you into this. This was my fault. And now they are both out there, bast knows where, most likely scheming against me which most likely involves hurting you because she hates how much you mean to me.”

You remain silent, letting it all sink in. A lone tear slips down your cheek, soaking into the fabric of the pillow beneath you.

“So why didn’t you turn me then?” Your voice was broken and bruised, beaten by what seemed like Shuri’s innate fear to make her like you. She turns around to face you, but your gaze remains on the empty ceiling. “It was the perfect opportunity. You could have just let me bleed out a little longer, pull me to the brink of death and then turn me.”

“Because that is what she wanted, princess. She wanted me to turn you in hopes that I would have the same fate with you as I did with her.”

“So what? Does she want you back or something? What does she want from me?”

“She wants revenge. She hates to see me happy after what I had done to her. She cannot fathom me being with the person I love while she rots in anger.”

You scoff, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Well she’s dumb and needs to get a hobby.”

Shuri softly chuckles before speaking. “I also did not turn you because that’s not how I wanted it to happen.”

“What?”

“If I would have turned you right then and there, it would not have been because that was your choice. It would have been because of unfortunate circumstances and that is not fair to you. When I turn you, I atleast owe you that luxury I was never given.”

You struggled to process the words spilling from her mouth, disbelief tightening in your chest. Slowly, you turned to face her, your movements deliberate as you drew in a few deep breaths, trying to steady the ache building within you.

“Shuri…?” You had to make sure you were hearing correctly.

“This was never my intention, to let it get to this point. You were beautiful, and I was simply tired of being alone, and I selfishly took it upon myself to weave myself into your life and now we are here. I guess it was bound to happen.”

“Shuri, what are you saying??”

For a moment, she lay there, caught in the disbelief of the words she was about to speak, as if hesitating to give them life. She reaches out to caress your cheek, eyes locking in an instant and her gaze softened before she said the words you craved since the moment you truly knew her.

“You leave me no choice, my beautiful princess, but to turn you.”

A wave of beautiful relief washed over you, lifting the weight that had burdened your heart for so long. You felt as light as a cloud, as if, for the first time, everything might actually be okay. Shuri pulled you close, your face nestled against her chest as silent sobs shook your body. She understood immediately that these weren’t tears of sadness, nor were they tears of joy. They were tears of overwhelming relief.

Life had not been kind to you. People had walked all over you, leaving you feeling small, helpless, incapable of standing on your own. But Shuri was different. She made you feel like you were worth something, like you were worth fighting for. All you had ever wanted was to be free; nothing more, nothing less. And Shuri knew this. She felt it in the way your tears soaked into her shirt, as if the warmth of your need could breathe life into her dead beat heart. You needed this. You needed her. And she needed you too.

“I know baby…I know. I’m so sorry.”

You sobbed into her, inhaling her comforting scent into you, the scent you wished to breathe in for the rest of eternity.

“I’m so sorry I made it so hard for you to convince me. It’s not that I did not want to be with you forever…I was just so afraid.”

You lifted your face up to hers, her beautiful tear stained face locked in yours.

“I know, Shuri. It’s ok. I understand you.”

This was all you needed: a moment of comfort so profound that it felt as though it could last forever. And you yearned for it to be timeless, untethered by the fleeting time of your human days, existing beyond the limits of mortal time.

Weeks went by, and with each passing day, you grew stronger, your body healing and regaining its strength. Through it all, Shuri stayed by your side, every step of the way. She encouraged you to savor the human experience for as long as you could, and you agreed, finding joy in the small, everyday moments before they slipped away. Life felt more peaceful than it had in a long time, and Shuri was every bit a part of it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m ok now, love,” you giggled, as Shuri scooped you up in her arms.

“I know, I just get so worried about you.”

About 2 months have passed since the incident, and you were feeling much better. Here you were, in Shuri’s arms as she carried you to the bedroom like a princess. Your human lungs still drew in breath, and your heart continued to beat as you waited patiently for Shuri to fully bring you into her world.

When you both lied on the bed, you got the urge to try something. You straddled her, startling her as you took her mouth into yours. It had been so long since you had her, and you knew she resisted out of fear in hurting you but you missed her. Missed her touch and missed the way she made your body feel. But Shuri quickly detached from your lips and you whimpered at the hurtful act.

“No. Not yet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please…please just let me,” you pleaded in desperation.

“I said no”

“Why?? Stop acting like I’m easily shattered. We used to fuck so good and everyday I go without touching you…tasting you…I literally lose my mind. I know you’re afraid and seeing me like how I was when I was hurt probably scarred you but I am not a child. I can take care of myself and right now…I want you. All of you. I miss you. I miss your gorgeous, sexy body and I miss feeling you inside me.”

She raised a brow.

“Don’t you miss me?”

She gazed intently into your soft eyes and your pouting lips, shaking her head with a playful sigh. She leaned her forehead into yours before she spoke.

“More than anything, my love.”

“Then what are you waiting for??”

Shuri hesitated, but her feelings of love and desire burned even stronger, overwhelming her uncertainty.

“Just this one time.”

“Just this one time,” you repeated. Your lips met slowly at first, the hesitation giving way to a rush of heat. She gripped the back of your neck to pull her closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like you two were breathing the same air. The world around you fell away, as you rekindled that fire that had not been burned in so long.

It did not take long for clothing to start coming off, shirts being removed first from the both of you as you lay on top of her. You pull her pants off so she’s in her undergarments only, slotting your knee between her pretty thighs until it comes in contact with her pussy that was pounding with a rush of pleasure. In no time, she begins to whimper, rubbing herself against you as your parted mouth swallows her moans. She looked so beautiful like this, caught in a desperate longing for more of you and no matter how hard she tried, she could never resist you.

“S-s’thandwa,” she stuttered, clearly nearing her peak as her movements grew more frantic. But you pulled yourself away from her, a sly smirk spreading across your face as you pushed her closer to the edge of madness.

“Want you to finish inside me,” you coaxed, whimpers caught in the back of your throat as you felt the warmth between your thighs flutter in ache. And that was all the confirmation she needed. She flipped you around with her vampire speed, testing the waters to see if you were ok and you were. She smiles and kisses your nose before she goes down to your mouth which quickly becomes the valley between your breasts before she wraps her mouth equally around each sensitive nipple.

“Please.” You struggled to hold back the subtle urge to beg, but being deprived of her touch for so long made your body impatient, eager to know what she had planned to do with it.

“Are we begging already, nkosazana?,” she teased with that amused expression that always had your heart pounding and it made you so embarrassed because you just knew she could hear it. You shook your head in challenge, trying to calm your whines but as soon as you felt her remove your bottoms, all the thin patience withered away. She kissed your inner thighs, plush lips meeting the scars she left from that day she marked you there and your chest was heaving.

“You should see how fucking wet you are right now…all because you need my touch that bad?”

“B-baby…please.”

“Use that mouth you love to run so much, princess. Tell me what you want.”

She inhaled your scent before planting soft kisses to the swell of your clit and your body trembled at the touch. But you knew she was not going any further until you spoke.

“Need you, baby…I want you inside me…please.”

“That’s a good girl. My needy little princess.” You nodded, because that is exactly who you were.

Your girlfriend smiles at you, her eyes dancing as they meet your desperate gaze. Shuri rose to her feet, abs all on display before removing her boxers and reaching for the vibranium toy she adored using on you. Shuri wasted no time, her eagerness clear as she longed to stretch your tight pussy walls. She grabs hold of your jaw, pressing her lips firmly against yours with sincere passion before she holds her shaft and pushes it into your leaking hole, your pulsing walls welcoming her in with ease while you both let out the filthiest moans into each other's mouths.

“I missed you, I missed you and your pussy so fucking much,” she whispered, her pace quickening as your cries grew louder. Your body shuddered violently against hers, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, which made you squirm beneath her. Shuri's love for you was overbearing, and you felt the same for her. You longed for this moment to last forever. She dreamed of the days where she no longer had to be a vampire's gentle touch when having her sexual way with you, imagining how wonderful sex would be when she could fully express her body’s need for yours without the fear of breaking you.

“Just wait until I turn you, nkosazana. I will fuck you so good without destroying you.”

“You could do it now,” you playfully replied through your heavy panting. “F-fuck me like a true vampire right now…I d-don’t care if you b-break me.”

“You are fucking crazy, s’thandwa sam.”

“You love it though.”

“Yeah…yes I do, baby.”

You could only whimper in response, your eyes glistening with want and desire as she continued to push into you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. Or your second. Or even your third. You missed her deeply, and your pussy ached for her even more. Yet Shuri didn't pause, her thrusting never haltered because she knew that her favorite part was a few strokes away. She relished in overstimulating you, watching as your body quivered, breasts bouncing as you struggled to be good for her. And your girlfriend could always tell when you were; the way your eyes would go glossy, your lips pouting as you breathing picked up, grappling to put coherent words together. And you did it all for her. That was what she cherished most…the way you fought against the overwhelming pleasuree because of your love for her.

A tear escaped your eye and Shuri brushed it away with the pad of her thumb.

“Awww, my poor baby. Look at you…you're so helpless.”

“Sh-Shuri…”

“Yes?”

“W-want your c-cum inside me. P-please. Unh.”

“I’m right behind you s’thandwa, do not w-worry.”

She kept going, not too fast because she knew you were overstimulated, but enough to allow you to maintain it and bring you both to the finish line. Your orgasm washed over you like tidal waves do, an intense surge of pleasure that left you both breathless and disoriented. Every nerve in your body seemed to ignite, it was an explosion from within that had nowhere to land and your mind could only think of one thing: how you desired this, desired her more than you ever wanted anything else in your entire being. You could not wait any longer. Not another week, or day, or even another hour. You needed this, now and infinitely.

“I want you,” you whispered with big, doe eyes. Your voice trembled as tears clung to your dark, damp lashes streaked with the evidence of your longing. She put her fingers in her mouth, salivating those dangerous fingers of hers before bringing them down your body to circle your puffy clit and your body jerked up. Oh, how she loved to see you like this.

“Mhmm, keep going.”

“I want you forever, Sh-Shuri. Right here. Right now.”

She wore a look of confusion, her brows furrowing as she continued to rub you. She was right here with you and had no intention of leaving, but you proceeded with your unfinished statement.

“Turn me, baby. Please. Today. Now.”

She said nothing, only looked down at your plump lips and your round breasts. You were so beautiful in her eyes, and she wanted all of you.

“Princess—“

“No…I mean it. I want you. F-fuck…I w-want to be a v-vampire…with you. Oh.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do.”

“Who am I to you?” She slowed her movements on your clit, her strap still lingering inside you as she awaited your words. You whimpered one last time before you inhaled to speak.

“You are the most fucking selfish being I’ve ever met. You want what you want and you go after it. You get angry quickly and I know you live everyday fighting the urge to suck every ounce of blood inside of me and it scares me sometimes when I really think about it but I also know you’ll never hurt me. I know you’re hurt and I know you carry a lot of pain and anger inside of you, Shuri. And I know you try to hide it from me to protect me but your transparency only makes me want you more, no matter how dark your past is. I know you love me and I truly do believe that because I’ve never felt this before. I never felt so wanted and desired beyond what I look like on the outside. And maybe I’m just as selfish as you, because no matter how many people you’ve hurt or how many lives you’ve taken, you love me. And that’s all I care about. And now I just want to be with you for eternity.”

As the words fell from your lips, a wave of warmth surged through Shuri’s undead heart and she swears she felt it beat for a second. Each word and syllable echoed through her vampire mind, a mind that knew loneliness and despair like no other but in came you, the light at the end of the tunnel and she swears she could die from how much she loved you.

"Turn me," you repeated one last time, your voice carrying a soft insistence rather than a question. You caught a fleeting change in the color of Shuri's eyes, though she quickly masked it but you definitely noticed the subtle shift.

She returns her love to your clit, pulling you into your final human orgasm before she pulls out of you and you leak everywhere.

“I love you so so so much, y/n. More than anything in the world. More than I ever loved anyone before and I did not think I was capable of loving harder than I already have, but you, my most perfect girl, have proved me wrong.”

“I know Shuri…I know.” And you believed it.

“And you’re sure you want this? You want it right now? There is no turning back. This is permanent. This is for as long as eternity lasts for us. I don’t think you think you quite understand the meaning of immortality. ”

“And I never will if you don’t give it to me.” You reached up to cup her face, taking her in as you actively appreciated the pain of your beating heart. You could sense that these would be the last moments you could feel the patter against your ribcage, feel the breath entering your lungs, and the last moment you would feel at a human level before your emotions exploded like any immortal would.

Shuri removes her strap, so there’s nothing between your two beautiful dark naked bodies, holding you in her arms as a tear caresses her cheek.

“What’s wrong, my love?,” you questioned.

“Nothing is wrong…I’m just scared.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. I believe in you. You can do this. You love me enough to stop.”

“But what if I don’t stop? I would not be able to live with myself…what if I hurt you??”

You gazed up at her with a look of sympathy, fully aware of how difficult this moment was for her but your belief in her remained unwavering. Gently, you drew her closer and pressed your lips to hers in a tender kiss before speaking.

“Then I’ll die happily in the arms of the one I love.”

Shuri's grin widened as she drew you in for one last, fervent kiss; a final, passionate exchange between human and vampire. This was the last moment you shared as a mere mortal before her fangs emerged, her irises shifting to the deepest red you had ever seen and you smiled at what was to come.

She leaned her head into the curve of your throat, pressing a soft kiss there before positioning her fangs above your artery, which seemed destined for her bite. Then, you felt it; her fangs piercing your skin with a depth that was unfamiliar and excruciating. Her bite wasn’t the bite of sexual pleasure or even to satiate her thirst; this was a transformative pain, a profound shift as she began to mold you into something like her.

You clung to her curls, tilting your head back to embrace the searing pain and the sensation of your life ebbing away with every second. Shuri reveled in the intimacy of the moment, her moans vibrating against your throat as your blood flowed into her. As you approached the brink of nothingness, stars danced in your fading vision, and death almost seemed to beckon with open arms. Almost. For a moment, there was nothing. No sensation, no sight, just darkness as you drifted into unconsciousness.

But then, you tasted it: Shuri’s blood. It was rich with power and possibility, a final, potent essence that completed your transition. As your life slipped away, all that remained was the true void, the absolute nothingness as your life faded away from you.

A few moments had passed and Shuri began to worry.

“Y/n…? Y/n…can you hear me??”

But you remained silent. Your mind ceased to think, your lungs no longer drew in air, and your heart fell still. You were dead.

“Oh…oh fuck…no, no, no, no, no…Y/N!! Baby, can you hear me?? Do not joke with me right now…please wake up!”

You were still. Nothing. Lifeless.

Shuri broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, her hand pressed to her mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the convulsive cries tearing through her throat. How could this be? She had done everything right this time. She was certain she hadn’t killed you; she had felt your heart faintly beating when she gave you her blood. What could have possibly gone wrong?

“I am so sorry, baby…I’m so sorry, I should have never come into your life! I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU ALONE!! I’m so sorry, so sorry, so so sorry!”

Her sobs turned into a furious outburst as she began to tear apart her house, shattering everything in her way while she wrestled with her own existence. Overwhelmed by guilt and despair, she felt she could never forgive herself for what had happened. Consumed by the conviction that life without you was meaningless, she was determined to end it all.

But…

Gradually, life began to draw you out of the void. Memories of your entire existence, from infancy to the present, surged before you in a torrent of vivid images, both the good and the bad. The light at the end of the tunnel grew nearer and nearer until, suddenly, it stopped. You were there. You were here. Your eyes flew open in panic, and the first thing that hit you like an excruciating ton of bricks was the one thing that made you understand what Shuri fought so hard to keep you away from, an overpowering wave of something you never knew but your body understood: the smell of blood. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

Twilight who????? If you actually read that whole thing, I love you so much omg! I hope you enjoyed and don’t forget to comment and share (why do I sound like a YouTuber), I absolutely love reading your comments! Thank you so so much again, for your patience, I know it was a long as wait and I hope it was worth it :)

[justmystyles]

Hi, could you make a fic about something to do with money maybe Harry dating a girl who came from not much and she still isn’t used to the fancy things in life like he is and so when there dating she feels bad ever spending his money.

I’m currently having to sell most of my Harry merch because we can’t afford to fix things in our house and I am very sad over it so I just need some comfort but if you decide not to write this, you’re still one of my favorite writers. Thank you for all the comfort you bring me.

Love Don't Cost A Thing

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: to my anonymous requester, i am so sorry for the hard times you have found yourself in. i wish i had something i could say that would help you through. just know that hard times don't last forever, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and i am hoping and praying that you reach it soon.

also, thank you so much for your kind words. i am so incredibly honored that you consider me one of your favorite writers, that compliment made more than just my day, i think it may have made my whole summer. i hope this blurb is what you are looking for, and provides you the comfort you need right now.

if you ever need someone to talk to, i am here. i may not be able to provide much, but i am happy to be a listening ear (reading eye?) if you need one. 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The waiter drops the check at your table, thanking you for coming in and continues on his way. You reach your hand out to grab it, but Harry beats you to it. Again.

“Harry, you don’t have to–” 

“I know, baby, but I want to. I love spoiling my girl.” He reaches his free hand across the table, squeezing yours gently. 

Ever since you and Harry started going out, you hadn’t paid for a thing. Not only that, but the things he’s been paying for have been extravagant and way outside of your comfort zone. The gifts, the meals, the flowers, the flights. He has taken you around the world and back, and has refused to let you pay for any of it.

Holidays and birthdays had been hard too. Harry always gave you multiple extravagant gifts, you could never even come close to matching it. He told you he didn’t care, that your gifts were always so meaningful, and that’s what was important. You knew he meant it, that he didn’t need you to buy him fancy things. He was more than capable of doing it himself. But it didn’t matter to you, you felt an imbalance in the relationship that was only growing with time. And you were sure that the gossip blogs and fans noticed it, talking about how you were just with him for his money. It wasn’t true, you and Harry knew that and it should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 

You didn’t grow up poor, you were grateful for what you had and knew that there were others that were worse off than you. But you didn’t even have half of what you were experiencing now. Your parents raised you to be practical with your money, to save and not to spend frivolously. You always had what you needed, but weren’t always able to have what you wanted. 

Now that you were with Harry, even if you just made an offhand comment about a cute piece of jewelry or clothing, all of the sudden it was yours. You love Harry, and you know he was doing it because he loves you too, but it still didn’t sit right with you. 

Later that night, you were laying in bed together. Harry was talking to you about his schedule for the upcoming month.

“So I was thinking you could come meet me in Paris. We could go to that little cafe we love, do a little shopping.” He suggested with a smile, loving the idea of walking through the most romantic city in the world with the love of his life. 

“Sure,” you agreed. “I could probably swing the money for a round trip ticket.” 

“You’re not swinging anything,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

“Harry, I can afford a flight.” You’re not sure you really can. You’ll probably eat canned goods and boxed mac and cheese for a month, but it’s better than the guilt you feel every time Harry opens his wallet for you. 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m asking you to come spend time with me, it should be my treat.” 

“Yeah, but everything is always your treat, Harry.” You say with a slight bite in your tone. 

Harry looks at you confused, and a little bit hurt. “Angel, are you alright?” 

“No Harry, I don’t think I am,” you confess. “I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel okay.” Harry stays silent, allowing you to say what you need too. “I love you so much, and you have the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. I just, it’s just too much. The meals, the gifts. You don’t let me pay for anything, I feel like… I don’t know. I know you don’t see a problem with it, but I do. It just makes me feel… uncomfortable. I’m basically living off of your money, and I don't feel right about it.”

“Baby,” he said as he let out a breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.” He brought his hand up, brushing your cheek gently. 

“I know you didn’t. And it’s a me problem, I know that too.” 

Harry shakes his head sharply. “No it’s not, it’s an us problem. You’re my girl, we’re in this together.” You look down, overwhelmed by how tender he was being with you despite the way you unloaded on him. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, it sounds kind of crazy when you think about it.”

“How?” He asked.

“Because, there are girls that would kill to be in my position, who would love to be spoiled and given all these extravagant gifts, and here I am complaining about it. I sound so ungrateful.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Harry holds your face in his hands. “You do not sound ungrateful.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, I love you so much and I give you all of these things because you deserve the world.”

“I love you too, but I don’t need all these things, the fancy dinners, the clothes, I just need you.”

He smiles softly at you, the adoration clear in his gaze. “I know angel, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your heart is so pure and good. I am so incredibly lucky that you have given it to me to hold, and I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, especially not because of my actions.” 

“I know, and that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you, I knew you’d feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad about doing nice things for me.” 

“Tell me what I can do, how I can make you feel better.” He asked, willing to do anything to make you happy. 

You take a deep breath as you try to articulate your needs. “When I offer to pay for things, let me.”

Harry nods in agreement, pulling your face to his and kissing you softly. “Anything you want, love.” 

“And just because I say something is cute, doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me.” You add. 

“Got it,” he kisses you again. “But I can still spoil you sometimes, right?” 

“Sometimes,” you say in a subtle warning tone. “Just not all the time.”

Harry smiles, his brow arching mischievously. “How about I spoil you right now, and it won’t cost a cent.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the implication of his words. “Sure, I guess I’d be okay with that.”