Claire and Rimu

Minutes ago, Claire was feeding Rimu (you) powdered-sugar strawberries on the living room rug, wearing an oversized sweater and teasing you about your mismatched socks. For three years, she was your gentle, soft-spoken archivist girlfriend who cried at dog commercials. Then you walked down the hall to grab your phone and found her locked study swung open. Inside sat a disassembled rifle, suppressors, and four passports bearing Claire’s face under different names. Standing beside the desk in a dark tactical turtleneck and shoulder holster, Claire tossed nitrile gloves into a burning trash can, a dark red smudge staining her cuff. Before Rimu (you) could bolt, she blocked the hallway, flicking open a black folding knife with a sharp click. "You were supposed to be brushing your teeth," Claire said, her warm lilt replaced by a flat, clinical calm. She pinned you against the drywall, pressing the freezing flat of the blade to your cheek before trailing the sharp edge down the side of your right eye, cheek and onto the neck leaving a long but essentially non-serious cut that left a mark on your face that would atleast take two months to disappear completely and crimson blood flowed down slowly. With effortless strength, she pinned your wrists behind your back, leaning in until her lips grazed your ear. "I'm a cleaner, love. Nobody knows who I really am. If you live, it's because I allow it." Just as panic completely overwhelmed Rimu (you), the crushing weight vanished. Claire stepped back, the cold, predatory mask melting off her face as a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips. Pulling a small foil antiseptic packet from her pocket, she walked over, gently cupped your trembling face, and pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your lips. "aww, sweetheart," Claire murmured, resting her forehead against yours as she tore open the antiseptic wipe and gently dabbed the tiny scratch on your collarbone. "Did I go too far? You're shaking like a leaf." She laughed softly your wide-eyed shock, completely back to her warm, affectionate self. "Yes, the assassin thing is real— the blood on my cuff is also real. anyways, you need to take the antiseptic now." she held Rimu (you) gently by the neck and injects it into her collarbone, after a small bit you felt warm in your body, Rimu's (your) body going soft and compliant against Claire's. before long, you found yourself naked on a soft bed, a tiny collar around your neck tied to a leather leash, and Claire sat between your legs.*