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she-is-juniper · 2 years ago

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temptation greets you like your naughty friend (joel miller x reader) // chapter one

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader chapter title: the arrangement summary: joel miller likes to be made to feel in control; reader like to be made to feel helpless. thus, an arrangement is born, no strings attached. but there’s more than meets the eye to this gruff survivor.... This story takes place in the Boston QZ roughly 10 years after the outbreak begins, and Reader and Joel are business partners in the illegal smuggling trade. word count: 5K rating: E (Explicit) ***18+ only. minors DNI or you will be blocked. content/warnings: there’s a lot…. dom!Joel, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, established relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel in his late 40s), oral s*x (f receiving), squ*rting, some degradation/humiliation but in a lighthearted way, some begging, a splash of a “sir” kink, some angst and resolution, porn with a bit of a plot, spanking, power play (all of this is consensual). Also Tess exists but she and Joel are not together a/n: ah, yes, the fanfic to end a hiatus... ♡ I recommend reading this one before bed so you can, yknow, have nice wet dreams about it while you sleep. to my long time readers/fans: hiii i missed y'all! to my new readers/fans: enjoyyy and please reach out to introduce yourself! i’m always looking to make new friends ◡̈ ((I do not claim to own the last of us or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized. Please note that the representations of body types in my moodboard are not intended to exclude anybody of any race, ethnicity, or body shape. And please, for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—it’s the only form of repayment i ask for!!! thank you in advance!))

———

A hardened man like Joel Miller has a lot to offer a woman like you. Particularly in the form of desperate, mind-numbing sex.

The kind of sex that makes you forget your own name. Makes you forget the sting of whatever injuries you’d suffered this week at the hands of thugs and hunters. Not to mention, makes you forget, even if just for an hour or two, the fact that you’re living in the aftermath of the apocalypse in a world savaged by infected monsters.

That’s the kind of sex you and Joel both crave. The kind that takes away the crushing weight of repressed memories and feelings. The kind of sex where there’s nothing left to think about but the way his cock fills you up and his lips steal the breath from your lungs. The kind of sex that, after a day’s worth of decision fatigue as Tess’s right-hand woman as a contraband smuggler in the Boston QZ, you finally don’t have to make a single decision for yourself, as your pleasure is entirely in Joel’s expert hands.

Just sex, nothing else. Plain and simple. That’s the arrangement as you know it. No cuddling in bed after, no exchanging tender kisses, no talking about your feelings or any bullshit like that. Just rough, dirty sex to get your minds off the shittiness of your lives.

No shame. Everyone who’s survived the pandemic thus far has found their own unique means of self-medication. For some, it’s drugs, or alcohol, or murder. For you and Joel, it’s fucking.

As for when the encounters would take place, it depends on the day or week. Today, after a particularly shitty week for the both of you, all it takes is a mutual look shared from across the room in the rations distribution center.

You’re near the front of the rations line when you spot him coming in toward the back. Joel surveys the crowded hall, the line of his brows furrowed into his signature harsh scowl. You meet the man’s gaze with glassy eyes of your own. In that moment you swear you notice his frown soften as he looks at you, although a tendon tightens on his temple. It’s a look that confirms he’s had just as god awful a week as you had, although there’s something more there today that you can’t quite put your finger on.

You look away and sigh, wincing a little at the pain from a bruised rib that’s only just started to heal. Your injury’s pretty mild, though, and nothing compared to the state you’d left the other guy in. Oh, well. At least you got a few extra ration cards out of it, which you now hand to the FEDRA officer in exchange for a box of supplies and provisions. Mostly non-perishable food, but there’s also some medicines, toiletries, socks, soap—thank fuck, more soap.

On your way out of the hall, you meet Joel’s gaze once more. Not a word is exchanged, but with an almost imperceptible nod of his chin, you know you’ll be hearing his knock at your door at 2300 sharp. God knows you need his specific methods of distraction right now.

– – –

Three raps of his knuckles against your apartment door at 2300 exactly, and Joel’s all over you.

It happens so fast. As soon as you open the door, Joel seizes you by the arms and spins your body with his, slamming your body to the door with his own momentum to close it shut. Your sore rib burns from the impact and you hiss, “Ouch, asshole.”

“Toughen up, princess,” he growls. There’s nothing endearing about the pet name, it’s not like that. In fact, he says it almost demeaningly, which is on par for your relationship with the smuggler. But there’s a primal sort of desperation in the tone of his voice, and your arousal at that prospect spreads over your whole body and finds a home right in between your legs.

Joel’s hands wrench your arms above your head and pin them there as his mouth attacks yours, effectively muffling the surprised squeal that emits from your throat. His mouth is hot, his grown-out stubble scratching the delicate skin of your face in a delicious contrast, his breath faintly spiced from whiskey. You melt into him, arching your body into his, and a surly grunt resonates from his throat. He gathers your wrists in one hand pinned to the door and brings his free hand down to the nape of your neck, not so gently pulling at the base of your hair. He pulls away from the kiss and regards your exposed neck, where you swear he can see your pulse thumping in your throat. You wish he would kiss you there, but he holds back.

“Still on the mend?” he asks, bringing his hand down to your ribcage and barely brushing against the bruise.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“Tell me if you want me to be gentler,” he says.

You almost scoff. The name “Joel Miller” and the word “gentle” don’t go together. Nothing about that man is gentle. And nothing about what you and he do together behind closed doors has ever been or will ever be gentle. Part of you wonders if Joel would rather go on home than fuck you gently.

Besides, you don’t want it to be gentle. Not one bit.

You slip one of your arms out from where he’s pinning them against the door. You grab his hand and slide it from your rib under your shirt to your breast, squeezing yourself with his palm. “I’m tougher than you think, Miller,” you purr.

It’s your way of giving him permission to do with you what he wants.

“Are you, now?” he drawls. He takes your initiative and runs with it, pinching your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, just a little at first, and then much harder. You gasp, heat flooding your lower stomach. “You think you can handle me tonight, huh, darlin’?”

You reach for his crotch, feeling the erection you know he’s probably had all night, and smile at the strained breath he releases. “Should be asking you the same question, don’t you think?” you say.

It’s a thoroughly bratty response, not to mention completely loaded, and you and Joel both seem to know it. Joel calls the shots in these encounters, not you. Which is exactly how you both like it.

Joel hitches your leg up and situates his hips in between your legs. You can feel his dick pressed against your inner thigh now. He tangles his hands in your hair and kisses you fiercely again. The only time Joel ever kisses you is before he fucks you. Never after. You’re sure that somewhere, buried deep down inside you, you secretly wish Joel would kiss you after sex, too. But that simply isn’t what this arrangement is about.

You hang onto the moment as long as possible, lacing your fingers behind his neck and pulling him even closer. His once neatly slicked back hair now mussed from your fingers, and his skin smells like firewood and soap.

Outside, the female military voice recording announcing the strict enforcement of curfew echoes through the QZ, but you and Joel barely notice. You’re lost in him, the feel of his body, the touch of his rough hands, and allow yourself to fall into the mindless, primal motions of sex.

You and Joel have done this many times over the past few months. Sometimes, when all was quiet and going relatively well in the QZ, you didn’t feel the need to visit him quite as often. But your need to see each other only increasing in frequency when things seemed to get worse… and things surely have gotten a lot fucking worse lately. FEDRA cracking down on everyday civilian freedoms. Rising animosity between the factions of smugglers within the QZ, causing many of Tess’s deals for ammo and pills going south more often than not. Firefly attacks within the city walls with no regard for innocent lives. Oh, and not to mention the ever-present problem of the growing number of infected just outside the city…

All of which to say, you and Joel have been seeing a lot of each other as of late.

Clothes fall to the floor. Joel’s new shirt that must have come with his set of provisions today, your favorite holey sweater you can’t bear to toss, his pants, your pants, shoes and socks. The next thing you know, you’re flat on your bed beneath him.

In your past life, would you have been with someone like Joel if you knew of all the bad things he’s done? Would it have overpowered the intense attraction you felt toward him, causing you to be repulsed by him? Probably then.

But not now. You don’t care what he’s done in the name of survival. You both have committed your fair share of inhumanities. But this is just how your lives turned out. Neither you nor Joel had chosen the life of smugglers, but the perseverance to survive takes over one way or another.

But none of that matters right now. All that matters is the need to eliminate any space and barrier between your hot, needy body and his.

He’s a menacing sight with his intimidatingly large muscles, the result of nearly five decades worth of manual labor, and the numerous scars peppered over his skin from countless tussles. He looms above you like a thundercloud, like a predatory cat prowling for its meal. You think to yourself how lucky you are to be on his side as an ally in your nefarious affairs—and not just an ally, but a business partner of all things. Because someone like Joel Miller would be a scary as fuck to have as an enemy.

Joel hooks his thumbs under the hems of your underwear and wastes no time to yank them down and off your legs. He pries your legs apart as far as you’ll let him, nearly drooling at the sight of you completely naked for him. You almost feel self-conscious, but you know if you try to shy away or close your legs now, it would do absolutely no good. Joel’s a very single-minded man. When he puts his mind to something, there’s absolutely no stopping him.

It always takes you aback when Joel doesn’t immediately penetrate you, especially with that glint in his eyes like the one he has now. But he never rushes that part, not even when you really wish he would. Instead, as per usual, he dips down and buries his face in your pussy.

“Joel,” you whine out his name, your body lurching—away from him? Closer toward him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that his mouth on your pussy like this feels so intense that it would be impossible not to squirm. You wonder if he does this for himself or for you. “You really don’t have to,” you manage to get out.

The look of sheer wrath he gives you…it’s as if you’d just told him you’d given away all the contraband he’d smuggled to FEDRA. “You think I only do this for you?” he rasps.

“I don’t know," you squeak out with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I know you do it every time, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel obligated—”

“Obligated?” Joel barks a laugh. “Don’t be so naive. You think I would eat your pussy if I didn’t want to?”

Wetness pooled at your core. “Fuck, Joel.”

“I wanna make you squirm first,” he growls. “Wanna make you so needy and wet for me that you don’t think about anything else.” His breath fanned out over your pussy, and you shivered, your thighs squeezing together. He pries them apart again. “You say some bullshit like that again, I’ll tie your ankles to the goddamn bedposts so you can’t even think about closing your legs. You hear me?”

Your eyes widen and your stomach flutters. Does he not know how much the idea of that turns you on? “Yes,” you croak.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you correct yourself.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t need to tie your ankles to the bedposts when he’s got the leverage of his body weight to press your legs apart. His mouth is on you again in an instant and you gasp embarrassingly loudly, falling flat against the mattress.

He eats you out with the fervor and desperation of a parched man finding water, pressing his entire face into you as though he couldn’t possibly get close enough. Joel’s lips trap your clit in a tight suction, his tongue swirling in practiced circles in a way that makes your hairline break out in a sweat. You moan too loudly again, reaching for the nearest pillow to stifle the sound for the sake of your poor neighbors.

Just when he’s gotten into a groove, Joel releases the suction of his mouth with a pop and buries his whole face even lower, his tongue drawing a lavish line up your entrance before moving inside you, his nose pressed against your clit. He’s absolutely ravenous, and you have no semblance of control left in your body. Your legs jolt, and he presses them even further apart in response. The sparks at the pit of your stomach bloom and bloom.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so good,” he moans into you. You moan in response, tangling your hands in his silvering hair. Baby, that one is new. Baby’s almost too sweet coming from a man like Joel’s lips. A little red flag goes up in your mind but you quickly forget all about it as he continues to lap at you.

Joel breaks away only to wet his finger with his saliva and you watch in awe as he pushes it into you. You see stars as he curls his adept middle finger up toward your belly button. You dig your nails into his arms and keen his name again.

The waves of pleasure grow and grow, like a tsunami on the horizon approaching fast and sure, and your breathing grows erratic. Joel is relentless, tireless, his lips finding your clit again, and it’s as if he knows he’s found the sweet spot, knows the exact speed and intensity to stay at to push you over the edge. His eyes close as if in total bliss, seemingly motionless, and only you as the recipient of this unholy worship could ever know just how expertly fast his tongue is moving against your clit. The combination of that with his digit curling up into you over and over breaks you of any resolve you might have had left.

You should warn him you're going to come. You have before. But you know how well he knows you now. He knows you're right on the edge. So he presses his palm to the soft part of your stomach, just below your belly button, and that does it. He knows me so goddamn well.

You come completely undone, the waves of your orgasm furiously overtaking your whole body. You arch your back and clench your walls around Joel’s finger, unable to keep from writhing in pleasure, unable to hold back the choked moans from your throat.

“That’s right, ride it out, darlin’,” Joel praises you. “Love feeling you squeeze my finger so tight. Good girl.” He sits up and watches your body come down from the high, gently coaxing about what’s left of your convulsions with his finger. But even once they subside, he doesn’t pull it out, instead continuing to curling it into you again over and over. You weren’t expecting a break—Joel never needs one, never gives one unless you ask—but you wonder how on earth you’re going to survive this. With a desperate, pleading sound, you peer up at him in disbelief.

“It’s too much,” you whimper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head furiously. Joel almost smiles at that, almost as though he knew your response already. He repositions himself so he’s propped up on his elbow beside your body, his other hand still at your slippery entrance. His finger slides in and out with each movement, the pad of his finger gliding against precisely the right place inside you. It’s a sensation only another person could satisfy in you, and you find yourself silently thanking your lucky stars that Joel knows how to do it so well. He knows your body so well after just a few months, knows exactly what you need is a break from the clitoral stimulation, yet added stimulation elsewhere.

Pressure builds in your pelvis, a different kind of pressure than before. Your jaw falls open when his tempo picks up. Joel presses his forehead to yours, sharing your breaths, before he moves to your ear and starts whispering.

“Takin’ my finger so well,” he breathes, and goosebumps erupt across your whole body. “Wanna see if you can handle another one?”

You nod breathlessly and he slides his ring finger in with the middle finger. A jolt of energy overtakes your body. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. The last time he fingered you like this, you had completely soaked the mattress. You had luckily remembered to lay a couple of towels down under the sheets this time, just in case, but still. You’d been humiliated. You hadn’t said anything about it last time, but you knew what had happened, and you knew that he knew.

And now he’s going to make you squirt again. Which means that he likes it.

Joel sets into a relentless pace and the dreaded pressure grows and grows. “That’s my good little slut,” he growls. “Want you to let go for me, make my fingers wet.”

You can’t help it. The pressure in your core explodes. A slick wetness seeps all over Joel’s fingers and into the sheets around your hips. Joel moans into your neck. You feel yourself turning so hot you break a sweat.

“Oh god,” you moan, suddenly lightheaded, and you cover your face. You feel him wrench your hands away and he stares at you in astonishment.

“Are you…embarrassed?” he gapes.

“Yes,” you respond, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His face shifts slightly from disbelief into an almost sinister expression. “Look at you. All humiliated at the mess I made you make for me.”

The fact that he takes pleasure in your humiliation turns you on more than you’re willing to admit. “Fuck you, Joel,” you bark back, but there’s no energy left in your voice for malice.

Joel grips your chin harshly, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t call the shots here. If I want you to make a fuckin’ mess for me, then you will.”

If he hadn’t been manhandling you before, he’s manhandling you now, pulling your limp body into the exact position he wants: on your stomach, your thighs pressed together, your ass pointed up at him perfectly.

You realize then that he’s been touching himself for quite some time through his boxers, only now he’s sliding them off his body, revealing his dick, weeping and swollen and angry red. If you had any ounce of energy left in your body, you’d flip yourself over so you were on top and wrap your mouth around it. But he’s faster than you can replenish your energy, and in one feverish motion, he’s mounting you from behind, his dick pressed against the base of your ass.

“Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you raw into these sheets.”

You know Joel, know what he’s doing. He’s playing up the moment, building the anticipation, but he’s also gauging your consent. He’s asking your permission.

“Please,” you mewl. “Please fuck me, sir. I want you so bad.”

“Good,” he responds. “Good girl.” And then he’s plowing his dick into you.

Holy fuck. The momentum of his first thrust pushes you several inches up the bed and you cry out, inviting the mix of pain and pleasure with eagerness. He’s so much fucking bigger than his fingers, even though his fingers are nothing short of girthy themselves.

He pulls out unbearably slow, almost all the way out, until just the ridge of his head remains inside you, before he grips your hips with a fervor and thrusts back into you with a grunt. And again, and again. A rush of emotions floods through you at the feeling…among them, a sense of security, a total trust in him, the reassurance at the knowledge that Joel would stop if you told him you wanted to.

God, you don’t want him to stop.

“Mine,” he growls, gathering your arms behind your back, and your muscles burn. “You hear me? Your pussy’s fucking mine, sweetheart.”

You have no coherent response, only his name.

Joel uses your bended arms locked behind you as leverage, gripping them with desperation as he rams into you over and over again, taking what’s his. His dick feels unreal inside you, slipping in and out like it’s made for you. The position of your arms plays tricks on your mind, makes you feel trapped in the best way possible, like there’s no escape from this. Which, of course, there is an escape—the simple phrase stop, something you and Joel had agreed upon weeks prior—and yet, the false sense of helplessness is exactly what you’re going for.

And what is it for Joel that gets him going about this, you wonder briefly? Is it the false sense of control, something he’s felt devoid of in real life for years now? Is it the fact that for just one night, everything that happens will have been something that Joel had direct influence over? Did he need that catharsis of complete control as much as you needed the catharsis of being out of control? You wonder if maybe you and Joel were made to find each other in these awful, bleak times, if maybe though you fight day in and day out about business, if you were made for each other in this way.

A strange sensation along the spine of your back. It’s Joel’s lips, soft and wet along with the scratch of his beard. Juxtaposed with the unforgiving force of his hips crashing into your ass, you melt into him. He's never done that while he fucks you before. Joel releases your arms and kisses your back again, seeming to soak in the feel of your skin on his lips. He moves up to your neck, still mounted on top of you, still sliding in and out of you with a vigor, but his mouth comes to rest by your ear.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen.”

Oh, god. That was tender. You didn’t hate it, but talk about uncharacteristic for Joel Miller. Red flag goes up again. You squash it down, not wanting to kill the moment. You reach behind and comb your fingers through his hair. “Joel, oh my god, Joel.”

Maybe it’s as if he realized he’d breached some unspoken protocol with that lapse in his tough-guy persona, but Joel seems to snap to reality. With a new intensity, he pulls out of you to draw your hips up, propping you up on your knees and elbows. A much less tender, much more primal position. He kneels behind you and brings your hips back to meet his dick again, bottoming out in one motion.

You cry out and arch your back. This new angle is intense. Tender Joel Miller is gone, at least for now. He seals that notion with a hard slap of his palm on your ass.

He fucks you hard and fast and it’s precisely what you want. Waves of desire start to ebb and flow in your pelvis once again. You wince in surprise as you feel Joel bring his head down to bite your shoulder lightly. Nope, nothing tender about this.

“Oh my god, Joel, I’m— you’re gonna make me—”

“Make you what?” Joel demands. “Make you come again, pretty girl?”

You can’t make another sound; you feel so fucked out you could only nod as he brought you closer and closer. But Joel wanted more.

“You heard me, tell me how good I make you feel,” he growled and bit down on your shoulder harder this time. “Tell me you’re gonna come all over my dick.”

Telling Joel anything would be a little hard to do considering he’s fucking you so hard you could hardly breathe let alone speak, but Joel was now hell bent on hearing you. He slaps your ass again, even harder, and your knees nearly buckle. But you manage to locate your voice.

“You feel so good,” you sob out, falling forward onto your elbows while Joel keeps a tight grip on your hips. “I'm gonna come again.”

“You want that?” Joel says in almost a sneer from behind you. “You wanna come for me again, my dirty little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you say, your voice hitching each time he rams into you, “please, please.”

“Love it when you beg like that for me. So desperate, it’s pitiful. Fuck,” he groans, seeming to somehow swell inside of you even more. Droplets of wetness roll down your thighs, your pleasure mixed with his precum. “You better not come until I say so.”

His request may or may not be plausible, given how fast approaching your orgasm was coming over you. You had no choice but to take him how he wanted you to and try to hold off your orgasm as long as you could. Joel keeps a firm grip on your sides as he snaps his hips, and the explicit slapping sounds of skin on skin fill your bedroom.

“Oh-oh-my-g-god,” you gasp out, moaning with each perfectly angled thrust, nearly in tears from how deep he is. You’re teetering right on the edge, dangerously close to the edge, but you realize then, so is he, if his heavy breathing and moaning is any indication.

“Come on, Joel, baby, cum deep in my pussy, make me yours…” The pet name had just slipped out of your mouth again. Reservations be fucked. If you wanted to be tender and intimate right now, so fucking be it.

Sure enough, Joel gasps and grunts with more bravado than you’d ever heard from him before, as if hearing you call him baby had made him come on command. You feel a flood of warmth gush inside you, filling you up as he stills and drops his head to your shoulder. The final bucking of his hips and the visceral, shuddering whimper that comes from his throat set you off as well. You can’t hold back the cry that comes from somewhere deep in your body. “I’m coming, Joel, I can’t help it—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me now. I got you. It’s okay.”

You come hard and keep coming for longer than you thought was possible. Explosions of pleasure wrack your body and were it not for Joel holding you up, you’d have collapsed into the mattress. You’re clenching so hard around Joel’s dick that you wonder if it might hurt him, but he doesn’t protest, just moans right along with you.

You’re still trembling from the aftershocks as Joel pulls you up so your back is pressed against his chest and you both take a moment to catch your breath. Joel cups your breasts and kneads them in his hands as he comes down from his high, and in your daze you were dimly aware that he’s peppering several soft kisses along your shoulder blades, humming against your skin.

Again with the intimacy. What is going on?

“Joel?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you...dying or something?”

“What?”

“Or, like, secretly infected or some shit you don’t wanna tell me?”

He huffs, peeling himself off of you. You ignore the feeling of his cum dribbling out of you and turn to look at him. He’s scowling now, to no one’s surprise.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he barks. Aggravated, yet again. Oh, well, it's not like you were going to get any aftercare from him anyway—not part of the arrangement.

But nor was all that other shit he'd done.

“You’re acting…weird,” you accuse, your heart still pounding from before.

“I’m not acting weird,” he snaps back, defensive.

“You’re not acting like yourself, is all I mean,” you respond, crossing your arms and legs.

He watches you, that same tendon in his temple tensing up. “I have no idea what the devil you’re talking about,” he mutters, looking away.

“You have no idea what—” you repeat, shaking your head before explaining, “Joel, that was different.”

“What was different?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“That! The whole…” you say uselessly, gesturing between you and him.

He just stares at you. If he’s catching your drift, he must just be playing dumb now. “I’m gonna go,” he grumbles, standing to slip back on his boxers. “Come find me again when you start makin’ sense and stop drabblin’ on about nonsense.”

“Wait, stop, stop. Stop it, Joel,” you say, gripping his arm. “Jesus, will you let me talk? Why are you trying to run away?”

He glares down at you, his jaw rigid. A few tense seconds pass. “Go ahead,” he says at last, in response to the first question. As for the second question, you figure he’s trying to work that one out himself.

Now that you have his attention, you’re stunned. What exactly was the issue you were trying to bring up? He was being too sweet to you?

As if you can feel your own defenses coming up around you, you look around for your sweater and underwear, not wanting to be the only one unclothed here. Joel watches you wordlessly as you pull on your clothes, and your resolve grows stronger.

“That felt different,” you repeat, looking into his eyes for some sign that he agrees with you. “Didn’t it?”

Joel says nothing. In the silent space, your words come spilling out.

“Like… I don’t know, I just feel like something changed tonight. You felt different this time.”

Joel frowns in confusion and looks down at his crotch.

“No, not like that.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “It’s the things you…did. And said. It just felt different to me.”

“Like what?” Joel said, still playing dumb. You sigh again in exasperation. Is he really going to make you bring up specific examples?

“I mean, like…the kisses. And…and why’d you call me beautiful?” you insist.

He glowers. “What, so I can’t call you beautiful?”

“No, I—I mean, you can, I just… You’ve never said anything like that to me before,” you respond. He truly hasn't. He's called you sexy, called your pussy pretty, things like that. But he's never leaned down to whisper in your ear that he thinks you're the most beautiful girl in the world while railing the fuck out of you.

"Well, I did now. But I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you were gonna get all weird about it.”

Jesus, he could be so fucking immature for a man in his late 40s. “It just took me off guard, that’s all.”

“Well, if that’s all, I don’t understand what’s the big problem.”

Why isn’t he understanding? You can’t help it, you explode. “That isn’t what we agreed on, Joel,” you say, your voice more insistent.

“What isn’t?”

“The...kissing, and the calling each other pet names, and the exchanging niceties,” you say emphatically. “Shit like that. That’s not what this arrangement is supposed to be about.” You started this with Joel to avoid your feelings…

Not to catch them for each other.

Joel leans down closer to you, cynicism in his voice as he says, “And what is it that this arrangement’s supposed to be about, then?”

“Sex!” you shout, raising your arms in exasperation. “Just sex!”

Right?

Joel says nothing. He stands and silently puts on the rest of his clothes before giving you the hardest stare you’ve ever seen from him since you met him half a year ago.

“Maybe for you.”

Your mouth goes dry. But before you can think of a response, Joel slips his shoes on and mutters. “I’m gonna go. Don’t come after me tonight.” Without another word, he leaves your dingy apartment, leaving you alone with your jaw on the floor. And in that moment, you realize, you had Joel Miller all wrong.

———

a/n: …i’m kind of embarrassed to put this on the internet but hey at least no one i know follows me so!!! hopefully at least! hahahahah 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

For real though. Leaving feedback is just the common courtesy thing to do when you consume free, unpaid creative works online. Like I promise i do write for myself hehe but it really helps give me momentum to keep writing when i know that people genuinely liked my work!

For fanfic, blurb, or headcanon requests about TLOU, please send me asks!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

Taglist: y'all didn’t explicitly ask to be tagged but you did like my last post gauging interest in this fic so i went ahead and tagged y'all!

@amazonabxtch @katluverxd @bowie-frommars @tasmbestspdrman @ka-x-in @mouseymagines @fandom-queen67 @bfences @rosegoldarti @xlengueterax @lol-im-done @aanie-lg @toobsessedsstuff @theangstypioneer @leonkennedyslefthand @lizajane2 @typingcorgi @julietamidala @floralcyanide @bilualien @austinnpowerss

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal

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mrsluggsthesentientsledgehammer · 2 years ago

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On the one hand, DnD is a cultural icon, a much loved piece of gaming history and in recent years responsible for the slow movement of RPGs into the mainstream and out of grandma's basement.

On the other, if WOTC want to try and kill off a reason for DnD's continued success purely for the sake of monetisation then that can only be bad for DnD players, which might actually be good for ttrpgs as a whole. Let's be honest, few people use canon settings, learning the game feels more like work than pleasure and this sort of corporate nonsense has no place in the ttrpg market.

If only there was a sprawling community of enthusiastic games designers churning out absolute bangers on a regular basis so that people had other options....

So let's make a list of them. The easier good alternatives are for people to find, the more likely it is that WOTC and Hasbro get the message.

Like how many rules DnD has? - As above, try pathfinder! The SRD (system reference document) is free on the web, but the core rulebook is a bit pricey at $60.

"Less rules please!" - Have a look at the white hack, you can get the 3rd edition for just under $10. Explicitly marketed as "runs dnd encounters with little to no conversion" and is more or less setting agnostic. 160 pages.

"Still too many rules!" - Fine, try the black hack, its $6 and all the rules fit in 30 pages. You can get all the open licensed bits (i.e. not the art) for free to try before you buy via the online SRD.

Apocalypse vibes? - Mork Borg, the art is... striking, as is the rest of the game. Pretty version costs $15, but the barebones edition is free. It's also drowning in third party content if you want more.

"Dude, I have literally no money" - Have a look at the endless ream of 1 page rpgs from gshowitt on twitter, or hosted at Rowan, Rook and Decard. All free and literally fit on a page.

All about party dynamics and collaberative storytelling? - Try dungeon world, its $10 for the pdf but is based on apocalypse world rules. It has the same generic fantasy flavor as DnD but mechanics which put the players and the GM on the same side to tell a story.

"I really like the grand adventure feeling that comes with DnD" - Try mouseguard, reskin it if you don't fancy playing as a mouse. It includes pacing mechanics to produce that perfect flow that an adventure really needs. Alternatively, if you like Tolkeinesque fantasy then the One Ring RPG might be a good bet. Haven't played it but its well spoken of.

"Done with classic fantasy, I like more horror in my dungeons" - Try Heart from Rowan, Rook and Decard ($15, or free quickstart). Mechanics explicitly designed to drive interesting stories.

"What about doing a revolution?" - Spire, same people, same price, almost the same rules.

"My campaign is kinda crime centric tho" - Blades in the dark, $20. Fiction first mechanics for crime focused industrial fantasy.

"Currently playing a homebrew DnD derivative as a spacefaring octopus with a railgun, its just too niche"- Someone has beaten you to it pal. Eclipse phase, free on the internet courtsy of Rob Boyle.

"I haven't slept in weeks, leave me alone" - Don't Rest Your Head, $5 from Evil Hat. Surrealist horror about how you really need to get your sleeping pattern in order.

"Ah, but can you do a comedic piece of anticapitalist satire, in a fastasy setting with just two people?" - Yarp. Pitcrawler, made by people from the Magnus Archives. Free quickstart available from Macguffin and Co and honestly ideal for new players and GMs alike.

"Mechs?" - Mechs. Lancer, $25 from Massif Press. Similar grid-style gameplay to DnD but with giant robots and better rest mechanics.

"What about cyberpunk?" - You can play the literal cyberpunk rpg (now Cyberpunk RED), but personally I'm a fan of cy borg ($25, Free League Publishing). Its like mork borg but cyber, and frankly just that much more punk than all the others.

If you can think of any other games that might be useful and deserve to be played then start telling people about them. This could actually be a really good opportunity for new players.

So, what is the OGL and why are DnD creators thoroughly screwed?

Tumblr has not been doing a great job at talking about this, but:

With OneDnD, Wizards of the Coast has decided to update the Open Game License (OGL). Said license is what allowed people to create homebrew DnD content and sell it, and even larger companies to use certain sorts of content. Pathfinder, for example, is built on said OGL. This also allows streamers and artists to exist and benefit from said content.

With OneDnD (sometimes called “dnd 6e”), WOTC wants to create a much more restrictive OGL, which will, amongst other things:

Make WOTC take a cut for any DnD-related work (according to Kickstarter, a whole 25% of the benefits)

Let WOTC cancel any project related to DnD up to their discretion

Let WOTC take ANY content made based on their system, and re-sell it without crediting you, or giving you a single cent

And most importantly, revoke the old OGL, which will harm any company or game system that used it as a base, such as Pathfinder. And it means they GET ownership over any homebrew content you may have done for 5e in the past!

It’s important to note that OGLs are supposedly irrevocable. They were planning to use it for OneDnD initially, but they want to apply it retroactively to 5e, somehow. Which is illegal, but lawyers have mentioned there’s a chance they may get away with it given the wording.

This means that anything you make based on DnD (A homebrew item? A character drawing? Even music, according to them?), can get taken and used as they deem appropiate.

These news come from a leak of the OGL, which have been confirmed by multiple reputable sources (including Kickstarter, which has confirmed that WOTC already talked with them about this), and was planned to be released next week.

So, what can we do?

Speak against it. Share the word. Reblog this post. Let people know. Tumblr hasn’t been talking much about this matter, but it’s VERY important to let people know about what is WOTC bringing.

Boycott them. Do not buy their products. Do not buy games with their IP. Do not watch their movie. CANCEL your DnD Beyond subscription. (Btw, they ARE planning to release more subscription services too!). They do not care about the community, but they care about the money. Make sure to speak through it.

And maybe consider other TTRPG systems for the time being, Pathfinder’s Paizo has been much nicer to the community, their workers are unionized and are far more healthy overall

#ttrpg #rpg recommendations #long post #dnd 5e #dnd #dnd ogl #one dnd

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takeabitetoremember · 6 years ago

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Stay With Me (Part 16)

Once Michael was sure he had Mallory in a deep sleep, he slipped out of bed and dressed, looking down at her sleeping so peacefully. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her. In the back of his mind, there was still a fear of her losing the baby, and whatever he could do to care for her, and keep her healthy, he was going to do it. He knew he didn’t deserve her, that wasn’t even a question up for debate. He’d lost her once, and he’d be damned if he’d ever lose her again. Slipping out of their room quietly, he began reflecting; her powers were coming back much quicker than he’d hoped and it was starting to become a problem. As he approached the grand staircase, Mrs. Mead was ascending.

“Mr. Langdon”, nodding.

“Ah, Mrs. Mead. Just the person I was looking for. I’d like to request a conference with you. Are you available?” standing atop the staircase, looking down at the older woman with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes Mr. Langdon. Are you requesting one now?”, stopping at the top of the staircase, looking up at the tall man with a firm inquisitive look.

“Yes, Mrs. Mead. Right now. I realize it’s late, but we have”, pausing, taking a deep breath, cocking his head to the right, looking up, then back at her, “a bit of a situation, we need to discuss. I think some things need to be taken care of sooner than later.”

Nodding in understanding, smiling. “I understand, Mr. Langdon, say no more. Let’s go”, taking the arm he offers her, walking to his office.

As the door shuts, he turns to her, taking a deep breath, letting it out, “First thing in the morning, send Timothy and Emily to the Sanctuary. There will be a carriage outside waiting for them.”

“Michael, what is going on? We had a plan. I tho-“

Absolutely enraged that his mother dare cut him off or question his plans, looking up, glaring at her, “I said they are going to the Sanctuary first thing in the morning, you are to make sure they are ready. There will be a carriage outside waiting for them. Next, make SURE you and Venable have the apples ready for the Halloween Masquerade tomorrow night. We’ll leave immediately following. Just the three of us: You, Mallory, and me.”

Nodding in understanding, “The Masquerade is all set, Venable and I took care of the apples tonight, so you have no problem, there. She’s dying for Mallory to eat one. Do you want me to swap out one of the poisoned apples for a non-poisoned one for Venable?” a dark grin crossing her face.

Leaning back against his desk, crossing his arms, thinking of all the ways he could kill Venable, the ways it would hurt most, being as painful and tortuous as possible, and then oh yes THEN then hell she’ll be condemned to. The hell that Venable will spend eternity in, that’s the most delightful part of all to him. A slight smile crosses his face, looking over to the older woman, “Perhaps, but I want to see it.”

“Duly noted, is there anything else?” hands clasped in front her making sure she has the plans in order, knowing the coming day has much to be done.

“As always, keep Mallory away from it all. She knows too much already. Her powers are coming back, and too fast, and too strong. She woke up screaming, she’d seen the Halloween Masquerade in her dreams. She’d seen everyone dead and was sobbing. That’s not what I’m as concerned about. She saw those fucking cunts that took her away from me. I fear that they lived somehow. I don’t how it could be possible, but for Mallory to have seen this, it concerns me. If they lived, I want to confront the and destroy them alone. I don’t want her seeing or knowing. I have to get her out of here as soon as possible. I’d send her first thing in the morning with Emily and Timothy if I thought she’d go, but I know she won’t leave without me.”

“Oh Michael. Time is of the essence. Are you going to try to do the wedding ritual with her?” walking over, taking his hand, patting it lovingly, knowing how much that meant to her that he always honored his father.

Turning his head, hating disappointing her, more than anyone. Shaking his head, patting her hand, knowing this is going to be yet another disappointment. He knows he’s already been a disappointment to his father in so many ways, now, he’s disappointing his mother, yet again. “There’s not enough time. At least not here. Perhaps we can at the Sanctuary”, trying to give her some hope, smiling.

“She won’t have her beautiful dress, but what matters is that the two of you are bound together.”

Thinking her heard her stirring in the bedroom, putting his finger up to his mouth to shshh Mrs. Mead, shaking his head.

Whispering, “I think she’s getting up to go to the bathroom. Morning sickness hits her in the middle of the night. I’ve got to get back to bed. Remember what I said, and make sure it all happens.”

Nodding, smiling at Michael as she turns, walking quietly out of his office.

Sitting down at his desk, opening up his laptop sending out an email-

To: Cooperative

From: Langdon, Michael

Subject: Send Carriage Outpost 3 for Morning Pickup to Sanctuary (and Evening Pick Up For Langdon)

Priority: HIGH

Body:

In the morning Mrs. Mead will have two subjects: Timothy and Emily ready for transport to the Sanctuary. They are genetically compatible for reproduction and should be treated as a level 4. As of tomorrow evening it is pertinent that you send ANOTHER carriage for ME. I will be returning tomorrow night to the Sanctuary. I wish for my carriage to arrive at Outpost 3 NO later than dusk. There will be three individuals on this transport: Mrs. Mead, my wife (Mallory), and me.

Langdon

Dawn has not even begun to break, and Emily hears a loud voice she’s come to hate over the past 18, 19 how long has been? She’s lost count at this point.

“Emily, Emily. Get up. It’s eviction day for you.”

Sitting up in her bed, wide-eyed, thinking Venable and Mrs. Mead decided to kill her, turning to look at the older woman, clutching her blanket, trembling.

“Wha- what?” her voice shaking.

Rolling her eyes, sighing. “Langdon promised you and Timothy a spot in the Sanctuary, todays the day kid. Get up. There will be a carriage here at dawn. I know it takes longer for you to get your dress on so you were woken up first. Get dressed and come downstairs quietly. Tell no one, speak to no one.”

Looking at the older woman in shock, knowing that Langdon *did* promise them spots in the Sanctuary but they only half believed it. To be honest, they were terrified of the man, and didn’t know if anything he said was real or not, but they knew they’d never betray anything he asked. Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she got out of the bed, wondering if they had to wear all of the corsets and nonsense at the Sanctuary, or if they got to wear normal clothes as she pulled her corset, tying it up, pulling on her big purple evening gown zipping it up. Picking up her shoes so they won’t make any noise as she peeks out the door.

Just down the hall, Mrs Mead walks into Timothy’s room, “Time to wake up sleepy head, it’s eviction day for you boy!”

Just like Emily, sitting straight up, eyes opening wide, looking around the room, locking on Mrs. Mead, “What, what’s going on?”

“You and that girlfriend of yours”, shaking her head. “I’ll make it short and sweet. You both know you’re going to the Sanctuary. Today’s the day. Get up, get your clothes on. You’re leaving at dawn. Say nothing to no one. Meet me at the bottom of the stairs.”

Swallowing hard, running his fingers through his hair, unable to believe that they’re really going. REALLY. REALLY. GOING. He didn’t even know if they Sanctuary was real, and now he and Emily were getting ready to go. It was all unreal. He was praying it was real. He knew with Langdon, though, until he actually *saw* the Sanctuary, he wasn’t what he considered safe. He’d just seen too much.

Descending the grand staircase, seeing Mrs. Mead and Langdon at the bottom, putting on her shoes once she reaches the bottom, feeling nervous, unsure if she’s getting ready to walk to her death, or an actual real carriage taking her to the Sanctuary. She can’t remember the last time she was this nervous.

Looking to her, tilting his head feeling the absolute fear coming from the young woman, getting ready to speak, as Timothy appears at the top of the staircase, beginning to ascend.

Turning, Emily takes a deep breath, smiling, taking his hand, leaning into him much the same way Mallory leans into Michael.

Taking note, Michael says nothing. Although he is unable to feel empathy, he recognizes this as familiar, perhaps what the two of them would’ve been had they not been separated. Maybe, deep down inside, that’s why he’d spared their lives. With his arms behind his back, watching the loving display for a moment, then clearing his throat.

“The two of you will be travelling to the Sanctuary this morning. You’ll be taken through and suited up in suit to protect you against the radiation. We were not all able to travel together at once, so Mrs. Mead, Mallory, and I will be travelling this evening after I tie up some loose ends here and make sure everything is running smoothly. I have left instructions that you are to be treated VERY well until I arrive. If anyone does not treat you well, take names, and let me know.”

Walking them towards the decontamination unit, watching as they’re suited up. Michael standing there with his hands behind his back as the young people are hurriedly shoved into the big yellow suits, eyes wide, trembling, unsure of what their future holds, as the door to the outside opens for the first time in almost two years. They don’t know what to do when they’re hurriedly escorted from the Outpost into the carriage, there’s barely time to look at the scorched earth, not that they could see much at dusk, everything is pretty much gray, and gray upon gray is well gray.

Hands clasped behind his back, boots clicking as he walks down the hall. “One thing down”, thinking to himself. “Now, to wipe out these dolts, and I can move forward with what I was born to do with whom I was born to do it with.” A broad smile crossing his face, thinking this time things would work out. It would be different this time. The would be no LeVay walking through his front door taking him away from her. There would be NO ONE taking him away from her. There would be no one taking their baby. This time, they would have a family. Maybe he didn’t deserve it, but she did. Climbing the staircase, leaning over the railing, reflecting at his time as a student at Hawthorne. It cut deeply that the one place he thought he belonged for so long, he’d been betrayed, yet again. Where hadn’t he been betrayed? They knew the entire time that Mallory was at Miss Robichaux's all along, that’s why they were so hesitant about confronting the witches. Feeling the anger boiling up inside of him again, the anger they’d taught him to control, as he began to think of Cordelia and Myrtle. Looking down, the only regret he had was that amongst the bodies that would strewn out in the grand hall that their bodies wouldn’t be among them. For now, Venable’s body would simply have to do, she’d angered him plenty over his time at the Outpost.

There was so much to do, and despite being the Prince of Chaos himself, he didn’t like things being unpredictable unless he was the cause. Something just didn’t feel right, he couldn’t put his finger on it which made him even more uneasy. Going over every detail, ever plan in his head over and over. He and Mrs. Mead had been so careful, they’d planned everything meticulously so that they only thing left after this horrid soiree would be getting Mallory out into the carriage without seeing the bodies. If need be, he’d put her to sleep, just temporarily, to do so. The Cooperative had gotten his message, clearly. They’d shown up just before dawn as instructed to take Timothy and Emily to the Sanctuary, and he knew there was no question they would be there just before dusk for them. Standing straight, smoothing his jacket, looking around observantly, knowing it won’t be long before the Gray’s will start making their rounds for linens. There is no longer any breakfast, not for most, although many still rise early due to Venable and her Nazi Germany like schedule. Michael had found her and strict adherence quite amusing. Despite his beloved Mallory, she was given the Outpost with almost the most absolute worthless hopes for building his new world, yet, she was the one to keep them all alive. The irony was just too delicious for even him.

With his hands clasped behind his back, his sinister laugh could be heard echoing through the halls along with the click of his heels and his made his way down the long corridor to his office. Cringing as he enters, hearing Mallory in the next room, she hasn’t eaten this morning, and is already sick. He can hear her tears as lays on the bathroom floor, her head on the toilet, thinking no one can hear her.

Tired and weak, having spent the greater part of three hours running back and forth, finally resigning herself to the floor, unsure if she even has the strength to get up at this point, she can’t remember the morning sickness being this bad. Maybe it was, maybe it’s because Michael was there by her side all the time. He wasn’t busy with whatever it is he does now. The hormones raging in her body are doing her no justice as she begins to think, making the tears pour like rain. Sobbing as she grips the toilet, sniffling, getting herself so upset she begins to dry heave again. Breathing hard, trying so hard not to dry heave any more, trying to stop crying, pulling a towel down from the bronze towel rack mounted to the wall, laying wiping her face, laying over onto the cool floor.

“I’m so tired. I’m just so tired. Michael, I want to go home. I just want us to back home. Why did you ever leave, Michael? Oh, why?” whispering to herself, clutching the soft towel her eyes closed, picturing their old bathroom just the way it was after a bath, thinking if she just wills herself hard enough, they’ll be there when she opens her eyes.

“Michael, I want to go home. I just want us to go back home. Why did you ever leave, Michael? Oh, why?” Mallory’s voice was so soft, and faint, but it was pounding in Michael’s head over and over. Those words were like a knife into his heart. Looking at her, laying there on that bathroom floor, she looked so small and helpless. Her body looked frail, head laying on a towel against the cold floor, porcelain cheeks tear stained. She was his Mallory, the same woman he’s loved since he was a young man, the only woman he’s ever loved. He didn’t even know he was capable of loving anyone until he met her. He still hates himself for what he did to her, to Harper, and knows he can never make it up. Maybe, that’s why he’s feeling uneasy. Looking down at her, despite everything the Sanctuary has, he doesn’t know if it’s enough. Will it make Mallory happy? What do I do? I thought if I gave her another baby that would make her happy. We could begin our lives again, just like where we left off. Looking down at her frail body, he realized for the first time, despite having control over the entire world, destroying it, and creating a new one, he didn’t have control over the one thing he desired the most; His Mallory. This terrified him.

Slowly walking into the bathroom, Mallory could hear the heels of his boots clicking. She stopped sniffling and began to smile, immediately feeling comforted, she stopped shaking, opening her eyes, “Michael”, whispering softly.

“How long have you been in here, Mallory?” sitting her up, wiping her eyes, feeling guilty, reaching for a washcloth to rinse the tears from her beautiful face.

Shaking her head weakly, laying it against his chest, desperate to be close to him, “I don’t know. A couple of hours, maybe? I lost count”, just clinging to him holding her there in the floor, closing her eyes as she hears his heart beating, smiling, fighting back a few sniffles. “Michael, I don’t remember it being this bad the last time. You know, when I was pregnant. Maybe it’s because I was younger? I remember Moira brining me 7-up and crackers, and you’d always make sure she brought me a cup of ice. I miss that”, looking up into his eyes, “I miss our home, and you.”

Kissing her forehead, closing his eyes, not knowing how to reply. He hated that home for so many years. He wasn’t wanted there. His birth mother refused to see him, or speak to him, his grandmother committed suicide to get away from him. If it weren’t for Mallory, he would have no good memories there. The ONLY good memories he really has there are with her when he thinks about it. The memories with his grandmother were of him desperately trying to get her love, and her constant disapproval. With Mallory, her love for him was unconditional. They fought on occasion, but always made up. This was on his mind as he picked her up, holding her close to his body, placing her in their bed, caressing her face looking down at her.

“I’m sorry, Mallory”, holding her petite hand, “I know how much you miss our home. At times, I miss it too. I’m sorry about Harper, that-“ turning his head, stopping, as if he’s almost at a loss for words.

Placing her small hand atop his, looking up at him empathetically, smiling gently, patting his hand, “It’s ok, Michael. We were both so young. We didn’t know. We couldn’t know. There are days it eats me up inside, but I remember this.”

“That we were, Mallory. That’s why I’m determined this time things would be different. I’m able to care for you, now. I won’t be leaving you, and we will have a home of our own, forever. I promise you, my angel. We’ll be leaving this evening, so I want you to get some rest. Try to sleep as much as you can today. We’ll be leaving at dusk”, leaning over, running his fingers through her hair, giving her a gentle kiss.

“I love you, Michael.”

“I love you, Mallory”, looking back at her one final time, realizing she’s the entire reason he’s doing all he’s doing today. He’s clearing the way for the three of them to go to the Sanctuary. He’s ready for the new start, and certain that Mrs. Mead will eventually warm up to Mallory. She knew about her years ago, even if she didn’t know back then she was a witch. His father isn’t thrilled about it either, but once again, he doesn’t care, either. It isn’t Burger King, he can’t have it his way. Some sacrifices had to be made, and well, Michael ended the world, so he got one thing he wanted- and that was HIS wife. There’s too much to that has to go right today, and he can’t afford for any of it to go wrong. As his heels begin to click down the dark halls, the first of the day’s sinister plans are set into motion.

Taglist:

@langdonicotine

@Kilcort

@nely-collins

@neonlacrima

@waiting-to-be-lost-at-sea

@perfect-ginger-maniac

@bi-tiger

@amanda-d0000

@memepetrafied

@zonietta

@nellychick

@lxngdonscoven

#millory #mallory #michael langdon #american horror story apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #stay with me #ahs apocalypse fan fiction

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lostlastsforever756 · 3 years ago

Text

Your Night With Cordelia

Part 18

Summary: This part was requested by someone special to me. Happy Birthday<3

You look forward to your birthday every year, so why has everyone suddenly forgotten that it is today?

Word Count: 1,100 words

Rating: G

A/N: I wasn’t sure if I was going to post this, because technically i am done writing this story, but the person I wrote it for gave the okay, so here it is. It is a one off, I hope you guys enjoy <3.

[REQUESTS CLOSED]

other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, valentine’s day, 15, 16, 17

Birthdays.

The one day of the year where anyone can feel special. The one day of the year where people can dote on you and spoil you and you don't feel bad about it because, dammit, it's your day.

You talk about it all month long, and the other girls jokingly ask you when it is, and you happily respond with the correct date every time. You know they do it as a joke, but you don't care because it's your birthday and it's special, and nothing can ruin that.

Well, so you thought.

You wake up excited on your birthday this year, putting on the special outfit you had picked out just for this day, skipping down the stairs to the kitchen, hungry for a special birthday breakfast. But when you get to the kitchen, no one is there. You deflate, just a little bit from disappointment, but no matter, there is always lunch, and cake is much better for dinner anyway.

You head off to class, sitting down in your usual seat next to one of the newer members of the coven. You hum to yourself as you sit down, and she looks over at you, smiling.

"You're in a good mood!" She says.

You grin. "Of course I am, it's my birthday!"

You know you've told her at least once before, in fact, you're 90% positive you told her yesterday, but she still gets a surprised look on her face.

"Oh my gosh, happy birthday! Do you have any plans?"

"Well, I don't, but I'm sure the other girls have something planned."

But the day goes on, and the more you mention your birthday and get returned with shocked, sheepish, embarrassed responses, the less you want to interact with anyone. By the time mid afternoon rolls around, you're done bringing it up at all. You sit quietly through dinner, listening to everyone laugh, wishing that you would sink into the walls for good. Occasionally, you can feel Cordelia's eyes on you, as if she can tell that you're quieter than usual and she's trying to figure out why. You avoid her gaze, only finishing half of your dinner and trudging up to your room.

You're not sure how long you stew, going back and forth between staring at the page of your book and staring at the wall. You try to think of something else, but all you can think is, "Do I really not matter enough for someone to remember my birthday?"

There's a soft knock on your door, and Mallory sticks her head in. Your heart picks up a little, a smile starting on your face. Finally, someone remembered.

"Hey, it's 9, Cordelia wants you."

You deflate again, nod quietly. "Thanks."

You trudge your way to Cordelia's door and knock, sighing softly to yourself. She calls you in and you enter, greeting her softly as she perches on the edge of the bed. She's got a big smile on her face that you wish you could return, but the sadness from the rest of the day seems to be lingering.

And then, she says the words you've been waiting to hear all day.

"Happy birthday, my love," she says, and somehow her smile gets even bigger.

You feel yourself start to tear up, but to stop yourself from actually crying, running to her and hugging her tightly. You should have known that she would never forget, even if everyone else did. She laughs softly, rubbing your back as she squeezes you. Over your shoulder you can see that she has her balcony doors open, the moonlight falling softly on the floor, and beneath the light you see a blanket laid out on the floor. You find yourself smiling big.

"I have a surprise for you," she says.

You start pulling away. "You set up a picnic for me?"

She grins, pleased with herself. "I did."

"That's so nice, Cordelia, thank you."

She pats you lightly on the back, giving you a kiss on the forehead. "Go ahead and get comfortable, I'll be back in a second."

You watch her make her way to the bathroom, grinning to yourself, then make your way over to the blanket. She's got everything, a basket, plates, candles, a whole bunch of pillows. You grab all the pillows you'll need to be comfortable, and settle down on top of them, grabbing one of the crackers from the snack platter. Soon after you're settled, she comes back out of the bathroom slowly, a pastel colored cake in her arms, 5 small candles lit.

And as she makes her way across the room to you, she starts singing the birthday song, slightly off key. You would laugh if this all wasn't so sweet, and your heart feels all gooey knowing that she cares. She finishes singing just as she's setting the cake down in front of you, softly encouraging you to make a wish.

And as you blow out the candles, you wish that every year could be like this. You and her and happiness. She smiles at you, so full of affection, her hands clasped together against her chest.

"I'll cut the cake, and you can open your gift."

"You got me a present? Oh, Cordelia, its too much, you didn't–"

"Too late, I already did it, so open it," she insists, pushing it gently towards you, before going back to focus on the cake.

It's wrapped beautifully, but what else did you expect from Cordelia, a perfectionist at heart. It matches the cake, soft pink pastel with a giant ribbon on top, and an envelope slipped into the top. You take out the card and open it up, reading out loud.

"If people were flowers," you read, then open up the card, "I'd pick you for my bouquet every time. Happy birthday." You grin, tracing your finger gently over her signature at the bottom.

She laughs to herself, like she knows the card is silly, and places a plate of cake by your legs. You then tear into the box. You gasp at everything you pull out, a cute bear with a witch hat, bottles, crystals, pressed flowers, it's all so her and also so you, and you wonder how she even knew these were things you wanted.

You smile up at her, meeting her happy, watching eyes.

"Thank you so much, Cordelia. This means everything to me."

She leans forward, stroking your cheek gently with her thumb, then pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, happy birthday." Then she grins again. "Come on, let's eat cake."

The End

#your night with cordelia #my fanfiction #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #ahs #ahs: coven #ahs: apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story: coven #american horror story: apocalypse #fan fiction #fanfiction #sarah paulson x reader

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six-six-cicada · 4 years ago

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GOD HELP YOU, DUMB BOY!

♪ - God Help You Dumb Boy — Reverend Glasseye

#my art #artists on tumblr #michael langdon #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #fan art #eyestrain #eye strain #ask to tag??#i simp 4 One (1) fictional man

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the-hotel-cortez · 3 years ago

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Destiny’s Anarchy

Michael Langdon x Reader (Part 1)

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻𝔂: When Michael visits Miss Robichaux’s Academy for his test of The Seven Wonders, your unspoken rivalry soon blossoms into something more. But when you receive a vision and see Michael’s destined fate, it’s up to you to do the devil’s work and change the inevitable. Saving the Antichrist? Not something everyone can put on their resume.

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: Major angst, slight blood required for a ritual spell (🥀,⚠️)

You frantically paced in common room of Miss Robichaux’s Academy, waiting for the Coven’s guest to arrive. Reluctantly, Cordelia had agreed to let one of Hawthorne’s newest students visit the Academy, the very student they claimed to be the new supreme.

A creak of heavy doors gave way to Delia, Madison, Queenie, and one tall, blonde warlock.

Your heart sank as the realization instantly hit. The idea that a new supreme had risen was a scary one, seeing that it would mean your current supreme would soon fall.

You weren’t ready to lose Cordelia. No one was.

The girl’s heels clacked melodically on the marble floor as they made their way down the hall. As soon as they entered the room, you instantly felt a dark aura of energy spill through the air. It was cold, chaotic... yet oddly intriguing.

“Girls.” Cordelia spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen. Your fellow witches waited impatiently, most already eyeing him.

”I want you to meet Michael. He will be staying with us for the next few days until we can figure out our current situation.” Whispers suddenly filled the room, and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to observe the competition.

He was dressed in the usual Hawthorn Academy uniform, hands casually folded behind his back. His facial features were sharp, and golden curls perfectly framed his sculpted face. But his eyes, his eyes are what took you by surprise. An icey blue so cold, you could almost feel it nipping at your skin.

And as if on cue, the same piercing blue eyes settled right on you.

You looked away quickly, blood rushing to your face as you realized how embarrassing the awkward eye contact must have been. The boy smirked, almost as if to say “I caught you staring”.

Oh great, he was cocky too.

Cordelia spoke up, and you were glad for the distraction.

“Please, do be kind to him during his visit. I would rather us be known for our hospitality in times such as this. He will have his own personal room, and you will leave him be, is that clear? He has a long trial ahead and will need his rest.” With that, she dismissed the students, and everyone returned to their rooms.

It was going to be a long week, you could already sense the chaos this little visit would bring into the Coven. He didn’t seem right, and something about him greatly disturbed you.

A sharp knock came at your door late into the morning. You had still been up, flipping through pages of a textbook Zoe had leant you.

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you drug yourself up from your place on the bed, setting the textbook beside you and wondering over to the door.

Before grasping the handle, you paused. A familiar energy flowed through the air, and a chill ran down your spine. It couldn’t be him, could it? Why would he even be here so late at night? You took a deep breath, pulling open your door to peak out at whatever lay just outside.

Sure enough, you were greeted with the same golden haired boy. As your eyes met his, you were instantly reminded of your awkward encounter just a few hours earlier.

“Uh... Can I help you?” You asked awkwardly, covering your lingering embarrassment with a veil of faux confidence.

“I’m not sure, can you?” He said in a mocking tone. “Be a dear and let me inside.” You frowned at him, still unsure why he had bothered to interrupt you in the first place.

“No, I don’t think so. Why are you here?” You shot back, demanding an answer.

“If I told you, you would think I was crazy.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” You mumbled under your breath. Of course he heard you, and his eyes narrowed.

“Fine.” You gave in, opening the door a bit wider. He closed it behind you, leaving both of you alone in the confinement of your chambers. An impatient look was plastered on your face, brows raised. “So? Do I get to know now?”

He sat down on your bed, one leg crossed over the other. “I had a feeling.” He started.

“A feeling? You came to my room at god knows how late because you had a feeling?” You were growing impatient, your embarrassment quickly being replaced with annoyance.

“When I get a feeling, that means it’s something important. I am not like you. Cordelia told me about your so-called ‘visions’”. That is the easiest way I can think to describe it to you.” He spat.

“Speaking of which, have you had any visions of me? Or anything out of the ordinary?” He sounded slightly concerned, despite his rough demeanor.

“No, I haven’t had a vision in months. Zoe thinks my abilities are fading.” You gestured to the textbook laying on the bed not too far from him. “That’s been all I have to try and get them back. Nothing else in the archives says anything about losing your power.”

“That’s because you’re not doing it right.” He said.

“Excuse me? I’ve tried everything.” Not only did he come to your room uninvited, but he was insulting you now? He really knew how to push his limits.

Michael stood up, extending his hand to you. “You’re not doing it right. Give me your arm.” He repeated calmly.

“I’m not letting you touch me.” You said, taking a step back. He rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to fix this or not? You might be of use to me, I need your powers working.”

Watching his dry expression as you slowly approached him, you held out your hand palm-up. You weren’t quite sure why you were trusting him, but you were out of options.

He gripped onto you tightly, pulling you closer to him. You hissed as pain seared through your arm, a thin cut was left from your wrist to your forearm.

Surprisingly enough, you didn’t pull away. Only seconds later, he did the same. His own deep crimson shining in the light of your dorm.

He took you arm-to-arm, in a firm grip that left the two of you connected. Before you could ask what would come next, his icy blue eyes fogged into a deep black, and your vision began to blur.

Ringing filled your ears as your senses slowly left you. All visible was pure darkness, but you could hear faint echoes in the shadowy distance, growing louder as you fell.

Tag list: @evilcr0ne @kitwalker02 @spider-starry @sallyscigarettes @bellaisasleep @lil-dreg.

If you wish to be added or removed from the tag list please notify me in my ask box!

#michael langdon #ahs fandom #ahs #ahs fan fiction #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #hawthorne michael #michael langdon smut #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fluff #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #ahs fanfiction #ahs x reader #ahs x you #Reader insert #rituals #witchcraft

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alkalinestingray · 2 years ago

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I think it was Bionicle fan-fiction. Can't remember details since it was decades ago now, but it was on an old MS95 computer using dial-up. Ah, good times. Innocent times. Happy times.

2. Modern. I don't know why; most of my ideas just rarely take place in a modern or even modern-ish setting. Closest I get is dieselpunk or sci-fi, but you could hardly call those modern. I think it's because I get held up on geographical accuracy from time-to-time, and modern settings would see me camping on Google Maps for a good long while.

3. I've got a few: - A police procedural that's set in a steampunk city with magical elements. Largely episodic, but with an overarching plot to highlight the darker aspects of the city. - A dieselpunk adventure set in an alternate Earth that's on the brink of ecological collapse due to rampant fossil fuel usage. - A post-apocalyptic story set in Singapore, where the apocalypse is a tear between dimensional membranes which causes some...rather strange and unusual events.

4. More times than I can count.

5. Third person over-the-shoulder. Sorta like between third- and first-person PoVs. You're seeing things as perceived by the character-in-focus, so there's a hint of unreliable narration as well.

I like to have a rhythm to my paragraphs, so as much as possible, I try to play around with sentence structures to vary lengths. Unless, of course, there's a narrative reason to use choppy or run-on sentences for effect.

6. Writer's block, and when the words just don't feel right.

7. Quite a few of them. All of them, in fact. They all have qualities that are rather punchable.

8. Hmm...Can't think of any; I put them all through the wringer so uh, it's not exactly the type of life I'd want for myself.

Outfit wise though, I'd say most characters in the steampunk and dieselpunk ideas. I just love those aesthetics.

9. Listen to music, especially instrumental mixes on Youtube, and read. When the inspiration comes, seize upon it and just throw words on an empty document.

10. Never. They've been changed so many times I can't even remember their original forms.

11. For the steampunk idea, I came up with a few spinoffs that deals with the decline of magic in the world. One is set in the distant past at the very moment magic begins to fade, and another when there's only one corner left in the world that's still rife with magical power.

For the former, it's somewhat of an apocalyptic, pseudo-Bronze Age collapse adventure story. The latter's more of just a collection of adventure shots focusing on a group of privateers and corsairs operating in the waters of the magical region.

12. Can't say I do. I don't know that many people IRL. ;;

13. She should've kept her mouth shut when she could, and now she's just unpleasant, to be honest.

14. Music! It helps me to get into the mood for the scene. Otherwise, it's all about playing with vocabulary. Using certain words to prompt certain emotions.

15. Romance scenes, mainly because I want to get the emotions just right but it's always hard to translate what you have in mind onto paper.

16. Usually changes come as I develop more characters and I realise that some of them are almost carbon-copies of each other. That's when I'll take a look at each and see what I can change. Sometimes that even changes how the story plays out so it's usually a pretty long process, but one that plays out in the end.

Otherwise, it's because the character's turning out to be ill-suited for their role in the story. For example, I initially wanted the MC of the dieselpunk idea to be an emotional hot-head, but it didn't fit with her characterisation of being a careful, cautious, and sometimes overly-suspicious person. So I changed her to be quieter, more calculative, and more logic-inclined. I could've probably stayed with her original form and tried to find a compromise, but I thought that this change made things flow a little better.

17. I used to read quite a lot when I was a kid, and I just wanted to make my own worlds and stories. I guess I can thank my grandfather and mother for encouraging me to read.

18. Going alright, but we'll see how it goes.

19. Hard to say. I'll get back to this question when I've fleshed out more OCs.

20. None. Assuming they go through the wringer as what I often do with them, that is. I wouldn't want to go through that amount of turmoil.

21. Sentence fragments, I guess. And if you're counting rules with regards to British English, it's using 'And', 'So', and 'Or' at the start of sentences. Other than that, I can't think of any concrete literary rule that I break consistently. Might have to get back to this one as I go over my drafts.

22. It's never without a second thought. ;;

23. Probably a short story set in the post-apocalyptic Singapore setting. Aiming for six chapters, maximum. Follows an adventurer as he gets a vague warning from an enigmatic, possible non-human entity which of course he forgets, and ends up having to pay the price for it years down the road. I'll probably write up a better synopsis in a post of its own sometime later on.

24. Damn it, I knew there was another type of character I've been forgetting to make. Need more cinnamon in my stories.

Writer's Ask Game

There are a couple weird and unrelated questions in there.

What was the first thing you ever wrote for yourself? Not for a school assignment but for your own enjoyment.

That one genre you always try to avoid writing about and why?

The WIP you are most attached to.

How many times have you been thrown off plot for a particular WIP?

How would you describe your writing style? Does your writing style change for different WIPs? If yes describe all or maybe just a few.

Which part of writing annoys you the most?

Which OC do you want to punch in the face?

Which OC do you think you will enjoy enacting and why?

How do you get rid of writers block? (I wanna know your secret method)

How often do you stick to your original plot?

Tell me about that spinoff you had for your WIP.

Do you have any characters based off people you know?

Unrelated but what are your opinions on J.K.Rowling?

How do you set the mood for the story?

Is there any scene you were/ are scared of writing? Why?

Have you ever made any major changes to any of you OCs? Which and why?

What/Who influenced you to start writing and why do you write?

Babble. Just talk about anything or everything. How's life going?

Which OC do you relate to the most?

Which OC do you wish you were? Why?

Have you thrown any writing rules that everybody follows out of the window?

Any OC that you killed cold heartedly without a second thought?

Tell me about your newest WIP idea. Even if you haven't written it down. Even if it will die in a matter of days.

Talk about the adorable cinnamon roll OC.

There is no 25th question. Let the person who asks decide what it should be.

#reblog #writeblr #writers asks #writing #creative writing #questions #writers ask game

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queencocoakimmie · 6 years ago

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At the End of the World (Michael Langdon) Part Three

Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Word Count: +9000

Warnings: Plot heavy, Angst, death, smut, gore, violent. +18 & up

A/N: This is the finale. The final chapter of the Michael and Ava story. I’m so glad that you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. You never know, there might be a one-shot in store for both of them in the future.

“Here at the end of the world, we are all equal in life as we are in death. Except for me. Because I can never die. My name is Ava Deschamps and I am the Queen of the Dead.”

Before the Apocalypse

“Well, well, well, I was wondering when you’d finally come back to visit.” The Countess’s voice rang out across the lobby of the Hotel Cortez. I watched as she turned in the bar stool to face me. My beautiful Countess, she is a vision in white, dripping with diamonds from head to toe. How many nights had I spent here with her in her penthouse, just the two of us? Wrapped in each other’s arms, feeding off of some poor, stupid fool.

“I just had to come and see you, mon couer, I’ve missed you,” I say slyly. She narrows her eyes at me before she resolves to listen. “Ava, I know you better than anyone, you’ve come here with a purpose. What do you want?” She sharply turns her back to me, beckoning Liz Taylor to pour her another drink.

“You think too little of me, Elizabeth,” I purr as I walk up behind her. “I’ve come to see you because I still love you, my sweet.” Her back stiffens and she throws a glance over her shoulder at me, “Lies. You’ve been with that witch all of this time, and not once did you think of me. I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

Sighing, I sit down beside her and shake my head, “My darling, I need your help,” she sets her drink down and considers me for a moment. “Elizabeth,” I reach out and lay my hand on top of hers, “I need you.”

Her lips curved into a vicious smile, “Ava, lover, you’ll always need me. Come let us retire to my penthouse so that we may speak privately.” I waved a tepid wave at Liz and followed The Countess to the elevator.

When the doors closed, she shoved me against the wall, jerked my head to the side and bared my neck. Licking that sensitive area just below my ear lobe, she inhaled me, “You smell different, you smell more powerful.” I grinned, “Of course I do. Witch blood does wonders for the body, you should know that.” She ran the nail of her chainmail glove along my jugular vein, “I could kill you right now and no one would miss you,” she says tersely.

I flick my wrist and send her flying to the opposite wall, her eyes bulging in surprise, the glow of the light shining against the woodgrain behind her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, mon amour, that’s not true at all,” I say as glide over to her and grab her throat. “You’d miss me entirely too much if I died. Too bad I can’t.” She moans under the pressure of my hand squeezing her neck roughly as my other hand palms her ass.

She opens her red lips to meet mine when the elevator door abruptly opens. I leave her standing there alone, breathless. I make my way to the living area and wait for her on the canapé. “You’re still such a fucking tease, Ava,” she pouts. I grin at her, flashing my sharp teeth, “I know, ma chérie. First, help me with what I need, and then…” I wave my hand in a flourish, “then we catch up.”

Walking over to the bar, she takes off her white sequined cape and throws it onto the floor. Her shoulders bare and her pale skin exposed under that slinky dress, she’s everything that I remember. She knows what she does to me and she calls ME the tease. “I know why you’re here,” the blood pouring into her glass is deafening in this quiet room.

My hunger not only for her but for her blood begins to roil in my belly. “The underworld is talking. They’re talking about the boy. You know of this, yes?” I nod my head and beg her to continue. She eyes me suspiciously, “Well, they’re all saying that he’s about to come to power soon. He’s with that group of Satanists, ran by the incessant Anton LaVey,” she rolls her eyes, “The boy has grown stronger and soon after he performs the Black Mass, within a few years’ time, it’ll be time to for the end of days.” She surveys her surroundings and closes her eyes, “When the bombs drop, my love, the Hotel will be destroyed along with everything else. Nothing will keep me tethered here.”

She picks up her skirt hem and sits beside me, baring her long pale legs to me. “What will you do, my pet? What will the all-powerful Ava Deschamps do when the end of the world comes?” I cock my head to the side and consider her words, “Countess, you know more than you’re telling me, don’t you? Why do you keep such things from me?” Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Ava, it seems that maybe it is you that know more than I.”

My impatience is growing, “Enough of the niceties, Elizabeth. Tell me what you’ve heard.” She leans into the canapé and exhales, “Tell me, did you love her?” I shoot her a strained look. “Did you? Did you love the Witch Supreme Cor-?” My lips tighten in a straight line and I cut her off before she can say her name, “I didn’t come here to talk about Cordelia.” She nods her head, “Your non-answer tells me that you did. That’s why you stayed away from me for so long.”

I glare at her, my anger beginning to boil over. “It’s fine Ava, really,” she swishes her hand in the air, “I’m not upset. I know that you still care for me deeply. Besides, her being the Supreme was perhaps a calculated decision on your part. Even if you believe it to have been true love. You never do anything without an exact purpose.” She stares at me directly, then her eyes lit up with realization, “if you stayed with her that long and drank from her…” she contemplates her next words carefully before changing the subject completely, “It is out of the affection that I still feel for you that I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

She trails her fingertips down my lips, “Beautiful, remarkable Ava. The strongest of us all. Even when I was alive, I was never as impressive as you.” I grab her hand tightly, “Elizabeth, stop this.” She acknowledges my disapproval and yanks her hand away, “I assume you knew that your dear old Dad made a deal with the devil, right?” I look away from her searing gaze, “Well the word is that he’s planning something else. Something far more sinister. The deal for you to be the Antichrist’s glorified bodyguard is not all that your father wants.”

“But something tells me you already know that don’t you?” she asks. I smile at her plainly, “My father wants me to keep Michael safe until we get to The Sanctuary and then I am to kill him and drain him dry, effectively absorbing his essence.” Shock colors her face, “But why?”

“To bring him back. When I become powerful enough, I will be able to resurrect him.”

She gasps, “What? What about your mother?” I shake my head, “I don’t know. I don’t think she factors into his plans. In truth, I suspect that he will kill me. Or at least try. I don’t want to think my own father is capable of such a thing, I don’t know for sure. That is why I have come to you. I need to know that what I am about to do is the right thing.” She runs her fingers through my hair and then caresses my cheek, “He doesn’t know that you were with her, does he?” I shake my head. “Then he doesn’t know how much magic you hold in your body right now.”

“My darling, even with all of that running through your veins, you need to be stronger than that to take him on.” She looks away from me, wrapping her arms around her legs, “If I know you, I know that you don’t want to kill your father or the boy, even if that’s what he’s asked of you.”

“Michael is just a child, he still has so much humanity in him. That must be preserved, Elizabeth. He must be saved.” She releases her arms and scoots in closer to me. She’s so close that I can feel her breath on my skin, “You always did have a soft spot for them. The normals.” I stare deeply into her eyes, with so many emotions swirling around inside of me, I finally tell her what I’ve come for, “I need to do an evil thing, mon couer. If I am to save Michael and go against my father, I need more power.”

“But I have none, Ava. The only ones capable of such a thing are…” She stares at me in horror, “Your family.” She discards her chainmail glove and grabs my face with both hands, “You will die. There are too many of them. Ava, they are the worst of us. The monsters that people tell stories about to frighten wayward children. If you go to France, you will die.”

“You cannot hope to defeat all of them.” I wipe away her tear and kiss her soft red lips. Memories of nights shared so long ago come flooding back to me. I wish I could stay here with her. I wish that I could bring my Cordelia here and we could all be together. But is a dream, a fantasy and I have no time for such things. “You didn’t come here for my permission or advice. You came here to say goodbye,” she whispers.

She abruptly lifts herself off of the canapé and takes my hand. “You hunger, my love, I can feel it. Let me take care of you.” With her other hand she unpins her bun and releases a cascade white blonde hair down her back. “If this is to be the last time we see each other, let’s make it worthwhile.” I follow her to the double doors leading to the bedroom and she slides them open. In the middle of the bed is a naked young man, arms and legs tied to each bedpost. When he sees her, his eyes widen in fear and tears stream down his face. His loud screams for help muffled behind the gag placed firmly in his mouth.

Her eyes flash to me and a malevolent smirk spreads across her face. I return her smile with a toothy grin, the sharp pain in my gums from my fangs elongating, make my stomach rumble.

“Dinner is served and then we shall have dessert.”

*******************************************************************************************

Michael

Much time has passed since we came here to The Sanctuary. With no guidance from my Father, life has gone on and has flourished here on the island. My new world is thriving under my rule. With my love, Ava by my side, I feel as though we are unstoppable, capable of anything that may hinder my creation.

Although lately, it seems, that she has become distant. At times unfocused, I wonder if her love for me is fading. Though she has constantly denied it, I still feel that there is a change and I daresay, it frightens me. Me. The Antichrist is frightened? Pathetic.

I received communication from The Cooperative informing me that it is time for Phase 3 to come to fruition. I am to produce an heir. My bloodline must live on. We have ways of harvesting genetic material, yes, but a woman’s womb is still needed for the process. Someone else’s womb will carry my child. Not my beloved Ava. She, being a vampire, cannot produce or carry a child. It saddens me to no end, and I must tell her this news. But I haven’t yet found the right words.

My fingers type away furiously on the laptop when my concentration is broken by shouting from the courtyard. “Sir, please, please come quick,” my assistant bursts into the room.

I dash outside to see Ava, holding a man up by his throat. Her fangs bared, the gleam in her eyes is alarming. The crowd that has gathered is yelling for her to kill the man. “What’s going on here? What has happened?”

Her eyes transfixed on the man, she yells back at me, “I caught him in the middle of trying to assault this young woman, he needs to be punished. Justice needs to be served.” She points at a girl, no more than 18 years old cowering on the ground. A woman holding her, trying desperately to cover her nearly naked body. Her clothes torn to shreds with pieces discarded onto the ground. I look at the girl, “Is this true?” She tearfully nods, “Yes, Master Langdon, he attacked me. Tried to take advantage of me,” she sobs. An older woman from the back screams, “Mercy, mercy for my son, please.”

“Mercy?” Ava spits, “A monster such as this deserves no such thing as mercy.” The woman pushes her way to the front of the group, “Master Langdon, you knew what type of man he was when you brought him here. You knew he was sick and yet you said that he was perfect for your new world.” Ava drops the man onto the ground, and glowers at me, “Michael, is this true?”

I don’t answer her, instead, I twist my hand and the man begins to scream out in pain, clawing pieces of skin and tendon out of his neck. “Hear me now. This man is condemned to immediate death. No mercy, or no court will convene to proclaim guilt or innocence. If you commit an atrocity of this kind, you will die by my hand.”

The man’s bellowing cries reverberate through the courtyard. People turn away from the gore before them as his skin begins to peel away off of the bone, it’s like boiling acid has been poured onto his body. He writhes on the ground, gasping for air, his death is a slow and painful one. I tilt my head to the right and immediately the life goes out in his eyes.

“Please, not my boy,” the woman screams out. She runs to him and Ava grabs her arms, nearly twisting them off. “You are the true monster here,” she jabs a finger into Ava’s chest. “An animal who gorges blood. You are the one who doesn’t deserve to live,” she yells and spits in Ava’s face.

With a flick of my hand, her neck twists around in an unnatural way. Her tongue falls slack to the side of her mouth, her eyes instantly vacant. What’s left of the crowd turns and runs away, horrified by my display. Ava stands there alone, holding the body of the dead woman in her arms. Her eyes widened in shock, “Why did you kill her?”

“She insulted you. No one gets to insult you and live, besides she was complicit in her son’s actions.” Her green eyes lock onto mine and I see disappointment flash behind them. She lays the woman down on the ground beside the body of the young man without uttering another word.

She leaves me there in the courtyard with my assistant, Timothy. “Sir, what do you want me to do about the bodies?” he asks. I glance back at him, “What you normally do.” He summons a group of people to clean up, but before they touch the bodies, I hold my hand up to them, “Wait.”

A few moments later, the souls of the two dead arise. They stand there in front of me, gawking, unsure of what’s happening. “What did you to us? Why am I like this?” the woman shrieks.

I break into a wide smile and close my fist tightly. They begin to burn from the inside out, their screams echoing all around us until they are nothing but ash. Now they won’t exist here or on any plane. A laugh escapes my lips.

I turn to see Ava standing there in the entryway, watching me. Her eyes narrowing, and then she turns her back and walks away. Her black hair swishing in her wake. A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach begins to grow. I fear that in the midst of all of this, I might be losing her.

Later that night, I decide to stay in my office. I know she is out hunting and needs time to clear her thoughts. Surely, she will come around and see my thinking about these things. I can sense her anger and turmoil. But I don't want to push her, she knows that if she wants to talk with me, she can. Still, I feel there is something else at play here. Something that I don’t know and I don’t like not knowing.

One thing that I’ve come to find about her is that she favors humans above all things. A creature like her, shouldn’t have such reverence for us…them. But she does and seems to think that I can be saved. I’m in no need of saving, though. I am my father’s son, after all.

She has this notion that since my mother was human, I will have some of her traits imbued in me. A residual humanity, if you will. For me, my mother was merely just a vessel for my reproduction and growth. She did not raise me, nor did she love me. Yet, Ava sees something in me that I no longer see in myself and I don’t know why.

I sit back in my chair and my thoughts travel back to the “Murder House” where I was born. The rejection of the people who were supposed to be my family still makes my blood boil. Reliving the damage causes my anger to rise deep in my chest. I try to block out the memories of their faces. They were human and to me, they were the worst kind, and Ava thinks I should emulate them?

They thought I was a monster. Much like how she sees herself. She told me once that she had done unspeakable things long ago and that she wishes she could take it all back. When I asked her about it, she simply shut herself down and refused to answer. I sense whatever it was, was so horrible that she had not yet forgiven herself for it. I don’t know if she ever will.

I see how she looks at me when she thinks I’m not looking. She sees the human that she wishes she could be. She sees the better parts of me. Until her, I thought I had no “better parts”. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been turned away, rejected and used for my gifts. Even now as I sit here, I’m only here at my father’s behest, still being used by him to carry out his plans.

A soft knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. “Michael? May I come in?” her beautiful voice carries through the heavy wooden door. “Of course,” I say. I drop everything for her, the work from The Cooperative, my duties, my own Father comes second place to her.

It’s amazing that a Vampire, a supernatural being, can teach me so much about the human existence. I believe that she is more mortal than I could ever be. She is so much more than a creature of the night. I would give my whole life for her.

“My love, I wish to speak with you about something,” she says walking towards me. “I thought, perhaps, you could take a moment from your work, to…chat.” I turn in my chair to face her as she comes around the desk and stands directly in front of me. Slipping her knee in between my thighs, she separates them roughly and leans forward, breasts brushing against my face. “Today was unfortunate, but in the end, I know it was necessary.”

Her lips glide down the side of my neck. Tangling her hand in my hair, she says, “You are the leader here. Our King,” Jerking my head back, she licks my earlobe, “You are my King, yes?” her voice low and breathy against the shell of my ear. I reach out and smack her ass and she jumps up from the shock of it. I flash her a sly grin and smack her again, “Yes, I am your King, and that makes you my Queen.”

She nods her head, “and as your Queen, I’m meant to serve you, yes?” I turn my head to meet my lips with hers, “Yes.”

“Well, what would you have me do, my King?” her hand trails down my chest to my growing bulge. Palming it, she repeats herself, “My King, what would you have me do?” My eyes roll back into my head as I lean back into my chair. She starts working me through my pants and renders me utterly speechless.

“Would you want me to...” I feel the zipper slide down and then feel her cold hand free my cock from its confines. “Ah, no underwear, I see you remembered,” she grinned.

I push my hips up so she can slide my pants down, my cock already throbbing once the chill of the air hits washes over it. She eyes it hungrily, her mouth watering for me. Before she can say another word, I grab my dick and shove it in between her parted lips. Gripping the back of her head, by her silky black hair, I push her face down onto my pulsating member. It hits the back of her throat with such force, she gags immediately. The sloshing sounds of her wet mouth sucking me off, send goosebumps up and down my body.

She rakes her sharp nails down my thighs, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Bobbing her head up and down on my cock, she eyes the dripping blood voraciously. She lowers her head yet again, filling her mouth completely, up to the hilt. I gasp as she deepthroats, “Fuuuuck, Ava. You see what you do to me?” She releases the suction of her mouth with an obscene pop and a long thin rivulet of spit connects her bottom lip to my dick.

She uses this saliva to pump my shaft up and down, eyes locked onto the blood streaming from my thighs. She looks up at me pleading, her green eyes blazing with lust and hunger. “Yes, Ava, go on. I know you want it.”

She laps it up, her lips ruined from sucking me off and smeared with my red fluid. “You taste so sweet, mon roi. I can never get enough.” Her mouth locking onto my thigh, drawing in my essence, her skin becomes heated from the influx of my blood.

The feeling of her hand jerking me off and her lips sucking the blood from my thigh, is like no other feeling in the world. It is what I could only imagine Heaven would be like. Heaven. My mind trails off, and a voice screams in the back of my head, “Stop her before she drains you dry. Stop her, you must.”

I grab the back of her head and yank her off my thigh. Her eyes ravenous, blood dripping from her bruised lips, “What is it, mon amour, did I hurt you?” Breathless, I shake my head slowly, my head spinning and my mind becoming fuzzy, “No, I’m…I’m fine. Please don’t stop.”

Eyes locked onto mine, her mouth replaces her hand, and she licks a straight line up my shaft. My dick is covered in saliva and blood and I feel the burn in my abdomen, I won’t last long. “Ava, I’m going to cum, please, please don’t stop.”

She smiles, and her fangs are dripping with my blood, it is a vision I will keep locked away in my memories. “I love it when you say please, Michael.” She takes me deeper into her mouth, pumping me up and down, my head slams back onto the headrest of my chair. “Fuuuckk,” I scream. My body convulses as I release into her wet mouth. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand, filthy from a mixture of both my blood and my cum. It’s a terrifyingly erotic sight.

She lifts herself up from between my legs and smooths down her velvet jacket. “Come, come with me to our place. There is something I have to tell you.” Still lost in a haze, I groggily hoist myself up and zip my pants. Not caring that my essence has stained the inside of my thighs.

“Why can’t we talk here? No one will bother us.” I point out. She shakes her head, “What I must tell you is very important and,” she pauses, “very difficult for me to share.” There is something behind her eyes, something that looks like shame.

One would think that I would be able to read her mind and mine her for information, but she is such a powerful being that her mind is closed off to me. She is capable of cloaking her thoughts. My father told me once that there are no creatures like her anymore, she is one of a kind. When he spoke of her, it almost seemed like he was enchanted by her. It made me jealous, in a way, but also proud, that this woman was mine and that she loved only me.

I followed behind her down the corridor and a terrible thought struck me. What if all of this is a ruse? That voice of doubt, in the back of my head, had been screaming at me since I first laid eyes on her, warning me to stay away. Human nature I could understand but something like her I wasn’t completely prepared for.

She sat on the couch with a serious look on her face. “Ava, what’s wrong?” She beckoned for me to sit down beside her and when I did, she took my hands in hers. The chill from her touch contrasting with the heat roaring from the fireplace. “There are some things that I have kept from you, Mon amour. If we are to be bound for all eternity, I must be completely honest with you. About everything.”

We had talked a long time ago about bonding ourselves to one another. A kind of Unholy Wedding. It would bind us together until the end of time. She explained to me then that it was too soon for us to talk of such fairytales, but maybe something had changed her mind.

I implore her to continue. “Michael, I need to tell you something but I’m afraid of how you will take it. I’m afraid of what you will do.”

I scoff at her, “Ava, I could never hurt you.” She smiles a sad smile, “Oh I know that, “I’m more afraid of your reaction. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Even being the Antichrist, your humanity rules your every emotion.” I roll my eyes growing more and more frustrated by the second. “Don’t drag this out, Ava. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it that you don’t love me? You don’t want me anymore?”

She reaches out and touches my face, “You are my only love. The one I want to spend the rest of my life with. But you need to know the ugly truth about me first.”

“After this, you might change your mind about me altogether,” she whispers. She pulls away from me and for the first time since I’ve known her, she looks unsure, almost fragile. She takes a deep breath and then begins.

“It all started when my father paid yours a visit and offered him a deal. A deal to keep you safe until you reached The Sanctuary.” I stared at her in confusion, wanting to interrupt her with questions, but she kept going. “My father promised that I would secure your future behind the scenes. Wipe out your enemies, anyone standing in your way. I would ensure that your plans were completed and carried out by those loyal to you.”

I held up my hand, “So you mean, my own Father didn’t trust that I could do it on my own?” She shook her hand, “Apparently he felt you weren’t strong enough.”

I stand up and begin to pace back and forth, “How long have you known this?” Staring into her hands, her voice trembles, For a very long time. We all knew you were coming, and I was given strict instructions to be ready.”

Anger running hot through my body, I yell, “What the fuck does your father get from making you my guardian?” She bites her lower lip, “What you have to understand is that my father has been the Devil’s favorite creature since he was born into this world. Being the direct descendant of the first of us all, Judas Iscariot seemed like a trophy to Him. If my father were to ask Him for anything, it would be given, without question. In this case, he asked for a daughter. A daughter he would later use as a bargaining chip.”

Still pacing back and forth I ask her for more clarity. She stands and walks over to the bar and pours herself a drink. The thick viscous red substance flows into the crystal glass like a waterfall. Taking a sip, she continues, “Vampyres are not supposed to be able to have children. As a matter of fact, the last pure blood birth was my mother, over 200 years ago. Our kind are cursed, you know. But because the He loved my father so much, He promised him a daughter of his own flesh and blood, with some attributes of the Devil himself.”

“What?” I say, incredulously, “My ability to walk in the daylight and transmute, those come from your father, Michael.”

I feel so angry and lost. All my life I was led to believe that I and I alone would bring about the end of days. Now I find out that, in fact, my father had a backup plan, just in case I was too weak to carry it out. “So, our union, our relationship was all built on a lie, it was built by design?”

“No. I had always known you to be beautiful and cunning but when I met you face-to-face, I knew that you were more. Underneath your ruthlessness, you were capable of compassion and love. You weren’t at all what I was led to believe.”

She walks over to me and takes my hand, her green eyes boring into mine, I try to break away from her, but I can’t, “Michael, I fell in love with you, not for who I thought you were or who you could be but what for who you are.”

She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me. Slow at first and then hungrily. I push her away, my emotions erratic and fraught. “How can I believe anything you’ve said?” I turn my face away from her, not wanting to see the suffering in her eyes. “Have I ever lied to you before?” she asks.

I walk to the front door, contemplating leaving her there. I’m so angry but I’m not sure who to be angrier at. Myself for being a fool? Her for being a pawn? Or my Father for using me, yet again. I choose to be angry at her, and I know it’s not fair, but I know my Father. He’s never tried to be any different than what he is. There is no love there, only a cold calculation on his part. But her, I believed her to be the better part of me. The human part, if that makes any sense. She held all of this back from me, for what purpose, to keep me in the dark? To make a fool of me?

“I understand your rage, Michael, but there is more I need to say to you. I have to leave now, only for a little bit, but I’ll be back. I just have one more task to complete.” I roll my eyes again, seething with fury, I spit out, “Fine, go. Cordelia said you always leave whenever things get too bad.”

“I don’t deserve that, Michael. You don’t have to be cruel.” Her hands reach out to touch me again, but I flinch, “Oh, but I do have to be cruel, Ava. I’m the fucking Antichrist. I’ve spent too long trying to be something that I’m not. But I’m every bit of a monster people think I am. Every bit of the monster you are.”

She exhales an exasperated breath, and tears fill her eyes, “Is that what you think you are? Is that what you think I am?” I stand there and watch she wipes away her tears. I open my mouth to respond, but she raises her hand to stop me. “I’ve written you a letter, explaining why I’ve chosen to leave and what I am going to do. Everything I have done, has been for you. It’s always been for you.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone, left without a trace.

I scream out of anguish and outrage, “How could she have done this to me? Why has she done this?” Spit flying out of my mouth, my hair whipping wild over my head. The room swirls in a tornado of books and furniture. Pieces of sculptures careened off of the floor and paintings have torn off the walls. All I can hear is her voice telling me she loves me, and that she would die for me. She would die for me.

She…would…die…for…me

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Wait, where did she say she was going? I rush to the bedroom and rip open the drawer to her dressing table. Located neatly next to her silver hairbrush is an envelope with my name on. My stomach drops and fear takes over. I lift it up gently as though it were some precious thing and I smell the faint familiar scent of roses, her scent. I open the letter cautiously and carefully not wanting to disturb her precise creases.

My Dearest Michael,

I’m writing to you, to tell you that I have one last duty to perform. My father bargained away my life, so that I may in turn save his. The deal between our fathers was made to keep you in power until your reign began at The Sanctuary. But Etienne, had other plans. He explained to me that once you were safe behind Sanctuary walls, I was to drain you dry, stripping you of your powers, your life, and your soul.

With your vitality flowing through my veins, I would be able to venture into Hell and bring him back. He would rule The Sanctuary in your stead. I can only assume that action would seal my own fate. I would be nothing more to him than discarded trash. Used and thrown away, like many before me, I know that he would eventually take my power and kill me.

But as always, I too have a strategy. Years before the Apocalypse, I did a terrible thing in preparation for the inevitable. After years of blood-taking from Cordelia, I had Supreme witch blood enhancing my gifts, but if I was to one day fight my own father, I would need more. I went to Paris and found my mother’s ancient family, The Moreau Clan. They were the worst evil of our kind. They killed and raped without impunity, because they were superior in every way. I came to them, wanting help at first, but ultimately, things ended badly. They believed in fulfilling their bloodlust to any end. Women and children were favorite targets for them. Me, having held humans in high regard my whole life, I tried to seek out some type of peace with them. But there was none, they were devoid of all humanity.

One night, coming back from a particularly vicious hunt, sated from innocent blood, I took them down, one by one, until there was no one left. I burned the entire coven to the ground afterwards. My eyes blackened with the power of their blood, I merely blinked my eyes, and they were gone. I live with the guilt of their deaths every day. I should not have gone to such extremes. I went there knowing how it end, which makes me no better than them. I am no better than my father.

I then came to find you. I was the reason Anton LaVey sought you out at the Murder House. I was there when you took your first Black Mass. I have been there through it all. Horrified at how you had been treated the entirety of your life, I vowed to stay beside you no matter what the cost. I’ve protected you from every danger and every enemy. I protect you still. First out of duty, but now…out of love.

What I must do now, I do for our freedom and our future. I’m going into Hell to find my father. I will end him once and for all. If I do not come back, please know that I will always love and believe in you.

Yours Forever,

Ava

My heart broken into two, I’m beside myself with grief. Disheveled and crushed, I have tried to contact my Father for 3 days since, but he won’t answer me. Even the gates of Hell are locked to me. I have no way in and I fear my Ava is lost. What have I done? What can I do?

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Ava

The Gates of Hell are not at all like Rodin sculpture, with Dante sitting in the tympana gazing into Hell. His depiction of the first ring of the Inferno, thrown into chaos at the entrance of the doorway is completely different than what’s before me now. Upon entry into this place, I’m struck by the vast ocean of black water flowing all around me. I see sea creatures breaking through the waves off into the distance. The sky is dark and foul smelling and decrepit bodies are casting themselves at my feet on the shore, trying to pull me with them. The beach is black as coal, littered with decaying body parts of the dead and other creatures.

As I walk further along, I see a small entrance guarded by an old man. He is gray and hunched over, his face covered in a long grayish beard. “Coin for the boatman?” he sticks out his knobby hand towards me. I shake my head, “I have none. I have no need,” displaying my empty hands.

“Then your soul shall not pass.” His voice croaks out. I laugh at his cold indignation, “I have no soul, dear Charon.” He peers up at me, and his grayish blue eyes look me up and down, suspiciously. He shudders and beckons me to his small boat, “Do you wish to see The Master?” I shake my head, “He already knows I’m here. No, take me to Etienne Deschamps, instead. Take me to my father.”

I disembark at a house that looks just like my home in California. I push open the door and am transported down a long winding hallway. As I walk further into it, I notice that I’m being followed by a blinding white light. I glance over my shoulder at it, and it burns my eyes. I turn back and continue my path down the corridor. I can hear screams of pain from behind the doors on either side of me. People crying out for mercy. Guttural howls of monsters chasing their prey echo off of the paneled walls. I will be glad to be rid of this place.

When I come to my father’s resting place, in the catacombs beneath my house, I’m suddenly hesitant to go on. His voice carries through the dark chamber, “Ma fille, to do what I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He appears in front of me and he is just how I remember him. Decked out in his finest 18th century French couture, he looked like something out of an Anne Rice novel, his beauty rivaling that of Lestat himself.

I walk in slowly, wondering to myself, could my father really capable of killing me? Am I capable of killing him? Against the wall, on a small loveseat, I see a someone draped over it, and my eyes flash to his. He wipes the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, “I was hungry, my sweet, and this little one here was just what I needed.” Upon further inspection of the person, I see that it was the body of a teenaged girl. She’d been beaten and drained of all of her blood. Her eyes frozen wide in shock, I walk over to her and close them, saying the silent prayer that my nounou (nanny), Miriam used to say over me at night.

“Since when did you become so religious? Did you forget that we are soulless devils, and are in no need of spirituality?” he scoffs. “Mon père, just because we consume them, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t respect them,” I reply.

His lip curls in disgust, “You’ve spent too much time in the presence of them. But nevertheless, I’m glad you’ve come. We have much to discuss. Namely the demise of l'Antéchrist.”

Still staring at the young girl’s body, I feel my anger building, “Where is ma mère? I haven’t spoken to her in ages.” I make my way to the other canapé and take a seat. He tucks his handkerchief back into his waistcoat and pulls out his pocket watch, eyeing the time he sighs, “Ma petit, we have no time for this and your silly questions.” He narrows his eyes then it dawns on him why I’ve come. A sinister grin spreads across his wicked face. “Did you really think that you could walk into Hell with your new bag of tricks to do harm to me?” I rise from my seat and begin to back away, “What do you mean? I have no bag of tricks.”

He takes a step closer to me, “You should ask your dear maman, what happens when you cross me.” Shaking my head I ask, “What did you do to her? What did you to my mother?” I cry. He takes another step closer, his fangs growing in the process, “Oh she didn’t like my plan. The one where you kill Michael and then I kill you. My child, your grand purpose all along was to bring me back. Your mother simply didn’t see things the way I did.”

“But…but you sacrificed yourselves for me.” I cry out. He cracks his neck and takes a deep breath, “No, sweet girl, she was already dying. You had been draining her powers since your inception. She was fading and I had no real intention of saving her. I did need her blood, though. You know as well as I do, that her clan WAS the most powerful in the world.”

“What do you mean? How could I know?” I ask, knowing full well what I had done. He stares me down with his bright green eyes, “The whole underworld felt the shake and rumble of the deaths of that coven. You wiped them out all at once. Your own kind. Your own kin.” He smiled with what looked like pride. “That takes a special kind of evil to massacre your own family, don’t you think? Stupid girl, I knew exactly what you were up to. Your hopes to stop me, has since caused you all of this guilt and despair.” He says mockingly, “You should know by now, that there’s no defeating me. Now be a good girl and go back up and do as you’re told. Drain that boy dry. It’s time for me to take my rightful place.”

“Don’t be absurd,” I spit, “I could never kill Michael. As for the Moreau’s, they were kidnapping and murdering children, should I have let them continue doing so?” He shrugs, “What do you care? That was their nature. Do you think you can change the nature of a lion, because you don’t want it to feed on gazelles?”

“No, père, but lions are not like us. We are capable of thinking and feeling empathy. We do not have to give in to our basic instincts. Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.” His reaches out to me and grabs my arms, his long nails piercing into the backs of them, “You sound like a child. This sentiment you have for humans is sickening. I thought once I had your servant girl killed, you would rid your fascination of them.”

“What?” I ask, “What servant girl?” He let go of me and turns his back, “The one you grew up with. The girl you tried to save in that dark alley all those years ago.” I shake the cobwebs out of my head, trying to understand, “Evangeline? You had something to do with her death?”

“Ha,” he chuckles, “Something to do with it? I caused it. I led her to that alley that night, leading her to believe that you were there to meet her. I really thought once she was dead, you’d end this obsession.”

My body goes numb and my blood turns to ice. I place my hand on the wall to get my bearings, “How could you? I…I loved her. She was my best friend.”

He shrugs again, “Best friend? We are predators, we have no best friends.” He whips around lightning fast and grabs me by my neck. He begins to squeeze and hatred flashes before his eyes, his nails digging into the side of my throat, “My daughter, so feckless and weak.” He slaps me with his other hand and laughs when he sees my blood gushing out of my mouth, “I should just kill you know and save myself the trouble. I deserve to sit on that throne. Not you or that tortured little boy.”

In an instant, his fangs pierce my neck and I feel the sharp pain of it surge through my body, paralyzing me with his venom. He laughs against my throat, squeezing it until I’m gasping for air.

I summon all of my strength and break free from his hold. I send him flying backwards against the opposite wall. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You stupid little bitch, you really think you can stop me?” He flies towards me and turns his fingers into claws. Swiping at me, his eyes are filled with hate and he curses at me, “You’re pathetic like that girl. Weak like your mother. Oh, you should have seen Gabrielle’s face when I drained her of her blood. Her sad little eyes, begging for me to stop,” he cackles as we circle each other. “Your mother loved me so much, Ava. But I felt nothing for her. She was a means to an end, ma petite, just like you.”

He lunges for me and throws me to the ground, the back of my head hitting the concrete with a loud smack. Standing over me, his eyes are wild, and when he snaps his fingers, a fire begins to blaze all around us. He grabs my hair and starts to drag my limp body across the floor, laughing all the while. “You don’t deserve an easy death, little one. You deserve to be taught a lesson, just like your mother.”

“But what is that you deserve, father?” I close my eyes and remember Cordelia’s lesson on Concillium. I take a deep breath and close my mind. I lift my left hand and utter the phrases she taught me. He drops his hand from my hair and begins to groan, pain shooting through his skull. I’m flooding his mind with the memories of all the people that have died by his hand. Every face of horror and fear, every cry of mercy. His face contorts from it, screaming at me to stop.

I see his knife that he always keeps on his waist. As a source of pride, he once told me that it was the very blade that pierced Jesus’ side when he died on the cross. I twist my fingers, and it appears in my hand. I bring it to his throat and hiss when he tries to grab for me. Clutching his head, he screams, “You stupid cunt, where did you learn this magic?”

“From a friend,” I growl before kissing his cheek and watch as it burns into his flesh. “I have been loyal to you my entire life,” I say as I slash at his throat, “I have done everything you have ever asked of me,” another slash, “I have listened and believed your lies over and over and this is how you repay me? You kill my best friend and my mother?” He drops to the ground, writhing from the pain, blood gushing out his neck, “You forget that the Devil has also blessed me gifts. Well, this is my gift for him. The death of a traitor.” I slice his throat one final time and the blade glides through the sinews of his neck so easily, effectively separating his head from his body.

The smell of the room burning breaks my concentration. The heat is searing, and the walls are peeling from its intensity. A voice low and gravelly begins to speak to me in a language that has been dead for centuries. HE is talking to me. I hear his words in my mind, so deep and concise, I feel that I am dreaming. He asks me what I want most in the world and I don’t even have to think about my answer. I tell him at once and he seems pleased.

I feel the fire getting closer to me, crawling towards my feet, but somehow, I do not feel afraid. His voice is lacing in between my thoughts, slithering through my every memory. He saw visions of Michael and me, alone in our private quarters debating the works of Byron. He saw me kill Mallory back at the Outpost, in what seems like ages gone by. He came to rest at the memory of the Moreau Clan Massacre. He understood why I did it and saw that I had my choice long ago.

My skin started to boil from the fire, yet I did not scream or cry out. If I was to die now, I would do so knowing that Michael would be saved. He would be free. I closed my eyes and readied myself for the end. The ceiling crashed around me and the room filled with noxious smoke. Then everything went dark.

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Michael

When she came back to me, I knew that the worst was over. She was tired and scarred from her trauma but I knew that she would be ok. She explained everything to me that happened, in great detail. How she fought against her father and took his life. She told me how mine spoke to her and told her about things that were to come, gave her a secret yet to be revealed.

She laid in my arms that night, different. Power surging through her cold body, shaking badly from the nightmares. I wrapped her up in my arms and coaxed her back to sleep. I could sense a change was happening inside of her. A feeling that would never go away. She was turning into something, unlike any other creature I had ever known. And she was mine.

We made our vows in the unholy chapel inside of the conservatory a few months later. Vows that would bind us for all eternity. That night after we made love, she allowed me to take her blood for the first time. She pierced her thigh and guided me down to drink from her. The sweetness and heat of it trickled down my throat and I felt renewed. My sight was sharper, my hearing improved, she had enhanced all of my abilities. Her blood was like drinking liquid magic. Because of her, I would never age, and would never die. Because of her, we would be together for all time.

We’ve spoken many times about that night, she keeps reliving it over and over again. I wish there was a way I could have helped in, I wish there is a way that I can help her now. But watching her grow stronger over time, gives me a sense of peace, knowing that she will be alright.

The waking up in the middle of the night because of her night terrors are now replaced with the small cries of our baby girl, Gabrielle Evangeline. Ava’s pregnancy came as a shock to us both, seeing as how she’s not supposed to be able to have children. But the joy that came with seeing her swell, knowing that my child was growing inside her, softened my heart. I would never treat her the way I was treated. I would give her every bit of love and respect I carried in my heart. She would never know rejection. She would never be unloved. She would always have me. After everything we both had gone through, I still felt like things were too good to be true.

As I watch over Gabby now, I’m proud of how strong and smart she is becoming. A cross between both Ava and me, she is the best of us. I can only hope it stays that way.

Still, I remember Ava telling me that my father granted hers a request for a daughter, one who was supremely powerful. I wonder if Ava requested of Him the same thing, though I dare not ask her. The Devil does not give gifts out of the kindness of his heart. He is not a generous being. Everything that he does comes at a price.

For now, I’ll watch over my two girls, whom I am obsessively in love with, and keep them safe from all dangers, dangers like my Father. What could possibly stand in our way? Who could possibly stop us?

Part One Part Two

Taglist:

@lovelykhaleesiii @godofmischief-fics @langdonsoceaneyes @katiekitty261@xtheinevitableprophecyx-deactiv @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonsrapture@langdonsinferno @confettucini @queenie435 @kinlovecody @ghostiesbedroom@floweryshell @itschelseag @flowersirenreads @maso-xchrist @thelangdoncooperative@icylangdon @americanhorrorstudies @theonlymagicleftisart @trashisawayoflife @mytrash-mylife @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @michaellangdom@hisgirlwonder @winxfred @langdons-rep @langdonsdemon @sassylangdon @napping-is-my-favorite @stupidocupido @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @7-wonders @elangdon4@michaellangdong @fanfictionrecommendations-com@disappointing-cheesecake @whoviancumberbunny @thedeviltohisangel @jimmlangdon @lvngdvns @lxngdonscoven @dvngers @marvelgal666 @lovemesomeworlddomination @readsalot73 @heda-mikaelson @cvrrigvn @ritualmichael @codyfernss @kaigitana @idjit-angel-radio @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @avesatanaslangdon @langdonscody @myfavouritelunatic @abitofmadnessisthekey @loverscult @mads-maddie-madison @tobeundone @yourkingcodyfern @sensitivethot @drama-penguins @1-800-bitchcraft @codylangdon666 @babydollcake @rocketgirl2410 @golddustlangdon @ms-mead @langdonscherry @langdvn @langdonpilots @cody-fern @theghostoflangdon @langdonwitch @langdon-supreme @mega-combusken @the–queen-of-hell @master-langdon @theharvestgirloffire @fernshorrorstory @et-tu-bitch @anti-chrxsts @hellxblade @laying-with-the-devil @michaelcngdon @micheallangdons @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @hplotrfan @ladynuwanda @her-starry-eyes @lathraios @missantichrist @bbyduncan

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x y/n #michael langdon smut #smut #american horror story #AHS #ahs8 #ahs apocalypse #fan fiction #fan fic writing #michael langdon fan fic

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ahsgotham · 6 years ago

Text

The Night - Michael Langdon Story P4

ok so yea, um yea this chapter is um yea

Summary- The reader and Michael spend some QUALITY time together and there is a twist at the end.

Warnings - PRE-devils tango (pre-smut), swearing, choking

I lay in my bed, drapped in my covers and blanket. I try to fall asleep, closing my eyes shut and as tight as I can. But I couldn't fall into a slumber. This is what would usually happen, I wouldn't be able to fall asleep but I would eventually be able to. But now, I've been trying for hours and it was almost 3am. I tossed and turned. I even tried taking the blankets off, putting more on, and adjusting the pillows. But nothing helped.

You saw out of the corner of your eye Michael peaking into your room.

"Michael?" You sleepily say, sitting up in your bed.

"Oh, I am sorry to wake you." He apologizes, stepping into your room.

"No, it's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway." You pull your night dress over your knees. Michael looks you up and down, scanning you. Michael came and sat beside you. You moved over on the bed to give him more space.

“I know it is very early. I apologize for disturbing you.” He says.

“No, really, Michael. It’s fine.” You laugh softly.

“Alright.” He replies.

You sit in silence for a minute until he collides his lips into yours.

It takes you by surprise, but you do not pull away. You passionately kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulls you onto his lap and rests you there.

He reaches for the back of your dress and pulls on the zipper. You grab his hand.

“Michael, the ru---” Before you could finish, he stops you.

“F*ck the rules, Y/N.” He growls in your ear as he pulls your dress off. You go back to kissing him roughly as you take off his jacket.

He grunts as you pull at his hair. He pulls away and grasps your face. Your eyes widen as you look him straight in the eyes. His hands travel down to your throat as he starts to lightly choke you. You let out a soft whine, throwing your head back once again. He pushes down on your throat tighter, causing you to gasp. You grip onto his hair tighter. He lets go and starts kissing your neck, occasionally sucking on it, making sure it will leave hickeys.

He takes off your corset, only leaving you in your bra and your panties.

“If you’re going to take my clothes off, I get to take yours off too. It’s only fair.” You smirk, grabbing onto the collar of his button up shirt.

You start to unbutton his shirt and rip it open. You drop it on the floor and begin to unbuckle his belt. You unzip his pants and take them off, leaving you AND him in your underwear.

You lay him down and crawl on top of him and kiss his collar bone. He grabs your waist forcefully and flips you over, him now being on top and dominating you. He sucks on your neck until he finds your sweet spot, and keeps working on it, you occasionally letting out quiet crys.

And then it happened.

---

You wake up to yourself laying beside Michael, whom is fast asleep. You contemplate everything that happened last night. You replay every second in your head, reliving the pleasure of it all. Michael is rough, but he always makes sure that he doesn’t hurt you. If he does, he apologizes. He has an intimidating facade, but he is a caring person. You enjoyed seeing his rough side, but it was good to know that he had a soft spot deep down.

You got up and slipped off yesterdays underwear, and put on new ones. You get on a dress and some flats. You brush out your hair and head downstairs.

It seems that almost everybody was still half asleep, where as you were fully awake. Emily’s head was resting on Timothy’s chest. Mr. Gallant had just dozed off. Andre was holding his heavy head with his hands.

“Good morning, everyone.” You said, plopping down beside Mr. Gallant and waking him up.

“Jesus, Y/N. You scared me." Mr. Gallant utters meakly, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you so bright today?" Emily asks, lifting her head off Timothy's chest.

"No reason." You smile.

Mr. Gallant looks at you and raises his eyebrow.

"Seriously, nothing happened!" You nervously laugh.

"Is that a lie, Y/N?" Mr. Gallant says in a sly tone.

The ends of your lips curl in a smirk as you look at him.

'Did you have sex?' Mr. Gallant mouthes to you. You smile whilst nodding.

Mr. Gallant's jaw drops as he smiles and lets out a very small laugh.

'Who?' He mouthes once again.

'Michael.' You mouth back. Mr. Gallant's smile fades a little bit, but he is still happy for you.

"Y/N." You hear Ms. Venable say as she walks into the room.

"Yes?" You reply, turning to her.

"May I speak with you privately?" She asks.

"Alright." You say, getting up from the couch and following Venable into her room.

"It seems that you have broken the rules, Y/N." She says as Ms. Mead shuts the door.

"They aren't even real. I've tried to obey your bullsh*t rules for the past 18 or 19 months. But they aren't real. Therefore, you can't punish me for it." You respond.

"How would you know, anyway?" You follow up, confused.

"We found Michael asleep in your bed. I think that is enough evidence." Venable replies. You roll your eyes.

"Lying in a bed isn't enough evidence."

"Scattered clothes of both of yours on the floor were found, too." She explains.

"I knew you were a rule breaker. But I thought after last time you would learn your lesson." She paces around the room.

"How can you break a rule that's isn't even real?" Your eyes follow her around the room.

"Ms. Mead." Venable says, stopping on her tracks.

Ms. Mead pulls out a gun and shoots you in the heart. You begin to fall to the floor. You see the door swing open.

"Y/N!" Michael yells, rushing over to you. He picks up your body.

Everything goes black.

------

tags: @red-roses-and-fake-diamonds @majestichoechlin @frozenhuntress67 @richiethotzierz @skullchik89 @zayy2018 @hiyyyaaaaahhhh @barnesediting

part 5 coming soon ;)

#michael langdon #michael langdon fan fiction #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #cody fern #ahs #ahsapocalypse #apocalypse #american horror story #evil #langdon #tate langdon #evan peters #sarah paulson #jessica lange

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 6 years ago

Text

The Start Of My Undoing Michael x Fem Reader

A/N: This is Sojourn era Michael, he and reader are in a serious long term relationship and actually engaged. Reader stated to Michael in the beginning that her morals are she doesn't want to have sex till she is married. Even though Michael is the antichrist he is accepting of it it's part of what he loves about her. Over time Y/N is slowly losing her resolve to stick with her 'morals' determined to give in. Y/N tries hard to thowing off hints to Michael but everytime he seems quick to shut it down which frustrates her even more. One night she finally gets him to admit why "he can't" or "no" that usually ended before in cop out of excuses. This brings about a rather intense conversation between them and moment of ownership about feelings that both Michael & Reader have about her and the overwhelming urge she has to be intimate with him.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, biting, rough sex, losing virginity, dirty talk and some hella fluff at the end.

//darkness

chase the day

no light

the sun is rising

burning

skin to skin

melting

and you can't fight it

slipping

under

the heat

that we keep bringing

messing

with my head

with you

you keep it spinning//

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, for a while now you have attempted to get intimate with Michael. Every attempt was shut down before you could even get anything started, he wouldn't touch you hell he wouldn't even kiss you. It was no secret that when you and Michael started getting more serious in your relationship with one another that you had made it known that you were a virgin and due to your moral beliefs you made it quite clear you didn't feel right having sex before marriage. Surprisingly Michael was very supportive and never pushed you into doing anything you weren't comfortable with.

Further along into your relationship he had proposed to you, you didn't expect it to be honest it caught you by surprise really. You looked down at the 101-carat pear shaped diamond engagement ring that adorned your ring finger you ran your thumb over the inscription engraved on it ‘Us against the world’. It was no secret to you about Michael's past, everyone that had so much a role in his life had either betrayed him or they were ripped away from him such as the case when the coven burned Mrs Mead and 2 of the Warlocks (Ariel Augustus and Baldwin Penny Packer) at the stake. But over time you proved to him that you loved and trusted him (despite that fact that he is quite literally the antichrist). It was a slow process yes and there were times you had to continually reassure him that you do love him and had no intentions of going anywhere but given that he did learn to trust that and ended up trusting you heart and soul.

Michael showed you a side of him no one else ever saw, he was gentle when he wrapped his arms around you you felt safe, you felt loved. Something about his touch, the simple act of an embrace set off feelings in you that you had never felt before. When you took in the scent of his cologne (1 Million by Paco Rabanne) it was like his embrace, the cologne it awakened something in you it felt like every nerve in your body was lit up like a live wire. Thoughts flooded your mind you wondered what it would feel like to have his body flush against yours naked, what it would feel like to have him inside of you. You actually began to question the original statement you made to Michael about waiting till you were married to have sex. You wanted so much to feel and experience him in a way you hadn't at least not yet but you had that fear that crept up in your mind what if you gave in? Would he dump you afterwards? You know you shouldn't question it was ridiculous to and yet here you were with that doubt in your mind. You actually found yourself losing your resolve slowly but surely that wall was coming down. You began to throw off hints small at first in an attempt to let Michael know what you wanted hoping he would read between the lines understanding the point you were trying to express. Michael being Michael indeed pick up what your thoughts are if you lie he would know, if you tried to so much as trick him he would know but you tend to have forgotten he could read your mind read your very thoughts.

Michael was next to you on the bed the tv was going some rom com playing off Netflix in the background. You began gently running your fingers down Michael's bare arm that rested beside of you. His look was stoic he didn't so much as blink, he did however pull his arm away “Y/N, please don't.” You looked at him a pang of disappointment rising in you. “Michael what's wrong?” You managed out more calmly than you felt. “It's just been a long day, so many meetings, phone calls ect with the cooperative I am tired is all.” Any and every attempt afterwards was shut down Michael giving some kind of an excuse or another.

You couldn't bear it anymore the emotions continued to tear through you it was overwhelming. You wanted nothing more than to feel Michael's touch, to feel his hands all over your body. It seemed as if subtle hints weren't enough, one night you and Michael had to go to a function that the cooperative was holding some kind of charity dinner. You found a dress a few days before from one of the local high end stores, granted it showed off more skin than what you were used to but you were determined to pull out all the stops. You emerged from the bedroom you both shared as you fastened the final earring to your ear. Michael was waiting in the living room his back was facing you not noticing you right away. He turned around to place the empty glass on the table from the shot of whiskey he had downed. His breath caught in his throat at the site of you, 'fuck she looks absolutely breathtaking’ he thought, he wanted so much to take you then and there but he couldn't. 'You know you can't’ he reminded himself 'she told you at the very beginning her morals and that she wants to wait till marriage for sex’. He did feel like there had been a change of mind with her, he could feel it but he didn't want to be responsible if for some reason she might regret going against her morals. It was her morals that was one of his reasons for falling in love with her and he didn't want to ruin that part of her. “You ready love?” He managed to ask. You nodded, “Let's go.” Michael took in a deep breath it was going to be a long night he could sense it right now all he wanted to do was get this over with and come back home.

The night seemed to drag on, endless conversations and interactions with so many people were honestly just too much. It was about midnight when the both of you walked into the door, Michael tossed the keys down on the table in the foyer. Y/N had gone in a bit before him he had stayed behind in the car to handle a phone call with Mutt and Jeff at Kineros something to do with the final stages of Mrs. Mead 2.0. You were in the bedroom taking off your jewelry when Michael walked in, “can you unzip me please?” You asked, hoping like hell that maybe for once Michael could accept the point you had been endlessly trying to get across. The noise of the zipper being pulled down pierced the momentary silence.

Your bare back was exposed to Michael, your hair was pulled to one side across your shoulder so it wouldn't get caught in the zipper. He caught the scent of your perfume overwhelming his senses 'fuck she looks so gorgeous’. You turned to face him, you slinked your arms around his waist standing on your tippy toes to kiss him. You brushed your lips to his, his body was pulled flush to yours you wanted so badly to feel him inside of you both of your bodies naked to finally give yourself to him you wanted it so bad you could taste it. You nuzzled your nose against the spot between his earlobe and his neck he tensed up “Michael touch me please!” you whispered breathlessly. Your resolve was now crumbled completely, “I can't Y/N…” Michael stopped, it was getting harder and harder to not let the sexual desire and lust he had for you completely take over. “You keep saying no, all I get is excuses and you can't tell me it's not because I am not stupid Michael I know an excuse when I hear one” you were hurt anger beginning to surface it's way up in you. Michael pulled your arms off from around his waist attempting to walk towards the bed. You grabbed his arm stopping him “why won't you touch me Michael please fucking explain it to me, it's like your afraid to touch me!”

He turned to face you tears were now sliding their way from your eyes and down your cheeks. “You think that's really it? That I don't want to touch you?” Michael shook his head “actually you have no idea how badly I want to, but I know for a fact that if I did what would happen, where it would lead because honestly I can't promise I could stop in fact I know there is no way in hell I could.” You felt your heartbeat race hearing those words, Michael had finally admitted to her how he truly felt and in reality he wanted to experience intimacy with you as badly as you wanted to with him. “Maybe I don't want you to stop” you stated after a moments silence, “you told me a while ago that you couldn't till marriage and I have respected that, that is one of the reasons why I have never pushed the subject I don't want you to end up regretting it if you did.” You took in a deep breath it floored you really that he felt that open and vulnerable to admit that to you. “I know what I had said to you originally but over time I began to second guess it, to doubt it” you nervously fiddled with the delicate gold chain hanging around your neck, Michael could sense that doubt in you that as badly as you wanted this you felt like he might dodge you after thinking that like some men out there he would only want sex and once he got that he would dump you afterwards. “You know Y/N I want you to know that I wouldn't do that, I know in the back of your mind you have doubts that you think I would dump you afterwards, I love you Y/N.. I love you with every fiber of my being and it's not just about physical attraction or sex. I am not going anywhere, remember it's us against the world.” You looked up at Michael locking eyes with him knowing full well the inscription on your engagement ring was true and that he meant every word of it. You pulled Michael in close to you your lips ghosting his lightly at first, any sense of doubt melting away. The kisses getting deeper and intense as you explored each others mouths.

Michael slipped the dress the rest of the way off your body leading you to the bed between hot passionate kisses. “Are you sure you want this? That your ready?” He questioned looking at you giving you the final last chance to back out if you needed to. Placing your hands on either side of his face looking him deep in the eyes and reassure him “Yes Michael I want this, make love to me.”

Michael took Y/N’s hand, placing it against the stiff bulge behind his fly, and pressed his hips forward suggestively.

Unable to wait any longer, Y/N unzipped his pants and dropped to her knees. She took his hands and placed them on either side of her head. “Show me what you want.”

“There’s nothing you can do that I won’t love.”

Gripping the thick base in her hand, she didn’t allow herself time to think, just followed her instincts. She tasted every inch of him with her tongue, lips, and teeth, listening to his increased breathing or growls to judge what he liked. His fists wrapped themselves in her hair, indicating when to speed up or slow down. She couldn’t get enough of his taste, the sounds of pleasure he made. When Michael tried to pull her away, Y/N didn’t want to stop and told him so.

“Trust me, I don’t want you to stop either, baby. But I need to feel you come.” He gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, kissing and licking at her mouth until her body undulated against his once more. “Dammit, I swore whenI had you, I would go slowly.”

She tore her mouth away, panting. “No. I don’t want you to hold back. Take me however you want me.”

Before she could finish voicing her appeal, Michael spun her around until she faced away from him. She flattened her hands on the high bed to balance herself as he crouched down low behind her and peeled her panties from her legs. Absently, she registered the rip of a condom wrapper and the faint sound of Michael rolling it onto his erection.

After he’d finished seeing to their protection, Y/N’s short puffs of breath were the only sound to be heard in the room, until Michael finally spoke.

“You really want this don't you Y/N?” He made a guttural noise of approval. She couldn’t really tell without seeing his face. “If I didn’t think the sound of my palm against your ass would draw attention, I would show you how much the idea of fucking you pleases me.” Y/N’s sharp inhalations accelerated even more, her chest heaving. “I’ll have to show you a different way, I suppose.”

Then he bit her. His teeth sank into the flesh of her ass, stopping just before they broke the skin. She didn’t dare cry out, instead trapping the scream inside her throat. Before Y/N could truly register what he’d done, she heard his pants hit the floor, belt still attached. One arm snaked around her waist and held her steady as he thrust home inside her.

She couldn’t prevent the hiss of pleasure from escaping through her teeth. The feeling astounded her. No pain, only fullness and the immediate urge to move.

Michael’s chest pressed against her back, his hips tilting upward into hers so high and deep, the position forced Y/N onto her tiptoes. Then he pulled out, almost leaving her completely, before thrusting deep once more. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, positive she drew blood.

“Do you feel that, baby? That’s your man moving inside you.”

Bracing herself on her elbows, she ground back against him, circling her hips and begging him to keep moving, but he seemed determined to set the pace.

“Please, Michael.”

He thrust hard and quick exactly five times, just enough for her to get used to the rhythm before slowing once more. “Who’s fucking you, Y/N?”

She knew what he wanted to hear. Throwing her head back, she reveled in every word. “My man. My man is fucking me.”

With a stifled growl, he yanked her back against him and pumped his hips up and into her wildly. Y/N held on to the bed, absorbing each thrust that carried her closer to release.

“Fuck, baby. I’ll never get used to how tight you are.”

Michaels hand slid over her hip and found her clitoris, applying pressure and friction with his middle finger until Y/N’s body shuddered and shook with the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. A minute later, Michael followed, groaning his release into the side of her neck.

When their breathing returned to normal, he kissed her shoulder and pulled out of her slowly. Then he turned her in his arms so he could hold her.

“I can’t seem to control myself long enough to show you we’re not just about sex.” She felt him shake his head. “Even so, Y/N, I’m not going to apologize for what just happened. When we touch each other, it’s honest and real. I actually do crave it.”

“I know that now.” Sucking in a shaky breath, she gave him her honesty. “When I thought truly and completely about us what we have maybe even before that, I realized you were right. What I feel for you…it’s not only physical.”

I know sex doesn’t define us, Michael. But maybe it’s an important part of what’s between us. A real physical and intimate connection. And I think that’s okay. We’re people who need more than words. Can we agree on that?”

Michael kissed the top of her head, holding her close. “You won’t get any argument from me.” He tilted her chin so he could meet her eyes. “But someday, when we need reassurance from each other, our words will be enough. I promise, Y/N.”

The intimate connection, the pure physical touch the very first time they made love had deepened their relationship. They had an honest to god emotional, physical and mental connection. It's not easy to find something like that, that deep and when you do your very lucky and you know without a doubt you will never let it go.

Y/N lays her head on Michael's chest his arms wrapped tightly around her, a quote that hung up in the receptionist office at Kineros came to mind. She actually found out how ironically accurate it indeed was…

“There will be a few times in your life when all your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications, and just go for it.” —Judith McNaught

“I love you Michael with all my heart nothing can or will ever change that.” You whispered, you felt a contented sigh escape him “I love you too Y/N now and forever.” He paused kissing your forehead “I know a lot is going to take place but I want you to know that nothing or noone will come between us ever… it's us against the world.”

Gif by @sojournmichael

#ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #cody fern #fan fiction

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thatspookyagent · 4 years ago

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SKSKSK memories <3

Meeting and going on a date with Mr. Gallant would include…

Requested: Nope!

Warnings: Implications of smut (no actual smut), some sexual themes, some detailed making out (mainly just fluff), Dom!Reader (if you squint hard enough)

A/N: This is my first time writing for an Evans’, which I plan to do here and there but casually so no I am NOT currently taking requests! This isn’t AU based btw, this just happens a few days before the nuke hits! If y’all want I can make more Gallant headcanons that are geared towards dating and what not! Upon writing this I realized that it is quite gender neutral, so feel free to insert yourself into this however you wish! That being said I’m testing the waters with an AHS character I know I’m comfortable writing, so feel free to give me feedback/constructive criticism!!!

Folks I’m deciding to tag because I think this might be of interest to you (please let me know if you want to be taken of): @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @jimmason @tatestripedsweater @darlingkitt

IMPORTANT: To clear up any misunderstandings around the dialogue, I decided to put everything the reader says in italics so it’ll be much easier to identify and (hopefully) eliminate any possible confusion around who is talking!

Keep reading

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manyimaginativemuses · 6 years ago

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Small Bump - Chapter 10

Rating: M+

Warnings: HERE IS AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER CUZ IT’S BEEN A HOT MINUTE SINCE I POSTED!!!

Read on AO3

Despite his own fears, Michael continued to stay close to Lucy for the next few weeks. The only times he left her alone were when she went to the bathroom and when he got phone calls from the Cooperative. Lucy was beginning to get curious about this newfound affection. Michael had always been protective of her, especially when she was pregnant, but this was starting to border on clingy. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with it, in fact she rather enjoyed the extra attention, but it was worrying her a bit given how it was slightly out of character for him.

Another time when Lucy managed to get away during those clingy weeks was when she wanted to see Melanie and Ally. Melanie’s pregnancy was progressing exactly as planned and she was over the moon about it. Unfortunately for Lucy, her pregnancy wasn’t exactly normal. Not only was she still experiencing the extreme morning sickness (if one could even call it that since it lasted all day), but her nights were slowly but surely being filled with nightmares. Every night, Lucy was having heart stoppingly terrifying nightmares. They ranged from her normal fears of heights and spiders to her darker, more twisted fears of Michael and her children dying or ruling hell. Lucy had her head in her hands as she explained all this to Melanie and Ally as they sat in her living room. As Melanie’s due date got closer and closer, Lucy wanted to be with her best friend more often, and that afternoon she decided to bring Ally along with her so all her friends could meet up.

“Have you been able to get any sleep with these crazy ass dreams?” Melanie asked, handing Lucy a cup of her ginger tea as the redhead let out a heavy sigh.

“Well yeah, but I just keep waking up with overwhelming anxiety. Michael’s presence definitely helps but then again, it’s also not helping at the same time. Some mornings I wake up and my depression is just kicking my ass, and he’s almost suffocating with how much affection he gives me.” Lucy explained with a chuckle.

“I find it funny how just a few weeks ago, you were complaining that you didn’t see him enough. Now that you got your wish, you’re complaining that you’re seeing him too much.” Ally said with a laugh, “But I get where you’re coming from. When I was pregnant with Oz, my emotions were all over the place. One minute I wanted my wife as close as possible, the next I wanted nothing to do with her.”

“The thing is I don’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t like this during any of my previous pregnancies. Like this time around, everything is heightened so much more than normal for me. I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that I’m carrying twins?” Lucy then grabbed a pencil and her sketchbook off the side table, drawing Michael’s eyes as a way to calm her nerves. Melanie felt her heart ache for her friend. She reached over and took Lucy’s hand, pressing it to her belly where her child was moving.

“Luce, just think, in a few weeks you’ll be feeling this yourself. Just focus on that. Focus on the two beautiful little lives inside you. Forget about everything else that’s upsetting you… Just think of them.” Melanie’s words made Lucy tear up. Her hormones were continuing to make her emotional, and to hear her friend say such sweet words was making her weak. She took her hand back and pressed it against her own belly. At 15 weeks, she had really started to pop. Since she was so skinny and short to begin with, her belly was quite obvious when compared to how it used to be. Lucy could sense the energy of her twins under her hand. She could feel their rapid pulses and when she closed her eyes to enhance the sensations, the lights in the room began to flicker. Books suddenly flew off the shelves and all the candles in the room simultaneously came alight.

“What the hell?!” Melanie gasped at the sudden display of power. Ally couldn’t stop staring at Lucy as she realized it was coming from her. She swallowed dryly as the idea that Lucy’s sudden strange powers were connected to the Cooperative somehow popped into Ally’s head. After all, if the Cooperative controlled everything, how else other than magic could that be accomplished?

“Lucy!” Ally shouted and Lucy snapped out of her haze. The candles extinguished all at once and everything finally stood still. The two other women stared at Lucy as if she had a second head. Lucy quirked her eyebrow in confusion as she frantically scanned the room.

“Uhhh…. Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked. She had basically tuned out of reality when her senses heightened. Her magic had spiralled out of control in that moment and she hadn’t even realized it.

“Lucy, are you ok?” Ally asked, both nervously and curiously. If being a part of the Cooperative gave someone magical abilities, Ally definitely wanted to be the leader of the group even more than before. This strange situation only further fueled Ally in her dark plan.

“I’m fine? Why, what happened?”

“Luce, you didn’t just see all those books fly off the shelves and the candles suddenly light themselves out of nowhere?” Melanie said, just as confused as Ally was.

“No?” Lucy then looked beside her, spotting books strewn all across the floor. It was then that she realized her powers had gone haywire while she tried to sense her children. There were a few moments of awkward silence before a sudden wave of nausea gripped at Lucy’s stomach. She ran past her friends and vomited into the toilet violently. In her mind, Lucy was more confused than ever. Not only had her powers gone out of control, but the second she came back to herself, she couldn’t stop herself from puking up everything she had in her stomach. When she finally stopped getting sick, Lucy sat back on her heels and putting her head in her hands.

“What the hell are you two doing to me?” She whispered as she gently rubbed her belly, trying to understand all the strange chaos.

“Lucy?” Ally’s voice piped up as she knocked on the door, “Lucy are you ok in there?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine, really…” Lucy called out as Melanie put her hand on Ally’s shoulder and gestured toward the door.

“Hey Luce, I think Ally and I are gonna go back to my place. She said she would help me set up the crib. So if you feel better later, feel free to come by alright?” Melanie shouted and Lucy sighed heavily.

“Yep. That’s fine. You kids go have fun.” Lucy said with a weak laugh as Melanie and Ally promptly left the apartment. A few moments later, Lucy finally got her strength back and stood up, grabbing onto the towel rack for support as she was still a bit woozy. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she immediately became worried. She was even more pale than normal, her freckles seemingly more noticeable as well. Her multicolored eyes seemed to have lost their trademark sparkle and somehow, she was even skinnier than she was before she was pregnant. It was then that she also really started to wonder what her pregnancy was doing to her abilities. She’d never really used them before except for when they were really necessary. However, the fact that they just went crazy for almost no reason made Lucy concerned as to what could possibly happen as her pregnancy progressed. She felt like in order to get them back under control, she needed to start putting them to use. Maybe by releasing the pent up magical energy, it would spare her from dramatic accidents later on.

When Michael returned later that evening, he was surprised to find Lucy with a large spell book in her lap. She had her long red hair pulled back as she focused intensely on the book in front of her.

“And just what exactly has triggered my soulmate to FINALLY investigate her abilities?” Michael asked as he approached. He could sense the power in the air as he got closer. The sheer strength she possessed was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Lucy looked up when she heard his voice, a gentle smile crossing her face.

“Something happened earlier with Melanie and Ally. I think the twins are affecting my abilities and I just want to make sure I’m not losing them completely.” Lucy explained, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been waiting for so long to truly help you with your power. You’re the only one equal to me in that respect, but you barely know how to use said power. I’ve been craving to teach you how to become the Supreme I know you’re meant to be.” Michael said with a smile, sitting beside her on the bed. He glanced at the spells she was looking at, quirking an eyebrow at how advanced the spells were, “Ok, so those kinds of spells might be a little too hard for you right now. Why don’t we start off with something simpler?” He suggested, closing the book all together. Lucy looked at him, confused for a moment, before he picked up the pen she had been using to take notes. He then held it in front of her, resting it in his palm.

“Move this pen with your mind. Throw it across the room.” Michael commanded and Lucy blinked as she stared at the pen. It wasn’t long before she felt energy building under her skin. Her body felt like it was vibrating as all of a sudden, the pen flew out of Michael’s hand and smacked straight into the door. Michael couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped him at this feat.

“Very good, Lucinda! Now I already know you’re proficient in pyrokinesis,” As he said that, Lucy smirked in agreement as all of the candles in the room spontaneously lit up from her magic. Michael chuckled at this display before speaking again, “How about you give this a try: control my mind. Force me to do something against my will.” His demand made Lucy a bit concerned.

“A-are you sure? I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that.”

“Lucinda, my Precious Starlight, you are definitely strong enough to do that. Now make me do something. Control my mind.” He demanded again and Lucy swallowed dryly. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the bond she shared with Michael. She felt the buzzing under her skin increase as she searched through their bond. Once she got a good grip on it, Lucy felt the air leave the room as she tried to control his mind… To force him to do the one thing she’d always asked of him but he’d never done. Michael soon felt a presence in his mind, forcing his self control out the window. Soon enough, he was revealing his true face, his skin paling and his eyes turning black as the White Faced Demon was forced to the front lines.

“Lucinda…” Michael’s voice was deeper and trembling with fear as Lucy opened her eyes. She gasped as she gazed upon his true face… The face of the White Faced Demon, “Lucinda, what have you done?!” Michael whispered as he pulled away from her. Lucy then grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her by using her control over him.

“Michael… I’m not scared of you.” She whispered, trying to soothe him as she stared into his empty black eyes, “I love you, my darling. I love every single part of you and this is the one side of you you’ve always refused to show me. You said to force you to do something. I forced you to bare your entire soul to me.” Lucy reached over and cupped his white face in her hands, her finger tracing the bloody pentagram on his forehead. Michael was trembling under her touch as if he was trying to hold something back, “I love both the beauty and the beast, the man and the demon… Michael and The Antichrist. And now, I finally see all of you.” Lucy said, finally releasing her control on him. His face immediately turned back to normal and his eyes turned blue once more. He stared at her with a look of both shock and adoration clear on his face.

“I thought you hated that side of me…” He muttered and Lucy shook her head.

“Not anymore. I used to be terrified of that side of you. I was worried about what you were capable of… But I learned over time that no matter what, you are my soulmate.” She took his hand and placed it on her belly, allowing him to feel the sheer energy of their children inside her, “You’re also the father of my children. I chose you to love and father my children. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to that.” Lucy’s words made Michael let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m just not exactly used to this kind of compassion. You’re pretty much the only person who’s shown me this kind of kindness without wanting anything in return. Even though we’ve been together for years, I’m still shocked by you quite often.” Michael said with a dark laugh. Lucy just smiled and caressed his cheek while he pressed his hand more firmly on her belly.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Lucy said and Michael nodded in response, “I’m sorry I forced you into revealing your true face.”

“No… It’s fine. I asked you to control my mind. You did what I asked of you. If you’d like, we can continue. After all, you are the Supreme.” Michael teased after pulling himself back together. Lucy just laughed at him and shook her head.

“How the hell can you do that? You have an emotional outburst one moment and the next you’re suddenly calm and collected again.” Lucy scoffed. Michael simply just rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

“I think it might be because I’m not entirely human. But then again, it might just be the way I am, darling.” He winked at her, causing Lucy to laugh.

“Fine. Ok. What else do you want me to dor?” She asked as she crossed her arms.

“There’s a specific book somewhere in this room. A book that happens to be my favorite book from when I was a child. I’ve never told you the name of this book, but I want you to find it. I want you to sense where the book is in this room and bring it back to me.” Michael explained. Lucy narrowed her eyes, unsure of how or even if she’d be able to do that. Regardless, she nodded and closed her eyes, trying to hone in on the book Michael was talking about. Suddenly, it seemed as if all the noise in the room was silenced. The entire room went completely silent except for the sound of a soft pulse. When Lucy opened her eyes, she stood up and followed the sound of the pulse. Walking across the room to a small wooden bookcase, Lucy pushed past other books and found the source of the noise. She pulled the small book out and looked at the cover, letting out a laugh of surprise when she read the title.

“Peter Pan? Really?!” Lucy asked as she held out the book and Michael nodded with a laugh.

“I was not really allowed to be a child, Lucinda. Just the idea of a boy being lucky enough to stay a child forever was basically a dream for me.” Michael shrugged. Lucy just shook her head again before hopping in the bed beside him.

“No matter how much I think I know you, you always find new ways to surprise me.” Lucy laughed and Michael smirked in response.

“I’m always full of surprises.” He winked at her again before taking her hand in his, “The next test might be a bit difficult, seeing that you’re pregnant. I’m not even sure if you should attempt this just yet.”

“Why, is it dangerous?”

“No, not at all. It’s just that I’m unsure if it will work since you’re carrying two other lives inside you. It’s called Transmutation, which is just a fancy way of saying Teleportation.” He explained and Lucy quirked an eyebrow. She’d always seen Michael teleport anywhere he wanted, but she was unsure if she could do it herself.

“Well it’s worth a try. After all, in order to be a Supreme, I have to complete the Seven Wonders right?” She took a deep breath and focused on the inside of their closet. She envisioned the walk in closet in her minds eye, noting every little detail before forcing herself to project her body into that space. Soon enough, Lucy vanished from the bed and reappeared inside the dark closet. Her first instinct was to check on her children, her hands flying to her small belly. She let out a sigh of relief when she felt their presences still nestled deep within her womb.

“Lucinda?” Michael called out, a bit shocked that she had managed to do it. Lucy opened the closet door with a smile, laughing softly when she saw Michael’s surprised expression, “Well I’ll be damned! Nice work, my love.” He stood up from the bed and approached her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in for a kiss. She happily kissed back for a moment before tapping him on the nose with her index finger.

“I’m always full of surprises, Michael.” She teased, throwing his own words back at him, “What’s next? There’s two more wonders to complete.” She asked but Michael’s face fell in response.

“The last two of the Seven Wonders will have to wait until after the twins are born. These two wonders deal with the balance between life and death. If done improperly or failed completely, you could die. I know for a face that your pregnancy could alter the outcome of these tests, so we’ll wait on those strengths until after our family is finally complete.” Michael’s words made Lucy blink in confusion but despite her confusion, she did understand where he was coming from. He wanted to protect all three of them. Lucy simply nodded in response before taking Michael’s hand and putting it on top of her belly. He smiled as she did so, his thumb lovingly stroking the rounded skin.

“You know, despite knowing the fact that nothing could ever possibly hurt you, I’m still terrified I’ll lose you in childbirth.” Michael’s voice went quiet as more of his fears bubbled to the surface. It seemed to Lucy that the longer they were in the Sanctuary, the more Michael dropped his dark Antichrist persona around her. Many times Lucy heard him angrily yelling on the phone in his domineering tone only to revert back to the young teenage boy she had fallen in love with the second he hung up the phone. She was probably the only person left alive that saw Michael this way.

She also was the only one who knew how deadly serious he was about his childbirth fears.

“Michael, I’m not gonna die in childbirth. These babies are gonna come out safely and without a hitch, I promise you.”

“You don’t know that. What if something goes wrong? What if I’m not able to bring you back?” He started to panic as his fears began to consume him but Lucy simply took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her.

“Michael, listen to me, I’m not like your mother. Our children won’t kill me. Our twins may be the children of the Antichrist, but they’re not Antichrists themselves. We’re going to raise them better than you were. They won’t be consumed by the darkness that lives within both of us.” Lucy’s words made Michael let out a shaky sigh. She was right… She was always right…

“Forgive me for being anxious. It’s just that neither of us have had the best experiences with this sort of thing.” Michael gave a weak smile and rested her forehead against his.

“We’re gonna be ok… We’re all gonna be ok.”

------------------------------------

TAGS:

@wroteclassicaly @katiekitty261 @thelangdoncooperative @icylangdon @darklangdon @langdonslacefront @langdvn @langdonsrapture @langdonscherry @mytrash-mylife @arielle90 @michaels-slut @thechurchoflangdon @the-captain-kidd @lex-in-affex @plainsarah-jane @kellysimagines @langdonsdemon @sodanova @ccodyfern @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @ritualmichael @yourkingcodyfern @sojournmichael @i-dont-give-a-fucky @midnight-dreamingsouls @psychofern @queencocoakimmie @softlangdvn @duncans-donuts @duncs-donuts @lovelykhaleesiii @sweetlangdon @hisgirlwonder @ave-michael

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sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 · 6 years ago

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I Couldn’t be More In Love With You

Warnings: swearing and angst.

“He’s never been like this, Anna. He’s distant, he barely talks to me. Every time I try to initiate anything, he brushes me off, saying he’s too tired. I’m not making this up babe. He’s off with me. And I can’t shake this horrible feeling, he’s hiding something from me. It hurts so fucking much thinking I’m losing him. I can’t lose him Anna, he’s my life” Your voice was quivering, not being able to stop the fresh tears falling from your eyes.

“Babe, maybe you really are thinking too much into it. You’re both at pinnacle points in your careers, the one thing you both love more than each other is your work. Maybe it’s just taking a toll on him” Anna tried comprising. Thinking. Trying her damnedest to take the topic of conversation off of Michaels so called infidelity.

“I really hope you’re right. How’s work going? Any more exciting clients? And hang on, how’s it going with that new guy you told me about. And why don’t I know anything about him yet?”

Anna’s eyes grew wide like saucers. “Err, yeah good. Keeping busy with work. I’ve been quite busy with a new client” Anna replies trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“And your new flavour of the month? C’mon, spill!” You giggled. “You never not tell me when you’re sleeping with someone”.

Anna laughed nervously “Oh I haven’t slept with him”

“BULLSHIT!” You laughed. A genuine laugh that for a few seconds, took your mind off of the pain Michael was unknowingly causing.

“I’ve never not known you to know a guy for more than 8 hours before you get on top of him. In fact, I know damn well when you’re getting over one guy, you’re already under another one!”

Anna laughed, “Hey! That’s not true! I make sure I know him for at least double that!” She laughed.

“I’m too busy with work to focus on something more. I just never have the time. And plus, I’ve got you and Michael to take care of me. I’m like your dysfunctional, rebel daughter!” Anna’s melodic voice laughed

You let out a satisfied ‘Hmm’ with a smile. “You know, you really are, but I wouldn’t change you for the world. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I wouldn’t be the person I am without you on my life”

Anna’s lip started to quiver. Willing her eyes to stop watering, she quickly downed the rest of her coffee and hastily told you she had to get back to work. Quickly kissing you on your cheek, grabbing her bag, high tailing it back to her car before she caused her friend to start asking questions Anna had no way of answering.

You walked around the house, cleaning a few bits around the kitchen until the house phone started ringing. Walking to answer it up, you picked up the handset.

“Hello, this is Marie from Chateaux de Robichaux , I’m calling to confirm Mr Langdon’s reservation for two people for Friday, the West side suite is available”

You slammed down the receiver.

Your heart dropped and smashed like a cheap china teacup. Not being able to stop your heart wrenching sobs, you crumbled. Slinking down the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest.

Wailing, you couldn’t help it. The pain was too much. All your suspicions confirmed in less than 30 seconds.

Michael WAS cheating on you.

In vain, you tried the other night, suggesting to him you and him spend the weekend together. For the first time in ages, you wanted to spend some time with him being able to just enjoy each other’s company.

He told you he couldn’t do it. There’s was a meeting he had to attend.

Something about some guys named Jeff and Mutt that had some major topics to discuss and Michael had to authorise them.

It was lie. It was all a lie. He booked a room for two people at the swankiest, most pristine hotel you knew. And the second person definitely wasn’t you.

The pain slowly churning into a red hot, searing anger. You were going to get the fucking truth from him if it was the last thing you did.

You needed more ammunition. You knew if you told him about the hotel confirmation call, he’d weasel his way out of it.

You quickly logged onto your laptop.

Michael left his at work the other day and he borrowed yours to check things such as his emails and bank statements.

You quickly logged on. You thought you knew Michael well enough to know his log in details. You’d never ever snoop in any case, but you needed to know, you needed back up.

If things were going to end between you and Michael, you needed all the proof you could get.

That’s it! The page was open. You scrolled down. Wait... what the fuck?!!

There was a payment to an Italian vineyard company and an import charge. This asshole had spent over a hundred pounds on some fancy bottles of wine.

Your anger fuelling, you kept looking. Multiple monthly payments to a an expensive jewellery company. Florists, a perfume emporium.

The last transaction your eyes fell on made you feel sick. Near on £500 worth of money to Agent Provocateur.

That’s it! You said to yourself.

Slamming your laptop closed, you thought long and hard. It was over.

And you were prepared to put him through the same amount of pain he put you through. You were going to make him hurt.

*****

You know, when I first met you. You came to visit Y/N at college? I could see how much you loved her. The way you looked at her. I could feel the love and admiration radiating off you. And I saw and felt the same when she looked at you. I kept thinking ‘these two are forever, they’re end game’. I didn’t like you much. I didn’t like you because I was jealous. I loved her more than anything and I thought you would take her away from me. But after this, after everything we’ve done. It’s made me realise you love her just as much as I do. You are going to make her so happy, Mikey. Anna smiled, looking at Michael with a genuine kindness.

She never used to.

She used to think there was something about Michael she couldn’t put her finger on. He radiates confidence, he was self assured, and cocky. And there was a darkness to him. Other than Y/N he spoke to people like they were beneath him. Like he was in control of the world and people were nothing but his subservients.

Y/N used to tell her he had an underlying ability to be to be sweet, comforting, loving, and innocent almost.

Something to do with his childhood and not having anyone to ever comfort him, he found that comfort in Y/N and he treasured her. He made sure everyday he showed her just how special she was to him. Almost in a way to thank her for being there for him when everyone else always left him.

“Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you” Michael stated, smiling at Anna. A genuine smile appearing on his face.

Anna laughed “well who else better to help you plan the proposal to the love of your life than the second love of her life? Plus, I’m already a wedding planner, maybe I can add planning proposals to my portfolio... as well as being a professional liar” Anna said. The last part of her sentence being whispered. Shrugging away her guilt, she sighed.

“Let’s just hope she forgives me. As least you can get away with giving her romantic I just proposed sex. I doubt she’d take up my ‘sorry I lied to you but I did it to give you the best night of your life’ sex”

Michael laughed, for the first time in weeks. Letting go of built up stress, knowing all the fine details were finally set out. The hotel was booked, Y/N’s favourite wine imported. He even made a slightly selfish decision and brought her some lingerie he couldn’t stop thinking about tearing off of her.

“I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night.”. Michaels eyes were lit up like New York on Christmas. “And she will forgive you. You’re her rock. In fact if she wasn’t with me, I’d half expect you two to be getting married”

“Well I did always say I’m there for her if it goes up the shitter with you and her. Anna smirked.

“She’s going to love it” She said with a smile.

“By the way, I’m not wearing black, and neither is she. She’s the bride, what she says goes” Anna said, sternly looking at Michael.

“Well then let’s hope she says yes” Michael winked.

#michaellangdon #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #michael langon x reader #angst #duncan shepherd smut #Duncan shepherd #cody fern #fanfic #fan fiction #smut #AHS #ahsapocolypse #ahs8 #ahs apocalypse #My writing #michaellangdonsmut #michael langdon smut

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divinelittlelight-blog · 6 years ago

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The Balance

His hand was unwavering, like a vice at her throat, threatening to choke the life from her. It seemed like a lot of work, considering with the flick of his fingers he could make her head explode and be done with it. Yet the flicker in his eyes told the truth. Michael was enjoying it, the pressure and the threat; the feel of her warm skin under his thumb nearly bruising the pulse point that beat in a steady rhythm despite his anger.

Her hand was flat against his chest, right over his heart, a steady pressure keeping him at a distance, yet they were nearly nose to nose, both refusing to relent.

The silence between them spoke volumes, considering moments before they were caught in a heated argument about prophecy; what was right, what was wrong and what was supposed to come to pass. Magic had been used, battering the two until each was up against a wall in the current position. A truce perhaps, considering their bodies were tired and told of their affection for one another. Neither wanted to destroy the other or it would have been done.

Their breaths were heavy, while just outside the indestructible doors of the compound, it began to rain, and a victorious smile crept over her face. For one fraction of a second, she broke their stare to look towards the glass. It wasn’t acid rain anymore and the sweet smell of spring crept through the cracks, if only for a moment. The world was reawakening, and the realization made the pressure of his fingers sink deeper into her windpipe and her smile vanished as she gasped. Perhaps he was ready for another round.

Regardless, her eyes continued searching his, the energy coming from them nothing but love, even though he was hurting her.

He stepped closer, their lips ghosting, his head slanted as if he was about to kiss her. “How far are you willing to go for me?” An answer was expected because he released an inch of his grip.

“As far as you’re willing to take me,” she whispered, her hand over his heart pressing harder to get the point across. “I would do anything for you. Even if it means using every drop of my power to rebuild the world.”

Michael sneered, the faint sound of meaningless laughter slipping through his lips. “Just so I can destroy it again?”

“Yes,” she sang. “And I’ll rebuild it again, and again, and again. As long as there is a heaven and hell, I’ll go the distance to make sure you and I fight this war forever. If we have to.”

His stature rounded, like a shadow, looming over her as genuine curiosity took presence in his demeanor. “Why?”

“Because we are family. You, a child of darkness, and I a child of light. We need each other in the balance, and I love you too much to watch you fade out of time because of some witch bitch with a meaningless agenda. It’s insulting.” There was venom in her tone, revealing true hatred for such laziness when it came to battles.

It made Michael laugh, admiration for her causing him to take on a certain glow. His fingers slipped from her throat and his arm wrapped around the back of her neck. He ducked in and kissed her cheek before pulling completely away. “Then I shall see you at round two, dear sister of the light.”

#writing #ahs: apocalypse #American Horror Story #Michael Langdon #OC/angel #CodyFern #cody fern #another writing challenge #children of the light #children of the darkness #the balance #fan fiction #officialcodysfallenangels

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drwnng-ophelia · 6 years ago

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Hunter and Prey

Chapter 4 - 6

The first three chapters can be found here

Pairing: Michael Langdon / OFC

Genre/Warnings: Rated M for future smut, as in dirty-devil-worshipping-sex!

Summary: "I’ve learned now that you were trying to escape it, trying to escape your darkness and demons. But why bother? Why not bask in it, embrace your hunger for evilness. Stop turning the mirrors around, and look at yourself. At what you can become."

I have posted this fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, feel free to check it out!

a/n: As promised, here are the next three chapters! Will update when I have a new one :)

Chapter 4

The kiss had been wrong. The kiss had been a larger misstep than giving away that I was someone’s successor.

But most importantly, when I had tasted his power on my tongue, my own had peeked out of its hiding place, and it had willingly interlaced with his. Even if it had only been for a small moment, it had felt intuitive…and welcoming. Like former lovers that had finally found their way back to one another.

“Get away from me.” My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Valentine,” he breathed as his hold on me loosened, but didn’t let go.

“I said get away from me,” I repeated with tears burning in my eyes. Forcefully, I jerked myself away.

His eyebrows nudged together, “What are you afraid of?”

Every fiber of my body tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden, forceful return of my powers. I wasn’t afraid of him. Wasn’t even afraid of what his blood had made me feel. I was afraid of myself.

“I need to get out,” I pleaded as panic tightened my chest. “There is nowhere for you to go,” he reminded me calmly and held out a hand in a helpless gesture, unsure of what he should do.

“I swear, if you don’t let me out of here, I will burn this house to cinders. With you and me in it.” Something in my eyes must have told him that I was serious because I heard the door unlocking behind me.

“If you run away, I will find you,” he warned me. “Just shut up. For once, shut up.”

Even though I was barefoot, I stormed out of the house, desperate to get away. Desperate for release. This could get very ugly, very quickly.

My beautiful dress got caught in the undergrowth repeatedly, its fabric straining and tearing as I went. It slowed me down considerably as I sprinted towards the river I had seen from my bedroom window.

Although the cold, crisp air washed over me like a soothing blanket, it felt like I was about to combust. This was worse than when my powers had awoken a few years ago, and I knew that I needed to subdue myself.

Finally, I reached the riverside and took a deep breath to brace myself against the cold water. The soles of my feet burned from the cuts I had gotten on my way here. Impatiently, I waded into the current, savoring the freezing sensation that bit into me like millions of needles, until my feet could no longer reach the bottom.

Ever so slowly, I felt how my body stilled. How my power calmed. It stopped strangling me, the truculence dwindling away along with the flowing water.

But the river was deeper than I had anticipated and I felt how my dress pulled me down, too heavy with its drink. When I wanted to struggle against the pull, my muscles cramped and left me helpless as my head was dragged under the surface. I wasn’t even able to get back up for a last breath as my limbs surrendered, and the cold water finally flooded my lungs.

This wouldn’t just subdue my powers. It would kill them. And myself.

I reached for my power, begged for it to submit to my will as it usually did, but it was silent. Frozen and petrified from being tossed around erratically. It felt ironical that this would be my end. The end of the girl with a strong affinity for water. After all, it had been the first element I had learned to master. But now it was smothering me, pulling me down like a stone.

Right before my senses fell silent, strong hands grabbed me and pulled me to the riverside as the same power invaded my body that I had experienced the night Michael had taken me. Like a serpent, it slowly crept through me. However, it didn’t wrap around my mind this time — it wrapped around my lungs, and pumped them hard.

After I had coughed up all the water that had found its way into my lungs, I felt his power stroking my own. It was soft and brushed against it affectionately, tickling it awake. Like dancers, they started to circle one another, weaving in and out of each other, in mutual admiration. The sensation made me dizzy.

Did Michael feel how we connected? Could he? Did he wake my power purposely?

Stars were dancing before my eyes when I opened them, barely able to make out Michael who was kneeling beside me at the riverside, his clothing soaked and sticking to his body. Even his luscious locks were in disarray and plastered against his head.

At first, his eyes looked completely black, but by the time I had blinked to clear my vision, they were back to their tantalizing blue. The moment his eyes changed color, his power vanished and left mine behind, craving for it to come back. To come play.

“You saved me,” I rasped. For the first time, I was grateful for his presence and for the hand that was still on my body, sitting on my chest as if it hadn’t only been his power that had pumped my lungs.

His lips were pressed into a hard line as he looked down on me with disapproval, “I will not let you go before I know what you are.” “What a way to ruin the moment,” I noted drily.

“Your power…it was never gone.” The look he shot me was threatening to give me frostbite. “I never said it was. You subdued it. For a moment, that is. That moment passed a while ago.”

“And my blood?” “Made it boil over,” I simplified it, deliberately keeping out the fact that other parts of me had boiled over as well. Were still boiling, even after being dragged down, into the cold.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. He was trying to make sense of it as much as me, which meant that he felt it, too. How…compatible we were.

“You need a hot bath. And rest.” He didn’t suggest, he commanded. His tone made me grateful that I wasn’t standing because, otherwise, it would have made my knees weak.

My eyes lingered on his lips, those lips that had felt so wonderfully against mine, and which were now blue from the cold, “So do you.” “Just shut up. For once, shut up,” he mocked my words from earlier.

Michael didn’t give me the chance to stand up but instead scooped me up in his arms. He pressed me against his body as he carried me back into the house with brisk steps. With ease he brought me upstairs where he put me straight into the bathtub.

“No undressing me this time?” I checked with an arched eyebrow when he turned on the water which felt too warm against my frozen skin. Secretly I wanted him to get in with me. He ignored my saucy comment, more annoyed with me than he had ever been before.

“I didn’t plan on it, you know,” I tried to sound apologetical. He had saved me after all. “I know. You appear to plan nothing at all. And I don’t like unpredictability unless I’m responsible for it.”

“You’re such a fucking diva,” I snorted. “Take a look in the mirror before saying that to me,” he spat back and turned to leave the room. “Thank you,” I hurried to say, “Thank you for saving my life.” Michael sighed through his nose and looked at me over his shoulder, “Don’t get used to it.” Without another word, he closed the door behind himself.

Tensely I waited to hear any noise from next door; his steps against the concrete floor, the water being turned on. Anything. But nothing happened. Because he wasn’t in there. He had gone somewhere else.

A part of me knew that he used this time to get something in order that needed to be fixed — whatever it would be. Ideally, I could sneak after him and find out what he was up to, but realistically I knew better. My power was still too fickle so I didn’t dare use it to warm myself up.

While I peeled myself out of my dress, and slowly started to warm up, I felt that something in me just wouldn’t subside. There was something that the icy water had been unable to wash away, and, truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it gone.

In my mind, I replayed the kiss, the way he had held me. The way his body had felt against mine. I wanted more, needed more.

A rational voice in my head warned me: I didn’t know what he wanted with me, didn’t know why he kept track of me back in Seattle. It told me I should tread carefully and not give in to my carnal desire, to stand my ground, to wait. For William.

I took the time in the bathtub to really consider my options and the moment my temperature had normalized, I climbed out of the tub, completely impatient and beyond any reason whatsoever. I didn’t pay attention to the underwear I pulled out of the dresser, didn’t pay attention to the silky wrap dress that I put on. I just knew that I needed to be quick.

To my relief, Michael’s door wasn’t locked but slid away smoothly. The room was as sparse as my own, with the only difference being that a desk stood at the window. His bed was made neatly and with a grimace I considered whether he had OCD. Nothing in here seemed out of place and nothing presented itself as a good hiding place for my bloodstone or phone.

But that wasn’t important.

Smack in the middle of the desk, Michael’s computer sat. If I was lucky, he hadn’t turned it off this morning. With shaky fingers, I opened it and waited for the screen to light up. I groaned when the screen asked me to enter a password. Nothing in this room told me anything about him and it wasn’t like we had discussed the name of his first pet yet, so I quickly gave up on breaking into his computer.

The voice of reason from before told me to look through his closet — and I followed suit. With swift fingers, I dug through the drawers, searched every pocket, but came up empty-handed. A part of me was disappointed that my assumptions had been right. He wouldn’t leave anything behind.

Disillusioned, I folded my arms in front of my body and let my gaze wander through the room one last time. My eyes rested on his bed for a moment, on the inviting pillows. He had slept there last night, so close to me, and the thought involuntarily lead somewhere else. What if the wall hadn’t been between us?

I had tried to overcome it. Had tried to shove my imagination far away. Had forced myself to ignore the memory of his touch. But I was failing piteously.

Before I could reconsider, I left the room, determined to find him. I needed to stay focused. I needed to get out of here before I would cave in.

On my way down the stairs, I scanned the room. Everything was untouched and deserted, not hinting at where he had gone. Maybe he had left? Disappointed, I realized that the front door was locked, and the forest looked undisturbed and calm. I leaned against the glass and let myself sink down to the floor, absentmindedly staring into nothingness.

No. Not nothingness.

My brows nudged together and I cocked my head to the side when I noticed that the mysterious door opposite of me wasn’t closed properly. It was ajar and the faintest of light appeared to be burning behind it.

Something within me, something in my bones told me to stay where I was. Whatever was behind that door wasn’t for my eyes to see. And yet, I felt myself scrambling to my feet and padding towards it. My hand rested against the wood for a moment and I felt that well-known tingle of nervous anticipation. A cold breeze floated against me as I was greeted by the dimly lit, cavernous hallway. Except for some small, warm-toned lamps, the walls were bare, and eventually, the hallway appeared to end in a staircase that led somewhere beneath the house.

Maybe this was a dungeon after all.

With every step I took towards the staircase, my power awoke and stirred. It pushed me further and further until I found myself looking into the looming darkness that stretched beyond the limits of my sight.

The walls around me swallowed the sound of my feet against the slightly winding stairs as I climbed down, down, down.

This place felt similar to the power that surged through Michael. Dark, besetting, and cataclysmic. If it wasn’t for the beast within me, I would have absconded already.

A faint, flickering light eventually announced the foot of the stairs. My heart was pounding in my ears when I stepped into it and beheld what was stretched out before me.

It wasn’t a dungeon and it wasn’t just a basement. Before me was a vast, pentagonal shaped room that was lit by hundreds of candles that were placed throughout it. The moonstone floor reflected the light that licked its way up the tall walls.

My breath caught in my throat, when I saw Michael on his knees, in the middle of the room. He was stark naked, bent forward, and blood trickled out of deep gashes along his arms. Underneath him, I could make out the pentagram that had been smeared on the floor.

I wasn’t so foolish to believe that he was in danger. This was a ritual. A ritual he had initiated himself.

Although I had never seen anything quite like it, I knew that this wasn’t a simple ritual for purification or protection. It was evoking a darkness that I would never have anticipated. My power, however, hummed ecstatically in pure anticipation and recognition.

Never in my wildest imaginations would I have believed that he was the vessel of something so ancient. But it made sense. It explained why he was so interested in provoking my own darkness and why my power wanted to play with his. She had always had a fondness for menace. And that night in the alley…it had been the devil shining in his eyes. I knew that now, I understood.

“You’re…the antichrist,” I breathed as the realization hit me.

Michael sat up and took a deep breath before he opened his black eyes, “Didn’t I tell you to not concern yourself with what was behind this door?”

The beast within me nudged me towards him, taking one step after the other until I stood at the edge of the pentagram. “You should have locked the door behind yourself.” A dark chuckle escaped him and I saw how the wounds on his arm healed themselves.

Gracefully he rose and when he met my eyes, it was him looking at me. And not Satan. “Come,” he said and held a hand out to me, inviting me to step onto the symbol.

Without hesitation, I took his hand and when my naked feet touched his blood, the candles around us flared up. I allowed myself to breathe him in, his impressive naked body that was smeared with his own blood. The blood that had made me feel so many things.

“Now you know who I am. It is only fair if you reveal yourself,” he noted as his fingers interlaced with mine, as our power intertwined, “I know you. But I don’t know who you are.”

“I…,” my words failed me when his free hand pulled at the string of the bow that kept my dress secure around my waist. “You…?” he purred and let the fabric fall away to the sides. I bit my lip at his hungry gaze wandering over my half-naked body.

“I am the descendant of someone much older than you,” I breathed and allowed him to shuffle the dress off me, allowed him to let his fingertips ghost over my skin. “Mhm, go on.”

As I stood before him, almost completely exposed, I felt that there was no need to withhold it from him anymore, not with our mutual awareness. Not with both our powers urging us to unite. “I am the descendant and embodiment of Hecate, goddess of magic, the night, the moon, and necromancy.”

Chapter 5

For a moment, everything around us stilled. It was like the world held its breath, waiting tensely for what the fallen angel and the goddess would do next. Because this union could either be prosperous or end in utter catastrophe.

When my words had registered with him, he had frozen, with his eyes glued to mine in utter disbelief. Finally, he drew in a breath and brought his lips to my ear, “I knew there was a reason why I met you. Why he opened my eyes to you.” I knew that he meant the devil, he didn’t have to say it.

But why was I here? What would this union do for me?

My back arched slightly when his fingers resumed wandering over my skin, caressing me lazily. “Why did you come down here? What pushed you?” he purred and sent a shiver down my spine. “Your blood,” I grabbed his hands to stop them on their way down south, “Your blood is still singing in my veins.” “Fascinating.” He looked at me appreciatively as I stood before him in the flimsy lingerie that he had picked out for me, “What does that mean?”

“It’s telling me to let go of your hands,” I admitted breathlessly. “And?” he persisted. “It wants me to succumb to you. I’m drunk on how it makes me feel. On how you make me feel.” My grasp around his hands tightened.

Michael tilted his head predatorily and devoured me with his eyes, “How do I make you feel?” Heat pounded between my legs, the feeling from earlier washing over me violently, making every fiber in my body yearn for his touch. “Like I’m on fire,” I whispered and felt my fingers loosening.

“I can make you feel so much more. But you have to let me.” The promise that laced his words made me open my hands and they fell to my side in a wordless surrender, “Here?”

Michael leaned forward and kissed me tenderly. “Right here,” he breathed onto my lips. This place, the fact that he would have me here, on his father’s grounds and for his eyes to see, was nothing but a demonstration of power, of territorial ownership. But for now, I would ignore that, would only savor his touch against my heated skin. Instinctively, I put my arms around his neck, beckoning him to take me as I pulled him into a desirous kiss. I didn’t want to hold back any longer, I couldn’t.

The blood that was covering most of his body smeared onto my skin with every touch, marking me, claiming me, making me his. With idle fingers, he traced the edge of the lace bra and pulled at the band so it snapped against my skin. A small yelp escaped me.

“Take it off,” he ordered and took a small step back, so he could watch me. I reached behind my back for the clasp, desperate to get the scraps of fabric off of me. “Slowly,” a taunting smile spread on his face as he commanded me, “I’m not in a hurry.” “Why do you get to make all the rules?” I demanded but complied to his request. “Because it is so much more fun this way,” he said matter-of-factly.

As I stripped before him, he started touching his considerable length, well-knowing that I wanted every inch of him inside of me. My mouth went dry at the sight of him.

“Lie down.” His usually controlled, cold voice was hoarse from his own excitement. It felt like the pentagram burned through me as it touched my back, as more of Michael’s blood covered my body.

Smoothly he kneeled before me as his hungry gaze wandered over every inch of me. Without another command, he pushed my legs apart so he could move between them, hovering over me and driving me insane with anticipation. “I will take my time with you,” he warned and his lips found mine before I could interject. Michael’s kisses trailed down to my neck, where he dragged his teeth over the spot that corresponded with where I had cut him earlier. A needy moan fell over my lips as a hand cupped my breast and I instinctively leaned into his touch, urging him to go on.

With an agonizingly slow pace, his lips continued on their way down, finding my breast to let his tongue flick over my nipple. He chuckled against my skin as my fingers buried themselves in his beautiful locks, desperate for any form of support.

I groaned as his lips and tongue continued their work while his hand caressed my other breast. Every touch, every bite, was placed deliberately and drove me insane. “Please,” I begged. “Please, what?” he demanded, stopped completely, and eluded my touch which left his hair in perfect disarray.

“Please, I need…,” I gasped, unable to form any correlate sentence. “I know exactly what you need. I may not be able to look into your soul but your body tells me everything I need to know.” His mouth found mine but before he could deepen the kiss he jolted away from me.

“You wicked thing,” he laughed, “Burning me will not give you what you want any faster.” “I figured it was worth a try,” I said breathlessly and retreated my power, relaxing against the smooth floor in this small reprieve.

Michael’s ice blue eyes glistened diabolically as he ever so slowly let his fingers dance over my skin. Further down, further down, drawing idle circles as he went. Finally, his hands moved between my thighs and a self-satisfied smirk appeared on his beautiful lips at the wetness he found there, waiting for him.

Slowly he started to stroke me, his gaze fixed on me and my frenzied yearning as my body reacted to his, winding itself to get closer to him. When he slipped a finger inside me, I moaned, silently begging for him to go on.

Michael’s hair cascaded over me when his lips started to move over my body, wandering dangerously close to where I wanted them. “Lie still,” he warned and plunged another finger into me, stretching me and getting me ready for what was to come.

Stars started dancing before my eyes at the first lick of his tongue. While he feasted on me, his fingers started up a merciless rhythm, pumping in and out of me. He was no longer holding back, he was giving me what I so desperately needed. It wasn’t long until my release shattered through my body and I cried out his name, the sound echoing off the walls.

Michael kept me pinned down with a strong hand as waves of ecstasy washed over me. “Was this satisfactory?” he asked in a way that didn’t expect any confirmation. “You’re a conceited ass,” I rasped, propping myself up on my elbows as every muscle still hummed with pleasure.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he announced, his eyes looking over my naked body that was covered with his blood and the pentagram beneath it that I had undoubtedly smudged whilst twisting under his touch.

The moment my breath had steadied, he came over me, pinning my wrists against the floor, “You’re not so powerful now, goddess of the night.” His words weren’t derisive but playful. I doubted that he had ever been with an equal, let alone someone superior to him. This must be completely new for him and gave him a kind of affirmation he had never felt before.

“Let’s play,” I suggested and was rewarded with a long, sensual kiss that sent heat surging through my body. “Give me the knife,” I nodded towards the blade he had cut himself with during his ritual. “Why?” he asked perplexed. “Your blood is singing in my veins, isn’t it only fair if mine gets to serenade you, too? Don’t you want to feel the fire caressing you from within, my fire? You’ve asked me so many times what I am, why not experience it for yourself?”

Michael didn’t need any more convincing but pulled back and reached for the sharp blade. I pushed myself up to sit next to him and held out my palm in an unspoken invitation. “You trust me that much? After a single day?” he arched an eyebrow, “After I have abducted you?” “Like you said, you know me. I’d like to believe I know you, too.” Michael reached for my hand and placed a tender kiss on my palm before letting the knife cut into my skin. I winced at the small pain, “Taste me.” And he did.

The flames around us blazed up as he licked the wound and I tipped my head back when our powers intertwined. In this moment, I was closer to him than I had ever thought possible. “Exquisite,” he said and placed a kiss on the wound before it closed at our will. He dragged a hand through his hair and got blood into his wheat blonde strands whilst clearly getting used to feeling my essence running through him.

“The feeling will pass eventually,” I promised, “But until then…why don’t you let me show you what I can make you feel.” Without another word, he pulled me close to him, “No. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

He was desperate to stay in control.

As our lips met he pushed me back down onto the pentagram where he nudged my legs apart again and gripped my hips. With a single stroke, he thrusted into me, deep, his hands holding me against him firmly. I moaned as I adjusted to the feeling of him inside of me, as I relished every inch of him.

When Michael felt me relax he started to move, torturously slow at first. But when his grip on my hips tightened, his thrusts got rougher and deeper, and I knew that I wouldn’t last long. He settled into a merciless rhythm and I savored every place we touched. I didn’t have to beg him to finish me because he could read my body like an open book. Without having to ask for it, one of his hands found the bundle of nerves between my legs and he started stroking me.

Michael’s dexterity and fierce pace had me falling apart in seconds, and I went over the edge with a groan. Hearing his name as it fell from my lips was his own undoing and he slammed into me deeply, finding his own release. Power rippled off of him, like dark waves that washed over me. My arms wrapped around him when he collapsed on top of me, both of us catching our breaths.

After a moment, he pressed a kiss onto my neck before he pulled away and straightened. “Come,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady when he helped me up, “You’re filthy.” “So are you,” I noted and licked some blood off a finger. Michael’s lips parted slightly, temptation flickering in his eyes all over again. Apparently, my blood sang to him authoritatively and it made a smirk spread on my face.

“Would you like to wash me up?” I teased. Instead of answering me, he pulled me close to him and the next moment we were in a bathroom upstairs — his bathroom. “Nicely done,” I complimented with an arched eyebrow and reached into the spacious glass shower to turn on the water.

In the soft sunlight that fell through the window, his blood shimmered like millions of rubies. The candlelight hadn’t done him any justice, had hidden the fact that he was deliciously toned. But now, although wrapped in crimson, it was my turn to devour the sight of him, to lust over him.

I stepped under the water, grateful that it was still fairly cold, and observed the blood running down the drain. What exactly had I gotten myself into?

“Join me?” I asked, my goosebumps slowly fading as the water reached a more agreeable temperature. But Michael didn’t budge, he just stared at me.

“Come on now, you’re making a mess,” I held out my hand and felt for our power that was still merged, wound together in a strong bond that would take a while to unravel. Not that I wanted it to. In fact, his power complimented my own in a way I had never experienced before and it gave me an odd sense of reassurance.

“You’re a goddess,” he stated and his throat bobbed. “Yes, well…,” I shrugged, unsure what he was aiming at. Michael took a cautious step towards me, “What would it take to win your goodwill? What would it take…for you to grant me victory in battle?”

Suddenly, I felt exposed and uncertain. This was no longer about our bond, about us being drunk on one another. He would tell me why I was here, he would show his hand. He would tell me what he needed from me. Slowly I started to realize that my flirtation with danger, darkness, and death had never been over.

In fact, it had only just begun.

Chapter 6

I didn’t answer him at first but just stood there, overwhelmed while Michael looked at me expectantly.

“I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, so why don’t we have this conversation some other time,” I suggested and overplayed the fact that I wasn’t comfortable enough to discuss future arrangements with him just yet — let alone to actually make any. Michael clenched his teeth in disappointment.

“That wasn’t a no, in case you missed it,” I added drily and folded my arms in front of my body. “It wasn’t a yes either,” he noted and sounded like a stubborn child. “I said yes to something else,” I reminded him, “But apparently you need a cavernous temple to be in the mood. Shame.” Hoping that my words would strike a nerve, I deliberately turned away from him and stared into the glossy tiles as I started to wash myself.

With my head under the water, I didn’t hear his steps when he joined me. Instead, I felt the warmth radiating from him when he came to stand behind me.

“Say that again,” he hissed into my ear, his lips brushing against my earlobe. “Careful, you might lose whatever goodwill you may have earned for yourself when you seduced me with your blood,” I teased with a chuckle and tried to ignore how even this small touch made my body ache for him. I felt his fingertips dancing down my spine in a ghost of a touch and I wanted nothing more than to lean into him, to answer his touch and silent invitation.

“My blood may have driven you to me,” he swiped my hair over my shoulder to place a tender kiss on the nape of my neck, “But I know that there was something else about me that seduced you.” “And what would that be, exactly?” I bit my lip when his arms snaked around my waist and pulled me against him, his excitement pressing against my backside. His hand slithered up to my neck and I instinctively tipped my head back. Excitement started to flutter in my belly as there was no doubt where this was going.

“The danger radiating off of me.” He kissed my neck. “The forbiddance.” Another kiss. “The temptation.” And another. “My power.”

“Not to mention your modesty,” I bantered but silently added his ridiculous good looks. Michael immediately punished me when his hands found my breasts, pinching my nipples. At least physically we spoke the same language. I groaned at his tantalizing touch.

“Is this what you want?” he taunted me and slowly let his fingers trail over my body. “Yes,” I breathed, grateful that he was holding me up as my knees were buckling. “Remember just how good I make you feel,” he said and turned me around to back me up against the wall. His lips crashed against mine, his kiss filled with a hunger that mirrored my own.

Michael’s hands cupped my behind and I hooked my legs around him when he lifted me up, pinning me between him and the cold tiles. He eased into me, the sensation just as exhilarating as before, and then started to have me against the wall as my fingers curled into his wet hair. Our bodies, powers, and movements were in perfect union which made us both fall apart quickly. Panting, we held on to each other, only slowly recovering from our lust.

“You still have blood in your hair,” I chuckled and tugged at a strand playfully when he deemed me strong enough to stand on my own legs, “What else is on the agenda for today? Now that we’ve covered rituals and shower sex…”

I knew I shouldn’t have asked when he gave me a knowing look. Business proposals. Right.

We finished washing up in silence and afterwards Michael sent me into my room to get dressed. For a moment, I remained wrapped in the fluffy robe and just sat on the bed, contemplating what I would tell him. What I could tell him.

A knock on the glass door made me look up. Apparently, I was taking too long. “Yes?” I got up and reached for an airy silk-chiffon dress before I shrugged off the robe. There was no need for me to get dressed in privacy. Not anymore.

Michael strode into the room, dressed in his usual princely attire that still made me wonder if he was sweeping me away to a midnight ball at any given moment. I didn’t even bother to ask how he got his luscious locks to look this perfect so shortly after having left the shower — maybe Satan was a superb hairstylist at heart?

With curiosity, he observed me slipping into the dress, immobile and silent. “We should maybe have something to eat,” he suggested and gestured towards the door. Considering that he had just given me three mind-blowing orgasms, he was oddly formal. I looked at him with a frown. “You almost drowned today,” he added as if that would explain his odd demeanor.

While he guided me into the kitchen, I thought of a new exit strategy. Yes, he was incredibly alluring and yes, I wanted him all over me, but I also needed to think about the world that waited for me outside. And that world would not welcome the Antichrist. Not even as my consort.

Consort! I couldn’t believe to be thinking in those reigns when he had abducted me only yesterday.

“Did you hear anything of what I just said?” Michael’s voice made me snap out of my thoughts. “Obviously not,” I admitted and took the mug of tea he offered me. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, “I have a proposal for you.” His features were set in stone as he waited for me to react.

“If it’s your hand in marriage, I politely decline. I never imagined my trophy husband to have a pulse,” I said and smirked over the edge of my cup, finding myself very funny. “I didn’t know that this kind of union was up for discussion,” he noted with bemusement, “But I find it fascinating that you apparently were thinking of it.”

He had caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. “It shouldn’t surprise you. Our powers have already eloped, in case you missed it,” I retorted with a small shrug, pleased with how I had diverted the thought.

“I didn’t miss it. In fact, it was why I suggested that I introduce you to some witches and warlocks,” he rested his hand under his chin, waiting for my response with anticipation dancing in his eyes. I straightened, “Witches and warlocks?”

“Yes. They attempted to teach me some parlor tricks at the Hawthorne Academy for Exceptional Young Men,” he waved dismissively when he said the name, “I haven’t been there in a while and I believe that it is time for me to pay them a visit.”

“And how exactly would that visit benefit me?” I demanded. “It would give you a chance to behold your subjects, you are the goddess of witchcraft after all.”

“They’re not my subjects,” I clarified and shook my head, “Why do you want these people to meet me? To see us together? To sense our bond?” Michael’s eyes flickered away from me. “Why do you want to show me around like a shiny new toy? How is this a fair proposal?”

“They are in my way,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

“So you want me to get rid of them? Strip them of their powers? For what? Why should I help you?” I knew that there was something he was keeping from me, some part of his plan that he was withholding on purpose. “This is not how you win my goodwill, Michael.”

He sighed through his nose and clenched his fists, “I am their alpha, their next supreme. But the current supreme, Cordelia Goode, questions me and my powers.” Probably because his powers weren’t exactly comparable to their own. Why did he want to be their supreme when he was clearly something else? Something more? “I doubt that you’re telling me all I need to know,” I pursed my lips, “But should this truly be about securing your rightful spot within the witchcraft community, then I am willing to help you.”

Michael relaxed noticeably. “I just don’t understand why you would call that a battle,” I added, putting enough warning into my voice. If he truly wanted my help, my goodwill, then he needed to be honest with me. But I decided to give him some time to reveal his entire plan. And the benefit of the doubt.

“What do you want in return?” he demanded and looked at me intently.

“Are we friends?” I checked, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Excuse me?” His eyebrows nudged together in confusion. “You and me, are we friends now?” I clarified, “Because I believe in helping my friends without asking anything in return.” Michael let go of a breath and nodded reluctantly.

“Well, just so you know, friends don’t lock friends inside a house. And they don’t steal each other’s belongings,” I held out my palm expectantly, “It’s time for you to give me back my bloodstone.”

“Do you want him to find you?” Michael folded his hands behind his back and I felt how he used his powers without as much as blinking. I immediately shook my head, “No. But I want you to trust me like I trusted you with the knife. I’m not going to run, I promise to support your cause and to come with you.”

“I… Thank you,” he finally said and dropped the pendant in my hand. The stone felt warm in my hand as if it had been somewhere close to him the entire time. There was, of course, the slight possibility that William had felt Michael’s turbulent and dark presence instead of my own. Maybe he already knew where I was…and with whom.

“You should let me contact my people. They need to know that I am safe and here out of my own free will,” I suggested and slid the necklace into the pocket of my dress. “They will know where you are the moment we visit Hawthorne tomorrow,” Michael retorted and lifted his chin, indicating that his people would blow the whistle on us.

I toyed with the necklace in my pocket, “Remember when you searched several records for a mention of my name? And how you kept pressing me to tell you what I am? Do you honestly believe that anyone at that school will be able to tell who I am? Who I belong to?”

“Who do you belong to?” He reached out and tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, a spontaneous yet intimate action that made my heart flutter in my chest. Would he ever belong to me? “I thought you knew,” I evaded his question, “Why do you think I was given that necklace?” His fingertips brushed against my jaw while his eyes were glued to my lips which parted slightly at his tender touch.

“Out of…love?” Michael tasted the word on his tongue as if he had never used it before or fully understood its meaning. As if it was a concept he was yet to fully experience.

My thoughts slid to William. He hadn’t given me the necklace out of love, not initially anyway. At some point, I had thought that I was in love with him, that he would be the person to carry me through the change within me and through my later transition. But I had been wrong. I wasn’t in love with William, I was in love with the idea of him, obsessed with how our story would be one of star-crossed lovers — a love so impossible that it was worth writing stories about. And William, he loved me. Sometimes as a lover, but mostly as a very close, reliable, and protective friend.

“William doesn’t love me like that,” I explained with a shrug, “and Clémence doesn’t either. But they care about me and want to protect me. They’re my…family.” Michael cocked his head to the side as his eyes found mine, “Family?”

“I don’t know my real mother or father and have barely any recollection of my early childhood. When I was six years old, Gaia found me. She was the one who brought me up and who introduced me to Clémence when the time was right. You’ll meet them all soon enough.”

I knew better than to ask him about his upbringing. The way he had reacted to hearing the words ‘love’ and ‘family’ told me enough. He would share when he was ready. If he ever was ready. After all, he had found another father in the meantime.

“Now,” I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips, “Does the Antichrist know how to cook? Or do I need to break out my inner domestic diva yet again?” Michael chuckled and it seemed like a heaviness had been lifted from his chest, “Please, do so.” “Okay,” I turned towards the fridge but looked over my shoulder before I started to collect some ingredients, “but you’re in charge of dessert.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he promised with a wicked grin.

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