#hi-its-josette ask

[morning-sun-brah]

Hello! I just read that Mafia au snippet and I need more of this. I could see the possible yearning between Leo and Vivian ugh and it’s delicious nomnom

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Here, have a treat!

<Part 1

Mafia AU, Part 2

Betty returned to the office two days later, her husband in stable condition, and when she did Leon told her that he would, with no exceptions, be the one to make bank deposits from then on (and also she was getting a raise- being a trophy wife for a geriatric seemed like hard work). 

“Anything to lighten the load,” he’d insisted. “You’ve got too much on your plate, Betts.” 

Betty had looked half skeptical, half relieved. It was the easiest part of her job, so Leon could understand the confusion, and she’d tried to show him how to download the bank app on his phone but he’d just waved her away and shook his head. 

“I got it,” he insisted.

Was he being a fool? Probably. Only a fool would trek their way into a bank just on the off-chance of talking to a pretty woman, but Leon had done worse. He was sure he had, anyway- he was close to forty, and he’d gotten into plenty of trouble with women and men alike. Maybe not with the promise of so little, though. A bit of prolonged flirting, with a woman he didn’t even know, seemed like the kind of bone a much younger man would go after. Which implied he was some sort of dog, but Leon wasn’t exactly rushing to rectify his own assessment.   

He returned to the bank a week later, a check in hand and grinning widely from the back of the line while he watched Vivian wait on customers. Leon had half convinced himself that his overactive imagination had exaggerated how pretty she was, how much he enjoyed looking at her- but on second sight he found her even more to his liking. Which was mildly surprising, since she looked a little run-ragged. Hair all piled on the top of her head in a crooked bun, only a swipe of lip gloss and a brush of mascara on her face, and dark bags under her eyes from behind the rims of her glasses (black and thick-framed today). 

Take her home and really exhaust her was his first thought, and he blinked at the idea before shoving it deep down, until it resided somewhere at his feet. 

He was a little worried, too, that she’d maybe looked him up. That when she’d call on him, it would be with a wealth of professionalism, maybe even fear, and he knew that if that were the case the game would be over. He’d have to download some stupid app to his phone and follow through with his promise to deposit checks, because there wasn’t a point in coming to the bank and talking to Vivian if she wasn’t going to treat him exactly how she had been- not knowing who or what he was. 

But her voice rang out when it was his turn in line, and he knew she still wasn’t clued in.

“Come on, big guy.” 

Immediately Leo was beaming- a lance of delight running through him that she remembered him, that she stuck with the moniker of big guy. That she didn’t know. 

She didn’t know. 

“Vivian,” he greeted, sliding over his check, leaning against her counter.  

“Oh my god,” she began, huffing out a breath that blew a stray chunk of hair from her forehead. “Did you even fill out a slip?!” 

“I did not.” 

“I should make you go to the back of the line,” she grumbled, grabbing a blank deposit slip and shoving it under his snout. “Go on,” she insisted. “Fill it out! I’m not doing it for you!” 

Leo pulled a frown. “But you have such nice handwriting,” he simpered. 

“Ew,” Vivian said, mouth opening and tongue lolling out to imitate retching. “Please, I’m not your mother. Fill out your own shit.” 

Leon chuckled, taking a bank pen and leaning over the counter a little more to fill in the blank spaces- one finger holding the slip steady since he’d once again forewent the prosthetic (and Donnie really was going to hand him his ass if he didn’t start wearing it more often). He glanced at her as he scrawled out the information, and Vivian gave him a little glare. 

“What?!” Leo asked indignantly. 

Not bothering to deny that she indeed had been glaring at him, Vivian snapped, “I’m mad at you.” 

Pausing midway through signing his name, Leo gave her an incredulous, baffled look. 

“What the hell did I do?!” he asked in a bewildered voice, a smile still tugging the corners of his lips. 

Vivian’s eyes slotted thinner. “Well for one, you didn’t bring me coffee,” she said, and Leon had the good grace to wince. 

“Shit, yeah, that's my bad, Viv.” 

If she had anything to say about him calling her Viv, she didn’t voice it- didn’t even look as though it bothered her in the slightest. Instead, she continued, “I don’t think you understand. Our coffee pot broke, and I haven’t had any caffeine. Do you know how excited I was when I saw you in line? I thought for sure you’d brought me coffee- seeing as I let you have mine when you needed it.” 

“You noticed me in line?” Leon asked brightly, ignoring the rest of her words and grinning when she snarled at him. 

“You’re too tall, how could I not notice you?”  

Leo chuckled and finished signing his name, tsking when she snatched the slip from his hand. 

“Could have given me a papercut,” he scolded, snorting when Vivian grumbled, then added, “Why else are you mad at me, sweetheart?” 

“Ugh, because your face is so punchable,” Vivian answered, tapping on her keyboard. 

Leon pouted- something she didn’t even notice because she wasn’t looking at him, and the expression melted into a frown. “C’mon, gorgeous, what did I do?” He prodded, voice dipping into sincerity. 

She stopped typing to turn fully in her seat, eyes narrowed at him, “Flattery will get you nowhere.” 

Leo’s brow ridge quirked. “I find it’s gotten me everywhere, actually. And who says it’s flattery? Who says it’s not the truth?” 

Vivian snorted. “Fine. Remember you asked for this.” She heaved a sigh and began. “My alarm went off a half hour before I was supposed to be here this morning, so I was an hour late. I look like death, I haven’t had coffee, my first customer yelled at me for twenty minutes, and you decided to come in today, of all days.” Vivian glared and added, “It’s rude.” 

Leo let a slow, wicked little smile stretch across his face. 

“So let me get this straight,” he said, eyes alight. “You’re mad at me because I came in and saw you… What? Not at your best?” 

Something that felt a lot like excitement alighted in his chest when, instead of backtracking or denying his words, Vivian nodded. 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“But I already have a terrible first impression of you,” Leon quipped. 

“Yeah, but I looked good, at least!” Vivian insisted, a little hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Now you have a terrible impression of me and I look like shit.” 

Leo couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, not noticing how some of the other customers who were still in line flinched at the sound. He gave her a crooked smile. “Vivian,” he started, waiting until she looked at him before adding in a very serious tone, “You’re absolutely right. You look like shit.” 

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up,” she sniped. 

Chuckling as her fingers tapped almost violently on her keyboard, Leo shook his head and said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were fishing for compliments.” 

She only responded by rolling her eyes again, casting him a dark glare, and Leon let his gaze travel over her desk. There was a little pot of fake flowers, a picture frame that was turned so he couldn't see who looked out from it, a blue stress ball that looked as though it had seen better days, and- 

“I’m sorry, is that a Rancor?” 

Vivian’s fingers paused. 

“And?” 

“You have a Rancor action figure at your desk?” 

“He’s my little pet.” 

Leo’s brow ridge went high on his forehead, casting her a dubious look. 

“Hey, judgy, don’t give me that look.” 

“I’m not judging.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Vivian insisted. “Seeing as you knew exactly what it was you nerd.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I’d be tossing unkind words when I’m not the one with a fucking Rancor sitting on my desk.” 

Vivian gave a little pout. “His name is Jerry.” 

Leon blinked at her. “Jerry.” 

“Yes. I think it’s funny to give big intimidating things normal names.” 

“Am I a big intimidating thing?” 

“No,” Vivian sniffed. “You’re a gremlin.” 

“God, the confidence boost I get talking to you.” 

She raised an arched brow at him and didn’t respond (though she did grumble out something that sounded a lot like now who’s fishing for compliments), and he drummed his fingers on her counter, just to be annoying. 

“I know you aren’t rushing me,” she deadpanned, cutting him a withering glare and slowing her typing down to a snail's pace. 

“I would never rush such a well-put-together lady,” he replied with snark. 

“I’m going to freeze your account.”

Something, maybe pity, finally tugged at Leon, and he gave a sigh. “C’mon now, Viv,” Leo murmured. “You know you look good.”

Finally, she blushed, and Leo leered at her when she ignored him to go back to typing.

There was a bit more aggressive tapping, and then she was sliding his check into the desktop safe that sat next to her. Just before she handed him his receipt she said, “You come in here again without my coffee, and I’ll ruin your life.” 

Leon scoffed and snatched the paper from her. 

“I’m tempted to see if you can.”

@starrcrossrose and I appreciate the love. <3

Also, what kind of man drinks up some poor woman's coffee and then doesn't bring her cup when he promised to? Degenerate behavior.

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 5) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Atlanta airport is different after months of European terminals. Everything's louder, more familiar, more home. Leila's dragging her designer luggage (a gift from Josette on her birthday) past Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, the smell making her realize how much she's missed proper Southern food.

Her mama nearly drops her church hat when she walks through the door unannounced, clutching her chest like Leila's appearance might send her straight to Jesus.

"Lord have mercy! What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Did that boy—" Jeanna Mae's already reaching for her phone, probably to alert the whole prayer circle about her prodigal daughter's return.

"Mama, breathe." Leila drops her bags by the door, taking in the familiar scent of sweet potato pie and those vanilla plugins. The house looks exactly the same – family photos covering every surface, that ancient TV guide that hasn't been opened since streaming existed, her daddy's old recliner still in its spot of honor.

"Don't tell me to breathe when you show up looking like somebody broke your heart." Her mama's fingers are flying across her phone screen. "And I bet it's about that captain of yours. The one who won't admit his feelings."

"Mama—"

"Don't 'mama' me. You flew across an ocean to run from that boy. I raised you better than that."

Before Leila can defend her life choices, her phone explodes with notifications:

Yolanda: BITCH YOU'RE HOME??? Kenzi: Emergency drinks at Slim & Husky's in 30. This is not a request Tasha: Don't even think about saying no. We saw your IG stories Yolanda: Already ordered the wine. GET HERE

Her mama's already pushing her toward the stairs, that knowing look in her eyes. "Go change. Your girls are waiting. But don't think this conversation is over. I want to know everything about this William boy too."

"How do you even—"

"Baby girl, I might be old but I know how to use Instagram. Now go. But we're having a proper talk when you get back."

An hour later, she's squeezed into a booth at Slim & Husky's, surrounded by her best friends since middle school and enough pizza and wine to fuel a proper intervention. The restaurant's busy for a weeknight, filled with that specific Atlanta energy she didn't realize she'd missed.

"So let me get this straight," Yolanda leans forward, wine glass dangling dangerously while her bamboo earrings catch the light. "You got TWO fine African men fighting over you? In EUROPE?"

"They're not fighting—"

"Girl, please." Kenzi rolls her eyes so hard they might get stuck. "One's bringing you Lebanese food while the other's having whole breakdowns in tunnels? That's fighting. That's fighting in multiple languages."

"And you're here because…?" Tasha raises an eyebrow, already reaching for another slice. "Because from where I'm sitting, you running from good dick. Multiple good dicks."

"I needed space," Leila adjusts her glasses, a nervous habit that makes her friends exchange looks. "From both of them. From all of it."

"Space?" All three look at her like she's lost her European mind.

"From the situation," she clarifies. "It's complicated."

"What's complicated about your captain being clearly in love with you but too scared to say it?" Yolanda's got that look that means she's about to start speaking truths nobody asked for.

"Or about you dating his teammate to make him jealous?" Kenzi adds, signaling for more wine. "Because baby, that's what you're doing."

"I am NOT—"

"You are." Tasha cuts her off, voice gentle but firm. "And baby? That never ends well. Trust someone who knows."

"Plus," Kenzi adds, "that William seems sweet. He doesn't deserve to be your rebound."

"He's not—"

"He is." All three say it in unison, years of friendship making them a well-oiled truth-telling machine.

"Look," Yolanda sets down her wine glass like she's about to deliver a sermon. "You got these two fine men – both rich, both fine as hell, both clearly interested. One's bringing you food and treating you right, while the other's having whole emotional breakdowns over you but won't say why. And instead of dealing with it, you flew home to eat pizza with us."

"The pizza is good though," Leila mutters.

"Not better than French dick," Tasha coughs into her wine.

The truth of it all hits different over pizza and pinot noir in her hometown, surrounded by friends who've known her since she was wearing Limited Too and dreaming about her first kiss. Maybe she did run. Maybe she's still running.

But maybe she needed to come home to figure out where she's actually trying to go.

"So what are you gonna do?" Kenzi asks softly.

Leila looks down at her phone – no messages from Aurélien, but three from William checking if she landed safely.

"I don't know."

But that's a lie.

She does know.

She's just not ready to admit it yet.

"Well if it isn't the finest women in Atlanta."

The voice makes Leila's entire body cringe before she even looks up. Torrance Johnson – high school quarterback turned local gym trainer – is standing at their table with that same smile that definitely worked better ten years ago.

"Torrance," Yolanda's voice could freeze hell. "Don't you have some protein shakes to blend?"

But he's already focused on Leila, eyes doing that slow scan that makes her wish she'd worn a turtleneck. "Damn girl, Europe's been good to you. When'd you get back?"

"She's not staying," Tasha cuts in. "And she's taken."

"By two men," Kenzi adds helpfully, earning herself a kick under the table.

"Two?" Torrance's eyebrows shoot up. "Nah, can't be. Our Leila? Miss Voted Most Likely to Marry Her Books?"

Something about the way he says it – that hint of dismissal, that suggestion that she couldn't possibly have multiple men interested – reminds her exactly why she left Atlanta in the first place.

Her eyes catch on his deliberately distressed jeans, probably bought that way from some boutique in Buckhead, and suddenly all she can think about is Aurélien. How he dresses like every Atlanta rapper's Pinterest board come to life, all designer streetwear and chains that probably cost more than Torrance's trainer fees.

"You should go," she says finally, not even looking up from her wine. "Your protein shakes are calling."

"Come on now—"

"She said go." Yolanda's voice carries enough attitude to make several nearby tables look over.

He leaves, but not before dropping his card on the table with a wink that probably works better on girls who haven't seen him throw up at prom.

"The audacity," Tasha mutters, reaching for more wine. "Acting like you ain't out here with whole European footballers fighting over you."

"They're not—"

"Girl, if you say they're not fighting one more time," Kenzi cuts in. "We've seen the videos. Your captain looked ready to commit murder in that tunnel."

"And William?" Yolanda adds. "That's not just trying to get some, that's husband behavior."

Leila's phone buzzes – another text from William asking how her first night home is going. Nothing from Aurélien, but Cama has sent her a video of him absolutely destroying the training ground equipment.

"You know what's funny?" she says finally, still staring at her phone. "Aurélien dresses exactly like these Atlanta boys trying to look hard. All ripped jeans and chains and-"

"Baby," Tasha interrupts gently, "the fact that you're thinking about how he dresses tells us everything we need to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yolanda starts, "that you flew across an ocean to get away from your feelings but you're still noticing his clothes."

"His very expensive clothes," Kenzi adds. "Not whatever Fashion Nova collection Torrance was trying to rock."

"Can we not—"

"Compare them?" Tasha grins. "Too late. We've all seen your Instagram stories. We know exactly what kind of men you're working with now."

"And neither of them," Yolanda adds, "is anything like these local boys trying to act like they're something. Your captain might dress Atlanta, but baby? That man's got that real money energy. And William?"

"Pure class," Kenzi nods. "The way he looks at you in those photos? Like you hung the moon or something."

"Meanwhile Aurélien looks at you like he's trying to figure out how to possess your soul," Tasha observes. "In a hot way."

"Y'all are doing too much," Leila mutters, but her cheeks are warm.

"Are we though?" Yolanda challenges. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've got two whole meals fighting over you in Europe while Torrance 'Peak in High School' Johnson is trying to get your attention with some jeans he probably bought at ASOS."

"The difference," Kenzi adds, "is that Aurélien's probably wearing jeans that cost more than Torrance's car."

"And William's probably never worn distressed anything in his life," Tasha laughs.

"Can we talk about something else?" Leila pleads. "Anything else?"

"Sure," Yolanda grins. "Let's talk about how you're going to handle going back to work. That's coming whether you're ready or not."

The reminder sits heavy in her stomach. One week left of pretending she's not running from her feelings. One week of Georgia comfort before facing reality.

Her phone buzzes again – a text from her mama this time:

That boy called me again. The captain. Asked how you were.

She turns her phone face down.

The chatter at the table felt like a lifeline, a reminder that even with the chaos of her love life — or whatever this was — her friends never changed.

"Alright, y’all," Leila starts, her tone light but her fingers nervously taps her glass. "If we’re gonna dissect my life like this, at least give me something useful. Any advice for handling… all of this?"

"You mean William?" Yolanda grin like she’s been waiting for this moment. "Or both of them?"

"Both," Leila admits, earning a chorus of gasps and exaggerated cheers from around the table.

"You kissed him, though?" Kenzi presses. "William? Wilo? What was it like?"

Leila took a sip of wine, letting the anticipation build. "It was… nice," she says, feigning nonchalance.

"Nice? Girl, come on!" Kenzi groans.

"Fine," Leila relents, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. "It made my kitty purr."

The table erupts, laughter bubbling up loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

"Big purr!" Yolanda cackles, fanning herself dramatically.

"And yet, you’re still hung up on Aurélien," Tasha says knowingly, swirling her wine like she had the upper hand in this conversation. "You can’t hide that."

"Because he’s got her heart," Yolanda teases. "William might’ve gotten a kiss, but Aurélien’s the one she wants to risk it all for."

"Okay, okay, but," Kenzi cuts in, her tone shifting into unsolicited-advice territory. "If you’re really gonna give Wilo a shot, you need to bring your A-game. Like, head game on ten."

Leila groans, her head falling into her hands. "Why do I feel like I’m about to regret asking this?"

"Because you probably are," Yolanda teases, ignoring her protest. "But listen up. The trick with a guy like William? You gotta be confident. Show him you know what you’re doing. And eye contact. Always."

"Exactly," Kenzi agrees, raising her glass. "And if he gets all quiet or grabs your hair—"

"I’m leaving," Leila interrupts, though she stayed firmly in her seat, face buried in her hands.

"You’re not going anywhere," Tasha says with a smirk. "This is gold, and you know it."

"I can’t believe I’m having this conversation," Leila mutters, peeking up from her hands.

"Believe it, baby," Yolanda says, taking a sip of her drink. "And take notes, because we all know William’s got that 'nice boy' energy, but Aurélien?"

"He’s giving 'break-the-headboard' energy," Tasha finishes matter-of-factly, earning another round of laughter.

Leila tries to glare at Tasha, but the heat rushing to her cheeks betrays her. "Y’all really have no chill, do you?"

"Not when we’re right," Yolanda says, sliding her phone across the table. "Speaking of Aurélien, have you seen this picture of him on the pitch? Look at his tongue."

Leila glances down reluctantly, only to be met with an image of Aurélien mid-game: shirt clinging to his torso, a sheen of sweat glistening under the stadium lights, his tongue peeking out in what was either concentration or defiance. His face was as expressive as ever, eyes lit with determination.

"You’re telling me this man isn’t whispering filthy things in French while making you see God?" Yolanda asks, her tone almost academic.

"I’m saying nothing," Leila says, snatching the phone and flipping it over. "Y’all are too much."

"But we’re not wrong," Kenzi shot back. "Aurélien looks like he’d talk you into doing things you didn’t even know you wanted to do. Just with that voice."

"And that tongue," Yolanda adds, grinning devilishly. "Girl, do you know how expressive his face is? Like, come on. He’s not just scoring goals on the pitch."

"Alright, that’s enough!" Leila protests, trying to keep her composure despite the riotous laughter around her.

"Enough?" Tasha raises a brow. "Girl, we’ve barely started. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About him and that—"

"I haven’t!" Leila lies, her voice is a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

"Uh-huh." Yolanda wasn’t buying it. "Listen, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. That’s not just casual interest. That’s 'call out my name when you’re about to come' energy."

Kenzi nearly spat her drink. "I mean, facts, but damn, Yolanda, say it with your chest."

"She already did," Tasha quipps. "And she’s not wrong. Leila, you’ve got two literal snacks fighting over you. One’s sweet, one’s spicy. You’ve gotta at least taste one."

Leila groans, her face in her hands again. "Y’all are insufferable."

"But you love us," Kenzi says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "And we love you. We just want you to live your best life. With both of them, if that’s what it takes."

"Big facts," Yolanda says, raising her glass. "To Leila living her best life, with Aurélien, William, and whoever else makes her kitty purr."

Leila couldn’t help but laugh, raising her own glass in surrender. "Y’all are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously right," Tasha says with a wink. "Now, tell us more about that kiss. Did he grab your waist? Your face? Both?"

And just like that, the teasing continued, leaving Leila both mortified and comforted. If nothing else, her girls always had her back, even if it meant roasting her into oblivion in the process.

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

Leila was halfway through her third slice of pizza at Slim & Husky’s when her phone buzzed on the table. The low hum of conversation and the warm scent of garlic and cheese filled the space, but the message on her screen stole her focus.

Wilo: Can you come to London next weekend? I miss you.

She stared at the words, her stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the food. Her friends were busy splitting a cinnamon roll flight, oblivious to the sudden weight in her chest.

"You good?" Kenzi asks, nudging her shoulder.

Leila blinks, quickly locking her phone. "Yeah. Just Wilo being… Wilo."

"Oh, what’s he saying now?" Yolanda leans in, her curiosity obvious.

"Nothing important," Leila mutters, waving them off.

Her friends gave her knowing looks but didn’t press further. Leila took another bite of pizza, forcing herself to focus on the moment, the laughter, the easy camaraderie. But her phone felt heavier in her pocket now, like it was daring her to check it again.

Later that night, back at home, the scent of fried chicken and collard greens still lingered in the air from dinner. Leila leans against the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long gone lukewarm. The hum of the dishwasher filled the kitchen as her mama wiped down the table, and her daddy sat at the head, finishing the last of his sweet tea with a satisfied sigh.

"That hit the spot, baby," he says, patting his belly. His trucker hat was tipped back on his head, a little smudge of grease still on his hands from unloading earlier.

Her mama smiles, but the look she gave him was clear: We need some girl time.

He caught the silent signal and grins, pushing back his chair. "Alright, I know when I’m not needed. Leila, you make sure your mama doesn’t go pulling out another project this late. I’m gonna grab a shower."

"Yes, sir," Leila says with a small smile, watching him leave the room.

Her mama waited until the sound of the shower started before she finally spoke.

"You got something on your mind, girl?" her mama asks, setting down the dishcloth.

Leila hesitates. "No. Just tired."

Her mama raised a brow but didn’t push. Instead, she grabbed a glass of water and leaned on the counter across from Leila.

"You get my text about Aurélien calling me today?" she asks, her tone deceptively casual.

"Yeah."

"Wanted to check on you. Asked how you’ve been," her mama says, sipping her water.

Leila frowns. "What did you tell him?"

"Told him you’re grown, handling your business," her mama replies easily. "But he sounded worried. Said he missed you.”

Leila’s chest tightens, but she kept her expression cool. "He didn’t say that to me."

"Maybe he’s scared to," her mama says, fixing her with that all-knowing look. "Men don’t always say what they mean, but they show it in other ways."

Leila snorts, shaking her head. "He’s all talk, Mama. If he cared, he’d show up. William’s the one actually trying."

Her mama’s lips quirks up in a small smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you’re just scared of what it would mean if Aurélien came through. Scared to let him in."

Leila looks away, her throat tight. "I’m not scared."

"Sure you’re not," her mama says lightly, pushing off the counter. She paused to kiss the top of Leila’s head. "Just don’t be so busy keeping your options open that you miss out on what you really want."

As her mama walked out of the kitchen, Leila’s phone buzz again.

Wilo: Please, Leila. I just want to see you.

Her thumb hovers over the screen, but her mind isn’t on Wilo. It was on Aurélien and the way his name had sounded coming from her mama’s lips. The way her heart had skipped just a little at the thought of him calling to check on her.

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

Leila only has a few more days at home, and it’s messing with her head. She thought coming back to Atlanta would give her clarity, but instead, it feels like everything is weighing on her even more. The whole thing with Aurélien and Wilo — it’s making everything harder.

Should she quit being Aurélien’s PA to be with Wilo? Or just quit being a PA altogether and finally figure herself out? But if she does quit, she’s not going back to corporate. Hell no. That life nearly drained her dry the first time around, and she’s not making that mistake again.

Still, the idea of starting fresh sounds good — better than being stuck in the middle of whatever this is. But then Wilo texts her again, and curiosity gets the better of her. What could this thing with him really be? Would it work if she gave it a real shot?

It’s late, but she picks up her phone and finally replies.

Leila: I’ll come see you this week.

His response comes almost immediately.

Wilo: This week? You sure?

Leila: Yeah. I’ll let you know when I land.

She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. By morning, her ticket to London is booked, and by the afternoon, she’s already on her way to the airport. Her mama gives her one of those tight hugs that says, I know you’re up to something, but I’ll let you figure it out. Her daddy tells her to be safe, his attention mostly on the game playing on the living room TV.

The flight is smooth, and she spends most of it bouncing between nervous excitement and second-guessing herself. By the time she lands, her resolve is still intact, but she’s made one decision for sure— she’s not staying at Wilo’s house. That’s too much temptation, and she needs to be as clear-headed as possible.

Her hotel is chic but understated, the kind of place that feels luxurious without screaming it. She texts Wilo her room number once she’s checked in, her pulse kicking up as she sends it.

Not even twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

When she opens it, Wilo is standing there, dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, but somehow still looking like he just stepped out of a GQ spread. He’s holding a bouquet of white roses and grinning like he’s relieved she actually showed up.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice low and warm.

"Hey," she replies, stepping aside to let him in.

The air between them feels heavy but not uncomfortable. He hands her the flowers, his fingers brushing hers in a way that sends a jolt straight through her.

"I wasn’t sure if you were serious," he admits, watching her as she sets the flowers on the desk near the window.

"I was," she says, turning to face him. "I just… needed to make sure I was doing this for the right reasons."

"And?"

"And I’m here," she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Wilo steps closer, his gaze steady and unflinching. "I’m glad you are."

Leila feels her heart skip, but she keeps her cool, determined to stay clear-headed and focused. She’s not here to get swept away — at least, that’s what she tells herself.

"So," she says, breaking the moment before it gets too intense. "What’s the plan?"

He grins, his dimples making an appearance. "I thought we’d just wing it. Unless you’ve got something in mind?"

"Wing it works," she says, grabbing her jacket.

As they head out, she can’t help but wonder if she’s walking into something that will make everything even more complicated — or if, for once, it might actually lead to something real.

Leila and Wilo keep it low-key, staying under the radar as much as possible. No fancy dinners or crowded hotspots — just little moments that feel easy. They grab coffee at a quiet café tucked into a side street, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and a barista who doesn’t even blink at Wilo’s recognizable face.

Later, they wander through a park, laughing about something stupid Wilo said. It’s simple, and it feels good — so good that Leila starts to think this could actually work.

At one point, they find themselves in a small record store. Wilo flips through vinyls, holding one up every now and then with a smug grin. "You’d love this," he says, handing her a Prince album.

Leila rolls her eyes but takes it anyway, her fingers brushing against his for a second too long. It’s moments like this that make her question everything she thought she wanted or didn’t want.

As they sit down for a late lunch at a quiet bistro, she sneaks a photo of Wilo, mid-laugh, the light catching just right on his face. She uploads it to her Close Friends story, tagging it with a coy little caption: London’s treating me well.

Her Close Friends list is carefully curated. Aurélien isn’t on it — he never has been — but Jules and Cama are. And if she knows anything about them, they’re definitely going to report back.

And she doesn’t care.

Part of her wants them to. She wants Aurélien to see the photo, to know she’s here, to feel something. Everyone keeps saying he has feelings for her, but he’s never done anything to prove it. No grand gesture, no confession, not even a drunken text. If he has feelings, he hides them well, and Leila’s tired of guessing.

As the day goes on, though, her phone stays silent. No text, no DM, nothing. She tries to push it out of her mind, focusing on Wilo instead. He’s attentive, sweet, and clearly into her, and she knows she should be grateful for that.

But as much as she tries to stay present, Aurélien lingers in the back of her mind.

When she gets back to her hotel that evening, Wilo walks her to her door, his hand lingering at her lower back. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him with a soft smile.

"Not tonight," she says, her voice gentle but firm.

Wilo steps back, nodding. "I get it," he says, his tone understanding. "Goodnight, Leila."

"Goodnight," she replies, watching him walk away before stepping into her room.

As she sits on the edge of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, she starts to wonder if it’s time to cut her losses entirely. Maybe Aurélien’s silence is her answer. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for something that’s never going to happen.

She exhales sharply, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. Whatever happens next, she knows one thing for sure: she’s done chasing after a man who won’t meet her halfway.

Leila wakes up to the soft hum of her phone vibrating against the nightstand. She groggily grabs it, squinting at the screen. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Training’s at nine. Match starts at six. Rest up so you don’t fall asleep in the stands.

She rolls her eyes but smiles, setting the phone down. Today is her last full day in London, and as much as she’s enjoyed the ease of her time with Wilo, the reality of going back to Madrid looms like a cloud over her.

By the time she’s up and moving, Wilo’s already at the training ground, leaving her with a slow morning to herself. She takes her time getting ready, picking out a sleek but casual outfit for the game: a fitted cream sweater tucked into high-waisted jeans and ankle boots. Makeup just this side of "I woke up like this" but definitely intentional and finally using her contact lenses (bout goddamn time).

As the day creeps toward evening, she grabs an Uber to the stadium. She’s buzzed into the VIP entrance, her name already on the list, and escorted to her seat in the family section. The energy inside the stadium is electric, fans chanting and waving scarves as the teams warm up. She watches Wilo out on the pitch, his warmup jacket zipped up to his chin as he jogs and stretches. He looks calm, focused, and seeing him like this — so in his element — makes her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t expecting.

The match kicks off, and it’s tense from the start. Liverpool presses hard, their attacks relentless, but Arsenal holds their own. Wilo is sharp on the ball, threading passes with precision and orchestrating plays like he was born to do it. Leila watches, captivated, her hands gripping the edge of her seat every time he makes a dangerous run or intercepts a pass.

At halftime, the score is still 0-0, and the tension in the stadium is palpable. Leila scrolls through her phone, trying to distract herself, but her notifications are quiet. She had half-expected a message from Jules or Cama, but apparently, they’ve decided to keep their mouths shut or maybe Aurélien just doesn’t care.

The second half is even more intense. Liverpool finally scores, and the stadium goes silent except for the away fans celebrating. But Arsenal fights back, and in the 50th minute, Wilo delivers a stunning assist that leads to an equalizer. The crowd erupts, and Leila finds herself on her feet, cheering and clapping like she’s been an Arsenal fan her whole life.

When the final whistle blows, the game ends in a 2-2 draw. It’s not a win, but it’s a hard-fought point, and the energy in the stadium reflects that.

After the match, she’s escorted to the family area. She spots Bukayo Saka almost immediately, his bright smile unmistakable as he chats with a group of people. He notices her standing off to the side and makes his way over.

"Hey, you’re Wilo’s friend, right?" Bukayo asks, extending a hand.

Leila shakes it, her lips curving into a polite smile. "Yeah, Leila. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. He’s been talking about you all week."

Her cheeks warm at that, but she keeps her composure. "Hopefully, only good things."

Bukayo laughs. "Yeah, don’t worry. All good things."

They chat for a bit, Bukayo’s easygoing nature making the conversation flow effortlessly. He’s mid-sentence when someone else calls out to him, and he waves before excusing himself. Leila glances around the room, her eyes landing on a familiar figure — Ibou Konaté.

Ibou catches her gaze and raises an eyebrow. "So. You and Wilo, it's serious, huh?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't start."

He chuckles, those famous dimples appearing. "Brussels was interesting. Aurélien wasn't exactly subtle about his mood."

Leila freezes. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on," Ibou says, leaning in. "You think Les Bleus don't talk? After those Israel and Belgium matches? Aure looked like he was one bad pass away from committing murder every time Wilo was mentioned." His tone is knowing, just this side of teasing. "He's not gonna like this. Not one bit."

"Ibou—" she starts, a warning in her voice.

He holds up his hands. "Just saying. Some captains get… particular about things." The way he says it makes it clear he's talking about Aurélien specifically. "Wilo's a good guy. But Aure? Man's complicated."

Leila can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Tell me about it."

She chats with Ibou for a few more minutes then he gave her a hug before he left. Her phone then buzzes. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Where you at?

She types a quick response: Family area. Waiting on you.

A few minutes later, he appears, freshly showered and dressed in casual streetwear. His eyes find hers instantly, and he makes his way over, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Tired?" he asks, sitting down beside her.

"Not really," she lies. In truth, the emotional weight of the day — of the entire trip — is starting to catch up with her.

"Good," he says. "I want to take you out for one last drink before you leave."

She hesitates, but only for a second. "Okay," she says, her voice steady.

They leave the stadium together, slipping out a side exit to avoid the lingering fans and media. The bar he takes her to is quiet and intimate, tucked away in a corner of the city she doesn’t recognize. They sit in a cozy booth, nursing their drinks and talking about everything and nothing.

For a moment, it feels easy �� like they’re just two people enjoying each other’s company without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

But as the night winds down, the reality of her impending departure settles heavily between them.

"Thanks for today," she says as they stand outside the bar, the cool night air nipping at her skin.

"Anytime," he says, his eyes searching hers.

She knows she should say more — explain how much she’s appreciated his kindness, his patience, his effort — but the words catch in her throat.

Wilo steps closer, his hands finding her waist in a way that feels both casual and deliberate. "Can I take you back?" he asks, his voice low and warm.

She nods, and just like that, they’re walking back to her hotel. The streets are quieter now, the city winding down around them. Leila keeps her hands in her pockets, but Wilo’s presence beside her feels grounding, a steady reminder that for tonight, she doesn’t have to figure everything out.

At the hotel entrance, she pauses, not quite ready to say goodbye. "You don’t have to walk me all the way up," she says softly.

"Didn’t plan to," he teases, though his smile is gentle.

Still, he lingers. He tilts her chin up with a finger, his touch light, testing. When she doesn’t pull away, he leans down and kisses her. It’s soft at first, a question she answers without hesitation, leaning into him like she’s been waiting for this all night.

His hands slide to her hips, pulling her closer, and for a moment, she forgets everything — Aurélien, the uncertainty, the nagging voice in her head telling her this is a bad idea. All she knows is the warmth of Wilo’s lips against hers, the way he tastes like the pint he ordered earlier, the way he makes her feel wanted.

When they break apart, she’s breathless, her heart pounding. "I should…" she starts, but the rest of the sentence never comes.

"You should," he agrees, though there’s a glint in his eye that says he knows she won’t.

Panic creep into her thoughts, uninvited but impossible to ignore. Wilo is right here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. Why is she still holding back?

"Do you want to come up?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her voice quieter than she intended.

Wilo studies her for a beat, searching her face for something —hesitation, regret, a reason to say no. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, because he nods. "Yeah," he says simply.

The elevator ride to her floor is silent, the air between them charged. By the time they reach her room, her nerves are buzzing, though she doesn’t quite know if it’s anticipation or anxiety.

Inside, she tosses her bag onto the chair and turns to face him. He’s already close, closing the distance between them in two strides. This time, his kiss isn’t soft or questioning - it’s confident, urgent, like he’s been waiting for her permission all night.

Her hands find their way to his shoulders, then his chest, sliding under the fabric of his shirt. His skin is warm, his muscles taut under her touch. He groans softly against her lips, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

"Leila," he murmurs, his voice rough. It’s not a question, but it feels like one, like he’s giving her a chance to stop this before it goes too far.

But she doesn’t want to stop. Not tonight. Not when everything feels this good, this right.

"Don’t think," she whispers, her words muffled against his lips, feeling a pull to give in even though her mind is screaming at her to stop.

It feels too good — his mouth on hers, his hands now sliding under the hem of her sweater, fingertips brushing her skin in a way that sends a bolt of heat straight through to her kitty. For a second, she can forget everything. Forget the uncertainty, the guilt. Forget Aurélien and the pressure of what she’s supposed to want, what she’s supposed to feel.

Her heart beats faster, and the only thing that matters is the way Wilo’s kiss deepens, pulling her closer as if they’re both drowning in each other, but even as she gets lost in the sensation, the thought of what this means for later creeps up, a whisper in her mind.

Stop before you do something you’ll regret, her inner voice warns, and it’s almost a shout against the moment. She should pull away, tell him this is a mistake, that she’s not ready to complicate things more than they already are.

Yet then, the conversation with her girls back in Atlanta echoes in her mind. Because why should she keep hanging on to something that wasn’t even clear? Wilo is here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. He’s showing her attention — something she craves, something that’s been missing for too long.

She breathes in, pulling away just enough to look at him, her hands resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palms. Her voice is barely a whisper, but it carries a weight. "I’m not... I’m not gonna go all the way," she says, almost like a promise, though part of her wishes she could just let go.

Wilo doesn’t pull away, his eyes searching hers, gauging her intentions. "Just a taste, then?" he murmurs, the question laced with a little teasing but also an understanding. He isn’t pushing her. He’s letting her make the call.

A part of her wants to shake her head, to step back and stop this before it goes too far. She knows better, knows she shouldn’t be using him to fill a gap that Aurélien has left wide open. However, Wilo’s not asking for anything more than what she’s willing to give him right now — and, hell, maybe she needs it. Plus, he got her panties wetter than a Slip N' Slide.

She smiles a little, though it’s hesitant, her mind still conflicted. "Yeah," she says softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "Just a taste."

And in that moment, it feels like a decision.

His lips are back on hers instantly, and the kiss deepens with an urgency that’s different now, like they both know the boundaries but are still curious enough to see how far they can go. His hands are sliding back to her waist, tugging her closer until she can feel the heat of him through their clothes.

Wilo’s hands are warm, exploring, but careful. He’s taking his time, sensing her hesitation, allowing her the space to pull back if she needs it. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets herself go, leaning into the moment as his lips travel to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Every kiss feels like a promise she isn’t sure she’s ready to make, but she’s here, and she’s going to live in the now. She’s not sure how much longer she can keep pretending she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him.

Leila can feel her pulse quicken as Wilo’s hands slide down her arms, gently tugging at the fabric of her sweater. The air between them crackles with the same electricity that had been building ever since her first day in London.

With a soft tug, he pulls the sweater over her head, leaving her in just a bra. She can feel the cool air of the hotel room against her skin and Wilo’s eyes don’t leave hers as he strips off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. She feels her breath hitch, the sight of him sending a wave of heat through her.

He notices her reaction, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.

Ho-ly shit. Leila nods, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… wasn’t expecting all of that."

He chuckles softly and gets closer, his hands resting gently on her hips before his lips find hers. Leila kisses him back, feeling the pull of desire stir within her.

They stumble backward onto the bed, their lips still tangled in a kiss, the heat between them intensifying. She can’t help but enjoy the feel of his hands on her body, the way his fingers move with intention, his touch confident yet tender. When his hands wander, brushing along her sides and up her back before copping a feel on her titties, his dick pressing against her thigh; she arches into him instinctively. His touch makes her feel seen, cherished, in a way she hasn't felt in a long time.

Leila wonders what would happen if she let go entirely. What if she just let herself be free of all the things that tie her down?

Even in the heat of it all, a small part of her pulls back. She remembers the life she’s built — the career she’s worked for — and wonders if she’s willing to risk it all for something that might be temporary.

Her phone starts vibrating. Once. Twice.

One of Wilo's hands is tracing lazy circles along her lower back. "Ignore it," he murmurs, his lips still brushing the shell of her ear.

She does — until the phone goes nuclear. Ping. Ping. Ping-ping-ping. A digital storm that practically rattles the walls.

Wilo raises an eyebrow, pulling back just enough to glance at her phone. "Damn," he mutters under his breath.

Her screen is chaos. Four missed calls. Multiple texts. And, of course, a voice note from Aurélien.

The timing? Almost comical. Almost.

Leila swipes open the messages. They’re an avalanche — each one more urgent than the last. Her thumb hovers over the voice note, hesitant but not enough to stop her. A ticking time bomb of potential drama.

She looks at Wilo, a flicker of guilt passing through her, before her eyes drift back to the phone. Wilo doesn’t move, just watches her, unreadable.

"Give me a sec," she mutters, pulling away from him and sliding off the bed. The space between them feels too wide now, too obvious, but she ignores it, heading for the bathroom.

Door closed. Her back pressed against it, she lifts the phone to her ear.

Aurélien's voice hits her like a slap. Broken. Fragmented. Each word jagged, like he's stumbling through a maze of his own making.

"Leila, I—" His breath hitches. "I can't—" The silence is thick, filled with the things he's too scared to say. "Je suis—"

Her heart, traitorous as ever, speeds up. She presses the phone tighter to her ear, her own breath shaky in response to his.

Another ping. A text. She opens it without thinking.

First, a video. Aurélien's hands. His long fingers dancing over the piano keys in that way she knows too well. The melody — raw, unfinished. Like he’s trying to patch a hole in the air between them.

Then, a screenshot. A letter. A confession. Handwritten, messy, vulnerable. It’s almost too much to take.

Her breath catches.

The world outside the bathroom door feels distant. Almost unreal. Her mind pulls her back, urging her to breathe, to think. But the words on the screen? They’re the kind that push all logic aside.

Her finger hovers over the phone, but she can’t bring herself to delete the message. She opens it again.

The letter fills the screen, and it makes her chest tighten as she reads.

"I don’t know how to say it — words always fail me when it matters most. I’ve tried so many times, but each time, the words slip away like sand between my fingers. So this time, I’m writing it down. Maybe that’s all I can do. Maybe it’s enough to be honest.

You’ve become the quiet in my chaos. The calm in my storm. You’re the one I think about when I’m too tired to think about anything else. The one I reach for when I feel like I’m losing myself. But I never said it. And I should have. I should have said it, Leila. I should have been better at telling you that you matter, that you're my rock, more than just okay.

Maybe it’s too late now. But please know, it’s never been anyone else but you.

I’m sorry for not being brave enough before. But I’m here now. I’m ready to fight for this, if you are.

Aurelien."

She gasps as she finishes reading. His words, they hit different than before. She’s used to his confidence, his charm, his ability to make everything feel effortless. But this? This is him. Vulnerable. Honest. The rawness of it leaves her heart aching in places she didn't even know were sore.

It’s a love letter in its truest sense — one that doesn’t gloss over the mistakes, but lays them bare. The kind that you don’t often hear. And for the first time, she feels it. He’s finally saying the things he should have said long ago.

But is it too late?

The question sits heavy on her chest, and she hates that she even has to ask. She wants to be angry. She wants to throw his words back at him and walk away. But she can’t. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s been holding on to him, or because she’s scared of what this newfound honesty means. All she knows is that his words have shattered the wall she’s been building around her heart.

Aurelien’s been her whole world for so long. Maybe she’s been waiting for him to catch up, to finally see her the way she’s always seen him. But she’s not sure she has the strength to wait any longer.

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to clear her mind. The cool air in the bathroom doesn’t help. Neither does the soft knock on the door.

"Everything alright?" Wilo’s voice is low, gentle, and when she doesn’t answer immediately, he pushes it open just a fraction.

Her heart skips at the sight of him. He’s standing there. He doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. He can see it in her face, in the way her hands are trembling slightly as she holds the phone.

"I’ll be fine," she says, her voice a little too sharp. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.

Wilo doesn’t press. He just steps into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze steady, like he’s giving her the space to breathe and figure it out for herself.

She stares at the phone again, knowing she can’t keep going back to the message. But it’s impossible to look away from it now. His words are etched in her mind, replaying over and over again. She thought she was over him. That she could move on, that the pieces would fall into place. Yet now?

She’s not sure.

Finally, she slides the phone back into her pocket, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I don’t know what to do," she whispers, more to herself than to Wilo, but he hears her. He always does.

"You don’t have to decide right now," he says softly, but there’s a certain weight to his words. "You’re allowed to take your time, Leila."

Her chest tightens at the gentleness in his voice. He’s not pushing her. Not demanding answers. This isn’t about picking between him and Aurelien. It’s about what she wants, what she’s willing to fight for.

And the truth is, she’s tired. Tired of waiting, tired of not being seen, tired of trying to make things fit where they don’t.

But the letter… the letter is the first time he’s shown up for her, even if it’s a little too late. She doesn’t know if it’s enough to make up for everything, but it’s a start.

Leila takes a deep breath meeting Wilo’s gaze for the first time, really looking at him. He’s patient, understanding. And in his eyes, she doesn’t see the same questions that have been haunting her.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For being here."

Wilo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he pulls her gently back into his arms, and for a moment, she lets herself feel the warmth of his presence, the steadiness of him.

But in the back of her mind, Aurelien’s words linger.

It’s never been anyone else but you.

Is it too late to believe him?

.............tbd

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Just Another Weekend

George Russell x OC!Vettel

It had just been a weekend like any other in May.

Well, the same as any other weekend when your father has spent the majority of your life racing and he's the only parental figure that you have.

But it was Monaco. And Monaco is its own breed.

I guess that's how we had ended up drunk off our asses, my father nowhere to be seen, George and I sneaking off ourselves.

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rosannavettel we're up early this morning in the josie & rose house and we're ready to watch some racing!

sebastianvettel can't wait to spend the day with my two favorite grils :)

rosannavettel who taught you how to do non-emojis

"Papa, ich verstehe nicht, für wen wir uns einsetzen sollen," (dad, i don't understand who we are supposed to be rooting for) I whisper, eyeing the headphones that are sitting snuggly over Josette's curls, her eyes shut tight with small snores escaping her lips.

She sounds just like her father did.

"Wir feuern Redbull an, meine Liebe," (we're rooting for redbull my dear).

"I'm going to pretend that I don't take offense to that," A sassy Monesque voice chimes from our side, making sense since the walls are painted red.

"Charlie, you know Papa means nothing harsh by it, you know that," I assure, him kissing my cheek and Josette's head in response before side-hugging my father.

"He knows he's tied with Mick for my favorite Grid Kids," Papa assures, Josette giggling brightly without reason, simply happy to be alive.

"And how is my favorite princesse (princess)?" Charlie asks, kissing Josette's head.

"I thought I was your favorite princesse?" Lando's voice rings, bringing more laughs out of the little one, clad in black romper with polkadots. "But if my replacement is as cute as this little muppet, I'm sure I can accept my fate."

"Lando, please meet my daughter Rosanna and her daughter Josette. Rose, meet Lando Norris, -"

"McClaren driver, number 4," I recite, "We met last year when I visited for the Monaco GP."

"Right, you told me you were barely 19 at the time, we bonded over being too young for all these old people," Lando laughs, eyes now drifting to Josette. "But you're a new addition, aren't you muppet?" He asks, leaning in shaking her hand jokingly, giving her enough time to get her other hand weaved in his curly hair and offer a yank.

"I am so sorry, we've been working on the hair pulling," Is all I can offer, untangling my daughter from his head as he waves me off.

"Don't worry, she get's me all the time," Papa assures the boy, who's name is called from somewhere behind us, earning the attention of the little group we have formed. It's when turning that I see them. See him. The other 2019 rookies.

"Sebastian, didn't know you'd be attending today!"

"Wanted to see Lando, Lewis and I for our home race?" George asks cheekily, Alex shoving his shoulder into the blonde when he makes eye contact with me.

"If it isn't Baby Vettel," Alex is the one to greet, gently pulling me into a hug around Jo. "You know, Lily was wondering why you were never up to go out when we've been in the area. But now I see there is a new baby Vettel, hello sweetheart."

"She's adorable," George compliments, an awkward smile gracing his handsome face.

"She kind of looks like you Georgie," Lan jokes happily, not realizing the magnitude of what he's said, with no one understanding what's been said.

Except for George. Because he's actually a very intelligent man, and he knows how to do basic estimation and math.

And based on the look in his eyes right now, this man is feeling intelligent today.

"Could I offer you two a tour of Mercedes? I'm sure Lewis would love to see you both."

Fuck, he used the secret weapon. He knows I adore Lewis, and so does my father.

"You go on Rose, I want to go say hello to a few more people," Papa assures, swatting my presence away before wrapping his arms around Alex and Charles, leading the group of drivers away.

"So."

"So?" I can't help but respond, Josette's head tilting slightly to the side at the presence of the man in front of us.

"Um, how have you been, Love? I see you have -"

"Just ask the question I know is swirling in your mind, George, there's truly no point in beating around the bush," I can't help but interrupt, never a fan of small talk.

"So then she's mine?" He asks, knowing the answer. "I had a feeling, but given what you've just said I'd say it's pretty clear what my answer is."

"Biologically she's yours, yes," I respond, Josette giggling and throwing her arms around my neck. "I would have mentioned it, but given that it was a one nighter and you didn't answer my calls for the first two weeks, I'd say it was difficult at best."

"What calls?"

"Don't pla-"

"No I'm being genuine Rosa, I never got any calls from you. I would have dropped everything if I had known about..."

"Josette Elise," I supply, "We call her Joss, although my dad calls her Ettie."

"Josette," He mumbles, his accent making Joss giggle as her attention is drawn to him. "I love it," He continues, her little hand reaching out and holding his finger, too tuckered to fully reach out for him but wanting the connection. "And she's wonderful."

"I'd like to think so, but she is entirely too much like my father," I can't help but complain, not at all meaning it.

"I'd like to get to know her, if you'd let me? Get to know you better as well, outside of being Vettel's daughter?"

I can't help but smile. He genuinely seems like he wants to get to know her. Know us.

"What do you say, Joss? Do we want to let him get to know us?"

She just giggles, smiling a cheeky smile and babbling happily.

Looking to George, I can see the love and admiration in his eyes.

So with a soft smile, I look to the man in front of me. "Looks like you'll be getting to know us."

And he smiles back.

"Brilliant."

two years later

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georgerussel63 my everything 🤍

rosannavettel we love you georgie 🤍

[widowshill]

top 3 ds arcs?

Sleepover asks.

1. The Laura arc.

Genuinely, genuinely made me fall in love with the show. to start, I think Diana Millay as Laura is one of the best cast roles we have, she's absolutely exquisite, and the Phoenix is one of the most interesting monstrous creations, certainly one of the most unique. On the whole, the arc strikes a nice balance between the supernatural (the séances, the painting, the mystery of what Laura is and the extent of her powers, lots of Josette activity) and the personal (the fascinating dynamic between Roger Laura and Burke, Vicki jostling with Laura for the role of David's mother, Roger coming to be more of a father towards David and — by extension — having an altered relationship to Vicki, and Carolyn being forced to grow up through the absence of her own mother). The Laura arc is also soaked deeply in changing 1960's attitudes towards psychology and parapsychology, but I don't mean that it feels dated; rather, that it's bitingly topical to its moment, and it's fun for me to sit with as a kind of ... sociopolitical time-capsule that's not all that divorced from the pressing issues of the 2020's.

And for me, this arc is what the essence of Dark Shadows is and when it's at its most compelling: the fractious familial dynamics (psychological) manifest in a very real supernatural element (parapsychological) that threatens material harm, which in turn reflects back on what the writers and directors have to say about motherhood, marriage, and family units — nuclear and otherwise. By that I mean that the rules of Laura's monstrosity, the continuous reincarnation to burn herself and her son alive, is in direct conversation with fears about failed motherhood: a mother who does not nurture, but kills her children; the bride who self-cannibalizes the heir and ends the family line rather than furthering it; who kills her son so that he may stay a boy and belong to her forever, as opposed to letting him grow and in so doing grow away from her; whose goal in having children is not to love them, but to achieve immortality for herself and preserve her own image.

But the perversion of family roles (especially Roger and Laura's nuclear family) is already a conversation well before we find out that Laura is something other than human; the circumstances of Roger and Laura's marriage, Roger's hatred for David and his dubious paternity, Laura's alcoholism and subsequent confinement in the sanitarium, Roger's sister stepping into the role of mother for David, etc. And this bears out (narratively speaking) to a child who's been molded in an environment of hatred and fear, who attempts to kill his own father, and who embraces the monstrous mother who consumes her own young. The Laura arc digs into the idea that the Dark Shadows supernatural are a symptom of a broader social illness, as opposed to a threat self-contained in any single individual — ghosts, vampires, phoenixes, growing from fissures in the paving of social order. The monster is the sporophore — the fruit — of the fungal colony, with a mycelium network of familial rot underneath. much as I enjoy some of the creature-feature-ness of later episodes, the gothic horror foundations are where I'm at home.

2. The kidnapping of Maggie Evans.

I know I talk a lot of shit about Barnabas (and I do wholeheartedly disagree with the Jack Sparrow-ification of him as a protagonist, which is a post for another time) but Barnabas' first act is really, really good, and it's not surprising that this is what captivated a whole country of 3rd graders, married women, studio executives, and Academy Award-winning screenwriter Terry Rossio. It goes without saying of course that Frid is a virtuoso and probably wasted on this show when he could have been playing Lear at RSC, but thank god he settled. What stands out to me about the Maggie kidnapping arc in particular is that they embrace the horror in gothic horror: they don't shy away from Barnabas' physical violence, to either Maggie or to Willie; and they play Barnabas' plan for Maggie — scooping out her personhood to create a human doll as vessel for an idealized version of his ex-girlfriend — for what it is, intense psychological abuse and borderline body horror. And they do so in a way that doesn't flatten him to a force that only acts out of maliciousness or snickering evil, as they're prone to do with later villains — nor do they beg and scrape for audience sympathy for Poor Barnabas Collins' Feelings. He's compelling without — for lack of a more sophisticated word — woobifying him, which is partly the work of Frid's charisma (undeniably!) and partly the way in which they navigate vampirism as a device.

Like Laura, Barnabas' literal monstrosity holds up a mirror to more metaphorical Collins family evils — namely, locking something unspeakable away and refusing to acknowledge it, even though the sin feeds on later generations, and evil will, eventually, out. (namely paralleling Liz and Paul: but see also Roger concealing the manslaughter, or Liz protecting David, The Collins Heir, post attempted patricide, etc.) Barnabas is able to integrate himself with the family because of their idolatry of their ancestors and the great family myth: blood sustains him physiologically, but it's the reverence of blood and ancestry that sustains him socially. He's able to acquire and maintain his social position because his wealth and charm conceals the rot beneath (another classic Collins device) and feeds literally as opposed to metaphorically on Collinsport bodies, picking another vulnerable working class victim to be tossed into the meat grinder for the house on Widows' Hill. to misquote: everything is about vampires, except vampires, which are about power. (and vampires in Dark Shadows, of course, are sex)

3. The pen arc.

You guys are going to think I'm kidding. I'm not kidding. Okay technically the actual arc is "the murder of Bill Malloy" blah blah blah, and I do love the whole story: we have Frank Schofield ! We have seaweed ghosts! We have Josette! We have Vicki locked in a room, twice! We have Roger being a certified freak! We have the police ... kind of? Doing something? Being a threat? Making Roger squirm, mostly. But the pen arc within that in particular has a special place in my heart: it has some of my favorite episodes of all time (75, 78, 87, 96) and everyone talks shit about it, so it's like my little underdog I have to defend. Part of that is ... flippant reasons? I like Louis Edmonds as Roger, so naturally I like that they cared enough to keep him on the show by doing some circles around a pen for a few days instead of killing him off; I also enjoy the amount of time we get to spend with Roger pacing around the room looking paranoid, and long lingering closeup shots of his hands. I won't lie to you.

the other half of it is I think people shrug it off as dull because the MacGuffin is a benign, ordinary object instead of a floating hand or an amulet or a doll or something, but here's my serious pitch, in three parts. 1. Pen as phallic object; 2. Pen as instrumental to Vicki, the narrator; and 3. Pen as a wrench in Roger's character. And really the first interpretation is pretty instrumental in my perspective on that entire arc: that Dark Shadows, not yet as forthright with sexuality as it will be in the end of the 60's and start of the 70's, is introducing the pen as probably the most blatant recurrent phallic symbol other than maybe Barnabas' cane. They aren't just arguing over evidence of murder: in fact, the pen's role in Bill's death turns out to be pretty meaningless, as it really was just coincidence that Roger found his body anyway. What's way more important to the narrative are the sexual politics of Carolyn, Vicki, and Roger jockeying for Burke Devlin's, well. Pen[is]. the implication being, naturally, that it's not only that Roger doesn't want his niece debauched by being the recipient of Devlin's Pen; or that he'd really rather Vicki forget about Burke's Pen, and be friendly with him; but that Roger wants to possess the pen himself, and then proceeds to hide it under a rock, which doesn't take a great analytical mind to figure that one out. with some sexy leather gloves. sorry what was I saying.

Part the second is that the pen is a pretty significant object if you take the perspective that Vicki is the narrator of the story we're in, and literally writing the My name is Victoria Winters monologues, which I do. In that sense (and taking my cues from Guillermo del Toro, here) the pen is instrumental to Vicki's sense of power as a gothic heroine a) relative to Roger and Burke, who have the advantage in money, age, position, and gender, but are scrambling at that harmless object Vicki picks up on the beach and b) power over and interacting with the story itself. She's not terribly involved with the stakes of Bill's murder, not yet, but putting her in possession of the pen provides a road in to truth. Too, that Vicki's word is truth: Burke makes a lot of noise about how Roger was responsible for Bill's death to little effect on the plot, but Vicki — our good little governess, honest, our narrator — naming Roger as the murderer (with the pen) condemns him.

And Part 3, I think the Doylist "We need to keep Louis on the show" kicking around with pens to solve the puzzle of Roger not being the guilty party actually has a Watsonian benefit on Roger's character. If he had been acting all skeevy and suspicious because he did it, tormenting Vicki, taking her to abandoned cabins, that's one thing: Roger sucks, end of story. Fine, but boring. I actually think it's a much more interesting character that acts like that and was completely innocent in Bill's death, but is so relentlessly paranoid and terrified of it seeming that he's involved that he ends up casting all the more suspicion on him, tanks his relationship with Vicki, drives his sister further away, and invites an imminent threat from Burke. This arc creates a picture of Roger who is pushed by selfishness and hamstrung by his own nerves, not only with the investigation but his romantic and family life. Which is a little more compelling to me than someone who would kill Bill Malloy, or would sexually assault Vicki; Roger playing the part of villain for us and those around him is really interesting to watch. plus! as previously mentioned: takes Vicki on a night out, clings to her in the West Wing, gets stuck with her in a cabin in a storm. the pen arc is a good time.

[msclaritea]

"The newest Marvel movie Deadpool & Wolverine is about to hit theaters — but before it does, its star Hugh Jackman has something to say about fellow Marvel actor Tom Holland.

In an interview with Marvel Thailand, Jackman and his co-star Ryan Reynolds dished on their new movie. When the interviewer asked them to “choose one more MCU hero to join your team,” Reynolds was first to chime in. I’d love to play with Spider-Man,” Reynolds said. “That would be cool. Tom Holland is amazing.”

“I agree. He’s so cool. That would be great,” Jackman replied. That’s when he revealed what he’d really like to get up to with the Spider-Man actor on set. “He’s young, and we could pile on him and abuse him and just yell at him,” Jackman said before laughing. Let’s run that last part back: “pile on him” and “abuse him”? Jackman may only be referring to some friendly rough-housing, especially given their age gap (he’s 55 years old, while Holland is just 28), but that didn’t stop the gay internet from pointing out the homoerotic undertones in his Tom Holland fantasy." Josette Caruso, Twitter

Fuck Hugh Jackman.

[countrymusiclover]

25 - A Dangerous Encounter

Part 26

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

Nik blinked his eyes watching the siphon witch he loved leaving in front of him and he had no clue what had gotten into her. “Raelyn….Rae wait.” From the conversation earlier he was confused at the reaction she had just given him so he vamped straight after her.

Running through the crypt as fast as I possibly could manage I felt tears streaming down my face. My boots clicked on the stone grounds with me rounding some corners until Nik vamped in front of me making me halt in my tracks. “Nik, leave me alone please. I have to run now.”

“Rae, wait a second. You don’t have to run from anything. It won’t solve whatever lurks to scare you inside your mind. So talk to me, have I done something?” I attempted to move past him until he snagged my wrist spinning me around and back into his embrace.

Croaking through tears I tried removing myself from his grip but he didn’t move his hand away from my wrists holding me against his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Nik. I don’t want kids but then hearing you say that you would kill it makes me think otherwise. I’m so confused ... .so terrified…I have to run before my family senses the child just like Sophie and her sister can.”

“Raelyn, enough of this. We are immortal. We can face whatever comes our way. Now tell me what you want me to do, Rae. Kill the baby or not? He grunts when I shoved away from him beginning to run again but he once again vamped in front of me pushing my back against the brick wall trapping me in between him.

Pressing my hands against his chest I shake my head not sure what to do honestly. “I don’t know…I - aggghhh!” Grabbing my head I dropped to my knees feeling pain all through my body. Watching my arms the veins grew darker at a quick rate and then they turned smaller where they looked like I was deliccating like he did when Stefan and Tyler stopped his heart but that shouldn’t be possible.

“Rae, Rae, what's going on?” Klaus lowered himself on the ground with me resting his hands on my knees when I hugged them to my chest moaning in discomfort. He truly hated seeing his girl suffer and not be able to fix it.

Squinting my eyes tightly shut I bared my teeth, wincing until the pain faded and so did the veins returning to their normal light color where you couldn’t notice them if you were human. “Ahh…what the hell was that? It felt like I was being drained of my power.”

“That’s not possible. We need to get you home. This city trip is too much for you in this state.” He got to his feet tugging me up slowly so as to not hurt me any further.

Grabbing his wrists in my hands I held him in place before we could leave. “Wait, wait, wait. We can’t go home yet. I have to call Jo. She has to know about what we think is going on. If I am pregnant there’s a high chance of me having twins. She needs to know that.”

“Fine, you can communicate with Josette. But then we are getting you back to Mystic Falls.” He told me opening his hands once I released his wrists shifting his blue orbs down to meet my gaze. “Have at it, love.”

Holding my hands up I gripped my necklace where we both saw that my hand turned red siphoning its magic. “Appreciate the offer. But let’s try this out since according to Kol now I can take from this…ohh there it is.”

“I’ll wait around the corner to give you privacy.” He said vamping away from me.

Closing my eyes I began chanting under my breath not caring if the veins came back. “Sang bis najit trouver. Sang bis najit trouver. Sang bis najit trouver….Jo?” The next time I opened my eyes I looked around to see that I was back in her office but she wasn’t there until the door opened.

“Rae Rae. What are doing back here. Is everything getting worse?” She shut the door quickly, locking it behind her in case someone was to walk in.

Clasping my hands together in front of me I smiled weakly at her. “I just learned something that seems almost impossible for any normal supernatural creature. I am supposedly pregnant with Nik’s kid according to some witches in New Orleans. But I have no freaking clue whether I should keep it or not.”

“You’re pregnant, that's unbelievable. Wait a second how is that even possible I thought he was a vampire.” Jo stepped forward wanting to hug me but the spell wouldn’t allow us.

Shrugging my shoulders I throw my hands away from my side. “From what I gather I am able to have a child because he was born a werewolf. So before he turned he was a mortal supernatural being.”

“Uh okay Woah. I’ve gotta sit down for this one.” She pulled up a chair while I was leaning up on the wall, arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t know what to say about keeping it or not, cuz. I mean I haven’t ever considered having kids of my own. What I do know is that you can’t let my dad find out about it.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought knowing that he was hunting me to ensure the succession of our coven. If he found out I was pregnant he would never let me go. “He won’t find out if I get rid of the baby. That’s what we should do, right. I mean the night I first met him I made a vow to myself to never have kids. Why should that opinion change now?”

“Because the look on your face says differently, Rae.” Josette smiled at me cheerfully.

Knitting my brows at my cousin I didn’t catch on. “What look, Jo?”

“The look that says you are so in love with him. From what I can tell I’m missing quite a lot in your life, Raelyn. So it sounds like I’ll have to come to Mystic Falls someday.” She smirked getting to her feet coming to stand in front of me staring at the ring on my finger that was new to her.

“That would be great, Jo - geez!” Gripping my head I felt pain shooting through my head where my mind flashed from here back to the street of Orleans.

“Raelyn!” Jo cried my name before I felt someone grab me from behind and I vanished from her office back to New Orleans.

I attempted to elbow whoever it was but they twisted my arms behind my back covering my mouth with their other hand vamping me away where I blacked out. “Klaus!….urg!”

Klaus arrives at a party, looking for Marcel, figuring that his old friend must have something to do with what happened to Raelyn. He catches one of his men. “Where's Marcel?”

“Who the hell's asking?”

Klaus grumbled with a scow. “I assume you're joking.”

“I only answer to Marcel.”

Klaus grabbed the vampire by his throat, choking him with his hybrid coming to the surface ready to kill the weak creature in front of him. “Well, then, in that case, perhaps you'll answer to this. You're aware the bite of a werewolf can k*ll a vampire? Well, as you can see, I'm half-werewolf, so I'm gonna ask you one more time! Where is Marcel?”

A black man broke through the crowd wearing a beanie cap on his head. “H-hey. I'm right here. I'm right here. Easy, now. Diego's just looking out for me. Nobody harms my guys. Those are the rules.”

Klaus growled, getting in his face. “I don't care about your rules, Marcel. I don't need chaperones. Why are you having me followed?”

“Come here. I get it, huh? Show of force. You made your point. Let it go, friend. For me.” He attempted to talk him down.

Kkaus revealed his fangs and the werewolf eyes turning his hands into fists at his sides wanting to tear whichever vampire it was limb from limb. “Fine. Why don't you show me what you've done with my girlfriend. Where is Raelyn Lane? Where is she!"

Marcel wissled through his fingers before two vampires began dragging someone through the crowd. “Someone put you in a mood. I didn’t know she was your girl but she did practice magic here.”

“Let me go you assholes!” I thrashed against them but they were stronger than me having one of them throw me against Marcel. “Ahh! Nik..”

He held the back of my throat harshly dangling my brother’s necklace in his other hand. “Considering she is your gal I’ll show her mercy just this once. But if she performs anymore well then mercy might be off the table.”

Stumbling into my lover's arms Klaus wrapped his arms around my waist holding me against his embrace catching the necklace with his fast reflexes. “What you can do is you can tell me what this thing is you have with the witches…here you are sweetheart. You’re okay.” He clipped the jewel back around my neck.

Marcel scoffed. “We’re back to that?”

Klaus snarled, feeling me gripping the fabric of his shirt in terror. “Yeah, we’re back to that the second you nabbed my girlfriend!”

“You know I owe you everything I got, but I'm afraid I have to draw the line on this one. This is my business. I control the witches in my town. Let's just leave it at that.” He told him.

But I knew Nik wouldn’t back down. “Your town?”

Marcel smirked. “Damn straight.”

Klaus tilted his head at his former vampire friend.“That's funny. Because when I left 100 years ago, you were just a pathetic little scrapper still trembling from the lashes of the whips of those who would keep you down, and now look at you. Master of your domain. Prince of the city. I'd like to know how.”

“Why? Jealous? Hey man, I get it. 300 years ago, you helped build a backwater penal colony into something. You started it, but then you left. Actually, you ran from it. I saw it through. Look around. Vampires rule this city now. We don't have to live in the shadows like rats. The locals know their place. They look the other way. I got rid of the werewolves. I even found a way to shut down the witches. The blood never stops flowing and the party never ends. You want to pass on through? You want to stay a while? Great. What's mine is yours, but it is mine. My home, my family, my rules.” Marcel declared throwing his arms out showing the crowd gathered around the three of us.

Nik asked, rubbing circles on my back tightly holding me close to his chest knowing we were surrounded by a whole army of vampires that could kill me in a split second. “And if someone breaks those rules?”

“They die. Mercy is for the weak. You taught me that, too.” Marcel stepped towards us showing me his vampire face.

Shuttering in terror I gasped pressing my body closer to the hybrid feeling my heart beginning to beat faster. “Nik…”

“Sssh Raelyn. He won’t lay a hand on you.” He reassured me showing the vampire prince his hybrid face again growling deeply under his breath as if saying try me and die.

Marcel didn’t back down either though raising his voice towards him. “And I'm not the Prince of the quarter, friend. I'm the King! Show me some respect!”

Klaus loses his temper vamping away from me and bites one of his minions where he pulls back showing me his fangs and had blood sticking on his mouth stomping back over to us. “Your friend will be dead by the weekend. Which means I've broken one of your rules. And yet I cannot be killed. I am immortal. Who has the power now, friend?”

Marcel sent me a glare where I wrapped my arms around myself until Klaus took my hand vamping us away from the crowds and back to the car. Burying my face into his chest I began crying. “I thought he was going to try and kill me….”

“Sssh darling. I’ve got you. He won’t touch you. No one will hand you so long as I am by your side.” He declares softly, showing some tears when he cradles my face in his hands.

Someone was walking up behind us where I screamed quietly grasping my necklace about to do a spell but dropped my hand. Instead I huddled behind Klaus who had his arms out shielding me from whoever it was. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Mr. Mikaelson.”

“No, it can’t be….Uncle Joshua?” I clutched Klaus’s forearm with my blood turning cold drifting my gaze forward seeing him standing in front of us.

He slowly walked up to us with an almost dead expression on his face. “Long time no see, little niece. You and I need to have a little chat.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[fearlessmuses]

📚 ───── they needed something which was how this place even started to come into thought let alone anything else. they had all been forced to change and move on after kai parker, weren't they? he never would have forced caroline to move in, live under the same roof, hell he never asked for the twins to be transferred to her, not that people couldn't have that weird suggested ideal on their face. he hated it but what could he do about it. it had happened, it had been out of his control and he was making the most of the situation now, wasn't he? they both where because he hadn't asked for this but neither had she. she was a vampire who had thought children was never a possibility and yet here she was pregnant, an improbability. then they had the twins and neither of them really knew what to do with that.

they played house in a manner of speaking and it certainly didn't go without its awkward moments because it was almost as if one child embodied caroline and one josette, it was odd to think that he had two girls that were like copies in some way for the women who helped keep them safe. it could make a man have rather complexly laired emotions. but they had two kids, and lived together and spent so much time around each other that complicated was bound to come up as a word that fit this entire situation. "hey was thinking, we should order in tonight...." he spoke as he tossed a few toys into a basket and then let his attention turn back towards caroline. that obviously didn't really affect her but it felt right to .... ask? or tell her?

@taleswritten ♥ for a starter from alaric saltzman for caroline forbes

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Mad About Moon

TIME, Monday, November 10, 1975

“I will conquer and subjugate the world,” says Sun Myung Moon. “I am your brain.” The latter statement is quite literally true for a growing coterie of young American converts, who regard the South Korean cult leader (TIME, Sept. 30, 1974) as the second Christ. Asking no questions, they obediently hawk candy and flowers, raising millions to spread the faith. They exist on a shoestring, while Moon, 55, lives in lordly fashion in a 25-room mansion in New York's Westchester County.

His Unification Church's national budget alone is $11 million, not counting the expenses of 120 local branches and affiliates. The cult grows steadily and currently claims 30,000 members, 7,000 of whom live in Moon communities. All believe that a “Lord of the Second Advent” (Moon, though this is not stated publicly) will redeem mankind physically by fathering a perfect family. A blend of Christian terminology, occultism and dualism is taught in Moon's scripture, The Divine Principle.

Flared Up. While Moon's converts are unquestioning, others are not. In recent months, many Moon disputes have flared up. The Unification Church is in court to regain a tax exemption for an estate in the town of Greenburgh, N.Y., where it has purchased $9 million worth of properties since 1972. In New York City the church, which regards itself as a Christian sect, is suing for the right to join the local council of churches after becoming the first applicant ever rejected by the council. With criticism of Moon growing, Buckminster Fuller, Norman Cousins and others have withdrawn as advisers for a meeting of eminent world scholars Nov. 27-30 in Manhattan, organized by a Moon front.

The growing opposition to the Moon cult focuses primarily on worries about what it is doing to the minds of its young converts. In Dutchess County, N.Y., District Attorney Albert Rosenblatt is investigating complaints from parents that their children have been “brainwashed” in high-pressure courses at the church's Barrytown training center. Rosenblatt also wonders why so many Moon cultists require emergency-room treatment at a local hospital. Around the country, hundreds of parents have been driven to near hysteria by changes in their convert children's behavior and by reports of brainwashing. They are filing suits and banding into anti-Moon groups. Some parents have even resorted to abduction. In many cases they use “Deprogrammer” Ted Patrick, who for a fee conducts counter brain washing of cultists.

One typical worried parent is New Jersey's state insurance commissioner James Sheeran, three of whose daughters—Vicki, 25, Jaime, 24, and Josette, 21—are Moon converts. He wants laws to protect people from “cruel and exotic entrapment of their minds, souls and bodies.” Late one night last August, Sheeran decided to act when Josette, normally compassionate, showed little interest upon learning that her grandmother was in the hospital. He, his wife and a son drove to Moon's school to seek Josette. Fifteen Moon men materialized, a scuffle ensued, and state police arrived amid mutual charges of assault.

Last week Sheeran and 500 other parents met at a Westchester County synagogue whose rabbi, Maurice Davis, heads a 500-family national anti-Moon organization called Citizens Engaged in Reuniting Families. Some 20 young defectors from the Moon cult were present; several urged their elders to drive up to Barrytown and rescue their children. Distraught parents gave one another moral support.

Fervent Foes. The most fervent Moon foes are ex-devotees. Three of them have just started another group, International Foundation for Individual Freedom (I.F.I.F.), to attack Moonism and other cults such as the Children of God, Divine Light Mission and Hare Krishna. One of I.F.I.F.'s founders is Denise Peskin, 20, who spent 8 weeks in Moon training and was later “deprogrammed” by Patrick. Like many converts, she thought she was joining a secular social-reform movement. Only later, at Moon's “New Ideal City Ranch” north of San Francisco, did she encounter the religious cult aspects, which Moon groups sometimes conceal at first to avoid turning off prospective recruits. The program included weeks of nonstop indoctrination, yelling and punching by instructors and little sleep. One graduate of the farm calls its treatment “psychological abuse,” another “subliminal fascism.” To all, the frightening aspect was the psychological coercion they underwent when they tried to leave. Harvard Psychiatrist John Clark Jr. recently testified in District of Columbia Superior Court that the ex-Moonies he had examined seemed physically and emotionally exhausted; a few were psychotic.

Moon has left it to disciples to reply to the attacks. At Barrytown, where 176 devotees are currently enrolled in short-term courses and a new seminary, Director of Training Joe Tully is indignant. He told TIME's Eileen Shields that dropouts lack moral “will power” and feel they have to justify themselves. Tully agrees that converts undergo a dramatic transformation but denies that Moon people use any sinister methods.

The most intriguing unanswered question about Moonism is why young people from well-to-do families are attracted to it. Moon converts seem to have had little attachment to other religions and appear to be grasping for a sense of stability and morality. Says Defector Paula Mazur, a New York University senior: “They impress on you how to live a very idealistic life, how to really change the world. All the people I met were moralistic at a time when morals are going down the drain.” Whatever the morals of Moonism, Jack Kerry, the Moon watcher in the California attorney general's office, sees the movement as “extremely dangerous” and adds: “I think this whole situation is going to really explode.”

____________________________________

Security with guns at Barrytown

It’s official - UTS has been sold

[theasstour]

Omg a Filipino family?? In your new story?? I've never felt more seen :((( you pretty much got the Filipino hospitality down!! your first chapter was good bb!! Can't wait for next week!! ❤️

THANK YOU SO MUCH 💖💖💖💖 And YESSSS! A friend of mine is Filipina so I’ve asked her questions about traditions, Tagalog, etc as well as read tons about the Philippines and Filipino culture so I’ll be able to capture it all accurately! It’s one of the joys of writing tbh. You get to learn so much and earn knowledge you wouldn’t necessarily know otherwise (especially know when travelling and experiencing new parts of the world isn’t possible to the same degree as normal, reading about other parts of the world is an amazing way to learn), it’s been an honour to learn more about Filipino culture and lives💖 If you ever feel like I’ve misrepresented you in any way, don’t hesitate to hmu and call me out on it! You’re the one in the right, I’m not💖 I love you so much, Josette!!!! BUZZING to show you the rest of ST!!!!!!

[sunflowerstache]

OMG WAS IT LITTLE BIG TOWN

Anonymous said: Little Big Town?

Anonymous said: Is it Little Big Town?

Anonymous said: Little big town? Girl crush?!!!?!

Anonymous said: Girl crush by little big town?

For the song tiny wrote could it be girl crush? Love your writing btw ❤️

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I’m No Good - o n e

Summary: Tallulah Forester isn’t a bad person, she’s just made one too many bad decisions. Which is why she has now found herself four hours away from her home in Seattle, to her estranged fathers little home in La Push, with her stepmom and two half sisters, whom she has only been with a couple of times in the past 15 years. Her mother and father had agreed, shockingly, that the small town lifestyle would be beneficial to their wild child, but bad habits die hard, especially when it comes to being in control.

Timeline: Takes place a few years after the events of Breaking Dawn

Pairing: Paul Lahote x OC (Tallulah is 18)

Warnings (future chapters): Drugs/Alcohol, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Jealousy, Mental Health, (Mentions of SA, but no details)

There are losses that rearrange the world. Deaths that change the way you see everything, grief that tears everything down. Pain that transports you to an entirely different universe, even while everyone else thinks nothing has really changed.

Tallulah stared out the window in the back seat with her knees tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped around them tightly as her father drawled on, switching from topic to topic, your sisters and Kira are so excited your coming to we’ve already enrolled you at the school to do you remember this person or that person? Anything to fill the silence from creating a  suffocating atmosphere in the car. It all sounded like white noise to her, she barely remembered La Push. 

She moved to Seattle with her mother when she was six and the two of them never looked back, whenever she would see her father or half-sisters, they would meet halfway in Port Angeles and then head their separate ways. It was easier that way for everyone involved. 

Josette and Lenna, her half-sisters, were ten the last time she spent any actual memory inducing time with them. Although they are only two years younger than her, they were so different. So in tune with the tribe, whereas she barely knew anything about the histories. She doubted anything would have changed in that respect.

Tallulah's headaches from her hangover, or maybe lack of sleep, she thought, and as she laid her head against the window she listened to the sound of passing cars and her dad's voice as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

--------

Tallulah awoke to the sound of the car door shutting and a nearby dog barking, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, grateful her headache was gone, but now in its place was a lump in her throat, as she looked around her surroundings outside of the car. The little blue house she vaguely remembers. The tire swings in the old oak tree. A woman's laugh caught her attention, as she looked to see her dad and stepmom, chatting away, happier than ever. Tallulah felt so out of place. Like she was an intruder coming in to ruin her fathers happy, little family with her black cloud of disappointment. 

Tallulah groaned to herself as she unbuckled herself, might as well get this over with, she thought to herself while opening the car door and slowly stepping out, stretching as she did. She could feel the two adults eyes on her as she shut the door gently, looking towards them, Kiras big smile, that if she didn’t know better would look insincere, but she did know. Her stepmom was a tryhard, doing anything and everything to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother and stepmother, no matter how hard Tallulah pushed against her kind persona. She was the reason her family was in pieces. Kira and her father were no doubt in love, even when her parents were still together, they never looked at each other the way she sees her father looks at Kira and vice versa, like they are each other's reasons for being. She moves, he moves. Tallulah nearly physically cringes. It's not something she ever wants for herself, that fairy tale love.

She walks toward them slowly, Kira meeting her halfway, wrapping her arms in a bear crushing hug that she doesn’t reciprocate, looking past her at her father who has that ‘be nice’ look on his face, and clearly, she was in no place to fight that. She couldn’t help but think, if this doesn't work out the way her parents think it will, where is the next place she would be shipped off to? 

Kiras' soft, sweet voice shakes her from her thoughts, “it's so nice to see you again. Your hair has gotten so long.” Tallulah raises an eyebrow before stating, “I've cut it a few times since I saw you last.” Kira laughs off the dig, before walking towards her father and saying, “the twins are out, we’d figured you'd be better off getting settled without a full house.” Tallulah nodded in response as her father spoke up for the first time since arriving, “besides, we have some things to discuss. Expectations and what not,” 

Tallulah eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Rules? I’m eighteen. I don’t need to have any rules.” Her arms crossed over chest, as if she were a child. 

“If you think that you will be continuing your..extracurricular activities that you have picked up in Seattle, you are wrongly mistaken” he says in what she assumes is his fatherly tone that works on the twins, but not her, he gave up that right fifteen years ago. “Your mother has filled us in on everything, Tally” She rolls her eyes at this, as if she knows everything, she thought to herself.

Kira stood up on the porch, just inside the doorway, “Joseph, let her settle in, we can have this conversation tomorrow, after the bonfire.” she said in ‘dont fight me in this tone’, to which Tallulah appreciated, yet was confused, “Bonfire?” she asked, as she made her way up the steps of the house leaving her dad to bring in her few bags, “The tribe bonfire party happens once a month, the girls love it, plus you can meet some of your classmates before you start school.” Kira spoke as if this was something she should look forward to, but in all honesty, large gatherings were not Tallys scene, despite what her mother thinks. But, she would attend, save face and hope with good behaviour she would be back in Seattle with her friends in no time. This thought reminded her to shoot them a text quickly explaining her situation, hoping they would see it as an SOS, before shoving her phone back in her pocket and following Kira around the house like a little kid, listening to where things were kept, which rooms were which and then finally a stop at the room in which she would call hers. The walls were a blank, cream color, with light blue bedding and a wooden desk shoved in the corner, along with what looks like textbooks sitting on top.She nods politely as Kira mentions they will be leaving within the hour but try to settle in and suggests she may want to change out of her cotton shorts, as it “gets quite cold compared to Seattle” as she put it.

-----

7:14 read the time on Tallulah's phone as they walked up to the beach, the sun had just begun to set and the temperature had, in fact, dropped quite a bit, thankful for Kiras advice, Tallulah had changed into a pair of loose, blue jeans and had tucked her hands into the pockets of her oversized, black hoodie, fingers curled under the long sleeves to keep them warm.

She walked slightly behind Kira and her father, standing off to the side as they were greeted by people, before they had reached whom she suspected to be the twins. They looked so different from what she remember, her father lowly spoke to her, as Kira caught their attention, pointing out the smaller of the two as Josette and the taller, as Lenna. Josie dawned a baggie pair of dark pair of overalls, with a striped sweater underneath, her hair in two space buns, which was quite different from her sister, in her plaid mini skirt and form-fitting long sleeve shirt, her pin straight, dark hair fanned out behind her back. Tallulah could already tell they wouldn’t get along.

 She watched as Lenna stalked away from her mother to a group of people who looked around their age, before snapping her eyes back at the sound of her name being called, to see Kira and Josette waving her over, before she could even move her feet willingly, her dad was nudging her in their direction, as if she would turn and walk the other way. 

Josette moved over so she could sit directly beside, a friendly smile that resembled Kiras on her face, “ Hi Tally” she spoke her childhood nickname softly, “it’s been awhile, you look so much older, not in a bad way, like mature, adultish, but obviously your only two years older than me so not technically an adult..” she rambled off, “Hey Josette” and before Tallulah could say anything else, she was interrupted by the younger girl, “Its Josie or Jo, whichever fine, just not Josette” she spoke quickly, a pale blush crossing her olive toned skin, to which Tallulah just nodded and asked, “How long do these things last?”

“That depends,” Josie spoke, “Typically the adults leave once the stories and tribal matter finishes, so maybe an hour or two. But we usually stay later, or at least Lenna does.” she said, looking in the direction of her twin, who was now surrounded by a group of other rambunctious teenagers. “Sam Uley's crew is here tonight, so who knows if that will even happen, especially after last time.” Tallulah didn’t question the younger girl, mainly because she just didn’t care to. She looked away from Lenna and her friends, her eyes gazing on all the unfamiliar faces sitting on logs or picnic tables surrounding the growing fire. 

Her eyes stopped on what seemed to be a couple, the girl was beautiful, her long black hair was tied up into a neat ponytail, she was talking to a man in a wheelchair beside her, who looked like he could be her dad, her eyes shifted to the man sitting next her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he was in shorts and a shirt and looked perfectly comfortable in the frigid air, he was joking around with the boys next to him, as if the beautiful girl next to him was really there, despite his arm around her, “Thats Paul Lahote.” Josie said from next to her, causing her to flush from her obvious staring, he looked in their direction, as if he had heard Josie say his name, they locked eyes for a split second before Tallulah looked away embarrassed she had been caught. “Don’t worry, Lenna stares at him too,” Josie laughed jokingly, “I wasn’t staring” Tallulah spoke defensively, Josie raised her hands in surrender before leaning in close, “looks like he's the one staring now” Josie grinned, watching as Tallulah looked back at the older boy, noticing that he was staring at her, almost like a deer in headlights. He looked so familiar, though she doubts that they have ever met before. He smiles at her slightly, his arm retracting from the girl beside him despite her protest to his movement, and now the beautiful women is also looking at her, causing Tallulah to look down at her sleeve covered hands that lay in her lap, only looking up again when her father sits in the spot next to her, asking if she's alright, to which she absentmindedly nods her head. Is she alright after her entire life has been altered in the last 12 hours? What kind of question is that?

Her eyes are drawn back to the spot Paul Lahote was sitting in, or had been sitting in, the seat was now vacant, the man nowhere in her line of sight, and she can't help but feel a little disappointed.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

TOP 12 BEAUTIES (FROM BEAUTY AND THE BEAST)

@princesssarisa @sunlit-music @mademoiselle-princesse @the-blue-fairie

@amalthea9 @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @astrangechoiceoffavourites @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @superkingofpriderock @draculashaxanbride @lioness--hart @anne-white-star @gravedangerahead @grafedelweiss @lord-antihero​

Growing up, Beauty and The Beast has always been one of the fairy tales wich i have a deep emotional connection. I love how it combines elements of adventure, mystery, horror, comedy, drama and romance to form a beautifull narrative about external versus internal beauty, coming of age, self-discovery, familial love, friendship, building of a romantic love and redemption. And connecting me to this emotional rollercoaster of a story, is the heroine, the curious and sensitive Beauty, who faces her fear of the unknown to save the life of her father, and trough this act of sacrifice discovers eternal happiness in the most unlikely of places.

And tonight, i make this humble ranking in tribute to her.

12º Mitsuko Horie as Maria in Grimm’s Fairy Tale Classics (1989)

In this anime episode based on the german variant The Summer and Winter Garden, we are presented to Maria, a simple and hardworking peasant girl who is kidnapped by the Beast away from her family home. Maria lives a long period of silent sadness in the Beasts palace, until he starts to show a more sensitive and considered side, and she forgives him. When he lets her go visiting her family, Maria has to say goodbye to her father, who dies, and due to her grief, forgets for a moment of Beast’s castle. And after finally remembering, she rushes in despair hoping to save Beasts’s life...

Maria is the most vulnerable encarnation of Beauty, and one cannot help but constantly want to hug her in protection.

11º Léa Seydoux as Belle in Christophe Gans’s La Belle et La Bête (2014)

A young woman who tries to act always calm and serious, but inside herself hides deep sadness and melancholy, born from the feeling that she is considered guilty for the death of her mother at her childbirth. So she treats her journey to the Beast’s castle as a way to make amends, because she feels that if her father went to die at the Beast’s hands for picking a rose that she asked for, it would be another death that would be her guilt. And in the castle, exploring the mirrors that reveal the Beast’s past, she learns that someone shares her desire of becoming cleaned from any feeling of guilt, and take its right to happiness.

10º Trish Van Devere as Belle Beaumont in Beauty and The Beast (1976)

An older, more grounded and no nonsense, but still sensitive portrayal. Coming from a family formed by a well-intentioned but misguided father, two materialistic and mean spirited older sisters, a vulnerable younger brother and a cruel brother-in-law,  Van Devere’s Belle has great pressure over her shoulders to be the voice of reason to people around her, wich makes us empathize with the state of tiredness she gets in. She is always tough and honest when necessary, and kind and gentle when she also needs to be.

09º Nina Krachkovskaya/Amy Irving as Anastasia/Nastenka in Soyuzmultifilm’s Alenkiy Tsvetochek (1952)

In this animated short adaptation of the russian variant The Scarlet/Crimson Flower, writen by Sergey Aksakov, our Beauty is Nastenka, the youngest daughter of a brave captain of a merchant ship. Nastenka is a dreamer, shy, and prone to philosophical melancholy, even tough she doesn’t necessarily knows the reason of her sadness, what makes her self-discovery all the more relatable to audiences, specially young ones.

08º Marina Ilichyova as Aljona in Irina Povolotskaya’s Alenkiy Tsvetochek (1977)

Besides also sharing the shiness, sadness and melancholy of her animated counterpart, the peasant-girl-next-door Aljona is also a deeply frightened young woman, whose narrative arc involves learning to let herself loose a bit more, and not let her fears dominate her. This arc is highlighted in the moments where she gives a subtle smile when she talks to and plays along the Beast of the Forest.

07º Joyce Taylor as Lady Althea in Edward L. Kahn’s Beauty and The Beast (1962)

An elegant and confident noble lady, Lady Althea is the fiancée of the wise, brave and humble Duke Eduardo. She arrives at the dukedom excited with the wedding, but makes a discovery: since assuming power as a ruler, Eduardo is under a curse that turns him into a Beast every night. Now Althea has to deal with the dillema of staying to support her fiancée with her love, or leaving, in fear of his Beast side, and Joyce Taylor’s performance in the role engages us into this dilema till the end.

06º Dima Bawab as Zémire in Zémire et Azor (2014)

This comic ópera composed by the belgian André Grétry transports the story to a fairy tale land combination between France and Persia, presenting us to the adorable Zémire, a merry, romantic and idealistic young lady, who enjoys letting herself get loose in a world of dreams, reading books of fantastical stories. She also is curious and inquisitive, insistently questioning the servant Ali until he thells what concers so much her father, so she gets to take the journey to the palace of Azor, the Prince turned into a Beast. There, at first she is scared, but then, showing a sense of wonder, starts playing with the wolves that guard the palace and have merry conversations with Azor, with whom she eventually falls in love.

05º Josette Day as Belle in Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et La Bête (1946)

At the same time a relatable audience surrogate, and an individual character in her own right. Day’s Belle starts as a mysteryous woman, with a stoic, resilient face, and elegant, if rigid, gait. As the film rolls, we slowly get to piece her passions, her vulnerabilities and her fears. Specially her fear of leaving the comfort of her family home life, adventuring to the unknown, and falling in love.

04º Vanessa Williams as Beauty in Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales For Every Child (1995)

The sister of a tall and strong, tough lazy man, named Tree, and a pretty, tough vain lady, named Precious, William’s Beauty is brave, truthfull, altruístic, and also has a light hearted sense of humour and an introspective sensibility. The highlight of this encarnation is when she is at her home room’s window, she sings a song pondering her doubts between staying at her family home, or returning to the Beast’s palace.

03º Beauty from Megan Kearney’s Beauty and The Beast Webcomic (2012-17)

Made as a tribute to other Beauties that camed previously, while being her own version. An emotionally repressed young woman, who lost her mother at childbirth, and suffered bullying during childhood, being called ‘ugly duckling’ by other kids, Kearney’s Beauty grows burying her emotions in the hard work on her family’s farm, and is in search of an identity and a place in the world. One day she asks for a rose that grows in winter that appeared in her dreams, and this is the exciting incident that catapults her journey to the Beast’s enchanted castle, where she blossoms into a lady who is brave, witty and confident. 

02º Paige O’Hara as Belle in Disney’s Beauty and The Beast (1991)

The first encarnation i ever saw when i was a child. The young lady who newly arrived at a small village, with an introspective bookworm behaviour that is the target of her neighbours. She doesn’t pay attention to the gossip, but laments her loneliness, and longs for a friend who understands her sensitivity and shares her desire for adventure in the great wild somewhere. When she first meets the Beast, she resists coming closer to him,  who provokes fear and anger in her. But after the Beast saves her from wolves, Belle’s reaction, while still energic, becomes of compassion, empathy and zeal. As she spends more time with the Beast, learning to see him as her friend, Belle finally notices that her beautfiull discontentment was rewarded, because she finally found someone to understand her.

And now the moment that everyone was whaiting: My Number One Beauty is...

01º Zdena Studenková as Julie in Juraj Herz’s Panna a Netvor (1978)

Julie is the youngest of the merchant’s three daughters, and also the daughter born of his second wife and greatest love. This makes her the merchant’s favorite daughter, while in turn that favoritism makes her life very sheltered, since her father fears loosing her like he lost her mother. When she takes her father’s place and rides a horse to the ruins that the Beast calls his palace, you get the feel that is not only out of filial duty, but also a desire for freedom that motivates her decision. Arriving at her destiny, she is fascinated by the ruins and the magic that they contain, and gets even more fascinated by the voice of the mysteryous Beast, who unbknowns to Julie, is containing a violent desire to devour her. Slowly, Julie learns that it wasn’t just out of curiosity that she inquired and playfully talked to her host: even without seeing the Beast, Julie is falling in love with Beast, and must decide wheter she accepts this feeling or rejects it and returns to the safety of her family home.

Starting out as passive, but slowly revealing herself to be braver than she ever expected, showing strenght in her vulnerability when learning to find the sublime in the grotesque, Zdena Studenková’s Julie is both an easy to follow audience surrogate and a unique individual character, beautifull in her complexities, and that is why she is my Number One portrayal of Beauty.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Susan Sarandon as Beauty in Faerie Tale Theatre (1984)

[widowshill]

Controversial Shipping Asks: 💚, ❤️? Please and thank you!

controversial shipping.

Ship that you secretly like: 💚

hm ... I am sort of fond of josette / jeremiah? partly in the sense of a straightforward approach to the 1795 arc: two people who had no choice in being together; who nonetheless decide to do the honorable thing; and who, by deciding to accept their circumstances and make what they can out of the marriage neither of them asked for, grow fond of each other — josette, particularly, experiencing nauseating grief when she loses him? but partly, too, squaring that relationship that we see play out on screen with its earlier mythic versions, either the story where jeremiah was a cruel tyrant that isolated his french bride so severely she leapt to her death from loneliness, or barnabas' story, where she chose her uncle over him, and fled to the rocks not from a monstrous husband, but from his monstrous nephew. we only ever really get glints off the surface of the water with them but I do think they're a fascinating relationship.

Ship that you didn’t expect to ship but now do: 💓

i have to say i never expected to sell my heart and soul to Our Beloved Ménage à Trois but something about ex boyfriends that had a breakup so bad they sent one to prison about it Ft. a very corruptible governess Ft. endless persephone mythic allusions Ft. so much ill-advisable car safety Ft. radioactive levels of yearning, well. I'm so glad you made an offhand joke about both burke and vicki wanting to fuck roger collins, it ended up entirely rewiring my brain <3 it also does sort of continually surprise me how much text there actually is for rvb (roger bringing vicki along to his delayed booty call at burke's hotel room at 2 am? roger and burke freeing vicki from bondage with roger's knife and two cocked and loaded shotguns?) when ... at the time we were kind of just making it up. but, no, the show fully supports David's Disaster Polycule Parents in two iterations.

[werezmastarbucks]

portland

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2731

music: silently by axel flovent, tear in my heart by twenty one pilots

You got tired of driving at around two in the morning. Somehow Kennewick did not satisfy neither of you in terms of sleeping. Perhaps it was the road, nervousness of traveling, and Kai’s indifference about the current situation you got stuck in, but as soon as he snuggled against you at eleven o’clock, you felt all the sleep has escaped you like a butterfly that leaps away. He was already deep in sleep, when you decided you wanted to drive at night, and Parker was sorely unhappy about getting out of bed. While you still had moral high ground as leverage on him, while it worked, you elected to use it. Then, a couple of hours later, the tiredness returned in full swing, and you stopped in the middle of the highway (the liberating truth was that you could now stop at any point while driving, without even thinking) and made him switch seats with you. 

The portable loudspeaker he had manufactured out of a big boombox was incredibly loud and workable, and you prepped it just below the windshield. As you drifted into sleep you were thinking about how practically useful this boy can actually be, and how underrated his skills were back in the real world. Even without magic he was extremely handy. He was an amazing cook, he was insanely masterful with electronics, he was more savvy about the internet than you, the child of the web world...

You woke up because he whispered right into your ear, the most gentle order you’ve ever received in your life,

“Wake up now”.

Your neck ached, crooked unnaturally, but, as you opened your eyes, you saw what he woke you up for. Kai seemed relatively unaffected, probably having seen this a million of times; perhaps there was already an alarm clock in his head going off when it was the time for sunset. It was a first for you, though. You were already in Portland, and the car was lazily crawling along the street as the sleepy houses passed you by. Bright pink and raspberry was blooming in the sky indicating the new day, again. The light was so intense that, when you caught the reflection of yourself in the rearview mirror, you saw the shade of red on your own face. Your eyes looked sleepy and foggy. 

“Are we there yet?”

“Yeah. Are you hungry? It’s almost time for breakfast”.

You looked at the electronic wristwatch you nicked from an Epson store. It was a real nineties neat cute wrist watch, and it had lighting button which drove you insane. 

“It’s not even five yet. You’re always hungry”.

“I’ve been driving for nearly three hours. It’s draining. You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time, but that’s okay, I’ll just avoid the holes, so you sleep fine”, he declared. You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. He gestured towards the speaker.

“That was a good song”.

“It’s my car”, you argued benevolently, feeling very kind after three hours’ sleep. Due to the fact that Kai has been decent enough to just drive the car without waking you up. And the fact he even turned down the music a little.

“I stole it”.

“You didn’t steal it. It had no owner”, Kai replied. 

He stopped the car in a romantic gesture, and you two drowned in the morning silence, ever quieter than it even was before. The wind lay still, and no bugs buzzed in the grass. You left the car just to be in the moment, to step on the ground and feel its matter, and raised your face to the sky. This was all for you and you only, and that was the first time you asked yourself,

why do they even consider this torture?

The Parker house turned out to be more like a palace. Your head swung back and forth comparing Kai with the wedding cake looking family dwelling, trying to picture him on the porch. There was a traditional old oak that yearned swings, and the big lawn, greener than that of the Salvatore’s possession. There was whiteness of the façade and the depth of the invisible basement.

Soon Kai crawled up the stairs, and sighed, in the yellowish glow of the waking skies. 

“Welcome back home”, he murmured. You tried reading his face to see if it’s hard for him, but then reminded yourself he’s been here already, probably many times.

He’s been suspiciously tolerable these first days, you thought to yourself quietly as you wandered wordless through the living room. The first red flag fluttered in your mind when you threw a look at the banisters of the stairs leading up, and saw two ropes tied to them; they hung down, empty, with loops, like dead cat tails.

“Kai, why is it here?” you asked. The boy was already head first into the fridge in the kitchen.

He walked back to you, and sighed knowingly.

“Oh, yes. They kept the house as I left it at night. As a reminder. Go up the stairs, there’s still blood on the walls, and everything. Let’s go”.

He suddenly grabbed your hand with determination, and you sensed, on the run, like he needed to hold it. Not to guide you. You ran up the stairs, and you threw a quick look at the living room, amazed at the normality of it. One would think Malachai Parker’s house would look horrific, but his tragedy was very American. Pretty cover, bloody insides. The living room had two big couches (big family, it used to be), a very curious L shaped coffee table, and a fireplace. On the shelf above, there was a neat row of photographs of the family: everyone but Malachai, of course. They wished to forget he existed, for one reason or another. Kai’s hand led you on and you went into the long, spacious wooden hall of the second floor out of three: the blood on the walls was fresh, it glistened in the first cloud light. The patterns were thick and wide, like Kai’s been deliberately pouring it around; on the floor, there was a faint trace of his bloodied steps and something else, like he was dragging... a baseball bat? with him.

You tried not to step on the blood. The little window at the end of the hall was covered with a curtain, so it was bleak. 

“Here”, he said enthusiastically. It was obvious Kai has been psyched that someone would share the whole thing with him. No matter what part of prison it was: whether the beautiful sunrises of Washington, or the evidence of the massacre he conducted in his own house.

“Wow, whose room was it?”

“The twins. Luke and Liv”, he pushed the door to let you in. The bed was turned on the side, and there was a puddle of blood under it. The wardrobe was thrashed. 

“This is where I stabbed Jo. She hid them from me with the cloaking spell. I made her talk...” Kai muttered. His eyes were opaque, and he was focused on the memory. His sight shifted under the window.

“The-ere it is”, the witch stepped to the dark spot and picked up the bat, wrapping his fingers around the handle. There was blood on the tip of it. He swung the bat in the air in a motion that made you understand he could be a baseball star. Could have been. 

“And the banisters? Who was there?”

“I hung Ashley and Sam”, he said, putting the bat back against the wall. You observed the room. His siblings, they all had names. Ashley, Sam... those who made it to the future, the twins and his own personal enemy, Josette, felt more real because you have met them. You were there when Kai merged with Luke, you witnessed his death. But to think that some of the Parkers were left in the ninety-four, hung down from the stairs, and they were children who had names... Ashley and Sam. You didn’t even know whether Sam was a boy or a girl. You asked him.

“They were best friends, Sam and Ash. Samantha was two years older than Ashley, and she was so uptight I think somebody would have killed her one way or another. She was unbearable. So bitter she didn’t have a twin, she told everybody Ashley was her age, and that they were twins, although everyone in the coven knew they weren’t”.

“She was just a child, Kai. She wanted to be a part of this important thing, too”, you shrugged.

“Yeah, so did I. You wanna see my parents’ bedroom?”

He probably saw it in your eyes that you were slowly growing anxious about the whole murder night replay. 

“What did you do to your mom?”

“I stabbed her in the throat. She had to go first, she was a very powerful witch”, Kai said quietly, watching you closely. He was cruel in a way, leading you deeper into the bleak reality of his, trying you, curious as to how much you can take. 

“I made a mistake with dad. Should’ve stabbed him, too, but I thought I’d be untrivial, and I poisoned him. Which obviously backfired right into my face”.

Kai put his hand through his dark hair, and you realized his eyes are glowing nervously.

“What made you snap?”

“When our birthdays were coming up, I realized they’d never let us merge. Even Jo herself didn’t want it. Just so you understand, merging and even dying, as a Gemini twin, is the biggest event of your life. Even if you lose, you’re not gone. You live through your twin. You give them your power”.

You weren’t saying anything. He went on,

“You think I’m inherently evil?” there wasn’t a trace of indignation in his voice; just sheer curiosity. He never had a chance to ask that anybody. He never had this conversation. He just didn’t know at all. “They always told me I was”.

“There’s no such thing as evil, Kai. It’s a tale created for kids, to make them afraid of giving in to their instincts. There’s only pain and its consequences”.

You looked away not to seem too invested. You wondered how one can let a fellow human go on for nearly fifty years with such a grave misconception about themselves; how one can allow such violence upon their own child. Violence and negligence so intense it makes them act out so aggressively, so loudly. Every single blood stain, every broken wooden thing, every swing of a bat in the hands of now twenty-two year old Malachai, was a cry, not a roar of evil deed. He was so disfigured. He was so wounded he had to inflict pain on others to be heard. And yet they didn’t hear anything except their own screams. 

You wanted to ask him the same question, am I bad for liking you so much? But you knew he had no answer. Kai was very knowledgeable about many things; he understood many things you didn’t, but he knew nothing about the philosophy of morale. He had no deep feelings, he had no deep core in him. It was burnt clean long time ago. 

Am I evil for not feeling sorry for the kids you hung from the banisters? 

Am I bad for rooting for you when you were merging with Luke?

Am I bad for siding with you against my oldest friends?

Am I bad for being the only one who gave you the benefit of the doubt, just for the sake of being the only one?

After all, it takes just one person to keep someone from breaking. But when Malachai finally killed his family, when he reached the breaking point to never be innocent again, you were still a month away from being born. 

“Take the books outside”, you asked him.

Kai looked up from the table. He was reading diligently, not skipping pages, and watching him got tedious after three hours. While he was on it, you trod through the front and back yard; made sandwiches; studied the pictures of the kids; sneaked into the basement and got horrified at the sight of Kai’s ‘room’ there. 

(Yeah, it became my room for a while, he yapped from the kitchen. He laughed at your eyes, widened in horror, yeah, it was real pain. They kept me there when they had people over... pretended I don’t exist)

His real room used to be upstairs, underneath the roof, but it became Jo’s space eventually, and there was no trace of Malachai there. It was sad how there were so very few signs of the oldest child in the house. No posters, no shoes at the door, no jackets, no used tissues, no sports awards. No clothes, no mess, no boy things, no magazines, no CDs, no skateboard. There was a TV in the basement, and a bed, a nightstand, and a couple of comic books in the drawers of it, and you felt there was a huge chunk of Kai missing, as if they had got rid of all the things reminding of him, as if it was him who died. 

“Take the books outside”.

“Why?”

“I’m tired. I want to sleep. Let’s go into the city, find a hotel or a big house, and you can read there”.

Kai looked around as if saying, isn’t it the house enough?

You didn’t know how to explain to him that staying in this place was terrible. Kai clearly missed this place although you didn’t know what he was holding on to. The family he missed was clearly an illusion. He craved the real bond, the concept of loving community, not the actual Parker people. 

“I want to burn down this house”.

He tilted his head and his mouth twitched. 

“Have you ever done it?”

“Why would I burn my own house?” 

“You’ve spent eighteen years here, and...”

“Look”, he put up his palms defensively, “obviously, you are a very creative individual with a different way of thinking, and I haven’t done half of the things you come up with, while I was here, but if you’re gonna ask me this question every time you have an idea...”

“You know fire is cleansing, right? You should know, you’re able to control it. Isn’t fire an important element of witchery?”

“Mhm”.

He wasn’t offended by the idea. He was just a little susprised. 

As Kai stepped outside, bringing the last books into the trunk of the (ugly) Buick parked in the driveway, you watched him there on the lawn. Maybe he really was the cancer his family made him to be. He looked like a hyena looking around for a dying animal to chew on. He despised this place, and its lightness, and the fact his surviving relatives thought of the exquisite way of reminding him about what he’s done. And he went around busily, like a bee mama, at the same time.

The house still reeked of blood, and frankly, you didn’t know how he could even think about sleeping here. 

You threw a match on the couch, and another one down into the basement. You knew the house would restore as soon as midnight comes, but by that time you’ll be far away from here. Wherever the books send you to. 

You’ve never seen a house on fire so close. The heat was burning your face, and you knew it burns Kai, too, so you pulled on his hand to make him step away. 

“What sucks the most is that I had every right to merge with her”, Kai said suddenly. You had to step closer to hear him over the immense screech and cracking of the house.

There was deep, pure hatred in his voice as he spoke about his sister. You realized that his bitterness about her betrayal is still fresh, and the merge did nothing to heal it. It was personal. She was his to kill.

“I would’ve shown her if she only had given me a chance. You know? Nobody believed I could win, because I’m a siphoner. But if they only gave me a chance, I would’ve tried my best and I would’ve been a good coven leader”.

“You are already”, you said. Kai squeezed your fingers with his stiff palm.

“Once we get out”, he said, dead eyes staring into you, “there’ll be no coven. I will end every single one of them”.

[countrymusiclover]

70 - Fighting the Magical Border

Part 71

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

3 years later

Sitting on my bed while the girls were off with Jacob to get ice cream. Placing my hands on my lap I calmed my mind waving my hand creating a crystal prism in my hands. "Finitus… invidium cala mactus." The crystal glowed in my hand when I got to my feet letting the sunlight bounce off it before creating a figure in front of me with its magic.

"Hello love." A figure of Klaus smiled back at me. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt with his black jacket thrown over it.

Holding the crystal to my chest I squealed like a child. "Holy crap it worked. Uh hi my subconscious version of you."

"How did you manage this, Raelyn?" He asked, crossing his arms behind his chest.

"Um basically I found a crystal similar to the moonstone. And I combined a subconscious and vision spell together so that I can talk to my subconscious version of you. Now that I say it out loud it sounds crazy." Running my fingers through my hair I sighed, feeling embarrassed.

Nik walked closer with our eyes meeting briefly. "It's not crazy, Rae. Rather impressive."

"You're lying." I snapped.

He shook his head at me. "Do you want me to lie to you?"

"No, never. But…" I didn't have a clue what to say.

Klaus steps closer where I spun around wishing that it was the real him. Not even magic could fix him physically being here. "Tell me what you want and I'll do whatever you want."

"I wish it were that way but you can't give me what I want, Nik." I sniffed feeling some tears falling down my face.

He tilted his head to the side with his baby blues focused on me alone. "Tell me what to do and I will fix it-"

"Nik, I miss you. And I stupidly thought that this would help me while we search for cures for your siblings but it doesn't!" Throwing my hands away from my sides I cried even more spinning around on my feet. "Because I can't live without you, not physically anymore but mentally. I want to tear Marcel apart for separating us like this. I….I miss everything about you and I will do anything to get you back…"

"Raelyn!" Someone else called my name before I saw Jo come into the apartment.

Waving the crystal over the sunshine in the window hologram Klaus disappeared. "Hey , uh hey Jo." I sniffed, wiping away tears as quickly as possible.

"Is everything okay here? Rae, what have you got there?" She sat down with a bag from her day at work with the hospital. Her gaze noticed me holding a crystal behind my back.

Kicking the carpet with my foot I avoided her gaze. "I may have made a magical prism so I could talk to my subconscious version of my husband because I am going crazy without him.."

“Oh Rae Rae.” She made a disappointed look.

Slumping down on the bed I put my face in my hands sighing heavily under my breath. “I know, I’m pathetically insane. But we’ve never been separated this long before. I …I don’t know how to deal with it. And I thought seeing him would give me hope. But I just miss the hell out of him!”

“Raelyn, you might be going through some sort of grief.”

“He’s not gone, Josette!” I snapped at her revealing my fangs with more tears coming down my face. “He’s alive with that monster and I can’t go save him until I find cures. I…I have never felt alone like this even though I have my daughters, friends, you and Jacob. Yet even with that I don’t feel better. I…”

She pulled me in for a hug running a hand through my hair letting me cry. “Sssh Raelyn. I’m here. How about this. I can tell you about my date with this hot teacher at the college. So we had fun but when we were back at the hospital he tried to compel me.”

“Compel as in a vampire?” I raised my head, sending her a questionable look.

She nodded, removing her hands from my shoulders. “Clearly a newbie vampire.”

“What does he look like cause I’d like to meet the guy who thinks he can compel witches.” I laughed at whoever thought they could beat a witch, actually an ex witch.

Jo rolled her shoulders thinking back. “Sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He said his name was Ric.”

“Ric?” I asked her sternly where she nodded her head, yes that I was right. Jumping up to my feet I shoved the door open, almost breaking it. “As in Alaric Saltzman!”

She got to her feet not understanding what was making me angry. “Rae, wait. What’s wrong and how do you know Ric?”

“He was sent to kill my husband by my husband’s crazy mother. He made me think the love of my life was dead. So now I am going to kill him!” Whipping my head around I smirked at her. “You can beg for his life if you want. But I am going to see him.”

Jo gasped, grabbing her car keys following me out the door. “I’ll drive there.” Jo and I entered the college standing outside his classroom but I was using the invisible spell waiting for the right moment.

He came out of his classroom clearly in a rush until we got there. “What's the rush? Occult studies emergency?” She asked him arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I have someplace I need to be so if you don't mind.” He tries to pass her but she blocks his way

Jo scoffed at him. “Why don't you just compel me out of the way.”

“Jo, I can explain - ah! What the hell” I cut him off, throwing him magically against the wall holding him there.

Opening my eyes I smirked up at him sticking to the wall. Clutching my right hand into a fist he winced when I revealed my fangs to him. “How about you tell her how you are a crazy murderous vampire who attempted to kill my lover. So she can understand why I am about to tear you limb from limb!”

“Rae, how do you have magic as a vampire?” Alaric grunted trying to break from the spell.

Smirking up at him I drop him onto the ground only to raise him in the air with magic again. “Ascendo! I’m a Gemini witch, yes. But I wasn’t born with magic, remember. So she. I turned now I’m your worst nightmare!”

“Look don't you think it's about time we level with each other.” Jo moved to stand beside me putting a hand on my shoulder. “My cousin has every right to be angry with you but I care about you so if you apologize then she agreed to not end you.”

Rolling my eyes at her I corrected her statement. “Technically he’s dead. But I can magic your ass over the anti border without blinking.”

“Ahhh! Okay I’m sorry…even though I wasn’t in control of myself, I’m sorry.” He gasped once I released him onto the wooden floor.

Jo offered him her hand, helping him to stand asking in a less stern tone. “Now what exactly was so important that you needed to get to?”

“Okay how's this, my best friend, he just came back from the dear but now I have to save him from a vampire hunter before he is driven across an antimagic border and killed again so here's some friendly advice.” Alairc explained moving around the two of us. “It's probably a good idea to stay as far away from me as possible.”

Watching him leave I crossed my arms over my chest. “He’s literally going to die permanently because of Damon Salvatore.”

“Wait Raelyn. We have to save him.” My cousin sent me a sympathetic glance. “I bet that you don’t like him but can you do it for me?”

Slumping my shoulders I caved knowing that I wouldn’t hurt her feelings ever. She was the only family member I cared about after all. “Huh alright let’s go save the former vampire hunter.”

“He was a vampire hunter before he turned.” She sounded interested as we rushed to the car.

“Seriously, after we save him please make him tell everything.” Pulling out my phone I dialed my brother. “Jacob, don’t go back to Jo’s place. I need you to bring the girls to the Mystic Falls border. We’re heeding their now.”

He asked through the phone. “What are you doing going there?”

“Off to save our cousin's romantic partner Alaric Saltzman. Just do what I say please.” I hung up the phone before Jo slammed on the gas and we rushed to the border. Slamming my door shut I gasped stopping at the edge. Two vehicles were knocked over and Alaric was laying on the grass bleeding out.

Jo grabbed her medical bag calling out to me over her shoulder bolting across the border with no problem. “What are you waiting for?”

“If I cross over it takes away the magic making me a vampire. I’ll die!” I shouted back hearing tires shriek on the road before I saw my brother get out of the car with Cami and the kids.

Hayley and three year old Andrea were driving back with one of the cures for the originals. But we had two more to go before we could get Klaus back. “Rae, what are we waiting for?” Cami asked about stepping over.

“You cross and you die.” Yanking the blonde back by her forearm I turned around to my daughters. “Girls, mommy and uncle J need your help.”

Alina, Missy and Hope ran forward. Alina had her hair up in a braid. Hope left her loose and Missy had it in a ponytail. Jacob looked at his six year old nieces then me. “So what do we do to help Alaric not die?”

Using my vampire hearing I watched Stefan limp over to the other truck that had his brother inside. But he was bleeding from where he died. “Jo’s helping him. We have to help Stefan get his brother across the border. We’ll briefly siphon the magic away so they don’t die.”

“Okay…uh like this?” Jacob placed his hands on the barrier and I followed his actions.

“Alina, Missy help us. Hope, cross over and help Jo.” I instructed my daughters so the two other siphons put their hands like ours and we watched their hands turn red. “Magia tollux de terras.”

“On it mom.” Hope crosses the border where she winced feeling it strike her magic but she keeps running towards Jo.

Alaric was couching up blood laying on his back. “You have to get me across the border. It's stripping away the magic. I'll die.”

Jo tore something from her medical bag. “You'll die if I move you. I have to stop the bleeding, you nicked your descending aorta.”

Alaric gasped. “I know, that's what killed me.”

Hope plopped down at her side seeing him bleeding. “Hey Jo, what can I do?”

“Hand me that pack.” She told her quickly.

Hope gave it to her watching her begin to tear it open with her mouth. “And you didn't have me back then did you and you didn't have hemostatic gauze.” She covered the wound with her hand and the gauze.

Cami gasped watching Jaocb and I keep chanting seeing Stefan limping towards the border with the spell still hurting them but they weren’t dead just yet. “Guys, you better hurry!” She hollers to the vampires on the other side.

“Ah crap!” I moaned seeing drops of blood staining my shoes meaning the spell was trying to kill us. “Jacob, let go!”

He shook his head coughing up some blood of his own. “No way…they’re coming.” Moving my gaze up, Stefan was still limping towards us. Damon and the other vampire collapsed onto our side gasping for air.

“Alaric? Hang on! Stay with me. Come on.” Jo starts pumping on his chest.” Gonna get that heart pumping. You don't get to have the last word with me. Alaric!”

Removing our hands from the barrier I gasped in relief feeling better until Missy tugged my arm pointing towards her sister and Jo. “Mommy!”

“God no.” Covering my mouth with my hands I heard Cami sob. Damon, still on the ground, rips his hands free from the chains and looks toward Mystic Falls, his eyes wide.

Jo continues pumping on Alaric's chest refusing to give up. “Stay with me! come on!” Suddenly Alaric's head snaps up, his eyes open and he gasps for air.

On the Ground, Alaric looks around confused and shaken. “So-so-something's wrong.”

“Don’t move, Ricky.” Hope warmed him by touching his cheek.

Alaric moved his hand to his chest still confused on how he wasn’t dead. “No, something's wrong. I'm not supposed to be alive.”

Jo put her hand to his face, calming the now human him down. “There's no reason you shouldn't be. I sealed the wound we just have to get you to the hospital.” The ambulance came and she waited before getting in the back.

“Go with him. We’re good from here.” I told her seeing she was waiting for me. “Just don’t be angry I’ve been hiding blood bags at your place.”

Alina came over to me once they drove off and I watched silently before she said something taking my attention away from them. “What happens to him now?”

“Now he gets to live his life as a human again. Come on, it's late. Let’s get you all to bed.” Picking her up in my arms she laid her head on my shoulder lifting her gaze up to the full moon in the sky.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[gotdreamsagain]

The Beast You've Made of Me

With the appearance of Alaric Saltzman and his gaggle of supernatural misfits, Kai Parker is given everything he needs to escape his prison world with an added bonus: no one remembers him. So, when he finds himself in 2031, the world is his oyster, but there’s only one thing on his mind: Bonnie Bennett.

Dedicated to @koiporker

note: self repost

Triggers: Death, Abandonment, Violence, Blood, Drug Mention, Gore

For all the years Malachai Parker had been seeking salvation from his prison, he’d never imagined it would come in the form of a magical mud pit of all things. It wasn’t much to look at, not nearly as pretty as first ticket out of a prison world, nor was it as entertaining, but he wasn’t going to complain. Whatever lied beyond it’s murky depths had to be better than this, if only for the sheer fact that he’d known he hadn’t let the witch win. So, after making his final phone call in dear old 2018, he tossed the phone he was using across the room, and prepared himself for the most anticipated swan dive of his life. With a sigh of relief, and a smile in his face, the heretic leaned back on his heels and let himself fall. As he was engulfed in the mud, the last clear thought he had was one name: Bonnie Bennett.

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

When he emerged from the pit, covered in sludge and muck, it wasn’t until he stepped food on solid ground that he let himself take a deep breath. It didn’t feel real until then, and then the realization truly struck him, and the gemini let out a laugh. He was out. He was really out.  All at once he felt his emotions hit him like a ton of bricks. Excitement. Fear. Anger. Despair. All of those emotions culminated in a wave of nausea that over took him, and as easy as it would have been to turn it all off, he didn’t. He needed that anger, and that fire, and most of all, he needed a clear head.

As the heretic’s laughter died down, he wiped his face, his eyes first, and then past lips that were silent but still bright with a smile. “ Son of a bitch, I made it. ” There was no one else to here his declaration, not a single soul, and yet, he found himself saying it again. “ I fucking made it. ” In the glow of the candlelight, he let himself enjoy it for just a few moments more before his thoughts turned back to those emotions, and why they were so very important.

First to come off were the gloves, the digit less fiends sliding off into a slimey mess of the ground. Next came the jacket, which lasted a few moments longer, but only long enough for Kai Parker to further wipe off his hands with the dryer bits on inside before it met the same fate of the gloves. With his hands as clean as they’d come for the moment, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a mostly clean sandwich bag from his pocket, having been saved a muddy grave by the jacket. No, the thing was practically pristine, and he could even see the jam covered finger prints he’d left on it before Josette’s family had so rudely barged in. No matter, none of it mattered now, all  of it water under the bridge as he held up the bag to the light, smiling even wider at the sight of the contents: a button, the only thing a witch had left behind when she’d left him in that karaoke bar.

He’d thought he’d just been too lucky whenever he’d found the lone silver button lying over by the karaoke machine inside the bar years ago after Alaric’s rejects had set him free. It had reflected the red light up at him mockingly when he first saw it, and he wasn’t sure what had enticed him to pick it up, but when he did, he remembered where he’d seen it before. A witch had been wearing a jacket with the same button when she’d damned him to live out his worst fear, and made the soundtrack of his hell a song he hated.   In that moment he’d store the thing away, knowing when the time would come, it would be his ticket to finding her. Now the time had come, and he was only a shower and a locator spell away from returning the favor.  Don’t worry Bon Bon, I’m on my way.

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

In all the times he’d pictured it, he’d try to imagine what the Bennett would look like after all the time they’d spent apart. Would she have smile lines burned into her face from years of gracing the world with its warmth, or crows feet around her eyes that came with time. A million questions had crossed his mind, and he’d imagined thousands of possibilities, but none of it was as satisfying as seeing all of those ideas proven wrong by the real thing. No, Bonnie Bennett didn’t have any laugh lines, or crows feet, no, she looked just like he remembered her. Smooth skin, green eyes filled with fire, and lips that could drip with honey or venom, if you asked nicely. The years had taken nothing from her but time, and that was exactly where he wanted her.

The heretic had expected to find the Bennett in Mystic Falls, playing the role of the martyr as she always did. The one who sacrificed so her friends didn’t have to, the witch stronger than any of them reduced to little more a pawn in their eyes, it would have even been comical if it wasn’t so sad. Instead, the locator spell had led him to small market in Georgia, admiring the witch as she looked over the produce. He hadn’t bothered with a cloaking spell, he didn’t need one, not when she wouldn’t remember her anyway. Toying with the apple in his hand to seem preoccupied, he couldn’t peel his eyes off of her as her focus stayed glued to the contents of the basket hanging on her arm as she moved down the aisle.

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

The familiar voice caught him off guard, but it prompted a sly smile on the face of the heretic. It was only when the green eyes he knew so well met his own that he answered her query.

“ Oh, no, I found just what I was looking for. ”

With that, he wasted no time closing the gap between them, grabbing the item directly to her right with a smirk. Her own eyes looked at him accusingly, but she didn’t say a word as she went to step away and lowered her gaze from his own.

“ Where are my manners, Kai Parker. ”

There was no reason to lie, it’s not like the name would mean anything to her, or the rest of the Scooby Gang, or anyone else for that matter. He was a ghost, a phantom, and not even the brilliant witch before him could be able to put the pieces together.

“ Bonnie Bennett. ”

He noticed the slight inflection in her voice, it was the same way she’d talked to Damon about him before she’d learned of his sins. It was cute, damn near adorable actually, to see history repeating with the witch, unknown to her. The Bennett witch was suspicious of him. Clever girl, Bon Bon. Then again, she always had been. Always the clever one, the smart one who thought she could get away anything, but she wouldn’t get away from it this time. While Malivore had been his saving grace, he would be her own slice of hell. If he couldn’t send her there, he could give her just a taste, and she wouldn’t get away so easily this time.

“ It’s nice to meet you, Bonnie Bennett. ”

He watched her hesitate as he offered his hand, the same skepticism in her eyes as always as she finally reached out and took his hand. Feeling her magic humming beneath his finger tips, it took everything he had not to drain her dry right there. It’d been so long since he’d had it, even a taste of her magic was enough to keep him running on a high for days, he was an addict, looking for a hit, and he had it right in his grubby hands. His eyes focused on her jugular vein, thinking about how easy it would be to tear it open with his teeth, how pretty she’d look in her own blood pool on the ground when he was done with her. One move, and that would be it. She could be dead before she hit the floor, the way she should have been eighteen years ago when he’d given Damon the ultimatum. But he’d waited this long, he could wait a longer. Just a little longer.

“ New to town, Kai Parker? I’ve never seen you here before... ”

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t return his greeting, and the suspicion lingered, though he didn’t really care as the sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver down his spine, the way it always did, whether it was said in a scream or a whisper, it didn’t matter. It was almost like nothing had changed, well, almost nothing.

“Yes, actually. Just got done with a long and unexpected vacation, so I decided to drop by and visit an old friend, might stick around for awhile.”

Dropping her hand, he moved down the way, taking some time to look at the options presented to him, but none of them were what he wanted. It wasn’t the food he was hungry for. The witch could have turned away and walked away, but she didn’t, and he knew she wouldn’t. In some ways, Bonnie Bennett was too nosy for her own good, and that was exactly what he was counting on. As he browsed, he felt the familiar green eyes on him, examining him, trying to figure him out. If only you knew, he thought coyly to himself with a smile. He let it go one for a few moments, pretending not to notice, the same way she had, hand firmly wrapped around whatever had been in front of him on the shelf before he piped up.

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

This time he caught her off guard, and he cocked his head to look at her just in time to see it in her eyes as she was caught red handed..

“ I - ”

There’s no time to let her make up an excuse, he’d done that way too many times to fall for that.

“ Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind gorgeous babes staring at me in grocery stores but .... ”

Ever more flustered, he could even tell her cheeks were starting to get warm as she tried to regain her composure. Bonster sure looked good, even when she was trying to dig herself out of a hole.

“ I wasn’t staring, I was just - “

Now he couldn’t help but chuckle, taking his opportunity to cut her off one more time.

“ Staring. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, it can be our little secret Bon Bon ”

The only saying rang in his ears as he made her his promise. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. Oh well, he wouldn’t have to wait long for that, and he was sure one more secret wouldn’t drown him in guilt. At that, the Bennett witch managed a small smile, and her signature eye roll.

“ Okay .... thanks. ”

As the witch turned to walk away, he felt like he’d won this round, even if she hadn’t known she’d been playing. He could have stopped her, kept the conversation going, lulled her further into a sense of safety, or even just raised her suspicions for the hell of it, but instead he let her go, almost letting her out of ear shot before calling out to the witch.

“ Until next time, Bennett? ”

He was smug, confident and cocky with his question as he raised an eyebrow at the witch. Turning back to glance at the Parker, the Bennett offered him a small smirk.

“ Assuming there’s a next time, Parker. ”

“ Maybe there will be.”

“Or maybe there won’t. Goodbye, Kai.”

“Bye Bye, Bonnie.”

Thirteen years may have passed since the last time they’d spoken, and the world may have moved on without him, but Bonnie Bennett was the same as she always was: cocky, stubborn, sarcastic, fire still burning in those emerald eyes, exactly the way he wanted her. She could run, but she couldn’t hide, and it was only a matter of time until next time, and next time, she might not be so lucky. You can run, Bonnie Bennett, but you can’t hide. One way, or another, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to get you.