#she'd probably kill me on sight but it's fine

[gothicfied]

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 Headcanons

Pairing: Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120 x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, killing, guns/gunshots (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Watching Hyun-ju during the six-legged pentathlon, you couldn't help but be amazed. She was a leader, a fighter, someone who didn't and wouldn't give up, that much was sure. It was amazing to see her lead her group to victory, to safety, being the one to push them and encourage them. Everyone cheered, obviously including you, and it truly was an amazing feeling to see them all get away with their lives. You weren't so sure if you'd make it, too.

જ⁀➴ Thankfully, you did. Your group barely scraped by and you just decided that you needed to be on Hyun-ju's team. Hesitantly, you approached Geum-ja, who immediately noticed your small figure and agreed in a heart beat to let you join their little group.

"You were great back there, you know?" You told Hyun-ju with a shy smile while she was sitting on the stairs, originally just observing Yong-sik getting scolded by his mother again. "Hm? Ah.. that was nothing." she replied back, shaking her head when smiling up at you. "I think everyone in here should be like you," you chuckled, "like, actually. We'd all benefit from it."

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju's heart melted at all the nice words you would say to her, complimenting her braveness and strength. It made her feel more validated in her actions, which was the motivation she really needed in a place like this. Young-mi was equally excited to have you in their group now, having animated conversations with you about the things you had in common — And if she approved of you, Hyun-ju would, too.

જ⁀➴ Whenever you were scared, were having doubts about yourself or just needed someone to talk, Hyun-ju was there. It was almost like she felt it when you felt that way and she'd always listen to you and comfort you. Her hugs were warm and firm, perfectly calming you down after a particularly bad nightmare. In return, you also encouraged her to talk to you if she ever felt the need to, but everytime you suggested that she'd laugh it off. To Hyun-ju, it was enough to know that she brought you comfort, she didn't need anything in return. She did think it was adorable for you to say that.

જ⁀➴ To distract you from all the stress sometimes, she'd ask you about your plans for the future, about your hobbies and jusy about the things that made you, you. Hyun-ju was genuinely interested in getting to know you and was growing very fond of you over a short period of time.

જ⁀➴ After suffering through the third game together, and also a painful loss (rip Young-mi, my queen), everyone was going through it. Instead of everyone keeping it peaceful, they just decided to slaughter each other after lights out. Ever since losing Young-mi, Hyun-ju was very adamant on keeping you by her side at all times. She wouldn't make that mistake again and leave someone she cared about out of her sight.

The lights flicker like crazy above you, screams and the disgusting sound of people getting killed right next to you were the only things you could focus on right now. You were panicking, you were scared, you felt like you were going to cry and throw up. Hyun-ju had grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the last corner of the dorm area, hiding you between some mattresses other players had set up. She was firmly holding you by your shoulders and telling you something you couldn't make up. Probably that everything will be okay or something. "Hey! Hey, please listen to me," Hyun-ju leaned in close, hugging you against her, "it's all going to be fine. We'll be okay."

જ⁀➴ In fact, you were. Obviously you were. Hyun-ju wouldn't say something she didn't mean — she wouldn't lie to you. She knew that winning someones trust was hard and the fact that you put so much of it into her filled her with pride.

જ⁀➴ Gi-hun had his mind set on a revolution. Anybody who could handle a firearm was supposed to step forward and take one of of the ones they took off the dead guards. You swallowed, locking eyes with Hyun-ju. She'd step forward, they needed her. You gave her a quick nod and a faint smile and she returned it, quickly stepping forward to help the others.

Geum-ja put a hand on your shoulder, claiming that she'll be fine and that she's far too tough to die out there. "They'll be back to get us out of here, don't worry about it." she said, tugging you by your sleeve, beckoning you to come with her.

When Dae-ho stormed in after a while again, hastily collecting the magazines out of the guards pockets, you were relieved, even if he seemed extremely beside himself. He had some sort of panic attack, so you sat him down on one of the beds, trying to reason with him, until Hyun-ju stormed in, making your facs light up. Oh my god, she's alive. She basically ran to Dae-ho, urging for the ammunition and kept asking him what happened.. so, this wasn't going according to plan at all. You assumption was confirmed by all the masked guards that flooded into the dorm area, holding the remaining players at gunpoint.

"Hyun-ju..?" your voice was shaky. Her eyes fell down on you, taking your hand into hers. "It's all going to be fine."

[archangeldyke-all]

okay i’ve seen people talk about werewolf sevika but what about werecat sevika like she gives off such cat vibes she’s an introvert who so would love sitting by her window or on her porch watching things also i’ve always headcanoned that she literally purrs when you scratch her head so werecat sev just makes sense to me

YES i fucking LOVE THIS

this is what i think sevika would look like in cat form btw hehehehehe (send me cats u think sevika would look like too! i want to see all ur ideas)

men and minors dni

it all starts with a loose lab-cat. singed had pumped the thing with shimmer and underestimated its strength. he returned to the lab the next morning to a broken glass cage, quickly followed by hissing and hollering coming from the bar.

sevika stepped on the cat's tail where it had been sleeping beneath a table. in return, the cat sunk it's claws into sevika's calf-- four deep scratches running down her leg-- dripping half blood red, half shimmer pink.

singed told her she'd be okay.

he told her to go home and sleep it off and that she'd be fine.

singed is a fucking liar.

the next full moon, sevika turns into a cat.

not a panther, or a lion, or a fucking tiger or something cool. a fucking house cat. and a tiny one too.

she didn't tell anyone. who could she tell? singed would just try to strap her to a lab table and start experimenting on her. silco would probably just laugh. jinx might be her best bet if she wanted answers, but she fears that jinx would do something horrible like pet her or something.

so she just... deals with it.

the more full moons that pass, the more used to it she gets, and the more she can transform herself at will without the moon's powers.

she kinda likes being a cat. it's useful as fuck in the undercity, with all it's steep walls and drop-offs. it gives her crystal clear vision, even in the deepest darkest streets; it gives her great instincts, even in her human form, and...

there's nothing quite like finding a stray beam of sun and curling up for a few minutes to snooze on a peaceful day. both in her human and cat form.

which is how she meets you.

you live on a high floor of a big apartment building in the lanes. it's miserable climbing up and down the stairs multiple times a day, but the nice thing about it is you're high up enough to get some direct sunlight in your home for a good few hours a day.

you don't have a cat-- your landlord would kill you. but you keep a two little pots of catnip and catgrass growing on your fire-escape, a little tin of water and some tuna or chicken when you've got scraps to spare.

you've got a few cats that come to visit you a few times a week, all varying levels of friendly.

the white stray visits every afternoon to snack on your plants, sometimes bringing a skinny orange friend along with her. you let them be, watching fondly through the window as they groom each other.

there's a fat tuxedo cat that you know has an owner somewhere in the neighborhood, that seems to know when you set out food scraps-- always there in a flash to gobble them up. he's friendly as hell, meowing incessantly at your window until you open it up for him and let him come in to get pets for a few hours before returning home for dinner.

there's a new litter of calico kittens you've caught sight of. you think there's five or six separate kitties, but you can never keep track because they grow so and change so much between your sightings of them.

and then there's your newest visitor.

she's a unique cat, silver eyes, only three legs, her left front leg missing completely. there's blue scratches running down her left side, shimmering in the sun when the wind blows her fur away enough for you to see them.

and she doesn't eat any of your plants, or drink any of your water. most of the time, you come home and find her sleeping in a ray of sun. and every time when she wakes up and realizes you're home, the cat will jump up on your windowsill and simply watch you; her tail twitching occasionally in the wind, purring loud enough for you to hear through the little window as her silver eyes follow your every movement inside.

.....

sevika's fucked.

she's so, so, so fucked.

she's been fucking stabbed, twice, and she's loosing blood so quickly that she's starting to see spots.

the men who stabbed her are chasing her, and she's leaving a trail of blood right to herself. no matter how fast she runs, she's not going to lose them.

she's so woozy that she almost forgets that she's got fucking magical powers. she ducks into an alley and quickly transforms, before sprinting away. that takes care of those idiots beating her to death-- but it doesn't change the fact that sevika's dying.

she doesn't know where to go.

the last drop is way too far for her to get there before she bleeds out. she's got no friends in this neighborhood-- and people down here don't have the spare time, money, or sympathy for a dying street cat.

wait.

she knows someone who likes street cats.

someone sweet, and pretty, and always smiling and talking to her like she can speak human language. she can, but she knows your other cat visitors can't-- and it just makes her like you all the more- - the idea of you talking to some clueless cat, just like you talk to her.

she makes it to your fire escape just before her three legs give out.

and while her vision starts to fade completely, the clouds overhead move and a beam of sun shines down on her, the smell of your cat plants wafting over her as the wind blows.

well, sevika supposes. if i'm gonna die i guess this is the nicest place to do it.

you come home and find a dead woman on your fire escape... which isn't a total surprise in this neighborhood.

it's only when you go out to prod at her that you get really freaked out-- because she's not dead, just barely breathing.

you scramble to pull the woman inside your apartment, spreading her out on your bed and nearly throwing up at the sight of two deep stab wounds in her sides.

you've got some shimmer stored in your medicine cabinet in case of emergencies, and you quickly slide the liquid down her throat before scrambling to find something to stitch her side together with.

you aren't sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing when she starts blinking awake, groaning in pain and weakly trying to shove you away from her wounds.

"hey hey hey, wake up." you say, shaking her shoulders. she grunts and scrunches her face up. when her eyes blink open, your stomach twists.

you've never seen eyes that silver besides on the cat that comes to visit you. they're different on a person. much more attractive.

"uh..." you say, trailing off for a second suddenly realizing that the woman beneath you is very naked. and now that you're looking at her, the blue scars on her left side seem awfully familiar. you clear your throat. "uh, wake up." you say again, gently smacking her cheek.

she gasps awake when you start stitching up her second wound. "fuck!" she shouts. and then, she seems to process where she is. "fuck." she says.

you gulp. "uh, i'll get you a blanket." you offer.

sevika nods numbly as you-- the woman she's been shamelessly peeping on for the past year-- stumble out of your bedroom.

"i thought you were dead, honestly, and then you started moving and i got really freaked out. gave you some shimmer-- i hope you don't mind." you ramble as you walk back into your room, throwing a blanket over sevika. "is there anyone i should call for or...?"

"you're even prettier up close." she says. then she cringes.

fuck she didn't mean to say that. it must be the blood loss. and the shimmer. and your pretty eyes.

"uh..." sevika watches as you start to back away like you're scared, and she huffs before she gathers all her energy and transforms into her cat form. "what the fuck?!" you squawk as the woman in front of you disappears in thin air.

and then, a little lump under the covers starts to move.

and the three legged silver eyed cat comes crawling out, two new wounds on her side.

"what the fuck?" you ask, immedietly reaching forward to pet the cat in front of you. you don't consider that the cat is a woman-- it's your natural instinct-- you see a cat, you pet it.

but then the woman's back and your hand is in her hair and she's blushing all the way down to her tits which you can see because she's still naked.

"wha--"

"i'm sevika."

"hi, sevika." you giggle, slightly hysterical. sevika's blush gets even darker. "i'm--"

"i know." she cuts you off, then bites her lip in embarrassment and presses her head harder against your hand, like she's a cat. well, you suppose she kinda is. "i... sorry for stumbling into your life like this. i thought if i died as a cat i died in real life." sevika shrugs. "guess the whole nine lives thing is true, though."

"i don't--"

"i can leave, if you give me a pair of sweats or someth--"

"no!" you squeak. sevika smiles, and now you're embarrassed. "i-i mean... you're injured. you should stay until you're better..." sevika raises an eyebrow at you. "plus... you're kinda cute."

she grins. "as a cat or...?"

"fuck off." you giggle, crawling into bed beside her. "you've fucking... been watching me for a year! it's only fair i get to interrogate you, too, you creep."

"i-i'm not a creep!"

"you've seen me naked!"

"you didn't seem to mind at the time..." sevika pouts.

you can't believe how ridiculous this whole fucking situation is. sevika's blood drying into your mattress underneath the pair of you, but her skin is becoming more vibrant as the shimmer works through her system, flashes of pink sparkling in her silver eyes. she's practically purring as you scratch her scalp. you burst into laughter, and sevika grins up at you.

when you finally catch your breath, you shake your head and look down at the only sorta-stranger beneath you. "so, what are you... a werecat, or something?"

sevika groans before bursting into laughter with you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[emilyprentissluvr]

A Special Gift (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 7)

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 3.2k

EMILY WAS the first to arrive at Howard Barnes's apartment. She waited outside the door with her gun in her holster. Hotch had given her clear instructions to wait for SWAT and the rest of the team.

Emily had planned to wait, but when Hotch felt the need to reiterate it, she couldn't shake the feeling that she might be in serious trouble with her boss. 

Was it deserved? Probably.

But as long they caught Y/n, Emily couldn't care less about the consequences that came her way from doing so. 

"Geez, you got here quick," JJ panted as she jogged over to Emily. The three flights of stairs were enough to make her break a sweat, something that had never happened before she'd gotten pregnant.

"It was only ten minutes away from my apartment," Emily started as she turned to her friend, but was taken aback when she saw a deep gash from JJ's forehead to her eyebrow. A bandaid covers most of the cut. "Oh god. What happened, JJ?" Emily asked as her finger hovered over the bandaid, blood starting to seep through the fabric.

JJ quickly pushed away Emily's worried hands, "I was putting away the dishes and accidentally dropped a plate on my face while reaching for the top cabinet. I'm fine, Em, I didn't have time to glue it." JJ said softly.

"Okay," Emily nodded skeptically, "I have some medical glue in the car, I'll fix it after we're done here," Emily said, and JJ just nodded silently. Emily wanted to ask more, but she could hear the rest of the team from down the hallway, so she decided to save her questions for later. 

The SWAT team came, and when they cleared the apartment, they let the BAU in.

"Howard Barnes, a 28-year-old science teacher at Saint Luther High School." Penelope relayed on the phone from her lair at Quantico.

"Well, it was Y/n," Derek crouched down by the body, "Single gunshot to the head and the angel wing," Derek continued. 

Spencer was crouched next to Derek, noting the body's warmth and lack of rigor mortis,  "Time of death had to have been less than an hour ago," Spencer added.

"Damn, we were close. Did the neighbors call it in?" Rossi asked Hotch. 

Emily looked up from the body and saw Hotch staring at her blankly. And honestly, that look was scarier than his usual frown.

"I called it in. I was on the phone with Y/n when she shot him." Emily said, earning a resounding "What?!" from everyone.

"Why do you still have her number?" Derek asked.

"Why would she call you?" Spencer added.

"I'll explain later. Can we focus on the case, please?" Emily asked a slight pleading in her tone.

"Prentiss is right, let's focus on the case," Hotch told the rest of the team before turning to Emily, "Well, talk later."

Emily nodded, happy to delay the berating for later.

"Can you see if any of the students or staff filed a complaint or reported him," Emily asked Penelope as she recalled her phone call with Y/n.

"Hmm, let me check... Three years ago, a student anonymously reported Mr. Barnes for sexual harassment. Oh geez, the school didn't even look into it, they just swept it under the rug. Good thinking, Em." Penelope said as her fingers typed over the keyboard.

"Well, he fits victimology," JJ noted as she looked anywhere but the body. The nausea in her stomach started to roll at the sight and smell.

"How does she find all these guys, though?" Derek asked.

"Well, there's never a shortage of perverts in DC," Emily muttered, causing Hotch to send her another look.

Derek ignored Emily's comment as he gestured to the body, "I mean that this guy and all her other victims look perfect on record. Does she background-check every guy in the cities she kills?"

"Approximately 47% of the DC population is male, with a total population of 591,833-" Spencer started before Hotch abruptly cut him off. If the statistics had been relevant to the conversation, Hotch would have kept Spencer talking. "Garcia, would it be possible for her to create a computer program like that?" Hotch asked the technical analyst over the phone.

"I mean, it is possible. But hacking into sealed documents is a whole other ball game. Especially when its government sealed like some of the victim's files," Penelope answered.

"Okay, I want you to look deeper into that. See if there are any online forums that she could be using to find her victims," Hotch told Garcia before hanging up the phone.

Emily had been looking around the apartment, unintentionally tuning out the team's conversation, when her eyes landed on the kitchen counter. She'd completely forgotten that Y/n had left something for her.

The brunette walked over to the counter and saw a small gift bag and what looked to be a manuscript. 

Emily picked up the papers, flipped through them, and noted that there had to be at least 300 hundred pages of words. She felt someone walk up behind her before she heard Derek's voice, "What's that?" he asked as he looked at the papers in her hand.

"Something Y/n left for me," Emily sighed as she handed it to Derek and reached over to grab the gift. 

"Her next book?" Derek asked as he started to read the words on them, "Huh, I thought her being a ghost writer was a cover," Derek muttered to himself, referencing back to the first night they'd come in contact with Y/n.

Emily hummed in acknowledgment as she took out the tissue paper and saw a small gold charm at the bottom of the bag. She pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket before grabbing the charm. 

She held it at eyesight and noted it to be some kind of bird. The embedded diamonds were shining from the kitchen light, and Emily knew this had to be expensive.

"It looks like a blackbird," Spencer said as he walked up next to her. "Blackbirds symbolize transformation, inner strength, and freedom," He continued as he observed the charm for himself. 

Emily frowned as she stared at it, was it some sort of sign? Did the symbolism have meaning for Y/n, or was this something else to throw the team off? Or maybe Y/n just wanted to impress Emily with something shiny. 

The brunette was still trying to piece it together when she heard a gasp from behind her. She and Spencer quickly turned around to see JJ flipping through the manuscript, "Oh my god," JJ said as she held the papers up to the team, "I know this book series! Will's nieces love it," JJ continued.

"Nieces?" Derek asked, practically voicing everyone's surprise that Y/n wrote novels for kids.

"Yeah, I think this is the fifth or sixth book in the series," JJ said as she recalled looking at the novels on the little girls' bookshelf, "The series is about an orphaned teenage girl named Angela, who's trying to solve her parent's murder. Or at least that's what I got out of the synopsis on the back. " JJ finished as she put the manuscript back on the table.

Hotch nodded as he took JJ's words in, "Do you remember the author on the covers name?"

"Ana Wells," JJ responded as she pulled her phone out and scrolled through her photos. "She's a real person, too," JJ said as she showed a picture of Will's nieces with a middle-aged woman at a bookstore meet and greet. 

"I'll have Garcia look into it more tomorrow," Hotch said as they all stared at the manuscript.

"I'm sorry, but this is just crazy." Derek scoffed, breaking the silence. "How the hell does she have time to murder hundreds of people, taunt us, and then also write what looks to be a best-selling children's book series."

"She's like serial killer Barbie," JJ muttered, her exhaustion and hormones enough to loosen her usual professionalism. Derek chuckled but was cut off by Hotch's sharp gaze. 

"She left all this for you?" Spencer asked Emily, getting the group back on task.

Emily nodded, "Yeah, but... I don't know why. Providing us with the manuscript and the name of the author she writes for benefits us, not her." 

"Well, maybe she's trying to tell you something with the manuscript and the charm." Rossi pointed out, and Emily just shook her head, "But what?"

"That's what we have to figure out," Hotch said, "But it's late, so we'll pick up tomorrow. Luckily, I was able to get a hold of Gideon, so he should be by tomorrow morning. Hopefully, With his insight, things will start making more sense." Hotch said before dismissing the team. Emily tried to escape, hoping Hotch wouldn't remember, but when she heard her last name ring through the apartment, she accepted defeat and turned around to meet Hotch's disappointed eyes. 

"A word," He said, gesturing for her to follow him into the hallway.

She nodded, instructing JJ to wait by her car so she could tend to her cut after her hopefully brief conversation with the unit chief. 

"Why did you not inform me you were talking to Y/n?" Hotch asked, getting straight to the point. 

"I was going to," Emily swears, "I just wanted to get enough out of Y/n before telling you." As she said it aloud, she realized how bad it sounded. But in her defense, it wasn't as if anything crazy had happened. 

"But that's not your call to make." Hotch said shortly, "For this team to work, I have to trust the people on it."

"And you can trust me. I just couldn't risk you cutting contact with the only lead we have."

Hotch raised an eyebrow at Emily's argument, "So, I can trust you, but you can't trust me to make the right calls for this team?"

"That's not what I'm saying-"

"Prentiss, if you're too close to this case, I will not hesitate to remove you from it," Hotch interrupted. 

"I am not too close to this case," Emily argued back, trying to keep her voice down and not yell like she wanted to. "I apologize for not telling you, but I'm getting somewhere with her, Hotch. And if you pull me off the case, chances are Y/n is just going to move on," Emily said.

Did Emily feel slightly conceited saying that? Yes.

But was it true? Also yes.

Y/n may have been toying with the whole team, but it was mostly Emily that she showed interest in, and Hotch and the whole team could see that. 

The Unit Chief thought silently for a moment before relenting. "Fine, you can stay in contact with her. But I want past and future conversations relayed through Garcia. And I want to be briefed every day."

Emily nodded, relief filling her chest, "Yes, sir."

Hotch studied the brunette momentarily, hoping he made the right call, "If you do something like that behind my back again, I will remove you from this case. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir," Emily nodded again before her boss dismissed her. 

Well, that had been easier than she thought. Honestly, she'd expected a lot more pushback from Hotch. But right now, they needed as many leads as they could get. 

A slight shiver ran through Emily as she headed to her car. The moon and the stars illuminate the parking lot, and Emily's reminded once again how late it is. " He read you the riot act?" JJ asked as she stood perched on the hood of Emily's car. Emily chuckled as she unlocked the car, "If it were any other case, he probably would," 

JJ hummed as she watched Emily pull out a medical kit from the passenger seat compartment. Emily motioned for the blonde to take a seat as she pulled out all the items she needed. "Jesus, JJ." Emily gasped as she carefully pulled the bandaid off and realized just how deep the cut was. 

"Maybe we should go to the hospital-" Emily started before JJ cut her off. "It's fine, Em. Just bleeding a lot." JJ insisted sharply. Emily held her hands up in surrender as she dabbed the cut with disinfectant. 

"I thought part of being pregnant meant your partner does everything for you," Emily said, trying to lighten the mood, and to her relief, JJ chuckled a little. "We both work full-time jobs and if I left everything up to Will, our house would be a wreck." 

Emily hummed, adding another tally to the reasons she disliked Will. 

"Well then, let him put away the dangerous dishes," Emily smiled as she pulled the medical glue out of the bag, "We can't be ruining our money maker," Emily teased as she held the cut together. "Ass," JJ muttered under her breath, and Emily smiled. 

She worked quietly as she patched up JJ's forehead. She was lost in thought when she felt JJ's eyes staring at her. "What?" Emily asked, not liking the look on her friend's face.

"It was Y/n calling you earlier, wasn't it," JJ said, her voice soft and lacking judgment. JJ didn't understand why Emily hadn't told them. But she trusted her friend and knew that there had to be a good reason for not telling the team.

"Yeah," Emily sighed as she finally put the bandage over the glued cut. "I know it was stupid; you don't have to tell me," Emily defended, an instinct even though there wasn't a hint of judgment in the blonde's eyes. "Did I say anything?" JJ chuckled, used to Emily's ways by now.

"Sorry. I just... I know what I'm doing."

"Again, did I say anything?" JJ said with an eyebrow raised. 

"No, you didn't" Emily shook her head, "Sorry, I just really want this case over," Emily muttered as she squeezed JJ's shoulder, signaling that she'd finished tending to her cut. 

"As do I. But I have a feeling that's not going to happen anytime soon." JJ said as she hopped out of the car. Emily hummed in acknowledgment before saying goodbye to JJ. She made sure her friend was safely in her car before heading out for the ten-minute drive back to her apartment.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

It was 7:30 in the morning when Emily walked into the BAU. Usually, she was the one to cut it close, barely arriving to work on time. But she could barely sleep last night and couldn't stand the eerie silence that had fallen over her apartment. Hence, her being the first one at work.

Although, when she arrived at her desk, she saw three people in Hotch's office. The unit chief, Rossi, and what looked to be Gideon were deep in conversation, looking at case files. Emily's eyes widened at the sight of them. 

She knew Gideon was coming obviously, but it was still a shock to see the man. She was dreading the awkward reunion that was bound to happen in a couple of hours and decided to keep herself busy.

 Last night she had texted Y/n asking where she'd gotten the blackbird charm and about the manuscript.

But to her surprise, the younger woman never answered. Usually, Y/n would get back to her within 5 minutes, so what was going on? 

A part of her wanted to believe that it didn't have anything to do with the fact that she'd told Hotch about their contact. But she wasn't naive enough to believe that it didn't have anything to do with Y/n not answering her back. 

She decided to put her phone away and focus on the other case files that she'd neglected since coming across Y/n. 

It was about an hour later when the rest of the team slowly filtered through the bullpen. 

"Gideons here?" Derek asked as he sat at his desk, the surprise in his voice mirrored Emily's earlier in the morning. 

"Yup," Emily nodded. "I honestly didn't think he was going to come so soon."

Spencer scoffed, something so unlike him that Derek and Emily couldn't help but pause their conversation as they stared at the youngest profiler. 

Wow, this was going to be a long day. 

"Well, whatever he knows must be important if he's coming out of retirement to consult with us," Derek said with a shrug as they all stared at Hotch's office. The blinds were pulled down but the three senior profilers were still in there, none of them having left since Emily arrived. 

Spencer scoffed again, "It also means that he's been close this entire time. We just weren't enough for him to want to come back." 

"Spencer-" Emily started with an empathetic sigh.

"I'm getting coffee," Spencer said, pushing his chair back forcefully as he practically stomped to the kitchenette, ignoring the concerned glances thrown his way. 

"I take it your guys's talk yesterday didn't help." Emily sighed as she turned towards Derek. 

"What do you think," Derek said as he gestured to Spencer who was furiously adding sugar to his coffee.  

Emily hummed when suddenly Hotch's office door opened. "Conference room. Now." He said as he headed down the walkway with Rossi following after him. Gideon gave Emily and Derek a small nod of acknowledgment before following after the two men. 

"This should be fun," Emily sighed as they headed to the round table. 

"Tell me about it," Derek murmured as he took his seat next to Emily. Spencer came in and sat as far away from Gideon as he could. 

As soon as the two blondes took their seat Gideon rose. "I know I'm not here under the best circumstances," He said and if it was possible, the room was even more stiff and awkward than it was before. 

"But I'm here to help you guys, and even if you don't want it, you're going to need it," Gideon said as he grabbed a small box from the floor next to him and put it on the table. "I was the one that sealed the case in 1992." He finished as he handed the files over to the team.

"Why would you seal an unsolved case?" Derek asked, the confusion written over his face.

"Because it's not unsolved. We found the Wood Stalker in March of 1992, dead in his cabin from a single gunshot to his head." Gideon explained.

"Why isn't that in any of the files?" Penelope frowned.

"It's not in any of the files because I wanted to protect the person that turned him in" Gideon sighed as he ran a hand through his short hair. 

"Who turned him in?" JJ asked.

"His eight-year-old daughter. Who was also the one that killed him." Gideon answered.

"What?" The rest of the team said in unison.

"I sealed it for her, she didn't need the whole world knowing what she'd done just to stay alive," Gideon said honestly. 

"And everyone was just okay with that?" Spencer asked snarkily, notable not about the case and more of the fact that it was Gideon he was talking to. "The brass was different back then. The killer was gone and that's all they cared about. Other agencies backed my decision, although I didn't understand their reasoning why."

"What agency?" Emily asked with a frown.

"CIA. And I still don't know why, but I think we're going to find out soon." Gideon said and Emily looked at him skeptically, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because your unsub, Y/n,  is the daughter of the Wood Stalker."

A/N: If I were to do a tag list, would anyone be interested in being on it? Thanks for reading!

[bigraggatheopstoppa]

LITTLE MONSTER

chapter 2 mentions of blood, killing, murder, chaotic/ criminal? Au (I made this tf up) chapter 1

We finally arrived at our over crowded place we call home, honestly being there felt like a bit of a drag to but that's only for half of the time.

You seemed strangely alert now. Like you just realized your existence. You're looking all around the car, like it's the first time you've ever seen one— odd.

Nanami kept side eyeing you the whole ride, trying to make sure you wouldn't do some crazy shit but you were just enthralled with.. the seat belt..?

”hey um, do you need help taking that off?”

The sound of nanami's heavy voice gave you quite a jump, but you quietly shake your head and take off the seatbelt. You step out of the car and your eyes widen and wonder all over the house. Just a regular two-story house with probably four bedrooms

Sukuna gruffs past you, bumping your shoulder and almost making you go off balance.

Why is he so mean? Not like you did anything.

The four of you enter the sleeping house only to immediately have the bright shining lights glare into your eyes. Your eyes focus and you see a tall brown haired woman with a mole under her right eye. Heavy eyebags decorate her face as she takes a huff out of a cigarette.

You tilt your head in confusion as her eyes scan over you, what are her and the blonde talking about?

”so your best idea was bringing her home?”

Shoko says with much sass, I mean it wasn't the smartest decision but hes tired and he wasn't (still isn't) thinking correctly ”i couldn't really ignore her. She's a sight to see”

Shoko leans over to grab another glance at you, covered in dry blood, dirt and grim. You looked like you've been through one of the worst moments in a person's life and yet your face doesn't portray it.

Soft doe eyes that almost looks blacked out if you don't shine sunlight into your eyes. Round doll face with caramel skin, you look like you came from Lalaland and entered a blood bath.

”hm I agree. Fine, I'll check her out but in the morning you buy me more beer and cigs”

Nanamin sighs with a smile of relief, he was half not expecting her to actually check you out

”deal”

Shoko starts to coo at you to come here like you're a shy puppy. She guides you to a stool in front of the counter,

”Can I check your stomach?”

shoko feels up under your gown, hands trailing your sides before reaching the sides of your stomach. Your eyes trail her movements, wondering what she could possibly do next, it really seems you were in a world of oblivion.

”Im gonna check you for wounds now, alright?” you continue to stare blankly as her cold hands roam up your thighs and legs. Instinctively you kick her, not hard but enough to give her the idea to back off.

”twitchy are we? Alright no wounds there then. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

Shoko starts to coo at you to come here like you're a shy puppy. She guides you to a stool in front of the counter,

”Can I check your stomach?”

shoko feels up under your gown, hands trailing your sides before reaching the sides of your stomach. Your eyes trail her movements, wondering what she could possibly do next, it really seems you were in a world of oblivion.

”Im gonna check you for wounds now, alright?” you continue to stare blankly as her cold hands roam up your thighs and legs. Instinctively you kick her, not hard but enough to give her the idea to back off.

”twitchy are we? Alright no wounds there then. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

You shake your head, you seemed perfectly fine in Shoko's eyes. Further inspections can be done in the morning, it'd be too tiring to do a whole checkup now then later, besides she knew she'd probably have to patch up Gojo and Geto before the night was all the way over.

”alright well, you can't sleep in those uhm.. dirty clothes. I'll get you some spares.”

Shoko goes deeper into the house to fetch you some cleaner clothes but upon return, you've already changed your clothes. Cropped shirt with some shorts and fuzzy thigh highs, all in pastel and soft colors.

”you didn't mention you already had clothes, guess I wasted a trip then”

You just shrug your shoulders and look around, your pink mini bag was still on, almost like you refused to take it off— but that's not really Shoko's problem to deal with, she's not the one to do laundry

”tonight you can lay on this pullout couch, fold it back up in the morning”

And with that lazy job of a physical, Shoko goes back upstairs to her 'room' or whatever you'd like to call it. Nobara's leg half off the bed, cuddling with one of the wolfish dogs.

It almost seemed to be no room but it still works— Shoko lays on the on the far edge of the bed close to the wall as she falls asleep, it may be crammed but it's comfortable enough.

Your eyes flutter open, almost in shock to see a albino man looking back at you. His wide crystal eyes pour into yours as he analyzes your face.

”hmm”

“satoru get outta her face like that. Your being extra”

”oh really? She's literally sleeping in our bed”

”if you'd listened to shoko like a responsible adult then you'd know Why she's in our bed”

”well whyyyyy is she here since you wanna smart ass?”

”nanami found soaked in blood on the side of the road and brought her here for a checkup”

”since when did we take in stray's?”

”shes not a stray satoru she's a person in need”

Gojo rolls his eyes and continues to try and coax you out of the pullout bed. Its honestly quite laughable with how he's behaving— like a spoiled child who doesn't wanna share toys, space, or even breathing room.

But even with Gojo's whining and complaining you are still in the slow process of waking up. You take a gaze around the living room— the smell of weed and beer fill your senses as you get a look around.

Ash is scattered around the room with empty beer cans, old takeout left around the counter and weird sticky balloon..?

The house looks lived in or in other words a fucking mess, but you've seen worse. Way worse

You sit up and make your way to the counter to where the tall pretty black haired man is making coffee. You sit at the island and just watch him in silence.

Suguru turns around and slides a cup of coffee to you from behind the counter as he examines you himself. No scars, no scratches, no bruising to even show what nanamin had described. You just look like you came out of a cotton candy factory

Hell, even your face expressions don't even show any signs of trauma.

”can you tell me your name sweetheart?”

You perk up at the name sweetheart. You remember someone calling you that before but, it wasn't in a nice way. You don't respond and you continue sniffing and inspecting the coffee

”dont wanna talk? That's fine.”

It’s been a bit over a hour and you still haven’t really said anything. You’ve asked suguru to to refill your coffee a few time but you didn’t have to use words to ask that.

You gaze in and out of reality until the sound of fingers snapping in your face makes you jump back to reality and realize your surroundings. The white haired one is looking over you and asking more condescending questions

“Helllooo? Are you even listening?”

Satoru huffs as he slums over to continue to mess with you

“I was askingg—UGH, do you know where you live?”

You slowly shake your head, eyes wide and just staring back into his deep icy blue eyes. They seemed to go on for infinity

“Do you have any family or somewhere where we can drop you off at?”

Again you shake your head no, which only earns a groan from Satoru

“What So you just don’t have any family?”

You shrug your shoulders

“How can you not know!?!”

The ingrowing scowl on his face seems to be more prominent at his unhelpful information gathering attempt.

Hours later and you’re still sat at the counter top. You were told you could sit back at the couch but it seemed you were fine with just sitting there and looking out the window. A few hours later nanamin comes back, him coming through the door seems to be the only thing grabbing your attention

Your eyes immediately dart to look at him as he’s coming through the door with a drained look on his face

You don’t say anything to him, you just watch as he walks past you, to the fridge and grabs a beer and downs all his hard day’s frustration. Luckily it’s Halloween break at his job (just the weekend and two days off, super shit but we don’t mention it) so he has all the time in the world to figure out your mess.

“Did she say anything?”

Gojos eyes subconsciously roll as he answers

“No! Dumb brat didn’t say a thing. The only things we know are: She doesn’t know where she came from, she doesn’t have any close relatives and she doesn’t have anywhere to go”

“Did you check her wrist?”

“Why in the hell would I do that”

“Because it’s a hospital tag. It says the place she came from”

…

All that struggle… and for what? Because gojo couldn’t use his very pigmented eyes??!?

Gojo basically hops over the couch and yanks your wrist to read the fine print of your wrist band, the text was faded but still readable a bit

‘Dr. Smileys Happy Asylum’

Odd name for a said “Asylum” And the address was funky to, Yellow brick drive? The fuck? Either your lying about being from the hospital or you just didn’t realize you were in a fucked up one

“Wow nanami this is soooo helpful.. yeah this shit doesn’t help much either”

“Maybe we could just, research the damn doctor?”

With all gojos unhelpful sarcasm it’s really getting to him tonight.

You on the other hand weren’t much help either, you just sat and watched the two be passive to each other. On the inside you thought it was a bit funny at how the two gave good suggestions but never actually doing them.

Maybe they can get somewhere tomorrow but today was.. was just unbearable.

“Okay since you wanna act like a fucking child when you’re a full gown goddamn adult I’ll just take her to work with me tomorrow.”

Nanamis sudden switch in tone makes you and Gojo finally realize that he’s maybe a tinnyyy bit done for the night

“no it’s fine. She can just come with me a and geto”

Gojo felt a bit guilty purposely putting up this much of a defiance to nanami, like yes he really didn’t get why your here but it seemed a important to nanami so he would try and make whatever he’s trying to do easier

“I appreciate that gojo” a weary sigh escapes his lips as he finally distresses “you and geto can have your spot back she can just, sleep with me tonight. We will figure this out more tomorrow”

hope you enjoyed this chpt somewhat. Getting started on the outline now and sorrrrryyyyy for the long wait, life go crazy haa… as always, all copyright belongs to @raggasopretty and @bigraggatheopstoppa posting on another sight, translation, and ect will make me rock ur shit <3

Tag list:

[polkadotjohnson]

Words: 13K+

Warnings: Explicit. NSFW. BDSM (heavy on the M), violent bloody vampire sex ❣ name of my high-school band

Summary: Years and years gone by, Cora receives a reminder from a past she thought she had escaped. Good? Good. There's more.

(A note to put you at ease: think carefully about whether or not I ship Vincent with Cora)

The girl wakes up and looks around, disoriented in the bleary morning light.

"You did it again."

She screams, sitting up and searching for the owner of that voice. A shadow looms in the corner. Without taking her eyes from it, she feels up her surroundings, and when her hand finds the object by her side, at once she knows it's a weapon.

"Don't you think you've made enough use of that for one night?"

"Who's there? Who are you?"

He ignites a lamp, bringing it closer to his face. "It's been a long time, but don't tell me you've forgotten me, Cora."

She blanches. "No." Shaking her head slowly, then fast, it's as if she's trying to make him disappear like a mirage. It's been years, long, long years, but she does remember him. He looks exactly the same, not a day older. The crimson eyes, the cold, calculating smirk. "No, I killed you!"

He raises his eyebrows with an amused expression. "I'm sorry, what did you just say? You? Killed me?" His gaze turns mocking. "Were you always a comedian?"

"What are you talking about? I stuck this… something like this…" She grabs the piece of wood beside her. "Right into your dead, rotten heart!"

"If it was already dead, then how could you have killed me?" He shakes his head. "Forget it and listen carefully. Whatever it is you're talking about, it never happened."

She exhales in disbelief. "How can you say that? I remember it! I remember everything. Fighting you, kis--"

She stops abruptly, blood rushing to her cheeks as he laughs heartily. "What was that? Have you fantasized about me?"

Her voice grows cold. "You wish. So stabbing you didn't kill you. Fine. Whatever. But don't tell me it didn't happen!" She raises the weapon, as if preparing to try again.

A gust of cold air rushes in front of her, and in the next second, he's holding her stake, feeling up its point with one of his nails, still darkened but not long claws like she remembered. She touches the scratches he left on her fingers and brings them to her mouth as they start to bleed. He smirks at that. "It's a defense mechanism. Whenever something happens that is too taxing for your delicate mind, you have these little… reveries. To keep you sane. Are you sane though, Cora?" He moves the lamp around, illuminating the girl she'd been cuddling minutes ago. The hole in her chest isn't bleeding anymore, but it probably did all night. While she does recoil from the sight, she doesn't scream.

"Who… who is she?"

He shrugs. "Who knows. You just seduce them and kill them. You could almost be one of us… maybe that's what you want. If I hadn't gotten here, you probably would have left in a daze, without even seeing any of this. The mechanism activated. Your mind quickly coming up with a story to put you at ease. Picking up flowers, then fell asleep in the fields. Watching the stars, chasing bunnies. It doesn't have to be that deep." He tucks the stake in his coat pocket. "Y'know, I find it really interesting, your weapon of choice. It goes hand in hand with your dreams of me." She scoffs, but he continues. "The Helsing Killer. It's what they call you, isn't it? A mysterious monster that kills people as if they were… creatures of the night. If only they knew it was just a little girl…"

"No, you're insane. You're making that up. I'll--"

"Here, I'll help you remember it." He stares her down, paralyzing her with his feral gaze as he taps a nail twice in her temple. It draws blood, and he licks it from his finger. She watches it in a daze, as an image starts to form in her mind and she can't help but close her eyes. Approaching the camp last night, making friends with the people there, drinking with them. A classic routine. Heavy emptiness drowns her. Then everything vanishes when he shakes her awake. "Forget it, there's no time right now. They're coming." Whatever trick he did juggled something in her mind, and the emptiness numbs her, stays in her.

"What? Who?" He stands up, takes the dead girl and tosses her through the tent door. Then he grabs her arm and starts dragging her outside. "No, but the sun…"

"I'm sure you'll manage a minute or two without lotion." He pulls her out and just waits, watching her reaction. She surveys the scene with shock and dismay in her eyes. The carnage is so over the top it looks like something out of a slasher flick. Clearly dead bodies scattered around, and as far as she can see, all with chest wounds. "How long has it been since your last massacre? Two, three years? You're lucky I was here this time around to sort this up."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

He sighs. "You were just going to kill them and vanish, like last time. The incompetence of the local force was on your side then. But if you keep leaving up messes like that, don't think your luck won't run out." He douses the tent with some flammable liquid and sets it on fire.

She flinches from the sudden burst, covering her face with an arm. "What are you doing?"

Once again, he ignores her, pointing to another tent. "Grab the ones inside and bring them here." Unable to think clearly, she does so without a word. 

When all the bodies are gathered, she crosses her arms, eyes hollow and tired but now unfazed by the situation and showing curiosity instead. "Now what? Are you going to set them on fire too? Make them disappear?"

"Something like that." He closes his eyes for a moment and then someone approaches them from the woods. Three men, even taller than him and way bulkier. The grey tint on their faces suggests they too have been dead for a while. And yet they move, grabbing the corpses and taking them away.

"Who are they?"

"My cleaners. What, do you think I'd do it myself, like a peon? You really are simply… hysterical. You should clean up too y'know." He takes a discarded mirror from the ground and holds it for her, so she can see just how bloody her face is. She shrinks away from it, pushing his hand away, and he drops it with a smirk. "I'll be sure to pay you a visit later so we can catch up more comfortably." He watches the sky, the sun beaming over his unnaturally pale face. "People like you and me shouldn't be out in the daylight anyway."

She nods. "I'll be waiting. I still don't believe a single word you've said."

He smiles, and although it clearly doesn't reach his eyes, it is wide enough that she can see his long fangs. "You will."

*

Before he can take one step inside, she moves, a piece of wood in her hand, sharpened and deadly. His hand stops hers inches from his chest, his other going around her neck as he slams her against the wall. "If you ruin this shirt, we can just end this here, quick and painfully. What is it with the hostility? I've been nothing but helpful for as long as you've known me." He bashes her hand on the wall until she drops the stake.

"You're insane! This! This is all your fault!" Her voice is strained, but the hand on her neck doesn't ease up, no matter how much she tries to pry it off of her. "You're the reason for all this! The thing with my mother, then dad… whatever's happened to me, what you showed me at the tent, it's your fault!" 

He looks confused by her words, and his hand finally releases her. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb!" She rubs her neck, trying to soothe the angry bruises left by his fingers, although her hand is also starting to bruise. "You had an affair with my mother, and when my dad found out, she killed him. You… you had poisoned her, so I had to kill her too."

Surprise still paints his face. "Me and your mother? In a parallel universe, maybe. Not this one. She did betray your father, yes. But not with me."

"You're lying to me again. I remember. Seeing you together at night." She cringes. "Your hands all over each other. Until one day she became… she became someone else. I didn't know it then, but you had bitten her, turned her into an abomination."

His eyes visibly mock her moments before his words. "Poor, deluded Cora. You know, sometimes things just aren't what they seem. Do you want me to tell you what really happened? Are you sure you can take it?"

"Shut up!" She unearths something from under her shirt, a silver pendant apparently, and stretches her hand to touch him with it.

"Are you offering me a blessing? A baptism maybe? Let me help you with that. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti." He takes the pendant from her hand and touches it to his forehead. "How sweet that you think you have the upper hand." He grabs both her arms on one hand, shoving her against the wall once again. She can do nothing but kick, but he just lifts his arm and quickly puts an end to that too. Suspended like that, her legs barely carry any strength.

"You don't even try to disguise what you are."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"A monster."

He leans closer to her, showing her one of his sweetest smiles. "Doesn't it feel like looking in a mirror?" With her still suspended, he moves to the living room, dropping her onto the couch.

"No, I… I don't…"

He nods emphatically. "You do. I thought you were stronger than this, you know." His nail taps her temple again, and this time she remembers it all. Not just the previous night. All the others. Every one of her victims, and the way she kills them, a stake. When he's done with the unlobotomy, all confusion has left her, her defenses are finally down, and she doesn't forget again.

She raises an eyebrow apathetically. "Okay then. I remember now. I'm a killer. Who do you think made me like this? My parents are dead because of you."

He smiles and shakes his head. "Wrong again." This time, she flusters, her eyes going to the stake once more, and he sighs. "You have a one track mind, has anyone ever told you that? Fine, I'll show you." He grabs the stake and tosses it at her, then starts unbuttoning his shirt, and she quickly averts her eyes, scarlet staining her face.

"What are you doing?!"

"I like this shirt. It was a gift." With his chest bare, he kneels in front of her. "Do it, then. Banish the monster."

Without hesitating, she does as he asked. The stake goes through his chest, but he doesn't even flinch. When she sits back, he just pulls it out, licking his own blood from it. "Do you think I'd really die from something like that? Do I look feeble to you? A weakling? Please." He chucks the stake back at her. "Things like these, garlic, sunlight are just stories, shared around the world over time to trick you into believing you have a fighting chance. And? What other executions do you have planned for me? Are you going to set me on fire? Cut my head off? Feel free to try it, but I won't be this forgiving next time."

She shakes her head in visible frustration as she watches the wound on his chest freakishly close up. "What do you want from me?"

"No, it's way too soon for that question." He stands and buttons his shirt, generously ignoring her lingering gaze. "There are so many more that need to be answered first. I want you to tell me what you think happened. On that night, the night you became a… half-self-made orphan."

She groans, pulling on her hair. "Fine! I got home, took a shower and heard them fighting. Mom was being a bitch like always. I intervened, told dad about you and went to my room. You were there. And… you… bit me. Mom killed him while I was… sick from it. Then I killed all those… I, I found you and… and…" She grabs her head with both hands, doubt starting to creep up in her eyes.

He nods, as if agreeing with her. "And then we embraced and became star-crossed lovers, is that it?" He sneers. "And really, you think I bit you? That's adorable. Tell me, Cora. Is your thirst for blood only figurative? Or is it literal, huh? Let me see your fangs."

She still looks confused, her hand going to her neck, trying to find a scar that isn't there. "N-no, I…" She takes a deep breath and tries again. "I was turning. And I knew it, in my head after you bit me, that if I killed you, I would be free. So I…"

"...Killed me? So am I just another of your hallucinations then?"

"I…" She screams. "I don't know, okay? I don't know what's going on!"

He sighs, barely containing an eye roll. "Calm down. I'll ask once again. Do you want to know what really happened? Not what your brain made you see?"

Defeated, she sighs. "Okay. Okay. Just tell me then. This great big truth that I don't know about."

"So it shall be." He strides across the room with his hands behind his back. "You seem to be under the impression that I've bitten your mother. That never happened. You've followed me around, you've seen me with her. But that was for a different purpose than you might imagine. Now pay attention because I'm only telling you this once. Your father and I, we were old acquaintances." She watches him in disbelief. "I'm sure we'll find proof of it somewhere. One day he told me of his suspicions about your mother. She was sneaky, so he could never get anything on her. I followed her around for a while, found out she wasn't having an affair. She was having several. So I offered myself as bait, seducing her wouldn't exactly take much effort, then he could take all the photos he wanted and make sure she would get nothing." He stares at her for a moment, then shifts his gaze to a point just behind her. "But unfortunately for Howard, I guess she didn't like that arrangement."

"I… I don't believe you."

"Now why would I lie? Didn't you see them?"

"What?"

He sighs. "The photos? He had them with him, to show it to her. I saw it. We even looked at them together."

"You-- what?"

With his patience wearing thin, he takes a deep breath. "I came by to check if things were running smoothly and you were kneeling by your deceased father on the cold kitchen floor while your mother bled out right behind you. You ran at me like a little feral dog, and--"

"...I killed her in the woods. Didn't I?"

His face closes "Did I say you could interrupt me?" He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down. "Listen, I don't know what your mind came up with. Very curious that even in your fantasy you were still a killer. But in real life you killed her right here in your house. With the same kind of knife she used on him." He crosses his arms and glares at her. "Even with me opening your mind you still can't remember the truth, what really happened. So you're going to tell me again, until you get it right."

"What, are you crazy? No, I won't!"

In a blink, he has her face on his hands, ready to snap her neck. But to her luck, he just stares at her. "Do as you're told."

She starts speaking at once, eyes glazing over as he pushes her back on the couch. "I… got home. Shower, they were fighting. I told dad, then my room. You… bit me. And…"

"Again."

It's even more incoherent than the last time, and when he asks her to go again, she can't even speak. Her eyes close and she drops like a ragdoll.

When she wakes up, it's dark out, but her eyes are clear.

"Again." She flinches, only now noticing him perched over the other couch like a gargoyle.

She takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "I got home and went for a shower. They were screaming at each other in the kitchen. When I got out, I heard them talking. Dad told her he knew. He knew everything, and he had evidence. He would file for divorce the next week, and he wanted her out of the house. She stopped yelling and started crying, but it was her fake cry, I knew it well. She was apologizing, begging for forgiveness. And then… then I heard it, that terrible sound. That gurgling. A chill went up my spine, and that's when I entered the kitchen. He was on his knees holding his neck with both hands. She had… she had stabbed him." She breathes in again, a cold look in her eyes as if she became someone else. 

"Poor old Howard", she said, taking his wallet from his pants and going for the phone. "Stabbed for petty money while his beloved wife slept upstairs none the wiser. She was so heartbroken when she found him, but there was nothing that could be done." 

Her mouth trembles. "I couldn't believe it. I knew she wasn't a saint, but to actually kill him? So… I took the chance her back was to me and did the same to her. I can still see the look of surprise on her face when she turned around and saw me. They were screaming so much they probably didn't hear me coming home. I fell by his side. He was still alive, and he tried to touch my face, but couldn't raise his arm. I held his hand and I cried. Then… then you were there. He was gone then. I ran at you and hit you over and over until you just held me while I yelled at you." She looks at him.

"Go on."

"I kept yelling that it was your fault and that I was gonna kill you, and… and then you showed me. The pictures dad was holding. They had fallen by his side and I hadn't even noticed. You told me everything. I was so sick and angry I wanted to take it out on anyone. Everyone. Wait for the police to get there and kill them too. Let them shoot me dead. And you said you couldn't let me do that. Because you promised dad… you promised dad you'd take care of me."

"And then what?"

"Then you took me to a house in the woods. Your house. Let them think it had been a home invasion and a kidnapping. You said I should wait a couple of days before I came back, say I escaped."

"What did you ask me?"

"I… asked you to bite me. Either to kill me or to make me like you. And you said no. No explanations, you just shook your head, denied my request… why?"

He looks amused. "Did you really want to look like a brat for eternity? You should be thanking me I didn't bite you."

"That is the reason?" She sighs. "It doesn't matter. I did what you said. I came back home, told the cops I had escaped. When they asked me to take them where I was being held it was when… it was when it hit me the first time."

"You forgot it all. Forged a different version of events." He smirks. "Created quite the entertaining fantasies about me. Me in your bed, biting you, kissing you. Would you like that?"

"Shut up…" She sighs. "I guess I needed someone to villainize, and you were already a monster who had just denied my request. And I think at times I'd snap and see you in other people. And then I'd kill you over and over." She opens her arms. "That's it, I guess. The whole story. Right?" 

"Do you still have doubts?"

Her expression goes from tired to frustrated. "I just don't know what to think! I had this memory this whole time and all of a sudden it turns out that's not how it happened? My mind is a mess!"

"Go look for the pictures. Even if the prints are gone, they could still be on his camera." 

She gets up on shaky legs, comes back with a dusty box. Among her father's belongings, she finds his old camera and its charger. It's all there. Several pictures of the dreadful man and her mother together, and she groans as she examines them, averting her eyes when she finds one of him kissing her. 

"Go back further."

"Huh?" She flinches as she notices him watching over her shoulder, but does what he says, going further and further into the past. Pictures of her. Landscapes. A vacation. And then she sees it. It's him again, but the other person is her father, not her mother. It's nothing out of the ordinary, just a couple of pictures of them together, her dad laughing and the man just glaring at whoever took the picture, a murderous glint in his eyes.

"Satisfied?" She nods tiredly. "Do you want to know why your father asked me to take care of you? He knew what I was, and he still entrusted you to me."

"...Because he figured someone as strong as you would have no problem protecting his daughter?"

"Because he knew something inside you was broken. He knew your little secrets. First, concerning drawings. Then small animals killed without mercy. You even kept parts of them, he found your little trophies."

She looks genuinely shocked. "I don't remember any of that."

"So it wasn't the first time. When you left my home and couldn't remember. You had forgotten before. You've forgotten every single one of your slaughters."

Tears fall down her face, but her expression doesn't change. "I'm a monster."

"Oh, you're a downright abomination. Which means you'll feel right at home."

"...What?"

"Ah, we finally reach the part where I actually tell you things you really don't know. You kill indiscriminately. When the urge comes, poor of the soul who stands in your way. But at some point, you killed someone you shouldn't have. A man from a certain family. What they call a 'made man'. And you can be positively sure this family is not happy about it."

She leans down on the couch with her eyes closed, all the fight gone from her. "So I just kill them too. Or you. Who cares about some old-fashioned mobster or whatever?"

His laugh doesn't sound amused in the slightest. "Do you think they're human? Do you think life is that simple? We're not the only extramundane creatures out there." He raises his eyebrows. "Are you afraid of dogs? Big, big dogs?"

At that, she opens her eyes again. "You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately I am. But… lucky you, I'm here to take you away from them. Me and my people, we can protect you."

"But… I can't, I have--"

"You have, what? Your whole life here? Your girlfriend? Boyfriend? They don't really care about you, and you know it. You don't even have a job. You just live off whatever it was left for you without barely even having to lift a finger. They caught scent of you this afternoon, but I did a little trick and managed to ward them off. But still, it's your choice. Come with me. Or stay here and be torn to pieces."

*

She doesn't take much. That old silver pendant she tried to burn him with. Some clothes, her laptop and phone.

*

The huge black car parked outside seems to surprise her. And the way he recklessly drives without a care for any other motorists on the road makes her think maybe she might not be safe after all.

Every now and then he catches her looking at him. "Are you really in love with me?"

She buffs. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Did you know I can read minds?"

"You can't. Why would you be telling me this now?"

"Seven, eight, nine. Seven, eight, nine. What does it mean?"

Her surprised expression doesn't last much. She's just rolling with the punches. "It's 'seven ate nine', just… something I used to do as a kid. Whenever I thought someone could read my mind, I would repeat this over and over. So they wouldn't find out my secrets."

"And you had so many, didn't you?" He smirks. "You're going to be thinking your little mantra all day now?"

"Go to hell, I don't want you in my head."

"Are you in love--"

With a groan she turns towards him "It's not that. I don't know. I can't explain. Fine, go on and read me then, maybe this way I'll know." He looks at her, but doesn't tell her what he sees, if anything. Suddenly her expression changes, and she looks even more suspicious than before. "What if you made it all up and put it in my head somehow? Used one of your powers for that?"

He glares at her, averting his eyes from the road for so long she starts looking nervous. "I said I can read minds, not write them." Then he brakes abruptly, and she flies on the seat, almost hitting her head on the windshield. "Get out. If you're going to keep being stubborn after all I told you, I don't want to deal with you anymore. My promise to your father be damned."

The mention of her father gives her pause. "Just tell me how you two met and I promise I won't doubt you again." 

"...In the cemetery." She tries to open the door but he grabs her arm forcefully. "You asked, now listen. He was kneeling by a grave, looking all desolate and desperate. I wondered if I should bite him, release him from his suffering, then I noticed he was saying something. So I listened in. It was his parents' grave."

"What were their names?"

He shakes his head with disdain. "What makes you think I would remember that?" Without looking, he knows she's even repeating her words under her breath now, trying to block any possible thought he might read. "Vince and Mary Beth. Anyway, he was… complaining about you, actually. He didn't know how to deal with all your killings, only forest animals then, he didn't want to talk to a professional and risk having them take you away from him. You know how protective of you he was. So I talked to him, asked if he wanted any help with his problem child."

"...Why would you do that?"

"Because I was bored, Cora. You try living forever. Anyway, we hit it off. He was a very open-minded person. You were growing out of your little miss murder phase, but I did say I'd keep an eye on you. Not that it'd meant I'd stop you from killing someone, just that I wouldn't let you get caught. Is that enough for your highness? Can we go?"

"Not really, that didn't prove anything. You could have… you could have gotten my grandparents names from me earlier."

His fingers drum over the driving wheel. "You asked how we met, and I told you. You're not being held prisoner here. Don't believe me? Then leave. You know I could have killed you a million times over by now if that's what you're afraid of."

"I'm…" A nearby loud howl interrupts her. She looks around at the empty plains around them. Then she takes a deep breath and locks the door, fastening her seat-belt. "It doesn't matter. Whether it's true or not, whether I believe you or not. I could never know, could I? How many tricks do you know? How long have you been doing this for? Decades? Centuries?"

He looks aghast. "I'm 27. I'm… forever 27." He starts the car again, going even faster now.

Tension dispelled for the moment, she snorts. "Do you even know what that is? I thought old people shopped at…" She stops, she has no idea where 'old people', as she puts it, shop. And the shirt he seems so protective of does look stylish, she can't deny it. He looks stylish, with his black ring, black car, black shirt, black nails. She feels like she's riding with one of those horsemen of the apocalypse she read about in Sunday school when she was a kid.

"And what about you, how old are you, 40, 50?"

He pulls her out of her musings and it's her turn to look horrified. "I'm 28!" She sighs. "Who cares. You're so weird. You're… actually, I don't think I've ever known your name."

The derisive look in his eyes vanishes before she can see. "Vincent." Is all he says.

*

"Wake up, we're here."

She jumps up from the seat looking around, stunned at the imposing structure in front of her. "I thought you were taking me to another derelict house in the middle of nowhere. But you live in a castle?"

"What can I say, being a monster pays off. Now… are you ready?" She nods and steps out of the car. "Then welcome to house Ardelean."

Love You to Death

A Cora Story

You watch them leave the car through the monitor, even though all you have to do is close your eyes whenever you want to see him. But you always feel guilty about it, even if he's more than given you permission. Sometimes you swear he actually loves being watched, despite always denying the allegations whenever you ask him about it. You know everyone thinks it's a pointless ability, but not to you, it isn't. When it manifested, you developed it fully before you even cared about anything else. It is, after all, unique.

Sebastian rests his chin on your shoulder from behind. "That's it? I'm disappointed."

"Oh, really?" You turn your head and raise an eyebrow. "What were you expecting, the actual Van Helsing?"

He shrugs. "Bigger. Scarier. Eh, cuter, at least. My brother has always had terrible taste, huh?" You punch him in the shoulder and he takes a couple steps back, massaging the bruise with a scowl. "Ow! What was that for? I was joking, kind of."

"You're a pig. Besides, you're in no position to judge anyone, not with that thing you fuck."

His playful tone dies down as he sticks a finger in your face. "Don't be a bitch. It's… unbecoming."

You raise both hands in truce. You don't like stepping on his toes, but sometimes it gets the better of you. It… that thing, is too much of a freak, even for your standards.

When you hear the front door opening, your heart flutters and your hands tingle with the need to touch him. Your mouth feels lonely, desolately craving his taste. Your body empty and hollow without him inside you.

You start to pant the moment you hear him speaking.

He stops when he sees you with a knowing smile on his lips. Your eyes go straight to the subtle bulge in his pants; he can disguise his own heavy breathing as much as he wants, but he can't disguise that, not from you. "This is--" He pauses abruptly, sniffing the air around you, and his gaze turns dark. He glares heavily at his brother.

"Wait--" Vincent shoves him against a wall without waiting for an explanation. His hands bunching up the collar of his shirt, tearing it without care.

"I swear you like being manhandled, Sebastian. It's so easy to follow the rules. No. Touching. What's. Fucking. Mine. That's it."

The girl shifts her gaze towards you and you give her a little wave with a pure and sweet smile. At least the ruckus served to calm you down a little.

Besides…

Her own smell is all over him too, and you're not throwing a fit. Not on the outside, at least. Inside, your rage at someone else even entertaining thoughts about him is almost enough to make you physically ill. You don't even need to know how to read minds, it's written all over her face. It's only thanks to your godlike patience that her head is still attached to her neck.

"It wasn't even my hands!" Sebastian looks at you as if you somehow betrayed him by letting him touch you. You ignore him.

"The reason you still have them." You like that you're both so in tune about hacking off body parts.

"Yeah, let's not go there again, too much trouble last time." Finally, Vincent releases him, and as always, Sebastian acts as if nothing happened, straightening his clothes and clearing his throat.

Introductions and public displays of jealousy out of the way, you move to the library, where Alfred brings you beverages. At this stage, he's long given up trying to get you to learn his real name, after all you did pick that up from his own boss. And even if you aren't exactly planning to become chummy with the girl, it still amuses you the way she sniffs at the cup obviously filled with blood, grimaces, then tries it anyway. Even though there's orange juice, actual tea and other human drinks right beside it on the platter.

Vincent pulls Sebastian to the side, and you know what he's going to ask, and you're glad you're not the one to give him the bad news.

"Any change with our patient?" Sebastian shakes his head, averting his eyes from him. Vincent sighs loudly. "There has to be something else we can do."

"Dracula's on it. He's flying all over Asia for the things I asked him."

The girl, Cora, you have to remind yourself, turns an amused glance towards them. "Dracula?"

"Just our acquainted changeling, Spider Monkey." You roll your eyes at Sebastian's choice of nickname for her.

She frowns, looking around. "So… you're all vampires, but all you do is sit here and have tea parties? You don't kill people?"

Sebastian looks flabbergasted. "Of course we kill people. Where do you think we get blood from, DoorDash? It's just practical to gather a bunch at once and keep stock."

"Keep… stock?"

"Yeah, why? What do you do with your victims?"

Before the conversation can go any longer, Vincent stops by your side, his eyes asking you to stand up. The moment you do, his hand finds the small of your back. His nails are still short, but they scratch hard enough to draw blood, and you have to bite your lips to stop from embarrassing yourself. "Will you get someone to show her around, Sebastian? We're going to be otherwise occupied for the rest of the day." You heave, trying your hardest not to simply bolt towards your bedroom already.

"I'm shocked you didn't start going at it right on top of my first editions." He shoos you away, and that's all the out you need. Your feet barely touch the ground as you drag him across the castle. Why must the bedrooms be so far away? The place is too big, and Vincent always says whenever you want to go back home, all you have to do is say so. You really never wanted to live in a castle. Then again, you kind of have the feeling you'd miss the dungeons. And the torture chambers.

The door locked behind you, you make to push Vincent against it, but he beats you to it. You wheeze with the blow and reach for him, annoyed that he isn't all over your personal space yet. He kisses your hand, then bites your wrist, drawing blood with not only his fangs but with his incisors too. You hiss as the pleasure surges through your body, the pain only making you more impatient. You grasp at his face with your still bleeding hand and bring him to you, your tongue blindly thrusting into his mouth, but he pulls back with a smirk. "You fucking asshole. Let me kiss you!"

Looking at him only makes it hard for you to get mad at him. The sight of your blood over his mouth always makes you irrational, and you even have to hold back a swoon. "Why so impatient? Do you have a later appointment? I still need to set the mood. Stay." The command leaves you dazed and paralyzed. He strides to the window and closes the curtains, leaving the room in complete darkness. Then he lights some various strategically placed candles, creating a warm and sensual illumination. Only after he finally lights the last one that he leisurely returns to where he's left you panting and reeling by the door. The smoldering look in his eyes makes you completely forget why you were even mad at him. He dives for your neck, biting not anywhere near as hard as you hoped he would. Then he moves to your ear. "You taste just as good as the first time I drank from you."

Accepting that getting your way might not be on the plans, you sigh, trying to control your desire. "Well, I certainly hope you don't mean that, since that first time you said I was disgusting."

He exhales with a smile. "The second time. I always mean the second time. It just doesn't have the same ring, does it? 'You taste just as good as the second time I drank from you'? Don't over-complicate things." He bites again, hard this time and you groan, carding your fingers through his hair as his fangs tear through your flesh. You rest your other hand over his throat, this way you can feel not only as your blood leaves you, but also as he swallows it. Your eyes roll back and you relish in the peculiar bliss this brings you.

When you're lightheaded from blood loss he stops, licks you clean as always, and kisses you, finally. You almost thank him. You suck the coppery taste from his tongue, languidly at first, but when strength starts to return to your body, loving becomes wanton and you bite his lower lip, your turn to claim some of his blood. He winces but does nothing to stop you, instead taking the opportunity to undo the clasps and laces of your corset. It's only when it hits the ground that you relinquish his lip, his tongue darting across the wound and healing it instantly.

His nails slither at your sides making you dance, and when they reach the curve of your breasts, he moves in to bite you again, but you clutch his hands. He stills, not trying to break free from you, still weary from the time he accidentally snapped your wrist. It healed in a matter of minutes and you wouldn't even think of holding it against him, but he never did it again. You could hold him like this for as long as you wanted, whenever you wanted. Except it's the most useless superpower in the world, since you're the one who wants to be restrained by him. "Enough with the teasing, huh?"

He pouts, but his eyes are mocking. "You used to love foreplay."

"I still do! But I'm--" desperate. It doesn't leave your mouth, but you know from his smug little smile that of course he's already read you. "In a hurry," you finish lamely.

He acquiesces with a vicious glint in his eyes. "Have it your way. You know the price."

You do, and you still remember last time, after he released you. You were nothing but a filthy, blubbering mess who barely knew where you were. You hope he doesn't forget.

Before letting him go, you bring his fingers to your mouth, sucking each one, but barely attempting to make it sexy. After you free him, he looks quizzically at you. "Why did you just slobber all over my hands?"

Thinking of anything but the source of your jealousy, you glare at him. "No reason."

You almost rip his shirt off, but he mimics your early move grabbing your hands, albeit gently. "Careful with this, it was a gift." You scoff, but settle for the buttons. But once it's off you toss it across the room as if it was personally offending you, which drags a sneer out of him. "I've been gone for less than a week. Don't you have an ounce of self-control?" 

You palm him through his pants and he bucks against your hand. "You've been leaking in your pants since you walked through the front door. You call that self-control?" Your mind is so consumed with lust that you don't even hear his reply, if he has one. You just drop to your knees, bringing his pants down with you. Then you press your face to the front of his underwear, inhaling him deeply. Your nostrils flare and your mouth waters as you get drunk with his scent, moaning so hard it is more of a growl. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to ride you or suck you off first. Now I am." You look up at him and you can tell he's done pretending. You feel hungry, but he looks ravenous. If he's already like that, there's no way he really wanted to indulge in foreplay. Every one of his words were a ruse. The one who got played was you.

"So I'm going to fuck your throat raw then, just the way you like it. And then come on your tongue, so you won't miss a single drop."

You've come a long way since that tender first time in the car.

Normally, this would be when you'd tease him a little, lick and suckle over the wet spot, maybe rake your fangs over it just to watch him tense up. But not today. Today there's no time. With his words making you shiver in anticipation, you don't want to waste another second, so you tear his underwear off him and glide your tongue around his cock, savoring every inch, every ridge, every vein, licking precome while you still can, because you know this freedom won't last long. You take him in hand without stroking, just holding him up so you can suck kiss after kiss after kiss on his balls. Smelling blood again, you look up at him and he's watching you, breathing hard and biting his lip. Maintaining the eye contact, you pull him into your mouth as far as he goes, which isn't much at all, until you relax your throat, then you can bring him all the way in. He sighs, releasing his bruised lip (once again, it heals right away) and you have a moment of temporary insanity, the vision of him so lost in pleasure feels almost like it's too much, making you yearn for him, even though he's right there, right under your hands, right under your tongue.

When you feel the feathery touch of his fingers on both sides of your face, you brace yourself. He pulls out almost entirely, keeping only the tip in your mouth. Then his fingers tighten in the back of your head and he slams back in, tearing such a loud wanton noise from you that the vibrations of your throat cause him to moan in turn. He does it again and again, increasing the pace with each thrust and it quickly gets to be too much for you; his blissed out face, the force with which he's fucking you and that noise he made… Your thighs quiver and you bring a hand between your legs to touch yourself, dearly hoping that for at least a few seconds he'll turn a blind eye. But of course he doesn't. You could have asked him for this to be just a vanilla session. Anything you want, all you have to do is ask. But you were aching so much with the unfathomable necessity to have him that it escaped your mind. Not that it matters much, your biggest desire is always to make him come undone, that's your priority. Anything else is residual.

"Give me my belt." His voice, soft and mellow, is at odds with what you see above you. The glint of mischief ever since you started doing things this way is there, sure. But it does nothing to mask the raw authority behind his eyes. And because he hasn't let go of your face, you have to paw around his feet to get the belt off his pants. "Now your hands."

It started when you asked him. To use his abilities on you during sex. His reading because you were so eager to have him prying your deepest, darkest desires from the back of your mind, to see what he would indulge in, which ones of your fucked up fantasies he would fulfill. And his persuasion, of course. But how was he going to persuade you to do something when, anything he suggested, no matter what, wild as it could be, always had you raring to go?

"Don't you have any hard nos?" He had asked you.

"With you?" You shook your head.

It would have ended there, if you didn't come up with a simple yet effective solution.

"Don't let me touch myself. I'll want to, so it'll work."

And Vincent was nothing if not an enforcer of his rules.

In total daze, you present both your arms, relinquishing your freedom in a perfect mix of willingness and dissent. He releases your face just long enough to bind your wrists with the belt, shaking them shortly. "Keep them up." Because it's his regular voice, you'll have to do it on your own, no help from his command, risking dropping them involuntarily and suffering the consequences. It makes you want to bite him.

You wonder how he'd discipline you if you did.

"Oh, I wouldn't touch you for a week or two." Why does he have to know you so well? That's really not the kind of punishment you enjoy. Maybe you really should have asked him to turn his freaking radar off. "Do you want me to?"

You consider saying yes, but knowing that he can read each and every one of your thoughts, that nothing you could possibly think stays hidden from him always gives you such a thrill that you just shake your head. Or at least you try to.

So he resumes fucking your face with twice the vigor from before, scorching your throat and hindering your ability to breathe, especially whenever he holds you up against him, your nose buried in his pubes and your heart racing while he just glares down at you. You have to relax and focus on how good it feels to be used by him. The force of his hand on the back of your head pinning you down. Knowing you're the one making him feel this good, that you're the only one who gets to make him feel this good. That's what finally lets a modicum of air into your body. It's almost like he wants you to cave, ask him to stop. But you never do.

"Always so stubborn."

With the wild pace he's kept the entire time and the composure of his voice, the only indication that he's about to come is a minor stutter of his hips. Then he's pulling out and unloading on your tongue, just like he said he would. A thumb shoved in your mouth stops you from doing much as he watches it pool with satisfaction. "Now swallow it all and you can bring your arms down."

Your arms. You can't even feel them anymore, you only have a dull notion that they exist, that they're still there where they're supposed to be, obnoxiously hot and cold at the same time. You try to swallow it slowly, to savor it as much as you can, and his warm come slides down your abused throat, igniting the state of your neglected arousal.

Before you can even move, he takes your arms on his grip, releasing the belt and massaging them deftly, then gently lowering them to your sides. They're still tingling when he pulls you up, wipes drool and tears from your face and lays your head on his chest.

Like always, he doesn't say anything, he just waits for you to relax, stroking and kissing your hair until you regain enough strength in your arms that you can hold him. You kiss his chest, nuzzling the sparse hair and holding him tighter and tighter, as if you wanted to meld your face with his skin.

There was a time when the intensity of your want scared you, it was too much. You adored him too much. But he never missed an opportunity to show you his devotion absolutely matched your own, if it didn't top it. Your obsession for one another only grew the more you connected. It put you at ease to know that if you were sick, you weren't alone in it.

He'd set the world on fire for you and you'd march right on top of it for him.

"Vincent… can I kiss you until I die?"

His hand finds your chin and he lifts your face so you can see him slowly shaking his head. "That'll never happen. There's a better question you could ask."

You think only for a moment. "Can I kiss you forever?"

He smiles. "You already do." You close the distance and do just that, kissing like teenagers, all tongue and urge and instinct, heads turning this side and that to find the perfect angle. But every angle is, so you just keep on doing it, neither willing to be the first to stop, to split up. Then he's pushing your skirt down and pulling you to the bed, and you remember you didn't come. You don't really mind all that much anyway, satisfying him is much more important to you. Your climax is quenching his thirst. He hums. "I still want you to come." His fingers scissor into you, and by the time your back hits the mattress, he's rock hard again. "No more abilities, tell me what you want."

"Make it hurt."

He grins. "I meant in general. That one's a given." Your back arches as he abruptly enters you and you dig the heel of your foot in his lower back to spur him on, consumed by the exquisite burn his large size creates every time. "Like this or do you still want to ride me?"

"Wha-- oh…" You didn't even remember your earlier idea, it didn't matter anyway, all you wanted was him inside you, where he belonged. "Just like this."

He rakes his nails across your chest, tenderly the first time, making you whimper and heave in anticipation, then harder, deeper, and you cry out when you feel your blood flowing, fisting the sheets and begging for more. With his nails clipped, he can't draw as much as normally. But it's enough that the red strands reach the sheets before the welts start closing up and he does it again, ravishing you, or maybe ravaging you just like you wanted.

His unrelenting pounding makes your vision blur with white hot pleasure as you try to match his movements, clenching around him to show him just how good he makes you feel. You want him to hurt you more, but you also want him closer. So you cradle the back of his head and bring him to your neck, which he litters with kisses. The duality of this sweet caress and how viciously he's ramming into you almost makes you dizzy, and you run your fingers up and down his back, only holding him after he finally clamps down on your neck. He puts his whole mouth into it, and you know if he pulled, he could just rip a chunk out of your neck, and while it wouldn't kill you, it's not exactly something either of you would consider a sign of affection, but it's still thrilling to think about it. 

You've accepted you're a head case a long time ago. 

Tears suddenly stream down your face, and your brain's so fogged up that you can't tell if they're just from all the longing you went through or the sheer gratitude you feel from all he does for you. You scream your feelings with every cell of your body, and his teeth ease up and he licks at the freely bleeding indents they left there while his hips slow down and he pulls your other leg around his waist. "You know, when someone transcends perfection, doubt should be the furthest thing from their heart."

He's still reading you. But no abilities are involved this time, he's just showing how much he knows you. You sigh, holding him tighter, trying to speak but failing; there's not enough strength in your tingling jaw. But he waits until you're ready, slowing down some more and stroking your hair again. "Sorry, I'm just… it's been a long week. I know I sound pathetic and needy but I missed you."

"Don't say that. It was our first time apart in years. Remember when I went back for the cats? It's when I found out the hard way the physical agony of being away from you. This was even worse. Next time you send me on a fool's errand, I don't care, I'm taking you with me." 

Regardless of the reason for your tears, you wipe them with the back of your hand, relaxing into the moment and relishing in his words. "I'm glad you missed me too."

A soft peck on your lips. A hard thrust. Over and over. You come during one of the kisses, and he swallows your silent shouts, first sucking your tongue, then your lips, kissing your chin, hips incrementally gaining speed again. "Scratch me when I come." Since he isn't anywhere near as big a fan of pain as you are, you raise tired eyebrows at him. "I want to see you licking my blood off your fingers."

His request (not an order this time) wipes away some of your tiredness and you nod, already feeling him throbbing inside you. You scratch his back bottom to top, licking your fingers one by one, and he fights to keep his eyes open and watch the show as his second orgasm hits him.

It's only after both of you considerably relax that he gets off of you but not entirely, still unwilling to separate. Half his body still pins you to the bed when he kisses your cheek adoringly. "That was lovely." He lies on your shoulder, and you almost laugh until you realize you haven't actually regained quite as much composure as you thought you had when all that comes out is a wheeze. Besides, he's right. It was pretty fucking lovely. And to help matters, he brings his fingers back inside you. You bite your lips at the sweet agony and rut against his hand. But he barely moves it, just occasionally rubbing the fingers together, snaking them in and out, and you know he's playing with his come, scooping and pushing it deeper inside you. It drives you insane and it's almost absurd how much it turns you on despite how numb and wrecked you're feeling.

When he's finally done messing with his stark fluids, he wipes his fingers on the sheets and lies down, pulling you on top of him so you can take his former position. "Are you sated for now?"

You nod. "For now. Just don't be surprised to wake up in the middle of the night with your dick down my throat. You know I like my nightcap."

"...I'm sure the only reason I still keep you around is my curiosity about what will ever come out of your mouth next."

"Um, well…" You're really not above picking any low-hanging fruits.

"No, forget it." 

You shrug, as if it was his loss that he was going to miss out on one of your marvelous quips. "So…"

"...Yes?"

"Thanks for bringing her."

He sighs. "You better be thankful. She's obnoxious and bratty." He lifts up a hand in front of your face. "Do you see this? I had to cut them because I knew I would've ripped her throat off if I hadn't." You can't say you're not happy that he did it, given the amount of finger action you got. Always worth it whenever he does it, even if it means he can't scratch you as hard. "What a strange request for an anniversary present. You obviously had much less trouble with mine."

You eye the discarded shirt next to the window, wishing you had managed to destroy it. "What's the point? You hated it. I'm sorry, I should've put more effort into it. They're not exactly on the same level."

He cradles your head, fingers wandering on your hair. "That's not what I care about. You could've gotten me nothing but words and I would've cherished it. And I didn't hate it. I just said it was a different style from what I was used to."

"Because… you have… none…" You thought it was simple enough, black linen, no frills, no laces, nothing out of the ordinary. Except the bright blood-red buttons. And a tiny, infinitesimal detail of crimson silk on the collar. It looked good, it was a perfectly good shirt.

"Is that bad?" He brushes the hair from your face and you do the same to him, vaguely wondering about whoever gave him his last haircut ever. Sebastian, likely. Hopefully. You gave yourself yours, and you're really glad you still like it.

"You're just so…" handsome. Gorgeous. Excruciatingly beautiful. "Attractive that it just feels like a waste not to doll you up a little to accentuate those morbid good looks." He seems taken aback by the compliment. They're not usually how you show your affection, you prefer expressing yourselves more… physically. "You can toss it, I'm not going to be one of those people who wants to control what their matched freaks wear, that's ridiculous."

"Drama queen. Didn't I wear it for an entire week?" And he stopped the girl from ruining it with her little stake, too, as you saw it. 

"Ugh, gross. It's probably rank too." You almost get up to smell it, to rub it all over yourself and wear it to sleep, but you're just too comfortable.

"...I'll wear anything you want, as long as it isn't too much like…"

"...Me?"

You're presented with a rare sight… he looks like he regrets his words, or at least not thinking before saying them. "It's not the same. Everything looks good on you. You're… striking." He kisses your jaw. "Breathtaking." Then your neck. "Pulchritudinous."

"Okay, I thought you were trying to save your ass but that last one's just an insult, isn't it?" No wonder you don't usually do compliments.

"I would never insult you. And you should read more. So? You still haven't told me why you had me bring her here. Revenge? That would be like stepping on an ant that bit you."

Why indeed. "Hmm… I… Honestly? I don't know."

"You. Don't. Know." You're happy you can't see the look on his face.

"I'll figure it out, I swear. I just… I had a feeling she should be here. And hey, if I can't think of anything, we can just have her for dinner."

"And since when do you eat your problems instead of solving them?"

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing." You stroke his hair, thinking back on everything you saw when they were together. "Tell me about that story you came up with. Made yourself look like some sort of unsung hero. Is that like an unfulfilled dream you've always had, or…"

He sighs. "It was your idea. No persuading unless strictly necessary. So I had to entertain myself and create an interesting story to tell. The only thing I had on my side was her selective amnesia which came up while I was studying her. Then it was all a matter of mixing up fact with fiction. At least tell me you enjoyed some of it."

"I did, I did. But mostly because I had no idea you were such a good actor." You speak in a loud, grave voice that is absolutely nothing like his. "I said I could read minds, not write them. That was Oscar worthy."

"Rewriting memories? Do you really think I can?" He licks your neck and you shiver. "And you watched the entire time, didn't you?"

You don't think you'll ever understand the full extent of his abilities, and you honestly have no idea how he got her to remember things differently than how they happened. So you ignore his question about memories and focus on the other thing… which makes you feel like you got caught doing something wrong. "No! I… maybe…"

"Good. Why do you think I was putting on such a show? Announcing the house like that? I knew it was something you would like."

It's not that he doesn't mind you using your ability to watch him. He wants you to. "Okay, fine. I didn't miss a single second. Loved that, by the way. And your illusion game was great too. The picture with her father? I wish I had a copy of that. What was that face?"

He thinks for a moment, trying to remember what you're talking about. "Just reflecting my mood at the moment. She got so much on my nerves it took all I had not to knock her out and just get it over with it."

You chuckle, wondering what you would have come up with if he had just showed up with her passed out over his shoulder like a caveman. "She was always strong against you, huh. Even now."

"Freak. I just know Sebastian will want to study her, so if you do have plans for her, I'd suggest you be quick."

"Yeah. Sorry the reunion wasn't as interesting for you as I'm sure it was for her."

"Interesting?" He nibbles your ear and your skin prickles instantly. "I didn't even remember she existed until you reminded me. I didn't know her name until I read it out of her."

That stuns you for a moment. "She killed you."

"And you gave me life. That's much more memorable in my opinion."

Why did you let her do it? Is the question that is never asked. Because deep down you know. He didn't tell you he had to feed when you took him home after bringing him back either. He went out in the sun, back when it was still dangerous. But you also know he's not like that anymore. In every way possible he's stronger now. 

You kiss your favorite spot on his neck, proud of yourself for being at least part responsible for that.

If you hadn't convinced him to come back when Sebastian finally requested your help hunting down his hand-clone-golem thing, you wouldn't have even heard of his advances with all the research he dedicated his whole life to. It surprised you Vincent was willing to go through with it, but you knew he trusted his brother in some capacity.

True immortality. Unlocking of dormant abilities. No more weaknesses. Silver, sunlight, stakes were all a thing of the past. You were actually invincible now. Eternal. 

Not that you missed the sun. Grace cried a little and you pretended you didn't see.

Of course it wasn't something he'd offer to just about anyone, just those he deemed 'special', and of course you got him to realize your friends were very much special. 

It makes you cringe whenever you think about it, but no matter how much you hate the word, that's what you are, all of you. The elite.

You kind of want to get up and get a cigarette, but decide you don't want anything interfering with his scent. So you lie your head on his chest instead, not really trying to hide the fact that you're sniffing him like a dog. It reminds you of something. "When do you think she'll find out there's no such things as werewolves? Hey, what if we dressed up and played pretend?"

He pets your hair, your back, your ass. Fingers dip in, but not much. You can feel his claws have grown back to normal, and you may like pain, but internal bleeding is not really your idea of fun. "I haven't thought that far ahead. We'll come up with something interesting. And since you wanted her here, you're in charge of babysitting so she won't kill anyone. She's the sloppiest serial killer I've known. Even if her killing sprees only come around every few years, it's nothing short of a miracle she wasn't caught the other times, and I'm not wasting any more billy's on her."

You almost ask him what he saw, when he asked her if she loved him, but it would be inconsequential either way, she's just a fleeting presence in your lives. 

All of a sudden, you're tired of talking about the girl, feeling like you just got another pet. "Yeah, yeah, I'll keep her in line. Now…" You let your own hand wander, from his chest to his quickly rising erection. Maybe neither of your thirsts were as quenched as you thought. "My goodness, that's quite a loaf! But how ever shall it fit my oven?"

He pulls you to properly sit on him, and you waste no time getting him inside you. "Did you know your fantasies veer from violently psychotic to absurd and utter nonsense?"

You ride him hard, loving the amused look on his face. "I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor Argonian maid."

His hands roam your body at leisure, cupping you before his thumbs brush over your nipples faintly, then he pinches with his knuckles and pulls you down. "Whatever the hell that means." His kiss matches the speed of your hips, rough, anxious, euphoric. His fingers are still pinching you and you moan loud while sucking on his tongue and impelling yourself onto him, egging him to go further. He twists and you squirm, deciding instead to slip away from the sweet torture so you can lie flush against him, just to savor the feeling of his skin on yours. You're barely moving anymore, leaving for him to do all the hard work, which he does with no complaints. He thrusts up into you, while taking hold of your ass with both hands and bringing you down to him. It surprises the both of you when you come first, although you're still shuddering when he catches up.

*

You wake up to soft splashing sounds. And while you too want nothing more than a warm bath right now, you still have some preparing to do. You grab the phone and press the kitchen extension.

"Ten minutes." Some of the candles have burned out, so you set others in their places and light them. Then you divest the bed of the gory sheets, hoping you'll manage to keep the clean ones in that state at least for a few days. Black or not, they still get pretty vile all caked up in dry blood and every other substance and fluids the both of you subject them to.

You stand by the bathroom door, watching your love serenely. Without opening his eyes, he moves to make room for you in the bathtub and you don't waste time joining him. With your back against his soap-slick chest, it takes all your strength not to start purring like a cat.

He pours soap into his hands and starts lathering you, and you can't resist a low moan, humming softly and continuously for as long as your breath allows. When he reaches your thighs, his hands go back up, bringing yours to do his work for him. He guides your fingers inside yourself and you lie back on his shoulder, kissing his ear, sucking the lobe into your mouth and exhaling hard against it, loving how quickly it raises pinpricks on his skin. His knuckles brush against you too, almost making you cry with the gentle caress. You moan regretfully. "As much as I really love where this is going, we don't have time. I did, as it happens, have a later appointment."

"Oh?" He kisses the back of your neck, hands still working you. "What could possibly be more important than coming your brains out?"

You grin and push his hands away from you, immediately mourning the loss. "I know you said you weren't disappointed when all I got you for 10 years of unholy union was a shirt. But it's okay if you were. It was a decoy." You turn your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Did I get you?"

He holds your waist, raising you up so he can turn you around properly. "You? Managed to keep a secret from me?" He pulls you so you can lie on his chest. "I'm so proud."

"Oh, you have no idea how stressful it was keeping myself from broadcasting it like a neon signboard." Even if he doesn't keep his abilities active all the time, you didn't want to risk it. "I had to keep thinking about that damn shirt to keep it hidden. But it is time, and I can finally rest." 

If only he knew what else you hide. 

You leave the bathtub, reaching for your bathrobes. He takes his from your hands, but hangs yours back on the hook, instead taking a towel and drying you fully while standing behind you, breathing in your ear, his voice smooth as silk. "Stay like this for a moment. You look… like a dream."

You thought the ball was in your court for once, but he manages to swipe the rug from under you with just an action, a sentence. "I--I… I…" You blubber and fumble your words, but can't say anything, it's like you've forgotten how to speak.

"What's that? You're speechless? The world must be coming to an end." His hands slide from your neck to your shoulders, then your back and waist, finally landing on your stomach. One goes up and the other down, and you feel this could very well be the beginning of your actual downfall into insanity as he breathes your name over and over in your ear. Then he whispers, "Wanna try that again?"

"Sh-shut up…" Your legs are getting weak, and you vaguely remember you were supposed to be doing something, what was it again? Oh, right, melting in his arms.

"My, my. Over a decade of debauchery. Every shameless exchange. Every obscene act. Every filthy, absolutely nasty situation I've put you in. Every wicked, degenerate thing we've done, and this is what flusters you?" The hands that were teasing you seconds ago positively torment you now.

You shudder, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "You… you just caught me by surprise, alright? Besides…" Without turning around, you sneak your hand into his bathrobe, playing his game and running the tips of your fingers over his unsurprising erection. "Don't you prefer when I look like a nightmare?"

He hums. "How so?"

"Y'know." You give him a tug, but release him and turn around so you can look him in the eyes. "When I'm covered-- when I'm splattered in you from head to toe. Or when I'm so broken I can barely speak, but I still find a way to beg for more." You shrug. "Like that."

He does that breathless little swoon that is your absolute favorite reaction you can get out of him. "A tough choice. Good thing I can have both." He gazes at your neck and absently shakes his head. Then he reaches into the cupboard where you keep your… fun stuff, takes the red velvet collar but puts it back and decides on the black leather instead. It's thicker and covers up more, so it's less temptation for him. You hold your hair so he can clasp it around your neck. "If I drink any more from you today, you'll get anemic."

You laugh. "I'd probably just pass out. It builds up anyway." 

You know he's not reading you, so you allow yourself to think about it. What it would be like.

If he drained you of every single drop of blood in your body. You can't die, so… what would happen?

You think about that a lot.

And you know he's not interested in causing you any harm that won't be healed quickly, so you keep it to yourself.

Your dirtiest, guiltiest little secret. The one you always keep locked up from him. He'd be really proud of you for that one too, if only the thought itself wasn't such a huge disappointment.

He kisses your neck over the collar and your hand over the black shining band. Then he takes your bathrobe and dresses you finally. "I believe I was promised a gift?"

"Oh, shit! Your gift! I hope it didn't coagulate." You take his hand and quickly pull him back to the bedroom, ignoring the way he staggers, thanks to his not-so-little problem.

As you'd hoped, the billy's finished setting everything up, just like you told them to. You pull a chair so he can sit down on one end of the small table and take the other one. On the table, there is only an uncorked bottle, two wine glasses and the dead flower vase arrangement you wasted more time on than you care to admit. You pour him a glass and he smirks. "Interesting."

"Can you guess what it is with just a sip?"

He tastes it as if it was actually wine. "Politician?"

"Wow, you're good. Go on."

After another sip, he gives you a lopsided smile, raising his eyebrows amusedly. "President?"

"If you can guess the country, my body is yours to do with as you please for eternity. Oh, wait, it already is."

He smiles, finishes the cup and refills it, filling yours as well. "Don't tell me you got so bored waiting for me you decided to start a war just for the hell of it. I'm not sure if I even want to know the country."

"Bored? I was miserable! And don't worry, I put a plant in his place. As long as he doesn't forget to recharge his hologram thingy, everything will be okay. Plus, we get to control a country whenever we want to. It's not my favorite, but I'm sure we can find fun stuff to do."

He shakes his head, drinking casually now. "Just minutes ago I said I was proud of you? That was nothing compared to this. This is… this is the most insane gift someone's ever given to me. You are completely deranged." He takes your hand and kisses it. "Thank you." He thinks about it, then adds, "I really did like the shirt, though."

You smile and decide to taste it, finally. It's not exactly the good stuff, ordinary at best. Then again, that's not really the point. But you only finish your glass because you know he'll admonish you if you don't. It makes you hungry for foods you actually like.

"We haven't hunted in a while. And I was thinking about going to France."

He nods. "I could go for French. Any particular reason?"

"One of my favorite bands is in Paris for the weekend. We could go see them and maybe later get lost in the catacombs?"

He pours the rest of the presidential blood to you both. Well, there's more in the cellar, but you think you're done with it after this. He drinks it and glares at you until you finish yours. "Come here." Without a word, you stand up and walk the couple of steps around the table, stopping beside him. He lifts his arm and you heave a little, sitting on his lap. You love it when he asks you to do that probably even more than the act itself. His hand grasps your waist and you put an arm around his neck. "We haven't desecrated Notre-Dame yet, have we?"

"It was on our to-do list last time, but we never left the hotel room, remember? I swear the couple we drank on the way were up to their eyeballs in some sort of aphrodisiac shit. Not that I had reason to complain, it just cut our visit short. Poor maids, though."

"Paris, then." With his hands sneaking into your bathrobe, you're not even sure how much of your insatiable lust you can blame on aphrodisiacs. "The perfect way to finish this year's celebration. Let's just… not try to top the presents next year, okay?"

"Aw, really? I wanted a king for next year. Do you think those taste good?" You move his bathrobe from his shoulder so you can plant a kiss there.

"Don't even think about it. Besides, I have the feeling most royal families haven't been human for a long time anyway." He stands up, scooping you up in his arms. "Well, while your gift did satiate me, I think I'm going to eat something else now."

With the way he drops you on the bed, divesting you of the bathrobe and finding his home between your legs, you forget all about asking what was that about the royal families. "Bon appétit, monsieur."

Fin

Part 1

Part 2

Part... 4?

Bottom line is, they fuck a lot.

To every other Vincent fan out there, I wanted to apologize for his characterization. I was mad at myself for making him domesticated and defanged in the previous story. Then I remembered this whole thing started out as a Twilight parody/silly comedy anyway, you only have to read the first paragraphs of Inamourada to see. The Latin, Vincent being a vegetarian. I am way too ridiculous and juvenile to write anything serious, even though he deserves it. Besides, this is supposed to be that 'living vicariously through fanfics' thing, and I want nothing more than eternity with him, love and be loved by my vampire, be that domestic and cliche as hell or not. So I wanted to apologize for his characterization. At first, not anymore. 

I have no idea if this is in any way confusing, makes sense to me because I know what's happening. I know the Cora part might be hard to follow especially with the many rewrites it went through. So please don't hesitate to ask about anything, loose ends and cryptic shit, something that didn't make sense. Just know I might not have all the answers. Yet.

London After Midnight title again. I gotta stop that. No, but they're Vincent's band! (thoughts of Lestat rockstar just popped in my head...) Not that it matters much, since they're never gonna die anyway. If you think they're too op now blame David, I just turned them into Count Crowley vamps.

From Count Crowley: Billatombia. Psychic slaves. The walking corpse. They appear human but are far from it. We call them "billy's" for short. He's like a zombie except that he's under the control of his master.

I'd like to dedicate this to @accidentally-in-fictional-love, @kidinfandom and @verylightsheep for inspiring me, giving ideas and locking me in that basement with a gun to my head, no food and water until I finished this. Thank you all. I assume you know which's which. Sorry for dedicating such a dirty story to you.

[princesssmars]

when you hear a franctic knocking at your door and find a crying victoria covered in blood, you're stuck in place as you take in the sight in front of you.

victoria never cries.

you usher her in and have her stand in your hallway, trying to think lf the best course of action in a hurry so she wont have to dwell in whatever happened. you gently guide her to the bathroom, telling her to clean herself off while yku took her clothes to wash them while you made her something warm to eat. she nodded without a word.

she'd told you before what to do in emergencies like this, infrequent 'work related accidents' that she hoped youd never have to deal with but wanted you to be prepared regardless. it's why she was so hesitant to accept your first invitation for coffee, why she insisted you stay in an inconspicuous but cozy apartment she half paid for with complicated locks and hidden security cameras she could access with a tap on her phone.

she insisted on protecting you. from exactly what, you weren't sure. but you trusted her, trusted her enough to relentlessly scrub away the dark red in her pantsuit with soap and baking soda as her meal cooked on the stove. a hefty serving of peas and carrots stew - bazella w riz - that she once confided in you was her favorite dish as a child. after you manage to scrub a good chunk of the blood away you set it in the dryer to warm for when she leaves in the morning, pulling out a set of pajamas you bought for when she stays over. the brown fleece set matching the white one you were currently wearing.

you set the clothes on the side of the bed that faces the bathroom, the sound of the shower still audible. at this point, she's been in there for half an hour, but you won't disturb her. you know she needs some time to be alone before she can open up to you.

just when you turn off the eye for the finished stew your ears picked up the gentle click of the bedroom door followed by the soft plap-plaps of her slippers before you feel the heat of her chest on your back and her arms ensnared around your waist.

"im sorry. about all of this."

"its fine. you know its fine."

she goes quiet again, silently watching you pour the stew into a bowl before setting it down on the coffee table, patting the seat next to you on the couch. you'd normally insist she eat it at the dining table, but you decided to be lenient just this once.

she leaned forwards as she scarfed down the food, probably the most impolite you'd ever seen her. when you told her so she just mumbled out a 'm'sorry' before eating some more.

once she finished she let out a sigh as she leaned back into the couch, gripping your arm when you started to clean up after her and pulling you back down. you smile, about to lecture her for being so clingy when she speaks.

"tony. i killed tony."

your smiles fades. you wait for her to say she was telling a not so funny joke, that she hadn't actually killed her closest friend from her time at red river. but she doesn't, just stares at the empty space on the couch between you.

"i...im sorry. i know how much he meant to you."

she softly nods, hand coming up to wipe away a stray tear.

"you're comforting me after you just washed my friends guys out my clothes?"

you move in closer when you hear voice get low, guiding her head down to lay on your shoulder and bringing omenof her legs to settle over yours.

"of course i am. i know you wouldn't have done it without a reason. you did have a good reason, right?"

"yes. yes, i did. he would have exposed me he..he almost killed me."

her hand twitches, a tell tale sign that shes nervous.

"then you did what you had to do. no matter what happens, im staying here. by your side. ok?"

her head moves to look at you, taking her hand from yours to tilt your head so she can place a gentle kiss to your forehead. she guides your head to rest on her fhest, laying back in the couch with your bodies entangled.

"ok."

[stopbuggingm3]

...Holy shit, Arya Myers actually being social? And making friends? And having actual human(ish) connection? Impossible!

jokes aside this might actually be one of my favourite things i've ever drawn. angst always hits but gawdamm this was fun as fuck to make and its like holy shit my girl actually has a friend?! I went incredibly giggly when their creator accepted them as canon friends before i'd even drawn 'em yet I was very happy.

and also a version with their masks too bcuz they deserve it

Slasher belongs to @slasherflicks999 go give 'em love because they're cool and they make great stuff and because i said so

rambles underneath the cut because my mind was RACING with headcannons while making this (TW for mentions of gore, death, and creepypasta typical violence)

These could be completely inaccurate (i hope not) and I apologise in advance if they are

I like to think their friendship probably formed as the result or them forming a "truce". "truce" in quotations because its closer to a stalemate than anything. they literally can't kill each other (Slasher is immortal and Arya is kept alive by Slenderman to torment her) what other choice do they have? if they can't murder they may as well vibe. They do vibe though they'd get along great, I can see their types of humour complimenting one another well. they seem to have a shared habit of taking the piss out of the very dangerous situations they get into which together makes them both hilarious and incredibly frustrating to anyone around them.

Honestly i can see Arya bonking him in the head with her shovel upon first seeing him and leaving him on the forest floor thinking nothing of it only to freak the fuck out seeing him back on his feet days later. like she knew she was losing it but she didn't think she'd reach the level of seeing things just yet. Theres literally still traces of his blood on her shovel he should be dead.

So, she tries again, which would probably go one of two ways:

1. She somehow (probably luck) manages to take him out a second time and is then further confused by the fact she has, in fact, now killed this guy twice. Yup, thats brain matter on her shovel, he is real and he is very much dead, so what the hell? This time she doesn't leave him, instead choosing to stay and investigate (after a five minute breather because jeez thats a lot of blood-). She watches him for who knows how long, going back and forth on whether or not she really is crazy because he definitely looks dead but theres something off about his body that she can't put a name to, and eventually stays long enough to see his skull slowly stitching it back together with her own eyes.

2. the likelier of the two possibilities and the one i personally prefer, Slasher is prepared for her this time and avoids a second death, now knowing that he has to keep an eye out for a crazy blonde girl with a shovel and murderous intent, and now theres a similar situation in reverse where Aryas the one full of injuries but just not dropping and Slasher is the one confused. He knows first hand how easy it is for someone to die and she is covered in blood, she should be long dead. Stab wounds? yeahhh give her a couple days she'll be fine...probably. idk the thought makes me giggle

Slashers affinity for blood and gore combined with Aryas squeamishness and hatred for blood would also probably be pretty funny at times; like Slashers just sat there caked in blood casually chewing on a handful of raw meat while Arya sits next to him and watches like 😦🫣 ("..." "...what?" "Dude."). Shes fine handling her own blood but she anyone (or anything) elses blood is still a huge no-go.

That being said, if she were to ever come across Slashers dead body in the woods she'd stay by him until he regenerated, no matter how brutal the sight is. She doesn't know if "keeping his body safe" if really necessary in his case but she'll do it anyway. just in case, y'know?

(pls lmk how accurate these actually are I really don't wanna mischaracterise him by accident)

[sanmei]

Six Tropes Walk into a Coffeehouse

A little sneak peek at my next short fic project...

Luz's head hurt.

Her ears hurt and wouldn't stop ringing. One eye hurt and couldn't seem to focus on anything. The inside of her skull hurt and her brain was stuck looping the chorus of that Carly Rae Jepsen song that played on the radio so often, it had to be doubling back through the space/time continuum for chronologically inadvisable exposure. A song couldn't possibly be played 28 hours a day, but Call Me Maybe sure managed it somehow.

What was she doing lying flat on her back in the middle of the parking lot, listening to some girl incessantly singing about her crush, anyway? And why did it feel like she'd just gotten her ass royally kicked by said crush's pickup truck?

Shoes slapped the pavement, growing louder. Someone was running up to her. Maybe she was hogging the good spot in the parking lot and other people wanted to lie here?

"Luz! Holy crap, are you all right?" The owner of the voice swam into sight overhead, accompanied by a slightly translucent exact duplicate who phased in and out of his body like he was performing history's least enthusiastic astral projection. Like, stepping outside his body, but the way a cat stood just on the threshold of an open door waiting for their human servant to turn off the bad weather.

It's hard to look right at ya, baby. Yup, you said it, Carlie. Now can you shut up?

But stranger than that was the feeling that she ought to know who this was, but didn't. Could a face evoke the same feeling the way a word did when it was right on the tip of your tongue and wouldn't quite make that last step out into something you could say, so you wound up sputtering and looking like you had a sneeze stuck in your sinuses? Like, it was just barely out of reach, and she could swear she knew him, but the phrase coming to mind was snot puddle, which wasn't helpful.

Well, astrally projecting or not—which, probably not, but she wasn't gonna say so and potentially hurt his feelings—he looked decent enough. Black kid, maybe a little younger than herself, hair back in a combination of afro and a top knot, and a uniform that sort of matched the one she was wearing if you discounted the illusionary twin he had going on. He really ought to get that checked out.

"Luz!" Out came a phone as if by magic and, yup, he was dialing the magic number that made ambulances appear and finances disappear. She tuned in with half an ear—the other half was hearing you took your time with the call, I took no time with the fall—as he explained that he thought she'd been hit by a car, which, no, it was Carlie's would-be boyfriend's truck, hello. Apparently put on hold, he checked in with her again. "They asked if you think you can move or if your neck might be hurt."

Move? Well, her neck felt all right for the most part. To be honest, everything hurt at least a bit, but it was her head that felt like she'd just squared off with a territorial hippo. Luz experimentally rocked herself back and forth a couple times, then threw her momentum forward and sat up. She meant to let out a sarcastic whoo of triumph, but sitting upright promptly made the world spin so violently that she settled for a sound like a wet alley cat.

"Okay, she was able to sit up, but she's not looking too hot," the guy and his astral projection—scratch that, there were three of them now!—reported to whoever was on the other end of the phone. "She's got a bad gash over one eye and I don't know if she's really with it. Hold on, I'll check—"

He covered the receiver and asked, "Do you think you need to go to the hospital?" Then, with a frown, he added, "Did Amity do this?"

Hospital. Nope. Her mom would kill her if she was anything less than dead before winding up in a hospital. With an effort of will, Luz put on her most reassuring smile and laughed nonchalantly. "I'm fine! Who's Amity?"

This did not go over as well as she'd hoped.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Hi, hello! You've hinted that you'd like to read about people's MCs, so I decided to stuff my terrible shyness into a shoebox for a moment to ramble. Hope it's not too long aaa

My MC Theo (it took me an awkward amount of time to realize I accidentally made him your namesake lol) is a tall, handsome firefighter, because it's not an option you see that often, I feel like, so I had to go for it. And just because I can, I also have him wear these thick, black glasses, as he's a far-sighted, blind bat. Now I realize they were probably swept away by the lake, so the poor guy's vision is twice as fucked due to the fog. Overall, I imagine him to be this super chill dude everyone generally likes because even if he gets beaten down to his knees he still chooses kindness and respect.

He adores his sister Wills and he was totally the "okay, fine, just don't tell mom and dad" kind of brother. Their childhood was full of good-natured teasing (he swears Willow just makes it so easy). Nowadays he finds he's more worried for her but tells himself that she's an adult now and that if things really went south she'd reach out. (In the light of recent events, he no longer thinks that.) He needs to find his sister asap and give her the longest hug ever, both for her and his sake.

Upon waking up in Easthaven, he chose to stay at Ravi's, though he's not so sure about his decision anymore. Sometimes that man gives him the creeps for reasons he can't yet understand. Unnerves him, but not entirely in a bad way. You know, the "A chill just ran down my spine, but I kinda liked it??" He thinks Ravi has pretty hands.

He used to be kind of a nerd in school lol he was ridiculously good at math and chemistry and all that, and for this reason he's very set on finding logic behind everything, no matter how absurd it may be (or so he thought). Which is whyyy at first he thought nothing of this whole "inescapable" Easthaven shebang. Very much "People here are just quirky like that, there's nothing wrong with that."

However, his stance on this takes a radical turn after he (and Jay and Ravi who he dragged along because he wanted company) nearly gets killed in a cursed, endless forest (??). He was keeping his marbles together quite admirably up until that point, but after that experience his thoughts started a war in his head. One side is adamant that there simply must be an explanation to all of this, while the other is slowly but surely turning against him, going "But what if? What if there's more to this?" which then makes him go eerily quiet. He's starting to have doubts, and that terrifies him more than he's ready to admit. At the moment, he's not necessarily angry with anyone, just very "don't touch me or talk to me for a while please and thank you," probably because he's still trying to piece together what the hell just happened. (Also, that new chapter sneak peek was great! "Oh, that gas station that literally teleported from across the town? Sure, let's go in. We might even get to buy a slice of Invisible Pie.")

He very well might choose to stay at Jay's for a change if given the chance, mainly because right now, even despite everything, she appears to be the sanest out of the trio. Plus, he finds he's drawn to people who are especially caring and would do anything to help others, since he feels the same way. It's the reason he chose to save people for a living.

Can I just say the Jay/Ravi/MC poly is going to be a blast? Yeah, I love my girlfriend--she saved my life, she's so selfless and drop-dead gorgeous; and I love my boyfriend. He… genuinely scares me sometimes, but it's also kinda hot, so.

And lastly, while MC's magic powers have not been really brought up in the story so far, I imagine that once they start manifesting, my MC is going to be absolutely terrified. "I don't want this. Why is this happening to me? How do I make it stop?" I can see him fighting and resisting it every step of the way, at least at the beginning, but then something just snaps and it takes over. Currently I'm thinking The Fog has called dibs on him first, but I might go for something else in the future. Whatever happens, it'll probably be perfectly fiiine =)

Thank you for taking the time to read all this yapping! Take care!

thank you for sharing omg it isn't too long i love this ask.

Theo sounds delightful!! I love love love MCs with a close relationship with Willow, and his sounds so sweet. I have a soft spot for firefighter MCs too tbh (I will allow myself this one bias) I think they're fun. And oh noooo not the glasses 😭 His poor eyes.

One of my favorite things is seeing what the breaking point for skeptic characters is. Like...at what point is it just too much to keep refusing the supernatural?? And the forest is definitely a good one lmao. (also losing it at invisible pie thank you for the laugh)

Eating up all of the details about him and Jay and Ravi, and your thoughts on the future magic development!! The idea of 'here's my beautiful wonderful girlfriend. here's my boyfriend who legitimately scares me' is delightful ty for sharing it.

[burning-academia-if]

re: internet speed: hang in there!! your update will save me🙏🏻

I just got done with a long road trip (Massachusetts to North Carolina; about a 12 hour trek!) to visit family, and am physically drained but mentally wide awake- which is why I am up at 3:15am, excited to start a new save when it drops!!

to bring this back to the game- if you don't mind- would the RO's (poly included) ever do a road trip of this length with MC, while dating? would anyone overprepare, or outright refuse, perhaps unless MC genuinely couldn't fly for some reason?

(... dare I even consider what chaos would unfold if they managed to get like, a party bus for a group trip lmao)

Hi sorry to the prompts in my inbox the past week, got obviously sidetracked by the update lol I hope you got some rest after that trip!

also imagine all the ROs+MC going on a road trip together? 52 killed and 138 injured

Rook: He would thrive on a roadtrip, even if you threw him in the most cramped car imaginable and made him drive (pro tip: don't let him drive). He is chronically under prepared but he manages anyway. Hopefully MC is better prepared then he is

Beck: Over packs as a "just in case" type of thing. Stops maybe a little too frequently for gas as a just in case kind of thing. Is pretty comfortable throughout the trip and knows when to rotate driving as needed so neither of you feel too awful

Rhea: She would do her best but I don't think she'd fair well lol she hasn't ever driven so long so she has no idea how to prepare for it and would be asking you constantly before the trip. This is one of the few planning things you'd have to be in charge of

Zoe: They might be reluctant at first, especially since they're not the most comfortable driving and have really only driven locally. I imagine they'd accidentally get you both lost at one point and you're both just bent over the phone like "??? Where are we???" Very stressful but it kinda becomes a funny memory later

Lars: This has got to be the most serious roadtrip you've ever been on. He's focused only on point a to point b. You'll stop to grab food or gas, but doesn't spare a moment for sight seeing unless you pull out the Annoying Tactic (or just look really sad about it lmaO). At least you're guaranteed to get there safely

???: They have no idea how to drive or what a roadtrip even is so that's all on you lol. I think they'd make so many comments throughout that it makes the time go by fast though, and they'd probably be playing like word games with you or things similar periodically throughout the trip

Poly:

Rook/Beck: Beck makes up for Rook's carelessness. There's the occasional bickering along the way (kinda like a married couple lol) but it all feels light hearted and goofy and time goes by surprisingly fast.

Rook/???: This is the most chaotic roadtrip you'll ever be on. A whole lot of detours and distractions and wondering how you made it to your destination alive (it was because of you, probably). Despite the chaos it's also very fun and like an adventure

Rhea and Zoe: The two actually figure out the roadtrip thing a lot better together then they do apart. It's a very cozy trip with the occasional stop and sight seeing, with conversations that ebb and flow. It's a fine time

[the-way-astray]

Still on anon because Katie, Isa and Alayda are the only ones who know! Keep guessing, though... I find it fascinating.

Here we are with chapter 4! Good to know I'm the non-cringey-strieefe-fic-writer (also known as the North Carolina anon, Noodles Cold anon, Nutritious Chickens anon, Nearsighted Cows anon, Nefarious Cackling anon, and anything else that abbreviated to NC because Stria apparently cannot use context clues <3 said with love of course)

and naturally, stria, to ease your concerns: you are the first to read these. No, alayda, katie and isa do not get to see it first. These are not beta read and typed directly into your ask box and sent.

—————

Title: Never Change chapter 4

Pairing: Stria x Keefe

—————

Who was Stria, and why was she hailing Keefe?

Sophie frowned at Keefe's imparter, which was the one currently buzzing in her hands. Should she answer? Obviously Keefe couldn't. The thought made another dizzying storm of worry kick up again in her chest, and she glanced over in Keefe's direction, wondering if he'd suddenly wake up to tease her about how concerned she was about him.

He didn't.

In a split second decision, Sophie answered. "Hi... who is this?" she asked.

The girl on the screen, Stria, blinked a few times, as though adjusting to having the sun in her eyes. "You're not Keefe."

"I'm Sophie." She wasn't owed answers about what happened to Keefe. Who was she?

"I know." Stria caught herself, cursing softly under her breath. "I mean..."

"It's fine," Sophie said curtly. Most people recognized her by her brown eyes. "Not to be blunt, but who are you?"

"No, that's a perfectly reasonable question," Stria agreed. "I'm... I met Keefe about a week and a half ago. He'd heard the rumors that I... he'd heard some rumors about me and wanted to talk."

And he hadn't told her about it?

Rumors that she what?

Sophie trusted her boyfriend, of course, but something about how frustrated and furious she was with him right now led her mind to go spiraling down insane roads. "So you talked... and you're hailing to talk again?"

"Well, we were going to grab milkshakes, and he canceled with no notice or explanation, and I was worried something happened to him." Stria looked away. "Especially since the Healing Center is closed..."

Sophie blocked out the part of her mind that was telling her that sounded like a date. She didn't have time for unwarranted jealousy right now. If Keefe had never mentioned her, it was probably because she was irrelevant—not because he was trying to hide that they were talking. It fully made sense that this girl would be worried about a last minute cancel.

"So... is he okay?" Stria asked hesitantly.

Sophie automatically wanted to say yes. But it would be a lie, and Stria, whoever she was and whatever she thought Keefe intended by going to "grab milkshakes" with her, deserved the truth.

But Sophie couldn't say the truth.

There was the fact that she couldn't get into any Black Swan/Neverseen details, but also the fact that recounting Keefe's absolute stupidity before she'd even had the chance to talk about it with him (or just yell at him, which also might become necessary) felt wrong.

Sophie went with, "He's injured."

"How bad is it?"

Sophie glanced over at Keefe. His chest was rising and falling at a normal pace now, though Elwin was still keeping him sedated. Sophie had to look away quickly. The sight of all the bandages... it was worse than it had ever been for him.

Was he ever going to learn?

Or would he keep testing fate until it killed him?

Sophie didn't realize she hadn't answered until Stria whispered, "Bad, huh?"

Sophie turned back to the imparter screen, choking out, "It could be worse." She couldn't talk about this with a stranger anymore. Everything was still too fresh. "I'm sorry, Stria, but I have to go."

"Of course. I... well, thank you for telling me."

The screen went dark.

Stria stared at the blank imparter screen, still digesting the news.

Sophie looked like she hadn't slept in days. Given what she'd read of the books, this didn't surprise her, but she'd been a mess. And the way she'd looked away from the screen, like she was glancing over at Keefe on a hospital bed, recovering from a potentially fatal injury...

Somehow, she could feel Sophie's pain herself, just from the expressions. Stria had a sudden realization in that moment, though she wasn't sure why her brain decided to supply it to her now:

She wanted Keefe to live.

Irrelevant, of course. She wouldn't wish death on anyone, even if she hated that person. But her brain then supplied her with a far worse realization:

If Keefe died, and the last thing she'd ever told him was how much she despised him...

Why should she care?! She did despise him, and there was no reason to feel guilty about it just because he got injured, probably mostly by his own fault!

She should be allowed to think that! Why did it feel awful to think that?

She stood up abruptly, sliding the imparter into her pocket. She needed to go for a walk. She needed food or a drink or something. She needed to walk with a really bad coffee drink that tasted bitter in her mouth to give her a reason for feeling so... whatever this was.

As soon as she stepped out of her appartment, she began to walk briskly through Atlantis. At one point, she passed by a milkshake shop. In the window, they were advtertising her favorite flavor. She was looking for a drink, after all.

She walked past the shop as fast as physically possible.

She focused on her feet hitting the ground, one after the other. She looked down at her feet, watching them carry her along, and then—

—she walked straight into someone.

"I am so sorry!" Stria gasped as he regained his balance. Neither of them had fallen over—thank God, that would have been embarassing for them both—but his sketchbook had fallen to the ground. She reached down to grab it for him. She hardly registered that the book was flipped open to a certain page until she glanced at it, barely thinking about it.

Then she did a double take.

She recognized that art style.

And the guy in the art.

She knew this art style. And that character.

She contemplated telling him that it was a really good drawing of Keefe, just to watch him lose faith in the world for the last time, but decided that was too mean. "Max?!"

Max snatched back his notebook, looking at her warily. "How do you know who I—hang on. You're from KOTLC tumblr too, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Give me a hint."

Stria wanted to say, I depsise Keefe, because she was sure he would get it right away, but the topic was too sensitive right now. "Aldella."

"Stria?"

"Yep."

"What are you doing on this side of the fourth wall?" Max asked, looking oddly perplexed for someone who was also on this side of the fourth wall.

"What are you doing on this side of the fourth wall?" Stria countered.

Max glanced down at his drawing. "He does have short hair. I confirmed it."

"You met Fintan?!"

"He also does follow American politics. And he reads warrior cats. Yes, he is the Fintan tumblr blog."

"So you came over to this side of the fourth wall to find Fintan?"

"What? No, I met Fintan back on our side of the fourth wall," Max explained, "and then I realized walking through the fourth wall was possible, so I thought, why not go get some solid art reference?"

"But you're still drawing Fintan."

Max shrugged. "I think it's in my genes."

"Wait wait wait. If Fintan is the tumblr blog, and he ships himself with Bronte—"

"I'm looking into that as well," Max added. "Now back to my original question. What are you doing on this side of the wall?"

Ouch. She actually had to say this, didn't she? "I kind of... wandered in with a group of people, not realizing this was where we were going."

"What group?" Max asked.

"Katie, Isa, Maddie, Lisa, Alayda, and Katie's cat."

Max blinked. "What were you even doing with that group of people?! I mean, not to say you can't have whatever friends you want, because obviously you can, but—"

"I was talking to Katie!" Stria sighed. "Well, arguing is a better word. But we were having a great time. And then, bam, I was on this side of the fourth wall."

"And you didn't go back because...?"

"Well, I'm not exactly opposed to finding out more about the Lost Cities," Stria pointed out. "I've been going to Foxfire."

"Seriously?"

"Look, I walked over with Katie's mutual circle, does anything surprise you at this point?"

"I think anything short of you going on a date with Keefe," Max said wryly, bringing up her famous hatred. She shouldn't have been surprised.

"Well..."

"You did not."

"It wasn't really a date."

"Stria."

"And he canceled on me this time!"

"Stria."

"Look, he's literally in a hospital right now, so maybe talking about how I'm supposed to hate him isn't the most productive—"

"Remember who you are, Stria!" Max said, shaking her by the shoulders, and wow, yeah, she'd really needed that.

"I think I needed to hear that. It's so refreshing to have another Keefe hater here with me besides Katie's cat," Stria said truthfully, even though it felt alarmingly simplistic to just use the term "Keefe hater" now that she was here and it was real.

But here was her perfect opportunity to get her mind off things. "Want to go get weird gnomish food somewhere?"

—————

I'd actually toyed with the idea of bringing in Max as another Keefe hater to be there with you, and then you brought it up, and I was like, well now I have to do it! Sorry Max. I'm so sorry to involve you in this drama. But I'm also not sorry because it's funny.

I'd love to see your guesses for my identity at this point!!!

Sincerely,

Never Change author

part one, part two, part three for the uninitiated :) i'll stop doing this soon and maybe just start making a masterpost or something. but for now it's not too unmanageable.

"Sophie frowned at Keefe's imparter [ . . . ]" you should know that the second i realized this chapter was in sophie's perspective, i went insane. because like. she's going to hate me :( ugh this is so not worth it. sophie keep your toxic-ass boyfriend it's absolutely not worth it to make sophie dislike me over . . . who was this again???? keefe????

"The thought made another dizzying storm of worry kick up again in her chest, and she glanced over in Keefe's direction, wondering if he'd suddenly wake up to tease her about how concerned she was about him." ooooooh, the plot thickens.

""It's fine," Sophie said curtly. Most people recognized her by her brown eyes. "Not to be blunt, but who are you?"" sophie, who's able to fucking. hex code everyone's eyes. doesn't notice i have brown eyes???? interesting . . . also in my canon the elves have normal eye colors. all of them. including sophie. promptly ignoring this, as i do with shannon, as well :)

"Sophie trusted her boyfriend [ . . . ]" ANON I MAY HAVE TO MURDER YOU. LOOK. I HATE SOKEEFE, OKAY. I REALLY DO. BUT I'D RATHER HAVE SOKEEFE AND SOPHIE SPEAKING TO ME THAN FUCKING. ME AND KEEFE AND SOPHIE NOT TALKING TO ME. BY A LONG SHOT. IF THIS IS A STRIEEFE FIC THAT MEANS THAT THE INEVITABLE SOKEEFE BREAKUP IS GOING TO HAPPEN AT SOME POINT . . . no . . . sophie's going to hate me :(

"Sophie blocked out the part of her mind that was telling her that sounded like a date." if keefe and sophie are still dating in the canon of this fic then why didn't keefe say something like "i have a girlfriend" when i slipped in the second chapter and called it a date (which i would never do by the way)???? like, as much as i despise keefe, he's not a cheater (although shannon did make some weird decisions in the first book by implying he looks up to alvar for being a cheater . . . ).

"[ . . . ] but also the fact that recounting Keefe's absolute stupidity before she'd even had the chance to talk about it with him (or just yell at him, which also might become necessary) felt wrong." yeah, if keefe did this to himself, that checks out. fucking idiot. why is he so fucking stupid. can he stop hijacking plans for even a second . . .

whatever happened to keefe is so fucking interesting though. someone needs to tell me what happened right this second.

"Was he ever going to learn? Or would he keep testing fate until it killed him?" well if shannon messenger has anything to do with it, probably not. but i have more faith in anon.

"Sophie looked like she hadn't slept in days." classic example of keefe ruining sophie's mental health because he's arrogant as shit!!!! i don't care that his arrogance comes from his abusive childhood!!!! he's still not only stupid, but thinks he's smart!!!! ewwwwww.

"Somehow, she could feel Sophie's pain herself, just from the expressions." not at all what i'd be realistically feeling. i'd be more sorry for sophie, and thinking about how she deserves better than this fool. dump him, sophie. come onnnn you know you want better than someone who will do nothing but ruin your mental health and treat you like shit by taking your choices away from you . . . you know you wanna soooooo bad . . .

"She wanted Keefe to live." inaccurate. with the rage i feel at this idiot right now, he could die and i'd say good riddance, nobody to fuck shit up and worry everyone anymore. *sobbing* he's so stupid . . .

"Why should she care?! She did despise him, and there was no reason to feel guilty about it just because he got injured, probably mostly by his own fault!" i would not be feeling guilty, i'd be feeling angry. at keefe. which is something sophie almost never feels at him, which annoys the crap out of me. come on, sophie, stop pitying him, start being angry with him.

"She needed to walk with a really bad coffee drink that tasted bitter in her mouth to give her a reason for feeling so... whatever this was." fun fact: coffees (lattes) are my favorite drink of all time. unfortunately, the elves probably aren't the coffee kind.

"In the window, they were advtertising her favorite flavor." that would be coffee.

"She contemplated telling him that it was a really good drawing of Keefe, just to watch him lose faith in the world for the last time, but decided that was too mean." this about the first person to tell max his keefe art looked like fintan :)

"Stria wanted to say, I depsise Keefe, because she was sure he would get it right away, but the topic was too sensitive right now. "Aldella."" i'm not fully certain max is aware of my aldella obsession. but a nice thought nonetheless.

"Max glanced down at his drawing. "He does have short hair. I confirmed it."" ANON DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE. NO. THIS IS WRONG. WRONG AND INCORRECT. no . . . you can't make max more valid than me in my own fic . . .

""He also does follow American politics. And he reads warrior cats. Yes, he is the Fintan tumblr blog."" fintan pyren, the kotlc character, is the same as fin, the tumblr user, in this fic's canon confirmed. although i'm hoping that was a mistake and that fin just lied to max. because it would be funny to have not one, but two people that are clinically insane about fintan stalk him in the lost cities.

""What? No, I met Fintan back on our side of the fourth wall," Max explained, "and then I realized walking through the fourth wall was possible, so I thought, why not go get some solid art reference?"" that's hella goofy. also i feel like max should be having a stronger reaction to realizing he's been mutuals on tumblr dot com with the person he's been obsessed with for years now.

""Wait wait wait. If Fintan is the tumblr blog, and he ships himself with Bronte—"" actually, he ships himself with shakespeare. and king dimitar. he's got quite a bit of explaining to do. so realistically i'd say that and max would faint from having heard an allude to finitar. or something.

""I'm looking into that as well," Max added." in character. also fin shipping himself with bronte? also in character.

""Katie, Isa, Maddie, Lisa, Alayda, and Katie's cat." Max blinked. "What were you even doing with that group of people?! I mean, not to say you can't have whatever friends you want, because obviously you can, but—"" i'm pretty sure max doesn't even know who half these people are. but interesting.

""I was talking to Katie!" Stria sighed. "Well, arguing is a better word. But we were having a great time. And then, bam, I was on this side of the fourth wall."" LMFAO NOT OUR ARGUING RUPTURING THE FOURTH WALL. also why were isa, maddie, lisa, and alayda there? i doubt they were participating. they were playing uno while me and katie argued . . .

""Well, I'm not exactly opposed to finding out more about the Lost Cities," Stria pointed out." yeah i need to know more about the pyrokinesis ban immediately actually. and more about the general public's attitude towards shades.

""I think anything short of you going on a date with Keefe," Max said wryly, bringing up her famous hatred. She shouldn't have been surprised." technically it wasn't a date, because keefe apparently has a girlfriend *side-eyeing him so hard right now*

""Remember who you are, Stria!" Max said, shaking her by the shoulders, and wow, yeah, she'd really needed that." hello never change anon, sorry but this made me cringe out of my soul and i'm certain max would never say that. it's so shannon . . . someone help me . . . ack.

[block limit]

""It's so refreshing to have another Keefe hater here with me besides Katie's cat," Stria said truthfully, even though it felt alarmingly simplistic to just use the term "Keefe hater" now that she was here and it was real." i can continue to be a keefe hater regardless of circumstance, because i have magical powers. hope this helps.

""Want to go get weird gnomish food somewhere?"" ooh, weird gnomish food with max chapter???? i still think fin should be a separate person from fintan, and it turns out he's been tricking max the whole time. then max can write this all down in his little detective notebook. or something.

in conclusion, i think quil should be the next one to walk through the fourth wall. hear me out: quil would support my anti strieefe agenda and also be detached enough because of desperate attempts to find everglen and stalk fitz vacker to the point of collapsing on the floor in a keyboard smash manner once successful. also quil's a neutral party that doesn't particularly like or hate keefe so that would be nice to have. or something. idk i'm not writing this.

currently wondering if you know max, like in an interactive way. evidence points to the contrary, since i can't imagine he hates keefe enough to really care whether or not i'm going on smoothie "dates" with him. and i'm officially out of guesses. i have an anon in my inbox that is very certain you are katie and a liar, but i feel like. that would take the fun out of it? like if mr. forkle did turn out to be sophie's bio dad or something. idk. also this reminded me that i've read a fourth fanfic during my time in this fandom by max, which helps exactly nil. so basically i still have no idea who you are. help me, anons.

tagging everyone mentioned (tell me if you'd prefer not to be): @myfairkatiecat @crescentpaws @fintan-pyren @permanently-stressed @queefsencen @lisalovesapplesauce @alaydabug2

[hisinfinities]

@sharpsuite (continued from x)

It's a SHOCK to feel a snowball shatter against her head, and she ALMOST slips from how it throws her off-balanced. Luckily she manages to catch herself BEFORE that can potentially happen. It's still cold though, clinging to her face and her dark strands of hair while smaller clumps fall against her neck. Somehow, despite it all, ANN MAINTAINS HER STEEL-LIKE GRACE. But she's no fool either. Her head turns towards Gojo, her eyes hidden behind her signature sunglasses. At least with the colder weather, Hatter's allowed some ADJUSTMENTS to the whole Beach attire rule that he'd had in place. Probably more because he was also cold rather than anything practical. Beachwear was fine during the heat - but the SUDDEN CHANGE in temperature called for adjustments. As if death games weren't enough. But for now, her focus is on the other executive. As if people like Niragi weren't enough to have to deal with. " Somehow, I doubt the sincerity of that statement. " Ann replies; DOESN'T SEEM MAD, only critical. " I think you DID mean for it to be thrown that hard, but I wasn't the intended target, was I? " Unlike many at the Beach who indulged in escapism or fun, Ann was rather known to not indulge in such antics. A rather comforting fact when it came to playing games, even if it tended to give her something of a colder reputation to those who didn't particularly know her. ( AND YET, FAR FROM THE TRUTH. ) It's actually rather NICE to see people having fun. She just doesn't find it as easy to indulge in as some like Gojo seem to. Maybe it was because she put more weight on the general populace's lives than most of the others here did. She lifts a hand to brush the remaining snow out of her hair, stepping out of the way of where she'd been standing. " Please. Don't let me be in the way of whatever snowball fight you may be having. " / @hisinfinities

He barely makes any effort to mask his laughter; wide smile and snickers only half-hidden behind a gloved hand, eyes twinkling with amusement because leave it to Ann to find a way to get hit by a snowball, nearly slip, and catch herself all while still looking that graceful. Gojo's not sure he's ever seen her not be calm and collected, and it's so impressive that he finds it funny.

"Smart as ever, Ann! Nothing gets past you." She's mostly right; he did intend to throw that hard at a different target. But when she came into his line of sight, he just couldn't help himself... but forgot to adjust the strength of his throw accordingly. But that's fine, because it's not like she couldn't handle it, right? He almost thinks it'd be more insulting to imply that.

Gojo lowers his head to look at her over the top of his own, slimmer shades. "It could be our snowball fight, if you have the guts."

Right as he says it, a snowball collides with the side of the head; while his ear is protected by a warm headband, he immediately feels the chill down his neck and in his hair. Turning in the direction it came from, he playfully shouts, "I'm gonna kill whoever threw that!" Not literally, of course.

Turning back to Ann, he smiles, placing both hands behind his head. "Seriously, loosen up a little! I know shit's serious and all, but I promise you're not going to ruin your reputation by having a little fun just this once." Despite his antics, he understands the seriousness of their situation-- his rowdier, carefree behavior is oftentimes a mask to hide and suppress what this world did to him before he found the Beach.

"Sure we might not make it to tomorrow, but for all we know neither will this snow. So how about it? I'll even let you get a free hit in."

[kalmiaphlox]

If You Give a Vampire a Polymorph Scroll Pt 2

Part 1 / AO3 Link / Masterlist

If you give a vampire a polymorph scroll, he's going to sow a little chaos. When he creates that chaos, he'll probably want someone by his side. When he has that someone, they are going to be very, very naughty.

Alternatively: Astarion turns Kalmia into a little lizard. They commit crimes and have fun because Astarion likes some chaos, and Kalmia will never deny him.

Main Tags: Tiny Dragon, blood drinking, payback, Catstarion, dancing on the beach, idiots in love

Hungry.

Food. 

Must eat. So hungry.

Why is that man talking to Astarion?

EatEatEat

The man approaches her and she pauses in her feeding. “Pretty thing that one is, are you a sorcerer? I've heard they carry dragons around to connect with their heritage, so the-”

Astarion has bristled, he doesn't like sorcerers. She knows that. “ Don't touch her. Now run along now, we aren't interested in company.”

Will Astarion eat him? I eat him . 

Very hungry.

“How much for the lizard? It's clearly defective, I can give you-”

Jumping up to his feet, Astarion grabs the man's collar, pulling them face to face, seething with hatred. “Fuck. Off. Before I gut you like the pig you are.” He flashes his pearly fangs in the moonlight, hand inching towards his dagger.

Why not just kill him? They can eat so good . 

FoodFood

The man stumbles back, slipping in the sand before running off for who knows where. 

She's tired of the mindlessness. 

Breaking the spell, Kalmia returns to herself, if a few pounds heavier. By the Gods, she ate too much.

Astarion startles, “How did you do that? I didn't stop the spell!”

Ugh, her head. It's so nice to think normally again. “ Irthiski , you do know beings that shape change can easily shrug off polymorph? I was being nice by playing along.”

“What?! But your mother-”

“ Mother is an ancient fucking dragon, her magic and whatever cheap scroll you used are very, very different. I'd expect a magistrate to read the fine print.” She brushes sand from her body. Oh, she will ache tomorrow. “Why didn't you kill that man? Are you going soft on me?”

“I don't know. I should- ugh, he tried to buy you. I should have torn his damn throat out.” He seems uncomfortable with the subject, strange when he rarely turns down a meal.

“Want to share or drop it?”

Raking a hand through his flawless curls, Astarion groans in frustration. It's always a sight when he's at a loss for words. “He just- He reminded me of some of my targets, from back then . I had a type you could say… before I moved on to literally anyone that would give me the time because it was quicker - didn't want to leave Cazador waiting.”

She had barely acknowledged that man, her damned brain too consumed with consuming. He hasn't spoken much about his targets in specifics, the only one she knows by name is Sebastian, but that's it. “I understand.” They both are struggling with words to say. It's a fragile subject, she'd hate to get it wrong. 

“I know you do. Why don't we go home? I'm more intere-”

“There's the monster! ” They were too engrossed in their conversation to see a mob coming their way. That man is back, with three other people in tow, ready for a fight. “My lady, get away from him! He's a vampire!”

How fucking dare they! Monster? Monster?!

She glares at the offenders, then looks back to Astarion, who is watching her carefully. “Can I kill them, irthiski ?”

He sighs and waves her off, “Knock them out, I'm hungry.”

“ All of them?”

“Ugh, yes. ”

Good enough. Kalmia strides towards the men, it's not quite “pitchforks and torches”, they're a little more prepared than that with some proper armor, weapons and a magic user.

Not that it means anything to her.

The man from earlier speaks, “My lady, are you unharmed? Come quickly to us, we will-” She sucker punches him, knocking the lad out instantly. The three others gape as she lunges for them, smashing two heads together, and punching the last one in the jaw.

Easy .

“My liege, dinner is served.” She bows dramatically with a wave of her hands.

Astarion inspects the bodies, tilting his head this way and that. “Hmm, you split his lip, and that one's cheek is busted. I'll have to deduct some points for the loss of blood. Otherwise, not too bad.”

“ Wux re vi inloil di tawura .” She says with a sniff. 

Pausing his inspections to translate, he chuckles. “Darling, presentation matters… but, I won't complain. Nothing beats having my meals served fresh .”

“You already did complain, but… whatever.” Stepping away to let him gorge, she stares out across the vast ocean, ships bobbing along with the waves and who knows what sea creatures lie beneath the peaceful view.

It'll be warm enough for those swimming lessons soon. She hopes Astarion will still want to (re)learn when they get the chance.

Shuffling behind her lets her know he's done, and turning around, Kalmia finds that Astarion is already taking care of the bodies. She hadn't expected him to fully drain that man , but, hmm… There's no need to push right now. “Want me to dump those?”

He flaps his hand at her, “I can handle it. Only seems fair that I clean up when you provided .”

Eugh, who is this man and what has he done to Astarion? 

She'll let the imposter stay though, they can still have fun.

When the bodies have been disposed of, Astarion sidles up to her with a soft smile, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. What a cute kitty. He always fills her with butterflies, a feeling she once thought long lost to her. 

Intertwining their fingers, Kalmia pulls him close. “Have you ever danced on the beach?”

“Can't say that I have. Do you want to dance?” He feathers the lightest of kisses along her cheek before nipping at the soft skin there.

“I thought you'd never ask!” She laughs, returning his kisses with a deep one, flicking her tongue across his lips. He's clearly hungry for more but she pulls away, “Dancing first, other fun later.”

He groans in an exaggerated manner, but takes the lead, one hand clasped with hers and the other around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they begin swaying together, just moving across the sand in rhythmic motion.

This is no ballroom waltz, it's just two people very in love slow dancing under the moonlight to the music in their head.

It's perfect.

Astarion closes his eyes, resting his cheek against hers. “I dont think I'll ever get tired of all this.”

“I sure hope not, irthiski .”

With a spin and dip, he supports Kalmia as they kiss once more. She feels very lucky at this moment to have not been born with wild magic capabilities, there would have been explosions from how sweet this scene makes her feel.

“Shall we head home, my love?”

“Yes.”

++++

Astarion is practically buzzing as he draws his stolen fabrics from his bags, inspecting each piece diligently for damage and dirt, before writing notes onto some loose parchment.

Kalmia loves the way his brow furrows in concentration and the twitch of his lips when scrutinizing a thread out of place, pulling at it with a look of utter disgust. He should use one of those magnifying glasses to help him pour over each and every filament in the fibers.

When the cloths meet his standards, he packs them away into the side room, where the door is near permanently closed. Only Astarion may enter now, his projects too precious for others to lay eyes on.

Ah, she loves him so dearly.

And she knows, without a doubt, that he returns all that love. Deeply, needily, happily, harshly. 

But he needs to pay the price of his actions. She allowed his prank to extend on much longer than it should have, and someone in the household had asked for a kitty.

Kalmia can provide.

“Mutatio Forma!” Her voice rings out, enveloping her nasty vampire in a purple mist that once dissipated, leaves a spitting cat with the plushest, whitest fur she has ever laid eyes on. 

His coat is fluffy without being poofy, and the tail is swishing around angrily, as he yowls, “What have you done to me? You vile fiend!” There is rage in those blood red eyes, shining like rubies against that gorgeous white face.

Kalmia squeals in delight. “Oh, look at you!! What a handsome boy!” 

He hisses, sharp teeth at the ready with back arched as she reaches forward to scratch under his chin. Any fight in him is lost, becoming a puddle of fur in her hands as he purrs louder than a certain dragon. 

Cradling her kitty in her arms, she takes him to their room so he can admire himself in the mirror. 

Of course, Astarion is absolutely enamored with himself in any iteration. “Look at that shine! Oh, I really do take care of myself.” Hopping down from the vanity, he winds between her legs, tail curling around her ankle as he does so. “Can't you brush me?” 

She obliges, pulling the comb from the bathroom and waiting for him to settle in her lap once she sits on the bed. He curls up tightly, having accepted his fate, while Kalmia runs through his wispy fur with the brush. The hum of his purr is so powerful it vibrates through her fingertips.

If it weren't for other matters, she would brush him until the sun burns out.  

-wux re vi inloil di tawura = you're a piece of work -Astarion is a Turkish angora here. I almost chose a ragdoll or Persian, but I think he'd be a bit more sleek

[thebluemoonjune]

The Sounds Of A Black Dahlia- Chapter 2

Family Affairs

Summary:

Michonne and Shane have a 'heart to heart'. Confessions and truths come out. Secrets everywhere. Things in the family are being set in motion.

The whole building was closed off as the police gathered everyone who wasn’t in the vestibule or main hall to take questions. Anyone who’d been seen slipping out during that time. She had made sure to let them know that he was with her on the second-floor balcony attached to the lounge before they segregated Rick, who’d been Holly’s date. Michonne had heard him whisper, ‘They killed her’ as the corpse rolled out. She was confused. How could he have known she was murdered? What was it that he was hiding? Who did he think was responsible for the young woman’s death? Why would they kill her? The more questions that plagued her, the more suspicious she grew of Rick. The longer she thought about what happened, the harder it became holding onto the fleeting illusion of security. Standing outside the dark 1:00 a.m. sky, the wind brushed against her exposed skin. A faint sound rang out in her clouded mind; each toll of the bell caused her heart to stammer, all while her body remained impossibly, unnaturally, and agonisingly rooted. It was almost as if she'd fallen into a catatonic state. Her silver heels and the hem of her red dress were the only objects in her sight. It was when a warm suit jacket dropped on her chilled, exposed shoulders that she’d freed herself from the cage she called her mind.

“Rick… Are they done?”

“For now, I guess…” Rick placed his hands in his pocket, staring at where Holly fell. “From what I can tell, they don’t got much to go on. This is tryna find a needle in a haystack.”

“You think someone killed her? You said it yourself; I heard you.” Michonne stepped closer, her brown pools stirring.

“I ain’t denying it. I know someone did.” He stepped closer as well, leaving no gap between the two. Unlike her jittery persona, Rick mimicked a predator on the prowl. “Gonna have to go to the station tomorrow. This is probably gonna be ruled a suicide. I’m sure that’d make you happy to know.”

“What do you take me for?”

“A liar for one.”

“You got some nerve! Let me make this absolutely clear—”

“Michonne!”

“Shane…”

“I heard what happened. You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who’s dead.” He places his hand on her back. In an attempt to comfort her. “Rick, I’m sorry, man. Would’ve come sooner if they ain’t have us hauled up in there.”

“No worries. I got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I’ll leave you two to it.” He pranced away, not giving them a heads-up as he waved them bye.

“Just like that?”

“Your brother’s date just died; he has to go to the station in the morning. Don’t be insensitive.”

“I ain’t tryna. He just left in a hurry; ain’t even take his jacket… You wanna talk?”

“Not right now. I’m ready to go.”

Shane got the driver ready whilst she waited. They bid goodnight to her in-laws and left, discreetly, unaccompanied by the media, clamouring for a spectacle on their backs. People rushed past each other on the sidewalks, cars honked and screeched on the streets, and sirens wailed in the distance. 

The car ride was silent for the first half, with the couple’s breath being the one indication of people in the back seat. Shane studied the way Michonne tilted her head towards the window. The lack of sound was overwhelming, so he went against his instinct and asked,

“Chonne, mind telling me what happened? Why you weren’t in the hall?”

The way her eye twitched was enough to tell him to stop pressing for an answer. He was thankful to know she was here, her heart still beating, body bumping with blood. He wouldn’t press on.

“You ain’t gotta answer… It must be hard.” He inched closed and interweaved their fingers.

“I’m sorry. I’m being unfair.”

“Nah. Like you said, I’m being insensitive.” As he diverted his gaze, Michonne spun her body to find a middle ground.

“Shane, I have something to tell you… Your father isn’t giving you control like you thought.”

“What? Where’d you get this from?” His brows progressively lifted in anticipation of clarification.

“I— Shane… I overheard your parents talking about it. Well, fighting if I’m being real here… Eleanor didn’t know; she let him have it in the second-floor lounge. He never intended to give you control, He hasn’t decided on a successor yet… I’m sorry.”

“No, no… No. Nah. You fucking with me? Is this about the same shit earlier?” His eyes squinted at the confused tangle of facts in front of him, irritation and disbelief visible in his expression. He didn't want it to be true. He needed it not to be.

“I am not that petty… It’s true. You can ask Eleanor. She’ll confirm it… I’m sorry.”

Shane sat there, licking his lips uncomfortably, indicating his inability to find the perfect words to communicate his perplexity. Not uttering a single word, the rest of the ride. His face turned blank, a sharp contrast to the resentment that had been present only moments before. After they made their way through the outer security gate, the Guard at the front of their horseshoe driveway ushered them in. Shane didn’t wait for her; hopping out of the car, his footsteps echoed from the granite walkway and steps, making heavy strides to their home. She grabbed her purse in hot pursuit.

“Shane!”

“I need to think!” He unlocked the front door and stormed down the hall to the living room, where he dawdled around, as if he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go. 

“You still have your 3%.”

“And what the fuck am I gonna do with 3%?”

“You still have a say. You bide time till you’re in a position to fight back. Shane… He wants you to fight back. We’ll talk to K; you do your part. We need Eleanor too; she’s not going to accept this… Shane, do you really want this?”

“What?”

“Briton. You don’t have to…” drawing nearer and cupping his face to continue, “Is it worth it?”

“Yes, it’s worth it. I'm doing this for us, for them! It’s ours!”

“Alright, tomorrow, I’ll go to my mother. You remember my aunt, right?”

“The one married to Sean Monroe?”

“Yeah, I’ll get my mother to help facilitate a meeting. If we can win her, she can help us win over Deanna Monroe.”

“That’s…good.”

“When Morgan Jones comes back from the Bahamas, you’ll have a meeting. He thinks you’re taking over, we need to see if he’ll still take your side.”

“We’ll follow your idea.” His gaze held a warm intensity that whispered of deep affection. With her plan coming together at the last minute, she fell onto the couch with a pleased sigh.

…

Michonne gazed at Andre and Maliyah sleeping soundly in her bed. Sometimes when their dad wasn’t home, or ran late, they would sneak into her bedroom while she was in the shower, only to fall asleep before she had the chance to catch and send them back. If she was being honest, she didn’t mind these little antics at all. She would lengthen her bath sometimes just so they’d fall asleep waiting for her. Maliyah was a messy sleeper, often contorting her double-jointed body all over the place, making it hard to share a bed. Her big toe, currently in her brother’s nose. Michonne crackled to herself, fixing her distorted body. Admiring her three-year-old, her mind unexpectedly ran to Rick’s words on the balcony the night before.

“And what if I said Lori was part of it?”

“So you admit there are other reasons.”

“I admit that you’re gonna be crying soon. John made it so.”

He obviously intends to fuck everything up! How did he know about Lori? Did she say anything? What else does he know?

“I expect a visit from you soon. I’ll text my number.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Shane. Specifically, the children…”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling… But you need an offer from me. I don’t wanna be an enemy to you of all people.”

So Michonne… What’s the play… How do you deal with this… What does he even want from me? Fucking bastard!

Michonne ran to her dresser, picking up the rose-coloured diary Lori had entrusted her with. Shane never went through her stuff, except the night he rummaged through the house in a fiery rage four years ago, so he didn’t know about this. If Rick started whispering in her husband’s ear, she’d have to guard against it, for everyone’s sake. It was a can of worms that no one needed. He was already in the running for COO from what she gathered from Shane’s call before he went to the office. 

The kids’ room—that's where I’ll hide it for now.

And so it was. Michonne placed it in the kids’ shared walk-in closet, far from the children's reach. She was the only adult who entered here, not even the housekeeper, Mary, as Michonne preferred to clean the bedrooms herself. Leaving her kids to sleep upstairs for a while, she went downstairs for a glass of wine. She needed it. To her surprise, passing the living room to go to the kitchen and the wine cellar, she met her husband sprawled out on their U-shaped, navy blue corner sofa, tie loose on his neck, suit jacket on the side, brown eyes stuck on her in the dimly lit room. Michonne held her chest in momentary fright.

“I didn’t know you came in.”

“I thought you were sleeping… Ain’t wanna disturb you… The kids?”

“Asleep… In my bed.” Even standing a couple feet away, even in the dim room, she could see the tiredness and frustration in his eyes as they were motionless and far away. Not from her, but outside. Regardless of it, he still snickered at the news.

“Can’t catch a break… Can I get a drink?”

“Why? There is no reason to.”

“Ain’t you heading for a drink yourself?” His lips curled into a tired sneer.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Why else are you headed towards the kitchen? Why not?” Michonne sighed.

“I was but you know why. When you’re stressed, which you obviously are, you tend to not know when to stop.” She folded her arms.

“Just one glass… Just one.” They stared at each other for an entire minute before she gave in.

“All right. Just one then…”

She strolled over to her original destination, grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cellar,  went to the kitchen to Shane’s rum cabinet and took an almost finished bottle of bourbon. Holding the bottles with one hand, she grabbed a wine and a rum glass with the other before returning to the living room. Shane cast his gaze on his wife’s every move. From her placing the two glasses on the large, rustic, handmade, blackwood coffee table Rick and he had made after their son was born. She sat, opened both bottles, poured each into their respective places, rested them back on the table, and got up, passing through the gold bead curtain, where she began setting ablaze the sandalwood incense on the corner table. Shane looked around the room, from the marble flooring and the family portrait to the abstract black, navy and gold mural, completely covering the wall behind him, that Michonne painted five years prior. They had made this home together for their family. When he spun back around, she was standing four feet away. He took in his wife. He thought her a peculiar person. Always prim and proper, only allowing a flaw within her bedroom. 

“Want me to play something?”

“Nah… come sit.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Shane raised his head gently, trying to calm his eyes. He didn’t kiss her, but instead gripped her chin, forcing her to look back at him. He drew her in closer, taking her on his lap and placing his left hand on her waist, his right hand on her jaw. They remained in that posture for a minute, just breathing each other in. On his breath, she could smell whisky. He hadn't drunk from the glass she poured yet, so it became obvious that he was drinking prior to returning home.

“This is good… It’s good”

“How much alcohol did you have before this?”

“I passed by a club with a few buddies of mine.”

“Why?”

“Destress, have fun... Don’t worry, I ain’t cheated on you. We both done had enough of the behind the back stuff, right?”

“Shane.”

“No need to pretend like it ain’t happened... It’s in the past… We’re grown enough to talk about it. At the time, I wanted to snap that pretty neck of yours, but, in hindsight, that’s quite the lick back. To think you almost had another man's baby.”

“I don’t want to talk about this—”

“I should’ve been at the hospital…” He tugged her back after she tried leaving. “When you got home and I saw her, I knew our little girl was a Walsh, that she had my blood.”

Shane kissed Michonne after she gulped. He didn’t stop, repeatedly capturing her lips so that when she breathed, he was the one she was taking in. She pushed his chest two times to distract herself from the sensations he was instilling in her, and he followed, grabbing her around the waist once more. Michonne put her arms around his neck, and they both felt as if they were about to fall. Michonne grabbed at the back of his shirt, wanting it off, as he raised her body to slide her panties down in a frenzy and she unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock. He was distracted by nibbling her, especially as he kissed down her jaw and began on her neck. 

Sex was a drug for both of them. It was how they solved their problems, regardless of what the problem was. They didn’t waste time with foreplay and she was already wet so she lifted her hips and lowered onto him. He grunted and air caught her throat. He held her tight as he slid his body down and she rested her head on his shoulder as the husband and wife went to work. They pounded till her shrieks entered a crescendo while both their climax drowned them. Shane felt his dick quiver and the warm dripping of his come painting his cock and her insides white. Descending from their highs, they clung to each other for a while, their chests heaving heavily and their noses buried in the creeks of the other’s neck.

“You still on your birth control?”

“Why?”

“Ain’t seen you take it recently.”

“My mind’s been hectic. I’ll take a pill in the morning.”

“Don’t bother. I think it’s time we had another kid… Lia’s three; I’m sure she won’t mind another sibling.”

“Is that something you want?” She lifted her head to see his face while he was still inside her.

“Of course… I’d have a hundred babies with you if possible. I never wanted you on birth control anyways… We weren’t in the best place at the time, so I never said nothing.”

“You make it sound so simple.” She turned away from him.

“Why can’t it be? We’ve hurt each other enough. A baby can mean so much. It can mean we forgave each other.”

“I thought we did.”

“Have we really?” His lips pulled into a half-formed, smile. “Every time we get into a scrabble or fight, you bring up the d-word. I know you don’t mean it; hell, you been saying it since forever, but it ain’t never made it easier; even if I’d never give you a divorce. You, the kids, y’all are the most constant thing that I care about in my life…”

“I’m not going to just up and leave. I promise you that, but what about her?”

“I told you—”

“You told me a lot of things. You told me that it was complicated, that the two of you had kids together, that she was in the picture before me, that it wasn’t her fault... that you loved her.”

“Michonne—”

Michonne carefully lifted herself from her husband, still very tender from their tumble, and rose from the sofa. She put on her panties, turning away from him. Michonne moved to the kitchen, grabbing the empty rum glass without looking back at him. 

A cruel man is what you are.

7 years 7 months prior

Michonne's delight shines through the windows of her eyes more brightly in the dawn.  There is a deeper sweetness in the morning that resonates within and finds a way to express itself. Michonne had that. Her first pregnancy was, on some days, an epic voyage of vomiting and sickness that lasted all day; other days, none at all, not even a smidgeon. She'd gotten up late that day yet miraculously managed to kiss her spouse goodbye, nausea and all. She wrangled her will, snatched a book from her unread collection, and marched downstairs, reluctant to spend the day in bed. Her nutritionist, whom Eleanor had 'given' to the couple after her pregnancy was revealed, prepared her a well-portioned and balanced meal that she could eat and that she much loved. In the group chat, she texted Sasha and Maggie, beckoning them to come visit and keep her company. She was reading 'The Paris Wife' by Paula McLain while waiting for her friends when the house phone rang. Michonne got up, fully expecting it to be her mother-in-law, but was met with the unfamiliar voice of a woman, a young woman.

“Hello. You must be Michonne.” The woman giggled on her end.

“This is her. Who is this? Do I know you?”

“Yes! I know you—very very well, but you don’t know me, not yet at least.” There was a sing-song pitch to her voice.

“Look, I don’t have time for nonsense—”

“I have news about your husband. You’ll want to hear it.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Jessie. Jessie Anderson… Shane and I have been together for over four years, now.” Michonne held still, attempting to digest what she had just been told. “We have a son together; he’s three. And I’m currently pregnant again—almost seven months. I was wondering if we could meet up. You know… talk?”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Jessie. Jessie Anderson. I understand it’s a lot to take in but—”

“Jessie, don’t call this house again, or I’ll have you served.” She disconnected the phone and hurled it across the living room with unexpected strength. Her demeanor soon grew misleadingly serene, her astonishment confirmed by a vain popping grip on the living room bookcase next to her.

That woman just wanted to stir up trouble! How dare she say something like that? It’s not true true; I know it’s not…

Present

Shane sprang up, hurriedly adjusting his clothing and striding after her. She had already rinsed the glass. He noticed her standing in the center with a dish towel, but her eyes hadn’t risen from the icy grey tiles. He couldn’t help running his fingers through his black hair with shaking hands. It was unclear how long they remained at a stand-still, but his gaze never left her, not once. He quietly walked over and embraced her from behind, resting his chin atop her head.

“Can you give me some time?”

She heard him. She heard the begging and the worry in his voice, though no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to answer his question. His grip tightened.

…

Walking through the stone garden, full of Saucer Magnolia trees, the bustling sound of murmurs greeted the four of them. Sasha agreed to accompany her and the kids back to her maiden home, given Michonne had long ceased to have the mental fortitude to deal with her maiden family, especially that of her mother and older sister. It was understood that there’d be a clash for blowing them off at the party, though she’d hoped they’d let it go given the unfortunate catastrophe that took place, it nevertheless became apparent when her mother didn’t come out to greet her and the butler had been rather ‘formal’ even to her children. Two could play that game. Just because she wanted something didn’t mean she’d become the begging dog; they’d do well to remember they needed something from her too. They sat at one of the woodland stone tables where guests gathered.

“Andre, sweety.”

“Mama?”

“I won’t keep you here to bore you. Go play, but you know the rules.”

“Sweet!” 

He dug deep into his mother’s Birkin bag with level speed in search of his case holding his marbles. The little fox didn’t even wait for any other words from his mother or his aunt Sasha, simply taking off with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

“That little brat!” Sasha let out all her playful shock, fixing little Lia in her hand. “AJ didn’t even wait! Who in God’s green heaven does that little twerp take after?”

“Well, at least he’s not craving your attention today.”

“Does that mean he’s growing up?” She pouted. “Our baby’s growing up!”

“More like he’s acting his age.” Michonne giggled at her best friend’s overreaction while she reached over to stroke her daughter’s chubby, dimpled cheek.

“Mama? Can I go?”

“Oh, baby girl… No, you can’t.” Michonne wouldn’t let her run freely with all these people present. Maliyah was smart, but small for her age. “Hang out with me and your aunt Sash then later, we’ll get that bike I promised you, I’d even get you a doll. It’s that okay?”

“You prowmise!”

“I promise, baby! I promise.”

“Can we go see Daddy?”

“Uhm, I don’t know, babygirl. Daddy’s really, really busy with work.”

“Oh.”

“How about after we leave, we call your dad and ask? If he’s too busy, let’s go to the playground and have fun.” Sasha kissed her cheek and patted her curly, dark hair, and she in turn smothered her petite face in her aunt’s neck.

The children missed their father. He’d been coming home late for months and with the recent transition of CEO, they barely saw him anymore. Andre, being the ‘big boy’, pretended it didn’t affect him; Lia, on the other hand, being a daddy’s girl, didn’t take it well. Michonne and Sasha stared at each other, not knowing how to respond.

“Michonne! Sasha!”

“Jocelyn! Hey!”

“Jocelyn…” Sasha couldn’t pretend to have Michonne’s enthusiasm for the woman who stood before them nor did she care to.

“I didn’t expect to see you both here, especially you, Michonne, since everything happened to that girl. It must’ve been hard for your family; I mean, it’s not the first time something like that has happened. Bad luck, I guess.” This caught the attention of the nearby women. Sasha rolled her eyes; Michonne, however, graced her with a smile.

“Ah yes, it’s been hard for my family; no one likes to witness death; I’m sure it’s harder on the victim’s family. It would be insensitive and tone-deaf to the ones truly affected by this tragedy. As for my attendance today, I should take the time to visit my maiden home when I have the chance, shouldn’t I?” Michonne sat in anticipation of a response, while Sasha smirked, eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

“Your right. Well, I should leave you to it.” They watched her walk away when Sasha spat out all her disgust.

“That fucking bitch… This is why I hate coming to these dumb things. How you have the patience, I’ll never know.” Maliyah perked up, reminding her aunt of her presence.

“You said naughty words!”

“Those aren’t words for you to repeat. If I catch you saying it, I’ll beat your bum. Don’t say that word; that’s a bad word.”

Michonne was about to add to the discussion when a young man, probably a worker on the estate, whispered a message intended for her ears only. It was from her, a childhood friend who happened to be the daughter of her old nanny, who worked here like her mother did. The more she heard, the more her chilling stare drilled into an unseeable foe, making it difficult for the other ladies to ignore the shift in aura. As she leapt up from her seat, her mouth pinched shut, as if keeping back what she truly was tempted to say, although her tensing jaw, expanding chest, and toned shoulders pushed back made her tiny body appear larger and more formidable, indicating her deep ire.

“Michonne? What is it?” Sasha, knowing her friend, asked in an effort to help.

“You stay with Lia I have a bit of family issues to address. I’ll be back.” And with that, she marched off, not spearing a second thought.

When Michonne arrived, her eyes met with her son’s, who was bleeding from a slash on his face, kneeling on the floor. He was teary as he bit his lip, trying not to cry in front of these irreverent people. Not only did John despise it, but her boy was as proud as she was and would never allow outsiders to see him that way, even though he was just a six-year-old boy. Her blood began to boil but she kept her face and tone neutral and almost lifeless as she addressed the adult, ignoring Macie’s son and the maid who stood with them. Her family was very ‘ traditional ’. Michonne knew they were going to beat him. She cast her head straight ahead at the woman she called mother.

“What is this and why is my son bleeding?” She walked to her child.

“Before you come in guns blazing, Mrs. Pompous, he did it to himself! It’s my Kyle you should be showing concern about! We had to pull that animal off him! On top of that, he broke the jade vase that Mom just won at the auction last week and called my child illegitimate and me a prostitute!”

“I didn’t; they’re lying!”

“Did you?” She made sure to watch his every movement, though she already knew the truth. Just in case.

“I called them names because he hit me first! I didn’t do the other stuff! They’re lying! Mom, I’m telling the truth.” She stroked his curly black hair and pulled him closer.

“I know, baby. I know.” She whispered, giving him comfort that she was on his side.

“Kyle said you did so you did! Plus, the maid saw it.”

“Is that so?”

“Instead of antagonising everyone, you should do your duties as a mother; he should be punished and apologise for his action. He behaves like this because he sees how you act.”

So this is what it’s about...  The party? Trying to embarrass me, trying to punish me by using my child, okay…

Michonne stared coldly at her mother and felt sick to her stomach. Even at her own all-white party, Michelle Marie Hawthorne stood in a dark green knee-length Chanel dress with cream-coloured pearls on her neck and hair in a neat side part bob cut, right hand placed gracefully over her left right above her belly as overseer, all her close friends watching. She wanted her to stoop to her, but she would not, nor would her baby boy.

“Sweetheart, say your piece.” He looked up at her and she nodded in approval.

“We were playing marbles and I won all of ‘em!”

“No, you didn’t! You cheated!” Kyle finally came out from behind his mother, showing his black eye.

“Yes, I did! He didn’t wanna pay up so I took ‘em myself! And then, he hit me and we started fighting, and then the vase broke! When I was on top of him, he cut my face! So I beat him up some more and called him names!”

“He’s a liar! He cut himself!”

“Just because you got caught doesn’t mean you get to blame my son! The maid saw it!”

“And what exactly did your maid see? How did my son cut his face? What’s your name?”

“Vivian…”

“Well, go on, Vivian; let’s hear and don’t stall!”

“You! This is not your place; you don’t get to come to my house and disrespect the individuals here! Including your older sister.”

“I’m just trying to find out what happened, mother. Vivian.”

“Well, uh… He wanted the young master’s marbles and when he wouldn’t give them to him, she started attacking the young master verbally and physically, so much so that I had to pull him off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He was acting like an animal.” The young woman took a stance similar to that of the matriarch standing at the front. Macie was going to add but Michelle raised her palm to cease.

“Michonne.”

“Mother.”

“Since the truth is out and there’s a witness, no need for this wild display any longer. And since you cannot discipline him well, I’ll do it as his grandmother. Vivian, get the stick.”

“My son is many things but a liar isn’t one of them. My son never lies. Look at the other one. Have him open his hands.”

“Why are you blaming him?” Her sister snapped in annoyance.

Michonne didn’t even look at her sister and mother. She walked over to her nephew, prying his hands open, revealing a piece of the broken antique jade vase. She took it and tossed it on the floor for the room to see. Strolling back to her son, who gazed at her with soft eyes and a grin, he held her hand and gave a teasing gaze to Kyle. Vivian got quiet as she bowed her head, not daring to add more.

“Malicious woman!”

“I am deeply sorry! I—” She turned to Michelle, then to Macie. Neither gave attention.

“Kyle should not have raised his hand first and Andre should not have called him names or tried to take what wasn’t his; it led to this mess. But still, it was squabbles of children. It was just a vase. No real harm done. Let us leave this here.”

Michonne’s giggle was soft and tinged with fascination at the situation. Crossing her arms over her chest, she tried to take her breath in response to the criticism directed at her kid.

“AJ, baby?”

“Yes, mom?”

“Do you know where you went wrong?”

“Mhmm…” His voice was hushed. “I shouldn’t have called him bad names and fought him—”

“Wrong! I taught you to defend yourself. If someone hits you first, then by all means you have the right to hit them back, but I also thought you should come to me when I’m there.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have called him names but that’s not your fault; it’s mine.” She said it louder so everyone could hear it. “It’s my fault for speaking such things as the child’s birth around him.”

“You shouldn’t have said it in the first place!”

“Why not?” She covered her son’s ears. “Is it not the truth? Did you not go after your best friend’s married father and destroy a home? Is your child not a product of your behaviour? You go after any wealthy man you can get your hands on, regardless of who they belong to. You’re a high-class prostitute, a courtesan if we’re being classy.” Michonne brushed her locs back nonchalantly.

“How dare you; you bitch?”

“The responsibility of André’s discipline falls to me and his father. Touch my child again and see…”

“You should clear this up, Mother, lest others think my son is going around bullying his cousin because he believes himself better, an opinion you and Macie seem to share.”

“Are you going against me?”

If I don’t put a stop to this today, there is sure to be a next time. I’ve gone through it enough with these people, but it ends today. I won’t put my children through it again, bridges be damned!

“My child was accused of things he didn’t do; an adult lied on his name and you and Macie even intended to beat him without so much of a hesitation! His face was even cut in the process. Do you think what Kyle and the maid did was right? If he’s right, André will have to bear the fallout. Think about it carefully. If they are wrong, then there should be some punishment, like what you wanted to inflict on my son. Tell me.”

“You disrespectful—”

“Would you rather I lie? Would that feed your ego better? Would that make you feel better and finally give my son some justice?”

“How dare you!”

“Mother, you should do the right thing.” Michonne only knew her brother had entered the fray when he stepped next to her, backing her up. “The maid should be fired. As for him, give him the stick.”

“How can you just choose her side? Am I not your sister too? Is he not your nephew too?”

“It’s not about sides! It’s about principles! He actively lied to get someone else in trouble. What kind of vindictive shit is that?”

“Michael, don’t play favourites! They are both your sisters. I decided to let it go so that, as cousins, they should not hold grudges against each other. I will deal with Vivian.”

“You talk to Mike about favouritism? You’ve been playing favourites my whole life.”

“Chonne… Don’t.” She ignored her brother’s plea.

“No. I have never been able to get away with any of the shit that both Mike and Macie have done. Not once! I didn’t understand then, but I’m not a kid anymore. I did everything I was supposed to do. The two friends I have are a result of my knowing my place.”

“Ungrateful! After everything Mom and Dad have done for you, to stand there and make it sound like you’re some victim! But what was I expecting? You’ve always been a pompous, self-absorbed, attention-seeking bitch who always got what she wanted. You had your whole life planned out for you and it still isn’t enough. You fucking bitch.”

“It just irks you that I’m better than you in every single way, doesn’t it? Whether it’s grades, the arts, or just any attention I got from others at all. You are such a jealous—”

“So you admit your father and I treated you fairly.”

“Fairly? There was a point in my life when I wasn’t allowed friends mother, when Mike and Macie were. They were allowed that and going out and make mistakes. Mike could kill someone and he’ll still be your sweet boy. Any affection I got was tangent on my behaviour and how I reflected on our family. Macie is so jealous of my marriage that she should’ve had. And we all know even your friends watching us know why.”

“What are you talking about, bitch?”

“Shhh, Mace, I’m getting to that. I wasn’t supposed to marry Shane… You were. But because of your love for married men, you got knocked up and Mom and Dad couldn’t give you the life you wanted because of your actions. In our oh-so-traditional family, you got knocked up and nothing from them! Nope, nothing! They just quietly moved on to me. So you see, dear sister, I’m not the one they planned for.”

“The life that you have now is because your father and I gave it to you.”

“Yes, I can’t dispute that… However, I remember Dad’s words, I’m a Walsh; my responsibility is to my current family, so my children have nothing to do with you nor do I. This is the last time I’ll come here.”

“Disrespectful child!”

Michonne gripped her son tight and bypassed every single person, not spearing a glance. She was dead serious. Both she and Sasha decided to make good on their commitment. When they arrived, Sasha took the kids inside so Michonne made a call. No one would hurt or use her children and she’d never let this incident go, waiting for the right time for a home run. The first step in this was to let her spouse know. Shane, however, was currently on the necks of his board of directors.

“What are we? Answer. That’s a real question.”

“Our business model is scalable: Our brand fuels many value propositions and generates diverse revenue streams. Briton's business isn’t just about making movies and selling news; it’s also about creating and sustaining brands.” The short, curly-haired man named Aaron stated it matter-of-factly.

“Exactly!”

“That being said, we are an all-American multinational mass media and entertainment conglomerate that people want to see fail... Becoming a monopoly is not the best move.” Aaron surmised, knowing it was not what Shane wanted to hear. Soon after, an Asian woman chimed in.

“He right. Maybe we should slow down and focus on our current situation. Stabilising is the most important thing. Let me say, may that girl rest in peace, but the bad press is hurting us and we have the issue with the bank.”

“We’re already a fucking monopoly. Bad press; what a fucking joke. We’re a fucking multi-media company. Who’s fucking us, huh? Who, just who’s gonna tell my old man no? Yumiko, I get it… I do.” Her shrewd decisions were why the company survived the last depression without any major damage, he’d still fight. “It still don’t mean shit. If we privatise, it helps?”

“Well, yes but that is not—” A phone rang.

“Hold on…” Shane hurried out, putting his phone in his ear.

“Babe. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“You can’t rely on my family... I kind of disowned them... about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What happened? The phone went quiet. “Chonne, talk to me.”

“They slashed your son’s face.”

“You serious? You being real right now?

“Yeah, I’m being dead serious!”

“You did the right thing. I deal with this when I get home. Where are you now?”

“With Sash, at a fun house, trying to lift the kids’ spirit…”

“That’s good. They need it… Babe, I gotta go—”

“Shane, wait!” She sucked in heavily. “Can we come by… Babe, the kids miss you.”

“I’m sorry, you can’t. I’m swamped. I gotta important meeting. I only took a break to take this call.”

“I get it; I do. Can you at least come home early?”

“I don't—I don’t know, but I’ll try.”

“You have to go to Ronan today. You can’t miss it.”

“Ah shit. I forgot… I’ll be there, but I gotta go. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

…

The lush emerald leaves fluttered in the air, their faces gleaming in the sun. The falling leaves seemed to be having a constant, quiet conversation, their murmurs and whispers filling the air and rustling as the wind blew across them. With the garden in full bloom, the air was filled with the scent of early May. Michonne didn’t care for the mansion, but for the large, peaceful gardens she stood in and for the azure blue sea that sprawled far and wide and blended with the sky on the distant horizon concealed behind the frigid white mansion's walls. Her eyes were unfaltering yet soft while she focused on the sounds. At times, raging waves slammed against the cliffs, and the ocean’s voice turned into a chorus of screaming giants. At times, the ocean’s rhythm was like a soothing pulse, a continual reminder of nature's presence, as it is now. She closed her huge brown eyes, absorbing everything, until the sound of a heavy, uneasy footstep jolted her out of her reverie. Magna stared at Michonne as though she were studying a paper. From her grey, satin, dolman-sleeve knee-length dress to her black T-strap heels. Michonne stared back at her, calm and composed. Not a ripple in sight.

“May I help you?”

“Oh, no. Mind any company?”

“Make yourself at home. Any guest of ‘my good brother’ is a guest of me.”

“Thank you.” Magna took a deep breath and rubbed her chest.

“Your first pregnancy?”

“How—”

“Try ginger. It’s old-fashioned, but it works. Until then, have a mint; it’ll help.”

“Thank you…” She stared cautiously at the mint as Michonne smiled with a stretched hand.

“You are very welcome. Walk with me?”

“Oh, alright.” Michonne hooked their arms together at Magna’s confirmation, strolling through the garden.

“So how did you meet, Monty?”

“A mutual friend introduced us.”

“And did this mutual friend happen to introduce you at one of his ‘special’ parties?” A momentary look of discomfort crossed Magna’s pretty face. “I’m not judging you, but a word from the wise, don’t let anyone know. Even if Kendall is friendly, don’t trust her. What’s your sexuality?”

“I’m bi… Monty already told me about his grandfather; he’s—”

“Traditional… He doesn’t care who you fuck; certain family ‘associates’ might... Don’t bring up politics; speak less, listen more. You need to change how you dress; you’re trying too hard.” Michonne stared her up and down. Processing the white and pink, long-sleeved floral dress, yellow straw sun hat, and pink pumps.

“What makes you say that?” Her lips grew thin and firm, breaking from Michonne, like she’d touched something hot.

“The men might not notice but the women definitely will. Let me take a guess about you… An aspiring actress or model. You were raised poor. You’re the oldest of three, maybe four, girls. Your mother wasn’t in the picture, that’s for sure. Probably dead… No, probably left when you were young, leaving your dad to raise you. Anger issues and Juvie?” Michonne saw her muscles stiffen. “Should I go on?” Spasms of irritation ran laps across her face. Just as she was ready to lash out, Michonne switched gears. “Do you like flowers?”

“What? Uh, I guess?”

“I love flowers... I love their beauty, I love watching them grow and I love the different meanings they hold… Do you know this one?” Michonne reached out to touch one of the deep, dark crimson flowers in front of them.

“No, they’re pretty.”

“Hmm, these are called black dahlias. They represent death, betrayal and anguish and should not be given carelessly.”

“Why the hell would they grow them here?” Michonne tilted her head to the side inquisitively at her question and chuckled.

“Ronan’s third wife gifted him this flower the day before she was murdered, so he plants them.”

“Wow…”

“Yes, and yet I can’t think of a place more fitting for it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Michonne’s face never once fluctuated throughout this entire conversation. Magna took a clear look at her and came to the realisation that, though she still had that polite smile on her face, her eyes gave away nothing; they were empty. Those brown pools of hers read her like a book yet revealed nothing unless it willed it. Monty had made it clear that she should get closer to her. But she didn’t understand why. The woman next to her was dangerous. 

This is a bad idea, Monty! I don’t think—

“Monty sent you to me, didn’t he?”

“How—” Michonne began to circle her like she was a cornered rabbit.

“You know the difference between Monty and a condom? Condoms have evolved; they’re not so thick and insensitive anymore…I may not like him, but I admit he’s insensitive and ignorant, not stupid. He understands there are certain things he won’t be adept at dealing with. We women fight differently; we’re more calculated, and quiet. Even so, just as ruthless and important. Women underestimate the power they hold…”

“Can I trust you?” Magna decided it best to just come straight out and ask. “Can I?” Michonne stopped moving and bore deep into her before letting out a booming laugh at her silly question.

“No! You can’t… Monty miscalculated… Now that you shared this thought, I hope it made room for something smart?”

“Excuse me?”

“A piece of advice... I would hide my pregnancy for as long as possible and after that, watch what I ate and drank and my back. If I could figure it out, so could Eleanor, Andrea, and others... I’ll leave you to it then.”

Walking back to the mansion, Michonne could sense someone’s attention on her. Certain it wasn’t Magna, she came to an absolute standstill. Her lips opened, but she uttered nothing. She immediately clenched her jaw, gnawing on her bottom lip as an innate response to the jumbled mix of ideas in her head, and turned to confront his commanding gaze. They stood there in their silent battle until Michonne broke eye contact and went on her way. Entering the gathering room on the ground floor, she joined her mother-in-law on the white, vintage velvet settee, where she was having a glass of red wine. Her legs lapped as she watched Andre and Maliyah torment each other. Eleanor wore a white lantern-sleeve, button-up silk shirt with red, high-waisted trousers and a lip to match. Her jet-black hair wasn’t slick back today; she wore it in a wavy retro bob and white Mary Jane platform pumps on her feet. It didn’t matter where she was or who she was with; Eleanor had to look good. Michonne couldn’t help but sigh.

“You look lovely.”

“Naturally.”

“Did those two knuckleheads give any trouble while I was out?”

“Other than harass each other? Nah… What happened to his face?”

“My nephew… It’s a clean cut. It won’t scar. It won’t happen again.”

“Say away from those people… That thing with John, I’ll talk to Ronan about it later.” Michonne nodded in acceptance, at the same time she saw Magna enter with Monty, gaining Eleanor’s attention. “What’s that boy thinking?”

“He brought her... He’s definitely serious…”

“Is she pregnant? Is that why he’s doing it?”

“I don’t… think so... I spoke to her in the gardens earlier; she even asked for a cigarette before I told her I don’t smoke… You dislike her?”

“Well, look at her. She dresses like she’s playing doll house and she’s the fucking doll. She’s so fucking easy to read; her intentions here aren’t pure… at all.”

“Are anyone’s intentions pure?”

“No, but she’s too obvious, and not in an endearing way. Sometimes I wonder if Monty is right in the fucking head. She can’t help him; she’s not like you, me, or even the blonde hussy in the other room; she has nothing to offer, and she doesn’t know our ways. She’s green. Far too green.” Michonne leaned in a hushed voice to retort,

“I didn’t know anything either and look, I made it. I think she has something there. Look at you. You came from nothing and did well for yourself. I don’t think you should write her off just yet. Monty seems to actually love her.”

“It’s not the same thing. You may’ve been sheltered but learned quickly, you were a part of this life. And I… I did whatever necessary. Not judging her because she’s poor… She just doesn’t have it… She relying on Monty, is the dumbest fucking shit I have ever bore witness to. Relying on a man? I’ll trust a thief with my money before I do that! I learned long before I got married that John wasn’t shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know it; you’ve seen it... Two months before I married, a woman contacted me. Jacqui, that was her name… Told me she was pregnant and John was the father. Part didn’t want to accept it. Believe it or not, there was a time when I’d been in love—with him. I made it clear to her not to contact me again—I ignored it for a whole month! That was until I saw ‘em—saw how he looked at her. He’d never looked at me that way and I had to know why. So, I found out where she worked and showed up at her job… I understood exactly why. She had it—that thing that men loved. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Eleanor replenished her wine glass.

“No.” Michonne swallowed the saliva stuck in her throat. Her entire body felt cold, though there was no draft. Eleanor’s eyes made the hair on her body perk up. Her mother-in-law downed her glass, refilling it.

“Yes, yes you do... She was pretty, but she had nothing on me. However, she had it. All the things that aroused feelings of love and affection in men. She even had this air of innocence that could trick you… There, I stood in front of a woman my fiancé was in love with, who was also carrying his baby… I told her to get rid of it, but she wouldn’t so I warned her and left... I wonder how it felt for him not being able to marry her… Jacqui was black, you see… I may’ve been poor, but to those he was doing business with at the time—those he aligned himself with when he was digging his way to power—she held no benefit. You know those ‘ conservatives ’. Different time, I guess... “

“And you? What happened after?”

“I remember the face he had when she lost that baby. Remember well. He still married me though, because he knew right then what he needed by his side. I would never get his love, and I lost whatever affection he had for me as time went on. It didn’t matter to me. That man is so much worse than I’d ever be. The things he could think of, my mind could never conceive... I might be going to hell, but John sure is coming with me. Shane and Monty—they’re too much like their father to have just anyone by their side. The girl’s too green. Her eyes are bigger than her stomach. She’s going to cause problems sooner or later.” Michonne didn’t know how to respond and her chest felt heavy. Luckily, Maliyah came running in her lap, mouth pouting far, while her blue pools filled with tears as if the world had wronged her.

“Mama!”

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“AJ pulled my hair!” Michonne grabbed her closer and began to soothe her brown, shaggy curls, kissing her dimpled cheeks.

“Andre,” Michonne called with a critical squint.

“Nuh-uh! No, it’s her fault! She wanted my iPad and got her hair tangled in my chain. That’s not my fault! I never told her to fight me.”

“My… Why are you fighting your sister?”

“I wasn’t fighting! I just don’t wanna give her my iPad. It’s mine!”

“Can’t you two share?”

“Why? it’s mine… I don’t touch her dolls…” He turned his face away, scrunching his nose to high heaven with a pointed chin. Eleanor, watching this, grinned, completely letting it envelop her face. She rubbed freshly trimmed curly black hair.

“He’s right. What his, is his. I get it, but you and Shane spoil her too much. She can’t have everything.” Hearing her grandmother’s words, Lia buried her face in her mother’s bosom. Andre calmed and settled between Eleanor and his mother.

“I know… I’m trying; I am... Shane doesn’t help. He makes it hard being the stern parent when he lets her get away with murder.”

“Of course it’s him.” She sighed. 

“Lia?”

“Mama?”

“You do know I have to comb your hair in time for dinner now, right?”

“No…” Her bottom lip protruded.

“Yes…”

“Eleanor?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m taking Lia up stairs.”

“Go. I’ll watch Mr. Man here.”

…

Michonne quickened her pace to try catching up to her energetic daughter when she saw a familiar but unwelcome person holding her. His gaze was gentle, complimented by a comely smile—a smile she was once fond of. She saw Maliyah tug on his beard and a strong, joyful laugh fell from his mouth. Michonne paused her steps at the sight that befell her and her chest tightened and her entire body became impossibly still. Nausea swept over her in a wave. The sound of her heartbeat was overwhelming in the silence as she gathered the mental fortitude to confront him. She stood firm, ready to take back her child, but he made no sudden movements, simply kissing Lia on her temple. After what felt like forever, his piercing blue eyes glanced up at her, beating a rush of excitement in her chest, only to bring his gaze back to her child.

“She’s just perfect, ain’t she?”

“She is; I think I’ll keep her.” Michonne stretched her hands to take her; however, Rick pulled back.

“Hey, Mal… You don’t mind getting to know me a bit, right? I’m sure if you say yes, your mama will agree.”

“Mama? Can I play with Uncle Rick? Pwease?” She knew her child better than herself. The little brat didn’t want to comb her hair. She knew when to be cute to get her way—when to get her needed attention.

“Lia, please, let’s not—” She knew it was pointless, so she simply asked, “Where’s Carl?”

“Keeping the old man company. Where’s your husband? With the mistress?”

“You are not doing this with my daughter here. Give her to me.” Rick looked back and forth between the two.

“You’re right. She didn’t need to hear this, but we ain’t done talking.” He kisses Lia once on her crown as he sees a maid leave Ronan’s bedroom and flag her over. “Sweetpea, I need to say a few things to your mama for a bit. Can you go with Miss Carla so she can take you to Grandma? Just for a little while.”

“Okay…”

“Good girl.” He handed her over. His eyes were still and he never left her until she was out of sight. That’s when he decided to grace her with his gaze again. “Look at her... Perfect.” He opened the door to Ronan’s study so they could talk without prying eyes.

“What is it? What do you want from me?”

“I told you to expect a call from me.”

“I got no such call.”

“I never said you did. I had to settle Carl first… I talked to Shane; he helped me get Carl into the same school as your boy.”

“What are you doing here, Rick?”

“I’m back with my family... Am I not allowed?”

“Cut the bullshit! We both know damn well that you’re not here for them. And what’s this about you being COO? How did you even push Cophe out when John was set on him? Your brother loves you, so whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it. I don’t know what you think happened to Lori but it was suicide.”

“You and Lori were close leading up to her death; don’t try bullshitting me, she told me herself… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you will answer me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, you better. A lot is dependent on how you behave, darling.”

“Rick.”

“Was Lori pregnant when she passed?”

“Ye—Yes.”

“Who was the father?”

“I think I—I don’t know—”

“Who do you think? Be honest.”

“John… I saw them once, just once…”

“You saw ‘em… Who else? Did she mention anything suspicious? Like name or—”

“Rick. I can’t; I made a promise. Please.” A momentary look of discomfort crossed her face as she glanced around, not focusing on anything; she didn’t meet his eyes. Rick took her arm.

“Think about Carl.”

“I am thinking about him. It’s why I can’t say anything. If you care about your son, don’t. Just don’t. You are not the one that matters here.” He released her but kept the gap closed and bent his face to her ear.

“And your family ain’t got nothing to do with this? You’re still so selfish, even after all this time… Let me ask you this. Who is Maliyah’s real father?” Her eyes flicked for a millisecond; however, she managed to rope it back in and kept her tone deceptive even as she gave a mocking crackle.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m not doing this; you’re crazy!” As she walked away, he pulled her back.

“I told you Lori was one of the reasons I came back. I’m giving you another one… You let another man raise my child all this time… Fucking me over once ain’t enough?”

“You’re insane!”

“You’re a fucking liar!” He grabbed her face. “All you do is lie! Can you tell the truth for a goddamn change? Or is that beyond you? You’re such a piece of fucking work. God, you drive me crazy! You take me for a fool; you always have... Tell me the truth.” Michonne’s lips were wide, hanging loosely in a forlorn mental state.

“I had my reasons. You know I did…” Her eyes were scarcely open, yet he noted how they glistened with unshed tears. They fell when she whispered, “I’m sorry…” He nodded in rapid motion in acceptance. His slight smile gave way that he was trying to overcome. “I’m sorry…”

“How long… how long did you know? Was it before I left or—”

“Rick…”

“Just tell me.”

“Before… Rick. I had my reasons.”

“Why? After a whole other woman, two miscarriages, two outside children, the drugs… Do you love him that much?”

“It’s not that simple... I do love my husband… He and I have hurt each other so much so, I’ve lost count. It’s unfair for me to expect more from him when he’s just not built to be a good person. He’s not like you, and he never will be. I didn’t stay with him because I loved him. That may sound like a contradiction to you, but it’s the truth.”

“So why? Are you in love with him?”

“I—I honestly couldn’t say... I don’t know... As for why, there are many reasons.”

“Like what? You gonna stand here and tell me you destroyed everything that I worked for—that we did, you gave a man my child and you ain’t even sure of your goddamn feelings for him. Nah, you better start talking.”

“It’s so easy for you. You can call me selfish, but you’re the most selfish person I know! You want to know... Well, for one, I had my son to think about!” She yelled, banging her chest, locking in a heated glare with her former lover. “I’m a piece of work? Well, you make me sick!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Rick snatched her by the waist and they stared as though hypnotised. His eyes conveyed vulnerability that she saw only when he was with her all that time ago, and before she could say a thing, he had covered her full lips with his own. As the kiss deepened, his right hand was caressing her all over, soon finding its way under her dress. She was like the opposite of Shame plant, wrapping his arms around his neck unconsciously. When his finger made way to enter her, Michonne ceased his hand, snapping away from his lips, thwarting any movement from either of them till her hands jerked back like she’d touched fire. She covered her mouth and adrenaline jolted through her veins, signaling her to leave.

“So much for making you sick.”

Anger rushed in the moment the shock faded at his arrogance, and she pushed past him, not willing to face her partner in crime and bolted down the staircase. Magna watched Michonne from across the room. She seemed different from their encounter. Frazzled, on edge. Her arms were wrapped around herself while she tiptoed over to her kids.

What’s her deal? Where did she come from?

“I don’t like her.”

“Come on, Magna.”

“I thought you said she’d help?”

“I told you to try and get her on your side. You didn't; that’s on you.”

“Screw you.”

“You’re already doing that, Blondie.” Monty sipped on his glass of gin and cast a gaze on his sister-in-law. “You may not like what she said, and you sure ain’t gotta; however, she’s danced this song longer than you can dream. If she says your fucking trash, that’s what the hell you are.”

“Wow, what good moral support.”

“I ain’t here to hold your hand; it’d do you more harm than good if I did hold your hand.”

“She told me to hide my pregnancy for as long as possible.”

“She did? She knows?” Monty’s hand was only a few inches away from the glass’s stem when his eyes dilated, his usual conciseness replaced with foggy scepticism.

“She said that if she could tell, so would others, like your mom could find out as well, and that when it does finally come out, to be careful.”

“I see. I don’t think she’s told Mom anything yet. You should’ve told me this first… She says she won’t help but she kept it, huh?” His face brightens like a glowing sign, and he forfeits his body to the revelry, tracking Michonne’s every move. “She ain’t change a bit; still so soft.”

“But she said she won’t help.”

“She won’t go out of her way, but unlike the others, she won’t actively hurt you. She’s just washing her hands of what happens in the future.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Stick to her. Beat her down. I’d tell you to seduce her, but I don’t think she’s into that.”

“So cheating is not the problem? But the fact that she doesn’t swing my way.” Her brow rose with his smile.

“No, that too, though unlike you, she’s actually wife material. Nothing like the both of us, baby.”

“Oh, kiss my ass.”

…

Joseph Walsh, his heavily pregnant common-law wife Mortica Pines, his three children, Ethan and his wife Reya, Emmanuella and Evan, and his three grandchildren, Rachel, Lena, and Luke, had just arrived in time to kick off the dinner leading into the family weekend. Shane and Kendall weren’t here, much to Eleanor’s disgust. Michonne made her way to Ronan’s bedroom at her mother-in-law’s behest to let it be known that dinner was ready and everyone else present was gathered in the dining room. She reached to turn the knob and paused when the whispering Ronan and Rick enticed her ears to eavesdrop. Not much was learned considering only bits and pieces survived the muffled travel. Words like ‘Company’, ‘Dept’, ‘Shares’ and ‘Son’ induced small hair to rise on her body. Her cheeks blew out with a heavy breath meant to steady her and a smile was forced in an effort to conceal her worry and doubt, a skill she fostered for years. The bells were ringing once more, and she didn’t know why. She was frozen until the voice of a young child shook her sane, causing her to finally open the door and greet them.

“Ah, I forgot to knock. Sorry, hope I’m not disturbing.”

“No, no, my dear! Come, let me see you!” Michonne sprints and kneels next to Ronan’s wheelchair, taking his hardened palm. Coldness from his six mammoth sized rings invading her. 

“Aunt Michonne!” He dashed, hugging her.

“You remember me? You were so young when you left!”

“Of course I do! I still got a picture of you and Dad!”

“A picture…Oh.” She immediately fixed her faltering smile. “Dad’s had you lock up all day with great gramps?”

“Yeah, Dad’s been busy, but grandpa fun!”

“Yes, he is, but I sure it wouldn’t have hurt to have someone around your age to play with.”

“There’s nobody like that here.”

“Not true! There’s my son Andre, and uncle Joseph just got here with his family. He’s got grandchildren around your age.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Tomorrow, I expect to see you out and about!”

“Joe's here…” Ronan mumbled to himself.

“That’s part of the reason I came up. Dinner is ready. Shall we go?”

…

Rick kept his gaze fixed on Michonne as she strode across the room. Michonne had been a slender woman with unexpectedly generous curves for as long as Rick had known her. She created an outstanding figure with her full lips, breasts, and round hips. Michonne's most attractive features were her rich chocolate-brown complexion, big brown eyes to match and the long black butterfly locs that she seldom allowed falling below her waist when she wasn't wearing them in a tidy styled bun. A prideful woman, never a hair or speck out of place. She made sure Andre was properly seated and went on her own, placing Maliyah on her lap. Lia sneakily reached out to the table to steal a piece of meat. Unbeknownst to her, Rick was surveilling her every movement. Rick tried to suppress his chuckling but delved into low laughter at her little antics. This earned the attention of the family, who spun in their chairs to see the commotion. Michonne had sensed his gaze on her and Lia the entire time. She delivered a warning glare, cautioning him about his shameless behaviour.

I shouldn’t’ve admitted shit! Can’t he have some decorum?

Not catching a reason for his outburst, everyone went back to eating. Michonne adjusted Lia and decided not to pay any more attention to the immoral clown on her left.

“So, Carl, are you liking being back home in America?”

“Michonne, you should have gotten a high chair for her.” Reya implored.

“This one is a picky eater; she makes a mess everywhere; better not.” She implored.

“Oh, nonsense! She three! It’s her job to be those things. Besides, what are the servants here for?”

“Why the hell are you telling her what to do with her child? Don’t you got your own demons to micro-manage. Look at that jackass at the end with the damn lamb sauce.” Rick chin point towards Luke.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Ethan and Rick became locked in an intense staredown.

“What was that, you stupid cunt?” Eleanor turned, blue eyes cold and proud, same as Rick’s.

The whole table grew stagnant, and gazes bounced out off each other. Even Andrea had nothing to add. Ronan placed his utensils down on the table, picked up a serviette and wiped his mouth. Making all cease movement. The tensing of his jaw informed the room that it would end now. Logan partially raised Rick. He gave him all the fine things in life and never let him perceive himself as less, as much as possible, among his remaining grandchildren. When Rick made the choice to leave, Ronan used all tactics in his book to keep him from going. Rick wasn’t a Walsh, but it didn’t matter. Many saw him as an outsider and a bastard, but none vocalised it. For Ethan to utter such a foolhardy question, one wondered if he was indeed a cunt.

“I hear the media’s on your asses… That girl?” Everyone’s face went slack at the twist. “What is this?”

��It’s still being investigated; no harm done. I’ll be over soon enough." John said. "Don’t worry about the media. We are the media. Don’t think too hard, Dad. Shane will deal with it; he’s dealing with it now.”

“All this mess; I’m getting too old to make the big decisions.”

“Your still young, Rone! Don’t sell yourself short.” Eleanor smiles, softening him up a bit.

“Always the silver tongue with you... Still, I think it’s time.”

“Time for what, Rone?”

“I’m giving Richard my stocks in the company!”

If a person's goal was to create World War III, Ronan’s words were the perfect catalyst. Michonne lifted her head, fiddled with her daughter’s hand, and surveyed the members of her esteemed ‘Royal’ family. For the first time this evening, Monty looked rattled. Ethan, Emmanuella and Evan sat unblinking, processing the new devastating blow. Reya kept looking back and forth at Ronan and Ethan’s faces, hazy with uncertainty. Eleanor’s brow slid up, though she hid a slight smirk on her pretty, red lips with her wine class. Joseph clearly wanted to add something but held his tongue, seeing John not say a word. Out of everyone here, John was the most contradictory in terms of reactions. He did not move a muscle, didn’t even seek out his father, and continued eating.

Would he really allow another man’s child to hold so much power in his company? Did he love Rick that much? A man like him?

Given Rick was now the second most influential person to the company, with the second most stakes only behind John and to be the knew COO, She could understand ‘The Plight Of Man’ she bore witness to. A pity that Kendall and her husband weren’t present to receive this gift. She couldn’t help but ponder whether her husband would still trust his most beloved brother. She knew the man causing all this smoke was waiting for her attention, nonetheless Michonne didn’t meet his gaze and bluntly declared,

“Congratulations.”

“Grandfather, you're not serious, are you?” Emmanuella didn’t care, this was ridiculous to her.

“And why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“What’s she tryna say is, this is a family business, and though Rick is family, I’m sure everyone agrees with that.” He spun he neck everywhere as if trying to get others to join in his ‘sacrifice’. “It’s not really the same as actual blood.”

“What you name again boy?” Ronan stroked his chin.

“Uhh, Granddad… it’s Ethan...”

“Listen here, Ethan… It’s mine… and I get to decide what the fuck I do with ‘em. Fuck off… I tired… Help me Richard.”

“Sure, old man.”

And that is how dinner concluded.

…

Shane gazed out the window, momentarily confused as to why it was so dark. His wonder ended when a lithe voice bombarded him. A voice he was familiar with all his life.

“I heard Dad’s fucking you.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You of all people? You gonna sit here and play Kumbayah with little ol me?”

“Oh, cut that shit out... I shouldn’t’ve asked. Ugh!”

“Come on, K.” He grabbed her hand before she stomped away in annoyance.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Let's talk.”

“About?”

“I don’t know... life? Dad? Why we’re both late?

“I’m… I’m thinking about selling... We’re at risk of getting eaten anyways.”

“K… you serious? If you need help, just ask.”

“I’m not giving Dad any leverage... If I ask, it means I failed.”

“You and your ego; it’s fucking horseshit. You gonna throw away everything you worked for for pride?”

“Yeah… If I sell, I’ll make the decision. I’d ended it on my terms. So yeah.”

“Alright, sell… Come work for me. No, work with me.”

“Shane…”

“I know you said you ain’t wanted nothing to do with Briton, but we both know that’s bullshit. Dad ain’t never wanted you to get involved and—”

“He’s a parochial cunt!” She snapped, “And still don’t trust that I can do this.”

"K..."

“Why me? Why not Monty? He could be a better help.”

“I don’t trust Monty. I trust you and I trust Rick… What do you say?” He put out his right hand, waiting for her to accept. Kendall stared at him, then down at his hand, a motion she repeated about five times till she took it.

“Okay… Okay, but I have to get a real say. A real seat at the table.”

“Alright!” Shane boldly affirmed his stance towards her.

“Alright…By the way,” she remembered a thought that nags her. “Philip Blake? What the fuck? What happened to Lance Hornsby?”

“Hornsby is running for his final term. It’s simply replenishing the stock. You know better, K.”

“With Philip Blake?”

“Dad and Grandpa likes him. Little matters. You know that. Besides, it ain’t our concern.”

“Not our concern? If he’s anything like Hornsby, it's definitely yours.”

“I ain’t had a one-on-one with the guy yet. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shane… You gotta a black wife and biracial children. Come on.”

“My family was fine before; they’re gonna be fine after.”

“Okay.” Kendall threw up her hands in defeat. “We are late, so we should head in.”

Dinner was long concluded. Light from the patio shone through the small window, a scented candle aiding in the welcoming shadows of the. At 11:00 p.m., only the estate guards were active. Kendall went upstairs first, leaving Shane sitting on the bottom stairs. He washed his face with his hands as if attempting to wake himself up by wiping away the fatigue and puffiness. Getting up, he considered it to require more work than it was worth. When he and his wife slept at his grandfather’s, the corridor to their shared bedroom seemed four times longer than usual. Walking in, he noticed her sitting up in the bed with her back against the headboard, reading 'Anna Karenina' by Leo Tolstoy. She didn’t raise her gaze at him, nor did she welcome him as she always did. He dragged out a fresh bathrobe and went to the bathroom. The water from the shower was relaxing, and when he came out, he wondered if he should have stayed since his darling wife had now decided he was worth her time.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

“Michonne… not tonight. I’m fucking tired.”

“Okay!” Head nodding up and down like a bobblehead, she bent the tip of the page she was reading and put her book on the nightstand. “You’re… tired! Shane is tired! Should I buy a cake? Should I invite Beyoncé to sing for you? Should I go outside naked and scream it at the top of my lungs?”

“You gonna overreact?”

“Overreact… That’s what I’m doing, huh? Overreacting?”

“Imma break this down for you to understand, babe. I got work!”

“Oh, my fucking gosh—”

“I gotta work, to provide, for my kids, So that your ass can enjoy all the fancy shit you love—”

“You’re full of shit!”

“That fancy wine, that fancy clothes and shoes, The nice houses and nice cars—”

“Cut the bullshit! You are a billionaire! You don’t have to work a day in your life because unlike most, you were born lucky! And you will inherit billions more when Ronan and John croaks, throw your mother in there! This isn’t about me or the kids! It’s not about us, It’s about you!”

“Me! You're so damn vindictive…”

“I don’t get your need to have your daddy’s attention... You are his favourite. Does that make you feel better? You’re his favourite, which means you’re his favourite toy.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“What is with this need—this desperate need for recognition and affection from a man who doesn’t deserve it? If it weren’t for the monthly family weekends, which you’ve been ducking for how long now, your kids wouldn’t have even gotten a glimpse of you! When was the last time you saw them awake, Shane? Do you even remember?”

“Everything I do, I do for my kids! I ain’t like you making it sound like I’m out here abandoning my kids. You been telling ‘em this shit? It ends now! I ain’t having it!”

“Keep your voice down or so help me, God! The fact that you think I’d even do something like that... Go sleep in another room. I don’t want to see your face right now.”

“People will see us.”

“They’ve already fucking heard us, Shane! Your voice, it tends to carry.”

“Imma give you your space… Gosh, you’re fucking crazy.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not a piece of shit like you. Get out Bill Clinton. I need my beauty sleep.”

Shane stood unmoving, examining his wife’s back as she prepared for bed, not paying him any mind. He rubbed his hand over his face, through his hair and bit his lip before storming out, slamming the bedroom door behind him shut. It was only when he was out of the room that Michonne let her locs down and looked at where he left. She slipped into her silk nightgown and went to bed. At the same time, a young man with ocean-blue eyes, walked under the starry night sky, thinking back to a simpler time.

7 years, 7 months prior

The sky was illuminated with stars like embers. It was the promise of life in the dark, a feeling of warmth emerging from the cold. It should've been a vastness to offer humility and an unending expanse to inspire thankfulness for the comfort of home. Rick considered each night’s sky a new gift, no matter how many years passed. It made him feel better. And he hopes it will now. As he walked through the starry night, he met the figure of a woman’s back. She didn’t move a muscle and uncharitably gazed at what he sorted out. He recognised her immediately, and as he stepped unwittingly towards her, he noticed her tear-drained face. Each drop is like a shard of glass or a diamond.

“Michonne?” She didn’t answer. It was almost like she was lost in her mind. “Michonne?” It was the second call on which she turned to him. She stared at him, then ran her fingers over her wedding ring.

“Did you know?” It was uttered so minutely, he didn’t know if he missed some of her question.

“What?”

“Did you know about her?” They both understood exactly who she was referring to.

“I’m sorry…”

“Who else? Who else knew?” He couldn’t answer her obvious, but tragic question. “So everyone knew? I was just a fool to laugh at.” Rick could tell she'd sobbed extensively and for a long time since her eyes were swollen and most likely red. Her lips formed a half-formed, lifeless smile, and she tightened her crossed arms until she was more or less cradling herself.

“Shhh, it’s not worth it.” He rushed to her and gave her the warmest embrace he could muster. “I’m sorry.”

“I lost my baby… I lost my baby…”

He wrapped her more tightly, unsure how to react. She rocked softly back and forth, her voice devolving into an inconsolable whine, gasping between wails, hardly able to gather her breath for the next, unaware she even was doing it. He gave her a soothing hug and offered compassion without words, whilst he placed a hand on her lower back and gently guided her to sit down. They didn't say anymore and held her chilled hand, enabling her to let it all out.

Present

If Rick could mark the day their relationship changed, it’d be then. He stopped being the distant brother-in-law and became a friend. He became a friend for her to cry on and he never minded. He reached in his pocket for a smoke, making his way through the graceful garden, when he saw a woman smoking by herself.

“I didn’t expect you here. Come to your mother.”

“It's quiet out here… It’s nice…”

“As opposed to?”

“Your son and his wife are fighting…”

“Hmm… Is it about that woman?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Your brother needs to let that woman go, for his own sake.”

“Mmm… Mom… I—I’m probably gonna break your heart. I just hope you can go on loving me like you been… I know it may be a selfish thing to want, but I want it nonetheless…”

“You were premature when I had you… So small—so frail yet perfect. I spent six months up and down with you in a hospital because I could not lose you… Shane, Monty, Kendall... They’ve never been mine, but their father’s. You—you’re mine. You’re my boy, my sweet boy and you’ll always be my boy.” Eleanor held his cheek. “You got as much right as they do to fight. I love you, and I always will.”

…

…

…

Keynotes-

Sandalwood is a proven relaxant, decreasing anxiety, calming the nervous system, and assisting with better quality sleep. Its benefits are realised upon inhalation of the sweet, woody fragrance or when absorbed through the skin.

The Paris Wife is a fictional account of the relationship between Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley Richardson. The book follows the doomed relationship from its inception up until its dissolution several years later.

Black dahlias symbolise betrayal and sadness. They aren’t actually black but a really dark crimson that can sometimes give the illusion of them being black. Most notably, they're associated with the infamous murder of Elizabeth Short in 1947 in Los Angeles. This case became known as “The Black Dahlia” murder, and it remains unsolved to this day. Can you see where I’m going with this ;D

Mimosa pudica, or shame plant, is a creeping annual or perennial flowering plant. It is often grown for its curiosity value. The sensitive compound leaves fold inward, droop when touched or shaken and re-open a few minutes later. Mimosa pudica is not a carnivorous plant.

Anna Karenina is a novel by the Russian author Leo Tolstoy, first published in book form in 1878. The narrative centers on the adulterous affair between Anna, wife of Aleksey Karenin, and Count Vronsky, a young bachelor. Karenin's discovery of the liaison arouses only his concern for his public image. Anna promises discretion for the sake of her husband and young son but eventually becomes pregnant by Vronsky. The story tells about the dangers of idealising a partner, the pitfalls of Romanticism, the difficulty of marriage and the importance of communication.

The plight of man is a biblical reference. It means to be under the control of someone else or something else or it means that the human race is under the domination of sin. We are all part of the dominion of sin. Man outside of Christ is under the control of sin and he is helpless to escape from it.

Prologue

Chapter-1

[fiorserpen]

agatha probably thought by now that i forgot her birthday, simply because i've been too busy to really pay her as much attention as she deserved. being a good, well-respected lawyer had its downsides, not to mention my other work of ridding the world of scumbags who got to walk free. i promised her i would be off early today, and i made sure to stick to that. there wasn't a chance in fucking hell i was missing her birthday, and i would kill every motherfucker who tried to keep me from her today.

i arrived at my penthouse an hour before i told her to be there. i made sure i sent her out with some money to spend the first half of her day with what friends she had, to enjoy herself -- and that i better see charges on my card so i knew she was having a good day. i had set the cake to be delivered only five minutes after i would arrive home, and i retrieved her gifts from the back of my closet. new clothes. designer, of course, because she was worth every last fucking penny, and i made certain that they were tailored to fit her body. god, i couldn't wait to have that body in my arms, underneath me --

focus, bennett !!

everything was set into place neatly, precisely, not even a single piece of dust was out of place. i shot her a quick text, informing her that i would be home on time -- me being here when she arrives is part of her surprise. i seated myself in one of the kitchen chairs, leg bouncing impatiently as i waited for her to return to me -- thank god it wasn't a long wait. i wasn't above going out to her location and dragging her back here with me. i stood, stalking over towards the living room, leaning against the kitchen door frame; i watched how she moved, how she removed her coat from her beautiful figure so gracefully, watching as her curly blonde hair swayed with every single movement. agatha hase was mine. all mine, and i loved reminding her of it every. single. fucking. night.

" welcome home. and happy birthday, baby. "

agatha didn't typically pay too much mind to her birthday, but in recent years, since she's been with hayden, she had a reason to look forward to it: being spoiled rotten by her boyfriend. even if all he did was give her money and told her to spend it however she pleased, she would be perfectly fine with that, but he always went above and beyond for her.

oh, what a man...

she had lunch with her friends and then they all went shopping together. they had picked out some gifts for her and agatha bought some things for herself, like a new pair of shoes, some flower hair pins, some new makeup, and the most adorable heart-shaped baking pans (don't look at her hayden, she couldn't help herself). she also bought a new pair of headphones since her last pair died. agatha didn't really like to do any cleaning, cooking or gardening without listening to music.

and now, after her day with her friends and with her social battery running on low, she was more than ready to head home, even if she might be coming back to an empty penthouse. she doesn't fault hayden for being so busy, he is powerful, well-respected lawyer and he does make time for her when he can. agatha cherishes every moment she has with him.

once in the car, she glances down at her phone, her heart fluttering at the sight of the message from hayden. she'd get to see him when she goes home!! she sends a message in return, saying she'd be back home soon. setting the phone down, agatha heads back to the apartment, fidgeting with one of the bags as she rides the elevator to the top floor, tapping her foot impatiently. she wishes the elevator could move faster sometimes.

once inside the penthouse, agatha glances up to see hayden waiting for her, a smile immediately appearing on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling. she sets her bags down, sheds her coat and moves over to him to embrace him. " i'm so happy to see you, my love. " her smile only grows as she stands on the very tips of her toes to kiss him. " i see you're dying to spoil me even more. " agatha giggles, spying his gifts and the cake on the table in the dining room.

[vexic929]

Serum injection + Mind Games + Superpower Overload for the bingo board

(I assume this is like... you keep a running board and check off boxes as you write them until you get a bingo? I might be doing this wrong idk)

serum injection from Bad Things Happen Bingo info on Ricki and Gabi here and here

The serum burned on its way through Gabi's veins and she writhed on the table, trying to free herself from the straps that held her down. Her eyes itched and her vision shifted rapidly, the lights too bright as her pupils widened to a tiger's. Everything was suddenly painfully loud as she felt her ears shift; her skin itched and almost seemed to bubble as her body tried to transform against her will, cycling through multiple animals in rapid succession. She felt like she might be sick as her internal organs shifted again and again. What the hell was happening?

Somewhere, outside the chaos in her body, she registered the sounds of distant fighting echoing from the hallway to her left, but she couldn't focus on it for long, trying desperately to keep her body from shifting out of her control. Or maybe...maybe she could redirect it. Shift into something useful. Something small or...an octopus or something. Anything. Just not this.

The person who'd injected her was suddenly launched into the air out of her line of sight, followed by a very pissed-off looking Raven, presumably holding them up with his telekinetic powers if the way he was holding his hands was any indication. Rapid footsteps, and then Ricki was there too, tugging the straps loose with a concerned look.

"Gabi, hey, look at me. Are you hurt? What's going on?" Her voice was firm and soothing and she reached out but hesitated.

Probably scared touching her would hurt, Gabi thought hazily, she was probably right, too. Everything hurt.

"Raven, let him down. We need to get Gabi out of here." Ricki instructed, glancing back at the teen. He dropped his hands and Gabi heard a distant thud as the man crashed to the floor. She hoped it hurt.

Ricki reached for her again and Gabi growled at her, feeling her hackles raise. Moments later, she came back to her senses, color flooding her cheeks with embarrassment. Why the fuck had she growled at Ricki? She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself and Ricki's expression softened.

"Easy. We're going to get you out of here and figure out what they did to you. Will you let me help you?" Ricki spoke slowly and clearly, like she was talking to a scared animal. Well, Gabi supposed, she kind of was at the moment.

Gabi nodded and Ricki carefully helped her up. Her knees buckled and Raven immediately reached out to help steady her. Before she knew what she was doing, Gabi had dropped into an animalistic crouch and slashed at him with claws she hadn't realized she'd grown. He managed to dodge and backed off, hands raised defensively. Gabi blacked out.

When she came to, she was lying on a couch with a thick blanket over her. Her body felt sore and unfamiliar and she sat up slowly, taking in the dimly lit room. Ricki was sitting in a nearby chair, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees, chin resting on her fingers. She looked tired.

"Oh my god, please tell me I didn't kill anyone." Gabi blurted and Ricki shook her head with a small smile.

"No, everyone's fine. How do you feel?" She asked, studying Gabi closely.

"Shitty." Gabi admitted, wincing as her body throbbed in protest.

Ricki hummed. "I'll bet. You went on a bit of a rampage. Luckily that place was coming down anyway and nobody got in your way." She explained, then paused. "Do you remember anything?"

Gabi thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't know...everything's kind of hazy."

Ricki smiled but it looked a bit tight, stressed. "That's okay. Get some rest." She stood up and stretched and Gabi laid back down, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. She still felt jittery, like she was ready to shift again at any moment, but with Ricki there, she felt safe.