WITCHWOLFWRITER

Warnings : DARK FIC /Sexual Assault / Manipulation / Stockholm Syndrome / SEXUAL ABUSE / Mommy Kink / Kidnapping / Absuse / Knives and sharp object warning / Blood / Starvation Techniques / Sexual Humiliation / Reward System is fucked / Time Manipulation/ Dead Dove Don't Eat / Claire is rich and crazy / Past Trauma Helps Claire Manipulate R / Fisting / Squirting / Kink Shaming Kink / Mean Claire Kink / UNRELIABLE NARRATOR / Fetish Sexual Slavery / Claire is Smart Don't Forget it /VICTIM BLAMING NOT SANE/ 18+

Chapter 1: I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna get fucked I don't wanna get hurt, I just wanna get some So use your hands to touch my body Use your words to say you want me

Chapter 2: I been trying not to go off the deep end I don't think you wanna give me a reason

Chapter 3: We'll never get free, lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?

Chapter 4 : I Found Myself In Wonderland, Is it real? Is it pretend?

REPOSTINGS MY Originally a Requested story** Posted on My Old Blog @transboyswitchytales This is the New Blood In the Water Master List* ~ Catch Up chapter 1 and 2 Below ~ 16,766 Words

Chapter 1

Requested :hey! can i rq dark Claire Debella x reader pls? Reader is part of the group of friends but she arrived after Andy's so Miles invites her to the meetings of the whole group. Claire is obsessed with Reader from the first moment - despite being married. Perhaps the one who ends up being the murderer is Claire who felt threatened because Duke found out about her dealings with Miles and also wanted to blackmail Claire. Reader doesn't know who to trust ^^

You didn’t mean to be a part of this terrible group. Miles and Lionel had roped you into this stupid group of ‘disruptors.’ You wish you could have stopped yourself now, gone back in time and stopped it all. 

You’d seen the media coverage of Andy, and you knew they were dangerous. 

Lionel took his shirt off and dove into the pool. It had a red light in it and it reminded you of what you were to this group of sharks. 

You were blood in the water.  

You turned to look over your shoulder, a new habit with this group. And Miles smirked and waved as Whiskey in her bikini fawned over him. 

You heard Birdie laughing from behind the bar as Peg tried to tell her she wasn’t a bartender, and ‘it showed she’d never worked a real job a day in her life’. But Birdie just continued to blend together her ‘new’ cocktail. 

Peg eyed you and pushed another beer into your hands in a friendly manner, before walking back inside. You knew Peg wasn’t really neutral territory. She was one of them, even if it made her feel better to pretend she wasn’t. 

Huh, much like you were doing right now. 

Miles had rented out this penthouse with the rooftop bar and pool. He’d given you all less than a day's notice, not wonderful for any of you. But your little ‘get-togethers’ weren’t really optional attendance. He had an axe ready to fall on any of you, if you weren’t fun and shiny anymore.  

And now here you were drinking an hipster IPA on a Thursday on top of a skyscraper, being blackmailed by a billionaire. 

Your phone vibrated, and you didn’t check it this time. 

You worked in Hollywood at Continental Studiosand were on-again off off-again dating Maya Mason. (You were the one who kept breaking up with her. And she was the one who wouldn’t stop pursuing you. It was a mess). She’d recently proposed and the ring sat in your purse. Your life wasn’t just a mess, it was a dumpster fire. 

Birdie drank out of the blender and grimaced at her jungle juice concoction. 

You weren’t meant to be here. You just couldn’t stress that enough. 

But you were continuously checking your phone as a distraction. You’d been texting Patty, not Maya. Because Maya was demanding you go to her house and fuck her. She’d sent photos and very rude text. It was all very Thursday for your life in L.A. 

You turn your body away from Birdie again and you took another sip of your cold beer. That’s when you felt a hand on your arm, and you turned. It was definitely not Birdie, you knew that. 

Your eyes meet blue ones and you weren’t expecting that.  

“Governor.” You said surprised she’d come over and talked to you. You’d always liked the Governor of Connecticut. Even before you knew she was part of this terrible group.

Now you couldn’t quite decide what was between you and the politician. 

Claire texts you, often, and long, lengthy texts. She was funny and so extremely smart. Maya had at one point stolen your phone, guessing your code, and read through your messages. Maya was so pissed she threw a vase through her sliding glass door. Always the most jealous lover on the planet. 

“Please, sweetie, after all this time, you can call me Claire.” She said, giving you a bashful smile. 

It was an act. All of it was performative, you knew. 

This was always a bit confusing for you. Claire was supposedly a straight liberal politician with a few kids and a moron husband. Yet, she texted you like a woman who wanted to be in a U-Haul lesbian relationship. 

And you knew realistically that she was flirting, even though you’d sworn she was married and not interested (to Maya). 

But here you were once again seeing her blush and gently touch you, and you just couldn’t figure out her endgame. Did she want a fuck, did she want to go to Costco and have you domesticated? 

“How are the kids? How’s Devon? Is he here?” You knew the answer to the last bit. 

You say it anyway as though you are reminding her you know she isn’t single. Claire bristles just a little, and you wonder if it was too strong. 

“He’s with Lionel doing coke in the bathroom. I believe the Molly didn’t kick in fast enough for them.” She says and then takes a sip of her white wine.  

“You have to be joking.” Your jaw drops. You shouldn’t be surprised because coke is like putting sugar in your coffee in Hollywood. But you can’t believe Claire is being so disinterested in her partner doing it. 

Claire eyes you and then laughs cooly. 

“He’s not my problem, dear. He and I have an understanding. I don’t get upset about his addiction to being pegged by sex workers in the garage when the kids are asleep. And he keeps as far away from me as possible.” She said and her teeth are showing and you aren’t sure what the fuck you just stepped into. 

“You sound like you need something stronger to drink.” You tease, and your phone vibrates Claire's eyes it. 

“How’d you get that in here?” DeBella doesn’t look upset, just intrigued.

“Oh, I put it in my bra and wore a push-up so that Miles wouldn’t think to look there. I gave him an old phone. I’m waiting for a producer to let me know how the wrap-up of a film is doing.” You cringe, and Claire pulls the stool out, and she gestures for you to sit with her. You do, and she takes the one next to you. But she puts her heel on your sea,t and her bare thigh is warm against yours. You are both wearing shorter cocktail dresses. You’d all been at a club for the last six hours. You’d hoped that would have been enough, but evidently Miles wanted to have a ‘sleepover.’

You pulled the phone out of your bra and put it on the table knowing none of the men were paying attention because Whiskey just took her swimsuit off and was in the pool. So Duke and Miles were in the pool naked too. 

You and Claire turned when you heard her scream for Birdie to get in. Before Claire made a disgusted noise and you turned back to her.

“Not really your scene, is it, Governor?”

Claire eyed you like it was a threat, and she leaned in and you she got so close to you, for a second, you thought she’d kiss you. But instead, she moved a fallen stray hair out of your face before curling it around your ear. Your breath hitched and she smiled like she’d won. You weren’t sure if you liked it. 

Claire was gorgeous because look at her. But you weren’t interested in getting involved in her shit storm of a life. 

“It’s Claire, you can say it. Say it a lot in fact.” She smiled and you wondered if you had a bad picker. Maya was cocky as fuck and Claire seemed like a nice housewife with how she dressed. But her manicured stiletto sharp nails told you it was a facade. She was using it to make people comfortable. 

Your phone lit up on the bar and it was Maya’s called ID. The picture she’d put in her phone of herself and her barebreasts came up. 

Claire turned to see it and her jaw clenched. 

“Friend of yours?” She asked, and you laughed and ignored the call. 

You had to remember that Claire had been friends with Andy. You knew she wasn’t a kind suburban mom. Even if they dressed her in tan and cream. 

You’d bet she owned more sex toys than you. 

Claire’s hand fell on your bare knee. 

“Governor, don’t you think your husband might dislike you touching me like this?” You said, and it sounded prudish, but really it was you gauging her. It was a test and she saw it as such. 

“Devon’s just sad he’s not here to watch, honey.” 

Well, that was telling. You gulped, oh fuck. 

Miles was naked and pulled himself out of the pool. His somewhat bent to the left cock coming in full display. You tried to not think of the word ‘half chub.’ Claire didn’t seem worried, you remembered that she worked in D.C. This was not the first unwanted cock she’d have to put on a brave face for. 

You worked in the movies, it wasn’t that you hadn’t seen people you didn’t want to see naked. It was that this was the man blackmailing you. And he was such a fucking loser. 

He came around the bar and asked what you two wanted to drink. 

You got a call from Patty, and Claire put a hand over your cell. She put it under her thigh before Miles could catch it. 

You gaped at her, and she winked at you. 

Oh great, one more debt you couldn’t pay off. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom, whatever you make, Miles, I’ll drink.” You grabbed your beer and raised it to him, knowing that’s what he wanted. 

You downed the rest of it, and you felt both of them staring at your throat and cleavage. Before you finished it, and put it down a little too hard on the glass bar. 

You turned around and walked into the penthouse. You saw Devon and Lionel had bought porn for the huge flat screen. The two of them were making obscene noises and pointing at the screen.  

Moaning was on the surround sound, and you cringed. You’d watched porn, you didn’t think that was what was gross.

 You just thought it was pretty foul for two coked-out men to order it at a penthouse with a bunch of people who didn’t consent to watching it. 

They didn’t notice you and you turned to one of the smaller baths. Opening it and closing it you noticed there was no lock, great. 

You went pee quickly and washed your hands. You grabbed one of the towels and pushed it under the faucet and then against your neck. It was so humid this summer, but the heat from this hotel felt extra sticky. Like this many sinners together created their own type of sweltering heat wave. 

You moved out of the bathroom and back to the living room and now Lionel was unconscious and Devon was openly masturbating. He noticed you this time though, and he smiled and winked.

Yeah you definitely preferred his wife winking at you. When he did it, it looked like he was constipated. You weren’t sticking around for his orgasm face. That’s for sure.  

You didn’t stay anything to him as he fisted his dick, Devon opened his mouth to talk to you. 

You walked out into the terrace to find Birdie and Whiskey naked and dancing. You felt like you could definitely confirm that Birdie had work done now. 

 Duke and Miles were chugging something, and Claire’s heels clicked as she walked over to you. She turned her head to see Devon before grimacing and handing you a glass. 

“What am I about to drink?” You asked, and Claire raised an eyebrow. You sniffed it, and it smelled wrong, so obviously Miles made it. 

“Do you care?” She asked, and Whiskey went over to the outside sound system and changed the song. 

Claire did belong here. It was clear as she pressured the drink into you. 

“Dance! Lesbians are so in right now!” Birdie yelled at you and Claire. 

You looked at Whiskey and saw that her nose was bleeding a little from the coke. 

Claire didn’t let you dwell on her well-being. 

She grinned at you, hoping you’d see it as a dare, probably. You couldn’t say no, not if Miles wanted it. And you wondered if Claire was enjoying that. Wow, what a politician. 

You downed the drink and coughed twice before Claire downed her own drink, eyes never leaving yours. She didn’t cough like you, you blamed it on the age difference. Whatever was in the Connecticut water must have grown this brunette into a killer. 

 You both set your cups down on the floor and walked over to the naked group dancing. 

The song started to blast on the speakers, and you felt it hit. Something was in your drink? Was it the mix of dark liquors? Something wasn’t right. You’d been roofied, you didn’t think that was this, right?

You didn’t have time to show fear about it. Claire pulled your arm so that you two were close. Whiskey was dancing with Birdie and Miles. The three of them were kissing. But just as you turned to look over at Duke, who had pulled out a bong and was lighting it now. Claire grabbed your chin and put her hands on your hips to make you dance closer, grind against her now. 

I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna get fucked

I don't wanna get hurt, I just wanna get some

So use your hands to touch my body

Use your words to say you want me

Claire’s dress rode up, and her bare thigh slipped between your thighs, and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Duke being an absolute child; wolf whistled and you didn’t know if it was you two or the other threesome happening. But Claire’s thigh is now high enough to press against your panties. 

You wish you weren’t wet. You really did. 

Claire didn’t need another invite, and she kissed you hard. All the oxygen left your body as she pushed her tongue inside your mouth. Her hands grabbing your ass and making you grind against her now. 

Her perfume was expensive, and the little lipstick left on her lips was now on yours. God, it was humid and suffocating, and her hands were aggressive. 

Don't know your name, but I follow you blindly

Little liquor and chase, and you look shiny 

Three drinks in and I'm wasted

Double that and I'm naked

And I don't even know what your face says

But let's face it 

You finally break the kiss to breathe, and you feel dizzy. But Claire somehow is perfectly fine, as she grabs the zipper of your dress and rids you of your little bit of material. You look down to see it pool to the ground and Claire keeps one hand on your ass and one finds it’s way to your breast. She’s rough, no kind touches, no learning your body. She wants to leave bruises. And from the way she was touching you, she would. 

You've got a body and you like me

On my knees, I'm Aphrodite

Call me dirty, say it nicely

Just don't ever call me wifey

'Cause you know

Know I don't

You jolt as hot water splashes against you, Miles had pushed both Birdie and Whiskey back into the hot tub. He’s throwing his head back with that snotty laugh.  

Claire wrapped her arms tight around your naked waist as she bites your neck like a vampire. You looked over her shoulder to see the four people in the hot tub. 

Duke half danced into the hot water and you saw way too much of his hairy ass.

 Miles was quick to bring Whiskey onto his dick,  she took him like a pro. She did a reverse cowgirl move as she watched Duke. Birdie invaded Miles mouth with her tongue. Obviously not their first time being intimate. 

You however weren’t comfy, being pushed against the outdoor longue furniture. 

“Claire?” You whispered but Claire didn’t stop. Her hand cupped your sex and you felt embaressed at her moan at how soaked you were. 

Miles eyed you two but he went back to Birdie. 

“Claire.” You say a little harder this time and DeBella moves to look into your eyes but her manicured nails are scratching at your clit through your lacey panties. 

“What is it baby?” She says confidently and you wish she’d not chosen something so intimate for this. 

You wanted to fuck Claire, you coulnd’t lie. You were angry at Maya and Claire was a catch. Not to mention that you were curious what it was like. You didn’t like whatever was put in your drink…but you were horny and…this wasn’t the worst thing to happen, right?

“Are we really going to do this in front of them?” You asked instead of all the other thoughts you were having. 

“It’s ok sweetheart, they’re busy doing their own thing.” Claire told you and moved back to kissing your neck and you sorta felt like this was a bad idea. But Whiskey was moaning really loudly now and Claire groaned in frustration. 

The Governor hated Whiskey and this would for sure throw her off her game. You thought Claire would take you to one of the bedrooms. But she gazed over at the hot tub. 

Miles met her eyes and the two seemed to agree on something. 

That was creepy for you to watch. What the fuck was going on?

Miles motioned for Duke and Birdie was kissing his neck and then biting his nipples. Duke moved forward and pushed his mamoth of a dick inot Whiskeys mouth to shut her up. 

Claire pushed her dress off and you licked your lips. Oh fuck she was gorgeous. This wasn’t fair. 

 She unclasped her bra and kicked her thong off so fast. Then she was straddling your hips. You were flat on your back on the stupid white outdoor cushions. You’d never fucked a Governor…And you’d for sure never fucked ontop of pool furniture.

But whatever you were on it was making you hot and in need of..god you needed someone to fuck you. Your brain was getting foggy and Claire’s hair fell around your face as she kissed you hard. 

Your hands found her breasts and she moaned and it gave you permission to whimper for her in return. Claire ran her wet pussy against your panties and you felt the moisture and the heat. 

“You like that sweetie? Where do you need me? Tell me what you need.”

“Claire they can hear-” You say and you know this is a bad idea in front of Miles. You don’t wanna talk dirty in front of them. 

“Let them hear, you are mine. Your gonna sound so pretty with my fist inside you.”

You gulped and Claire licked your bottom lip like she was an apex predator. 

“You’ve never been fisted have you, Hollywood?”

You shook your head to answer. No, you’d been offered of course but the idea never sounded good..not until now. 

“You can take my fist, don’t look so scared. You want to be good for me don’t you?” 

You whimper and gasp as Claire lifts off you and you miss the weight of her. But Claire is pulling your panties down and she sniffs them. Oh fuck, what did they put in the water of Conneticut? 

She threw them and sank to her knees for you. 

You’d assumed that Claire would be a pillow princess fem who wanted a lesbian expereince that she didn’t get in college. But that was not what was happening. 

Claire used one hand to hold your tummy down and the other opened your lips so that she could suck your cunt. You screamed and your knees widened and you humped at her face. 

You’d been eaten out by Maya plenty. But Claire had a different approach than your ex. She didn’t tease, she owned you right away. 

Your head is getting foggy and you feel dizzy and Claire puts two fingers inside and you hear the noises your pussy makes. 

You can also hear Whiskey gagging on Duke. They must have taken a little helper because neither of them stopped. And Birdie was whining as Miles fingered her under the hot water. You heard them all moaning but you honestly weren’t interested. 

Not when your eyes went back down to Claire feasting on your cunt. 

Your first orgasm was shamefully fast. You grabbed Claire’s perfect hair and screamed as you ejaculated a little into her mouth. When your first orgasm finally stopped you gasped and Claire didn’t wait. 

Straddling your thighs she put four fingers inside you. 

“Oh FUCK!” You try to squirm away and she uses her free hand on your throat. 

“No, no, you can’t run from me. Relax your cunt and take me.” She instructs and it’s not exactly kind and it makes you wetter, she looks down finding your secret and smirks. 

“You like that baby? You don’t want me to be nice to you? I’ve been so obsessed with you since Miles brought you in. It was my idea you know.”

You gasp in horror. But Claire squeezes your throat harder than safe and you can’t breathe, can’t respond. 

“I paid to get the sex tape. When I saw you I knew, I had to have you. I promised Miles he could watch baby. But it was my idea to blackmail you. I couldn’t stand the idea that you’d not want to be underneath me. But here you are, sopping wet cunt and you are letting me fuck you. So it all worked out the way I planned. You don’t mind now do you?”

You couldn’t breathe and she released a little and you coughed and gagged. 

“C-Claire p-” You say and you aren’t sure if you are begging for her to keep going or get off you and never speak to you again. 

She blackmailed you with a sex tape! And something about that was making you….wetter? God you needed therapy. 

Claire smiled looking down at your pussy. 

“Just need the thumb, and then I’ll be right in your womb. Right where I belong. No one’s ever gonna fuck you like this, but then again no one will ever fuck you but me again. Sweetie what a tight cunt you have. Not anymore though, you're mine now little bitch. You’ll be such a pretty whore for me. You won’t need anything again. You’ll be naked in my townhouse ready to be railed. By the end of my press tour I’ll have you taking both of my fists.” 

Your body responded too quickly as her thumb pushed inside your hole. You felt her fist pressing against all your walls. It hurt, it burned, it was the best you’d ever felt. God help you.

You should tell her to stop. This was not ok. But your toes curled. 

She spit on your face and you flinched feeling it. It sat there as a reminder of what Claire thought of you. 

“You need to be put in your place, don’t you? I watched the full tape, you don’t want to be respected. That’s fine, I tried to be nice and text you. Start a nice affair, but no. Now I’ll treat you like a whore.”

Claire worked her fist over and over moving against all your walls. It felt like an alien was inside of you trying to push out. You grabbed her arms and she slapped you across the face. 

“Say thank you, Hollywood. Thank you for bringing me into the billionaire club. Thank you for using my tight stupid hole. Thank you for spitting on me, I’m worthless without you Claire.”

You didn’t know you’d started to cry but you had. Your body was starting to feel weightless and you weren’t sure if it was drugs or shock. 

Yet you still didn’t fight back, god you wished you weren’t so set on chasing this orgasm high. Claire was all red flags and you were ignoring them all.

But your face fell to the side and you saw Duke watching and Miles too. Oh shit you had an audience. They were practically panting with their tongues out.  The girls were too fucked up to notice you and Claire thankfully. 

Claire slapped both your tits and you cried out and looked back at her. 

“Don’t look at them, look at me. I’m the one with a fist inside you. Look at the person who’s going to own this cunt for the rest of your life. Don’t worry about the boys, they’ve just never seen anyone be fucked into a state of pathetic.” 

You cried and Claire leaned down and you flinched as she licked your tears. You felt a pressure, kinda like you needed to pee and then it came out. 

You squirted and it hit Claire’s body fast and hard and you orgasmed again. That’s when the name slipped out. 

“Mommy no!!” You bit your lip to stop the feeling of your pussy being a super soaker. But Claire found your cervix and used it like Rocky. It hurt, god it hurt, and you can’t stop cumming.

 Until she slows her movement and you are wheezing, you need your inhaler, almost that fucking type of wheezing. 

Your eyes glaze and you are in shock. But your mouth opens as Claire grabs your face hard. 

“What did you just call me? Oh this is perfect. You slut, did you say Mommy? You are fucked up. Is that what you said? You want me to be your Mama? Is that it? Wanna suck on my tits too? You needed this, you don’t want to make decisions anymore. You need Mommy to do it for you then? Oh sweetheart, you are precious.” Claire makes fun of you, and you aren’t sure what twilight zone you are in. 

But Claire starts to move her fist again and you black out. 

You remember bits. Claire’s cunt rubbing against your face. You remember a finger in your ass. You remember laughing and then…nothing.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

That was ten hours ago. 

Now you were sitting at the god damn police station. You’d been interograted for the past two hours. 

Miles, Duke and Devon were found dead. 

 Which was insane since you were pretty sure at some point they ejaculated on your naked body while Claire fucked you. And now they were in a morgue.

You were wearing a police shirt and gym shorts a nice officer had found for you. You refused to do a rape kit, because no one had ejaculated inside you…You thought? …And it just felt like it would make more problems for you later. 

Part of your mind shouted at you to tell the officers that Claire killed them all.

But you couldn’t. You knew that the police, even if you told the truth, they couldn’t get the Governor. And they certainly couldn’t protect you from her. 

No, Claire probably had the chief of police on her payroll. 

You told the cops it was a party. You didn’t do drugs, first lie. What was insane is how creative Claire was. Because there were drugs all over that pent house. Yet the police couldn’t find any. You’d found out after you told them ‘no drugs were there.’

You swore you were awake the whole time, second lie. You had snapshots of the evening. You remembered many earth shattering orgasm. You remembered Claire being violent with Devon. 

You remembered Miles begging for mercy. But it was alll just kinda bits of a story you can’t place. Miles had joked about giving you a golden shower…and Claire had taken her sharp nail and taken out his eye. You remember that…

The police asked if there was sex at the party. You tried not to laugh.

You told them there was no sex. But they had a ‘source’ that someone tried to rape you. You couldn’t breathe and then they said it was Miles. And that he tried to get Duke in on it. 

So you lied again. You protected Claire..

Three lies you couldn’t take back.

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. 

The police told you that Whiskey said there were cameras and yet…no one could find the footage. You tried not to laugh in the officers face. That was on brand. Of course you were in another sex tape. 

You were going to call your therapist the second you got home. You may go into hiding. 

But as you sat in the precinct you saw the muted TV.

What was truly insane, after all this, is that the media coverage in the events. While you sat waiting for an uber. After hours of telling them you didn’t know anything. 

You saw Claire on TV.

 Claire’s media team was making this into a circus of lies. It was almost. A symphony of bullshit really.

They said that Miles Bron attempted to hurt you, and that Claire fought him. That she was in critical condition at the hospital. And you were putting the pieces together of the night, and you knew that was bullshit.

CNN showed people were tweeting wishing the Govener of Connecticut a fast recovery. They were saying she was a true ‘American Hero’. People said that they didn’t like her before, but now they wanted her to run for President. 

President.

CNN and Fox both had photos of Claire being carted into the hospital. She released a statement, which was amazing since she was in ‘critical condition.’ 

Claire told them you two were always so close. And that she’d do anything for you. 

Well the last part wasn’t a lie. She’d killed people.

What was super curious is that no drugs were found in all three men’s system. How’d she do that? 

It was a big story. Birdie already tweeted her support of Claire, completely backing her story. Explaining how Miles was behind her bad business deals. Peg must have thought that one up. You wondered where she’d gone for the night. Maybe she knew what Claire would do? She did hand you a beer, did that have something in it too?

You were deep in thought and you turned to see Lionel sit down and he was on his phone.

Lionel was sitting in the police station across from you. Not looking at you, acting like you were strangers. 

He wouldn’t talk to you, acknowledge you. He looked scared of you actually. 

You wondered what he knew? What he remembered?

You didn’t have your shoes, everything was put into evidence. You’d asked the police for your phone and they’d handed you the burner. The one you’d given Miles at the start of the party. You didn’t correct them, just took the burner. You’d used it to order the Uber.

It dinged and you walked out eyeing Lionel before pushing the doors open. 

Stepping out of the police station in socks and gross clothes the camera’s went off so fast. You couldn’t wait to see those photos, god. 

 But a big man in sunglasses opened the door and you couldn’t believe it, maybe the studio sent a car? You don’t have time to question it, too many cameras and shouting people.

“Did Claire tell you Bron left her his fortune?”

“Did you know Whiskey is getting her own TV deal?”

“Claire says she can’t wait to see you once she gets out of the hospital! Is it love?”

They shout as you make the split decision getting into the car. The door closes and you gawk at the companion of your fancy car.

To your utter surprise Maya smiled at you and you laughed and lunged across the seat to hug her. 

“MAYA!” You are so relieved.

“It’s ok sweetie, I came as fast as I heard. It’s all going to be ok now, I’m here.” Maya holds you close to her and you start to lose it. Finally safe with someone who loves you.

“It’s on every news station. Maya my career is ruined.” You cried in your ex’s expensive clothes. Her perfume meeting your senses and calming you. The cold chains around her neck such a different feeling than her warm body engulfing you in safety. 

But it only lasted a second before another body spoke in the car. 

“Mommy wouldn’t let that happen.” 

You heard the voice but you couldn’t believe it, you released Maya who kept her hands on your hips as you turned to see Claire. She looked absolutely fucking perfect, not a scratch. Her lipstick was definitely blood red, not a hair out of place. 

So not in the hospital at all. Another pretty lie. 

“Claire?” You said scared and hurt you grabbed for the car door to get out and no surprise it didnt’ budge. You were trapped. 

“That’s no way to greet your Mommy. I flew Daddy out and everything. How are you feeling, still sore from my fist? Do you even remember all the things I did to you?” Claire teased and you moved out of Maya’s grasp who tried to grab at you.

 You sat on the seat next to Claire, but as far against the door as you could. 

“You planned this. All of this? You framed Miles and…You killed all three of them. How could you?” You were saying the words but every fiber in your body was like bambi. 

You wanted to break the glass window and flee like a deer. Because these two were headlights. 

Claire’s legs were crossed as she sat like a queen on the leather seats. Her black stiletto heel in the air. She had your phone in one hand and was toying with the electronic just to get under your skin.

“I was hoping for a kiss hello.”

Your eyes budged out.

Maya kept her gaze on you and you couldn’t believe it. Claire licked her lips before answering. 

“Storytime then? I met your Daddy at a big party. At first I was going to have her killed. Especially when I found out you two were together. Well until you were breaking up every weekend. But Mrs. Mason and I bonded over a mutual interest, you. Maya helped me get the sex tape, we made a deal. It was all rather easy. I had originally planned to just kill my stupid husband. No need for the divorce. I was going to say he tried to rape you. Then I’d scare Miles, get the tape back and blackmail him with the pent house video…. But then things changed…Miles and Duke got a little too horny. It’s amazing what a little pinch in their drink does. Plus I crushed up some of Devon’s old Viagra, men are just so predictable. I was fine with them watching, but they touched you. And that’s when it all went south, you don’t remember sweetheart?” Claire laughed at the end realizing you didn’t know everything that happened. 

You turned to look at your ex horrified. You knew that the disruptors were capable of slimey things, but not this. 

You didn’t realize Claire was a psycho until now. But Maya had been so sweet at the beginning.  

“Maya what the fuck! You gave the sex tape to her! You said you loved me!” You snapped and yelled at her in disgust. But Maya didn’t flinch, no shame. In fact she looked a little more sure of herself now. Like this was the right team to be on, that she’d put her chips on the right spot to win, win you.

“You should have accepted the marriage proposal. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn. You ignored my advances and you ignored her proposal. We weren’t going to be ignored anymore.” Claire answered for Maya and you grimaced. All of it was just too perfect for Governor DeBella. 

“You have the videos of the night. Of you fisting me and you killing them..” You were going to puke. Claire brought your phone up to her lips and you saw her pretending to hide the giant grin. But then she threw the phone to Maya who caught it. And she laughed openly. 

They were enjoying this.

You were in the car with the actual Devil. 

“Of course I do. I’ll play it for you when we get home. I especially like the part where you beg for me to fuck you with my fist again. You opened your mouth for me to spit in. You didn’t even care that Duke's corpse was next to you.”

You gagged but held it down. Not giving her the satisfaction. 

“So what’s your big plan now Governor?” 

Claire’s face turned dangerous, her heel moved so that it came inbetween your legs. You had more fear coursing through you than ever before. As her shoe pressed against your gym-short covered crotch. 

“I’m going to defang you baby. You are going to stay in my townhouse with Maya. We are going to fuck that independent streak out of you. A good dose of Stockholm Syndrome for your system. You are going to take a leave of absence from work, of course. When I decide you aren’t going to make a fuss, and not a moment before. I’ll bring you home to my kids. You are getting domesticated honey. Maya will move in, and we’ll be a big happy family. But first I’m going to spend the next six months to a year fucking the thoughts out of your head.”

Your mouth went dry. You looked from Claire to Maya. They were actually serious. 

“People will-” you said in disbelief.

“Who? You think Lionel is going to help you now? I’m twice as scary as Miles ever was.” She smiled and you swore she wasn’t human.

“Matt and Pat-” you looked at Maya in complete horror. 

Maya shook her head, you realized they were a perfect fucking team. Maya would handle the work stuff and Claire would fund your captivity. 

You’d be their sex toy. 

Claire’s shoe pressed harder against your pussy and you were really trapped. 

 Miles blackmail was now in hindsight, a slightly uncomfortable situation. 

Nothing compared to Claire’s hell scape of a playground. 

You’d been blood in the water before, sure. But you thought you’d known the biggest predator in the tank. Miles was supposed to be the big bad shark. You’d been so very wrong. He was a minnow in comparison to the teeth you were seeing on Claire. 

“I feel like you are far too smart for me to have to explain this. But I have two sex tapes and I’ve killed for you already. So maybe you shouldn’t test Mommy.” Claire taunted and you stared at her deranged blue eyes and wondered how she could do this. How anyone could think this plan up.

But you lunged forward for Maya, to grab your cell phone out her hands. But Maya was faster as she threw it towards Claire who made a giddy noise of enjoyment and then Maya grabbed your throat and kissed you. You tried to push away and Maya threw you down onto the car’s leather seat. Claire moved to grab your arms and pin them over your head. 

You kick and scream.

“Daddy was so sad before, you’ll be good for Maya now won’t you? You’ll listen to Mommy and Daddy.”

You screamed louder for ‘help’ hoping the driver of the car would help you. 

“You can scream and cry all you need. I’ll have a full security team where I’m going to keep you. You go ahead and try to run, I think Daddy likes it.” Claire laughs and Maya moves down to the gross gym shorts and she yanks them off your body and starts kissing your pubic hair. But you try to kick her and Maya bites your thigh really hard and you wail. 

“Daddy’s hungry baby, don’t fight it! Or do, it was so fun to see you last night. You make such needy noises for me.” Claire laughs and you can’t believe what is happening. As Maya’s mouth falls on your sore pussy Claire leans down to whisper’

“Welcome home baby.”

Chapter 2 Requested :

TUMBLR Anon : Reader is also smart so how about using the only tool she has, herself. Maybe Reader is trying to dismantle the alliance between Claire and Maya. Reader takes advantage of her moments alone with Maya to 'show' her affection and SLOWLY insinuate that it would be better if it was just the two of them (Maya and Reader). Knowing Maya's personality and the temptation of having Reader for herself; Reader convinces Maya to escape. Maya can arrange everything so that they flee without raising suspicions and go far away.

To understand the ease in which you fell into Stockholm Syndrome, you must first understand the cage. 

Your cage was that of a five-million-dollar mansion somewhere in Connecticut. 

Doesn’t sound like a bad life, some might say.

You had a library fit for any Pintrest bitches vision board, the mansion was set with fourteen rooms, a four car garage, the master had a rain shower and a jet tub, fixed with a walk in closet bigger than any apartment you’d ever lived in. The oak floors were heated, and every appliance was smarter than a fifth grader.

The second floor theater room housed a thirty thousand dollar projector and surround sound, the game room homed a pool table, two offices had mahogany bar’s in the corners. These walls, if the could talk, could indict a politician and make the catholic church release a statement of apology. 

It was a velvet cage really. 

You had a fourty foot, heated pool with gorgeous lights, and a hot tub that should be used to shoot porn in. 

The backyard was a designers wet dream, outdoor fireplace, an outside TV, fully stocked bar, and kitchen. 

This big of a house of course had staff, as rich people tend to acquire. 

Money and power seemed to get you things, things everyday people didn’t think possible. 

It also bought silence, but more on that later. 

They came in every Tuesday between two pm and left before seven. 

They were like good little workers, the mice in Cinderella is an accurate way to describe this team. 

The house was cleaned pristine in that time, and food was restocked in the fridge. Pool didn’t have a single leaf, snacks stocked in Theater room. 

Not a spec of dust on any surface, books re-organized. 

Creepy really…

Anyone would love the sound of this house. 

But this was not a house, this was not your home.

This was your cage. 

Now, you are a smart person, both street smart and book smart. 

You had a high IQ. 

You had a fancy job in L.A, you made movies…at least you used to. 

You used to….well, do a lot of things. Like have big parties, a mansion, a fucking retirement plan and a life. 

That was before, all of that was before. 

Your grandmother had a bird when you went to boarding school, you stayed with her for a month before you left. And that damn bird never shut up, it clanged against it’s cage like it was insane. Life inside the cage was worse than anything out of it. 

The author of Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury, once said;

“Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”

You understood now why that bird broke his neck on the bars of the cage. 

And you understood that you were smarter than that fucking bird. 

You had reached a new level of insanity, and it was maddening. 

But you were locked in.

The house was a cage, and you were fucking insane. 

Claire put cameras in every inch of the house. 

She put you in the basement for the first month. 

You screamed day and night for the first two days. You think it was two days, time was getting strange quickly.

You heard them cleaning upstairs, and they never even checked to what the sound of that poor bitch downstairs was. 

Money and power made the common people scared. 

Maya was instructed by Claire to not speak to you, and she listened for the first three weeks. 

Which was crazy, you’d never seen Maya be quiet. 

But she brought you food, and she locked the door. 

You threw things, you smashed mirrors and tried to make weapons. You tried to break the small window only to find it had bars on the outside. 

A large man with shades came in with Maya. 

He had a very rude electric friend. 

You learned from pain and violence what Maya and Claire wanted. 

Because Mr. Men in Black used a cattle prod to electrocute you into submission. 

You had a mean streak it turned out, and you tried to ignore the voltages running through your body. 

But as the first month came to a close. 

You fucking missed conversation. 

You hated to fucking admitt it. 

But you wanted to go upstairs so badly. 

And you started to look forward to seeing Maya bringing you food. 

They must have done their research on Stockhome Syndrome. 

Because you were having a hard time fighting now, a month and no one came for you. No police or FBI?  How was that possible? 

Your basement had a bed, a bathroom (with a broken mirror), one window that was now fixed and clouded over, and that was it. 

And you were so fucking bored. 

You’d thoguht they would come in and sexually assault you every day. 

You thought you’d get to bite and punch and fight. 

But Claire DeBella was smart, and she did exactly what she’d promised in the car that day. 

She was breaking you. 

You missed the conversation more than you thought possible. 

They’d given you no TV, nothing to write with, no books, nothing for stimulation. 

So it was on a regular boring ass day of you laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling that a click of the door made you jump. 

This wasn’t Maya’s normal time at all. 

And the giant guy with shades didn’t walk in. 

Governor Claire DeBella did, in her heels and nice dress pants and dress shirt. 

She smiled at you, and you thought about trying to hurt her. 

But you stopped, and that pissed you off so much. However, you’d learned through pain, through a caddle prod to the stomach and limbs over and over, that fighting would not work. 

So you needed to be a smarter bird. 

“Hi.” Your voice cracked, you’d only yelled at Maya and begged, pleaded, and cried. 

Conversation was new for you.

Claire stopped at the bottom of the stairs and eyed you curiously before she gestured to the spot at the end of your bed. 

You nodded and scooted to crisscross your legs on the mattress. Claire kicked off her heels under your bed and then sat on the mattress next to you.

You didn’t let your eyes travel down to the heels, you knew they could be used as a weapon, but you also knew you didn’t want to be alone another minute. 

Perhaps you were insane, now. 

This was Stockholm syndrome, and it only took a month, strange.

“You seem to be in good spirits today.” Claire mused at you not attacking her and not yelling. 

“You haven’t come to see me yet.” You decide on that instead. You wondered if they’d defanged you now. 

Claire smiles sadly for a second and then looks around your basement. 

“Would you have wanted me to?”

“I..I don’t know.” You can’t believe those words came out of your mouth. Claire thinks about your phrase, and she seems to be debating something. 

“Do you know where you are?” She says, and it doesn’t sound condescending like you thought it might. 

“Connecticut, your home?”

“That’s right,” Claire says, and she looks towards the stairs. “You know how long you’ve been in here?”

“A month.” You say, and you wonder if she’s doing some kind of cognitive test on you, to see if you are still with it. Claire shakes her head. 

“No, Honey, you’ve been in here for two months now.”

You try not to panic at that fact, and you wonder if she’s lying to freak you out. But you can’t figure out if a month or two months in here really matter in the grand scheme of things. You weren’t getting out, and no one was looking for you. So, what did time really matter now?

“Claire?” You ask and she waits for you. “Why am I down here?”

“I wanted you to get out all of your anger in here. But when you decided to accept your new life, I was going to start giving you things again.”

“Things?” You say, and it sounds more excited than you want it to, and Claire notices. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, if you can behave, no more mirror knives, escape attempts, and throwing food. We won’t need the cattle prod and quarantine. I’ll give you full use of the house, and you can swim and read. You can watch movies again.” Claire says, and her tone is gentle, and you perk up at the idea of movies. 

You think Claire and Maya must have spoken, she just hit your currency. You’d get to watch movies again. You looked down at your lap. 

“What would I need to do…to get those things?” You feel like a traitor to yourself, but you were ready to do anything to get some kind of mental stimulation. 

Claire turns her hand over and waits, but the message is clear: she wanted you to reach out to her. She wanted you to decide to touch her, and if you didn’t, you didn’t know what would happen. But you had bruises that made your guess of pain pretty clear. 

However, it was interesting that Claire was making you decide, like she wanted your surrender. 

And you hated her. 

And you hated yourself. 

Because you reached out slowly and put your hand in hers. Claire softly moved your palm up in her own and used her left hand to trace the new scars from the first week. From the broken glass and mirror in your hand. 

Her eyes were fixated on the scars, and you wondered what your monster was thinking. 

“If you can prove that you can be a good girl,” Claire says and you shiver, and her mouth twitches in enjoyment at your response. You don’t know why you shiver, but your body does it anyway. 

“How?” You press and you don’t know why Claire’s touch is so good. 

But you haven’t been touched in…two months was it? Was this you being touch starved?

What was happening?

“As of Today, I’ll start allowing you more things, and if you can follow the rules. If you can behave, I’ll give you more. Mommy wants you to succeed.” Claire says, and she guages you reaction. 

The memory of that night at the penthouse comes back in flashes now. 

“Mommy no!!” You bit your lip to stop the feeling of your pussy being a super soaker. But Claire found your cervix and used it like Rocky. It hurt, god it hurt, and you can’t stop cumming.

 Until she slows her movement and you are wheezing, you need your inhaler, almost that fucking type of wheezing. 

Your eyes glaze and you are in shock. But your mouth opens as Claire grabs your face hard. 

“What did you just call me? Oh this is perfect. You slut, did you say Mommy? You are fucked up. Is that what you said? You want me to be your Mama? Is that it? Wanna suck on my tits too? You needed this, you don’t want to make decisions anymore. You need Mommy to do it for you then? Oh sweetheart, you are precious.”

You want to pull your hand away now. 

But you don’t, you need to know what it will take to go upstairs. 

“I’ll be good.” You say even as your mouth feels dry and acidic. 

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It started that week, you didn’t see Maya. 

Claire brought her work to the mansion you figured. Because she spent so much time with you. It started in the basement, Claire started small she brought you a book. 

You thanked her, until you saw what it was. 

She’d brought you a smutty romance book with stockholm syndrome, and a domme who spanks and sexually humilates the younger woman. 

You didn’t care, you just wanted to read. It felt good to read. So Claire sat with you in the basement. 

She ate meals with you. 

It was another two days later and she brought you a newspaper and you read that thing five times that day. It was just nice to know what was happening. 

But Claire DeBella fucking knew what she was doing. She was making you trust her, need her. She was the hand that fed you, and she could take all of it away. 

But you were careful with your words, you spoke to Claire and answered all her questions, but you made sure not to let your temper ever show. 

At the start of the second week Claire walked downstairs in her big plush robe and a cup of coffe and you all but drooled at the smell of the coffee. 

“Maya didn’t give you coffee huh baby?” Claire smirks at your face, it borderlines aroused at the drink. 

“Never, I used to get these Cinnamon Dolce Lattes.” 

You didn’t mean to tell her that, but you noticed that was happening more recently. You were hungry for conversation, and your captor was the only one here. 

“Hmm, you do have a sweet tooth. I’m more of an almond milk latte girl. Though I do love a shaken espresso. Before I was a politician, I’d have an espresso martini at a bar.” Claire mused, and you realized….she wanted to talk to you. What the fuck was this. 

“Do you have an espresso machine?” You bit your tongue, angry at yourself for asking. 

“I do, it’s upstairs. Would you like to try it?” Claire lays down the offer and waits, taking a sip of her drink. 

Like a person puts a mouse trap, she laid the cheese, and you, you stupid fucking rat. You walked right into it. 

You nodded, and Claire turned around and walked up the stairs, and you slowly stalked  behind her until you got to the steps and you stopped. 

You’d been shocked once for crowding Maya by the door, and now you were nervous for the possability of pain. Claire looks behind her like she was listening for your footsteps to stop.

“Darling, I’m inviting you upstairs. You don’t need to be afraid.” Governor tells you, and you wonder if she hears how hilarious that is. But you step up the stairs slowly and she keeps the basement door open for you. 

You were in shock for the first few hours of being upstairs. 

But you saw the cameras and you saw the giant fence outside, it had to be at least twelve feet along the property. And you even saw a man in the far distance, he had a machine gun strapped to his chest and a big vest. 

You weren’t free, just in a more plush cage. 

Claire came up behind you, and you froze, but she didn’t touch you. 

“How’s the coffee?” Claire says, and you wonder if what she’s really saying is: ‘do you see them? Do you see the guards? You wanna run? You want to go back down to the basement?’ 

Be smart prey damn it. 

“Really good, thank you, Claire.” You say and Claire humms like you’ve chosen right. You try not to let your hands shake as you bring the hot liquid up to your mouth. 

The next two weeks Claire would make you sleep downstairs, but bring you up to spend the day and the evening upstairs. 

Until the third week when you were in the theater room, your favorite room of Claire’s. 

She’d let you choose the movie, which was interesting. You didn’t know psychologically if she just wanted to ease you in, make you forget that you were being held prisoner. 

But sometimes you noticed you weren’t afraid of Claire. 

That was wrong, that was stupid of you.

Stupid prey. 

But it happened, and you had to admit it to yourself at least. 

It wasn’t until you had picked Beauty and the Beast that you realized. 

You’d picked a story that had Stockholm syndrome in it. You picked it, not Claire, and she didn’t even say anything as you watched it. 

But Claire watched you, and you yawned and closed your eyes.

When you woke up, things changed. 

You don’t know how you ended up lying against Claire’s chest as she played with your hair. But you thought for a second you were sleeping on Maya, and you were back at your house in L.A. That was wrong, this was wrong, the perfume was different, and the feeling was different. 

And your eyes shot open and Claire was rolling her ankles on the sofa. She’d put on CNN now and you were snoozing against her body. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

This was wrong.

Run away, hide, fucking fight asshole.  

You were being fucking domestic. 

You were getting fucking domesticated by your abuser!

You jumped off of Claire in horror. 

And Claire didn’t even seem offended. 

“Oh sweetheart, you were doing so well too. You melted into me.”

“You are a fucking monster.”

Claire laughed and then mutted the TV, like this was way better than politics on the evening news. 

“Baby girl, you get to decide how this goes. Not me and not Daddy. So if you want to ruin tonight, that’s fine. But eventually, that little voice that tells you to hate me, you won’t hear it anymore.” The Governor’s voice was so condescending. 

You eyed the door and jumped over the sofa and threw it open and ran up the stairs. You ran up two floors until you got to where you’d remembered the front door. Your mind told you to stop, but the fight in you demanded this. 

Just as you got to the foyer. 

Mr. Cattle Prod came into view. Her was sitting on a chair with a long sub sandwich about to take a bite. 

“No! NO! NO! NO!” You shout louder and louder when you see him, he sighs like he doesn’t like this either. 

You spent the next two days downstairs, alone, no Claire, no Maya, no movies, no upstairs, no dirty book. 

You cried and cried and cried. You didn’t get food, and you didn’t really care about that. You missed Claire, and that was what made you so fucking angry. 

On the third day of being alone, around the afternoon Claire came back downstairs.

She was in home clothes, jeans and a button down white loose shirt, and she walked down slowly until she found you laying on the food. 

“Shall we try again? Do you think you can behave today for Mommy?” Claire asked and you nodded and wiped at your tears. Claire nodded towards the bed and you scrambled to sit on it. 

“What would you like to do today?” Claire asks and you bite your lip wondering if she’s being mean. 

But Claire hadn’t been unkind yet, in fact, she’d been downright gentle with you. The beatings only ever came from the man with his shades. Claire always granted you things. 

“Can….Can I have coffee?” You ask, having suffered a caffeine headache from the lack of coffee for the past two days. “And breakfast?”

“Those are two very easy things I can do. And I will, but think bigger baby.” Claire said and she cocked her head to the side. 

“Can I go…outside? To um..to swim?” You scrambled, you hadn’t been outside in so long. 

“You may, but you have to do something for me first.” Claire said and you didn’t even care what it was, you thought. 

So you waited for her to say it. 

“Take off your shirt honey.” Claire said and you hesitate and she smiles, and it’s dangerous. 

But you don’t want to be alone today. 

So you take off your baggy white t shirt. You didn’t get bra’s. You figured a long time ago it was because of the wire, aka a weapon. 

Claire eyed your breasts but didn’t touch, didn’t say anything. 

“Now the pants.” Claire said in an even tone, leaving no emotions for you to latch onto. 

You stand off the bed and drop your jeans and she eyes the underwear and arches an eyebrow. 

You take them off without her asking and she seems to like that. 

“Now let’s go upstairs baby.”

You spend the day naked, and you find you don’t fucking care like you thought you would. Like you once would have. Claire let’s you eat seconds and thirds of breakfast, and she opens the slider, and you get your first breath of fresh air in forever. 

Claire lays by the poolside and sits on her phone, with her designer sunglasses pulled on. 

And you swim, and you forget for a minute who she is and where you are. It feels so good to swim, you don’t care that you are naked. No one is around but Claire. 

The ring of her phone cuts through your gentle mind fog, and she answers it. 

And you think to yourself ‘scream and yell, tell them you are being held captive.’ But you remember your quarantine, your solitude, and you bite your lip. 

You keep quiet.

Silent for Mommy.  

You hate yourself for this. 

But you know Claire is watching you, fascinated, entertained even by your submission. You can’t see her eyes, but you feel them on you. 

You try to remember who you are. 

Who you were.

And that you were not on a holiday at the pool.

You were a prisoner.

You sink to the bottom of the pool and scream, knowing no one will hear you. 

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You aren’t sure how long Claire keeps this up…Time is strange.. but you get to swim in the afternoon sun. She makes you big salads for lunch. 

You watch movies after dinner.

You go back to the basement for bed. 

You wake up in the morning to coffee agan. 

But now, you do all of this, very, very naked.

It is like you must give up something to earn a place at Claire’s table. 

And you don’t care about the clothes, so it doesn’t feel bad. 

But one day you are watching a movie and Claire is reading a book, and she reaches out and touches your head. 

You freeze, wondering if you are about to be hurt or abused further. 

But she plays your hair, scratches your scalp, and reads, like you are her house pet. 

You wonder if you are her pet now. 

That’s how it starts, months into captivity, Claire gently plays with your hair. 

And you get used to it quickly. 

You come to expect it even. 

One day you sit on the sofa and grab the remote to flick through her extensive movie collection and she doesn’t touch you.

You drop your arm with the remote and turn to Claire. Who is reading, or pretending to, you aren’t sure. 

“Claire?” You ask and she puts her finger on the page to mark where she was reading but looks up with her glasses and makes an acknowledging noise in her throat. 

“Did I break a rule?”

Claire looks confused, or she acts well, and she shuts the book now, you have her attention. You just can’t figure her out. 

“I don’t know, Honey, did you?” Claire challenges like she’s speaking to a wayward little thing. And you look around, no cattle prod, no clothes, still upstairs, what was wrong? Something is missing. 

“Did I do something wrong, or behave badly?” You ask and you feel strange, like your mind isn’t working like it used to. 

“Baby, what is wrong?” Claire tries again, and you wonder if she’s planned this, but you can’t stop mid-play, the show must go on. And you weren’t sure what part you were playing anymore. 

“You aren’t…” You realize now why you feel strange. 

Claire wasn’t touching you. 

How long had you been leaning into her touch? How long had she been doing this?

Now that you thought of it, it wasn’t just the TV times she’d touch you. No she combed your hair in the morning while you drank coffee. And she..she rubbed your back as she helped you climb into the basement at night. She tucked you into the covers…oh fuck she kissed your forehead as you fell asleep. 

When had this started? You thought it was just the sofa thing…But Claire went as far as hugging you as she wrapped the towel around you after the pool.

You hadn’t even said anything.

Where was your fight? 

You blinked at her now, feeling dumb. 

“Can you ask for what you need baby?” Claire said and you realized, you were in the ring with someone far more sophisticated than you’d given credit for. 

“No, I um..I think I don’t feel good.” You grip your stomach and lie, Claire takes a moment, a moment to silently communicate with you. She doesn’t buy it, but she waits a second, lets you sweat. Before she pretends with you. 

“Oh baby, you swam for a long time. All that time in the sun.” 

You remember her putting the sunblock on your skin now, she rubbed you everywhere to get it in. You didn’t even fight her. 

“Can I..I mean can I go lay down?” 

You need to hide. 

“Sure.” Claire nods and stands and you follow her, but she doesn’t turn towards the hall that leads to the basement. She turns instead to go up the stairs, and you are super confused but you follow. 

Claire leads you up multiple floors and then down another hall to the master bedroom.

You stop as she opens the door. 

It was beige and whites and looked like it was an expensive spa, weekend getaway, plush bedroom. 

This was Claire’s master bedroom.

Probably the one she’d shared with Devon, ya know, her dead husband. The one she killed. This god damn monster, a preditor. 

You stop before entering and Claire walks in like she has a zillion other times.

The governor goes to the bed and pulls back the plush comforter; she’s got a bunch of giant soft pillows, and the sheets probably cost more than you made in every job through college. 

You hold your breath as she makes a show of pulling back the side of the bed for you. 

You realize, she’s put you on the other side. Devon's side, actually if we wanted to bring up that guilt. The dead husband's guilt you carried, because this maniac killed people for you. 

Claire lets you stand there and decide how your night will go. 

She clicks the remote by her bedside and the shades drop. 

Now the room is completely dark. 

You wonder if this is how it feels to be prey in the woods at night, everything is cold, everything is still, and in the dark your nightmare waits. 

“Did you still want to lay down?” Claire asks and you do now. Because your knees feel like they may give. 

You pad over to the side of the bed she’s holding the blankets to. 

You crawl in and she doesn’t kiss your head, and you don’t know why that worries you. 

You figure this must happen in abusive situations. You fear the lack of kiss just like you’d fear the hit. But you also want the kiss, you want to know you are safe. That you won’t be electrocuted and thrown in solitude again. 

Claire walks around the bed and you are not sure this is real, she’s going to leave you alone in her room?

“Have a good sleep Sweetheart,” Claire says and closes the door, you wait to hear a lock click, and it doesn’t. 

What a beautiful trap she’s laid out. 

But you won’t fall into it. 

Now, when the bed feels cool, the sheets are so soft, and the pillow so inviting. 

You close your eyes and drift into dreams.

You visit your old life in dreams, a dream with Maya and the beach.  

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

When you wake you hear typing, and you open your eyes to see Claire with her hair up in a clip as she types on her laptop.

You blink a few times and Claire must have some strange link to you, because she notices immediately. 

“Morning sleepy head.”

“What time is it?” You yawn and stretch and feel more rested than you have in forever. 

“A little after two, you slept the morning away,” Claire says like you two are on vacation and she let her lover have a lie in. 

“You working?” You ask and you don’t know why but Claire doesn’t flinch at your comment at all. When had you been allowed to ask her things?

“Yeah, I’m trying to get people to listen to this new legislation, but your generation won’t even read it. Wanna help Mommy?” Claire offers and your eyes grow wide at the idea of a problem to solve. You get excited, and Claire easily gives you notes on her speech. 

After a while you feel like you are working again, it’s so nice. 

“Seems a little stiff.” You say as she hands you her coffee and you drink it. You don’t notice how it has cinnamon, your favorite in it now. 

“Should Mommy be offended?” Claire teases with a grin and you laugh. 

Claire can’t stop her surprise now, you actually laughed. You hadn’t done that in front of her since before she took you. 

But you laugh and it feels so fucking good. 

“Sorry, no, you shouldn’t. You should however, be using Twitter, or whatever they call it now. Because, as you blamed my generation for not listening, you should be making the effort to get my generation to listen to you. When I saw you on CNN, you were cut throat, that’s why I wanted you to be elected in the first place. Young women want to hear your opinion, but they don’t always want to find it. You have to make it more readily available.” You ramble and then sip the coffee, satisfied with the taste. 

Claire stares at you for a moment. 

You wonder if you are being too comfortable in her presence now, perhaps you should stop. Oh shit you were going to be in trouble again. 

Stupid little prey. 

“I pay my staff a great deal of money, and no one has even mentioned this to me. You may have just upped my ratings.” Claire gives you the compliment and it makes your insides shine; you feel it all over. “And don’t do that,” Claire sternly adds and your smile drops and you are confused again. 

“I’m sorry what did-”

“No, don’t apologize for your ideas. Don’t apologize for laughing or having fun. You don’t need to apologize here.” Claire isn’t looking at you and she slips her glasses back on and opens up her email to talk to her so called ‘media team.’ 

You sit amazed that Claire is feeling so…much like a….partner, or even a friend?

Stockholm Syndrome, you remind yourself. 

Not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not our fault. 

But after that day, you sleep next to Claire. 

In fact you hadn’t been down in the basement in a while now. 

You walk around the house freely, you are still terrified of the man with the shades but he nods his version of ‘good morning’ to you. And you do the same. 

Claire works with her laptop, and you stop thinking about how to steal it to get a message out. 

You don’t notice the cameras that follow your every movement as you walk the mansion to get to the library alone. You just grab a book and head back to Claire’s office to sit on her chair. 

You don’t remember the last time you wore clothes and you don’t remember caring. 

It feels….normal now?

So one night you get into bed and fall asleep as Claire reads, and you easily fall asleep. Just like so many nights now beside her. 

And you dream;

You dream of the night. With Miles Bron on a rooftop. 

Except this time it’s different. 

You are in the bedroom this time, and Claire touches your face. 

“You want to cum for Mommy baby?” Claire asks and you nodd and she pulls you down onto her strap on. And you moan and beg her. 

“Please Mommy, I need it so bad. Mommy please, Claire fuck I need you inside of me.” You pant and beg. 

You wake up with a jolt. 

Claire turns on the side lamp, and she grabs your arms to help calm you. 

“Honey?” She asks, confused at how you are losing your mind. 

“I had a dream..I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You panic even more now.

Unsure what is worse, the dream, or your reality.  

“It’s ok, I heard you calling my name. You sure you are ok?” Claire asks, and she pushes your hair out of your face and you lean into her now. You put your head on her shoulder and you rest it there and she rubs the back of your arms up and down lightly. Not moving for more, and not moving for less. 

“Why don’t you touch me?” You ask, and you don’t know if you are still dreaming. Why are you doing this? Why are you shaking?

“I’m touching you right now pudd’n what do you mean?” Claire says and her voice is deep with sleep and it sounds like when she was aroused and fisting you. 

You pull back, and you feel frustration clear through your whole body. 

“You said that day in the car…You said..” You felt tears falling and Claire’s face changed. 

She looked dangerous now. Different than before by so much. 

“Say it, what did Mommy say that day in the car, can you remember?” Claire brushed your tears away from your face. 

“You said…You said you’d fuck that independent streak out of me…”

Claire nodded and it was such a weird contrast to the sweet woman she’d been to you. 

“What else did Mommy say? Can you remember for me?”

Claire acts like you are stupid. 

You sob now and hiccup and you remember. But you can’t say it and you shake your head. Claire cups your face and brushes stray tears away like it’s her job. 

“I told you i’d give you a good dose of Stockholm Syndrome for your system. You worked so hard, you fought so hard in the beginning. But it weighs on you, that kind of loneliness. I know, because you did that to me. You did all of this. You made me do this baby. So you needed to be punished, you were alone, but Mommy was watching from those cameras. I waited, and I was so patient. But you needed me to be patient, and I will be. But that’s all before, what happened tonight. You broke your streak, baby girl, tell Mama why?”

Claire looks excited, like she used to look on the news before she told some stupid Republican they were wrong. 

You look down at your lap and you feel no fear at her words. It was just the truth, so why weren’t you mad. 

“Focus baby, answer my question. You were thrashing back and forth in your sleep. You said my name, can you remember what your dream was honey?” Claire asked and your face turned beat red. 

You were moaning Claire..You were moaning ‘Mommy.’ Claire seemed to be satisfied that you figured it out, because she’d been watching the whole thing, she knew. 

God she was really something else, the manipulation on top of manipulation. You couldn’t figure her out, not even for a second. 

“You made a little mess on my sheets huh, sweetie, you’ve been here six months now. Just like I guessed it, huh? And you haven’t touched yourself once. That’s a long time to ignore the need, isn’t it?” Claire’s voice was doing things to you, and you nodded and licked your lips. 

This was so fucked up.

Fight, run, fucking hide! 

“You were moaning Claire and Mommy. You say it so pretty baby. You were surprised when I didn’t fuck you. But I played the long game, see I don’t want you as some sex toy in my basement. I want you as a wife. I want you to stand on the podium next to me. And the only way that’s gonna happen, is if Mommy is patient.”

Claire lays out the first part of her plan like she’s talking to some lower life form, like you are stupid and she is the teacher. 

You gasp and hiccup and cry like a dumb child. A child who stuck their hand in the aquarium and got bit, and then all the adults thought the kid was stupid. You were being so stupid. Your instincts told you to stop, but your mind was no longer your own. Claire had tattooed your skull with her initials, and now you were no longer in control. 

“Claire, this is wrong.” You whimper and her thumb brushes against your cheekbone and you lean further into it. Her hold is everything to you. 

“I know you say that, but your body likes this. You practically purr when I touch you now. And even in your dreams, you want this. So why don’t you ask? Have I not been fair, have I not given you choices?” The Governor starts to get a little heated. Like you were the problem. 

You were prey, you were shark food. You were the dumb bird, fuck FUCK! 

Be smarter than this. You begged yourself to be smarter than this. 

“Claire this is wrong, I can’t do this.” You say, but your voice sounds sad and Claire sighs and releases you.

Like you ruined it, like you ruined her fun. 

“Ok.” She looks disappointed but releases you. 

“Ok?” You say completely confused and she moves to the light and flicks it off. 

“Then let’s get some sleep.” Claire says and you lay back down and she does the same. Not touching you at all. 

You sit there in the silence, and your thighs press together and you wonder how the fuck you got here. 

How did you get here?

If there was a god, did she hate you?

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep now, you had to cum. You needed to masturbate. But Claire would for sure feel the bed move, and you knew you were never quiet when you came. 

You shifted until you lay on your stomach. 

You bit your lip to not moan at the feeling of your clit throbbing as you pressed yourself tighter. 

Claire’s voice slices through the night, like the fear you have in your bones. 

“I’ve found that lying on my stomach never helped settle the ache, is it the same for you dear?” Claire asked, and you whimper at her words. 

Her mothering, commanding, powerful voice shatters your resolve to not lightly hump the bed. 

Something about her stupid voice just turned you on. Call it your shitty upbringing or your need for older women to be cruel to you. You’d begged Maya to slap you in bed. You taught your women how you liked to be demeaned humiliated. 

Claire didn’t need you to teach her, and that was horrible. 

 And you just remembered the rooftop with her fist and you were so empty now. 

“Claire, I need to…can I…” You knew she wouldn’t let you run to the bathroom and fix this, and you weren’t sure what to ask for. 

“You need to masturbate, is that it?” Claire’s voice was mocking. 

“Yes please.” You whisper like you are trying to get one over on yourself, maybe you won’t hear it. 

“Then do it.” Claire says, and you can’t believe it, but you don’t ask questions. 

In the dark of her white room, your hands go under your body and you put your face in the pillow and moan as your fingers meet wetness. You grind down on your fingers for a few minutes in the silence.

Except the sound of the wet noises, they fill the air. 

“Claire…” You whimper after a few moments, realizing you can’t cum like this. 

“Say it.” Claire's voice is venomous, and you should be afraid but you aren’t. 

“Mommy….can I have your help?” You say, and Claire turns and flicks on the light and throws the blanket back. She sits on her heels now. 

“Lay back, open your legs nice and wide,” Claire tells you and you flip onto your butt now and put your legs open for her to watch. 

Like she’s the director and you are the porn star. 

“Small circles, we aren’t in a rush. It’s just you and me gorgeous.” Claire tells you and you start slower, as if you’ve never touched yourself before. Like this body Claire knew, and you didn’t. Because she was playing you like an instrument and you were tone deaf it seemed. 

Claire watched your face and body move like she was starving for every moment of it. 

“You got this wet from a dream, baby? That’s so embarrassing. Your pussy is so wet, so swollen from the dream. You needy little thing.” It’s not even as mean as she’s been. But you get wetter anyway. 

You whimper and nod, but you need more. And Claire knows that. 

“You liked me being sweet these last few months don’t you?

You nodd and rub your clit harder and Claire tut’s you and you slow. 

“But you don’t like nice in bed do you?”

The silent voice is louder now, Claire’s not safe, Claire’s not consensual, Claire’s not sane. This is not a place for your fetishes and desires to be known. Claire is poisoned and you could not do this. 

You shake your head, no you don’t. 

Claire tilts her head to the side and some of her hair falls. 

She’s a goddess. 

“You like it mean, just like Mommy.” The white of your captor’s eyes shine in the dark room. She’s crazy. You were insane for playing with her. 

“I do, just like Mommy.” You moan at the end as you give her back the nickname. The secret kink you didn’t want to share. 

“So, how mean do you need me tonight? You want that fake sweet governor? You want the domestic cunt who sits and plays with your hair?”

Her face doesn’t emote. 

You think Claire must be a psychopath; she must be, to have such different reactions. Looks and moods you could never track, no matter how you tried. 

But you’d give this woman all she wanted, if you could just cum. 

You shake your head, you don’t want nice or sweet. 

“No, thats right you need the woman who assaulted you on the rooftop don’t you? It’s been so freaky for you, seeing me so nice. And you were waiting for me to make good on my promise. You were waiting for me to fuck you this whole time.” 

Claire’s voice is dark, deep, but steady. Like she could say the worst, most deprived thing to you and not blink, blush, or feel any sort of shame.

Claire was sick.

She could play whatever part and role she wanted. And you were powerless to figure her out, to say the right thing, to do the right things. 

You were just along for your Governor’s ride.  

You nod and whimper as you touch yourself. Your pussy is desperate, and you are too wet to get the right traction.

Your abuser's voice got darker, a little richer in her anger.   

“And you are wet and needy, your slick is ruining my fucking sheets. And I’m not even touching you. I haven’t fucking touched you, do you realize that? And this is how you act. Like a fucked bitch in heat in front of me.  You know I used to masturbate to you lying there in that basement, and now here you are masturbating in my bed. The big, bad, scary kidnapper, the one who stole you from your perfect little life. The one who killed for you. And you are a whimpering mess for me.”

You humped your hand trying to chase your orgasm. 

You can barely see her face in the night lamp glow, illuminating her from behind, but she’s having fun. You blink a few times to focus on her face, try to see Claire.  

She’s sick, she’s getting pleasure from you breaking. 

“Stick your tongue out. Do you remember when I spit on you? You fucking liked it. You liked my fist. Do you remember my fist? Of course you do, because your hole is gaping open for me, trying to get anything. But I still haven’t touched you. Do you realize how mine you are, if you do this you have to give up this facade that you don’t want me. That you don’t need Mama’s touch.”

Each word hits your skin like a million little needles. 

You hate how you moan and chase each word like it’s a drug, and you need a high.  

You sob and stick your tongue out, and try to finger yourself but Claire stops you. 

“No, that’s not for you to touch. Now I want you to tell me the truth. That sex tape, why did you like it?”

You were worried about this, this was something you had hoped she wouldn’t bring up. 

“Please, Claire…..no.” 

You didn’t have a safe word, and it seemed she liked you saying ‘no.’ If only for a moment.  

“It’s just you and me, and perhaps my own video footage of this moment for Maya. But Daddy already knows, I want you to say it to Mommy. Because you are gonna be Mommy's girl, not Daddy’s, after all.”

You hope Maya isn’t watching, but the idea that she is makes you gasp and your hips pick up. 

You secretly missed Maya. You were so angry at her for doing this. But you missed how she fucked you, how she humiliated you. You missed date nights and talking about work. Fuck that woman. But Maya knew this secret, and you wondered if she’d told Claire. Or if Claire could just sniff out secrets. Perhaps that’s why she was such a good politician. 

“I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.” You whimper lamely. 

Claire sighs loudly, like you are getting on her nerves. Perhaps she didn’t like a brat after all.  

“You don’t say it, you don’t get to cum. And it’s been so long hasn’t it?”

Fuck it, you were already dead. No one was coming to save you. You were here to bargain with the devil herself. What was the harm anymore?

So you let it go:

“I liked it because I didn’t have a say. I liked the horrible things they called me. It made me wet. I don’t want control.” You shout it into the night, into the millionaire's, well billionaires' (after getting Miles' money) bedroom.  

Claire laughs at you and you hate how much you like being made fun of. You ache for more. 

“That's my sweet girl. That's why you belong to Mommy. Why I picked you. You don’t want control. You don’t even know how long you’ve stayed here anymore. You crawled into my bed like a little kitten. Now you are fucking yourself in front of me like a good girl.” 

You moan louder and Claire smiles.

Something about her owning you made you feel safe. How wrong was that? That you felt like nothing bad could happen as long as Claire held you. You tried to remember that you weren’t her lover. You were her prisoner.

DeBella’s canines shine in the light.

She keeps speaking, like she’s enchanting you, like she’s a snake tamer. And you don’t know why, but you can’t fight it.   

“You love that, you love being a good girl. Well if you were a good girl. You would admit it to me now.”

You feel a game coming on, a new one for Claire. You understand now, and you say it. Your nails dig into your soft, intimate flesh. It hurts, it all hurts.  

“I want you to be mean to me.” You admit it, your voice is raw and cracks. 

Claire doesn’t seem satisfied anymore. So she continues.  

“You like this life. The one I made for you.” She challenges. 

“I like this life.” You don’t know who is speaking inside of you, but it comes out your mouth. 

“You like being mine.” Claire doesn’t blink. 

“I do.” You gasp, and you aren’t sure if it’s from masturbating. 

You wonder if this is what hypnosis was like. 

“You don’t even notice you are naked in a dirty politician's bed, begging to be fucked like a fucking whore. You missed me, baby.” Claire tells you these things like facts. And your clit pulses at her voice. You have no self respect.   

“I did MAMA PLEASE LET ME CUM!” You shout and angrily hump your hand for no release. 

“Slap your cunt, hard,” Claire says like she’s telling someone how she wants her coffee, no interest in her voice. It makes you scream out.  

You move your hand away from your cunt, and you slap it hard. The sound echoes in her bedroom. 

“What do you need, your fingers not doing it for baby?” Claire taunts and you almost wonder if she’s done something to your body. Or your mind? Why can’t you make yourself cum. 

You knew. 

You needed Mommy. 

“I NEED YOUR FINGERS!”” You scream, and Claire thinks about it for a minute. And you think she’s bluffing, but she isn’t. 

“Not yet,” Claire says, keeping her hands to her sides. Not touching you, not helping you. And you go mad with need. You start to babble like you have no sense of self anymore. 

“Please, please, please. I’M A WHORE! I’m your whore and I want you to hurt me. I want you to make it hurt, I want you to ruin me. I want to be bruised and fucked every second. Please, I’m yours I’ll make your babies and I’ll wear what you want. I’ll go where you want and do whatever you want! Just fuck me!”

Claire likes that and she licks her bottom lip watching your body writhe in the bed. 

“You are a fucking slut. Turn to your right, and smile. You are on video baby. I’m live streaming this.” Claire said, and you came just like Claire knew you would. 

That’s how you lost your mind. 

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You begged for the next four days for Claire to touch you. And she refused to touch your pussy. 

She made you do all kinds of things. 

You only walked around on your hands and knees for an entire day. 

She spoon fed you her leftovers and put her feet on your naked back as she typed on her computer. 

Claire was breaking you beyond belief. 

She made you sit on the bathroom floor as she used her own vibrator in the shower and came. But you couldn’t see her, and you couldn’t do anything. 

Claire even made you hump your own hand while she took business calls. 

You were a sex fiend; you were gone.

No mind left, no sense of pride.  

And finally, you were on your hands and knees with your fingers on your clit and she was sitting in her bedroom on her armchair drinking a scotch and watching the show. You weren’t allowed to ever fuck your hole, Claire made sure you never touched there. 

You screamed into the bed and sobbed. 

You cried for a really long time, and you felt like you were being tortured worse than in the basement. 

You wanted Claire, you don’t remember what healthy love was. 

But you knew you wanted nothing more than Claire.

You thought to the penthouse with desire now.  

Your mind was sick. 

And your vagina was raw from trying to masturbate and nothing working. 

“PLEASE MAMA I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU DON’T IGNORE ME ANYMORE!” You scream and the sound of Claire’s drink hitting the side table was so loud and you didn’t even notice as you cried into the bed with your ass in the air. 

But Claire gently flipped you onto your back. Like the broken little thing you were.  

“What did you say baby?” She asked and her face looked completely stunned and you didn’t know why. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand.

Your body so sore.  

“I..I need you?”

“No sweetie, not that, after that. What did you tell me?”

“Don’t ignore me?” You tried again, and Claire chuckled at that demand but she continued. 

She seemed so soft now. 

“Before that, right inbetween those two.” 

“I love you?” You say, and the words feel strange in your mouth but you blink at Claire through wet lashes. “I love you.” You say more confidently now and Claire’s smile is so big you think it must hurt. 

She grabs your knees and pulls you flat and her mouth goes right to your pussy. 

You cum in two seconds from her mouth, and then she doesn’t stop for two hours. And you are sobbing and writhing under her telling her how much you love Claire DeBella. 

That’s how you fell in love with your monster. 

How you begged for her fist, her mouth, her kisses, her cruel words. 

Unsure how long it has been. How long life has looked this way…But after you had taken a fist and two fingers.. you were laughing and naked at the kitchen island and Claire was laughing with you. It was romantic and sweet and you were so happy. She was spoon feeding you yogurt and you were telling her about a L.A nightmare press thing. And you were breaking an NDA like it was nothing. Telling secrets like you were telling teenage girl rumors. And Claire was paying attention, and somewhere inside you knew she’d use this. 

But you were Claire’s weapon now. You were her partner, her lover, her’s to control. And you found your mind didn’t hurt anymore. 

But it ended, like all things must. 

The front door opened and then slammed close and you jumped and Claire groaned, irritated. She knew what was happening, it seemed. 

 Maya walked in with her heels clicking on the floor. Her three suitcases being carted in behind her with Mr. Shades. Who looked at his boss like he was not sure who to be more afraid of, Maya or Claire.  

“This looks cozy.” Maya snarls with a wicked look in her eyes at Claire. 

You don’t know why they are glaring at each other. But you feel like you want to crawl back into the bedroom and hide.  

“Maya?” You ask confused, and she looks at you now. She gazes at you like one does a lover they accidentally bump into after the breakup.  

“Mason, we agreed you would wait until I told you you could come.” Claire’s tone wasn’t kind. 

“Right, but see you aren’t my boss, so that’s not how this works. You keep me from her again and I’ll out you to the press so fast your head will spin bitch. You aren’t the only one with connections and blackmail.” Maya snarls and you look at Claire, fear evident on your face. 

Claire drops the yogurt dramatically into the sink. Some of it gets on her button-down sleep shirt; she’s wearing that and a thong.  

“Let me get dressed, and then we can talk about this in my study,” Claire said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. 

The Governor walks away from you and you feel completely lost. No longer having a tether to your insanity. 

You turn to Maya, who stares at you like you are the freaky one here. 

“Maya, how long have you been gone?” Your voice is shaky. Maya steps forward to come to you and you flinch. So she stops and looks back to Shades as if to say ‘get lost.’ He drops the bags and walks back out of the house. 

Maya has so much fear on her face. 

“Two months, two fucking long months. She hasn’t let me in this house yet, last time I saw you was in the fucking town car! I tried to get here but we’ve been arguing this whole time. Plus Matt is a shitty replacement and then Vegas and the shrooms. It’s been a mess without you. I’m trying to convince Governor Gaudy over there to let you work again. What the fuck are you doing?” She whispers, yells the last sentence like she’s on your side. 

“What do you mean?” You ask and you feel yourself cracking. 

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You are naked in the kitchen? You are practically her sex slave in here. I saw the footage, what the fuck?” Maya tries to walk forward and you back off to the corner of the kitchen like you don’t want to be around her for a second. 

Maya seems to fear that too. 

You panic and looked around, not sure what’s happening. 

“Two months? No that’s not possible, she said six months at least.” You repeated and Maya shook her head. 

“She’s fucking lying. Kinda like she lied and told me I could bring you back to work. Kinda like how she told me I could spend time with you. Fuck baby what is going on? Did she….I mean..are you?” Maya put her hands up and down to direct to your person. 

And you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. 

“Maya what the fuck!” YOu scream and go to the kitchen and grab a knife. 

You put your back to the fridge. 

“Woah! Put the weapon down!” Maya says but she’s not as freaked out as you thought she’d be. Obviously used to L.A. girls with sharp objects pointed at others. 

“Stay away from me!”

“Hey, listen to me! I’m trying to get you out of here. But if you pull this again, she’ll put you down in that basement! I can’t help you there! Ok I’m trying to get you out. You gotta keep your shit together.” Maya yells at you but she turns to see if Claire is watching. 

“You are lying, you…fuck you helped her steal me. Oh my god I loved you. Oh my god I told Clare I love her. What is wrong with me?” You yell and look at the blade. Maya watches your gaze, and she starts to walk forward. 

“Yeah, that hurt by the way. You told me I was the first person you ever told you loved. And then you fucking tell her, that was fucked. Ok, let’s not hold the blade so close to your body, huh sweetness?” Maya knows you better than you do, you bring the blade closer to yourself, and she lunges forward and you both fight on the floor but Maya is stronger and she hits your hands against the marble top and the knife flies out of your hands.

Claire comes back in and she’s pissed. 

“MAYA THIS IS WHY I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STAY AWAY! What the fuck did you do?” Claire shouts, and you are fighting Maya as hard as you can, and then a shot goes in the back of your neck, and you see Mr. Shades before you pass out. 

Chapter 3 READ HERE

Change was never a friend of yours, but you also had a tendency to leave before you found any sort of comfort in a place, or it’s people. 

At the age of 210 you thought of Sylvia Plath’s quote as you drove through New Jersey. 

You didn’t mean to stay in New Jersey, you unlike Agatha, didn’t go in search of the hex, the Scarlet Witch, or any kind of prize. 

You were simply running away from yourself. 

And the shitty thing is, after you rented the room/apartment/studio. After you bought the first potted plant for the window. Some time between the stage you get acquainted with the best take out food, a startling yet consistently unwanted realization hits you square in the chest. 

You ran away from yourself and you took yourself with you. 

Not just some shitty self help quote, no it was true. 

You could wear a new name, a new fake ID. A different job, a state with a welcome sign may flash before your eyes as you drive by. 

But the truth was the same no matter where you went. 

Your trauma, demons, the past you wished to forget with all it’s people in the shadowy shapes of monsters to you, it was too deep to run from.

It lingered under your fingernails, and it didn’t matter if you cut them, or scrubbed. 

They found you. 

You could run away, and reinvent yourself as many times as you wanted. 

You were still there. 

And that was fucking awful. 

So it was the year 2021, you still, like a madwoman, were trying to run away. 

You hadn’t meant to fall into the hex. 

It wasn’t even a trap meant for you, a spell created for your kind of witchcraft.

But as you stopped in New Jersey at a little gas station off the freeway, in a town you didn’t care about. 

A red vibrated all around you, and the people screamed. 

(You knew Wanda didn’t know this, but she should). 

The people screamed as their minds fell, and the 1950’s warped the town.

Cars changed to black and white classic’s with their white wall tires. 

Parents screamed as they ran towards their children, but the red hex cast took them before they could think to save their little ones. 

You braced for impact, unsure what it was. 

When you looked down to see yourself in a 50’s dress you laughed, in your hand the gas pump that was there was now a magazine on how to ‘Attract Mr. Right’ which was hilarious. 

Your skin was grey, and you looked over to the movie theater to see it was now showing ‘All About Eve’ and ‘Vertigo.’

Not a bad choice for films, but not 2021 movies that’s for sure. 

As you studied the towns people it was like a strange fever dream, their smiles plastered on and they walked with determination for where they were going, yet their eyes looked vacant and troubled. 

“Okay dokey.” You reached forward to your now 50’s car, only for it to not open. 

Right, this was interesting. 

It took four days for you to figure out.

But for the first time in a century, you weren’t going to be able to run. The border of red sizzling magic was toxic and strong. It crackled like the static of an old TV. 

You felt the magic emulating from one house, and you were not going there, not until you had more information. 

What you hadn’t expected, as you found a vacant house four doors down was a third witch. 

‘Miss Agnes the Nosey Neighbor’ as you could tell the type cast was working for this sitcom. Wanda and Agnes walked around like they’d practiced their script together. 

And you morphed your clothes into more…of a greaser look. But it just flipped back to that of a domesticated Lucile Ball. It took a minute to get your magic to work in the space, and it was wonky to say the least. Nothing came out the way it was supposed to, and you wondered if Wanda could feel you changing her enchantments. 

You had avoided both witches until the fifth day. 

“Hya Hon! Agnes' voice broke your stride, you were about to go to the grocery store, as you’d been unable to conjure food in this strange warped hex. And you’d been living off of corn flakes and glasses of milk from the milkman.  

“Hi,” You tried to pretend, but you hadn’t been social in so long, much longer than this complex 50’s nightmare. 

“You live a few doors down,”

“Yup!” You smiled fake, and Agnes head tilted a tad to the side, and you could tell she knew something was off. 

“Come over for a glass of lemonade! Or I make a mean Martini! Don’t tell Ralph I drink before noon! Or he’ll join in!” Agnes tone was so very plastic, and you wondered what the fuck she was even talking about. 

You were gonna have to try harder, you took a big breath and matched her voice now. 

“Ya know, I have some crossstitch that I just can not tare myself away from! My cutie patootie just loves my throw pillows! Maybe another time dear!” You fake it and you actually think it sounds pretty good but Agnes turns to look over her shoulder to make sure Wanda isn’t around.

She reaches out quickly with purple coming out of her fingertips and you step back and slap her hand away. 

“The hell are you tryin to do lady!” You yell, breaking your fake facade,  and Agnes laughs now but looks both ways to the side of the street before grabbing you and you teleport to her home.

At least you think it’s her home, it’s dingey and your gaze is quick to see runes glowing purple. 

“Fuck.” You snarl and turn quickly in circles to see where she went. 

“Smart witch, but not a great actress sweetheart.” Agnes says and you try to find an exit. 

“Come out here and fight me, don’t play with your food bitch.” You snarl and a witch cackles from all around the room making it impossible for you to tell where she is. 

“Not very 50’s talk honey. Besides, you are pretty cute, perhaps I’ll play with you and then gobble you all up. Wanda doesn’t even know you are here.” Her voice echoes like a villain on a movie. 

“Great, let’s get it over with then.” You turn just in time for Agnes to step out, only she looks very different now. Her hair more frayed, her fingers black, a purple sweater with a broach. She looks much more like a witch now. 

But you stop and really take her in, she’s gorgeous.

Fucking stunning from head to toe.  

“Aren’t you sweet.”

“You don’t need to read my mind, it’s rude, if you want to kill me let’s fight. But I don’t need all this foreplay.” You step back as she matches you and steps forward. 

“You don’t like foreplay baby?”

“I’m not your baby, you don’t know me.”

“Do you know me, do you know who’s basement you are in?” Agatha cuts you off wondering what she’s messing with, if you know. 

“Your aura is from Salem with trial days…your fingers only turn that shade after fun with a particular sort of dark magic. The broach, the purple, I’m gonna take a stab in the dark and say Agatha Harkness, seeing as you are the last witch sighted with the book of the damned.” You step back again and Agatha steps forward. 

Like you two are dancing to a song you can’t hear.

“Smart little witch indeed.” Agatha’s eyes flash purple every now and then to float in and out of your mind, though she isn’t creating any illusions which throws you off a bit. 

“Thanks but I don’t like fake compliments anymore than I like whatever type of bra Wanda was making us wear for the 50’s.” Your hands are clammy. 

You stalked back for every step Wanda stalked forward. 

“Aw the cone shape not doing it for you, why don’t you take off your shirt. I’ll tell you what Mama Agnes thinks of it on you.” Agatha plays with you now and you are about to run out of basement to step back in. 

“I don’t sleep with my captor, at least not anymore.” You smile with your teeth out to show her you aren’t her prey and Agatha giggles again. She seems to be enjoying this after days of playing her sitcom role. 

Finally someone she doesn’t have to play pretend with. 

“Perhaps just one kiss will change your mind.” Agatha’s magic pushed against your body and you slammed into one of the pillars. She came close and grabbed your jaw and yanked it to the side to see what magic you were concealing. 

You waited for her to take, or for her to tell you to blast her so she could feed off of you.

For her to do….well anything. 

But Agatha’s grip loosened and her hand caressed your face and turned your chin gently. 

“You’ve been cursed.” She said gentler now than you had ever thought the witch could talk. 

“Took you long enough.” You glare now, but Agatha just looks conflicted. 

“You are…A Blood Magic witch?” Agatha’s grip moves to your neck, though she doesn’t choke, doesn’t squeeze, she’s scanning you with her glowing purple fingers. Understanding what you are for the first time. 

“You get points Harkness, not a lot of Blood Witches. You didn’t think you were the first to check the Darkhold out of the library did you.” You sneer but Agatha doesn’t bite at your condescending attitude. 

“There’s a chapter in the book…there has only ever been three of your kind.” Agatha isn’t really speaking to you, but rather reliving her studies out loud. 

“Did you read why?” Your eyes shift to the ground now and Agatha doesn’t speak for a moment. 

“The pain…”

“Yeah, the pain.” You murmur and push your tongue to the side of your cheek. Experiencing a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment now. 

Blood magic was rare and extremely powerful, yet the other two witches who wielded it before you….went insane from the endless pain and…it didn’t end well for them. 

You snapped on your best mean mug, and found your fight again, to return your face to face, stand off with Agatha Harkness infamous witch killer. 

“So, you still want it. You want my power? Go on, take it. You can carry the pain for the rest of your life. I got nothing left to lose. Nowhere to go, nothing else to experience. You want my power, kill me, go on, do it.” You goad the witch, knowing she won’t do it. But your play of insanity hopefully makes her throw you back into the pond, not a fish worth keeping. 

Agatha’s gaze on you was something you hadn’t ever had expressed for you. 

She waited a minute before stepping back and releasing the hold on your body with her magic. 

You didn’t scramble away, simply leaned back on the pillar still. 

Agatha seemed to be in deep thought on what to do next. 

“I didn’t think so, coward.” You sneer and Agatha once again, doesn’t fight back, seeming to think of you now in a different light. 

“You want Wanda’s Chaos Magic to heal your pain?” Agatha tried and you chuckled darkly. 

“Of course not, I didn’t even know the Scarlet Witch was here. I was stopping for gas, and yes that sounds like a weak excuse but look into my mind. I’m not lying!” You shout and Agatha’s eyes turn purple and she roots around before the blues return to her irises. 

“You can’t leave.”

“But you can, you walk in, you could walk out. Just walk me out! I won’t tell anyone, I don’t care about this! I just want to leave!” You sound like a broken record and Agatha isn’t jumping at your idea, and that freaks you out. 

“Even if I believed you. The government is surrounding the place by now, you walk out and you’ll be held in some facility. Which you know our people just do so well behind bars. Because once they pick up that you aren’t a normal civilian they’ll either think you helped Wanda or they’ll try to recruit you into a spandex suit. Baby you can’t leave this place yet, I’m your only option out, but I’m not leaving until I’ve drained her.” Agatha states and crosses her arms over her chest. 

Her rune stop glowing but neither of you move. 

“So what, you gonna keep me in the basement against my will?”

“I was sort of hoping you’d behave and I could keep you upstairs against your will.”

“Or I could hide out in that creepy empty house.” You want out, you want out now. 

“Wanda can’t know you are here. She’ll react first and we won’t have the upper hand anymore.”

“Who’s we, there is no we! I am not helping you! We aren’t in a coven for the catching of chaos magic. And what do you care of Wanda hurts me? I’m nothing to you, you were about to kill me.” You attempt to reason with her, not understanding this new plan Agatha seems to have for you. 

“Things changed.” She says like it’s nothing. 

“Bullshit.” Your foul language really doesn't’ fit this sitcom, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind your colorful vocabulary. 

“Believe what you want, until I’ve drained Wanda it’s in both our best interest that you stay here. I will keep you safe in the wards of this house. So long as you play by my rules.” Agatha tosses her hair over her shoulder, and you aren’t sure which part of her is acting now.  

“You want me to cross stitch for real then?” Your sarcasm doesn’t even phase Agatha.Agatha puts a finger up to instruct you, and you think of how her dark fingers looked like yours once.  

“You stay out of sight, in the house at all times. You don’t go out, and you don’t communicate with anyone under the spell. When this spell starts to really break down, you can’t be out there for it.” Agatha’s tone was stern and you wondered what she was planning. 

“And if I say no? If I go to escape?”

“It won’t be me, you have to worry about my pretty little plasma.” Agatha said the words slow and let her lips pop as she punctuated the P’s. 

“How long will this take?” You tried to think of this logically, and not like the scared animal you felt like. 

“No idea, could be days could be months or years. It’s chaos magic honey, the darkhold doesn’t even know.” Agatha shrugged like the facts didn’t bother her.  

“Fuck that! Fuck this! What am I supposed to do sit and do while I wait that long? Are we gonna play Monopoly, pretty sure that came out this decade!” 

Your voice gets louder and louder. 

“I’m working towards messing up fragments of the illusion. But it is going to take time. Time is not the part of this you have to really worry about.” Agatha’s words are fucking mysterious and it does nothing to soothe you or help you understand what the hell her plan is. In fact it only further aggravates you, and you get even more enraged using jokes and quips to try to break through to your fellow witch how asinine this whole thing was. 

“What should I worry about Agatha? Pretty sure feminism isn’t in swing yet, the National Organization for Women doesn’t exist this decade! They start in 66’ so I guess I could start painting signs now? They’ll surely dry in time!” Your creative jabs of dry sarcasm doesn’t have its desired effect and Agatha bites back a smile, but you see it.

“I do require a Ralph, you could always slick your hair back and help me carry appetizers over to dinner parties with Wanda and Vision.” Agatha’s lip twitches and you feel rage now. “Pretty sure there is a stamp collecting club starting this week in the community, or hey you could always pick up neighborhood watch with Vision.”  

You gape at Agatha’s jokes. 

Aware now of what is going on. 

She’s entertained by you. 

That’s even worse than threatening, you want to go back to her trying to take your power. It was like she was finding this whole thing cute! 

“STOP ENJOYING THIS!” You reach down to your hideous slip on shoes and yank it off and chuck it at Agatha’s head, but she ducks it easily and rubs her lips together to stop the next round of laughter from escaping. “WHY ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS!”

Agatha doesn’t answer you that night. 

And you spend the next week avoiding her like chicken pox that this generation will get in an episode you are sure, she gives you a bedroom next to her own.

You hear her rustling around in the day and the night, but you avoid her like your life depends on it. You wait for her door to close or for her to leave the house to go to the kitchen and get bits of snacks. You hide out in the small bedroom that luckily has some books that aren’t gardening magazines . 

You read books that have just come out, for the 50’s standard, knowing they will one day be taught as ‘classics’ but have yet to be called such. 

You finish ‘The Invisible Man,’ ‘On the Road,’ and ‘Giovanni’s Room,’ and you’ve read all three of them before, but they are the best out of the pile of discarded books pressed into ugly grey book cases. 

It’s the second week that you accidentally bump into Agatha as you thought she’d left, you are walking downstairs with the aged paperback of ‘Giovanni’s Room’ pressed between your fingers, spine cracked open with your nose stuck in it’s creases. 

You walk down the steps and stop realizing you aren’t alone in the space, Agatha, well Agnes as she is dressed now, is baking and she’s got her hand on her hip as she studies you. 

Like she’d been waiting for you to emerge. 

“Shit, I didn’t realize you were here, sorry.” You panic and turn to walk back up the steps. 

“Wait, I need to talk to you.” Her voice is even, though you wonder if you can detect some eagerness for you to not walk away that goes beyond friendly. 

Your barefoot stops on the wood step and you sigh audibly upset, but turn around to your house arrest friend and walk towards her slowly. 

“Have I been a bad roommate?” You try the joke but it sounds snide and anxious, which is how you feel about all that is Agatha. 

Agnes’s hair is perfect and her dress is crisp and pristine and you miss the way Agatha looks as you gaze at her, Agatha must have read your mind because her right upper lip pulls just a tad at the side in enjoyment. 

“Yes actually, when I said you had to stay inside. I didn’t realize you were going to hide from me the whole time.”

“I don’t see why that’s a problem, I don’t get in your way, I stay in the room.”

“You have been living off of black tea and Peanut M&M’s. You don’t leave your room until you are sure I’m not around, which yes I pretended to leave so you would come downstairs. And you read morning noon and night.” Agatha puts on an oven mitt and uses her free hand to move to the tea kettle and you notice she’s put out a place setting. 

“Have you been spying on me?” You quickly realize. 

“Please, don’t be so dramatic.” Agatha brushes it off but you glare at her more. 

“How else would you know what I’ve been up to! We haven’t seen each other at all! And screw you lady, M&M’s taste different in the 50’s they didn’t use the same food dye. So this is the time to fucking eat them.”

Agatha blinks at you a few times and you scoff at her lack of answer and go to walk back upstairs. 

“I made you tea!”

“Not thirsty you bat shit crazy ancient hag! Go back to your black and white girlfriend nextdoor!” 

“I’ll stop buying M&M’s!” Agatha threatened and you stoped on the third step and turn around and lick your lips, before usign the book to point at the witch who looks a little alarmed by you now. 

“I don’t want your M&M’s or your tea party! You and I aren’t friends! You tried to kill me and take my magic! What did you think was gonna happen when we decided on my house arrest? That we’d share darkhold notes, you want me to help you make quiche, have TV tray dinner’s together and plot Wanda’s demise? Harkness, leave me alone!” You yell the last part and you wonder if Agatha’s had anyone tell her no like this. 

Because she’s scanning you look she’s trying to figure out your currency and she won’t get it. 

“Do we need to do this? Do you have to hate me? Can-” You cut her off quickly snapping the book closed dramatically.

“I’ll not leave my dishes out, and I’ll be quiet as you play with your cursed book in the basement. In turn, stop spying on me, and stop trying. You are a covenless witch right? Well so am I. Let’s keep it up, worked for both of us before, right?” You turn back up the steps and take them two by two. 

Ignoring that Agnes timer went off for something that smells sinfully good. 

Later that night the front door closes and you groan and open your bedroom door. Checking now around the corner to make sure this isn’t another attempt at conversation. 

When you get to the kitchen there’s a note and a plate. 

‘Be happy we are in the 50’s and not the 40’s, there’s a microwave. No I didn’t poison you. Eat it, you can’t live off of M&M’s even if they do have peanuts in them.’ 

You look down to see a bowl of witch’s stew and your stomach growls. 

You dont’ want to give Agatha the satisfaction actually, and you fucking won’t. Fuck her, and her sweet gesture, you didn’t need a friend, no matter how gorgeous she looked in her plum jumper.

You leave the food untouched and open the fridge to steal the orange juice carton and go back upstairs to read ‘Giovanni’s room’ for the third time this week. 

The next day Agnes has some kind of early thing with Wanda and so she leaves mid morning and you are glad, you need tea badly. 

Your bones ache, part of being a blood witch. It just happened and you weren’t exactly giving yourself a balanced diet. 

But you were used to the pain, if only your hands didn’t cramp like they were, it made it hard to hold the book.

You sigh and stomp down the stairs and once again stop at the kitchen counter to see a breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, and white bread lightly toasted and buttered.

The note reads in perfect script.

‘You are being ridiculous, just eat something, it doesn’t mean anything. You have to eat something though. 

Ps: You need a new book.’

You look under the plate of food to see a small purple ribbon wrapped around a stack of paperbacks. 

‘East of Eden,’ by Steinbeck, ‘MacBeth’, and ‘Last Night at the Telegraph Club.’ 

Agatha had picked a book with moral dilemma and the idea of good and evil. She picked shakespeares most powerful depiction of witches. And she picked a queer book that came out in 2021 but is about the 50’s. 

You turned the queer book by Malinda Lo over and over, wondering how Agatha had gotten it, or had she brought it? Did she break a rule to get it to you? 

And what kind of strange present was this, what did these books mean? Was Agatha trying to tell you something? 

You groaned looking at the stack of books, at breakfast, and then back to the note. 

You left the food and carried the books upstairs, turning on your foot last minute and snatching the purple ribbon off the counter. 

You swore you didn’t know why, but you wanted the ribbon. 

That was stupid, but you took it anyway. 

Two days passed and Agatha continued to leave food by your door and on the countertop. 

You lived off of tea and saltines you found in the back of a cupboard. 

Finally one morning you woke to the banging on your door so loud and powerful it made you jump and throw open the door.

“Morning.” Agatha said, like she hadn’t expected you to open it. 

“The fuck? Is the house on fire? The only reason I can imagine you slamming your darkhold fingers against my door like that is if the hex has set the entire community on fire. What the hell!” YOu snap realizing nothing is on fire and Agatha is bothering you again. 

“I made you food.” Agatha throws her thumb in the direction of the stairs and your face contorts in confusion. 

“Have you given I given any reason to believe I have enjoyed your food so far? Perhaps one of our long discussions made you think I liked raspberry jam for our morning tea? “

You grab the doorknob to slam the door in Agatha’s face and one hand slams against the door to stop it from closing. 

Agatha grinds her teeth together in annoyance and you try not to find the act sexy. 

“You HAVE to eat, and I’m done with whatever this is. You are not Boo Radley, I read about blood witches. If you take care of yourself, and you do the right rituals, the potions, the ritualistic baths, the blood spells,  you won’t be in as much pain. If you would stop being so damn stubborn for two seconds, I can help!” Agatha shouts the last part and you stare at her like you think this is a dream. 

“Boo Radley.” You state back at the witch. 

Agatha straightens her spine but keeps her black palm against the wooden bedroom door. 

“Right.”

“Harper Lee.”

“Yes, so?” Agatha’s face morphs into irritation once more. 

“Just didn’t take you for a bookworm.”

“You can’t take me for anything. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks! You don’t even know me! And you haven’t even-” Agatha stops and bites her bottom lip and looks down at the floor once more. Like she’s trying to gather patience and she never has had any before.  

“You did try to kill me.”

“I know, I do, and I…I can’t apologize for that. I don’t do that. But I…Listen I’m trying okay.” Agatha states and your expression must look disgusted because Agatha moans like this was a stupid idea and her face falls back like she’s looking into the stars for the divine mother to help her out now. 

“How about this, you and I. Let’s do this, for ten seconds we just be honest with each other. Complete honesty, no lies for ten seconds, you tell me what the fuck you want from me. And for ten seconds I’ll answer one of your questions or whatever.” You give and Agatha’s chin snaps down to look at you like you’d just given her something truly fascinating. 

“Ten seconds?” Agatha looks to the side like she’s considering this. 

“Ten seconds.” You repeat like a bird. 

“Why ten and not thirty?”

“Because it’s a small number that seems like not a big deal but could dramatically shift everything.”

“Meteors…” Agatha murmurs looking over your shoulder to what you’ve done with the room and you try not to lose your extremely short temper now. 

“Harkness why did  you just mumble meteors, do you want the ten seconds or not? I’m not really a morning person.”

Agatha’s face quickly changes and you wonder what she’s thinking but she studies your face and then makes a fast decision. 

“Meteors entering the Earth’s atmosphere…they only take a few seconds, sometimes up to ten seconds. You said something small but a dramatic shift, meteors.”

You regarded this ancient witch killer now like rain man, wondering who the fuck this witch really was, and what made her tick. Why the fuck was she acting like NASA right now?

“Ok, well do you want your meteor moment or not?”

“Yes, I do.” Agatha answered a little too fast and you don’t hold it against her. 

“Ok.”

“I have to go first?” She arched an eyebrow and her tone dripped with sass and defensiveness. 

“Oh my god! I need tea for this. I can’t do this with you without some tea.” You push past her shoulder and the purple wielding witch follows you into the kitchen and you easily move around her space. Not used to having someone watch you make the tea. But you put the kettle on and stare at the huge breakfast she made for you. 

“What is that?” You point to the plate she’d made for you. 

“Blood sausage,” the witch said like that was a normal thing for the 50’s and it was fucking not. 

“What’s in the bowl?” You questioned and it actually smelled good. 

“I made a lentil dish with spinach and carrots, it’s an old recipe.” You don’t understand how Agatha is the barefoot contessa. But perhaps after centuries on the run, one learns to cook. Or maybe she used to have someone to cook for, and then she didn’t. 

And now here you are. 

You nodded slowly while processing this, and you can’t help but regard Agatha with suspicion. 

“You did your homework Harkness.” You say offhandedly and you don't’ mean it as a compliment but it sure sounds like one outside of your mouth. 

“You…You are a blood witch and you need a high iron diet…and you are in pain.” Agatha says the last admission like she isn’t sure how you’ll take it. 

“How do you know that, maybe I’m really loving and living for house arrest.” Your snotty comment is delivered in a lower volume and it’s too raw, and it doesn’t scare this witch. As she coined sarcasm and snark. If anything Agatha looks like she enjoys your creativity with her medium. 

“You…you cry in your sleep. You yell and cry, and..”

Your face pales now, and you feel your ears turn red from embarrassment. 

“I didn’t realize I still did that. Sorry for the inconvenience…” You mumble and stare at the kitchen floor. 

“I..I don’t mind. I don't’ sleep much…” Agatha admits and you wonder who the fuck hurt this witch. 

She was infamous, and yet she looked so broken here. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You say as the kettle whistles for the hot water, and Agatha looks confused. You lift the tea kettle and hold the handle. 

“What?” She looks around wondering if you mean a food she put out. 

“You cast a glamor when I walked down the stairs, your fingers aren’t black from the darkhold now.”

“I just figured…it puts some people off….”

You don’t let this go, and you don’t like how she assumed this about you. 

“It puts some people off or it makes you feel self conscious over what you’ve done for the darkhold?” You challenge a little too harshly and Agatha grinds her jaw and looks at a corner of the room away from you. 

“Will you eat?”

“I will try the lentils, I don’t eat meat.”

Agatha’s face snapped to yours now, like she was happy with a fact about you, a small morsel. 

You see a cup with a tea bag already in it. 

“What is that?” You point to the cup and Agatha considers you for a moment. 

“It’s a mix of a few things, I read dandelions help iron boost. I put a few things in for the pain, for the body ache…”

“You didn’t learn that from the Darkhold.” You accuse, knowing what the book says. 

“No, someone I cared for hurt…”

“Is that why you can’t watch me…hurt?” You don’t believe it’s about you, this kindness. 

“No.” Agatha answers and you wonder what the fuck she’s thinking but you take the kettle and you pour it into the tea cup she’s prepared, willing to try it. It looked like Agatha had gone to a lot of trouble, and you weren’t sure how to handle that. 

It had been a long time since anyone had done anything out of kindness for you. 

“Sit with me, and we can figure this out.” Your hand goes in the air to waive to her and the house. 

You both sit and you eat the lentils down so fast you are almost embarrassed. But Agatha doesn’t comment, just let’s her interest in your bowl fall through her features and then back out. 

“I’ll go first. I’ll just tell you stuff I guess.” You sigh thinking it’s the least you can do for her making you this food. 

“Ok.” Agatha says tentatively though her body has an eagerness that doesn’t match her tone. 

“I am 210, um I have a dark past too. So I don't’ trust people, and I don’t mean to be mean. I mean I do, but it’s not entirely your fault. And I know you have been trying to be cordial ever since you imprisoned me with runes in your basement and tried to kill me….But I don’t actually hate being here like I thought I would. I mean I really like the M&M’s, they don’t come in color yet, but when they do. The red ones completely rock. Um…and I guess thank you is in order. For the food yes…but the books were….That was nice. I like books, and um.. reading. I guess this sounds stupid but uh- I’ve been on the run for so long, it’s nice to just sleep and read….like a vacation or something.” You shrug and finally look at Agatha. 

“That’s it?” Her tone is dry as hell. 

“I’m sorry, what did you want me to say!” You shout and Agatha actually laughs now and you can’t believe her. 

“That was, that was terrible. You didn’t even tell me anything about yourself! I didn’t get to ask a question!”

“Oh I’m sorry I wasn’t clear this was a first date! Did you want to know my astrology sign and my favorite color? Or shall I wait until the second date for that!” You snap and Agatha laughs even harder now. 

And you want to be upset, but it didn’t resonate in your chest, Agatha is something else. 

Her laugh is so…witchy and melodious, and it makes you want to laugh along. But you won’t give her that pleasure. 

Agatha doesn’t cover her mouth when she laughs, she whips her head back and cackles too. Finally she wipes her thumb under her eye to stop the tears. 

“Your turn Atticus.” The venom just doesn’t produce from you like it did before. And Agatha smirks at the name. 

“Atticus.”

“That’s what I said.” You bite back. 

“Finch.”

“That is the one I’m referring to yes.” You tilt your hand. 

“As in…” Agatha ‘s hand waives through the air for you to finish your joke. 

“Atticus Finch as in the lawyer in ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ aka Agatha Harkness favorite book. And it’s fitting really, because you are acting pretty accusatory like a lawyer right now.” You explain your joke which takes the fun out of it for you, but not for Agatha it seems. 

She puts an elbow on the table and leans her head against it with more comfort in front of you than ever before. 

“That’s not my favorite book.”

“Oh?” Your voice squeaks in interest and you hate yourself at this moment. 

“But I’ll wait until the third date to tell you that.” Agatha flirts and you choke on your tea and she seems to like that too. 

“You think too highly of yourself.” The lack of bite makes you frustrated, what are you doing? Don’t flirt with her!

Agatha just regards you like a lover does after finding something cute. You realize now that look, that look Agatha has given you a few times now and it makes your stomach flip flop. 

“Alright stop that, what do you want to say then, your Meteor moment or whatever. Since mine sucked so much, go ahead then.” You challenge and Agatha enjoys this even more, never one to back away from a challenge. 

She was very competitive. 

“I’ll go, but I want you to go again after, and I get to ask the question.” 

“Fine.” You sipped your tea and waited as Agatha got a dreamy expression on her face. As if she was recalling things she hadn’t allowed herself to ever say out loud, much less remember in the day. Only the night, where she could punish herself in the shadows. 

“I am an infamous witch killer, but no one actually ever asked me why I did any of it. Not that it condones it, but I think it’s easier to hate what you can’t possibly understand. Or take the time to. I am older than you, but how I caught you gawking down my cleavage in Agnes dress the other day tells me you don’t mind that one bit. I loved someone very much and they took…everything from me. I came here because I wanted power, knowing full well it will never give me back what I have lost. Nothing could ever do that, and my fingers remind me…that I am not….That I can’t be that again. I was happy when I learned you were trapped here. Wanda is endlessly boring and in a constant state of domestic denial. You are the most interesting thing to happen to this town…or to anything… in a long time. I can’t recall the last time someone got under my skin like this, fought back, and….stimulated me intellectually. I don’t know how to feel about that. To be honest. I also don’t think I’ve been this honest for the last two centuries. This is the most honest I think I may have ever …been….” Agatha trailed off and looked at her hand where her fingers held a glamor and you waited, letting her admission, her confession breathe between you two. 

Like it was giving life to something new and beautiful. 

She drops the glamor and you like this better. Her charcoal stained fingers aren’t a lie, and she doesn’t need to do that here. 

Agatha regards the cat themed clock as if pretending she had more time, but really you wondered if she was just so relieved to speak.

To not lie for once. 

So she adds more and you are grateful for it all.

Agatha takes a breath and you wonder if it is for courage, and you wonder what Agatha looked like as a girl falling in love for the first time. Before she had all these walls and rules for what she could and couldn’t say to another soul.  

“My guilty pleasure, that I never admit to, is honey in my tea. I watch the sunrise every morning. I don’t like the 50’s music that Wanda insists on the radio. I miss the smell of lilacs in Massachusetts and cedar from a tree I used to read under. I enjoy books more than TV. I’m an old fashion witch, I suppose because I detest technology in general even before we were sent to the 50’s. I…I pick up river rocks for someone who isn’t here anymore…I found after my heartbreak I can’t seem to grow herbs….I despise spirits and can’t begin to tell you how silly Tarot is….My mother taught me to draw a pentagram before she taught me how to write my name… and I can’t wait to not wear Agnes fake niceties around these morons…But I am glad I am here….I am…glad I met you.”

This feels far more honest than you were expecting and you are sure her ten seconds are up but you are hanging on her every word. 

Agatha blue eyes fall to you now and you feel naked, completely bare to her, caught ogling her. As if she knew what her words had evoked deep in your heart now. 

You clear your throat and put the cup of tea down.  

“Well, you sure showed me how it’s done.”