Prologue
Author's Notes: Many of the main characters are modeled after real life people (not characters from fiction). Names, personality traits, ethnicities, or physical appearances can be drawn from the people I have in mind. Relationships, characteristics, life events, and personal timelines are altered in order to fit the story. The main purpose for their use is their careers which will be explored heavily throughout the story. This is not meant to hurt, attack, judge, mock, suggest of/about, or offend anyone.
This is intended to be a multi-chapter Fic (or possibly a multi book fic) I later intend to convert into a personal work or proper novel(s). The plan I have now is to use assorted celebrities as characters. The characters will be written in a way as to make that transition from fanfiction to personal work as seamlessly as possible. Know that this means that all the names mentioned in the tags, at this time, will be at one time or another brought into the story as a central character alongside just as many OC characters. References will be made throughout the story to popular pop culture and other media outlets, works, and the creators of those works that are not necessarily involved in this story. Know this is a romance and includes many couples that have never been paired together before (as a result of Fandom crossovers, OC's with an actor, etc.) and thus are not mentioned in the tags. Tags are abundant as to cover as much of the material as possible, yet some tags may be missing. Know that the tags, though confusing or unspecific, are all going to be utilized throughout the story in some way. This is a first-person narrative (POV) with an original female lead. POV will only change if it is imperative to the story.
Symbol Key: "" – spoken dialogue, '' – thoughts from the main character not spoken aloud or held between characters telepathically, XXX – indicates division between the actual story and the narrator introducing a passage, - - time jumps.
WARNINGS: This story is rated Explicit or M for Mature themes. It will contain explicit and graphic sex scenes (involving mild to extreme kinks, many representative of the BDSM community). One scene of and then further mentions of rape as well as mentions of sexual assault and prostitution. Graphic fight scenes or explicit deaths (possible deaths of story centered characters). Crude or off-color humor. Mentions, references, or scenes involving slavery and racism (against different species, namely humans as slaves to the supernatural) as well as differences in social classes. Discussions of or involving sex and sexual acts or themes. Characters who have insomnia, sleep apnea, depression, anxiety, and body dysmorphia will be represented. Mixed sexual orientations will also be represented including asexuality and polygamy. The use of alcohol and cigarettes as well as references to other drugs and the use of explicit language will occur throughout the story. If any of the above-mentioned upset or offend you in anyway or you simply have no interest in any such topics then please, Do Not Continue to Read.
As for everyone else who has decided to click onto my story and would like to continue, Welcome! Please proceed further down the page to begin reading this thrilling, thought provoking, and emotional (at times, hopefully) journey. This project will be used as both an extensive writing exercise for me as well as an opportunity to educate myself and others on certain social issues (ex. Racism or Mental illnesses) and sub-communities (Ex. LGBTQ+ or BDSM) within our society today. As the story progresses, I will mention certain issues or "Political events" as they happen during the story's timeline. Do know that as I am writing I am learning and do not mean any ill will or harm. I plan to write to each in a respectful manner while also showcasing as many different layers or cases (individuals) as possible to fit the story. If I make a "mistake" or write in a way that you have never seen presented before feel free to politely correct & educate me on the topic or start a conversation in the comments so we may discuss it and we can all grow together. Without giving away too much of the story, if you have any questions about the plot, dozens of characters, confusing tags, or the direction that the story is heading in feel free to leave a comment or PM me. I'd be happy to answer ASAP directly or in the author's notes more publicly (with permission) in updates as to inform all readers.
Also, know that I currently have several chapters already completed. I plan to release the first two (Green and Red Parts 1&2) and gauge the initial response. The first two chapters can be read as a standalone story with a bit of a cliff-hanger ending. If the response is positive and people want to see a full story I'll continue to release chapters once per week until I have released all that I have completed, then will continue to release them every other four weeks (this is an edit and should be the most amount of time between updates from this point on) to allow myself an appropriate amount of time to continue writing/editing. (All chapters have been updated as of 6/31/18). I will keep you all updated on my writing process as best I can. Know that if I decide to continue this story that it is not a one-off thing, but a long and arduous process for all of us to experience. I've spent a very long time perfecting the first few chapters and I'm very excited to begin releasing them. Please read responsibly and leave a review or two along the way to let me know your thoughts and if enjoyed the story. Let me know if you see any potential and would like to see a story come after the two few chapters. Feedback is always appreciated. And so, without further ado.
Enjoy the story…
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Chapter 1: Green and Red
I glance towards the greenly lit digital clock sitting just underneath the small box shaped TV screen glowing 6:45 back at me. 'He won't be home till at least 9:00,' I think to myself before voicing the same thought to the small black mass of fur lounging across my lap. I shift the cat from its seemingly comfortable position and stand from my permanently indented place on the couch. I head towards the front door, slipping into tennis shoes and gathering my belongings before stepping out of my apartment. I shuffle down an obnoxious four flights of stairs before ascending onto the ever bustling, dull gray pavement lining the streets of New York City.
Stepping out of the tall building I take a right and begin to travel down familiar yet, to myself, nameless streets until I arrive at the center of China Town. I pick a restaurant, one of three that I often frequent in rotation, and step inside, waiting only seconds before I am seated. I sit here in this plain, worn, red leather booth for an hour or more, gingerly chewing my food, which is very uncharacteristic of me, and idly flip between pages in a magazine. The magazine is not for entertainment, but to give my eyes something to focus on. I'm only here to distract myself after all, and what better way to waste time than to eat.
Once I decide that I've wasted all the time that I can hope to in the restaurant I exit the small traditional Chinese styled building at five after eight. I step back out into the cool air whipping through the city and decide to walk another ten minutes in the opposite direction of my apartment before circling back. My hope is that traffic will slow my naturally fast footed pass and he'll happen to be home when I arrive.
I try not to think about him. I'm not a child and I can certainly wait another hour. I know he's only been gone for three days, but I can't help missing him. Though I'd never fully admit this fact to myself, much less to him to gloat or anyone else in utter fear of showing any sort of weakness. So, instead, I try to shift my thoughts to the city around me. We've lived here for years now and though I may be, in the general sense, 'used to living here', I will never be used to living in such an enormous city. I thought I hated people before, but they simply cannot be avoided here. I find that with each state or region there are different standards in normal, weird, and stupid. I find myself often encountering the latter regardless of where I travel.
I cross the street almost blindly with about thirty other pedestrians. I feel as much as I see the other figures move ahead of me and I assume that if I can move forward myself it is in fact time to cross. If you find yourself in New York without a sense of direction just keep moving forward and hope that you aren't run over by a taxi. You will get where you want to be eventually. Once I leave China town I have to look up at the buildings to be able to trace myself back to my complex.
The lights are bright here, too bright in my opinion, and the noise is almost unbearable: a million cars going ten miles over the speed limit when there is only room to move five mph to begin with. And then there's the sound of feet. Feet covered in hard rubber, plastic, and leather. The sound is like hundreds of heads of startled cattle moving across cobble stone. Unevenly, almost franticly, with no two pairs forming the same rhythm. All of them hoping to reach their destination without being trampled to death or consumed by the predators they believe to be behind them, unaware they are only running from more scared cattle.
Not at all surprisingly, I get lost. Or perhaps more accurately I miss a turn. Or maybe two. Which I suppose isn't too hard to do in this kind of system, especially if you're me. So, I decide to do what any other native New Yorker would do. I cut across two or three lanes of traffic, almost being flattened twice as many times in the process and enter an alleyway. My hope is that I'll recognize the next street over, the street I believe I should have turned onto sooner and be able to continue retracing my steps.
The alley is completely dark, but I don't take any notice. This isn't the first shortcut I've ever carved out for myself. The street is, of course, only a block long and I know how to deal with the random homeless person or druggie or hooker who might be sitting behind one of the dumpsters that I'll pass when passing through these tall buildings. I continue to trudge forward, forcing myself to slow my own pace and shorten my gait as not to arrive home sooner than I already will. I can see to the other end of the alleyway. Cars passing the relatively small window of vision created by the identical fortresses that encapsulate me at a million miles an hour and the light I see cutting through the black of the alley is from shop lights and streetlamps, not stars.
I vaguely recognize the small shop ahead and am confident that I'm moving in the right direction. As I continue to walk, about to exit the alley, I'm again lost in thought. 'Maybe another fifteen minutes from here if I walk slowly enough. Then, as long as his flight wasn't delayed and assuming he left the airport without many issues, he should be home fairly soon after. I need to feed Midnight anyway. And, of course, there's always laundr-. '
Darkness. Pain. That smell.
My eyes are closed, 'Did I fall asleep?' And the pain. The intense, constant-'needles drilling into every inch, every cell of my body, every bone', 'fire burning within the furnace that is my abdomen'-like pain coursing throughout my body. I realize it's probably what woke me in the first place. I consider myself to have a fairly high pain tolerance, but this pain I'm feeling has me wanting to scream which is how I discover I can't. Or perhaps sound is leaving my throat, I'm certainly creating enough vibrations with my esophagus to produce some attention-grabbing noise, but I can't hear myself if I am. I internally struggle with myself for a minute or two. I'm not sure if it is the pain that eventually subsids even the smallest amount or if I become use to the sensation, but I eventually end my attempt at screaming. And then there is that smell; I can't even describe it. At the moment, I have nothing to compare it to, but I latch on to it, try to identify it, hoping it will distract me from the pain that is still present, but dissolving.
Slowly, slower than usual, though I chalk it up to being due to the pain I am experiencing, I begin to regain conscious control of my body. Once able to think beyond the pain and the putrid smell filling the room I immediately realize: I'm not in my room. I'm not even in my apartment, much less my bed. My body followed my mind when waking and I now realize that I'm lying on hard cement.
I listen intently. I hear nothing, so I begin my self-assessment. I twitch my fingers and toes, I seem to be intact. I'm able to move my extremities. 'Should I be grateful or worried that I'm not tied down?' I subtly twist my wrists causing my hands to bump against my jean pockets to realize I somehow still hold my belongings. Deciding against my better judgment I knock my head to the side as if still in a state of sleep and I carefully raise my eyelids to be able to assess my surroundings. As soon as I do however, my eyes lock with a pair of empty green irises staring unblinkingly back at me. There is a man merely ten feet from me. His face is pale, and his neck is contorted, mouth agape. He looks as if he's been dead for only a few hours, but the smell is so pungent that I'm more inclined to say he has been left on this floor for several days. 'Why didn't I recognize it sooner?' I flick my eyes down the rest of his body and notice that blood, which once must have been running freely from his neck, is now dry on his skin and soaked into his clothes and the concrete before him.
Then I hear what sounds to be the opening of a door followed by a single pair of feet padding across the floor, moving in my direction. Instantly closing my eyes again, I decide to feign being asleep until he realizes I'm not only to continue acting as if I'm still trying to become conscious and have no idea what is happening. To be fair, I still don't know, but neither of us needs to know that.
"Hey baby. Are you waking up? Or is your 'medicine' just starting to kick in?" I hear a male voice ask. The sound of his steps near me and I soon sense his figure leaning over me to examine my form. "You haven't been this quiet since we started. Though surely your system will be accepting the blood by now."
'Blood? From the body?' I ask myself, trying to gather information. 'What medicine, have I been drugged?' I notice that the pain has now subsided to a constant throbbing and beginning to reduce even more, rapidly. 'Is that what he is referring to?'
"I'm truly sorry. I should have been more prepared and had someone to feed on before we started. It's not healthy for either of us, but I wasn't expecting to collect you as soon as I did," the man shifts down to the floor onto one knee between myself and the corpse. He is leaning over me to my left, but I dare not reveal how aware I truly am.
Two fingers turn my head to face the ceiling. A hand comes to rest on my forehead then my neck. I have to remind myself to relax, to keep my pulse steady. I have to remember to breathe but now, even as I consciously make the effort, it seems like more trouble than it's worth. "Won't be long now. I'm so happy, so proud of you. How long did it take you, hmm, three hours at most? That's the fastest change I've ever seen."
His first touch is startling, but it's evident that he doesn't mean to hurt me, at least not immediately.
"Can I be honest?"
'Yes, please explain!' I mock yell in my mind at the foreign man beside me. I give my head a shake, not in acknowledgement, but to let him know that I'm becoming conscious. I continue to force myself to breath, but now it seems not even a secondary concern in my current state. Still collecting information, I decide I've never heard his voice before. I also notice he isn't native to New York, but he is acting as if he knows me, in some way.
"You are the first person I've ever turned. I'll admit, I was rather terrified when I was given permission to find a mate. I knew that it would have to be me, and I had to do it alone. If this were a recruitment job, then I would have been allowed help. But of course, I signed up for this. I still can't believe they allowed me to mate this early. Maybe they are just more understanding than most give them credit for. Or perhaps it's because I've done my part. I've been loyal. Maybe this is just my reward."
Now I believe my mind and body are completely awake. Whatever pain I had, which was initially the worst pain I've ever experienced, has completely vanished. I'm not even sore as far as I can tell, not that I can move. I can now trust myself to act accordingly. I didn't expect the man to talk so much. His voice is low and methodical. He is talking very slowly as if he's unsure that I will understand. I still don't know what he is trying to explain to me. I feel as if I'm missing some important factor in his story. But what I do understand is that he's looking for some kind of "mate". And I have a daunting feeling that he means for me to be just that.
His right hand comes to cup the back of my head, tilting it up. "Now then. How awake are you really? Can you speak for me? Can you hear me right now? Come on baby. I really don't want to start until you're fully awake."
I groan lightly as if still in pain. I've never been in a situation such as this before, but my training seems to be keeping me alert and calm. Hopefully I'm making the right choices.
"There you are. Can you open your eyes?" the stranger continues to encourage. I refuse, as if doing so will delay his intentions.
"Oh. I've waited so long for this. Longer than I've been with the family. Even before I was turned myself. I've never wanted anything more than to call someone else my own. So, come on baby. Wake up for me. The sooner you do the sooner we can go home."
And with that statement my internal alarms go off. I force myself to keep from going ridged against him. I know what I must do. I just have to wait for an opening.
His left hand comes down over my right forearm as he slowly begins to caress me, almost in a petting motion. He continues to whisper terms of endearment in the hope that I'll wake.
Without making a fully conscious decision I open my eyes. I look around myself as if in confusion before meeting his own eyes staring down at me curiously. He is smiling at me. Dark round eyes a strange shade of amber I've never seen in human eyes are framed by his shortly trimmed hair and perfect white teeth seem to gleam in the darkness of the room.
"Hello," he whispers and sweeps a strand of flaxen yellow hair from my forehead, "I'm so glad you are awake. I'm sorry that we have to meet under these conditions, but this is how this has to be. You will come to thank me later. Hopefully, it will be someday very soon."
As he spoke his left hand joined his right in finding a comfortable hold and grasping the hair at my neck loosely. He leaned forward ever so slightly with each passing word while speaking in a soft tone and his lips parted to meet mine on the final syllable.
I instantly cease my own breathing, which suddenly seems much easier than it normally would be to do. My eyes remain open. I don't reciprocate; I still don't move. Seconds tick by. I know he wants me to make the decision on my own and I still refuse. Perhaps a whole minute passes where he simply remains passive. Soft lips pressed gently against mine. Then he grows impatient. He begins to move. His hands tighten slightly, but noticeably and he begins kissing me in a way I assume is meant to convey passion and encouragement.
I knew I wouldn't be able to continue my façade forever. He's already, how very typical, losing his patience. The grip of his right hand continues to tighten and he moves his left hand to rest on my hip. His thumb caresses my stomach under my shirt and just above my jeans. And so, to only buy more time to delay, I reciprocate. I squint my eyes shut as I close my mouth over his top lip and begin to kiss back. A moan, low and deep, emits from the back of his throat. He believes he has my consent, though if I had waited any longer I know he would have proceeded without it.
His left leg crosses my body and comes to rest on the ground against my right side. In one fluid move he has encompassed me, trapping my body under his weight. His left hand ghosts further up my side to rest firmly under the wire of my bra placed as an anchor. He is using his right hand to raise my head, tipping it back and forcing his tongue down my throat.
Mentally slapping myself for having jumped at the oral assault, I find that I can just move my arms. Taking a risk, I carefully pull my right arm free from between our bodies. The man above me slows for a moment and we both seem to hesitate. Until my hand meets his neck pulling him closer to the ground as if seeking more contact and driving him to continue with twice as much confidence as before.
For a moment, I believe I have the situation under control. Then he takes my bottom lip in his teeth, first straight and aligned in a neat row before a single tooth pultrudes out of place and sharpens at the end. The canine pricks my lip causing it to bleed. He sucks up the blood as it flows as if savoring the taste and rolls his hips against me. Then he moans again, from either my blood or the friction created between us I cannot say for sure.
The sudden movement causes me to tighten my grip on his neck and this is when I notice that, like his teeth, my hand has changed as well. My fingernails to be exact and ever so slightly. I'm one to normally grow out my nails, but now I notice that they are longer than usual. Longer than they have ever been. I rake my pointer finger down his neck leading him to shiver slightly and guess that my nail is now over an inch long ending at a point. I gently rake my left hand across the concrete trying not to create any noise by doing so. Then I curl my hand into a fist and slice my palm open with ease. Shocked more than I am in any pain I feel blood run down to my wrist. Then five seconds later the self-inflicted wound closes, completely healed.
While testing my hands, the stranger above me continues to move. His left hand is gently caressing my breast while his right begins to pry open the button on his trousers. I am no child and I am certainly not naive and this little game of his has gone on for far too long.
Suddenly, and after noticing such a seemingly simple act, I'm consumed with rage. Hot and red in my chest. And I find myself no longer thinking but acting.
I bite the man's top lip as hard as I can only to realize that my teeth have changed to appear like his. I have two jagged canines in my mouth with no logical reason as to how or why I possess them. But in this moment, it doesn't matter. Once I'm free I can figure out what is wrong with me.
Right now, the stranger is pleased. With both himself and my current performance. That is until I dig my newly grown talons deep into the side of his throat and rake them hard down the side of his neck, ripping through tender flesh and slicing open veins, until I'm stopped only by his clavicle bone.
He screams in pain and rears back in shock before releasing an animalistic snarl and his left hand closes tightly around my throat, forcefully pining me to the floor of the building. I myself release no more than a quiet groan from the harsh impact.
"I was really rather hoping you would cooperate."
'I was wrong. This fucker doesn't know me.'