#let us not even approach the nightmare of buying bras

[shastafirecracker]

23 👋🙂

Favorite piece of clothing - oh that’s an interesting question! Hmm. I have a fraught relationship with clothes bc of body image issues but I like this making me think about only the positives. I have a blue plaid flannel shirt that’s REAL flannel and well made that I love, and I miss it when it gets too hot out to wear it. Also a really nice hoodie from the computer game Myst. And I really like my shoes? I hate buying shoes and wearing different shoes so I tend to have a single pair of shoes that I wear for literally everything until they disintegrate, and these are black slip-ons from LL Bean. Second pair of the same type - I wore the first pair basically every day for 6 years until the soles came off. (Sometimes I think oh surely I’m not autistic, and then I think about my aversion to some changes to routine such as Having To Wear A Different Shoe for like 3 hours at an event, and how brain-wrecking that is… and then I’m like… ok I can have a little tism, as a treat)

[ficnation]

Chapter 3: The Desire She Stirs

Series: “She”

Word count: 2,0k+

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader

 Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, a tiny sprinkle of smut if you squint hard enough

A/n: Everything needs to fall apart before it can grow stronger. Angel starts to feel things he’s not comfortable with.

If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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Angel Reyes used to think he knew you like the back of his hand. He always thought you were a good friend that didn’t hide stuff from him—that didn’t lie or pretend. Boy, was he wrong.

He first starts to doubt it when you come back home long past midnight with your hair messy and your clothes ruffled, the red lipstick smudged over your mouth and cheek. You aggressively throw your boots into the corner, then press your forehead against the cold wall with a loud, strained groan.

Angel hears how heavy your breaths are and sees the way you flinch when the wooden floor underneath his feet creaks. He calls your name as he walks over, concerned.

“You doin’ alright there?” His voice carries the worry he feels. The question is a soft whisper as it enters your ears.

You take a deep breath, your whole body trembling as you try to force the pent-up rage and tension out of your muscles. When you turn around to face him, you can only shrug pathetically, biting on your lower lip so you don’t burst into tears in front of him.

He reaches your person with knitted brows, taking your face between his large, warm hands. “What happened, querida?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” you refuse, trying to avoid his gaze, but it’s not that easy—his face is barely inches from yours. You can even feel his minty breath brushing over your cheeks. “Tomorrow?”

Angel thinks for a moment but doesn’t push; he knows it wouldn’t be fair if he did. He might be living with you; he might even be sleeping in the same bed from time to time when your nightmares make you cry out at night—but he still has no right to get all up in your business.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” he offers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You respond with a nod, arms circling his waist as you give him an appreciative squeeze.

He lets you go reluctantly before walking away toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. You let out a deep sigh as you press your fingers to your temples, almost as if to calm down your racing mind. You give yourself a moment, then shrug off your leather jacket and hang it over the back of the couch before you follow in Angel’s steps.

As you walk into the bathroom, the inviting and soothing smell of vanilla soap and bath salts fills your senses. The air is humid and the lighting low, creating a relaxing and peaceful environment. The sound of the running bathwater floods the air with its calming sound.

The room is uncluttered for once, and you realize Angel must’ve picked up all of Maverick’s bath toys in the few minutes you spared him. The image of him scrambling around the room as he tries to quickly pick up every single one of the colorful trucks, boats, and squeaking ducks brings a smile to your face.

You approach the steaming bath, its warmth inviting. You manage to shed your blouse and wiggle out of your tight jeans before Angel returns with a bottle of white wine and two whiskey glasses—you never got around to buying the stemmed ones.

The man stares at your half-naked figure as you straighten up and step out of the pile of clothing gracefully. His eyes follow your every move, every curve of your body, every mark that decorates your skin. He feels entranced as he tries to will his gaze away, but he simply can’t, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

What’s even worse, you don’t seem to notice his presence as you unclasp your bra and slide down the matching lace panties. You step into the warm embrace of the bath, the comfort welcoming after a long, tiring day. You settle in with a deep sigh of relief.

Angel can feel the heat enveloping his body, lulling him into slipping into the bath with you. Then suddenly, you notice him in your peripheral vision, and you jump in surprise—the water moving with you. He feels like a fucking pervert.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles out, turning around quickly as if it was going to save him from being caught in the act.

He can’t see you shaking your head, but he definitely hears the snort that follows it. The bottle of wine almost slips from his hand onto the blue tiles below; he grips it a little bit tighter by its neck.

“No worries,” you respond shortly as you fold your arms on the side of the tub, resting your chin in the nook of your elbow. “Are you joining me, or you’re just gonna stand there like a donkey?”

Your words fall on deaf ears as Angel stares into the distance with wide eyes. He’s sure his dirty mind is just playing with him. There was no way those words came out of your pretty lips. He spins to face you, and you meet his gaze, eyes shimmering with playfulness. Are you teasing him? Or are you just amused by his reaction to the question? He has no fucking idea which one it is, and it scares him.

You sigh deeply and decide to spare him the overthinking, “C’mon, hop in.”

“Me?” the man asks, pointing one of his fingers at his chest. He looks around the room as if someone else could’ve hidden in there, but he doesn’t see anyone. It’s only you and him. 

You roll your eyes in disbelief, leaning back and slipping further into the sudsy water. “Well, do you see anyone else here?”

Angel reluctantly sets down the glasses and the bottle of wine on the carpet beside the bathtub. He steps back and searches your face for an explanation. Maybe you’ve been drunk out of your mind since you came home, and he didn’t even notice. The smudged mascara on the apples of your cheeks reminds him that you had a bad night—a shitty night. He’s afraid you’re playing his game and looking for comfort in the wrong places.

“Querida, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Not in a sexual way, you ass,” you explain when your mind catches up to his suspicions. “I just want you to enjoy it with me. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

After the words leave your lips, you don’t have to wait much longer. Angel understands that feeling—the despairing need for the closeness of another human being. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and inches it up slowly, giving you time to chicken out and retract the offer, but you don’t.

Your eyes gaze at the revealed skin and the happy trail of dark curls. You feel your cheeks getting warmer, so you look away—the white tiled walls are suddenly the most interesting thing in your world.

Angel slides his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor as he pushes the sweatpants down his legs. He stands there in all his naked glory and watches as you toy with your fingers awkwardly. He feels like he will chicken out if he stands there for a minute longer, so he slips into the bath and sits on the opposite side of you. The bathtub is big enough for you two to fit without feeling overly cramped.

You meet his eyes with a shy smile. “Hi, Angel.”

He shakes his head, amused, as he playfully splashes the suds at your face. You giggle quietly—a genuine sound—and he already knows he’s made your night a tiny bit better. He’s surprised this is all it took to calm you down—his company, wine, and a bubble bath.

You lean over the edge of the tub and pour the wine into the whiskey glasses, handing him one as you slump down with a relaxed hum, your leg grazing his underwater. It stirs something inside him, and he can’t help but shiver at the contact of your skin against his. He gulps down a generous mouthful of the alcoholic liquid, begging his body not to betray him.

Almost as if reading his mind, your eyes meet his, and you observe him intently, tapping your nails on the glass between your hands. “You seem nervous,” you state the obvious.

Angel blinks fast and sends you an awkward smile, shrugging his arms. He doesn’t know why he feels so restless and horny at the mere sight of your naked flesh and proximity. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you without clothes before—he did. You’ve been living together for a while—he’s seen it all, but it never made him feel this way.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, querida,” he lies anyway, trying to slide back, so he can put a little more distance between your bodies. The faucet jabs him in the spine, and the man hisses loudly, back arching.

“Shit, Angel, are you okay?!”

You’re now kneeling in the bath, right between his spread legs, as your hands hover over his arms, ready to check over the injury.

You’re too close. You’re far too close. Angel starts panicking; his heart thumps in his chest as your concerned eyes meet his. He’s trying not to look down at your revealed chest, but it’s hard not to. He can feel the warmth spreading through his body as he imagines how it would feel like to let those temptations win—to hear your sweet moans as he pounds you into the mattress. Fuuuuck.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, pushing your hands away gently. His eyes are looking anywhere but at you.

You look at him, utterly confused, as you slide back a little bit away from him. “Are you—”

“I said turn the fuck around!” he sneers loudly, cutting you off, a deep frown etched on his face.

You quickly do what he says, a shiver running down your spine. You have no idea if his sudden outburst is your fault. What did you do wrong? You’ve kept your distance as much as you could—as much as the calling of his muscled body and his charming smile allowed you to. But somehow, you still fucked it all up. That’s what you were best at. Fucking things up for everyone, including yourself.

The sound of splashing and dripping fills the air as Angel steps out of the tub. The bathwater ripples slightly, its bubbly surface glistening in the light. With his movement, some water spills over the edge and splashes out onto the cold tiles.

You sit still, your knees tucked to your body, chin propped up on them as tears well up in your eyes. The sound of trickling water and dripping onto the floor continues, making each of his steps seem slower—spiking up the tension in the air. You hear the rustling of his clothes as he picks them all up and leaves the room, still drenched and naked. He doesn’t bother saying anything else, but his harsh words still echo in your head.

You burst into sobs—let them wreck through your whole body, shaking with their intensity. You didn’t mean to upset him. You just needed someone else’s touch on you, someone else’s presence beside you, to forget the hands that grasped the fabric of your clothes—the hands that grabbed at your flesh harshly, leaving bruises in their wake. God, you just wanted to forget this night.

When you finally manage to step out of the bathtub, the water is cold—it’s been like that for a while already, but you didn’t even notice, too far gone in your thoughts. You put on the first clean clothes you can get your hands on, then fall back on your bed—the mattress creaking slightly.

That night when you thrash around and scream in your nightmares, you don’t wake up to the feel of Angel’s strong arms pulling you into his warm embrace. You wake up to the empty room and the eerie silence swallowing you in. The feeling of safety is gone.

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires​

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Too many options

Yelena Belova x reader, a lil bit angsty, a lil bit fluffy, mentions of mindcontrol, happy ending as usual, adjusting to ordinary life

You wanted this evening so badly. Dreaming about it for weeks. Finally everything was close to normal. No alien invasions or governmental missions. No nightmares or tears for both of you for almost a month. You were expecting an ordinary date. As much as it can be under your circumstances.

But Yelena wasn't there yet. You were waiting in your meeting spot for almost an hour. It wasn't something new. Out of a sudden she could have a briefing or a mandatory status report. But she always managed to at least send a text. When both of you were particularly lucky she even could call you.

But this time it was different. Not a text, not a call. You yourself tried to contact her a few times. Her number was unavailable.

You had a bad feeling about this. How could you not. You knew too well the nature of her work. The possible outcomes and consequences. The ones that didn't let you sleep at night. Horrific dreams of her possible injury, even death. Yelena tried so hard to help you fight this, while being simultaneously consumed by other fears herself.

Adjusting was hard. Especially in the first few months of your relationship. It was mere weeks when you met after she was freed of mind control.

And in the beginning it was intense. Sure, Avengers did provide the resources for needed support. But it was you who had to deal with mood swings, depressions or anger issues.

Adjusting to the real world was hard, exhausting and painful.

Yelena warned you though in the beginning. She's not used to ordinary life. But with you she'd like to try.

It was getting ridiculous, so you went home.

What you saw there shocked you.You didn't know whether Yelena was there or not so opted to use your own key.

There were piles of clothes on the floor in the hallway. Yelena's clothes. What the hell was going on?

"Lena, are you here?"

No answer. You carefully proceeded to the next room. The same thing. Piles of shirts and jeans, jackets and coats were just lying around. They were not torn or anything. Just there, waiting to be picked up and worn.

"Yelena?" You called again, hoping for at least something.

When you finally reached your bedroom you were almost afraid to get inside.

"Love, are you there?" You asked as you were opening the door.

You sighed with relief. But it lasted only a second.

Your woman was sitting on her knees near the biggest stack of staff. Her hair tangled, eyes red from tears. She was wearing a weird mix of pajama pants and her bra.

As soon as you understood the surrealism of the situation you rushed to her.

"Babe, what's happened?" You clumsily fell on your knees in front of her.

She didn't react, blankly staring at the mirror, which you now were blocking.

"Малыш, что случилось? (Babe, what happened?)" You said in your broken Russian. That was the trick that you often used to calm her down. It was her idea in fact. She taught you this language herself.

Yelena heard you and slowly opened and closed her mouth.

"Лена, кто-то был здесь? Тебя ранили? (Lena, someone was here? Are you hurt?)"

You carefully examined her face, barely touching her. No blood, no visible injury. Same with the neck and shoulders.

It took her almost five minutes to properly feel you on her skin. She was confused, but she was finally there with you.

"What, what are you doing?" She removed your hand from her body. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean..."

"I said, I'm fine." Yelena raised her voice, but immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I know you have questions. But I did it myself."

"Yourself?" You echoed in disbelief.

"Да. (yes)" She got on her feet. And put on the nearest t-shirt. "I... It's hard to explain."

"Do you want something. Anything?" You couldn't fathom what was going on. But you were sure that Yelena thought of this as "I can handle this on my own" situations. And that wasn't a good sign.

"No." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I've missed our dinner."

"It's fine. We'll have another one." You gave her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, if It doesn't happen next time too." She laughed bitterly. "With me you never know, ha? Kinda like a time bomb."

You tried to approach her, but she shook her head.

"It's always like that. Aren't you tired of it? We're having a great day, week, month. But I always find a way to screw it up."

She hated herself during moments like this. Always feeling like she still didn't have control over her own life. Who knew where and when the next outburst could happen. And what could trigger it.

"It's not your fault." You once again tried to reach out to her. This time she stepped away from you.

"Right." She let out a groan. "But it's my fault. But somehow it's because of me, we're standing in this mess instead of enjoying our life together."

She was so angry, so frustrated. This was supposed to be your romantic evening. Personal, intimate. All those things she was always denied.

"We are enjoying ourselves. It's just an episode..."

"Really? That's how you call it?" Yelena was almost hysterical. "A fucking episode. Do you even..."

She clenched her fists, and the vein on her neck could burst at any moment. She started pacing the room, avoiding at any cost looking at you.

"You want to know what happened? I was preparing, you know, choosing the clothes. Started thinking about it. And I..." She suddenly stopped, trying at least to calm her breath. "I... I got overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do. You won't believe it, but suddenly I felt a burden of responsibility... What should I wear, how should I combine clothes and how others would perceive me. How you would. What color, what style...should I copy someone or I'm good enough myself...I...I was always told what to wear and now..."

You didn't care about her protests anymore. You hugged her, immediately feeling her heartbeat, her fire on your skin. She was trembling all this time, devouring herself from inside, killing another Yelena, the one that she didn't control.

"I... I..." She couldn't stop herself. Weeping and shaking, she was finally defeated by reality.

It took her a few minutes to come back to you. You felt it. She kissed your collarbone, asking for attention.

"I'm with you, babe. I can only imagine what it's like. Being overwhelmed by options, by your own responsibility, by the consequences of the actions you yourself took. But it's ok." You were gently stroking her hair. "You hear me? It's ok. We... We are gonna work on that. Simplify everything. Reduce the number of options. And it's not about clothes, it's a...about everything. We'll get there. I promise."

"You're going to throw everything away?" Yelena whispered.

"Maybe. temporary, I guess. We should have thought it through. Not buy mindlessly everything we see."

"Even my vests?' Yelena sounded so timid. She was hiding in your embrace, putting herself together again.

"Of course not. Кем ты меня считаешь? (who do you think I am?). We're keeping the vests at any cost." You could feel Yelena smiled so close to your heart.

You both knew there was so much hard work ahead. Overcoming and fighting, breaking and building. But you were ready for it. Both of you. It was worth it.

[ilovefandoms102]

Love Always Wins-Part 2

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Potter!Reader

Summary: After the second Wizarding War, you and Draco start your life together…

Note: Sorry this part took so long to get up! I hope you guys enjoy this and as always let me know what you think! I will be linking pics to what I envisioned for what the reader would wear to the wedding!

Part 1

=====================================

Hermione, Ginny, and I got to work immediately on wedding planning….

I was so excited, I had dreamt of this moment for as long as I can remember. Draco let me completely take over, saying he didn’t care about the colors and all that as long as I showed up and said I do. Draco hadn’t spoken to any of his old Slytherin friends since they were all sent to the dungeons during the battle of Hogwarts. I had tried to get him to reach out to them, thinking it might have been possible that they changed their ways. 

He refused, Draco wanted nothing to do with anyone from his past. I was still working on trying to invite his parents. He still hadn’t forgave them for what they did to me all those years ago in Malfoy Manor. Of course they had been trying to reach him, sending countless letters and owls. It usually ended up in an argument anytime I brought it up, so after a while I stopped trying to get him to reach out. 

=========================================

My dress was absolutely gorgeous, I bawled when I came out of the dressing room to show the girls. I felt so beautiful, and I just knew Draco would love it. It wasn’t a poofy dress like most people did today, it was tight to accentuate my curves. It was backless, lace detailing on the sleeves and the bodice. I made sure to invest in some pretty white lace underwear for later since I wouldn’t be wearing a bra, Draco for sure would be excited about that. 

“So, have you decided what you’re going to do about your best man?” I asked Draco, we were laying in our bed after a long hard day at work.

“I think I’m going to ask your brother.” he revealed, my head turning on his chest to look up at him.

“You don’t have to do that Dray,” I mumbled, shivering from his fingers mindlessly tracing my naked back.

“No...I-I want to.” he confirmed, shifting so that we were facing each other. 

“Only if you’re absolutely sure…” I whispered, playing with the little tufts of hair on his chest.

“Your family is mine now darling, they’re the only ones I’ve got.” he murmured.

“Your parents-” I started, quickly being interrupted.

“Don’t...we’ve discussed this numerous times already.” Draco spat, turning over on his back.

“Ok, I’m sorry.” I spoke softly, giving him space by turning over on my side.

=========================================

“I never loved you,” Draco growled, gripping my wrist so tight I whimpered.

“Stop!” I cried.

“The girl who lived, desperately seeking love...how tragic.” Voldemort taunted.

“H-He does love me.” I sobbed, but Draco’s look of disgust said otherwise as he tossed me on the floor.

“Foolish girl, anything I ever had for you was an act. You are nothing, I despise you.” he hissed, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

“It is time my boy, kill her.” Voldemort laughed, my body not cooperating as I tried to get up.

Draco sauntered over to me, his smile sinister. I pleaded and begged him to not do this, to find the light and come back to me. His hand flew towards me, backhanding me. I tasted blood in my mouth, turning my eyes back to the man I loved.

“Draco,” I croaked.

“Avada Kedavra,” he spoke.

=========================================

I sprung upright, my chest heaving. I was covered in a layer of sweat, tears cascading down my cheeks. I put my hand over my hammering heart, trying to control my breathing. I threw the covers off, pulling Draco’s tshirt from the floor to slip over my head. I padded down to the kitchen to get some water, downing the whole cup. I put some ice on the back of my neck to cool me down, hearing footsteps approach me. Draco wrapped his arms around my middle, burying his face into my neck.

“Why are you not in bed my love?” he mumbled, kissing the skin where his lips fell.

“Thirsty,” I sighed, tossing my cup in the sink.

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?” he inquired, my form tensing up in his hold.

“How long have you been keeping this from me?” he sighed.

“A few months.” I muttered, Draco’s hold tightening slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asked, spinning me around to face him.

“They’re just nightmares Dray, that’s a silly thing to be worried about.” I huffed, my eyes casting to the ground.

“It isn’t when we had some pretty traumatic stuff happen in our life darling.” he said, tilting my chin up to look in his eyes.

“I’m sure they will go away soon, let’s go back to bed.” I uttered, pulling his arm along.

“You’re shutting me out y/n.” he snapped, yanking my hand back to face him.

“What do you want me to say?” I exasperated, throwing my arms by my sides.

“I want you to tell me when it happens, I want to be there for you...let me help you.” he pleaded, taking my face in his hands, and that’s when I broke down.

“I-Draco...it felt so real.” I sobbed, his face falling. He brought me into his embrace, my head falling to his shoulder as my tears fell on his skin.

“Tell me about it,” he whispered.

“I can’t,” I whimpered.

“It was about me, wasn’t it?” Draco spoke, forcing my head back to look at him.

“Dray…” I sniffled.

“You’ve been having nightmares about me, that’s why you wouldn’t tell me.” he concluded, my lips quivering.

“Yes, but they’re different.” I blubbered, searching his eyes for the undetected emotion.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“I...Draco it doesn’t mean anything.” I insisted, not wanting to relive the horrid memory.

“I want to know, it might help you to get it off your chest.” Draco muttered, moving a piece of hair from my face. 

“They fluctuate from you dying and...and you killing me.” I spoke hesitantly, seeing Draco’s face turn pale. My heart shattered at his expression, staring worriedly as he sat back on the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face, looking down at the ground.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you...I knew you’d take it to heart. They’re just dreams.” I insisted, standing between his legs.

“That’s not the point,” he grumbled, his head diving into my stomach.

“Draco,” I whispered, raking my fingers through his hair.

“Will you hold me?” he asked, my heart squeezing in my chest.

“Lay down my love,” I whispered, climbing on the bed with him.

We laid on our respective sides, Draco removed the shirt I was wearing as he wanted to feel my skin against his. He laid his head on my chest, wrapping his arms tight around my middle. I sifted my fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. We both drifted off soundly in the comfort of each other’s arms.

=========================================

Today was the big day…

Today was the day I would become Mrs. Draco Malfoy. I was excited, but also nervous at the same times. Of course I knew Draco loved me, and I loved him with my entire being. But I still felt that prickle of anxiety in the back of my brain. 

I spent the entire first half of the day getting the preparations in order such as: getting our hair done, nails, makeup, and just being completely pampered. I honestly needed it with the stress I had been feeling since I woke up this morning. I was constantly twisting my engagement ring, twirling my hair, or my leg would be bouncing to no end. 

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Hermione asked, placing her hand gently on my knee.

“I can’t shake these nerves, I feel like I’m going to have a breakdown at any minute.” I huffed, standing quickly to pace the room.

“You have nothing to worry about love,” Ginny piped in, grabbing my shoulders to face her. 

“What if he leaves me,” I sniffled, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Hermione asked.

“Isn’t the bride and groom not supposed to see each other before the wedding?” I blubbered.

“Well you aren’t in your dress yet, so I don’t see why not.” Ginny smiled, exiting the room with Hermione. 

I sat on the tiny sofa in the dressing room I was in, putting my head in my hands. It was foolish for me to be feeling this way, I should have no doubt in my mind about Draco’s love for me. So why now on the most important day of my life do these nerves now decide to spring into action, dancing around the back of my brain to fill my thoughts with anxiety. There was a knock at the door, Draco peeking his head in.

“Darling?” Draco called, smiling wide when he spotted me. 

“Hi,” I whispered, looking back down at my feet.

“Now, what is this I hear about nerves?” he questioned, taking a seat beside me. 

“Are you sure about this Draco? I mean...I practically forced you to buy me a ring, and with the wedding party, and-” I babbled, but was quickly shut down by Draco forcing his lips to mine. 

“You didn’t force me into anything my love...I already knew I wanted to marry you before we even graduated Hogwarts.” he admitted once we pulled away, continuing to leave gentle kisses all over my face.

“Really? So you weren’t going to leave me at the altar?” I sniffled, letting his lips fall to mine once more. Draco chuckled deeply, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That is absolutely the most ridiculous thought to enter your head.” he said, laughing harder when I playfully hit his chest.

“Draco!” I growled.

“No I would not leave you...I’ll never ever leave you my darling.” he whispered, taking my face between his hands.

=========================================

I was officially Mrs. Draco Malfoy. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful, Draco had even teared up a bit when he saw me coming down the aisle. George took the place of my father walking me down the aisle, constantly making jokes about the both of us tripping. Despite losing Fred, he never lost his sense of humor, which I was insanely grateful for now. 

The reception was filled with dancing, laughter, and mild teasing from Draco and myself. After all the pictures were taken, I changed into a silk white dress that was short enough that if I bent over, my whole family would see the pretty white lace thong I was wearing for later activities. Draco sat with me at the table designated for just the two of us, eating the delicious cake made for us, and of course sipping on some champagne. Draco mindlessly slid his hand on my thigh, making me tense up a little. 

“Don’t,” I hissed, pushing his hand away. 

“I’m not doing anything Mrs. Malfoy,” he smirked, my heart fluttering at my new name. He replaced his hand higher this time, sticking his hand all the way up my dress before I could catch his hand. 

“Draco,” I gasped as his fingers went right to my heat over my underwear. He leaned to place a gentle kiss right below my ear, humming deep in his chest.

“This all for me baby?” Draco asked, his fingers prodding all around the area. 

“Our family is not even ten feet away.” I gritted out, yet made no move to stop him.

“Maybe we should get out of here then.” he stated, leaving a dark love bite on my neck.

=========================================

Draco rented a cabin out in the countryside, completely isolated. It was huge, the outside deck even included a hot tub. This was going to be my escape for the next month, and I was absolutely thrilled. I took a look around the cabin, letting Draco bring all of our bags in. I tried to offer assistance, but all my ladies know how men are when it comes to girls trying to help them with anything. I found the master bedroom, biting down slightly on my lip as I stared at the huge, king size bed. My thoughts were sinful, thinking of all the ways and how many times I wanted Draco to fuck me into the mattress. 

I heard Draco coming up the stairs, concocting a plan in my head for how I wanted to start the night. I waited until just the right moment, and began to sensually crawl on the bed. My ass was definitely on display from how short this dress was, and I knew I had done it when I heard Draco curse under his breath. I flopped over to the side, leaning on my elbow. I stared at my husband, trailing my eyes up and down his form. 

Draco walked over to the bed, gripping my ankle. I yelped in surprise when he forcefully tugged me to the edge of the bed, my dress riding up so he got a view of my undies. He trailed his fingers over the hem, sliding them in against my skin. The heat of his touch scorched me, wanting him to just rip my underwear and have his way with me. 

“Dray,” I whined, squirming on the bed.

“Hmm?” he asked, not looking up as he dipped his fingers inside. I gasped when he pulled the sides of my underwear up so that they went between my lower lips, the fabric rubbing against my clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked baby.” he groaned, using his other hand to spread my legs further.

“Please, I need you.” I moaned, almost sighing in relief when Draco moved to take my undies off. 

Draco wasted no time, ripping his shirt off, and diving down to slurp at the wetness pooling from me. I arched my back off the bed, moving my hands to grip the platinum locks that were sat between my legs. His tongue moved languidly up and down, stopping to nibble at my sweet spots now and again. Draco moved two of his fingers inside of me, the coldness of his wedding ring making me shutter. 

He sped up his movements, grinding his teeth to my clit. I shouted his name, choking on a moan as I felt my pent up release about to crash. His fingers curled, hitting the special spot that had my legs starting to shake. Draco moved his free hand to shove my dress further up my body, taking one of my nipples to pinch and roll. I released on his tongue not seconds later, my eyes closing as I threw my head back on to the mattress. 

“Turn over for me love,” Draco heaved, wiping the remnants of me from his chin. 

I sat up, tugging my dress over my head. I laid on my stomach, excitement creeping up in my belly. The sound of Draco’s belt and zipper sounded in my ears, the bed dipping moments later as he crawled up my body. I felt his hardness press against me, a satisfied sigh leaving my lips. He pushed into me, feeling him deeper at this angle. Draco pulled me up on my knees a little, keeping my head pushed down. 

“Feel good Mrs. Malfoy?” he asked, squeezing my hips.

“Yes Mr. Malfoy, please I need more.” I whimpered, his chuckle rumbling through me as his front was pressed to my back. 

He pulled all the way out, his tip only being left in before he rocketed back into me. If he hadn’t been holding on to me, I would have went flying off the bed. I squealed when he started to ram his hips into mine, the sound of skin slapping immediately filling the room. I already felt my next high close again, biting down on my fist to try to hold in my screams. Draco moved his fingers to pinch my clit, rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” I groaned.

“Already?” Draco taunted, quickening his movements.

 I came for the second time, my body tightening around Draco. He didn’t let up though, keeping with his movements relentlessly. He flipped me over, plunging himself back in immediately. My hands went to his biceps, digging my nails into the taught muscle. I stared into his eyes, wild with lust and passion. They had changed to a darker blue, his pupils almost completely blown out. 

“Mine, forever.” Draco growled, snapping his hips even faster.

“Yes, yes.” I wheezed, screaming when his fingers came back to rub my clit again. 

“Too much, Dray, I-” I stammered.

“You’re gonna take it until I’m done with you Mrs. Malfoy.” he smiled sinister, speeding up his fingers.

“Oh my, fuck!” I shouted, my head tipping back into the mattress. 

The icing on the cake was when Draco dove down to take my nipple between his teeth, sending me to cloud nine. I shook underneath him, feeling my release dripping down to the sheets. Draco took both of my hands in his, pinning them above my head. Tears were gathering in my eyes, the pleasure so good it was numbing my entire body. 

Draco slowed his pace, gingerly sliding in and out of me. His forehead leaned against mine, squeezing our hands together. Our wedding rings clashed together, making my heart flutter. I leaned up to connect our lips, challenging his tongue to a dance of passion during our love making. 

“Cum for me one more time,” Draco panted, our lips brushing together as he spoke.

“I can’t,” I croaked, but quickly ate my words at a specific hit of his member to my sweet spot.

“Yes you can baby, you’ve done so good for me.” he praised, a whimper leaving my lips at his words.

Draco kept our position, ramming his hips into mine. He was close, I could feel his member twitching inside of me. We panted into each other’s mouths, trying to keep eye contact. I felt the tears leaking down my face, Draco leaning to kiss them away. 

“I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose to mine.

“I love you more,” I whined. 

He only needed a few more strokes to my sweet spot before my eyes were rolling to the back of my head, a screech leaving my throat as I convulsed under his hold. Draco came inside of me, grunting and moaning my name in my ear. 

=========================================

Draco ran a bath for the both of us, the tub being giant enough for both of us to fit in. After another round of fun, we both toweled off before doing our night routines. We snuggled together in the huge bed, giggling like children. Eventually becoming sleepy, we delved further under the covers. We laid facing each other, holding to the others middle. My face rested in the crook of his neck, my lips placing sweet kisses from there up to his jaw.

“Good night, Mrs. Malfoy.” Draco smiled, gently caressing my face.

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Malfoy.” I giggled, giving him one last kiss.

=====================================

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[7-wonders]

Down the Rabbit Hole

Summary: You make a decision about your stay at the enchanted manor, but at what cost?

Other works in the Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU: Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet | This Place of Wrath and Tears | A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner | This Cruel Trick of Fate

Mallory sneaks you food an hour or so after the Beast’s rage left you in tears. Incredibly grateful for the meal (”sorry it’s just bread and soup,” Mallory had said, “I’ll try and get you more later.”), the rage that’s been slowly building in you since the encounter spills over while you’re eating.

“Do you have any particular attachment to him?” you ask, receiving nothing but a snort in response. “Okay, good. What the fuck is wrong with him? Like, what gives him the right to act like that?”

Although you can’t see Mallory, you just know that she agrees with you as she attempts to form an answer. “I know that wasn’t the best first impression of him, but-”

“‘But’ what? Because it certainly doesn’t seem like there’s any redeeming qualities to him.”

Mallory sighs, trying very hard to not agree with you. “I promise he’s not always like that. Once you’ve both had the chance to calm down, you’ll see that he’s...”

“What, even more of a jackass than he already is?” Scoffing, you move off of the bed to stare forlornly out the window at the rain falling outside.

“I know he didn’t do anything to help his case, but when you get to know him, he really is a nice person.”

You whirl around to face Mallory’s voice, an idea forming in the meantime. “I don’t want to get to know him! I don’t even want to be here! I want to finish this stupid sentence, go home, and forget all about this nightmare.”

“I know you don’t, and I’m so sorry that you are. But it’s only a couple of months, alright? Trust me when I say that the time will go by in the blink of an eye.”

A flush of shame comes over you as you remember that, no matter how terrible this situation is for you, Mallory’s been dealing with the same one for much longer. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s alright, I know today has been stressful for you.” The weight of a hand comes down on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. You really wish you could see Mallory right now. “I’ll leave you alone to decompress, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. It’s still trippy to watch the tray of food look as though it’s floating through the air, and you can’t see yourself ever getting used to that. Once the door closes and you have a moment to yourself, your earlier train of thought returns. You don’t have to get used to it. 

The room which has been designated as yours is only on the second floor, and it doesn’t look to be that high up from the ground. With the multitude of blankets on the bed that is supposed to be yours, you can very easily make a rope to reach the bottom. Mallory may have said that everybody was trapped here, but that surely just applies to the house and everybody who’s now invisible. After all, Jim was thrown out with no problems. If you can just escape the manor, then you can find your way back to the main road and be home free. It’s a simple plan, but you need to act now before someone comes to check on you again. 

Ripping the blankets onto the floor, you hastily begin to knot the ends together until they start to form a makeshift rope. Thankfully, the closet in the corner is more than stocked for when you run out of your original material, and it becomes long enough to make it across the room and out the window. You use the bedpost as an anchor, wrapping one end of the rope around the wood and tying it together before giving it a couple of good yanks to make sure it can support your weight. Once you’re sure that you won’t fall and break something due to the rope breaking (you can’t be sure that you won’t fall, but at least it won’t be from the rope), you lead it to hang out of the window.

The rain pelts your skin like a bunch of small, icy knives the moment you lean out of the window to check the height. Pulling your hood up over your head, you give one last glance at the room that very well could have been your prison, were you not so determined. “Adios, motherfucker,” you mutter before hiking a leg up over the windowsill and beginning to climb down the side of the wall.

You were right; it wasn’t that far of a climb to get to the bottom. When your feet hit the ground, you immediately begin to move, no time to stop and wax poetic about your current situation. The shadows provide cover for you as you stick close to the wall, body on high alert for any potential obstacles. You break into a run upon reaching the front of the manor, the lights at your back becoming fainter as you get further from the prison.

Unfortunately, what seemed like an easy plan becomes more complicated by the second. What was a mildly irritating rain at first becomes a torrential downpour, soaking through your clothes and making it impossible to see more than a couple of feet in front of you. If you had thought you were cold when you were hiking to find Jim, you must not have known true cold. You’re freezing, and even shoving your hands in your pockets doesn’t help to stave off what is bound to become frostbite. Somehow, even impending hypothermia isn’t the worst of your problems.

You can’t reach the edge of the property. The closer you get, the farther away the bridge you had crossed less than a day before seems to become. No matter how fast you run, or which way you try to approach the edge, you can’t get there. An hour must pass before your willpower finally runs out, falling to your knees in a mixture of exhaustion and defeat. You try to haul yourself back to your feet, but can only manage to roll onto your back. Your teeth are chattering hard enough that you almost worry you’ll crack a tooth, but you can’t seem to find the energy to care.

A break in the clouds allows you to see up at the night sky. The moon is a crescent, but it’s huge, sitting above you like a beacon for wayward sailors and animals migrating. Dully, you realize that this is the same moon that Jim’s seeing. Wherever he is, he’s safe; your sacrifice won’t be in vain. Nothing, not even death, can separate you from your best friend. It’s a comforting thought, and your blue-tinged lips turn up into a smile.

Of course, you aren’t even allowed to go gentle into that good night. A large hand that’s more of a paw than a hand digs into the fabric of your jacket, hauling you up and over a shoulder. Although your eyelashes are frozen, you can still see that there’s an actual figure carrying you. A pair of fierce blue eyes look up when they sense you looking down at him.

“Shit,” you mutter through teeth that are still chattering.

“Yeah, ‘shit.’“ Although his voice is still deep and growly, it lacks the immense anger it had previously held.

“I--”

“Just shut up until I can get you warmed up again.” You heed his words, choosing instead to try and soak up as much of his body heat as you can. He’s like a furnace, and you would actually be enjoying this were you not on the verge of freezing to death.

You’re back in the manor in the blink of an eye, or at least far faster than when you were trying to escape. The Beast brings you into a large sitting room, setting you on a couch that’s already piled with blankets. Ignoring you, he goes to work at starting a fire in the fireplace, giving you time to look him over in the light for the first time.

He’s smaller than you had originally thought, his voice making him appear eight feet tall. In reality, he’s probably around six feet tall. His unkempt brown hair, in desperate need of a cut, looks more like fur now. A pair of shiny black horns jut out from the top of his head, and you can see the claws on his hands as he strikes a match. Everything about him, all the way down to his tattered rags that were once clothes, is beastly, except for those eyes. They’re the one thing about him that reminds you that, at one time, he was human.

“Take your clothes off,” he speaks up, jarring you from your daze.

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” you joke, numb fingers fumbling with the zipper of your jacket regardless.

“They’re wet. You’ll warm up faster without them on.” Thankfully, he remains facing the fire, giving you the opportunity to strip until you’re in just your bra and panties. Throwing a blanket over your body, you clear your throat to let him know that you’re semi-decent. “Come over here.”

“Why?”

He glares at you. “Because I said so. Bring the blankets, too.”

You have to awkwardly crawl/shuffle towards the fire, but it’s worth it. You can almost feel the ice locking your joints in position melting, and you audibly sigh. The Beast begins to pile more blankets on top of you, and slowly, the chattering begins to subside.

“I have to admit, your makeshift rope certainly impressed me.”

You laugh slightly, still remaining acutely aware of who’s next to you. “Why couldn’t I...?”

“The curse. Nobody can leave the land once you’re trapped here.”

“But Jim was able to leave.”

“You took his place, (Y/N).”

“You know my name?”

He nods. “I heard Jim yell it enough to have it painfully engraved in my memory.”

You scoff, but have to admit that Jim has a way of making sure people don’t forget what he says. “Okay, but the three month prison sentence. Who decides how long people are stuck here for?”

The Beast glowers, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “You should rest. Your stupidity put you through quite the ordeal tonight.”

He’s right, you probably should rest. You lay down on your side, huddled up towards the fire as you glance up at the Beast. “I’m really not supposed to fall asleep when recovering from something like near-hypothermia.”

“I know.”

You smile, snuggling under the blankets and closing your eyes. “Just, if I do stop breathing, promise me you’ll make some halfhearted effort to save me.”

With that, you fall asleep, the captor who’s just as trapped as you keeping watch over you until the fire’s nearly died out and the soft rays of dawn begin to peek through the windows.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Daddy Issues 4- Sapphires [Logan  x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback makes me write faster, please let me know what you think! <3

Summary: Logan doesn’t really like visitors.

Pairing: Logan  x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2227

Gif’s not mine!

When you were 8 years old and Logan was 13, he had this plan to go out and have fun with his douchebag friends. While he normally liked hanging out with you and Juliet, it was those ages that your and his age gap looked too big. Now to think of it, you had a crush on him even back then and you had raised hell, cried and cried until his father told him to take you and Juliet with him. In the end, he’d had no choice but to take you and he’d grumbled about it the whole time.

Now, almost twenty years later, you couldn’t help to think it was basically the same.

Logan shifted in the leather seat, making you snap out of your thoughts and drummed his long fingertips on the arm of the couch.

“You don’t have to wait, Logan.” Juliet stated as William went to get drinks. Logan raised his head, as if he was as lost in his thoughts as you were.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to wait. The driver will take us, I just wanted to meet him beforehand.”

“Oh you’re gonna love him,” you smiled slightly, checking the time “Besides, you’ll have time to meet him, Logan. He’s gonna be around.”

“How long is he staying here?”

“We haven’t talked about it yet.”

Logan shrugged slightly, “Will he stay for a long time then?”

“To repeat, we haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Why is he coming here anyway?” Logan mused, as if he wasn’t listening to you at all while Juliet took her drink from William. “He’s an artist, doesn’t he get his inspiration or whatever from Paris?”

“He says I’m his inspiration.” You said as you took your drink, “Thanks William.”

Logan shot you a look as if he couldn’t believe you and shook his head slightly, “Jesus Christ…”

“What?” Juliet asked, “It’s romantic.”

“It’s a fucking cliché, that’s what it is,” Logan scoffed, “The next thing we know, he will want to paint you naked or something.”

“Oh he already has.���

Logan’s head whipped around and he gawked at you, “I’m sorry?”

“He already has.” You repeated while Juliet grinned,

“Oh god, when?!”

“Like a month into our relationship. It was-”

“He didn’t paint you naked.” Logan stated forcefully as if it would make it real and you licked your lips.

“It was weird actually.” You continued as if he hadn’t cut you off, “He came up with it the first time we met but I mean…”

“Tell me you didn’t allow a fucking cliché to paint you naked like that.”

“I liked it a lot.” You stated, sipping your drink and Logan exhaled through his nose, gritting his teeth before turning to William.

“Where’s my drink?”

“At the bar, Logan.” Juliet said warningly and Logan got up from the couch to walk to the bar, his whole body stiff. William raised his brows.

“Keep going like that and he will deck the guy the moment they meet.”

“I said nothing,” You shrugged and Juliet eyed you.

“Did you really let him paint you naked?”

You made a face, “It’s not as romantic as you see in the movies, I got cold by the end of it and kept sneezing the whole week.”

Juliet let out a laugh “But as far as my brother knows, it was out of a romance movie.”

“Or a porn, more likely.”

William chuckled and crossed his arms, stealing a look at Logan. “Remind me not to piss you off, Y/N.”

You let out a laugh and stood up, “I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t deck anybody, excuse me.” You said and walked to the bar where Logan was downing his whiskey. You took a seat beside him while he kept his eyes on the glass, clenching his jaw.

“You okay?”

Logan was silent for a couple of seconds, then cleared his throat. “Do you remember the first and the last time you’ve sent me a nude picture?”

“That is not a great opening sentence for a nice trip down the memory lane, Logan.”  

“Do you?”

You rolled your eyes and motioned for a drink, “Yeah, because that was also the first time for me. Well- semi nude, I still had a bra and stuff right?”

Logan nodded, “And an hour after you sent it, you made me delete it. In front of you. You were actually holding my phone as I deleted it, because just in case your dad found out-“

“I remember.” You cut him off, and he sipped his drink,

“So now you let people paint you naked?”

“That’s different.”

Logan scoffed, “Is it?”

“A lot of things change in three years.” You turned to look up at him, “And I was… I wasn’t very confident back then. I am now.”

“That’s your explanation?”

“I’m not giving you an explanation.” You stated “Why would I?”

“What if he uses it against you, hm?” he asked suddenly, as if he had just thought about it, “Your father is a huge businessman, do you actually trust this guy enough to-“

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “Yeah I do.”

Olivier was the safe place, at least. You hadn’t really thought about it before, in all honesty one of the biggest reasons why you had invited Olivier there was to piss Logan off, but after your phone call and couple of days thinking about it, you had decided you could actually try it again with him. He was everything you could possibly want, a romantic artist that had no problem with expressing his emotions.

Well, there was something else that you wanted but there was no way you were ever going to think about that.

“More than you trust me?” Logan’s low voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you tried to smile, then shrugged,

“No offense but I don’t think I can ever trust you,” You downed your drink and checked the time, “That’s gone Logan.”

“It doesn’t have to be gone,” he said silently “Y/N, I-“

“Guys!” Juliet called out, making you turn your head, “Come on, he’s almost here.”

You placed the glass on the bar and walked away from the bar with William and Logan following you suit. Juliet linked her arm through yours, giggling excitedly until you saw Olivier and stopped.

You had almost forgotten how cute he was. He smiled at you as soon as he saw you, running a hand through his curly hair, his eyes shining bright while he made his way to you, and pulled you to himself to kiss you deeply.

“Okay, that’s enough Romeo,” You felt him being yanked away and you frowned at Logan who pulled his hand back with a look of disdain on his face, and Olivier’s smile made its way to his lips again.

“How rude of me,” he said as you leaned closer to him.

“This is Juliet, my best friend.”

“Mademoiselle,” Olivier kissed her hand and Juliet smiled, biting down on her lip. William made a face over her shoulder.

“This is William, Juliet’s fiancé.”

“Very nice to meet you.”

“And this is Logan-“ you paused, “Um- Juliet’s brother.”

Logan raised his brows, “Juliet’s brother,” he repeated, then shook Olivier’s hand, “I’m the guy who drove her away to Paris.”

“Logan!”

“Then allow me to thank you, monsieur.” Olivier said calmly, “For if it weren’t for you, I would not meet my love.”

“Aww!”

“Juliet, stop.”

“It’s romantic!” Juliet protested “Both your parents will love him if he keeps talking like that.”

“Will I meet your parents tonight then, mon amour?  I must thank them, yes? For creating something as fascinating as you.”

Logan looked up, as if praying for patience.

“Um- yeah, we’re all having dinner tonight.”

“Um, Y/N?” William stepped in and cleared his throat, “He won’t… meet your dad wearing a shirt and jeans, right?”

Olivier looked down at himself, then back at you while Juliet nodded slowly,

“Thanks my love,” she leaned her head to William’s shoulder, who looked almost proud of himself, “Yeah Olivier, you have a suit or something right?”

“I don’t really believe in that,” Olivier said, “That formal clothing is- how do you say it…. Nonsense. It’s the inside that counts.”

“That’s great- that’s really great, why don’t you just show up naked then?”

“Don’t listen to Logan, he thinks he’s joking.”

Olivier chuckled, “You Americans have a strange sense of humor, but I like it.”

Logan clicked his tongue, “Good for us.”

“We could buy you some,” You stated, “I mean William has a point, daddy wouldn’t like that and it’s the first impression- Logan knows where to buy suits.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t look at me, I don’t know anywhere he can afford. Ask William, he has lots of cheap suits.”

“Logan, I won’t warn you again.” Juliet’s voice was like a whip and Logan rolled his eyes.

“Money isn’t a problem.” You said and Logan smiled softly,

“Why do I have a feeling you were paying his rent back at Paris?”

“Are you gonna behave or-“

“Excuse us please,” Juliet cut you off, and dragged Logan away so that none of you could hear what she was saying to her. William put his hands in his pockets while Olivier looked down at you, pecking you on the lips.

“Paris was a nightmare without you,” he said, “You have ripped my soul apart, my love.”

“…That’s romantic?” You heard William mutter as Juliet pulled Logan by his wrist, both of them approaching you and she smiled at Olivier.

“Okay, let’s get you something to wear then.”

                                             *

“I don’t know why we’re forcing him,” Logan said as he leaned back in his seat while Olivier walked inside the dressing room, “The guy says it’s the inside that counts, let him meet your dad like that.”

“Mr. Delos?” The shop assistant came towards you and held up a suit, “Would your friend like this?”

Logan smiled slightly, “Nah man, bring him more color,”

“Logan..”

“What? He’s an artist, he likes- hey Olivier!” he called out, “You like color, right buddy?”

“There’s no life without color.”

Logan motioned at the room, as if saying there you go. You tilted your head.

“Daddy doesn’t like color that much.”

“How surprising. Your dad doesn’t like anything or anyone but you.”

You scoffed, “That’s not true.”

“No? I’m so glad I am invited; it’ll be fun to watch your dad treat someone else like shit. Makes a good change.”

You pulled your brows together, “My dad was never mean to you.”

Logan made a face, “You can be so blind sometimes…” he muttered as Olivier walked out of the dressing room, looking down at himself.

“Your friend might be correct, ma chérie.” he said, “This does not have enough color.”

“Aw you look so handsome.” You said and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan gritting his teeth. You walked towards him and fixed his tie, “But if you want-“

“Hey!” Juliet and William approached you with bags in their hands and William huffed out a breath, flinging himself onto one of the armchairs as if he was way too tired.

“You look great.” Juliet told Olivier and he heaved a sigh, checking himself in the mirror.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” You insisted, “So if you didn’t like this one…”

“I feel like I would feel more- what is the word… in my element if I didn’t wear black.”

“Okay,” You nodded fervently “Um, is there any color you’d prefer or-“

“You don’t know your boyfriend’s favorite color?” Logan asked but you ignored him,

“But are you sure your father would not mind?”

Juliet hmmed, crossing her arms, “How about blue, Olivier? Her father is a bit old fashioned like that, but that’s safe enough.”

Olivier smiled, “You’re as smart as you’re beautiful, mademoiselle.” He said politely, “May I paint you sometime?”

William and Logan both looked up at the same time,

“No you can’t dude-”

“Non, connard-“

“Logan, don’t call him that!” you hissed, but Juliet smiled,

“Come with me, we will find you a nice blue suit.” She told Olivier as they both walked away and William heaved a sigh.

“No offense to your boyfriend, but I’d like to keep an eye on them.” he said and walked towards them while Olivier made a joke to make Juliet laugh. You sat back down and grabbed Logan’s drink.

“You don’t know my favorite color either.” You mumbled and he stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“Blue.”

You looked up, “Hm?”

“Your favorite color. Blue. It has been your favorite color since I gave you that tiara with sapphires on it on your sixth birthday because you wanted to feel like a princess and I begged my father for two days to convince him it’d be a good gift.”

You paused, “You remember that?”

“You wore it for a whole day and fell asleep with it. Of course I remember.”

You tried to stop that warmth spreading inside you and shifted your weight, then cleared your throat,

“Do you think my dad will like him?”

Logan stayed silent for a couple of seconds, then repressed a smirk and looked at Olivier over his shoulder before grabbing his drink from you.

“Oh no worries, buttercup.” he said silkily, “I’ll make sure of that.”

Special thanks go to : @theskytraveler @marauderskeeper @binbonsadoration @lostkizzy  @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @sillybilly1230000  @xinyourdreamsx and  lovely anons! <3

[rreader]

Addiction.

Pairing: Negan x Reader ; Rick x Daughter!Reader Fandom: TWD Warnings: s m u t :’) ; language ; guilt

Summary: He was like a drug. You kept coming back for more, even though you knew that it was wrong.

A/N: you want to know the best source for inspiration? DREAMS. holy cow, this entire thing is based on a dream I had last night and I haven’t had a fandom dream in ages so there you go! also, I’ve had a hard time writing this week due to the lack of inspiration, so this really helped! hope you guys like this!!! (added Negan to my fandoms page!)

                                                         *****

“Where are you going?” you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. You knew this wouldn’t be as easy as just walking out the front gate. It never was this easy.

“Supply run,” you turned around and smiled as innocently as possible at your father.

“Again?”

“Well, this is a big community, dad.”

“Alright,” Rick, your father, nodded and you turned around, about to make your way to the gate once more, when he said: “But let me go get Carl. It’s better if you go together.”

“What?! No!” you spurred around so fast that it must have looked suspicious, so you quickly cleared your throat and straightened your back, “I mean.. why? I’m old enough, dad. I know what I’m doing and I won’t go far.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. He knew that something was up and you were worried that if you stayed any longer and he’d start to ask questions, he’d find out. And quite frankly? This was a secret you never wanted him to find out about. So you ran up to him, quickly kissed his cheek and smiled once more.

“I’ll be fine. I won’t be long, I promise,” and with that, you were gone.

After all, you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

                                                           ***

You closed the door to the clothing shop behind you and took off your jacket.

“Sorry it took so long.”

You could hear Lucille scraping over the wooden floor and when you turned around, there he was, leaning casually against the wall, biting his lip while looking you up and down.

You didn’t particularly wear anything sexy. Your usual clothing, consisting out of a pair of black, ripped jeans, a normal, beige shirt and some black boots. Yet, somehow, when this guy looked at you, he made it seem like you were wearing the hottest lingerie he had ever seen in his life. 

“Thought you’d leave me hanging today, baby girl.”

“We talked about this. Don’t call me that.”

You rolled up your sleeves and walked over to him, until your boobs almost touched his chest and looked up at him.

“Right. Because it reminds you that you’re fucking your father’s biggest nightmare. For the.. what is it.. 9th time, now?” Your fingers ran over the back of his hand until you could feel the hard wood of Lucille under your fingertips. It took him a bit, but eventually he let go of her so you could carefully place her against the wall, “You know, I don’t let just anyone touch my baby like that.”

“I feel honored. Now are we going to fuck or what?”

Negan started chuckling, showing off his white teeth. This man truly was the epiphamy of sex. No wonder you kept coming back to him, with a smile like that and a dick as big as his. 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he slapped your ass once, then he let you guide him towards the back of the shop, where a couch was already waiting for you.

This was your usual meeting spot. It was a clothing shop right between Alexandria and the Sanctuary. Barely anyone cared about buying the newest clothing in these times, so you wouldn’t be disturbed here. The windows were barricaded with pieces of wood, so while it was the middle of the day outside, the shop remained mostly dark. Only a few rays of sunshine managed to sneak inside. But maybe that wasn’t so bad..

Your guilty conscience was horrible enough as it was. This was the guy that killed some of your friends, that planned on murdering your father and yet, here you were, fucking him once more.

He was like a drug and you were the junkie. You couldn’t stop coming back to him, because, even in all this mess, he made you feel.. something. For a little while, he made you feel like the world was okay again and it was not something you wanted to go without. You wanted to keep this feeling for as long as possible. Sure, you could fuck anyone else to get this feeling, you were a pretty girl, you wouldn’t have any problems with finding someone. But Negan..

This act of doing something forbidden, this dirty little secret.. 

It only fueled your want for him.

You convinced yourself that, if the time came, if he ever attacked your friends and family again, you’d not hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes..

..but only time could tell whether or not you’d actually do that.

You turned around to face him and got up on your tiptoes to capture his lips in a heated kiss. His hands first remained on your waist, then they quickly found their way down to your ass, squeezing it a couple of times. In the meantime, you pushed the leather jacket down his shoulders and he let go of your ass for a second, so that it could fall down to the floor. Once they had returned to his favorite part of your body, he pulled you closer towards him and you could already feel the boner in his pants. You started to grin and bit down his lower lip. 

“Someone’s excited.”

“Just do us both a favor and take those fucking clothes off, before I rip them off you.”

You chuckled like he had before, took a step back and pulled the shirt over your head. You had left the bra at home, knowing that you wouldn’t need it anyways. His breathing hitched and his eyes wandered down to your breasts and your already hard nipples.

He absentmindedly started to open up his belt, pulled it out of the loops of his pants and let it join the other items of clothing that were already abandoned on the floor. 

“Are your pants getting a little too tight, Negan?” you batted your lashes innocently at him and cocked your head to the side.

He didn’t even waste time with answering this question, since the answer was obvious. He took off his shirt, then you helped him get out of his pants and he helped you out of yours in return.

Once you were naked you walked around him and pushed him onto the couch. Then, finally, you straddled him, placing your hands on the backrest of the couch on either side of his face. His hands brushed up and down your thighs, while his mouth was already devouring one of your breasts. You let him do that for a little while, enjoying the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple and the occasional bite here and there, but then you grabbed his chin and made him look up at you, right when he entered you.

He let out a long breath, while you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your throat. You bit your lip and remained in that position for a little while, simply savoring that feeling of him inside you like that for a few seconds. 

And even though it was pretty dark in here, when you opened your eyes again, you found him staring at you, with his hazel eyes that usually always had this flicker of spite in them. But you could not find a trace of malice in them right now. No.. now, they were filled with lust. 

You took your time riding him and not once did you look away. You held his eye contact the entire time. Eventually, he was the one that broke it, but only so that he could put his hand behind your head and pull it towards him for another deep kiss.

The faster you moved, the louder your moans became. You only hoped that no walkers were nearby, or you were sure that they’d hear you.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N),” Negan laughed and let his head fall back against the backrest, fully enjoying the feeling of being ridden like that.

Usually he was the one on top, but this was quite the nice too. He could watch your boobs bounce up and down, could see how much you enjoyed this. And he prided himself on knowing that he could make you feel this way.

Fucking the daughter of his nemesis.

Maybe that’s why this was so fucking hot and he kept coming back for more.

When you could feel your orgasm approach your fingernails dug into the leather of the couch. The couch, that was used by you two so many times, that it had definitely gotten some marks on the backrest from your nails. 

“Fuck,” he leaned forward and buried his face in your neck, plastering kisses all over it.

From the way his arms were stiffening around your body, you could tell that he was close as well and it only took a few more minutes before you could feel your walls tighten around him, which was the last bit he needed to spill himself inside you.

You hugged him tightly and allowed yourself a couple of seconds to catch your breath, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. 

Once you came down from your high and your guilt was starting to overwhelm you, you got up and started to collect your clothes.

He didn’t seem too eager to do so. He simply watched you get dressed, legs far apart, hands behind his head.

“Next week, same time,” was the last thing you said, before walking out of the door again.

The guilt became worse every damn time.

But then again, the sex became better each time as well.

This was a devil’s triangle.

[themillsdaughter]

we saved a few things that were spared

you can also read this in AO3

Contrary to public believe, Kat does know how to focus on the present. She just doesn’t do it with people around.

The soft hum of the shower is what grounds her, what lets her feel the world around her. The strength of the ceramic beneath her feet, the honks of New York’s traffic coming from the window, the soap slipping through her skin, creating bubbles and sterility.

Kat likes becoming a physical being while she’s safe, while she has a plastic curtain surrounding her and warm, pressurised water pouring down. Adena had made her real with a simple smile and some well delivered words.

It’d been refreshing and terrifying.

“How many pairs of underwear do you think I should take?”

“How many times do you plan on having sex?” Sutton retorts, lying in the middle of Kat’s bed, surrounded by clothes.

“I might not have enough pairs.” She frowns and the double uhh makes her smirk.

“Standard plan, babe. One panty a day and a bra each two days.” Jane suggests. It’s a valid input, so she counts fourteen panties and throws them in her bag, grabbing a few extras for emergencies. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Trust me, neither do I.” Kat mumbles.

She doesn’t believe it until a flight attendant is instructing people to buckle their seatbelts.

This is why a couple running towards each other became such a cliché in romances. This feeling right here, the weight and warmth and familiarity is why two people rush to clutch their significant others tightly.

Adena keeps going off in Farsi, eyes sparkling with confusion and happiness and endearment and that is the reason why she came. Why she dragged her ass bright and early and convinced her boss that she could maintain her most important duties halfway across the continent.

People are starting to stare at them, now. Curious, more than anything.

Kat is very good at Spanish, but she cannot speak Persian for shit, so she kisses the woman holding her face and stops the unknown words.

It’s fulfilling, having Adena against her.

(“How does it feel?”

“Uh empty?”)

“How long?” Adena asks in between kisses, a hand making its way up and up and up Kat’s leg.

“Fly back on,” A sigh, a soft bite on a lower lip, a moan as swift fingers hit her inner thigh. “the seventeenth.”

She’d bought the return ticket before anything else. She knew she’d consider staying forever, otherwise. She knew that with big smiles and huge eyes and that sharp tongue being near her and all around her, she knew she would not go back to the US if she wasn’t forced to.

“A vacation?”

Kat knows what Adena is referring to, knows she’s being asked how she approached Jacqueline on taking time off.

“An adventure.”

(I know that you said that you’re tired of adventure and everything, but I’ve never had one.)

A dream has her tossing and thrashing and choking on her own saliva. Kat wakes up to soothing words and soft touches.

“Breathe, my love.” Adena whispers, an arm around Kat’s shoulders as she coughs. “Breathe.”

It takes her lungs a minute to settle down, not to gulp for air desperately, ineffectively.

Her heart slams against her ribs, a car speeds by outside, reminding her that this is reality.

Jane and Sutton smiling and smiling and being ripped away suddenly. Crying for Kat, begging her for help and she not moving, she not running to them and she just wanting to help, to make it alright again. And Adena, looking at her from afar, tears streaming down her cheeks, ‘home’ echoing around and Kat not fucking moving. That had all been a nightmare. Of course it had.

“It’s gone, it’s gone.”

Real Adena caresses the back of her neck, leans a chin against her shoulder when she stays seated.

Just a nightmare. Nothing more.

She doesn’t mention it when Adena convinces her to lie back down, but Kat hasn’t had a nightmare since she was twelve.

“Not even over my dead, cold-ass body.”

“ Why?”  Jane and Sutton groan together. She rolls her eyes, hears Adena chuckling a few steps away.

(it is tucked somewhere around her stomach, the fear the dream seems to have left behind.)

“I am not going anywhere near a llama.”

“But it’s a classic!” Jane whines. A child, honestly.

“Can you really experience Peru if you don’t see a llama up close?” Sutton quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, yes you can. There’s the Larco Museum here in Lima, Machu Picchu and Moray and Sak- Saks-”

“Saksaywaman.” Adena supplies, sitting on the couch, molding herself to Kat’s side.

“Yeah, and all of those in Cusco.”

“Whatever, have fun being like every other tourist.” Sutton moves out of frame, exasperated.

Correction: children.

“At least I get to be one.”

“Hey,” Sutton reappears, mouth dropped in pretend shock. “mean. Bye.”

The call ends and she shares a look with the woman leaning into her.

Her friends are fine. Assholes as usual, but fine. Adena is not crying and this hug they have going on feels like home.

It’s fascinating, watching as slick, brown hair slowly disappears in a wrap of silk and colors. She has the details down in four days. Adena likes to wear the knot on top of her head, instead of closer to her neck and favors bold, statement patterns.

The first step is pinning the hair in place. Kat likes to fumble with the little strands left behind, too short to pull up. She only does it when they are alone, but seeing shivers running down the woman’s spine makes her happier than she can explain.

“Oh, Steve and Rachel invited us to go hiking with them.” Adena says, voice stranded due to two pins she holds with the corner of her mouth.

“The couple from down the hall?”

“Yes.” A nod, a few silent moments of concentration as the last section of hair is secured into place. In comes the underscarf and Adena turns her attention back to Kat. “Do you want to go?”

“I’m not really into cardio.”

“I’m coming to believe you’re not very much into anything .”

“Except you.” She gets a smirk for that one. “But sure, new country, new me. Sort of.”

Kat pays attention as a yellow scarf is folded and wrapped around Adena’s head. Some twists here and pulls there and they are ready to leave the Airbnb apartment.

(five thousand percent less expensive than daily fees in a hotel)

She is pretty proud of how much she endures before the breaking point.

Bugs everywhere, slippery ground and an unforgiving sun.

Kat is not a nature person. It is just not in her. She’s never had a pet, missed it only for the lack of the distraction one would have given her.

She is not a nature person, nor a cardio person.

The view is beautiful and calming and it is not the same quiet as growing up. It is peaceful and filled with white noises. So she marches on.

Nine miles. Kat hikes Peruvian lands for nine (out of fifteen) miles. When she sees the snake, however, she’s fucking done.

Granted, she was the idiot who didn’t pay attention to her surroundings properly. But a snake ? No ma’am, thank you. In no shape or form will she put on a poker face with that on the equation.

She’d sat down for a moment to drink some water and catch her breath and the only reason she’d even noticed the snake when she did had been Adena’s nervous, paralyzed form looking somewhere over her shoulder.

When Kat followed the gaze and saw the reptile, her heart had exploded inside her. It’d taken every ounce of her being not to sprint out and away on that very second. The longass animal had already been tense and somewhere, some useful part of her brain had screamed SLOW MOVEMENTS YOU DUMB FUCK and she had listened because it sounded right.

“You know, Boa Constrictors are not really venomous to humans.” Steve comments, the road wide enough for the four of them to walk side by side.

“Still scary.” She sighs, flinches when Adena lays an unannounced hand on the small of her back.

Rachel carries on talking about animals and the beauty in their complexity.

Kat has no shits to give. She is adept to fluffy, domesticable beings. Dogs, if she were to be picky.

“The magazine ran an article on NYC rescue centers a few months back. Got a huge online flux.” It’s the best she can do at small talk. “We even set up a few online crash courses for young rescues.”

“I think I saw something about it,” Steve admits. He’s an easy dude. She has no idea how Adena finds these people. “A great initiative. If more people knew about how to properly care for them, maybe there wouldn’t be so many extreme rescue cases.”

The image of a cute, furry puppy gives her enough strength to finish their journey back.

Machu Picchu is interesting. Intricate and old and vibrating with energy.

“Can you imagine? Building something so complex all those years ago?”

The abandoned city itself is enchanting. Adena’s delighted smile is even more so.

A thousand pictures are taken. She serves as a model for most of them. The tour guide takes a few portraits of Adena and her and those are her favorites.

She buys a few souvenirs. Jane and Sutton would kill her at the spot otherwise. She sits in a low, living-being free (she checks) step, taking in the antique stores as she waits for Adena to come back with their icecreams.

She tips her head back, absorbs the warmth of the sunshine. There are kids laughing and speaking a few yards away. Kat focuses on the consistent hum of the fountain to her left, feeling the stone under her butt, under her palms. The straps of her backpack at her shoulders, the foreign scents and tongue, the stiff poke and drag under her leg, the-

Wait. What the-

Her eyelids snap open.

Not another snake.

Not another snake.

For fuck’s sake, not another sn-

A cat.

A kitten, actually.

A dirty, shaking and tiny kitten hiding under her legs.

A cat under Kat.

This trip was supposed to be fun and sexy and relaxing. Why does it have to be weird, too?

The kids from down the street are coming at full speed towards her. She sees the front runner’s look and it takes her an instant to make the decision.

Kat reaches down, wraps her fingers around the ridiculously small body. The animal meows and twists and tries with all its might to run from her. As she leans it in her lap, the children surround her.

A couple of shouts in Spanish. She makes out a few keywords before a beat cop comes closer and snaps something, making the kids shut up.

“ Estamos jugando con eso. ” A boy, no taller than her waist, points at the cat in her hands.

No wonder the kitten is shaking so bad. Half a dozen humans passing it around as a toy cannot be easy.

“ El gatito no es una cosa.”  The officer doesn’t take his eyes off the kids. “ ¿De quien es?”

“ Yo lo encontré.” The front runner speaks.

“ Y la mamá?”

“ No se. No creo que tengas una.”

She sighs, takes a glance at the cat and then at the woman coming in her direction, frown in place.

Crap.

“Did we really smuggle a cat into the city?” Adena’s voice is warm and amused.

“It was either bringing it with us or giving it back to the children.”

Kat pulls her hoodie open and takes out the kitten. It starts meowing louder as soon as she touches it. She thinks it’s a girl. They are calling it Pecky, for now, because it almost sounds like pequeña and the kitty is so fucking small.

“Yes, I know.” Adena continues, sitting on their bed as Kat kneels on the ground and tries to check if their guest has any injuries. “However, it still sounds crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the most wild thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, your friends will be dying to hear of your adventures when you get home.”

She furrows her brows. Her chest gets too tight when she thinks about leaving. About only one more morning waking up to soft skin and long lashes. Kat focuses back on Pecky.

“God, she’s full of fleas. Look.” She distances some fur for a clear view at the skin and sure enough four or five little black spots rush by in a few seconds.

The crash course flashes through her mind. Access health, keep hydrated, give wet food if big enough to fill your hand.

There were no pet shops open, so the canned tuna pasta from the convenience store will have to do.

Adena runs a tentative finger under Pecky’s chin. The cat meows, but allows the touch.

“Dish soap kills fleas.” The woman mumbles, starting to pull her hijab apart.

“How do you know that?”

“I got curious about Scarlet’s article.”

Kat smiles. Pecky meows and skips away on top of their comforter.

“Wanna give her a bath, then?”

“Nice try.” Adena flops down on her belly, watching as the kitten looks intrigued at her discarded scarf.

just let me go just let me go, I just want to help them

“kat!”

it’s sutton, desperate, in the dark, needing her. she just wants to help, just wants to make things better.

“home”

adena, beautiful, alone, an unwilling nomad.

“please!”

jane, tiny, amazing, loyal, unsure, scared.

she just wants to help she just wants to take them in she just-

Kat wakes up to a skinny tail resting on top of her nose. Pecky is half asleep, still, but when Kat looks down, the pet gazes back.

“Are you okay?”

She allows the voice to wash over her, inching closer to the body behind her.

“Yeah.”

She tells herself it is not a lie.

Saving a kitty is a welcome distraction to the heartache leaving Adena gives her. The initial plan had been to get to a vet first thing in the morning, find a no-kill shelter and try to make the most of the rest of the day.

A vet is found with no problem at all, the shelter, though, is a bit trickier.

“She won’t survive.” The secretary for the place says, an indifference Kat suspects is more for his own protection than lack of empathy.

“Wanna look at her and say that again, pal?”

The guy sighs and keeps his eyes on his notepad, ringing their expenses in.

“We get over doscientos a year. Not enough money.” He extends the receipt, waits for her to sign. “Maybe you take care of it?”

“We have a flight to take.” She scribbles her name on the thin paper, slides it back to the man over the counter and he finally takes a peek at the white ball of fluff inside the carrier she’d just bought.

“There are certificates.” He gives her a kind smile. Yeap, not that indifferent after all. Realistic, perhaps.

Kat crosses gazes with Adena. She is answered with a nod.

“Do you have international ones?” She gives in, reaching her finger to tease Pecky through the plastic screen.

“Maybe I can find someone to take her.” Kat tries.

She has her folded legs leaning over Adena’s as they wait in the lobby to be called for the flight.

Cusco to Lima, Lima to the USA. She’ll only have a human companion through half the trip.

“That’s possible.”

“And, you know, she’s pretty cute without those dirt-dreadlocks.”

“She’ll get adopted in no time.” Adena runs a thumb across Kat’s knee. She tries to memorize the feeling, the exact amount of heat and the mixture of scents coming off in waves from the woman’s perfume.

Pecky lies on the triangle between their mingled bodies and the back of the airport seat, playing with a balled up piece of paper. Kat gets pinned in place by a pair of blue feline eyes. She steals the makeshift ball and holds it slightly out of reach for the kitten. It stands on its back paws in a glance, using a firm clutch on the stollen toy as support.

Feisty little thing.

“I’m really going to miss you, Adena.”

She doesn’t have the slightest idea of where that comes from. All she knows, all she feels, is a squeeze in her calf where Adena’s hand now rests and her smell and her heat and her gorgeous, expressive eyes caressing her.

Pecky starts nibbling at the handle of her purse.

Kat learns to fully appreciate classical music in under an hour and a half.

She’d never been averse to it, simply more interested in other styles, but Adena loves it and insists on not only listening to it during their flight, but in having Kat pay attention too.

The multiple instruments give off an unique sound and they get even better, if she were to be honest, since they give her the opportunity to have a lovely head tucked in her neck.

One of her hands is clasped permanently inside the woman’s both and she uses her free palm to cradle a sleeping Pecky. The cat doesn’t like to be picked up, but she sure as hell enjoys going under leaning against someone.

One melody after the other, she lets her mind waver and travel. Her passport is still empty. Her thoughts go around the world.

Kat imagines Adena’s visa magically coming through before she leaves for the US. She imagines Central Park walks and Scarlet’s gala with a plus one invite which actually gets used.

Kat imagines movie nights with the girls, her and Adena sharing the floor and a throw blanket.

She imagines domesticity and happiness and continuity.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra stops playing through her headphones and the airplane starts to descent.

“You’re going to be safe, right? You’re going to look before you take a seat and you’re not going to get too close to wild animals and you’re going to be alright, right?”

“I’m going to be fine.” Not a promise. Not what she’d asked.

Adena frames her face (exactly, fucking exactly like she’d done when Kat had arrived ) and kisses her.

They do not cry.

“Until next time, love.”

Oh, Adena. Kind and thoughtful and holding Kat’s heart just as she holds her luggage.

( attention, this is the last call for flight number 34952 leaving for New York City,United States)

Maybe she leaves a piece of herself in Peru, just as she takes a bit of it in a paw-printed carrier.

“Any puns will be paid for.”

Jane and Sutton seem confused, welcoming her into a group hug all the same.

She’s tired and sore. Pecky can’t actually pee on her own yet, which meant Kat had to make her way into the bathroom every couple of hours and use a tissue to stimulate the kitten into relieving herself.

She’s tired and she misses Adena worse than she did when she’d been too foolish and afraid and the woman had moved to Paris.

“How was the trip?”

“Did you take pictures?”

Honestly, as much as she misses Adena, she’s missed these two.

“No turbulences and, uhm, Adena is still uploading stuff to the cloud.”

“And how are you?”

Something gives her away. Maybe the girls just know her too much. Maybe her metaphorical bucket is too full and it spills and leaks everywhere. Maybe her aura is black or some other color that means rotten.

Either way, Kat receives one more embrace.

“We have cheap wine and two new TV Shows in our queue.” Tiny Jane offers.

That’s good. That’s very good. She can’t have movie nights with her best friends and the woman who holds her heart. She can, however, get blissfully drunk and indulge herself in bad rom-com plots.

“You better take me home, then.” She forces a steady smile to counteract the bitterness in her stomach. “We just need to stock up on wet cat food, first.”

“Ah, what?”

“Why?”

No one said she couldn’t get a little amusement out of this. One hand brings up the pet-holder she holds and the other points at it.

“Surprise.”

“Kat, is that a….” Sutton frowns, matching Jane.

“Cat.” She nods, glares pointedly and the pun comment downs on them.

“How was the trip?” Jacqueline doesn’t stop the treadmill, but her smile seems genuine.

“It was good. Peru is gorgeous.”

“It is. We had a photoshoot there for,” Her boss looks away, thinking, and snaps her eyes back a second later. “Fall, two-thousand four. Absolutely spectacular.”

“The culture is very interesting. The ruins live up to their fame.” Kat nods politely. She has to be very careful with her request. Not everyone gets to take a two-week long leave with no forewarning.

“Well, it’s great to have you back. In time for the children’s day picnic, no less.”

Another nod. She’ll have to double check the celebs attending and confirm their snapchat-filter order.

“Jacqueline?”

The woman starts to gradually slow her steps, gives Kat a go ahead smirk.

“Do you mind making the pet-friendly office policy count?”

“How do you mean?” Her boss stops completely.

“We were always allowed to bring our pets with us, right? But since I got here it seemed a silent rule that no one actually brought them.”

“And you want to break that rule?” Jacqueline turns to her desk, flips through a couple of concepts a fashion assistant delivers.

Dennise, Kat thinks, not surprised by the lack of knocking nor the lack of any words from the short redhead.

“With your permission.”

She only gets a hum for a moment, Jacqueline scribing a few things over a sticky note before gluing it on the glossy photographs and handing it to Dennise.

The girl (younger than Kat herself) takes the pages and scurries out.

“What is it you have?”

“A cat.”

An amused look crosses the blonde’s face. She’s thankful no comment follows.

“She’s just a baby and it’d be just until I get her adopted.” Kat continues, tries to explain because she really can’t leave Pecky alone the whole day everyday. The kitten would be terrified, not to mention destroy the apartment.

“Fine.” Jacqueline shrugs. Kat smiles. “But make sure she’s trained. God help you if she uses any of Oliver’s things as a scratching post.”

When she leaves the glass office, she and Sutton exchange a discrete air-fistbump.

To be completely straight, Kat fully intends on giving Pecky away. It is a goal of hers. It is.

It doesn’t happen on the first month because her days can be summarized into waking up, working, facetiming Adena and having a drink with the girls. She’s simply too busy to go looking for a shelter to find willing adopters.

It has nothing to do with the cat being adorable and fitting into her hand and sleeping on her chest.

The adoption also doesn’t happen on the second month because that’s when Sidney comes to work with them and develops a crush on her. She’s flattered, really, but seriously she has a picture of Adena and her in Machu Picchu as her lockscreen and she lets him see it as much as possible. He cannot take a hint and she cannot simply drop my girlfriend in their conversation, since she isn’t sure she has one.

“Have you heard anything?” Kat should know better than to ask. She doesn’t and the need for expressive eyes and soft skin is too glaring inside of her.

“Not yet.” Adena sighs, pulls the sheets up, tighter around her chest. Lying like this, in the dark and both ready to sleep, they can almost fool themselves into believing they are in the same space.

“It’s going to be alright, right?” She feels pathetic, asking for reassurance when it isn’t about her.

“Yes, Kat. It’s going to be alright.”

Pecky stops fitting inside her hand and Jane stops sending her adoption web pages by month three.

By month four, she doesn’t quite remember the smell of Adena’s perfume.

“It’s going to be alright, right?” That’s always how it goes. Every week when they hear nothing about the visa. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Yes, Kat. It’s going to be alright.”

The perfume had been rich and citric. Kat can’t place how, exactly.

Sutton gets pregnant and Sidney kisses Kat by month five. She does not kiss him back and Sutton has a miscarriage three days later, after talking to Richard and deciding to have the baby.

“What are we, Adena?”

“How do you mean?”

She knows. By the slight waver of the voice coming through her phone that Adena understood what she meant fully well.

“Are we dating? Are we waiting on each other? Are we settling?”

“I’m four thousand miles away.”

It’s not an answer, so she doesn’t accept it. She cries into her pillow and Pecky sits on the armchair at the corner of the room, staring at her.

Adena, 7:33 AM:

I’m sorry about last night, call me when you have time .

Kat washes the sleep away and then, she calls.

“It’s going to be alright, right?”

“I don’t know, Kat. I don’t know, anymore.”

Jane and Pinstripe Guy break up and Jacqueline is getting a divorce, apparently. It feels weird, to drink alongside her boss in a poorly-lit, over-crowded bar down the street from where she works. Pecky is spending the night at the vet, though, getting spayed and Jane talks and Sutton drinks and Jacqueline stays for only half an hour.

Kat wants to call Adena as soon as she gets home. She’s drunk and confused and Adena does not have a home of her own to stumble into. She doesn’t call.

“I miss you.” It is whispered through the line as if they are conspiring. Kat smiles, feels her heart squeezing and jumping and melting away.

“I miss you too.”

“Will I still have you, if I come back?”

“Yeah, Adena. I’m gonna be here.”

Everything is messy and complicated and everyone around her seems somehow unhappy.

(except for Pecky, who plays in the corner with her rolling toy-mouse. Small blessings, she supposes)

Her Thanksgiving is long and lonely, but filled with wine.

Jane had gone to see her brothers, Sutton to see her mom and Kat had insisted she’d be fine. Her friends deserved a break, deserved some moments to heal.

She calls Adena by the end of the day, perhaps a glass away from way too many.

“I really really really like you, Adena.”

“I like you too, Kat.”

“I hate having to wait to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

The eyes looking at her through the screen move away, to somewhere she can’t see and can’t understand and is that sadness? Are those tears? Shit. Fuck. Goddamit.

“I’m going to, though.” She tries to make it reassuring. Tries to take it back to when Adena wasn’t so clearly torn, to when it was just unneasiness.

“I know.” Adena sighs, seems guilty now and Kat watches as a hand brushes the tears away. “I just don’t know if there’s any hope in that.”

“There is. Adena,” Her voice is firmer, now. She’s still pretty drunk, but this is important. “There is hope in it. You’re going to get your visa. Or you won’t. But either way, we’re going to work through it. The magazine is always planning events in other countries and I can start going with, instead of sending others and you can flight there and we can have a thousand and four new adventures, together.”

“A thousand and four? That’s an specific number.”

“Multiply it by five hundred and twenty seven.”

“You’re learning your numbers.”

That gorgeous, warm smile comes back. Her chest squeezes and her body grows hotter.

“Yes, thank you for noticing.”

Adena nods, cleans a few tears away.

Correction: Her Thanksgiving is lonely and long, but filled with wine and drunken conclusions.

The weirdness starts about a week after the 25th. Jane and Sutton start always being too tired for movie nights or shopping sprees or drinking games.

After, Adena breaks her iphone and decides to change brands, meaning their facetime calls are off. Skype is the next best thing, but the apartment the woman is now renting doesn’t have wifi, which automatically leads to them only having calls when Adena is in a café or some other public establishment.

A few days later, the girls start talking about spending New Year’s together in a little cottage in Jersey. She is down for whatever they plan on, but a cottage ? That is too out of the blue and too damn cold for this time of the year, even for Tiny Jane and her love for the wilderness.

Christmas comes and with it her parents traveling to visit. They’d always do the opposite, she’d catch a plane or a bus home and spend a couple of days there and Pecky and the cottage are the only reasons she doesn’t do exactly that. It’d be too much stress for the cat, to go through a five hour drive, get used to a new, foreign place just to come back a few days later and having to move yet again once she and the girls went to New Jersey.

So her parents come to her. They are sweet and her dad lets the pet sleep on his lap. Everything is a touch quieter. It twists her stomach, but it is good to have mom and pop with a New York drop scene.

They ask her about Adena, about Peru and if it was worth it.

“You know how I always wanted change in my life?”

Her parents nod, the nagging feeling she’s one of their patients can’t quite take away from the moment.

“I have that, with her. An exciting and really healing sort of change, you know?”

They smile. Her mom reminds her that the honeymoon phase eventually goes away and she should be sure they have a good foundation for when it does.

Kat doesn’t snap back. Maybe her mother is right. She just doesn’t want to live her life like a lab experiment or a sociology paper.

They go to the infamous cottage on December 28.  It’s a decent thing.

She’s got dibs on the bedroom with the view, since the ledge is perfectly sized for Pecky to watch the birds outside and has a little nook for the cat to sleep in as well.

The girls insisted on sharing the other bedroom, which leaves her feeling slightly left out.

“How long ‘til you start plotting to kill me, hm?” Kat runs her fingers behind the Pecky’s ear.

Blue eyes focus on a mosquito, flying around the room, and in a blink, her pet also abandons her.

She has no idea how they get service in the middle of the woods, but Sutton keeps checking her phone so much that she , Kat Edison, Social Media Director, has to threaten taking it away from her.

Jane backs Sutton up, tells Kat that there’s this important fashion thingy happening in Marrocos. She shrugs and goes back to brushing her hair. This place does have a very cozy tub, she’ll give them that much.

Kat really loses it, however, when Sutton claims to have forgotten the ingredients for the s'mores and rushes out in the middle of the day to get it. She really loses it when it is dinnertime and the blonde is still not back and Jane acts as if there’s nothing wrong.

“What the hell is going on with you two? Did I do something? Because there’s been this thing between us for a while and I somehow can’t be a part of it and it is freaking me out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For real? You don’t think I notice when you two stop talking as soon as I walk in? Or how you both are always too tired to hang out, but you both are also always online at two PM on that same day?”

“Kat, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jane doesn’t deny it, then.

It hurts and it stings and she hasn’t talked to Adena since the day they came to this place and it is already the 30th.

She sits on the couch, back to the door, and she sulks. She’s allowed to. She will not cry out of frustration, but the trip is pretty much ruined for her and Sutton has disappeared with the only car they have.

Jane tries to make small talk, as if everything is perfect. Kat sends her glares and makes some supper.

(enough for the three of them, which makes her madder because she should let them fend for themselves if the two are such exclusive best friends now)

She is working, actually working on her holiday when she hears the cabin door opening. Her anger climbs back up and

“Oh, did you go make the chocolate from scratch or-”

Adena is standing there when she turns around. Adena with a bright blue hijab and soft grey sweater and old jeans and boots and Adena Adena Adena . Beaming at Kat. Being beautiful and glorious and present.

(she is totally not exaggerating when she thinks her heart actually stops)

“Adena.”

She lets it past her lips and it wakes her up. The most gorgeous human being she’s ever known is finally breathing the same air as her and she’s frozen five feet away.

Saying the name gets her into motion, gets her into the warm and strong and secure arms in a second, wrapped in the smell of citrus fruits and airplane.

“Your visa?” Kat whispers it against soft skin.

“It came through.”

“And- When-” She pulls away, meets those wonderful brown eyes.

“The girls helped speed things up with the legal department.”

“Incite has a lot of experience with it, surprisingly.”

Jane. Jane is speaking somewhere to their right. Kat had been stupid and mistrustful.

She looks at her friends, at their smiles. Looks at Tiny Jane, with a little smirk and Sutton, leaning against the now closed cabin door. She looks at Adena, an inch away from her.

“I love you guys.” She makes sure Sutton and Jane understand. They nod, love you too

Kat feels a warm body brushing against her leg.

“Pecky, were you in this too?”

The feline meows back at her, continuing to rub against them.

“I knew you were up to something.”

Another meow. She laughs. And buries her face against Adena’s neck.

(“But, you know, for me, I could just never get past this .”

“Well, for me, it’s never just been about this. It’s, uh, it’s more about this .” )

Adena lies her head against Kat’s shoulder, a hand on her ribs and hair muffling her nose.

It is bliss. The afterglow isn’t too bad, either, but the stillness of everything, the notion that they are not on borrowed time, is heavenly.

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Adena sighs and Kat hums in agreement. The body she holds against her own starts shaking. Her eyes pinch and she smiles. Smiles wide and big and pulls Adena closer, because she can . Because Adena is there and now they have thousands and thousands of possibilities.

“It’s over.” She smiles and she cries, but for the first time since Sutton miscarried, she lets out happy tears.

“I have something for you.” Adena leans over her, over the end of the bed and into the suit bag she’d brought with her. “Even though Islam doesn’t have a holy day similar to Christmas, I know it is a big part of your culture. So I got you this.”

Kat takes the wrapped box, doesn’t know if she should tear it open or kiss the woman first. She decides on the kiss.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I thought of you when I saw it.”

She smirks, her insides turning. This is happiness, this is a little taste of bliss in the middle of disaster.

Kat pulls away the bow tightened around the box, pulls up the lid and lets her mouth hang open for a moment.

A stuffed llama. A stuffed llama glares at her with black-bead eyes.

Adena starts chuckling, a hand covering her lips.

“At least this one doesn’t spit.” She shrugs. Adena laughs harder.

It’s a cute toy and it has a meaning behind it and is this their first inside joke?

“There’s something else.” Adena manages, calming down, smile in place.

She shuffles the flow of white tissue paper around and something black catches her attention. Another box, she notes, as she pulls it out. A jewelry box, at that.

Kat opens it slowly, runs a fingertip over the details of the piece.

“I thought you would wear it a bit more than a necklace.”

“Adena, this is beautiful.”

A wide oval shape. The stone in the background is of a stained and cracked red. A man’s face, in true Peruvian style, embossed front and center in the same silver which makes the structure of the rest of the ring.

A few outfits it’d go great with pop in her mind, get filed away into a corner.

“Thank you.” She sighs, frames Adena’s jaw with one of her hands. Kat leans in, drops a kiss on the corner of the woman’s mouth.

“I’m happy you like it.”

“I love it. I love both of them.”

She makes a point of bringing the stuffed animal further into her lap. It’ll be a full day, once Jane sees it, but it is from Adena . Thoughtful and sweet and teasing Adena, so Kat loves it, no doubt about it.

“How are we messing this up?” Sutton steps away from the stove, frustrated and glaring at the steaming and way too liquid mixture on the pan.

“Told you we should had just ordered it along with the turkey.”

“Kat, we’re not kids, we should be able to handle a simple dressing.”

Uh-uh, irritated Sutton is bad and can very quickly turn into Lash-out Sutton. Kat backs away into the other corner of the (small) kitchen.

“I can make a run to the store if you want.” Jane pops her head in.

“Didn’t you have an article to finish?” Sutton sighs, turning off the stove and throwing the napkin on the sink.

“Just finished it.” Jane steps into the room completely. “So I can go, if you want me to.”

“Nah, the stores are probably closed already, anyway.” Sutton scratches her neck, moves to start washing the cutlery she used on the recipe.

Kat exchanges a look with the other brunette, agreeing on leaving the situation be. It’s not about the dressing as it is about Richard’s call earlier in the day. Their friend will let it out when she feels ready, they just have to wait and tread carefully.

They take to the living room, checking if the few decorations they brought along are sticking.

“Pecky!” Kat stomps her foot and her pet runs a few feet away, tail straight up. “What were you doing?”

She inspects the ripped pieces of paper on the floor, getting on to collecting them.

“I swear to God, everything was in place a second ago.” Jane tries hanging the New Year’s sign back on the wall.

“Yeah, she’s fast. Knows when she’s doing something she isn’t supposed to.” She sighs, standing up with the torn cardboard flag in hand. “Yes, we’re talking about you.” Kat snaps when she notices Pecky lurking closer.

The feline takes the words as forgiveness, however, and trots over to her, rubbing against her calf as usual.

There’s something unique, about keeping a pet. Something inevitable on falling to their charms now and again.

She’d taken this cat, tiny and sick and scared senseless and now she is healthy and the right amount of fluffy, secure enough to run around and play and think everything is okay despite it all.

Kat is aware it is her logic that has her adoration for the animal swimming up, letting her scratch Pecky’s back. She knows, and she doesn’t care. Peru gave her beautiful sights, a face-to-face she hopes never to have again and it also gave her the little purring hurricane she pulls closer.

Kat looks up to see Adena, newly showered, stepping out of their bedroom at the same time a crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a few curse words.

“Ah, did I miss something?” Adena lifts an eyebrow.

A bliss in the midst of chaos, alright.

“Happy new year!” Jane pulls at the party popper’s string, smile wide and eyes glossy from the booze they’d been sipping away at for the past four hours.

She laughs and sees as a ball of moving fur ends up behind the bookcase.

“Good luck getting her from back there.” Kat gives her friend a thumbs up, not really worried about Pecky. The fireworks they hear in the distance would be worse, had they stayed in the city.

Jane groans.

“Happy new year.” Kat sighs, feeling Adena’s arm squeeze tighter around her waist.

“Happy new year.” Adena mumbles, lips against Kat’s hair. “May many more come our way.”

“I’m so glad you are celebrating it with us.”

“The rebirth of a year is worth celebrating, no matter in which calendar.”

She smirks, turns her head enough to peck the woman’s lips. As she turns back, she sees Jane coercing Pecky out of her hiding with the mouse toy the cat loves. By the brunette’s side is Sutton, her beautiful and healing friend, in desperate need of a new beginning.

Kat moves out of Adena’s hold, pulls Sutton into a hug. Strong and firm. “I love you, babe.”

“Love you too.”

“I can’t say this year will be better, but at least the last one is officially over.”

Sutton nods, wipes away a tear from her cheek.

“Thank God.”

“And tequila!” Jane squeals, sitting on the ground, waving the mouse around for Pecky.

“And tequila.” She and Sutton resonate. A weird analogy, but a true one, nonetheless.

However Adena manages to go through the emotional rollercoaster from hell they experienced without getting hammered here and now is an honest mystery to Kat.

It also makes her admire the woman a tad more.

(if that’s even possible)

She kinda hates her mom, a little bit, for being right. The honeymoon phase does pass. It passes quite quickly, to be honest.

Adena does not condone pets sleeping in the same bed as their owners. Kat loves lazy weekends and Adena seems to think New York has new mysteries to be uncovered every day, specially when it is extra early.

Adena gets moody when she thinks she hasn’t captured a good piece during a photoshoot and Kat does not always have the time nor the patience to explain why, when the girls text ‘ alcohol emergency’ , she has to scurry away, no matter what.

It is hard and they fight. It is hard and it is real and she can’t recall the last relationship she had where she didn’t feel the need to break things off at least twice a week.

But it is real and her heart skips a beat every time she sees Adena chewing on her bottom lip, trying to pass a hard phase on Candy Crush (in Kat’s phone because Adena doesn’t need shallow distractions) .

It is the most real she’s ever felt and it honestly amazes her, how fucking safe it is.

Oh, and having a beautiful woman playing and running around her apartment with her cat is not bad, either.

It is one of the hardest things she faces, being real and letting someone watch it happen , but it is one of her biggest accomplishments.

[movietvtechgeeks]

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OMG 'Supernatural' Advanced Thantology sent our Lynn over the edge

I was once again at a convention for last week’s Supernatural episode, so that meant trying frantically to set up the "Family Don’t End With Blood" vendor table (which you can get here if you've not picked up your copy yet) and then running upstairs to borrow a friend’s hotel room to watch the episode. But this time, the hotel actually had the CW – yay!! So I was sitting perched on my friend’s bed watching all by myself, which didn’t stop me from making a lot of noise at times. Sorry, neighboring hotel rooms! ‘Advanced Thanatology’ is an unusual title for an episode, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from this one. Season 13 has been making me pretty happy so far, which means I now go into every episode with all my fingers and toes crossed because I desperately want them to keep the quality up. It’s nervewracking to be a fangirl, what can I say? This episode was written by one of the newer writers, Steve Yockey. And guess what? My finger and toe crossing worked! This is the fifth episode of the season and the fifth one I liked. Woohoo! We start with an unusually long opening sequence, in which a few foolish kids play out the horror film genre stereotype of ‘never do this unless you want to die’ behaviors. It was scary as hell, so I appreciated that, even though I admit that part way through I started mumbling ‘where are Sam and Dean, come on!’ I know, spoiled Supernatural fan. I just want my boys! The actor playing Shawn, Seth Isaac Johnson, did an amazing job portraying his character’s terror though – and Alisen Down as his mom totally broke my heart. Someday I really am gonna send a gigantic fruit basket to Supernatural’s casting agency, because not only are the regulars incredible, most of the guest cast is too! The mom and son pair who were this week’s side characters served as the emotional push for Dean’s building sense of failure to go over the edge, because they portrayed fear and grief and loss so vividly. Shawn initially escapes, but he makes the other stereotypical horror film mistake of bringing home one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen – a plague mask from the haunted house of a deceased demented doctor. I was honestly afraid I’d have nightmares that night! Kudos props department, kudos. Meanwhile, once we do move into the Sam and Dean portion of the episode, I’m once again deliriously happy – because Sam and Dean are still talking! And talking about emotional things! And being emotionally savvy and considerate of each other!  Once again, I have the relationship between the brothers that I signed up for loud and clear on my television screen, and that makes me one very happy fangirl. It’s clear that something is up with Sam from the first scene – he brings Dean a beer to have with his breakfast PBJ. Weirdly, Dean says “no, I’m good” and as Sam continues to be kind and considerate, Dean finally demands to know what’s going on with his brother. (Though actually, Sam is often kind and considerate, he’s just not usually so overt about it). Sam suggests that they work a case, “just you and me.” He notes that it’s been a while since they’ve done that, which induced me to start yelling “Yes yes yes!” at the hotel television probably too loudly. They leave Jack behind watching Sam’s fantasy DVD collection, and Dean rallies to some of his more Dean-like behavior by questioning how Sam ever got laid. (Which made me smile just thinking about how many fans were watching and thinking just the opposite about Sam’s geekboy side, btw…) So Sam and Dean put on their fed suits, climb into the Impala and head off to try to save some kids. Iconic Supernatural, and happy fangirl. The scene where Dean goes upstairs to talk to the traumatized Shawn was reminiscent of one of my favorite early season episodes, Dead In The Water. Lucas could also only draw what he’d seen, too traumatized to talk. That episode showed us the depths of Dean’s empathy for people who have been traumatized, especially children, and the depths of his own childhood trauma losing his mother in the fire. It was incredibly touching to see how Dean talked with Lucas, getting down on his level and sharing some of his own past in a willingness to be vulnerable that we hadn’t seen much of before. In this episode, Dean tries again, similarly empathic towards Shawn. You can see that Shawn senses it and wants to open up, but he’s too terrified, drawing that horrible mask over and over and over. We always learn a lot about Dean in those moments too. Dean: I know what it’s like to see monsters…you see them in your dreams. Oh, Dean. He’s the poster boy for PTSD but just keeps shouldering on, same as Sam. The boys leave without much success, which doesn’t help Dean with his increasing depression and sense of failure. Sam, in keeping with his determination to try to make his brother feel better by whatever means necessary, suggests they go to a strip club. Dean (and me) are sort of incredulous, and he reminds Sam that the last time Dean bought him a lap dance, Sam used the time to try to convince the young woman to go to nursing school. Sam sheepishly protests that of course he likes strip clubs, but Dean doesn’t seem to be buying it. (Also, it’s called the Clam Diver? You really went there, Show!) Sam: It got great reviews! I love you, Sam Winchester. Dean finally confronts Sam about why he’s doing all this for Dean – letting him be Agent Page, ordering him chili fries… (Awww, Sammy, you’re the best brother ever) Sam: I’m just trying to be nice. Dean: Why? Sam: You know why. And Dean does. See, that’s what I’m loving so much about this season – the show has remembered that the brothers know each other. Like, really know each other. They’ve grown up together and worked together most of their adult lives too; they’re both family and partners. They get each other. Sometimes Show forgets that, which makes me a cranky fangirl. But not this season! Sam points out that Dean is not fine, that he doesn’t believe in anything at this point, and that is not Dean Winchester. Sam: I just wanna help. Dean insists he’ll fight his way back, that he’s done it before. With bullets, bacon, and booze. Lots of booze. Sam (and all of us) are skeptical. Meanwhile, Show breaks my heart with another scene between Shawn and his mother. She runs in when he has a nightmare and soothes him, and he manages to say “okay” when she tells him to go back to sleep. You can see what that means to her, the sudden flare of relief and hope and so much love – her baby is getting better.  Again, Alisen Down did an amazing job. But then, she tells Sam and Dean, when the house got suddenly cold (NOOOOOOOO I screamed at the tv), she came in to his room to close a window, and he was gone. You can see that Dean is almost as devastated as the mom, that sense of failure burgeoning. Dean: I shoulda pushed him harder to talk. Oh, Dean. This is really not what you needed right now. Next thing we know, it’s morning and Sam Winchester is waking up – and looking ridiculously hot. Sorry, shallow I know, but woah. Rumpled with a bit of bed head and clad only in a tee shirt Sam Winchester is just plain hot. Either they went to the strip club and Sam came back early or Dean went alone, but there he is passed out on the floor snoring away – Jensen Ackles’ comedy genius and willingness to make himself look silly very much in evidence – still in his fed suit, disheveled with a pink bra tangled around his neck, his tie as a headband and what is that draped across his face? The imagination runs wild. Mine does, anyway. Longsuffering Sam takes the keys and leaves Dean to sleep it off, and is able to convince Shawn’s friend to tell them where the boys were that fateful night. (Yes, we not only get kind Sam and hot Sam in this episode, we also get smart Sam!) When he comes back, Dean is awake (sort of) and happily piling on bacon from the free buffet. Which is totally what I do with free hotel buffets, just saying. I pause for a few minutes to ponder just how someone who’s hungover and rumpled and wearing sunglasses inside can look so UNBELIEVABLY HOT. I mean, seriously? More Ackles’ comedy chops as Dean consumes lots of bacon, some of it falling out of his mouth. The face he makes when he looks around to see if anyone noticed before eating it anyway is priceless. I wonder if that was scripted or an Ackles ad lib. My guess is the latter. Sam at first questions what Dean is doing, and Dean grumbles ‘What happened to being nice to me?’ Sam pulls out a beer, and Dean immediately softens. Dean: You are forgiven. The Winchesters go to investigate the deceased demented doc’s very scary old deserted house, which means we get gorgeous flashlight-lit scenes by the brilliant Serge Ladouceur. Once again, this episode got really scary really fast – the doctor appears behind Sam, tosses both the boys across the room, and then approaches a trapped Dean with an electric drill pointed right at his face. I legit screamed at the top of my lungs in the hotel room because OMG was that a terrifying scene, filmed brilliantly. AAAAHHHH!!! Sam to the rescue (add heroic Sam to the list), temporarily vanquishing the ghost and then giving his brother a hand up. It’s those little moments that illustrate their relationship, Sam���s need to make sure Dean is okay and Dean’s quiet thanks. (Thank you, Steve Yockey, for that). I was totally squicked by the row of masks they find in the doctor’s former operating room and couldn’t wait for the boys to burn them. They’re able to get rid of the ghost (with great visual and sound effects from the VFX wizards), and I look at my clock and think huh, it’s way too early for it to be that easy. Uh oh. Sure enough, it turns out the house is full of ghosts – of all the people the doctor killed. Dean, now pushed way too far by his perceived inability to save anyone at all, is desperate to save these trapped spirits. He pulls out a small kit (from the same doctor who helped him kill himself temporarily in Appointment in Samarra, according to the Superwiki, with kudos to the continuity folks) and says he’ll go to the other side and find out where the bodies are. Sam (and me) are understandably shocked. Sam: No no no no, Dean, you’re talking about killing yourself! Dean’s depression (with a generous dose of unwarranted self-loathing) have put him in a very desperate place because he impulsively jams the needle into his chest and immediately seizes up in pain. Poor Sam, totally against the plan, nevertheless grabs his brother and soothes him through the death, holding him as he falls to the floor. (Because that’s exactly what Sam would do, and thank you again Mr. Yockey for knowing that!) Jared did an amazing job in this scene, conveying Sam’s barely contained terror that something will go wrong and he won’t be able to bring his brother back as well as his unbelievable courage in forcing himself to wait the three minutes that Dean asked for. I felt for him so much as he lined Dean’s body with salt to protect him while he’s defenseless, then sat over him vigilant and so horribly anxious, needle poised over Dean’s chest. He pats Dean repeatedly, reassurance for both of them that he’ll be okay. That must have been the longest three minutes of Sam Winchester’s life, and Jared shows us all of that. He also shows us Sam’s anger at his brother for taking this ridiculous risk, which would have to be there too. Sam: (leaning over Dean’s body) Stupid! For sure. Meanwhile, Dean ignores his reaper (as he often does) and finally finds Shawn – and realizes that he is indeed dead. You can see what that knowledge does to Dean, how it amps up his sense of failure even more. Even this kid he couldn’t save. Dean: I’m so sorry. As the three minutes comes to a close, Dean finds what he needs to know and returns to Sam and his body on the floor. Sam stabs the needle in and then waits – but there’s no response. Here’s where Jared really killed me, because it was like Mystery Spot all over again – and it had to be like that for Sam too. Sam: (desperately) Dean! Hey, Dean! Wake up! No no no…. nononononono! My heart absolutely broke for Sam. I think I had to grab some of the hotel tissues, in fact. I wish I hadn’t known that Lisa Berry was coming back, because the reveal that Billie is now Death would have been so amazing. Even spoiled, it was an incredible scene – Lisa pulls off the gravity of being Death perfectly, an imposing figure with her long leather coat and her ring and that scythe. She’s both gorgeous and terrifying. The entire scene between Dean and Billie was off the charts amazing. Lisa and Jensen have the same sort of chemistry that Jensen also has with Julian Richings, the original Death on Supernatural – he always looks torn between being in awe and wanting to be a smartass. And Death always looks torn between wanting to quash this brash human and being reluctantly fascinated (and maybe a little admiring) of him. All of that came through between Lisa and Jensen too. When Billie asks what Dean wants in exchange for some intel about the rift between universes, she’s clearly shocked that instead of asking to go back to his life, he asks for her to free the ghosts. At that moment, he cares so little for his own life and feels like such a failure, all he can think about is to save those poor people. Billie recognizes how significant this is right away. Billie: You’ve changed. Maybe you’re not that guy anymore, who always thinks he’ll win no matter what. You tell people you’ll work through it, but you know you won’t. You can’t. Boy, did she ever hit the nail on the head. I guess that’s the perceptiveness that comes from having a literally universal view on – well, on the universe. Dean doesn’t dispute her take on him either. There’s just no fight left in him, and it terrifies me. Dean: It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. I couldn’t save mom; I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared kid. Sam tries to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down… Billie: You want to die. Dean looks so vulnerable, looking up at Billie, lips parted, eyes blinking. There’s so much emotion there that he’s fighting back and he looks so lost. Billie: I see you, and your brother. You’re important. You have work to do. I was so riveted I was barely breathing through the entire scene. All the kudos to Lisa Berry and Jensen Ackles, because woah. And to writer Steve Yockey for putting in that call back to one of the most iconic lines in the show – it defines the show. We got work to do. And it’s still true, more than twelve years later. (Oh, and how thrilled was I to hear that one of the way Dean Winchester possibly died was ‘burned by a red haired witch’?? Rowena mention, yay!) Billie snaps Dean back into his body, and he wakes up to a desperate Sam still trying to revive him. Sam: You okay??? Dean: (trying to catch his breath) Yeah… Sam: (reassuring himself) You’re okay. He has to repeat it in order to believe it, after what must have been a horrible scare. The brothers lean against the Impala as the ambulances take the bodies out of the house and dig up the ones that were buried. My heart breaks again when they bring out Shawn’s body and his mother says goodbye, cradling her son’s face between her hands and looking utterly devastated. I needed to grab tissues again – it was actually hard to watch, it was so poignant. Of course, it hits the Winchesters just as hard. Sam asks Dean what happened back there, why the shot didn’t work, why the ghosts are all gone. At first, Dean tries to avoid talking about it, the way he most certainly would have last season. But this is Season 13 – and this is what I love about Season 13. Sam doesn’t leave it! Dean: We’ll talk about it later. Sam: No we won’t! You know that. I actually screamed out loud in my hotel room: That’s right Sam, you know you won’t!! And then they DID! Sam: You okay? Dean: No. Sam I'm not okay, I'm pretty far from okay. You know, my whole life, I always believed that what we do was important. No matter what the cost, no matter who we lost. Whether it was Dad or Bobby or... and I would take the hit. But I kept on fighting because I believed that we were making the world a better place. And now Mom… and Cas and I -- I don't know. I don't know. Sam: So you don't believe anymore. Dean: I just need a win. I just need a damn win. The boys climb into the Impala, and an awesome song by Steppenwolf begins to play, reminding us that “it’s never too late to start all over again, who says you won’t be back again.” Sam dozes, Dean drives, a scene so iconic to Supernatural it made me tear up. And then the phone rings. You can see on Dean’s face the shock of what he’s heard, and then they’re parking in an alley (a glowing cross prominently displayed) and at the phone booth? Is Castiel. He turns around, and we see Dean’s look of shocked disbelief – and maybe a bit of hope. I was so worn out from all the emotions I wanted to just collapse onto a hotel bed that wasn’t even mine, but instead, I hurried out into the hallway to get back to the vendor room. Multiple hotel room doors opened at the same time, and Supernatural fans spilled out into the hall, everyone going OMG OMG OMG. It was a moment. So we’re pretty much five for five, Show. Let’s keep this winning streak going. The Supernatural 1306 Tombstone trailer is above to check out. Check Our Our 2017 Holiday Gift Guides: [abcf-grid-gallery-custom-links id="50643"]

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[auswriteforyou]

Protect Her. (The Originals, Klaus Mikaelson)

Or the one where Lucien's crazy about you and Klaus is crazy about you and they are two very different things.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson/She.

Potential TW: Blood, crazy dude is crazy, Lucien has no chill, and biting but not the good kind.

A cold chill swept through the open balcony door, billowing the silk curtains like dancers twirling in a silent dance. It was so quiet in the room she could hear her own breathing, the cacophony of hitched gasps and worried cries. He shouldn't have been able to get in, he had never been invited in. She had made sure of that as soon as she knew of his existence.

But there he stood, inches over the threshold of her balcony with a sickening smile on his face as he drank her in. Lucien was everything she didn't want in a man - a monster - but there he stood, blood dripping down his chin and onto his white blouse. She didn't care what he called his silk shirt, it was a blouse. How odd, she mused, that I am thinking of his attire at a moment like this.

"Oh my love, how silly of you to think you could escape me." His laugh was like delicate chimes cracking under a heavy boot. "That you and I were not meant to be. That I couldn't find you, get to you."

"How?" Her voice was like soft rain, but a patter in the room. She knew he could barely hear her over the thud of her heart but his lips twitched in response. He wasn't going to tell her.

"Please." She didn't know what she was begging for. A swift death, a calmer setting. All she knew was she was afraid of the thing in front of her, perhaps she was stupid enough to beg him to let her go.

His fist slammed into the plaster beside her head in a breath, his face dangerously close as his veins crinkled under his eyes. Laughing a low purr, he trailed a bloody hand along her cheek as he leaned to whisper in her ear.

"Oh love, why can't you just understand how perfect we are for each other? What a wonderful wife, vampire, you'll make?"

There was a creak in a floorboard outside her door, loud enough that Lucien's had covered her mouth as she was about to scream. Although she had already thought better of it. If it were a mere human they would be dead in a snap. Why did she have to go to that market on that specific day?

Had she truly needed fresh flowers that badly?

"Sh, Sh, Sh." He slowly lifted his hand from her mouth, pressing the red stained finger to his own lips. She could only hope her mouth didn't have any of the blood on it. "Who is it?"

"It's the queen of England, care for some tea?" It was a female voice, one she didn't recognize and obviously neither did he. But she knew that phrase. She had been told the royal answer.

"Oh, the king is always allowed to have tea in here." It was rushed, but a whisper as Lucien tried to stop her but she had practiced saying it quick enough. Those were the key to her safety and she wouldn't let him steal that.

With a mighty groan, the door flew off it's hinges. The splintered wood hit the opposite wall, knocking down framed photos and denting the plaster. She couldn't even bring herself to care when she saw the man who stood in the doorway, golden eyes and all. Klaus Mikaelson wasn't her favourite person in the world but she had never been more glad to see anyone.

"Release her." Lucien clearly hadn't known she knew Klaus.  If he had, perhaps he would have double-checked to make sure vervain was still in his system. He'd been doing so much speeding around trying to get to her that he had skimped on his habits.

Letting her arms fall from his hands, he gritted his teeth as Klaus waltzed through her door with a biting grin on his face. A woman she figured was Hayley stood in the threshold, Elijah to her side as Kol leaned on the cream coloured wall in the hall. Klaus approached the both of them slowly, sliding his frame between she and Lucien, a hand reaching back to curve her waist. It was supposed to be kind, she thinks but it was a little disconcerting when his face was all ick.

"Can you do me a favour doll, invite in my family."

Mulling it over, she took in stoic Elijah in all his demure sensibility, Hayley who's wide eyes blinked at her comfortingly and Kol who was bat shit crazy, a smirk on delicate lips.

"You are allowed in."

----

She couldn't breath, couldn't move. Not when she had shut her eyes for a moment only to open them to see Klaus bite Lucien and inject him with werewolf venom as Hayley did the same in his wrist. Elijah was pining him down while Kol searched through his wallet, pulling out a photo and promptly shriveling his nose at it. Flashing it at Klaus only angered the man more and his hand clamped around the screaming man's wound, pushing into the oozing flesh.

"Stop," Her voice was nothing over the screams. "Please. Niklaus, stop!" It went silent, all eyes on her as she stumbled from the wall she'd used to prop herself up.

"Love," Lucien begged but she recoiled at his voice, Klaus at her side in a instant.

"Please, not here. I don't care what you do. Just, not here." She pleaded, imagining the sanctity of her apartment being further tarnished by this monster.

"Of course doll, we will go elsewhere." Klaus nodded at his group, the lot of them speeding off with infiltrator in tow. The gush of air pushed her unstable body further into his, his hand hooking around her elbow as she promptly burst into tears. Who could blame her really when she was so confused, so scared?

"It's alright, you're safe now. I never would have let that man hurt you." He cooed, running a hand through her hair and balancing her when she sagged into him. His lips pressed to her hairline, unmoving even as her body shook with sobs.

"You will sleep at the compound tonight, alright? You have no door and this place is no longer safe." She couldn't argue with that. Instead, she let him sweep her into his arms and carry her off into the night.

----

She was sweating when her eyes snapped open, her body reacting to the memory of a foe as she instinctively curled in on herself as she realized the scream echoing the room was hers. A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped, squeaking as her eyes met blue ones. Klaus. Wait.

"Klaus? Wha- Why - Bed, me, you - what?" She fumbled for the sheets, pulling them to cover her loose fitting sleep shirt that she was now painfully aware of not wearing a bra under.

"Sh, calm down doll. Don't want to scare Hope." He soothed, pulling her back into the comfy confines of bed. She tensed, wide eyes on him as he tugged her into his chest protectively.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Sleeping."

"Niklaus."

"Oh relax. I carried you here, you were having nightmares so I stayed. Your death grip on my arm wasn't going to let me go anywhere either." Her shoulders slumped a little, surprised by his warmth and how comfortable she felt in his arms.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you know he was at my apartment? Why have you been so willing to protect me ever since you found out he was obsessed with me when we have only met each other once?"

"I had men outside your apartment, just in case and Lucien killed them but one had already called." He paused for a moment and she waited for him to answer her other question. He didn't. Because he's a stubborn ass.

"And?"

"And," He licked his lips slowly (which was just rude), "I don't know. There is something about you. Something innocent, kind. You know the darkness that lurks in the corners of your streets but you buy flowers, wear them in your hair and on your clothes. It reminds me that there is beauty in the darkness." When he looked down at her, his eyes were soft like shattered diamonds begging her to piece them together with her gaze.

There was a pregnant pause, long and soothing as they simply stared. Then it his turn to ask a question. One she didn't want to answer. One she might not like the answer to.

"Why did you trust me enough to rely on me as your source of safety, to invite me into your home?"

"Because there's something about you." She replied, hand sliding to rest over where his heart once beat. "Lucien," She cringed at his name, only relaxing at the hand Klaus used to push her head onto his collarbone as he trailed fingers through her hair. "He has this feeling surrounding him, like he could snap like a high strung twig. You, you're the 'big bad wolf' but you're not. Not to me. When we first met, you smiled at me - teeth and all - when I thanked you for picking up my bouquet and it was soothing, innocent as you said."

"I am far from innocent doll, I have done horrendous things."

"There are bad acts, then there are bad people."

"And which category do I fall under?"

"I think you fall under a category all your own; a good man who was handed an evil gift that he has done his best with - even though he has done unspeakable things."

Before he could respond, a soft cry broke in from the nursery and she stopped him from getting up. He wasn't one to let others hold his daughter, especially not strange women but for some terrifying reason, he found himself trusting her as she cradled the now silent child.

"Do you see her?" She questioned, careful as she climbed onto the bed and under the sheets with Hope cradled tightly. "Do you see your baby? How could an evil man create something like her?"

And for once, Klaus found he had nothing to say because how could he deny how wonderful his daughter was? How could he not accept every word out of this beautiful woman's mouth?

She was silent for a long while, rocking the baby like it was a normal occurrence in her life even though she realized how weird it kind of was when something hit her.

"Where is Lucien?"

Laughing, his lips met her cheek as a blush lit her face and he whispered in her ear - as she tried not to fall in love with him then and there.

"Somewhere you will never have to worry about him again, I told you I would protect you and I can guarantee you I always will."

-

Oh shit waddup. This is hecka long and makes no sense but klaus is my main hoe and I need to stop writing when I'm sleep drunk pls send help lol (ps this is unedited because it's late and I'm exhausted)

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