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missnmikaelson-main · 4 years

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Frilla - Chapter 9

Morning sunlight peeked through the high vents, dancing down in a swirling beams that made her hair gleam gold. He allowed his gaze to wander her relaxed features and ran his hand through the locks, twisting her curls around his rough fingers.

A day of work beckoned, eager to claim his attentions the moment his feet hit the ground, but standing up would disturb her slumber, and he lacked any and all desire to disturb.

A new job had been granted to him; he relished being used as her pillow, holding her soft body tightly against him as her even breaths betrayed her contentment.

Why should he wish to be anywhere else?

She stirred, snuggling closer and sliding her hand up his chest.

Sleep clouded eyes blinked, struggling to focus on his features.

“Good morning,” he smiled. Since their arrival at his home she had taken to sleeping later with each passing day and more often then not he woke to find her sprawled atop his body.

“Good morning,” she mumbled. He remained unsure if she fully understood the phrase or if she simply repeated his words back.

She covered her yawn with a hand and sat up, bending down to kiss him lightly.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss, catching the back of her thigh to pull her atop him.

++++

She hummed to herself as she bustled around the yard, and adjusted a thin layer of berries under a pane of glass. She poured the dry ones into a jar and sashayed inside, storing them on the shelves before twirling back outside.

She felt certain she walked on air as she scooped up a clean bucket and glided towards the well. Her body had been boneless since rising from bed when they had finally decided they could put off daily work no longer.

The bucket of water drew upwards with a soft grunt of exertion, but not even the physical strain on her muscles proved capable of dampening her spirits.

She carried it back towards the house. Water sloshed over the lip, splashing her skirts and leaving dark spots on the ground. The door yawned ahead and she paused. Her stomach shifted violently.

The ground turned to mud as the water fell out of the overturned bucket. Her feet slipped in it; she grabbed a tree for balance just as she threw up.

She straightened up and wiped the back of her hand across her brow.

“Caroline?” Bonnie called, eyes wide with concern.

++++

Elena snapped the fabric, knocking loose any insects that had made a home in the drying laundry before folding a neat square. She did it again and again until everything lay in the basket at her feet.

She bent to lift it and gasped as her belt shifted, digging into her stomach.

“Are you alright, darling?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Of course you heard that.”

“What?”

“I love you,” she amended. Her lashes fluttered open, allowing her eyes to focus on his abandoned task. She straightened her spine.

“I love you, too,” his hands settled low on her hips, “now answer the question.”

“I’m alright,” she smoothed a palm over her naval, reaching for the leather around her waist. She unfastened it, letting it fall open as she dropped the belt into her basket, so her dress became shapeless. “I think that… that I might be a little farther along then I thought,” she shrugged. “My belt pushed against the scar.”

“Shall I take a look at it?” He reached for her elbow, laying one palm over her stomach.

“No.” She caught his wrist in a vicelike grip. “I’m alright. It just startled me.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes narrowed.

She nodded, offering a strained smile.

“At least let me carry this inside for you,” he bent for the basket.

“Because you don’t think I can do it myself?” She tilted her head and crossed her arms.

“Of course you can do it,” he got a grip on the basket. “That doesn’t mean you have to. Let me help you.”

She lifted her chin.

“Besides,” he smirked, looking down, “with your hands full you’re liable to trip over that hem.” He backed away towards the house before she could snatch for the basket.

Elena watched him go and lowered her hand to her stomach, brushing the tender skin before lifting her skirts.

++++

Dampness clung to the night, drifting low on northern winds, it sank through clothes and hair with the promise of rain, ready to burst through the heavy clouds before the moon reached its apex.

Then again, the moon could have been there already; it rose upwards beyond the pulsating cover of the storm a while ago.

She caught the briefest glimpse of a near perfect circle as she lay in the grass, but now the only light came from the flickering candle that she possessed the foresight to light.

Would she see the roiling clouds if she extinguished it? Would she still have a place in the dark?

Or would she melt into the night as a part of the landscape?

She left it lit.

Klaus was gong to need some way to spot her when he returned from escorting Bonnie over the path. She had tried not to jump on the gentle suggestion that she remain behind, not wanting to appear eager to avoid him or his brother because she wasn’t - not anymore - but the chance to be alone with her thoughts held some appeal.

She could think without him questioning the deep furrow between her brows, or teasing her about overthinking whatever it was she was thinking about. His laughing voice and that sinful twinkle in his eyes did things to her; he would have ended up distracting her, and then she would have had to start all over again.

Alone was better for her thoughts.

Alone allowed her to count back.

Unfortunately, she lost track of the days or weeks somewhere between the old village and her new home. It had to be approaching two months; she distinctly remembered a full moon through wavering smoke the first night they did more than sleep.

She bled sometime before that.

Sometime, though she wasn’t sure how long before, but it had been sometime. She knew it had been sometime.

“Esther taught us what to feel for,” her dark hand reached for Caroline’s abdomen.

The spark of power shocked her from inside.

“… like me…” Bonnie’s smile lit up her eyes, “… like his mother.”

Her fingers twisted over her stomach, tugging at knuckles and dancing over wet wool. To know so soon, to take pride in otherworldly power, was beyond her comprehension, but it was alright here, acceptable. Worthy of praise and excitement and celebration.

Like his mother, Caroline mused. That would take some adjustment.

Wind whistled in her ears, whipping loose strands of hair across her face. A few caught between her lips and she lifted her hand to carefully pull them away. As she tucked the hair behind her ear she spotted movement out the corner of her eye.

Turning her head she squinted beyond the small circle of light. Tension gathered in her shoulders.

Long legs came into focus first and then she was staring up at Klaus’ shadowed face. Even in the darkness she saw his dimples and knew he was smirking.

“What are you doing, love?” He arched an eyebrow. The common question was one of the first she recognized before knowing the words.

She did a lot of things differently. Part of it was the way she had been raised, and part of it was just her desire to have everything a certain way; he never minded her rearranging or alternate methods of doing just about everything, but more often then not her answer remained the same because more often then not he was questioning the furrow between her brows.

“Thinking,” she shrugged one shoulder and lowered herself back down, hardly feeling the damp grass. She formed the words carefully as she folded her hands over her stomach. “Will you join me?”

He tilted his head, considering for a moment; she almost thought she had said something else, but then he moved and stretched out beside her, leaving just enough room for the broad candle.

Off in the direction of the village lightning flashed, lighting up the distant sky and giving enough light for her to catch his pensive expression.

Clearly he needed to think about something too.

She wondered what was on his mind, and though she could have asked she doubted she had the vocabulary to fully comprehend whatever response he would give her. Instead she moved her mouth, forming without sound the words she had been practicing since he left her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning his head to watch her.

“What?” Her eyes narrowed.

He said something further, gesturing with one hand as he did. She knew enough of his words to understand. He had been worried that the storm would break and catch them, and that was why he suggested she stay behind.

She pushed up on her elbow and lifted the candle, moving it above their heads. Then she moved closer, laying a soft kiss on his cheek.

“It’s alright.” She stretched back out, this time taking his hand in hers. Their fingers threaded together.

Distant thunder broke up the silence and every once in a while she would look up through her lashes and watch his thoughtful expression. At last she could take the silence no more and squeezed his hand.

“Klaus?”

Her voice startled him, making his grip on her hand momentarily tighten.

“Yes, love?”

She chewed her bottom lip, practicing the words one more time in her head before shifting and sliding her fingers around his wrist. She held his gaze as she lifted his hand to her flat stomach.

“I’m pregnant.” She saw the steady rise and fall of his chest falter, betraying the surprise. Her own breath caught. She waited for him to say something, to breathe, to understand the words she knew she had gotten right.

Had she gotten them right? She had practiced them over and over and over.

Had she practiced wrong?

Had she messed up a syllable somewhere?

Had she forgotten the carefully enunciated words Bonnie taught her less than six hours before?

Had she told him she was a purple leprechaun?

He wasn’t teasing her though, and if she had said something truly crazy he would have jumped at the opportunity to make her blush until she broke out in giggles.

He was staring at her with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.

“Klaus?” She pressed her lips together, swallowing heavily.

He shifted onto his side and moved his hand from her stomach. She didn’t get a chance to mourn its absence before he replaced it with the other, palm spanning the width of her stomach.

“þú’st heill?” A flash of lightning illuminated his eyes.

She struggled to find a word capable of describing the emotion in his gaze, but could only come up with tentative wonder.

“Ek em heill,” she said again, nodding and enunciating each word carefully.

“Heill,” he breathed.

Caroline nodded again. Her mouth shifted, mirroring his smile.

A rush of joy she had spent hours suppressing swelled in her breast. It bubbled up and out of her in a rapturous laugh that cut off when he kissed her, although between her happy giggles and his broad smile it hardly counted as a kiss. Still, they persisted in exchanging them until the first drops of rain fell.

She felt the water on her hand, rolling off her skin and soaking into his shirt. Cold surrounded her when he pulled away, but he helped her up and bundled her into his arms, leading her towards the promised warmth of the hearth fire.

++++

Torrential rainfall drummed over the roof and turned the floor nearest the doorway to slick mud that she slipped in every time she ventured too close. Occasionally the heavy winds buffeted the house and sent fat droplets of freezing water through those high vents and onto the benches below; she wiped up what she could before finally losing her patience and shutting as many of the vents as she dared, leaving only two open on either side of the roaring fire so the smoke filtered out.

The one time she had ventured near the outside was when he ran towards the small barn to check on the few animals. For the length of time he was gone she had stood at the door, squinting into the dark day, unable to spot more than the outline of the outbuilding; her favourite sight laid far beyond and out of the question, and with the wind she doubted a single orange or yellow leaf would reside on the distant mountains.

By the time he returned he had been shivering and soaked to the bone.

He had laughed through chattering teeth when told him in no uncertain terms to get out of his wet clothes, but he had obliged eagerly. That was how she found herself ringing out sodden wool and shaking her head.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, sighing. The words came in her own language as she was too annoyed to think in his, but her mood was easily read.

Dry arms snaked around her waist from behind, but the chill persisted in clinging to his skin and raising gooseflesh on hers. His cold nose brushed her jaw before he pressed a single kiss to the column of her throat and she had to force herself not to melt so she might understand the majority of the words breathed against her ear.

“I had to seal the doors.” He said something else that her language skills didn’t allow her to decipher.

She tossed the shirt on the bench and twisted around before it could thud, laying her hands flat on his chest. As she pushed he walked backwards, guided by her small hands towards a stool and when the back of his legs knocked the wood she slid her fingers up to his shoulders.

“You’re cold as ice,” she said in her sternest voice. The tone wasn’t hard to achieve in the heavy syllables. “Sit,” she tugged the fabric until he gave in and dropped onto the stool.

Firelight made his hair glow golden and brought a healthy pink to her hands. Her fingers tangled in his hair and combed through, gently working out knots formed by wind and rain.

His eyes drifted shut as she worked, and his hands settled on her legs; long fingers curled around the back of her thighs, matching the small circles she massaged into his scalp.

“How do you get so many…” she tilted her head, thinking back to when he taught her how to loop the string around the tent poles. What was the word he had used? “Lykkja…” she gave a soft tug on the small mess she worked on. “Knots?”

“I always have,” he chuckled, turning his head to kiss her wrist.

When she spoke again it was in halting syllables as she carefully formed the words.

“I do not think… I can handle this each day.” She freed the final tangle, running her fingers through his hair as she pursed her lips; amusement twinkled in her eyes. “If it understands what is good for it, our baby will have my hair.”

“Our child will have your everything, love.” His dimples deepened as he smiled and leaned forward until he brushed a kiss over her flat midsection.

Not everything, she bent and kissed the top of his head, some of it comes from you. At the very least the child had already inherited something from his mother.

“You have to warm up.” She gave him a small push, urging him to sit closer to the fire. His fingers tightened, yanking her forward. Her knees bent and she fell, one leg on either side of his lap.

“I can think of a gøra lund for varmr up,” his voice lowered to a guttural growl as he skimmed his hands over her legs and stopped at the curve of her behind. He squeezed the firm flesh through the layers of material and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping gently.

An almost painful throbbing began between her legs, pulsing with each beat of her heart. The guiding hands he utilized were unnecessary when she rocked forward in search of the sweet relief she knew only friction would bring.

It wasn’t enough. She tugged awkwardly at her skirts, desperate to have the fabric out of the way, but she made no headway until he offered aid and together they piled the skirt over her upper thighs. Without the linen layer of her underdress in between, the wool trousers prickled her sensitive skin, but it was no worse than his stubble. She always got a thrill when the coarse hairs scratched her thighs. After experiencing the heights of pleasure he could lift her to with just his tongue, she often wondered why such acts were banned and punishable by imprisonment where she had come from, but she couldn’t believe she was to be eternally damned for enjoying it.

She quivered atop him and tried to shift closer, scratching her nails down his stomach in route to the hardness she now needed to feel inside her. She wanted him then and there, but he stopped her fingers progress with a gentle push at her wrist.

One hand at the small of her back steadied her as the other disappeared under her bunched skirt. She felt the living pulsing cold seconds before and tried to jerk away, but he made contact.

The cold bit at her, filling her hot passage in a smooth thrust.

Her mouth fell open in a soundless scream. She gripped at his shoulders and arched her back, unsure if she was trying to get away or impale herself further.

He bit at her hard nipples where they poked through the front of her dress and worked her with his hand until three icy fingers plunged in and out while his thumb found her engorged nub.

She felt his fingers warm inside of her until her walls fluttered sporadically. On the brink of bliss he took his hand away. She wanted to groan in frustration but before she had a chance he altered his arms positions, slipping the hand slick with her arousal over her hip and replacing his now warm hand with the one at her back.

The sudden shift back to cold made her arch. Her head fell forward on his shoulder as she cried his name and dug her nails into his upper back. Her thighs trembled on either side of his legs, coated now in her sticky release.

Her legs refused to hold her anymore. She slipped down to shaking knees, forcing his hands to release her as she did so and reached for his waist line. She tugged at his trousers with one hand and dipped her fingers inside, curling tightly around the base of his shaft. Thunder rumbled in the distance as she freed him from the confines and pumped up and down, jerking his hard cock the way he had shown her he liked.

As she tugged she couldn’t get the voice of Leticia from her mind. The one time she had opened up about her nightly experiences had been to say that Heimir forced her to her knees and fed her his manhood until he shuddered and released in her mouth; Leticia claimed that was the act that officially told her she was nothing but a whore.

Bonnie had later told her how open these people were about sex and sexuality and about the time she had accidentally caught Kol and Elena in a compromising position that neither had felt any shame in; one that had allowed them to taste of each other at the same time.

He had never asked anything like that of her, in words or actions, but wasn’t that something all men were supposed to enjoy. Prostitutes were supposedly frequented for the sole purpose of sucking cock.

And how could she not think of such things when his throbbing length was at eye level?

She found a growing curiosity as she worked him with her hand, and she decided then and there that she would satisfy it. She watched his face through her lashes as she leaned in, wanting to see his reaction.

His eyes, which had fluttered shut, flew open the moment her mouth closed over his swollen head.

Her name was a strangled cry on his lips.

Now that she had him in her mouth she was mortified to discover that she had no idea what to do next. He was supposed to go in and out though and she used that as a starting point, bobbing her head up and down. When his cock hit the back of her throat she gagged and pulled up, taking care from that point to only fit what she could and use her hands on the rest.

She knew exactly what to do with her hand, and between that and her thirst to please she worked. Listening to the soft instructions he got out between grunts: suction, lick, deeper, no teeth…

She struggled each time he hit the back of her mouth to fit more of him until she reflexively swallowed and felt the head slip into her tight throat. Her eyes bulged as he swore and his hips pushed upwards of their own accord, forcing more of him in.

“Sorry,” he lowered his hips back down. Strings of saliva glistened on his shaft.

She wasn’t having any of that though. Now that she knew she could take more she was determined to swallow every inch of him. She worked up and down slowly and then faster, taking more of him on each downward pass and circling his head with her tongue on each upward one until he was completely engulfed in her mouth.

She found as she continued bobbing her head up and down that she didn’t mind the taste. It wasn’t her favourite, but he was clearly enjoying himself so she didn’t mind too much and bringing him pleasure was making her aroused again; beads of it were rolling down her thighs.

He called her name with a hint of desperation in his voice and she looked up, but the warning came too late. His cock was halfway down her throat when she felt the tell tale swelling - different while surrounded by her mouth.

The first burst went straight down her throat. The second coated her tongue as she pulled back. The third and forth flooded her open mouth and the last of his semen spattered over her face.

She rolled the warmth over her tongue, contemplating the salty taste she hadn’t encountered since the first time. Like then, she swallowed it down and even parted her lips for his thumb when he wiped the mess from her face.

“How was that?” She sucked on his thumb.

“Amazing.”

She squealed when he stood, yanking her up into his arms and carrying her in the direction of their bed.

++++

Katerina flexed her dry fingers and set the wooden combs on her skirt, allowing her stiff hands a well earned break before she could succeed in working them to the bone.

Her eyes rose to Rebekah when her sister-in-law held back a painful grunt. She surveyed the thin fingers and found more than one crimson crack in her alabaster skin.

“Perhaps a break?” She suggested, gently working the straightened wool fibres from her comb.

“I’ve hardly done half the work you have completed,” Rebekah said, shaking her head. “I’ll never hope to catch a decent bride price if I can’t produce at least the average amount of cloth.”

“If you don’t set the combs down for a bit then you won’t have to dye that wool.” Katerina rolled her eyes, nearly laughing at the dryness in her own voice. “Besides, if they can get around your father and older brothers they won’t care how much cloth you can make.”

Rebekah wrinkled her nose and tossed the combs into a basket, slumping against the bench as she did so with a long suffering groan. “I’m going to die an old maid.”

“With withered hands,” she smirked.

“Aren’t you supposed to defend me?” Rebekah grumbled, reaching into the small bag at her belt for a jar of beeswax. She rubbed a generous amount onto her hands, spreading it thickly over her broken skin.

“Do you want me to talk to your brother and get them all to permit a suit?”

“That would be wonderful,” Rebekah winced, glaring through narrow eyes at a particularly long crack in the crease of her finger that stung beneath the cold cream. “They really overdid it last year with Leif and now no one will even consider me.”

“Have you forgotten which sister you speak to, Rebekah?” Katerina arched a smooth brow. “I had thought such instances of mistaken identity were over now that they reside in another house.”

“I suppose that means you won’t speak to Elijah,” she sighed. “And there is no mistaking you for Elena, Katerina, not after a moment of conversing.”

“Even if I did speak to him, he would never listen to me,” she picked up a chunk of wool and placed it on one comb, “at least not about this. You are their little sister, and they will protect you from any potential harm they see.”

“Freya never receives this kind of treatment,” Rebekah crossed her arms, feeling the beginning of a pout forcing her bottom lip forwards.

“Probably because not many men are eager to marry a witch,” she said, gritting her teeth and yanking hard on the combs. Wool fibres stretched and straightened with each pass back and forth.

“How are you still working?” Inadequacy bloomed in her breast. For a moment she felt all of four years old again, when the combs had barely fit in her hands and her sister guided her movements; Freya had been the one completing the actual work then, with a child’s hands acting as hindrance.

“I have to do something,” she jerked her elbow back, nearly hitting the thin wall by the bench. “If I stop working too long I will remember that I am confined to the house, and I have never done well with the idea of being trapped.”

Rebekah leaned forward and patted Katerina’s shoulder, knowing how she tended to get when held in one place too long. The urge to run and breathe and taste freedom would overwhelm her to the point that Elijah would only get her inside again when she inevitably fell asleep.

“I’m certain the rain will let up soon.”

++++

“Are you distracted Elena?” Bonnie’s quiet voice broke her from her revery and she twisted her head around, stilling her hands as she did.

“Not at all,” a tight smile flitted across her face. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you just wove red into a white stripe,” Bonnie tilted her head and raised her brows, angling a pointed look to the loom where a new sail stretched across the frame.

Elena turned back and shut her eyes upon seeing the mess of heavy wool pulled tight in the wrong place. Tears stung her eyes; it would have to be worked loose thread by thread.

“Perhaps you should let me take over,” she suggested, gently prying the tapestry needle from her fingers.

“I can do this,” Elena protested in a strained voice. She tasted salt on her lips and fought down a hysterical sob.

“But you hate weaving?” Bonnie frowned.

“Not as much as I hate being completely useless.” Elena’s shoulders slumped.

“You’re not completely useless.” Bonnie slid onto the bench and nudged her elbow. Her tone took on a teasing note as she lifted her fingers and started to work the threads backwards with magic: “you’re just useless at weaving.”

She snorted, feeling a smile reluctantly lifting her lips. “You’re very cheeky for your position,” she shook her head.

“You need someone to be cheeky with you,” Bonnie said, laughing softly. “Besides, I don’t think I would be able to keep up with the pair of you if I were anything else.”

“Kol does like pretty little things with sharp tongues,” Elena said, rolling her eyes.

“Does that mean you think I’m pretty?” Bonnie tracked the threads movement with her eyes, tracing the path with her fingers.

Elena wiped at her cheek with one hand and brushed against Bonnie with her shoulder. Her wet eyes sparkled as she spoke. “If I wasn’t completely convinced about how much my husband loves me I might see you as a threat.”

“Then I’m happy you’re convinced,” she said, grinning suddenly as the stripe returned to its proper state. “I would hate to be on the wrong side of your sword.”

Kol returned to the house at that moment after catching the end of their conversation. He pulled off his wet shirt as he crossed the room, dropping it on the stones by the hearth as he went.

“That will never happen, Bonnie,” he came up behind Elena, placing his hands on her shoulders. “She’d come after me with a sword first,” he teased.

“It would be a knife actually, and don’t worry my love, you’d live through it,” she teased right back and shivered, looking up through her lashes. “You’re freezing.”

“The rain is cold, my darling,” he chuckled, bending to brush an icy kiss over her cheek. “Would you like to help me warm up since you are the only one I ever want for such activities?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I thought I wasn’t cleared for such activities,” she tipped her head back, watching him from upside down.

Bonnie focused on the loom. After a year she had stopped blushing at such talk and after her embarrassment upon finding them together the first time they had been more considerate about engaging in their marital activities in places she wouldn’t find them; usually by mentioning such activities in her vicinity so she knew not to go looking for them. That hadn’t stopped her from catching them outside a few times back in the spring.

“I can think of few indoor activities that you truly enjoy,” Kol continued, oblivious to Bonnie’s thought process. He kissed a soft line over her cheek and down her throat until his teeth scraped over her shoulder and a different shiver traveled down her spine. “You’ve said repeatedly that you feel much better. I can take a look and clear you right now.”

Elena swallowed and shut her eyes, tilting her head to give him unrestricted access to her throat. Her pulse quickened, spreading heat through her body from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. He could examine her, approve amorous activities and proceed to bring her pleasure that would be heard in his father’s house, but first he would have to thoroughly examine her stomach.

“I… I… I…” She whimpered when he nipped the spot below her ear, making it increasingly hard to think. She might have lost her train of thought altogether if not for the hands that snaked around her waist and flattened over her stomach close to the wound.

Too close.

She jerked out of his arms and stood abruptly, slowly turning to see his shocked expression. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she fought to regain control of her breathing.

“I’m…” she swallowed and tried again, lowering her eyes as she spoke softly before either of them could say a word. “Its getting late and I’m… tired,” her voice rang false to her own ears.

She spun on her heel towards the bedroom, leaving them both gaping after her.

Kol’s eyes darted to Bonnie when the door shut.

“Did I misread that situation?” He frowned, feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms.

“How should I know?” She picked up the correct needle and began weaving the yarn into the cloth.

“You could see her face.”

“No,” Bonnie sighed, letting the needle drop. She thought of the way Elena had leaned back and moved with him, motions dictated by the same desire that made her bite her bottom lip and whimper. “No, I don’t think you misread that. Something has been bothering her.”

“I know,” he snapped and then lowered his eyes. “Sorry. I’ve been a little frustrated.”

“I gathered,” she nodded, picking up the needle again.

“Did she say something to you?” He glanced towards the bedroom door. “I know that something has been bothering her for a while but she hasn’t told me, and I can’t help her until I know what it is.”

“She hasn’t spoken to me about it,” Bonnie worried her bottom lip. “And she seemed fine until…”

“Until what?” His eyes narrowed.

Bonnie fiddled with the long needle, running the thread between her fingers. She stole glances towards the door before meeting his eyes.

“Until you touched her stomach.”

AN Seasonal: Currently it’s late summer/early autumn. The leaves are changing, the days are growing shorter and a late summer storm has hit the area.

AN Familial: Vikings typically all lived in the same household to the point where a single household could have near a hundred individuals once you included family, servants, slaves and the families of servants and slaves. For the purposes of this story I chose to have Klaus and Kol outside of the main village. In Klaus’ case it’s because he hates his father and wants to spend as little time in Mikael’s presence as possible. For Kol and Elena the choice to begin their own household had a lot to do with a few mixups in the early days of their marriage when Elijah or Kol would go to greet their wife only to accidentally wrap their arms around, or kiss the cheek of, their sister-in-law. In a smoky house it was easy to mix them up, especially if Elena was wearing a dress rather than trousers. Elena and Katerina always laughed when their husbands would turn bright red.

@kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @cry-btch @geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180 @iw1shiknew @blndbandt

#klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #klaus x caroline #kolena #kol mikaelson #Elena gilbert #Katherine pierce #Rebekah mikaelson #bonnie bennett #frilla

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derangedangel · 5 years

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Beautiful Distraction - Klaus Mikaelson

Summary: An old friend from Mystic Falls ask you to help with a plan without giving you all the information resulting in you meeting Klaus

Word Count: 4,867

Author’s Note: So it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and I’m sorry. Inspiration to write doesn’t always strike when you want it to. Oh, and The Originals ended a year ago last week and I’m still heartbroken of Klaus’ death.

The sun was beaming down but the giant umbrella above you was blocking it out. You were laying back in a lounge chair poolside in Miami when your phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

Normal people answer the phone with a ‘hey’ or ‘hello.’ Not your friends.

“Y/N, I need your help.”

“With what? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“You owe me remember. You said that, now you have to follow through.” His voice was stern so you knew whatever it was he needed, it was important.

“Ughh, fine. What is it,” you asked rolling your eyes.

“I need you to be a distraction.”

“A distraction? What have you gotten yourself into Damon?”

“Don’t worry about that right now. It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart. I just need you to distract a man.”

“A man,” you asked Damon finally catching your attention. “Well why didn’t you start off with that? A man is something I can help with,” you grinned into the phone.

The Salvatore boarding house was much bigger than you thought. Damon tended to over exaggerate about things, so you downplayed the size of the house in your mind. You knocked on the big wooden door and you heard footsteps approaching from inside.

The door swung open and although you had never actually seen the man who stood in front of you before, you instantly knew who he was.

“You must be Stefan,” you grinned looking at the brunette.

“How’d you know,” he asked.

You pointed to your head. “The hair.”

Stefan’s lips pulled into a straight line and he nodded. “Right. Are you Y/N,” he asked and you nodded. “Damon’s in the parlor. You can follow me.” You followed him into the house looking around at all the antique furniture. The house was nice. A little outdated, but nice.

“Y/N,” Damon said standing up from the couch with his arms wide open.

“Long time no see,” you greeted back before you hugged him.

“It has been a while.”

“Well, you only seem to call when you need something. I’m starting to feel used,” you said pouting.

“Oh please, you know I love you,” Damon said as he wrapped his arm over your shoulder and faced his brother. “You’ve already met my brother Stefan.”

“Yeah, I recognized him from all the descriptions of the hair you gave me. It’s really nice to finally meet you Stefan,” you said reaching out to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m actually pretty shocked Damon has a woman friend who’s so polite.”

Damon’s face scrunched up offended at his brother’s statement. “I know nice women.”

“And you usually end up on top of them then forget their names the next day,” Stefan quipped back.

“Ooo he’s got you there,” you said smirking which made Stefan smile.

Damon dropped his arm from over your shoulder. “I didn’t ask you to come here to team up with my brother and attack me.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said shaking your head, “but it is so much fun.”

“You’re here to help, not to be a pain in my neck.”

“Actually, I’m here because I owe you and I keep my word.” You walked over to a nearby couch and sat down, dropping your purse beside you.

“How do you owe him,” Stefan asked sitting in the chair beside you.

“I saved her life,” Damon said before he sipped his bourbon he was drinking before you arrived.

Stefan’s eyebrow quirked up. The only people Damon ever helped beside himself, was Elena and Stefan.

You saw the look on Stefan’s face and quickly answered the question you knew he was wondering. “He did. This bastard of a vampire hunter was this close to killing me,” you said holding up your fingers only a hair width apart, “and Damon ripped his heart out. I told him I owed him one and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Wow, my brother actually did something noble.”

“Hey, I can be a good guy when I want to be,” Damon interjected. He threw his arm over the couch behind your head and sat his ankle over his knee relaxing back into the couch.

“You’re not all bad I guess,” you said rolling your eyes. You laughed when you saw Damon’s annoyed look. “So, why did you call me to this hole in the wall of a town. I was busy.”

“Busy doing what,” Damon asked already knowing you weren’t really busy.

“Well if you must know, when you called I was waiting for the cabana boy to bring me my margarita.”

Damon tilted his head towards you. “So you were busy, waiting for a margarita?”

“Yeah,” you said as if he was actually interrupting something important. “And I didn’t even get to drink any of it. You acted like this was so urgent. I booked the first flight out and came here.”

“Well, thank you for taking time away from your precious margarita,” Damon said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” you replied like you actually missed out on something. “Now, who’s this guy I’ll be distracting?”

Damon’s eyes darted to Stefan’s for a brief moment before he spoke. “His name is Nik. He’s been causing us some trouble and we need to keep him preoccupied so we can get something out of his house.”

“And why couldn’t you ask someone else to do it? I know you’re not the friendliest guy on the planet, but you didn’t have anyone here that can help?”

“I’m going to pretend like I’m not insulted at your insinuation that I don’t have any friends-”

“You don’t,” you interrupted.

“But,” Damon said loudly, “Nik has already met everyone I know here so he would be suspicious if we sent one of them. Plus, I knew you would be perfect for the job. Men have a way of getting distracted by you and giving you whatever you want.”

You smiled to yourself. “They do. It really is a talent,” you said look at Stefan proud of yourself.

“So you think you can do it,” Damon asked.

You scoffed. “Can I do it? I’m insulted you would even ask.” You shook your head looking away from Damon. “But I am curious. You call in the favor I owe you to distract some guy. He must have something you really need if you’re doing all this just to distract him.”

“The less you know the better,” Damon said not making eye contact with you. From the way he was acting, you started getting a little concerned. You looked over to Stefan and his expression was unreadable.

“I’ll let it slide for now,” you said crossing your legs. “But just know, whatever it is, I will find out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Damon replied smirking.

“So,” you said looking between both brothers, “how am I distracting this guy?”

The black skirt you were wearing slid up your thigh and you tugged the fabric down again. “I heard you the first ten times Damon. I got it,” you said annoyed into your phone. “Matt’s the blonde hair blue eyed dreamboat at the bar. He’ll keep watch and warn you if I can’t keep the guy busy. This Nik guy is sitting at the bar. He’s wearing a forest green Henley, dark jeans, and drinking bourbon. I can’t miss him.”

Damon had gone through the plan with you about five times in the last two hours. He was leaving out some details to try to keep you on board, but he didn’t want you to get hurt because of him either.

“I’m just making sure you understand. This plan needs to go perfect.”

“Are you doubting my abilities,” you questioned as you stood right outside the Mystic Grill. You would be inside already if Damon would hurry up and get off the phone.

“I would never doubt your man eating abilities, Y/N. Just keep the guy busy for as long as possible. We may be searching for a while.”

“Trust me. I got this,” you said confidently.

“I know.” Damon was about to hang up but he added for you to be careful. You found it endearing he cared, but what could be dangerous about distracting some old vampire named Nik?

You walked into the Mystic Grill and didn’t find anything appealing about it. This was supposed to be the local hangout in town. It seemed more like a last resort to you. Why Damon stayed in this small town was beyond you. So far you only knew his brother was there, which should have been reason enough you guessed, but there was also some girl. Elena. She was dating Stefan, but you could tell something deeper was going on there with Damon.

You glanced around the little restaurant and found the Matt guy Stefan described to you without much hassle. You looked to his left and saw the guy you assumed was Nik.

As you walked up to the bar, you could tell you were already catching a few eyes. This was a small town, so of course everyone would notice when there was someone new to look at. Your thigh high boots seemed to click a little louder than normal on the hard floor as you walked. You saw a few girls eyeing your boots. Guess they weren’t used to $2,000 Louboutins walking past them everyday.

You sat two seats over from Nik and immediately got the bartenders attention. Damon took a photo of you before you left and sent it to Matt, so he knew who you were as soon as you walked in. You leaned over the counter just a tad and saw you already had the old vampire’s attention.

“Can I get a Bellini please,” you smiled ever so sweetly at the blonde bartender. He looked a bit young to be drinking alcohol let alone serving it. But what did you care?

He looked a bit confused before he responded. “Umm, I’m not sure what that is exactly.”

Your smile dropped slightly and you sat back on the bar stool. You were about to speak when a deep accented voice spoke up first.

“It’s peach puree with Prosecco. Which I doubt this establishment has either of the two.”

You got a good look at the guy while he was talking and he was pretty cute. Although, you could tell he wasn’t the type of man to like being called cute. This was going to be fun.

“Sorry, we don’t have any Prosecco,” Matt apologized to you.

Your smile was tight before you spoke. “That’s alright sweetie. It doesn’t hurt to ask. Just give me a bourbon and coke then.” You sat your clutch on the counter and Nik started speaking, but this time it was to you.

“Bourbon? A woman after my own heart.”

“I presume that’s what you’re drinking,” you said looking at the glass in his hand.

“Why of course. It’s a classic.”

You smirked as your responded, “That it is.” Matt sat your glass down in front of you and you slowly sipped on the drink.

“You’re not from around here are you,” Nik asked smirking as he looked you over.

Turning in your seat to face him a little more you asked smiling, “How could you tell?”

“I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I would surly remember if I’ve seen your face around here,” he said then took a sip of his own drink. “Also, the way all the locals are looking at you, I’m sure they’ve never seen someone as posh as you before.”

“That’s true,” you nodded. You were taking the fact that your face was memorable as compliment and your ego was feeding into it. “You’re not from around here either. I know you said you’ve only been here a few weeks, but the accent is a dead give away.”

Nik smiled showing off his dimples and you almost melted into the bar stool. “That is correct, love.” Okay, this man was obviously trying to kill you by calling you love with that smile on his face. Damon was right to tell you to be careful.

“Where are you from,” you asked as you scooted over to the bar stool next to you so now you were only one seat apart. Nik smiled at the action then did the same himself so the two of you were next to each other now.

“Originally, I was born here. But my family has traveled all over the world.”

“So that explains the English accent then,” you said smiling.

“Something like that,” Nik responded before he hid his lips with his glass of bourbon.

“Interesting,” you said lowly then licked your lips. “So what brings you to this little town?”

“Just visiting an old friend and a little business. And what brings someone as elegant as yourself to Mystic Falls,” Nik asked with a head tilt.

“Just passing through. I prefer the bigger cities, but I like to drive through the small towns and cause a little havoc.”

“Havoc you say,” Nik asked growing more intrigued by you by the second.

“I’m sure you know the type of havoc I’m talking about,” you said glancing down at his hand grinning wickedly. “Us vampires have to get their kicks somehow right.”

Nik looked at you a bit shocked. “How do you know I’m a vampire,” he asked not at all worried.

You raised his hand up. “Not a lot of men wear rings like this,” you said then placed his hand down ignoring the tiny shock that went through your body from touching him. “Either this was a daylight ring or a gaudy family heirloom and I was just going to have to compel you to forget.”

“Good observation,” Nik said. You began string your drink with the black cocktail straw that Matt put in there.

“You have to be observant when you live our kind of lives. Trust the wrong person and next thing you know you’re dead.” You put a little more emphases on the word dead by stabbing your straw in your drink.

“All true things,” Nik said and you looked up into his gorgeous blue eyes. This man was oozing trouble but for some reason you didn’t feel frightened by him. But that worried you slightly. You knew Damon and his brother were in some type of trouble and this man had everything to do with it.

Time seemed to fly by as you talked to Nik. The pool table became free and you got him to play a round with you. You won of course, but it did seem like he was holding back a little. You were both vampires which meant your aim was impeccable. It did take some of the fun out of the game though.

Eventually, you both found yourselves back at the bar. Nik bought you another bourbon and coke and he was nursing another bourbon as well.

“This bourbon isn’t doing it for me anymore,” you said as you watched the ice in the glass clink as you swirled the glass in your hand.

“Anything in particular that would quench your thirst,” Nik asked while he watched you.

A mischievous grin took over your face. You sat your drink down on the napkin on the bar before you spoke. “I do have something in mind.” You glanced at Nik before you flagged down the other bartender. Matt had walked off somewhere to help another customer. When the new bartender approached and asked what he could get you, you leaned over the bar and looked him straight in the eye compelling him. “You’re going to be real quiet and take me and my new friend here to the storage room for a little treat.”

Your new victim nodded his head then exited from behind the bar. You hopped off your stool and grabbed Nik’s hand sneaking off to the Grill’s storage room. When the guy whose name tag read Luke brought you to the storage closest, you told him to open it up and go instead. As soon as the door shut behind the three of you, you were compelling him again. Tell him he wouldn’t scream or call for help and he wouldn’t feel any pain. Your teeth pierced his neck and he almost fell back if it weren’t for the grip you held on him. He leaned into the shelves behind him, making the condiments shake. Nik stood behind you watching you intently.

You pulled back from Luke, your face still vamped out but it faded when you looked at Nik. “You’re not going to let me drink alone are you,” you asked smiling. Nik smirked at you then walked up to the other side of Luke and took a bite.

For a brief moment, when you were both drinking from Luke, your eyes met. The storage closet was dimly lit, but you could still see how breathtaking Nik’s eyes were.

You let go of Luke’s neck and Nik did the same. You bit your wrist and held it up to Luke’s mouth and told him to drink. “You’re going to go back out and bartend like nothing happened. All you’re going to remember is that you came back here for something, the closet was mess, so you organized it. Got it?”

He nodded and went on his merry way. You turned to face Nik and saw a little blood dripping from his lip. “You got a little blood still on you,” you said and pointed on yourself where it was on him. He reached up to wipe it, but missed completely. You giggled then reached up to his face as you said, “Here, let me get it.”

You wiped the blood off then licked it off your fingers. No point in letting good blood go to waste. Nik stepped closer to you so there was only an inch between the two of you. His breath fanned your face and you were wondering why he didn’t just kiss you already.

Both of you stared the other down. It was like a challenge, each person waiting for the other to break first. You always hated games. You turned your head so your noses wouldn’t hit and connected your lips. Nik’s hands wrapped around your waist and yours went up to the back of his head. Your fingers ran through his soft, wavy hair. You wondered how curly it would get it he grew it out more and didn’t style it.

Nik’s lips left yours and ran down your neck. You leaned back to give him room as his hands tightened around your waist. After he made his way back up, you felt it was time to stop before things got even more heated in the storage room. You tugged at his lip as you pulled away, then stepped back. The both of you were breathing heavy trying to catch your breath.

Nik moved closer to you to kiss you again but you dodged his lips. He smirked before speaking, “Don’t be shy now, love.”

“My mother always taught me leave them wanting more,” you said smirking. “And besides,” you continued, “I don’t even know your name.”

Nik stepped closer to you, leaning down so his lips were almost at your neck again. “I don’t know your name either,” he said before he kissed your neck. “But mines is Klaus.”

He began to kiss your neck over and over, trying to slowly make his way to your lips. But your brain was working overtime. Klaus... Nik... Damon said he was an old powerful vampire... Oh shit.

“Uhhh...,” you said with a bit of a breathy laugh feeling Klaus’ hand slide down your back now. “You mean Klaus as in Niklaus Mikaelson?”

Klaus leaned back so he was looking in your eyes again. You tried your best to not look terrified at the thought of you making out with an original vampire. “The one and only. But I do prefer to go by Klaus.”

You giggled nervously as you stepped away from Klaus. “If I had known I was going to meet one of the original vampires today I would have dressed better.”

“Nonsense,” Klaus said stepping closer to you making you more nervous by the second. “You look ravishing.”

“Actually, I should really get going. This was fun,” you said trying to play off that fact that you were currently terrified.

“Who says it has to end,” Klaus said grabbing your hand.

You smiled. “Leave them wanting more remember.” You let go of Klaus’ hand and quickly made your way out of the Grill without looking back.

You busted into the boarding house and looked around. You heard bustling and low voices in the kitchen. You sped in the room and immediately saw Damon. You rushed to him, pinning him against the back wall.

“Nik as in Niklaus Mikaelson,” you yelled making the veins in your head pop. If this were a cartoon, steam would be blowing out of your ears right now.

Damon struggled a little under your grip on his neck. “You seem mad,” he grunted out.

“Mad,” you roared. “I was mad that time you spilled bourbon in my white Valentino bag. I was mad when you left those dead girls in my hotel room. I am infuriated! He could have killed me,” you yelled pressing a little hard into his neck making it increasingly difficult for him to breath.

“But he didn’t,” he pointed out short of breath.

“Look, Y/N,” Stefan began to say but the furious look on your face when you turned to face him stopped him.

“Stefan, as of right now, all the blame is going on Damon. You don’t know me and don’t owe me a thing. This bastard is my friend and sent me into a dangerous situation without all the information. You’re his brother and probably just went along with his harebrained scheme. But if you get between us right now, I can’t guarantee you’ll come out of it alive,” you cautioned.

You turned back to Damon and tightened your grip before you let him drop to the ground. He coughed a few times trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I knew you wouldn’t do it if you knew who he was.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Klaus Mikaelson is the most feared person on the planet. Do you know what he would have done to me if he found out I was distracting him so you and your Scooby-Doo gang of friends could steal from his home?”

“You’re freaking out over nothing. You’re fine and we got what we needed. You’ll never even have to see him again.”

“Its really upsetting that you don’t see the problem in this.”

“Y/N,” Damon said pleadingly, “I know it was bad, but I knew if anyone could handle Klaus it would be you. He wasn’t going to figure out that the gorgeous, intelligent woman talking to him was just keeping him busy for a little while. ”

You huffed before you spoke, “I guess you’re right.” You sauntered around him like you were taking in what he was saying. You turned so you were directly facing Damon. “In the end, he didn’t realize I was misleading him.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Damon said, a smile on his face when he thought you were finally understanding him.

Before Damon could even blink, you rushed to him and snapped his neck. Stefan jerked forward, but you held up a finger stopping him. “I’m still good with you right now Stefan. Don’t jeopardize that.” You looked at Stefan’s brown eyes that held sympathy for you. “And you know he deserved it. He’ll be fine in a little while.”

You stepped over Damon and went upstairs to the guest room you were staying in to collect your belongings. Maybe you would get over what Damon did one day, but for right now, you were pissed so it was best to get away from him. It was 12 in the morning, so you thought it would be best just to find somewhere else in Mystic Falls for the night. You would figure out where you were going to go next, and find the first flight that was near by that could take you there in the morning.

You ended up staying in some little three floor hotel. It definitely wasn’t up to your normal standards, but the little town didn’t offer much and you didn’t feel like searching high and low for a better place to sleep. You were currently in a diner with a plate of pancakes and eggs in front of you. San Juan was going to be your next stop, but the soonest flight you could get was tomorrow afternoon. You would make the hour drive to the closest airport later that afternoon.

“It seems as if the universe has bigger plans for us,” an accented voice you hoped not to hear again said from across the booth you were sitting in. You looked up and were met with those blue eyes you got lost in the night before.

“Or this is the only decent place in town to get breakfast,” you replied. You smiled closed lip up at him over you phone.

“I prefer to go with the universe at work,” Klaus said smirking at you. You were taking the fact that he was sitting across from you as him not knowing you were involved with Damon’s plan.

You huffed locking your phone and sitting it on the table before you said, “I didn’t think you were the type to believe in destiny and the universe at work.”

“I’m not,” Klaus said picking up the menu on the table looking it over. “I prefer to create my own destiny rather than let the cards lay wherever they fall.”

Tilting your head you asked, “So how do I know you didn’t find out I was here then show up?”

Klaus looked up at you, his blue eyes managing to sparkle in the florescent lighting of the dinner. “You don’t,” he said smiling. The two of you eyed each other for a moment before Klaus spoke again. “So, you said you like to pass through small towns. What city are you off too next, love?”

There goes that pet name again you thought. Or did he call everyone love? The waitress came by and refilled your glass of orange juice. You nodded and smiled in her direction as a thank you before you focused back on Klaus. “I’m not sure if I should tell you.” Klaus’ eyebrow rose. “I mean, you already followed me here. What’s to say you won’t follow me to the next place I travel?”

“Well someone thinks highly of herself,” Klaus replied leaning back into the red booth cushion.

“Oh please,” you said propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin in your palm. “I can tell by the smirk on your face, your ego is huge. Plus I’ve heard stories about the man, the myth that is Klaus Mikaelson.”

The dimple in Klaus’ cheek grew deeper as his smirk curved higher. You could feel his ego getting bigger.

You took a sip of your orange juice then said, “San Juan.”

“And when will you no longer be gracing Mystic Fall’s with your presence?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. It would have been today, but there were no direct flights out near here.”

“Since your flight isn’t until tomorrow, it would be safe to assume you have no plans for tonight.”

Your hand dropped and you sat up straight in your seat. “It wouldn’t be safe to assume anything. But yes, I am free this evening.”

“Excellent,” Klaus said smiling. “Then you will be able to accompany me to dinner tonight.”

“Is Klaus Mikaelson asking me on a date,” you said grinning. You were getting a little cocky that the great, most feared original vampire was trying to go out with you.

“Is that a yes,” Klaus asked.

You flipped your hair over your shoulder as you bit the inside of your mouth. “It’s an I’m flattered, but-”

“What do you have to lose,” Klaus said interrupting you, a sly smirk on his face.

My life you thought to yourself. What if he found out you were apart of Damon’s plan? Maybe he already knew and this was a plot to get revenge. Maybe he didn’t know and you should just come clean now before he found out so you could explain yourself. But the look he was giving you told you he was attracted to you.

“It’s one night, Y/N.”

You thought about it for a moment. Everything in you was screaming to say no. Klaus was trouble. This town was trouble. What if Damon found out? What if he showed up and Klaus learned you knew the man that was hell bent on wanting him dead? You were leaving tomorrow and it was best to leave any potential feelings for him as well. That was the smart thing to do.

“As long as you take me any place but the Grill, I’m in.”

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #the originals imagine #the originals

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mitchiemoo · 4 years

Text

Close Up-Part 1 (Johnny Joestar x Reader)

Summary: You are an upcoming, young actress, starring in your first major film. For publicity, the studio suggests you begin a relationship with your co-star, British thespian Diego Brando. Reluctantly, you agree, and soon find yourself at odds with Johnny Joestar, former Hollywood star. After losing his career and the use of his legs, Johnny offers to help you achieve fame but cautions the price. Is it really the fame you want? Or something else?

Warnings: Explicit language

Word Count: 3,539

“Darling, I promise I’ll return. When I do, I will be a true gentleman, one worthy of your affection.” Diego’s eyes gazed intently into your own as he raised your hands to his lips and kissed them.

You gasped and stepped back in shock. “Oh, sir,” you said. “You needn’t earn my affection, for I have already given it to you. If I am to be the wife of a tailor, then so be it. Please stay.”

Diego rose to his feet and gripped your hands tighter. “No, I must go. I shall better myself to provide the life you deserve. My father was a cruel man, who worked my poor mother into an early grave. The day he died, I resolved to never become a monster like him.” His voice shook with emotion and you could hear the desperation in his voice. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, right on cue.

“They shall wed me to another man before you return. Search your heart, you know it to be true. What shall you do with your fortune then?”

A shout came from off stage. “Elena! Jonah is looking for you.”

Panic crossed Diego’s face as you snatched your hands from his grasp and turned away. “I’m sorry, I must leave now. Goodbye, Dorian.”

“Wait!” He called after you as you rushed off stage.

“Cut!”

You breathed a sigh of relief as the lights dimmed and the bell rang. It was hot. Oppressively so. Especially in your costume. Sweat soaked the back of your neck and the under layers of your dress stuck to your skin. No wonder Victorian women were so prone to fainting spells. The late 19th century dress you wore was exquisite and you admired yourself in the mirror while wearing it many times. But the skirts were extremely heavy and restricted your movements.

It was a relief when you plopped down on one of the prop couches scattered around the set. The ornate fan your character used in an earlier scene laid discarded on the spot next to you. You opened it and desperately fanned yourself.

“Would you like some water, miss?” One of the stagehands offered. You nodded and wiped at your teary eyes absentmindedly before you remembered you were wearing make-up. Oops. The stylist would not be happy with you.

“Good read today.” You looked up.

Your co-star, Diego Brando, stood in front of you, looking extremely disinterested. He had shed the dark blue coat he wore in the scene and rolled up the sleeves of his plain white button down. It looked like he barely broke a sweat. “Although, you should try to look more devastated. At least you didn’t forget your lines today.”

If he said that to you at the beginning of filming, you would’ve been fighting back tears. Now, you simply brushed it off. Diego Brando was a world-famous actor. He had been classically trained at the Royal Shakespeare Academy and performed in several critically acclaimed plays before his debut on the silver screen at age 19. Compared to him, you were nothing. This was your first major role and the extent of your training was reading Shakespeare aloud for your family as a child.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said through gritted teeth, picking at the intricate golden embroidery on your dress. The stagehand you sent to find water returned and you immediately began gulping it down.

You were surprised when he sat down beside you. He sighed and ran a hand through his golden blond hair.

“Look,” he started. “There’s a fundraiser tonight at one of the local art galleries and the studio wants us to go together, as a couple.”

You choked.

“Wh-what?” you managed to sputter out.

Diego rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too excited, alright? You’re not my type and frankly, I’m not attracted to you in the slightest.” He continued. “The producers and studio executives think this is a good way to get publicity for the film and help our, err, your career.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Normally you would be insulted by Diego’s words but if working with him had taught you anything about him, it was his strong sense of pride. Nobody was good enough for Diego Brando, not even himself. Especially unknown, amateur actresses like you.

“How does going out in public with you help me, exactly?” You asked.

“Don’t sound so ungrateful, love. Thousands of other girls would kill to be in your position.” He spat and waved his hand dismissively. “We get photographed together, the press makes a fuss about ‘Diego Brando’s mystery girl’, who she is, where she’s from. The public wants to see more of our chemistry and go see the movie. The film’s a success, you’ll be named one of Hollywood’s most promising newcomers and a few months later, we quietly ‘separate.’”

You looked down at the ice in your glass, quietly mulling over Diego’s proposition. All you had to do was pretend to fawn all over him at award shows and fancy parties, where other famous actors and directors were, and your movie would draw crowds of people? It was too good to be true. The only downside you could think of was spending more time with Diego. Your lip curled in distaste.

“How long would this arrangement last?” You asked, tentatively.

“About six months.” He replied. “Like I said, everybody benefits. You get a handsome bachelor, I get free publicity, and the studio makes a bunch of money. Do we have a deal?” He extended his hand and smirked. You hesitated. Six months for a fruitful career and a lifetime of success? What could go wrong?

You shook his hand and were surprised by how firm his grip was. “Deal.”

“Smart move, darling.”

The bell rang again, signaling the end of the break. Diego stood up and offered you his hand again. You set the fan and empty glass aside and he pulled you up from your seat. “My driver and I will pick you up at 7. Dress code is black tie and please, don’t be late.”

He turned on his heel to walk back onto set. As you followed, you couldn’t ignore the growing sense of trepidation brewing in your heart. What could go wrong?

Shortly after filming ended that day, you took a cab back to your apartment and inspected your closet. Diego specified black tie, which meant a full-length evening gown, gloves, and jewelry. You had a few nice dresses from the department store, three of them full length. Sure, they wouldn’t be as elegant or glamorous as the Dior, Chanel, and Balenciaga gowns you’d see tonight but that just gave you something else to strive for. Maybe next time you would be the one wearing Chanel and turning heads.

You drew a cool bath and scrubbed your face and hair free of make-up and styling products. Of course, you were going to have to reapply them later but for the moment, you felt very refreshed.

Before you left the set that day, you asked your stylist to recommend some good salons in the area. Your hair and make-up skills were limited so you opted to have it professionally done. Diego made it sound like there would be photographers everywhere and you wanted to look your best.

The gravity of your situation didn’t really register until you were sitting in the stylist’s chair and staring at yourself in the mirror, that visceral moment when suddenly every blemish and flaw seemed magnified. Your stylist was a talkative lady with pink hair, but you were only half listening to what she was saying. This arrangement was only temporary, you reasoned, and then you would be free of him. But deep down, you knew you would never really be free of him.

For the next six months, you would be “Diego Brando’s girlfriend” and after you separated, you’d still be known as “that girl who dated Diego Brando” or “Diego Brando’s ex.” You came to Hollywood to make a name for yourself, to be admired for your work, to be remembered as something greater than “so-and-so’s ex.” When you left your hometown to become an actress, you knew the risks, but the rewards were better than any opportunity available there. You were patient, auditioning for minor roles at first and building up your resume until you decided to audition for a few major parts. Just when it seemed like your hard work was paying off, you made a deal with the devil, disguised as a charming British thespian.

“What do you think?” The girl chirped, breaking you out of your thoughts.

She definitely did a nice job. You barely recognized yourself. The make-up was tastefully done and not nearly as caked on as your usual “stage face.” She pinned your hair up in an elegant up do, which brought special attention to your face and kept the back of your neck cool. You nodded approvingly, tipped her well and headed back to your apartment to finish getting ready.

As promised, a limousine pulled up to the front of your building at exactly seven o’clock. It seemed Diego was a punctual man and you had to admit he looked handsome in his gray, three-piece Armani suit. He greeted you curtly when you slid into the back with him and then immediately started dictating how the night would go.

“So, when we pull up to the gallery, there will be a lot of cameras flashing, alright? I get out first, then I help you out, like the gentleman I am.” Diego eyed you in your pale blue dress like a jeweler appraising a gemstone. “You look decent enough, I suppose. I’ll buy you the dress next time although they won’t really be paying attention to you.”

You frowned. “Isn’t that the whole point of this?”

“Relax, love, you have six months to catch their attention.” He crooned. “Just think of this as acting experience. If you want to be as big a star as me someday, you’ll have to get used to the flashing lights, invasive questions, and lack of personal space.”

You looked out the tinted windows at the passing streetlights. You imagined them as eyes peering into the dark leather interior, prying into your innermost thoughts. If what Diego said was true, when you were famous and in the public eye, every move you made was picked apart by paparazzi, who descended like a kettle of vultures. One wrong move and you’d be vilified. If something that was meant to stay private leaked out, there would be an outcry of scandal that could, depending on what it was, jeopardize your whole career.

Another thought suddenly crossed your mind. “Diego,” you said. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He tensed beside you. “Err, probably not. The most I’d do is hold your hand or put my arm around you like this while we’re sitting.” You felt his arm snake around the back of the seat. “Even in my real relationships, I don’t care for too many public displays of affection. I don’t think it’s very professional, really.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I agree and I feel it’s ‘too soon’ in the relationship to do that. This is our first public event together, after all. Let’s leave them wanting.”

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking less is more. The press would go wild for a picture of us kissing, especially if we never do it.” You said. “Let’s fuel the fire and make them fan the flames.”

The glow of the passing streetlamps illuminated Diego’s face, casting it in shadow. A glint caught in his eye. “I like the way you think.”

The limousine jerked to a stop and suddenly you were very aware of your department store dress, hand-me down pearl necklace, and $70-dollar hair do. You swallowed and gripped at the small clutch purse you brought. Diego had told you what to do. Smile and look pretty, let him lead you to the door. The hardest part was getting inside. If this was the kind of fame you wanted, you couldn’t let the people and flashing lights overwhelm you.

Diego was a shrewd operator. Every movement he made was calculated and perfected, so it appeared seamless. For you, everything was a blur of faces and cameras and people shouting over each other. You were pretty sure you heard “Diego!” and “Who’s that?” over the commotion. This time, Diego’s firm grip was comforting, and you concentrated on the back of his blond head as he led you down the concrete path.

Your heels clicked on the white marble flooring of the entrance way and you breathed a sigh of relief. Diego let go of your hand and scanned the room. “That went well.” He said. You inspected your palms and saw little crescents indented in the skin. “Do you ever cut your fingernails? They’re like claws.”

“Oi, I clip my fingernails once a week like everyone else. They just grow fast is all.” Diego said defensively. “You have a death grip like a construction worker. Maybe you should’ve done that instead of acting.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around. The gallery was large and open with white marble floors lined with royal blue carpets, and cream-colored walls decorated by avant-garde paintings. A large set of double oak doors was at the end of the room. Fellow guests milled around the entryway in groups, but you didn’t see anyone you would recognize.

“What’s this fundraiser for, anyway?” You asked.

Diego shrugged. “No idea. I just got the invitation in the post and saw Steven Steel’s name on it. Figured it’d be a good excuse to dress up and eat fancy food with other rich people.” Your stomach growled when he mentioned food. The last thing you ate was a handful of blueberries and a soggy sandwich on set that afternoon. You were starving.

He offered you his arm, which you took, and led you through the double doors into the main showroom. You glanced around at the various tables along the floor and spotted several famous faces. The man with the tall silver-blond hair was French actor Jean-Pierre Polnareff and sitting next to him was the famous Egyptian magician Mohammed Avdol. At the table next to theirs was the famous British fashion model Lisa Lisa, impeccably poised and smoking a cigarette in a fancy holder. A few people turned in their seats to look at you and Diego as you passed.

“Ugh, look who’s at our table.” You heard Diego scoff.

You were shocked.

It was Johnny Joestar.

The Joestars were basically Hollywood royalty and Johnny was no exception. Dubbed “Joe Kid” by his fans, Johnny was the face of young Hollywood, an All-American country boy with cute dimples and a youthful face. He made a name for himself playing the righteous young cowboy protagonist in Western action films, the hero who saved the girl and brought justice to a lawless landscape. Everyone knew him and it seemed like his star would only grow brighter.

Until the accident happened.

It was about a year ago. The papers said Johnny was on a walk with his girlfriend one evening when a crazed fan came up from behind and shot him in the back. He lived, fortunately, but was paralyzed from the waist down and would need to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The studio abruptly ended his contract and he hadn’t been seen or mentioned since.

“Joestar,” Diego hissed. He pulled out your chair and pushed you into the table before taking his place beside you. The three of you were the only ones there, so far, and Johnny sat across from you in his wheelchair. It struck you how different he looked in real life. His tousled blond hair reached his shoulders now and for someone known for his dimples, it seemed like a scowl was permanently etched on his face.

Johnny sneered. “Ugh, I should’a known you’d be here tonight, Diego. Never could resist an opportunity to boot lick.”

You knew Johnny and Diego had a history. They had been rivals, once, before Johnny’s accident. They competed for roles, awards, and the hearts of beautiful women. Diego held nothing but contempt for his former rival. He claimed Johnny didn’t have a shred of talent and used the Joestar name to get his roles instead of working hard to earn his fame, like he had. “I came from nothing” he was so fond of reminding you. The feeling was mutual, at least from what you read. Johnny once called Diego “a stuck-up prick who should go back to community theater.”

“Who invited you, anyway? I thought it was clear no one wanted you around since you lost your legs.” Diego said.

You bit your lip and looked down at your lap. Should you say something? Diego could be a heartless bastard, you knew that. Honestly, you felt for Johnny. This man had lost everything. What happened was an accident, he didn’t deserve to get shot, no matter how much the media tried to demonize him.

You gently touched his arm. “Diego, dear, be nice.” You implored, batting your eyelashes for effect. “Please, for me?”

Johnny narrowed eyes and turned his pale blue gaze towards you. They were much more intense in person and once again you were aware of how insignificant you were compared to people like him. “Who’s this?”

Diego looked at you with a simpering smile and draped his arm over the back of your chair, like you’d practiced in the limousine. “This is my new girlfriend.” He replied. “Jealous?”

Johnny regarded you for a moment. “Lemme guess, you’re his co-star? What’s your name?”

You told him and reached over to shake his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Joestar. I’m a big fan of your work.”

You weren’t lying. If any singular actor inspired you to finally move to Hollywood and pursue your dream, it was him. Westerns were far from your favorite genre but if Johnny Joestar was starring in it, you’d drag your family to see it anyway. It was surreal for you to be so close to him.

He nodded politely and shook your hand. You were surprised by how rough and calloused his palms were. “You must be new. I’m not familiar with any of your roles.”

“Yes, this is my first major role. I was very excited when I found out I was going to be working with Diego Brando.” You said. “I’ve learned so much from him.”

“This movie is going to be a hit.” Diego cut in. “Darling, you’re such a captivating actress, everyone will adore you.”

“How long have you two been together?” Johnny asked.

“Two weeks.” Replied Diego.

Johnny went quiet for a moment, inspecting his fingernails intently. “I see,” he said. “Sleeping with Diego is a smart career move. Come up with it yourself?”

An indignant “what” was all you could manage as color bled across your cheeks.

Johnny wasn’t fazed at all. “Listen, I don’t much like lyin’ to people, so I’ll tell you this. When I look at you, I don’t see ‘star material.’ You got a decent figure and a marginally pretty face but nothing about you stands out. They don’t care how good your acting is, it’ll never be good enough for the kinda fame you want. You can be a good actress, but you’ll never be a star.”

You were fuming. Absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He didn’t know you! He was just bitter. Jealous of the fact that you had a promising career when his ended prematurely. At first, you felt bad for him. Now? You couldn’t even look at him without seeing red.

“You’re better off this way, promise.” Johnny continued, though you could barely hear him over the thundering of your own heart in your ears. “Nobody in this town gives a shit about you when you stop making them money. They’ll turn you out on your back the minute you can’t be their ideal person. The price of fame isn’t worth it.”

You weren’t listening anymore. Any sympathy you had for Johnny and his situation was completely evaporated by the heat of your anger. Diego and the media were right. He was an asshole. Another person to prove wrong. Your movie would be a success. Over the next six months, you’d endear yourself to the public, charm the Hollywood elite and once you secured your place, he’d see how wrong he was.

“Oi mate, you can fuck off.” Diego interjected.

“Eat shit.”

You shot up from your chair and grabbed your purse off the table. “Excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.” You said quietly, desperately trying to keep your voice from cracking. Your throat felt tight and tears gathered at the corners of your eyes as your emotions boiled over. At least the next time you needed to cry on command, you could think back on Johnny’s words, which still echoed inside your skull. They stung. A lot. And as you hurried through the maze of tables, all you could think about was how true they might be.

This is my first time posting on tumblr and I was really excited to share this! Hope you enjoyed it. My inbox is open so if you have any comments or feedback, I’d love to hear it. Even if you just want to chat, I’d love to get to know the community.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #johnny joestar x reader #diego brando x reader #johnny joestar #diego brando #jjba x reader #mitchie's writing

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alias-levi · 4 years

Text

#1 of 1: Getting Caught

Word count: ~1,600 words // summary // independent part of this series

Without knocking you clumsily open the door to Elon’s office. In your arms you hold a big cardboard box filled with all the stuff for the meeting, topped with a bag of delivered food. You stumble into the room, blinded by the bright light coming from the row of windows. Annoyed beyond belief after difficulties with the delivery guy you kick the door shut with your foot.

With a sigh you recognize that Elon isn’t even there yet so you drop the box onto his desk and take your box of food. Pushing your high-heels off your hurting feet, you sit on the couch. Feet on the table, you rest your head back and let memories of this exact place soothe your stressed out mind.

Even though the food is of a different nationality now, you still remember the taste of the Chinese takeout. It’s almost as if he’s right there, behind your closed eyelids, pacing the room. From left to right, right to left, gesticulating and elaborating all his ideas to you. A few minutes later he would be pulling his hair, messing up the style and then all of a sudden, he’s plopping down next to you. His chest pressed into your side, his breath on your skin, his face so close to yours.

The door slams shut and you open your eyes rapidly. You watch Elon walking over to his desk where he examines the box you put there, before he finds the bag with the food. Sighing he grabs a box before he turns around and leans against the desk. The t-shirt he’s wearing, you notice, is a Tesla fan-article as is Tesla written boldly over the chest. He looks exhausted, shirt stained with sweat and motor oil. His before black pants now seem partially grey with dust.

His eyes find yours and noticing the absurdity of this situation, a smile creeps upon both of your faces. You, the newest addition to the personnel with a messy bun, no shoes and her feet on the table in her bosses office. While he, the head of multiple successful companies, wears dirty clothes and eats cheap take-out in said office.

“Don’t you want to take a seat,” you ask trying to hide your face behind your food, hoping Elon won’t notice your suppressed laughter. You never would have thought, that they would even invite you for a simple job interview in the first place. Yet, here you are.

Elon simply shakes his head, “I’m afraid but I’ll probably pass out if I do so.” His voice is raspy after a very short night of sleep before being called in for an emergency problem.

A sheepish smile raises the corners of your mouth. A quick glance at the watch tells you that there’s only about half an hour left before the meeting has to start yet you answer, “oh, I might just know a way to keep you from that.”

With a tired smile, Elon pushes himself off the desk to walk over to you. He puts his food next to your feet on the table and leans down to you. One arm steadying him, while his other hand rests at your hip. You hold your breath, waiting for his next step but he just winks at you and whispers, “show me then.”

Quickly you put your food away before reaching up and cupping his face. The stubble is rough underneath your gentle fingertips and Elon closes his eyes for a moment. He hums in approval as your hands rest flat against his face, while your thumbs gently trace his lower lip. Tilting your head upwards, you gently pull is face closer until your lips meet.

The kiss is soft and chaste but soon turns into some unspoken promise of more. Your hands move down his neck and onto his shoulders. Feeling the muscles along his neck strain you gently bite his lip. Elon grunts briefly before pushing you back onto the couch.

One knee on either side of you, you find yourself confronted with a déjà vu. Weeks ago it was you who had been kneeling above him right on this couch.

But you don’t have time to remember because Elon quickly bends his head to nibble down you neck. You gasp at the sensation of not only his teeth and lips against your heated skin. Also his stubble rubs against your delicate neck, leaving reddened and irritated skin.

This is when your conscience fights back to the surface. Your mind is slowed with pleasure and desire but there’s still one thought nagging at the back of your head. “Elon,” you gently push him back, “don’t. Someone will notice the marks on my neck.”

With an annoyed huff, Elon not only leans back, he also gets up completely. You frown at him, wondering what had happened.

You get up with him. Following him through the room. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Instead of an answer Elon just grants you a shake of his head before taking off his shirt. You use the time to casually stroll over to the big glass table he’s standing next to and hop on top of it. Wiggling you pull your skirt higher up your thighs and say, “shall we cancel the meeting?”

Finally Elon turns back to you again. He had put on a fresh button up. “That’s too late now. I’ll just push through this and then I’m gone. Anyways, with you at my side to distract me,” he lets the words hang in the air between you, while gently pushing your thighs apart and positioning himself between them.

His tired eyes lock with yours and he touches his forehead to yours. Humming and smiling merrily, you sneak your arms underneath his undone button up shirt. Your hands traveling along the heated skin when Elon dips his head to kiss you.

This kiss is nowhere near gentle and as soon as you kiss him back, Elon swipes his tongue over your lips demanding entrance. Which you happily grant him. Things get heated between you and soon you feel his hands nestling with the buttons on your blouse.

His mouth places featherlight kisses along your jaw before travelling down the side of your neck. Elon pulls at your hair gently, forcing you to present your neck to him even better.

You can’t help but moan at the wave of heat and pleasure surging through you. While one of his hands had curled into a fist in your hair, you can feel the grip of his other hand firmly right where your thigh and hip meet. But there’s also something else pressing against you, indicating that Elon is enjoying this just as much as you.

“Oh my god.” You both jerk with surprise as you hear someone speak. Elena from HR, stands right next to the opened door. Her eyes are widened in surprise and she clutches her folder tightly enough for her knuckles to whiten.

Time seems to have come to a halt in the room as no one dares to move. Even breaths seem the be held as you stare at Elena. Gladly, Elon manages to shake the shock sooner than you and clears his throat. He bends his head as if to look over his shoulder but he doesn’t need to. Elena shakes her head briefly before exclaiming, “Right, I guess I will, uh, wait outside, I guess.”

Releasing your breath you drop your head to Elons shoulder, who’s still standing between your thighs. His frustration is almost sensible in the air between you as he hugs you. “We should,” Elon tries to express his thoughts when you interrupt him.

Pushing him out of your way and jumping from the table you annoyedly press out, “yeah, probably.” Easing your skirt back down your legs and re-buttoning your blouse you watch Elon trying to fix his shirt as well. Seeing him struggle getting the buttons straight, you walk up to him.

He watches you concentrating on closing his shirt and presses a kiss to your forehead. You lean into it, resting your hands flat on his chest before hearing him whisper, “let’s go to my place later, alright?” His smile shows genuine happiness as he sees you nodding in answer. Elon steps back from you, hovering just outside of your reach to ask if you’re ready.

This time he doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns around and walks to the door of his office. Elena is not the first one to step through but when she does, she grins at Elon in passing before winking at you across the room.

A mute promise to keep this secret. At least you hope so. Even against better knowledge.

#writeblr #imagine #elon musk x reader #smut #elon musk #female reader #elon anon #levi wrote stuff #getting caught #every relationship is work

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lenademonn · 4 years

Text

All This Time - 2

*Summary: Elena used to be closed off and composed, always in control of her feelings and actions. She knew how to survive long before world ended and didn’t need anyone to keep her alive. Because attachments are liability, make you weak especially in this new world where dead are walking and living are more dangerous than before.

A slow burn Daryl Dixon x OC; from season 1 forward, ongoing. Angst, Violence, strong language, sarcastic humour and more.

Chapter 2

Day 44

I was having a dream. I knew that part of my psychological training was to recognize reality from the fantasy. And that was definitely the latter, because there was no way in hell that his strong hands were tracing my calves, his calloused fingers making me shiver, and that his mouth was pressed to my core, licking and sucking giving me the endless pleasure spreading from toes to the top of her head. I moved my hips up, bringing myself closer to his face, which earned me a low growl from his throat's depths.

"Elena," his voice did wonder to me, but I also realized that it came out near my ear, so way closer then it should be. "C'mon women, wake up!"

I opened my eyes and sat up straight, knife in hand, quickly pressed against someone's throat. "Whoa, easy, it's just me!" I blinked rapidly and saw familiar blue eyes in front of me, hand grasping my wrist, trying to ease the knife's pressure off himself. He was crouched next to my sleeping bag, ready for the day, tents fold open, allowing the flow of the fresh air. I pulled away and put my hand over my heart.

"Shit Daryl, this isn't how you wake up people, at least not me! I could fucking kill you!" My voice was still groggy from the sleep, and my mind was spinning from remnants of the dream he interrupted. Seeing him here in my tent just seconds after his image - 'Stop it silly!'

"Ya said to wake ya up when I'm goin' for a hunt. " I closed my eyes, trying to even out my breathing.

"Yeah, give me a ten, and I'll be there." He grunted and gave me one last glance before crouching out of the tent.

It was more than a month since we set up our camp at the quarry and my revelations. We were hunting and sending Glenn to gather necessary supplies, we had laundry and cooking duties and perimeter checks. It was usually myself and Dixon brothers in the woods looking for a game for the whole group. Surprisingly, the older brother wasn't that horrible after closer interactions. Of course, he still called me 'Blondie' and 'Sweetcheeks' or 'Dollface' and looked at my chest every opportunity he could get, but after what I told them about myself, he seemed to respect me a little bit more. Maybe because he was in the military once or perhaps because he has morals even if they are a bit twisted sometimes.

Today Merle was going on a run with Glenn, though, so it was just younger Dixon and me. We planned to make it an overnight trip and hunt for something more than only squirrels or birds. Andrea and Amy offered to take a boat they found by the lake and try to catch some fish, so hopefully, we will have enough food to last us for a few days by tomorrow afternoon. If Glenn will grab all the items from the list I gave him, I would smoke some of the meat and make a nice jerky. About the only thing, I didn't fuck up in the kitchen department.

I quickly changed my clothes, including wet panties, and I smiled, remembering a vivid dream from just a few moments ago. It's only because I spend so much time with him recently and because I didn't have sex for months. No need to read into it. Right?

Once dressed, I put on my reigns and stashed throwing knives inside holders, the gun secured on my waist belt. I checked my quiver and counted the arrows, in the backpack I put all the necessary items for an overnight hunting trip and rolled an extra sleeping bag to attach it to the top of the pack.

"How much longer woman?" Daryl's voice startled me, so I quickly left the tent, spotting him next to the entrance.

"Jeez I'm coming, let me just fix my hair" He gave me a funny look "You don't want me to get grabbed, do you?" It came out harsher then I intended, but I just ignored it and pulled my hair down and run my fingers through it. Blonde curls spread all the way to the small of my back, I could fix it before I came out of the tent, but after my dream, I felt the need to show them to Daryl.

Since that day in the woods, when I was gathering things to make my bow, I wanted to make an impression on him and see how much I can push him, and my hair was the thing I liked about myself the most, well just after boobs. I quickly pulled it into a simple plaid and then twisted it, on the top of my head, securing everything with a hair tie. I could feel man's eyes on me through all that process, but when I finally looked at Daryl, he turned around and started walking towards the woods.

We were walking for most of the day, caught a few squirrels and three perky rabbits when we finally decided to set a camp next to a stream we found. Now when I say we caught that game, I mean mainly Daryl. I am good with my homemade bow, but shooting unmoving targets during training isn't exactly this same as using it on animals. One of the rabbits was mine, but that was an accident, but Daryl doesn't need to know that.

We were tracking a deer for the past two hours, but it turned unsuccessful, and we could always pick up its trail tomorrow. Daryl was setting the perimeter with a string and some old cans so we would be notified of any movements during the night. I started skinning the animals putting the guts and useless parts into the plastic bin bag we brought with us.

"I'll run the bag out, circle around, and take the meat to the creek," I told Daryl, and after receiving a nod, I took off quickly and run for about fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of the tracks we saw today. If there is any deer here, the last thing we want is for the dead to eat it. I dropped the bag, dug a shallow hole in the ground, and ditched inside, covering it back up with dirt and leaves, then I circled back towards our night camp, whistled softly while passing why so Daryl would know it's just me and jogged to the water.

I started washing the meat and cut it into the strips, made sure that I cleaned it properly of any spare blood, and put it down on a clean rug on a boulder next to me to cool down. That's the problem with overnight trips, we had to make sure that whatever we caught won't go bad.

We actually worked well together, Daryl was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable unless I said something stupid, usually with a sexual context, which made him blush and tell me to shut up. Now that I was thinking about it, I wasn't that different from Merle, when it came to his younger brother, and that thought gave me goosebumps. I scooped the meat and went back towards the camp, bent over the lines to not make any unnecessary noise, and sat down next to a small fire Daryl started when I was gone.

"Pass me my bag, please," I asked him, and he reached towards it and took few steps, so he was next to me, sitting down next to me on the ground to share the work. I took my clean rug from the backpack and set it down on the rock in front of us, and then I passed Daryl a tub of salt. We worked quickly and quietly till everything was done, took a few pieces, and started cooking them while the rest was put into the zip bags and then to into my pack.

"So, how did you learn to hunt like that and using this crossbow?" I asked him and looked in his direction. He was sitting next to me, but with enough space between, and he was turning the meat around. His blue eyes met my grey ones, and his face had a blank expression. I knew that he didn't let people in, but I hoped that the question was innocent enough for him to answer.

"My old man and uncle." He started slowly turning his gaze toward the fire. "Money was tight, and my da usually drank it away, so Merle and I had to learn how to get our own food." Ok, so maybe that question wasn't as safe as I thought. I knew that the last thing he was looking for was pitty over a little boy who grew up in a though home. So I settled for an answer, which hopefully would release the tension.

"Well, sure as hell, it's handy right now. No matter the reasons, I'm glad you learned. I couldn't ask for a better hunting partner" He looked at me again with a slight frown. "'Cause, you know, Merle talks way too much." That finally made him smile. Alright, that wasn't a smile, small side smirk, but I knew I couldn't ask for more, not from him, not yet. That didn't mean I will stop trying.

"What about ya? Were ya really a fed?"

"Really?" I looked at him and slapped his arm. "We don't like that term, just for the future. Yeah, I was. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be precise."

"And what's that?" He side glanced at me, unsure what kind of job I actually did. My nose crinkled as I was thinking of explaining what I did in life before all this shit without sounding like I was bragging.

"Well, basically we were catching criminals, mainly serial killers, based on their behavior. You analyze how the victim was killed and left what was done to them, where was the body left. We were profilers." I was looking blankly in front of me now, thinking about days on the job and all the evil people I've met and spoken to. How many close calls I had with death and yet nothing compared to the nightmare we're living in now.

"Not the most useful skill in zombie apocalypse though. I cannot just talk my way out with walkers by telling them how watching their moma kill herself made them what they are now, right?" I looked at him with a serious face, even if my words were laced with sarcasm.

"Whatever lay down, I'll take the first watch." He stood up abruptly to check the perimeter, and I was looking at him, my gaze following his actions.

"Ok, but wake me up in few hours so we can swap you need your sleep as well, Dixon." It was still early, but I knew we'll be waking up before the first light, plus all this walking around in the woods was tiring, but something didn't sit well with me. Daryl finished our conversation abruptly, even though he seemed interested in my story before.

What did I actually know about younger Dixon? Not a lot, most time we spend together, we were quiet and shared only a few stories before coming back to camp, most of our talks focusing on subjects of hunting or Merle talking his mouth off about nothing in particular. The rest of the information I had was just observation and some comments from Merle, and I didn't know how much to believe in his words.

Alright, so Daryl is in his mid-thirties and lived in Georgia his whole life, most of it with Merle, grabbing some odd jobs before they moved on. I suspected all that moving around was because older Dixon was doing drugs and owed money to many people or was trying to avoid jail time.

But that doesn't explain Daryl's social awkwardness and how guarded he behaves. He definitely is an introvert and doesn't like to be touched even when his brother puts an arm on him, I noticed Daryl goes still and tense. That suggests some sort of abuse, but not from Merle, no, he wouldn't be able to look at him like he does. Daryl actually looks up to his big brother.

I let a low growl of frustration. This new world makes me go crazy; I could separate myself from any personal emotions before all of this, but now we had people to look after, people to protect, and as much as it was flattering, I wasn't used to someone depend on her in that way. I started to care for those people, and my weird fascination with Daryl Dixon was undoubtedly unhealthy. I shouldn't be so invested in trying to get to know him. And for sure, I shouldn't give a damn if I hurt his feelings or stirred something from his past.

"Ya thinkin' so loud, that ya'll attract all the geeks from this woods." His low voice startled me, and I sat up in my makeshift bed. Daryl was sitting across from me, on the other side of our little campsite, cleaning his crossbow, eyes not leaving the weapon, but I could tell that he was alert, ready for anything to make a move in the dark. When I didn't reply straight away, he quickly glanced in my direction, one brow risen in a silent question. I let a small sigh escape my lips as I run my hand over my face.

"What I said before." The words I spoke were quiet and soft, eyes locked on him, watching for any body language changes. "I know that we don't tell each other a lot, but I'd like to think that you don't mind my company. The last few hunting trips were pleasant, and you didn't call me stupid in like a week, so that's progress."

I watched his lips twitch a little making me form my own small smile on my full lips. "But that last comment, about how I'd sometimes talk to suspects..." I stopped when Daryl stiffened, and a muscle on his face twitched while he clenched his jaw. It was very subtle, he was good, very good at hiding his emotions. But I was very good at what I was doing before the world went to shit, so I noticed it even in the dark of the night.

"There, that was this same reaction you have now. Now I don't want to pry... "

"Then don't" He interrupted me, his voice harsh, hands grabbing his weapon just a little bit harder than necessary. I looked down at my hands, thinking on how to play it out. Talking to Daryl was like a long and complicated chess game, one silly move, and checkmate.

"Alright, I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything by it." With that, I laid back down, turning on my side, so I was facing away from him, giving a man some sort of privacy.

Next Chapter

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #slow burn #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl fanfiction

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 5 years

Note

I heard you're looking for alvareider prompts! So basically I have not known peace since the laundry room scene, so my request would be some kind of companion piece to that? The missing scene between that and the one in the apartment maybe, or even an AU where Penelope finds him instead of Alex? Hope this isn't too vague!

hi!! somehow this prompt was the angsty thing I needed to finally get past my block, so thanks for that. :) it didn’t turn out shippy, but if I ever write an AU, that one might. here’s a take on that missing scene:

Penelope & Schneider & Lydia & Alex & Elena, One Day At A Time. Also on AO3.

“Abuelita, is Mom with you?” Alex’s voice was tinny and tense through the phone.

Like her daughter, she was keeping her cell close by in case someone heard from Schneider–or in case he decided to call. But Alex sounded so serious, so unlike himself, that Lydia didn’t waste time worrying about tying up the line.

“Yes, Papito, she is right here.”

She waved a hand at Penelope, who left Elena on the couch to join her in the kitchen. Then she put her phone on speaker. “We are both right here.”

“Mom?”

Penelope’s whole body clenched up. The last time her son sounded that scared, he’d been asking why Papi wasn’t coming with them, the night she left Victor for good.

“Alex, what’s wrong?”

“I, uh–I’m not sure. But I’m in the laundry room, you and Abuelita should both come. Okay? Just come.”

“Okay.” Her heart was racing as she hung up, and her Mami was already halfway out the front door.

“We’ll be right back,” Penelope told Elena as she followed.

****

Alex wasn’t in the laundry room when they arrived. He was outside it, standing next to the closed door, shifting from one foot to the other.

His worried eyes landed on hers, and she walked faster down the hall to reach him.

“Schneider’s drunk,” Alex blurted out as soon as they were in hearing range. “He’s not…acting like Schneider.”

Penelope swallowed her sigh, along with her anger and her fear. Alex didn’t need to see any of that. “Okay, Papito. You stay here with your Abuelita. I got this.”

He blocked her from the door before she could take another step.

“Mom, he didn’t want me to call you. He didn’t want me to call anybody.”

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she promised him. “Mami?”

Lydia gently tugged Alex toward her, out of the way. “Tu Mami se encargará de esto.”

Penelope walked into the laundry room, not sure what to expect. She didn’t see Schneider at first, sitting on the floor between the folding island and the washing machines. If she hadn’t been looking for him, he would have been well-hidden.

She assumed that was the point.

Closing the door behind her with a soft click, Penelope walked to the row of machines, keeping a few feet back from the pathetic picture Schneider made. He was, to put it charitably, a mess.

His long limbs were folded into what had to be deeply uncomfortable angles, with his face pinched like he was already starting to feel the effects of an oncoming hangover. He’d chosen a really bad place for that, Penelope noted, with the glaring florescent lights of the laundry room overhead.

She couldn’t even begin to process his lack of pants and mussed hair. When she and her Mami had confronted him in his apartment, he might have been behaving differently–defensive and anxious and twitchy–but he had still seemed like Schneider. She didn’t recognize this man.

Watching him with his eyes still shut, Penelope considered her options. Victor had always been a combative drunk, and Schneider had been sober for so long she didn’t know if she needed to worry about that with him.

That was part of the problem, she thought. She had only ever known him, really known him as more than their trust-fund landlord, since he’d been sober. Schneider’s sobriety was so central to who he was that she took it for granted.

Clearly, she couldn’t do that anymore.

As hard as it was to face the situation they were in–because whether Penelope liked it or not, what affected Schneider affected her too–her family was waiting for her to handle it. You’ve dealt with worse, she reminded herself, and deliberately relaxed before she spoke.

“Hey.”

Schneider turned her way with no expression on his ruddy face at all. She figured he’d heard her come in…but he’d already run from her once today. It wasn’t like she was expecting a warm welcome.

“Hey, Pen.”

“Don’t.”

“Huh?”

Right now, all that mattered was getting Schneider sobered up and back on the program. She knew that. She couldn’t let him out of her sight again until he went back to being himself. But holding back her feelings wasn’t easy.

He was staring at her from his sprawled position up against a machine, his eyes half shut, and she couldn’t completely maintain the calm face she’d put on.

“Don’t talk to me like you always do. Don’t act like this is normal, Schneider. Nicknames and you’re pantsless in the laundry room–after lying to my face?”

“Right.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, blinking hard as though that could make him less drunk. “Sorry about that. I just…needed to get out of my apartment, and you weren’t gonna let me.”

It took what Penelope considered admirable restraint on her part, but she kept her voice low and level, her words just between the two of them instead of reaching her Mami and Alex.

“Do you know how you sound right now? My fifteen year old son pulls out excuses like that when I catch him making reckless, dangerous choices.”

“Well, I’m not your son,” Schneider replied, turning away from her to drag himself into a standing position using the washer. “You may think it’s your job to boss the whole world around, Penelope, but you’re not my mother.”

She shook her head at him, towering over her now, his pants crumpled in one hand while the other braced on the washer kept him swaying upright.

“No. I’m not. But my mother, a woman who thinks of you like her second, incredibly pale son, is right outside. And neither of us are going anywhere until you pull yourself together.”

She took a chance, and a step forward. “Schneider, this ends now. Anybody could walk in on you here. The McGurbs, with their grandson, needing you to babysit. It could have been Elena coming to tell you she passed her driver’s test.”

His face cleared, the tension of the moment lost to pride. “She did? That’s awesome!”

Penelope let her words bite back a little, because her kids were a part of this, and they deserved so much better. “Yeah, she’s upstairs right now wanting to celebrate. And her whole family is down here, and she doesn’t know why yet.”

Schneider nodded, stepping back. “Then you should go. You can tell her–I don’t know. Tell her whatever you want, just make sure she knows I’m proud of her, okay?”

Penelope sighed, and walked right into his personal space. Even a drunk Schneider, she was pretty sure she could take, if it came down to it. And he wasn’t going to make this easy; she needed every advantage she could get.

“I said her whole family is down here, Schneider. She’s going to want you at the party. Come upstairs.”

He wrapped his arms around his stomach, letting his pants fall to the floor. “No. It’s a good day for her, she shouldn’t see me like this.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she agreed easily, grabbing his pants with one hand and lacing her fingers through his with the other. She squeezed his hand and waited for him to look at her.

“None of us wanted to see you like this, Schneider. You never wanted that either, I know you didn’t. But here we are. So I’ll have Mami grab you some clean clothes, and you’ll come upstairs and borrow our shower and tell Elena you’re happy for her, yourself.”

He shook his head, but didn’t let go of her hand. “I don’t…Penelope, I don’t remember how to do this.”

“I know.” She started moving toward the door, leading him along after her. She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that he wasn’t arguing anymore–that all the fight seemed to have gone out of him. Without it, he just seemed…

Broken.

“You start small,” Penelope told him on the way. “One step at a time. First up, a shower.”

“Yeah.”

“And you remember that things are different now. It’s not 2011, Schneider. You’re not going to be doing this by yourself.”

He didn’t say anything in response to that, but he gripped her hand harder. Hoping to distract him long enough to keep him from changing his mind and bolting, she added lightly, “At least this isn’t the first time your tenants have seen you in your underwear. Remember last Fourth of July?”

“Yes, Penelope, I know,” Schneider replied automatically, falling into the familiar argument. “No more fireworks that ‘fell off a truck.’ Stop, drop, and roll. I only scarred a little.“

Lydia was waiting when Penelope opened the door. She didn’t even blink at Schneider standing there in his boxers–just rested her hand at the small of his back and led him away. His slumped walk made him seem smaller beside her.

Penelope watched them go, her Mami murmuring to him out of earshot, until they turned the corner at the end of the hall.

“Are you okay?” She asked Alex once they were alone.

“Yeah. Is he gonna be alright?”

“He’s going to be just fine, baby. We’re going to make sure of it.”

“He got so upset,” Alex confessed. “I’ve never seen him like that. What happened?”

“I’m not sure, Papito.” She hugged him from the side, resting her check against his for a second. Nothing grounded her faster than her kids.

“But I’m going to find out.”

****

When Penelope and Alex got back to the apartment, Lydia was already there, listening to the running water from the other side of the bathroom door.

Elena was still on the couch where they’d left her, but Schneider’s arrival had visibly deflated her mood. Her eyes were huge behind her glasses, leaving Penelope to wonder what exactly had happened when Schneider came in.

Her daughter’s frozen expression and nervous posture on the couch reminded Penelope of when the kids were little, when things with Victor started to fall apart.

Despite Schneider’s earlier protests, all of this reminded her of Victor. How could it not?

She was just grateful that Schneider wasn’t dangerous, to himself or anyone else. It probably helped that he was temperamentally different; Penelope didn’t have much reason to think about it, usually, but Schneider was the most laid-back person she’d ever met. His temper was nearly impossible to set off–and while he was a really emotional guy, he directed his pain toward himself instead of at other people.

Obviously, she thought with an inward sigh, hearing the shower turn off.

She was glad they’d found him, that he’d agreed to come home with her. But that didn’t make this any easier.

Trying to convince Victor to get help and having him brush her off, seeing him spiral, had been really hard.

In some ways, today hurt even more, knowing that Schneider needed her and she really had no idea what she was doing. Her only experience with recovering alcoholics was the kind that ended in divorce.

Schneider needed her family too much for her to screw this up.

And they needed him too much to lose him.

Elena disappeared into her room, saying nothing while Lydia guided Schneider past her to the couch.

He seemed clearer now, Penelope noted with relief. She had no desire to try reasoning with a drunk and evasive Schneider ever again. Hopefully he was sobering up fast.

Her Mami went to the kitchen, pulling out a pot and busying herself there. She kept sneaking glances at Schneider from her spot next to the stove, even though Penelope was right there next to him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Schneider closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch, looking like he was trying not to cry. A few feet away, Alex stood rooted to the spot, unable to find the right words but trying to be a comfort.

Penelope knew she should smooth things over while her Mami made him soup, but she didn’t have it in her. The things she needed to say to Schneider wouldn’t comfort him very much, and they weren’t things she wanted to say in front of Alex. Or her mom.

They could wait until she found a way to get him alone. For now, she clasped her hands together, pushing down the desire to reach out and shake sense into him…or just hold him, period.

He looked more devastated than she felt.

Elena reemerged from her room and beelined for the kitchen, whispering something to her Abuelita, who spoke softly back and patted her cheek.

When they came out to the living room together, Lydia with chicken soup and Elena with a damp cloth, Penelope had to smile. Schneider was going to be so taken care of through his recovery this time, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

It sucked that she always had to be the bad cop, though.

She watched her family surround Schneider with love and reassurance and forgiveness, and braced for what came next.

Because as much as he needed people who loved him through the worst, he needed somebody to hold him accountable, too. She had always had that in her Mami–but all Schneider had was her.

Penelope waited while her Mami and the kids left them alone, and hoped she would be enough.

#odaat #one day at a time #schneider #penelope alvarez #penelope and schneider #odaat fic #schneider fic #penelope alvarez fic #ineedasitdownandacupoftea #my fic

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ograndebatata · 5 years

Text

Belated contribution to Elena of Avalor Ship appreciation week - Day 2 - Alonso/Carmen -Adventures in Love - Chapter 001

Well... this was meant to be a contribution to the Elena of Avalor ship week on the Discord server, but it came out far later than I expected due to how much it started growing out of my control.

I even decided to post it in parts eventually because it was just getting so big. I hope you enjoy this first one. The pairing is Alonso x Carmen, and it was meant to be on the ‘Adventure’ day, with the crackship theme.

The usual disclaimers about me not owning anything in the series apply.

Chapter 1 - Customer Importance

A bit over a week before Avalor's third Navidad after Princess Elena's exit from the Amulet of Avalor...

A growling stomach would usually not be described as something to be proud of, but as Alonso followed Avalor's new magister of trade into Café Angelica, he knew none of his body parts had ever spoken up at a better time.

Yes, Julio Guzman meant well, and it was remarkable he tried so hard to be good at his job, and it was good he had become more confident in his position since they first met at the last Feast of Friendship, and it was true Alonso was still trying to better himself. But there were limits for everything, and while Alonso had learned to be polite enough to not outright say so to the man, he was sick of hearing heaps of proposals that traders, whether Avaloran or not, had regarding partnerships with Cordoba.

Thankfully, his stomach's growl had served as an effective stopper to those, for the time being anyway, and Julio had suggested a meal on the house before he left for Cordoba to spend Navidad with his family.

At first, Alonso had accepted just to have some way of escaping this conversation, but as he smelled the divine whiffs coming from the kitchen even before he entered the place, he knew it had been a good idea for more reasons than one.

As he walked in, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the soft glow of the lights, the warm golden-orange on the walls, and the blue tables and chairs set about in an organized but not geometric fashion, each of them simple but well-crafted and sturdy.

It all seemed to give a feeling of being part of the family, like he heard Elena said she wanted her guests to feel, although this café looked far too old to have been set up by her.

"Here, Prince Alonso," the man instructed, pointing at a table for two right in front of the door. Alonso circled it so he could face the door and sat down as he removed his messenger bag from his shoulder. "Do you have anything in mind, or would you like to read the menu?"

Alonso picked up the list before him. "I think I'll read the menu. I don't know enough about Avaloran cuisine to ask for anything beforehand."

Julio nodded, standing at attention by his table like a soldier, his hands behind his back.

Trying to keep a calm expression, Alonso said, "Relax, will you? I won't terminate the alliance with Avalor if you just sit down for a bit."

The magister of trade did not sit down, but at least did stand in a more relaxed fashion, his arms now falling alongside his body.

Not as far as Alonso had suggested, but maybe it was better not to be too pushy, he decided as he started looking at the menu.

He recognized some dishes in it, like locro and guacamole and paella and enchiladas and tacos, but there were others which he had never heard of, like morisqueta and aguachile and puntas and milanesa and chicharron.

It might be interesting to try some of those out, but given it would be quite some time before he could eat again, and he might end up being accidentally rude by conveying through his expression that any given dish would be bad, perhaps he should go for something a bit more familiar.

Sounds like you're not trying all that hard to be better, after all. A reproachful voice pointed out at him.

Alonso suppressed a frown. He had been trying hard. The fact he still remembered all the proposals Julio Guzman had conveyed to him proved it, he thought.

But maybe he could try even harder. After all, his father went through even worse ordeals during his rule. If Alonso couldn't even be trusted to show gratitude for food he didn't like, he could hardly hope to be the kind of king who'd be a good ruler.

Not that he could hope that anyway, but he could still try his best.

Just pick something! Alonso told himself as he willed his eyes to pick something out from the list.

They landed on a dish at random, and he voiced his request to Julio.

"I'd like some rissoles with arroz rojo," he said. "Please." he added at the very last minute as he remembered his manners.

"I'll ask my sister to make some right away," Julio replied.

Saying so, he jogged someplace behind him, probably the kitchen to tell his sister. Interesting. Alonso would have thought the man would have called out the order rather than leave his guest alone, but perhaps he also felt the talk of trade matters had run its course and didn't feel comfortable around Alonso without it.

Shrugging to himself, Alonso settled more comfortably into his chair. He wouldn't say that to the man's face either, but he could do with some peace and quiet for a bit.

///

Sitting at the kitchen table, Carmen looked up as she heard the kitchen's double doors creaking open. Normally she barely blinked at the noise, but something about it was different enough this time that she raised her eyes from the new recipe she was outlining on paper before trying out for real.

Indeed, Julio had a rather strange halted skip to his step as he approached, his eyes glowing with eagerness and yet the rest of his posture strangely tense.

"You'll never guess who agreed to come to the café!" he whispered at her like an excited kid who'd gotten a toy he'd been wanting for months.

Carmen set down her pencil. "Hello to you too."

Julio stopped as if trying not to stumble on a sudden obstacle.

"Yes, yes, hello." he conceded. "Did you have a good day?"

"It was quiet. Enough people came here to turn in profit, but not enough to overwhelm the staff." She could see from the way he was tensing up that he was just dying to keep talking about his topic, so she added "I'm guessing you had a pretty great one. Who came here with you?"

"One of the best guests we could have!" Julio leaned forward and 'loud whispered'. "Prince Alonso of Cordoba!"

Carmen could actually feel her eyes widening.

"You mean he stayed with you all day long to listen to everything you wanted to tell him?"

Even without knowing him, she was impressed. Julio had had quite a lot of proposals to share, even though he had spent the better part of two days discarding lots of suggestions whether because they were repeated, too impractical to implement, or, in some rare cases, so asinine that they didn't deserve to be taken into consideration.

"I was impressed as well," Julio remarked. "Especially after Princess Elena's warnings about him."

Carmen shrugged. "Maybe he's trying to change?"

Julio nodded. "Maybe, but from how he acted with me, he either really changed a lot or wasn't that bad to begin with." Before Carmen could reply, her brother made a gesture as if pushing a heavy burden to the side. "Point is, he's here! And he's going to eat your food!" In a more normal tone, he finished. "He asked for rissoles with arroz rojo. Let's get them done."

Carmen narrowed her eyes. "We're almost closed. I'm not sure I can have those ready before then. Can't you ask him to order anything simpler?"

"We could close a bit later, can't we? This is an important customer, after all." He looked like he was ready to throw his arms up from the grandeur of his following statement. "And if he likes it, maybe word will spread to Cordoba, and other visitors from there will come here, and we'll get more money!"

Carmen tried not to frown.

"I think we're good on the money front for a while."

Julio folded his arms. "That's why we need to have enough to save up in case we ever end up on the wrong side of poverty again."

Carmen held back her remarks. She could see where Julio was coming from. Even with the café's success, it had taken over a year to pay off all the bills and debts that had built up during the dark period in their lives. Still, she didn't exactly like Julio's excessive concerns with money. They were well off by now, at least enough that she didn't see the need to seek for a source of profit everywhere.

"I'll help you." Julio added, opening his eyes wider and pouting like a puppy.

Carmen sighed. "I think you're overdoing it." She took a deep breath to gather herself. "But let's make the rissoles with arroz rojo."

Julio broke into a relieved smile. "Thank you, Carmen."

Despite herself, Carmen spared him a smile of her own before she put away her pencil and the book she had been writing on.

Here's to hoping he can appreciate good food. She thought as she picked up a piece of bread to be turned into crumbs. She knew some royals could be really picky about what they ate. Granted, that might be undeserved reputation in some cases. She didn't have motives to complain about any of those she had actually met, and no one had ever disliked any of her abuela's dishes.

Carmen closed her eyes, a jolt of pain cutting through her heart. Even years later, she could get bouts of sadness when thinking about abuelita. And she had been getting a lot of those lately with the approaching Navidad.

She willed the thought to leave her brain as she set the bread down on the table and went to get the onion. Her point was, Prince Alonso sounded like he would be the first royal she served who was a picky eater. Though Julio's words had hinted he was trying to be better, it was hard to say if he had become good enough to be polite about food he didn't like. Doña Paloma had spoken of his comments on single lettuce leaves after all.

Well, let him think whatever he thought. Carmen would do the dish he had requested, and would do her best job, like her professional and personal pride always compelled her to.

And if Prince Alonso didn't like it, all the worse for him.

#elena of avalor #fanfic #prince alonso #carmen guzman #alonso x carmen #crackship #belated contribution #elena of avalor ship week

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pizza-is-my-buziness · 7 years

Text

Okay so this one kinda turned into “5 times the team noticed them holding hands when they didn’t think there was anyone around”...if that makes sense?

Also featuring a human Ophelia because I’m trash?

It's late and Piper's tired but her mind is so wired, the way it's been practically since she joined SHIELD but especially since becoming a part of Coulson's team. Honestly there are times where she thinks that if she'd known ahead of time how much this job was going to screw up her sleeping schedule she never would have signed on. They never mentioned Inhumans or killer robots or being on the run from angry government officials when she'd been at the Academy.

Midnight trips around the base, especially to the kitchen, have become a part of her routine. The walking helps; the movement of her muscles helps to unwind her mind and leave her much more successful when she crawls back into bed. Stealing a little bit of chocolate from the kitchen? Yeah, that helps too.

Piper has grown used to this new base in the dark; any good agent would know to avoid the creaking floors, the weak spots that would signal her arrival. She steps around them easily and before she can step into the kitchen, she notices something else: the low murmur of voices from inside the kitchen.

Instantly, Piper stops, tensing. After the weeks she's had recently, she figures no one could blame her for suddenly being on the alert, ready to defend herself from whoever might be lurking in the shadows.

But the voice she recognizes: Agent Simmons, her lilting accent unmistakable. Piper can't make out what she's saying exactly and whoever is answering her is speaking too quietly for her to identify but that doesn't matter. She relaxes, instantly feeling much better. Agent Simmons she trusts, explicitly. She might even be willing to share some of her carefully hidden chocolate.

Piper moves to step into the doorway of the kitchen but stops when her eyes settle on Agent Simmons and her companion. It's Daisy, which isn't all that surprising in itself. She knows that they're friends, that they share an enviable closeness thanks to all they've been through and seen.

What does strike Piper is strange as they way they're standing together in the near perfect darkness of the kitchen. Their proximity isn't that of friends but something more, something more pressing, intimate, important. Daisy reaches for Jemma's hand and she laces their fingers together, holding onto her tightly.

Piper moves out of sight, stepping back into the hallway. She feels guilty for nearly interrupting this quiet, obviously private moment. There's something else tightening in her stomach too, something a bit like jealousy, as she remembers watching Daisy reach for Jemma's hand, the easy way she'd done it, a little gesture to suggest she'd done it a thousand times before.

Quickly, Piper starts back in the direction of her bunk. She'd always argued with the other rookie agents, the lone protester insisting that Jemma and Fitz were just friends and she feels a little private thrill of victory at the thought that she might have been right after all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fitz knows, of course he does. Jemma has always been easy for him to read, her mannerisms and expressions as understandable to him as his own thoughts. Most of the time, anyway. And she'd told him, months before and he'd seen fear in her eyes then instead of excitement, worry about what he might think, about what Daisy might think. I like her, Fitz, she'd whispered in the lab with her eyes on the floor.

So he knows, in an off-handed sort of way. But he'd, well, Fitz doesn't want to say that he'd forgotten because that's not entirely the right word. It had just slipped from the forefront of his mind. Jemma had stopped talking to him about it, stopped bringing it up, and he'd forgotten to ask. The knowledge had been there: Jemma likes Daisy. But it hadn't exactly meant anything.

Until Fitz sees them together in the lab. They're alone and they don't realize that he's stepped inside; this new base isn't quite as fancy as they one they'd just blown up. The door doesn't whisper when Fitz steps up to it; the opens soundlessly as he presses against it with his elbow, looking at something on his tablet.

Jemma is studying a tablet of her own, no doubt pouring over the readings that she's getting from Daisy, connected to various machines by the wires on her skin. Jemma makes a face, no doubt in response to whatever she's seeing on her screen and Daisy mimics her, an easy gesture that catches Fitz's attention and reminds him of the days, years before, when he might have done the same.

He watches as Jemma rolls her eyes, shaking her head, moving to turn away from Daisy. Daisy reaches forward, reaching for her hand. Her fingers hang loosely around Jemma's wrist and it's Jemma who twists her hand away just enough that their fingers hook together.

It's then that Fitz really remembers their conversation, really understands what Jemma had said to him that afternoon. This gesture, so easy and unimportant, suddenly looks so intimate. They aren't holding hands, not really; but they're tethered together, however loosely, however briefly. Momentarily connected.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Daisy is asleep, her forehead pressed uncomfortably to the glass of the Jeep. May can see her in the rearview mirror, the way her brow is furrowed, how her lips are parted slightly, how she looks annoyed and ready for a fight even in sleep.

The rest of the Jeep is quiet, everyone exhausted, momentarily sedate after a successful mission. Beside her, Elena sits, tapping her fingers impatiently against her knee, as though she wishes she could be out and moving, burning off the extra energy still coursing through her body. May almost envies Jemma's seemingly meditative state; she hasn't said a word since they got into the Jeep and Daisy fell asleep and her features betray nothing of how she's currently feeling. May wonders if Jemma hasn't learned more than a thing or two from her after all.

Jemma glances over toward Daisy and May almost misses the faint smile that passes across Jemma's face as she lets her eyes settle on Daisy. But she doesn't miss the way that Jemma reaches for Daisy's hand resting on the seat between them, covering it with her own.

It nearly makes May smile as well, though she returns her attention on the road ahead before anyone can notice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Talbot narrows his eyes. "Nervous, are we?" Figures. Only someone with something to hide would be nervous in a situation like this.

Daisy doesn't say anything. She just narrows her eyes at him from across the table and all the while her leg keeps bouncing, giving away what her scowl does not. The other faces on her side of the table -the annoying British doctor and the terrifying Asian ninja- seem to be taking a page out of Quake's book and giving him a scowl.

Not that their attempts at a death glare bother him. He just points at Daisy. "Stop," he says gruffly. "I don't need any sort of funny business. No earthquakes or anything."

Daisy stills her leg with a final thud of her boot heel but Talbot doesn't feel like he's won this particular argument. He feels like this girl is trying to ruffle his feathers, to make him regret these mandatory SHIELD briefings so that he can keep Coulson and his pet superhero on a tight leash. The rest of them too…he should just build a kennel for all Coulson's pets to keep them out of his way.

"So," Talbot ignores the scowl still on Daisy's face, flipping open a dossier in front of him. "Let's talk about Tulsa last week. Property damage, buildings and cars destroyed, three people in the hospital…" He looks up at Daisy. "I don't remember authorizing any missions to Oklahoma."

Sighing, Daisy shifts in her seat, leaning back. There's something in her eyes, something like regret, something she's not saying…something that makes Talbot want to push her until she tells him everything.

Talbot barely catches movement underneath the table: the doctor reaching out to take Daisy's hand, threading their fingers together and giving her hand a squeeze.

It only makes Talbot all the more suspicious that there's something going on that he really wants to know about. Coulson's team isn't going to keep pulling the wool over his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ophelia is still learning human traits, watching carefully, much more carefully than she did when she was Aida, so she can be sure to get every part of it right. So she can be like them one day, completely and truly. She wants to fit in, though she knows such a thing will never be completely possible. They don't want her there with them but they won't let her go either.

Mostly, she watches Jemma. At first it had been mostly out of self-defense, certain that she needed to guard herself at all times just in case Jemma was prone to that petty human condition of revenge. But now it's mostly out of habit, trying to puzzle through the many facial expressions, the way the body moves and reacts to different types of stimuli.

And she can tell…Dr. Simmons is tense, angry. This is something Ophelia is used to: the tightness in Jemma's shoulders whenever she's around, the way her spine straightens and her chin lifts, almost imperceptibly, like she's on guard around Ophelia in the same way Ophelia is guarding herself around Jemma. She can see the tightness in Jemma's shoulders now, the way her muscles knot between her shoulder blades, the way she holds a little too tightly to anything she happens to pick up.

Right now, they're studying the pieces of a recently acquired 084, something they're trying to keep of Talbot's radar for the time being. And she's there, watching them mostly, but learning too about how to lie and these different pieces of the world, mysterious and unknowable even though she has so much more knowledge than they do.

Ophelia watches Fitz and Coulson puzzle over the pieces but she's more interested in watching Jemma. She's standing off to the side with Daisy, both of their backs to the proceedings going on, a tablet between them. Daisy tilts her head closer to Jemma, saying something that no one else can hear but that makes Jemma shake her head, her shoulders still tense, her body giving her thoughts away.

Daisy reaches for Jemma's free hand, holding onto her tightly; their fingers lace together and Ophelia can see Jemma relax, albeit only marginally. She studies them, tilting her head slightly. "It's interesting to me, that humans do that," she remarks.

Without looking up, Fitz mutters, "You're human now too. You can't keep saying that."

"Right." She nods. "I only mean…I'd thought that hand-holding was purely a romantic thing, a way to express romantic interest and show possession over your partner."

Fitz looks up, confused. He's about to ask her what the hell she's talking about when he glances over and notices Daisy and Jemma, standing off on their own with their hands still linked. He smiles slightly and Ophelia thinks this particular smile is to show happiness for another person.

"Apparently it is supportive," Ophelia adds, wanting to provide more context for her observation. Judging by the tension steadily draining from Jemma's shoulders, she is feeling very supported at the moment.

"It can be both," Fitz says. "Sometimes at the same time."

Ophelia frowns. "Both?" She considers this. "Oh. I…I see…"

She studies Daisy and Jemma with renewed interest and suddenly Jemma's relaxed posture and little smile make more sense. It's sweet, she thinks; especially if it takes away some of Jemma's hard edges.

Surprising but sweet. It seems there's always something new to learn.

#skimmons #bioquake #touch prompts

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sarcasticfina · 7 years

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dear - bonnie/damon -1/1

read: ffnet ↳ please try to leave a comment / like / reblog!

“Your hair is so soft...”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “And you are so drunk.”

“Tipsy,” he corrected.

Shaking her head, a fond smile upturning her lips, she watched as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. It was longer than it’d been the last time she saw him. After spending two years abroad, she’d returned to the States feeling stronger, happier, and more confident in herself. She also returned to find out Damon and Elena had broken up. Elena had moved to Boston for medical school while Damon remained behind, playing surly uncle to Caroline’s daughters.

With a gentle sigh, she rubbed her fingers over his forehead and back through his hair. She wasn’t sure when he’d put his head in her lap, but it was strangely comfortable. In the time she’d been away, she and Damon talked often. Days would pass where all they would do was text back and forth, about anything and everything, and then suddenly, she’d call or he would and they’d spend hours on the phone. Talking about life as a human now, about where she’d been or where she should visit next. In a way, it felt like he was on that journey with her, so entwined with her life as he was. Which was why she was surprised to hear that he and Elena had broken up more than a month ago.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He sighed, long and loud. “About what?”

She cocked her head. “Seriously?”

“What’s there to say?”

“I don’t know... The love of your life packed up and left. I thought you’d have a few things to say, or ask. Like, ‘how do I get her back, Bonnie?’”

Continuing to stroke his fingers through the tails of her hair, he shook his head. “It was a long time coming.”

“Since when?” Her brow furrowed. “You never mentioned anything.”

“No? I didn’t slip how unhappy we were getting into one of our four-hour-long conversations?”

“I think I would’ve remembered...”

Her lips pursed. “Did she say why?”

Bonnie took a moment to reflect on the fact that she had to ask Damon that question, because she and Elena hadn’t talked in, well, at least a month, maybe even two. It wasn’t that she was trying to avoid Elena. She wasn’t. It was just... different. With time and some distance, Bonnie acknowledged that a lot of self-esteem issues stemmed from both family and friends. From the people she surrounded herself with that disregarded the worth of her life. For a long time, Damon would’ve been one of those people. At the top of the list, really. But, things had changed with time, and she recognized that. With Elena, it was different. She wasn’t sure her best friend ever realized just what kind of impact she had on her. How little value either of them put on Bonnie’s life, and what kind of ripple effect that had.

In the end, Bonnie decided, however distantly, that maybe it was better if she and Elena lived separate lives. Especially having completed her ‘find herself’ journey. She was realizing that, in returning home, she wanted to be more careful about who she let get close to her.

“She said I was different. That ‘we’ were different. And it just wasn’t working anymore.” He tied her hair around his forefinger. “You remember the night you left? And you asked me to go with you?”

Bonnie heart thumped. “I don’t blame you for turning me down. In the end, I needed to do it on my own. It was good for me. I found myself out there.”

He hummed. “I regretted it.”

“What?”

“I wish I’d said ‘yes.’” He frowned. “I wanted to. The last thing I wanted to do was hang around here. But.... Elena just got back and Caroline was researching ways to bring Stefan home. I was...”

“You were hopeful. That things might go back to how they were.”

“Yeah.” His brow knotted. “Can’t live in the past, though. Learned that the hard way...”

“Damon...?” She scrubbed her fingers through his hair and tugged so he would raised his eyes to meet hers. “Are you okay?”

He stared at her searchingly. “I’ve spent my whole vampire life living in the past. A hundred and fifty years wasted on chasing Katherine. Another four clinging to someone who looked just like her, trying to fill a crater I wouldn’t even admit existed... And when I finally start falling for someone new, someone good for me, I screwed it up and I ran away. And when I realized my mistake, it was too late. She moved on, found someone that wasn’t such a coward. So, I told myself it was okay, I still had Elena. Only, I didn’t. Not really. And she didn’t have me, either.”

Bonnie could feel her heart pounding just a little too hard; the sound was filling her ears.

The thing was, Bonnie had loved Enzo. She really did. She loved who he was and what he gave her and who she wanted him to be. But, she didn’t love him with all of herself. Because a part of her heart had been holding onto someone else long before Enzo became anything more than a pest. She told herself she didn’t. She told Enzo, too. But, he knew. He knew that she loved Damon in a way that she had trouble describing, made worse by the fact that he’d abandoned her when she’d needed him most. He’d made amends for that, and she’d told herself it was enough. She had Enzo and he would be for her what Damon couldn’t. Only, that part of herself that had loved Damon had never really faded. Instead, it buried itself and hid under the shroud of her love and, later, her loss of Enzo.

At some point, she’d convinced herself, for good reason, that Damon could never be more than he was. Her best friend. And as much as she sometimes wondered if it could be enough, she was also sure that it had to be. He was, and would always be, Elena’s.

Only, he wasn’t.

Not anymore.

“What are you saying?” she asked, her voice careful and neutral.

He stared at her a long moment and then he took a breath. “Dear Bonnie... I am a coward. I should've said this to you a long time ago. But, I know that if I did, I would ruin the one good thing, the best person, in my life... The thing is, I need you. I'll probably always need you more than you'll ever need me. As a friend, as a partner, as the Jiminy Cricket voice of reason I could never be...”

His mouth hitched faintly. “You make me want to be a better person. You make me happy even when I'm at my most miserable. As a lackluster human with a sketchy job history and too much time on his hands, I'm not exactly what you'd call a 'catch,' per se. But, if I don't try now, I'll spend the rest of my life wishing I had.”

He took a deep breath and let it slowly. “So... with the disclaimer that you'll be stuck with me as your mediocre best friend, regardless of how you decide, you should know that I love you. In a cheesy, truly-madly-deeply kind of way. And even though I've only got sixty measly years left in the tank, I'm kind of hoping you'll want to spend them with me in a more-than-friendly kind of way, since I don't want to spend it with anyone else."

Bonnie blinked back the burn of tears in her eyes and stared down at him. “You and Elena only broke up a month ago.”

“After two years of trying to make something work when we both knew it shouldn’t.” He shook his head. “My heart wasn’t in it and she could tell. She’s not happy about it, but better two years than twenty.”

“I don’t know what to say...”

“Tell me the truth.” He half-smiled, but it was more sad than anything. “I can take it.”

“You think I’m going to reject you?”

“Aren’t you?”

She rubbed her thumb over his temple. “Dear Damon... You’re not the only coward... Before you left, I realized something. You were... the most important person in my life. You were my rock, my best friend, and I didn’t know what I’d do without you....” She bit her lip. “And when you were gone, when I had to find out, I knew that what I felt for you, how much I missed you, it was more than how a friend feels. It was...” She closed her eyes. “I loved you.”

His fingers gently coiled around her chin.

A tear slipped down her cheek and Bonnie opened her eyes to meet his once more. “And you broke my heart.”

He flinched.

“I wanted to hate you. Sometimes I even convinced myself I did. But, you are...” She smiled despite herself. “A fever I just can’t shake...”

His thumb stroked along her jaw.

“I loved Enzo. But, I loved you, too. Even when you weren’t there. When I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back...” Her voice caught. “And when you did, I wanted you to feel what I felt. I wanted you to know how much it hurt, how lonely I was... How much I needed you... So, I told myself to let it go. Let you go. I had Enzo and he was... He was there and he loved me and I had hoped that we could be enough for each other. That if I tried, if I really tried, then maybe I could love him as much or more than I loved you... But, we both know how that ended...”

She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “I never stopped. With or without Enzo. Here or while I was traveling... I still loved you. Even now. I came home thinking you’d be happy with Elena. That nothing could ever change that or come between you...”

She looked down at him, staring back at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know if ‘happily ever after’ is just a fairy tale we tell ourselves to get through the bad days. But, I’m here and I love you and I want to see where this goes.”

He stared up at her a beat, and then a slow smile stretched across his mouth. He huffed a laugh and leaned up, until the tips of their noses bumped each other. “You forgot to sign off.”

“So did you.”

His palm cupped her cheek gently. “Yours, Damon Salvatore.”

Bonnie’s heart soared. “All my love, Bonnie Bennett.”

He laughed as he kissed her, and she did, too.

Maybe it wasn’t a love story for the ages. Maybe their happily ever after would be a little more complicated than most. (They did live in Mystic Falls, after all). But, it was theirs, and she couldn’t wait for it to unfold. She had a feeling that it was going to be amazing.

#bamon #bamon fic #fanfic

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sueboohscorner · 7 years

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The Vampire Diaries 811 Recap "You Made a Choice to Be Good" #TVD

This week, The Vampire Diaries one-upped its own history of downer plot twists. I remember being devastated when Damon failed to come back from the Other Side as it was erased, but I also knew the odds were in our favor--there was very little chance he and Bonnie would not find their way back. I remember a couple of years before, when Alaric was corrupted and used as a weapon, then discarded and lost to us. Alaric was my favorite character, and losing him sucked. (Seeing him come back for a visit the following year was awesome, and I've been so glad to have him back for real.) But last night, the final season of TVD may have taken too much from us.

The episode opened on a sunny day in Mystic Falls. Bonnie, high on love, cheerfully chats with the dapper gentleman behind her in the coffee shop queue. She's never seen Cade before, and without her magic, she can't tell she's in the presence of soul-searing danger. Once she's gone, Cade blithely kicks off a homicidal rage between the barista and his boss by revealing the former has been nailing the latter's wife. We are reminded by this scene that Cade is a mind-reader. This is important, and there's no use hoping he didn't recognize Bonnie and know her mind was worth reading.

On the town square, new sheriff Matt Donovan (it's a short interview loop when no one else wants the job with a shockingly disproportionate death rate) presides over Time Capsule Day. The school kids have dug up the original founders' treasure chest, dating back to 1790. Among the standard items all TV shows to decorate sets for archaeological digs, there are some items Matt only recently has come to know are associated with his own ancestors. A mysterious metal plate with strategically placed slots catches his eye, and he gets Dorian to work on identifying its purpose.

Caroline is also at the town square, and her relentless optimism and faith in people is clearly beginning to grate on Matt. The way she sees it, she's got Stefan locked in the basement, and they'll figure out how to get him back to himself again. Matt isn't feeling so generous of spirit, though. He points out how hard it is to just keep giving Stefan a pass on all the horrible stuff he does. I will point out that only last week, he said basically the opposite about Damon, and I don't think that's inconsistency or hypocrisy; I think it's yet another outright acknowledgment that Stefan is the worse guy, deep down. Stefan's humanity is like a leash on a rabid dog.

Damon is on guard duty, and he gets a very nasty surprise in Stefan's cell: Stefan's gone, and Cade is here for a visit. Cade isn't interested in Damon's change of heart about working for the devil. He gives Damon a simple challenge: Kill 100 evil strangers, or kill the girl your brother loves. Quantity or quality.

Damon is really overconfident and wastes a lot of time trying to avoid this ultimatum, but Cade keeps reminding him that he's psychic and unkillable. It feels like a waste of time and energy, rather than a well-conceived plan of any kind. I'm reminded of Buffy saying, "That's not a plan! That's not even a pluhh!"

In fact, Caroline will call this out for us. When Damon fills her in on the dumbass antics he's been wasting the day with, she says, "I thought you weren't going to do anything stupid!"

"When did I ever promise that?" he responds. Fair enough, Damon.

Nowhere near Mystic Falls, Enzo and Bonnie are driving the hell bell far away for safe keeping. Along the way, with the notion of Enzo taking the cure on their minds, Bonnie encourages him to do whatever's on his bucket list. They're having a beautiful day of fun and romantic planning for the future, and we should know better than to believe in this.

When they arrive at their destination, Bonnie explains she bought this house with her inheritance, and no one else should even know about it...it's where she's hiding Elena's coffin for safekeeping. She invites Enzo in, and he carries her over the threshold, promising, "Someday, we'll do that for real."

Now that they're right here in the same house with the cure, it feels like a more immediate choice, and Enzo's ready to make it. They are on the verge of starting their life together, it seems.

Not so fast, though. Damon has a plan to use the cure on Cade, rendering him killable. Then, he promises, Enzo can have it afterward, and Damon himself will still take it once Elena awakens. Everybody wins...if all goes according to plan, and when has that ever happened?

But we've all probably forgotten about where Stefan disappeared to after Cade freed him. More fool us. He pulls up alongside a realtor at a gas station and goes from cheerful stranger to mega-creeper in under a minute. It's clear this isn't random; Cade sent him to find this woman.

Meanwhile, back at the Mystic Grill, Caroline is trying to give Matt and Dorian some supernatural insurance on this dangerous occasion. Matt's having none of it, and he talks some serious smack about the vampirism lifestyle choice. (He's not wrong, but to be fair, Caroline was vamped against her will by Katherine, so he's being a little harsh.) Dorian's on the fence, and we get some backstory on him finally, about how his family has long believed they are cursed--hence, his lifelong fascination with the supernatural. Now that he actually knows the supernatural is real, he's toying with going all in.

Cade shows up to terrorize the Grill patrons, announcing his victims' sins before killing them. While Matt leads the evacuation, Damon tries to stall Cade, draining a woman at random to appease him. At the sight of an actual vamp murder, Dorian's brief flirtation with immortality sours. Cade mocks Damon's efforts, noting that this woman was a perfectly fine person, so her death is without value to him.

Then Cade drops the bomb, and we should have probably seen this one coming. That deal he offered Damon earlier, about quality vs. quantity? He made the same offer to Stefan, and Stefan chose the quality death. He left town this morning to go after Elena.

Naturally, when Cade interacted with Bonnie at the coffee shop, he dug into her mind to learn the secrets of where Elena's coffin is stashed and the name of the realtor who handled the sale. That's the woman Stefan has shanghaied all afternoon and compelled to help him with another transaction: transferring the house out of Bonnie's name and into her own, so she can invite Stefan in.

While the paperwork is being done, Bonnie and Enzo are having another wonderful romantic moment...and then he is suddenly sucked out the door. Bonnie tries to invite him back in, and she can't, so they figure it's definitely time to go. And here's what a sucker I am: During this whole scene, I'm thinking they'll be gone in a moment, and then the cliffhanging danger will be that Stefan can walk right into the house where Elena still sleeps.

(Okay, and this is a major aside, but I can't help getting stuck on it...how is this possible? How can you transfer ownership of a property without the consent of the current owner? Any real estate agents or lawyers out there reading this, please feel free to comment even just to say whether this is a remotely plausible scenario.)

Bonnie's extracting some blood from Elena, wondering aloud how much she needs to take in order to get a dose of the cure. Enzo is still at the open door, keeping up his end of the conversation...until he's not. The silence alarms Bonnie, and she rushes into the foyer just in time to see Enzo's heart being ripped out.

And here's where I shut down and just started waiting for the reveal that it was a hallucination or a vision of a possible future that now will time loop so we can avoid it or that Enzo is unkillable the way Damon was earlier this year when Alaric staked him. (It's still not impossible...they can still walk this back, and I won't give up on that possibility until the credits roll on the series finale.)

Bonnie's enraged and in shock. Stefan saunters in and laughs at her for bothering to arm herself against him. He grabs her stake-holding hand but doesn't notice her other hand, which still holds the hypodermic needle full of Elena's blood. She stabs him with it, bringing him down and presumably rendering him mortal. She rushes out to where Enzo lies on the porch, dessicating. As she screams her rage and loss, a rippling, booming special effect comes off her in waves, implying that her emotional state has triggered the return of her magic.

I loved Bonnie and Enzo together. They were just featured in our Suebooh's Corner Valentine's Day countdown of TV's best couples (I nominated them). Enzo spent his impossibly long life being rejected, deceived, used, and betrayed. Then he found Bonnie, and he finally had a life worth living. Love brought out the best in him, and their relationship became the thing to root for. With all she's lost over the years of giving everything for her friends and for the world, she deserved a happy ending. So did he. They fought so hard to keep their crazy lives from coming between them, and they were on the verge of having it all. If he's really dead, I don't know if anything that happens in the final five episodes will feel like a win.

So come on, TVD, fix this. Let Bonnie's surge of returning magic be so powerful it can restore Enzo to life. I promise not to nitpick whatever twist you choose to bring Enzo back.

#The Vampire Diaries #the cw #Friday night TV shows #Enzo #Bonnie Bennett #Damon Salvatore #Stefan Salvatore #Matt Donovan #Caroline Forbes

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missnmikaelson-main · 4 years

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Addicted - Chapter 19

Down she went, following the narrowing beam of light.

Pressure crushed her arms and legs, but she kept on swimming. She swam past the sound of her mom’s scream and her dad’s assurance that everything would be alright. She kicked her legs as her own panicked voice circled around.

She could see the shining exterior of the car, dull behind the light and empty of inhabitants; she used it to pull herself around and grasp the handle.

Her lungs burned, but nothing could hurt her in a dream, right?

She pulled.

“You were helping this guy?” Rebekah tightened the chains around Alistair’s wrists, hoisting him higher. Her eyes lit on the inflamed mark on his lower arm.

“It wasn’t like I knew any better.” Marcel narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the bite. He didn’t have to ask if Klaus had finally broken his curse, the infection answered that question. He was surprised however by his sire’s restraint. There had been a time when the Original would have ripped out Alistair’s heart, or divested him of his head, but Klaus had administered a relatively shallow bite far from major arteries and veins; the toxin would take hours to reach his heart.

“You could have asked,” she dug her nails into Alistair’s chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure that she liked Elena Gilbert, or her ‘relationship’ with her brother, but that child was family and they hadn’t had a new member of the family in so long. Her pupils dilated slightly. “You tried to steal something very special from us. Children are a precious gift, wouldn’t you agree?”

He nodded a jerking movement that only dug her nails in farther.

“My brother’s bite is toxic,” she leaned back on her heels, inspecting the damage. “It will be slow, and it will be agonizing. And long before it’s done the fever will bring hallucinations; I thought I’d help it along and give you a little head start.”

Marcel resisted the urge to shudder when he caught a glimpse of her face. The angelic smile was maniacal and sickeningly sweet, painting her as a greater threat in that instance than Kol. And after Kol had put on his little Shakespeare show it took a lot for him to rank someone as worse than the psychotic maniac who had planned to kill him.

“You’re going to dream Alistair,” she hummed. “From now until the moment your heart stops, you will dream of your wife and your child.” She reached into his mind, finding the memories he sought to hide of a young woman before a bassinet. “Nothing happy I’m afraid,” she sighed, as if in apology. “Because whatever you see – however peaceful the vision appears – you will always slaughter them both, and you will re-live the pain each and every time.” She walked backwards, eyes sparkling as she retreated. “Frightful dreams, darling.”

Her eyes cut to Marcel, watching as he opened the door that would lead back to the main part of the basement.

“You could have asked more questions,” she repeated, crossing her arms.

“He said he had to get the doppelganger before the Originals could,” he snapped, shutting the cell door. “That was more than enough for me.”

“You would have hidden a human doppelganger from your own family,” she shoved his chest, pushing him up against rough stone. “You know how important her kind is. You know that Nik spent centuries looking for one.”

“And just like that I should have handed her over?” His eyes hardened.

“She’s not in danger from us!” Rebekah threw up her hands. “But even if she was you should have. I remember a time when you would have done anything to help your family – no matter who got hurt in the process.”

“And I remember my family abandoning me to the flames,” he grabbed her wrists, spinning around and pinning her in his place.

The light dimmed in her eyes, shadowed by a century of sorrow.

“We thought you were dead,” she breathed out, slowly. “I thought you were dead.”

“You never looked back long enough to find out,” he tightened his hold on her wrists, eyes flickering over her face.

“We were running for our lives,” she shook her head, “and you were dead on the stage.”

“Only I wasn’t.” His jaw clenched before he shook his head, laughing softly. “You know, a part of me always thought you’d come back one day, but now it’s abundantly clear that you’ve made a life somewhere else.”

“We haven’t…”

“You have,” he let go of her arms and stepped back, looking away. “I’ll help you find the girl. I’ve got people everywhere, so someone’s bound to have seen her, but answer me this, Rebekah.”

Her arms slid down to her hips, delicate skin scratching over stone.

“How long until you abandon her?”

++++

Her fingers slipped on the handle. She grabbed it again and pulled, planting her feet on the side of the car.

From inside she heard the barest whisper.

“What do I want, stranger who has all the answers?”

The door gave way; the water pushed her forward into darkness.

++++

“Caroline,” Marcel shut the door to the cellar, “that was your name right?”

“Yeah,” she straightened up; lowering the map she was reviewing with Kol.

He paused on the way towards the blonde, glancing around the deserted corridor; only Kol remained with Caroline and the witch.

“Where’d they go?”

“Elijah and Nik split up to look,” Kol folded the map. “We were just about to set out as well.”

“Did you need something?” She shoved her hand into her pocket to retrieve her ringing cell phone. “Just hang on a sec. Jeremy?” She answered the phone, pausing to listen. “No, we haven’t found her yet… yes; I realize that Jenna is freaking out.”

Kol lifted the phone from her hand.

“Don’t bring her down her, mate. The last thing we need is a newly turned vampire in a city this big.”

“We’ll call when we find her,” Caroline promised. She took back her phone and hung up. “Now,” her eyes flickered to Marcel, sparing a quick glance for Rebekah. “What do you need?”

“A picture of Elena.” He pulled out his phone, rattling off the number as Caroline typed. When the image arrived he sent out a group text.

“What are you doing?” Rebekah leaned over his arm to watch.

“Filing the missing person’s report,” he tucked his phone back in his pocket. “While we wait I thought your other friend here might try another locator spell.”

“I tried four,” Bonnie scoffed. She dragged her toes over the cobblestones, scuffing her shoes beyond repair. “I can’t find her.”

“Maybe you can with a power boost.”

“I’m already channeling a hundred dead witches.” She flexed her fingers, feeling the energy jump beneath her skin.

“So let’s add something new,” the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Something new,” Kol cocked an eyebrow.

“A supernatural force – the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

++++

Klaus flipped his phone around from the compelled local and did a poor job tempering his growl; it was almost amusing how fast the kid ran off… almost.

He regretted immediately sending his hybrids out now, and not taking the time to call them all back in – they would have been useful and cut down on search time – but he had rushed headlong towards New Orleans when she spoke, certain that finding her would be much easier.

The best thing she could have done was stepped into a human home, but without knowing anyone in the city that was unlikely, so his best hope at the moment was public places; surely she would have stuck to one of them, making locating her all the simpler.

So far the cauldron and the quarter had come up empty.

“Where are you, love?” He stared down at the phone and the only photograph he had. Countless sketches and paintings littered his art studio, for every landscape or abstract there were two of her, but only one picture. It was one she had taken herself when she discovered his phone was empty.

“What kind of person doesn’t have any pictures?” She frowned down at the blank screen, but the corner of her mouth quirked up – how could it not when his fingers teased her inner thigh?

“The kind that prefers to paint,” he murmured, lips against her breast. “If I want an image I’ll make it myself.”

“I’ve seen those ‘images’,” her fingers threaded through his hair.

“You’ve posed for those ‘images’,” he urged her legs apart, capturing a hard nipple with his teeth.

“They’re too perfect,” she protested. Her hips rolled towards his fingers. “People aren’t that perfect.”

“You are.”

She had dropped the subject and his phone after that, but when he woke up the next morning to an empty bed he had found the pillow occupied with his cell phone and a single picture in the gallery.

His eyes traced the image, taking in her slight mussed hair and the shadows under her lively eyes. The text he had sent – ‘still perfect’ – had gained him an early morning phone call and the sound of her exhausted laugh: the by-product of their late night activities.

His phone rang, disturbing the image with the caller ID.

“Kol,” his greeting was clipped.

“Marcel got word back from some of his ‘guys’,” derision laced his tone, “and three of them ran into Elena shortly after she was talking to you.”

“Are they sure it was her?” He reached out, bracing one hand on a pillar.

“Apparently it’s hard to forget the face of a woman yelling at you in the middle of the street,” Kol drawled.

“Your girl’s got some anger issues,” a second voice grumbled in the background. It was swiftly followed by Marcel assuring ‘Diego’ that said girl had a right to be angry at the moment.

“Where is she?” Klaus growled cutting off the rambling. He didn’t recognize the man Kol handed his phone off to.

“She was outside the Jardin Gris. That little witch tossed three vampires.”

“Elena’s not a witch,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Maybe not, Nik,” Rebekah joined in the conversation, taking the phone from Diego, “but the Petrova family are travellers. Didn’t some of Katerina’s siblings fight back when you were slaughtering them?”

He straightened his spine, remembering the slip of a girl who had pushed him away. Her power had been new and untampered, but there had been power there.

“Katerina is her ancestor, so technically the power would have been passed on. Plus she’s carrying a little witch or warlock so she could have been channeling the baby.”

“It’s not unheard of for human mothers to access their witch child’s power while the baby is in the womb,” Kol spoke up. “It’s rare, but it happens.”

“The more likely scenario is traveller.”

Klaus cut in before his siblings could get into a row and cost precious time. “Where is she now?” He heard Rebekah take a deep breath, and what sounded like a body hitting a wall.

“They don’t know, by the time the vampires got back up Elena and the wolf she was with were gone. Apparently a couple of locals said a warlock got involved too at that point, but nobody has a name.”

“May I,” Marcel’s voice floated through the receiver; it came out clearer after a second. “Listen, my guys said the wolf was all protective of her, so there’s a good chance he’s hiding her, but since your witch…”

“BONNIE!”

“Bonnie,” he amended, “couldn’t locate her it’s safe to say that whatever warlock got involved is cloaking her.”

“I thought no magic happened that you weren’t aware of,” he clenched his fingers.

“It doesn’t… not in the city anyway. Out in the bayou though…”

“The bayou would take days to scour – even with all of us looking. Don’t suppose I could trouble you for some of your ‘guys’?” He bit down on his tongue.

“Nah-uh, that’s where my help ends. The bayou’s crawling with werewolves that are cursed to be wolves on all but the full moon, and I’m not gonna subject my people to the same toxin you hit Alistair with.”

“My blood can heal that bite.”

“You’d have to scatter out there, and what are the odds you’d find anyone bitten before the poison kills ‘em? I’m not risking that. You can head out there and start searching, and with any luck Bonnie can narrow down the location for you.”

++++

He hung up the phone before Klaus could respond and took the steps behind the reliquary two at a time, leading the way up to the attic. The door swung inwards, revealing a cluttered bedroom.

A silent girl sat cross legged in the middle of her bed. A white canopy fanned out around her.

“That’s the witch that’s gonna help?” Kol ran his eyes over the girl’s features. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

“Yup.”

Rebekah attempted to take a step into the room only to find a barrier holding her out.

“You gotta ask the lady of the house for an invitation,” Marcel inclined his head towards the girl.

“I don’t,” Bonnie approached the bed. “Doesn’t look like she’s going to be issuing invitations anytime soon.”

“In that case,” Rebekah spun on her heel, “I’m gonna go help Nik. Kol?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“I’ll go too,” Caroline backed up.

The sound of Kol clearing his throat made Rebekah pause at the top of the stairs and glance back, watching his back as he tensed.

“Maybe you should stay with Bonnie?”

“Bonnie just whooped Klaus and Alistair,” she narrowed her eyes, “she can handle herself.”

“I really can,” Bonnie called, bending slightly to inspect the edge of a bobby pin in the girl’s hand.

Caroline moved to follow after Rebekah; Kol stopped her with both hands on her shoulders.

“My concern was not for Bonnie, darling,” he met her glare with one of his own. “Marcel’s right about the risk. If you get bitten there’s a chance we wouldn’t get you to Nik in time, so you should stay here until we have a more solid lead.”

Her eyes flashed, churning like the sea during a storm.

“Unless of course, you want to die an unpleasant death,” he tilted his head to the side.

She gritted her teeth. “Fine, but the second there’s an actual location I’m going out there.”

“Figured you would,” he chuckled.

++++

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the shaft of sunlight; it filtered through the curtains, and she held up a hand to protect her sensitive vision. It took a moment before she could think to sit up.

Her breath caught as she took in her bedroom. Her fingers curled into a soft blanket covered in roses, for a brief moment an image flashed in her mind; she saw her parents larger than life and heard a baby gurgle.

She dropped the blanket and got to her feet, moving towards the shelf. Toys she vaguely recalled lined the wood along with pictures and drawings. She left them all untouched as some moments were meant to be.

++++

Davina snapped back into her body and jolted, sucking in a lungful of air. Her eyes darted around the room from Marcel to the vampire outside her door and back before settling on the witch at her bedside.

“You were using magic earlier.”

“She was looking for Elena,” Marcel nodded.

“How do you know her name?” Davina’s eyes narrowed.

“Because she’s our best friend,” the witch waved one hand towards the door. “I’m Bonnie.”

“Davina,” she regarded the witch carefully.

“I was hoping you’d help me find her, Davina.”

“She’s cloaked,” she shook her head.

“I know,” Bonnie reached into her bag for the map. “I thought you and I could break through it together. I’m channeling a hundred witches and you’re…” her eyes flickered to Marcel. “I don’t really know what you are, but Marcel says you’re powerful.”

++++

Her bureau held an assortment of jewelry. A sparkling pair of ruby earrings gave her a vision of her grandmother on a Christmas morning far gone. She recognized her only from the photographs that had decorated their mantle since Gran had passed when she was four years old, but the memory played out in her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

She backed away from the baubles; they weren’t the reason she was there.

She made a slow circle of the room, and found one thing to be missing, at least from her plain view.

She moved to the window, lifting the portrait of a horse away from the wall and reaching behind. Her fingers closed on cool leather.

++++

She texted Elijah as Kol drove, speeding through winding roads.

“You like her,” she glanced up.

“What?” He scanned the side of the road, selecting a spot to begin their search.

“Caroline,” Rebekah clarified, pointing to a small clearing for him to park, “you like her.”

“Did my blatant flirting give it away?” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. Her arms crossed over her chest. “You flirt with everyone.”

“You’re not still sore about poor Georgie, are you?” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk and he cast a sidelong look in her direction.

“I had my eye on him for weeks, and then found him in your bed,” she gritted her teeth, but her voice still resembled a whine. She hated the way it made her sound like an insolent child.

“He still would have had you,” mirth laced his tone. “Probably would have tried for Nik too.”

“We’re getting off topic,” she punched his arm, “the important thing here is that you like her, and you’re not just flirting.”

“Of course I am,” he stepped out of the car. “Like you said, I flirt with everyone.”

“Yeah,” her shoes sank into the bog, “and then you sleep with them or feed on them. You only go out of your way to protect the ones you care about.”

++++

She cradled the green journal to her chest, lowering herself into the window seat.

She had watched the Harry Potter films with Bonnie and Caroline years ago, and as she held her journal she was struck with the image of a young Harry sneaking through the restricted section while books whispered to him from the shelves.

The journal was whispering words so quiet she couldn’t hear make them out; they were little more than a breath of wind rising up to ruffle her hair.

With shaking fingers she pulled the flap loose and flipped open the first page before thinking better of it and turning to the back. She ignored the looping letters as she worked backwards through entries until she found the day after the sacrifice.

Drawing in a deep breath she began to read.

@klaroline-4ever @cry-btch @xanderling @kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @morsmornte @geekofmanyfandoms @eternityunicorn

#addicted fic #klena #klaus x elena

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

Part 1 - 18 +

He listened to the sound of the front door opening. The woman's gait was familiar.

He knew why she was there. She snuck into the mansion at least four nights a week, and sometimes during the day.

He wasn't sure if she believed him when he told her the reason for her increasing desire, but he had been honest with her. He thought that part of her might be accepting of the truth, but as a woman of the twenty-first century she was not quite willing to admit that she belonged to anyone else; not yet at least, but that didn't stop her from seeking her release at his hand.

She was his. His mate.

He knew she didn't sleep well when she wasn't with him because he didn't sleep well, but she rarely remained until morning.

He had felt it that first night in the quarry when he touched her, but like the self-destructive fool that he was he had gone through with his plan; believing he could live life without her because he always had. The relief he had felt on finding her alive was palpable, but it had her several weeks to come to his bed; the night of the full moon.

Her need for him seemed to increase on that particular night, and he knew to expect her.

The sound of her heart beat entering the studio was what made him glance up from his palette. The flush clinging to her skin told him she was desperate; the sight was beautiful, exquisite and enough to make his jeans feel even tighter than they were, but instant gratification wasn't everything and he was a tad upset with her for leaving the other night without waking him.

"Take off your clothes," his eyes darkened.

She complied instantly, reaching to hastily yank her black t-shirt over her head. She paused when he growled.

"Slowly."

She shivered and popped the button on her jeans, turning around to shimmy out of the constricting material giving him a good long look at her naked core.

"Such a naughty girl," he chuckled. "Where are your panties, love?"

"They would have been ruined," she met his eyes over her shoulder while unhooking her bra, "or, knowing you, been shredded."

She let the lace drop to the floor and turned to face him, nipples pebbling in the cool air. Her eyes roamed over him quickly.

"Are you going to undress?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Not yet," he smirked.

"Klaus…"

"I know you're desperate, sweetheart, but if you want satisfaction tonight you'll have to earn it." He held up his hand, cutting off her protest and motioning to the couch.

A wave of desire swept over her under his commanding gaze. She loved it, though she wouldn't admit it, when he was bossy, when he felt the need to assert his alpha male status.

"Lay down."

She moved quickly to follow his instructions making sure to sway her hips a little more than usual on the way to the leather sofa. With her head propped on a red cushion she met his dark eyes.

"Spread your legs," he nodded when she complied, "now place your left hand below your breasts, and your right hand on your thigh."

She trailed her fingers over her smooth skin, from her knee to her thigh, until she could feel the heat radiating from her core. Any other night when he would display this side she might have pushed him, dipping her fingers into her slit, for the promise of a punishment, but on this night she was desperate for release; if she tried his temper he would delight in torturing her, keeping her on edge for hours and if she was lucky she would get to finish, but more often than not she was left wanting in those situations until the next time she made her way to the mansion.

"Now don't move," he smirked.

She bit her bottom lip and watched through lidded eyes as he began to paint. She might have thought from his disinterested gaze that he was unaffected by her nakedness and clear arousal, but a glance at his jeans proved her wrong.

Every time he would look at her, scrutinize her, inspect her she felt her arousal grow and knew he could smell her. She wondered if he would notice her fingers slipping upwards a fraction of an inch.

She slipped her index finger between her slippery folds but before she could reach an area that might have provided her with a sense of relief her wrist was grabbed and pinned above her head.

"I told you not to move," he growled.

"You were done," she tilted her head. "Come on, Klaus," she tried to hook her legs around his waist, "I need you."

"Then you should have listened." His eyes slid over her flushed skin. "I think you deserve a punishment, don't you sweetheart?"

Her body throbbed at his tone. She tried not to make her nod too eager, but knew she failed by the look in his eyes.

Her head spun when the room blurred and she found herself kneeling on the couch leaning over the back with the hard ridge digging into her ribs. Her eyes fluttered shut when he leaned over placing butterfly kisses over her shoulder moving in a line to her ear.

His breath fanned over her neck when he tugged on her ear and told her to count.

The sound of the blow was clear, a distinctive slap of skin on skin that sent a flood of desire to her aching core. Her count came out in a whisper, and by the time he got to thirty she knew her behind had a few bruises and her juices were running down her thighs.

There were days when she liked a little pain with her pleasure, and they always seemed to coincide with the full moon. He always found some excuse to darken her skin before taking her so every thrust of his hard cock brought her delicious pleasure and a touch of pain when he hit the bruised skin.

If anyone were to ever ask her she would have denied loving it, but she did love it, and nobody ever questioned it because he insisted on healing her before she left. Full moons were the only nights he wouldn't let her sneak out without healing her body; he tended to be rougher than normal those nights.

"Good girl," he squeezed her ass, admiring the bruises and paint stains his hands had left behind, "now, tell me what you want."

She moaned when his fingers dipped into her drenched center and rocked back as he pumped in and out twice, whimpering when he stopped.

"Did I say you could move?" He pulled his fingers free.

"No, sir," she gripped the back of the couch to keep herself still. Closing her eyes to think about what she wanted most right then, but it didn't matter because she had moved and earned herself another punishment; she wouldn't receive her release for a while yet.

"Turn around," he commanded, "and sit down."

She nodded, spinning on the couch and placing her weight on her sore ass; hissing at the sudden sting. Her eyes lifted to watch as he finally tore his Henley over his head.

She gritted her teeth to keep from surging forward and running her tongue over his toned stomach, remaining perfectly still as he stepped out of his shoes, jeans, and finally his boxer briefs.

Her mouth watered when his cock sprung up in front of her face. She would have preferred the organ in another orifice but she knew she'd have to work up to that, besides she liked taking him in her mouth; it was insanely hot seeing him lose control because of her talented mouth.

She waited for his nod before taking him in her hand and pumping a few times before closing her lips around his head, swirling her tongue around before beginning to bob her head up and down taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat.

"That's it, love," he groaned, watching his length vanish into her delicate throat, "suck my cock like the talented little slut you are."

Elena renewed her efforts spurred on by his praise and the pleased sounds falling from his lips. She wanted to grin when he grabbed a fistful of her glossy hair and began fucking her face like she wanted him to take her cunt.

He released her hair after burying himself in her throat, but she stayed still and took shallow breaths through her nose.

She licked her lips when he finally fell from her mouth with a wet pop and felt herself being pulled to her feet. The studio blurred around her and the next thing she knew her body was bouncing on the Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed.

She spread her thighs invitingly and grasped the back of his neck when he settled in the place he had claimed as his own. Her lips parted for his heated kiss, moaning into his mouth with each swipe of his tongue.

"A little anxious sweetheart?" His hand slipped between her thighs to her grasping cunt.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes. "Any other time I wouldn't mind your teasing, but not tonight."

"Good," he growled, sinking into her pliant body with one smooth thrust, "because I can't wait any longer to be buried in you."

Her back arched from the bed when his mouth fell to her breasts, tongue and teeth stimulating her nipples. She tried to keep up with him, but it seemed he was even more desperate than she was because he was moving too fast for her.

She did a marginally better job when he flipped her over unto her hands and knees and fucked her from behind. Every thrust of his thick cock into her dripping cunt hit her g-spot sending her hurtling up and over the edge.

She had just enough time to recognize the shift in his mood from dominating to giving before she was lost to her own pleasure; endless waves of it crashing over her for several minutes until she collapsed, spent, with him half on top of her.

She panted in an attempt to catch her breath and cast her eyes to the sheets.

"Is… is that blood?" She turned slightly to look over her shoulder. She didn't remember feeling him bite her, but that didn't mean he hadn't.

"No," he rolled onto his back and pulled her to straddle him, "that would be paint."

Elena gasped when his renewed erection pushed into her body, tossing her head back. She hummed planting her hands on his chest and setting a slow pace so she could relish the feel of him moving in and out of her, stretching her just right, and the ache that shot through her ass every time the flesh came into contact with his thighs.

"I'm gonna need a shower," her lidded eyes darted to the stains that had clearly come from her body.

"After," his hands slid up to her breasts, squeezing and tweaking her nipples making her cry out. "I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

The statement thrilled her.

"And when will you be done?" She moaned loudly when he reached for her clit and sat up to nip at her ear.

"I'll be done when you can't remember your own name," he growled. "I'll be done when I've marked you as mine." His teeth tugged at her carotid artery creating a bruise. "I'll be done when I've filled your womb and it overflows. Until my seed is leaking from your tight cunt," his hand slid down her back and between her cheeks, a single finger pushing into her bum, "and your pert little arse."

"What makes you think I'm gonna let you fuck my ass tonight?" She shuddered, rocking against his hand.

"You're going to beg me to take you here," he chuckled darkly. "You always do."

"Tactless of you to remind me," she rolled her eyes.

"If you want a gentleman, Elena," he pulled his finger from her ass and pressed it to her bottom lip, smirking when she sucked it clean and moaned at the taste, "then I'm afraid you've got the wrong Mikaelson brother."

++++

"I can't stay," she hummed, running her fingertips over the feather tattooed on his shoulder.

She knew she should roll out of the bed, locate her clothes in the studio and go home, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She was so comfortable, so blissfully content, so deliciously sated.

"You're not moving," his hand ghosted over her hip.

It was a simple statement of fact. The hold he held on her was loose as he stroked up and down her back while pressing light kisses to her hair, so light she wasn't sure they were truly there. The motions were incredibly soothing and were slowly lulling her towards a fitful sleep.

"I will," she mumbled, "when I think my legs can support me."

She looked up through her lashes when he rolled onto his side.

Draping his left arm over her waist he hooked her thigh over his hip and brushed his lips along her cheek. The fact that his mouth was still swollen from their earlier activities made her feel giddy.

"What are you doing?" Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

"Helping you regain feeling." His hand grazed the healed skin before kneading small circles into her leg.

She gasped when he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth and laved kisses down her throat.

"That's gonna have the opposite effect," she rocked down instinctively to feel his renewed erection. "Have you ever heard of a refractory period?"

"I gave you one," his hot breath fanned over her neck.

Her eyes drifted shut as her lips parted for his tongue. Her hips rolled shamelessly downwards making him slide through her slick folds.

Lining himself up he sank into her body and broke their kiss to rest his brow against hers and groan.

"You are unbelievably tight," he gripped her hip for leverage and began rocking into her; slowly and occasionally dragging his cock against swollen clit.

She moaned softly.

"If I didn't know any better…" she gasped when he shifted his angle hitting the spot inside her that always made her see stars, and for a moment was silent before finding her voice again, "… I'd think you were trying to wear me out."

"Maybe I just want to fuck you into submission," he dragged his lips along her shoulder.

They both knew he had done that weeks ago. They both knew she was addicted to him as he was to her.

"Or," he murmured, "maybe I do want to wear you out. Maybe I want you to pass out in my bed, so satisfied that you can't move for hours; your legs turned to liquid so you can't run off again, so I finally get the chance to wake you up in the morning."

Her skin tingled beneath his wandering hand. Her pebbled nipples dragged over his chest with each ragged breath she drew in.

He smirked and rolled her onto her back hoisting her legs up over her head. He increased the speed of his thrusts and heard her breathing turn to pants.

"Harder Klaus, please," she wrapped her fingers around her ankles and struggled to focus on his eyes. "I can feel your cock throbbing."

A few weeks ago she would have blushed at the vulgar language falling from her own lips, but her time in his bed had loosened her tongue; mainly because he wanted to hear her desires.

She tossed her head back when he grunted and sped up, every long thrust hitting just the right spot.

"Mm," her eyes fluttered closed. She wanted to keep them open but it was impossible with the pleasure he was causing, and she hadn't even come apart yet. "You feel amazing… oh… right there…"

Her arms gave out and fell at her sides. She was vaguely aware of his hands holding her legs up and the harsh snap of his hips as he drove into her warm body, pounding her at a punishing pace that sent her into a spiral of bliss. She fell down from a high precipice releasing a string of filthy moans and incoherent sounds as her body shook.

The next thing she was aware of was his arm slung over her stomach and something different under her body. She knew she was moments away from drifting off, but she couldn't in her current position.

"Why are the sheets wet?"

His chuckle came close to her ear.

"You didn't tell me you were a squirter, sweetheart," he kissed her shoulder.

She didn't have the physical energy to look.

"Did I ruin the sheets?" She shifted trying to get out of the spot.

"You've made them smell like you."

She blinked tiredly when he grabbed her and flipped her over onto his other side. She snuggled into the dry sheets and back into his chest.

She marveled, once more, over the fact that he was a cuddler before drifting off surrounded by the strong smell of sweat and sex.

++++

When he came to the sun was shining through the window, warming his back and a slim body was pressed into his chest.

One of the many things he had longed to do was wake her up in the morning. He wanted to bury his face between her thighs and lick her softly so she was on the verge of orgasm when her eyes finally opened. He wanted to take her as the morning light illuminated her olive skin, but he knew she wasn't ready for that. He knew she would be mortified when she woke and discovered her body still in his arms, so he laid there in silence feigning sleep when she finally came around.

He heard the uptick in her heart and the sharp intake of breath. He knew she was looking around frantically trying to make sense of her surroundings without moving and arousing him.

He was starting to think that maybe she was getting close to being ready when she didn't move, but then she carefully slipped from under his arm and stood. He peeked through the slits of his eyes in time to see her bending over and grabbing a shirt he had placed on a chair.

The sight of her folds still glistening from the activities beneath the full moon sent a rush of desire to his cock, by the time she slipped silently from the room he was standing at attention.

He listened to her feet traveling the length of the mansion towards the study and finally to the sound of the front door closing.

He sighed before climbing to his feet and entering the shower wrapping his hand around his throbbing erection.

++++

"Shame, shame, I know your name," a voice sang out from the porch steps.

Elena froze with her hand on the doorknob and looked up to see Damon sitting on the swing. She crossed her arms and leaned back on the hood of her SUV, knowing she didn't dare get any closer because she surely still smelled like Klaus.

"What do you want?"

"Your brother said you didn't come home last night," Damon shrugged one shoulder. "I told him you were probably fine and had likely snuck off with Stefan…" His eyes flickered over her mussed hair and the hickeys over her throat. "I was clearly right."

Elena swallowed and said nothing. If Damon wanted to think she'd had a relapse, a one night stand with her ex, then she wasn't going to correct him.

"I don't really want to talk about it," she gave him a pointed look, begging him to shut up about it.

"Fine," he shrugged, sauntering across the lawn towards her, "but next time you decide to spend the night out tell your brother, or someone so we don't send out the damn search parties."

"Fine," she nodded, taking a step back, "I've got to shower before school."

She walked around him and into the house, not noticing the way he stiffened when she passed him.

tag list: @rissyrapp20 @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland

#klena #klaulena #klaus x elena #tvd #to #fanfic #the vampire diaries

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