#not-so-much-immortal-Klaus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shrenvents · 1 month

Text

Spellbound

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, oral, fem receiving, unprotected, fluff, some violence, biting

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Witch reader

Summary: You're a witch with a specific skill set, one that has intrigued a certain hybrid.

Word count: 2.7k

...

Voodoo. Magic. Impulse. Obsession.

She was his newest fascination.

He heard her laughter cracking through the walls of the barren bar before it cut short. Klaus observed how the sunlight blazed across her, poorly parked, car. His lips slanted in mild amusement. He told himself, that’s all it was, all she was. Mild amusement for an immortal. Though, something felt different.

He strutted into the place, head hung high as he scanned the bare vicinity. His eyes halted on a man behind the bar, rinsing glass cups. The bartender's eyes adverted from Klaus, the second he caught his stare. The man's nerves were duly noted as Klaus approached him.

“I’ll have a glass of your finest red,” Klaus spoke artfully, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The worker shuddered. “Ug- we’re not serving right now.”

“No worries mate,” his mellifluous voice paused. “The red I fancy isn’t something I’d find on your menu.” The man's gaze shot up to Klaus’s. His lips trembled as Klaus continued his jest. “Unless you intend to provide me with a bite, I suggest you tell me where she’s hidden.” Klaus’s threat echoed through the building, till silence took its place.

Suddenly, the sound of a back door, opening and slamming shut jolted Klaus away from the bartender. He instantly raced to the door, ripping it open. He watched as her frame scattered into her rusted car. He growled. There was no way he'd let her escape once again...

Your body was convulsing with anxiety. Who were you to know a little magic truce with the “other side,” would have a certain hybrid on your front doorstep. It didn’t help when you levitated everything in your apartment at him, including your freshly made spaghetti with bolognese. It was to be expected, that would piss him off...

Yanking the car door shut, you forced the key in and started the engine.

“Where are we headed this time darling?”

“Ahhh!” You screamed, snapping your head to the uninvited passenger. Klaus sat leisurely beside you, and you swear your life flashed before your eyes. “I must say, I enjoyed our time in Chicago. Perhaps San Fran may be the next best thing, love.” His smug face adorned your features, absorbing the way your face contorted in both fear and frustration.

“Jesus,” you huff, and Klaus’s smirk grows. “As much as I love the idea, somehow becoming your personal chauffeur isn’t that appealing.” Klaus chuckles lowly, leaning in, more and more.

“Well, if you hadn’t decided to run off, you crafty little thing," he drawls sweetly, "We wouldn’t have the pleasure.”

“If you weren’t trying to kill me, maybe I’d stick around.” Klaus’s brows twist like he's appalled by your words. “Who said I was interested in killing you?”

“You- I- then, what do you want?” You stammer. Klaus goes quiet. You watch as his expression goes blank before he acts as though he is in deep thought. Then, his mouth gaped in 'awe,' as if the answer suddenly came to him. “Your talents of course.”

“My talents.” You repeat, baffled.

“Yes, do keep up, my dear.”

“Why? You could have any witch at your disposal, at a moment's notice.”

The corner of his lips elevate once more. “I’m flattered.”

He’s become so close now, you feel his breath, and you try not to shiver as it grazes your neck. He, on the other hand, basks in your scent.

“But, unlike my other witches, you have a gift,” he muses. “Your connection with the dead is something to behold, and something I crave.”

After a prolonged silence, you speak. “If I help you with whatever," you move further into your seat, "When it comes to an end, you’ll let me walk away, unscathed?” Your brow quirks, and with every fibre of your being, you manage to maintain eye contact. “Yes, you have my word.” Klaus’s expression went stoic, holding an unflinching seriousness that made your heart rate stutter. And strangely, you knew you could trust him.

That's how you ended up as his lackey. For the past 5 weeks, you were at his beck and call as he tormented humans, werewolves, and vampires alike.

Like any other day, your conscious was eating away at you, as you called upon another ancestor of those he plagued. Today though, you finally broke. He had been cruelly punishing a guy for hours as you questioned his late brother, through the veil.

“That’s enough!” Klaus’s eyes darted to yours, and his angered appearance softened. Instinctively, he gripped your forearm and dragged you out of the motel room.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“What's wrong is that I’m tired, and his brother is telling me jack shit about those ‘hunters.’” You huff, closing your eyes.

Klaus firmly presses himself stock-still, resisting every urge that wishes to devour you, as you naively allow him to hold you so close, to let your guard down, to close your eyes. An urge that has worsened, and become insatiable since you started your venture together.

“Love, why don’t you grab a bite from the cafe across the street, while I fill up the car's tank?” He says heartfeltly, "That way we both can have a break."

Your eyes flutter open, and you nearly tremble at the gentle look that flickers in his gaze. However, his body language, which clutches you tightly, suggests he is anything but. “Okay.”

After five minutes seated alone in a booth, you gathered up the last of the courage you were trying to dispel. Now, headed back to the rented room, to release the hostage. Stupid, very stupid, you thought. But you couldn’t help it.

When you entered the room, the door slowly creaked shut, and shadows engulfed you. It was too quiet, and you couldn’t see the man. Unease filled your system, and you began to regret this decision. That impending regret soon became alarms going off when the captive gripped your torso, roughly caging in your arms. His grip was inescapable, and when you tried to scream, his free hand covered your mouth.

“You fucking bitch,” he murmured with disgust. You winced. “How about I leave you bleeding out here, all laid out for you bloodthirsty master.” The man crackled with humourless laughter. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

While his venomous words made you cower, you relentlessly struggled against him, fighting with all that you could muster. Unfortunately, your captor was a werewolf, and far too strong for you to at least break free, to cast a spell.

He muffled Klaus’s name with his palm, and tears pricked your eyes. Even after the numerous times you’d bicker and argue, he was still the first person who came to mind, who you hopelessly called out to.

The man began lifting your body towards the door, urgently turning the knob. Just as the outside light cuts into your vision, you're wrenched from him, pulled into a powerful embrace. With ease, Klaus’s arms carried you away, swiftly placing you in the backseat of your car, locked safely inside.

His figure then disappeared just as quickly, and you hear your aggressor's voice wail in pain. Shaking, you curl over yourself, covering both ears pathetically.

After what feels like an eternity, two large hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, bringing you out of your shell. He quiets you, as he slides inside the vehicle, smoothly pulling you onto his lap. One of his arms supports your back, while the other strokes your hair. Calming you down, he mutters things like: 'Everything’s fine now love,' 'I’m here,' 'I’ll take care of you...'

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” you mumble.

He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you could've done to stop a werewolf, especially when a full moon draws near,” he soothes. You press your cheek further into his broad chest. “Though, I wish you would’ve just listened to me for once, and stayed put.”

You shoot your head up, adjusting to face him, close enough that your noses nearly meet. “If I listened to you I’d probably be dead by now.”

“Oh really?” He grins, eyes creasing, “How so?”

“Well, for one, that time you ordered me to question that vampire chick's dead boyfriend about his affair, right in front of her.” Klaus guffaws. “You're laughing, but she would've bit my head off.”

“She wouldn’t have,” he denies, still chuckling.

“Yes, she would have Klaus.” You begin to laugh along.

“You know, I wouldn’t have let her.” His face deadpans, “Like I didn’t let our were-friend hurt you," he voiced, airily. "I gave you my word.”

“Yes, of course, your word.” You giggle nervously, glancing at the hand currently bracing your thigh, gliding its thumb back and forth. “It’s not all that I’ve given you.”

You look up and are met with a mysterious look this time. Your brows furrow in confusion. He smiles dreamily, “Your skills as a witch truly know no bounds.”

“The hell are you talking about now?” You retort, making Klaus laugh loudly.

“I’m talking about your spell," he whispers. "The one that has bewitched me.”

You freeze, heart dropping.

“You don’t mean that...” Your sentence trails off as Klaus stares through you.

He’s so unpredictable, that a part of you believes he's probably playing some sick game. But, there was also a possibility that he meant it, and all the hidden desires, for your unconventional boss, were about to bubble to the surface.

“I've meant every word, from the moment I met you, when you got the better of me.” He smirks, breath fanning your face. “Witchcraft.”

Then his lips take yours, slow at first, but the entanglement shortly turns desperate. Slightly hesitant, you grind on him, eager to pull him closer. He groans, and his hands enthusiastically roam your waist and back, beckoning you nearer.

Moving in a frenzy, as your fingers tangle in his locks, you swing your leg to straddle him. He moans your name in between kisses, and he palms your ass.

Continuously rolling your body into him makes you feel his arousal, which causes a whine to escape. When your lips break apart, his mouth trails down your jaw, to your neck. You gasp, but you don’t stop him. He audibly tells you how much he’s enjoying himself, and you squeeze your thighs over his.

“I can only imagine how sinful you taste here darling.” He remarks as his hand slides over your core, and you whimper. “How about you let me try?” He hums politely. “You know you want me to.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?” His voice rises questioningly, and a hand gropes your chest, while the other grips your chin, tilting your head down to peer into his eyes. “Not here,” you finish, and he smirks wildly.

“Then, I’ll just have to get us a private room?” He purrs seductively into you ear, making you shiver. “One that is, unoccupied,” he rolls his tongue, and you shiver again at the double meaning behind his words. You don’t even want to think about what he did to the man who attacked you.

“Please,” you sigh into a kiss, pecking his lips, which seems to surprise Klaus momentarily. His surprise briskly turns into a beaming smile. “To be continued,” he utters before shifting you off him and rushing out the car.

Not long after, Klaus reappears with that same childlike cheer gracing his features. Jerking open the door, he outstretches his hand like a gentleman. You accept it, and his palm completely envelops yours. He tugs you to his hip, and nibbles on your earlobe while you walk to a random room.

As soon as the door locks behind you, he presses himself against your backside. “Now, how about that taste?” He mutters while lifting your hair to kiss your nape, and rubbing himself against you. You press closer, before spinning around to enclose your mouth on his again. He groans into your mouth approvingly, backing your body toward the queen-size bed.

His lips free yours when your back legs hit the edge, and you fall backwards with a yelp. His hands then make work of your lower half, removing your clothes as he kneels infront of your cunt. You inhale deeply, as cool air hits your bare body.

He goes silent, so you raise your head to peek at him. Klaus is ogling you heatedly, like the predator he is. “Lovely,” he sing-songs.

He abruptly grips your thighs and heaves your core to his mouth, so close, his breath warms your skin. “K-Klaus.”

“Hmmm,” he hums shortly, before delving into you. You sob a cry of shock. His tongue expertly runs over your folds, sucking the nub with such a slow deliberation, like he can’t decide how he wishes to take you at first, as if he’s imagined every way he could.

You whine, motioning him to make his choice, bucking up, feeling his stubble scratch you. Then he grows aggressive, hungrily lapping your clit, over and over, until he ushers out your orgasm.

When your lengthy climax finishes, he sighs pleasantly into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible,” he emits with a chant of your name, thoroughly relaxing your shaking form.

“Fuck, take off your clothes,” you beg. He immediately abides by your command, tearing off his shirt and pants. You grab his necklaces to haul his lips to yours. You savour every inch of yourself on his tongue, and he relishes in how dirty the act was.

“There’s only so much I can do to you before dawn, and it won't nearly be enough to satisfy my hunger for you.” His poetic words erupt something within. You exhale, “It seems you’re going to break your promise then.”

He stills at your words, befuddled. You elaborate, “There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.” A timid smile spreads across your face, and he almost nods in understanding, feeling a strange quiver in his chest.

Wordlessly, he pulls himself from his slacks, and you take off the last of your clothes. Suddenly feeling a little out of body, you decide to take back some control of the situation. So, you flip your positions, once again, surprising Klaus, though he allows it.

You straddle him and lower yourself onto his thick cock. You whimper the second the tip enters, and he growls, pressing his fingertips into your hips, definitely leaving bruises.

“You’re too big,” you gasp.

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he states mindlessly. He wraps his arms around your waist and arms, pulling you down onto him. His hips then press completely into you, pushing himself inside to the hilt. A wheeze leaves your lungs as he grounds into you. “Klaus, it’s too-“

“It’s perfect,” he finishes for you. You barely have any time to adapt to his size before he begins pounding. Pleasure wracks through you, and he takes whatever control you had away. His pace is unnerving, and you utter incoherent words, while his fangs graze your neck.

“Tell me,” he groans through his panting. “Tell me you want me.” He demands, though it almost sounds like he’s begging for it. “I-I want you.” The words stumble out as his thrusts reach your center.

“More,” he just about whines.

“I want you Klaus,” you shout. “You feel so good- fuck I’ve always wanted this, you.” You ramble, egged on by him. He loves it, and you feel it in his strength. He holds you tighter, and the air leaves your body.

Feeling his leg tremble, you know he’s close. “Bite me.” His clamped-shut eyelids pop open, and his dark pupils bore into yours. You kiss him and take his bottom lip between your teeth. “Bite me while you cum,” you command.

He gulps before taking his last few pumps into you. He moans into your neck as his teeth puncture your flesh. You cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure that shatters you both.

After almost 10 minutes, he releases you from his firm caress and kisses the holes in your neck. Still inside, he turns you both on your sides. You catch your breath. “How are you still hard?” You sigh in exasperation, and he chuckles breezily. “I told you, you’ve bewitched my very soul darling.” He smirks.

“This is only the beginning.”

890 notes · View notes

buckybarnesb-tch · 6 months

Note

In your last post you said about Klaus getting turned on by watching the reader eat?

Could we have more on/about that in a separate one-shot if you have the time? 💕

One More Bite -Klaus M.

I combined this request with another one I had gotten in my PM’s for Klaus’ mate giving him a blowjob when he’s in his wolf form, so fair warning on that.

If that is something that the original requester isn’t okay with and you don’t want to read this, send me another request and I’ll write something else for you as I understand you may not want to read something like this because it’s for such a specific kind of reader I assume (even though I am one of those readers).

Warning: Severe Warning on this fic! This fic contains Smut while our favorite Hybrid is in his wolf form! Blow-Job warning! Klaus becoming aroused by watching his Mate eat food. Also brief mentions of a school shooting when talking about the Scream movie series.

Sitophilia: Arousal involving food

Don’t Like=Don’t Read

Dead Dove:Do Not Eat!

Klaus has no clue where it came from.

It started when he was in Alarics body in the lunch room, watching over his Doppelgänger and her friends was proving entertaining to him…until he saw her. Y/n was a friend of theirs that didn’t seem to be all that involved in their Supernatural affairs, blatantly ignoring them as they spoke about the immortal Hybrid that sat 2 tables away possessing their History teacher.

She was a beautiful girl, one of the sweetest the 1000 year old man had ever seen, he swore it was true with how kind and naive she seemed to be. Klaus felt the need to protect her and ensure her safety, swearing to himself he would leave her out of all of this but just as he was about to leave the lunchroom he found himself captivated by her once more. It took a bit too long to notice that he was staring at the girl as she ate her lunch.

Klaus had never really been fascinated by watching someone eat before and it was an odd thought all together, but he couldn’t deny his enjoyment at watching her…he also couldn’t deny the raging erection in his pants that he willed away as strongly as he could as he wasn’t in his pants or his body and he was Not dealing with that!

He had gone to the front office later that day, finding her file and reading as much about her as he could. Her name was Y/F/n, she was on the honor roll with mostly all A’s and a few B’s, he found her address as well as the fact that she is emancipated and living in that apartment alone. He looked more into that, finding out that her parents had died a few months prior (when Damon had released the tomb vampires) and she lived on money they left as well as what she made working in a movie theater in the next town.

He found himself hating the idea of his girl being forced to work a job on top of going to school and getting amazing grades, only to come home to an apartment all alone with no family and no real friends as that Scooby Gang doesn’t seem to be very close with her. Klaus can’t explain his feelings, his attraction, or why he wants to take care of her so badly but he knows he doesn’t want her working this hard so that she can be all alone and in pain.

Klaus ditched Alarics body as soon as he was able and while his witches were dealing with the things he needed for his curse, he made his way to the next town and into the little movie theater. He walked into the theater and up to the snack counter where she was sat, reading something on her phone before jumping up as she saw him.

‘Good afternoon sir, what can I get for you to make your movie experience better?’ She asked, a smile on her face as if anyone could enjoy this job everyday. He hated seeing the dark circles under her eyes that she tried to cover with makeup, he wanted to see her in a comfortable bed, sleeping as much as she needed, wanted to watch her enjoy breakfast in bed with the knowledge that she didn’t have to go to work or school or do anything other than be with him. He found himself staring down at her as he imagined feeding her that breakfast while his cock was still buried deep inside of her cu- ‘Sir?’

‘Sorry, lost in thought there.’ He chuckled and she did as well.

‘I do it all the time, no worries. Can I get you something to eat?’ He looked as if he was considering it before responding.

‘Actually, I would love to get you something to eat.’ She looked up at him confused and he thought it was adorable. ‘Would you like to see a movie with me?’ She was shocked by this, clearly, and didn’t respond very quickly. ‘What time do you get done?’ He asked as if he didn’t know it was in 5 minutes.

‘Oh, I’m done in about 5 minutes. I have to get home and study for a test though-‘

‘Aw, let yourself relax a bit. Let me treat you to a movie, you can get whatever you want to eat, and you can pick the movie.’ The blush that spread over her face was adorable and he loved every second of it.

‘Really? Even if I pick a chick flick?’ He nodded, seeing a coworker walking out to take over her shift. ‘Okay, I want to see 5 Nights at Freddy’s…let me go get changed.’ Her smile lit up Klaus’ whole world and he smiled as he watched her walk away, her cute little ass nearly on display in the short skirt she had to wear as a uniform. Klaus only waited about 5 minutes for her to return after getting the tickets (and experiencing the man’s shocked face as he bought all the tickets in the entire theater so that they would be alone), wearing a dark tank top and fluffy pajama pants. ‘Sorry about the clothes, I was prepared to go home and get in bed.’ She explained but he waved her off.

‘Not a problem, next time I’ll wear pajamas too. I’m Nik, by the way.’ He teased, seeing her eyes light up at the idea of a second date.

‘Y/n, nice to meet you Nik.’

‘Alright, what do you want to eat?’ This was a dine-in theater, and while Klaus remembered when theaters sold popcorn, soda and candy exclusively, he found himself happy about the idea of providing his girl a good meal and getting to watch her eat it.

‘Oh, I’ll just get a small popcorn-‘

‘You just got off work, you must be hungry. Please let me get you a meal? Anything you want, if you don’t choose I’ll choose for you and I’ll be forced to feed it to you.’ He teased, wrapping his arm around her waist to test the water of how she felt about him touching her and to his surprise she leaned into his side, allowing his hand to stay on her waist. She was attracted to him too, he could practically smell it, and it made the Hybrid truly happy to know that his girl at least liked him as well.

‘Fine, okay. Hey Kyle, can I get an order of cheese fries, please?’

‘And?’ She shot him a teasing glare before rolling her eyes.

‘And a large order of chicken tenders with extra honey mustard. And since we’re bending this guys wallet, I’ll also have a large chocolate brownie milkshake-with extra chocolate sauce…I hope you like chocolate cause I won’t drink all of that, it’s huge.’ Klaus just grinned as he handed over his card. ‘Wait! You’re not getting anything?’

‘A bucket of popcorn too, please?’ He ordered and she stared at him as he paid for the wildly overpriced food. He carried the popcorn, allowing her to drizzle butter all over it along with salt before they went and found their seats, a girl bringing Y/n’s food about 10 minutes later just as the movie started.

‘I can’t believe there’s no one else in here, especially this late.’

‘Is this a popular movie?’ He asked, genuinely having no idea what it’s about. Klaus hadn’t come here with any intention of watching a movie, he just wanted to be with his girl so to him, the movie didn’t make one single fucking difference.

‘Oh yeah, it’s based on a horror game that I loved, plus Matthew Lillard is in this so I want to see it desperately. People really believe that his character is just Stu from the Original Scream a few years after he “died”. Which he 100% didn’t by the way.’ He could see how sure she was of this and enjoyed her dedicated belief to a movie she clearly loved.

‘How are you so sure he lived?’ He wondered and she turned her body to him more, ready to explain her theory.

‘Okay, so he was supposed to be the killer in the third scream movie! He was cast and everything but they had to scrap the whole plot. It was going to be based on a school shooting but that was right as Columbine happened so they changed the whole movie. Respect for them not doing that, 100%, but it proves that canonically he is absolutely alive. I don’t really get the connection to this movie, but if people believe it then why not?’ He nodded along, enjoying himself as much she seemed to enjoy these horror plots.

‘You’re a horror movie girl, aren’t you?’

‘Yup. Which is weird cause I used to be terrified of all scary movies but now I love them. We should have a horror movie marathon, clearly you haven’t seen the Scream movies and if you haven’t seen them, what else haven’t you seen?!’

‘Most of them, I’m not much of a TV watcher. I mostly just paint in my free time, I’ve seen a few though. The one in the mask who tries to kill his sister.’

‘Michael Myers, Halloween.’ She said, instantly knowing what he was talking about.

‘The Hick who has a chainsaw and wears people’s faces?’

‘Leatherface, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.’

‘The demon people, one of them has pins all over his head?’

‘Pinhead, HellRaiser. Truly an amazing movie, probably one of my favorite plot lines.’ He was amazed at how she knew every one of these from just the simple descriptions, he knew they were probably popular but it was so cute how sure and excited she was.

‘And the guy with knives for hands.’ Her eyebrows raised as he said this.

‘I’m going to assume you mean Freddy Kruger from Nightmare on Elm Street as we’re talking about horror movies and not Edward Scissorhands which is a sad movie that ripped my soul from my body. It a great movie but it’s sad as hell. Why are people so mean to everyone just because they’re different?’ He shrugged at this.

‘People will always judge what they don’t understand, especially when it’s other people. It’s always been that way.’ He knew from personal experience and Y/n seemed to hear the emotion in his voice because she reached over and took his hand in hers.

‘People suck. Cheese fry?’ She offered, holding out the box and he took one, watching as she bit into a couple as the lights went down. He was thankful for his vampire vision as he leaned back into the seat and kept his eyes on her. She was fascinated by the movie but he was fascinated by her. Klaus watched as she ate, finally getting to watch her eat a meal that wasn’t a snack in a cafeteria. The idea that he had provided his girl food, a real meal (for seemingly the first time since he first saw her 3 days ago) was satisfying to say the least. He stared as she ate her fries, her tongue peeking out every now and again to lick the cheese from her lips, causing his cock to twitch every single time. The moan that came from her as she first bit into a piece of chicken had him fully hard and completely desperate, watching as her tongue licked the honey mustard from her finger, her lips wrapping around her thumb and sucking on it with a “pop” as she pulled it from her mouth. He was so lost in his thoughts as he watched her perfect little mouth, he didn’t even hear the words that came from it. ‘Nik? You okay?’

‘Hmm? Yes! Of course, I’m great…you’re so damn gorgeous, and it’s distracting.’ Her cheeks turned red as he said this and she couldn’t hide it from him.

‘You are really sweet…please tell me this isn’t some kind of weird joke.’ As she said this his mind was ripped from his fantasies, confused as to why she would think something like that.

‘What? That’s crazy, why would you-‘

‘You walked into a movie theater without a ticket, came up to the food counter and asked me out to then buy a ticket and buy me dinner. You’re either the oddest and luckiest man in the world considering I was finished my shift when you came in, or this was planned and someone put you up to it…I’m an 18 year old girl in high school on a date with a hot dude in his 20’s…you can at least imagine why I’m a bit skeptical?’ She looked sad and he hated that he had caused it…why is this girl getting to him like this?!

‘I’m sorry that you feel the need to be skeptical of someone asking you out. I admit, I planned to ask you on a date. I saw you yesterday and I thought you were lovely so I decided to ask you out, I thought taking you to a movie after work would be a nice idea, I also thought you would enjoy relaxing and watching a movie right after your shift-‘ A look of guilt overtook her eyes as she realized how much thought he put into asking her on this date and she felt horrible instantly.

‘Oh God…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a bitch! I-‘

‘No you’re not, relax love. It’s okay, I can see why you were questioning the situation. I want to take you out again, I enjoy you already and I admittedly enjoy feeding you.’ Her eyes widened a bit but she couldn’t turn more red than she already was.

‘Oh…okay? I-I can honestly say I haven’t heard that one before but it sounds nice to me.’ She joked as he reached out, picking up a French fry and feeding it to her, grunting as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his thumb to get the melted cheese off of his skin, taking her time a bit too much as she did this and Klaus couldn’t hold in his groan.

‘Christ Y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.’

Through the rest of their date Klaus enjoyed feeding his girl nearly all of the food he had bought her, her insisting he at least have some as well and he brought her home that night, pressing his lips to hers sweetly and deciding he liked that his girl blushed 90% of their time together.

It was 3 days later that he found out why he was so desperate for this girl more than any other in his entire lifetime.

They had been texting almost all day every day along with him visiting her daily, Klaus getting everything ready to break his curse and actually getting it done with some help from his annoying elder brother (after he tried to murder him) before running off into the forest, his wolf determined to get where he needed to be.

It was the first time in 1000 years that Klaus could hear his wolf in his head the way other werewolves could. In the almost month he had been a Hybrid 1000 years ago he had gotten used to him being there and the curse had taken that from him.

As his paws slammed against the dirt, sprinting through the forest Klaus couldn’t help but wonder where they were going and he quickly got his answer.

“Mate!” The voice he had so sorely missed, growled roughly.

“Mate?” He wondered, having heard the term before but knowing that werewolves finding their mates was extremely rare. Maybe because they were so far out of time if Klaus’ mate being alive 1000 years after his human life was an indication. “Y/n is my mate…no wonder I’m so drawn to her!” A happy feeling was bubbling up in his chest as he realized he had finally found his mate, something he had hoped could exist for him since he found out soulmates were real for wolves.

“Need Mate! Need Mate Now!” The aggressive growl was almost concerning to him as his paws slowed to a trot when he arrived at the home he had been visiting his girl in for the last few days.

“She’s going to be scared! We can’t let her see us-Stop!” He snapped, feeling stupid that he was literally shouting at himself.

“Mate Knows! Mate Not Stupid!” His wolf snarled, sounding offended by the idea that she didn’t know who he was. He scratched at the apartment door and Klaus tried to control his body, to run back into the trees and away from her when the door swung open and his Mate looked down at him in shock.

‘I have to be honest, didn’t see this coming Nik. I mean I got the whole “Nik-Klaus” thing, Elijah told us all your real name but…what exactly do you want me to do with this?’ She asked, clearly entertained by him showing up in his wolf form. He whined, scratching at the doorframe which made her chuckle. ‘Okay, you can come in Niklaus-oh, okay.’ He walked into her apartment before she was even done speaking, hopping up onto the couch and staring up at her as if waiting for something to happen. ‘I seriously thought your interest in me was a joke when I realized who you were. Damon was making fun of me for falling for it…you’re actually into me, aren’t you? Cause I figure you being here right now means either you really like me or you plan to rip me to shreds in my own home. Which is it?’ She asked him and Klaus rolled his eyes, laying his head onto her lap when she sat down beside him on the couch. ‘Oh…good…I could get used to this.’

For the rest of the evening Klaus lounged on Y/n’s couch with her, watching horror movies from the extensive list that she had made of “Horror Movies Nik Needs to Watch”. He also enjoyed once again watching as she ate her dinner, or his personal favorite, watching her eat a pint of ice cream. God, he wants her tongue on his cock so badly, which she noticed as it was on display and larger than one would expect. To her credit, she ignored it for quite a long time, pretending it wasn’t there until the voice in his head made it physically impossible any longer. He was talking about all the different ways he wanted to bend her over and fuck her tight little cunt until she was begging him to stop, practically drooling over how her tongue peeked out and licked the ice cream off of the spoon, desperate to watch her lick his cream off of his hard cock which is around the time his member began leaking onto the blanket underneath him on the couch.

‘Nik?’ She questioned and he lifted his head from her lap to look up at her, as if pretending he hadn’t been staring at her this whole time. ‘Do you need help?’ He tilted his head as if asking her what she meant…she couldn’t possibly mean- ‘Do you need help with your…problem? It’s distracting and it seems to be getting worse.’

At this moment Klaus is happy that he is not just a vampire, but also in his wolf form and unable to show her how embarrassed he is with a look on (what would now be) his completely red face. He couldn’t stop the slight whine that escaped him before jumping down from the couch and trotting over to the door, scratching the wood and waiting for her to release him. “Let Mate Help!” That aggressive voice piped up again and he tried to shove it back down.

‘I didn’t mean I wanted you to leave, I…I mean if you wanted me to, I…it would have to be really fucking private, I mean if you ever told anyone I would skin you alive!’

Klaus suddenly felt his tail come to life, wagging around behind him like crazy as he released a small “yip” sound, moving back over and hopping up onto the couch again, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

‘Ahh! It’s cold and wet!’ She was giggling and it was a sound that Klaus knew he adored from the moment he first heard it in the schools cafeteria. ‘I hope you realize that when you’re human again, I want an explanation as to why watching me eat gets you so worked up.’ She teased, moving from the couch to her knees. ‘Are all wolves cocks this big, or is it a werewolf thing?’

“Perfect Mate! Pretty, Perfect Mate! Need to Fuck Mate!” Klaus shook his head quickly as that thought came from nowhere, trying to keep his wolf from controlling anything else when suddenly his cock was enveloped into her hot mouth causing the pathetic sounding whine that exited him.

Her lips were stretched wide around his thick member as he now leaned back against the couch, wanting desperately to hold onto her hair but knowing that he can’t. He settled for one paw resting on the back of her head and couldn’t hold back the growl that burst from his chest, her tongue trailing over the head of his cock which nearly made him finish laughably fast.

You could have never convinced Klaus that this would be something that he wanted, in 1000 years the thought had crossed his mind, of course, but it wasn’t something that really got him off until now. Now, rutting into his mate was all he could think about like it was playing on a constant loop in his mind. As he looked down and saw her on her knees in front of him a content purr built up in his chest. He didn’t know how deeply he had longed for his mate, maybe if his wolf hadn’t been bound from him, he would have.

His thoughts were cut off by the choking noise that came from her as his large cock hit the back of her throat. “Perfect Mate! Perfect Little Tongue!” The growl that exploded from him made her eyes widen in fear before he was cumming in ropes into her mouth, her hand coming up to catch what leaked from her lips.

‘Fuck!’ She cursed after swallowing everything he had to give and looking up at him, as if an innocent little virgin who hadn’t just sucked his wolf cock into next year. ‘Do all werewolves cum that much?’ She giggled and he whined in response, leaning forward and licking her face. ‘I’m not doing that again until you prove how good you are in bed as a man first.’ She was teasing him but he nipped at her throat, catching the skin and watching a drop of blood rise to the surface. ‘Ow…shouldn’t you be out slaughtering innocent humans right now?’ He shook his head, which he’s sure looked like a dog shaking off the water after being in the rain. ‘But that’s what you were going to do before finding me?’ He didn’t respond to this, simply moving to lay down across her lap as she sat back on the couch. ‘It’s okay, I’ll still be here when you’re human again, go.’ He peeked up at her, from this angle the light made her look like an Angel sent from Heaven, as if a gift just for his devilish soul.

“Stay Close! Never Leave Mate! Never Again!” He really hopes that once he fucks his mate and makes her his that his wolf will calm down about her, he may be right but he’s intense.

‘Go Nik, I’ll be right here when you get back, I promise. I have nothing to do tomorrow, I will stay until you come and get me. When you do we’ll order take out and you can stare at me while I eat it.’ He sat up, making a questioning noise that he honestly didn’t know he could make. ‘I Promise.’ She insisted, jumping up and opening the back door towards the woods. ‘I won’t leave, I won’t open the door for anyone either. Get, before you get needier and decide to hump me in my sleep.’ He did as she said, leaving out the back door and taking one final look at her before he was gone, running through the woods as he had always longed for, every day of his immortal life since it was snatched away from him and for the first time in his very long life, knowing that he had someone to come back to.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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klausysworld · 4 months

Note

Your stories are so good!

How about a story where Klaus gets in over his head and ends up being taken captive by Augustine but falls in love with one of the scientist over the time he’s there.

(Made it the scientists daughter, not sure why? I think I read the ask wrong and then just got too deep with it. I can make another one if this wasn’t what was wanted)

(TW:This does include physical and psychological abuse form Y/n’s father! Please don’t read if this will be too upsetting for you and know that you are not alone.)

Betrayal

Klaus often went into dangerous situations without much of a plan, he was immortal and he used that to his every advantage. To be fair to him, this always worked in his favour except for that one time with the hunters curse but other than that it was fine.

Until now.

He woke with a groan, his eyes felt heavy and his body was stiff. Forcefully, he forced himself to look around but his face was against the ground. With a grunt, he managed to roll onto his back. His breathing was struggled and released in puffs. A hum reached his ears and he turned his head slowly to see a man, no a vampire sat in a cage or a prison cell opposite him.

The guys clothes were filthy, bloody and muddy. Hair greasy and growing a touch long. He gave an unserious wave "congratulations, you've been captured" he cheered sarcastically and Klaus frowned. The vampire rolled his eyes "¿no hablas inglés?" he questioned "français? Italiano? Polski?" he fired, clearly bored.

"Where-" Klaus frowned at the dryness of his throat and tried to clear his throat but it caused a painful sensation "Where am I?" he asked, raspily.

"English" the man stated, nodding to himself. "Right uh you are in an experiment where they do fun little tests on us vampires because they have an undying hatred towards us" the man explained, laughing tiredly to himself when he said 'undying'.

Klaus stared at the man like he were mad. "Tests? What sort of tests?" he questioned, frustrated and the vampire shut up. He glanced behind Klaus before back to him nervously

"They're trying to make a serum to make vampires have the uncontrollable urge to feed on other vampires...to rip their heads clean off. Be stronger, unstoppable and filled with hatred for our own" he explained quietly as though someone may be listening. Klaus frowned in response and slowly dragged himself up into a sitting position against the cold wall of his cell.

Vampires who rippered other vampires? It reminded him of his father and he didn't exactly want to think of him. Nor did he want to feel this week, how much vervain had they pumped him full of? He groaned loudly and the other man hummed in agreement.

The sound of a lock went and the vampire opposite Klaus quickly got to his feet, holding onto the bars like a desperate animal.

The soft clicking of heels sounded and the mans face immediately relaxed slightly, his eyes looking eagerly for whoever was coming. Klaus was hit with a strong scent of vanilla before a soft sigh was heard and he could see the back of a women. Her hair hiding her shoulders and the top half of her lab coat. She wore small black heels and a coat.

"You okay?" she asked the guy opposite him, handing him something, blood. He could smell it and he needed it. The vampire scoffed it down immediately with a sound of pleasure.

"mm thank you darling...I don't suppose you have another for me?" he purred but she shook he head

"It's for the new one" she whispered and Klaus's senses perked. She proceeded to turn towards him and her eyes looked him over. Klaus let out a breathy laugh, this was who was supposed to be testing and torturing him? He raised both his brows and licked his chapped lips before pulling them into a smirk. In response she only rolled her eyes "those eyes won't work on many people here" she told him, she placed the paper shot glass of blood onto the floor and carefully pushed it into his cage. "You'll be known by 52836, answer to it or they’ll burn it into you so you remember it" she informed, watching him reach forward and grabbing the drink.

"This is all I get?" he questioned, his nose scrunched and his browed pulled together.

"One a day. None if you misbehave. You'll feel better tomorrow when you have less vervain in your system, until then keep quiet. 12144 will be here with you...get comfortable" she murmured, a certain sadness and level of pity in her eyes as she gave a tight lipped smile to both vampires before leaving.

12144 looked back to Klaus, "You can call me Enzo, she's called Y/n. One of the mean ones daughters, been coming down here since she was small. She doesn't mean much harm but she's too scared to go against the rules" he explained with a shrug "Sometimes she sneaks me two portions if she can. She touched me once, just a hand on the shoulder. I was far too weak to respond but I knew she was there"

Klaus stared at Enzo for a moment before glancing to his now empty cup. What the fuck did he just get himself into?

It was the question he asked himself every morning and every night. To start off with he fought back against the scientists, yelled and screamed demanding to know who they thought they were, making empty threats and hoping his family would find him.

Klaus began to feel a little pathetic, he was hoping? That wasn’t like him. He was strategic and powerful. So he tried to pay better attention. After a few weeks, he was able to understand why Y/n was so obedient. Her father was dreadful. She once suggested that Klaus needed a break after watching blood poor out of his eyes, her father proceeded to grab her and threaten to stick one of the syringes in her neck. She sprinted out the room as soon as she was let go and Klaus couldn’t blame her. It made him think of Mikael and how he would hold a sword against his throat.

He had sympathy for her, empathy too but unfortunately he had to push that aside and instead of help her, he would manipulate her.

He would ask her about the little marks on her skin knowing it was a result of her trying to help him. Enzo would shake his head and occasionally speak up, telling Klaus to leave her be when her discomfort became clear.

“I don’t mean to upset you sweetheart” Klaus murmured, his hand reaching between the bars to brush against her arm making her flinch and pull away. “You don’t deserve to be hurt. I know that, Enz- 12144, knows it too. You’re good and sweet” he told her, his hand reaching to touch her but she wouldn’t let him. “I could help you” he whispered, his eyes flicking to Enzo’s but he just looked annoyed.

Y/n shook her head and left quickly and Enzo sighed. “You shouldn’t do that to her” he mumbled “you’re only making her hopeful”

“I haven’t lied. If she were to let me out then I’d happily slaughter that father of hers. Then she’d be safe” he smile sarcastically

“I wouldn’t let you kill her too. She hasn’t done anything cruel since the first day I met her” Enzo muttered solemnly

“I don’t plan on killing her” Klaus stated simply as he looked down at the extra cup of blood she had given him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do to her but he wouldn’t kill her, scare her maybe but he didn’t really want to kill her.

The two vampires sat back down in their cells. Preparing themselves for the torture to come. Occasionally it wouldn’t come, instead they would hear the sobs of a fear stricken Y/n as she begged the ‘scientists’ to give 12144 and 52836 a day off. It was those moments that made him soften for her.

When she would come down to where they stay with trembling hands and cups of blood.

As she handed the small offering to Klaus, he slid his hand out to grab her wrist gently. She immediately flinched and dropped the blood making her breathing escalate in panic.

“It’s alright” he soothed, pulling her closer to the bars so he could put his other hand on her cheek.

“I’m sorry” she whimpered “I’ll get more”

“It doesn’t matter sweetheart” he murmured, caressing her face gently and wiping the tears away. “I had two cups yesterday anyway” he reminded and she sniffed with a nod. “Come here love, let me hold you” he whispered, tugging her closer despite the shaking of her head a the cry that left her lips. Enzo watched with furrowed brows as Klaus managed to wrap his arms around her. Y/n’s body was pressed against the bars, still shaking as the vampire caressed her back slowly. Klaus looked over her shoulder to Enzo as Y/n melted against him. With hesitancy Enzo nodded and relaxed.

After nearly a full minute, he let her go and watched as her tearful eyes looked at his. Silently she turned around and left, whispering softly to Enzo on her way out.

Said vampire narrowed his eyes at Klaus “What game are you playing with her?” He asked lowly

“We need to get out. She needs to get out. This is how we do it” he mumbles

“Make her trust you and then use her? Like that will help her. You’ll only hurt her more” he sighed and Klaus rolled his eyes, sitting back down on the dirtied floors and shutting his eyes.

Y/n tried not to look him in the eye after that and she went back to pushing the cup of blood towards him instead of handing it to him. He could tell and Enzo could tell that something deeper was wrong. And it was only when it actually happened did they understand what.

It was Klaus’s turn to be shackled down and tested on. What he wasn’t ready for was when one of the scientists came in dragging Y/n by the wrist. He forced her infront of Klaus and shoved a syringe into her hands. She shook her head and begged no but as soon as her father stepped into the room she knew she had to do it. With one devastating look to Klaus, she injected him with the substance.

They made her test his blood and his reactions all afternoon, claiming that it was a good learning opportunity and she should finally get involved in the family business.

By the time she was finished, Klaus couldn’t see nor hear, he was certain for a moment that he was finally dead but eventually he woke a few hours later back in his cell.

After that, Y/n rarely brought them blood, she couldn’t face them. And when she had to face them, it was because she had to hurt them and that was even worse for everyone.

Neither vampire blamed her, they didn’t fight her when she would touch them. They would simply let it happen and internalise as much of their pain as possible so she wouldn’t cry as much.

Occasionally the other scientists would leave and she would immediately try stop their suffering. Asking what she could do. Enzo assure her that it was fine and she would hold his hand for a small while and feed him some water. Klaus would ask her to distract him which always confused her and ended up in a splurge of rambling so that he would be able to focus on something else. The amount of random stories that girl had told him wonder if she was just making them up on the spot but he didn’t mind if she was. Often she would caress his hand or shoulder as she spoke to try and give a sense of comfort.

One day, when Klaus was supposed to still be knocked out, she was in his cell with him. She had been told to clean the blood from the floor so that it wouldn’t smell and not to worry about 52836 because he wouldn’t wake for another hour. They underestimated his strength and the fact that Y/n would try sneak extra blood.

When he woke, his eyes slowly found her. She was down on her knees, scrubbing at the ground with a sponge quickly. It was clear she was on edge. She made it clear when she glanced over to him a few times. Only one of those times did she realise he was looking back at her and when it hit her she froze.

Klaus made sure not to move either, he wasn’t sure if the cage was open or not and he didn’t know if she would scream if he moved too quickly. He watched as she slowly began to stand up, he hesitantly moved his arm out and let his hand touch her ankle. A sound left her mouth as she went still again and watched him wrap his hand around her. “Can you help me sit up?” He asked quietly and reluctantly she nodded.

He let go of her and helped push himself up as much as he could while she supported the majority of his weight. She whispered her apologies as she managed to get him up and leaning against the wall.

“Thank you sweetheart” he whispered, his hand finding hers. She swallowed thickly but held his hand and sat beside him staring at the ground blankly.

Enzo was in the other room, being tested on as usual so Klaus had her to himself for a moment.

His eyes flicked to the lock of the cell, it was open and he knew that if he drained Y/n now that he would make it out. He felt her shuffle a little close to that she could transfer some of her body heat to his, and sighed to himself. Slowly he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “You’re not like them” he whispered, holding her closer.

“I don’t want to hurt you” she whispered sadly and he closed his eyes, cursing himself silently.

“I don’t want to hurt you either” he uttered “I’m sorry” he told her, just before lowering his head and sinking his teeth into her neck. He squeezed his eyes shut to try block out her cry of pain and confusion. Her blood burned down his throat with the vervain she’d ingested but regardless of the toxic herb, he could still feel his strength returning. Her hands desperately tried to push him off, sobs echoing through his cell as he drank. Klaus tried to be a gentle as he could but her squirming made it so difficult.

When her heart began to slow, and her her breathing quietened, he pulled his mouth off. She looked up at him with a look that could only be described as betrayal and fear. Still, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her head “it’ll be okay my love” he whispered, carrying her with him as he pushed the cell gate open. “I’ll be back” he promised, putting her on the ground, ignoring her cries as he went into the torture room.

After draining the three scientists in the room and tearing the shackles off of Enzo, he came back and picked up Y/n. Enzo was furious and took her straight off of Klaus, promising her that he had no idea this was what would happen.

The three of them managed to escape the building and Klaus broke into a random car, beckoning Enzo with Y/n into the back as he managed to get it started.

He glanced in the rear view mirror as Enzo stroked Y/n’s hair while she shook and cried and asked if her father was still alive.

Klaus’s eyes met Enzo’s in the mirror as he stepped on the gas. Neither had any idea what to do now.

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lis-likes-fics · 2 months

Text

All the Things I Hate About You

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader Word Count: 11.5k words Warnings: Swearing, torture, violence, kidnapping, enemies to lovers... A/N: This was actually really fun to write. I forgot I had this idea for months until I was looking through my wips and saw the planning completely finished. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy!

The bar is quite busy tonight. It's full of patrons talking and laughing and carrying on in classic New Orleans style. Nights like these are always nice, especially when it's between you and Klaus, this time with the added company of Marcel, as you bring the lip of your bourbon to your own, smiling around the glass.

You chuckle into the cup at one of Klaus’ quips, raising a finger at him and wiping your bottom lip. You're about to speak when your attention diverts to the door at the sound of a ringing bell.

Your face falls.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, putting your hand down and wrapping it around your glass again.

Looking toward the source of your new frustration, Klaus can't help his chuckle. “Now, now, dove,” he bids, swirling the contents of his glass. “Do not let his intrusion sour your mood. I'm sure he has a good reason for being here. Don't you, big brother?”

You all look at the man in question as Elijah places his hand on the back of his brother's chair. He disregards you altogether, and somehow that's more frustrating than him showing up in the first place.

“Niklaus, we need to talk,” he says, turning his head toward him with a clenched jaw.

You whine, leaning forward and letting your head fall to the table with a dull thump. “But the night was just getting good.” Marcel laughs at you.

Amused, Klaus raises a brow. “About?”

Elijah finally spares you a sliver of attention as his eyes dart toward you, narrowed to slits. “Privately,” he insists.

Klaus rolls his eyes, uninterested and ready to shift his attention back to you. “We can talk about the eternal crisis of my soul’s redemption another day, Elijah. For now,” he looks at you, smirking devilishly, “we were just headed to this cute little place around the corner for a bite.”

You aren't a vampire, but you've never had an issue with encouraging his less-than-innocent activities. In fact, through the course of your friendship, Klaus has found that you enjoy indulging in vampiric lifestyles. He found that you lack a certain morality most humans tend to hold when it comes to the supernatural. It's one of his favorite things about you—you're not obsessed with saving his immortal soul.

But Elijah does not sympathize.

“I'm sure you've had plenty of ‘bites’ today,” he says, shooting you a glare.

Preening under his attention—however negative it may be—you continue. “Yeah, well, bite me. You're ruining the fun.”

His gaze unwavering, Elijah continues to glare. “Oh, I just might.”

You scoff, turning your body more towards him. “I'm not afraid of you.”

He's so used to being feared, but you've never feared him for a moment—it's another one of those things he hates about you.

He takes a step closer to you, and you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. You don't falter, even as he speaks. “I don't need you to be afraid in order to be lethal, sweetling.”

It's very derogative, the way he says it. All of his pet names toward you are. You're sure he thinks you hate it, but—of all his insults—it's one of your favorites.

Marcel and Klaus watch on, enjoying the scene as much as you as the both of you stare the other down. Your gazes are unwavering, a game of dominance which you have a clear disadvantage in—though that's never stopped you before.

“Uh-oh,” Marcel grins, bringing his glass to his lips. He chuckles as he glances at Klaus, who does the same. “It's gonna be a cat fight.”

But when nothing happens, and you continue to stare, Klaus sighs as he lounges in his chair. “What is it that cannot wait, brother?”

It takes a moment for him to finally respond, to tear his eyes away from you and look back at his little brother. “Supernatural business,” he says plainly.

“You mean supernatural drama,” Marcel corrects. “Spill.”

Raising a brow, Elijah's eyes, one again, fall back to you—as though he couldn't resist looking away for more than a moment. “You could probably ‘spill’ yourself, couldn't you?”

You sigh. “To be honest,” you stretch and turn back to your drink, “I'm just trying to get drunk, and your presence is unnervingly sobering.” You take a sip, your eyes still watching him as you do.

Taking every opportunity to spite you, he hums. “Good.”

Marcel refocuses. “What kind of drama?”

Again, Elijah turns away. “The kind that includes a vampire dead in the Quarter.”

You lift your chin, remembering as your lips form an “oh” and you return to your drink.

Marcel, ever annoyed by Mikaelson and Co. mischief, turns to you and Klaus with an immense amount of exhaustion. “You killed one of my guys?”

You raise your hands. “To be completely fair, he was just a tourist.”

“To be completely fair,” Elijah echoes, “he was visiting family, a group of residents here. Now they are threatening to break the peace.”

“That is…quite unfortunate,” Klaus sighs. He stands then, patting Elijah back in a chummy way. “However, I don't know how much I care. This place was becoming rather tedious anyway.”

Elijah is exhausted by all of this. “And I'm sure the same can be said for your human companion.”

You raise your hands in defense. “Don't look at me! He catcalled me, all I did was punch him really hard in the face.”

Klaus nods. “Yes, and I was the one to gut him and string up his corpse in a tree like a Christmas ornament.”

“Before I suggested that we leave him someplace not so out in the open,” you nod, “because humans tend to panic.”

Elijah clenches his jaw. “Of course.”

There are many reasons Elijah doesn't like you.

For one, you seem to have no care or respect for other people's lives. You're just as bad as Niklaus, you may as well be slaughtering these people yourself.

Your encouragement in his brother's misdeeds, entirely contrary to Elijah's attempts at helping his brother, are so frustrating. It makes his job a lot harder when he's got this other voice in his head telling him that it's okay to snap his neck, as long as you put some nice beads and sunglasses on him so he looks cool.

Then there's your sass. You always have some sly comeback, another thing to add to conversation that doesn't need to be contributed.

If it didn't stop there, your eyes. You're always looking at him, always challenging him. You stare him down, your gaze unwavering. You watch his every move just to find something to pick apart.

And you're never scared of him. Never. You have no problem with talking back to this man. He could kill you in a moment, and you could do nothing to stop him. But you don't even consider that possibility, you're too busy being–

“Okay, I'm calling it a night,” Marcel stands, pulling Elijah from his obsessive thoughts. “I've got business to take care of. Thank you for that.” He says the last part to you and Klaus, dipping his head as a goodbye as he leaves. He pauses by Elijah, not meaning his words but—fuck, he's tired. “Couldn't have waited a few more hours?”

You groan, looking up at Klaus. “We don't have to go, do we?”

Klaus shrugs. “So long as you don't get hurt, I don't see why we should.”

You stand, taking one last sip from your drink as you smile. “Great.” You link arms with Klaus, patting Elijah's chest, even as he rolls his eyes. “Buh-bye now.”

Elijah turns as the two of you are leaving, his firm voice stopping the both of you as he continues to glare. “Niklaus,” he says. “We need to talk.”

Klaus lets go of your arm and walks back toward his brother. “You need a drink, my friend,” he suggests. He puts an arm on his shoulders and points toward a woman at the bar. She's sitting on her own, a finger tracing the lip of her glass. “I'm sure that lovely lady there would certainly be happy to help you.”

He pats his chest, smiling slyly. “Cheers.”

Klaus takes your arm again, and you wiggle your fingers in goodbye at Elijah. He huffs gently, shaking his head and deciding he may actually need a drink.

“Niklaus!”

You groan, laying your head on the table as Elijah's graining voice reverberates through the courtyard. You lay a hand over your head trying to ease the pain throbbing in the back of your skull.

“Could you be any louder?” you grumble, the pain too great to add the malice you intend.

Elijah comes to a stop, not bothering to look at you as his eyes scan the mezzanine. “It's your own fault,” he mutters.

“How charming,” you sigh. He's the brother meant to have manners. You lean your head up to look at him through the dark lenses of your glasses.

“Where is Niklaus?” he questions, finally looking down at you.

You shrug, massaging your temples to ease your migraine. “Probably eating some wayward college girls to spite you.”

He hums, fixing the collar of his sleeve. “Oh, are some of your friends in town?”

Despite the pain in your skull, you laugh, looking up at him. “I like this narrative in your head that the bad influence in this relationship is the helpless mortal rather than the immortal big bad wolf who is literally known for murder and mayhem.” You smile, giggling lightly. “It makes me sound like a mastermind.”

He looks toward you. “The only mastery you've achieved is in ruthless schemes against my sanity.”

“Oh,” you nod. “All good things then.”

Rather than answer you, he yells. “Niklaus!”

You're abusing your temples at this point as you try to ease the pain. “Fuck you,” you spit, resting your head down again.

He smirks. “I'm sure you would love to. Fortunately, I have more interesting things to take care of.”

You hum, your voice muffled by the table. “Dunno what your problem is.”

He's growing impatient at Klaus’ tardiness to his calls, but it seems eased at the prospect of taunting you. “I've got only a handful of issues, and your name is plastered all over 98% of them. Ni-klaus!”

There are many reasons you don't like Elijah.

For one, he always seems to show up when you don't need him to. He's a buzz kill, a sour puss, and a pain in the ass.

And, for an Original, he seems to have a strange distaste for havoc. All you ever really wanted to do was have fun, and he never seemed to sympathize.

You grew up in this city, fully aware of the fact that it was crawling with the supernatural. You grew with it, and you grew into it, and now you hold ideals more aligned with that of the vampires of the Quarter, rather than the humans of the city, desensitized from death and pain and sorrow and indulging instead in the highs and adrenaline rushes of being freed from such moralities. You've never had an issue with that.

But for a woman who'd grown in the heart of the city he loved, Elijah seemed to hate your guts.

If that wasn't enough, his penchant for immaculacy drove you mad, there was no reason to find that much stress in being a little disorganized. Hell, your whole life was practically a disorganized mess, but he doesn't see you spiraling.

And his fucking face disgusted you. The way he watched you, so closely, tracking every movement. His eyes hardly left you, and when they did, it was simply to show you how little you were to him. But you just kept staring. He wanted you to be afraid of him, but you aren't. And you'll never be.

You want him to know that. You know it ticks him off.

Klaus comes to your rescue, but not without an infliction of his own as he arrives at the mezzanine. “Alright! Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm here.” He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes as he looks down at the both of you in the courtyard. “Now what are you so insistent on telling me?”

Elijah squares his jaw. “Walk with me.”

Klaus groans. “Must we?”

True to his fashion, rather than answer, Elijah simply turns and begins walking. As he disappears, you lift your head, pushing your sunglasses further up your nose. “Good luck with that one,” you mumble, pointing in Elijah's direction. You look after him as Klaus descends the steps. “He's especially pissy.”

Klaus comes next to you, pushing some hair behind your ear. “Do you have something to do with that?”

You smile a bit. “Don't I always?”

Klaus laughs, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing some more when you wipe it. He fishes a little bottle of Tylenol from his pocket and sets it in front of you as he makes his way toward the front, leaving you to your misery as you rest your head back down on the table.

You snatch the bottle, clutching it like golden treasure.

Your migraine is gone by the time they return. You've still got your sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, but it's more for fashion than it is comfort now. Your music is practically blasting through the courtyard, and the brothers walk in to see you dancing to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys.

Why? Why not?

“Oh,” Elijah sighs, raising a brow and glancing away. “It dances.”

You turn, taking off the sunglasses and pausing your music. You point at him with the pair, “Aren't you supposed to be a feminist or something?”

Klaus laughs at your antics and simply brushes past you. You wave tauntingly at Elijah and follow Klaus up the steps as you both leave him by his lonesome.

“So what did you talk about?” you ask once he's out of sight. You weave your hand through his arm and smile up at him. “Was it little ole me?” You shoot him a charming grin.

He chuckles, “As always.”

He shrugs, continuing down the hall with you happily on his arm. You and Klaus have been joined at the hip since you met just a little after he moved back to the city. He's your best friend, as you are his. You adore this man, though many try to warn you of his danger.

But you like the danger. You practically live and breathe the supernatural. Whether you should be afraid or not, you aren't. It's in your veins as though you were one of them already.

“What about?” you hum.

“You and your terrible influence.” He turns into Hope's room, pushing the door open and walking further inside as he looks around.

“I'm just cool like that,” you say. Glancing around, you furrow your brow. “What are you doing?”

“Hayley called,” he says simply. He turns over a blanket to look underneath it. “Apparently she forgot one of Hope's favorite toys when she was last here. She refuses to take her nap without it, needs me to retrieve it for her.”

You walk toward the bed, picking up a powder pink pillow and seeing the little pastel blue bunny underneath it, its floppy ears lazy at the sides of its head.

“Isn't this it?”

You show it off to him, wiggling it to make its arms flop around. Klaus nods, taking the offered creature. “That, it is.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper to avoid Elijah's prying ears. “Why don't you come with me, and we can ditch the police downstairs.”

You smile wide, whispering back at him. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He offers his hand. You take it.

The both of you take one of the many “secret” exits of the building, ditching Elijah in the courtyard to go have some real fun. He takes you to one of the back entrances, where it’s a little darker and you’re surrounded by brick. Klaus opens the gate and steps onto the street, and as you go behind him to cross the threshold–

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

You furrow your brow at the resistance that meets the toe of your shoe. Raising a hand, you reach forward…

“Klaus, I can't get out,” you say as you press it against air, and you press hard. But to no avail…

“What do you mean?” he asks.

You make a face ‘What do you think I mean?’ You slap your hand against the force again, and nothing. “There's something keeping me from leaving.”

Hoping your teasing, he reaches for your hand and is immediately stopped from doing so. “What the hell?” he mutters.

“You think it's trouble?”

Klaus sighs, exhaustion slipping into his tone. “When isn't it?”

A gush of air whips behind you and suddenly Elijah is at your side, facing his brother. “We're sealed in.”

You roll your eyes, “We kind of figured that out already.”

He furrows his brows at Klaus, raising a hand to the barrier. “You're not trapped?” he questions.

Klaus raises his hands and lets them drop at his sides. “As it seems.”

“Shit,” you whisper. You shake your head, turning to face both of them as you sink into your “something-is-wrong-how-do-we-fix-it” mode, well-versed in the world of Mikaelson drama by this point. “What do we do?”

Klaus retrieves his phone from his back pocket. “I'll figure something out. You stay here.” He turns to leave. You roll your eyes at his back.

“Don't have much of a choice.”

“Try not to kill each other before I get back,” he says as he leaves.

You groan, leaning against the barrier dramatically. “Don't leave me here!” He ignores you.

You sigh, grumbling as you turn to face Elijah. “Wonderful.”

“I'm not exactly thrilled myself.”

You turn to leave him, walking away back toward the courtyard where the stairs are. Elijah follows you, walking behind.

And as you reach the stairs, still he walks behind.

“You're following me,” you point out, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“I'm not following you.”

You pick up the pace up the stairs. “Yes, you are.” It's almost fun, the senseless bickering. Like children. If only it were that simple…

“We are going in the same direction,” he states, rolling his eyes when you keep looking over your shoulder at the top of the stairs.

“Go away!” you exclaim, disappearing into Klaus’ room. He continues walking, grumbling to himself as he carries on to his own.

Closing the door behind you, you're almost disappointed. But you remember that you don't like him. You aren't friends. He isn't going to humor you, and you won't humor him either.

You plop down on the bed, laying back with your arms sprawled out like a bird. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do trapped in the compound with naught to do but stare at the ceiling.

And you're bored.

You pull your phone out and tap on it, humming to yourself as you do. But that can only sustain you for so long. And you're right. Because it has been exactly five minutes since you closed Klaus’ door, and now you're standing in Elijah's doorway with your arms crossed over your chest.

He doesn't acknowledge you. He's perfectly content to sit there reading, paying you absolutely no mind.

But you can't have that.

“I'm bored.”

He hums, his finger tapping the top corner of his book. “Go do something.”

“I can't, wise guy,” you roll your eyes. You take a step farther into his room. “We're trapped here.”

He doesn't seem to care. “I'm occupied.”

For a moment, you wonder why he's so calm. If you're trapped in the compound, that means there's a witch involved. And if there's a witch involved, that likely means there's another dangerous issue that needs to be solved before someone gets hurt.

But then you remember. He's an Original. If there's an issue, let it come. It won't hurt him.

You look along the shelves in his room, lined with books and belongings. “I'm not,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes and sets his book down. “Why are you here?”

You shrug. You're bored, and you like messing with him. And that's what you tell him: “Because I'm bored, and I like messing with you.”

“You can't stand not being within my presence, is it?”

“Ew, gross!” you exclaim, feeling slightly giddy before you remember that you aren't friends and you, in fact, hate him as he does, you.

To distract yourself from the fondness in your chest, you take a small book off the shelf and toss it at him. He catches it with ease and sets it on the table next to him. Wordlessly, he shoots you a glare to tell you to stop. But you've finally been entertained.

To be fair, this was childish and unnecessary and you really shouldn't have done it. But you're stupid around Elijah, and you're childish and unnecessary because he entertains you and makes you upset and drives you crazy.

So you keep throwing things at him. First, another book. Then one of the expensive and, likely, old knick-knacks on his shelf. Then whatever goes in your hand because he keeps catching them like it's nothing.

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice firm and final. But you don't listen to him. You never listen to him.

“I'm bored,” you tell him, bracing another book in your hands. If you knew he wouldn't catch it, you wouldn't throw it. “Do something funny.”

You toss it, he catches it. Like clockwork. “I am not here to occupy you. I am here because I have no other choice, as we are trapped. You said to go away. I left. And now you are here tormenting me.”

He's fed up, and you know he is. And it only excites you more. That means he'll react, he'll pay attention to you. He'll look at you. And you can look at him. You love the way he looks when he's frustrated.

“I am here to torment you,” you shrug. “Did you want another book, by the way? I think you might enjoy this one.”

You toss it. Like clockwork. “Stop.”

You should stop. A figurine leaves your hand.

“Stop,” harsher this time. “I will not tell you again.”

You smirk. “Do something about it.” The challenge leaves your lips just as the last book does.

He catches it, and then suddenly you're being pushed up against the wall, your wrists pinned at either side of your head in a tight grip that makes your fingers tingle. You wince as your head hits the brick, not hard enough to really hurt you but hard enough to sting as you bare your teeth.

Your eyes go wide as your gaze locks with his. He's furious, face inches from yours and eyes full of frustration.

For the very first time, you're afraid of Elijah Mikaelson.

“You are behaving like a child.” His voice is low and dangerous, his eyes are dark as they bore into your own, unflinching. But you flinch. Each little syllabus he stresses has you squinting your eyes and wanting to shrink away from him.

You truly understand now how someone like him can inspire so much fear in others.

“If you continue this nonsense, I assure you…” he leans even closer, his words caressing your face in a terrifying way, “I will put an end to it as quickly as it started.” You close your eyes and turn your face slightly away from him as you feel each letter in his words spell out on your cheek. “Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Silence. Silence fills the air.

The only exception to the quiet suspense lingering in the space between the both of you are his steady breaths and your quivering ones. As you open your eyes and look at him again, you feel like he's stolen the air in the room and the adrenaline pumping through your veins is not out of the excitement of action, but the fear of actually being hurt.

Because he may actually intend on hurting you.

You definitely feel it in the tips of your fingers, going numb with his tightened grip. You feel it in the sting of the back of your skull after it met the brick of his bedroom wall. You feel it in the scrape of your skin against said brick. And as he's met with silence from you, you feel it in the clutch of his hands around your wrist, his thumb pressing into your pulse and forcing your fingers to curl.

You whimper. You actually whimper—a soft and nearly silent little slip of sound from your lips as you force them to part and whisper meekly to him.

“You're hurting me.”

The fog of frustration lifts from his eyes and he immediately seems to come to his senses. In the next second, he's let you go and take several steps away from you. His eyes are a tad bit wider, and his lips are parted.

He hadn't realized he was actually hurting you.

You wince, holding your wrists as you massage them. Elijah notices the way you actually sink into yourself, trying to play it down but so easy to read in his eyes, eyes that watch you at every point he gets.

“Ow,” you whisper. “Jesus.”

Your wrists really hurt. They'll probably bruise. You reach a hand to the back of your head, wincing once again when your fingers brush the tiny bump that may form there, but feel relieved when there is no blood.

You sigh, glancing up at him and taking a couple small steps back. You think you may be standing too close, even still.

Elijah watches you, swallowing thickly. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you.

“I need a drink,” you mumble without the implied, ‘away from you’. Then you roll your eyes, “Oh, wait.”

You hate the feeling being pumped through your system right now. Fear. Fear or Elijah Mikaelson. A man you've never feared in your life. Even for a moment. Suddenly, you're terrified.

Because he may actually hurt you.

Elijah licks his bottom lip and looks down at his shoes. He takes a step back, and then makes a slow and straight path to a cupboard in his bedroom. He opens it, and pulls out a bottle of bourbon he kept hidden away there. In silence he pours two glasses and leaves yours on the edge of the table for you.

Tentatively, you take it.

It takes a moment for the word to form, afraid to vex him again, “...Thanks.”

He hums and says nothing else.

There's another long silence. You bring the glass to your lips and take a generous gulp, letting the alcohol burn down your throat and warm your chest. Elijah does the same.

He holds his glass in his hands, and for a moment you think he looks almost...shy.

He taps his glass, the sound filling the air between you. Without looking up at you, he takes in a gentle breath and speaks.

“Forgive me.”

You look at him. He meets your gaze slowly, making no attempt to step closer but offering all his sincerity. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You scoff lightly. “Your threat said otherwise.”

It's your own fault. You were being unnecessary, you were being stupid…

His voice, though firmer, doesn't betray the softness he'd utilized in his apology before. This is the gentlest you've ever experienced Elijah.

“I would not have hurt you to make you stop.”

“Wouldn't you?” you challenge lightly. You're afraid to provoke him some more.

But his reply is still just as firm. “No.” There's a gravity in his words that you don't have the capacity to dissect right now. “I would not.”

More silence. Longer silence.

You stare at him, taking in the sight of his face, which grows softer and softer as time goes on. Your fear slowly dwindles but it's still there, seemingly ever-present. You should apologize.

“You just…” you look down at the floor, “You just don't seem the type to feel bad about hurting me. You don't seem to like me very much.”

You don't want to sound as pathetic as you feel. Especially at the “don't seem to like me”. It feels so…childish, small, insignificant. You don't like me.

He shrugs, speaks matter-of-factly. “I don't. But I do not hate you, either.”

You scoff again, shaking your head lightly. You don't understand him…

Elijah sighs, moving slowly to take a seat again. He sits at the edge of his chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and he cradles his glass in his hands. “As much as your penchant for wreaking havoc with my brother frustrates me… You do remain his friend.” And he doesn't have many of those.

You chuckle, shaking your head, feeling the conflicts of your emotions and turning it to disdain to make it easier on you.

“Is that why you keep me around?”

“What?”

“You want your baby brother to have a bestie?” You bring the cup to your lips but do not drink yet. “Otherwise I'd have already been dead in an alleyway or something?” You take a sip then, to hide the hurt you feel.

He shakes his head, staring at the contents of his cup. “You say that like I've always hated you.”

You raise a brow. “Haven't you?” You don't understand him.

He actually smiles, shaking his head. “You're so stubborn, aren't you?”

Without missing a beat, “It's my best quality.” You don't reciprocate his smile. As he watches you, his slowly fades anyway.

He looks down at your hands. They're shaking slightly. “You're hurt,” he frowns. “Let me help you.”

You take a step back, “I don't need your help.”

“Please.” He sounds small, non-confrontational. He doesn't sound like him, he sounds almost weak—almost like you.

You think about it, and then you take a breath of courage and relent. “No blood, though,” you mumble, trying to sound light-hearted and failing. You're still a bit shaken.

“God forbid you were healed,” he mumbles as he stands and makes your trade places with him as he sits you with the gentlest touches in his chair. He crouches in front of you and takes your hands in his own, frowning in an almost pained way at the cuts and scrapes that litter the lengths of your forearms. He did this.

Elijah stands, disappears, and reappears with a first-aid kit in his hands. He kneels in front of you once more, taking your hands and covering your skin in ointment and wrapping your wrists carefully with deft fingers.

Almost like he cares about you.

A warm feeling swells in your chest, but you stifle it before it can get too familiar, too comfortable. You take your hands back, holding your wrists gently as you rub your fingers over the bandages. You try not to be sentimental.

“Thanks,” you whisper, hating how weak you sound. You clear your throat and stand. He stands with you, moving slowly so as not to scare you. He doesn't want you to be afraid of him. You are never afraid of him.

“Sorry…” you clear your throat, “about the…throwing things. I overdid it.” You can't look him in the eyes. “It was childish—I'm childish, and I'm sorry.”

“Careful,” the slightest smirk teases his lips. “Someone may think we were actually friends.”

Friends.

“God forbid,” you joke weakly.

As has become natural…there is silence. You're not used to so much silence with him. It's usually filled with petty insults and shallow jabs at the others shortcomings.

You look up at him, into his eyes. It's easier to see him a little more clearly in the silence. You can take in more information, like the depths of his eyes, the gleam of them, the richness of his brown irises…

“I'm gonna…” you break the silence as gently as you can, “go keep myself busy.”

He doesn't stop you. He doesn't salvage the strange, silent truce with a sly remark, he doesn't scoff or roll his eyes or walk away. He takes a step to the side and allows you to pass, watching you leave with tentative steps as you stare at the floor to keep from looking back at him. You don't understand him. He doesn't understand you. But you think that maybe, in this silent moment, you understand each other more than you ever have since the moment you first met.

You leave his room. He stands there, watching the open door, unblinking but thinking a million thoughts. He hears your gentle steps descend the stairs. Elijah sits back down, looking at your glasses, both still half-full and forgotten. He sighs. He's stupid.

He hears you downstairs. The soft steps of your shoes against the floor, the scoot of a chair.

He'd never meant to hurt you. As much as he threatens, as much as he remarks, he'd never lay a finger on you with the actual intent of hurting you.

He sighs, turning to take the books you'd thrown in his hands to set back on the shelf. He thinks as he arranges them into their original order. He thinks as he places his knick-knacks in their rightful positions.

He listens to your heart beat, a steady rhythm in the back of his mind. A few moments pass, and there is complete stillness in the compound.

But just as quickly as it settled, it was disrupted once more.

He hears your heart pick up, a fast and unsteady beat against your ribcage that all too suddenly disappears.

It only takes a moment to check every room in the compound. It takes only one other to check them all twice.

But you're gone.

His phone is in his hand and ringing in no time. He paces, unsettled as he bids his brother to answer quickly.

The dial tone ends. Klaus’ voice comes through, “I've just got the little witch. I'm sure being alone with her isn't as excruciating as you claim, broth–”

“Niklaus. She's gone.”

A pause. “What do you mean ‘she's gone’?” His voice is low, menacing. He's ready to draw blood.

“Her heartbeat raced, and then it disappeared.” He looks around again, in case he missed something the first two times. He hates to say that he feels like he may begin panicking. “She isn't in the compound, and I am still trapped.”

He knows. He checked. Three times.

“We're coming.”

He hangs up. Elijah lets his hand drop to his side, running the other through his hair and sighing. He closes his eyes, takes a breath.

It'll be fine.

There's a terrible pain at the base of your skull, and you wince when you become conscious enough to feel the pounding of it. Your neck is sore, but it's held back by something rather than left to hang freely. Duct tape, wrapped tightly around your throat.

Your fingers tingle with a numbing sensation spreading up to your wrist. Your hands are tied down to a chair, your ankles are restrained to the legs, and your back is sore from the very uncomfortable position you've been put in. The sticky adhesive hurts your skin.

You're not going anywhere.

You blink quickly as you open your eyes, a bright light flashing in your face and blinding. It's hot and humid, each breath you take is thick and sluggish. You look around, taking in your surroundings to try and see if you know where you are.

The walls are rundown with mold and cracks. The floorboards are weak and creaky. The light directed into your face is your only source of light. The sun has set, and it's a new moon tonight.

A groan slips through your lips before you can stop it.

“She's awake,” a voice announces. A woman.

The floorboards groan under the weight of someone's steps. You look up (as if you have much of a choice), your eyes still adjusting, especially with the pain becoming background noise in your mind.

“I heard.” A man, whose voice isn't particularly strong. After spending so much time with the Originals, you're sure to know the difference.

You'll be fine.

You watch him take his phone from his back pocket, holding up to your face. The flash goes off, and you wince as the tiny click of his phone sounds.

You groan, thinking quickly as you take in a breath. “Wait,” you say. “You didn't get my good side. You gotta do it again.”

Your voice is thick with exhaustion and dehydration, but it doesn't deter you. Just because you're the one in restraints doesn't mean you're the weak one here.

He bends down, moving his face into the light. He doesn't look very intimidating, though he tries to be. In fact, he looks terrible—tired and upset.

“So you're the little human Klaus keeps around?” he hums. His lip curls slightly into a scowl, and he shakes his head. “You don't look like much.”

You smile, shrugging as best you can. “I don't need to.” You tilt your head, “I have an endless supply of charm to work with.”

“That's funny,” he says humorlessly. He turns to the woman sitting in the corner. “She's funny.”

You assume she's a witch. After the incident at the compound and now the apparent kidnapping, that assumption isn't too far off.

You nod. “I'm hilarious.”

“All the time?” he wonders.

“24/7.”

He makes a face, one to say he disagrees. He stands straight up again, walking around your chair. His knuckles rap against the back of it, and you roll your eyes. His tactics are amateur. Even the witch is bored, because she stands up and leaves.

“I personally don't think so.”

You furrow your brows, mocking sorrow. “Really? Why not? Wait,” you think for a moment. “I don't care.”

His hands fall on your shoulder, and you scowl. He's actually touching you. That's disgusting. If you could bite his hand or something, you would. But that currently isn't an option.

“There was one joke that wasn't very funny,” he says, bending down once more so you can see him.

“I always love feedback on my work. How'd it go?”

He smiles, but it's a sour thing on his face. “It went up in a tree, gutted like a fish and hanged. Like he was nothing.” Realization hits you. “You got my brother killed.”

So that's why you're here.

“Is that what this is about?” You shake your head, raising an uninterested brow. “Look, bud, all I did was punch him. Klaus killed him.”

He shrugs, “You definitely didn't stop him.” His words drip with a pain you can no longer empathize with.

“I didn't, no,” you tell him plainly, “because I didn't care and your brother was a jerk—and also Klaus is freakishly strong and I don't stand a chance.”

He's losing his patience. Now he's just pissed, and he's losing his power—what little he had to begin with anyway.

“Being a jerk isn't a fair enough reason to be slaughtered like that,” he argues. “Otherwise you'd already be dead.”

“So you're not going to kill me?” you ask. “Oh, that's a relief. I have a massage tomorrow at two. My shoulders have been killing me.”

“I think tense shoulders are the least of your worries right now.”

“I'm getting mixed signals here. Am I in danger or–”

“Shut up!” His hand wraps around your throat, tighter than the tape he has secured there as he pushes you up against the chair.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, but it's well hidden as you watch him straight on. He's on the verge, you can tell. He might snap at any moment and it likely won't end well for you.

“You never stop talking, do you?” His voice is low and rough, his breath is thick with rage. “I don't know how anyone puts up with you and your constant blabbing, it's honestly pathetic.”

Your breath is thin but you won't let him have the last word. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you strain against his grip. “Nothing you say is really going to get under my skin. I've probably said it already.”

He leans in closer. You can feel his warm breath on your face, and you'd squirm if it wouldn't empower him. “You're a child.”

“I know. It keeps me young.”

He lets go of you, and before you can think of something else to say, the back of his hands smacks against your cheek. You grunt, your face whipping to the side as the tape cuts into your skin. It stings. He's very strong, and it shows in the dark stain arising in your cheek. You think his daylight ring clipped you because it really stings, and you think he may have drawn blood.

Your suspicions are validated when you see the veins in his eyes wriggling under his skin, his eyes darkening with the scent of your blood.

“Ah, shit!” you gasp, wanting to soothe the spot but being unable to. It really hurts. But you can't let him have the satisfaction. “I mean,” you catch your breath, “harder, Daddy.” You shake your head, wincing harshly. “God, that hurt, actually.”

He gets real close to your face again, but the pain of his smack makes it harder to show indifference. But it's not without trying. “You killed my brother,” he spits. “I'm going to hurt you really bad. And then…” he smiles, “I am going to kill you.”

Your breath is uneven, riled up with the anxiety of maybe not having the upper hand. If there's a witch, it means you're likely cloaked. The compound may still be sealed, so Elijah is still trapped—not that he would save you if he wasn't. Klaus, with all his power, may not be able to find you.

You might not get out of this alive.

Nevertheless. “You really shouldn't start with your big threat.” He turns away from you, annoyed. “There's no way to go from there.”

“I'm going to beat the shit out of you.

“See?” you ask, getting a little desperate now. Maybe you can distract him? “You already threatened my life. Anything else you say is significantly less impactful.”

“Shut up!” he shouts.

A gleam shines off a knife he pulls from his back pocket. Your eyes go wide with panic, and you try to react but there's nothing you can do. He raises it high, and in the next second, he's stabbed it into the meat of your thigh.

A scream tears from your throat. It's loud and rough and brings tears to your eyes as the pain rips through you like a fire. Your hands flex towards it, trying to soothe it in some way—any way—but to no avail.

He sneers, a dark chuckle leaving his throat. You watch his face change, his vampiric features creeping through again. “That's better.”

He pulls his phone out and snaps another picture. a wicked grin sneaks onto his face.

You're in full panic mode. You can't even attempt to be funny anymore, you've begin genuinely freaking out because there's a fucking knife in your leg.

“Okay, I'm sorry,” the words leave your mouth at the speed of light. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn't have let Klaus do it. Granted, I can't really stop him when he's got murder on his mind, but I should have tried, and I didn't, and that's on me. I'm sorry. No, no, no, no, I'm sorr–!”

Another painful shout rips through you as he tears the knife from your leg. It bleeds, and it bleeds bad. Tears have begun pooling in your eyes, and dropping down your face and off your chin. Your screams stutter with sobs, and you gasp but there's too much air in your lungs to actually inhale each breath. The tape around your neck chokes you.

More flashes, more pictures

“You can scream as loud as you like, sweetheart. Your precious Mikaelsons are trapped in their house, and we're cloaked. No one's gonna find us until I'm done.”

Mikaelsons. Not Mikaelson. He thinks Klaus is trapped. If you can stall just long enough…

But your hope is running out and the blood is pooling. It's hard to think past the pain.

Klaus will save me. He always saves me.

This guy hates you and your jokes. He wants nothing more than to shut you up for good, but he isn't going to kill you unless he's broken you. He isn't going to take your life until your jokes have run dry and there's no more fun in stripping you of your depleted humor. If you want to live a little longer, you've got to keep them locked and loaded.

You just don't know how long you'll last.

“Well,” you stutter, whispering a confidence you don't have, “if I'm truly fucked, I guess I'm gonna have to use the rest of my good jokes on you.”

His hands wrap around your throat again. He squeezes, and your head feels hot and heavy. Every inch of your face tingles in a terrible way. Your lungs burn as the pressure builds. You flex your hands, you pull at the layers and layers of tape, you try to do something to get you out of here.

He watched you struggle, crude fingers digging into your pulse points. He watches the fight diminish to a dull scrape of your chair against the floor. When you begin to go limp and the life sinks from your eyes, he lets go.

You've never taken a deeper breath in your life.

Click.

A fit of coughs forces its way from your throat. It feels so good to breathe, a dull euphoria buzzing in the back of your brain against the horrible pain of your leg, but—fuck—you can't do it.

“Try speaking through that,” he huffs, satisfied with his method.

For a moment, you think, Maybe… Maybe I should just let him kill me and get it over with.

But Klaus would never forgive you, and if Elijah hadn't hated you before, he surely would then.

For the boys. Not for you. I'm doing this for the boys.

“C-Come clo–” You cough, the hoarseness of your throat too much to be coherent. “Closer.”

He relent, leaning down as his hands brace himself on your arms. It hurts as he transfers most of his weight on them, but you try not to wince.

“That was…” you take in a terrible breath, your voice is a squeak, “really hot.”

Apparently, he doesn't like your jokes.

Snatching up the tape, he presses it against your mouth in generous amounts to ensure not a single word comes out of you.

He picks up the knife, flipping it in his hands as he examines you. You pull weakly against your restraints—to no avail, of course—as he steps closer and closer. You mumble incoherently against your muffle. You try to say something, anything. You need to bargain, you need to joke, you need to do something.

“I'm going to enjoy this.”

The torture is too much. He slices and stabs and scrapes, his movements both swift and slow and ragged and clean. You scream, sob, choke, make all the noise you can. He cuts you in all the right ways, missing your major arteries to ensure you don't bleed out before he's finished with you.

You're lightheaded, and it's hard to see. The pain is so great, you're not even sure you're feeling all of it by this point. Your voice is so abused by your cries that they're hardly audible anymore.

Every time he lets up, taking your silence for defeat, you grant him a look with all the defiance you can muster and brace for the pain to come.

Klaus is going to owe you so much when he gets here.

If he gets here.

You don't know how much more you can take.

He takes a picture at every point. He's gotten so many photos on his phone by now. So many of you screaming and crying, so many of you hurting and so close to broken.

You don't want him to see them.

He grips the knife again. You feel another weak sob rising in your throat when suddenly–

He turns toward the door, his movements halting to listen. There was a rustle, leaves and twigs. Probably nothing…

“Witch!” he yells. No response. “Avaline!” Nothing. He grunts, shaking his head. His knuckles tighten around the knife. “She's gone.”

You mumble against the tape. He looks at you and relents. He rips the tape off, ensuring it hurts you. You cry a little.

“You gonna…” your mouth and your throat are dry, “go investigate that…suspicious noise?”

He smacks you. You make no sound. He looks over his shoulder. “It's just a possum,” he mumbles, not believing himself. “They're all over the place.”

There's another rustle, a possum. He turns to you, silent.

“What? No funny quip?”

You try to think of something, but you come up dry. You let your head lean forward, ignoring the way the tape strains on your throat. It takes so much strength to hold up your head, and you're tired. You're covered in blood and sweat and tears, and you just want to sleep.

When you remain silent, he smiles, triumphant. He checks the time, sighing almost regretfully.

Click. Click.

“Okay,” he says. “Time to wrap this up.”

He tightens his grip around the knife. You want to fight…but you've gotten nothing left. You think of Klaus, how pissed he'll be, the upset he'll feel when you're gone. You don't think of yourself as having a huge impact on others and their lives. You've always thought you were disposable, and you flitted through people's lives holding that ideal.

But Klaus. Klaus is the one person you know loves you, in his way. And when you're dead, he will raise hell. You want to smile at the idea, but it takes too much.

Elijah will be upset.

A choked sound catches in your throat when the knife slices through the flesh of your belly. It drives in, and you don't have the energy to scream. The satisfaction in his eyes beams.

I'm sorry.

He smiles, readjusting his hold on his knife. He goes to twist–

“Keep your filthy hands off of her.”

They move too fast for you to realize he's already pressed up against the wall, held by his neck by a curling hand intent on ripping out throats. A tiny blossom of hope swells in your chest.

You're too dizzy to pay attention to your hero, it's all so fuzzy.

“How did you get out?” he says, panicking as he claws at his attacker’s hand.

“You've got a poor witch.”

You know that voice. Don't you? Somewhere in your brain. He's familiar…

“Your brother killed mine,” he keeps trying. It's retribution. It's retribution. “I'm only repaying a debt.”

He gets close to his face, squeezing his throat even tighter as he begins to sputter and choke. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are black, his face is dangerous.

“So am I.”

A hand bursts through his chest, squeezing around his beating heart. And he holds it there, he ensures that this creature feels every last thing. His grip tightens, and tightens, and tightens, and he relishes in the feeling of his beating heart slowly failing.

He pulls it out, holding the useless organ in his palm with the same disgust he grants the man it belongs to. It falls to the ground with a splat, as does he.

Your savior steps into your line of sight, his dark eyes wide with intense emotion you can't quite place. And you would smile if you could find the will.

He came for you. Elijah.

His bloodied hand presses against the side of your face. You don't flinch, even as he takes hold of the tape and rips it apart like he's nothing. He takes care to remove it from your neck, and you slump forward with your newfound freedom. Your neck is so tight, it really hurts.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes falling on the knife in your belly.

“Do I look alright…” you struggle to gasp, adding on the end so he doesn't worry too much. You don't want him to worry. “...Genius?”

He tries to look calm. He doesn't want to worry you. “Well, you're still funny, so you can't be hurt that badly.” That's a lie. You look terrible. There's blood everywhere. It takes every ounce of control he's got not to vamp out. He's never seen you worse.

“Fuck you.”

“Another time,” he says. You like jokes. He'll joke for you. “Breathe for me.”

You can't breathe. If you breathe, the knife moves, and it hurts so much. The gears are building so much, you can't even see his face. It's too late. You feel it coming. You tried.

He places his hand on the knife’s handle and begins to move. Before he can do anything, a scream tears from your throat with an energy you weren't aware you still possessed.

You begin to sob, a weak thing that slips from your throat and breaks his heart. He's never seen you so…broken. You were as strong and relentless as his brother, and now you're sobbing in his hands.

“No, don't,” you cry. “Don't, please.” You babble incoherently, in too much pain to properly pronounce your agony.

“I know,” he bids as softly as he can, “but it must come out so I can heal you.”

But your sobs overpower his gentle pleas. “It hurts. Elijah, it hurts so bad.”

He's getting choked up. He can't stand seeing you like this but he refuses to look away. “I know.”

“Please make it stop. Please.”

“I will,” he says, rolling up his sleeve. Biting into his wrist, he forces it to your lips as the blood rolls down his skin. “But you must drink.”

You refuse, sealing your lips shut and turning away from him. He doesn't have time for this—you don't have time for this. “You are in no position to refuse.”

It's getting harder and harder to breathe, to think straight. You can't think straight.

You shake your head weakly, slumping forward still as you feel your body giving out. “I don't want…” You lick your dry lips. “I'm not ready…”

He hears what you can't say. You're not ready to turn…

“You have to drink,” he tries, sounding as desperate not as he feels. His hand braces around the back of your head, he holds your dearly. “You must drink.”

You can't breathe. You try to inhale, but your breath is shallow and quick, fast pulls of air that don't reach your lungs before they're being forced out again. He says your name, pleading.

It's coming. You have to say it before it's too late.

“Elijah…”

He shakes his head. “Save your strength.”

No. You can do this. You can spend the last of your strength on this. “I never hated you…” your voice is barely above a whisper. It's choppy and slow, and you try to say everything you need to. “Just thought…” you try to clear your throat, you can taste the blood in the back of your throat, “just thought…” just a few more words, “...you hated…” you take in a weak breath struggling, “...me…”

His eyes are so full, so full of unshed tears and words he wants to say but cannot. “I don't,” he tries, keeping you awake for as long as you can, though you're fading quick. “But I can't prove it to you unless you live. Now drink.”

With all the strength you have left, you smile. It's a tiny, weak, painful little thing, but you do it for him. You don't want the last thing he knows of you to be petty insults or weak confessions of truth. You want him to know that you died with a real smile on your face, one you've wanted to give to him for a long time.

He calls your name, you don't respond as your drooping eyes begin to close. Your heart still beats, your pulse is weak but it still beats.

And he refuses to let you die. You will not die.

“If you won't save yourself, I will.”

Elijah flicks through the photos he'd found of that bastard’s phone. He looks at them all, one by one. He sees your eyes, so full of fear and pain and anger and hopelessness. Through each picture, he watches the resilience in your eyes fade until there's nothing but the emptiness of acceptance. He hates it, and he punishes himself with every single photo, refusing to forget that he almost lost you.

He hasn't shown Niklaus. And he doesn't intend to.

Your steady breaths are the only thing keeping him sane. If not for those, he would be losing his mind, pacing around the room and wanting nothing more than to punish someone for his shortcomings.

You almost died.

You should have died.

The rhythm of your breath is disrupted by a long inhale. He looks at you, watching your eyelids flicker and your brows furrow. A tiny hum arises from your throat.

Elijah crushes the phone in his palm. It crumbles to the floor.

You open your eyes, immediately blinded by the daylight peaking through the curtains. He moves his chair a little closer, giving you a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. Not ‘hello’, not ‘good afternoon’, not some smart and quick-witted comment. Just ‘hey’.

You grumble your response. Your body is heavy but not nearly as painful as you should feel. The memories of the night before flood into you before you can even see properly, but you know something is off before you can even react to them. You shouldn't be able to move right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

You sit up slowly, rising onto your elbows and staying there. “Like there's no longer a knife in my gut.”

“Technically, it missed your gut. The luck you have astounds me.”

You hum and look around. “Where's Klaus?”

He sits back again, but not in any comfortable way. “Trying to locate the witch who got away.”

You're not surprised, though you'd hoped he would be at your side when you awoke. “So the normal murder and mayhem thing?”

He hums. “The normal murder and mayhem thing.”

You got to sit up some more, stopping when you feel the ache in your body keeping you from doing so. You grunt. “Well,” you sigh, “that answered my question.”

A gentle hand presses against your completely bandaged arm. “Sit back,” he commands softly. “I've healed your deep wounds but everything else is still very much in recovery.”

You state the obvious as you sit back against the headboard, not looking at him. “You used your blood.”

“I did,” he says, unashamed. “I'm so sorry to have saved your life.”

You glance away from him. “Yeah…”

You look around the room, thinking silently. You're alive. You're in his room in the compound, tucked in his covers, secured in bandages that you're sure he did himself, and you're alive.

It's confusing.

He could have been rid of you, but he's here healing your wounds and watching over you while you rest. He could have let you die and say he came too late, said good riddance and left you be, but he's here making sure you recover. He could have just healed you and left. You would wake on your own and come to terms on your own with the fact that you are still breathing air.

He could have let you turn. He could have let you turn and left you to deal with the life of a vampire on your own, not ready and completely lost.

But he didn't.

It's confusing.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” you ask, turning to him with a furrowed brow. “I'm fine, you don't have to stay.”

He clenches his jaw, sitting back. “You were under my protection, and I let you get hurt.” His voice is soft, but it holds a gravity foreign to you on his lips. “It's my fault this happened. I'm making sure it doesn't happen again.”

So he feels guilty.

“Elijah, I know the only reason you saved me is because of me being Klaus’ friend or whatever,” you hide how much it hurts to say it out loud, “but you really don't have to stay behind and watch my every move anymore.” You swallow thickly, “You can get back to your life.”

He scoffs. “I did not only save you because of your relationship with my brother.” He seems almost offended. “Has it ever occurred to you that I actually care?”

You answer honestly.

“Not really. Once or twice on a maybe.” He nearly winces. It actually hurts him to hear you speak so truthfully about it. Had he really been so terrible to you?

You almost died, and you would have died thinking he despised you. The thought makes him cold.

“We aren't friends, I know,” you whisper.

There's a long silence. You don't look at him, but he can't look away from you.

“Do you remember what you told me?” His voice is gentle.

“When?”

“Before you passed out.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands as you brush your finger over the large band-aid going across the back of your palm. Yes, you remember. You remember how hard it was to say, you remember feeling your heart gushing in your chest, you remember the dizzying sight of his saddened face.

“I said…I didn't hate you.” You breathe in, looking at him. “And I don't.”

He shrugs, as if that answers all your questions. “Neither do I.”

That makes no sense. Now more than ever, you need something to make sense. You want him to give you a straight answer, you want your heart to stop pounding, you want your head to stop hurting, and you just want to tell him the truth, rather than the sarcasm-coated taunts you've had prepared for him for years.

“I don't get this,” you groan, resting your face in your hands and ignoring the pain blossoming from the bruises.

You look at him, dropping your hands in your lap. “From day one, you've been glaring daggers at me, threatening me, proving constantly that you want nothing to do with me and that my life to you is petty and needless.” His lips part, but he says nothing. “Now you're healing my wounds and saving my life and telling me you don't hate me.”

You're still so vulnerable from the night before, your emotions are still so raw from the fresh wounds you'd accumulated and the desperate confessions you'd revealed. Your eyes burn with tears, glowing easily with all that practice last night. And it only frustrates you, because you're tired of crying. You're tired of feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“Telling me,” you sniffle, wiping at your face roughly, groaning at the pain but doing nothing to stop it, “you actually care about me.” You're so tired.

He's hurt you again. He can't seem to stop hurting you.

He sits forward, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Do you want to know why I treated you as I did?”

“Yes,” you nod definitely. “Yes, I do. As much as I'd love to deny it I really wanna fucking know why you're playing with me like this.”

You want the truth. So he'll give it to you. It's the only thing he can really give to you.

“Because I'm a stupid man who is unable to articulate my feelings.” You go silent ad he stares at you, his gaze unyielding and yet so comforting in the way he watches you. You love his eyes, always watching, always on you, even when you both pretended they weren't.

He speaks softly but with a sincerity you feel pulling in your chest. “I haven't felt the way I have for anyone the way I feel for you in hundreds of years. Do you know what happened the last time I did?” You don't answer him, knowing the answer. Always knowing the answer to that question. The life of an immortal, a painful existence. His voice nearly broke with unshed tears. “She died. She was taken from me, and she died.”

He looks away from you, collecting himself once more with a steadying breath. Slowly, he makes himself look at you again. You stare at him, eyes wide and…fond. He was so afraid to find fear there, ever since he first saw it in your eyes yesterday, he's been terrified of finding your gaze to be a horrified stare.

But you gaze.

It gives him the courage to continue on. “I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to lose like that again.” He almost lost you. “I did it to protect myself, and you. It's just my luck you stayed. My luck you let yourself fight me, too. Because with every petty insult, every little name, my love for you grew, and I hated it because I was trying so hard to hate you.”

Silence. Complete silence.

You stare at him, eyes wide, brows pinched. He watches you with all the emotion brimming in his chest, and you have to take a long moment to yourself to think clearly.

You look down at your hands, your bottom lip trembling. You take a slow breath in, suddenly remembering to breathe as you cast your eyes upon him once more.

“You love me?”

He sighs, nodding, reaching out slowly and taking your hand. His are large and warm, and you could sit there holding his hand forever.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I love you.” This can't be real, surely. “I love you, and I'm sorry.”

Your breath shakes. He's sorry.

“I'm sorry, too,” you whisper, your voice weak but just as determined to tell him the truth: the cold, naked, selfish truth. “Because if I ever had to live without you, Elijah, I think I'd die.” You swallow thickly. “I'd rather spend my whole life pretending to hate you than spend the rest of it without you.”

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I love you so much it hurts.” You hate that you're crying again, especially when he is not.

But then you watch a lonely tear slip down his cheek, and you start to feel a little better. He laughs, a startled thing that takes him by surprise as he looks down at your hands. A laugh of your own bubbles out of your chest, you're perfectly content to sit there, holding hands and laughing. God, you love him.

His thumb brushes the back of your palm. A watery chuckle escapes you as you shake your head and roll your eyes. You wipe your tears away, sick of crying and wanting to take the victory with a smile instead of tears.

“God forbid we handle our feelings like adults, though, right?”

He nods, flicking his own away. “God forbid.”

You lick your lip briefly. “Please come here and kiss me.”

He wastes no time in covering the distance between you, wrapping a hand carefully around the back of your neck as he cradles your head. He pulls you in to meet halfway, his lips pressing up against yours. It's a perfect kiss, a perfect fit. One you had certainly not imagined a million times between insults and remarks.

You love him, you love him, you love him. And he loves you.

It feels so nice to finally tell the truth.

Because there are many things to love about Elijah Mikaelson, and there are many things to love about you. And you do. You love them through and through, finally finding solace in all the wrongs and not-quite-rights you'd lived with all these years.

“If we do this,” he says, pulling away from your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours, unable to pull apart from you after finally building that bridge, “your life will always be in danger.”

You smile. “Klaus Mikaelson is my best friend. My life is already in danger.” Your lips softly peck his own. “Might as well keep it up.”

A smile of his own tugs at his mouth and he pulls you in yet again, already so addicted to the taste of him. You love the way he loves you.

“Well, I suppose you're stuck with me now,” he sighs between kisses.

You chuckle lightly. You have no problem with that.

“Back at you.”

Klaus will have a field day when he finds out.

Always and Forever taglist: @avala-moon @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @katsukis1wife @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @thelastpyle @lovelyy-moonlight @hb8301 @athena-royal @alexxavicry @dumb-fawkin-bitch @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @evansstan-akya @anotherblackreader Suit and Staglist: @deviously-innocent @wanniiieeee @brandyovereager @starkleila @amythedoctor @slytherinlyn16 @anastacia1705 @sugakookieswithacupoftae16

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #enemies to lovers

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huntressofartemis001 · 2 years

Text

Klaus is the type of person who’d show up at his own funeral, see everybody crying, start crying too, and ask who died.

and then probably Luther or Diego would be crying so much they wouldn’t realise Klaus is there and just answer “Klaus”

and then Klaus would hug them and mourn himself w them probably without even realising he’s the Klaus who died until Five realises Klaus is there and alive and start cursing him.

and Luther would be like “Five stop cursing Klaus, he’s dead”

and Klaus would be like “who, me? wait, i’m the dead Klaus? oh no, i’m here, did I forget to mention? i’m immortal, sillies”

and Five would be FUCKING PISSED at him

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 3 #tua #tua s3 #tua season 3 #klaus hargreeves #tua klaus #five hargreeves #tua five #luther hargreeves #tua luther #diego hargreeves #tua diego #funeral

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theeoriginals · 5 months

Note

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does.

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as.

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah.

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it.

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.”

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,”

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,”

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.”

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,”

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.”

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.”

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace.

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly.

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,”

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.”

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief.

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.”

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos.

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet.

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him.

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday.

Regrets a lot of things, too.

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone.

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her.

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second.

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?”

──────

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to.

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy.

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it.

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly.

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times.

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow.

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake.

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse.

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins.

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped.

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows.

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity.

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him.

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal.

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too.

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place.

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it.

It’s embarrassing more than anything else.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case.

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water.

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit.

──────

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.”

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it.

“What about you?”

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?”

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.”

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,”

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze.

“What?”

He shakes his head.

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?”

“You,”

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth.

“Me? What about me?”

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–”

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t.

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?”

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat.

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him.

He rears back like she’s slapped him.

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really.

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.”

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking.

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve.

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–”

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her.

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.”

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,”

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,”

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him.

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?”

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,”

“Forever,”

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.”

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #kol mikaelson #the originals #fic recs #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson fluff #the originals fanfiction

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wholoveseggs · 4 months

Text

The sled bet

{Masterlist}

~Five days of Fluffmas~

You decide to go sledding with Klaus and Kol and things get out of control very quickly.

1k words - No warnings, no smut! just pure fluff.

Your fingers were numb, your cheeks red, sweating heavily underneath your winter jacket. You gripped the ropes of your sled, your heart beating in your chest as you looked down the alarmingly steep hill. Everything seemed frozen in time, only the fogginess of your own breath appeared to be moving in the light of the hazy winter sun. The adrenaline and nerves within your system threatened to poison you.

"Don't worry, if you crack your skull open, I'll heal you," Klaus teased, a stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

You flipped him off, pressing your heels into the snow. This was either going to go horribly, or wonderfully... or not at all. A sled race had seemed like a really, really good idea a few minutes ago, but now... you weren't so sure.

"Who's up for a little wager?" Kol asked, sliding his feet on the ground and rocking his sled from side to side so he could shuffle down a few inches of the slope.

"What do you have in mind?" Klaus asked, an amused expression on his face, mirroring his younger brother's actions.

"Whoever gets to the bottom first gets to take y/n out on a date," the youngest Mikaelson declared.

You scoffed, looking between the two of them. "And what if I win? Do I take myself out?"

"Then I won't tell Elijah about all the naughty dreams you've been having about him," Kol replied teasingly, an impish smirk on his face.

You looked away quickly, not letting him see the red rising to your cheeks as you muttered, "I don't have naughty dreams about him."

But Kol wasn't lying; you had, multiple times.

"Sure," Klaus teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, fuck off, both of you!" You cried, throwing a handful of snow at the hybrid. "This is so unfair; both of you have the advantage of being immortal, and now there is blackmail involved," you pointed out.

Kol smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "All is fair in love and war, my dear."

You rolled your eyes. "If I don't die today, I'm going to kill both of you," you grumbled.

"Ready..." Klaus started, gripping the rope of the sled.

"Set..." Kol continued, a smug expression on his face.

"Go!" Klaus cried, kicking off with his feet and shooting down the hill at an alarming speed.

"Son of a bitch," you cried, pushing yourself down the slope, the wind rushing against your face and stinging your skin. You could see the back of Klaus's sled in front of you, and Kol was coming up on your other side.

You pushed yourself, trying to pick up as much speed as you could, and suddenly, you felt yourself lifting into the air. "Ahh!" You screamed as your sled launched off a ramp.

The wind rushed around you, gleeful laughter falling from your lips as you flew through the air. That was before you landed, crashing onto the hard-packed snow, which had turned into ice after days of below-freezing temperatures. You went skidding, the sled flipping over, and you were launched onto the ground.

The wind was knocked out of you, and the world went spinning as you tumbled down the remainder of the slope.

"Y/n!"

You groaned, opening your eyes, the sky and the trees spinning above you, before everything came to a stop, and the world righted itself.

"Are you okay?"

You let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit delirious.

"That was awesome," you giggled.

"Yeah, the tumble at the end was a nice touch," Kol chuckled.

"I won," you said, a dazed smile on your face.

"No, I won," Klaus said, shaking his head.

You groaned, closing your eyes and holding a hand to your forehead. "I think I'm bleeding," you sighed.

"You are absolutely bleeding," Klaus said softly, kneeling down and taking a look at the cut on your forehead.

"I'll get her back to the house; you get the sleds," Klaus told his younger brother, scooping you up.

"Please don't tell Elijah about my dreams," you whined, feeling the effects of the pain finally setting in.

"But you lost, darling," Kol chuckled, picking up the discarded sleds and following behind you and his older brother.

"So did you!" You shot back.

Klaus chuckled. "You should know better than to make a bet with Kol; he always wins."

"What are you going to do on your date, Klaus?" Kol teased, a smug grin on his face.

"Shut up," you groaned.

"It's okay, love," Klaus whispered. "We'll call it a draw."

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thanks," you replied, grateful that Klaus was going to spare you the humiliation.

"What's going on?" Elijah asked, rushing outside to greet the three of you, seeing you bleeding in Klaus’ arms.

"It's okay, she'll live," Klaus said.

"I hit my head," you explained, feeling slightly delirious.

"What were you doing?" Elijah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sled racing," you said, laughing a little, as the image came back to you.

Elijah sighed, taking you from Klaus's arms. "You're lucky she didn't break her neck," he scolded, looking down at you.

"I won," you grinned, a smug expression on your face.

"What'd you win?" Elijah asked, raising his eyebrows as he carried you inside.

"It's a secret," you smiled, your cheeks flushing a little.

Elijah looked back at his brothers, giving them a questioning look before taking you inside.

"You shouldn't compete with those two; it never ends well," Elijah stated, sitting you on the bathroom counter.

You nodded. "Yeah," you sighed. "It was a bit of a blackmail situation," you shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek.

Elijah looked back at you, grabbing a first aid kit and setting it down next to you. "What was the blackmail about?" He asked.

You looked down, chewing your lip. "Uh... nothing," you said. "I mean, it wasn't anything bad; they were just teasing me," you muttered, looking back up at him.

"They were teasing you," Elijah repeated, an eyebrow raised.

You nodded, giving him a soft smile.

"And what did they tease you about?" He asked, pulling out some gauze.

You groaned, shaking your head. "It's nothing," you replied.

"You don't want to tell me," Elijah said, pressing a cloth to your forehead.

You shook your head. "Not particularly," you said, your cheeks red.

Elijah let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he put some disinfectant on the cloth and pressed it to your forehead.

You winced, biting down on your cheek and squeezing your eyes shut.

"Sorry," Elijah apologized, looking down at you, a tender look in his eyes.

You looked back at him, a smile on your face. "It's okay, this is way better than having to go on a date with Klaus," you joked.

Elijah raised his eyebrows, tilting his head. "I thought you had a soft spot for him," he said, a playful look in his eyes.

"Not him, no," you said, your cheeks heating up.

Elijah gave you a smile, one that made your heart beat a little faster, and your cheeks flush a little redder.

"So if not him, then who?" He asked, putting a bandaid on your forehead.

"Well, um..."

"Hey, are you guys done?" Kol asked, sticking his head into the bathroom.

Elijah sighed, closing the first aid kit and stepping away. "Yeah, she's fine," he said, leaving the bathroom.

You frowned, your heart dropping a little as you hopped off the counter.

"Oh, and y/n," Elijah started, poking his head back into the bathroom.

You looked up, an expectant look in your eyes.

"I dream about you sometimes too," he said, giving you a knowing smile.

Kol chuckled, looking back at you with a shit-eating grin.

Your jaw dropped open, but he had already walked away.

"Kol, you're a fucking ass,"

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waywardblazer · 6 months

Text

Anger is a Powerful Emotion

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warning(s): Angst - technically it’s more strong violence, fluff, implied smut

Word count: 1.5k

Summary/Prompt: You’ve kept your anger buried but it’s forcing itself to the surface and you can no longer ignore it. Who better to help you let it out than Klaus Mikaelson?

A/N: This better reach the right people! It was written at 3am but I edited as much as possible

⋆ ━━━━━━━ ༺❀༻ ━━━━━━━━ ⋆

There it was again. That undesirable feeling of a burning flame rising from deep within.

You feared it would consume you and it took every ounce of your internal strength to fight off the urge to scream and punch the nearest wall.

For years, you had constantly bottled up your anger anytime you felt it. It didn’t matter what the cause was, you just had a habit of pushing it down and writing it off as nothing.

Maybe that was because it had been expected of you given you were seen as the sweet, happy and innocent young human among the immortal family you lived with. Either way you rarely allowed yourself to explode. Especially not in front of others.

This time however, was different. Nothing major had triggered it. In fact, it was the smallest inconvenience that came with getting your password wrong that had you feeling like you were about to burst.

You tossed your phone, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to take an exasperated breath.

There was a faint knocking sound. “Are you alright, love?” A familiar British voice spoke.

You looked up to see Klaus standing in the doorway. He looked concerned as he studied you from where he stood.

“I’m fine.” You snapped unintentionally, taking another deep breath but the burning flame inside of you failed to ease.

Klaus frowned, stepping inside the room. “You’re not, what’s happening?” He asked more sternly.

“Go away Klaus.” You wrapped your hand around your wrist, clenching so hard that your nails dug into your flesh enough to cause a sharp stinging pain.

Your breath came on shallowly as you turned away to look out the window that overlooked the streets of New Orleans. You tried to steady your breathing but your eyes burned with tears and you had to fight back the urge to let them fall.

Anger curled hot and persistent in your gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn you from the inside out. The more you tried to push it down the more determined it seemed to want to burst out of you.

“I said. I’m fine.” You snarled through gritted teeth.

Klaus must have caught onto the situation because, without another word he strolled over to the other side of the room where the fireplace was and grabbed a stake from the metal bucket beside it. He then vamp sped over, appearing in front of you.

Any sane person would say that violence was never the answer, but this was Klaus Mikaelson. He dealt with his anger and let it out by either daggering, lighting things on fire, striking fear into the hearts of his enemies and victims or never passing up the opportunity to violently kill anyone in his path.

“Take it.” The hybrid instructed.

Your head was spinning too much to question him so you did, snatching the stake out of his hand. You clutched it tightly, but still remained frozen in place. Your body trembled as your blood boiled inside of you.

“Come on Y/N, have at it. You know you want to.” He challenged, a slight grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.

Your jaw was tense and nostrils flared, but your instincts told you to resist. You had spent years fighting every urge to lash out and naturally, you felt it was wrong to start now.

Klaus leant forward so he was eye level with you. “Let. Go.” He commanded, in a low growl.

You finally gave in and let out a yell of frustration. You swung the piece of wood with a surprisingly tremendous amount of force, striking Klaus right across the face. You didn’t think twice before you struck him again, causing him to stumble backwards a little.

“Yes love! Keep going! Let it out!” Klaus barked encouragingly, wiping the blood from his mouth and regaining his composure.

You dropped the stake, your vision blurred to red and you let out a growled yell as you shoved him aggressively against the wall. You threw several blows to the Hybrid’s stomach. They weren’t perfect but they were fuelled with pure rage so they were powerful enough to knock the air out of him.

For a human you were quite strong.

He allowed you to flip him onto the ground—you weren’t a vampire so he helped—pinning him down. You reached over and seized the stake you’d previously dropped.

Your eyes were blazing and tears were now streaming down your face as you raised the stake high above your head. Your hand shook, as your body appeared to hesitate your next moves.

Klaus let out a wheezed chuckle. “Do it.”

“I—I can’t.” You whimpered, momentarily torn between fighting the overwhelming anger urging you to finish the job or giving into it.

He flashed his golden-amber wolf eyes and simultaneously the black veins spread just under them. “Yes you can! You can’t kill me, love. Don’t fight it.”

You let out what sounded like a mixture of a sob and a growl followed by a primal scream that ripped through your throat as you gripped the weapon with both hands and plunged the stake straight into his chest, only narrowly missing his heart.

The hybrid beneath you let out a choked gasp as blood oozed from his mouth. He groaned as you quickly yanked it out, tossing it aside. Blood flowed out of the wound, yet he forced himself to sit up, resting his back up against the nearby wall.

“You’re quite the little fighter.” He commended.

Your vision returned to normal and you let out a hushed sniffle as your breathing slowly tried to regulate itself.

“Feel better, love?” Klaus asked slightly breathless.

As you took a moment to process, you noticed the weight that had been lifted from your chest and the rising temperature sensation had eased.

“Y-Yeah, I…do.” You murmured, sounding a little more surprised than you’d hoped. You looked up at him, face tear stained and exhausted.

He smiled sweetly, a quiet sigh of relief leaving him as he allowed you to lean against him. His shirt was now bloody but the wound had already healed. He began gently tracing your skin, the way he knew you liked it.

“Why do I get like this?” You whispered, your heart rate slowing and your body relaxing under his touch.

Klaus gently kissed the top of your head. “According to Camille, anger is a powerful emotion and is not meant to be suppressed.” He explained. “I believe it has something to do with adrenaline and triggering the flight or fight response.”

You giggled and stared up at him with adoring eyes. Of course he had taken that away from one of the many times the psych major had psychoanalysed him. “You spend too much time with Cami.” You pointed out.

Klaus shook his head and chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right.” He pulled you a little closer. “Okay then, let me tell you what I think.” He murmured. “From my experience, anger is forged when you wish to no longer feel a certain pain. It is often the way we respond to oppression or when we don’t understand something and is what happens when we desire to feel an ounce of control over something we have no control of. If kept buried, it burns away inside of you like some volcano ready to explode. You cannot deny yourself the right to express and release that otherwise it will lead to ruination.”

He then gently turned your head so you were forced to look up at him. His expression was bound and determined. “Listen to me love, if you ever feel on the verge of bursting again, come to me. Do not allow it to control you as it controls me. But I beg of you, to do your best to not let it get to this point again, find a release that is more healthy.”

“Says the hybrid who basically invented anger issues.” You teased, “but how might I do that?”

Klaus scoffed. “If I knew the answer to that, I’d tell you, but I assure you that Cami would have thousands of suggestions that she would be more than willing to share with you.”

You nodded, sitting up. “She’d probably advise me not to let you help me because a Mikaelson is never the best at dealing with their own anger issues.”

“Well, she’d be right.” The hybrid replied begrudgingly.

You smiled softly, staying silent for a moment while you simply admired him.

“Klaus?” You eventually hummed, catching his attention. “Thank you.”

He beamed, eyes soft and loving. “You have always been the one to quell my rage, I am pleased I could do the same for you.”

He made a move to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back against the wall, closing your eyes and leaning down into a kiss.

When you pulled away a gentle smirk was tugging at the corners of your lips. “I like an angry Mikaelson though.” You whispered.

“Is that right love?” Klaus asked, grinning as he slinked an arm around you.

You nodded, then let out a yelp as he suddenly vamp sped you over to the bed so that within a second he was on top of you.

You stared up at him, biting your lip as he revealed his hybrid eyes and exposed his sharp fangs in a grin that would naturally terrify anyone. But not you.

“Then let me return the favour and allow me to show you how I release my anger.”

#reader is prone to anger #i really was just feeling angry when writing this lol #you get to stabby stab klausy klaus #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #he quells your anger #the originals #wayward fics

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heliads · 27 days

Note

Hello! If you don’t mind, I would like to request a Rebekah Mikaelson x reader?

Something like, reader is human but is the key to one of Klaus’s plans, so he takes her to the Mikaelson mansion and keeps her there. She’s kind of a prisoner, but Rebekah has seen this film before, so she’s just expecting one of her brothers - or both of her brothers - to fall in love with yet another stupid human and make everything complicated again

However, reader starts to get affectionate with her. She starts looking for her when she needs something, when she has to make a decision, she looks at her for reassurance, she goes to Bekah’s room late at night to talk and very often just falls asleep there, it’s a whole thing, but Rebekah is always expecting the moment she’ll leave her for her brothers, not really opening her heart, she’s scared because she has been fooled so many times

So, one day she sees reader talking with Elijah and she’s even giving him those pleading eyes she usually reserves for her and they both shut up immediately when she gets close, and she knows the moment came, Y/N will be Elijah’s, Klaus will freak out and hell will break loose. She’s hurt but pretends no to be and just starts keeping reader away

But reader was only talking to Elijah because in one of these late night talks, Rebekah told her that no one has ever baked for her even though she has been doing it forever, so she was just trying to convince him to get everything she needed to bake for her, she’s completely in love with Rebekah

So, that’s it! I hope you like the request, thanks anyway!

'didn't like the ending' - rebekah mikaelson

masterlist

God, Rebekah Mikaelson has seen the same scene play out so many times, she’s starting to feel like she’s spent half her immortal life in deja vu. For a family of Original vampires that prides itself on being leagues beyond the rest of their bloodsucking proteges, the Mikaelson brothers can be a little, well, predictable. Especially at times like this.

If there’s one perfect example of the Mikaelson men repeating themselves, it would have to be the hostage problem. Rebekah can’t even begin to count the amount of times she’s witnessed the same damn thing over the centuries. At this point, it’s starting to border on ridiculous, yet the only one who seems attuned to this problem is Rebekah. And it’s not as if her brothers are really that keen to listen to her, anyway. Certainly not about something like this.

Every time, it starts and ends the same: one of her brothers, maybe even Rebekah herself, will drag in some human or vampire or witch to serve as a hostage during one of their many disputes with the neighbouring supernatural beings. They’ll chain up this poor sap in a cell, or lock them in one of the many rooms of the Mikaelson mansion. At first, all will be perfectly ordinary. The hostage will beg and plead to be rescued, Rebekah’s family will laugh scornfully from atop their ivory towers, and everything will go as planned.

But then the negotiations don’t happen as quickly as they would like, and the Mikaelsons end up spending a lot more time with their hostage than initially envisioned. They have to tolerate the company of this foreign presence more and more, especially since the hostage often ends up being a key part in someone’s plans, and information is required from them. Then, Elijah or Klaus, or heavens, even Kol sometimes, will end up spending far more time with this hostage than ever before, and they’ll do the unthinkable and fall in love.

Rebekah is no stranger to the plight of the lovestruck Mikaelson. Although it seems impossible, one of her brothers will fall in love, and then face the unsightly issue of having to wrestle with their guilt over letting the hostage go, or the more likely option, they’ll keep the hostage forever as a little trophy or token of their affections until they fall out of love again and the hostage is set free.

This has happened many times over the centuries. No matter how much her brothers love to talk about how they’re so above mortal things like feelings, Rebekah has watched them fall victim to their hearts until an affection becomes an affliction. Normally, she wouldn’t have a problem with any of this, it is rather amusing to watch her brothers fall over themselves in an attempt to woo a human of all things, but more often than not she ends up being the reluctant ear to their monologues, so the whole affair has grown rather wearisome over the years.

And so, when Klaus drags yet another human hostage into the Mikaelson mansion as a cog in one of his many elaborate plans, Rebekah just sighs and mentally starts planning when she’ll take an extended vacation out of New Orleans yet again so she won’t have to deal with all of this. It’s a shame, too. She was just starting to put herself back out there again, and now all of her hard work is for nothing.

Rebekah watches from the balcony as Klaus dramatically announces to the hostage that they’ll have nowhere to go unless they help him. This time, he’s allowing the hostage free reign of the place, since he’s had a witch charm the hostage into being unable to leave the mansion unless Klaus directly allows it. That way, he won’t have to deal with pesky things like vervain getting in the way of his commands.

Rebekah sighs, rolling her eyes at the scene. The hostage seems like a perfectly nice young woman, albeit one that has absolutely no idea what’s coming for her. Inwardly, she wonders if she should start issuing ominous warnings about staying away from the Mikaelson brothers, although if this hostage is in any way involved with the vampiric communities of New Orleans, she supposes they would already know more than enough about that.

A sudden whoosh of air by her side; Rebekah looks up to see Elijah suddenly emerging from the shadows of the hall to stand next to her. “Something seems to be troubling you,” he notes. “Should I be afraid to ask?”

Rebekah just groans. “Klaus has gone and conjured himself up yet another hostage. This is not going to end well.”

Elijah arches a brow. “You don’t mean to tell me you think Klaus will harm her already? He should hold off at least a week or two, he needs her alive.”

Rebekah shakes her head. “Worse. I think he’s going to grow to care for her. Either you or him.”

Elijah chuckles. “Well, I hardly think that being under the protection of a Mikaelson is cause for concern. If anything, it should extend her lifetime a few decades or so.”

Rebekah scoffs. “I couldn’t care less about how long she lives. I just don’t want you two to bother me when you fall in love again.”

Elijah gazes down at the hostage. “You don’t even know if she’s our type. We might not like her in the slightest. Rebekah, have you even bothered to learn the poor girl’s name? That’s meager hospitality on your part.”

Rebekah almost laughs. “Dearest brother, I do not give a damn who this girl is or what she’s done wrong to get herself on Klaus’ radar. The more she stays out of my way, the better.”

With that, she spins on her heel and heads back towards her quarters. This plan is one of Klaus’ mad schemes, not hers, so Rebekah is determined to avoid the whole matter as much as she can. Maybe then she could finally manage a moment or two of peace and quiet around here.

Peace and quiet, as it turns out, are not the sorts of things to hang around the Mikaelson estate, certainly not when Klaus has a few tricks up his sleeve. Try as she might to stay out of the way, Rebekah finds herself brought back into the mix not by Klaus, or even Elijah on one of his many attempts to bring the family together, but by the hostage herself: Y/N L/N.

Rebekah had been honest with Elijah when she said she couldn’t care less about the hostage. Really, she couldn’t. For some reason, however, Y/N seems to have decided that Rebekah is her best bet when attempting to navigate the complex relationships of the Mikaelson extended sphere. She’s not wrong, really, Rebekah can be level-headed when she decides it’s interesting enough for her, but she can’t fathom why Y/N would seek her out intentionally.

Yet this is precisely what happens. Y/N takes it upon herself to introduce herself to Rebekah out of the blue one day, then keeps tracking Rebekah down to ask her questions or seek advice on how to deal with Klaus. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Rebekah does not need new friends, nor would she try to find them in a human.

That being said, she doesn’t entirely mind Y/N, not really. As far as humans go, Rebekah would be kind enough to say that she’s one of the better ones. She doesn’t annoy Rebekah like some of the Mystic Falls crew did, and she listens intently whenever Rebekah speaks, as if she truly cared about what Rebekah had to say. After many lifetimes over her brothers overruling her every thought, Rebekah can’t deny that it’s nice to have her opinion valued every now and then.

Just as expected, Y/N’s tenure in the Mikaelson mansion drags on for longer than planned, and what was meant to be a stay of just a couple of weeks turns into one month, then two. Y/N remains, and she remains by Rebekah’s side. They actually exchange jokes, and secrets, and before Rebekah knows it, she actually looks forward to when she crosses paths with Y/N. They get along brilliantly, and when Y/N isn’t with Rebekah–

Well, when she’s not with Rebekah, she’s with Elijah. Practically glued to the hip. At first, Rebekah would jealously tell herself that Y/N would never get along with Elijah, but inside, she knows it isn’t true. If Y/N can win over Rebekah when Rebekah was firmly opposed to the whole idea, then good-tempered Elijah would be a walk in the park to Rebekah’s bloody battlefield.

It makes Rebekah sick. She knows how this play turns out, doesn’t she? Rebekah has attended many showings, and no matter the venue, no matter the star actress, it always turns out the same. The hostage falls for a Mikaelson brother, not sister. In the end, there is love to be shared, but not with Rebekah. Never with Rebekah.

She wants to tighten her hold, but afraid of pushing Y/N away for good, she pretends as if nothing is the matter. Y/N doesn’t seem to notice the war brewing between Rebekah’s ribs. She spends more and more time in Rebekah’s room, talking over some issue or other. Sometimes, when the nights get low and Y/N forgets to leave, she’ll even fall asleep on Rebekah’s bed, or when leaning against her shoulder. It feels personal. It feels like maybe, it might even be Rebekah’s turn to fall in love.

She knows better, though. Of course Rebekah knows better. Rebekah has been through enough lifetimes to know that hope is a very rocky fissure upon which to build one’s aspirations. Even if a lot of her life has been spent daggered in a box, she still knows enough to not be naive. This story isn’t going to go her way. It never does.

She’d like it to, though. She really would. Y/N gets along with the whole family, and Rebekah can’t stop herself from imagining how nice it would be to have a significant other that wasn’t in danger of getting murdered by Klaus or Elijah for once. Klaus, with admittedly great reluctance, has come to value Y/N’s input. And Elijah’s conversations with Y/N seem to increase in number, but mainly whenever Rebekah isn’t around.

That happens a lot, actually. They’ll be getting along, thick as thieves, and then the moment Rebekah turns the corner and comes into their direct line of sight, the two of them mysteriously clam up. Keeping secrets, it seems. From her. And Rebekah reckons she can guess the subject matter quite well.

That’s it, then. That’s the mystery sorted, the grand question of which Mikaelson their latest hostage would fall for. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, but Rebekah finds herself far more disappointed than she had for any of the others. Vampires are protective and jealous and selfish, and Rebekah is the worst of them, but still, she swears she had never wanted anything quite like this before. Now this thing, this love, this woman, is out of her reach, and Rebekah’s entire existence has suddenly turned tragic.

Although she should take the high road and pretend that nothing is the matter, Rebekah has never been good at brushing off trivialities. Once, when she was younger, Klaus had told her that she had a ‘gift for theatrics.’ At first, she’d been delighted, assuming her brother believed her to be a master actress, and then she’d realized that Klaus’ words, as they always seemed to be, were nothing but a barb meant to wound her. Then she’d stomped around as usual, doing nothing to raise her spirits and only proving him right.

Stomping around can be rather satisfying, though. When Rebekah runs into Y/N and Elijah deep in a heated conversation one day, she just can’t take it anymore. This time, instead of running away and pretending as if she hadn’t seen a thing, Rebekah purposely walks towards them. Just as before, Y/N’s eyes go wide, and she hurriedly shuts up.

Rebekah isn’t willing to let it slide, though. She stops in front of them and folds her arms across her chest. “What’s all this about? You look as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Which, I suppose, you have.”

Y/N grins weakly. “Nothing. We, uh, aren’t doing anything.”

Rebekah arches a brow. “That’s hardly believable, now, isn’t it? How about you try telling me the truth for once. I’d certainly like to hear it.”

Elijah claps his hands together. “Actually, I think this is a matter just for you and Y/N, my dear sister. I don’t believe this concerns me at all.”

Before either of them can stop him, Elijah disappears down the hall, gone in an instant. Y/N glares after him. “For an immortal vampire, he’s absolutely terrible when you want someone to stand by you.”

“That’s Elijah for you,” Rebekah murmurs. “He never likes it when we fight.”

“Yeah, well, I can hardly blame him,” Y/N muses. “Fighting with your family seems rather painful.”

“It is,” Rebekah instantly agrees, then remembers that she’s supposed to be upset. “Now, you can’t distract me anymore. Tell me what’s going on, I mean it. I know we’re friends, but you don’t have to hide things from me.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide. “You mean– you know? And you’re okay with it?”

Rebekah feels as if she’s been daggered. She almost wants to turn around and see if her murderous brother is standing behind her, ready to put her in a coffin again for another century or two. Y/N does like Elijah, then. How utterly heartbreaking. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” She asks listlessly. “I know my brothers, and as far as Mikaelson men go, you chose the one who tends to be the most stable. Nothing wrong with that.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Rebekah looks away. Thinking it is one thing, but admitting the painful truth aloud suddenly seems far worse. “You know. You’ve fallen in love with my brother.”

She isn’t sure how she expects Y/N to react. With relief, maybe, that she won’t have to hide anymore. What Rebekah certainly isn’t expecting is for Y/N to start laughing. “What? No, Rebekah, I’m not in love with Elijah. I’m in love with you.”

The floor seems to have fallen about beneath Rebekah’s feet. “With– with me?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s a lovely sound. “Yes, Bekah, I love you. It’s very easy to do, you know.”

Rebekah shakes her head, still not entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming or something. This certainly feels like a dream. “But– you’re always with Elijah– and you keep sharing secrets with him that you won’t tell me–”

Y/N grins. “That’s because I’m trying to make sure he won’t tell a soul. Elijah figured me out a few weeks ago. Mainly, though, I’ve been trying to persuade him to get me a few things. I want to bake something for you, and Klaus only ever keeps this house stocked with blood and alcohol. It’s sort of horrific, actually. You don’t even have baking soda.”

Rebekah’s brow furrows. “You wanted to bake me something? Why?”

Y/N’s smile turns quiet. “You mentioned it once. You were sad that no one had ever baked for you even though you were always making things for your brothers. I didn’t want you to feel that way anymore.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Rebekah says softly. “I only mentioned it once.”

“I like listening to you, Rebekah.” Y/N tells her.

And at last, at long last, Rebekah knows why. She’s seen this play before. For once, she gets her happy ending.

vampire diaries tag list: @mayfieldss, @alex-1967s-blog

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