#Hizzie fanfiction

[ephedrathirsts]

Sire Bonds

Synopsis: You are sire-bonded to the bloodthirsty, coldhearted, no humanity trybrid Hope Mikaelson. As your love for her increases so does her destain for you.

Contains: mentions of blood, assault, sexual content, dom!Hope x sub!reader, semi MasterxSlave relationship, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, degradation, feeding, aged up characters

Pairings: No Humanity!Hope Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Author's note- This is the first time I am posting any of my works so please be kind! Also if you have any feedback on what could be improved I would very much appreciate it!

Word count- 980

  The breeze was swishing fallen cherry blossoms playfully in cadence with an Elvis Presley song, whining out into the automobile. The sun was adorning your reflection in the rearview mirror. Primroses, crocuses and pulmonarias mixed with almonds, amber, and musk tickled the senses. A bare path uncovered, secured away between country cottages. Days of damp grass, lounging under the sun’s caress and fingers laced with the promise of forever danced before your eyes.

 You soaked up her silhouette, marveling at her beauty. She was all leather and rips, edges and nicks. Although at first glance she appeared the same, she had morphed into a cruel, ruthless beast. Hope, the one that drew out your blood and feasted on your flesh, leaving you to wilt and wither, had captured your mind, chained your heart to hers.  

 She had never meant to have you and neither to keep you. You were to be a convenience, a warm artery for her to pierce and suck dry, but yet you had more to supply. You rose up again with a sudden thirst set deep within and her name on your lips. Unbeknownst to her, she had turned you. You were now a knight walker, cursed to roam the Earth beside her until the dawn of time.

 You were engrossed by her, obeying all of her commands, without wishing for anything in return. You lived to serve her- a slave of blood and amour.

 As you were passing by specks of houses on the road, you smiled to yourself, looking out at the life awaiting you. Hope let go of the steering wheel and dragged you by the jaw, extracting pained gasps out of you.

"I can hear you thinking. Stop being so joyful or I’ll throw you out onto the pavement. " She spat through gritted teeth, discarded you, and took hold of the wheel again. "You haven’t made any progress with controlling your powers. A useless pet is of no need to me! " She eyed her passenger with detest.  

   Your back hit the seat with a thud. You had disappointed her; you were unworthy of her care and love. No matter how much you tried, you would never be deserving of her affection. You turned away ashamedly and peered at your wrist- the Mikaelson crest marked onto it and circled your skin with your thumb in a soothing manner.

    The day peeled off lazily from the sky, making way for constellations to glisten down on you. You had arrived home, a slender province chalet. Fireflies were buzzing busily around the patio, flickering over grapevine leaves. The air was ripe with whiffs of rain and weeds. The stone-clothed trail illuminated the moon’s indolent glow. You followed your mistress through the mahogany door.

"I want my dinner and a glass of red." Hope declared yawnfully. She made her way to the ottoman in the middle of the rustic room and put her feet up. You poured her a glass of Tempranillo and put it down on the iron tray next to her. You crawled to her on the cushioned seat, pulled your hair back and offered her your neck.

  She scoffed at you. "You want me to feed off of you again, feed off of my own blood! Do you take me for a mere narcissist? " You glanced up at her apologetically, tears weighing your eyes at her vicious rejection. You laid your head atop her knees. She stroked it softly and sipped on her drink. "You are so pathetic, aren’t you?" You nodded in agreement.

  "Stand up! Face me!" she pulled onto a strand of your hair and whispered stringently into your ear. You followed her command with anticipation of what's to come.

The trybid caressed your cheek and pulled you in close to her. She brushed your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb and kissed you gently. Her tongue slithered into your mouth, forming patterns with yours. She bit on your swollen lip, making you whimper. Pushing your hair back, she planted wet open-mouth kisses from your jaw, down your neck and collarbone. She sucked on your skin, feeling you shiver in pleasure under her touch.

 Hope’s hands landed on your hips, one creeping up your breasts. She undressed you from the waist up and pushed you down on your back, leaving lines of saliva over your stomach as she was gliding her tongue up and down your body. You moaned when you felt her nibbling on your nipple and pinching the other.

  "You enjoying yourself, gorgeous?" she chuckled arrogantly.

  "Mhm… I want you so bad…" is all you could muster.

   "Good." Hope reached down to your zipper and found her way to your dripping cunt. "God, you are so wet already."

She kissed you again, passionately, while inserting three of her fingers inside your core. You gasped in ecstasy. The girl thrusted her hand in and out of you, stretching you out, and played with your clit.

You bit down on your lips to stifle your moans. You were a mess- body shaking and twitching as your mistress toyed with you. You tightened around her digits, your cunt pulsing feverishly with each and every pump.

   "It would make me very happy if you were to coat my fingers with your cum." Hope purred seductively. You looked up into her eyes as you started to feel your release wash over you. You screamed and groaned, colliding rapidly with Hopes’s hand.

The trybrid flashed her fangs and bit your neck, treating herself to a well-deserved diner. You whined in pain and pleasure, closing your eyes and gripping the sides of the ottoman hard. Fireworks flashed before you as you squirted all over her fingers.

 Hope detached her mouth from your bleeding neck and grabbed your throat forcefully. "This didn’t mean anything to me and neither do you." She squeezed hard, let go of you unamusedly, stood up, and made her way out of the room.

[vorpalmuchness]

aesthetic for the Unrelated Legacies Fics series on ao3 by @terapsina

There are 12 so far and they're all Hope/Lizzie!

[bibridlizzie]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49196356

(Summary: Lizzie Saltzman has always had issues with control, always been so scared of losing control over herself and her magic. With her humanity off, she realizes how much fun it can be to let it all go.)

[josette-park]

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before

Prompt: Post Apocolyptic for Hizzie Fanfiction Week 2022

Pairing: Hizzie

Read on ao3 or below

Just a quick in and out. Simple as could be. They'd done it a thousand times, so Hope wasn't worried.

She should have been. 

"Are we going, or what?" Lizzie asks from beside her.

"Yeah, let's go," Hope says as she grabs her gun and they make their way into the abandoned store. They need ammo and medical supplies. Food wasn't as scarce, after having to learn how to hunt and gather, it came easy. What wasn't easy was fending off the scavengers who never learned how to hunt and would do anything for their next meal.

They make their way into the shop and Lizzie heads towards the back while Hope walks down the aisles. After a few steps, she hears some shuffling from a few feet away and turns the safety off on her gun.

She steps quickly to see a zombie gnawing at a corpse, sucking the arm almost down to the bone. In the beginning, Hope was terrified and disgusted by this, but by now she has become numb.

The zombie turns to look at her but the movements are slow, this zombie is a shadow of itself, close to starvation.

Hope clicks off her gun and goes for the safer route and grabs her axe from where she had it strapped to her back and plants it into the zombie's head. It's a mercy killing, it wasn't human anymore, and it's at peace now. That is what her mom used to tell her. That once a zombie died the human soul could finally rest at peace.

She dislodges the axe from the zombie’s head and surveys their surroundings, wondering if the sound drew any unwanted attention. Hope looks out the window and sees someone run quickly by the window. Her head snaps to the back of the store.

Lizzie.

Hope takes her gun out again and readies it while quickly but quietly making her way towards the back. She quickly turns the corner to the back room, gun drawn, to find two men in the room, and a third at the door.

One is holding a gun to Lizzie's head, who has her arms up as the others take the supplies for themselves.

“We don’t want any trouble,” the one holding the gun says.

“Oh yeah, well the guns must have given me the wrong impression, then,” Hope says the gestures to Lizzie, “Let her go.”

“Of course we will, once we get what we came for,” the other man in the room responds with a slight smile as he takes a hesitant step towards Hope.

Hope points her gun at him and asks, “What did you come for?”

“You,” he responds, “Your father killed my brother, and it’s time he pays for that.”

Her father’s actions have come back to haunt her, again. It was like this long before the apocalypse broke out. He was never a good man, but he was a good father. However, now his actions have come back to put the last person she cares about in danger. She lost her whole family, she can’t lose her girlfriend, too.

“Okay,” Hope says, “You can have me, but just let her go.”

Hope wants to make good on her promise. She’ll do anything to get Lizzie out of here safely, even if they don’t leave together.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asks, “Why kill you when I can make you feel the pain I’ve felt.”

Hope catches him nod to the man holding Lizzie hostage. Hope doesn’t have time to second guess her actions, so she doesn’t. She shoots the man holding Lizzie point-blank in the face and quickly takes out the other two with her gun as well.

“Well that was violent,” Lizzie says, face covered in blood from the gunshot that killed her captor.

Hope makes her way to Lizzie and brings her in and whispers in her ear, “I couldn’t lose you.”

“Right here,” Lizzie responds. 

After they gather what they came for, they make their way out of the store to head back to base. The second Lizzie opens the door, she screams and topples to the ground. Hope sees a zombie on top of her and shoves the zombie off of Lizzie before grabbing her axe and planting it deep so into the zombie’s head that it hits the pavement below the zombie. 

Hope reaches a hand out to help Lizzie up. When the other girl reaches her hand out, her sleeve slips to reveal a fresh zombie bite, and Hope immediately takes a step back. No. Her reaction was immediate, out of self-preservation. She's seen this before too many times. 

“Oh crap,” Lizzie says, looking at her arm for the first time.

Hope’s heart is pounding so hard in her chest that she can’t think, she can barely breathe. Not Lizzie. Not Lizzie, it can’t be. This can’t keep happening to Hope again. 

Lizzie sighs and says, “We both know what you have to do now.”

Hope takes another step back and shakes her head profusely, “I will not.”

“Hope-” Lizzie starts.

“No!” Hope interjects, “I can’t take this anymore, Lizzie. You are the only thing that keeps me going. You are the only thing that makes living in this hell hole worth it. You are the love of my life, and I can’t do that to you, so don’t ask me to.”

“You can’t take me back to camp,” Lizzie points out, “And I am not becoming one of those things.”

Hope feels the fight leave her, she knows Lizzie is right. After all, wouldn’t she ask the same if their positions were reversed? 

“I’m not ready to lose you,” Hope admits.

“I know,” Lizzie says, “No one is ever ready, but I have faith that we’ll meet again, I just would rather it not be as a zombie trying to kill you.”

Hope lets out a wet laugh through tears and asks, “You really think there’s something after all this?”

“There better be, because this fucking sucks,” Lizzie responds as she begins to tear up, “I hope I’ll get to see my sister and my parents again and that one day in a long while, you’ll join me. I hope there will be peace.”

“Me too,” Hope says. Because it is what they are owed. They deserve happiness, but they aren’t going to get it in this lifetime. Hope grabs her axe from the dead zombie and studies it for a few seconds, before meeting Lizzie’s eyes and making a request, “Close your eyes, I don’t want you to remember me like this.”

Lizzie meets her gaze and says, “I’ll only remember the good times with you, Mikaelson.”

“I love you,” Hope manages to push out through her tears.

“I love you, too,” Lizzie responds as she closes her eyes.

Hope swings her axe and wishes it was her own head instead.

[snowtrova]

Masterlist

Jade/Josie Saltzman(Legacies)

Oneshots

Even witches get sick sometimes

Thank the bonfire

Multichapter

To Kai, too late

A whole lotta sandclock

Vamp match

I remember when I lost my mind (writing)

Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman(Legacies)

Hizzie childhood friends

Rosita Bustillos/Waverly Earp(Wynonna Earp)

Still friends

Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught(Wynonna Earp)

Wayhaught break-in

Taylor Bloom/Franki Murray(Love Classified)

Another hike

[ao3feed-hizzie]

by Adopted_Dyslexic

This is a slow-burn soulmate-type story that focuses on Hizzie. There will be other ships as well but the main ship will be Lizzie and Hope. This is essentially a re-write slash alternate universe type story of the Legacies tv series. Dialogue heavy, Klaus, Elijah, and Hayley are still alive. Here for the sex skip to chap 12 if it’s been posted. Lizzie will have a magical cock so there is your warning now.

I will post an update every Wednesday and Friday until the story is done. Start on 6.6.2022.

Words: 6969, Chapters: 2/13, Language: English

Fandoms: Legacies (TV 2018), The Vampire Diaries (TV), The Originals (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M, Other

Characters: Hope Mikaelson, Lizzie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman, Milton "MG" Greasley, Landon Kirby, Rafael Waithe, Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes, Elijah Mikaelson, Hayley Marshall

Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Hayley Marshall/Elijah Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson, Marcel Gerard/Rebekah Mikaelson, Davina Claire/Kol Mikaelson

[lisannauthor]

Hope's Mission

Hope Mikaelson didn't know whether to be happy or pissed because Lizzie had just announced that there was new supernatural activity and when the Super Squad finally got to Headmistress Forbes office she announced that new supernatural activity was being measured in Germany, more specifically said in Frankfurt. They came from a 17- year- old girl named Lena Frey, that much Caroline had already found out and she wanted to recruit this girl for the Salvatore School. But Caroline had complete trust in Hope and for this reason she would fly to Germany tomorrow and take this girl to school. Lizzie helped Hope pack and explained how this mission would work: Hope would be smuggled into the Otto- Hahn- High School as a new student and would try to get this Lena, win her trust and send her to the Salvatore School. The next day, Hope flew to Germany and lived in an apartment that was probably still owned by her family, at least that's what her brother Marcel had explained. As soon as she was settled, Hope went outside to have a closer look at the city where she would probably stay for a while and she noticed that the Germans were much more polite and friendly than some people in America and then she felt it again, this supernatural activity. They came from a pretty brunette girl who was sitting on a bench in a summery outfit- That had to be Lena Frey, because she fitted the description Caroline had given her perfectly! She walked up to the girl and asked "Excuse me, but do you know where to find some stuff around here?". The girl replied "I don't know what you are looking for but there is a shop where you can find almost everything. I can take you there if you want it". Had she promised too much? The Germans were very polite. The Tribrid smiled and said "Thanks very much! By the way, I'm Hope. Hope Marshall". She shooked the girl's hand and she replied "I'm glad, Hope. I'm Lena Frey". Bingo, that's her girl! Nevertheless, Hope stayed calm and went with Lena to a shop called Action, where you could find almost everything and since she was here she immediately took some cleaning products and sweets (and a notebook to write down about her experiences here in Germany, because she was sure Lizzie would be very interested). After they paid Lena kindly helped carry the bags home (not that she was really needed help) and just before Hope went to the stairwell she said to Lena "Thank you very much for this little tour of the city. I'll definitely see you again". Lena smiled and answeared "Definitely, but which school do you actually go to?", whereupon Hope replied "I'll go to the Otto- Hahn High School in the twelfth grade starting Monday". Now Lena smiled and said "Then you already know someone, I also go to the Otto- Hahn High School in the twelfth grade. See you". Lena waved Hope goodbye again and headed home. Hope had to admit that Lena actually seemed quite nice- now all she had to do was to slowly approach her, gain her trust and bring her to the Salvatore School. But first she had to find out what kind of supernatural being Lena actually was, but first she had to get through the first day of school on Monday.

[hydesjackiespuddinpop]

to your question, no hizzie were never romantically canon but lizzie did say she loved her in S4!! I shipped hope with everyone but my faves were handon and hizzie so ofc neither were endgame though I consider handon to be but ugh everything in S4 hizzie should've been canon but their scenes in S4 were everything nonetheless <3

Man that sucks tbh. Tho knowing plec, she would’ve ruined it like she did with everything good on this show (I mean look at forwood). It would’ve been nice there was an onscreen kiss between hizzie at least. At least there’s always fanfiction.

[uncleasad]

(This post is a hybrid rant/fic recommendation 😏)

I was so excited over the weekend to see that @blckmaqic and LizMikaelson had posted the latest chapter of their amazing post-S4 AU/fix-it fic 'tis the damn season 🎉 However, when I reached that point in the queue and finished reading the chapter, I was disheartened to see that I was the first person to comment on the new chapter, two-ish days after it was posted 😢

This is Liz and Alex, folks; they are a national (well, international…well, Hosie) treasure! Their writing style…I love it so much! So expressive, so smooth (like butter, not jazz or pickup-line wielding male), and I find it comforting even when they’re serving up the angst (like the current chapter, as we’ve reached that tipping point…).

So, please, do yourselves a favor and check out the fic if you haven’t already and leave our ladies a comment (so I don’t feel so lonely in the comment section 😂)!

(And don’t be afraid to check out their back-catalog, too; in addition to being one of the finest purveyors of Hosie fanfiction, the duo also write for a number of other Legacies ships—Hizzie, Posie, Henelope, and my personal second-favorite, Pizzie!—something for everyone!)

[clarkegrayskull]

Hope gets tired of being alone and finds Lizzie.

She knew that the only thing that would get the blonde to join her, would be to make Lizzie just like her.

—

Hope watched with yellow eyes as Lizzie walked into the bar.

Using her vampire speed, Hope moved into a corner of the bar. The dark shadows hid her figure.

Lizzie spoke to the bartender and was given a clear drink.

The blonde downed the glass before turning around and looking around the bar.

Hope held her breath when the girl glanced towards her, but Lizzie didn't see a thing.

The tribrid's eyes glowed yet again when she saw a woman approach the blonde.

Hope watched as Lizzie put on a flirty smile.

Hope let them talk for a few minutes, but couldn't wait any longer when the girl put her hand on Lizzie's wrist.

The brunette briskly walked up to them and settled herself behind Lizzie's seat.

She smirked and flashed her eyes at the woman.

Instead of backing down like she thought she would, the woman flashed her eyes back and stood up.

Lizzie finally noticed another presence and turned around.

"Hope?" The blonde gasped.

"You know this bitch?" The woman asked, taking Hope's yellow eyes as a challenge.

"As a matter of fact, she does." Hope said as she stepped closer.

Hope reached forwards and snapped the girl's neck, her fangs coming out as she does so.

"Hope!" Lizzie yelled as she finally shot up and backed away.

"It's okay, Liz. It won't hurt." Hope soothed as she used her speed to pin Lizzie against the wall.

"What won't?" The blonde asked in fear as she tried to siphon from Hope.

The tribrid tisked. "You don't think I'd be that dumb, Elizabeth. It's a spell. No magic."

"Please, Hope. I know you're still in there." Lizzie pleaded.

"Aww, am I? Is that why you're here trying to hook up with someone instead of trying to help me?" Hope asked with a smirk.

Lizzie blushed. "That's not what that was. I tracked an artifact and she has it. I was just trying to get it."

"It's okay, baby." Hope whispered. "I forgive you."

Before Lizzie could think, Hope bit into her own wrist and put her hand against the girl's mouth.

Lizzie struggled against her and tried to push Hope away.

Hope gently shushed the girl as she watched Lizzie drink her blood.

"You'll be okay, my love." Hope said as she snapped Lizzie's neck.

She took down the invisibilty spell that she had placed over them as she picked Lizzie up and brought the girl into the alley.

Hope sat on the floor and layed Lizzie over her legs.

The blonde gasped and shot up after a few minutes.

"Hope Andrea Mikaelson." Lizzie said in anger as she shot up.

Once again, Hope pinned Lizzie against the wall.

"Turn it off, Liz." Hope told her.

"No." Lizzie refused.

"Please, baby. Think of what we could do together without guilt holding us back." Hope smiled at Lizzie and cupped the girl's face in her hands. "We could rule the world."

"What if I don't want to rule the world?" Lizzie asked.

Hope leaned forwards and whispered in Lizzie's ear. "We both know that's a lie, Elizabeth."

Hope leaned back for only a second before she shot forwards again and pressed her lips against the blonde's.

Lizzie kissed her back roughly as Hope put her hands in the girl's hair and pulled.

The blonde whimpered before pulling back.

Sensing Lizzie's hesitant compliance, Hope decided to push her over the edge.

"I love you, Lizzie. Just turn it off, and I can love you for eternity. We can be together for eternity."

Hope watched in joy as Lizzie's pupils dialated and her shoulders lifted.

"There you are." Hope said.

Lizzie moved forwards and pulled Hope's head towards hers.

The two kissed for a few minutes before Lizzie pulled back, leaving one last nip on Hope's bottom lip.

"Hope. I'm hungry." Lizzie told her.

"I know, baby. Let's go get some food." Hope said as she grabbed Lizzie's hand.

The blonde smiled as she and Hope walked back into the bar.

Josie found the bar coated in blood hours later.

All that was left was a single person holding a note. Their arm was shaking, and it's obvious they had been compelled to stay there.

Holding her hand against her mouth, Josie walked up to the person and grabbed the note.

'Just let us play, and we'll leave you all alone.

- Hope and Lizzie'

[alegacyofmonsters]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Legacies (TV 2018) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman Characters: Hope Mikaelson, Lizzie Saltzman Additional Tags: Love Confessions Summary:

Lizzie trying to find a perfect match for Hope takes an unexpected turn.

[lizzie-saltzman]

I’LL CRAWL HOME TO YOU

A Hizzie fanfiction / update

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman Fandom: Legacies Rating: M Chapters: 2/? Summary:  In many ways, meeting Hope in a different reality had helped Lizzie put things in perspective, and perhaps even understand her in ways she hadn’t before. Understand them, their connection, the palpable animosity that had turned into a reluctant friendship and now something far more tangible. The rest, well, she doesn’t tell Josie. Not about waking up after three weeks away from her real home, tucked under the covers of Hope’s bed with their clothes discarded around the dormitory, with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hair sticking to her cheekbones. There were some things better left unsaid. (Upon her return from an alternate timeline a Malivore monster teleported her to, Lizzie must deal with the aftermath of her time spent away, and her newly doormat feelings for Hope Mikaelson.)

chapter 1 here

READ CH. 2 HERE ON AO3 or under the read more 

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

A muddy splash sends speckles of murky water coating a pair of white boots. Under the full moon, an owl hoots, as Lizzie Saltzman breaks through the branches that leave a bloody mark on her left cheek. She reaches for it, with a mumbled expletive as her breathing grows heavier and her knees start to give. Behind her, a black wolf with yellow tinted eyes that shine through the darkness of the woods gives chase, snarling as it draws closer to her. 

She’s been sprinting for a while; Lizzie’s exhausted, pushing past the burn on her thighs as she rounds a corner and leaps over a log dangerously set on the ground, almost losing her balance as her boot skids through the mud. Its drizzling, her clothes are weighing her down, her hair is ruined – if she had the mind to complain about the other terrible but insignificant, personal circumstances, she’d be holding an ice pack to her cheek and ranting over a Strawberry Smoothie. Instead, she finds herself here, in the outskirts of the woods in Mystic Falls, barely managing to get on her feet before the wolf catches up to her. 

“Lecutio!” She’s all out of magic after –– the ball of energy flies ahead of the wolf and crashes against the tree behind it, effectively snapping off the branches and watching as they fall near the wolf long enough to distract it. It wasn’t her intention, really – she was aiming for it’s head. Soon enough, the wolf turns it’s head (and it’s disorienting eyes) in her direction, growling.

“Crap…” And she takes off again, her boots splash, splash, splashing rapidly on the wet floor. This is not how she pictured spending a Sunday night. 

Her lungs are giving out, her body begs her to stop running; she might pass out from exhaustion alone, and her vision – on top of that – blurs as the light drizzle of rain washes over her face. She wipes it away with the palm of her hand, but it obstructs her already impaired vision in the dark, and trips over a boulder on the ground. Lizzie groans, her body rolling through the mud, and the wolf slows it’s approach. She’s cornered. She’s screwed. She’s dead.

The wolf stalks forward. Lizzie raises her hands to her face, and it launches itself through the air. 

Lizzie screams, anticipating the powerful impact, the bite, but instead another wolf collides in the air with her attacker. White, with speckles of grey. They roll around in the mud, snarling at each other, growling, taking bites anywhere their teeth can sink into until they’re both back on their feet. Lizzie watches, covering her mouth as she gasps, pushing herself back until her shoulders meet one of the trees behind her. 

Then, the white wolf attacks the black one again. They begin their vicious snarling, and as Lizzie finds the force to pick herself off the ground, she hears one of them whimper. When she looks back, the black wolf is retreating, disappearing through the trees, and the white one turns, even slower in its approach. Lizzie’s eyes widen, out of magic, and out of breath, but she turns around in an attempt to try and run away again. 

Except she spins out, when she feels her black hoodie being yanked away from her body, leaving her in a tank top under the rain that starts to pick up. She turns around angrily, but instead of finding a white wolf stalking back, she finds –

“Hope?” 

Hope is sporting her too-big-for-her hoodie over her naked body and watching her with her arms crossed over her chest. It covers just enough. Not everything. Just enough. 

“Oh, thank God!” Lizzie exclaims, throwing her arms around Hope in sweet, sweet relief as she tries to catch her breath. “I thought I was dead. Dead, dead.” 

But she knows Hope Mikaelson. Always coming through with her last minute heroics. 

Except this time, Hope pushes her away, hands on her shoulders, taking a step back to get a good look at her. They look at each other, almost comically; Hope with an eyebrow quirked and Lizzie, with her mouth agape. Then, Hope’s strange behavior is perfectly clear –

“Who the hell are you?” 

------

[ PRESENT DAY ]

“Lizzie!”

Hope’s tired voice carries down the hallway. Behind her, Lizzie can hear her footsteps approaching – faster, faster – until they stop at her side, walking in tandem with her into the vast, otherwise dusty library at the end of the hall, where students gather quietly over a pile of books raging from anything about the occult to the mundane – European History and an old, thick Gaelic book about Magical Portals that thuds on the ground as it falls sloppily from the top of the bookshelf and almost takes Lizzie out. Talk about head trauma.

“Hey, watch it!” Lizzie looks up as dust gathers below her. Alyssa Chang stands on the top of the rolling ladder, shrugging nonchalantly. Whoops.

Lizzie picks up the book, coughs, swatting the dust away and piling it on top of Hope’s already busy hands. Hope says nothing, only blinks away the speckles of dust as she trails behind Lizzie with concern.

“I haven’t seen you all day. Is everything okay?” 

She shouldn’t be taken aback, but she is, by the genuine worried inflection in Hope Mikaelson’s voice. Hope is tired, the evidence marked clearly on her face, vaguely darkened circles under her eyes that Hope barely had mind to conceal this morning with even the smallest layer of makeup. No one would be able to tell, not really, but Lizzie can. She knows that look Hope carries around like a weight on her back when something’s been keeping her up at night. 

In front of the tinted window sill, Lizzie turns. The yellow light reflects off Hope’s exhausted, blue eyes, and Lizzie almost stutters, opting to instead, snatch the book back from the pile already gathered on Hope’s arms and toss it onto the nearest unoccupied table. 

No, Hope. I’ve been avoiding you all morning until this very unfortunate meeting where we’ll be subjected to a torturous hour of incessant nerd rambling on how to kill the very same monster that sent me through a hell portal into another dimension where I hooked up with you and your unforgettable muscles and now I can’t even look at you in the eyes without thinking about it, so–

“I’m fine”. Lizzie says, saccharine sweet. Too sweet. Enough to make Hope suspicious, as she looks at the book Lizzie tossed on the table with an eyebrow raised. “I was having a perfectly fine morning until MG interrupted my strictly scheduled morning meditation and after reluctantly agreeing to meet here in exactly five minutes, the kitchen was out of Belgian Waffles, so I had to settle for a non-fat Greek yogurt. So yes, I’ve been severely inconvenienced, but it has nothing to do with you”.

“I never said it has –” Hope starts. “Shouldn’t we talk about it? About what happened…” 

Lizzie stiffens. 

“With the monster…”

She deflates.

“We still don’t know if there are any side effects to any of this. Doctor Saltzman said you refused to talk to Emma about what happened –”

“And now you’re giving me advice about what I should and shouldn’t talk to our school therapist about?” Lizzie scoffs, on the defensive, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “That’s rich, Hope”. 

“That’s not what I meant –”

“Everyone at this school is so prolific at internalizing every shitty thing that happens to us on a weekly basis but since this one particular thing happened to me, then of course I’m the one who has to have the damage control, witchy therapy sessions with Emma despite the fact that I’ve already told everyone who’s asked that I’m fine!” 

“Lizzie –”

“Is that why you were looking for me this morning? You wanted to check up on me?” 

“Yes”. Hope says sincerely. Its her version of an olive branch – honesty. Lizze frowns, but Hope touches her wrist and she stays frozen in place, like she’s been jolted and immobilized by an invisible force. “The same night you found your way back to us you rushed into the woods on a near suicide mission to help me fight a monster we’re still not sure how to kill. Of course I wanted to check up on you. I was worried. You left my bedroom so suddenly last night that I didn’t even have time to ask how you were feeling. I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to come back. I wasn’t sure if we were ever going to see you again.”

Lizzie takes a breath, defeated. We, we, we – she has no right to be stung by the plurality of the word, but it gives her that feeling in the middle of her throat, like it runs dry, like one wrong word from Hope and she might break down in tears. 

“I want to make sure you’re okay”. Hope continues. “You’re my best friend”. 

And that’s the tragedy of it. She’s Hope’s best friend. Anything beyond that is nothing but something she could only clearly wish for in another timeline. One where Hope doesn’t know about her baggage, one where they got a clean slate to restart their history, no rumors, no backhanded comments…

“Me too”. Lizzie whispers. She brings her thumb up to brush over the side of Hope’s hand. 

She thinks about holding it. She almost does, until –

“Yo, guys. We should get this show on the road”. Jed interjects, seemingly out of nowhere, picking up the book Lizzie had discarded on the table earlier and hopping over the banister towards the center table in the now empty library, where the rest of the squad has now gathered around one of Wade’s Dungeons and Dragons books. 

By the time Lizzie pulls her hand back and they both gather around the table, Wade’s already settled in with the group.

“– That’s the thing though. Dimensional Warpers don’t usually engage in combat, but they do like learning about their enemies and their battle tactics. They’re not usually ones to initiate but they’ll fight if they sense that their life is in danger.”

“That explains why it disappeared last night and didn’t come back”. Hope pushes her way in between MG and Jed at the front and center of the table. “Do you think it’s after something?”

“Maybe. I can’t imagine another reason why Malivore would’ve spit that particular monster out. They’re elusive, hard to kill, and they only come out at night. Their night vision is impeccable”. 

“How do we kill it?” 

“Well, they are giant, bipedal, flying snakes, but they’re still snakes. I think we all know what the easiest way to kill one is –”

“Cut off it’s head”. Lizzie deadpans. Everyone turns, and Lizzie stands on the other side of the table, looking intently at the picture of the creature on Wade’s book. 

And Hope, looking at the magical artifacts on the far side display, slumps her shoulders. 

“We’re gonna need a very big sword”. 

------

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

“Is your name Lizzie Saltzman?” 

“Yes”. Between two slender and shaky hands, an orb flashes blue. 

Across the antique, expensive looking desk in front of her, and a family portrait in the space where a tinted window used to sit, Klaus Mikaelson looks at Hope with concern and curiosity. Hope, looking taller and prouder as her hand rests upon Klaus’ leather chair, gives him a side eye. 

She remembers Klaus from when she was younger, just as intimidating and commanding as he had been the day he’d sought out their help to save Hope from the Hollow all those years ago. She also remembers the Klaus she’s read about, in the books tucked away in the very same library a couple of doors down the hallway; the tales about The Great Evil. The boogeyman to end them all. The man who had terrorized Mystic Falls and claimed New Orleans like a dynasty, the man who had courted her mother until the day he died — but she also remembers the Klaus Mikaelson that Hope had told her about. The father. The man weighed down by the consequences of his choices and the drive to ensure his family’s survival, their safety, no matter the cost. In one universe, it had already cost him his life. In this one, the story seems to have been painted differently. 

In this story, Hope is different. She’s prouder, she wears a scowl like armor but not with the purpose of pushing everyone away. This Hope reminds her of an heiress. Someone destined to inherit something bigger and greater than herself. Maybe it’s all this, Lizzie thinks. The Mikaelson School. Maybe it’s another kingdom entirely. 

She looks… Good. Really good. 

“Are you Alaric Saltzman’s daughter?” Hope continues. 

“Yes”. Blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense”. Klaus moves to take the orb from her hands, but Hope is faster — much faster — grabs his father’s arm before he can snatch it. 

“Dad, you can’t fool the magical lie detector. They’re simple yeses or no's”.

Klaus respects her, she can tell, because he backs off and opens a drawer in his desk, takes out a heavy looking file — and pulls out a picture of her dad. He puts it in front of her. 

“This man is your father?” He asks her again. 

“Yes”. 

And like clockwork, the orb shines blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense —” Lizzie goes to interject but Klaus holds his finger up, standing from his chair with his hands behind his back, circling around the office like a man with a decision to make. Technically he is… a man with a decision to make. About her. 

Which really, really gives her the chills. The bad kind. 

“— You see, Alaric is a slobber of a drunk man who unfortunately lost his wife on his wedding day. He was supposed to father two children, twins actually, and his psychopathic to-be brother-in-law murdered his fiancé at the altar. His daughters perished with her. He lost his Tenure at Mystic Falls High, now teaches a second-rate-history class at a local college, and he let the rest of his dreams die in the bottom of a bottle of stale whiskey and fatty liver disease. That man never got to father any children. He’s barely a man at all. No purpose. No drive”.

“Apparently not in this life —” Lizzie mutters. The orb flashes blue and Hope’s eyes immediately snap to Lizzie’s. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” She’s the one taking the orb from her hands in a blink of an eye. She’s fast. Really fast. It takes her a second to realize, as Hope holds it between her fingertips and looks at her with blind distrust, that the Hope in this universe might not be jaded by the loss of her family, but this one might be jaded by something else.

Like her own death.

Oh. 

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this one”.

------

The Mikaelson School library is even bigger than The Salvatore School’s. The Stallions were branded as the rich, spoiled, and troubled children of Mystic Falls, but the Mikaelson school rivals the self-made stereotype by a tenfold. Lizzie’s staring at a row of books about magic she could have only ever dreamed of reading — it’s obvious to her that Klaus Mikaelson’s vision for a school for the Supernatural was slightly different than her father’s. Somewhere witches, vampires, werewolves and others could live their powers to their full potential. 

She picks a book from the rack, takes another one down with it, but Hope catches it before it can fully fall off the shelf — Necromancy: The Art of the Undead — and pushes it back in its place. 

“If what you told me is true then your father built a school with the same purpose my father did”. She offers. This Hope, now a little less guarded and lit by the light of the full moon by the library window, is much softer, willing to momentarily let her guard down around the pretty stranger with the wavy blonde hair. “He wanted a place where I felt like I belonged. Somewhere he could offer a safe haven not only for me, but for all the witches, all the vampires, and all the werewolves who are forced to do all of this all on their own. The world is cruel and unrepentant. My dad knows that. So he and my mom bought this mansion, expanded it, and made it into a school for the Supernatural. It’s taken off since; we have a branch in Belgium and another one in development in South America. Argentina. Something about the wine…”

For the first time since she’d been blindly dropped into this dimension, Lizzie smiles. But after a much noticeable glance at Lizzie’s lips, Hope continues. “We thought all the Gemini witches were dead. They’re rare. Powerful —” Hope says. It takes a second for Lizzie to notice she’s sizing her down. 

She doesn’t want to talk about how that makes her feel. 

“You have to take someone’s magic to use it, right?” 

And Hope offers her hand. Lizzie’s brows furrow, but she takes it anyway. She’s siphoned magic from Hope before, but not a fully triggered Tribrid Hope. When she drains her power Lizzie feels an adrenaline rush like no other, like sticking her hand directly into a fuse box and taking all the energy in Mystic Falls with it. She watches Hope carefully for any sign of pain, but Hope doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move, only watches their joined hands. 

Then Lizzie raises her wrist, flicks it, and closes all the doors of The Mikaelson school in simultaneous fashion, making the building tremble. 

“Something like that”. Lizzie grins and Hope lets her hand go. She’s grinning back and Lizzie doesn’t know why that makes her feel drunker than taking all that power from her. “The stronger the source the stronger and the magic we can do, but we can take from anything that’s come in contact with magic. This building, for example. A vampire, a werewolf — miscellaneous…” 

“Well, here at the Mikaelson school we’re always looking for other powerful witches. I know you want to go back home eventually, once we figure out how to send you back, but if you want to stay, we can make room for you.”

They walk past the archway, to a display case with magical artifacts and weapons of all kinds. Some she recognizes, like the dagger that had started it all that brutally eventful day when Rafael joined the school, the urn, an enchanted compass, Papa Tunde’s blade…

“We’ve collected those over the years”. Hope motions to the display case. “Some of them were already in my dad’s possession before we put them here. The display case was enchanted by my aunt, so it’s practically impenetrable and impossible to open unless you’re a Mikaelson, but my mom thinks it’s important to teach these kids everything we can about magic and everything that could hurt them. Some of them —” She continues, sliding her finger over a display case of weapons. “— are just purely decorative though”. 

Lizzie watches Hope’s finger land on the glass over a large broadsword. 

“What exactly do you know about my family?” Hope asks. When she looks at the display again, Lizzie can see her own reflection next to Hope’s on the glass, and when she looks closer at the weapon, their faces on the side of the broadsword. 

“Oh, you have no idea”. 

------

[ PRESENT DAY]

Sparks cloud Lizzie’s vision. At the old mill, in the dead of night, Hope sharpens a sword Lizzie thinks is larger than her standing up. She’d poke fun at her, for wielding such a big weapon for such a small person, but if the past few weeks — days — weeks — whatever, had taught her anything, is how immeasurable the power Hope wields at her fingertips is. Maybe she could provide them both with a quip, if she wasn’t so busy staring at her, agape. 

God, get it together, Lizzie. 

She clears her throat and Hope stops. 

“Hey! I thought we could get a head start with this old thing. Your dad kept it downstairs but I think it’ll give us the firepower we need. It’s a shame though, it’d make for a nice decoration”. 

Lizzie wants to laugh. No, it would make for an awful piece of decoration. She’d seen it displayed neatly on a case, but ancient artifacts and old swords make her think of ancient cursed castles and the ghosts within them. 

“So asks-too-many-questions Hope has now become knight-in-shining-armor Hope. I gotta say, I think I like this version a little bit better”. 

“Because I’m not asking questions?” Hope challenges. 

“That’s part of it”. 

They both laugh, look at each other as Lizzie takes her place beside Hope, until Hope goes stoic again. She puts the blade down, wipes her hands on her dark jeans. 

“Lizzie, I know this isn’t by far the most threatening monster we’ve ever faced but, I think you should stay inside the school. Kaleb and I designed a foolproof plan to kill the —”

“Why are you sidelining me?” Lizzie frowns. “I was of perfectly good help last time you almost got sucked into a portal too, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant —”

“Then what do you mean Hope? I know this isn’t about glory. So what is it? Martyrdom? Pushing people who care about you away?” 

And Hope is surprisingly calm, despite the tension in Lizzie’s voice, despite the way she raises it, despite the way it cuts through the sound of the chirping crickets in the woods. “No. It’s the opposite, actually. It’s about trying to keep the people I care about safe. I don’t want you to end up somewhere you won’t be able to come back to us if we risk it”. 

“What about Kaleb, then? Surely you care about him”. 

A beat.

“Not the way I care about you”. 

They stand there, in the cold of the Old Mill, looking at each other as Hope picks up the sword on the table, and Lizzie realizes for the first time, Hope is making an entirely selfish decision… And it’s all about her. 

[noncanonfan]

Here’s a fix-it fic I️ started because both Methan and Hizzie shippers were done very dirty this episode. Hope you enjoy!

[ao3feed-hizzie]

by exileee

She’d done everything already. She’d told Hope she loved her – twice. She’d confessed to her that she idolized her since they were kids. What else was there to say?

Lizzie looked up at Hope, one last time.

Please say something.

//

Another take of 4x18, more angsty but Hizzie style at least.

Words: 1632, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Legacies (TV 2018)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson

Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman

Additional Tags: angsty as hell, bc i refuse to acknowledge what 4x18 was, idk any 4x18 idk what you talking about, someone needs to take depressed songs away from me too, Angst

[unholyhelbig]

Jealous Hizzie?

Title: You Can Dance, Just not With Her 

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/ Lizzie Saltzman 

Read on AO3 here 

[A/N: This one is dedicated to @hellmo Because they absolutely got me back into writing legacies] 

Lizzie was three drinks in. She had grabbed the first warm beer before ice had even cascaded against the bottle. Then she moved onto a straight shot of Ever Clear and decided to chase it all with a seltzer that had the double percentage of alcohol. Her throat burned, then her stomach, and shockingly so was her rage.

And it shouldn’t have been, not the way that it was.

But as she sat on the stupid lawn chair under the stupidly perfect glow of the string lights hung expertly from the surrounding trees to the outer structure of the Old Mill. She could feel the music vibrating against the ground more than she could hear it, and she reached blindly for another drink, not caring what it was.

She took three even gulps of another beer, this time it was cold, but it still pulled at the muscles in the back of her jaw. She was fuzzy, and she didn’t care much about how she was getting back to her dorm in one piece because her eyes were trained on Hope Mikaelson.

Hope was pushing her body as close to Cleo as she possibly could, grinding and pressing, and lowering herself whenever the music dipped into a softer beat. Sweat dripped against her brow, and the lights above caught every single angle of it all. And the other witch lapped it up, drinking in her partner with hungry eyes.

Roommates, they had started as roommates and graduated to a friendship that Lizzie always wanted with Hope. Because friendship led to something more- something that Lizzie Saltzman craved without actually craving and loved without actually realizing.

And that anger, that same anger that had only been fueled by alcohol, hissed in the bottom of her stomach. She wished so bitterly that she was the one pressed that closely to Hope, breathing in her scent and drinking in her presence.

Before she could stop herself, she was standing from the lawn chair, pulling her shoulders back, and walking towards the two of them as the song shifted into something with a faster beat, and drunk witches, werewolves, and vampires cheered along to the chorus.

Then Lizzie was wrapping her fingers around Hope Mikaelson’s wrist and pulling her away from Cleo, who didn’t protest much. She still moved with the music, despite the absence of her partner. Hope’s boots rolled against the gravel and she had consumed almost as much alcohol as Lizzie had, letting herself be led away, though concern furrowed her brow.

Lizzie finally stopped when they reached the edge of the party where the music met the trees and the warmth met the stark cold. Their breath was prominent here, clouding in front of each other and mingling like tiny hands grasping for comfort.

Hope finally sobered enough to pull her wrist away and turn to face Lizzie “What’s wrong? Did something breach the perimeter?”

“What? No,”

“Is someone hurt?”

Lizzie fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew exactly what Hope meant with her words, had blood been spilled? Had a sword been drawn from the library's walls and been pressed against the inside of a student’s throat? And no- neither of those things had happened. But someone was still hurt. Lizzie was still aching.

“You look like you’re getting close with Cleo,” She said instead, dodging the question.

There was another flash of concern, and then it quickly shifted to anger. The residual alcohol in her system came to a head as she glanced back to the party and then shifted to looking at Lizzie once more. “What? I mean- yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not.” She said.

“Then why did you pull me away from her like that?”

Hope was staring her down with those emerald, blue eyes that could strike fear in any creature. It didn’t’ strike fear in Lizzie, not always, she knew how to fight back, to push Hope just enough to keep her guessing- and yes, it was a bit of a farce, because it was fun and arousing, but under it all, she knew that it was something more. For her at least, it was something more.

She drew in a sharp breath and glanced over Hope’s shoulder. Cleo was mingling with Kaleb now, her hand on his upper shoulder and her eyes sparkling in the dancing flames of the fire. She smiled and it broke a bit of the spell Lizzie was under, but not by much.

“So, I’m not allowed to be upset that she’s hanging all over you?”

The tribrid crossed her arms over her chest and let her mouth drop open. Her breath smell strongly of liquor and mint. Lizzie had no right to express this hit of hot jealousy. Both of them knew that, and both of them let it sit heavy in the air for a few moments.

Hope moved forward and pressed her lips against Lizzie’s with a certain edge of force that could only be spurred on by passion. Lizzie’s back hit the tree behind her, and she groaned into Hope’s mouth, a mix of pain, pleasure, and surprise.

She slid her hand into Lizzie’s hair slowly, careful not to catch the silver rings against her fingers. They both tasted like a mix of weed and alcohol even as Lizzie pulled back and kept her eyes squinted shut. This couldn’t’ be real, she couldn’t feel Hope’s labored breathes against her collarbone.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Hope’s voice was a throaty whisper “The way you tried not to look at Cleo and me tonight.”

Lizzie finally pulled her eyes open, forehead resting against Hopes. The shorter of the two ran the pad of her thumb gently against Lizzie’s lip, raw with the taste of fireball. Her throat burned and she struggled not to smile, struggled to be serious.

“I only have eyes for you, Lizzie Saltzman.” She rasped.

And Lizzie fell back into her then, gripping both sides of her face as she slid her tongue over the girl's bottom lip, begging for entrance. Hope let her, Hope pulled her closer, and Hope finally stopped dancing with Cleo.

[darkestgrays]

folklore

seven

And though I can't recall your face, I've still got love for you. Your braids make a pattern. Love you to the Moon and Saturn. Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.

A worn-out picture that's scratched and tearing is what reminded Hope of her childhood best friend.

It was tucked away in an unsuspecting shoe-box at the very back of her closet— clearly, she had wanted to keep the contents of the box, the picture, hidden away and never to be seen again— it was a picture of her at seven up in a tree in the school grounds, smiling at the blonde girl sitting next to her on the tree, her face scratched out from the picture.

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