#image bank long hair klaus

[ded-and-gonne]

[honestgrins]

sequel to "pretty good bad idea"!

mini-sequel to this

Pretty Good Bad Idea: Wasn’t It Though?

The first thing he saw in her office was the sunflower arrangement he picked out himself in the trash can. Smirking, his eyes slid to where she was too busy typing like a machine to notice him entering. Her hair was coiled behind her head, two pencils stabbed into it, yet she still looked effortlessly beautiful. 

Caroline Forbes fascinated him like little else. 

Clearing his throat, Klaus knocked on the open door and leaned against the jamb. "Fancy meeting you here, Miss Forbes."

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to look away from her computer screen. "In my office? Yes, very strange. I guess I could understand why you'd be confused by that, being a billionaire and all that. Some of us have to work for a living, we can't just survive off the interest of our off-shore bank accounts."

The game was afoot, and what a delight. "You're good at what you do, so I'm sure you've combed through all my financial records. Tell me, love, have you found any evidence I'm not pulling my weight as an American taxpayer?"

Finally, she paused her typing to look at him, that clever light in her eyes practically sparkling. Leaning back in her chair, her hands folded together across her stomach. "Shall I get out a tape recorder? I'd love to get you on the record about your taxes."

"I file every cent I make in a timely fashion," he answered easily, sitting in the spare chair next to her desk. "If you're working on a relevant story, I'm happy to provide you the corroborating documents."

Sighing, she turned back to her notes. "Believe it or not, I have better things to write about than you."

His head canted to the side as he watched her carefully. "Yes, your take on why the lemonade stand is out of fashion was groundbreaking." He grinned at the sudden straightening of her spine, the way her fist unconsciously crumpled the paper in her grasp. Oh yes, this was even more fun than he was expecting. "The Junior Falls Gazette has certainly gone downhill in your absence."

"How did-" Caroline licked her lips, and when she finally met his eyes, he was pleased to note a reddening blush on her cheeks. Her gaze fell to the neatly wrapped package at his feet, though, and her carefully blank expression fell into a frown. "Did you bring me a gift?"

"Perhaps, but not if they're going to receive the same welcome as my flowers."

She swallowed. "It's inappropriate to accept gifts from a subject. I write about Original, and I don't want it said that the CEO is just trying to get into my pants."

While he couldn't argue with the public image it would present, Klaus did want to make his intentions clear to her. "I enjoyed meeting you last night," he admitted, "and I wanted to thank you for your honesty."

"So your note said," she agreed with a tight smile. "I still can't accept the flowers, nor whatever you have in that package."

He lifted a mischievous eyebrow, and she just shook her head. Standing, he gave a solemn nod to the present he left on the floor. "It's more sentimental than valuable," he promised on his way to the door. "At least open it before you toss it out."

"Klaus!"

Looking back, he found her watching him with a soft, wary expression. "I enjoyed meeting you, too."

A smile spread across his face, and he felt triumphant at the way her eyes snagged on his dimples. "Enjoy the gift, Caroline. Your career has come a long way, and I look forward to see what havoc you wreak against my father."

He strode out before he could tempt himself into staying any longer, hoping she would appreciate the effort it took to procure her first published piece - not to mention picking the perfect frame to complement both the elementary school aesthetic and the professional sheen of the journalistic shark she had become.

More than that, he couldn't wait to see her next salvo in this game of theirs. An icy thank you note? A scathing litany of his offenses hitting the front page?

Whatever it was, Caroline was certainly up to the challenge of taking him on should she decide to play.

[one-boring-person]

You Died!

Alaric Saltzman x Reader

Context: Set towards the end of episode 20 of season 3, just after Alaric has completed his transformation. The reader is Ric's best friend and is distraught after finding out he will ultimately die, not yet knowing Esther has made him complete the transition.

Warnings: Blood, some death, "lethal" biting

A/N: This is my first time using Tumblr as a writing platform, so forgive me if the format is a bit off.

Exhilaration courses through me at the sensation of the wind rushing around me, the cold air blocked out by my riding leathers, thankfully, my helmet preventing my eyes from tearing up, keeping my vision clear enough for me to navigate the dark, twisting road with ease. Beneath me, my black and chrome roadster growls loudly, the vehicle responding to my every move with a sensitivity it’s always had, the engines revving as I push the bike into a faster pace, knowing no one else will hear me out here. Normally, I would never consider going out at this time, especially not on the motorbike, and definitely not at this ungodly speed, but after today’s events, I feel as if nothing else will clear my head sufficiently.

Tightening my grip on the handlebars, I try to ignore the grief gnawing away at my heart, planning to deal with it tomorrow in whatever way I feel fit, whether that be drinking ridiculous volumes of whiskey or beating up some poor punching bag somewhere, or doing something much more dangerous. For now, all I want to do is forget about the fact that my best friend died, or is currently dying, and that there’s nothing I can do about it. And I never got to tell him how I really feel. At that, I grit my teeth and accelerate the motorbike again, nearly hitting the 100 mph mark on the metre as I drive around the winding bends of the deserted road, the thrill at riding at such a speed doing little to cure my current state of mind, only reminding me of what he would say if he saw me being as reckless as this. Under my helmet visor, I feel a tear roll down my cheek, leaving a hot trail in its wake.

Turning a corner, I brake a little as I catch sight of the thick bank of fog that seems to occupy the road, unsure of whether or not to continue on into it; after all, Klaus is still out there and up to his tricks. Too late, I figure out the bike won't slow down in time to avoid it, so I carry on through the eerie white mist, cutting the speed slightly, only to push it back up again as I decide to get through it as fast as possible, even if I can barely see a thing. The headlight seems to do nothing, the pale light catching on the fog, making it appear thicker than it actually is, illuminating only what is directly in front of the front tyre.

For what feels like hours but is in fact only minutes, I drive through the bank of fog, slightly confused as to its sudden appearance, until I reach an abrupt break in the suffocating cover, everything becoming clear and visible very swiftly. I only have a second to register the figure standing in the road, in which time I sharply pull the handlebars to the side, tilting the bike dangerously as it skids past, the wheels losing traction on the slick tarmac, careening into the side of the road. As it makes contact with the barrier, I am flung from the seat, the world spinning in my view briefly before I crash to the floor, my body smashing against rocks and tree branches as it rolls over and over, coming to a halt at the base of a road sign, pain exploding across me from multiple points of my body. Breathing hard, I try to move, only to find myself incapable of doing so without invoking a sharp stab of agony from my new injuries, leaving me lying helplessly at the side of the road, bruises littering my skin, my conscience slowly starting to fade.

A pair of hands on my waist snap me from the cloud of pain, the appendages roughly pulling me up onto someone's shoulder as they carry me back onto the road, their breathing as heavy as mine. A whimper of pain leaves my lips at the jolting motions, the air leaving my lungs as I am thrown, violently, onto the tarmac, my head cracking against it slightly as my helmet absorbs the shock. Agony erupts in my limbs and chest, drawing a long, low groan from me as I try to find my assailant, confusion and horror filling me as I recognise the person standing over me. Bending over, he harshly pulls my helmet off my head, revealing my bruised face to the world as he looks down into it in disgust.

“Alaric?” I croak out coarsely, thinking I’m hallucinating, spitting out a mouthful of blood as it wells up in my throat, signalling to me that I have internal bleeding. Above me, my best friend and crush of six years eyes the trail of crimson liquid as it flows over my face, a hungry look in his now-dark eyes.

“(Y/N).” His voice is low and sinister, the tone proving to me it’s not the caring man I know and love, but the side of him I’ve come to call Psycho Alaric, due to his murderous tendencies.

“Y-You died...” The words are forced as I feel the agony of my injuries, both mental and physical, start to take over my body, more blood flowing from my parted lips.

Above me, Alaric crouches down to my level, a predatory look on his handsome face as he stares at my prone figure, taking in the torn riding leathers, as well as the darkening bruises surrounding my jaw and temple.

“I did.” He simply states before reaching down to me, pushing his arms under my torso as he pulls my body closer to his, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, threading his fingers tightly in my hair, the overall movement wringing a quiet whimper from me. Hearing this, Alaric licks his lips, his eyes roaming over the blood covering my chin, dropping to the skin at my neck.

“What...What're you doing?” I question him, fear starting to accompany the throbbing pain in my body as he lowers his face to mine, his breath fanning over my skin, hotly. At any other time, I would’ve felt giddy at the thought of being so close to him, but now it scares me – there’s something off about him.

In way of reply, Alaric leans further into me, his familiar scent overwhelming me, as well as the sharp odour of blood, swiftly swiping his tongue over my chin, drawing up the crimson liquid staining my skin, a surprised grunt leaving my lips as a hungry groan leaves his. Pulling away, he looks down at me with obvious desire, his face suddenly changing as familiar veins form under his eyes, his lips pulling back to reveal razor sharp fangs, the overall expression not unlike that of a vampire's. In seconds, he pulls me to him, crushing my body against his as he sinks his teeth into my neck, biting into the soft skin with ease, blood flowing from the wound into his mouth, his hot tongue swiping over the area a few times to draw up every drop of the hot liquid. Around my head and shoulders, his grip tightens, the sensation of him sucking my blood out of my arteries somehow feeling euphoric in comparison with the previous, agonising pain from the crash, a sigh falling from my tongue, moans and grunts of appreciation and need leaving the lips he has pressed against my neck.

Already, I feel my conscience leaving me, black spots appearing all over my vision as he finally pulls away, blood coating his chin and lips, satisfaction evident in his eyes as the veins and fangs retreat, dropping my limp body to the ground as he stands, wiping the substance away with his sleeve. Giving me one last glance, he smirks down at me before leaving my broken body lying on the tarmac, the pain becoming too much for me to bear as I finally fall into the darkness at the edge of my vision.

*

Bright light assaults my eyes as I crack them open, a dull ache starting in my head as I try to lift my hands to rub them, trying my best to remember where I am and how I got here. Coming up blank initially, I look around at the room I’m in, recognising the bed beneath me as belonging to one of the Salvatores, Damon in particular, meaning I'm in the boarding house.

“Morning, sleepy head.” A familiar voice greets me from the corner behind the bed, a quick look proving to me that it is, in fact, Damon.

“W-what happened?” I manage to croak out at him, confusion lacing my voice as I try to recall how I got here, staring blearily at the raven haired vampire as he rolls his eyes, exasperated at my question.

“You crashed your motorbike, I think. I found you a couple of hours ago with your body broken and bruised as hell, and with an impressive bite mark to top it all off. You were nearly completely drained of blood.” He responds, his tone light even though I can see the worry in his piercing eyes.

At his words, the events that got me here rush back, the images of Alaric drinking from my neck sparking a sense of dread in me.

“Alaric.” I mumble, knowing Damon will hear me, even from his position across the room. Instantly, I find the vampire standing at the side of the bed, having used his unnatural speed to reach me, a confused and curious look in his eyes.

“Alaric? What do you mean?” His voice is tight at the thought of his friend.

Swiftly, I explain everything to him, watching as a look of grim horror crosses his handsome face, realisation setting into me. Alaric, somehow, made the transition.

As if on cue, a bang from another room interrupts the silence that has settled on us, drawing my attention towards the door, a confused look on my face.

“That’ll be Bonnie.” Damon muses, brow creased a little as he stands, looking back down at me.

“Bonnie?” I question him, puzzled.

“Yeah, Alaric got her, too.”

Shock fixes me in place for a second before I can speak again.

“He did? How?”

A pained expression crosses his face at my question, the subject obviously a sensitive one.

“Our old friend the Original Witch possessed her to go and help him complete the transition. It was her blood that sealed the deal.”

“Esther did this?” Horror and hopelessness well up in at the idea of the witch being back, especially when I consider the fact that Alaric's fate has been sealed by her, at which point anger accompanies the initial feelings.

“Yep. I’m gonna go deal with Bonnie now. Get some rest, you'll need it for tomorrow.” Damon suggests, smiling slightly as he turns and leaves the room, allowing me to try and fall asleep once more, which is easier said than done, what with the turbulent thoughts and crippling grief churning around in my mind. Eventually, though, I manage to tire myself out, my body forcing itself to sleep.

[gellavonhamster]

a simple life

gen || Bertrand Baudelaire/Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket || skips from pre-canon to canon timeline

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

Oh, if we led a simple life, For each my love I’d bear a child – For every man I cherished, Of each and every kind. – Veronica Dolina, Когда б мы жили без затей (Oh, If We Led a Simple Life)

“We need three children,” Beatrice announces suddenly. Lemony jerks up his head – the book he’s reading is not a most interesting one, but the volunteer who borrowed it from the library before him left a message in it by underlining certain sentences, and in his attempts to decipher it he’s managed to forget he’s not alone in the room. Beatrice keeps sewing just as if nothing had happened, and it seems like she isn’t expecting him to answer at all, but she would have hardly said it out loud if she had forgotten there was someone else in the room, like he did. So Lemony figures out he ought to answer; it’s only that he’s completely at a loss for words.  

“I am sure you’ll be able to crawl in there yourself,” he finally says. Beatrice puts away her handiwork – a new jacket she’s sewing an extra stash pocket onto – and gives him a puzzled look.

“Crawl where? What do you even mean?”

“Into the gallery. I take it you’re talking about the Friday mission. I mean, Jacques has already made sure that the vent shaft is wide enough for an adult to get into – not an adult of my size, but yours easily. So there’s no need to involve any children. By the way, why must there be exactly three of them?”

Beatrice rolls her eyes, having finally figured out what he is talking about.

“I marvel at your logic, Mr. Snicket,” she says quizzically, but it’s a good-natured kind of quizzing. A strand of hair has got out of her hairdo and Lemony wants to tuck it behind her ear, but in order to do that he’d have to get off the couch and go to the other end of the room. So that is how old age creeps up on you, he thinks absent-mindedly – here he is, unable to make himself cross the room for the woman he loves, and he isn’t even twenty-five yet. “No, I’m not talking about the Friday mission. What I mean is that you! And me! And Bertrand! We need to have three children. That’s all I wanted to say.”  

“All right,” Lemony agrees. It’s a dangerous topic for conversation, one related to plans for the future, and for the people of their lifestyle it is rather pointless, if not dangerous, to make such plans. But Beatrice has always spat upon danger – at least when her own life was concerned, not the lives of others. “Now?”    

Beatrice laughs.

“No, not now, of course,” she says. Her look of slight perplexity tells Lemony she hasn’t really given much thought to when exactly that should happen. “Someday. When the circumstances will be right.”

(And when they would have been right? Especially for the three of them, as she used to dream back then? That remained one of the million questions he never found to be right or wrong because he never got the chance to pose these questions to her. Just like “Why didn’t you tell me everything at once?” Or “Did you really think I shall love you less once I learn what the two of you have done, as if I’ve never done any terrible things myself and thought there was no other way?” Or “Why did you read Anna Karenina to your son, and why did you teach your daughter to use makeup to draw scars on her face? So that one day they would walk the same path as we once did, or so that they would know it well enough to avoid it?” What was she thinking, his Beatrice, selfless and whimsical and reckless and ingenious, when she was putting her hand on her growing belly, lulling her children to sleep, remodelling her pregnancy dresses or donating them to charity shops, braiding Violet’s hair, packing lunches for school, going to the bank to speak with that insufferable bore Poe, hiding safety matches from her children – not because there were any particular memories related to fire, any very specific notoriety, but just because playing with matches is a dangerous thing to do? There were some things he knew for sure – such as that all her neighbours used to like her, that she was considered a good mother, that she always remained the loveliest woman in the world – but not the answers to all these questions.    

And did she realize she turned out to be almost right? She and Bertrand had three children, and the boy looked so, so much like her. Of course, when he first saw the middle Baudelaire child in the photo, the first thing that caught his eye was glasses: Bertrand, for as long as he could remember him, always wore glasses as well; his glasses even were in the similar style. But the thick, dark, a little bit curly hair was hers, and so were the brown eyes, and so was the shape of the boy’s face. Did she ever remember that far-off jesting conversation while combing Klaus’s hair or fixing his tie, when she would cast a quick glance to the mirror and notice, without a doubt, how much her son looked like her? Or had that carefree day disappeared from her memory, forever gone where all those memories that bring nothing but dull pain should better go?    

He hadn’t forgotten. Ever)

“In some ten minutes it will be ready,” Bertrand tells them as he enters the room. He wipes his hands on his apron and shifts his gaze from Beatrice to Lemony, curious. “What were you talking about?”

“Beatrice thinks we need three children,” Lemony says.

“Why three?”

“See,” Beatrice points at Bertrand theatrically, “he understood at once what I meant!”

“I have no idea what you meant, but I hope it’s the same thing as what I mean,” Bertrand sits down on a chair covered in a jumble of clothes – his own shirt, Beatrice’s cape, and Lemony’s jacket, or maybe Bertrand’s jacket, for Lemony wore it yesterday and noticed that it is tight in the shoulders. It’s easier for Bertrand and Beatrice to steal his clothes than for him to steal theirs; if they leave that jacket hanging on the chair, sooner or later Beatrice will take it too. “So why exactly three?”

“Why, so one would look like you, one like me, and one like Lemony.”

“And what shall we do if any of them take after none of us?” Lemony cannot resist asking. “Suppose one of them looks like…” the words “his grandparents” freeze on his tongue. At times he isn’t sure if he actually remembers his parents, or it is just his writer’s imagination painting their images based on what Jacques and Kit have told him. The moments he isn’t sure about that scare him: what shall be called into doubt next? The memories of their farm, of the games he used to play with his siblings before they were taken away, of the first books he had read and the first melodies he had learned? Beatrice hasn’t seen her parents for twenty years. Bertrand has never seen his.    

“Give them up for adoption, naturally,” Bertrand says with a serious look, but in his eyes and in the corners of his mouth a smile is already emerging – the very smile Lemony loves so much.

(Oh no, he never forgot. How could he forget when each photo he carefully put into a folder, or pinned to the wall amid newspaper clippings and document copies, brought back the memories of that conversation? Three children – just as they discussed back then. And if Klaus Baudelaire looked just like his mother, then Sunny Baudelaire was a spitting image of her father. An uninitiated person could assume that it is too early to judge which parent the child looks like if the child in question has just recently started walking, but he just knew – even though Bertrand clearly was much older when they first met than his younger daughter was in all these photographs. Yet whether it was because Sunny Baudelaire was an unusual child in many respects, or because some features stay the same no matter the age (he refused to consider his own sentimentality as the possible reason), the facts stayed the same: the daughter looked remarkably like her father. The same smile – its shape has already been formed and promised to reach the ultimate likeness when the baby’s other teeth come through. And the bright blue eyes, and the fair hair – which must have been as soft as the one he used to run his fingers through many years ago.

Her father’s looks, and the name of the woman who… well, she did not bring both of them up, of course, that could hardly be counted as upbringing. For that matter, he wouldn’t have named the child after her, but that had not been up to him to decide: he had no chance whatsoever to participate in making that decision. Strange as it may be, he saw her in his dreams once or twice, eyeing him even more reproachfully that she always used to. Eyeing him the way that made him want to scream: yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say, it is I who should rather be dead, it was him who should have stayed alive, do you really believe I think otherwise? But it was no use screaming because it wouldn’t make him feel better, and that woman was long gone anyway. Even she was gone too.        

And Sunny Baudelaire learned to cook early; just in case there was any need for another evidence of how much she resembled her father)  

“Oh, screw you,” Beatrice waves him off. “I’m describing an ideal situation, get it? An i-de-al one!”

“I guess three children would be ideal indeed for our, hmm, situation,” Lemony observes. He thinks all this talk amusing, despite the topic lying close to dangerous grounds. It is an incredible stroke of serendipity to find a book that makes one feel as if it was written just for them, or a song that sounds as if it was their soul transformed into music, or even a dish one would like to keep ordering in each and every restaurant, knowing one shall never get enough of it. Yet the greatest luck possible is finding people that one can talk about anything with, spend as much time with as one can, and feel surely willing to spend one’s whole life like that, with them. Certainly there is a more appropriate word to describe this than ‘serendipity’ or ‘luck’, but for volunteers that is a dangerous ground too,  and Lemony never says it out loud, keeps it in his mind like a dragon guarding a treasure, hoping that Beatrice and Bertrand do not need any words to understand how he feels.      

“I hope you’re not suggesting there would be one child per each of us to raise,” Beatrice says. “Or we’re splitting the breastfeeding duties too.”

“I guess Snicket means that in case of divorce each of us could take one of the kids,” Bertrand suggests merrily.

Lemony salutes him. “Exactly. The question is how we’re going to split them up, should the need arise.”

“Ask each of them who they would like to stay with?”

“Out of question. Too progressive. It is the notions like thith,” Beatrice starts to lisp on purpose and both of them laugh as they understand at once which one of the older volunteers she’s mocking, “that are poisoning our society! No,” she continues in her normal voice, “I suggest we draw lots. Write their names on the slips of paper, put them in a hat, well, you know the drill.”  

“And then you’ll be the one complaining when you don’t get the kid you like the most,” Bertrand winds her up. Beatrice takes a spool out of her sewing basket and hurls it at him.

“How dare you imply,” she says, her voice dramatically offended, “that I won’t love all our children.”

Bertrand, who has managed to catch the spool before it hit his forehead, smiles.

“Relax,” he says, placating. “I’m just messing with you. I do not doubt that you will. And I will love them all, too.”

“And so will Lemony,” Beatrice says. She sits back in her chair and looks at Lemony with a smile, and suddenly he realizes that despite all the jokes and hyperboles, this conversation is very serious and important.

“And so will I,” he says quietly. “With all my heart.”

(And then there were lies, libel, a hasty escape, accusations, letters, telegrams, a faked death, and then another one and another one and loneliness and stalking and the inability to simply call and say he missed them – and then death again. Not his anymore, but this time it was real. And there were manuscripts in thick envelopes and hiding places and safes, and there was the Editor’s tired voice on the phone, thirteen books and the smell of fresh printing ink, but there was no Beatrice and no Virgil – only memories. Like this one: just another ordinary evening, just another light-hearted conversation. Yes, absolutely light-hearted. What they were joking about back then could never come true, and if some parts of it did, then never completely. But there was something about the face of Violet Baudelaire that distinguished her both from her father and from her mother – never mind that she could be mistaken for Beatrice from afar, as confirmed by many guests who attended that horrible cancelled wedding; never mind that she used to tie her hair up with a ribbon just like Bertrand once used to.  

Violet Baudelaire was fifteen years old. Fifteen years ago a lot of things used to be different.

He was afraid to study her face too closely)

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

distant fairytale ;

a/n: au/ or Freya casts a time travel spell to help Klaus bring Hayley back, needless to say he gets stuck in a time loop

―

The first time he goes back - he goes back too far.

(She’s sitting at Rousseau’s - laughing and Declan has a hand resting on her inner thigh. He’s leaning in close, too close. And Klaus needs to tame his anger because he’s not even supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be doing book signings in Monaco, he’s supposed to be off killing a bunch of tourists in New Zealand, having a blood binge with men and women alike, he’s supposed to be anywhere else).

“I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time,” she says to Declan.

And they press foreheads together, he’s brushing his lips against hers. It’s their first kiss - her first kiss since Elijah. 

(Klaus clenches his fists, and just in time, Freya pulls him back in for another timeline).

―

The second time he goes back - he goes back too late.

(She’s burning - ashes to ashes, dust to dust - her corpse aflame creates images of her last moments in his mind’s eye. Dames dancing, bears chanting, hallucinations of other lives they lives flashing right before him).

“NO!” Klaus shouts again, uncontrollably. 

And, in his very long life, there are only a handful of moments that he would never want to relive. Henrik’s death, killing his own biological father, Mikael’s abuse, Rebekah’s betrayal and this.

(Hayley dies right in front of his eyes. He takes a minute to cry before he goes back).

―

The third time, he’s holding her in his arms and he’s not sure where they are.

Hope is maybe around seven years old - running around what he presumes is their apartment, chasing another child. A little boy; he has Henrik’s eyes, and Kol’s good hair. He has Rebekah’s bright smile and Elijah’s elegance. In this scenario, Hayley holds the little boy and kisses his cheek.

Only then does Klaus realize just how much they look alike.

Maybe - this is the non existent timeline where they are actually a normal family. They actually have another kid - they actually look so fucking happy.

(It takes him all his strength, all his might, all his will...every fiber of his being crumbles in order to walk away from this moment. As much as he loves it here with her, this isn’t right. This isn’t their future - it’s someone else’s).

―

He spits, god-toothed frown and anguish.

“Freya, get it right this time.”

“I’m trying, Klaus, I just have no control on where you land.”

“Well then, try harder.”

“Maybe if I get Hope to help, she is a stronger witch than I am after all.”

“This is black magic, I can’t risk putting my daughter’s life at risk again. You know the consequences of dabbling in the dark arts.”

“I do.”

They both pause, looking at the sacrifices they made in order to bring Hayley back. Freya sighs, then, she meets her brother’s gaze.

“Ready to try this again?”

“Always.”

He’s confident with his response.

―

This time, he’s arrives on the day of her wedding with Jackson, that moment where she had looked at him from across the room, when he almost stopped the ceremony to tell her that he loved her. His time with her is filled with so many ‘what-if’s that it’s almost tragic. It’s not even epic anymore - it’s just pathetic. 

He’s watching himself, watching her, marrying another man.

Just like he’s watching himself, watching her, building a home, raising their child, with another man. Another wolf, no less.

(He feels Freya’s hand wrap around his. 

She pulls him back).

―

The first time they meet is unexpected. And maybe that’s what he should re-do, he should make it so they never meet. That’s what happens in the movies, after all. It doesn’t seems to work though, not entirely in the way one hopes anyway. Klaus never finished those rom-coms though, so he doesn’t know any better. He always fell asleep on Hayley’s shoulder while she and Hope kept watching. 

She shows up to his place right behind Tyler. Klaus bolts out of the room, faster than lightening.

(Turns out fate has different plans for him - they meet anyway - when he’s a famous painter having his solo show in Prague, and she’s there laughing drunkenly at his art. She tells him she’s been following his work for a while. That they both amuse and intrigue her. He doesn’t run back to his sister like he had planned. Klaus takes Hayley out for a drink instead).

―

“Are you just gunna stare or are you gunna buy me a drink already?”

“That’s quite forward of you isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Well, I’d rather you be direct with me than make me waste my time.”

“Fine, what do you want?”

“Any drink off the menu? Well that’s quite ballsy of you.”

“This might be my one chance to impress you, I might as well make it count.”

“One chance? Chill out, I’m not dying anytime soon.”

“Right.”

“Just get me a vodka cranberry, I’ll drain your bank account some other night.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise.”

―

And they fall in to bed, quite naturally this time.

With her coquettish smile, his snarky wit. Eyes glinting in the moonlight as they undress - her lips are on his neck, biting softly, teasing. There is that moment where he remembers that, in this life, she’s still a wolf. And she’s not the young thing he bedded the night she betrayed Tyler.

She’s older now, with smile wrinkles decorating the edge of each eye. Klaus smiles too, she must laugh a lot in order to have so many of those. It means he gave her a happier life. One free from the Mikaelson name.

Until tonight.

―

In the morning, he’s looking at her like she’s a love story.

“What are you thinking about? Going to ask me if I believe in love at first sight? Or first sex, rather. Whatever it is, the answer is no I do not. I’m a wolf you see, all of this is nothing but primal, my dear Nik.”

“Love? Who cares about love? My sweetest Andrea, I want to know if you believe in eternal damnation, in heartbreak, in loneliness. I want to know if you know what it’s like to mourn, to yearn hopelessly, to live in deep deep regret.”

Her eyes shift in color, tuning liquid gold at the sight of him.

“We’re never going to see each other again, are we?”

He sighs, fearing the look in her eyes.

“Maybe in our next lives.”

―

(The last time he goes back, she’s walking towards him with a hand over her swollen belly - and yeah, that’s where it all started. Only this time, Klaus doesn’t run.

He walks towards her, palm resting over hers. 

“The girl is pregnant with your child.”

“I know,” he says, without hesitation. “I’m going to take care of you, and I’m going give this child everything they could ever ask for.”

Hayley doesn’t know what to say - she hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from him. But, she doesn’t question the only moment of peace he had offered her since this entire situation even started.

She slips her fingers into his and smiles.

And they begin again).

― 

[all-sortsa-stuff]

Natural, part 4

Pairing: Klaus Michaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2731

Warning: Language

 Part 3

Your drive started out a little sad.  Between leaving Mystic Falls which had really turned into a lot of fun, and the fact you were going to try to save your family’s estate, your emotions had been on a bit of a roller coaster.  Sending up a prayer to the Gods for guidance and strength you started the rather long journey.  After the first seven hours you stopped for a late lunch/early dinner and gas.  You called Scarlet and talked to her while you ate alone in the little diner.  She tried her best to cheer you up, which did help slightly.  It made your meal better at least.

After an hour, you were back on the road for another six.  It was hard to keep your eyes open by the time you found a motel to crash for the night.  Originally you had wanted to drive right though until you hit New Orleans.  Of course stopping when needed for gas and a bathroom, but that was not happening.  Pouring yourself into bed, you were out for hours.  Sunlight through the dingy curtain and your phone going off woke you sometime the next day.

It was too bright to open your eyes fully so you did not look at the caller.  “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Stefan’s voice asked from the other end.

“Mmmhmm.”  

“I’m sorry.  I figured you would be awake by now.  It’s noon.”

“Noon?  Holy shit.  I slept like fourteen hours.”  Sitting up you tried to remember the last time you had slept that long.

“You alright?”  He sounded concerned as you ran your fingers through your hair, staring out the window.

“Umm yeah, just tired I guess.”

“I take it you didn’t make it to New Orleans yet since you said it’s been fourteen hours.”  With a sigh, you leaned back against the headboard.

“Nope.  I am somewhere in Alabama.”  You heard a soft laugh from the other end.

“Alabama… that place a hundred years ago…”

“It’s too early for a history lesson, Stefan.”  That gifted you with another laugh, which brought a smile to your lips.

“Fine, fine.  Calling me ancient or something.  I just wanted to see how you were.  I was… well honestly I was worried about you.”  That caused a flip of your heart.

“Thank you for the worry but I will be okay.  I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, [Y/N].  You are a witch and our world…. It isn’t safe.  I think you know that more than most.”  He was starting to sound like Scarlet.

“I know, I know.  I will do what I can to stay safe.  Okay?”  

“Please do.  I will always come to help if you need me.”  The rest of the conversation moved on to your plans for travel that day.  Stefan made you promise to call him that night when you arrived.  He threatened to follow you down there if you did not.

 Hours later in the Southern sun and heat, you finally made it to New Orleans.  It had been several years since you had been there but it smelled exactly the same as you drove down one of the main streets.  However, the feel was different.  No longer were you with your parents during happy times and summer vacations.  This time alone, and as a more powerful witch you could feel the essence of magic that permeated so much of the city.

You stopped first at one of the small markets to pick up food, and a few cleaning supplies. Unsure of how dusty everything would be and what your mother had actually kept in stock.  Your parents had last been down over the summer and were supposed to come back for Mardi gras.  But they were killed not long after returning to Salem in September.  It made your heart hurt thinking about it.

As you drove towards the road that would take you to the house, you saw a witch’s shop off to the right. Without thinking, you pulled into the sole parking spot just outside.  As you slowly walked inside the strong smell of incense swirled together with the fragrances of the different herbs that hung from a racks close to the register.  A beautiful woman with dark skin and a high ponytail called out to her from behind the counter.  “Welcome. Anything I can help you find?”

You could see the coven tattoo on her forearm as she set the book down she had in her hands.  “Sage?  I need to bless and purify my home.  Make sure there is nothing there to keep me up at night.”  

“I have a few bundles over here, sugar.”  The woman walked over to the rack that was close to the front window, picking up one of the bundles and extending it out to you.  Your hand brushed hers as you took the sage.  There had been a flash of power between the touch but she said nothing, only eyeing you warily.  “Uhh… is there anything else I can get you?  I have some lovely protection crystals.”

“Not today.  I need to see what is there before I go stocking up. Thank you though.  I am glad to see there is a place if I need anything.” She smiled as you followed to the register.

“Name’s Amberline, sugar. It’s my shop; if you ever need anything just let me know.  I’ve got more than what is out here.  For those… events that need an extra kick.”  With a wink, she finished the transaction handing you the now bagged bundle of sage. As you exited the shop, the bag and your purse went flying as you went to the ground, landing square on your ass.

A flurry of apologies came with a pair of strong hands lifting you at an incredible pace back to your feet.  Hands that were a bit too powerful to be human.  A teenage girl and a guy not too much younger than you… or did not look too much younger than you both were scrambling to pick up your strewn items. “I am so sorry.  I was reading my book and…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m good.”  You wiped off your now sore ass as you looked between them.  He was a vampire; there was no missing the air about him.  But here in the daylight he tried to hide it.  She, with the book she had now clutched in her arms was a witch.  The book looked to be a tome of spells.  The vampire handed you your belongings with a shy smile.

“Yeah sorry.  We should have been paying attention.” Taking your purse and the bag of sage, you smiled.

“Really, it’s okay. It was an accident.”  A flash of an image appeared in your mind of the girl frustrated over something.  She slammed her hand down on a table as you realized the spell she had been working over. “Add less of the flower petals next time.  Less is more in some cases.”

You walked off towards your Jeep, flashing a wink at her.  The girl looked like she was in shock as her mouth hung open.  The rest of your trip to the house was uneventful.  As you pulled into the driveway and the house came into view, pain gripped your heart.  All the memories here with your parents came rushing back.  By the time, you parked the Jeep you were a crying mess. The flower garden in the front was overgrown but held the ghosts of the memories of you planting all the season’s flowers each summer with your mother.

The old hammock was torn and tattered but reminded you of the lazy afternoons you would drink sweet tea with your father as you relaxed together in it.  Sage was not going to rid the house of everything.  Sometimes the memories would cause more harm than anything else would.

 You made yourself a sandwich for dinner eating it as you stood looking at the formal living room. The house had been part of a large plantation at one time, but much of the land had been sold over the years. The main house had burned in the 1920’s though it was never found out how or why.  The lone survivor was the eldest son who then inherited the land. He took over one of the other larger houses on the plantation that his uncle and aunt had lived in.  There he raised his own family passing the property down to his children.

Many years later when your grandfather had died just before you were born, your father inherited what was left of the land and the house.  Now here you stood looking at all the covered furniture deciding that it would wait until the morning.  You wanted to walk outside and listen to the quiet before you tried to lay down to sleep.

Walking onto the back porch you leaned against one of the large white columns sighing loudly.  You father had told you that he had started building a greenhouse in the back yard.  It was no doubt to entice you to join them during their trips to New Orleans for the summers.  However, it would not have surprised you if they had started to plan to make it more than just the summerhouse.  While they had not been of retirement age yet, Salem was bitter cold during the winters. After a while, it ate away at you.

The basic frame of the greenhouse was up.  It needed a lot more work but it would be almost as large as the one you had back home. The thought of all of the different plants you could grow down here all year long popped into your mind.  Which led to you taking a walk through the framework. Your hand brushing over the wood beams that your father had put up himself.  Another image appeared in your mind of him with his radio blaring 80’s music as he sang along horribly.  Hammering away as your mom was not far off in a lounger reading a book.

There was so much work for you to do around the place but you had to figure out if you could even save the property from being taken away.  Fifteen thousand was a lot, but you would do everything you in your power to make it. Instead of a call, you sent Stefan a quick text that you had arrived safely. It just was not in you to have a full conversation.  Too many things were running through your thoughts. You did not sleep as well that night as you had the previous night.  Nightmares of the house taken away plagued you.

In the morning, you were up early drinking a second cup of coffee by the time eight rolled around. Dressing as nicely as you could in the clothes you had, you made your way to the bank.  A balding man about your height had ushered you to his desk as soon as you walked in.  “Paul Thompson, miss.  Please tell me how I can help such a lovely lady today.”

The strong New Orleans accent could not be missed as he stood until you had sat in front of him. Explaining the situation and him pulling the information up on the computer, he shook his head.  “Now there’s not a whole lot I can do for you in this type of situation.  How hard is it gonna be for you to come up with the money?”

“I only have about five thousand in my savings, which is from my business.  I don’t know how I am going to come up with another five in thirty days and five more the thirty after that.”  He tutted a bit in an attempt at understanding.

“Well are ya willing to sell the property?  I mean that would pay it outright and you would be done with it.”

“No sir, I am not letting my family’s property go.  I will figure out a way.”  You clasped your hands together tightly on his desk.

“Thought so, well Miss Avery I look forward to working with ya on this.  Please call me anytime if I can do anything to help.  And… well I will talk with my manager and see if there isn’t maybe a little something we can do to ease a bit of this.”  Standing you shined the brightest smile you could at him.  Maybe it would soften him up a bit.  Paul’s cheeks went flush red as he shook your hand.

“Thank you so much.”  He babbled something you could not understand as you walked out the door.  Once outside you took a long breath to give yourself a moment before you knew you had to prepare for the worst.  You were going to have to find a job or two, perhaps three in the city to be able to even come close to what you needed.  Even then, it was not likely you would do it.  Nevertheless, refused to go down without a fight.

 After walking along the streets for a while, watching the people bustle about New Orleans you found a little café that had outdoor seating.  You were halfway through coffee and a beignet when something slammed down on the table spilling your coffee over your clothes and sending your sweet treat to the ground.  A woman ran past holding her mouth before violently getting sick in the potted plant close by.  Looking down at the table a purse that did not belong to you sat in the middle of the disaster.

“My apologies, she is… ill. Let me pay your bill and give you something for dry cleaning your clothes.”  One of the most pleasant male voices you had ever heard spoke out as you looked up.  The voice belonged to a face that had you forgetting to breathe.  Handsome was not good enough of a word to describe him.  

“Umm no… it’s alright. These clothes are old, they will wash.”  Standing, you used one of the linen napkins to wipe some of the residual liquid from your pants.  Your shirt font was covered as were both of your thighs.  Good thing the coffee had cooled a bit before it happened.  The woman came back looking embarrassed and still covering her mouth.  The man handed her a handkerchief that she gladly accepted, wiping her face.  

“I’m so sorry.  I couldn’t stop it.  I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes or your lunch.”  You smiled, understanding the cause.  The energy the woman put off was easily recognizable.

“Ginger root and lemon tea with a teaspoon of honey in the morning would help that.”  The woman and man both looked confused.

“For the morning sickness. Ginger root and lemon tea with honey before your feet touch the floor.  It’s a great help for it.”  Both looked like they wanted to deny it but you shook your head.  “If you want to keep it a secret it’s fine.  But I swear it works.”

The man extended his hand towards you though the look on his face was one of serious questioning.  “I am Elijah, Miss?”

Taking his hand you squeeze a bit as you shook.  “[Y/N].”

Elijah nodded before releasing your hand.  “Haley and I are deeply sorry for the trouble.  If you won’t take money for dry cleaning, at least let me pay the check and for more of the beignets.”  

“Yes, please.  It would make me feel better for ruining your lunch and your clothes.”  Haley smiled as she clasped her hands together.  The look on her face broke your resolve.

“Alright, that’s fine. But really, it is no big deal.  I just seem to have that kind of luck lately. Thank you for picking up the check. I hope you feel better Haley.” You picked up your purse and walked back towards your Jeep.  The feeling of their eyes still on you as you walked away.  Stefan’s words of warning came to mind as you climbed up into the vehicle.  The last day made you wonder if everyone in New Orleans was part of the supernatural world. The witches and vampire from the previous day, now this vampire and you were fairly certain a wolf, today.  All you wanted was to save your home and grow flowers.  You really did not think it was too much to ask.

Part 5

Tags: @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @almondbuttercup @hellkat2  @dustycelt  @sassymcgonagal1651  @a-series-of-reasonable-events @dearestniklause  @hannah795 @somethingweird168  @cozyjaws  @graysonmalfoy

[pinktacofury]

Dragged Along in a Revenge plot from hell.(Klaus X OC)

hey guys decided to dip into the originals fandom.. I have changed a few things to my liking and I hope y’all dont mind. Hayley and Hope are not around or mentioned in this one (Don’t hate me 0.0) and it really doesn’t follow the show, Lurv PTF.

Warnings- language, blood, some flirting, maybe some fluff, drinking.

A/n- I do not own any of the people, places, things or images I may use in this imagine except for my OC and her beloved dog.

Summary- Blonde haired, blue eyed sweetheart Cassie Madison made her way in New Orleans running a bakery she jokingly calls Sweeter Dispositions one day and it sticks with the locals. One day a feisty blonde woman makes her way into the bakery and ends up making friends with the optimistic Cassie bringing the inner girl out of the brother battered woman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       Cassie bounced happily around her bakery preparing to open for the day, flipping the sign she went about icing the last few cupcakes for the afternoon ensuring that she had enough to last through until closing, the lemon berry muffins dinged in the oven just behind the counter and the door swung open admitting a frowning blonde woman who strode up to the counter dipping down to look at the treats displayed by the glass case beside the thin white marble counter top, Cassie had only been up and running for about three months but she had already landed a few deals which made her absolutely giddy, as long as she displayed some of their products other companies would fund her Shop with a portion of their sales.

“Can I get a dozen of the Berry Burst cupcakes and one for the road?” The woman asked in an accent she couldn’t quite place, Cassie nodded her head excitedly, her long blonde ponytail bounding behind her as she spun on her heel and pulled one of her delivery boxes from the shelf settling twelve delightful Berry burst cupcakes into it, each of them fitting snugly without smearing their frosting.

“It’s a dollar off with the purchase of a smoothie.” Cassie chirped as she ran up the order with a delighted smile on her face, the people of New Orleans seemed to love her creations and were a sucker for a fresh fruit smoothie, with the deal going on it ensured that she managed to make her weekly bank and come out ontop of her baking costs.

“That sounds lovely unfortunately my brothers are going to throw a fit over the cupcakes and would probably be angry with me spending money on sweets we don’t need” The woman muttered slightly as Cassie came back with the slender pink box rimmed with gold along the corners and edges. 

“I’ll tell you what, how about a smoothie and it will be our little secret?” Cassie murmured looking around the still empty bakery with a slightly scandalous smile causing the other woman to laugh as she handed over the card and nodded softly while laughing.

“That sounds lovely, my name is Rebekah.” The woman offered as Cassie bounced around behind the counter chopping and dropping fresh fruit into the blender with ice and cream turning it on as she smiled softly.

“Cassie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She chirped pouring the smoothie into a brightly decorated plastic cup setting it and a pastel blue straw  on the counter for the woman as Cassie finished the purchase accepting the use of the card on the cash register.

“Well, I’m having a little get together with some of my other friends and I was wondering if maybe you would like to come along?” Rebekah asked as she picked up the box nibbling the berry burst cupcake and sipping the mango strawberry smoothie giving an appreciative moan.

“uhm sure, shop closes at eleven, I can meet up with you around midnight?” She asked gently pushing her ponytail over her shoulder as a kind of nervous habit even if her ponytail wasn’t over her shoulder in the first place.

“Sounds lovely! I’ll pick you up at the shop?” Rebekah asked as she turned around Cassie nodding softly with a smile on her face, not her usual customer smile but one that reached her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My brothers are going to be around asking annoying questions... just ignore them and have fun alright?” Klaus heard Rebekah talking through the front door, standing in the study he made his way into the living room just as his sister, Camille and another woman he had yet to meet made their way into the manor smiling.

“I wasn’t aware we were having guests.” Klaus stated making the new little blonde jump a little as she turned to look at him, he of course didn’t count Camille as a guest as she ended up being in the middle of his revenge plots most of the time.

“Niklaus, This is Cassie. She runs the cute little bakery on bourbon street I was telling you about.” Rebekah stated with a smirk as Niklaus’ mouth fell open, he tilted his head taking in the little smiling woman’s appearance, she wore a black top that fell over her shoulders exposing the soft cream colored flesh beneath and a worn pair of jeans gone light around her perfect thighs, they weren’t stick thin and they weren’t terribly large, she was beautiful a little thicker than Rebekah and stunning.

“A pleasure to meet you Cassie. Let me know if you are in need of anything.” He stated clasping his hands behind his back and turning into the study... there was nothing he needed there but he had to get away for fear of staring at her too long and making her think he was creepy, he’d never cared before what anyone thought but for some reason what she thought of him mattered.

     As the night wore on the girls only got louder, making his way down the stairs Niklaus glanced through the doorway arch chuckling and shaking his head as the women sat in a triangle on the floor with cards settled between them, play cars set to where all three could see, written across the top in bold font of the box beside them Phase Ten. He watched as Cassie took another sip of wine which explained why they were only getting louder, they were getting drunker as the night went on, he moved to turn away only to get caught by a certain drunk Cassie who bounced up off the floor darting over and grabbing his hand tugging him to where the girls sat staring in awe at her.

“Come on then Niklaus, join us for another game! We’ve just finished one so it’s perfect timing!” She giggled pulling him to sit down with the others scooting over to make room for him, none of them complained giggling as he sat awkwardly beside Cassie.

“Afraid I don’t know how to play your game love.” He stated tilting his head at her as she gave him a stunning smile and a warm giggle as she explained to him how to play and the rules before dealing him into the game. He occasionally looked over at her from the corner of his eye making the other girls giggle and whisper to each other as if a scandal was unfolding in front of their very eyes.

“Klaus.... you can’t discard more than one card a turn! Cheater!” She squealed swatting his hand gently before putting the second discarded card back in his hand stumbling a little as she leaned over towards him, the other girls giggled as Cassie had to place her hand on Klaus’ thigh as she nearly toppled over, she muttered a sincere sorry as she straightened herself out... he couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pink because of the drink or her accidental feel of his upper thigh.

“I don’t need this card either though... why do I have to keep it if I don’t need it?” He muttered getting annoyed with the game though he enjoyed her company and didn’t want to scare her away so he dealt settling for pouting like a child which only made her giggle.

“It’s the rules, you can only discard one at a time.” She laughed, too soon the girls were too drunk to be playing anymore and it changed from Phase Ten to go fish then nothing but giggles as they slurred their gossip making him chuckle as he moved to get away from the drunken gossip circle only to find both his sister and Camille passed out on one of his legs while Cassie was stumbling her way to the bathroom.

“S’ lurvly ta met cha.” She murmured as she crawled back from the bayhroom laying her head in his lap and closing her eyes giving him very little time to react of answer before she too passed out on him leaving him there with three girls in his lap and no room to move instead he lay back crossing his arms behind his head between him and the floor settling down for a bit of sleep himself though he didn’t necessarily need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cassie awoke with a start, she was laying on a hard chest which rose with a steady slow breathing meaning the body was still asleep, her head was killing her, her mouth felt as if she had made bread dough in her mouth.... ugh why had she let Rebekah talk her into drinking last night? Lifting her head she pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes as she stood slowly, the pounding in her head making it hard to think as she made her way far too shakily to the kitchen digging around to find a glass for water, digging around she finally found one and turned on the tap. Popping a couple of aspirin she had found in the rather empty medicine cabinet she sat at the kitchen table, as soon as her head stopped hurting she bounced through the front door out into the city to do some shopping after she had left a note thanking Rebekah for having her over, the bakery was closed for the day as it was sunday and most of her customers were off at church, it gave her a day to do some shopping for the bakery and lord new she needed one after the night she had, she’d been shopping for a couple of hours when a hand landed on her shoulder making her squeal turning and throwing her hand out to slap the person out of instinct. Luckily he caught her wrist gently in his hand chuckling as she looked quite shocked and apologetic, he stood with her wrist held up by his face looking quite amused.

“Good morning love, did you sleep well?” he asked with a knowing smirk causing her to blush and nod slightly as she turned back to the apples she had been looking at.

“Quite well actually, my pillow moved a lot but that can’t really be helped.” She mused as she turned the apple over in her hands looking for bruises, seeming content she spoke to the man setting up a delivery of twenty pounds of them for the bakery.

“Well when you sleep on people the pillow is going to move.” He shot her a wink and she shook her head twirling where she stood looking for someone in the market who sold fresh cream... she liked to keep her ingredients local but she couldn’t find a single vendor who sold cream.

“Do you happen to know anyone to sells cream? I really don’t want to outsource.” She murmured looking at Klaus hoping he had an idea for her... if he didn’t she was going to have to scour New Orlean’s for a fresh cream source, he grabbed her hand with a chuckle as she tossed the money for the apples to the man shouting for him to deliver it to Sweeter Dispositions.

     Cassie spoke in length with the man who happened to own several of his own dairy cows, she was proud of Klaus for helping her find a New Orleans source of cream.... after about an hour and a half of talking with the man she settled for having four gallons of fresh cream delivered every week in exchange she would display his milk products in the chilled display case in her bakery and a thirty seventy split of the profits off of the sales, thirty on her part. Walking away from the small sort of farm with Klaus she wrapped her arms around the man smiling as he embraced her back.

“If I may ask... what do you do with the sweets you don’t sell?” He asked as she nodded at the first half of his question, she gave a blinding smile as she turned to him whispering as if it were a big secret.

“I give it to children whose families can’t afford to stop into the shop, I walk down the streets of the square dropping delivery boxes full of sweets onto the steps there, everyone gets treats.” She murmured laughing at his confused expression, it wasn’t a secret really considering she was the only shop in New Orleans with a pink and gold box.

“You are too good for this world Cassie....” Just as he finished speaking a young newly changed vampire sped up beside her ripping into the side of her neck sending her blood spurting from her neck.... Niklaus panicked ripping the heart from the vampire and ripping into his own wrist pouring his blood down her throat as the life fled swiftly from her eyes, she bled to death in his arms as he worried he was too late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Niklaus.... you need to sit down.” Elijah stated calmly as Klaus paced around the living room never taking his eyes off of the tiny woman laying on the couch, her wounds had closed and healed flawlessly though she wasn’t waking up and he was starting to worry she never would.

“Pacing isn’t going to make her wake up.” Rebekah stated worrying that her friend was going to die and leave the bakery to wither away... the bakery was Cassie’s life and it made sense to Rebekah that Cassie dying would send the bakery to ruin.... and a good portion of new orleans with it as many would mourn her passing.

“What the actual fuck!” Cassie screamed as she shot up from the couch flying across the room and hitting the wall leaving a body shaped dent as she looked around wildly... her change had been very hard.

“Cass.... Cassie love I need you to drink this.... I need you to drink this or you’ll die. Forever this time.” Klaus handed her a glass filled with human blood... he would never tell her that he had taken it from a living human then compelled them to forget, she took the glass from him downing the blood and letting out a moan as the liquid went down her throat like melted chocolate.

“More... please more.” She murmured her eyes going dark as she turned her eyes back to the near empty glass tipping it up to get the rest laying on the bottom, she licked her plump blood stained lips standing quite still as she looked the siblings over from head to toe.

“I’m so sorry Cassie.... you were never supposed to get caught up in all of this... What a mess, you were a way to get revenge on me.” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m thirsty.... so very thirsty... Klaus... what is happening?” She asked confused as he picked her up into his arms carrying her off to his room where he lay beside her in his bed wrapping her in his arms.

“You’re a vampire and I’m cuddling you.” He stated making her give a shaky chuckle at his sass.

“Smart ass.... vampires exist... I’m assuming everything else too.” She lay there turning in the cage of his arms and tucking her face into his chest.

[codenamewitcher]

Mercy Pt 6

Song: 4 AM - Paris Lain / Blood - Paul Butcher; Taylor Hill

I stared into Kol's hazel eyes, my hands on his shoulders and his on my waist, dancing to the beat of the song playing. The bass flowed through my body, sending shivers throughout my veins.

With each lyric, I was put deeper under his spell. Every step made me fall in deeper in love with him, I couldn't help myself. No words were exchanged between us, we just knew.

I felt pure happiness, dancing in his bedroom. I was home.

That feeling was ripped away from me as I woke up to my phone blaring. I reached over, answering the call without looking at the caller ID, pissed beyond belief.

"What?" I hissed harshly.

"Damn, somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed." Damon's voice breaks through the line.

"No shit," I leaned my head back onto the pillow, closing my eyes, and Kol's hazel eyes flashed behind my eyelids. "Why did you call?"

"Silas has Bonnie and he plans on destroying the veil to the other side." At Damon's words, hope blossoms in my chest.

"And why are you telling me this?" I asked, as if I didn't care.

"Because I need your help to stop him." All my hope died, he was asking me to stop something of where I could see my best friend.

"Okay," I agreed, but I was going to go behind his back to make sure the veil dropped. "Where and when is he planning this?"

"Tonight at the high school, I'll see you there." The lone went dead.

I was going to see Kol.

I could barely breathe.

Everything seemed brighter than normal today, even underneath my sunglasses, it was bright. I was happy, smiling even for the first time in a long time.

I was going to get Kol back tonight, even if it meant getting down and dirty.

I felt free.

The was a spring in my steps, I was practically jumping with happiness, glowing with it.

I swing open the Mystic Grill doors, my smile widening, and walk up to the bar, taking my sunglasses off.

"Hi Matt," his eyes widen in surprise.

"No nickname, jokes?" He was generally worried.

"Not today," I slid into a bar stool next to Damon, who also had a look of surprise. "I would like a bourbon though, please." He nodded, still looking at me weird, but went off to go complete the order. "So, what's the plan for tonight?"

"Well-" Damon is cut of as the lights flickered in the grill and then go off. "It's already started." He whispered, then he's phone rings, Sheriff Forbes popped up on the screen.

"Hello," Damon said, taking a slip of his bourbon.

"I need you at the hospital, now." Matt placed my bourbon on the bar.

"Thank you," I said to him, raising the glass to him, and drinking.

"Okay, Y/N and I will be there soon." Damon then ended the call.

"Oh come on, I just got my drink." I whined, not necessarily wanting to deal with this town's problems at the moment.

"And you'll have plenty more, now let's go."

"Buzz kill, literally." I take one last sip of my drink as Damon yanked me out of my seat and to his car.

"Okay, what's so important that Damon yanked me away from my drink?" I asked Sheriff Forbes as we walked up to her.

"I'll show you," she leads us to the hospital's blood bank. When we get in there, she opened the doors to the refrigerators, revealing the hospital's lack of blood. "A vampire took all the blood."

"Not just a vampire, but Silas." I said, my blood running cold with the possibilities of his power. "He's been desecrated for hundreds - thousands of years, he needs the blood to gain the strength he's lost, plus what he's doing tonight. There's no telling the possibilities of his powers, we probably only just got a taste."

I looked at Damon, scared out of my mind. "What have you done?"

"What do you mean, what have I done?"

"We wouldn't be in this mess if you fools never started looking for the cure." After the words left my mouth, they sparked a new type of anger in Damon.

"We wouldn't be in this mess if you and Katherine hadn't showed up on that damn island."

"Guys-" Sheriff Forbes tried stopping our arguing, but I cut her off before she could get another word in.

"Katherine and I wouldn't even have showed up to that island if you hadn't completed the hunters mark, or murdered Kol." Tears were in my eyes as I said Kol's name, I now understood what he was scared of. "You murdered him when he was trying to warn all of you that going after the cure would bring Hell on Earth. He was just trying to help and you killed him, now we're dealing with Silas. Silas who stole the entire blood bank and is probably at his full power, we don't know his limitations, we don't know the enemy." I'm chest to chest with Damon now.

"God Y/N, you're starting to sound as paranoid as Kol did." I felt like I was just stabbed in the heart, but with his words.

"You going to kill me like you did him too?" I soaked the words with vemon and shoulder checked him as I walked out, completely numb.

There went my good day.

I was back at the Mystic Grill, but this time instead of celebrating, I was drowning my sorrows.

I knew Damon hated Kol, but the fact that he went that low, it disgusted me. And even now, Damon's too stubborn to see that Kol was right.

"Another," I said, slamming the glass down on the bar. Matt worriedly watched me as he took and refilled my glass setting it down on the bar.

"Look, I know we're not close and all, but if you need to-"

"What talk?" I cut him off. "No thank you, you're friends with her."

Matt clenched his jaw, holding back his anger, I let out a sigh.

"Look I'm sorry, it's not your fault that I hate her, Damon's just pushed my last buttons."

"Yeah, he has a way of doing that." He started wipping down glasses, getting rid of things such as water from freshly cleaned glasses and dust from others.

"So, let me get this straight: you send out a notice of your impending graduation and people feel obliged to give you money?" Rebekah said sliding in the bar stool next to me, holding up a graduation invitation.

"Pretty much."

"That sounds brilliant. Why aren't you participating?" She asked, I watched her closely.

"I don't have a lot of family." Matt moved to wipping down the counter.

"That makes two of us. Besides, I don't think it was my mother's dream to see me in a cap and gown. How about your mum?"

"Let's just say I'm not holding my breath for a graduation check." Then someone beckoned him over to my my best guess because he's then ending the conversation. "I need to go attend to a customer, sorry."

"Of course!" Matt then walked off.

"You like him." I said, squinting my eyes at her, a smirk playing on my lips.

"I do not!" Her voice raised in pitch in defense.

"Sure," I said as she watches him with heart eyes.

Then, before I could get another word in, the lights flickered, then went out.

"Damn it." I heard Matt curse, slamming a pad of paper down on the bar and grabbing a flashlight.

"Go help him." I suggested to Rebekah, nodding my head towards a frustrated Matt.

She got up, whispering a quiet okay, and followed Matt out to the back.

I lean over the bar, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, and pour it into my glass, kicking my legs up on the bar. Drink in hand I watch as an angry Elena coming into the Grill, followed by a concerned Caroline.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I watched a happy couple walk into the Grill, wind blowing at their hair while they giggled, ending their night here. That could've been me and Kol.

"Is it supposed to rain tonight?" Caroline asked, my glaze focused on Elena, violently throwing darts at a dart board.

"Do I look like a meteorologist?" Rebekah bit back, I took one last drink of whiskey out of my glass, and plant my feet on the floor.

Grabbing the bottle of whiskey I took from the bar earlier, I get up from my seat, and head towards Elena.

"You know, I've heard liquor takes the edge off, maybe you should try it? It might actual work, because Lord knows I'd be ripping your throat out right now if it weren't for it." I said behind her, inclining the bottle of whiskey towards her.

"I don't take alcohol from trash like you." She hissed, throwing another dart.

"Ouch," I gasped as if her comment actually hurt me. "But honey, you need to relax because you're putting everyone else on edge. I mean, I wouldn't mind watching you blow up, but people come here to chill, and that's what you need to do."

Elena spun around, anger apparent in her features. "You know, I would be imaging your face on that board if my hatred for you was more powerful than my hate for Katherine."

"If you think you scare me, you're wrong." I take a step closer. "Like I said, I'd love nothing more than to rip your throat out right now. If anything, Jer got what he deserved, think of it as an eye for an eye type way, but I'm not sure if I'm done with you yet, I mean, Jer dying drove you to turn off your humanity, I just don't think that's enough."

"He was my brother." Elena hissed, tears in her eyes.

"And Kol was my best friend, along with Rebekah's brother and Klaus and Elijah. Little Jer wasn't the only loved one lost, he just happened to be yours so it makes it so much more important. Well princess, I'm here to tell, it doesn't."

She let out a growl of frustration and stabbed a dart into my shoulder, I seen it coming but didn't stop her because it was the reaction I wanted.

"Looks like kitty isn't all hiss, but actually has claws." I said, pulling the dart out of my shoulder and dropping it on the table nearby.

"I think that's enough Y/N." Caroline said behind me, Rebekah following in suite.

"I think it us too," I smirk at Elena. "For now." I take one last drink from the bottle of whiskey, emptying it, and set it next to the dart stained with my blood. "Give this to Matt for me, please." I asked Caroline turning on my heels and handing her a wad of money.

She took the money from my hands, nodding slightly, I smile at her and leave the Grill, happy with the damage I caused.

I heard Elena grunt and throw another dart, as the dart pierced the board the lights went out.

The wind is blowing hard against the building, making the windows and door rattle. Patrons run out of the Grill for cover, Matt, Caroline, Rebekah, and I followed them out to investigate.

People are running around for cover, a police car drives by, it's lights flashing and sirens sounding.

"The power's completely out." Rebekah yelled over the wind.

"I'll call my mom - maybe she knows what's going on." Caroline replied, Matt following her as she went inside.

"Elena's gone!" Caroline yelled, I smirked at Rebekah.

"Looks like a certain doppelgänger went after another one." I go back into the Grill, Rebekah following.

"I'll call Damon, I'm sure he might know something."

I pull out my phone, scrolling to Damon's contact, I pause. Did I really want to do this, after the things he said to me?

It's my way to getting to Kol, so yes I do, and before I can talk myself out of it I press call, and bring my phone to my ear.

"Hello?" Damon's voice breaks through the line.

"Damon," a smirk spreads across my face. "Your girlfriend is after a certain doppelgänger and I think Silas is starting early."

Next part will be the last!

Tags:

@blue-berry-barry-allen​

Mercy Masterlist

[thetourguidebarbie]

Prompt by @klarolineforevermine:

*coughs* okay but what about an AU where Caroline’s a professional ballet instructor and Elijah/Katherine need Klaus to pick up little Nadia from her class one day since they have to go somewhere, and Klaus’ jaw drops at the sight of her lithely form and then makes a mental note to yell at Katherine for not introducing him to her best friend sooner. And of course little Nadia can’t help but notice that her Uncle Nik has a huge crush on her Auntie Caroline

“We’re gonna be late.”

Klaus looked away from the painting he was working on to stare down at the seven-year-old in front of him. She was picking at a loose thread on her tights as she stared up at him. Her frown would most likely have been much more pronounced if her hair hadn’t been pulled back in a tight bun so severe that it restricted the movements of her face. Katerina had assured him that Nadia was all ready to go when she’d dropped her off, but Klaus most definitely was not.

He had just found his inspiration for the painting in front of him, and he did hate to tear himself away from a work in-progress, especially when it was going so well.

“I’m aware.”

“Caroline doesn’t let you in class when you’re more than fifteen minutes late.”

“Caroline?”

“My ballet teacher. She’s really nice.”

“Doesn’t sound like it if she locks you out if you’re late. Perhaps we just shouldn’t bother.”

He’d like nothing more than to give the girl a television and a cookie and let her quietly stay out of his way, to be honest. Unfortunately, Elijah had asked quite nicely for him to escort her to ballet, and if Klaus knew anything about his brother, it was that any favors given to him would be paid back in full, if not more. He’d once wheedled out the shared summer home in Vienna for an extra month in the summer for simply feeding their hellion of a cat for a few days while he and his perpetually irritating wife were on vacation.

It was always good to have a favor or two in the bank with his older brother.

“I’ll tell Mom,” Nadia said, jutting her chin out, and Klaus resisted the urge to groan. The child was as insufferable as her mother, and clearly his brother had done nothing to instill any sort of manners. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy her (to a point). Nadia was a clever little thing and had taken to him immediately, despite Rebekah’s attempts at retail bribery and Kol’s wishes to be the ‘cool uncle’. Though she could be quite irritating when she was underfoot, she was convenient for chatting up women at a coffee shop and didn’t have a penchant for ending up in dangerous situations, therefore not requiring much minding in comparison to Finn and Sage’s hooligans.

“If you don’t tell your mother I’ll buy you two sweets at the corner store.”

“Good deal, but Caroline would totally tell her anyway.”

“Best get going then,” Klaus said grumpily, wiping his hands off and unhooking his jacket from the rack by the door.

It was a short drive, and for the most part Nadia restrained herself from making a nuisance of herself. He was still relieved when they pulled up with a minute to spare at the address Katerina had provided, and Nadia practically sprinted to the front doors of the studio, Klaus following at a much slower pace, managing to catch sight of her as she hurtled around the corner at the end of the hallway and arriving at a door that was slightly ajar, the indistinguishable words of multiple overlapping conversations floating out.

When he entered, the first thing he saw was a group of what were most likely the girls’ parents all chatting by the far wall where there were some chairs set up.

He pulled out his phone and leaned against the wall by the door, hoping that the hour-and-a-half lesson would go by more quickly than he expected. He began to look through his emails and was startled by a light throat clear beside him. When he turned to look, he saw a lithe blonde with a slight frown, her head tilted to the side.

“Are you visiting the studio?” she asked politely, and he couldn’t help but notice the quick glance-over she gave him before her gaze returned to his face.

“Just dropping off my niece. I’m Klaus, and you must be Caroline,” he said, pasting on his most charming dimpled smile and extending a hand. The hem of the loose dance slip ended just below her arse, the tights underneath clinging to her long legs, and he tried to be subtle as he took in the view from the mirror behind her.

He made a mental note to manipulate Katerina into asking him to take Nadia to lessons more often.

She seemed to have caught what he was doing from the unimpressed look she was currently giving him as she shook his hand. “I am. If you want to go sit over there with the rest of the parents, you’re welcome to. I’ll be starting in a minute.”

“Of course, love,” he said, and her eyes flashed at the endearment. She seemed to decide not to comment however, and he watched as she walked to the group of girls, directing them to warm-up positions.

He settled on a chair as far away as possible from all of the other parents, pulling out his phone and randomly switching pairs in Candy Crush as he watched Caroline start the lesson.

There was something about the way she moved that made him long for a paintbrush to put the image on canvas. Her movements were smooth and precise, but she still seemed light on her feet, almost gliding as she demonstrated some sort of turn. The girls all began to copy her and she weaved through them, speaking in low tones as she worked with them individually. He was surprised by how much he was drawn to the light in her eyes when she smiled, the warmth she exuded with every movement as she bent to gently redirect the girls’ movements. He found himself wanting to make her look at him with that warmth, that genuine affection, though perhaps in a slightly different context...

She stiffened, and he somehow knew that she’d sensed him staring, though she didn’t react, simply continuing to lead Nadia through a step-by-step process to execute the turn correctly.

Through the rest of the lesson he couldn’t help but mentally map out a painting he’d do later of her body as it moved, of the dimple in her cheek when she smiled. He wondered how he’d manage to recreate the exact shade of blue of her eyes, whether he could even get close to recreating the specific tilt of her lips when she smiled, and he found himself reaching for the tiny notepad and pencil he kept in his coat pocket for when inspiration struck, his hands moving before he could stop them to outline her face.

He glanced at her every now and then for reference as he sketched, and his heart sped a bit in his chest when he looked up once for his eyes to connect with hers.

She held his gaze steadily, an almost challenging curve to her eyebrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to look away.

When the lesson was over he wasn’t sure whether he was excited to get home to paint or disappointed to leave her presence, and he absently nodded along when Nadia suggested they stop at the corner store for a sweet, distracted by that intoxicating sound of Caroline’s giggle as she spoke with one of the parents on the other side of the room.

He swallowed, finding himself almost nervous to approach her, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a teenager. He told Nadia to stay where she was for a moment while he spoke to Caroline, and he walked purposefully to the other side of the room, waiting until Caroline had finished her conversation to speak.

She turned when he cleared his throat, bumping into his chest, and he caught her arm to steady her, her skin warm under his palm. “Hi,” she said quietly, and it gave him some satisfaction that she was clearly as off-kilter by their chemistry as he was.

“Hello, love. I was wondering if you might like to accompany me to dinner? Tomorrow, perhaps?”

She stared at him for a second, her brow furrowed before she shook her head slowly. “You’re related to a student. It wouldn’t be professional.”

He got the sense that she was truly regretful, that she wasn’t using it as an excuse but instead truly felt like it was a conflict of interest, and he was slightly taken aback by the determination that welled inside of him to get her to agree. He’d long ago learned that getting attached was a certain road to disaster, and if a girl wouldn’t give him the time of day it was best to move on, but something about Caroline made him want to get to know her.

“That wasn’t a no.”

She was quiet, clearly torn, before she spoke again. “I wish I could,” she said with a small, genuine smile.

“I understand,” he said, reaching to bring her knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly. “I’ll see you soon, Caroline.”

She frowned, but he was already on the other side of the room, guiding Nadia towards the door and pulling out his phone.

He wasn’t sure what the solution would be, since he thought that moving Nadia to a different studio wouldn’t exactly endear him to her, but he fully intended to call Katerina and blackmail or bribe her into setting something up.

He wanted to learn what made her smile, what made her laugh. He wanted to see her body spread across his canvas and his sheets, to see her smile immortalized in his gallery and in his memories, and he realized that he was somehow already in very deep trouble.

“Uncle Nik?”

“Yes?”

“Did you just ask Caroline out?”

“Yes,” he said, not seeing the point in lying or evading the question.

“Okay,” she said, climbing into the back of his car and buckling her seatbelt. “Did she say yes?”

“She didn’t say no.”

“Okay,” she repeated, staying quiet until they were out of the parking lot before speaking again. “You should date because then I’ll get a better part in the Nutcracker this year.”

“Oh, is that why?” he asked dryly. “Nepotism?”

“That and Mommy said she wanted you to get a girlfriend because you’re a pain in the behind.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep! Are we still going to the store? You just passed it.”

“We are,” he confirmed, doing a completely illegal U-Turn and pulling into the parking lot. “If you help me convince your mum to help me with Caroline, I’ll get you an extra sweet next time I mind you.”

“Deal.”

[ded-and-gonne]

[ded-and-gonne]

[ded-and-gonne]

[ded-and-gonne]

[ded-and-gonne]

[all-sortsa-stuff]

Natural, part 3

Pairing: Eventually Klaus Michaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2698

Warning: None

Part 2

“Well isn’t that just lovely.”  Stefan looked over as you climbed into his car.

“Something wrong?”  

“My sister said the lawyers called.  That is never a good thing.”  Slipping on the seatbelt you leaned your head against the headrest.

“Lawyers for what?” He started the car before clicking his own belt.

“My parents’ estate. We have been dealing with them since day one.  All the property stuff and money has been a pain in the ass.  I’m ready for it to be over.  They have us jumping through hoops and I think they just want us to give up and let them take it all.  But I refuse. The houses have been in our families for generations.  I’m not letting anyone take them if I can avoid it.”  The frustration rolled off you as you spoke.  

“I would feel the same if I was in your position.  Fight for your family’s legacy.”  It was nice to have someone to vent to that was not Scarlet.  “You have more than one house in Salem?”

“Oh no.  Just the one in Salem that belonged to my mother’s family. My father grew up between Salem and New Orleans, so his family built a house down there.  We would spend summers there when we were kids.”  He nodded as he drove back towards town.

“New Orleans is quite the town.  Lots of witches I can see why the family stayed.”  The tone of his voice changed as he spoke.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.  New Orleans is just…  There are many dangers there.”  This piqued your interest.

“Like more vampires?” Stefan laughed at your guess.

“You are too smart or too much of a psychic.”  It was your turn to laugh.

“No I think I am just good at reading people, sometimes.”  For the ride home, Stefan steered the conversation away from the phone call you would have to make when you returned to the Brookwood.  When he pulled up to the drive, you sighed.  “I guess this is the end of the good part of the day. Thank you for today.  It has helped more than you will ever know.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hope that your phone call is nothing that will ruin the day.  You deserve at least one day of calm and peace.”  Squeezing his hand, you turned to open the door.  “Hey [Y/N]?”

Looking back, you could see he had something weighing on his mind, a conflict of some sort.  “Yeah?”

“My brother is throwing a party tonight at the house…  You should drop by.  I know you aren’t staying in town much longer but… I want to see you before you go.”  It was hard to describe the feelings that warred behind his eyes.  Something between fear and hope.

“You want me to meet the rest of your friends?”  You joked trying to get him to smile.  It worked as a grin broke the seriousness of his face.

“I mean yeah that would probably happen too, and my brother.  But, I do want to see you before you leave.  I’ve… well I have really enjoyed spending time with you.”  Your own smile widened considerably at his confession.

“I would love to. Text me your address and time.  I will be there.”  Climbing out of the car, you waved, watching Stefan take off down the street.  Perhaps today would not be a total disaster.  

 “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”  

“Ugh I hate that. Just tell me the bad and maybe the good will outshine the bad afterwards.”  Sighing loudly you fell back onto the bed.

“Fine.  We owe $15,000 on the New Orleans property for unpaid taxes. They want $10,000 in the next thirty days and the remaining $5,000 the thirty days from that.  If not the city will set a lien on the house and start the process of foreclosure and seize the property for the unpaid balances.”  That statement sent a dagger through your heart. How were you going to come up with that much money in sixty days?  You felt as though you were going to be sick.

“Do you want to hear the good news?”  After the previous statement, you had forgotten there was good news.  You could only hope that it would be something that could ease the pain.

“Yes please.”  

“This is it; we do not have to deal with the lawyers and the estate issues anymore.  Everything has been dealt with.  The back taxes on the Salem house are paid, as are the lawyers. There isn’t any money left because mom and dad were struggling to pay the two houses and never said a word.  However, I have been left the Salem house and you have been given the New Orleans house.  That way they both won’t be as risk of loss if something happened to one of us.  I was thinking…”

There was no doubt in your mind of what she was going to say next.  “No you are not going to use the house as collateral Scarlet.  There has to be another way.”  The sigh from the other end was one of frustration.

“How else do you think you can come up with fifteen grand, [Y/N]?  Short of selling your body many times over, which I forbid you to do, what else is there?”

“I have some in savings from the business.  I will figure out the rest.  That probably means though I have to head down there to talk to the bank.  Road trip it is.”  Scarlet did not like the idea of emptying your savings leaving your business with nothing.  She really did not like that fact you would be down in Louisiana without her and where she could not keep an eye on you.  But there was nothing that could be done now.  Not if you wanted to save the house and property.  The rest of your conversation centered on what was happening in Salem.  She told you about the coven leader’s declining health.  Emmaline had become frailer over the last few months and would most likely pass soon.  Doctors had been baffled and could not explain why her health failed so rapidly.

When she died, you thought, it would be another devastating blow to the coven, especially after losing both of your parents such a short time ago.  It made you want to drive home but there were more important things you needed to do now.  At some point, you would return to Salem, but your family was the priority now.

Stefan texted you a little while later with the address and to be there by seven.  You did not really have anything to wear as you had only packed for a few days.  There was a thrift shop down the road from the Mystic Grill.  Thankfully, it was cheap since you were now in a whole lot of debt.  An hour later, you had a cute skirt and top that looked pretty good on you.  The drive to the house did not take long but you were shocked at the size of the house.  Well more like mansion.  Of course, Stefan never mentioned that.  

There were cars lined up down the long driveway and loud music blaring as you entered the house. No one would have heard you if you had knocked on the door so you just walked in.  There were people everyone dancing, drinking and having a good time. Stefan saw you from across the room, smiling as he walked over.

“Glad you came.  I hope it wasn’t too hard to find.”  There was nothing you could do but smile at him.

“No it was easy. Though you failed to mention you live in a castle.”  He laughed as he sipped at the drink from the crystal glass in his hand.

“Not a castle, home. Come let me introduce you to everyone and get you a drink.”  Stefan led you over to a group gathered by the French doors.  You recognized a few of them from the Mystic Grill the day before.

“[Y/N], these are my friends Elena, Caroline, you know Bonnie already and my brother Damon. Guys this is [Y/N].”  Everyone exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a little while.  Stefan’s friends were nice and welcoming.  It struck you as odd how the group formed such tight bonds being from so many different places.  Vampires, witches, and whatever the Elena girl was.  Just standing in her presence, you could feel she was not just a human. There was something else to her.  Everyone had his or her own secrets.

Several drinks later, you were dancing with Stefan having a great time.  Probably the best time you had in a long time.  After a while, you were growing tired of dancing and needed a break. He nodded, “let’s go somewhere quieter.”  

It sounded like a bad pick up line but you let him take you by the hand to lead you outside to the large patio area.  There were chairs set in two separate sitting areas.  You sat down next to him one of the long chairs.  The alcohol was swimming in your head as you looked over at him.

“I hope your phone call was better than you thought.”  That brought reality back to the forefront of your mind.

“It was not what I was expecting.  However, it is something I have to deal with.  Which means I will be leaving soon to take care of my business.  Tonight though I just want to be [Y/N] who is a normal human being and having a good time drinking and dancing.”  He laughed as he leaned his head against his hand.

“A normal human being, huh? Well I think we can work on that. For tonight at least.”  The two of you talked for hours.  The alcohol in both your systems only fueled the conversation further.  Some hours later the conversation started to slow as you had both leaned closer to the other.  Before you knew it, his lips were pressed lightly against yours.  You smiled before pulling him closer.  It felt good… He felt good.  

The kiss deepened and lingered over the next few minutes.  Stefan’s lips moved down to your neck causing a warmth to build inside of you.  If this continued, you would happily pull him upstairs to wherever his room was for more privacy.  One of your hands gripped his shirt ensuring he would not pull away.  As his lips returned to yours an image appeared in your mind of the girl with long dark hair, Elena.  Stefan was laying with Elena in his arms looking up at the stars. They were happy and laughing. Another image followed of them declaring their love to one another.

It confused you for a moment not understanding as you had seen Damon and Elena together, looking very much in love.  A last image appeared of a very ugly fight between them.  All the pieces fell into place.  Stefan had loved and lost Elena to his brother.  What you were seeing were his thoughts at this moment as he tried to move on from her.  Pulling back, you searched over his face.  His heart was not over her, as much as he was trying with you.  That hurt for a few reasons.  The most important was that this wonderful man had hurt so much and had to watch every day while his brother openly loved the girl that had once been his.

The other was that you could feel something that could grow deeply between you and Stefan.  But it could not be until his heart was free. He looked curiously at you, unaware of your thoughts and knowledge of his.  “I hope that was not too forward.  Though I think you liked it too, [Y/N].  Or was it just me?”

The warm smile he gave you brought your own out.  Resting a hand on his cheek, you could see the want he had for you but the image appeared of him watching Damon and Elena just before you arrived at the party, was the nail that sealed that coffin.  For the moment at least.  “No I liked it a lot, Stefan.  I like you…”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.” You sighed as you nodded slowly.

“I like you a lot Stefan. It’s been a long time since I have liked someone.”

“If it’s because I am a vampire…” This time shaking your head.

“It has nothing to do with being a vampire, Stefan.  Though, perhaps me being a witch can cause an issue.  I can occasionally see what people are thinking.”  Narrowing his eyes in confusion, he shook his head.

“I don’t understand.”

“I saw what you were thinking when we were kissing.  I saw Elena.” Running a hand through his hair, Stefan sighed loudly sitting back against the chair.

“[Y/N], I…  Look it wasn’t anything against you.  I have history…”  Holding a hand up, you stopped him from continuing.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me that you don’t want to, Stefan.  They are your thoughts and I’m sorry I inadvertently intruded on them. But I don’t want to be the person you kiss and her the person you think of.”  The sad smile he gave you cause another ache in your chest.

“You’re right, you deserve better.  I am having a hard time… letting go.  You made me want to let go though.  It’s only been a few days, but they have been a great few days.  Maybe someday…”

“Maybe someday we can see what this is.  When you are ready to put everything in the past.”  Stefan leaned over to pull you into his arm, hugging you tightly.

“Can I call you when I’m ready?”  You laughed, whispering quietly in his ear.

“You can call me anytime Stefan.  We are friends too you know.”  He was the one that pulled away this time.  

“Yes we are and I am grateful for that.  You ready to head back to the party?”  You both danced with his friends for a while though you did not drink anymore. Blaming the drive back to the Brookwood and the early morning that you would have to get up and leave for New Orleans.  It was almost three in the morning by the time you made it back to the bed and breakfast. A few hours sleep and a good breakfast later you walked out to your Jeep to start the next step of your journey.

Stefan was parked behind you, waiting for you to come out.  You smiled wide as you saw him climbing out of his car.  “Shouldn’t you still be sleeping off all that booze from last night?”

“Lots of strong black coffee.  I couldn’t let you leave without saying a proper goodbye.”

“I’m glad you did.” Throwing your bag into the backseat, you walked towards him before leaning against the Jeep.  “I’ve had a great time Stefan thank you.  I needed this more than I can explain.”

“I know you did.  I could see it that first day.  But, I needed it too.  Makes me realize there are things I can’t change and many things I need to.  Promise me something before you go?”  That had you intrigued.

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you will be careful.  New Orleans is dangerous for so much more than the drinking and partying.  There is a darkness there that…  You may not come back from.”  The sober look on his face forced you to realize the seriousness of it all.

“I promise I will be careful.  I’m not going there to cause trouble.  I just want to save my family’s history.”  He hugged you close once more.

“You’re a witch.  I have a feeling trouble is drawn to you. If you need help, you know where to find me.  I will be there as soon as I can.  Got it?”  Nodding you squeezed one more time before pulling away.

“I got it.  Thank you, Stefan.”  Walking to the opposite side of the Jeep, you climbed up.  There was no need to say ‘goodbye’.  You both knew you would see each other again, one way or another.

 Part 4

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