#may2021promptchallenge

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

[nikmikaelsonswife]

White Doves.

Description: Klaus doesn’t realize his feelings are requited until it’s too late.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of death, mature themes, unhappy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: for ash’s may prompt challenge!! enjoy.

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

Your gaze drifted to your glass as you swirled the contents inside with your straw, a bashful heat flushing your cheeks. You suddenly became very aware of his arm slung over the booth behind you and the proximity between your bodies. “My greatest friend,” you lifted your chin so your eyes could dance across the ceiling, “my greatest inspiration,” his dark irises were twinkling once you’d finally gained the courage to meet them, “my soulmate.”

“Even if I wanted to leave you behind, the gods above wouldn’t allow it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached down, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of your cheek, plump lips parted as he leaned in even further. His breath fanned over your face, lashes fluttering as he took you in, a look in his eyes that was different from the way he’d normally see you. Or at least, when you were paying attention. The atmosphere was different, the chaotic world around you drowned out by the steady thumping filling your ears. For that moment, he was truly everything, your most beautiful dream, your most yearned desire.

“Promise me,” he breathed, eyes dropping to your lips.

That mischievous sparkle in your eyes dulled, a supernova fading into a black hole in the masterpiece that was the galaxy of your gaze. Your lips trembled, muscles straining to form a simple smile, one that never failed to unleash immense serotonin throughout his body, to calm his otherwise incessant storm within merely a nanosecond.

Long lashes fluttering and lids growing in weight, you attempted to do as he said, to hold his gaze. He took his time with taking in your features then, mind momentarily drifting to the many times he’d promised to recreate you on a canvas as he couldn’t pass up on such a beautiful creation.

If only he’d had more time. Time was a bitch of a thing.

A gloss of tiny droplets gathered over the surface over your eyes, creating an artificial shine. A lone, rebellious tear broke from the pack and rolled down your cheek just as one did from his own, the two mixing together before they met the ground.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he cradled your face against his chest, attempting to be strong for you to no avail. The bridled cries clogged in his throat, though the tears were unrelenting in flooding his cheeks. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he nearly jolted when your hand reached up to brush against the wet skin of his face. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice weak, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

He clenched his teeth, chest heaving as he fought against the tears for you. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head as much as you could, with the burden of your withering strength and his hands, which was nothing more than a subtle shift. A wet cough left your throat as your lungs gradually filled with blood. “Wasn’t your fault.”

In that moment, he wondered why. Why he’d been brought on to this earth, to have a father who treated him not like a son, but an enemy since his adolescence. To be born as an abomination, a monster, a creation that was not meant to walk the earth, not meant to live, not meant to love. To find the woman of his dreams, countless of times it seemed, to have it end in bloodied destruction.

To find the woman of his life, the embodiment of his love, just to lose her as he did all the others. To have her succumb to not her’s, but his fate.

To be doomed to an eternity of living an endless nightmare. He’d walk around, feeling superior in the fact that he was immortal. But the fact had never made him feel less than the dirt on the ground, had never made him wish he were dead more than now.

“Tell me,” you began to request, seemingly stronger than before, but Klaus knew it was most likely a figment of his imagination that stemmed from the dying hope in his heart, “What was it like to die?”

His brow twitched at the inquiry, reddened eyes rounding in something along the lines of concern and shock. “So I can be prepared,” you explained with a quivering smile, as if holding on to the bit of light you had left.

He sniffled, gulping down the saliva that’d collected in his mouth. “It won’t be the same,” his fingers timidly stroked your hairline, “but it will bring you peace, because I know for a fact where you’re going is some place nearly as beautiful as you.”

Your smile grew, “Will it have white doves?”

“Plenty,” he reassured, “You’ll see them and I will immediately come to mind.”

“Wouldn’t want to forget you,” you attempted to chuckle, but coughed instead, the back of your throat filling with the thick, crimson liquid that signaled what he wasn’t ready for. What he would never be ready for.

His chest constricted as he watched it flood your mouth, dribbling from the corners where your lips met and streaking down your face. “Promise,” you gurgled, “n-not to forget...me.”

He shook his head. “T-to not forget-t how good you truly are. To not forg-get how,” your head lolled, but you fought through the pull on your conscious as if what you had to say was worth it, “how much I always will love y-you.”

He would’ve allowed it to register as a platonic kind if it weren’t for the look in your eyes, one that casted butterflies throughout his stomach, that thickened his heart in his chest. It was one of pure adoration, shared between lovers, between soulmates that offered lingering touches and feverish kisses. It was the first time he’d truly seen it, as if his tears had washed away the haze of oblivion that had been obscuring his gaze for who knew how long. He didn’t, as it would show him just how much time he’d wasted, afraid of rejection, of losing you.

And somehow, fate had made a way for him to live in his greatest dream and nightmare all at once.

His hands shook as he was consumed with so many unidentifiable emotions as once, “I love you, too.” He wasn’t allowed a reaction as just at that moment, the light faded from your eyes and your smile fell without the support you’d been pushing to give.

“Wait,” he cried, a crack in his voice, “Please,” his volume dropped to a whisper, “please.” Despite the fact that your life slowly slipping away, his touch remained gentle, tremors shaking his fingers as he held your face in his hands. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

“(Y/N), please. I don’t want you to go.” Your skin was warm against his fingertips, providing some sense of hope yet dread in his heart. At the fact that maybe, deep down, you were still there, but you were still slipping away. Still abandoning him, still breaking your promise. “You can’t go,” he all but cried out, broken voice echoing throughout the room.

Your fingers found his chin, the pads brushing against the course hair that licked his jaw. A genuine smile pulled at your lips accompanied by a fond twinkle in your irises, “I promise.”

You solidified it with a soft, platonic peck to his lips, before a jingle could be heard from above. The both of you looked up, finding two white doves hanging from the ceiling.

“There,” you pointed, “Whenever you see white doves, remember that it means we’re together even when we’re physically not.”

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

Nature, Death and more...

Summary: You visit the tomb of your grandmother after she died to help the Salvatores and Elena

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x Bennet!reader

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

Words: ~1.5k

Request: "Hey if u r taking requests , could u do a stefan salvatore x reader?❤️" by @yipee101

A/n: my entry for @hellotvshowtrash #may2021promptchallenge. At first I wanted to make this a happy fluffy thing... but then I changed my mind. Enjoy <3

Tags: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @thedumpster-fire @imaginearyparties @dizzydancingdreamer

It was too sunny.

The end of October was a few days away, therefore you expected wind, dark clouds covering the sky, pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning and ready to play the most destructive symphony ever created by Mother Nature!

Instead, the sun was shining, warm as the colours of the autumn painting the trees all around you. Grams had always loved the slow change from summer to fall...

A shaky breath left your lips as you stepped into the graveyard.

Walking beside the many tombstones, you'd never felt Death so close. A shiver ran down your spine when you crushed some dead leaves and branches. The familiar crunch under your soles sounded more like a threat in the stillness that hovered in the cemetery. Not even birds dared to sing, scared to break a sacred oath of silence.

When you stopped, the quiet was deafening.

You ducked down and moved a couple of leaves that had landed on a tombstone. Still untouched by time and rain, shining bronze letters spelled a name you had hoped to never read on one of those: Sheila Bennett.

"It could seem merciless and unfair, my dear, but through Death, Life can arise in all its splendor... there's beauty in it, and as a witch, you need to understand that."

Sunlight reflected on the polished metal, creating a peculiar rainbow light. A damned beauty.

Another leaf fell on the tombstone, a flash of colour on the hard grey. Nature seemed not aware that time stopped the moment your grandma had died in that crypt. It did not know how disrespectful it was to keep moving, keep living while she was seven feet below of all that wonder...

You carefully dropped the lonely leaf to the ground with all her dead sisters when a blow of wind caressed your neck. You froze: a silhouette had appeared next to you, still as everything else in the graveyard.

For a moment, you truly believed that Death had come for you; that she had heard your silent prayers and was finally ready to bring you to your grandmother.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Y/n"

Your muscles tensed even more as you heard his voice. Death would've been a much more welcome presence.

"What are you doing here, Stefan?"

There wasn't anger in your voice. Not anymore. It had left you, sooner than what you expected, leaving behind just a feeling of weariness that no sleep was ever going to cure.

"I thought you could use a friend right now"

You couldn't help but scoff. A friend... you had never been friends. Not when you looked at each other the way you did when Elena couldn't notice, not when he held you like letting you go felt just like parting from his own heart.

Not when he kissed you like your lips were air and he had been drowning all his existence...

"I shouldn't want you" he had whispered in an empty hallway, his fingers searching the shape of your mouth in the dark. They caressed your lips as they tilted upwards.

"And yet, here we are"

But that wasn't about you and him. Not there, not after what had happened. In that moment, he felt like nothing more than an unwanted acquaintance to you.

"Have you forgotten that your brother is basically the reason why my grandmother's died in the first place?"

"He's a loose cannon, Y/n. Even if I want to, I can't control him..."

"Why don't you tell her that?" you suggested, pointing with a nod to the tombstone. "I'm sure she'll understand"

He didn't answer and you were grateful for that. You didn't need another apology from him. It wasn't going to bring your Grams back anyway.

Sat on your heels, you raised your gaze to meet your grandma's photograph. You had taken it, months earlier, when magic and vampires were not yet part of your youth.

"When I must go, and one day I shall leave you, my sweetheart, I will face whatever awaits me on the other side with my arms wide open. I believe Death to be much more welcoming than many people on this Earth..."

"What was it like to die?"

The question had left your mouth the moment it came to your mind. Even if your gaze was fixed on the photograph, you felt Stefan's eyes observing you.

"Was..." you tried but stopped, the shadow of a lump stuck in your throat, "was it painful... when you first died?"

"Well... the wounds were."

He got down next to you and you noticed he kept twirling his ring on his finger.

"Even through the shock I was frozen in, I could feel my flesh burn just were the bullets got past my skin. I couldn't move without feeling like I was close to falling apart." He took a deep breath, the first since he had started talking, "However, death itself was... it just wasn't."

You finally turned towards him, frowning at his words. Seeing your confusion, Stefan took another deep breath. He was obviously struggling to find the right words, to remember, but you needed to know... now more than ever.

"When I closed my eyes... when life left my body..." he continued, fixing his gaze on his hands, "all I could see, all I could feel... was an endless nothingness"

As the echo of his last word vanished, a new silence surrounded you. Cold and hopeless.

So that was it.

After centuries of men asking the same question over and over, answering with the most disparate hypothesis, that was the truth. That was what Death had prepared for humanity: the absolute absence of everything.

You sat on the ground, falling to it with much less elegance than a dead leaf. You rubbed your temples, trying to process Stefan's words. Or at least, to accept them.

"So that's what's expecting her now? An eternity surrounded by... nothing?"

It was strange how a word you had said thousands, millions of times could now feel so wrong as it rolled out of your mouth. So filthy and cursed.

"Perhaps," he shrugged slightly, "but bare in mind that I stayed there for a few moments, just what it took the vampire blood in my veins to transform me. There could be something more that I had not time to find out. When all's said and done, I don't know much more than you do."

How could he say something like that? He had lived for years, he had seen the world break into pieces and grow back together. How could he even think your knowledge was comparable to his?

"If it could make you feel any better," Stefan continued, his voice soft, as he didn't want to offend the sanctity of the place, "even in the middle of nothing, I didn't feel empty. I felt... in peace, somehow. Finally whole again"

He reached for your hand, his fingers hesitant before taking it. You didn't move it away: despite all the recent events, you still craved his touch like a sprout craves sunlight. And he was just like that: warm, soothing, deadly when you got too close.

"You should go now"

You freed your hand, his warmth still lingering on your skin.

"Are you sure?"

"I just need some time alone, Stefan... and you should go back to Elena." You turned to him with a small smile. "She'll be wondering where you are by now"

Clouds seemed to cover his eyes when you mentioned Elena, but it was probably the change of the light. Real clouds were slowly filling the sky, their grey colour darkening every moment more.

"Don't stay too long. A storm is approaching"

He caressed your face with the back of his fingers, from your cheekbone to your chin. but before you could even lean into his touch he was gone with another blow of wind and flutter of dead foliage.

A thunder roared in the distance while the wind howled through the trees canopies, making dozens of leaves dance around you.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. The raw and musky scent of rain was already perfuming the air.

"Cherish the simple things, buttercup. A drop of rain on your skin, the warmth of a sunny day, the kindness of a stranger. There's more love in the caress of a loved one than in a house made of alabaster and gold."

You placed your trembling fingertips on the cold surface of the tombstone. It was cold and textured and screamed Death.

When the first drop of rain hit your cheek, it found it already wet with salty water. Tears had finally break loose from your control.

"I love you, grandma... and I forever will"

Your whisper was stolen by the wind.

[hellotvshowtrash]

Savage Daughter (H.M)

Summary: Hope considers staying with her mother in the afterlife. (Scene rewrite I guess idk what the point of this is. The scene in the show was better)

Prompt: what was it like to die? (May2021PromptChallenge fic)

Word count: 397

Warnings: grief and dead relatives, TO spoilers

“What was it like to die?” Hope can’t stop herself from asking, so the words spill out of her lips in a rushed mess. Hayley looks at her and blinks, taken aback by the question.

“You’ll find out after you’ve lived a long and happy life,” Hayley reaches out to caress her daughter’s cheek, her lips quirking up in a sad smile. “I’m always with you, you know that?” Hope hears her father screaming her name in the distance, the desperation in his voice palpable.

Hope isn’t asking because she’s worried about her mom. She isn’t worried because her mother is the toughest, strongest person Hope had ever known. No, she’s asking because she’s considering staying here, by the fire with her mother, the stepfather she never knew, the pack surrounding them that protected her when she was young. The family she should have had. The fire is so inviting, and the log beneath her feels comfortable and she thinks to herself, you could stay.

Hayley examines her daughter’s face, the emotion in her eyes and she knows what’s racing through her mind. “Your father needs you.” She said simply. “You’re meant for more than this. You need to fight.” Hope’s eyes change and register what her mother says, and she knows it to be the truth. She’s meant for more than this. She’s meant to take down the Hollow. She’s stronger than this.

“I love you, Mom.” Tears spring into her eyes as her father’s yelling grows louder, closer. She throws her arms around her mother and Hayley squeezes her back.

“I love you, too.” Hayley’s words are soft and strong, and Hope feels the confidence in her words, like she’s never been more sure of anything.

Hope’s eyes fly open and she looks into the terrified, desperate eyes of her father who’s hovering over her, trying his best chest compressions. His eyes close for a half second in relief as he scoops her up and into his arms, hugging her tightly. ”You’re okay, you’re okay,” he’s reassuring himself more than he is her.

She hugs him back just as tightly, clawing at his shirt. Her eyes are still filled with tears as she gasps, “Dad, I don’t want to die.” And she means it. She is her family’s Hope and she will stop at nothing to keep what is left of the Mikaelsons together.

[hellotvshowtrash]

#May2021promptchallenge!

Welcome to May! Y’all know what time it is! Rules are:

Write whatever you want! Fluff, angst, drabbles, headcanons, whatever! Make sure it’s tagged correctly.

MUST be tagged with #May2021promptchallenge

TVDU characters and ships only!

Word count of 2k or under!

Must use the prompt below!

Anyone is welcome to join!

Due date is May 31st!

Catch up with April’s prompt challenge masterlist here!

SEE THE MCU PROMPT CHALLENGE HERE

Are you ready? Here we go!!

“What was it like to die?”

Can’t wait to see what you guys write! Go crazy 🥰

[hellotvshowtrash]

May2021PromptChallenge Masterlist!

Wooo! Y’all did awesome with May’s prompt! I loved reading all the amazing works you guys posted! Here’s a Masterlist of all the wonderful pieces of writing from amazing writers!!!

The prompt was: “What was is like to die?”

Catch up with April’s Masterlist here!

Thank you to @firefly-graphics for the divider!

Afternoon Nightmare - Kol.M x reader by @brown-eyed-babes

Deepest Lonely - platonic!D.S x reader by @moon-witchs-world

Beam of Moonlight - E.M x reader (18+) by @nalledimessi

Be Here - Mikaelson Boys x reader by @dizzydancingdreamer

Nature, Death and More.. - S.S x Bennett!reader by @imgoingtofreakoutnow

It’s Okay to Let Me Go - Kol.M x reader by @xxwritemeastoryxx

White Doves - K.M x reader by @nikmikaelsonswife

Like Falling Asleep - Mikaelson family x reader by @mrs-jackson-kenner

Savage Daughter - Mikaelson family by @hellotvshowtrash

[moon-witchs-world]

Masterlist

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore -  Deepest Lonely (May2021PromptChallenge) 

Damon Salvatore tries to comfort his best friend after she got bitten by a werewolf. 

Damon Salvatore - Give Me Love (for Amelia’s 1K writing challenge)

Damon Salvatore comforts Y/N after she killed a human. 

Katherine Pierce - Love Is Weird 

Female x female romance, enemies to lovers plot

The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson - The Siren’s Song 

A witch and an original vampire share their love for playing the piano

Elijah Mikaelson - Champagne Problems

When Elijah Mikaelson gets down on one knee, he gets a response he never expected

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin - Growing Pains

1, 2 , 3 , 4, 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9

Multipart series where Remus Lupin starts teaching at Hogwarts and is slowly falling in love with one of the other professors.

Harry Potter - The Chosen One

A year after the Second Wizarding War, when the Chosen One defeated Voldemort, you meet Harry Potter at Auror training. You can’t help but feel drawn to him, but not for the reasons he expects. 

Harry Potter - Dress

Harry and his best friend attend Ron and Hermione's wedding. His best friend has feelings for him and hopes the feelings are mutual

[hellotvshowtrash]

First off all Dizzy writing for the Mikaelsons again made me squeal

Second off THIS IS SO SWEET I LOVE IT. The grief is so real and raw followed by the wash of relief - you can just feel it all. You’re so talented. ❤️

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

[hellotvshowtrash]

Hey just uh real quick

Holy shit Annie. How are you so good at this. A few highlights:

“Nature seemed not aware that time stopped the moment your grandma had died in that crypt. It did not know how disrespectful it was to keep moving,”

God this is so good. This is so good.

There wasn't anger in your voice. Not anymore. It had left you, sooner than what you expected, leaving behind just a feeling of weariness that no sleep was ever going to cure.

I literally feel this in my bones. A weariness that never leaves.

Not when he kissed you like your lips were air and he had been drowning all his existence...

Listen I’m not a Stefan girl. But fuck I might be now.

After centuries of men asking the same question over and over, answering with the most disparate hypothesis, that was the truth. That was what Death had prepared for humanity: the absolute absence of everything.

LOL LITERALLY THE SCARIEST THOUGHT AND YOU PUT IT SO WELL.

Anyway, you’re just extremely talented and I’m so glad to read your writings.

Nature, Death and more...

Summary: You visit the tomb of your grandmother after she died to help the Salvatores and Elena

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x Bennet!reader

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: mentions of death, angst

Words: ~1.5k

Request: "Hey if u r taking requests , could u do a stefan salvatore x reader?❤️" by @yipee101

A/n: my entry for @hellotvshowtrash #may2021promptchallenge. At first I wanted to make this a happy fluffy thing... but then I changed my mind. Enjoy <3

Tags: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @thedumpster-fire @imaginearyparties @dizzydancingdreamer

It was too sunny.

The end of October was a few days away, therefore you expected wind, dark clouds covering the sky, pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning and ready to play the most destructive symphony ever created by Mother Nature!

Instead, the sun was shining, warm as the colours of the autumn painting the trees all around you. Grams had always loved the slow change from summer to fall...

A shaky breath left your lips as you stepped into the graveyard.

Walking beside the many tombstones, you'd never felt Death so close. A shiver ran down your spine when you crushed some dead leaves and branches. The familiar crunch under your soles sounded more like a threat in the stillness that hovered in the cemetery. Not even birds dared to sing, scared to break a sacred oath of silence.

When you stopped, the quiet was deafening.

You ducked down and moved a couple of leaves that had landed on a tombstone. Still untouched by time and rain, shining bronze letters spelled a name you had hoped to never read on one of those: Sheila Bennett.

"It could seem merciless and unfair, my dear, but through Death, Life can arise in all its splendor... there's beauty in it, and as a witch, you need to understand that."

Sunlight reflected on the polished metal, creating a peculiar rainbow light. A damned beauty.

Another leaf fell on the tombstone, a flash of colour on the hard grey. Nature seemed not aware that time stopped the moment your grandma had died in that crypt. It did not know how disrespectful it was to keep moving, keep living while she was seven feet below of all that wonder...

You carefully dropped the lonely leaf to the ground with all her dead sisters when a blow of wind caressed your neck. You froze: a silhouette had appeared next to you, still as everything else in the graveyard.

For a moment, you truly believed that Death had come for you; that she had heard your silent prayers and was finally ready to bring you to your grandmother.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Y/n"

Your muscles tensed even more as you heard his voice. Death would've been a much more welcome presence.

"What are you doing here, Stefan?"

There wasn't anger in your voice. Not anymore. It had left you, sooner than what you expected, leaving behind just a feeling of weariness that no sleep was ever going to cure.

"I thought you could use a friend right now"

You couldn't help but scoff. A friend... you had never been friends. Not when you looked at each other the way you did when Elena couldn't notice, not when he held you like letting you go felt just like parting from his own heart.

Not when he kissed you like your lips were air and he had been drowning all his existence...

"I shouldn't want you" he had whispered in an empty hallway, his fingers searching the shape of your mouth in the dark. They caressed your lips as they tilted upwards.

"And yet, here we are"

But that wasn't about you and him. Not there, not after what had happened. In that moment, he felt like nothing more than an unwanted acquaintance to you.

"Have you forgotten that your brother is basically the reason why my grandmother's died in the first place?"

"He's a loose cannon, Y/n. Even if I want to, I can't control him..."

"Why don't you tell her that?" you suggested, pointing with a nod to the tombstone. "I'm sure she'll understand"

He didn't answer and you were grateful for that. You didn't need another apology from him. It wasn't going to bring your Grams back anyway.

Sat on your heels, you raised your gaze to meet your grandma's photograph. You had taken it, months earlier, when magic and vampires were not yet part of your youth.

"When I must go, and one day I shall leave you, my sweetheart, I will face whatever awaits me on the other side with my arms wide open. I believe Death to be much more welcoming than many people on this Earth..."

"What was it like to die?"

The question had left your mouth the moment it came to your mind. Even if your gaze was fixed on the photograph, you felt Stefan's eyes observing you.

"Was..." you tried but stopped, the shadow of a lump stuck in your throat, "was it painful... when you first died?"

"Well... the wounds were."

He got down next to you and you noticed he kept twirling his ring on his finger.

"Even through the shock I was frozen in, I could feel my flesh burn just were the bullets got past my skin. I couldn't move without feeling like I was close to falling apart." He took a deep breath, the first since he had started talking, "However, death itself was... it just wasn't."

You finally turned towards him, frowning at his words. Seeing your confusion, Stefan took another deep breath. He was obviously struggling to find the right words, to remember, but you needed to know... now more than ever.

"When I closed my eyes... when life left my body..." he continued, fixing his gaze on his hands, "all I could see, all I could feel... was an endless nothingness"

As the echo of his last word vanished, a new silence surrounded you. Cold and hopeless.

So that was it.

After centuries of men asking the same question over and over, answering with the most disparate hypothesis, that was the truth. That was what Death had prepared for humanity: the absolute absence of everything.

You sat on the ground, falling to it with much less elegance than a dead leaf. You rubbed your temples, trying to process Stefan's words. Or at least, to accept them.

"So that's what's expecting her now? An eternity surrounded by... nothing?"

It was strange how a word you had said thousands, millions of times could now feel so wrong as it rolled out of your mouth. So filthy and cursed.

"Perhaps," he shrugged slightly, "but bare in mind that I stayed there for a few moments, just what it took the vampire blood in my veins to transform me. There could be something more that I had not time to find out. When all's said and done, I don't know much more than you do."

How could he say something like that? He had lived for years, he had seen the world break into pieces and grow back together. How could he even think your knowledge was comparable to his?

"If it could make you feel any better," Stefan continued, his voice soft, as he didn't want to offend the sanctity of the place, "even in the middle of nothing, I didn't feel empty. I felt... in peace, somehow. Finally whole again"

He reached for your hand, his fingers hesitant before taking it. You didn't move it away: despite all the recent events, you still craved his touch like a sprout craves sunlight. And he was just like that: warm, soothing, deadly when you got too close.

"You should go now"

You freed your hand, his warmth still lingering on your skin.

"Are you sure?"

"I just need some time alone, Stefan... and you should go back to Elena." You turned to him with a small smile. "She'll be wondering where you are by now"

Clouds seemed to cover his eyes when you mentioned Elena, but it was probably the change of the light. Real clouds were slowly filling the sky, their grey colour darkening every moment more.

"Don't stay too long. A storm is approaching"

He caressed your face with the back of his fingers, from your cheekbone to your chin. but before you could even lean into his touch he was gone with another blow of wind and flutter of dead foliage.

A thunder roared in the distance while the wind howled through the trees canopies, making dozens of leaves dance around you.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. The raw and musky scent of rain was already perfuming the air.

"Cherish the simple things, buttercup. A drop of rain on your skin, the warmth of a sunny day, the kindness of a stranger. There's more love in the caress of a loved one than in a house made of alabaster and gold."

You placed your trembling fingertips on the cold surface of the tombstone. It was cold and textured and screamed Death.

When the first drop of rain hit your cheek, it found it already wet with salty water. Tears had finally break loose from your control.

"I love you, grandma... and I forever will"

Your whisper was stolen by the wind.

[mystic-fvlls]

wh-...who..... gave you the....why... why would you....break....my.......heart.....why.....

A gloss of tiny droplets gathered over the surface over your eyes, creating an artificial shine. A lone, rebellious tear broke from the pack and rolled down your cheek just as one did from his own, the two mixing together before they met the ground.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he cradled your face against his chest, attempting to be strong for you to no avail. The bridled cries clogged in his throat, though the tears were unrelenting in flooding his cheeks. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he nearly jolted when your hand reached up to brush against the wet skin of his face. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice weak, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

I was just gone at this point, JAYDE MY PHONE IS NOT WATER RESISTANT!!!

honestly i just can't take this writing it's too much

i....

no words

Just tears

Bye

White Doves.

Description: Klaus doesn’t realize his feelings are requited until it’s too late.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of death, mature themes, unhappy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: for ash’s may prompt challenge!! enjoy.

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

Your gaze drifted to your glass as you swirled the contents inside with your straw, a bashful heat flushing your cheeks. You suddenly became very aware of his arm slung over the booth behind you and the proximity between your bodies. “My greatest friend,” you lifted your chin so your eyes could dance across the ceiling, “my greatest inspiration,” his dark irises were twinkling once you’d finally gained the courage to meet them, “my soulmate.”

“Even if I wanted to leave you behind, the gods above wouldn’t allow it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached down, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of cheek, plump lips parted as he leaned in even further. His breath fanned over your face, lashes fluttering as he took you in, a look in his eyes that was different from the way he’d normally see you. Or at least, when you were paying attention. The atmosphere was different, the chaotic world around you drowned out by the steady thumping filling your ears. For that moment, he was truly everything, your most beautiful dream, your most yearned desire.

“Promise me,” he breathed, eyes dropping to your lips.

That mischievous sparkle in your eyes dulled, a supernova fading into a black hole in the masterpiece that was the galaxy of your gaze. Your lips trembled, muscles straining to form a simple smile, one that never failed to unleash immense serotonin throughout his body, to calm his otherwise incessant storm within merely a nanosecond.

Long lashes fluttering and lids growing in weight, you attempted to do as he said, to hold his gaze. He took his time with taking in your features then, mind momentarily drifting to the many times he’d promised to recreate you on a canvas as he couldn’t pass up on such a beautiful creation.

If only he’d had more time. Time was a bitch of a thing.

A gloss of tiny droplets gathered over the surface over your eyes, creating an artificial shine. A lone, rebellious tear broke from the pack and rolled down your cheek just as one did from his own, the two mixing together before they met the ground.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he cradled your face against his chest, attempting to be strong for you to no avail. The bridled cries clogged in his throat, though the tears were unrelenting in flooding his cheeks. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he nearly jolted when your hand reached up to brush against the wet skin of his face. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice weak, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

He clenched his teeth, chest heaving as he fought against the tears for you. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head as much as you could, with the burden of your withering strength and his hands, which was nothing more than a subtle shift. A wet cough left your throat as your lungs gradually filled with blood. “Wasn’t your fault.”

In that moment, he wondered why. Why he’d been brought on to this earth, to have a father who treated him not like a son, but an enemy since his adolescence. To be born as an abomination, a monster, a creation that was not meant to walk the earth, not meant to live, not meant to love. To find the woman of his dreams, countless of times it seemed, to have it end in bloodied destruction.

To find the woman of his life, the embodiment of his love, just to lose her as he did all the others. To have her succumb to not her’s, but his fate.

To be doomed to an eternity of living an endless nightmare. He’d walk around, feeling superior in the fact that he was immortal. But the fact had never made him feel less than the dirt on the ground, had never made him wish he were dead more than now.

“Tell me,” you began to request, seemingly stronger than before, but Klaus knew it was most likely a figment of his imagination that stemmed from the dying hope in his heart, “What was it like to die?”

His brow twitched at the inquiry, reddened eyes rounding in something along the lines of concern and shock. “So I can be prepared,” you explained with a quivering smile, as if holding on to the bit of light you had left.

He sniffled, gulping down the saliva that’d collected in his mouth. “It won’t be the same,” his fingers timidly stroked your hairline, “but it will bring you peace, because I know for a fact where you’re going is some place nearly as beautiful as you.”

Your smile grew, “Will it have white doves?”

“Plenty,” he reassured, “You’ll see them and I will immediately come to mind.”

“Wouldn’t want to forget you,” you attempted to chuckle, but coughed instead, the back of your throat filling with the thick, crimson liquid that signaled what he wasn’t ready for. What he would never be ready for.

His chest constricted as he watched it flood your mouth, dribbling from the corners where your lips met and streaking down your face. “Promise,” you gurgled, “n-not to forget...me.”

He shook his head. “T-to not forget-t how good you truly are. To not forg-get how,” your head lolled, but you fought through the pull on your conscious as if what you had to say was worth it, “how much I always will love y-you.”

He would’ve allowed it to register as a platonic kind if it weren’t for the look in your eyes, one that casted butterflies throughout his stomach, that thickened his heart in his chest. It was one of pure adoration, shared between lovers, between soulmates that offered lingering touches and feverish kisses. It was the first time he’d truly seen it, as if his tears had washed away the haze of oblivion that had been obscuring his gaze for who knew how long. He didn’t, as it would show him just how much time he’d wasted, afraid of rejection, of losing you.

And somehow, fate had made a way for him to live in his greatest dream and nightmare all at once.

His hands shook as he was consumed with so many unidentifiable emotions as once, “I love you, too.” He wasn’t allowed a reaction as just at that moment, the light faded from your eyes and your smile fell without the support you’d been pushing to give.

“Wait,” he cried, a crack in his voice, “Please,” his volume dropped to a whisper, “please.” Despite the fact that your life slowly slipping away, his touch remained gentle, tremors shaking his fingers as he held your face in his hands. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

“(Y/N), please. I don’t want you to go.” Your skin was warm against his fingertips, providing some sense of hope yet dread in his heart. At the fact that maybe, deep down, you were still there, but you were still slipping away. Still abandoning him, still breaking your promise. “You can’t go,” he all but cried out, broken voice echoing throughout the room.

Your fingers found his chin, the pads brushing against the course hair that licked his jaw. A genuine smile pulled at your lips accompanied by a fond twinkle in your irises, “I promise.”

You solidified it with a soft, platonic peck to his lips, before a jingle could be heard from above. The both of you looked up, finding two white doves hanging from the ceiling.

“There,” you pointed, “Whenever you see white doves, remember that it means we’re together even when we’re not.”

[hellotvshowtrash]

One week til due date!

#May2021promptchallenge!

Welcome to May! Y’all know what time it is! Rules are:

Write whatever you want! Fluff, angst, drabbles, headcanons, whatever! Make sure it’s tagged correctly.

MUST be tagged with #May2021promptchallenge

TVDU characters and ships only!

Word count of 2k or under!

Must use the prompt below!

Anyone is welcome to join!

Due date is May 31st!

Catch up with April’s prompt challenge masterlist here!

SEE THE MCU PROMPT CHALLENGE HERE

Are you ready? Here we go!!

“What was it like to die?”

Can’t wait to see what you guys write! Go crazy 🥰

[hellotvshowtrash]

OUCH this is so good. So beautifully written

“That mischievous sparkle in your eyes dulled, a supernova fading into a black hole in the masterpiece that was the galaxy of your gaze.”

This it literally poetic. So beautiful.

“To find the woman of his life, the embodiment of his love, just to lose her as he did all the others. To have her succumb to not her’s, but his fate. . . To be doomed to an eternity of living an endless nightmare”

The way Klaus thinks death to anyone associated with him is his fault. 😭💔

White Doves.

Description: Klaus doesn’t realize his feelings are requited until it’s too late.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: angst, character death, mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of death, mature themes, unhappy ending

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: for ash’s may prompt challenge!! enjoy.

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

Your gaze drifted to your glass as you swirled the contents inside with your straw, a bashful heat flushing your cheeks. You suddenly became very aware of his arm slung over the booth behind you and the proximity between your bodies. “My greatest friend,” you lifted your chin so your eyes could dance across the ceiling, “my greatest inspiration,” his dark irises were twinkling once you’d finally gained the courage to meet them, “my soulmate.”

“Even if I wanted to leave you behind, the gods above wouldn’t allow it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when he reached down, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of cheek, plump lips parted as he leaned in even further. His breath fanned over your face, lashes fluttering as he took you in, a look in his eyes that was different from the way he’d normally see you. Or at least, when you were paying attention. The atmosphere was different, the chaotic world around you drowned out by the steady thumping filling your ears. For that moment, he was truly everything, your most beautiful dream, your most yearned desire.

“Promise me,” he breathed, eyes dropping to your lips.

That mischievous sparkle in your eyes dulled, a supernova fading into a black hole in the masterpiece that was the galaxy of your gaze. Your lips trembled, muscles straining to form a simple smile, one that never failed to unleash immense serotonin throughout his body, to calm his otherwise incessant storm within merely a nanosecond.

Long lashes fluttering and lids growing in weight, you attempted to do as he said, to hold his gaze. He took his time with taking in your features then, mind momentarily drifting to the many times he’d promised to recreate you on a canvas as he couldn’t pass up on such a beautiful creation.

If only he’d had more time. Time was a bitch of a thing.

A gloss of tiny droplets gathered over the surface over your eyes, creating an artificial shine. A lone, rebellious tear broke from the pack and rolled down your cheek just as one did from his own, the two mixing together before they met the ground.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he cradled your face against his chest, attempting to be strong for you to no avail. The bridled cries clogged in his throat, though the tears were unrelenting in flooding his cheeks. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he nearly jolted when your hand reached up to brush against the wet skin of his face. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, voice weak, “you’re too pretty to cry.”

He clenched his teeth, chest heaving as he fought against the tears for you. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head as much as you could, with the burden of your withering strength and his hands, which was nothing more than a subtle shift. A wet cough left your throat as your lungs gradually filled with blood. “Wasn’t your fault.”

In that moment, he wondered why. Why he’d been brought on to this earth, to have a father who treated him not like a son, but an enemy since his adolescence. To be born as an abomination, a monster, a creation that was not meant to walk the earth, not meant to live, not meant to love. To find the woman of his dreams, countless of times it seemed, to have it end in bloodied destruction.

To find the woman of his life, the embodiment of his love, just to lose her as he did all the others. To have her succumb to not her’s, but his fate.

To be doomed to an eternity of living an endless nightmare. He’d walk around, feeling superior in the fact that he was immortal. But the fact had never made him feel less than the dirt on the ground, had never made him wish he were dead more than now.

“Tell me,” you began to request, seemingly stronger than before, but Klaus knew it was most likely a figment of his imagination that stemmed from the dying hope in his heart, “What was it like to die?”

His brow twitched at the inquiry, reddened eyes rounding in something along the lines of concern and shock. “So I can be prepared,” you explained with a quivering smile, as if holding on to the bit of light you had left.

He sniffled, gulping down the saliva that’d collected in his mouth. “It won’t be the same,” his fingers timidly stroked your hairline, “but it will bring you peace, because I know for a fact where you’re going is some place nearly as beautiful as you.”

Your smile grew, “Will it have white doves?”

“Plenty,” he reassured, “You’ll see them and I will immediately come to mind.”

“Wouldn’t want to forget you,” you attempted to chuckle, but coughed instead, the back of your throat filling with the thick, crimson liquid that signaled what he wasn’t ready for. What he would never be ready for.

His chest constricted as he watched it flood your mouth, dribbling from the corners where your lips met and streaking down your face. “Promise,” you gurgled, “n-not to forget...me.”

He shook his head. “T-to not forget-t how good you truly are. To not forg-get how,” your head lolled, but you fought through the pull on your conscious as if what you had to say was worth it, “how much I always will love y-you.”

He would’ve allowed it to register as a platonic kind if it weren’t for the look in your eyes, one that casted butterflies throughout his stomach, that thickened his heart in his chest. It was one of pure adoration, shared between lovers, between soulmates that offered lingering touches and feverish kisses. It was the first time he’d truly seen it, as if his tears had washed away the haze of oblivion that had been obscuring his gaze for who knew how long. He didn’t, as it would show him just how much time he’d wasted, afraid of rejection, of losing you.

And somehow, fate had made a way for him to live in his greatest dream and nightmare all at once.

His hands shook as he was consumed with so many unidentifiable emotions as once, “I love you, too.” He wasn’t allowed a reaction as just at that moment, the light faded from your eyes and your smile fell without the support you’d been pushing to give.

“Wait,” he cried, a crack in his voice, “Please,” his volume dropped to a whisper, “please.” Despite the fact that your life slowly slipping away, his touch remained gentle, tremors shaking his fingers as he held your face in his hands. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I ever want to leave you? You’re my everything.”

“(Y/N), please. I don’t want you to go.” Your skin was warm against his fingertips, providing some sense of hope yet dread in his heart. At the fact that maybe, deep down, you were still there, but you were still slipping away. Still abandoning him, still breaking your promise. “You can’t go,” he all but cried out, broken voice echoing throughout the room.

Your fingers found his chin, the pads brushing against the course hair that licked his jaw. A genuine smile pulled at your lips accompanied by a fond twinkle in your irises, “I promise.”

You solidified it with a soft, platonic peck to his lips, before a jingle could be heard from above. The both of you looked up, finding two white doves hanging from the ceiling.

“There,” you pointed, “Whenever you see white doves, remember that it means we’re together even when we’re not.”