#tvd inspired

[samandcolbyownme]

more vampire!sam pleaseeee

Warnings: SMUT18+, compulsion, strong language, swearing, mentions of blood, blood drinking, vampire!Sam obvi, kissing, hair pulling, fingering, biting, scratching, creampie, filth

Word Count: 1.7k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.”

You stare off in front of you, your body moving with the blondes as he bites down onto your neck. You remain still, allowing him to sink his fangs into the delicate skin on your neck.

Your head falls to the side more as he groans against your skin, licking and lapping up the slight mess before pulling away.

His eyes scan over your face as he licks his lips. He slips your hand into his and pulls you towards the back of the nightclub, spinning you to face him before he shoving you back into the wall.

You smirk, “How was that?”

“Oh baby, you’re perfect at pretending to be human.”

Sam loved when he could compel you, but since you’re not a vampire yourself and can’t be compelled, you offered to spice things up by prepending to be human.

But this time it’s different, since he persuaded you to flip that little humanity switch to off, you’ve had the most fun you ever had in either of your lives.

His lips crash onto yours and you moan against his lips, pulling him in closer as your leg lifts to his hip, “I need a drink.”

“Pick anyone you want, sweetheart. The floor..” He motions to the sea of bodies, “..is yours.” He turns his head back to look at you, “Just one condition, I get to watch.”

“Such a dirty boy.” You tease as you reach up to wipe the blood from his chin before placing it on his tongue.

Sam keeps eye contact as his tongue swirls around to get all the blood, “Can’t help that I think you’re so damn hot when you’re sucking someone else dry.”

You bite your lip, pulling him in to kiss him.

You have a heated make out before you push him off of you, “Seriously. I need a drink.” You walk past him and he groans, “You’re so fucking hot.”

You smirk as you keep walking, making your way through the crowd to find the perfect victim.

You slide your hand down one guy’s arm, smiling at him as you walk around to the front, “don’t move, don’t make a sound.”

You glance up at Sam as you sink your teeth into the guys neck, groaning lowly as you almost drink him dry.

“Alright, baby. Hey. Not here.” Sam slides his hand in, lifting your chin up and face away from the neck, “Not here, okay?”

You lick your lips, pulling Sam in to kiss him, “Go wait in the ally. I have a surprise for you.”

He nods, “Don’t be too long.”

You roll your eyes, “You know I won’t.”

He smirks and walks away from you, leaving you to do whatever it is you need to do. You lean back, wiping your mouth on your wrist, “Go home. You don’t know what happened here.”

You push the guy towards the door and scan the area for your surprise. You smirk, waking up to a girl who’s standing alone, “You look like you hate your life.”

“What?” She asks with a laugh and you tilt your head, “Say you hate your life.”

“I hate my life.”

“Good.” You extend your hand out, “Follow me.” She takes your hand and you lead her through the back and out the side door.

“What’s this?” Sam asks, “Looks like we’re continuing to have a fun night, yeah?”

You smile, “Actually.” You look at the girl, “Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t make a sound.” You look back at Sam, walking up to him as you speak, “I’ve heard that murder..” you grip his shoulders, quickly pushing him against the brick wall, “..to a vampire..” you drag your tongue up his neck, “Is the greatest confession of love to the other.”

“You gonna kill her for me?” Sam slides his hand up, fingers wrapping around your throat, “Show me how much you love me?”

“Yes baby.” You bite your lip, “I want you to know that I will rip apart anyone for you.”

He bites his lip, smirking as he nods, “What are you waiting for then, sweetheart. I think my gift is getting bored.”

“Please.” You laugh, “She has no idea what’s coming to her.” You quickly move so you’re behind her, laying your hand on her forehead to tilt her head to the side.

You lift your head slightly, snapping it down to sink your fangs into her neck. You look up, still drinking as you lock eyes with Sam.

He walks over, moving his gaze from you to her, smirking as the life leaves her eyes. You drop her to the ground, pushing Sam against the wall.

His hands are on your hips, pulling you into him as your lips attack his.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the people I thought I’d find here.”

You huff against Sam’s lips, “Go home, Colby, you’re not wanted nor needed here.”

Colby chuckles, “Well aren’t you just a delight. I see Sam here..” He quickly moves to stand right next to you, “..Urged you to flip that little switch.”

“What do you want, Colby?” Sam turns his head to look at him, and Colby sighs, “Well I’ve been trying to find you guys since you took off, mainly to stop..” He motions to the body on the ground, “.. This from happening.”

“Yeah. You seem to be late to the party on that one.” You roll your eyes, pulling Sam with you, “Fuck off, Brock.”

You and Sam make your way back inside, moving within the crowd.

“You’re beautiful.” One guy says as his hand drags over your waist. You laugh, giving him a smile, “I’m also violent.. Vulgar..”

The guy shrugs, “I’ll be into anything you want.”

You smirk, pushing him back against Sam, “Glad you say that. Don’t move don’t scream, don’t do anything, okay?”

Sam doesn’t hesitate, sinking his fangs into the side of the guys neck.

Sam has killed for you before. Multiple occasions.

You ogle Sam as he glances up at you, and you needed him now more than you ever have. You walk up, turning the guys face towards you, “Leave. Don’t tell anyone about what happened.”

The man leaves and you’re on Sam, kissing up his neck and nipping his ear, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Say no more.” Sam pulls you away, walking you towards the bathroom. Colby walks up next to you, “You know I’m getting real tired of cleaning up your messes.”

“Well good thing you won’t have to worry about this one.” You turn around, flicking him off as Sam pulls you in through the open door.

You’re usually a sweetheart to Colby, and now that you have no sense of sweet left in you, you really got under his skin which only thrilled you more.

Sam locks the door, quickly moving over to you and you’re slammed onto the counter. His hands slide up your dress, instantly pushing past your panties, and plunging two fingers into you.

You spread your thighs wider, moaning out as you slide your hand down his chest, stopping at his jeans. You quickly undo them, reaching in to pull out his cock to stroke it as his fingers work inside of you.

He reaches up, tilting your head up with his fingers on your chin, “Mine.”

“Same for you.” You reach up with your other hand, pulling him in by the neck. Your walls squeeze his fingers and he nods, “Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

Your back arches and you squeeze his cock a little harder which earns a groan from him, “That’s it, baby. Fuck.”

“Fuck.” You groan out loudly, “I need more.”

You push his hand away, sliding to the edge of the counter and Sam slips his cock into you. His grip is harsh on your waist as he groans into your neck.

“Bite me.” You breathe out, “I-I-“ you moan louder as Sam sinks his fangs into your neck. The feeling of him sucking your neck drives you insane, “Shit, yes baby.”

Your hands slide up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his head back so you can do the same to him.

He reaches up, laying a hand on the back of your head as you suck his neck, “Fuuuck.”

His thrusts grow harder after you pull away, earning screams of pleasure to escape from the walls of your lips, “Sam. Sam.” You moan out, “So fucking close.”

“Cum on my cock, baby.” Sam presses his lips to your forehead and you look up, smashing your lips onto his.

He leans you back, placing on hand on the counter as his thrusts grow faster, “You feel so fucking good.” You smirk, “Keep talkin’, baby.”

“I love the way you feel around me.”

“Goddammit you are just so fucking sexy.”

“M’gonna cum, fill that pussy completely.”

“My fuckin’ girl.”

He lifts his other hand to your cheek, “Humanity or no humanity, you still have me wrapped around your finger.”

“Damn right I do.” You moan as you tilt your head back, rolling your hips forward as you cum again. Sam pulls you towards him, spinning you around to slam you up against the door.

He kisses down your neck and over your chest, “Fuck, fuck. Shit.”

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, both of you moaning out as he fills you.

You rest your head back against the door, smiling as he sets you down. You reach down to fix your panties and tug your dress down as Sam fixes himself.

“Now where?” Sam asks with a smirk and you shrug, walking over to wrap your arms around his neck, “Not sure. But I definitely think we need to ditch Colby.”

Sam nods, “I am one hundred percent with you on that one.” He presses his lips to yours, sliding his hand up to run his thumb over the dried blood, “you wanna wash up quick?”

You shake your head, shrugging, “Why do that if I’m just going to keep getting dirty?”

Sam bites his lip, shaking his head slowly, “I see what you mean.” He flicks his brows up, “Maybe we can convince Colby to join us on our little escapade.”

“You’d be okay with that?” You tilt your head and he rolls his eyes, “Please. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“PaRt TwO .. PaRt TwO” I know I know, give me a little bit and you’ll have your part 2 😘 I love you so so so much! thank you so much for reading! See you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

Here’s your part 2 🖤

[allysonkgirl]

free legacies inspired psd coloring with options for lighter and darker scenes and etc

[kiyomai]

disappeared off of the face of the planet but … been thinking about vampire!midoriya and how unbelievably hungry he’d be.

warnings. vampires, stalkingish, mind control, loss of autonomy(?), blood(he bites you at the end but it’s not descriptive) GN!reader, reader is called ‘pretty’ but everyone’s pretty so no gender attached to it, let me know if i’m missing tags please !!! minors DO NOT interact

he’s the kind of vampire who’d starve himself cuz he hates the idea of hurting people, of ripping through flesh to reach the one thing his body can’t live without.

but he can’t—won’t.

he’s not a monster, not at heart, at least. he doesn’t want to be a monster. he’s nice, he cares about humans—people, he has to remind himself.

they’re people, and i’m not a monster.

so he doesn’t eat.

but all things must eat to survive, even a creature like him.

and in comes you, unsuspecting little human that you are, walking down the dark, dark streets, aware of your surroundings, yet none the wiser of the real monsters lurking through the night.

izuku watches you from the rooftops, hears the way your heart beats a little faster with the way you’re speed walking, knowing how desperate you are to get home.

you’re so unbelievably human.

and he’s so unbelievably hungry.

he doesn’t remember jumping. one second you were out reach, and the next, well…he’s in front of you now.

your expression morphs into terror and your heart is beating out of your chest. it’s a good look on you, he thinks. you look so human.

you reach to grab something while your eyes are trained on him, watching his every move. smart, he thinks, too bad he’s not human. and with the little energy he has, he wills you to stop.

“it’s okay,” swims through your mind, sticking like honey. “you’re alright.” and with those few words, you’re at ease, and izuku thinks you look even prettier like this—under his thumb.

for a while, all he does is stare at you.

how long has it been since he’s been this close to a human before?

how long… has he been starving—denying himself of the one thing he needs to survive.

your hand twitches and izuku catches it.

oh right, he’s not that strong. if he waits any longer, you’ll break free in no time.

he takes the small window he has to get closer to you, thankful that you’re still under, and rests his head on your shoulder.

“i know this is a little strange.” his voice is soft as he speaks, but he knows his voice is echoing loudly in your empty little head. “and that deep down you’re scared out of your mind.” his hands are itching to wrap around you.

“i’m sorry. so sorry that i cant—that im not strong enough to make this painless,” his breathing quickens, unable to hold back. “i just want—i really need you.”

his hand wraps around your neck and the chill that runs through you drives him crazy. if you manage to slip through the cracks, he thinks he won’t mind it. “i promise i won’t take too much,” he breathes into your neck. “i just want a taste. you’ll let me have this, right, pretty?”

and with the last of his will keeping you trapped, you nod your head just enough for him to sink his fangs in.

a/n: i haven’t written in 2 years :O wow i’ve been lurking on tumblr dot com but writing became so difficult. i’ve been rewatching tvd and every time i see stefan i think of deku and how he’d be the same (especially in terms of ripper!stefan) yeaupp hope u enjoyed!!! likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated <3

[purpledusty]

Hanzo during the tournament in Outworld and Shao Kahn's invasion: I was protecting Kuai Liang, I will always protect Kuai Liang.

Hanzo in the Shinnok war after hearing 1 lie: I'm on my way to murder Kuai Liang

[railingsofsorrow]

Hi!! Hope you're doing fine! I was wondering about the one shot “the way I loved you” in the originals masterlist. I'm really curious and I wanted to ask when you plan on posting it?

a/n: I'm glad you asked. this has been sitting on my drafts for a while! happy I can finally post it. hope you like it!

The Way I Love(d) You

[stefan salvatore x reader; kol mikaelson x reader]

[all pictures belong to pinterest]

SONG INSPIRATION » THE WAY I LOVED YOU by taylor swift

summary: stefan salvatore is kind and sensible and you couldn't ask for anything better. but beneath the “you look beautiful tonight” you miss the "screaming and fighting" and the way his name slipped out of your lips at 2a.m. you liked assurance and perfection but you missed insanity. more than anything, you missed the way you loved him. you missed kol mikaelson.  

pairings: s.salvatore x f!vampire!reader; k.mikaelson x f!vampire!reader 

w.c: 9.4K (I got carried away)

warnings/content: portrayal of healthy and unhealthy relationships dynamic; discussion about life and death; blood (mentioned); non-graphic descriptions of violence; pregnancy (mentioned); slight damon and tyler bashing because they are the most annoying characters ever created; camille o'connell plays therapist; katherine pierce x reader (you blink you miss it); gemini coven (mentioned); discussions about marriage; canon divergence; fluff; happy ending depending on which you're rooting for; paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.

A/N²: this one shot does not follow the tvd + t.o original timeline, so some facts may be out of order.

[part of “the taylor swift anthology”]

navi

masterpost

tvd masterlist

t.o masterlist

[alternate ending]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ he is sensible and so incredible.

and all my single friends are jealous

he says everything I need to hear, and it's like I couldn't ask for anything better. ❞

“Did you arrive alright?”

You reply with a soft hum, distracted by the bag filled with books related to witchcraft. You really did not think you'd be swiped back to this city again, less alone acting as a librarian for the Original vampires for the hundred time in your life. Oh, well. Who could ever deny Rebekah Mikaelson of her wishes? You had been extremely close before, despite the unsaid goodbyes. She did try to threaten your life if you didn't come to New Orleans soon, but those were empty words. And you could easily take her in a fight – not that she could ever know that.

“Yes,” you say through the phone, remembering there was someone in the other line. “I'm settling in on the hotel.”

“Okay.”

“Stefan.” The corner of your mouth twitches slightly. “Say what you want to say.“

You hear him let out a breath as he usually does when he's holding something back.

“Are you sure you don't need me there with you? I could easily—”

“No,” you cut your fiancée off, albeit in a gentle manner. You sit down at the edge of your hotel bed, feeling the rough fabric of the mattress against your jeans as you inspect the cover of a rather thin book compared to the other thick ones scattered around. “Stefan, I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry. And I know you won't listen to me and you'll worry either way…” a smug grin stretches on your face when he tries to speak again. “… but I can handle myself, okay? You can call and text and I'll reply right back.”

Ever since you met Stefan Salvatore, he has had your best interest at heart. Not only yours, but everyone he cared about. In the friendship stage, he slowly inserted himself into your life, taking careful steps to not scare your cold heart away to the mountains. You never knew why, somehow, you had some importance to him. When you started dating, he made sure to introduce you to something that by no means you wanted to partake in: safety. Not the kind in which you are suffocated and trapped, but the kind in which you are held by someone and still are able to take a breath of fresh air. The real meaning of safety.

He takes you on dates and he opens up your car door as the perfect gentleman that he is. The line you look beautiful never straying from his compliments. It took you a while to get used to that. Being loved without having to look over your shoulder, being cared for by someone who would truly be there at the end of the day.

Stefan is safe. He is the warm blanket on a cold day with hot chocolate and a good book. He's the guy who never makes you wait while carrying that endearing softness around him. You couldn't ask for anything better.

“Yeah, alright.” He says with a resigned sigh. “You really don't want me there, huh?” The playfulness being drowned out by a tinge of hesitation in his tone that if you didn't know his tells, you might have missed it.

“You know that's not it.” The book is placed on top of the bedside table. Your choice has been made. “But I don't want to draw unnecessary drama into our lives. As soon as I can get this done, I can come back to New York. To you.”

He offers you a sound of contentment. “That sounds nice to me.” There is some ruffling on his end and he lets out a muffled groan. “Hey, beautiful? I have to go. Damon is hijacking our apartment.”

You briefly recall Stefan making a comment that his brother would visit you guys soon. That had been around a month ago? You are never one to question Damon and his stupid decisions. Fortunately, you were far away to deal with any of that.

“I'm sorry,” you mumble without masking your joy for not having to be present in the same room as Damon Salvatore. “Good luck and don't let him mess with my stuff or I'll personally break his neck and set his dick on fire.“

“I heard that!” You reply that it was meant for him to hear. “He's calling you a menace.” Stefan chuckles at your bickering but he eventually has enough. “Call me if you need anything, yeah? Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, and I believe you'll need more backup than I will.” You smile at his scoff and the call comes to an end.

You resist the urge to go to Russeau's to enter an alcoholic coma instead of facing the people you haven't spoken to in a decade. No, you have faced worse and what could possibly go wrong while visiting some old friends?

You snatch the book from the bedside table and tuck it under your arm.

Guess it's time to pay a visit to the Mikaelsons.

━━━━━

Meeting the Mikaelsons had been the best and the worst moment of your vampire life. Yes, some people could be both at the same time. You met Rebekah before you met the others, in a ball a really long time ago. The Mikaelson name had yet to be spread around like a disease due to the extreme danger they represented – where you lived, at least. Vampire groupies already had lots of knowledge about them at the time.

The thing was, you had no idea who Rebekah was until almost everyone in your city was murdered. Her brothers searched for her after a few years of radio silence, apparently. That's when you understood how protective family could be. Klaus, most of them. But that one was more obsessive and paranoid than any other. Rebekah told you that herself, but you saw it with your own eyes through the years you tagged along in their journey.

You have to say that out of anyone in that family, Klaus Mikaelson would be the last person you'd expect to become a father.

He was the one responsible for practically destroying Katerina Petrova's life, along with many other people you couldn't care to mention right now. She had been your friend once, before she became a nuisance in your life. But still. Klaus was ruthless and anyone capable of making an enemy out of him realized the bitter poison that came with it; if not death, of course.

Nevertheless, the cruel reputation of the Mikaelson family did not belong to Klaus only. In levels of pent up rage, you could easily mention Elijah. He was nothing but kind to you in the moments you've spent as friends, but you were aware of the demons he kept at bay for most of his existence. The man tries hard to be a good person and, in your opinion, he achieved that in all of the senses, although he was never really one to trust other people's opinions about him, whether they'd be good or bad.

Elijah could be just as cruel as Klaus, but as Klaus was loud in a broadcaster type of way, Elijah was silently dreadful.

Finn and Freya were the last ones you encountered. They were both gentle in their own way. As Freya kept up a mask right after breaking her curse, doubtful and distrusting, Finn was overall distasteful towards his own kind. You noticed that between the countless times he attempted to kill his siblings and himself. At first, you held a grudge over the fact that your boyfriend (back then) could never catch a break from his own brother. But eventually you understood Finn's reasons and everything that was left was sympathy. You had trouble adjusting to the vampire life yourself, mostly the drinking blood part but also the eternal life bit as well. Living and dying was something you had never doubted. It was the cycle of life, after all, why would you question it?

Some days, you didn't want it. But those became rare ones as you tasted the sweet flavor of having people that went through the same dilemma by your side. They made everything bearable. You just hoped Finn could also find those people, if not his siblings, then maybe he could find peace somewhere far from them. He had every right of taking some time away if that was his wish.

Family can be suffocating.

Freya had been one of the nicest people you have ever met. Beneath that cold front she built before warming up to the Mikaelsons, there was a tender-hearted woman whom one day you used to call your friend. Freya was there when you crumbled down, she had been the one to help you pull yourself up and she was the one who let you know it was okay to leave if that's what you needed to do. If that's what your heart desires, do it. Her words never left you in some way, you were forever grateful.

Hayley entered your life before she became an honorary Mikaelson – she hated that joke. You helped her find information about her pack when both of you were still back at Mystic Falls. She had been the first person to point out Stefan's interest in you, though you didn't buy it. You actually became closer during her pregnancy. You weren't present in Hope's first months after she was born, but Hayley made sure to send you occasional pictures over the years. You didn't feel so out of the loop thanks to that.

And then, there was Kol.

The epitome of recklessness, wrath and chaos.

He was the a car accident that drove you over a bridge when you couldn't swim and a pillow fort you built overnight to dissipate your nightmares. Kol was the reason why you considered the Mikaelsons to be both the best and worst moment of your life. He was the rollercoaster that fed your desperation for love, displaying a pretty view at the top of the ride, before the crash eventually came and killed all that excitement.

Neither of you expected to fall so fast for one another. Or fall at all.

But he pushed his way into your heart with no permission granted, with his convinced smirks, wild persona and careless nature. He was cold in a warm manner. Tender in the way he held your fingertips with the same bloody hand that also had possession of your heart. And unbelievably good as he cared enough to let you into his heart.

You were too similar for it not to happen, until you were too different to remain together.

Kol Mikaelson conveyed all of the rumors that were spread about him, never once hiding behind a mask, and that's the reason you fell in love with no way back. It had never been an easy choice – choice... that's funny. Does love ever give you a choice? — his enemies became your enemies, you were a target, besides the unstoppable family hassle you always seemed to be involved in. In spite of the obvious reasons, the grounds for breaking up arose from him, surprisingly. Or not so surprisingly. It may have been his way of running away, but it was your way out of the mess he created in your head and heart. According to Hayley, he wasn't left unscathed. He suffered in a way that they had never seen before: through silence.

Kol had never been silent. He craved an audience, which was why he enjoyed discounting his ire on people. He wanted them to fight back in order for him to retaliate much harder. After you left, he didn't murder villages, tortured old enemies or provoked his siblings enough to get a rise out of them. You weren't that surprised once Hayley told you he left as well. What truly left you bewildered was the fact that he didn't cause trouble, turning into a shadow of the wildest Mikaelson people used to hear about.

You couldn't bear to feel guilty. If he wasn't being himself, that was his own doing. He left you first. Looking into the bright side, maybe he had finally mustered the act of growing up.

However, even with the all the heartache he had caused you, loving him was never a regret. You don't know if he felt the same, maybe you'd never know.

Stepping inside the Mikaelson manor made you self-conscious but still nostalgic. You hadn't lived in that house, of course they had built up many other expensive properties over the decade you've been gone. But there is something in the air when the Mikaelsons are around. And it isn't death or blood that you were referring to.

“Are you the friend my mom said was coming to visit us?”

A little girl with dark red hair met you in the entrance of the house. A stuffed bunny dangling from her small hands. You couldn't believe your eyes, but in the meantime you observed her sage green eyes that carry a brush of cinnamon and the tip of her nose, the familiarity practically slapping you in the face.

“I believe so,” you croak out as your lips quirk up in a soft smile. You tell her your name, introducing yourself and say, “and you must be Hope.”

“That's right.“ She gives you a little wave. You nearly leap on your feet at the idea that you're not considered a stranger for her to immediately turn away as parents would advise children. “I'll tell my mom you're here so she can invite you in.”

You nod, leaning on the door, you could feel the spell barely pushing you away. A harsh breeze brush your strands in your face and you roll your eyes at the familiar scent of a hybrid nearby you.

“I have lipstick on, you know how that does not match with hair?“ Two arms engulf you in a strong embrace. You can't help but laugh as your body entwines with Hayley's. “Hay,“ you mumble to her shoulder. “You are kind of ten times stronger than me. Perks of being a hybrid and all...“

“Oh, please. I should be actually crushing you.”

When she cups your cheeks, like a mother would when her child has been gone for too long, you stare at the sage green eyes you had just seen in the entrance. “I missed you too.“ Hayley gives you an eyeroll, letting you go as she asks Hope to let you in. Ah, it made sense. She's not a vampire.

Hope smiles timidly at you as you enter the foyer, her gaze switching to her mother almost pleadingly. Hayley mentions with a tilt of her chin towards the backdoor and Hope quickly rushes away to what you assume is the backyard of the house.

“She's playing hide and seek.“ Hayley clarifies their short interaction, turning to you. “When did you arrive?“

“Today.“ You say, lifting the book to her line of sight. “I told you I kept something that could help.“

“I know,“ she smiles gratefully. Hayley hasn't aged a day since you last met. Of course, she isn't physically able to age at all due to vampirism, but her perpetually concerned gaze was replaced by relaxed shoulders and a proud smile. She has joy written all over her. For the looks of it, motherhood has done her good.

“She's like a mix of you and Klaus.“ You watch the girl running around searching for whoever she's playing with. Hayley takes you to the balcony, the view is pretty that it takes a bit of your breath away. The forest on display is filled with orange and yellow because of the Autumn season. You've always found the sounds of the forest were the perfect noise to live close by.

“So I've heard.” Hayley crosses her arms above the railing, driving her attention to you after pointing somewhere to Hope who's in desperate need of help in the seeking aspect of the game. “How's your life been?” She asks, shifting her whole body towards yours. “New York, huh?”

You nod, imitating her previous position. “Yes. It's a great city.” She remains silent, probably waiting for you to elaborate. It's not like this is a casual visit and the Mikaelsons could be in any corner with their enhanced hearing. Not that you're ashamed of your current life, you just don't feel like yelling from the rooftops.

“That ring is pretty.” Hayley muses when you avoid looking at her. She can see your blush and her eyes soften at that. It's been so long since she has seen you remotely happy, she likes the sight. “You seem happy.” Her squeeze in your shoulder states reassurance. “I hope he doesn't screw up or I'll be coming over with more than just an army.“ A deep groan escapes your throat as your head falls on your forearm.

“You are worse than a whole freaking army.“

“You missed me.“

Shaking your head, your lips twitch in a bitter smile.

“Of course I missed you, Hayley.“ Your smile falls slightly as you see that Hope finally found who she's been looking for in the past half hour.

Kol is coming out from behind a tree and dramatically throwing himself on the grass as Hope's giggles echo around.

“I missed all of you.” Slips out in a whisper.

As soon as Hayley follows your gaze, she picks up the reason for the sudden change in your demeanor. This is what she's been trying to delay.

There's no point now. “He came back at the beginning of this year.” You blink, turning away from the cute scene happening right below you. “Said he missed his niece. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.”

She steps away from the balcony and that's what it takes for you to stop staring at a playful Kol tickling Hope to death.

“Why wouldn't it be a good thing?” You swallow hard, sitting down on one of the loveseats. The ceiling is not bland white as you expected it to be, as you analyse the colors and the shapes, you recognize the famous painting you've been in love with since it was first made.

Van Gogh's Starry Night brings the ceiling alive with the false sensation of movement the circular brush strokes provides.

“He's teaching her magic and she makes some of my stuff disappear for fun. Kol's such a bad influence— Oh.” Hayley's face stretches into a smile upon seeing where you were staring at. “Klaus painted it. This is Hope's bedroom.”

That's when you realize the soft blue on the walls along with colorful drawings clearly made by a child.

“It's beautiful.” You let out in admiration. “God, that bastard is talented.”

Hayley huffed, “Yeah, well, ever since you mention it in that very first Skype call she can't stop talking about it. So he painted it.”

Leaning back on the chair, you glance at her. “That's such a dad thing of him.” She shrugs in silent agreement. “He's not a bad influence,” you utter after the conversation dies down. You're not referring to Klaus. “He loves children, that's just his way of teaching her how to protect herself.” In extreme cases. It's better to teach her to protect herself instead of delaying it when she actually needs it.

Hayley's eyes travel across your features for a while and just as you begin to grow self-conscious of what you said, she flips the topic back to the real issue at hand.

“So, do you usually keep old grimoires in a secret passageway at your apartment or something?”

Your lips raise in amusement, “It's from an old friend. He lent it to me for safekeeping.”

The hybrid's eyes regarded you with suspicion, then she glances down at the book in her hands.

“Should I even be touching that?”

“C'mon,” you say in jest. “My friends aren't that bad.”

“I am not that bad. The Mikaelsons are certainly debatable and if I can recall someone called Katherine Pierce who was also considered your friend — who I still doubt that it was all that she was — then we need to discuss what you mean by not that bad.”

“Should I mention Tyler dogbreath Lockwood, Hayley? He was a nuisance!” You throw back in a complete mature way. “I can't believe you would voluntarily hold a conversation with the guy.”

Hayley snickers, “He wasn't as bad as you make him out to be.”

“You're right,“ you nod. “He was worse.“

Hayley hums, quietly analyzing the grimoire with what you can tell is interest that leads to boredom. She closes it in a thud and stands up. “I'll have to give this to Davina.“

You frown in confusion, following her out of the room. “The Claire witch? You're trusting that teenager with the life of my niece?” Your tone raises in light disbelief as Hayley descends the stairs completely unbothered by your accusation. “Where is Freya? Where is everyone— You can't possibly be serious, Hayley.”

“Freya is generously taking an early flight back to Virginia as we speak, cutting her honeymoon short. She was the one who requested Davina to be put to use in this task, if I can recall.” You knew it was Elijah before you saw his impeccable suit, merely because of his eloquence. He offers you a smile as you reach the living room. “Welcome back.” You're amused by the way he ignores your attempt at handshaking to lay a kiss on the back of your hand. He's always done that, it's no surprise. That's an Elijah thing to do. His eyes fall on your left hand. “And congratulations on your engagement. I've heard.”

You give him a close lipped smile in return, withdrawing your hand to cross your arms.

“Yes, it seems that everyone has.”

“You know, the term being put to use might not be taken as a good thing to every person.” The voice behind you causes your body to freeze. “Hello, stranger.”

Elijah is gone with the wind before you can notice and Hayley, who seems to have ventured off somewhere, still isn't back.

“She's not a stranger, Uncle Kol.” Hearing Hope's voice as you turn around is a form of relief, you admit. She's smiling kindly at you from her Uncle Kol's shoulders. “That's mom's friend. Remember, the one she told us was coming over?“

Kol acts fascinated. “That is true, Hope. Thank you for reminding me.”

She giggled, mouthing out to you above his head “Forgetful.”

You crack a smile at that. Mikaelson humor.

It doesn't take long for Hope to get tired of your attention and scurry away to her bedroom. And then, there were two.

How do you greet someone who broke your heart but still has a part of it with them?

“You look beautiful.”

You can affirm something: do not start like that.

“Thank you.“ You reply shortly. The stairs are right there, you could literally take a step back and you'd be on your way to the first floor. Still, you remain in the same place.

You had yet to look him in the eye since he entered the living room. That doesn't happen until he stops right in front of you.

The first thing you notice about Kol was his voice. Centuries back, when you first met, he had said your name before you even acknowledged his family. It slipped out of his tongue; honey mixed with pepper. A strange mixture that ends up being perfect once you taste.

Saying someone's name is like holding a secret beneath your tongue. You have the power to reveal it, you can pronounce it and you can choose to savour it to yourself. The taste is not made for everyone, it is reserved for you and you only. And he had that power from the first moment he called out your name.

“How's married life going?“

Your head tilts in confusion as his eyes are cast downwards. A scowl turns your lips into a frown. Just like that, the peaceful haze is over.

“Not married,” you say through gritted-teeth, turning away from him and from the flight of stairs. You want to get out of this house. If someone else asks about anything related to marriage again you'd probably snap.

“Yet, right?”

“That's what engagements work for, have you not had your fair share of those to understand that?” He has followed you outside and is faster than you since he's currently leaning with his body on your car door. Arms crossed and a side smile.

You hated to know what that meant. You hated that you knew him at all.

“Can you move?“ You snap, eyes narrowing. Kol hums softly as if he's considering your request. Dick. “Okay, I'll walk then.”

The defeated sigh you heard as you turn your back on him is almost a reason to make you relieved. But your arm was pulled back and that cold touch just made your whole body halt instantly.

❝ but I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain... ❞

“Can you stop being stubborn for a second?” He exclaims, kicking the car door shut as he walked with heavy steps towards you.

The rain softly paints the car windows with its tears. You forced him to step on the breaks so you could get out of the vehicle because of how mad you were. You couldn't remember the reason for the fight, but it happened and you didn't want to be around him.

“It's going to rain.”

You scoff, “I'm not made of sugar. I can handle a little rain.”

The thunder rolls in the sky, causing you to flinch slightly. A cold hand grabs your wrist.

“You'd rather walk in a thunderstorm than argue with me, is it?” Kol shrugs off his jacket with a scowl, covering your shoulder with it in a swift movement, one he had done many times before. “Real mature, love.” He shoves the car keys into your hand.

“What—”

“Take the car.” He had sped off before you could ask him to go to hell. Because no. You wouldn't take his car and leave him in a freaking thunderstorm. But he decided that just like he decided to put an end to your relationship.

“Stay.“ He says, drawing his hand back with hesitance. That quickly brought you back to the present. “I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry.” That's one of the rarest moments you've heard him apologize, it didn't used to be something in his vocabulary.

“I'll just wait for Freya at the hotel. It's not like we can start the spell before she's here.” You clear your throat, a bit taken aback by his presence still. You feel so silly.

Kol nods thoughtfully, taking a step back from you as if you aren't allowed to be too close. “Okay.” And before you can enter your car and drive off, your ears are still very much in tune with his voice even if he's all the way inside the house. “It's good to see you again.”

You're not sure if you share the same feeling.

━━━━━

“This is from the Gemini coven.”

You turn away from Davina's chanting to stare at Freya's impassive stance. She always kept that façade while doing magic.

“And what of it?“ Freya gives you a sideways glance as you roll your eyes, leaning back on the wall as the Witch finishes up the spell and mutters something to Hayley. Freya has done her part and for some reason they needed another set of hands. You don't question it. “Don't fret. There'll be no retaliation.”

“Good, because we don't need a crazy siphoner touring around New Orleans.”

You crack a chuckle, brushing your hair behind your ear. “The grimoire is technically mine.” Freya's eyes narrow suspiciously at your claim. “What? It is. It was a gift.”

“Kai Parker gave you a gift?” She regards you with disbelief. You shrug in response, it's the truth. It's not like you were capable of stealing something from Malachai Parker and leave unscathed. He is a tiny bit insane and you aren't special.

“She has a thing for K's, doesn't she?” You flinch at the breath in your neck. It earns Rebekah a glare as she walks around the pillar you were leaning on, her smirk takes her whole face, granting mischief in her blue eyes.

“We're done.”

You cut off your jab towards Rebekah when Davina's voice reaches your attention.

“Just like that?”

Freya gives you another one of her warning looks but you are facing the Claire Witch with a hard gaze. You didn't trust her then and you wouldn't trust her now. And it has nothing to do with her age nor the lack of experience in the magic department — or life, in general — it was more of a grudge you held for the girl ever since she messed with your family. You recalled quite well how she had weakened the Mikaelsons and played a part in Marcel's stupid plan to destroy all of them. Almost. You hated both of them with your every being. No matter how Klaus may have forgiven Marcel for it or how Hayley claims that Davina was manipulated.

“We did everything that was in the grimoire. She's safe.” Her voice carries defiance and you could certainly enjoy the opportunity to play into her attitude.

A low hum left your lips and you hear someone sigh around the room, you couldn't concentrate enough to name who it was but you have a guess.

“Okay. That's great.” You utter, mouth widening into a satisfied grin. You like the way she regards you with caution as you stride over. “You're gonna need that?” You ask in a whisper, pointing towards the book in her small hands. She hands it over to you, you take it slowly, mumbling a thank you and offering a sickly sweet smile. Your distaste is a mutual feeling, you're glad to know.

The entire family heads back to the Mikaelson manor. Despite Rebekah's pestering for you to go with them, you manage to escape for some alone time.

Rousseau's is where you end up after walking aimlessly through the city. Some things have changed. There are a few new musicians playing in the corners of the streets, but those familiar faces still there as well. The streets are illuminated by the lampposts scattered around the French Quarter, the shadows of the streetlights dancing at your feet remind you of times where you'd feel happiness holding you together. The bittersweet moment is interrupted by something soft tickling your ankle, causing you to jump in surprise. Quite literally.

“Never seen a cat before?” Someone mocks your tense stance as you watch the feline exit the bar.

You would have snapped their neck if the sweet smile of Camille O'Connell didn't reach your eyes right away. She's drying up glasses on the counter, probably getting ready to close the establishment, it was around the time she usually did.

“Can you spare this poor soul a bit of alcohol?”

“I'll never get used to that,” Camille says, shaking her head and the sound of titling metal made your face stretch into a grin. “You're not old enough to drink.” She starts preparing your favourite drink. Alcohol isn't your favourite thing in the world, but Cami's drinks are sweet enough to appease your taste buds. You didn't spend hours wallowing in this bar with nothing to accompany you — the alcohol and Camille's ears to listen to your misery.

Your nose wrinkles. “I am over 400 years old, Cami. How many times have we been over this?”

She tsked, curling her lower lip, throwing the cloth on her shoulder as she leans on the bar top.

“You look like seventeen.”

“That's flattering?” You muse, sipping your blue beverage. “I can't even remember what my seventeens were like.” That last part you mumbled to yourself.

“At what age did you turn?” Her voice is sad and you start grieving the fun of the moment.

Taping your nails against the wood distractedly, you work on pulling the terrifying moment from the abyss of your mind. Camille's gaze trails over your features in her own curiosity.

“It's been a while, huh?” She felt the need to change the subject. That made you crack a smile. Did she think she had genuinely upset you?

“Ten years or so.”

“Yes.” She says pointedly. “What brings you back?” She finally finishes cleaning up and you realise you're probably delaying her sleep schedule, but she hasn't complain about your overstay and you don't mention it.

You decide on telling her the truth. “Family stuff.” The partial truth, that is. “I died in 1603,” you refer to her previous question. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “I had recently entered my twenties. Can say now that I never got out of it.”

She didn't laugh at your joke, but you did.

“I'm sorry. Do you still...”

“Remember it?”

“Yes.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It was a life changing event. So, yeah. I do remember it. But it doesn't make me feel anything anymore. It's something I no longer care about.” That's the truth. The memory doesn't affect you as much as it used to.

Cami nod, a strand of her hair slipping from behind her ear. She brushes it back and you tilt your head at the bracelet in her wrist. Once that has been there ever since you first visited Rousseau's.

“You still wear it.” You point out. She frowns confused, but her gaze follows where your attention lays and she hums.

“Yes. Can't have myself walking around the zoo with no defense.”

“The zoo—” you can't suppress the snort that comes out of you. “I can't believe you just said that.”

“I did.” Camille puts her hand on your shoulder and you deflect lightly. Guess it's time to leave. “I'm closing up. It's almost 1 am.”

“Sorry, Cami.” You shouldn't have bothered her that much. “Can I walk you home?”

It's her turn to chuckle. She locks up the bar and spins around to face you, a knowing glint in her bright blue eyes. You don't like that look. It kind of reminds you of Caroline when she knows something about yourself that you don't. Or that you just don't want to admit yet.

You miss her too.

“Are you really that desperate to avoid your problems?” You gape at her. “C'mon. Did you actually come here so I could make you a Grasshopper?” Oh, so that is the name of the drink you've had since forever. Good to know.

“I wanted some company.” You confess, rolling your eyes as she waits for you to follow her steps. Half the truth, again. This was the best place to avoid your problems — one problem. “Is that such a crime?”

“You sound like Klaus.”

“Stop offending me or I'll kill you.”

“Go ahead. I'm sure you'll like it when my blood burns your throat from how much vervain I've been taking.”

Your lips quirk up in a lopsided grin.

“I'm just going to say something, feel free to ignore it.” Cami announces as you crossed the street. You've arrived at her apartment. When you stop in front of the entrance and she turns her full body to you, her face has lost all the merriment. “I don't know why you are back. I don't even know the entire reason why you left so suddenly.” That makes you grow tense. “But that's none of my business. What I want to say is that, don't allow what let you down get to you again. If you think that getting out of here, taking some space to yourself, was good, then so be it. It's your life, okay? You deserve to be happy.”

You stand quiet for a while, absorbing everything she had said.

“I am.” You say quietly. “I am happy.” Away from here.

She smiles down at you, then, surprisingly, pulls you into a hug. Cami and you have never been close. You just listened to each other's complaints in the midst of the bar's loudness. You grew to have a bond but it was nothing as tight-knit as what you had with Freya or Hayley. Although, you did miss Cami while you were gone. She was the only one who knew how to make a good Grasshopper, anyway.

“Stop by the bar before you take off god-knows-where again.” She requests after you split apart.

“I'll think about it.” You bury your hands on your jacket with a smile as she bids you goodbye.

The city is never completely quiet. There's local music playing in some corners still at that time of the day. You realise you have reached Jackson Square when you put a pause on your walk, listening and breathing into New Orleans. Even the smell is different, maybe it is the lack of tragedy in the streets. You hope it carries on that way, Hope deserves to live peacefully. Or as peaceful as Hayley Marshall's and Klaus Mikaelson's daughter can live.

“Can you step out of there? It's getting ridiculous.” A woman crossing the street gives you an ugly look and you couldn't care less. You were talking to the Edward Cullen beside the tree a few feet back from where you stand. “How long have you been following me like a creepy stalker?”

“I've just arrived.” Kol says. You can see him rolling his eyes without taking a look at him. “And I wasn't following you.”

“Oh,” you blink innocently at him. “Sorry. I didn't know you had become such a religious man over the course of ten years.”

St. Louis Cathedral has all of its lights off, which means it's closed for the night. It's not like you wanted to enter the church in the first place, you just thought it looked pretty this time of the night. You'd frequent that area a lot to read a book when you were bored. Kol never shared that particular interest.

❝ and It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name...❞

“This paranoia between you and Klaus is getting out of hand.” You mention to him one night as he turned your room upside down looking for something he would not inform you about. “You better put all of that back because I will not.” You say with a shake of your head, frustrated.

“He has the dagger. I have nothing to protect myself with.”

“So run away again. It's what you do best.” You let out. Only realising what you had done after it slips past your lips. The room is quiet, the silence deafening to the point where you flinch at the sound of creaking wood.

It wasn't the bed. It wasn't the wardrobe. When you glimpse at the door, hesitantly, it has been left ajar.

He did what you asked.

You remember inhaling deeply before throwing a jacket over your shoulder and grabbing the book of the week to read at Jackson Square, viewing the passerby's that would enter and exit St. Louis Cathedral.

“You'd come here and sit on that bench right over there with a new book every week.”

Your chest latches onto unwanted nostalgia you should desperately trying to get rid of. It makes your arms go numb and a cold shiver run down your spine. You blink at him. You knew?

“What?” You grunt, slightly disoriented.

Kol seems lost in his head, much like you were a few seconds ago, but he has a bigger grasp on reality than you do. “I thought it was more of something out of spite that you did. Sit in front of a church. Watch people leave. Choose a prey and feed on them to make them somehow question their faith.”

Furrowing your brows in thought, you consider out loud, “You thought that I'd come here to prove a point?”

He shrugs. The repetitive kicking of rocks tells you he is more nervous than he's letting on. Kol could mask his feelings well, his first choice of emotion would be anger and he'd just about use it to everything and everyone.

Over the years you'd notice some tells beneath all that rage. There was resentment and there was sadness. And now you can see guilt. You wonder if you're simply imagining something you want to see instead of what's actually there.

“What are you doing here, Kol?”

You're tired. You're beginning to think that Stefan was right and you should have evaluated the pros and cons of being in this fucking city before choosing the first flight five minutes after Rebekah's text.

“I missed you.”

“No.” You ignore the way you want to run away at what feels like sincerity coming out of his mouth. “What are you really doing here?”

His lips twitch and you think that familiar smirk will appear, but it doesn't. Just a sad smile.

“I missed you.” He repeats firmly as if not to let it hang in the air enough for confusion. There is no dubious meaning. He is not playing a game. “I haven't had a chance to say that when you were here.”

You take your time surveying his features. He had cut his hair, but you noticed that when he was playing with Hope in the backyard. His style is still the same, the moles still in the same spots around his cheeks and neck, his cupid's bow hasn't changed either. Kol's physique barely suffered any alterations, but he is different. Suddenly, you remember Hayley and the new spark in her eyes.

They both mirror people who have let go of their demons. The ones who scratch your skin and sink into your shoulders claiming your body as well as your mind as theirs. It is impossible to escape all of them at once, but time makes it bearable to live with some as you learn to let go of others.

“What do you mean?” You sit at edge of a bench. Not the one you used to sit almost every week. That would be too much. He understands the space left is for him to occupy after a moment. “That you haven't had the chance to say it when I was here. Why would you miss me while I was here?”

You know exactly why. You felt that all the time with him. Most of the time you dated a shadow in place of the man you loved and it is sad that, at some point, you got used to it.

“Because I wasn't. I wasn't here when I should have been and you were gone before I could help it.” A wave of regret travels across his features and you turn away before your gazes can meet. “And yes, I have no right of saying that after—after—”

“Ten years?”

“... ten years.” You complete at the same time. “I lost your trust. I lost you. Which is something that I'll never forgive myself for. I just... I just need you to know—”

“Don't.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as you stood up, running a hand through your face in pure... frustration? Anger? Fear? Yes. Fear. He is being unpredictable. Kol Mikaelson is unpredictable, it's one of the many traits of his you spend a long time admiring, until it became a burden in your relationship.

But after ten years you had no idea how to deal with this and you don't want to deal with it. Not now. Not after you and him were over.

He says your name almost pleadingly.

“Kol, don't.” You cut him off. “You can't do this now. You just can't.” You flinch away when he tries to touch you as a form of comfort. You didn't want that comfort. Not from him. Not anymore.

His eyes soften and there's hurt in them but you can't do this now. It's not fair. “I'm not trying to do anything.”

“Yes, you are!” You croak out, slightly shaken up. “Whatever you have to say doesn't make a difference now.”

You see his jaw clench slightly. Good. You want him to be angry. At least this side of him you can handle because you'll attack just as hard.

“I'm sorry.”

Your eyes snap to him. “I'm sorry.” Kol repeats, walking towards you with much more certainty. “I was a coward, immature and just overall selfish. I shouldn't have left, but I did and that doesn't change the past, but, but I loved you. I truly did. If I could go back—”

“You can't.” Your lower lip curl between your teeth. You can't take anything back. You can't undo the past. “You can't make it better, Kol.” You say, attempting to hold your self together in front of the boy who broke your heart into pieces. You still haven't found all of them yet, they were scattered, some beyond repair. “I was a mess without you. Do you know how long it took for me to pick myself back up?”

“You shouldn't have left.” You harshly clean a tear that travels down your cheek. “If you hadn't, if you had given me a chance to, to be there for you, then, yes, it would all be different. Trust me. It would. But because of what you did, it's not.” Admitting that to yourself took too long and it was the hardest thing you had to do, but admitting that to him? No. It felt freeing. It felt liberating. It felt fair.

There was a point in which all you could think about was making him suffer the way you did. Because he deserved it. How can someone claim to love you so deeply and then vanish from your life?

However, it isn't really the anger that prevails as he stands in front of you at Jackson Square, trying to apologize for years of pain that he had caused. As soon as you spill your heart out, the only thing left is sadness and nostalgia. You miss the screaming and fighting. You miss his stupid obsession with magic. You miss his sincerity, because till this day, no one would throw the truth in your face like Kol did. You miss the excitement. You miss his insanity. You miss him.

Loving Kol Mikaelson had not been easy. Still, you wouldn't go back on your choice if you had the chance. Because loving him had been a choice, one you've made for nearly five decades. And letting him go had driven you to the edge and brought you back to life.

Yes, you miss him. But it's not strange the fact that, deep down, you'll always miss someone you fell in love with. Even if they didn't carried your heart as carefully as you deserved. They were still part of you. Maybe, they always would be.

“I know.” He says, voice rough. You'd barely hear him if you didn't have enhanced hearing. “I regret it every single day of my life.” His eyes follow as you lean back in the bench. You're sitting in opposite ones. He stares at you as if you're a wounded animal, afraid to approach. His red-rimmed eyes make your heart clench.

You think about how funny it is that your body can react the same to a person. As if they're permanently marked into your soul.

Kol had never said what you wanted to hear. The truth was the only thing that escaped from his lips, even if it would absolutely crush you.

He was real and he pulled you back from the edge many times before. Even if he had been the one pushing you over that same edge afterwards.

This truth is crushing you. But it is a pain you must feel in order to fully move on.

You exhale slowly. “I know you do.” You can see the clear regret in his eyes. It's sipping through his soul and it may have eaten some part of him during these years. You don't feel okay with that. Strangely as that may be, you don't wish his suffering.

“Do you?” He lets out faintly, uncertain. “I'm not— I am not saying any of that with cruel intentions. I never meant to hurt you. I love you, but,”

“... but it wasn't enough to make you stay.” You swallowed with difficulty.

“No.” You glance up at him, something in your chest shatters. You don't know if his honesty is something you crave now. “I miss you. I never stopped missing you, no matter how hard I tried. And I, I don't know how to change that.”

“You can't.” You say, feeling like you can breathe properly after such a long time. “Because I miss you too, Kol.” and I love you. Not the same way, but I do. “It's not something we can change, it's just there. Maybe time will somehow make it better.”

“Really?” The hope in his voice grips you tight. That desperation to move on. To forget. You relate to that so much. “Is that what you think? Sounds too human to come from you.”

You let out a scoff, throwing your head back. “What does that even mean, Mikaelson?”

His deep chuckle brings a small smile out of you.

“Time is necessary for everyone.” You watch him quietly. He has the same tell from before; when his head is full, he plays with the ring in his index finger. Whenever he did that, you'd curl your fingers around his shoulder and squeeze it, he'd relax under your touch.

You would miss that. But you can live without it. You can live without him just as he can live without you. You know it's for the better.

It's almost four in the morning when you arrive back in the hotel. The first thing you do is take a shower, then throw yourself in bed pretending it is the one in your bedroom at your home. Soft and with your favorite pillows. Not the real scratchy and thin bedding you currently have.

It doesn't work, so you dial the familiar number in your phone to actually hear home from the line.

“I'm sorry to be dumping this on you.”

“You're dumping nothing on me.“ Stefan retorts and you can clearly see him shaking his head. “Hey, you handled Ripper-me, if I can't handle you talking about your ex then what does that say about me?“

You stare at the ceiling, “Ripper-you wasn't that terrifying.“ You mock him, earning a snicker that makes your entire being warm.

“I'm certain some people would disagree a little bit.”

“Eh,” You shrug, kicking the comfort off of your legs. “Nothing I can't handle, baby.”

When his chuckles dies down, his tone comes back slightly serious and you pick up on the tinge of concern in it. Same as the day before.

You've unleashed your still-fresh wounds to Stefan a few minutes back. There's no one else you wanted to talk to after everything that's happened. You needed safety, you needed someone to ground you, to stop you from spiraling out of control. Stefan always does that.

He doesn't question too much nor does he judge the situation. He must have expected something like that would end up happening. Part of you wishes he would yell at you, telling you that he had been right and you should have listened to him from the start. Instead, he just listens.

Stefan understands that just as it's Kol, for you. It's Elena, for him. And there's nothing none of you can do about it.

“You can always come to me for anything,” he breaks the silence. “I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.”

Inhaling sharply, fiddling with your engagement ring, you ask, “Why?”

Why aren't you running away? Why do you want to deal with me for the rest of your life?

“Because I love you. And I'm not only here for the good times but also the bad times. I'm here for the ugly truth and I'll still be here for the worst part.” Your breathing is labored at this point. You refrain from telling him you don't deserve it. You don't deserve that he stays. You don't deserve that he's still here after everything. But it's his choice and he's choosing to love you with your baggage.

“For better and for worse. In sickness and in health, right?”

The snort that escapes you is nothing but awful. “You're an idiot.“ You shake your head, pressing the phone closer to your ear as if that would make him closer to you.

You can practically see his smirk through the phone. “But I'm your idiot.” He seems to ponder over your silence. “Ugh, that was cheesy, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” you confirm, biting your lip to avoid a stupid grin. “don't do that ever again.” You order, knowing he will most certainly do it more than ten times. Because that is how Stefan is like. He tells you bad jokes in bad moments to make you feel better, he keeps you company through a phone call for how long you need comfort for and he's the one that makes you feel perfectly fine at the end of the day.

“Please don't break-up with me, we're almost getting married.”

“I'll consider this plea.”

The conversation ends up reaching something lighter when he asks about Hope and Hayley. You tell him about Hope and how bright she is, you detail the tiny differences of New Orleans from before and now and you confess you miss him. Because you do.

In the end, this trip was good. It unfolded a part of your story that had been buried down in a drawer for a long time. You needed closure and you had it tonight. It's bittersweet and it's nostalgic and it's sad but it is necessary.

Which is why you no longer have doubts about your future. Everything seems perfectly clear now that you've confronted your past, the monsters do not look so big anymore.

“I love you,” he says. The line had gone silent for a while as both of you seem to be thinking over to yourselves.

His hoarse voice and clipped tone tells you that he's as affected by this trip as you are. You want to comfort him, saying that there's nothing you need to worry about, I'll come back, I'll always return to you. But none of that will get through his brain until your face to face, finally in each other's arms.

And something that you've come to see through a new perspective is that love isn't tiring, it isn't heavy nor it is draining. Love is strength, calmness and security. Love can be fire, kissing in the rain and a rollercoaster of emotions. But it's not bad and it's not rotten. It can, however, sometimes be doubtful. It can raise questions that can make you halt on your way to say yes, but that's okay. Because even though you're certain, you're allowed to not have all the answers and you're allowed to not be alone to search for them.

“I love you, too,” you breathe out, shutting your eyes to imagine you were close to him, in your safe place.

“It's so good to know that you're smiling right now.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head but your mouth is quirking up in the sides. “Seriously, you've gotta stop doing that, Stef. Am I feeding your ego?” You don't wait for a response. “Don't answer that, I know I am.”

“Come home.”

Because no matter how much you occasionally missed your past, your present and future are greater than anything else you could have possibly desired.

❝ and that's the way I loved you...❞

“I will.”

You couldn't have asked for anything better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[alternate ending]

[eksvaized]

[ 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖔𝖚𝖘 ]

>> Ghost x Reader

Your one hand gripped the steering wheel, your gaze fixed on the road, while you sipped the bitter cold coffee, hoping the caffeine would keep you awake till you reached home.

When an overplayed, generic pop song started playing on the radio, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself from singing along because, as much as you hated it, you knew all the words.

You got a bit carried away, and the paper cup fell out of your hand, landing in your lap before rolling down to the ground.

“Fuck.” You cursed loudly and leaned down, taking your eyes away from the road for a split second.

Startled by a loud crash —something bounced off the hood of the car— you snapped your head back up, and instinctively slammed on the brakes, causing the car to screech to a sudden halt.

Your heart plummeted, stealing your breath away and causing your eyes to widen in alarm. There was one brief moment of stillness. You didn’t move, too afraid to even think about what had just happened. But then your fingers slipped off the steering wheel, and you peered over your shoulder.

There was a body in the middle of the road, and whoever the stranger was, he wasn't moving.

You jumped out of the car, leaving the door open, and rushed towards the man.

You knelt on the cold concrete, attempting to take deep breaths, while wiping your eyes with your sleeve because tears began to roll down your cheeks without you realising it.

“Don't be dead, don’t be… Please.” Your fingers curled around his jacket, and using all your strength, even if your arms were shaking, you drew his body towards yourself, making the stranger flop onto his back.

He didn’t appear to be seriously injured, but his eyes were closed and he didn't move, which wasn't good.

You pressed your ear to his chest, your hands gripping onto his shirt.

His heart was still beating.

You began digging through your pockets, desperately looking for your phone. You needed to call for help because you couldn't leave him here even if his heart was beating and he was breathing.

But your phone was back in the car.

You stood up.

As you ran back towards the open door, your legs quivered, your knees threatened to collapse, and your head spun with a disorienting mix of adrenaline and dizziness.

Someone suddenly forced your back against the side of the car. A hand wrapped around your throat lifted you off the ground, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes.

Your eyes widened, and you wanted to scream, but when your lips parted, not a single sound could elude you.

The stranger, whom you ran over, who was not moving, who was barely breathing, was now standing in front of you, his body pressed against yours.

His brown eyes pierced into yours, and you wanted to look away, but something about his presence, even if you were overwhelmed by fear and anxiety, made you remain motionless, unable to tear your gaze away

“I'm going to let you go.” He said. His voice was barely above a whisper, and his grasp on your throat loosened slightly. “But you will not run."

You nodded, willing to play along for as long as it took for him to let you go, but as his hand slipped back to his side, and you tried to move, you realised you were stuck. Your feet were glued to the ground, and no matter how hard you tried to go forward, lift your hands, turn your head, or do anything, you remained immobile.

“What is happening?” Your voice trembled as you asked.

The stranger didn’t reply, but his lips curled into a smirk. He raised his hand, and his fingertips traced your jaw before curling around your chin and raising your head up, so you would look directly at him.

“What's your name, love?” He asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His tongue ran across his bottom lip, his fingertips then travelling to your neck, sending an icy shiver down your spine.

"Y/N." You replied.

The battle between your mind and body was palpable as if they were two separate entities fighting for supremacy; in your mind, you kept screaming at yourself, beginning your body to move, telling yourself that you need to scream, to run, or do anything besides stand idly and let the stranger have his way with you. But no matter how loud and insistent the voice inside your head was, your body would not obey.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl." He hummed.

The stranger took a step back, his eyes running down your body before he glanced at both sides of the road and got quiet for a moment as if trying to listen and hear whether any cars were coming.

But you lived in a remote, lonely town with little traffic, and there wouldn't be anyone driving by this road on Monday night, which meant that whatever happened, whatever the man planned to do, no one would be there to stop him or save you.

"Let me go… Please, just let me…" The words spilt out of you when you realised you had to do something; he warned you not to flee, but he didn't tell you not to talk.

"I won't hurt you. Too much." He sneered, and put his hands on the car, one on either side of your head. His body entrapped you, forcing him to lower his head to look at you, but you refused to meet his gaze and closed your eyes.

He brushed your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck. He leaned down even lower, his lips sweeping over your skin as he inhaled deeply. You whimpered, biting on the inside of your cheek so hard you could taste the blood.

He put his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, keeping you in place, while his lips continued to explore your skin, almost as if he was hunting for something.

In an instant, a searing pain surged through your body, like a lightning bolt striking your neck, spreading with a relentless intensity through the rest of your spine, causing your muscles to tense.

He bit you.

Your eyes snapped open, but you couldn't move, and you had no choice but to bear the pain and let him do whatever he wanted, even if he wished to do something as sick as taste your blood.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice trembling.

He didn't respond, but his fingers wrapped around your throat and he turned your head to the side to gain full access to your neck.

He squeezed your throat when you tried to speak again, making you instantly close your mouth. Your head spun like a whirlwind, the world around you becoming a blur of colours and shapes. Dizziness enveloped you, disorienting your senses as he continued to drain your blood.

The surroundings seemed to sway, threatening to topple you over. A faint, nauseating scent filled the air, intensifying your lightheadedness. It felt as if a heavy weight pressed against your temples, squeezing your brain.

The stranger pulled back.

His lips and chin were stained with blood, which ran down his jaw and dripped down onto his black shirt. His eyes were no longer brown, but black and sinister.

He looked like a grotesque monster, his twisted features resembling the nightmarish creatures that haunt the pages of horror novels. "You taste even better than you look." He chuckled, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

You were disoriented, didn't know what to say or how to act, and all you wanted to do was scream and cry, but you were paralysed and couldn't move.

"It's a shame you'll have to forget about this. Again." He forced you to look at him. "But I promise you, we'll see each other soon. Although, I probably should stop cornering you like this, because that little heart of yours-" He tapped his index finger onto your chest before letting it slide down and wrap at the hem of your shirt, tugging at it lightly. "—might jump out of your chest the next time I scare you."

You had no idea what he was talking about. This was your first time seeing him.

"Why would you ask me for my name if you already knew who I was?" It was foolish to inquire, futile, and you should have been concerned with other things. But you assumed that as long as you kept him talking, he'd be too caught up in the conversation to do anything else.

"To make sure you are not in complete shock, love." He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You are drop-dead gorgeous, and bloody tasty, but I don't want you to drop dead literally because then we won't be able to continue having fun."

You blinked.

The frigid breeze washing over your body was making you tremble. You were outside the car, standing in the middle of the road.

What are you doing here?

You rubbed the sides of your head, trying to remember how you ended up here, but you could only recall dropping the paper cup on the ground and leaning down to pick it up.

Everything after that was blank as if someone had erased your memory, causing you to forget the previous hour.

You got back in the car, concluding that the lack of sleep had finally caught up with you. The radio was still playing quietly.

As soon as you sat down, you realised how exhausted you were. The cold coffee didn't help you much, and now on top of being drowsy, your entire body hurt, and you couldn't even turn your head without wincing, and a ping of pain erupting from your neck before washing all over your body.

When you picked up the paper cup from the ground, your gaze was drawn to a name that wasn't yours. Simon R.

You must have picked up the wrong order again; you have done that a few times previously when you were in a hurry… No wonder the coffee was bitter and not sweet how you liked it.

[elejah-wonderland]

*

Dear Diary,

I almost got married once.

Elijah Smith held my heart.

But he was, a pianist, with no family, no background. No past, no future.

And a vampire.

And I was persuaded to give him up.' Elena wrote.

Flashback

Seven years earlier

New York

"You can not marry him - Elijah is a vampire and you are a witch. And even if the Coven allows it, he is a nobody. Quite unconnected. Oh, so very below your station. You are a Gilbert. Your family line goes back to the beginning of time." Lady Rose Salvatore said to Elena. "Also, you are leaving to the Academy in two days. Florence is waiting for you. The Salvatore Foundation paid for it. It would be very disrespectful to the Foundation if you gave it up."

Elena breathed in deep, and put her book she held in her hand aside and looked outside the window into the night. She knew that this love was impossible.

As she walked to meet him  in the park, an hour later, her heart clenched with pain.

"Elena" Elijah said as he came up to her from the shadows.

"Elijah" Elena gulped, inhaling inwardly, feeling her stomach flip.

Elijah's pleasent and yet nervous posture made her heart clump. And then, there it was. The moment. Her words like dagger, cold, sharp hit him.

"I cannot marry you. I'm sorry"

"Are you ready? The wedding is in half an hour. The carriage is here" Bonnie Bennett said to her dear friend, breaking her thoughts.

"I'm ready" Elena closed her diary and took her hat that was sitting on the  chair.

"I'm happy you accepted Andrea's wedding invitation." Bonnie said as they got  in the carriage.

"I've always wanted to visit France. This was a wonderful excuse." Elena said adjusting her glove.

"You must stay at least a fortnight. Kol and I have plans to go to Cassis. It's a charming small fishing town. We'd love for you to come along with us." Bonnie said.

"I'd love to come. Thank you." Elena smiled appreciatively.

It was good to be with friends again. Seven long years had passed since she has last seen them. She had only exchanged letters with them. And so many things had happened since she had left her home town of Mystic Falls. She had finished her studies, becoming a doctor, opening a small practice with Stefan Salvatore in Florence, Italy.

She had dedicated herself and all her spare time to her patients, and Charity work.

Many have thought that she and Dr Salvatote would form an attachment and marry. But her heart was destroyed. It was of course self-inflicted as she couldn't forgive herself for having so cruely shut Elijah down by refusing him. The sadness in his eyes haunted her to this very day. And it would go for as long as she could hold her breath.

Watching, one of her friends, Andrea Lebonair exchange vows with her beloved Jackson, made her heart flutter achingly for the love lost.

Flashback

Two years ago

Florence, Italy

"I'm in love" Bonnie declared as she sat down on the bench at the Uffizzi  Gallery next to Elena."I think he'll propose."

"What?Who?" Elena looked at her friend astonished. She had no idea her friend had a suitor.

"I'll tell you everything, but not here. Let's go for a walk." Bonnie urged her friend to get up.

"All right." Elena said and followed her friend out of the Gallery.

"His name is Kol. We met in Amsterdam. He is a witch-vampire." Bonnie said un a hush voice.

"Oh my God - how can that be? I mean -a witch and a vampire?"

"He is a hybrid. An abomination, I know. His family is from Norway. His father is the Earl of Rosendal. But that's the least important thing, as they lost the seat, the land and the title. They were persecuted as they were found out that they were hybrids. His father and mother were killed and him and his siblings were scattered around the world. His middle brother has a house in Aix-en-Provence. Klaus Mikaelson."

"Mikaelson," Elena said, remembering seeing the name in her great-uncles diary, "Nobles. Wiccans?"

"Yes. Well, their mother was an Original witch." Bonnie said. "They've been through Hell these past decade. They had to hide. One of their brother had his memory erased. Kol is working on it to restore it."

Elena had heard a little after that, as she had met Kol that the brother who had his memory erased was Elijah - her Elijah.

_to be continued

[kaizsche]

tonight i can write (the saddest lines)

“Elena.” Alaric wheezed, the stake forgotten as he clawed at his throat. “It’s Elena.”

There was no time to waste. The boy was driving her back to Mystic Falls if Damon and Elena’s parting words were believed to be true. Pocketing the stake in one hand, he began his journey back to Mystic Falls.

The younger Salvatore barely had a word out of his mouth before Elijah twisted his neck. He dove into the depths and found her drifting. She appeared deceptively in slumber, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the water. He pried the door open and gently steered her to face him.

continue reading here

[sillyunicorn]

Did someone say vampires @margotdanslebois??

This popped in my head as I was leaving work...

...

“I’m scared,” Wilhelm said.

Underneath him on the bed, Simon stretched his neck, baring the skin there. Tempting.

“Of what?”

Wilhelm closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Simon’s throat, the blood pulsing just under his perfect jaw.

It didn’t help. He could still smell Simon, could still feel Simon, warm skin against cold. He held his breath.

“You know what.”

Simon’s hands tightened on Wilhelm’s waist, nails digging in.

“Say it.”

Wilhelm let out his held breath with a shudder.

“I’m scared… that if I start…” He opened his eyes and met Simon’s gaze. “I won’t be able to stop.”

It was dark, but Wilhelm could see the challenge on Simon’s face in perfect clarity.

“Then don’t.”

Simon lifted his chin. Wilhelm leaned in…

An elbow to his ribs woke him from the dream.

“Sorry,” Simon muttered. He was tugging the duvet up from where it was sliding off the end of the bed. When he got it up to his shoulders, he turned on his side and cozied up to Wilhelm, who was lying on his back.

Wilhelm rubbed his eyes with the hand not pinned under Simon’s pillow. Simon must have seen his expression, because he asked,

“Weird dream?”

If Wilhelm closed his eyes, he could still see dream-Simon stretched out under him, tilting his head against the pillow. He could remember the want.

“Very weird,” he replied.

Simon snaked a frigid hand across Wilhelm’s stomach, and Wilhelm almost jerked away. But Simon was prepared for this reaction, and wrapped his arm around Wilhelm’s middle, holding him in place.

“Good weird or bad weird?” He asked, ignoring Wilhelm’s noise of indignation.

“Good…. I think? You were there.”

“Mm,” Simon said, drawing one knee over Wilhelm’s thigh. “That’s always good.”

“I think I was going to hurt you.”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

Wilhelm tucked his free hand under the covers so he could rub Simon’s arm, which wasn’t as cold as his hand, but still wasn’t yet warm.

“No, but like… you wanted me to. I think I was going to… bite you?”

“Kinky,” Simon said.

“I was like, really into your blood.”

“Ooh. Were you a vampire? Did I want you to bite me?”

Wilhelm pulled his head to the side a little so he could look Simon in the face.

“How did you get to that so fast?”

Simon shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. I’ve thought about it.”

“About me being a vampire?”

“No, just like, if you were a vampire, would I want you to bite me? And I think definitely yes. Sounds hot.”

Wilhelm tilted his head against Simon’s so he could bury his face in Simon’s curls. He smelled like smoke from the bonfire they went to last night, and under that, his citrus shampoo.

“I didn’t want to bite you though. I was worried I’d Turn you.”

“Also hot,” Simon said promptly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean, was it not hot?”

Before Wilhelm could answer, Simon pushed up on one elbow, the duvet falling to expose one bare shoulder. It was no wonder Simon was always cold at night; he refused to sleep in a shirt.

“You’re going to tell me, that if you were a vampire, and I was a human, and I had alllll this blood just here for the taking, and I went like this” — he tilted his head, showing off his neck – “ you wouldn’t want a little bitey-bite?”

Wilhelm’s eyes followed the curve of Simon’s perfect jaw — just as perfect in real life as it was in the dream – and over the jut of his Adam’s apple down to the delicate hollow of his throat, and said –

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Simon’s perfect jaw dropped in fake shock. He pulled away from Wilhelm and got up on his knees, bringing the duvet with him like a cape as he straddled Wilhelm’s hips.

“You’re telling me,” he continued, dropping one corner of the duvet so he could trail his fingertips down the side of his throat, over the ridge of his collarbone, “that you wouldn’t want just a tiny little taste?”

Wilhelm sucked in his bottom lip.

“Mm,” he said, noncommittal.

Simon leaned down suddenly, nearly knocking his head into Wilhelm’s chin, and shoved his nose under Wilhelm’s jaw. He licked up the side of Wilhelm’s neck, all the way to his ear. Wilhelm shivered.

“I’d want it,” Simon breathed into his ear. “And I’d Turn you, too. You’d never get rid of me.”

And then he stuck his tongue in Wilhelm’s ear.

Wilhelm yelped and jerked his head away, and Simon sat upright again, laughing his ass off.

“You’re the worst,” Wilhelm groaned, rubbing at his ear.

Simon just grinned as he pulled the duvet over his shoulders again.

“I’d make a great vampire,” he declared.

Wilhelm pinched him in the side, and he yelped.

“You’d lure me in,” Wilhelm agreed. “You’d bewitch me. You’d cheat, though. You’d use your Thrall on me. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Simon scoffed. “Excuse me, I wouldn’t need magic to seduce you.” He tilted his head back again, shaking it side to side like he was shaking out long curls. “I’d ensnare you with my exquisite beauty and charm.”

And looking at him, warm and bright as the sun, beautiful even with the duvet wrapped ridiculously around him, Wilhelm couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

[eepwtf]

I NEED INSPIRATION PLS PLED DJDJ SOMEONE JS SEND SOMETHING ( im having a mental breakdown rn🧟‍♂️!!)

doesn’t matter which fandom anyone atp , if you have bot req send them as well as fic req

[honeygrahambitch]

Summary: When Will is forcefully turned into a vampire, he accepts only one certain type of blood

[muse-oleum]

Always & Forever

okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Obssesser (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.

you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.

WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.

as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.

Always and forever. 

Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside. 

She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord. 

Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on. 

She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust. 

She always had. 

Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves. 

A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse. 

She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again. 

Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes. 

“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”

His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well. 

Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous. 

To everyone else. 

“Elena.”

She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.

“Elijah.”

She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her. 

Not her. Katherine. 

She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now. 

Probably staked herself. 

“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all. 

She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house. 

“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open. 

He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago. 

“Of course.” 

She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore. 

And therein laid her problem. 

The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door. 

But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right. 

This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin. 

Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air. 

Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried. 

“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman. 

She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”

He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”

She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure. 

“The bar will do.”

She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused. 

“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that. 

“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”

Yeah, figures. 

“Did you know it, back in the day?” 

He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”

“NOLA problems?”

“NOLA problems.”

The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel. 

“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful. 

Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head. 

“Family habit, I see.”

Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back. 

“Family habit?”

Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him. 

“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”

“She seems nice.”

He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse. 

“Elena.”

She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown  on her face because Camille laughed.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”

Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled. 

“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”

The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway. 

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”

Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm. 

“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table. 

With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim. 

“Elena?”

This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes. 

“What happened?”

He asked the question flat out, the frown returning. 

“How do you know anything happened?”

“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”

“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened. 

“Is anyone here with you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”

His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him? 

“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”

She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers. 

“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”

The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.

Elena rather liked the way it sounded. 

She took a breath.

“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”

Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot. 

He just nodded silently. 

“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.” 

Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly. 

And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields. 

“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders. 

“Did he know?”

No use disguising it. 

“Yes.”

The air became even more still. 

“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”

Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense. 

“Yes.”

Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped. 

“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”

Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway. 

“Yes.”

Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely. 

She had never seen him so angry. 

If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity. 

Always and forever. 

She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise. 

She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now. 

“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”

It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it. 

“I… I don’t know what I want.”

Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know. 

Or else how could she hope to feel whole again? 

So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.

“There’s something else.”

Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all. 

“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.

But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting. 

Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed. 

But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity. 

“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”

“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair. 

He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.

“They know better.”

She laughed. 

❧

“A church? Seriously?”

Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation. 

“It’s not even Sunday.”

“Thankfully.”

In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife. 

Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.

Huh.

She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews. 

“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone. 

Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”

“You know the priest?”

He had been pagan, in his youth, right?

Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”

“Small world.”

“Welcome to New Orleans.”

Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers. 

“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”

“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”

He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that. 

“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.

He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.

She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water. 

“I need you to compel me.” 

❧

Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. 

His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.

He never could have, anyway. 

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away. 

“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.” 

He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her. 

“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw. 

She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely. 

“When I was still sired to Damon.” 

The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears. 

Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.

“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was. 

The beast in his chest growled louder. 

“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”

She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again. 

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her. 

“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her. 

And so, he complied. 

Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face. 

She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart. 

“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar. 

He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.

Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done. 

❧

Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. 

Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that. 

But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known. 

She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired. 

Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far. 

She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond. 

And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself. 

He got exactly what he wanted. 

A Katherine do-over. 

Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately. 

Fury, that was the feeling. 

It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. 

Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again. 

She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him. 

And he had betrayed her. 

She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like. 

Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either. 

Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it. 

“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him. 

She shook her head, sniffling. 

“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”

All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that. 

She had been right. 

She was right to trust him. 

[karouvas]

The chemistry between a man who represses everything including his own misogyny and the woman who has all of his flaws but wears them openly will never not compel me and I’m starting to wonder if I have a problem because of that tbh.

[jesdamons]

[elejah-wonderland]

*

[kaizsche]

tonight i can write (preview)

note: so... another WIP gets added to the list days after i posted a snippet of mystified ch2... thing was... i was supposed to write that fic but my american lit professor sent a neruda poem we can work on for finals and i just snapped and re-read it again like 4 hours ago and here is the product of my neruda obsession (i'm blaming spike and spuffy authors for this)

inspired by pablo neruda's tonight i can write

He lifted her closer in his embrace and whispered lines of poetry in her ear. The words depicted her fortitude and compassion. His prose sang praises of her victories, big and small.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Until he had gone out of words. Until he felt the last embers of her warmth seep away. Elijah could no longer find the words. He simply held her and instead hummed a lost song to occupy the silence. It was an ancient song to lull the children into sleep. Henrik had requested it of him the night before he was found dead, torn up by wolves. Elijah barely remembered the words now, having not spoken the ancient language in many years. He hoped Henrik would find it in himself to sing it to her.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.