#you are putting him in the same level as Valentino for fucks sake

[australet789]

"When will we, as a fandom, understand that Alastor does not infact want the best for Charlie, nor does he want to be her dad"

What about you shut up and let people have some fun and enjoy the found family that's clearly shown in every episode

[gildasfantasy]

4 months. 4 months and the hotel only ever seem to get dimmer and dimmer — those long walls with worn down paper badly pasted up just didn't look the same anymore. Not without him there. The bar had began collecting dust but never those large bottles of alchahol, the shelves were cleared of them simply because of husk, ever since the incident, he's not been himself. His alcoholism got worse, his mental state was once again closed off and you never saw much of him anymore. What was even the point of having the bar anymore when the bartender couldn't ever cope enough to stay to his job. — Husk lay there in his dim room, eyes dark and any light that peered in at any point would strain his grief struck eyes, crust forming in the corners just from the crying and pain he held in his heart. This is what happens whenever he decides to let someone in. They get taken from him just as easily as he got them. What was the point. He couldn't sleep, he just couldn't, everytime he did, angel would appear again, and each time would be more terrorising and painful as the night before, but he can't stay there forever and he especially can't stay awake forever, so, to avoid drifting off maybe a walk around the dark empty halls could help. It was late at night, so maybe, just maybe, al would be elsewhere doing his own business — Husk walked out of his room, his drunken walk causing his footsteps to seem louder than normal, his overall button on one side wasn't done up, there wasn't any point when he had no energy to try and look good anymore, walking up and down those halls, up each level of the hotel, passing the rooms seemed so derealizing.. ; Charlie's and vaggie's room, Als room, Cherri's room . . . Angels room, those photos plastered on the door, seeing his face in those photos, it made husk ache inside. He's glad he could never forget angels face but sometimes he wishes he could just for a second so he didn't have to feel the pain he had to feel when he pictured him - in his mind — It took every ounce of husks courage to put his hand on the door handle and pull it down, but he did anyways, watching the door creek open ever so slightly to reveal the fluffy pink rug next to the dresser, god the smell of angel hit his nostrils like a gunshot to the head, no one has entered this room since he... God - opening the door husk closed his eyes, taking in a big heavy breath just to inhale that scent one more time, a small smile formed on either sides of his face, tears forming in his tired eyes as he let the door shut behind him, angels bed there in the center of the room, curtains left open around it and his heart shaped pillow sweetly propped up in the middle, the same state it had been in for months, but god its like angel was still there. Husk stumbled over to the bed and lay back flat on it, angels torn up and dirty outfit lay on it, folded, no one has the guts to wash it. He picked up the pink and white striped shirt with the dark lapels and held it desperately close to his chest, his silent tears now becoming purred sobs, his grip becoming tighter on the arms of that withered over shirt, he needed to smell angel again, anything, the rooms scent wasn't enough for him, but the shirt didn't had that scent.. all that could be smelled was.. blood. Rage filled and boiled inside husk resulting in a loud hiss like yell, he launched the shirt at the floor "you were supposed to be stronger than that Angie! You didn't fight back! For fucks sake!" He yelled as he gripped his chest, mouth agape as his screams slowly became silenced, everything faded to black.. all those sleepless nights came to bite him in the ass because he was knocked into a deep sleep — but after what felt like.. minutes.. he was awake, but was no longer inside angels bedroom, but in vVv Teks building,

.. Valentino's dark lit area with the withered flower pots feathering dead kettles on the floor, for fucks sake no, no, not again. He can't do this again. Two red eyes peered out from the darkness, a tall figure with his back turned to husk, four arms.. but the top two arms were Infront of the figure.. suddenly a light flickered on, a click following after, that figure revealed itself to be Valentino. Husks body aches as he tries so hard to crawl.. run.. scatter to Val to stop him but he was yanked back amidst his attempts. Alastor stood tall behind him, green chains clanking on one by one connected from alastors grip and wrapping around husks neck, alastor had this sick wide grin that looked sewn on with green thread, the glow of it making his yellow teeth and dark greyish complection look so much more horrifying, his antlers outstretched and his neck bent in such hellish ways.. husk tried so hard to release himself but he couldn't - suddenly, Val's voice boomed through the large room - 'you really thought scum like you could change? You can't just get the princesas papito to renew your contact.. you belong to me'

he sounded much more terrifying than the actual moment.. almost like it was al mimicking the scene again.. angel, on his knees with his head hung low, red chains around his neck and hands, but he didn't say a word, tears just puddled between his legs as Val became more hostile, tugging on the chains hard enough to cause angel to gargle on his own saliva, his hands rushing up to try and push a gap under the chain around his neck, his eyes wide and his hair a mess.. his white thick furr was battered, bruised.. Val seeing angel try and escape the suffocation caused him to laugh at him 'oh angel darling.. you can't escape this.. if I can't have you, do you think anyone else can?' and with that those chain links got shorter.. and shorter... Angel being pulled closer to Val's face, his nose wrinkled and his brows furrowing.. angel spat in his face.. trying to find a chance to run or escape this but it only made Val.. much more hostile, without hesitation, Valentino harshly tugged angels leash causing him to launch across the room and land horrifically into a pillar.. it seemed okay for a second, just a few bruises until a darker figure appeared at the side of angel.. his large red eyes and buffering, breaking voice echoed just as badly as Val's.. the figure stared husk directly in the eyes for a few seconds before pulling out a knife.. a knife that resembled something like the weapons from Camilla Carmine's company.. white.. black striped handles.. husk tried to close his eyes.. but al wouldn't allow him too look away, he could feel Al's sharp fingers holding his eyelids open.. and all over again husk had to watch his one and only love and best friend get his head severed off, watching as it rolled between his knees.. husk screamed and just then alastor decided to let him go, causing husk to fall forward.. but he smashed his fist on the floor, tears pooling once more..with that he watched the life drain from angels eyes.. 'angie.. angel sweetheart..' he whimpered through sobs, the head held to his chest before the figures.. one by one poofed into green smoke.. husk yelled and before he could reach to grab angels hand one more time.. he too dissapeared.. als shoes appearing in front of husks view.. slowly his eyes drifted up to meet Al's horrifying stare 'now now husker, I told you.. what's the use of draining yourself even more with the comfort of being in angels room.. I warned you what would happen if you come here again..' al spoke in his old timey radio voice.. husks heart pounding as he stood on his two feet, he knew what would happen if he spoke back to Al but this pain, it was worth it. He shoved all and clenched his fist readying to lay a punch on him but al being quick whitted, gripped on husks wrist 'i wouldn't do that if I were you. What would angel thing?' - husk became more infuriated 'dont you bring him into this! You don't deserve to breathe his name!' his eyes bloodshot due to the pains of the tears that burned through him now..god the hatred in his eyes was enough to cause fear in any normal demon but not alastor.. Al just formed the chains and tugged again 'now do not make m-' "NO! You can't threaten me anymore.. if you want to do something to me, Do it! Kill me if you have too' husk cut alastor off through anger.. did he mean any of this?

But alastor didn't give him the second to add on before pushing his hands through husks abdomend.. blood pouring down his arm as a sadistic smile formed even wider on his face 'i told you, husker, do not, fuck with the radio demon. It's a shame though really.... I liked having you on my side' and with that Al pulled his arm out and stepped out of the room, husks blood pooling all over angels pink carpet.. but husk didn't mind.. despite the stinging pain of his body being impaled.. in his head this was finally freedom.. a one way ticket to see his beloved once more.. no more pain, suffering, depression, he'd finally be able to hold the one person that made him feel less alone once more 'dont worry angel darling, I'm coming soon my sweet loser'

[sunshineandfangs]

Lust, Oleander, Violence, and Edelweiss

I had very much hoped to have more written, but work and uncooperative writing ability got in my way. That being said I wanted to give something to the lovely Luiza @itsnotacrimetoloveyou​. So I suppose consider this the short prologue. Happy Birthday!!!

PS The title was a struggle and I am such a nerd for making it what it is.

---

Her knuckles rapped against the solid oak of her father’s office door, its dark varnish and intricate woodwork a bit ostentatious in her humble - correct - opinion. There was a long pause, the faintest trace of voices silencing.

“Come in, daughter.”

She hid the slight sneering curl of her lips, nothing but a polite smile present as she stepped into the room. Perhaps, there was something to be said for her father’s ambition after all. For if her eyes did not deceive her, that was Don Mikaelson elegantly sprawled in one of the leather chairs, his bearing containing all the lethal grace of a predator.

Caroline pivoted, letting her hair shield her face for half a moment, as she closed the door with a near silent click. The deceptively innocent looks, short blonde curls and blue eyes, shockingly pink lips. Yes, he matched the rumors well. They said death was never crueler than when delivered by his angelic visage.

Well, good for him. 

Her chin was raised as she turned back around, taking a few steps closer.

“You wanted to see me, father?”

“Yes, my dear,” he said, his eyes barely shifting from his other guest, an odd expression on his face. “What say you, Don Mikaelson?”

Caroline felt when his gaze settled on her, though she refused to return his regard, her eyes staring at her father’s now silent form. A taste like poison settled on her tongue. Her suspicions were stirring and she did not like where they were leading.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the devilish tilt of his lips, felt his eyes still boring into her. Then he spoke. His tone light and lilting, lips curling around a British accent. Almost mocking.

“She’s certainly a lovely bird, William.” She wanted to cackle at the crease in her father’s brow. Her father was angry, she could feel it, offended by the slight against him. So, much for those ambitions, huh? Not even meriting a ‘Don Forbes’? Of course her schadenfreude shattered with his next words. “But please do enlighten me on why she’s worth such a generous trade agreement?”

“Caroline,” her father started, a bit of a bite in his voice, “is an ideal companion. Beautiful, intelligent. And her power’s subtle, perfect for swaying a room in your favor.”

She feared her teeth would break from the force with which she clenched them, poison and acid and bile boiling in her stomach.

Half her mind remained focused on the real threat in the room, aware of how he had gone still and calculating. The rest of her was too busy being infuriated beyond words, nearly beyond thought. She didn’t know what disgusted her more, the idea her father was such a piss poor negotiator in the presence of a more powerful Don and he was still trying to foist her off or that he just wanted to be rid of her that badly and didn’t care how desperate he seemed. 

Though it didn’t really matter did it? Either way, her own father - though he was that no longer, he was dead to her - was trying his utmost to fucking sell her like a whore.

Caroline inhaled a quiet breath, loosened her jaw, unclenched the ball of her fists that she hadn’t even noticed in her turmoil.

Don Mikaelson spoke before words could spit from her lips and she was almost grateful for the time it granted her to reign in her rage, temper it, hone it into a weapon she could wield rather than an uncontrolled explosion.

“I’m rather insulted that you believe me such a fool.”

Bill’s brow twitched again, an indignant light in his eyes as he opened his mouth to plead his case, but Don Mikaelson cut him off with a raised hand. “Enough. I don’t care for your excuses. I’ll take the girl for the night as payment for this waste of time. If she’s as useful as you promised then we’ll talk.”

Whatever parting words the two offered to each other was swallowed by the roaring in her ears. Somehow her emotions had flown right past fury and into shocked unreality. It took several mindless steps in the Don’s shadow for her brain to turn back on. And there were only two thoughts running through her head. 

One, William Forbes was a dead man walking. She didn’t care how long it took. 

And two, if Niklaus Mikaelson thought he could so much as put a finger on her without her consent, he could join Bill in Hell.

---

The car ride was silent, Caroline seething and plotting while the Don seemed to be ignoring her. Between courtesy and disregard, she would place her bets on the latter. Still, she didn’t doubt he spared a fraction of his attention to subtly observe her as she did him.

If only she could get away with gouging his pretty blue eyes out. Alas, only the stupid and the suicidal tangled with the Mikaelson Family. Especially alone with no allies to her name.

Caroline smoothed an invisible wrinkle from the blue silk of her dress, eyes flicking up to peer out the tinted windows as the town car rolled to a stop.

A breath rushed from her nose. 

They were off a public street, not even twenty minutes outside the city proper. For God’s sake they had just passed a school a block back, and yet that did not change the three stories of ironically white, gorgeous and ridiculous mansion which greeted her gaze. Eyes darting, she took in the wrought iron fence and what she could see of the grounds. Was that a fountain peaking through one of the manicured hedges?

Caroline swallowed a hysterical giggle.

Bill loved Valentino and stocking his wine cellar with Domaine Leroy. Don Mikaelson probably had a Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition suit as a showpiece.

The sound of her side door opening made her jolt, and she cursed herself as her gaze settled on the Don. The Don who had somehow already exited and made his way around to her side of the vehicle without her noticing a thing.

Beneath layers of ice, Caroline felt the little flickers of his amusement.

She bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood. Refused to let her hand shake as she placed it in his. Refused to flinch away from the heat of his guiding hand at her back.

His foyer was as opulent as the exterior promised. All marble flooring and intricate wall carvings. The click of her heels seemed to echo in the large space as they continued on. Straight to the end of the hall. Right at the Rembrandt. Left at the Steinway. Straight again. Up a spiral staircase with golden ivy swirling down its banister.

Her shoulders did not jolt when a chuckle came from beside her. “I can practically hear the cogs turning in your pretty little head, love.”

She continued to look straight ahead. “Bill told you my name not even thirty minutes ago, is your memory that terrible?” 

“Not at all, he also mentioned intelligence did he not?”

There was nothing menacing in his tone, but she bit her tongue all the same. The taste of the bitter iron of her blood still lingering.

“My apologies, Don Mikaelson, I don’t enjoy pet names.”

The two of them stopped before a plain oak door, and she took the chance to peer at him from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t get a read on him, the little tendrils of his emotions once more tucked away. He led them inside in lieu of responding and near glided to his seat behind his desk. 

Two chairs sat perched in front of his monstrosity of a desk. Perfectly angled and placed within the space. She eyed them, coming to stand behind the one on the left, fingers curling along the wood and leather of its backrest. 

Her gaze returned to the Don, ignoring the slight arch of his eyebrow, the return of the little flickers of amusement. Truly exactly what she wanted, to be found funny by a man such as Niklaus Mikaelson. And he still said nothing, glancing down to fiddle with a drawer.

Though his eyes remained on her as he set the silver wrist cuff he had retrieved on the desk. It would have been plain if not for the shimmer of  encrusted orange crystals. Crystals so fine they were practically dust.

Her index finger shifted a few degrees as she struggled to regulate her breathing. Those gems were imperial topaz. They had to be. And if her eyes were not mistaken, and she highly doubted she was, the metal, bright and flawless, was platinum not silver.

“I’ll give you a choice,” He said, eyes still not straying from hers, voice level as if his words weren’t dripping in irony. “You can wear this and be my guest for the night or you can refuse and enjoy the hospitality of my dungeons instead.”

There were no mirrors in the room, but had there been one Caroline was sure she would look sickly. Pale and stricken. Choice? This was no choice. Not when just looking at that awful, damning piece of jewelry made her insides freeze.

She gritted her teeth, nails marring leather. Color rushed back into her cheeks. She wanted to hit him. Hurt him until he bled.

A breath. 

Her fingers released their death grip on the chair and her cheeks cracked under the strain of her icy smile.

“I’ll take the dungeon, thanks.”