njeancastro316

[njeancastro316]

Yup he’s got me

Klaus is bae, but like, Elijah? There’s something so fucking erotic about the way he always finds the upper hand and boasts it.

[njeancastro316]

😍😍😍

Stains {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} One meddling Mikaelson, one stubborn heart, and one heated confrontation that leads to surrender...

♡♡ Thank you for all the love for this series!!♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, smuttttt, possessive!elijah, financial boundary-crossing, a heated argument, a cappuccino & a chocolate chip muffin, lots of aftercare, elijah being vulnerable & bathtub confessions...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

The next day you woke up feeling like hell. Your eyes were puffy and swollen, and your head was pounding. You had cried yourself to sleep, and the emotional turmoil left you feeling exhausted.

Elijah's words, his touch, his scent, were all seared into your mind, and no matter how hard you tried, they wouldn't leave.

You stood in front of your coffee machine in a daze, listening to it brew as you browsed through the news. There was a small article about the charity gala, and your stomach lurched when you saw his face, his arm around the waist of a beautiful woman.

You scowled, closing the app and checking your emails. You had a message from your boss, congratulating everyone on the successful gala, a few spam emails, more than a few food delivery notifications and a message from your landlord.

You ignored the rest, and clicked on the message from your landlord. It was a notice that you had overpaid your rent, and that you didn't have to pay them again until a year from now. You stared at the email, confused. You knew you hadn't overpaid, and yet, the statement said otherwise.

You opened your bank account, and none of the numbers were correct, your maxed out credit card balance was now zero.

Your brows furrowed as you frantically clicked on your recent transactions. Around 3 AM last night someone had transferred an obscene amount of money into your account. You stared at the number, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through you.

He didn't. No fucking way…did he actually...?

You picked up your phone and dialed his number, the anger rising in your chest. It rang a few times, and then he answered, his voice sounding slightly sleepy.

“Hello, darling," he said in his infuriatingly calm tone.

"Did you hack my bank account?" you snapped, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Good morning to you too," he replied, sounding amused.

"Did. You. Hack. My. Account," you growled, each word punctuated by a pause.

"No," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I transferred funds to your bank account."

"How could you!" you exclaimed, your anger spilling over. "Do you have any idea how violating that is?"

"I owed you for the dress," he replied, a note of confusion in his voice. "Why are you upset?"

"Because I don't need or want your money!" you shouted, unable to keep your temper in check. “And this is way more money than what my dress is worth.”

"It was a gift," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of hesitation, as if he were beginning to realize his misstep. "I thought... it would help."

"Well, I don't accept your gifts," you retorted, glaring at the wall, your voice trembling with frustration. "You should’ve asked me first, Elijah. This isn’t your decision to make."

"I apologize," he said, sounding genuinely sorry. "I didn't mean to offend you."

You took a deep breath, trying to rein in your anger. "It's not just that," you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "You think money can solve everything. But it doesn't. Not for me. You can't just step into my life and decide what I need without even asking,"

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you wondered if he had hung up. But then he spoke, his voice softer, almost hesitant.

"Then tell me what you need," he said, the simple words hanging in the silence.

"I..." You faltered, unsure how to answer. The truth was, you weren't sure what you needed. Your anger faded, leaving behind a strange hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sorry," Elijah said again, his voice sincere. "Come over," his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. "We can discuss this in person. Please."

"Absolutely not," you replied, adamant. "All you want is to get in my pants. That's all any of this is about. So, why don't you go back to fucking one of your models, and leave me the hell alone."

There was a stunned silence on the line, and then, "Is that what you think? You think I want to fuck you and then toss you aside?" His tone was incredulous, but there was something raw underneath, something that almost sounded hurt.

"Yes, and if I never see you again, it will be too soon," you retorted, your voice sharp as a blade, ending the call before he could respond.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The man had absolutely no boundaries. None. Zero. He crossed every line, and invaded every part of your life. This wasn’t just about money. It was about control. And the worst part was, it wasn’t even malicious. Elijah thought he was helping. But that only made it worse. He didn’t see you. Not really. To him, you were just another problem to fix, another line in a ledger he could balance with enough zeroes.

You paced around the room, your mind racing. He had paid off your rent, and your credit card, all of your student loans and the sheer audacity of his actions infuriated you. He didn't even bother asking, just went ahead and did it. For a brief moment, you felt the weight lift, the endless pressure of rent and bills vanishing. But that moment was fleeting... It was a dream come true, but it was a gift wrapped up in thorns.

And that damn kiss. You couldn't forget how it felt, the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours, the way his body felt pressed against you. Fucking asshole. You were so pissed off, and you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

You tried to distract yourself with chores, cleaning the apartment, washing dishes, washing the floors. You were in the middle of stripping your bed sheets when the intercom buzzed.

You ignored it, knowing exactly who was calling. He kept pressing it, and you could hear his voice through the speaker.

"I brought coffee and an apology," he said, his tone light.

You glared at the speaker, tempted to press the talk button, and just scream at him.

"Cappuccino," he continued. "Extra foam, and a chocolate chip muffin."

You sighed, relenting, and hit the talk button.

"Go the fuck away," you growled, not caring that the neighbors could hear. "It's creepy that you know my coffee order,"

"Well after I wore it on my suit, it wasn't hard to guess," he replied, sounding amused.

"I don't want your coffee, or your apology," you said, crossing your arms.

"That's a shame, because I'm coming up," he said, the intercom beeping as the line disconnected.

"Shit," you muttered, pacing nervously.

You didn't want him in your apartment, and you were tempted to hide. It was childish, but he was just so frustrating and irritating and hot and...

A knock sounded on the door, and you tensed, hoping he would go away. He knocked again, and called out your name.

You cursed under your breath, and walked over, pulling the door open, scowling.

"Get in before the neighbors complain," you grumbled, stepping aside.

He walked into the apartment, his gaze drifting around the room. "You really should get better security for the door, it's a simple fix," he said, setting the bag of food on the counter.

"Yeah, it's terrible, any creep can walk right in," you retorted, closing the door.

"You have a lovely home," he said, his gaze returning to you.

"Uh huh. What do you want?" you asked, glaring at him.

"For you to listen," he replied, taking a step towards you.

“No, I’ve heard enough.” You moved toward the couch, putting space between you. He followed, pulling out the coffee and muffin, setting them in front of you like a peace offering.

“Please, sit,” he said, his voice quieter now. There was no edge to it, no smirk. Reluctantly, you sat down, if only to glare at him from closer range.

“Hurry up, I have a busy day ahead of me,” you lied, snatching the coffee and taking a sip.

“I think you’re a remarkable woman,” he began, his tone unusually earnest. “Strong, driven, resilient. You’ve been fighting so hard for so long, and I…” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. For once, he looked unsure. “I saw something of myself in you.”

You blinked, the admission catching you off guard. “What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“I grew up with nothing,” he said, his voice soft. “No safety, no security, no comfort. My siblings and I… we had to fend for ourselves. And we made it out, but with lasting wounds. Wounds I carry still.. and occasionally project on to others,"

He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap. “I know what it’s like to feel the world is stacked against you. To feel like you’re one wrong step away from losing everything. When I see you struggling, I just… I want to help. Because I’ve been there.”

The vulnerability in his voice was staggering. For the first time, he wasn’t the smug, untouchable Elijah Mikaelson. He was human. Flawed. Relatable.

You wanted to stay angry, but his words tugged at something inside you. “You thought throwing money at me was the answer?” you asked, your tone softer now, though still edged with frustration. "You could have just apologized for being an asshole."

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t just about the money. It was about... wanting to ease your burden. To show you that you don’t have to fight alone.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling. Anger, confusion, and something else; something warmer.

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, grabbing the muffin. “And you use way too much gel. Your hair looks like a helmet.”

He blinked, startled, before a low chuckle escaped him. “Is that so?”

You reached up without thinking, running your fingers through his perfectly styled hair and messing it up. “Yes, so stop trying so hard to look perfect.”

He grinned, his hair falling into his eyes, and damn it if it wasn't the most adorable thing you'd ever seen. "Duly noted," he said, his smile widening as you smoothed his hair back.

"Same goes for your ties, they are so damn tight," you mumbled, loosening his tie and unfastening the top button of his shirt. "Are they restricting the blood to your brain? that would explain a lot,"

He chuckled again, his gaze warming. "You're beautiful when you're angry," he murmured, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught at his touch, and heat pooled between your legs. "Shut up," you said, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

His gaze flicked to your lips, his smirk softening. “Make me,” he said, and the challenge sent a jolt through you.

You didn’t think, didn’t plan, you climbed into his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders, and kissed him. It was different this time. No anger, no heat, no battle. It was slow and languid, and his hands rested on your hips, pulling you closer, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

You felt the tension in his muscles slowly relax, and the kiss grew deeper, more intense. He nipped at your bottom lip, drawing a low moan from you.

Your hands roamed his chest, tugging on the buttons of his shirt, your nails scratching down his chest as you went. He felt impossibly solid and warm beneath your fingers. He let you undo the shirt, and pulled it off, tossing it aside, and you could see the dark hair scattered across his chest.

You leaned back, and admired his toned physique. You ran your fingers down his torso, and felt his abs flex under your touch.

"Like what you see?" he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

You flushed, and opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with another kiss and moved his hands up, slowly lifting your shirt. You didn't try to stop him, despite your earlier reservations, you wanted this, and more than that, you wanted him.

He pulled the shirt over your head, and tossed it aside, his gaze lingering on your body. You were suddenly very aware of your plain, cheap bra that was hanging on by a thread. You didn't exactly get dressed that morning expecting anyone to see it, and you flushed, self conscious.

"This garment has seen better days," he said, smirking, his fingertips grazing the fraying lace.

"How dare you, it's a Brioni," you replied, mock outrage in your tone.

His eyes flashed with desire, and his touch became bolder, as his lips left a trail of kisses down your throat.

"I like that sharp tongue of yours," he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. "I wonder how long it will take me to turn those quick words into soft moans,"

You shivered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Don't make promises you can't keep," you breathed, arching into his touch.

"Oh, I fully intend to keep them," he said, his smirk deepening. He leaned forward, pulling your bra down and capturing a nipple in his mouth.

You gasped, the heat of his mouth making you squirm, your fingers tangling in his hair. He teased and suckled, building the sensation until it was almost too much.

He released the hardened nub, and looked up at you. "Still got any complaints?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the flush of arousal on your cheeks. "No," you said, breathless. "But I have plenty of demands."

For a moment you both stopped, just looking at each other, drinking each other in. Your breathing was labored, and you were trying not to let your mind run away with you, because there was still that nagging thought, that little voice, telling you this was a mistake, that his affection wasn't genuine.

But then he smiled, it was a soft, gentle smile, and your heart lurched in your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that, like you were the only thing that mattered.

All the tension that had been building between you snapped, and your remaining clothes were shed in a frantic tangle of limbs, your hands fumbling with his belt, as he unhooked your bra. The moment you both were completely naked, he lifted you up, carrying you to your bed, and laying you down, his body covering yours.

He was strong, much stronger than you anticipated, and your hands traced over his arms, his biceps firm and muscular, as he propped himself up with his elbows on either side of your head. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and you couldn't help but glance down.

"My eyes are up here, darling," he teased, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed, and you smiled at him. "Oh, hush," you said breathlessly.

He lowered his head, his lips ghosting over yours, the light touch making your heart race. Your body was on fire, and every nerve ending was electrified, aching for more. He moved down, trailing kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, and then lower, kissing the inside of your thighs.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, and licked a slow stripe up your slit, the sensation making you gasp and buck your hips. He gripped your hips, pinning them in place.

"Elijah," you moaned, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, and you could see the wicked gleam in his eyes, still arrogant, still smug. "Use that sharp tongue and beg for it," he taunted, dipping down and flicking his tongue over your clit.

You whimpered, your whole body feeling like it was melting into a puddle beneath him, everything around you vanished except his lips and tongue, working magic on your cunt.

"Pl- Please," you stuttered out, your hands clutching at his hair, your eyes closing.

He hummed in response, the sound sending jolts of pleasure through your already sensitive body. His movements quickened, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm until your entire body tensed, the release building higher, higher. Until it finally shattered.

You cried out his name, your body arching off the bed as the climax ripped through you, every nerve alight with sensation. His grip on your hips softened as he eased you through it, his mouth slowing but not stopping until you were trembling and spent beneath him.

Elijah pulled back, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and yet somehow, the sight of him between your legs, his lips glistening with the evidence of your pleasure, sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

You tugged him towards you, pulling him into a desperate, needy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. It was your turn now, and you were determined to make him writhe beneath you.

You broke the kiss, and pushed him down on the bed, a surprised noise escaping him. You straddled him, and kissed him again, this time harder, more insistent. His hands roamed over your body, pulling your hips down and grinding his cock against you. He felt so thick, and you felt a twinge of nerves, a little voice of doubt creeping in.

He sensed your hesitation, and paused, his eyes searching your face, his gaze filled with concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone gentle and reassuring. "Do you want to stop?"

You shook your head, a little embarrassed, "No, it's just... never mind,"

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your jaw, his hands gently rubbing your thighs, his gesture so tender and intimate that it made you ache.

"You can tell me, what is it?" he asked, his gaze locking onto yours.

You took a deep breath, pushing away the insecurity. "It's... it's just been a while, and... you're bigger than average and it's intimidating, ok? Now, please, shut up and don't say anything," you blurted out, and then closed your eyes, feeling like a complete idiot.

You didn't see him grin, or the way his gaze softened with affection, but you heard him laugh, low and soft. It made your heart clench in your chest, and your eyes opened, meeting his again.

He leaned in and kissed you, all tender and gentle and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him, kissing him back with everything you had.

"We'll go slow," he said softly, breaking the kiss. "You just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you, and you nodded, a small smile on your lips.

"I'll hold you to that," you replied, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"I expect nothing less," he smirked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You kissed him again, letting yourself melt into him, into the moment. All thoughts, all doubts, were banished, and the only thing that mattered was him, his skin against yours, his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of you. You lowered yourself down onto his cock, taking him slowly, savoring the feeling of him stretching and filling you. He let you take the lead, his touch gentle, his lips soft.

You began to move, setting a slow, steady pace, your hands on his chest, the muscles firm beneath your fingertips. His hair fell across his forehead, and his lips curved into a small, tender smile as he looked up at you. His eyes were dark with lust, but his smile was warm, and your heart beat wildly in your chest, because there it was again, that same emotion in his eyes that you were so afraid of.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, your voice soft and breathless.

His brow furrowed, confused. "Why not?"

"Because..." you began, and then let out a gasp, as he guided your hips, rolling them in just the right way, the movement hitting a sweet spot inside you.

He smirked, his gaze locked on yours as he repeated the motion, coaxing another soft gasp from your lips, your nails digging into his chest.

"Because what?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"Because, you're making it impossible for me to hate you," you admitted, the words slipping out.

"Oh darling, you never hated me," he replied, a soft grin on his lips. "You like me, just like I like you."

You blushed, the warmth spreading across your cheeks, and buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding the flush.

"Shut up," you muttered, your voice muffled against his skin.

He laughed again, and the sound made you melt, the warmth in your chest growing. His hands squeezed your ass, lifting you up and then lowering you back down, thrusting up to meet you. You moaned, the pleasure building again, the friction, the pressure, the intensity sending you over the edge, the heat coiling in your belly and then snapping, sending you spiraling into a second climax, Elijah following you soon after.

The two of you collapsed into the bed, breathless and sweaty, and yet, somehow, utterly content. You turned onto your side, curling up next to him and for the first time since you met, neither of you had anything to say, and so you laid there, quietly holding each other, enjoying the moment.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke, his hand brushing your hair back.

“Stay here," he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "I’m going to run us a bath,”

"You don’t have to-" you started, but he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he climbed out of bed.

You watched as he walked naked to the bathroom, your eyes tracing the smooth lines of his back and the strength in his movements. His ass was distractingly perfect, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, a soft giggle escaping as you buried your face in the pillow. It still felt surreal that only moments ago, that incredible body had been entwined with yours.

A minute later, Elijah appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. His smile was soft, almost shy, and it sent a flicker of warmth through your chest.

"Join me?" he asked, holding his hand out to you.

You stood and took his hand as he led you into the bathroom, the warm, fragrant water drawing you in. You sunk into the tub, the hot water feeling amazing against your skin.

Elijah sat behind you, his legs on either side of yours, and you relaxed back against his chest, sighing contently.

“This is nice," you murmured, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Yes, it is," he replied, his hands resting on your waist, pulling you closer. "Although this tub is much too small."

You laughed softly, the sound warm in the steamy air. "Not everything has to be extravagant, you know. Sometimes simple is... enough."

He was quiet for a moment, his chin brushing against your temple as he exhaled slowly. "You may be right," he admitted. "Though I can’t say I’m used to the concept."

You turned slightly, glancing back at him with a teasing smile. "Elijah Mikaelson, admitting he doesn’t need everything to be perfect? I should document this moment."

He chuckled, low and rich, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your arm. “I confess when I sent you that invoice for my suit, I knew I was being... unreasonable." He let out a low sigh, his voice softening. "It wasn’t about the suit. It wasn’t even about the money. It was... control. A petty attempt to assert dominance over a situation that, frankly, didn’t warrant it.”

You turned fully now, your gaze meeting his, the steam curling lazily around the both of you. "That’s… surprisingly self-aware of you," you said, a teasing lilt to your voice, though your heart softened at his honesty.

"I am capable of introspection, occasionally," he replied, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looked thoughtful for a moment, before adding, "I’d endure a thousand ruined suits if it meant having you here, like this."

You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling more content than you had in a long time. "You have me," you murmured, smiling softly.

For a moment, Elijah didn’t respond. He simply held you, his eyes searching yours as though he couldn’t quite believe your words. Then he smiled, wide, genuine, and entirely disarming.

"Good," he said quietly. "Because I don’t intend to let you go."

You laughed softly, settling back against his chest. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as the water lapped gently against your skin. The moment felt suspended in time, the world outside the bathroom fading into a distant memory.

"I think I like you better like this," you teased, tilting your head to glance back at him. "A little less... perfect. A little more human."

He chuckled, the sound warm and low. "You make it sound like I’ve been unapproachable," he said, though his tone carried no real offense.

"You were," you replied with a smirk. "I mean, who sends someone an invoice for a coffee stain? That’s peak villain behavior."

"I'm a bit attached to my clothing, it's something of a personal weakness," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "But I can admit when I've made a poor decision."

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Well, for the record, I like the softer, more vulnerable side of you," you murmured.

He tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours for a moment before his lips brushed against yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

"I like you when there is fire in your eyes, and venom on your tongue," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Although, you are allowed to let people take care of you, once in a while,"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, that's not really my style."

"It could be," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well, I guess I could try," you said with a playful shrug. "But I'm not letting you pay for everything."

"We'll discuss the terms," he said, his tone light and teasing.

The two of you stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the steam rising around you. The moment felt both achingly tender and deliciously intimate. You never imagined that the man who had been such a thorn in your side would become so central to your happiness, but here, in his arms, you realized that perhaps it was fate that had brought you together.

And that sometimes, the best things in life are the ones you never planned for.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

[njeancastro316]

Another batch of text posts I made to procrastinate (I rly need to start writing)

[njeancastro316]

Omg!!

[njeancastro316]

🙌

Why is there always a trio that includes:

The uptight, emotionally stunted, older brooding brunette

The angelically beautiful one with full lips, light hair and a tortured past

And the charming one with a buzz cut, a killer smile, who’s really good with kids?

[njeancastro316]

🙌🙌🙌🙌

Im in love with thissss

Stains {Part Three}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Three

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} One lavish gala, one stunning dress, and one kiss you can’t take back...

♡♡ ♡♡

3.4k words - Warnings: slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, eventual smut (duh), masquerade ball, class dynamics (eat the rich or shoot them on the streets of new york or whatever), a dash of Niklaus, Elijah being a smug and possessive tease, a heated waltz, a stolen kiss, a slap (foreplay), and the undeniable tension of wanting someone you’re determined to hate...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your mask. It was a gorgeous thing, covered in silver filigree and small jewels. Your dress was just as stunning, a deep green satin that hugged your curves and showed off your figure.

You paid a small fortune for it, but it was worth it. You wanted to look stunning, to have Elijah completely enraptured. You wanted to see the desire in his eyes, and know that you were the cause of it.

Only to not give him what he wants, of course.

Besides, you planned on returning it after the gala, your outfit was worth more than a month's salary. It wasn't something you could afford to keep, but you couldn't deny that you looked incredible.

As the taxi pulled up, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead.

You were greeted at the door by a masked server who handed you a glass of champagne. You sipped it as you wandered through the crowd, taking in the lavish decorations and extravagant outfits.

The Mikaelson family compound was a building wrapped in history. It was breathtaking, a grand old home that was dripping in opulence. You looked up at the balconies, trying to imagine what it would have been like a hundred years ago.

You tried to find a familiar face, but there were too many people, and everyone was wearing masks. Your workplace barely adhered to business casual, so it was hard to recognize them in black tie.

You spotted Elijah at the far end of the room, talking to a group of guests. You watched him, your stomach fluttering. He was wearing a tailored tuxedo, and his mask was similar to yours, silver filigree with dark red jewels.

Your plan was to avoid him, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, leading you towards him. You could tell he was watching you out of the corner of his eye, his body angled slightly towards yours.

He politely excused himself from the conversation and turned towards you, a smirk on his lips.

"I wasn't sure if you would come," he said, his dark eyes roaming over you.

"I didn't really have a choice," you replied, lifting your champagne glass to your lips with deliberate ease. "This asshole I know threatened to take money from the hands of the most vulnerable people in society if I didn’t attend."

"He sounds terrible," he said, the smirk widening into a grin. "You are a vision, tonight. I'm surprised you could afford a gown of such quality, it must have been expensive."

"This old thing?" you teased, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the fabric. You could feel heat creeping up your neck, not from embarrassment, but from how annoyingly pleased you were by the compliment. He noticed. He always noticed.

"Well, it looks exquisite on you," he complimented, his gaze raking over you once more.

You sipped your champagne, the liquid warming your veins. You felt more confident, and you leaned in closer to him. "So, is this what you do with all the money you extort? Host lavish parties for fellow scumbags?" you asked, arching a brow.

"Extortion is such an ugly word," he said, his tone lightly mocking.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. He was so damn cocky, and it was both annoying and alluring. You were about to say something scathing, but before you could, a handsome blonde man approached, his curly hair artfully tousled.

"(Y/N) I would like you to meet my brother, Niklaus," Elijah said, his expression friendly.

You extended your hand politely, but Niklaus ignored decorum and brought it to his lips with a playful smile. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, love," he said, his accent thick and undeniably British.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the gesture, but quickly recovered. "Nice to meet you too," you replied, giving him a polite smile.

His gold and black mask complemented his sharp suit and athletic frame, and you couldn’t deny he was striking. But there was something about the way his eyes darted over you, assessing you like a piece of meat, that put you on edge.

"So, Elijah tells me that you work at the nonprofit," he began, his gaze focused on you.

"That's right," you said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Elijah does love a good charity case," Klaus said, his smirk cutting through his otherwise casual tone.

You felt the insult land, but you refused to let it show. Years of dealing with judgmental stares and dismissive comments had taught you one thing: don’t flinch. They only win if you flinch.

"Niklaus, please," Elijah interjected, his tone sharp with warning, but you didn’t need Elijah fighting your battles.

"Oh, that’s alright, Elijah," you said, giving Klaus your sweetest smile. "I bet neither of you could survive on the streets for a single night."

Klaus laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is that so? Love, I think you underestimate me."

"No," you replied, your tone still sweet but edged with steel. "I know a pampered rich boy when I see one. A night without a hot shower and a six-course meal? You would wither and die."

Elijah’s lips twitched, as if he were suppressing a laugh, while Klaus simply stared at you, bemused. "You have some fire in you," Klaus said finally, his voice tinged with something like admiration.

"Yes, and she’s quite stubborn," Elijah added, his own voice softening with a note of respect you weren’t sure you believed.

"And she needs more champagne," you said, handing Elijah your empty glass with a flirtatious smile. The power play was deliberate, and the flicker of amusement in his eyes told you he knew it too. "See you later."

He inclined his head with a knowing smirk. "Enjoy yourself, darling,”

You walked off, heading to the bar and ordering another drink. You could see your boss groveling in front of a man, and the sight made you sick.

You watched as she simpered and fawned, her smile tight and forced. It was clear that the man was an important donor, and she was desperate to keep him happy. It was embarrassing, and it made your blood boil. These people were the indirect cause of all the inequality in society, and now you had to beg them for crumbs?

Your hand tightened around your glass, and you turned away, the frustration bubbling over. You didn't want to be here, and yet, it was your job. You looked around, taking in the opulent surroundings. The mansion was massive, and you wondered how many people could have been fed and housed with the amount of money that went into this stupid gala.

A string quartet started playing and a murmur went through the crowd. People began to pair up, moving to the center of the room for a waltz. You could see Elijah, his dark eyes searching the crowd, looking for someone. You knew he was looking for you, and the realization made your heart beat faster. When his eyes found yours, you couldn't help but feel a thrill run through your body. He smiled, extending his hand, beckoning you to join him. You took a long sip of your champagne, middle finger raised, and a playful smile on your lips. He smirked, amused and approached you, his movements smooth and graceful.

"Care to dance?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"You really are a piece of work," you said, unable to stop a small smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, grinning and offering his hand.

You sighed, placing your glass down and allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. His hands found your waist, guiding you into a waltz. You were surprised by how gracefully he moved, his body seeming to flow with the music.

"You're good at this," you murmured, letting him lead you.

"I'm good at a lot of things," he said, his gaze fixed on yours.

"Mhmm," you said, noncommittally.

He smirked, leaning in closer. "You're not so bad yourself," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks, and you fought the urge to push him away. Instead you dug your nails into his shoulder, hoping to get a reaction. He just smiled, seemingly amused by your attempts to provoke him.

"I like this dress you're wearing, green is a good color on you, it brings out your eyes," he murmured, his gaze drifting down to the plunging neckline. "It's funny, how you can afford such a luxurious garment, yet can’t pay your debts,"

"The dress just looks expensive, I got it at a thrift store," you lied, keeping your voice level.

"Oh really? And what brand makes such high-quality clothing for so little?" he asked, clearly not believing you.

"I have no idea," you said, shrugging.

He pulled you closer, his hands sliding lower, resting on the small of your back. Then he smoothly turned you, so that your back was pressed against his chest, his hands still gripping your hips. You could feel the heat of his body, the hard planes of his chest, and the scent of his cologne washed over you. It was a subtle, masculine scent, and it made your heart race.

He hummed softly, reaching up and checking the tag on the neck of the dress. His lips curving into a knowing smirk.

"Naughty little liar," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “You can't afford this brand,”

"Let go," you snapped, struggling against his hold.

He held onto you, his hands moving down to your waist, his lips brushing against your ear. "Why don't you make me?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

"Elijah," you growled, your nails digging into his forearms.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "There's my fiery girl," he said, his tone playful.

You were about to respond when his lips pressed against your neck, the gentle touch making you gasp. He was such an ass, a stupidly sexy fucking ass. You could feel his smile against your skin, and his grip on you tightened. You tried to push him away, but he held onto you, his body flush against yours.

"Tell me, darling, what are your plans for this lovely dress?" he asked, his hands on your hips, keeping you close to him. "I know you can't afford to keep it,"

"None of your damn business," you retorted, squirming in his arms.

He laughed, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. "Do you plan on returning it? I bet the tag is still attached," he said, his tone smug.

"What's it to you?" you shot back, scowling.

He found the purchase tag tucked neatly under the strap, and pulled it free, swifty removing it.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, spinning around and glaring at him.

"Now, now, darling, don't worry, I'll pay you for it," he said, a smile on his lips.

"You will not," you argued, trying to snatch the tag from his hand.

He moved it out of your reach, and you struggled against him, but his grip was firm. You felt so utterly humiliated, and you knew your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"Why not? You bought it to show off for me, didn't you?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I.. I didn't," you stammered, flustered by his question, you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.

"Yes, you did. Don't try to deny it," he said, his tone teasing.

All of his taunting, all of his insufferable arrogance, how he constantly made fun of your financial situation, it was just too much, and the dam finally broke and tears welled up in your eyes.

He froze, and then released you, his expression suddenly concerned. You hurried away from him, tears streaming down your cheeks, and fled up the stairs, not caring where you were going. You heard him call after you, but you didn't stop.

You found yourself in a dimly lit hall, and you sank to the floor, hiding behind a pillar. The tears came hot and fast, and you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sound.

It was the worst possible scenario. He managed to get under your skin, and make you cry. Your attempt to gain the upper hand had completely failed, he saw right through you. It made you furious, embarrassed, and hurt, and the combination was overwhelming.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt his presence before his voice broke the quiet.

“Miss (L/N),” Elijah said softly, his tone lacking its usual edge.

You froze but didn’t look up, unwilling to let him see the full extent of your tears. “Go away, Elijah,” you said, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound composed.

He ignored your words. Instead, you heard the faint rustle of fabric as he knelt beside you. “You’re upset,” he observed, his voice quieter now.

“No shit,” you muttered, swiping at your face angrily. “Congratulations. You’ve succeeded in humiliating me.”

There was a pause before he spoke again. “That wasn’t my intention.”

You laughed bitterly, finally looking up to glare at him through watery eyes. “Oh, really? What do you call it, then? Some twisted form of foreplay?”

Elijah didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, a pristine white square embroidered with his initials, and reached toward your face. You jerked back instinctively, but his touch was gentle as he dabbed at the tears on your cheek.

“Don’t,” you started, but the word faltered as his hand lingered, steady and unhurried. His thumb brushed against the corner of your eye, and the tenderness in the gesture disarmed you completely.

“There’s no shame in tears,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. For the first time, there was no mocking glint in his eyes, only something deeper, something that unnerved you. “I’ve shed more than my share.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “I doubt that,” you said, your voice shaky.

He offered the faintest of smiles, something sad and fleeting. “You would be surprised.”

The moment stretched between you, and for a brief second, you wondered if you misjudged him. Then the memory of his smug smile, his teasing words, and his unchecked arrogance crashed back into focus. You pushed his hand away, your anger reigniting like a spark hitting dry tinder.

“Don’t act like you care,” you snapped, rising to your feet. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

Elijah stood too, his movements calm and measured. “And you know me?” he countered, his voice still maddeningly composed. “You see only what you want to see.”

“Spare me the psychoanalysis,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re rich, arrogant, and have no idea what it’s like to struggle. You think money can solve everything.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes. Something raw and unguarded.

“You think I’ve never struggled?” he asked, his voice low. “You think wealth erases the scars of a childhood spent fighting to survive?”

You stared at him, thrown by the sudden intensity in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

"My father used to beat Niklaus so badly that I was certain he would kill him," Elijah confessed, his expression distant. "I spend every night of my childhood fearing what the next day would bring,"

The revelation hit you like a punch in the gut. Suddenly, the pieces started to fall into place, his arrogance and need to control, to be in power. The vulnerability in his words was jarring, cutting through your defenses.

“I'm sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t excuse the way you treat people,” you said, though your voice lacked its earlier fire.

“And what about you?” he asked, taking a step closer. “You wear your anger like armor, pushing away anyone who dares to get close. Why?”

His question hit too close to home, and your frustration boiled over. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with nothing,” you said, your voice rising. “To go hungry, to be invisible, to have people walk past you like you’re a piece of trash. I worked my way up from that. I clawed my way off the streets and out of hell. What have you ever done except step on people to climb higher? You take your pain and project it on others. It doesn't make you better than me. It makes you a coward."

"You are the one behaving like you are better than everyone else," Elijah countered, his tone sharpening. "You stand here in borrowed finery, masquerading as someone you’re not, pretending to be above it all. You think your anger and self-righteousness are somehow more noble, but they're not. They're just as toxic as my own,"

Your breath hitched at the accusation, your anger rising like a tidal wave to meet his. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, his voice soft and cutting all at once. “You’re terrified someone might see the cracks, the pieces you’ve worked so hard to put back together. And that dress you’re so eager to return? It’s just another lie you’re telling yourself.”

That was it. That was the last straw.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand flew up and connected with his cheek in a sharp, satisfying crack. The sound echoed in the quiet hall, and you felt the sting in your palm almost instantly.

Elijah didn’t flinch. Not even a little. Instead, he turned his head slowly back toward you, his eyes dark and dangerous, his lips curving into the faintest of smirks.

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice like silk, low and taunting. “That fire I adore.”

You took a step back, your chest heaving with anger. “You’re such an ass-”

But your words were cut off as he moved, closing the space between you in one fluid motion. His hand cupped the back of your neck, firm but not unkind, and his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was everything. Hot, furious, consuming. It was a battle, a clash of wills, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Then something inside you snapped, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in the fabric of his tuxedo.

Elijah’s other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he couldn’t bear for there to be even an inch of space between you. You could feel his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours; pounding in your ears as the world around you melted away.

But then you felt it, a moment of stillness in his movements, so fleeting you almost missed it. His hand, which had been so sure and commanding, softened its grip against your neck. He exhaled against your lips, a quiet, unsteady breath that betrayed something deeper beneath the surface. Hesitation. Vulnerability. Like even he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

When you finally pulled back, your breath came in ragged gasps, and your lips tingled from the force of the kiss. Elijah’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded but burning with unmistakable desire.

"Fuck you," you breathed, the words holding no real malice.

"I would very much like that," he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Your cheeks were flushed, and your pulse was racing, the anger and resentment still simmering in your veins. You shoved at his chest, trying to ignore the way your hands still trembled from the intensity of the moment.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you said, your voice shaking with anger, frustration, and something you didn’t want to name.

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened. But there was a glint in his eyes, a spark of triumph that made your blood boil. “But it’s a start.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. Turning on your heel, you stormed away, leaving him standing there with that insufferable smirk on his face. But even as you rejoined the crowd below, your lips still tingled, and your heart still raced. You could still taste him on your lips, a heady mix of champagne and sin.

And you hated yourself for wanting more.

[njeancastro316]

elejah_au

[njeancastro316]

elejah_au

*

Divination

_fanfiction

[njeancastro316]

….. yeah he definitely into dom/sub and stuff like that.

[njeancastro316]

Im super OK with this 💋💋💋

[njeancastro316]

“Niklaus?!”The witch scream reverberated throughout the compound. Her eyes were wild and desperate.

“Y/N”Hayley said softly , What happened?

“Bastian left with Elijah and Nik to investigate a group of witches , he hasn’t been back” .

“Well I”…. Hayley started but was interrupted by Klaus

“They where taken by the witches”he said while looking at Y/N . She gasped at his appearance. The hybrid looked disheveled there were traces of dry blood on his nose and eyes.

“Niklaus what the fuck ?! Brother are you ok what happened?”

“It was a trap , they were extremely organized and knew how to hurt us ?. They released me so I could come and deliver a message to you”

Y/N tried to contain her fury . “Let me guess they want me”

“Yes , they wont be released unless I personally hand deliver you to them . The traitor as they called you”

“Traitor am I ?” Y/N smiled evilly, her eyes grew dark making Klaus skin crawl he knew the power she wilded and how diabolical she could be when her buttons were pressed.

Giffs are my inspiration and Im here for it, Credits always to you!! 😘

They live in my mind free 😍

Besitos 💋

[njeancastro316]

Cami x Elijah_

[njeancastro316]

😱 Omg Im loving this so much!!!!

Dark Star {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Bound by love that defies centuries, Elijah Mikaelson will do whatever it takes to resurrect his lost wife. Even if it means forsaking everything he believes in. Once the north star guiding his family, his shattered heart now leads him down a darker path, transforming him into a version beyond redemption. A damned soul, drawing his family into an abyss they may never escape.

♡♡ Hello my lovely followers! This will be a six part series inspired by @njeancastro316 post about red door Elijah (Girl, I've been writing this non-stop since you tagged me! thank you for the inspo). I really put my whole heart into this one, {I even made a playlist to capture the vibes} exploring the depths of Elijah's character and his struggle between love and darkness. Enjoy! && expect pain... ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: angst, angst and more angst, grief, heartbreak, intense violence, red door Elijah, emotional turmoil, so much Mikaelson family drama {the whole gang is here && some faves from Mystic Falls will show up later}, No smut in this part, but prepare for plenty of darkness... oh! && croissants...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore

Prologue ~ Europe 13th Century

"This way!" A boy laughed as he darted beneath a low-hanging branch. Behind him, a small girl hurried along, lifting her skirt to keep up, her breath catching in short gasps.

"Slow down! Wait for me!" she called, tripping over roots and brambles in her haste. "I can't run as fast as you!"

The boy glanced back, grinning. "Then hurry, will you."

"We ought to be home by now." She replied, frowning.

"We are almost there," he replied, leaping over a fallen branch before turning to face her, eyes gleaming. "We can get home quicker through the woods."

"I don’t like it," she murmured, clutching her skirt tighter. Shadows crept over the path as the sun sank lower, casting an orange glow through the dense branches. "The hour grows late."

The boy shook his head, catching her hand with a reassuring squeeze. "We’ll be fine. It’s only a short way."

Reluctantly, she nodded, holding onto him. "If anything ill should happen, I’ll tell Mother."

He only laughed, tugging her down the narrow path. "If something ill happens, you may not get the chance!"

Their laughter echoed in the stillness as they raced ahead. The trees grew taller, their branches clawing toward the darkening sky, while thick underbrush crowded the trail, rustling with each step. Yet the children, lost in their game, scarcely noticed, laughing and squealing as they chased one another.

Then, a sound, a subtle, almost a whisper, seeped through the quiet. The girl stopped, clutching the boy’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

“What is it?”

“Shh,” she hissed, pulling him closer, her wide eyes searching the shadows. "Listen."

They stood in silence, the air heavy and still, broken only by their own quickening breaths.

“It’s nothing. Perhaps a deer-”

“No, it’s more than that,” she whispered. Somewhere ahead, faint and distant, came the flicker of firelight. And with it, laughter. Wild and strange.

“What is that?” the boy asked, his voice barely a breath.

“Quiet,” she said, creeping forward, pulling him toward the light.

They peered out from behind a tree, breath catching at the sight before them. A great fire blazed, roaring into the sky as shadows twisted around it. Two figures danced wildly around the flames, naked, their skin smeared with red and ash. Their laughter, sharp and otherworldly, pierced the night air.

The girl’s scream barely escaped her lips before the boy’s hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her back. They stumbled, clutching one another, then turned and fled, racing down the trail as fast as their little legs would carry them, branches clawing at their clothes.

By the time they burst into the village, their faces were pale, their breaths ragged. Villagers gathered around as the children stumbled forward, pointing frantically toward the woods.

“Demons!” the girl gasped, clutching at the skirts of the nearest woman. “They’re out there! In the forest!”

There was a hushed sadness over the compound. The lights seemed to have dimmed, and the atmosphere hung heavy, cold and suffocating. It had been that way since the night Elijah found your lifeless body on the cold pavement. The night that changed everything.

Rebekah didn’t like it here anymore. Her home felt more like a tomb than a residence. It was too quiet, too full of memories and emotions too painful to confront. Her big brother was suffering, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

She found Klaus sitting in the courtyard, staring blankly at a chessboard. The pieces were scattered, mid-game, but his focus seemed to drift in and out. Normally, this contemplative silence from him made her nervous, but today she couldn’t muster the energy to care. The weight of everything was too much.

“Any news?” Rebekah asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Klaus didn’t move, didn’t speak at first. He shifted a chess piece absentmindedly and shrugged.

The sound of Marcel’s footsteps echoed through the stillness of the courtyard. She felt one of his warm hands rest gently on the small of her back, and she leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence.

“I’ve been asking around. Only lead I have is that he’s somewhere in Europe,” Marcel said, his voice sounding hollow.

“Well, where in Europe?” Klaus finally spoke, his gaze never leaving the board.

“Don’t know. Haven’t pinpointed his exact location yet,” Marcel sighed. “But he’s been killing low-level Strix members, leaving bodies in his wake.”

Klaus scoffed softly, moving another piece on the board. “Keep looking,”

“You almost sound like you care,” Rebekah hissed, glaring at him.

“Don’t start with me, little sister,” Klaus warned, his voice low and sharp.

“Elijah has always been there for us,” she snapped, “And when he needs our help, where are you? Sitting here, playing chess with yourself.”

Klaus’s fist slammed down on the chessboard, sending the pieces flying across the table. He stood abruptly, stalking toward her, his eyes blazing. But Rebekah didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. She held his glare with her own, unrelenting.

“What do you want me to do?” Klaus roared, his voice cracking as his anger gave way to the grief simmering beneath. “Tell me, Rebekah. How do I fix this?”

“I want you to find him!” she screamed, tears stinging her eyes. “He’s our brother, Nik!”

Klaus’s shoulders slumped. His rage deflated, leaving him hollow. “I don’t know how to fix this, little sister,” he admitted quietly.

Marcel cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Maybe we should give him some time. Let him mourn her.”

“He’s not mourning, Marcel,” Klaus growled, clenching his jaw. “He’s murdering. He hasn’t even accepted that she’s dead.”

Rebekah and Marcel exchanged worried glances.

“We can’t just let him destroy himself,” Rebekah argued, her voice breaking. “Wherever he is, whoever crosses his path... they’re doomed. He’s out of control.”

“He’s changed,” Marcel muttered, rubbing his temple. “I’ve never seen him like this. So violent, so volatile.”

“That’s why I’m worried, Nik,” Rebekah said, her tone deadly serious. “If he’s not stopped, the Elijah we know will be gone. He will become a monster.”

Klaus looked down at the shattered chess pieces scattered across the table. “We are monsters, Rebekah,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“No, Nik,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not like this.”

Klaus remained silent for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Suppose someone took Marcellus from you. What would you do?”

“I would raze this earth and dance on the ashes,” she answered without hesitation, the fire of her love and loyalty burning bright in her eyes.

“That’s what he’s doing,” Klaus said darkly.

“Yes,” Rebekah agreed, “but Elijah would come for me. He would find me, and help me, keep me from losing myself. Now he’s the one who needs help.”

“How do we stop him?” Marcel asked, though his voice was laden with doubt.

Klaus shook his head slowly. “We don’t.”

“Nik…” Rebekah started, her voice pleading.

“We contain the damage,” Klaus cut her off, the steely resolve returning to his voice. “I’ll go to Europe. I’ll bring him back.”

Rebekah exhaled, relief flooding through her, and she pulled Klaus into a tight hug. She didn’t say anything, just held him as though her arms alone could keep the family from falling apart. He hugged her back, and for a moment, the cracks in their family seemed to close.

Marcel stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

When she finally pulled away, Rebekah gave her brother a sad smile. “Be careful.”

Klaus nodded. “I will.”

His eyes flicked to Marcel, and the two men exchanged a knowing look. They both understood how dangerous this was. That if Elijah couldn’t be saved, they might lose him forever.

Or worse... they might have to put him down.

Two members of the Strix walked side by side, their steps echoing off the marble floors. One glanced around nervously, eyeing the high-tech security measures surrounding them, cameras in every corner, reinforced steel doors, layers of magical barriers.

"Is this really necessary? I can't stand being cooped up here. What's the point?" the taller vampire complained, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

"Protocol," the other replied, his tone bored. "You know how paranoid Tristan can be. But I’m telling you, no one's getting in here. Not even him."

"I don’t get it. We had nothing to do with her death. Why are we hiding?"

"He doesn’t know that." The second vampire shook his head, his eyes flicking toward a monitor displaying multiple feeds from around the compound. “And he doesn’t seem to care about guilt or innocence anymore.”

They stopped at a reinforced door, pressing their palms to the scanners. As the heavy doors slid open, the two shared a final glance, the reality sinking in that even their supposed impenetrable defenses might not be enough.

They stepped into the dim room, illuminated only by the flickering light of the chandelier hanging above a long oak table. Strix members filled the chairs, their faces tense and uneasy. They had gathered in secret, far from prying eyes. Whispers of fear and uncertainty drifted across the room, but no one dared to speak above a murmur. The air was heavy with dread, and no one felt safe.

At the head of the table, Aya stood, her sharp gaze cutting through the room like a blade. She had always been the picture of composure, a pillar of strength, but now, her patience was thinning, her power waning, cracks in her armor where fear leaked through. Beside her, Tristan de Martel leaned casually in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips, as if this was all a game to him. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of his fellow Strix members, reveling in their discomfort.

“We all know why we’re here,” Aya began, her voice cold and steady, but there was an underlying tension to it, like a string about to snap. “Our ranks are thinning, and the reason is no secret.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Heads turned, glances were exchanged. They knew. Everyone knew.

“Elijah Mikaelson,” Tristan added, his voice smooth and casual, as if he were discussing the weather. His eyes gleamed with a cruel delight. “The noble brother has gone rogue. It seems the death of his beloved has… unraveled him.”

"That's an interesting way of putting it," one Strix member commented, his voice dripping with disdain. "He ripped apart fifty of my men, left a trail of bodies and witnesses, it took me days to cover it all up,"

"And how many vampires has he killed since then? Hundreds? Thousands?" another voice chimed in, sounding bitter.

"You're just scared," another vampire challenged, his tone mocking.

"Of course, we're scared. Do you know what he's capable of?" the first vampire hissed, baring his teeth.

"Silence," Aya ordered, her tone icy. The room fell quiet, the air crackling with tension. "We cannot defeat him, nor can we sit by and wait for him to tear us apart. He has lost his humanity, and it's clear that we must take action."

"We have already taken action and all it does is piss him off," the Strix member grumbled, "I have no interest in fighting a losing battle."

"You're a coward," Aya snarled, her eyes flashing with anger.

"What would you have us do?" another vampire spoke up, their voice strained, "We're no match for him."

"Perhaps we should consider a bargain," Tristan suggested, a sly smirk creeping across his lips. "Find the killer, deliver them to him, and save ourselves the trouble of being murdered."

The members murmured amongst themselves, some seeming open to the idea, while others still appeared wary.

"I cannot fathom why someone would be so foolish. Surely the person who did this knows the repercussions," a member said, a hint of fear in their voice.

Tristan's smile widened. "They were foolish indeed, and now they are the most hunted man, or woman, in the world,"

Aya's face was impassive, her mind racing. She had no doubt that Elijah would tear down the world to find his killer, and if the Strix didn't deliver them, he would do the same to their ranks. Tristan's indifference infuriated her. While he sat there with a smile, the Strix were suffering the consequences of his poor leadership.

A soft little cough pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see a small girl standing at the other end of the table. She looked no older than twelve, with delicate features and wide, doe-like eyes. She looked lost, and this wasn't a place you could just wander into.

Other members noticed her presence and got to their feet, the scraping of chairs echoing off the walls. Aya narrowed her eyes, taking in the girl's appearance.

"Who are you?" Aya asked, her voice sharp.

The girl was clearly terrified, her hands shaking, and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Aya found it strange. She didn't sense the power of a witch coming off her, she was just a girl, and a very young one at that.

"I-I'm sorry," the girl stammered, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't know why I'm here. I just woke up here and now, I-I'm scared,"

"How did you get in here?" Aya questioned, her voice low and menacing.

"A nice man told me to come here," the girl mumbled, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the tense, hostile atmosphere. "He wanted me to talk to you."

Aya raised an eyebrow. "And why would he want that?"

The girl shrugged, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't know, please, I just want to go home,"

"What did he look like?" Aya pressed, her voice growing louder.

"He had dark hair, and brown eyes," the girl sniffled, trying to hold back her sobs.

Tristan's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing dangerously. The room was suddenly silent, the tension now unbearable. Aya stared at the girl, her face an unreadable mask, but inside, her mind was racing.

"What did he want you to say?" Aya asked, her voice quiet, dangerous.

The girl’s breath hitched, her words barely audible. "That... he will give all of you a slow death."

The temperature in the room plummeted, and a cold shiver ran down Aya’s spine. She struggled to hide her unease, but the implication was clear: Elijah had infiltrated their sanctuary.

"A-and that... if I can get in..." The girl gulped, her small voice quaking, "He can too."

The room fell into a suffocating silence as the weight of her words settled on the group. Tristan shot up from his chair, his face dark with fury.

“Lockdown procedures. Now.” Tristan barked, his voice commanding and harsh.

"What about the girl?" Aya asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the trembling child. Her instincts told her something wasn’t right.

"Kill her," Tristan spat, his voice cold and merciless. "She’s served her purpose."

The room erupted into chaos. Sirens blared as the compound went into immediate lockdown. The lights flickered, dimming to an eerie glow. The Strix moved quickly, vanishing into the shadows, their bodies blurring as they scattered, heading for safe rooms or exit points.

Aya hesitated for a moment, her gaze still fixed on the girl. She started toward her, but a voice in her head warned her against it. With one last glance, she turned and hurried toward the safe room.

The little girl stood trembling in the darkness, tears streaming down her face. The once-imposing vampires had fled, leaving her all alone in the icy silence.

"It's okay, sweetheart," a voice purred from the shadows, smooth and calming. The girl gasped, her heart racing as she felt a hand on her shoulder, firm yet oddly comforting.

She turned to see a tall man standing behind her, his dark hair framing his sharp features, his kind eyes watching her closely. "Run along now," he said softly, giving her a gentle push toward the door.

The girl nodded quickly, wiping her tears before scampering away, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss.

Elijah watched her go, his kind smile fading as the room returned to darkness. His eyes glinted coldly, the warmth in them vanishing like smoke. Slowly, the veins beneath his eyes darkened, spreading like cracks in the surface of his calm exterior.

He was already inside.

As the sirens echoed, he vanished into the shadows once more, his presence like a gathering storm. And what followed this storm, was pure, unrelenting destruction.

The soft drone of a news broadcast drifted through an abandoned loft, dust floating through the air. The heavy velvet curtains were drawn, the room dark and shadowy, save for the light of a flickering TV. The anchor woman's face was somber, her voice solemn.

“Une tragédie a frappé Paris la nuit dernière... un incendie dévastateur a détruit un immeuble historique, laissant peu de traces de ce qui s’y trouvait. Les autorités locales confirment que l’origine du feu demeure inconnue, mais la rapidité à laquelle il s’est propagé soulève des questions.”

Subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen in English: "A tragic accident struck Paris last night... a devastating fire destroyed a historic building, leaving few traces of what was inside. Local authorities confirm that the cause of the fire is unknown, but the speed at which it spread raises questions."

The camera cut to images of the smoldering wreckage. Blackened stone, twisted metal, and fire trucks still spraying water over what little remained.

Elijah wasn't paying attention to the TV anymore; he had his head in his hands, hunched over in a chair, his body wracked with sobs. Bodies were strewn about the room, blood spattered on the walls and floors. A macabre painting of violence and rage. The sight of the lifeless forms weighed heavily on him, a chilling reminder of his own actions.

He didn't know how long he had been there, but it felt like an eternity. Each day blended into the next, the hours stretching into a meaningless void. Days would go by where he felt utterly detached, lost in a sea of grief and loss, and then the anger would return, awakening him to a new trail of bodies. There were so many, too many, and yet it wasn't enough.

“Les témoins affirment avoir vu des ombres avant que l’incendie n’éclate, mais aucune preuve tangible n’a été trouvée. Des sources proches de l’enquête évoquent une possible attaque ciblée, bien que les détails restent flous.”

"Witnesses reported seeing shadows before the fire broke out, but no physical evidence has been found. Sources close to the investigation say there may have been a targeted attack, though details remain unclear."

"You used a child? My love, what has become of you?"

Elijah didn't flinch, didn't react as he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, your lips pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Your voice was soft, tinged with sadness and disappointment. He hated himself for it.

"She's fine," Elijah said, his voice strained, barely able to meet your gaze.

"You don't know that," you sighed, your hands moving to his chest, trying to soothe him. "And you know this isn't the way,"

"There is no other way," he replied, his voice cracking, desperation lacing his words.

"You used an innocent child, one not much older than Hope," you said, a hint of anger breaking through your sadness.

Elijah stiffened. He knew you were right. It didn't make what he did any better, and he felt his self-loathing increase tenfold.

"They killed you; I did what I had to," Elijah defended, but the words felt hollow, a pitiful excuse.

"This isn't the way," you repeated, your voice pleading, "and you don't know who did it, or why. This is all just a guess, a hunch."

He let out another quiet sob, then grabbed his glass of blood and threw it against the wall, the shards falling like crimson rain. He stared at the stain on the wall, watching the liquid trickle down, and he couldn't help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

"You have to stop," you whispered, appearing in front of him, your hand cupping his cheek, trying to pull him away from the dark, destructive spiral he was on.

"I can't," he said, his voice breaking, unable to look at you, this ghost haunting him.

"Please," you begged, your hand moving to his neck, gently stroking his skin, trying to comfort him. "I know this pain. It's agony, it's consuming, but I promise you, it will fade."

He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close, trying to breathe in your scent, to feel your warmth. But he couldn't. You were an echo, a phantom he couldn't grasp.

"You can't bring me back. You know that," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, sad reminder.

He didn't respond, just held you, his fingers digging into your skin, his eyes closed tightly, fighting back tears. He had spent so many nights like this, crying himself to sleep, waking up to nothing, just an empty bed, a cold room, and a hollow, broken heart.

He opened his eyes and let out a gasp as he realized he was clinging to one of the dead bodies on the floor, the vampire's skin gray and decaying, the body long since gone cold.

Elijah released the body and staggered to his feet, his head swimming with despair and self-loathing. His pain and sorrow gave way to anger and frustration, fueling the urge to hurt, to destroy anything and anyone.

"Par ailleurs, une jeune fille a disparu après ne pas être rentrée chez elle. La jeune fille, qui aurait douze ans, a été vue pour la dernière fois dans la zone de l'incendie,"

"In other news, a young girl has gone missing after failing to return home. The girl, who is reported to be twelve years old, was last seen in the area of the fire..."

Elijah snapped, grabbing the TV and throwing it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. His rage burned bright, a hot, white flame. His heart raced, his breathing ragged, his body shaking with fury.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to kill, but more than anything, he wanted you. He wanted to hold you, to feel your warmth, to hear your voice. He couldn't take it anymore; he was falling apart.

Klaus was never a big croissant fan; he preferred something heartier for breakfast. But here, in France, the flaky pastry seemed to taste infinitely better. Maybe it was the morning sunlight filtering through the café windows or the distant sounds of bustling streets.

He took a sip of his espresso, his eyes scanning the crowded café, absorbing the lively atmosphere. Freya sat across from him, her brow furrowed as she read a spell book, her expression thoughtful.

"Anything in there about wrangling wayward siblings?" Klaus teased, a wry grin playing on his lips.

Freya glanced up, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "That's more your area of expertise."

Klaus let out a huff of laughter. "Fair enough."

Freya’s expression softened, a small smile breaking through. "It will be okay. We'll find him."

Klaus nodded, biting into his croissant, the flakes melting in his mouth. The clatter of dishes and murmurs of conversation surrounded them, along with the distant strains of a busker playing a violin.

"Then what? I’ve never known what to say to him," Klaus said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "He’s always the one with the wise words, not me."

"Honesty is all we have," Freya replied, her tone gentle. "We tell him we miss him, that he’s our brother, and we want him home."

"And that we need to have a funeral, or at least a memorial. Hope is very confused about what happened to her aunt," Klaus added, his gaze drifting to the people walking by the window.

"We'll do it together, as a family," Freya reassured, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. Her touch was gentle, a lifeline in the turmoil. "He needs to know we’re here for him."

"And if he doesn’t want to come back? What then?" Klaus asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it." Freya pointed at the spell book, her expression brightening. "I’m looking into ways to calm his mind. Perhaps if he can control his rage, he can start to heal."

"I don’t wish to subdue him," Klaus said, frowning. "He deserves the right to his pain, to grieve in his own way."

Freya’s eyes widened, surprised by his response. It wouldn’t be the first time Klaus had tried to force Elijah or the rest of their family into doing things his way. Yet, despite his brashness, she knew Klaus was a man of deep, powerful emotions, capable of empathy.

"What?" Klaus asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"You’ve grown," Freya smiled. "It’s good to see."

"Don’t get used to it," Klaus quipped, taking another bite of his croissant and washing it down with a sip of his espresso. "I wish for us to go back to normal, where I’m the problem."

"You’ll never not be a problem, Nik," Freya grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Rude," he scowled.

"But true," she sighed, returning to her book with a smile.

Klaus took another sip of his espresso, his gaze drifting to the TV hanging in the corner. A news broadcast caught his attention, the images of a fire flickering on the screen. He leaned forward, his expression sharpening as he listened intently.

"De nouvelles informations proviennent de l'enquête sur l'incendie du centre-ville de Paris. La police a désormais identifié plus de deux cents corps retrouvés sur les lieux, sans aucune indication pour l'instant du nombre de personnes portées disparues. Il semblerait que les victimes étaient toutes membres de une société privée de conservation d'œuvres d'art, possédant des participations dans plusieurs pays. Alors que les autorités enquêtent toujours sur la cause de l'incendie, il a été suggéré que l'incendie avait été allumé délibérément.”

"There is new information coming in from the investigation into the fire in downtown Paris. Police have now identified more than two hundred bodies recovered from the scene, with no indication yet of how many are still missing. It's believed the victims were all members of a private art curation company, with holdings in several countries. While authorities are still investigating the cause of the blaze, it's being suggested the fire was set deliberately."

Klaus’s stomach dropped, a familiar dread creeping in. The timing was too convenient, and this 'art curation company' sounded like a cover for a secret society. He gestured to the screen, espresso still in hand, splashing a few drops onto the table. "Looks like a place for us to visit, wouldn’t you say?"

Freya looked up, her brow furrowing. "Do you think Elijah has anything to do with it?"

"If this organization is the Strix -sorry, was the Strix- then absolutely," Klaus replied, a grim smile forming on his lips. "Perhaps they gave him the answers he was looking for. Answers we weren’t able to find."

"I can’t imagine it would have been a pleasant reunion," Freya sighed, shaking her head. "I can’t say I blame him."

Klaus’s smile faded. He had tried his best, searching for months through the ashes of Elijah’s rage. He had gone from city to city, country to country, even continent to continent. And now, as he stood on the brink of discovery, he couldn’t help but wonder what condition Elijah would be in when they finally found him.

"Well then, no point in wasting any more time," Klaus said, taking a final sip of his espresso.

Freya nodded, closing her book, quickly downing her coffee before stealing the last bite of Klaus’s croissant, earning a playful glare.

"Oi!" he growled, "I was going to eat that."

"Too slow, brother," she smirked.

Klaus rolled his eyes and stood, tossing a wad of cash on the table without bothering to count. The two of them hurried out, the waiter shaking his head as he picked up the money and Klaus's empty plate.

"Americans," he muttered under his breath.

The site of the fire was a blackened husk, the acrid smell of smoke still heavy in the air. Klaus and Freya walked along the sidewalk, watching the firefighters douse the smoldering remains with water. Distant sirens echoed, a haunting reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.

"Can't believe it's still burning," Klaus mused, a slight frown on his face.

"Must have been quite the inferno," Freya remarked, her expression thoughtful.

"Magic?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't sense any," Freya said, shaking her head. "Whoever started it didn't use magic."

Klaus glanced at her, a smirk on his lips. "I thought you didn't think Elijah had anything to do with it?"

Freya shrugged. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

Klaus wrinkled his nose, his keen sense of smell picking up the lingering scent of blood beneath all the ash and smoke. Human, vampire, a mix of the two. The fire had raged through the night, burning hot and fast, devouring everything in its path.

"I do sense death, though," Freya murmured, her brow furrowing, her expression darkening. "Lots of it."

"Well, I can't imagine there'll be much left for us to find, considering how thorough my brother is," Klaus muttered, his gaze roving over the ruined buildings, his stomach sinking.

"Why are you so sure it was him?" Freya asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Because I can smell his cologne, no1 passant guardant," Klaus replied, wrinkling his nose.

"Kinda weird that you can smell that, Nik," Freya smirked, giving him a sideways glance.

"I'm a hybrid, love; it's one of my many gifts," Klaus replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Freya shook her head, a wry grin on her lips, suppressing a giggle as she watched her brother sniff the air, his eyes closed, his expression one of intense concentration.

"Could be someone else with the same taste in cologne; you never know," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"It’s very difficult to come by; only a handful of stores carry it," Klaus muttered, ignoring her teasing. "And... she bought it for him just before... you know."

"Ah," Freya's expression softened, her amusement replaced by a mix of sadness and understanding.

Klaus opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the destruction once more, the weight of grief settling on his shoulders. He missed you. Your laughter, your wit, the way you could put him in his place. He admired your loyalty, your strength, and how much you loved his brother.

"What are you thinking about?" Freya asked, her voice quiet and cautious.

"Our departed sister-in-law... the cause of all of this," Klaus said, a sad smile on his lips.

"You can't blame her, you know," Freya murmured, her eyes filled with understanding and sympathy. "I miss her too."

"It's hard to be reminded, is all," Klaus replied, a hint of pain in his voice.

Freya gave him a soft, sympathetic smile, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder. "You know... I never learned how they met," she said, trying to steer the conversation toward something less melancholy.

Klaus laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it's quite a tale, and some parts I'm not privy to. But I can tell you that she was a novice in a convent," he began, a sparkle in his eye.

"A nun?!" Freya exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Indeed, although she hadn't taken her vows," Klaus chuckled, amused by the surprised look on her face.

"So, what happened? How did they end up together?" Freya asked, intrigued.

"For all parties involved, it was quite a dramatic affair," Klaus continued, a wistful smile forming on his lips. "But we have more important things to focus on, don't you think?"

Freya sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're no fun."

Klaus let out a huff of laughter and returned to focusing on the scents around him, trying to find a trail, something that might lead him to his brother. He caught the faintest whiff of blood, the scent leading away from the fire, and deeper into the city.

"This way," he said, striding confidently down a street, away from the site of the fire.

Freya hurried to catch up, her long legs making short work of the distance, her boots clattering on the cobblestone streets.

"How can you be so sure?" Freya asked, falling in step beside him, her voice low and cautious.

"I just am," Klaus said, his tone brooking no argument. "That bloody cologne of his is everywhere. No one else has such atrocious taste in fragrances."

"Nik..." Freya cautioned, her tone warning, her gaze flickering to the passersby, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "We don't know what's waiting for us. We can't just charge in."

"I know; that's why you are going in first, my dear sister," Klaus smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Nik," Freya protested, her expression indignant.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you," Klaus grinned, giving her a playful nudge as they rounded a corner.

The two of them came to a stop outside an old building, its stone façade crumbling, the windows boarded up. Klaus gestured for Freya to go in, and with a roll of her eyes, she did.

"This place is creepy," she muttered, her boots echoing on the cracked tile floor.

"There's blood, a lot of it," Klaus said, sniffing the air, his eyes closed, his body tensed. "Upstairs."

They made their way up an old spiral staircase, the steps creaking under their feet. They reached a landing; the hallway was dark and narrow.

"Down there," Klaus said, pointing at a closed door at the end of the hall.

Freya nodded and slowly approached the door, her senses alert, her magic tingling under her skin. It was eerily quiet; the silence weighed heavy in the air, pressing down on her.

She stopped at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She looked back at Klaus, his expression calm and composed, but she could sense his nervousness, his apprehension.

"Ready?" she whispered.

Klaus gave her a curt nod. Freya took a deep breath and turned the handle, the door opening with a creak.

"Elijah?"

The two of them were met with the sight of a massacre: body parts strewn across the room, blood splattered on the walls.

Freya gasped and took a step back, Klaus's hand gripping her shoulder. His eyes roved over the carnage, landing on a lone figure in the middle of the room, standing motionless.

"Elijah," Klaus breathed.

His brother was wearing an old T-shirt and jeans, tattered and bloodstained, covered in dirt. His hair was matted and wild, his eyes haunted, the light dimmed within them.

Klaus and Freya stepped inside, careful not to slip on the blood, the floor sticky and wet. They approached Elijah slowly, his gaze fixed on the severed arm in his hand, his eyes dull and lifeless.

"Brother?" Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand reaching out.

"You are not real," Elijah murmured, not taking his eyes off the limb, his expression vacant and distant.

"Elijah, we're here," Freya said gently. "It's time to come home."

"I won't be fooled again," Elijah hissed, his grip tightening on the severed arm.

Klaus took a tentative step forward, one arm stretched behind him to protect Freya, the other held out, placating and non-threatening. "We're not illusions, brother," he said softly, reassuringly.

"Freya," Elijah breathed, his head snapping up, his gaze finding hers.

"Yes, Elijah, it's me," she replied, giving him a gentle smile.

He blinked, his eyes flicking from her face to Klaus's, his brow furrowing. "Have you found a way to bring her back?"

Klaus and Freya exchanged glances, their expressions sad and resigned. It wasn't something Freya wanted to do... to tap into such dark magic. She had been searching for you on the other side but found no trace. She believed you had found peace, and to tear you away from that would be a cursed, evil thing, an affront to the balance between life and death.

"Elijah, there's no way, not without consequence," Klaus said, his tone firm, his eyes filled with regret. "We discussed this."

Elijah dropped the severed arm, his hands clenching into fists. "You're wrong. There is a way."

"Elijah," Freya began, but he cut her off.

"Bring her back," he demanded, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I can't," Freya said, her voice quiet and regretful. "I'm sorry, Elijah. She's gone; she's at rest."

"No, no, no," Elijah growled, his hands coming up to grip his hair, tugging at the roots, his chest heaving, eyes wild.

"Brother, she's in a better place," Klaus tried, his tone firm and reassuring. "I think it's time you come home... You need to let her go."

Elijah shook his head, his breathing ragged, his whole body trembling. "No, no, no," he chanted, his eyes darting around the room, looking for something.

"Elijah," Freya murmured, her brow furrowed, her expression concerned. "Please, come with us. She wouldn't want this for you."

"No, no, no!" he growled, his voice echoing off the blood-spattered walls, his face contorted in a mask of rage.

He grabbed a nearby table and threw it against the wall, the sound of splintering wood reverberating through the air.

"Bloody hell," Klaus growled, grabbing Freya and yanking her backward, shielding her with his body.

Elijah lunged at them, his fangs bared, a murderous look in his eyes. He tackled Klaus, sending them both crashing into the wall, the plaster cracking under the impact.

"Nik!" Freya exclaimed, her magic sparking at her fingertips.

"Elijah, you've gone mad," Klaus grunted, shoving him away, sending him careening across the room. "She's dead."

"Niklaus," Elijah growled, his body vibrating with anger, the haunted, hollow look in his eyes replaced by raw, unhinged rage. "Bring. Her. Back."

"We can't, and you know it," Klaus spat, his eyes flashing yellow, his face shifting into the hybrid’s feral features. "She's at peace, Elijah. We need to let her go."

"I won't, I can't," Elijah raged, his body trembling, his eyes filling with unshed tears that threatened to spill over. His voice broke. "How can you ask me to do that?"

Freya’s heart clenched at the sight of her brother unraveling, his usual restraint shattered. "Come home, please," Freya pleaded, her eyes welling with tears, her voice thick with desperation. "We can help you."

Elijah's chest heaved, his wild eyes shifting from Klaus to Freya, barely recognizing them. "Get out," he growled, the words vibrating through the bloodstained room. His gaze locked on Klaus, his voice turning into a vicious snarl. "GET OUT!"

Klaus stared at him for a moment, his expression conflicted. Freya watched him pull a silver dagger out of his pocket, the familiar glint of the cursed weapon that had subjugated their family time and time again. She hadn't even known he had brought one with him, and her heart clenched at the sight. She didn’t want this for either of them. But given Elijah's state, she knew it was necessary.

"I'm sorry, Elijah," Klaus said, his voice solemn. He rushed forward, his movements a blur, and before Elijah could react, he buried the blade in his brother’s chest. The gasp Elijah let out echoed in the empty, ravaged room. The look on his face was heartbreaking, a mixture of shock and pain. Klaus had to steel himself against the emotion threatening to overtake him, reminding himself it was for the best, for all of them.

"Rest now, brother," Klaus murmured, pulling him into a tight embrace, cradling his body as Elijah slumped, his strength leaving him. His big brother, the north star of the family, now lost to grief.

"I thought you didn't want to subdue him," Freya whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes wide with shock as she pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.

"It was a last resort," Klaus said, his voice thick with emotion, trying and failing to hide the crack in his composure. "I couldn't bear seeing him like this any longer. I didn't think... he would be so... unhinged."

"He's grieving," Freya said softly, her eyes filled with sympathy as she knelt beside them, brushing a hand through Elijah’s matted hair. "He loves her, Nik. Losing her... it's broken him."

"I know," Klaus muttered, his arms tightening around Elijah, holding him close as if he could protect him from the demons he was fighting inside. His voice cracked, and before he could stop it, a tear slipped down his cheek. Quickly, he wiped it away, trying to maintain his strength.

"Time to go home," Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with sorrow. "For all of us."

Freya reached out, gently taking Elijah's limp hand in hers, squeezing it tight as they prepared to leave the nightmare behind. She hoped and prayed that Elijah could feel her love through the numbness, that somewhere, deep within the wreckage of his mind, he knew they would never give up on him.

That the battle to bring you back hadn’t been in vain. It had only just begun.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

[njeancastro316]

elejah_au

*

Divination

_fanfiction

[njeancastro316]

Happy Halloween!

🎃✨️

[njeancastro316]

“Y/N are you mental darling ,you cannot have both”. Kol said hoping his argument would get to the beautiful witch head.

“Well little brother if it’s not both , then I don’t want it” she winked back. Y/N reminisced about her time with Elijah and Sebastian.

“You are very naughty” The young original chuckled.

“I know thats why both love me very deeply” she smirked licking her bottom lip.

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

Giffs rock and I love you my beautiful creators. Thanks to you I get all of these lovely snippets. Credits go out to all of you.

Besitos 💋

[njeancastro316]

Cami x Elijah_