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saltyluminaryvoid · 4 days ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤEVERY INCH IN THAT SUITㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : He looks good in his thight suit, so why not just fuck him?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ WARNINGS : NSFW, MINORS DNI, Daddy kink, breeding kink, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex, a lil bit gun play, blow job, choking, spitting, slapping, riding, power play.

☆⁠ NOTES : Damian is an adult. And yes we have an adult version of Damian who is still Robin and wear a Robin suit. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

The cave’s damp air clings to your skin as you stumble in, heels clicking against the stone floor, your breath hitching at the sight of him. Bruce stands there, the suit clinging to every muscle like it was poured over him. The cowl’s still on, those white slits glaring at you, and fuck, it’s doing things to you—your thighs clench just looking at him. He’s fresh off patrol, chest heaving, a thin sheen of sweat making the black Kevlar gleam under the dim lights. Gotham’s knight, your goddamn ruin.

“You shouldn’t be down here, sweetheart,” he growls, voice low and modulated through the mask, but you hear the edge—raw, hungry, barely restrained. He steps forward, boots thudding heavy, and you’re already wet, practically dripping down your thighs because fuck, it’s Bruce, and he’s looking at you like prey.

“Don’t care,” you breathe, bold and stupid, stepping closer ‘til you’re in his shadow. “Needed to see you, Daddy.”

That word—Daddy—hits him like a punch. His head tilts, cowl shifting slightly, and you swear you hear a sharp intake of breath under that mask. “You’re playin’ a dangerous game, little girl,” he rasps, gloved hand flexing at his side, and you grin, all teeth and heat, because you want him.

“Then punish me,” you whisper, reaching out to drag your fingers down the bat emblem, feeling the hard planes of his chest. “Show me what happens when I’m bad.”

He snaps. One second you’re standing, the next he’s got you slammed against the Batcomputer console, the cold metal biting into your ass as he looms over you, massive and unyielding. “You wanna be a brat for Daddy?” he snarls, ripping your skirt up with one brutal yank, exposing your soaked panties. “Gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

You whimper, and he’s already tearing the lace off—gloved fingers rough, calloused through the fabric, shoving between your legs. “Fuckin’ drenched,” he mutters, sliding two fingers into your cunt without warning, stretching you open while you arch and gasp. “This all for me? Huh? My needy little slut, soakin’ herself for me?”

“Yes—Daddy—just for you,” you moan, hips bucking into his hand, and he growls, pumping harder, curling those thick digits ‘til your vision blurs. The suit’s rubbing against your thighs, coarse and unforgiving, and it’s filthy—he’s filthy—still stinking of smoke and adrenaline, fucking you with his gloves on.

He pulls his fingers out, slick and glistening, and smears your mess across your lips before shoving them into your mouth. “Taste yourself,” he orders, and you suck, desperate, gagging around the leather while he watches, those white slits narrowing. “Good girl. Daddy’s gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t walk, ‘til you’re full of me.”

You whine, and he’s unbuckling the lower half of the suit—just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy, dripping pre-cum like he’s been hard for hours.

He grabs your throat with one gloved hand, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy, and lines himself up, the fat head of his cock nudging your entrance. “Beg for it,” he demands, voice a gravelly snarl, and you’re too far gone to care how pathetic you sound.

“Please, Daddy, fuck me—breed me—fill me up, I need it,” you plead, voice breaking, and that’s all it takes. He thrusts in hard, splitting you open, the stretch burning as he bottoms out in one brutal stroke. You scream, nails clawing at the suit, and he doesn’t wait—starts pounding you, relentless, the console rattling with every slam.

“Fuckin’ take it,” he grunts, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the cave. “Gonna stuff this tight little cunt—make you mine, princess.” The glove on your throat tightens, cutting your air just enough to make your head spin, and you’re sobbing, legs shaking as he fucks you raw—Bruce's cock wrecking you, the suit chafing your inner thighs red.

He leans down, cowl brushing your cheek, and the modulator makes him sound obscene. “You want Daddy’s cum? Want me to breed you ‘til you’re dripping, ‘til you’re swollen with it?” he growls, and you nod, frantic, clenching around him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

“Yes—fuck, yes, Daddy, fill me up, please,” you gasp, and he shifts, hoisting your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half under him. The angle’s insane—his cock hits so deep you feel it in your guts, and you’re screaming, cumming so hard your whole body locks up, gushing around him while he keeps going, fucking you through it ‘til you’re a trembling, overstimulated mess.

“That’s it, cum on Daddy’s cock,” he snarls, pace turning feral, and you feel him swell, twitching inside you. “Gonna pump you full—gonna make you my little breeding bitch.” He slams in one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and cums with a guttural roar—hot, thick spurts flooding your cunt, spilling out around his dick as he keeps thrusting, forcing it deeper, marking you inside.

You’re a wreck—pussy throbbing, leaking his cum down your thighs, the suit’s rough edges still digging into your skin—and he doesn’t stop. He pulls out just to flip you over, bending you across the console face-down, ass up, and shoves back in, fucking his cum into you like he’s trying to make damn sure it sticks. “Not done,” he growls, gloved hands bruising your hips. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think, ‘til all you know is my cock.”

You’re whimpering, incoherent—“Too much, Daddy, fuck”—but he doesn’t care, keeps railing you ‘til your knees buckle, ‘til you’re drooling on the keyboard, another orgasm ripping through you so hard you black out for a second. He’s relentless, a machine, the suit creaking with every thrust, and when he cums again, it’s a flood—dripping down your legs, pooling on the floor, a nasty, freaky mess that only Bruce could leave behind.

Finally, he slows, breathing ragged through the modulator, and pulls you back against his chest—the suit cold and hard, his cock still twitching inside you. “Such a good girl for Daddy,” he murmurs, softer now, gloved hand stroking your hair as you tremble, fucked-out and full. He doesn’t take the cowl off, just tilts your chin up to kiss you—lips rough against yours, tasting of sweat and sin.

“Mine,” he growls, possessive, and you feel it—his cum leaking out, the ache settling in, the way he’s claimed you. You’re his, alright—Daddy’s little breeding toy, fucked stupid in the heart of his cave.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

The Blüdhaven night’s alive with neon and grime, and you’re perched on a rooftop, waiting for him—Nightwing, the city’s golden boy turned reckless tease. You’ve been playing this game too long: flirting over comms, brushing hands during stakeouts, until he finally snapped last week and fucked you senseless in an alley. Now, he’s late, and you’re antsy—legs dangling over the edge, heartbeat ticking up—when you hear that familiar whistle, cocky and bright.

“Miss me, babe?” he calls, flipping down from a higher ledge, landing in a crouch that shows off every damn line of that skin-tight Nightwing suit. The black and blue clings to him like a second skin, outlining his broad shoulders, tight ass, and the bulge you’ve been dreaming about all day. He straightens, grinning—those white lenses glinting in the dark—and saunters over, all swagger and mischief. “Caught you waiting. That’s cute.”

“Caught you staring,” you fire back, smirking, and he laughs—bright, infectious—before he’s on you, fast as a blur. One gloved hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up, and he kisses you like he’s been dying for it—hot, messy, a little sloppy with how eager he is. His tongue’s in your mouth instantly, tasting you, teasing, and you can feel him grinning against your lips. “Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to nip your bottom lip, eyes twinkling behind the mask.

Dick’s playful, needy, and oh-so-fucking horny. He spins you around, pressing you chest-first against a rusted billboard frame, and you feel the hard planes of his suit grind against your ass. “Been thinking about this all patrol,” he groans, hands sliding down your sides, gripping your hips as he rocks into you. “You in my head, driving me nuts—gonna make you pay for it, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t waste time—fingers deft and quick, peeling your pants down just enough to bare you to the night air. The suit’s rough against your skin, textured where it brushes your thighs, and you hear him fumble with the hidden zipper at his crotch, freeing that gorgeous cock—long, thick, already leaking for you. “Look at you, all ready for me,” he teases, smacking your ass lightly, playfully, before dragging the tip through your slick folds. “So fucking wet—bet you’ve been thinking about me pounding you, huh?”

“Shut up and do it,” you snap, half-laughing, half-desperate, and he chuckles—low and dirty—before sinking in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch stretch you open. “Oh, fuck, yes,” he moans, head tipping back, suit creaking as he bottoms out, balls snug against you. He doesn’t go brutal like Bruce—he’s all rhythm, hips rolling smooth and deep, fucking you with a grin you can hear. “That’s my girl—taking me so good.”

He’s a talker—won’t shut up even as he picks up the pace, slamming into you now, the wet slap of skin on skin mixing with the city’s hum. “Goddamn, this pussy’s perfect—gonna dream about this later,” he pants, one hand slipping around to rub your clit with those clever fingers, the gloves slick and cool against your heat. You moan—loud, shameless—and he laughs again, delighted. “Yeah, let me hear you, babe—scream for Nightwing.”

He’s relentless but fun—grabbing your hair to pull you back just enough to kiss your neck, sucking bruises there while he fucks you harder, the suit’s edges scraping your skin in the best way. “Wanna flip you over—see that pretty face when you cum,” he says, and before you can blink, he’s spinning you, lifting you like you weigh nothing—acrobat strength on full display. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, pinning you against the billboard, and thrusts back in, grinning like a kid who stole the candy jar.

“Fuck—Dick��” you gasp, and he winks—those lenses flashing—driving deeper, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. “That’s it, say my name—gonna make you lose it,” he promises, voice husky now, less playful, more feral. His fingers circle your clit faster, and you’re done—cumming hard, clenching around him, crying out as your whole body shakes. He groans, watching you fall apart, “So fucking hot—love it when you squeeze me like that.”

He’s close—hips stuttering, grip tightening—and he pulls you flush against him, suit rubbing your tits raw as he chases it. “Where do you want me, huh? Tell me quick,” he pants, and you smirk, breathless—“On me, all over me.” That’s his cue—he pulls out, stroking himself fast, and cums with a loud, “Fuck, yes—” painting your stomach, your thighs, even catching your chin with hot, thick ropes. He’s grinning, chest heaving, swiping a finger through it and popping it in his mouth like a goddamn tease. “Tastes better with you.”

You’re a mess—panting, covered in him—and he’s still got that cheeky spark, tugging you close, kissing you soft now, all lazy and satisfied. “Round two back at my place?” he murmurs, tucking himself back into the suit, adjusting the escrima sticks on his back like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. “Got a bed with your name on it—and maybe some handcuffs.”

“Lead the way, Grayson,” you say, and he scoops you up—half-carrying, half-dragging—already plotting the next way he’ll wreck you.

— JASON TODD ⋆

The safehouse reeks of gunpowder and copper when Jason kicks the door open, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards. He’s a fucking mess—blood streaked across his Red Hood helmet, leather jacket torn at the shoulder, crimson dripping down his gloves from a night of cracking skulls. The guns strapped to his thighs clink with every step, and he’s still riding that adrenaline high, chest heaving, muscles coiled tight. He wasn’t expecting you here—not tonight—but there you are, sprawled on his shitty mattress, fingers buried deep in your own cunt, moaning his name like a prayer.

“Fuck me,” he rasps, voice distorted through the modulator, low and guttural as he freezes in the doorway. His helmet tilts, taking in the sight—your legs spread wide, pussy glistening, eyes half-lidded with lust. You don’t even flinch, just keep fucking yourself, smirking like you knew he’d walk in like this. “Couldn’t wait, huh, you needy little slut?” he growls, kicking the door shut with a bang, already shrugging off the jacket but leaving the holsters on—guns and all.

“Jason—” you whimper, fingers slowing, and he’s on you in a flash, still bloody, still armored, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. “Oh no, you don’t get to stop now,” he snarls, smearing your slick over his glove as he shoves your thighs apart wider, the cold metal of his gauntlets biting your skin. “You wanted me, you’re fuckin’ getting me.” His free hand rips at his belt, pulling his cock out—thick, hard, tip already leaking—and you barely get a breath before he’s hauling you up by your hair, forcing you onto your knees.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he orders, voice rough as gravel, and when you do—lips parting, tongue out—he doesn’t wait. He grabs one of his guns from the holster, still warm from the fight, and presses the barrel to your temple, cold steel kissing your skin. “You like this, don’t you? My dirty fuckin’ girl,” he taunts, smearing blood from his glove across your cheek as he shoves his cock past your lips, deep and brutal, hitting the back of your throat ‘til you gag.

He’s feral—nothing gentle, nothing soft—just pure, unfiltered Jason. His hips snap forward, fucking your face like it’s a goddamn mission, the wet choke of your throat filling the room as he grips your hair tighter, pulling ‘til your scalp stings. “That’s it—take it, choke on me,” he groans, modulator crackling with his ragged breaths, the helmet’s red glow casting shadows over your tear-streaked face. The gun stays steady, a fucked-up promise—he won’t pull the trigger, but the threat’s got your cunt dripping, thighs clenching as he uses you.

“Fuck, you’re a sight—drooling all over my dick,” he mutters, yanking you off with a wet pop, strings of spit hanging between your lips and his cock. He doesn’t give you time to recover—just drags you up by the hair, spinning you around, and shoves you face-first into the mattress. “Ass up, now,” he barks, smacking your thigh hard enough to leave a welt, and you scramble to obey, pussy throbbing, aching for him.

He doesn’t bother stripping—keeps the helmet on, the leather creaking, blood still tacky on his hands as he lines up, slamming into you with one vicious thrust. You scream, the stretch burning, and he laughs—dark, filthy—grabbing the gun again and pressing it to your lower back. “Move, baby—fuck yourself on me,” he growls, but he’s already pounding, hips slamming so hard the bed shakes, his cock splitting you open, hitting deep and relentless.

“Jason—fuck—too much—” you gasp, but he just pulls your hair ‘til your back arches, forcing you to take more, the gun sliding up your spine, cold and dangerous. “Too much? Nah, you can take it—you were begging for it with your fingers in that slutty little cunt,” he snarls, voice dripping with lust and menace. Blood smears on your skin where he grips you, and the helmet’s modulator makes every grunt sound inhuman, primal—fucking you like an animal fresh from the hunt.

He leans over, chest plate digging into your back, and bites your shoulder through the suit—teeth scraping, bruising. “Gonna mark you up—let everyone know who owns this pussy,” he rasps, thrusting harder, the gun now tracing your jawline as he reaches around, shoving two bloody fingers into your mouth. “Suck ‘em clean, c’mon,” he demands, and you do—tasting iron and him, moaning around them while he fucks you into the mattress.

You’re close—too close—clenching tight around him, and he feels it, growling, “Cum for me, you filthy bitch—let me feel it.” The gun presses harder, his pace turning sloppy, brutal, and when you shatter—screaming, gushing all over his cock—he doesn’t slow down, just keeps railing you, chasing his own end. “Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he grunts, yanking your head back one last time as he cums, hot and thick, spilling deep inside you ‘til it’s leaking out around him.

He pulls out, panting, helmet still on, and smacks your ass one more time for good measure, leaving a bloody handprint. “Stay there—look at that mess,” he says, voice low and smug, watching his cum drip down your thighs. He drags the gun barrel through it, smearing it over your skin, then leans close—modulator crackling—“Next time, I’m fucking you with this loaded.”

You’re wrecked, trembling, and he’s already holstering the gun, adjusting his jacket like he didn’t just destroy you. “Clean up, princess,” he tosses over his shoulder, but the way he lingers by the door says he’s not done—not by a long shot. Red Hood doesn’t play nice, and you’re his favorite fucking toy.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

The Wayne Manor study is a damn fortress—dark wood, flickering lamplight, and Damian hunched over a desk littered with maps and case files, looking like he’s about to murder someone. He’s in that stupidly hot Robin tunic—green and red clinging to his lean frame, mask off, black hair mussed from running his hands through it too many times. You’ve been pacing behind him for twenty minutes, thighs rubbing together, pussy throbbing, because he promised he’d fuck you hours ago and now he’s buried in work like some self-righteous little bitch.

“Damian,” you snap, voice dripping with heat, leaning over his shoulder so your tits brush his back. “Put the damn papers down and fuck me already.” He doesn’t even flinch—just keeps scribbling, muttering something about “Gotham’s safety” like you give a shit. “Beloved, I’m occupied,” he says, all clipped and cold, that posh accent making your blood boil hotter. Occupied? Oh, fuck that.

You grab his chair, spin it around so fast he drops his pen, and he’s glaring up at you—emerald eyes sharp, jaw tight, all that bratty defiance he’s so damn good at. “I said I’m busy,” he growls, but his hands twitch, like he’s fighting not to grab you, and you clock it—he’s hard under those tights, bulge straining like a liar’s promise. “Busy being a little bitch,” you spit back, and before he can snap, you slap him—hard—right across that pretty face. His head jerks, cheek blooming red, and his eyes widen, stunned, then darken with something feral.

“You—” he starts, but you don’t let him finish. You climb onto his lap, straddling him, yanking his head back by his hair ‘til he’s forced to look at you. “Shut the fuck up,” you hiss, grinding down on that thick, trapped cock, feeling it twitch under you. “You don’t get to play martyr while I’m soaking wet and dying for it.” He groans—low, broken—and you smirk, spitting right into his open mouth. He chokes, swallowing it, and you see it: the moment he cracks, pride crumbling, lust taking over.

“Fuck, you’re disgusting,” he rasps, but his hands are on your hips now, gripping tight, and you know you’ve got him. “Yeah, and you love it,” you taunt, ripping your shirt off, letting your tits spill out, nipples hard and begging. His eyes lock on them, hungry, and you slap him again—lighter this time, playful, but it still stings. “Eyes up here, asshole,” you say, spitting again—this time on his cheek, watching it drip down as he shudders, cock jumping against you.

You don’t bother with his tunic—just shove the tights down enough to free that gorgeous dick—long, veiny, leaking precum like he’s been aching as bad as you. “Gonna ride you ‘til you cry,” you promise, lining him up, and he snarls—“Try it, harlot”—but it’s all bravado, because when you sink down, taking him in one brutal drop, he moans like a fucking virgin, head tipping back, throat bared. “Oh—fuck—” he gasps, and you laugh, nasty and loud, starting to bounce.

You ride him hard—hips slamming down, pussy clenching tight around him, wet and messy, soaking his lap. The chair creaks, threatening to collapse, and you don’t care—let it break, let the whole damn manor hear. “Look at you,” you pant, grabbing his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze. “All that big talk, and you’re just my little fucktoy now.” He growls, but it’s weak, hips bucking up to meet you, desperate, and you spit into his mouth again—harder this time. “Swallow it,” you order, and he does, choking, eyes glassy with need.

Your pace is relentless—grinding, bouncing, thighs burning as you fuck him stupid. His hands claw at your ass, your tits, everywhere, and you slap them away, pinning his wrists above his head. “No touching,” you snarl, and he whines—actually whines—struggling but loving it, cock pulsing inside you. “Please—fuck—beloved—” he begs, voice cracking, and you grin, feral, leaning down to bite his lip ‘til it bleeds, licking it clean while you ride him faster.

“Thought you were too busy,” you mock, spitting on his chest now, rubbing it into the Robin emblem with your fingers. “Too good for this pussy—guess you’re not, huh?” He’s a mess—sweat-slick, bloody-lipped, moaning your name like a prayer—and you feel him throb, close, so you slow down, dragging it out ‘til he’s thrashing under you. “No—no, don’t stop—” he pleads, and you slap him again, sharp and loud. “You don’t tell me what to do,” you growl, picking up speed, riding him so hard the desk rattles.

“Gonna cum for me, Dami?” you purr, clenching tight, and he nods, frantic—“Yes—fuck, yes—” You feel it building, that tight, hot coil in your gut, and you spit one last time—right on his tongue—as you slam down, cumming hard, screaming his name as your pussy milks him dry. He breaks—crying out, hips jerking, spilling deep inside you, hot and thick, shuddering through it ‘til he’s whimpering, wrecked.

You don’t stop—keep riding, slow and mean, overstimulating him ‘til he’s squirming, gasping, “Too much—fuck—” but you just laugh, grinding ‘til he’s twitching, cum leaking out around his cock, staining his tights. “Should’ve fucked me sooner,” you say, climbing off, leaving him slumped, panting, a sweaty, bloody mess in that chair—work forgotten, pride gone, just your perfect, ruined boy.

“Next time,” you warn, wiping your spit-slick hand on his tunic, “don’t make me wait.” He looks up, dazed, lips swollen, and mumbles, “Never again,” voice hoarse, and you know he means it.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

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saltyluminaryvoid · 4 days ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤDAMN BABYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : When you smack their ass.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, 90s Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTE : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You are never getting this opportunity again. Bruce is standing in the kitchen, wearing sweatpants. His back is turned. The ass is right there. You act on impulse. SMACK. Bruce freezes. You grin, leaning against the counter. “Damn, Daddy Wayne. Is that Batcake for me?” The silence is deafening. Bruce slowly turns his head, staring at you like you just committed a felony in broad daylight. “…Excuse me?” You wink. “You heard me, sweetheart.” Bruce stares for ten more seconds. Then, without a word, he leaves. OH NO. You realize too late what you’ve done. Bruce is disappearing into the Batcave. You hear him booting up the Batcomputer. “…Bruce?” TAP. TAP. TAP. He’s typing furiously. You peek over his shoulder. He’s running an analysis. On himself. “BRUCE—” “I need to reassess my stealth levels,” he mutters. “If you could land that strike, I’ve grown careless.” OH MY GOD.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

You see him walking down the hallway, all smug and confident, wearing those tight jeans he knows make people insane. You can’t help yourself. You smack it. Hard. SMACK. Dick gasps.

LOUDLY. “Damn, Grayson,” you whistle, “is that thing double-cheeked up on a Thursday?!�� Immediate. Dramatic. Reaction. Dick clutches the wall like he’s fainting. Then—he spins around so fast he almost trips. “Babe.” His eyes are wide, teary, shaking. “DO YOU MEAN IT?” You blink. “Huh?” Dick grabs your hands. “Say it again. Say it with your whole chest.” “…What.” “Do you mean it? Do you mean the ass thing?” “…Yeah?” Dick grins so wide he looks insane. He winks at you before immediately turning around and sticking his ass out. “Go ahead, babe. One more for the road.” “OH MY GOD.” You are never doing this again. Maybe.

— JASON TODD ⋆

Jason is minding his business. Jason is walking past you. Jason’s fat ass is asking for it. You strike. SMACK. Jason IMMEDIATELY turns, hand on his gun. OH SHIT. You throw your hands up. “WAIT—” His eyes narrow. Suspicious. Dangerous. Then—he relaxes. “…Did you just smack my ass?” You grin. “Yup.” He blinks. Then—he smirks. “…Oh.” You squint. “Why do you sound happy?” Jason shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nah, it’s just funny.” You relax. “Good, ‘cause—” SMACK. JASON JUST DROPPED HIS WHOLE BODYWEIGHT INTO SLAPPING YOUR ASS BACK. YOU FLY ACROSS THE ROOM. “JASON, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO.” Jason just cackles.

— 90s TIM DRAKE ⋆

Tim is exhausted. Tim has had three hours of sleep in the past two days. Tim is running on caffeine, crime, and sheer force of will. So, naturally—you strike when he’s at his weakest. SMACK. Tim jumps so hard he drops his coffee. “WHAT—” He spins around, eyes wide, looking like a scared raccoon You grin. “Damn, baby bird. You always keep that wagon on you?” Tim stares. Tim processes. Tim crashes. He grabs his head like he’s having an existential crisis. “Oh my God.” “Tim?” “Oh my God.” He’s stumbling backwards, running into the table. “I—I was not prepared for this.” “Tim, breathe—” “I HAVEN’T EVEN FINISHED PUBERTY. AM I EVEN LEGALLY ALLOWED TO HAVE A WAGON?” “TIM—” He grabs your shoulders, looking deep into your soul. “…Do I actually have ass?” You blink. Tim shakes you. “TELL ME THE TRUTH.”

— DUKE THOMAS ⋆

Duke is chilling. Duke is relaxed. Duke is having a nice, peaceful day. So, naturally—you ruin it. SMACK. Duke immediately whips around, betrayal in his eyes. “EXCUSE ME?” You lean against the counter, smirking. “Damn, sunshine. Didn’t know you were carrying all that.” Duke freezes. Then—he laughs. “Oh, word?” He steps closer. You narrow your eyes. “…Duke?” “Oh, word?” He’s too calm.Too smug. He leans down, real close, real quiet. “…Bet.” Then—he disappears. For three days. And when he returns—he waits. Until you’re completely unsuspecting. Until you’re relaxed. Until you think it’s over. And then— SMACK. “DUKE—” “EQUALITY.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You spot him. You see the perfect opportunity. Damian is standing by the window, arms crossed, looking all broody and serious. SMACK. The moment your hand connects, Damian jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Then—he spins around with his sword half-drawn. “WHO DARES—” You grin. “Damn, baby. Didn’t know you were packing all that.” Silence. Pure, horrified silence. Damian just stares. Then—he slowly processes what you just said. His entire face turns red. “You—you dare—” He grabs his chest like he’s having a heart attack. “You speak of my body so… so FILTHILY?” You cackle. “Yes.” He looks away sharply. “This… this is inappropriate.” “And?” “…Say it again.” “…What.” “Say it.” “…Damian, are you—” “SAY IT.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

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saltyluminaryvoid · 4 days ago

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Blood of Our Blood

Count Orlok x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: kidnapping of a baby, murder

Summary: Your heart aches for a child, but as a vampire, such a dream is impossible. But, your husband is someone who will give you anything you want. Even the impossible.

The castle is cold tonight.

It always is, but tonight the chill seems deeper, pressing into the stone walls.

You sit by the great window, staring into the darkness beyond the high peaks of the mountains, lost in thoughts you dare not speak aloud.

Count Orlok watches you from the doorway.

He has seen that longing in your eyes before, the sorrow you try to hide behind cold fingers and blood-red lips.

He knows your heart aches for something neither of you can have, a child, a piece of your love-made flesh.

But the dead cannot create life.

Orlok moves toward you, his long fingers curling against the back of your chair. “You mourn something we never had,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp.

Your hands tremble in your lap. “I cannot help it.”

His long fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face to his.

His expression is unreadable, but in the depths of his sunken eyes, there is something.

You realise it to be determination. A promise.

“I will fix this,” he says simply.

You frown. “But, my love-”

A single clawed finger presses against your lips, silencing you. “Wait for me.”

And then he is gone, vanishing into the blackness of the night, a shadow swallowed by the wind.

You let out a longing sigh.

The village is silent when he arrives.

Small, pitiful, the rooftops slick with mist, their chimneys dark. Orlok moves like a phantom, his long silhouette stretching over the cobblestones, unseen, unheard.

He can smell them, the villagers, their warm, mortal scent, the blood that thrums beneath their fragile skin.

But he does not come for them. No, he comes for something far more precious.

And then he hears it.

The small, breathy whimper of an infant.

A nursery, tucked away in one of the homes. He slips inside with ease, his hollow eyes falling upon the cradle.

The child inside stirs, sensing something unnatural in the air.

And then, as if by some dark miracle, she blinks up at him with wide, innocent eyes, eyes that mirror yours.

A slow, twisted smile stretches across Orlok’s face.

Perfect.

He gathers her into his arms, cradling her against his cold chest.

And then, with silent efficiency, he moves through the village, leaving behind nothing but death.

There will be no one left to come searching for her.

No family to grieve, no mother to weep.

The child belongs to you now.

The castle doors creak open just before dawn.

You are still awake, pacing, worrying for your husband. But the moment you see him, all of it melts away.

Orlok stands on the threshold, his gaunt frame outlined by the dying moonlight. And in his arms, wrapped in a dark cloak, is a bundle so small, so delicate, that for a moment you cannot comprehend what you are seeing.

Then the bundle stirs, and the softest of sighs escapes from within.

Your hands fly to your lips, a gasp catching in your throat. “No…”

Orlok steps forward, silent as ever, and places the child in your arms.

She is so tiny, her little fingers curling against your chest, her breath warm against your skin. But it is her face that steals the air from your lungs, she looks like you.

“Where did you find her?” you whisper, voice shaking.

“I took her,” Orlok rasps, his long fingers brushing over your shoulder. “I made her ours.”

You look deeply into his eyes, trying to find something, anything, and then you look down at the little girl in your arms.

Tears prick at your eyes as you stare down at the child, at her delicate features, at the way she seems to fit perfectly in your arms.

A daughter. Your daughter.

“She is ours,” you repeat, your voice nothing more than a breath. Your words are thick with truth.

Orlok watches you, something ancient and unfathomable flickering behind his sunken eyes.

Then, slowly, he kneels before you, his clawed fingers gently tracing the child’s tiny hand.

“Our blood cannot create life,” he murmurs, voice softer than you have ever heard it. “But I can still give you your heart’s desire.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, your cold lips pressing to the child’s forehead.

A shuddering breath leaves you, something deep inside you breaking and healing all at once.

You glance at Orlok, your voice thick with emotion. “What shall we call her?”

His gaze lingers on the child. Then, after a long moment, he whispers a name, one that will echo in the halls of the castle for eternity.

A name worthy of your daughter.

And as dawn breaks beyond the mountains, Count Orlok, the monster, the predator, the shadow in the night, leans down to place a kiss upon the child’s brow.

A family, at last.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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saltyluminaryvoid · 4 days ago

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The HR Meeting // Spencer Reid

In which you get called out for your flirting by HR in front of the team (yes it’s the HR meeting scene from season 9)

genre: idk this was just in my head and made me laugh to think about

pairing: spencer reid x (kinda flirty) bau! reader / established relationship

word count: 1.3k

(references to sex)

———————————————————————————🍓—————————————————————————

‘So, let’s talk about sexual harassment.’

You let out a tired sigh as the HR representative continued on. You were trying to pay attention, really you were- it seemed an important topic- but you were just so damn tired and her somehow both shrill and monotone voice was making you zone out. You straightened your posture in an attempt to wake yourself up, shoulders brushing Spencer’s as he stood next to you leaning on the desk behind you both, but it was of no avail. Glancing over at him, you cursed him under your breath- it was his fault you were so worn out this morning in the first place.

‘Sexual harassment isn’t always a quid pro quo arrangement.’ You stifled a yawn. ‘maybe it’s a conversation between two coworkers that makes you feel uncomfortable.’ Curiosity cut off your yawning as you wondered what scandalous conversations you might have missed to warrant this talk, eyebrows raising without you meaning for it.

Looking around the room, you spotted Penelope nodding along to give off the impression she was listening intently but you knew she was wondering the same thing as you. Alex sat next to you to your right, chin resting in her palm as she listened earnestly- ever the professional- whereas JJ beside her seemed more on your wavelength and you flashed her a look of pure nosiness which she reciprocated.

‘Maybe these coworkers use phrases like ‘babygirl-’

No way. You bit back a laugh as you watched Penelope’s eyes widen and her head shoot to Morgan to her left, who mimicked her actions.

‘Chocolate thunder-’

This was too good. Morgan’s eyebrows were raised now too, a wary expression on his usually smug face.

‘Where’s my big black twelve pack?’

She dragged the phrase out, her voice laced with disapproval and quite frankly, disbelief. You had to look away, turning your head towards your shoulder pretending to cough in a desperate attempt to stifle the laughter threatening to spill out. Even Alex’s stoic facade had faltered, an amused look in her eyes as she tilted her head at Penelope who seemed positively mortified whilst Morgan simply shook his head, exhaling with an uncharacteristically embarrassed look taking over him.

‘And that creates a what? Hostile work environment.’ The woman turned to face the board behind her momentarily and you leaned forward to sneak a look at Spencer’s reaction. Despite the things you’d heard him say alone, you knew these types of conversations made him sheepish, but it seemed his not-so-secret affinity with gossip was stronger. He was trying to keep his expression unreadable, neutral but you knew him and you could tell in the way his brows shot up, his eyes narrowing beneath them with that mischievous twinkle, that he was loving this just as much as you were. Your eyes snapped back to the board as she turned back around.

‘So messages like… more cushion for the pushing- NOT appropriate,’ a scattered series of chuckles echoed throughout the room. ‘I’ll be Coco to your Ice-T- NOT appropriate’ oh you were so going to give Penelope shit for this later.

‘Flarpy Blunderguff…’ You couldn’t hold it in anymore. A loud laugh escaped you as if beyond your control and your hand shot up to your mouth instinctively to muffle the sound. Across the room Rossi’s lips pursed, a curious look on his face as he stared down at Morgan. A grin stretched across your face as you thought back to Penelope telling you all about ‘flarpy blunderguff’, about the paint and the food and the thought of her being caught discussing this was simply too much for you.

You giggled uncontrollably, and in an attempt to hide your juvenile glee, you leaned over and pressed your face into your boyfriend’s shoulder. Big. Mistake. The woman’s eyes shot to you. She called your name.

‘I wouldn’t get so comfortable if I were you, agent.’

Oh no. Your smile slowly dissipated and your face contorted in a mix of confusion and dread and you slowly pulled yourself up from Spencer’s shoulder, ignoring the highly entertained look he gave as he looked down at you. To your side, you heard a chuckle from JJ.

‘Likewise, phrases like-’ she turned back to the board, clicking a remote that highlighted your shame in big black letters before your coworkers, ‘Doctor Sexy.’ Breathing in, your eyes closed and your lips drew into a thin line, beside you Spencer became annoyingly unreadable. You only called him that as a joke, one time! Or two… or a few…

‘Love to watch you leave, pretty boy.’ Eyes still closed, you thought back to that day. He’d worn pants a little tighter as the result of a joke Morgan had made about him being, quote, ‘flat as a pancake back there’- not that Spencer would ever admit that’s what he was doing or why. You weren’t shy about how you felt about the way they hugged him, about how they made his waist look so pretty and how they made the rest of his lower half look even prettier. You’d been teasing him all day, revelling in the way he squirmed and lost his breath and as he turned to walk away your eyes dropped to his pants once again and you just couldn’t help yourself. Back to the present moment, Penelope’s eyes were now on you, mirroring the look you’d given her only moments ago.

‘Save the handcuffs for later.’ A blush rose on your cheeks and you could feel Morgan’s gaze on you, not needing to look at him to know he was wearing that devilish grin of his and planning a million ways to make fun of you. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Not really, anyway. It was just a joke that spilled out after making an arrest one night as you watched him tuck his handcuffs away, just something to lighten the mood… and maybe set one for later. You risked peeking a look at Spencer next to you and were shocked to find a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and his eyes wide and twinkling with amusement, you’d have thought him to be wishing the ground to swallow him whole by now.

‘Talk dirty to me, genius.’ Okay that one was completely out of context. It had been a sarcastic response to one of his infamous spontaneous tangents, only this one had been on the lovely topic of ants and parasitic fungi. To your right, cackles pierced your eardrums and your head snapped around to see JJ burying her head into her desk while Alex covered her face with her hands, eyes giddily darting between the two of you still leaning against the desk. This whole ordeal had turned your team into a bunch of immature school kids, you thought, ignoring the fact you had been acting the exact same way not even 5 minutes ago.

Feeling your embarrassment radiating off of you like heat from a fire, Spencer exhaled the last of his laughter and placed a hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. Mistake number two. Exasperated, the HR representative locked her eyes onto him.

‘PDA and physical touching between coworkers also create a what?’ She asked again, her voice shooting through you. ‘Hostile work environment, Doctor Reid.’

He froze, eyes widening even further as his mouth opened and closed until his jaw simply fell open in that way it did so often (‘you’re going to catch flies in there’ you’d tell him before threatening to kiss it shut- an offer which he would happily take you up on). Hastily, he snatched his hand back and placed it in his lap as he felt a flush race up his neck. You turned to him, and despite the humiliation and the scolding and the inevitable endless teasing the two of you had coming, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered as you watched the flush reach his cheeks, his flustered, pink complexion matching yours.

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saltyluminaryvoid · 4 days ago

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spencer reid noticing the marks on ur nose and being like "🤨 i know u have glasses why have i never seen them" and finds out that u've been hiding them anytime u see him coming and so ur like🧍🏻‍♀️but finally out them on and hes so in love : ( idk theyre so silly : (

The curse of dating a profiler is that you can't hide anything from him. He'd once figured out that you'd finished off his presumably-forgotten strawberry ice cream because you'd washed the spoon rest.

"We never wash that thing." He'd reminded you, "It's filthy. But you washed it today, which means there must have been something you'd eaten that you didn't want me to see. Something recognizable, something pink-" He points accusatorily at a splash of strawberry sludge you hadn't seen on the underside of the kitchen sink, "You ate my ice cream!"

He's got a similarly scrutinizing look in his eyes now, but this time he's looking directly into yours, and you seize up as he studies you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, worried suddenly about a medical episode, but he reaches for your chin, tilting your face downwards towards him.

"You wear glasses." He decides, and your stomach plummets at the statement.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"You have indents on your nose from where the nose pads sit," He strokes a thumb over one of them, "Why aren't you wearing them now?"

"I don't- I dunno, I don't wear them all the time."

"You wear them often. The indents are deep, I know they're not just for reading."

"No, I just- they're uncomfortable."

"Your eyes will get worse the more you strain." Spencer tuts, "You should be wearing them."

"It's okay. They're broken anyways."

"You're lying." Spencer urges, "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying! I'm lying." You whine, "I just- I don't want to wear them in front of you?"

Now that both of your secrets are out, you watch Spencer's face crumple. His previous insistence wilts into a frown, one that tugs on your heartstrings when it's coupled with the downcast look in his eyes.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Your voice is strained, and you wrack your brain for an acceptable answer, "They're- they look stupid."

"They help you see." Spencer's voice is so soft, so fond, so tender that you feel tears creeping up behind your eyes, pricking and stinging, "I won't think they're stupid. Derek says my sweater vests look stupid."

"They're cute." You eye the one he's got on now, cream and coffee brown knitted together in a herringbone pattern.

"Go get your glasses," Spencer nudges your crossed leg off of the couch, "Do you even know what I look like?"

"Tall, skinny, blonde hair," You tease, yelping at Spencer grabs at your waist when you pass, "And you've got the prettiest blue eyes!"

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saltyluminaryvoid · 5 days ago

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Elijah: Yesterday, I overheard Niklaus asking “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Kol replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

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saltyluminaryvoid · 5 days ago

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Hi, can you please write an oneshot where reader exploited yandere Klaus Mikaelson’s trust by faking her affection to escape, but she returned to his house a few hours later crying and apologising because she realised she cannot live without him and her feeling toward him is actually real despite she tried to convince herself otherwise? Thanks a lot.

You came back

My plan was supposed to be perfect.

It had taken fucking months to accomplish only for me to wind back up in the same situation by choice.

Weeks of gaining his trust and being loving.

I had kissed him, touched him, declared my love for him.

I had laughed at his jokes, worn what he asked of me. I was his precious girl and my own stupid mind had to go and fuck it all up.

I thought I was free.

I had tricked the beast.

I was out, my legs moving so fast I couldn’t feel them as I bolted through trees.

And yet once I was miles out of reach and ‘free’ I was really just alone.

What the actual fuck was I meant to do without Klaus?

He did everything for me.

I had no money and was in a thin summer dress, but the sky was getting darker and the winds were picking up.

The cars that went past scared me, I wasn’t used to the outside noises anymore or the bright headlights. I had ran off before I had eaten and now I was starving with nothing but trees for miles. I was too afraid to follow the road incase he was driving on it.

But after another few hours of aimlessly walking, I just wanted him to come get me. I wanted to go back home and snuggle up with him. I want his hands in my hair while we watch his stupid films and he feeds be strawberries and calls me his princess. I want him to wrap me up in a blanket and rock me to sleep with promises of a better future. He’s never gonna let me do anything now.

He’s gonna put me back in the basement instead of upstairs and I’m gonna have to sit silence again and wait for him to stop yelling at me.

And yet despite all of those factors, I still found myself back at his house. But he wasn’t home. So I just waited on his doorstep for hours. Until he came back.

I was curled up on his doormat with tears rolling down my cheeks and my body shivering.

My eyes were closed in the silent hope that I would either fall asleep or die before he got back.

Bur the second I heard a car pull up I was wide awake and my eyes shot open. I whined at the blinding lights from the car and covered my head in my arms

I could head his footsteps as he quickly approaches me

“Sweetheart” he whispered before I was lifted into his arms. I hid my face in his chest as he rubbed my back. I let out a sob as my hands gripped his henley.

I could feel the warmth of the house as he brought me inside and locked the door behind us. I bit the inside of my cheek when I opened my eyes, we were heading for the basement

“Please no” I whispered “Please I’ll do anything else” I begged “please, please I’m sorry” i cried, I held onto him tighter “I’m sorry” I repeated, i kissed his neck softly “I’m so sorry”

I could feel his hands in my hair as he opened the door and I immediately let out a cry “nononono” I whimpered, my nails dug into him “I came back” I whispered “I came back!” I yelled “I came back you can’t do this!” I pressed my lips to his but he pulled away, his hand grabbing my neck

“You ran.” He stated

“I came back” I whispered, tears staining my face as he tried to drag me down the stairs “I came back to you” I cried

“You tricked me” he muttered coldly

“I’m sorry” I whispered “I was scared…but I need you…I want you, I know that now”

His hand stroked my face “how am I supposed to believe you sweetheart?” He asked, hurt visible on his face

“I’ll do anything you want” I promised

“You let me do that already” he muttered, shaking his head “you let me do all those things just to run away didn’t you?”

I looked down and he nodded, I didn’t struggle as he put me into the cell that was originally my room. He sat me down on the floor and searched me, he frowned when he saw the rips in my dress and little cuts from where I had ran through the bushes and trees.

“Why would you come back?” He asked quietly “you went through so much trouble to get away, you’re freezing, bleeding and white as a ghost” he murmured “did something happen?” He questioned and my expression softened. Even wen he was mad, he still cared. He would always care. He loved me.

I shook my head “I missed you” I uttered and he nodded, holding my hand “there were so many loud things and it was dark, and cold, and I couldn’t find any food in the woods and then I was lost and I couldn’t find you- I couldn’t” I brought my knees to my chest as I choked on my own words.

I was lifted back into his arms on onto his lap making me cling to him tightly “you were in the woods? Sweetheart you were missing over 14 hours”

I rubbed my face against his chest, pushing his scent into my nose. I wrapped my arms around him as I nuzzled into him “will you stay here please?” I asked weakly “please, just ten minutes”

His hand pet my head and I was lifted back up, I squeezed his shirt and looked up to him in confusion “where are we going?” I questioned and he looked down to me, his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear

“To my room sweetheart” he murmured kissing my head softly and speeding up both flights if stairs.

“Why?” I whispered as he put me down on his bed

“You came back” he responded as though it were obvious, “you came back” he repeated before kissing my lips softly.

His hands unbuttoned my dress at the back and lifted it over my head leaving me in my underwear. I looked up at him nervously but his expression held no malicious intent. He lifted me once more and brought me to his bathroom and pushed my panties down my legs. I stayed silent as he took my bra off and then stripped from his clothes. His arm went round my waist, pulling me to him and bringing us both into the shower. He turned it on and onto the hot temperature I liked.

My eyes shut as he kissed my neck gently, his fingers brushing through my hair to get it all wet. I sighed out as he lathered my hair in shampoo, the heat if the water was much needed after shaking in a forest for over a dozen hours.

“I do love you” I whispered “I’m sorry I didn’t know that until now…and I’m sorry I lied before when I said that I did when maybe I didn’t yet”

“It’s alright” he muttered, rinsing my hair, “I haven’t made this easy for you sweetheart, I admit to that. I understand why you ran away, it’s okay…but I never expected you to come back, I shouldn’t have been so mad…I shouldn’t have put you back down there. You came back, you’re perfect, my precious princess”

I pushed against him closer, pressing our bodies together. “I love you” I whispered again, hugging him to me. We remained silent until we were finished and I was swaddled with one of his big fluffy towels.

His arms kept me to him as he carried me back to his bed, grabbing clothes on his way.

He slipped my silky pyjamas up my legs and over my head before throwing on his boxers and getting into bed.

I looked around for a minute, I didn’t come into Klaus’s room very often. He had a window that could open and he didn’t like to risk me being able to jump. It smelt like him, covered in artwork and the colour scheme was dark. His bed was bigger than mine, bigger than any bed I had ever seen and comfiest too.

I kept still as I felt him combing through my hair and pulling it into a low ponytail. “You want to go look out the window?” He asked softly, normally looking outside was great but after experiencing the world again I didn’t want to go back so I shook my head quickly and lead down beside him.

He pulled me to him, his arms pulling me so his front curled around my back. “You won’t leave again, do you understand?” He questioned though it was really just a statement.

“I won’t leave again” I repeated

“Good girl” he murmured

I turned in his arms to face him and smiled weakly. He leant down and kissed my lips softly a few times “I love you sweetheart, I don’t want anything to happen to you…You know that” he mumbled, his hand cupped my face making my eyes close “I love you” he breathed with a kiss to my forehead “I’m so proud of you for coming back”

“I’ll always come back”

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saltyluminaryvoid · 5 days ago

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unraveled | k.m

⎯⎯"I have waited centuries," he murmurs, voice roughened by a hint of feral want. "I can wait a little longer."

warnings: smut, 18+, aftercare

part I part II

The air between you is thick—charged, electric, pulsing with something unholy. It wraps around you both, an invisible tether pulling you further, deeper, until the only thing that exists is the searing press of his body against yours.

Klaus is everywhere—his lips at your throat, his breath hot against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs with a force just shy of bruising. He is devouring you, undoing you thread by thread, and you can do nothing but let him.

Because this is what you wanted. All day, you had teased and tested, whispered wicked things just to see if he would snap. And now—God—he has.

He presses you harder against the wall, the weight of him anchoring you in place as his lips descend, trailing fire along your collarbone, the sharp line of your jaw. His breath is uneven, ragged, desperate.

“I should make you beg,” he mutters, voice thick, dark, brimming with something feral. “Make you suffer as I have.”

A shiver licks down your spine. “Then why don’t you?”

His grip tightens. His fingers flex against your hips, against the fabric barely separating his skin from yours. He could ripit, you know. Tear it from you like it offends him. And maybe it does.

“You are infuriating,” he growls, dragging his teeth along the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

You shudder, tilting your head, inviting him closer, deeper. “And yet,” you murmur, voice a breathy whisper, “you loveit.”

Klaus laughs—a dark, wrecked sound that vibrates through his chest, through you.

“Infuriating,” he repeats, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your throat. “Impossible.” Another kiss. “Mine.”

The word is a brand. A claim.

And God help you, but you want to be ruined by it.

His hands move before you can respond, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head, holding you there as he drinks you in.

He watches you like a man possessed—like he is memorizing every ragged breath, every flushed inch of your skin, every flicker of hunger in your eyes.

And then, voice low, dangerous, he gives you a choice.

“Tell me, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours but never quite giving in. “Do you surrender?”

Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds.

And with a slow, wicked smile, you whisper—

“Make me.”

Something snaps.

And this time, he does not hold back.

༊*·˚

The shift is almost imperceptible—a breath caught between anticipation and surrender. Klaus lingers, his lips brushing against yours without truly claiming them, a phantom touch designed to unravel you thread by thread. His breath fans warm over your mouth, his fingers tightening around your wrists, holding you there, holding you still, as if he means to savor the moment before the fall.

“You are cruel,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement, with hunger barely restrained. “All this time spent pushing, teasing—” His thumb grazes the inside of your wrist, a slow, deliberate stroke against the delicate thrum of your pulse. “And yet, now that I have you here, you tremble.”

You do. Not from fear, never from fear, but from the unbearable weight of this moment, from the knowledge that you have spent all day setting the fire and now, at last, it is spreading.

Still, you tilt your chin higher, meeting his gaze with a flicker of defiance. “Perhaps I like the anticipation.”

A smirk, a low hum of approval. “Do you, now?”

His lips find your jaw, barely grazing the skin before retreating. Then again, lower this time, the ghost of a kiss beneath your ear, then lower still—just the faintest brush along your throat, a path of phantom touches, of promises unspoken. Your breath hitches, your body straining toward his despite itself, despite the treacherous thrill of waiting, waiting, waiting—

He chuckles, dark and knowing, pleased by your reaction. “I wonder,” he muses, words pressed into your skin, “how long you can endure this game you so cleverly started.”

His grip loosens—not a release, but an invitation. A dare.

And you? You take it.

You twist your hands free, not to escape, but to tangle your fingers into his curls, to tug just hard enough that he exhales sharply, his control cracking at the edges. His eyes meet yours, something dangerous glinting within them, something that says he was right—you are trembling, anticipation coursing through you like wildfire.

And then—

His fingers skim the line of your spine, featherlight, a whisper of touch that leaves heat in its wake. Down, then up again, slow and torturous, until his palm finally settles at the small of your back, pressing you flush against him.

The sharp intake of your breath is met with a satisfied smirk.

“Ah,” Klaus murmurs, eyes half-lidded, voice an intimate, velvet thing. “There you are.”

His nose brushes yours, and for a moment, the world stills—nothing but breath, heat, the steady, insistent drum of your heartbeat.

It is slow. It is teasing. It is unbearable.

And when, at last, he kisses you, it is not desperate, nor rushed. It is a slow unraveling, a steady descent into something inevitable. A lesson in patience. A reminder that he is in no hurry—because the night is long, and so is his hunger for you.

༊*·˚

His kiss is a slow, lingering thing—a contradiction to the wildfire simmering beneath his skin. He takes his time, tasting you, unraveling you, ensuring that every brush of his lips against yours leaves a mark far deeper than anything hurried or desperate ever could.

The pressure of his hands changes, shifting from a grip meant to hold to one meant to explore. His fingers trace the curve of your back, pressing, memorizing, learning every delicate rise and dip. He moves with unhurried intent, savoring the way your breath shudders against his mouth, the way your fingers curl tighter into his hair as if to keep him there, as if letting go might break the spell.

A slow, languid sweep of his lips along your jaw, tracing the delicate curve before descending—softer now, more deliberate—over the frantic pulse fluttering at your throat. He lingers there, breath hot, teasing, a whisper of warmth against your skin.

"You tremble so sweetly," he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, dark and molten, rich with satisfaction. His lips part just slightly, the ghost of a touch, a promise left unfulfilled. "Tell me, love—" the words rumble low, reverberating through you, "—is it anticipation, or something far more sinful?"

You don't answer—not with words. Instead, you arch, barely perceptible, but he notices. Of course he does. A slow smirk curves against your throat before his lips part, pressing a single, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse.

Then another.

And another.

His hands shift lower, his touch reverent, slow. He is mapping you, as though he has all the time in the world. As if he intends to commit every shiver, every sigh, every delicious, drawn-out moment to memory.

"Tell me," he breathes, nosing along the hollow of your throat, trailing the words like a secret. "Did you think I would break so easily?"

Your lips part, a reply forming, but he steals it before you can speak—his mouth catching yours once more, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a slow, teasing bite.

A sound escapes you, a soft, breathless thing, and his grip tightens. His control is iron-clad, but it is thinning, worn down by every twitch of your fingers against his scalp, every shallow breath, every flicker of heat that passes between you.

But still, he does not rush.

"I have waited centuries," he murmurs, voice roughened by a hint of feral want. "I can wait a little longer."

And then, with a smirk that makes your pulse flutter, he sinks to his knees.

"What—?"

You startle, confused, but then his hands find the hem of your dress and tug, and you gasp.

The fabric drags higher, exposing the bare expanse of your legs, the delicate lace that stretches across your hips. And then, with a low, sinful laugh, he presses his mouth to your skin, and all thoughts of protest die.

He is deliberate, agonizingly so. He starts at the top, lips grazing the hollow of your hip, and then slowly, deliberately, works his way down. Every inch of skin is marked, claimed, and when, at last, he reaches the lace, he pauses.

A shuddering breath, a momentary break in the haze, and then his eyes lift, finding yours. They burn, brimming with desire, with something dark and untamed and utterly primal.

"Do you surrender?"

There is a challenge in the words, a dare.

A choice.

You swallow, the air between you heavy, electric. You could say yes. You could end this, strip away the last lingering thread of his control. You could.

But—

"Not yet."

Klaus grins, a slow, wicked thing. "Not yet."

Then, with a final, lingering kiss against your inner thigh, he drags his tongue higher, over the lace, and you whimper.

He presses against you, mouth open, a slow, deliberate drag that makes your knees weak.

"Klaus—"

His teeth catch the lace, tugging, pulling the fabric aside. You are slick, wet, desperate for his touch, and he laughs—a low, breathless sound that makes your entire body burn.

"Patience, love," he breathes, the warmth of his words fanning over you, making your hips jerk. "Patience."

"Please—"

You aren't sure what you're asking for. Release. Relief. Him. But it doesn't matter—the second the word escapes, Klaus' eyes flash, and the last threads of his self-control snap.

"Fuck," he breathes, and then, without warning, his mouth is on you.

The first touch of his tongue is electric. A jolt that makes you gasp, that makes your fingers fist tighter into his hair. He groans at the sensation, the sound reverberating through you, a delicious vibration that has your entire body shaking.

And still, he does not rush.

This time, the kiss is unhurried, a slow drag of his tongue over the seam of you, tasting, teasing. His hands press higher, fingers digging into your hips, the curve of your ass, holding you steady as he licks into you.

You whimper, hips arching, grinding shamelessly against his mouth. He lets you, the grip on your hips tightening, encouraging. And then, with a low hum of approval, his lips close around your clit, and suck.

Your head tips back, a choked moan escaping, a desperate, needy sound that makes him laugh.

"I can feel how much you want me," he rasps, breath ghosting over the slick mess of you. "Your body, so desperate for my touch."

"Klaus, I—"

He sucks again, tongue swirling, and your words die in a low, broken whine.

"So beautiful, like this," he continues, voice thick with awe, with desire. "And so very, very mine."

The words send a bolt of heat straight through you. The possessiveness, the sheer depth of his want, is almost too much.

Almost.

He presses closer, tongue circling, teasing. You can't help it—your grip on his hair tightens, urging him closer, deeper, and Klaus growls.

"You are impatient."

"Please—"

His teeth drag along the lace, his grip flexing, and then—

A sharp tug, and the fabric gives way, the thin scrap falling to the floor in ruins.

You gasp, hips arching, and Klaus swears.

"So fucking perfect."

He doesn't hesitate, doesn't give you time to prepare. He is ravenous, devouring, his mouth moving against you in a way that has your vision going dark, has your knees buckling, has every thought in your head shattering.

His touch is relentless, unwavering, and it takes only a few seconds before you are gasping, crying out, teetering on the edge.

"Klaus, I'm—"

"I know." His voice is a ragged, wrecked thing, and you can't help but look down.

The sight that greets you nearly undoes you.

His pupils are blown wide, his mouth slick, lips parted. There is a flush high on his cheeks, and his hair is wild, tousled from your grip. He is a beautiful disaster, and the sight of him like this, the knowledge that you did this, has pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

"So sweet," he murmurs, the words a filthy caress. "So wet. So ready for me."

A broken cry escapes you, a plea, a demand. "Klaus—"

"Let go, love. Let go."

His mouth closes around you, and your world goes white.

Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, a devastating thing that has your body shaking, your nails digging into his scalp.

Klaus groans, working you through it, tasting, teasing, until your fingers tug at his hair, urging him back.

With a final, lingering kiss, he obliges, standing and drawing you into his arms, his mouth finding yours, the taste of you still slick against his tongue.

You shudder, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming. You are sensitive, overstimulated, and yet—

Your body reacts to his touch. Your hips press closer, and a soft, broken noise escapes, half-whimper, half-demand.

"So greedy," Klaus murmurs, the words a sinful caress against your skin. "So perfect."

He is everywhere, his body caging yours, his hands gripping, roaming, claiming. His touch is searing, desperate, and when, at last, he pulls away, his gaze finds yours.

For a moment, there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic hammer of two racing heartbeats.

"My turn."

You barely register the words before he is lifting you, pinning you against the wall, the air between you crackling with a thousand different desires.

You can feel him, hard, straining against his slacks. Your legs tighten around his hips, and Klaus groans.

"I want to fuck you," he says, voice low, wrecked, and God, but the words make your body ache.

"Please," you breathe, a plea, a demand.

His teeth drag along your throat, sharp and insistent. "Ask me."

"Klaus, I—"

"Ask."

His grip shifts, his hands settling beneath your thighs, spreading you wide. You can feel the cool air against your skin, and the sensation makes you tremble.

"Klaus, I want—"

A soft, breathless laugh. "Say it."

He is torturing you, his grip firm, unrelenting. You could reach between the two of you, free him from his slacks, slide onto him, and—

He shifts, the length of him dragging, torturous, over the seam of you. A strangled cry escapes, and your fingers clench, fisting tighter into his shirt.

"Klaus, please, I need—"

"What do you need?"

You arch, the pressure almost unbearable. You need more. You need relief.

"Fuck me," you breathe. "Please."

There is a pause, a single, suspended moment, and then—

He releases his grip, and the ground disappears.

You barely register the change, the shift, the blur of color and motion as he crosses the room, pinning you against the nearest surface, a table, a desk, something hard and sturdy and oh, God, right fucking there.

His mouth meets yours, hot, urgent, and when he grinds into you, the fabric is gone.

You shudder, the sensation overwhelming, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, swallowing your cries.

He tastes like you, and his kiss is desperate, frantic, wild. It is a frenzy, a whirlwind, a firestorm.

You gasp, hips rising, meeting him halfway, and he groans.

"I've got you, love," he rasps, nipping at your lip. "I've got you."

He is pressing into you, and the stretch, the heat, is exquisite. He moves with a steady, aching drag, and when, at last, his hips are flush with yours, you exhale, breathless, dizzy.

He pauses, and for a moment, you both just breathe.

Then, eyes blazing, he pulls back, and thrusts.

The movement is harsh, jarring, a sharp, delicious drag that leaves you gasping.

"God, you feel incredible," Klaus groans, his fingers tightening, his hips rocking.

You whimper, the friction nearly undoing you, and his gaze darkens.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his words a ragged, reverent thing. "So tight. So ready for me."

You can feel every inch of him, hot, thick, the pressure almost unbearable. And the rhythm, fuck, it is torturous. It is slow, deliberate, his movements measured, controlled, but the effect is devastating.

You are trembling, your body already sensitive, the heat coiling, twisting. You don't know how he has done this, how he has dragged you so close, so fast, but the next thing you know, your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails digging in, urging him deeper, faster.

"Look at you," he rasps, eyes locked on your face, watching the flush rise in your cheeks, the flicker of ecstasy cross your features. "So needy."

"Klaus, I can't—it's too—"

"Come for me, love. Let go."

It isn't a request. It is a command, a demand.

And the second it registers, the world falls away.

"Klaus, I—"

"That's it, love," he says, voice roughened by want, by hunger. "That's it."

Your back arches, your nails scraping down his back, and Klaus hisses.

"Yes," he growls, thrusting, deeper, harder, faster. "Take me, love. Take everything."

Your head tips back, and for a moment, there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic pounding of two racing hearts.

"God, you're so close, aren't you? So close, and yet, I need more. I need—"

He shifts, and the angle changes. He drives into you, harder, faster, and the world explodes.

Pleasure rips through you, white-hot, devastating, and your mouth opens, but no sound escapes. You are shaking, shuddering, and the only thing anchoring you is the pressure of his hands on your thighs, his hips pressed flush against yours, the feeling of him, hot, thick, buried deep inside you.

He works you through it, his mouth marking your throat, the curve of your collarbone, his rhythm relentless, unwavering. You can feel him, the strain in his muscles, the tension, and you know—he is close.

"You're so perfect," he rasps, voice strained, hoarse, desperate. "So good. God, the things you do to me, the way you make me feel—"

Your hips arch, grinding into him, and his words cut off, a strangled curse escaping instead.

"I've waited so long," he says, his grip shifting, sliding under your ass, lifting you higher, the angle shifting.

"Wanted you for so long."

"Klaus—"

"Look at me," he orders, his words ragged, fierce. "I want to see you."

Your eyes open, and the sight that greets you makes your heart stutter.

His pupils are blown wide, his irises a thin, shimmering ring, dark, hungry, primal.

His chest heaves, his expression one of wild, unfettered desire.

"I've waited centuries for you," he murmurs, his hips moving, slow, deep, a lazy drag that sends sparks up your spine. "But I'll wait a thousand more."

"Don't." The word slips out, and his brow furrows.

"What—?"

"Don't wait."

A shudder, a sharp, indrawn breath.

"Don't make me," you breathe, arching, grinding. "Don't hold back."

"But—"

"Fuck me, Klaus."

His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching, and you know—he is hanging by a thread.

"I want you," you continue, fingers tangling in his curls, gripping tighter, making him hiss

All of you. I want you to claim me. Ruin me. I want—"

His hips snap, and a moan escapes, low, ragged, needy.

"God," Klaus growls, his grip flexing, his control cracking, breaking. "The things I want to do to you."

"Show me."

The air between you crackles, a thousand different desires sparking, snapping.

And then, with a low growl, Klaus lets go.

His mouth meets yours, and his rhythm turns punishing, unwavering, a frenzied thing that leaves you gasping.

Your fingers rake down his back, his neck, and when, at last, you fist your hand in his hair, his breath catches.

"Yes," he rasps, and fuck, but his voice is a thing of pure, unadulter

"Come for me," you whisper, tugging at his curls, your other hand scraping, dragging, leaving red welts against his skin. "Come for me, Klaus."

A low, broken groan, and his hips snap. He is losing control, his movements sharp, staccato, his breathing uneven, ragged.

"Come for me, love," he echoes, and the world tilts.

He is everywhere, the heat, the weight, the pressure, and you can feel the edge drawing closer, the fire roaring higher, brighter.

"Klaus—"

He knows.

"Yes," he breathes, and then, eyes burning, brimming with a wild, feral thing, he murmurs—

"Come."

And you do.

You fall, the world exploding, shattering, your vision going white. Your entire body shakes, trembles, and a moment later, Klaus follows.

His thrusts grow frantic, desperate, his rhythm faltering. You can feel his body, tense, straining, the corded muscles tightening, flexing.

And then, with a ragged, breathless sound, he comes.

You can feel it, the warmth of him, the way he shakes, shudders, his entire body trembling, undone.

His eyes find yours, and there is nothing but breath, heat, the frantic pounding of two racing hearts.

"You," Klaus whispers, lips brushing yours, his grip flexing, tightening, as if afraid to let you go.

"Always you."

༊*·˚

The world is quiet in the aftermath, the air thick with the lingering warmth of him, of you, of everything that unraveled between you. There is no space between your bodies, only the steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin, the way his fingers trace slow, absent-minded patterns along your back.

Klaus doesn’t speak at first. He only holds you—his grip firm, protective, as though even now, with the storm passed, he is afraid you might slip through his fingers. His lips ghost over your temple, the barest press of warmth, before trailing down, skimming your cheek, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

"You’re shaking," he murmurs, his voice softer now, rasping with something quieter, something reverent. He pulls the blanket over you both, tucking you further into his chest, his hand smoothing over your spine, soothing, grounding. "Are you cold?"

You shake your head against him, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers thread into your hair, nails grazing your scalp in a way that makes you sigh, makes you melt further into the safe haven of his embrace.

A deep hum rumbles from his chest, and then, almost teasingly, "Worn you out, have I?"

You huff a quiet laugh, too drowsy to play along, too content to let anything pull you from this moment. Instead, you nuzzle closer, feeling the way his arm tightens around you instinctively, the way his breath stirs your hair as he exhales, slow, deep, utterly satisfied.

There is something different in the way he holds you now—less hunger, more tenderness. The same hands that once gripped you like a man starved now cradle you as if you are something fragile, precious. And in the quiet, as he traces slow, lazy circles along your skin, you realize:

This is not just possession. It is devotion.

He shifts, just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there. "Alright, love?"

You nod, eyes fluttering shut. "Always," you murmur, the words soft, certain.

A slow, contented sigh. Another kiss—this one pressed to your shoulder, his lips curving slightly against your skin. "Good," he breathes, tucking you impossibly closer, his voice dipping into something even softer, even fonder.

"Sleep now. I’m not going anywhere."

this is the first smut I have ever written. I hope it's okay!!! tried my best <3

taglist: @ohapple@myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters @xtwistedchaosx@liataylorsversion@pardonmydelayyy @susannahmikaelson

I love when you guys comment and leave notes in my inbox <<3

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saltyluminaryvoid · 6 days ago

Text

in the afterglow | k.m

⎯⎯“You’re remarkable,” he murmurs, voice hushed as if the moment is too sacred to disturb. He shifts slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Every bit of you.”

warnings: aftercare, a bit suggestive

The room is quiet, save for the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths. The world outside has faded, reduced to the flickering candlelight, the hush of fabric shifting against skin, the warmth of him beside you. Everything is soft now—your limbs tangled together beneath the sheets, the scent of him lingering on your skin, the distant hum of the night beyond the window.

Klaus lies on his side, one arm draped loosely over your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns against your back. It’s lazy, unhurried, as though he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you. His touch isn’t meant to tease—it’s reverent, a silent worship that speaks more than words ever could. Every now and then, his fingers slip higher, trailing over the delicate curve of your shoulder, the slope of your spine, as if to remind himself you are real.

“You’re remarkable,” he murmurs, voice hushed as if the moment is too sacred to disturb. He shifts slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Every bit of you.”

Your heart stirs at his words, a warmth blossoming in your chest that has nothing to do with the heat of his body against yours. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to hold the weight of such a confession, so you press closer, seeking comfort in his presence.

He chuckles softly, feeling your hesitation, and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, lighter somehow in the dim glow, filled with something so utterly unguarded that it steals your breath. “You don’t have to say anything, love. Just let me look at you.”

A slow smile tugs at his lips as his fingers graze over your cheek, tracing the delicate shape of you like an artist memorizing his muse. He shakes his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “I never knew something so pure could belong to me.”

You swallow, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his voice. “I belong to myself,” you whisper, though there’s no real challenge in the words.

Klaus hums in agreement, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “That you do,” he concedes. “And yet, selfish as I am, I’ll spend an eternity proving to you that I’m worthy of sharing even a fraction of what you are.”

His words wrap around you, heavy with meaning, with promises unspoken. And in that moment, with his arms encircling you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm, you believe him.

He holds you closer, pulling the blankets up to shield you both from the lingering chill of the night. The bed is warm, the sheets twisted between your bodies as if even they refuse to separate you. His lips find your forehead, pressing a kiss there, slow and lingering.

“You must be tired,” he murmurs, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, but sleep does not come immediately. You feel the way his hand rubs slow, soothing circles against your back, how he breathes you in like you are something precious, something fragile. You wonder if he is afraid—if, in all his centuries, he has ever held something so gently, with so much care.

Minutes stretch into something timeless. You listen to the steady rhythm of his breath, feel the weight of his presence grounding you, keeping you safe. And just before sleep pulls you under, you hear him whisper, voice softer than the night itself:

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever touched.”

a big thank you to anon for this req <3

taglist: @ohapple @myworldrightnow @deactiveblogx @witch-of-letters @xtwistedchaosx @liataylorsversionsheslays @pardonmydelayyy

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

Text

The Wolf Inside

Evolving into his hybrid form hasn't changed Klaus much.

Sure, it made him a little faster and stronger and his bite was now lethal alongside his healing blood but mentally it hadn't changed him. He was the same cocky bastard as before, all high and mighty and proud. His wolf didn't change his appetite or his feelings. maybe the slightest bit more intense but not noticeable.

Until his eyes found hers.

She was a simple wolf, apart of the Crescent wolf pack. He'd first seen her whilst she was trapped in her canine form, her eyes tainted amber whilst his shone pure gold. Her whine made his loins stir as he knelt down to one knee and held out his hand. Rebekah stood slightly behind him, holding up an injured Hayley after witches had attempted to attack her in the woods. Y/N had escorted her to safety.

Klaus couldn't get her to come closer enough, he tried to stretch his fingers out to feel her rough, matted fur but her little teeth bared at him and his wolf wouldn't let him taunt her.

It was the first time he'd really felt his wolf be truly present in his mind, controlling his thoughts and actions.

He brushed it off and they went back to the Plantation.

However, things started to change. He smelt a little different, almost earthier but not so much dirty just more pure. His features seemed just the tiniest bit sharper; wolfish. Klaus struggled to sleep, staying up until the moon came back down and only managing a few hours before he needed to be plotting and scheming again.

Klaus thought perhaps the lack of sleep was just tricking him into noticing these changes but when he noticed Hayley looking at him funny, her eyes flicking yellow for a second and a frown forming on her face, he knew it wasn't just his mind.

He didn't see the wolf for a while after. Life too complicated to go looking.

When Hayley started getting closer to Jackson and his pack, which were now only wolves on the full moon like they should have been. So, one day when Klaus wasn't actually busy, he went with Hayley.

He could feel a pull in his chest, leading him.

Hayley went into a hut with Jackson, thinking Klaus was right behind her but he'd strayed from her path. Klaus found himself at peeking his head in through the open doorway of an old hut. It reminded him of how he used to live so many years before.

He felt a faint rumble within him as he looked down at the girl, her eyes looking right back at his with slight fear. Those same eyes that he'd tried to convince to get just a paw closer.

A hunger loomed over him as his eyes dragged down her form, lingering over her cleavage and her thighs. He looked back up to her face and stepped closer, entering the building with no barriers. She cowered and he pulled back, unable to make himself approach.

Fast footsteps approached and Hayley grabbed Klaus by the shoulder as Jackson rushed inside, picking up the girl and holding her by the wall, furthest from Klaus as possible.

"Klaus, you can't just go into their homes!" Hayley scolded and his eyes narrowed.

"Why not? Who is she?" He questioned, tone firm, his voice seeming deeper, rougher almost as he eyed her.

"Can we leave? I'll tell you back at the abattoir." She muttered and he growled before relenting.

Once home, after some shouting and an explanation of what privacy is, Klaus found out Y/N was apart of, what was left of, the lineage of the original omegas. It made more sense after that, that Klaus's wolf was so drawn to her. A thousand years ago there were more omegas and he, most likely, would have found himself one if given the chance to embrace what he was.

It was difficult to get to see Y/N, the wolves didn't like Klaus anyway let alone having him come near the rarest aspect of their pack.

But he'd manage it at least on the full moon. Catch her out in the woods, fingers wrapped around her muzzle as she wriggled in his hold and tried to snap at him. He'd manage to get her into his room, chasing after her as she smacked everything off of every shelf and smashed everything to pieces.

Klaus eventually had her pinned beneath him, holding her against the carpet and pushing her snout to his neck; watching as she finally took in his scent and calmed down.

"Good girl." He sighed, running his fingers through her fur. It was much softer now that she was only a wolf once a month. Klaus managed to get her in his bed, her paws muddying his sheets but he couldn't have cared as she snuggled his warmth, finally taking to his scent. "Good girl." He repeated faintly, leaning back against his pillows.

In the morning he forced himself not to move his hands down her naked body. Klaus was certain the Crescent pack would be losing their minds trying to find her but he couldn't have cared less as she lay awake but completely exhausted against his side. Much more relaxed than any other time they'd met.

"I'm hungry now." Her voice whispered, eyes still heavy and he hummed. The wolves in her pack must usually tend to her.

"You stay here, omega." Klaus murmured, petting her head as he slipped out of bed and tucked her in.

A while passed and her stomach started cramping, her wolf crying out and Klaus psychically felt her need.

He was back in his room with a plate of bacon, sausage, egg, beans and tomato. She was on his lap immediately and opened her mouth, having him feed her until she was full and sated. Klaus groaned softly at the faint purr her body generated.

The plate was left on the floor, one of his henleys now over her skin and a pair of boxers covering her.

Hayley was bursting through the door by the afternoon, about to ask if he'd heard that Y/N was missing before finding her bundled up to Klaus, watching the tv and chewing on some beef jerky.

"Jesus- Klaus! You cannot just take her!" She yelled, storming in but quickly recoiling in response to the vicious growl from the hybrid.

She had Elijah come remove the omega wolf instead.

Klaus would start coming to the bayou in the night when he was free. Eventually the wolves couldn't keep fighting him, not when he gave them a little taste of his strength. And especially not when it was clear Y/N had bonded.

Once Hope was born and had to leave Klaus spent a lot of time in Y/N's little home, bringing her food and a new blanket or pillow.

Soon enough Klaus started to get more and more irritable when he wasn't with her. His appetite had changed, Elijah had come down in the night to find Niklaus chewing a raw cut of venison in the kitchen. He decided not to say anything but in his mind he knew it was odd.

Once Hope was back, Klaus saw Y/N less and Elijah could see him losing it. His own claws would impale his palms and he could barely keep down blood. So, like the good brother he is, Elijah went to the bayou to retrieve Y/N. She held onto his hand without fight as he lead her into the main city.

"It's loud." She told him and Elijah chuckled, glancing down at her.

"It is." He agreed, keeping her close as vampires eyed her. "We're nearly there Y/N. Niklaus will be pleased to see you, I'm sure he'll be excited to show you Hope." Elijah smiled and she looked up at him.

"The pup?" She asked and he nodded.

"Baby." He corrected and Y/N frowned.

"A wolf baby?" She questioned and he clicked his tongue with a curt nod. "A pup." She stated and he suppressed a wider smile.

"A pup. Klaus and Hayley's pup." He relented, nodding along.

"Alpha Hayley?" She asked, looking up and Elijah nodded after a moment. He'd almost forgotten that Hayley would marry Jackson and be the Crescent alpha alongside him.

"Yes dear. May I ask what Klaus is to you, in wolf terms?" He questioned, still guiding her home.

"Mate." She answered simply, still holding onto his cold hand. "I'll have his pups soon." She told him and Elijah's brows raised at the declaration.

"Are you pregnant?" He asked quickly, almost panicked.

"No sir." She shook her head and Elijah let out a breath as they approached the compound. "You'd know if I were, I'll have up to five in me."

"At once?!" He blurted, his eyes wide as Y/N let go of his hand and went inside, heading straight up the stairs for Klaus. Elijah stared blankly at the staircase, imagining five crying babies and a toddler hope filling the abattoir. One was a miracle but five more? Elijah wasn't sure how he'd keep them all safe.

Meanwhile Y/N went to Hope's nursery room, finding Klaus and Hayley stood over the crib looking down at their child. Y/N quietly made her way over and looked in too, admiring the baby and wondering how big she was when she was born.

Klaus glanced over to where Y/N stood and smiled, quickly wrapping his arms round her from behind and pulling her to his room.

"I missed you, omega." He mumbled, nuzzling her neck as he pushed her down onto his bed and weighed down on her. "How'd you get here, hm?"

"You brother got me, said you needed me" She smiled, snuggling back against him.

"Mmh, he was right little one. I do need you." He murmured, his tongue rough like his wolf's as he licked along her neck.

"Your pup is cute." She whispered shyly, laying relaxed under him and looking up at his eyes as he lifted his head from her neck.

"Thank you sweetheart. You can hold her later if you like." He offered and she nodded.

"Can't wait for our pups." She grinned and he blinked at her. They hadn't discussed children though perhaps he should have known an omega would expect her own 'pups' to raise. Still, he was a little worried now. They hadn't had sex yet but he was beginning to think if they did it'd leave her pregnant and he wasn't sure he could handle that with Hope still being a few months old.

"Right." He muttered, smiling at her. "I'll give you a pup in-"

"Now?" She asked, her attention peaking.

"Uhm..." Klaus slowly retracted, sitting up in front of her and encouraging her to sit up too. "Omega I can't yet. Hope is still a baby herself, I'm not sure I could handle two yet." He chuckled and Y/N tilted her head.

"Two?" She questioned and his brows furrowed, the look of confusion encouraging an explanation from her. "Omegas usually have between two and five, if I only had one something might be wrong." She frowned, getting defensive. "I'm a good omega, I kept myself good so I can have a big litter." She told him, pulling away from him offended.

Klaus's eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, wrapping his arms round her. "No omega, I'm sorry, I didn't know having more than one was common. But we cant have so many pups running round this place, all the vampires and stuff."

"In bayou."

"No love. Not safe for pups." He disagreed. "I’ll find you somewhere in a couple months okay? Somewhere big and safe for our litter to live." He told her, his hold on her firm as he kissed the side of her face livingly.

"Months?" Y/N mumbled with a small frown, her hands resting on her stomach as if imagining her future bump. Klaus glanced down and softened before placing his own hands over hers.

"Time will go quick, I promise." He mumbled, resting his head against hers.

Thankfully, time did go quick. But things were difficult. Y/N was a needy omega, especially now she was living with him most of the time and Klaus's wolf started getting more and more pent up too. He should have known he wouldn't have been able to wait multiple months to claim her.

It was hard the first time, trying not to cum inside her. He ended up making an absolute mess of the bed and her stomach whilst she whined that she needed him inside her again.

So the next time, for the first time ever, Klaus brought a packet of condoms.

Y/N sat quietly and patiently as Klaus fiddled with latex. "Do you want me to help?" She asked and he grunted, glancing up at her, his face a little pink with slight embarrassment.

"I've got it." He mumbled, finally getting it over his tip. Y/N reached her hands out, gently helping him roll it down the rest of his length. She smiled and crawled onto his lap, pressing her needy cunt against him. Klaus groaned in his throat and rubbed his hands along her thighs gently. She was down on his cock in no time, clinging onto him as both their hips rutted desperately.

"Breed me" She panted, her lips blowing heavy breaths against his ear as his claws extended past his nails and dug into her back. "Please? Please?" She whimpered and Klaus groaned loudly because it took every ounce of effort not to give her a million puppies right there and then.

"Shhh baby." He whispered. "You're a good girl, my wolf." He told her, hoping to soothe her desires.

"Mate" She claimed, her teeth slowly extending and burying into his neck making him let out a sharp gasp as he came, filling the condom and holding onto her real tight.

"Bloody hell, love. You can't do that without saying anything." He panted, wincing when she retracted her fangs and licked over the wound.

"When can we have pups?" Y/N asked quietly, snuggled back up to him as he panted heavily against her.

"Soon, love. Soon." He uttered, resting against her and focusing on the slow pulsing of her pussy around him. "Gonna be all yours, soon."

"Promise?"

"Mhm, I promise, little mate."

It'd been a long day, Klaus was tired and just wanted his omega. So he went and picked her up from the bayou, brought her home and got her snuggled up in bed.

Y/N was nuzzling his neck, nipping the skin and rocking her hips so her pussy was up against his thigh making Klaus smile to himself, his hand resting on her ass and encouraging her movements.

Klaus stayed on his back, his hands on her hips as she seated herself on his dick comfortably. "Go ahead omega, show me how pretty you ride." He muttered, eyes hooded as he watched her soft naked body bounce on his lap. Her eyes flickered back and forth between amber and their usual glow, her body tightening and squeezing gently until he was a mess. Smiling up at the ceiling and breathing heavily. Y/N moaned desperately as she moved with more and more effort until Klaus was struggling to keep it together.

"That- Thats's enough omega," He groaned, "Let- let me pull out sweetheart."

"Just want some babies, Alpha." She whined, head back and cunt dripping.

"Love-" He gasped but made no move to stop her, his hands guiding her hips up and down still.

"Gonna be such a good daddy!" She cried, letting go around him which triggered his own release inside her.

She finally collapsed onto him, digging her teeth back into him possessively and leaving another mating mark in his flesh. Klaus sighed out loudly, opening his eyes and looking down at how his omega's skin glistened against his. He could practically feel his seed taking to her.

"Naughty omega..." He breathed and she whimpered softly.

"I'm sorry" She whispered. "Couldn't help it, needed you real bad. Promise to take good care of our pups, you won't even have to help." Y/N sniffled, nuzzling him.

"It's okay sweetheart, I wouldn't make you be on your own with our babies. I'll keep us all safe...I knew deep down this would happen soon, I should have kept my word and gotten us somewhere safer shouldn't I?" He smiled and she nodded faintly. "We still have nine months, okay? Nine moths to tuck you away somewhere secret and nurse those little pups in your belly." He smiled, stroking the skin of her stomach and brushing his fingers down to her soft thighs.

"I love you" She whimpered, holding onto him real tight.

"I love you too Y/N." He replied, kissing her cheek and then her lips gently. "Now lets get you some rest, we're gonna need you taking extra care hm? See just how many little ones you can grow for me." Klaus grinned, his hand stroking her face making her let out a happy trill.

"So many...so many pups. Promise." She muttered, feeling him gently lift her up and rock her body in his arms until she was lulled to sleep.

After a couple weeks she was already showing, Klaus had no chance of keeping it from his family. Thankfully Elijah had been expecting it since the first comment Y/N had made on having pups.

Klaus had been all over her during the pregnancy, his wolf going haywire at her new scent. His hands were always on her belly, trying to feel how many pups she had in there.

Months went by incredibly fast and Y/N ended up going into labour early. Everyone was panicked, and had her in bed with Rebekah using her nurse and midwife training from previous centuries to birth all six pups.

Klaus looked astonished by the end, holding a baby in each arm and watching as the other four lay against Y/N. She curled around them, protecting them. "We're gonna need a bigger bed." Klaus whispered and Y/N smiled.

"Come lay with us?" She asked and he hummed softly.

"I need to clean you and our little ones up," He murmured whilst looking down at the two boys in his arms. "Get us into a clean bed, let you rest."

Y/N watched as he settled the babies down, getting some rags and warm water and cleaning them all, then her. Elijah, Rebekah and Hayley all helped clothe the babies. Four baby boys and two little girls.

Soon enough they were in a new room, Y/N and Klaus laying quietly with their pups between them.

"They're all so beautiful..." Klaus mumbled softly, "You're my perfect omega. You gave us six healthy pups, such a good girl." He praised. Klaus glanced down when he didn't hear her respond, a small smile gracing his lips when he saw her fast asleep. "You're all mine, love. I'll keep you all safe."

No matter what.

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

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“SHES THE BOSS” • S.REID

SUMMARY: the team is stunned when their boy genius accidentally reveals that he’s dating a woman with a child while discussing an unsub, leaving them reeling from the unexpected revelation.

PAIRING: mom!reader x stepdad!spencer.

TAGS: reader is hyper feminine, season10!spencer, reader wears makeup, three uses of y/n, heavy flirting, mentions of adoption, use of my love, angel and spence

a/n ; incredibly rushed + editor is occupied for the foreseeable future</3

w/c ; 1.1k

THE PLANE WAS quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of pages as Spencer flipped through his book. JJ was dozing, her breathing steady, while the rest of the team sat in various states of exhaustion. It was early—earlier than usual for their departures—but the case had allowed them the rare opportunity to leave after sunrise.

Morgan was the first to break the silence, shifting in his seat as he answered his phone.

“Morning, Baby Girl,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’ll show you a good morning, hot stuff,” Penelope teased. “Listen, I’ve got urgent business.

Hotch, barely awake, sighed as he opened his laptop. “What is it?”

“This is a non-negotiable situation,” Penelope declared. “One of the most pressing cases you will ever face as a team.”

The atmosphere immediately changed. The team straightened, their exhaustion pushed aside.

“What happened?” Emily asked.

“What are we walking into?” Rossi added, already reaching for his coffee.

Penelope grinned. “A party.”

JJ blinked awake. “What?”

“A party,” Penelope repeated, voice smug. “For your pregnancy. You didn’t think you were getting out of that, did you?”

JJ groaned, rubbing her face. “Garcia, that is not urgent.

“Oh, but it is. It’s a team event, which means no skipping, no backing out, and definitely no working through it. This is happening.”

Morgan chuckled. “Well, if it’s an order…”

“Damn right it is.”

Spencer, still reading, murmured absentmindedly, “I’ll have to make sure we don’t have plans, but I think it should be fine. She’s the boss.”

The words were casual, almost an afterthought.

Emily frowned. “We?”

Rossi raised a brow. “She?”

Spencer barely looked up. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

JJ, now more awake, tilted her head. “Who’s we?”

Spencer blinked, realizing too late what he’d said. He hesitated, then attempted a nonchalant response. “Uh—just, you know. Home plans.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Home. As in… your home?”

Rossi leaned forward. “Reid, you live alone.”

Spencer shifted slightly in his seat. “Well, technically, I—”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you saying—”

“I just meant I’d have to check with my girlfriend,” Spencer said quickly, then paused before sighing. “And, um, her daughter.”

Silence.

Emily’s eyes darted between the others, processing. JJ’s brows raised. Rossi’s expression turned amused.

Morgan slowly grinned. “Oh, now this is interesting.”

Penelope gasped. “Wait just a minute. Spencer Reid, you have a girlfriend? And there’s a child in the mix?”

Spencer exhaled, already regretting his choice of words. “It’s not— I mean, yes, but—”a

“Oh no, no, no,” Emily said, smirking. “You’re not talking your way out of this.”

JJ grinned. “How long were you planning on keeping that secret?”

“I wasn’t— It just didn’t seem relevant,” Spencer muttered, rubbing his temple.

Morgan chuckled. “Oh, it’s very relevant. And we’re definitely talking about this.”

And just like that, JJ’s party was no longer the main event.

“Is she coming?” Derek asked, spinning around in his chair to face Spencer.

Spencer glanced at his watch, a small smile playing at his lips. “Three… two… one.”

Right on cue, the distant ding of the elevator echoed through the bullpen. A second later, the glass doors swung open, and before anyone could react, a small figure bolted into the room.

Spencer’s face lit up as the young girl ran straight into his arms, giggling as he lifted her effortlessly. The resemblance was uncanny—messy brown curls framed her small face, her expressive eyes mirroring his own. Even her outfit bore a striking resemblance to his: a crisp white sweater, a plaid skirt, and well-worn Converse.

“Hey, Nani!” Spencer twirled her around, his usual reserved demeanor melting into something soft and undeniably affectionate.

Meanwhile, the team was still processing what they were seeing.

“Am I hallucinating, or does she literally look just like him?” Emily whispered to JJ.

“You’re not hallucinating,” JJ muttered back, equally stunned.

Before anyone could voice their confusion, another figure stepped into the bullpen with effortless confidence.

You.

The contrast between you and Spencer was almost jarring—you, with your sleek, put-together appearance, exuding elegance in a fitted black blouse, tailored khaki pants, and designer heels that complemented the luxury purse resting on your arm. Your hair was styled to perfection, makeup subtle but undeniably polished. You carried yourself with an ease that immediately commanded attention.

Spencer pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before setting Nani down, his hand resting at the small of your back. “I’m glad you’re back in one piece, my love.”

“As always angel” He smiled.

You smiled warmly, extending a hand toward his coworkers, who were all still frozen in shock. “Y/N. Hi. It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Silence.

Emily blinked. “Okay, someone needs to start talking because I feel like I missed about a hundred chapters.”

Morgan crossed his arms, looking between Spencer, you, and the little girl now clinging to his leg. “Yeah, kid. You wanna explain, or should we just keep making our own theories?”

Spencer cleared his throat, glancing at you as if asking permission. You only smirked, clearly amused by the reactions.

“Well…” Spencer started awkwardly. “Everyone… this is Y/N. My girlfriend.”

“And the mini you?” Rossi gestured toward Nani, eyebrow raised.

Spencer sighed, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “And this is Nani. Y/N’s daughter

JJ’s eyes widened. “Wait. You’re dating someone with a kid?”

“And apparently co-parenting?” Emily added, still trying to wrap her head around it.

Morgan let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn, pretty boy. You really kept this one under wraps.”

You chuckled, squeezing Spencer’s hand reassuringly. “To be fair, I was begging to meet you guys.”

Garcia’s voice suddenly echoed from behind them, her jaw practically on the floor. “Hold up. Did no one think to tell me that our resident genius has a whole family now?”

Spencer groaned, rubbing his temple. “I wouldn’t say—“

“Uh-uh, no backtracking,” Morgan cut in. “This is huge. And you just casually count down like this is some normal Tuesday?”

Spencer looked at you again, this time with a slightly pleading expression. You laughed softly before turning back to the team. “Long story short? We’ve been together for a while, and yes, Nani’s mine, adopted. And Spencer’s been amazing with her.”

Nani grinned up at Spencer before looking at the group. “He helps me with my math homework. And he reads me bedtime stories.” She spoke with a polished accent.

JJ clasped a hand over her heart. “Okay, that’s adorable.”

Emily shook her head in disbelief, still processing. “I just… I need a minute.”

Rossi chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “Well, kid, looks like you finally managed to surprise us.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable teasing. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get it over with.”

Morgan smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just getting started.”

And with that, the interrogation began.

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

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Damon: Welcome to the ‘Fuck Klaus Mikaelson’ club.

Caroline: I have greatly misinterpreted the name of this club

Stefan, nodding: Same

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

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Starved

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader (Established Marriage)

Summary: Anthony has kept his distance, believing restraint is the proper way to be a husband. But when his wife starts pulling away, he realizes too late just how much she needs his touch. That night, he finally gives it to her.

Warnings:

Angst & emotional hurt (neglect in marriage, emotional distance)

Touch starvation (yearning for affection, lack of intimacy)

Word Count:~800

Anthony noticed.

He noticed the way you barely spoke during breakfast, the way your fingers barely touched the edge of your teacup before pulling away.

He noticed the stiffness in your posture, the way your gaze stayed fixed on your plate rather than meeting his.

But what he noticed most of all—what confused him—was the way you rose from your chair before finishing your meal.

You never left first.

Not once in your months of marriage had you excused yourself so quickly, so quietly, without a glance in his direction.

He set his fork down, watching as you smoothed your skirts, a practiced mask of indifference on your face.

“Where are you going?”

You did not look at him. “I have things to tend to.”

Anthony frowned. “I thought we were to walk the gardens this morning.”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

Then—a soft sigh, a barely-there breath of something unspoken before you simply nodded and turned toward the door.

And Anthony felt it—the absence of something he could not name.

Something that had been slipping through his fingers for weeks now.

That night, he did not keep his distance.

He found you in bed, facing away from him, curled onto your side like you were shielding yourself from the world.

From him.

His chest ached.

It had never been like this before—he had been careful, always careful, to give you space, to be respectful, to treat you with the dignity a wife of his deserved.

And yet…

Had he been too careful?

Too distant?

Too blind to the way you had begun to wither without his touch?

Anthony swallowed, then moved.

Slowly. Carefully.

He crawled into your space, pressing his chest against your back, his arms sliding around you without hesitation this time.

You tensed.

“Anthony,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers brushed over your arm, tentative, his breath warm against your neck.

“Talk to me,” he whispered.

You hesitated.

Then, in a voice so quiet he almost missed it—

“I did not think you wanted to touch me.”

Anthony stilled.

Oh.

His throat tightened, shame creeping up his spine like a cruel hand.

“My love,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “You have no idea how much I want to touch you.”

You let out a shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?”

Anthony’s arms tightened around you.

“Because I am a fool.”

A broken, unworthy fool who had left you starving for something that should have always been yours.

His lips brushed your shoulder. Then your neck.

His fingers traced down your arm, warm and reverent, as if making up for every touch he had denied you.

“Let me fix it,” he murmured. “Please, my love. Let me love you the way I should have from the start.”

You turned then, finally facing him.

Your eyes were glassy, searching.

“Then love me,” you whispered.

And Anthony did.

The end

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

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then we're even | k.m

⎯⎯Like she is something holy, something he was never meant to touch.

warnings: a bit suggestive

The night is restless. The wind howls through the trees, rattling the windows of the grand estate as if the very earth itself conspires to keep Klaus Mikaelson from peace. He sits by the fire, fingers curled loosely around a glass of bourbon, watching the amber liquid catch the flickering light. It should be warming. It should be enough.

It isn’t.

Because he can feel her.

She is somewhere within these walls, existing just beyond his reach, and it is maddening. There is a pull in his chest, something ancient and insatiable, like a beast prowling within his ribcage, rattling its prison bars.

She has done this to him.

A sharp knock at the door startles him from his thoughts, though he does not turn. He does not need to. “If you’ve come to scold me, love, I’d suggest you save your breath.”

The door creaks open. He hears the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet intake of breath as she steps into the room. “And if I’ve come to do something else?”

That—that is what undoes him.

Slowly, he turns his head, eyes meeting hers across the firelit room. She stands there, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her gaze, but he knows better. He knows the way her pulse thrums, the way her fingers twitch at her sides like she is fighting the urge to reach for him.

He should say something sharp. Something to turn the tide in his favor, to regain control of whatever spell she has woven around him.

Instead, he only murmurs, “Tell me.”

Her lips curl, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He scoffs, downing the rest of his drink in one fluid motion before standing. “Hardly.”

She tilts her head, unconvinced. “Then why do you look at me like that?”

He knows what she means.

Like she is the moon and he is the tide, destined to be drawn in no matter how he fights it.

Like she is something holy, something he was never meant to touch.

A humorless laugh escapes him. “Because I am a fool.”

She takes a step forward. Then another. Until she is close enough that he can see the way the firelight dances in her eyes. “I’ve never known you to lack confidence, Klaus.”

His fingers twitch. “Confidence is for men who have not known loss.”

Her gaze softens. “Then what is for men who have?”

He swallows. Hard.

The words claw at his throat, but he speaks them anyway. “Fear.”

Her breath catches. Just for a moment. But he sees it. And then, ever so carefully, she reaches for him, her fingers brushing against his. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

“You,” he rasps, voice raw. “I fear you.”

The words hang between them, heavy with something unspeakable. And then she does the one thing he cannot endure.

She smiles.

A quiet, knowing thing. A storm behind her eyes.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Then we’re even.”

And then she touches him, truly touches him, with intent and certainty, fingers ghosting over his jaw before tilting his chin just so. It is an invitation and a challenge all at once, daring him to close the distance, to surrender, to fall apart at her hands.

He does.

Klaus surges forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that is nothing short of desperate. He had planned to resist, to hold out longer, but she has always been his undoing. The taste of her is intoxicating, sweeter than the finest wine, and he drinks her in like a dying man gasping for air.

Her hands twist into his shirt, dragging him closer, and he lets her, allows himself to be pulled under, to drown in her touch, her scent, the heat of her pressed against him. He walks her backward, pressing her into the wall, a growl vibrating in his chest when she gasps against his lips.

“You drive me mad,” he murmurs against her mouth, hands sliding over her waist, her hips, desperate to commit the feel of her to memory. “Every moment, every glance—you undo me.”

She smiles against his lips, her nails raking lightly over the back of his neck. “Then I suppose we’re even again.”

He laughs, breathless and dark, before claiming her lips once more, intent on showing her just how deep his craving runs, just how much he has suffered in her absence. And as the night stretches on, as their bodies intertwine, he swears to himself that he will never let her go.

taglist: @ohapple@myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters@xtwistedchaosx

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saltyluminaryvoid · 7 days ago

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that time of the month | k.m

⎯⎯You burrow further into the blankets, voice muffled. “A new body?”

warnings: period, blood

You wake up to a dull, twisting pain in your abdomen, the kind that announces its presence before you’re even fully conscious. With a groan, you curl in on yourself, clutching at your stomach as if that will somehow ease the relentless ache.

Klaus stirs beside you, immediately alert despite the early morning haze. “Love?” His voice is still thick with sleep, but the concern is instant, written in the furrow of his brow as he props himself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

You press your face into the pillow, muffling another groan. “Cramps.”

Klaus exhales, brushing a hand over your hair, down your back, his touch featherlight. “Ah.” Understanding dawns in his voice. “The dreaded time of the month, then?”

You huff a quiet laugh, but it turns into a wince as another wave of pain hits. Klaus, ever attuned to even the smallest shifts in your expression, sits up fully, as if ready to wage war against your uterus itself. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

You burrow further into the blankets, voice muffled. “A new body?”

Klaus chuckles, though there’s still a trace of worry in his eyes. “While I can’t offer that, I can get you something warm, hmm? Tea? A heating pad?”

You peek up at him. “Snuggles?”

His smile softens, and in the next second, he’s already shifting you carefully against him, pulling you onto his chest like you weigh nothing. His hands rub soothing circles against your lower back, his warmth instantly easing the tension.

“You should’ve told me sooner, love,” he murmurs against your temple. “I’d have woken up prepared for battle.”

You hum sleepily, melting into him. “It’s just cramps, Klaus.”

“It’s pain,” he counters, voice low, protective. “And if I could take it from you, I would.”

His sincerity makes your throat tighten. You nuzzle into his neck, letting out a quiet sigh as his fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns over your skin.

A while later, when you finally summon the energy to crawl out of bed, disaster strikes. You pause mid-step, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach.

“Klaus…”

His head snaps up instantly, eyes scanning you for signs of distress. “What is it?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling through your nose. “I… bled through.”

Klaus blinks. “Alright?”

You give him a mortified look. “I bled through the sheets. Your sheets.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Darling, I’ve spilled more blood on these sheets than you ever will.”

Your groan is immediate, shoving at his shoulder. “That is NOT the same, Klaus!”

He grins, utterly unbothered, before gently nudging you toward the bathroom. “Go on, love, clean up. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You hesitate. “But—”

Klaus silences you with a look, the one that makes even the bravest men cower. “Go.”

You huff, but obey, retreating to the bathroom. By the time you return, dressed in fresh clothes, Klaus has already stripped the bed and replaced the sheets with impossible efficiency. A steaming cup of tea waits for you on the nightstand, alongside your favorite snack.

You blink at him, a little overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Klaus merely quirks a brow. “You’re suffering, love. The least I can do is make it bearable.”

Your heart clenches. You step closer, wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re the best.”

He chuckles, pressing a lingering kiss to your hair. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes but hold him tighter. “Thank you, Klaus.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

And as he tucks you back into bed, slipping in beside you, warm and solid and comforting, you think there’s truly no better place to be.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a request about period comfort from Klaus! <3 hope you enjoy it <3

taglist: @ohapple @myworldrightnow@deactiveblogx@witch-of-letters@xtwistedchaosx@liataylorsversion@pardonmydelayyy

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saltyluminaryvoid · 10 days ago

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THE DARKNESS

Pairing(s): Kol Mikaelson x Salvatore!reader, Platonic!Mikaelsons x Salvatore!reader, Platonic!Salvatores x Sister!reader

Summary: The real reason you return to Mystic Falls is revealed to your brothers.

Warnings: Emotional Neglect? (on the Salvatore brothers side), Betrayal (duh), Blood, ANGST, Violence, Klaus getting dagger happy, Klaus being incredibly cruel and deranged (normal Klaus behavior), Reader is traumatized (because of Klaus), Reader isn’t really a good person, A lot of neck snapping, Katherine Pierce, Inaccurate historical depictions, Switches between past and present, Some timeline errors and changes, Uses of Y/N, Kol not showing up til like 2k words in, Inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (what a shock.)

Notes: THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TITLED ‘THE ART OF BETRAYAL’ BEFORE I DECIDED ‘THE DARKNESS’ FIT BETTER!

Reader is ten, turning eleven when she meets Katherine. She isn’t turned into a vampire until she’s 19.

Pizzelles are an Italian cookie. (Yes, this is random. Yes, this is kind of important.)

Canonically Kol was daggered in 1821 because of his lovely iteration of Hamlet, he wasn’t undaggered until 1901. In this, we’ll say he was still daggered in 1821 but was undaggered some time before 1870. Again with the dagger stuff, Rebekah is canonically daggered until 1887 after all the Marcel thing, in this she was undaggered some time before 1870.

And finally, a big thank you to @wholoveseggs for all her support and encouragement while I’ve been writing this because without her, I probably wouldn’t have finished this!

Word Count: 16.3k (goodness gracious)

———————

Present Day

Mystic Falls

It had been one hundred and forty-six years since you had seen your brothers. Actually, it had been one hundred and forty-six years since they had seen you. You kept tabs on them over the years, always so close but not close enough for them to find you. As far as your brothers were concerned, you were dead and technically you were.

In truth, you didn’t want to see them but you had to. You had to for him.

So here you were, driving past the Mystic Falls welcome sign. Your jaw clenches at the sight of it, you hadn’t been here since 1864. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to turn around, that you didn’t want to be back here, that it was going to hurt you. You shoved the feeling away and continued driving until you reached your destination.

The old Salvatore Boarding House, your old home.

You take a deep breath before walking up to the door. It’s wide open and you can hear Stefan and Damon arguing inside. Your best guess is Stefan tried to walk away from Damon by slamming the door on him and all it did was make Damon angrier and he flung it open.

You followed the yelling to the living room, they were so caught up in their argument that they hadn’t noticed you leaning on the door frame.

“I see you two still fight like cats and dogs… I’m sure this is about some silly girl,” you finally speak up, announcing your presence.

They both immediately stop and look at you.

“Who the hell are you?” Damon asks instantaneously and you couldn’t blame him, the last time he saw you, you were just a kid.

You pout, placing a hand over your heart, “that hurts Damon.”

Letting out a dramatic sigh you place your hands on your hips, “I guess that’s fair though… I mean, it has been a really long time, one hundred and forty-six years in fact and I was just a little kid then.”

“I was about this tall…” you gesture with your hand then gasp, bringing your hand to your mouth, “And the last time we spoke was in this house, in this room!”

Stefan’s eyes widened a bit, his face becoming one of shock and realization, “Y/N?” he whispers.

You smirk and Damon scoffs, “That's not possible, our sister is dead.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that, though, I believe the proper term is undead—“

You’re cut off by Damon rushing at you, slamming you into the wall, and holding you up by your throat.

“Damon.” Stefan warns.

“This isn’t Y/N, Stefan! It can’t be! This is some sick imposter! I don’t know how they found out… but Y/N… she’s been dead for over a hundred years!”

You knee him in the stomach, causing him to double over and drop you, “Undead.”

Damon grunts, stumbling back but he quickly recovers, “Okay, let’s say you are our sister… Why now, huh?! Why find us now, after a hundred some years?!” he shouts.

You scoff, standing up straight, “Because I saw you both die! I saw father shoot you both dead! You remember that night right? The night you both tried to save Katherine? The night you were turned?”

You paused for a moment, directing your next words to Damon, “The night you told me I wasn’t your sister anymore.”

You knew being back here would be hard, you knew it would hurt. What you didn’t expect was for Damon to seemingly forget everything that happened in 1864. He looked away from you causing you to scoff.

“That woman ruined our family the moment she stepped foot in Mystic Falls.”

1864

Mystic Falls

You stood next to Stefan, rocking back and forth on your heels as you watched the carriage approach.

Your father had told you that a woman was coming to stay with you all, a woman named Katherine Pierce. You were excited for her arrival, you loved Stefan, Damon, and occasionally your father but you were ecstatic to have another girl around.

The carriage opened and two women got out, you followed Stefan down the stairs, standing right next to him.

“You must be Miss Pierce,” your brother says with his hands still behind his back.

Miss Pierce smirks, “Please,” she reaches her hand out for him to take, which he does, “Call me Katherine.”

They stare at each other for a moment, seemingly having a silent conversation before you interrupt, “Hello!”

Katherine seems taken aback by the sudden voice but puts on a smile, “And who might you be?”

“Y/N!”

Stefan chuckles and places his hand onto your shoulder, “This is my little sister, father jokes that she’s my shadow,” your brother teases, “She’d be following Damon around as well but he’s off at war.”

You frown at the mention of your other brother, not noticing the way Katherine’s gaze hardens.

Katherine would grow close with Stefan over the next weeks and unfortunately for you, she made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like you. You couldn’t figure out why but Stefan continually reassured you that Katherine had no problems with you so you tried to let it go.

Then after some time, Damon returned home and you were overjoyed. You had always been close with your brothers, they were practically your only friends. You had been lonely since Katherine had arrived due to Stefan’s infatuation, you hoped now that Damon was back you wouldn’t be so lonely.

“Damon!” you cheered upon seeing him, “Day! You’re back!”

He chuckles, “That I am!”

You rush to hug him which he quickly reciprocates, patting your head. But his gaze focused elsewhere.

“Who is she?” he points.

You turn to see who he’s looking at and sigh, “That is Miss Katherine Pierce, she’s been staying with us for some time now.”

You beckon Damon to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think Stefan may be in love with her.”

Your eldest brother raises a brow and stands up straight, “Hm? Well… I suppose I should introduce myself to our guest…”

Just like that, Damon was infatuated as well. It was as if Katherine was a siren and both your brothers had been tricked by her song.

You watched Katherine as she led on both your brothers, knowing that at least one of them would be getting a broken heart. Though, you had a feeling they’d both end up heartbroken.

The one event that really broke you was when both your brothers were nowhere to be seen on your birthday, and when you did find them it was like they had no idea what the day was.

You hated Katherine, but you weren’t scared of her. Until you saw her true face.

You knew what she was, a vampire. Your father had told you stories about vampires, they’re evil monsters. He told you if you ever even heard whispers of a vampire that you had to tell him and he’d take care of it.

So you told him and he came up with a plan that you would enact within the week.

“What is that delicious smell?” Damon asks as he walks into the kitchen.

You let out a little laugh, “I baked cookies! Would you like one?”

“I’d love one,” Damon takes one of the cookies from the tray, patting your head as he did.

The first step of the plan was complete, now all you had to do was sit back and wait.

It wouldn’t take long for Katherine to come back to the boarding house with Stefan, he goes and sits on the couch while Katherine begins to go upstairs. She turns to give Damon a look and he immediately rushes to follow her up the stairs.

Moments later there’s a scream, followed by shouting from your father, Damon, and some men you don’t know. Stefan is off the couch quickly and at the steps immediately.

Multiple men are dragging Katherine down the stairs while Damon yells at your father. Stefan stands in shock as you reach his side. Katherine is taken out of the house by the men and put into a guarded carriage. Your father holds Damon to the wall as the carriage leaves your home, finally, his eyes land on you and he lets go of Damon, rushing to you, he places a kiss on your head.

“You were right, my dear. You did good.”

With that, he rushes out the door to the carriage, leaving you alone with your brothers.

Stefan’s voice is quiet, “You know what she is…”

“And you told father!” Damon shouts.

“She’s a monster Damon!” you yell.

He scoffs, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re ten! A child!”

Your frown, “My birthday was a month ago Damon… I’m eleven… or have you forgotten?”

“It doesn’t matter! How you could be so cruel… I don't understand… I don’t recognize you… you’re no sister of mine. Not anymore.”

“Damon!” Stefan yells.

Damon shakes his head, shoving past you to the door, “Let’s go Stefan! If we’re quick we can save her!”

And just like that, they rush out of the house without sparring you a second glance. They didn’t know it at the time, but moments later you would run out of the house after them.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

“I never went back home… it wouldn’t be home if you were both dead... So I ran and ran and didn’t look back… I travelled all over… never staying in one place for too long.”

Stefan steps forward and pulls you into a tight hug and you allow him too. It had been a century since you had hugged anyone, you almost forgot how to. He pulls away to get a better look at your face, how you’ve grown since he last saw you.

“How old are you? Physically?”

“It’s rude to ask a woman’s age, Stef…” you giggle before giving an actual answer, “Nineteen, I was turned in 1872… which I guess makes me your big sister.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Damon crosses his arms, “How’d you turn?”

“Willingly, if that’s what you’re asking… my boyfriend at the time turned me, we wanted to spend forever together.”

“Ironic, sounds a lot like my story with Katherine.”

You furrow your brows, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying, you’re a hypocrite.”

You scoff and Damon takes that as his signal to continue, “Where is this boyfriend of yours now?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Dead.” you lie.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Stefan smiles softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Suddenly, the floorboards creak causing all of you to look at the sound. There she stood, Elena Gilbert.

“Oh… I’m sorry I didn’t realize you had company…” She clears her throat, “Uh… Stefan, you called me?”

Thinking quickly, you speed away from Stefan and slam the girl into the wall. You weren’t dumb, you knew who she was and you knew she wasn’t Katherine but your brothers didn’t know that you knew. Everything would be fine as long as you didn’t kill her, he wouldn’t mind if she was roughed up a bit.

“You keep the bitch around?! After everything?!”

Stefan and Damon sped to your side, Damon ripping you away from her.

You scoff, “You still protect her!”

“This isn’t Katherine,” Stefan says before pulling Elena to him, the girl holding her throat.

“Looks exactly like her!”

Damon rolls his eyes, pulling you farther away, “We know. We have eyes. It’s weird, some weird, freaky nature thing but she’s not Katherine. Smell her, she’s human.”

You turn your attention to Stefan and Elena who are both looking at you, waiting for your next move. Stefan is ready to jump in front of Elena to save her, you almost roll your eyes but resist, this would be like 1864 all over again.

You walk over to them, slowly, tilting your head at Elena.

“I’m Elena…Elena Gilbert.”

You give her a half smile, “Y/N. Sorry.”

You hold out your hand for her to take, which she does after looking at Stefan to make sure you were safe.

“This happens a lot, you’d be surprised…”

“No, I wouldn’t be. Katherine’s a bitch. A lot of people want her dead,” you pause, “Consider getting a tattoo on your forehead,” you brush your pointer finger and thumb across your forehead, “‘Not Katherine’.”

Elena giggles, “In size forty font.”

You crack a smile, she seemed sweet, you almost felt bad about what was going to happen, almost.

“You’re a friend of Stefan and Damon’s?”

“I’m their sister,” you smirk, chuckling at the shocked expression on her face.

“Our sister who we thought was dead up until about five minutes ago,” Damon adds, still suspicious of you.

“I didn’t know you were alive either until I heard rumors from some vampires that fled from here…” another lie.

Stefan and Damon share a look and you look between them, “What?” You ask.

“The tomb vampires.”

Stefan pats your back, “C’mon, we got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, this is lovely but are we going to discuss what we’re here for?” A new voice cuts in, she looks familiar but you can’t quite place her.

Elena on the other hand looks terrified, “You…”

“Like he said, a lot of catching up to do,” the woman smiles.

You all sat down in the living room while the woman who you learned to be Rose began to pace back and forth while speaking, “Okay, you have to understand, I only know what I’ve picked up over the years- and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. That’s the problem with all this vampire crap but Klaus I know is real.”

You keep your expression neutral, you had been told the story of Katerina Petrova, Katherine Pierce as you knew her and how she escaped her death by Klaus and Elijah both. That’s why this woman was familiar, she had played a role in the escape.

“Who is he?” Elena asks.

Damon speaks up, “He’s one of the originals. He’s a legend,” he widens his eyes for dramatic flair.

”From the first generation of vampires,” Stefan gestures with his glass.

“Like Elijah?”

Rose sighs, dropping her shoulders, “No, Elijah is the Easter Bunny compared to Klaus. He’s a foot soldier, Klaus is the real deal.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face, Elijah? The Easter Bunny? Now that was a funny joke.

“Klaus is known to be the oldest…” Stefan adds and that almost makes you giggle.

“So…” Elena begins, “You're saying the oldest vampire in the history of time is coming after me?”

Well, not the oldest.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Damon sighs, standing up, “No, what they’re saying is, I mean, if what she’s saying is true—“

“Which it is,” Rose cuts in.

“—And you’re not just saying this so we don’t kill you…”

“Which I’m not.”

Damon sighs, “Then… we’re looking at a solid maybe?”

“Look,” Stefan says, going to sit next to Elena, “Elijah’s dead so no one else even knows you exist.”

This makes you look up, unless these idiots found a white oak stake, Elijah was not dead, he was simply resting and he’d be pissed when he got back. You only hoped that he’d stay clear of you, you still held a soft spot for the man and you didn’t want to rat him out, but you would if you had to.

“Not that you know of,” Rose adds.

“That’s not helping…” Damon mutters.

“I’ve never even met anyone who has laid eyes on him, we’re talking centuries of truth mixed with fiction!” Stefan argues, “For all we know he could just be some sort of stupid bedtime story…” he looks at Elena, trying to reassure her that she’s safe.

Rose scoffs, “He’s real and he doesn’t give up. If he wants something, he gets it.” Well ain’t that the truth.

“If you’re not afraid of Klaus then you’re an idiot.” Rose adds. Also true.

“Well, what about you little sister?” Damon asks, gesturing to you, “You ever heard of Klaus?”

“No.” Yes. “I doubt he’s even real.” He’s very real.

“You mentioned you traveled a lot,” Stefan looks at you, “You’ve never heard of the original vampires?”

“Never.”

1870

New Orleans

You had showered off all of the blood, trying to rid yourself of the horrible memory. Why was it that vampires seemed to be everywhere you went? And now you were staying in a house with not one, but four vampires.

Sighing, you get out of the shower and change into the outfit Elijah had provided for you, it was a simple night gown, reaching past your knees. You find your way to the guest room that Elijah had shown you and curl into the bed, unable to sleep. You stay in that position all night, not getting even a wink of rest.

When morning comes, you make your way downstairs to the living room, “Elijah?” you call out softly, knowing that he’d be able to hear even the faintest of whispers.

There’s a whoosh behind you causing you to spin around on your heel, expecting to see Elijah but you don’t. A man stands by the couch, smirking.

”I see my brother has taken to copying me. Bringing home his very own charity case,” the man announces as he drops down on the couch to sit, urging you to sit down as well, you do in fear of upsetting him.

You fidget with your hands out of nervousness and he cracks a smile.

“No need to be scared, love. I’m Klaus…” he holds a hand out for you to take and you do, rather reluctantly.

When you don’t say anything, he continues, “Did my brother say something about me?”

You shake your head, “No, not you.”

“Oh? Not me? Did he say anything about my other siblings, do tell me. I’m just dying to know.”

You look around the room before turning back to him, “He said I should be careful around Kol…”

“Ah, my little brother, yes, he can be quite reckless… and rather… insatiable…”

“Are you talking badly about me to our new guest?” a voice that you assume belongs to Kol fills the room.

Klaus clicks his tongue, holding back a laugh, “No, no, little brother. Simply warning the girl of your tendencies…”

Kol scoffs, before leaning over the back of the couch, his chin practically touching your shoulder as he whispers to you, “Don’t listen to him, darling… or Elijah for that matter.”

You jump a bit and tilt your head away from him, inadvertently giving the vampire easy access to your neck. He chuckles and surprisingly, leans away.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Kol! Elijah already said you’re to leave her alone!” a blonde girl comes bouncing into the room, pulling Kol further away from you.

In a flash she’s in front of you, holding her hand out for you to take, “I’m Rebekah! It’ll be nice to have another girl around!”

She then looks you up and down, taking in your current outfit, “Now this just won’t do, come now,” she reaches her other hand out for you and when you take it she pulls you off of the couch.

She quickly begins to pull you towards the stairs just as Elijah comes back into the room, he sighs upon seeing you and his sister.

“Do not overwhelm the poor girl, Rebekah.”

“Relax Elijah, I’m only going to get her a change of clothes… and we must do something with this hair!” she twirls a piece of your hair.

And with that, Rebekah practically drags you up to her room.

“Sit.” she guides you to a vanity chair, “You’ve got gorgeous features but this hair… this dress… they are not doing you any favors…”

Your face flushes, “Oh, I haven’t had much money for clothing let alone food… It's been hard to find work and I never really learned how to do my own hair… my brother used to do it for me and he’d allow me to braid his… I just can’t seem to do so when it’s my own head.”

Rebekah smiles softly, “You needn’t worry, I have plenty of options for you!” she rushes to her closet, opening it to reveal a plethora of different dresses.

She holds up a gown with a bit of lace detailing that goes up to the neck, “This will do nicely. Much better than this night gown…” she says as she brushes the sleeve of the dress you currently wore.

She hands you the gown, “Go now,” she points to the bathrooom, “get dressed and I’ll do your hair!”

You do as she says and come back, having her help you tie the back.

“Now, let’s fix this hair.” she pushes you back down into the chair, “Would you like a braid?”

You nod, “That would be lovely…”

Rebekah hums, “You said your brother used to do your hair… Where is he now?”

Your eyes widen a bit before you look down, “Oh, uhm, he’s dead… That’s why I ran from home…”

“You’re a runaway?”

You crack a smile, trying to be as confident as possible, “Was my ratty appearance and lack of cash not enough to give that away?”

Rebekah chuckles, “I suppose… were you always poor?” she asks, nonchalantly.

“Oh Heavens no. My family was very wealthy… the wealthiest family in our town. My father was a landowner.”

“You didn’t think to take any money before running?” She raises a brow.

“I was only eleven at the time and had just witnessed… something awful…” you take a deep breath, you hadn’t ever spoken about this out loud, “I needed to get away.”

Rebekah frowns, dropping your hair, “Elijah said you’re seventeen, you’ve been on your own for six years?”

You nod and Rebekah’s frown deepens, “That’s a long time to be alone… that must have been awful.”

“I’ve managed,” you shrug, “I went back once, a week after I had left when I got second thoughts… I found out that my father had also passed. I came across a newspaper, they believed that someone had killed my father and taken me…”

“He was killed?”

You hum, and Rebekah picks up your hair again.

“Did they ever catch his killer?”

“No… but I have a suspicion it was a vampire.”

“Why would you think that?” she asks as she finishes your braid.

“His head was nearly ripped off.”

A few days later, Klaus found you. Elijah was dealing with other matters so he wasn’t there to monitor his brother's behavior.

You were alone when he found you, in the kitchen. Baking was something that you enjoyed doing at your old home and after running away you hadn’t been able to. Elijah welcomed you to use the kitchen and bake whatever you’d like, saying he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable during your stay.

“Not too broken up about your father being murdered?”

The sudden voice causes you to jump, spilling the cup of sugar you were holding.

“You startled me,” you sigh, beginning to clean up the sugar.

“You’re easy to frighten,” in a second, Klaus is directly next to you, making you yelp, he smirks, “Now answer the question.”

“What?”

“Your father…” he practically circles you, “You think a vampire killed him? You didn’t seem too sad about it.”

“I… it was six years ago… wait, you were listening when I was talking to Rebekah?”

Klaus hums, “Six years is not that long,” he ignores your question, besides, you already knew the answer. “Well, to a vampire at least. I suppose I could buy that if your heart wasn’t racing.”

You let out a breath, “Klaus—“

“Yes yes, I know Elijah has told you to stay clear of me even if you deny it…”

“That’s not—“

“You didn’t like your father!” he exclaims, making your eyes widen, “I’ve figured it out, huh? What was so awful about the man? Do tell.”

You scowl, you knew you shouldn’t mouth off to the vampires but Klaus was testing your patience, “Not that it’s any of your business but, he… he killed my brothers.”

“Brothers? Plural? Interesting, you only mentioned one to Rebekah. You’re lying to us now?”

“I- No! I only mentioned the one that did my hair! I didn’t lie!”

“Withholding the truth then,” he smirks.

You sigh, “Elijah knows everything already, I’ve told him everything. I haven’t lied, both my brothers fell for a vampire- my father got involved…” tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes, “…he ended up killing them both… I assume the vampire- that she got away, that she killed my father… that’s why I’ve been alone.” tears begin to stain your cheeks.

You sniffle, rubbing at your eyes when the door opens. Klaus has a sheepish expression when Elijah enters the room.

“Niklaus,” he practically hisses, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! I simply asked the girl a few questions!”

Elijah narrows his eyes, “I’m sure.”

You went upstairs and stayed there for the rest of the day, trying to avoid everyone. You were deep in thought when Kol’s voice startled you.

“My brother made you cry? He does tend to have that effect on women.”

Kol chuckles, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorframe of the room Elijah has you staying in. Your eyes widen and you turn your back to him, probably not your best move considering he’s a vampire but Elijah had told you to stay away. It was bad enough that you had spoken to him earlier but at least then his siblings were around, now you truly were alone.

“Like I said darling, you needn't be scared.”

“Elijah told me not to speak with you, he wouldn’t have told me that for no reason.”

Kol scoffs, “He’s always so dramatic.”

You don’t respond and Kol sighs, “I’ll go if you want, I simply wanted to make sure Nik didn’t upset you too badly… you’re too pretty to be upset over him.”

You blush, he sounds genuine but you couldn’t trust it. You also didn’t want to upset Elijah, he was the one who was giving you a home after all. He could easily kick you out and back onto the street to fend for yourself.

“I’d just like to be left alone… please.”

You hummed mindlessly in the kitchen, swaying while you baked. It had been three months since the Mikaelsons had allowed you into their home, Elijah promised he would find you your own home soon enough but he had been so busy with other duties.

You didn’t mind, you had grown used to living in their home. Ironically, living in the house of deadly original vampires had been the safest you had ever felt. The Mikaelsons had completely changed your opinion of vampires in just a few, short months. Rebekah had become a close friend of yours, Klaus had stopped his frequent questioning and began to see you as a friend (he never apologized but you knew he felt bad when he gifted you a necklace), and Kol… well… Kol was complicated.

After he had checked on you that day, you became curious about him. Elijah’s warnings only did so much to curb your curiosity. At first you had listened, avoided Kol at all costs but there was just something about him that kept pulling you in.

You would often find your mind wandering back to him. His face, his hair, his eyes, his cheshire-like grin…

Kol was determined to get you to break your walls down, he would find you all the time, whether you were painting like Nik had taught you, braiding your hair like Rebekah, or even just laying in your bed. He would find you and you’d just chat.

You brought up Kol to Elijah once, you wanted to know what was so horrible about him because when he was with you, he was sweet. Elijah wouldn’t give you a clear answer, just reminded you that he was dangerous. You wouldn’t mention how much time you had begun to spend with Kol to Elijah, in fear of making him upset.

But he found out, just like you knew he would.

“Miss Y/N, may I speak with you?” Elijah asks as he enters the kitchen.

You turn to look at him, just having finished the dough for the cookies you were making, “Of course, Elijah.”

“I notice you have become quite close with Kol as of late.”

You gulp, looking down, feeling guilty, Elijah had asked one thing of you and you weren’t even able to do that.

“I’m sorry, I know I—“

Elijah holds up his hand to silence you, “Please.”

You let out a shaky breath and Elijah lowers his hand, “I’ve never seen my little brother care for someone like he cares for you… especially after such a short amount of time. You… you’re good for him. He’s changed… so no more of this sneaking around like children,” he waves his hand to gesture around.

Your face flushes, “Oh we’re not… we’re just… we’re not together…”

Elijah smirks, giving you a knowing look, “I never said anything about a relationship.”

1871

New Orleans

“What are you reading?” Kol asks as he drops onto the couch, sitting next to you.

“Frankenstein,” you hum, not bothering to look up from the book, turning a page.

Kol nods, “I’ve heard of that one…”

You two sit in silence for a moment before Kol sighs dramatically. You close your eyes, composing yourself when Kol sighs again. You mark your page and close the book, finally turning to look at him.

“What Kol?”

He shrugs, “I’m bored.”

“Bored?”

“Very.”

You sigh, “Can I at least finish my chapter before we go off to cause whatever chaos you have planned?”

Kol rolls his eyes, “Fine,” he draws out the word.

Just as you’re about to pick up the book again, Kol drops his head into your lap, laying across the couch.

You tense up immediately, “Kol. What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to finish your chapter, darling,” he mumbles, “Your thighs are very comfortable.”

You sigh, forcing yourself to relax, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his touch or him being this close, it was that it made you nervous. You were falling for Kol, you knew you were and every touch, no matter how small, made you nervous. Touching was common with Kol, you had a feeling it was how he showed affection.

It didn’t take long for you to finish your chapter, “Kol,” you say quietly but get no response.

Your brows furrow and you look closer at him in your lap, he was breathing evenly, his eyes closed. He was asleep. He looked peaceful, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he looked innocent and angelic.

You weighed your options, you could wake him up and put distance between the two of you… or you could let him sleep, curled in your lap, while you read another chapter.

You decided on the second option and it definitely had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to keep him so close.

It was calm, everything about the moment was so domestic. You wished you could stay here forever, reading a novel while an original vampire laid asleep on you as you brushed your fingers through his hair.

Unfortunately, no nice thing could last.

The door to the compound flung open, angry footsteps filling the silence.

“Niklaus, wait a moment. Let us think about this.”

“There is nothing to think about!”

Kol tenses in your lap at the loud voices, stirring in his sleep. He sits up, forcing the sleep from his eyes.

Klaus enters the living room, glaring daggers at you. You don’t seem to pick up on his angry gaze, “Did you get it?” you ask excitedly.

You had mentioned a few weeks ago that your mother had a cookbook that contained all of your family's recipes. After she died, the book remained in the study of the boarding house. You were sad, you wanted the book back because you couldn’t remember any of the recipes and Elijah had offered to go get it for you.

You told him not to be ridiculous and that he’d have to travel the whole way to Mystic Falls to get it, he seemed to tense a bit at the name but insisted nonetheless. So you told him about the boarding house and where he would find it, Klaus insisted on accompanying him.

“Yes.” Klaus answers coldly, dropping the book onto the coffee table.

You squeal and lean forward grabbing the book, “Thankyou!” you begin to flip through it, “You have no idea how much this means to me…” you look up, trailing off when you finally notice the look on Klaus’ face.

“We found something else too,” his tone is detached as he tosses a picture onto the coffee table.

You recognized the photo instantly, it had been taken shortly after Katherine arrived in Mystic Falls. It was of you, Stefan, and Katherine. The three of you had smiles on your faces, though, it was obvious Katherine’s was fake.

“Her,” he points to Katherine.

“What?”

“Don't play dumb with me,” Klaus practically growls, “This is the vampire you mentioned?”

You gulp, nodding, “I- yes, that’s Katherine…”

“Katherine?” Elijah muses, “Is that the name she’s using now?”

You didn’t miss the subtle way that Kol slid forward on the couch, or the way he placed his hand on your thigh, attempting to hide you behind his arm, to shield you from Klaus’ fury.

“Where is she?” Klaus keeps his gaze locked onto you.

“I don’t know… I haven’t seen her since I ran from home…”

Kol squeezes your thigh to try and calm you down, to reassure you that he wouldn’t let Klaus hurt you even if he tried. You were grateful for him and Elijah, Klaus was impulsive at times, especially if he thought he was being betrayed.

After a considerable amount of time, Klaus had calmed down. He and Elijah explained the story of Katerina to you, how she had escaped her death, and how Klaus wanted her to be scared before he killed her. How he wanted her to suffer.

Just like last time, Klaus didn’t apologize, the day after you found three books on your nightstand, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Les Miserables.

A few weeks had passed since the Mikaelsons found out about your history with Katherine. And you all went on with life like nothing had happened, Klaus would occasionally ask about Katherine and you would always answer his questions. Katherine was why your brothers were dead. Katherine was the reason you hated vampires. And the Mikaelsons were the reason you didn’t anymore.

“My mother used to make these when I was little… this is actually her recipe- well, my great grandmother's recipe,” you tell Kol as he watches you close the pizzelle iron.

He hums, reaching for one that’s cooling, “In all my life, I’ve never had one of these…”

Your eyes light up, “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you this! I know you eat my baked goods… but does human food actually taste good to you?”

Kol tilts his head, “I’ve told you numerous times, darling, you’re an excellent baker…”

“But that’s not what I asked, I wish to know if you enjoy them…”

“Your treats are delectable… as are you,” Kol flirts, leaning closer.

Your face heats up at his comment, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Kol Mikaelson.”

“No?” he raises a brow, his face just inches from yours.

“Well, maybe somewhere…” you whisper, your gaze flickers to his lips.

He smirks, “And where would that be?”

“You tell me…”

The tension between the two of you was thick, it had been for a few months now but nothing had come of it. The two of you danced around each other and your obvious feelings, Rebekah would tease you about it, often remarking on how you could do better than her brother.

Just as his lips were about to brush against yours he pulled back, “Darling…”

“Yes, Kol?”

“The iron.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly turn back to the pizzelle iron, standing up from your chair, opening it quickly, coughing a bit as the smoke hits you directly in the face. You use the tongs to toss the burnt cookies onto the cooling rack as Kol doubles over in laughter.

You glare at him, before letting out a small laugh, “You distracted me! This is your fault!”

He smirks, standing up to his full height, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close, “I’m a distraction?”

“Yes… you are.”

He presses a kiss to your temple and hums, “Too bad you’re stuck with me…”

You pull away a bit to look up at him, “You think?”

Kol stares at you, debating internally about what to say, “I think… no, I know,” he takes a deep breath, “…that I have completely fallen in love with you, Y/N Salvatore…”

A smile appears on your face, “Well I know that I am utterly in love with you as well, Kol Mikaelson…”

He smiles before capturing your lips in a soft but passionate kiss. The arm around your waist tightens, he pulls you impossibly close and you loop your arms around his neck.

A low whistle followed by clapping causes the two of you to break apart, Kol didn’t let you get too far though, still keeping his hand on your waist.

“Took you long enough,” Klaus smirks.

You cover your face with your face with your hands, completely embarrassed but Kol just seems annoyed by the interruption.

“Is there something you need Nik?” Kol asks, rolling his eyes.

“I was just wondering what that burning smell was, wouldn’t want our lovely home to burn down. But I see now our little baker was just… preoccupied…”

“Rebekah!” Klaus shouts, causing your eyes to widen.

“Nik no!” you retort, peaking through your fingers, but you knew it was too late.

“What the bloody hell do you want now?” Rebekah asks as she walks into the room.

Klaus smirks and then gestures towards you and Kol by tilting his head. Rebekah immediately notices the hand around your waist and gasps.

“Finally! I thought you two would be dancing around each other forever!” she squeals.

“What is all this shouting about?” Elijah asks, entering the room while adjusting his cufflinks.

Kol pinches the bridge of his nose before leaning over to whisper to you, fully aware his siblings could still hear him, “It’s like they all come out of the woodwork at the most inopportune times…”

Elijah spots the cooling racks of pizzelles and makes his way over, immediately picking up one of the burnt cookies. He holds it up and raises a brow at you, waiting for an answer.

Klaus begins to cackle, speeding over to Elijah to take the charred cookie from him, “Brother, Y/N got distracted…” he points at Kol, “the distraction.”

Elijah lets out a little chuckle, clearly amused, “Yes, well, try not to get distracted in the kitchen… we eat in here.”

1872

New Orleans

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Kol holds your face in his hands.

“More than anything… I want to be with you.”

Kol chuckles, “My darling, you’re already with me, you already have me.”

He takes your hands and places them over his heart, “This dead heart belongs to you.”

You giggle a bit at his words and he smiles before frowning, “I just… I don’t want you to think you have to do this for me…”

You smile softly, “I know, but this is what I want, I promise…”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve already had my witches make you a ring… a gorgeous ring for a gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl…”

You giggle again and pull him in for a kiss which he quickly reciprocates. After a moment he forces himself to pull away. He scoots til his back is against the headboard then pulls you so you’re sitting with your back against his chest.

Kol brings his wrist to his mouth, fangs protruding and bites into his own flesh before holding his wrist near your mouth for you to take. Both your hands grab onto him, pulling his wrist as close to your mouth as physically possible and begin to drink from him.

He groans at the sensation and brushes some of the hair from your face, “Atta girl… that’s it… just a little more… good…”

When Kol decides you’ve had enough he pulls away, chuckling at the way you try to follow his now healing wrist, “My, my, already so bloodthirsty…”

You look up at him and pout, some of his blood dripping from your lips. He could get used to sight of you and blood, his two favorite things, together. He gives you another kiss, tasting his own blood from your mouth.

Pulling back, he sighs, “This is the part I don’t like.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek, “You’re the only one I’d trust to do this… it’s okay, my love, it’s what I want.”

Reluctantly, Kol brings his hand up to your neck, “I love you, my darling.”

“I love you… now please, kill me.”

He winces at the sound of your neck breaking, squeezing his eyes shut. He lays in your bed, holding your body, brushing the hair from your face while softly humming until you wake up.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

You stare at your daylight ring, spinning it on your finger.

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N!” Damon snaps his fingers in front of your face to gain your attention.

You jump and look at him and then at Stefan, now noticing that Elena left.

“Are you alright?” Stefan asks, tilting his head.

“I’m fine… just… lost in thought.”

Damon’s gaze stays focused on your ring, “Is that your daylight ring?”

You hum, looking up at him and then at Stefan, before holding your hand up to show off the ring, “I know, it’s not nearly as gaudy as yours.”

Stefan chuckles but Damon narrows his eyes, “It’s not a wedding ring,” he notes.

“No…” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“So the guy can ask you to die and be forced to drink blood for the rest of eternity but he can’t get down on one knee and pop the question?”

“Damon…” Stefan sighs, they had just gotten you back and he was worried that all of Damon’s passive aggressive comments were going to drive you away again.

You scoff, “He didn’t ask me to do anything, it was my choice. I wanted this. We… we didn’t need to be married to be in love… it just wasn’t the right time for a wedding anyways…”

Stefan seems a little shocked, “You asked him to turn you?”

Before you can respond to Stefan, Damon interrupts, “This was your first boyfriend?”

“He was my first everything,” you state matter-of-factly.

Both Stefan and Damon groan in disgust at your words and the implication of them.

You roll your eyes, “Oh grow up.”

Stefan stands up, “And on that note, I’m going to school… make sure Elena’s okay…”

You fake pout, “You don’t wanna hang out with your sister after not seeing her for so long?”

“That’s not—“

You cut him off, “Relax Stef, I’m kidding. Go.”

He gives you a curt nod and heads out of the room, leaving you alone with Rose and Damon. You almost forgot Rose was here, she had been quiet ever since she had finished her speech about Klaus. Damon gives Rose a look and she nods, leaving the room.

“I thought you hated vampires,” Damon states, taking the spot on the couch where Stefan once was.

“I did… until I met him.” Them.

Damon stays quiet for a moment, his eyes soften a bit, “This guy must have been special.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “He was… I really loved him, Damon. I really do still love him…”

Your brother sighs, scooching closer to you on the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him.

“I am happy to have you back, you know… it’s just… you’re not the same kid I left behind, you’ve grown so much, to me you’re still the little girl whose hair I used to braid…”

“It’s okay, Day… I get it… I do,” you smile, using the nickname you used to call him as a child.

He ruffles your hair, “Why don’t we go out, I’ll show you around town… it’s practically the same, just modern.”

“I… uhm…” you sigh, “I’m tired to be honest, I traveled a long way to get here… and I think all the ‘excitement’ just made me even more tired…”

He nods, “Alright, I’m assuming you want your same room, you remember where it is?”

You stand up from the couch, “How could I forget?”

You leave Damon on the couch, making your way to the stairs. You take note of Rose who was standing near the kitchen doorway, she had clearly been listening to your conversation. There was no such thing as privacy with vampires.

Your room was exactly as you had left it, you could tell that no one had even entered the room in years. If you had to guess, you’d say that the last ones to enter were Klaus and Elijah— they had also retrieved your favorite teddy bear on their mission to get the cook book. There was dust floating around and cobwebs everywhere. You let out a sigh just as Damon makes his way up the stairs to you, he must have remembered the state of your room.

“No one’s been in there since…”

“I know,” you cut him off.

“We didn’t want to disturb it…”

You sigh, “Can I just… have another room for now?”

He nods and leads you down the hall to one of the guest rooms that had been maintained over the years, “I can get you extra blankets? Extra pillows?”

You shake your head, walking further into the room and sit on the bed, “This is fine.”

”Alright, well, I’ll let you sleep,” as he’s about to leave, his hand goes to the light switch to turn it off.

In a second, you’re off of the bed. You grab his hand causing him to groan in pain, you were sure you broke fingers but you didn’t care. You couldn’t let him turn off the light.

“Ow!”

You let go after a second, “I… I’m sorry…” you mumble.

“Jesus! If you didn’t want it off you could have said that!” he waves his hand around, wincing as his fingers snap themselves back into place.

You just blink at him, and he sighs, “Just get some rest.”

He reaches for the door this time, you grab it as it’s about to close and he stops, “Yeah?”

“Don’t close the door.”

Damon raises a brow, “You want the light on and the door open?”

You nod, “Please…”

“You can sleep like that?”

“It’s the only way I can sleep.”

Damon goes to open his mouth, but quickly shuts it, deciding that for once in his life he should just be quiet. He nods and leaves it at that, you let out of a sigh when goes, dropping down onto the guest bed.

You want to close your eyes but you can’t. It’s too dark.

Stefan eventually returns and finds Damon sipping on bourbon as usual.

“Our sister is strange,” Damon announces the second Stefan steps foot in the door.

Stefan sighs, “Alright, I’ll bite. What happened?”

Damon sets down his glass, “She’s upstairs, sleeping.”

“Okay?”

“With the door open, the curtains open, and the light on.”

“Damon, just leave it alone.”

The older Salvatore scoffs, “Come on Stefan, that’s weird.”

Stefan shrugs, “I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just said to leave it alone. We just got her back, literally today and if you keep pushing like you always do, you’re going to push her away. Again.”

“Don’t act like this is all on me. We both pushed her away… pushed her right into the arms of some scummy vampire and now she’s stuck like us. Well, at least it sounds like she actually got to make that choice.”

“I thought we were past that,” Stefan lets out a humourless chuckle.

“We’ll never be past that.”

“I was just joking before about you two constantly fighting…” you mumble as you walk down the stairs.

Damon smirks, “Stefan loves to bicker.”

You raise a brow, “So it’s only Stefan then?”

You swiftly make your way across the room to the bourbon and grab a glass, you turn to Damon, “May I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Humming, you pour yourself a glass, looking at Damon over the rim of the cup, “You and Rose woke me up earlier, safe to say I’m disgusted…” This was a lie, you never fell asleep in the first place.

Damon rolls his eyes, “Now who needs to grow up?”

Stefan sighs and takes that as his que to cut in, “You sleep well? Besides that…”

You take a sip of the alcohol before responding, “Like a baby.”

Another lie, you hadn’t slept ‘like a baby’ since 1914.

1914

New Orleans

“He’ll never let us leave, he’ll never let us be happy.” Kol holds you tightly in his arms, “This is the only way…” he pulls back to hold your face in his hands, “I’ll find the diamond, my witches will do what we need, and then we will leave this place, my love. I want to show you the world, just as you wish but we can’t do that with him looming over us.”

You swallow, “I am tired of watching him hurt you… all of you.”

“And I do not want him to ever hurt you.“

Klaus had been a friend to you over the years but the one thing you disagreed on was how he handled his siblings. It broke your heart to watch any of them be daggered and put away in those wretched boxes for however long he deemed necessary. It drove a rift in between the two of you and you knew Kol was right, with how tightly of a leash Klaus kept on Kol, it was only a matter of time before Klaus saw Kol as a threat and daggered him again.

Besides, it wouldn’t be killing Nik. It would just be giving him a taste of his own medicine for once.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

You nod and Kol lets out a small chuckle, half smiling at you, he presses his lips to yours.

Pulling back, he looks you up and down, “All you have to do is look pretty, which is an easy task for you considering you always look gorgeous.”

He takes your hand and has you do a twirl, admiring the way your dress moves as you spin, “Absolutely stunning.”

You roll your eyes, giggling as he spins you right into his arms, “Always such a charmer.”

“Only for you…” he presses a kiss to your head, “You head down to the party I’ll be right there.”

You hum, connecting your lips one last time before heading downstairs, blending into the crowd around you. Soon after, Kol would make his way downstairs, he snuck up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and whispering into your ear.

“Rebekah knows but do not fret… she’s going to help us.”

Only she wouldn’t, Rebekah ran straight to Klaus and told him everything.

All of you were currently on the stairs, posed for a family photograph. Kol had his arm wrapped securely around your waist when Klaus raised his glass, taping the side of it with a knife to attract the attention of everyone in the room. He starts by thanking those invited for attending but then makes a special toast to Rebekah.

He looks at you and Kol while speaking, “It is especially gratifying in times when treachery runs deep to know you have someone you can trust…” he turns back to face Rebekah, smiling at her, “A toast, to you, my sister.”

Kol tenses, the two of you share a look and quickly begin to make your way up the stairs. You make it to the top of the stairs before Kol does and just as he’s about to join you, Elijah speeds in front of him. Elijah grabs Kol’s arms, successfully detaining him as Klaus slowly walks up the stairs. You’re frozen in place, unsure what to do and Kol looks at you. He knows this will be the last time he sees you for a very long time so he decides to commit your features to memory. He regrets not asking you for a dance earlier.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I do apologize for the disturbance! But, what’s a Mikaelson party without a little squabble…?” He reveals a silver dagger.

“Y/N run!” Kol shouts and you listen.

You rush away making Klaus sigh, looking at Rebekah over his shoulder, “Catch her,” he commands.

Kol looks at his sister, a pleading look in his eyes as he struggles in Elijah’s hold— watching her run after you, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to outrun her.

You hear Kol’s pained scream as Klaus shoves the dagger into his heart, trying to fight your tears as you run. You were outside when Rebekah caught you, slamming you into the wall.

“Bekah please…”

Her eyes scan your face, your fear, your grief, and she loosens her hold, “I have never had a true friend until you, Y/N… please… forgive me for what I am about to do.”

Rebekah takes your face in her hands, staring into your eyes and you begin to panic, knowing what is about to happen.

“You promised you’d never do that! All of you did! That you’d never take my choice away!” you fight against her.

“Look at me,” her voice becomes hypnotic and you find yourself unable to look away from her eyes, “You’re going to forget Kol, you’re going to forget that you were ever in love with him. You’ve never even heard his name. You are going to forget all about Elijah and… me. All you will know regarding the Mikaelson family is that you have to keep running from Klaus. You don’t stop, you don’t stay in one place for long, you keep running.”

Your eyes have completely glazed over, pupils dilated, “I keep running from Klaus…”

Rebekah pulls back from you, staring at you as your eyes go back to normal, “Y/N?”

“I… I’m sorry, do I know you? I… nevermind that I need to get going, I’m sorry again,” you say, walking past her before using your speed to get farther away.

Rebekah lets out a shaky breath, knowing that Klaus will not believe that you were able to outrun her. She brings her own hands to her neck and snaps it, falling to the ground.

Maybe he’d believe that.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

A few days had passed since your arrival in Mystic Falls, while everything had seemingly calmed down a bit, there was still the looming presence of Klaus.

You had been briefly involved with their plan of getting the moonstone from Katherine, you knew it wouldn’t do them any good and it was clear they were grasping at straws to try and save the doppelgängers life. After contacting him, he told you to just continue on as is so you wouldn’t raise suspicion. You had witnessed Elena’s attempt at a self-sacrifice play, which she failed at terribly due to your brother's intervention… and Elijah’s.

Damon was incredibly annoyed when he found out Elijah was still alive. And after a lot of back and forth and changing of plans, you managed to convince Damon to let you accompany him to the bar to confront Jules. You refused to be on babysitting duty with Jeremy.

You made it your mission to avoid Elijah, knowing that if you saw him you’d end up telling Klaus in fear of him interfering with their plan. You already knew that Elena and her group of friends would try to interfere but you could handle them - you had plans. Caroline was meant to be the vampire… but you had plenty of options for a vampire, maybe even your own brothers. Tyler Lockwood was a werewolf, but you needed a backup, which is the whole reason you went to the bar with Damon. You wanted to get an idea about Jules so that it would be easier to get her.

Jules was smart, she wouldn’t drink the wolfsbane and she instantly knew what you and Damon were. That wouldn’t matter, you knew when it came down to it - you’d be able to capture her with ease. You backed down from the argument, not wanting to fight in the middle of the bar but Damon didn’t. He kept pushing just like he always did.

That brought you to where you were now, back at the boarding house with Damon and Rose. The two were clearly having a moment so you decided to take a step back into the living room. Just as you do, a large wolf jumps through the window, slamming you into the ground. You hold its jaw, pushing its mouth away from you in fear of being bit.

“Damon!” you shriek, “A little help would be nice!”

Damon goes to the fireplace mantel, picking up a sword, taking a swing at the wolf. It lets out a pained sound and releases you- now going to attack Damon. Before it’s able to turn your brother into a chew toy, Rose jumps in front of him, taking the brunt of the attack. The werewolf sinks its teeth into her shoulder, infecting her with its deadly bite.

Your brother slashes the wolf once more and it takes off into the night, knowing it wouldn’t survive another hit from the blade. You let out a sigh of relief, turning to look at Damon and Rose.

“How bad is it?” Damon asks Rose, helping her off the ground to examine the bite.

“It hurts…” Rose whimpers.

You frown, already knowing what is going to happen, you knew of the false hope that she would get.

Damon’s eyes widen, “It’s healing!”

Rose tilts her head to look at her shoulder better, “Oh my God… I thought a werewolf bite was fatal!”

‘It is’ you want to say, to warn her of what is going to happen about how she’ll lose her mind. But you stay silent.

“I thought…” tears fill Rose’s eyes and Damon pulls her into his arms.

“You’re going to be okay…” he reassures her, giving you a look.

You press your lips together, nodding, leaving the room to give them their moment once more. Allowing them to live in a fantasy where Rose would be okay.

You made the decision to disappear for a few days, leaving your brothers and Elena to deal with Rose. Both of them left numerous messages on your phone.

“This is what? Call two hundred and twenty four? You’re really not going to answer them?” Klaus muses.

You sigh, shaking your head, “No. I’m not. They just want help with Rose… I don’t… I don’t want to see her like that, losing her mind… I’ve seen that happen too many times before.”

Klaus hums, “Let me guess, you’re going to ask for my blood to heal her?”

“No,” you shake your head, “She needs to die, she knows too much about you and your family, she’s a threat… besides she’s probably dead now.”

“Our family,” Klaus corrects.

You continue, ignoring him, “I just thought she’d die with a stake in her heart not from going insane.”

“Still sensitive.”

You choose to ignore his comment once again, playing the latest voicemail left by Stefan.

“Y/N, I don’t know where you are or why you left… I’m worried though… about you, about Elena… I miss you… can you please come home? Listen, Rose is dead and Damon is doing what he does best— deflecting. He’s got this new girl… Andie Star I think? I- I don’t know what happened that night, maybe you got bit too? I really hope not… Maybe you got scared… you ran… just please at least call me if you’re not going to come home… I need to know you’re okay. I love you.”

“I presume you’re going back now?”

You nod and Klaus smirks, “Excellent… I’ll be making my appearance soon.”

By time you arrived back in Mystic Falls, Elijah had been ‘dealt with’ as Damon put it. That made you anxious, you doubted they had found a white oak stake but the only alternative was a dagger, and that thought made your stomach churn.

Leaving had fractured the trust you built between your brothers, you knew it would but that was fine with you. The less you knew regarding Elijah, the better. You told them the truth, that you knew Rose was going to die - painfully and out of her mind. Damon was angry that you didn’t tell them and Stefan understood.

There was also the little fact that Katherine had been released of her compulsion. You had to admit, you were a tad anxious she’d find a way to Klaus and find out about your deal. If she ratted you out to Stefan and Damon, every part of your perfectly calculated plan would be ruined. Hopefully, Klaus would be enough to distract your brothers from you so they wouldn’t get too suspicious.

It was no secret that Niklaus Mikaelson liked making an entrance and being as you were currently not getting all the intel since they still didn’t trust you fully— Klaus decided to use one of his favorite tricks which you suggested. Body possession.

On the night of the school dance, Klaus possessed Alaric's body, revealing himself to Bonnie and Elena with dramatic flair and then he killed the Benett witch— at least that’s what you two thought.

The truth of Bonnie’s fate would be revealed on the night of the ritual when she showed up to kill Klaus with the help of Elijah.

Elijah had dug his hand into Klaus’ chest and you had no idea what to do. You couldn’t fight Elijah, that was one fight you’d certainly lose, not to mention Bonnie and all of the others being there, they’d stop you before you could lay a hand on him.

Klaus looked at you, silencing your fears with one glance before looking back to Elijah and confessing the truth, “I didn’t bury them at sea.”

His gaze flickered to you and Elijah looked to where his brother was, he hadn’t seen you in so long but still, he trusted you, so when you nod your head ever so slightly… he believes Klaus.

Two days had passed since the ritual and Klaus was now a hybrid. You had spent those two days following Elijah through the woods, cleaning up Klaus’ mess.

In fact, that’s where you currently are. It had been practically silent between the two of you, neither of you wanting to start the conversation, after all it had been nearly a hundred years. That was until you decided to open your mouth after arriving at another camp that had been ripped apart.

You move a body and scoff, “He’s not even draining them. He’s killing for sport.”

Elijah hums, “You sound shocked, you should know by now this behavior is expected of Niklaus.”

“He’s wasting perfectly good snacks,” you grumble as you throw the body to Elijah who catches it with ease.

“You’re thirsty?”

“No, Elijah, I’m annoyed,” you throw your hands up, walking closer to him, “It’s been two days since the full moon, why is he still a wolf?”

“I don’t have the answer to that.”

“Okay, well, what if he’s stuck as a wolf? Hm? Then what? We’re going to put him on a leash and have him lead us to the coffins?”

Elijah lets out a chuckle, “While that image is amusing, I’m sure he’ll be turning back soon.”

You sigh and go back to cleaning up the bodies in silence, when you’re done you both continue to follow the trail that Klaus was leaving behind, you had no doubt you’d soon run into more bodies.

“What have you been up to for the past century?” Elijah asks, walking so close that your arms brush against each other.

You come to a stop, and it takes Elijah a moment to stop and turn back, looking at you slightly confused.

“Are you serious? I was trapped, Elijah, and when I was trapped I was running from him,” you jab your finger into his chest, “from you.”

Elijah looks down at you, a frown on his face, “I haven’t been doing Niklaus’ bidding since he said he dropped all of them into the ocean… he implied that he had found you as well… that you were gone… I never did want to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Well it didn’t seem that way to me. I didn’t know that. I’ve spent the last century looking over my shoulder, not staying anywhere for more than a moment because I knew that no matter where I went, you, or him, or some minion of his would be waiting. And when I wasn’t running I was trapped… there… all alone…”

“Y/N—“

“I know what we did was unforgivable,” you say, taking a step away from him to continue following the trail and he follows, “but what he had planned for me was just cruel…”

“If it’s any consolation, none of us agreed with Niklaus’ ‘gift’.”

You let out a humorless laugh, “Is that what he called it?”

“Yes, it was intended to be given to you for your engagement… obviously you were shown sooner than intended… it was his disturbed way of welcoming you into the family officially.”

Your brows furrow, “What engagement?”

Elijah stops, seemingly realizing his mistake, “I apologize, I thought you knew… Kol…”

You stop and turn to him, “He was going to propose?” your voice breaks a bit as you will away your tears.

Elijah sighs, stopping to face you, “He had rings, new daylight rings… I do not know much of how he planned to propose, just that he planned to do it after the new year… You two had been together for so long I assume he thought it was time to ask…”

You blink a few times, before clearing your throat, “Let’s just find Klaus.”

He nods, continuing to follow the path, he can practically feel the emotions rolling off of you. Grief, sadness, anger, and even jealousy. Then there was the look on your face, the look of heartbreak. Even after all these years, he still hated to see you like this. He would always feel guilty, after all, he was the first one you met, the one who introduced you to everyone. He would forever feel at least somewhat responsible for your pain.

1869

New Orleans

It had been five years, nearly six since you ran from home, since your brothers were killed, and you were still having a hard time settling down. You found yourself in New Orleans, you loved everything about it, but there was one problem. It was hard to find work as a woman and even harder as a seventeen year old so you adapted to stealing.

You would wait by stands or alleyways and wait for the perfect target, you’d typically go for men who held their heads high as if they owned the world. Men who were so well dressed that you knew they had money to spare. Sometimes you’d even hang out near bars to find men stumbling around, too drunk to notice you taking their entire wallet.

It was late now, you were leaning against a wall when you saw him. A rather attractive man dressed in a fancy suit, you had no doubt that it had been tailor fitted to him. He begins to walk down the street, walking right past you, seemingly not noticing you. There weren’t as many people out now, normally you’d use the strangers during the day as cover but this man clearly had too much money for his good, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

As quietly as possible, you push yourself off the wall and follow behind him. You smirk when you see his wallet in his back pocket but just as your fingers graze what you assume is real leather, his hand snatches your wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You curse yourself for being so reckless. You swallow your pride and decide to try and flirt your way out. Men with the kind of money you knew he had, always enjoyed being flirted with, it boosts their already over-inflated egos.

You giggle while leaning a bit closer, “You’re even more handsome up close…”

He chuckles, “Is that so?”

“And this suit… it fits you so well…” you brush your hand along his chest.

“That’s very flattering…” he smiles, bringing his hand up to cup yours.

Hook. Line. Sinker. You had him.

“But I know what you’re doing.”

You did not have him.

Your smile fades away and you pull back from him. This had never happened before, most of the men were too dumb to figure it out (at least until they got home and found their wallets missing), it was just your luck that you’d try and rob the only smart guy around.

“How old are you?” He looks you up and down.

You gulp, “Seventeen, sir.”

He pulls his wallet from his pocket and holds it out to you, “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take it, you want my wallet? Take it.”

With shaky hands, you reach for the wallet, it was embarrassing being caught like this but you needed the money.

“Thank you…” you trail off, realizing you hadn’t learned his name.

“Elijah Mikaelson.”

Your eyes widen at the name, you had heard of the Mikaelsons before. A rich, powerful family and there were whispers all around that they were the thing you hated most. Vampires.

He smirks at your reaction, “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

He nods and smiles but it quickly fades when he glances at his watch, “Well, Miss Y/N do try to stay safe… you never know who or what may be lurking in these streets, especially at this time of night.”

And just like that, he was gone. The next time you saw him was after the new year when he pulled a newly turned vampire off of you. You saw him a third time when this exact thing happened again, you didn’t know why but you it seemed you were practically vampire bait.

After these two incidents, Elijah decided it wasn't safe for you to be on the streets any longer and invited you to come stay with him for some time before he could find something more permanent. An idea you were not so eager about when he confirmed that he and his family were in fact, vampires. But you couldn’t pass up the offer when he was offering you an actual bed to sleep in and numerous necessities. Little did either of you know that the compound would become your permanent home.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

After your conversation you had fallen behind Elijah, walking slower to keep the distance. When he called out that he had found him, you hardly even picked up the pace.

“You’ve been busy…” Elijah remarks, leaning on a tree.

“That was… amazing.” You hear Klaus’ voice before you see him.

And when you do see him you groan, spinning around and closing your eyes, “You could have told me he was naked.”

“Did you think I was carrying around his clothes these past two days for fun?” Elijah raises a brow.

“It’s been two days?” Klaus asks, you can hear him shuffling around while getting dressed.

“Full moon came and went. You remained a wolf.” Elijah states but it’s more of a question.

“I can change at will then, that’s good to know.”

Klaus smiles and then chuckles, “I remember… every single kill.”

“Yes, we’ve been cleaning up your little mess along the way.” Elijah gestures between the two of you.

“Just like old times then.”

Elijah hums, and pushes off the tree, handing Klaus his boots, “Well, you’ve had your fun. I believe we have a bargain.”

“That’s right!” Klaus exclaims, leaning down to put on his boots, “Now what was it again? Oh yeah, wait, I remember, that’s it! You wish to be reunited with our family!”

“And you!” he shouts towards you, “You want your precious Kol back…”

You turn around, finally facing him, pleased to see that he has put his pants on. You want to say something but hold your tongue, there was a time where you weren’t afraid of him but now it felt that if you even stepped a toe out of line he’d hunt you down.

Elijah brushes off Klaus’ jacket, “You gave me your word, Niklaus.”

Klaus smiles, cheekily, “And what kind of brother would I be if I broke my bond… even if you did try and kill me.”

You sigh, and Elijah holds out Klaus’ jacket for him to put on, “I could have… but I didn’t.”

Klaus puts on his jacket and fixes the collar, “And now no one can,” he turns to face Elijah, “Relax, Elijah, all is forgiven.”

He smiles at you, “That applies to you as well, love. You have more than proved yourself loyal.”

“Where are they?” Elijah cuts in.

Klaus grins, patting his brother's arm, “You need to lighten up… I’ll bring you to them soon enough.”

He walks ahead of you and Elijah, the two of you sharing a look before you scoff and follow after the hybrid. He ends up taking you to Alaric's apartment, you feel a pit in your stomach knowing that Katherine is going to be there but you do your best to push it away.

“Look who decided to come for a visit.” Katherine gestures to Stefan as you, Klaus, and Elijah enter the apartment.

“I need your help.” Stefan states, his eyes flickering to you, wondering why the hell you’re with them, there was no way for you to know what had happened to Damon so that couldn’t be it.

Elijah shuts the door, and Stefan steps closer, “For my brother.” he then looks at you, “our brother.”

Klaus clicks his tongue, “Oh well, whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait a tick. You see, I have an obligation to my brother.” he points at Elijah. “And your sister…” he points at you.

“It requires my immediate attention.” Klaus brushes past Stefan.

You hug yourself, feeling anxious of the entire situation, it was bad enough that Katherine was here and now Stefan was too.

“You understand how important family is or you wouldn’t be here.” Elijah walks a bit closer to Stefan, “My brother gave me his word that he would reunite me with my family.”

“And so I shall.” Klaus speaks from behind Elijah, Elijah spins around to face his brother but it is too late, Klaus shoves a dagger through his heart.

You feel frozen when Elijah screams, tears begin to fill your eyes, you know what is about to come and there's no point in running because he’d just catch you. Rebekah wasn’t here this time to buy you time.

His body drops to the ground with a sickening thud, his skin completely grey and you knew you would not get the privilege of a quick death.

Klaus smiles at you and the tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Please! I- I didn’t know about Elijah’s plan! I didn’t even know he was here! I only heard rumors! I swear! You said it yourself, Klaus- I’m loyal! I’ve proved it!”

Klaus shushes you and walks closer, your body doesn’t move, you’re rooted in your spot. He brings his hand up to hold your cheek and brushes a tear away, you shudder at the touch, letting out a sob.

“Loyal…?” Stefan questions, the floorboards creaking when he steps forward.

Klaus’ gaze immediately snaps to your brother, “Another step and I’ll rip her heart out.”

“She’s my sister-“

“All the more reason for you to stay put, Stefan.”

The two stare at each other for a moment before Stefan steps back. Klaus smirks, turning back to you. You tense up when he rests his hand on your neck, another sob wracks through your body.

“Don’t do this… I did what you asked! I found the doppelgänger! I found Elena! I called you as soon as I found her! Sure- Katherine found the werewolf but I made sure you had the backup one! And you needed the backup one! And- and using Alaric was my idea! I came up with that, it was perfect! You thought it was hilarious! I’ve helped you!”

Stefan’s brow furrows at your admission, his voice barely audible as he connects the dots, “You’re the reason he’s here… that’s… that’s why you came back to Mystic Falls to find us… not because you missed us, but because you’re helping him…”

You don’t bother to look over to your brother, you felt bad for betraying his trust, for lying to him but he could never understand, you don’t say anything, it wouldn’t matter now.

You look up at Klaus with tears staining your cheeks, “I did everything right!” your voice falls to a whisper, “Don’t make me go back there, it’s dark, Nik, I hate the dark…”

“You know, I considered you family once, I treated you as such.”

“Please Nikkie… you gave me your word…I just want him back, you promised me!”

“Oh love…” Klaus brings his hand up to brush some of the hair from your face, “You have me confused with Elijah…”

In a split second his hand falls to your neck, the sound of it snapping fills the room and he drops your body on the ground, discarding you.

Klaus turns back to Stefan who looks devastated by the news, “Don’t look so glum Stefan, you wouldn’t be the first to be tricked by your sister. She’d do anything to survive, even if it meant betraying those closest to her,” he glances at Katherine, noting the similarities.

He shakes his head, looking back at Stefan, “But that’s a story for another day…”

Klaus speeds forward, slamming Stefan into the wall, “Now… what am I going to do with you?”

Present Day

Chicago

“My sister? She knew you? All of you?”

Klaus approaches the coffins, “If you can’t handle it, don’t ask.”

Stefan looks at all of the coffins but two of them catch his attention, they’re away from the rest, almost like they’ve been isolated. One of the coffins is made of some sort of metal and they both have engravings on them that compliment each other.

Klaus notices his gaze and smirks, “I see you’ve spotted the lovers.”

“the lovers?” Stefan raises a brow.

His smirk deepens, he steps away from Rebekah’s coffin and to the others, he opens one of them, revealing a boy in clothing from the the early 1900s.

Stefan looks over the boy, completely confused he turns to Klaus who grins.

“You wouldn’t recognize him… you never had the pleasure of meeting Kol…” he brushes his hand over the engraving on the other one, “You’d recognize whose in this one though…”

Klaus could see the gears turning in Stefan’s head, his eyes widening as he pieced the puzzle together.

“My sister?” his voice breaks a bit.

Klaus laughs, “You always were quick, Ripper.”

“This is what you meant by family? You got her a coffin and a dagger? That’s family to you?”

The hybrid clicks his tongue a few times, wagging his finger, “No Stefan, I got her a coffin… I never said anything about a dagger.”

Stefan’s heart sinks at the new information, it all hit him at once, why you hated the dark, why you had to have the door open, why couldn’t stand to be in silence.

You didn’t get a century long sleep like Klaus’ siblings would, you got to lay there and rot, slowly and painfully, all alone.

“I had a witch make it, it’s spelled… only I can open it.” Klaus boasts, clearly proud of his work.

“That’s cruel, even for you.”

“Maybe so, but I must punish those who betray me accordingly.”

Klaus takes a step closer to Stefan, “You met Rebekah and I in 1920… but we did not meet by chance. I sought you out, I was looking for your sister… The girl can really run when she wants to. I was hoping you’d be able to help me find her, but you were too busy draining civilians, Ripper.”

“I wouldn’t have been helpful either way. I thought she was dead.”

“I’m aware… I thought that she’d maybe be nearby, watching, that was something she often did— check up on you and Damon. Regardless, I found her on my own in 1924.”

1924

London

Today marks four years since Rebekah’s compulsion had worn off which meant one of two things, she was dead (unlikely) or she had been daggered (very likely).

It had been four years since you remembered Kol and ten years that you had been running. You were tired, tired of running, tired of having to look over your shoulder every five seconds, tired of not having your beloved around.

Klaus was hunting you and you had done a damn good job at keeping him off of your trail, always being careful when finding a snack and making sure you were never in one place for too long.

So you decided to do the opposite, you had been in London for two weeks now, ripping through crowds of people with no remorse. You wanted Klaus to find you, you wanted him to kill you.

You’re currently in a bar full of people, well, dead people. You slaughtered everyone and now had your teeth buried in some man’s neck.

“Perhaps you’re more like Stefan than I thought.” Klaus’ voice fills the bar.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off of the now dead, drained man. You look at Klaus with blood coating your face and staining your dress.

After staring at each other for a moment, you stand to your full height, Klaus gives you a once over before raising a brow.

“You’ve gotten sloppy, left a trail of bodies a mile long leading me right to you.”

You simply stare at him and he smirks, “You wanted to be found.”

“I can’t do this anymore… not without him. I‘m tired, Nik. Please, just end it.”

Niklaus clicks his tongue, “End it?” He takes a step towards you.

“Kill me.”

Klaus laughs, “You think I want to kill you?”

Your brows furrow and you take a step back from the hybrid, Klaus snaps his fingers and two men enter the room carrying a coffin.

You take another step back, eyes widening and Klaus grins, “You can try to run but you won’t get far…”

“No… you… you can’t dagger me…”

“You’re right, daggers are such trivial things to make… you would know after all. But a lockbox that only I can open, now that’s much simpler.”

You decide to risk it, attempting to speed away but he catches you in a second, holding you up in the air by your throat.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back with him soon enough… consider this me officially welcoming you into the family.”

Present Day

Chicago

“What was the point of letting her out just to lock her back up? To be cruel?”

Klaus shrugs, “I was bored and decided to make her a deal in 1984.”

“1984? You kept her in there for…”

“Sixty years, Stefan. She betrayed me and those were the consequences. When I woke her up we made an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“She’d find me Katherine and bring her to me. She couldn’t ever find Katherine but she found me something even better…”

“Elena…”

“Yes, the doppelgänger.”

“So she knew the truth about your curse? That you’re a hybrid?”

“She was my family once, lived with us for nearly half a century. She knows a lot more than she led you all to believe. But don’t get any ideas, she’d never tell you anything that could hurt us… she wouldn’t risk Kol or Rebekah getting caught in the crossfire… or Elijah, though I suppose she’d be alright losing me considering she attempted to do so herself.”

“Moving on!” Klaus chirps, moving back to Rebekah, “It’s time for my little sister to wake up…”

“And I knew her?” Stefan asks, looking into the now open coffin, “I don’t recognize her.”

“Well don’t tell her that,” Klaus muses, “Rebekah’s temper is worse than mine.”

He pulls the dagger out, waiting for a moment before sighing, “Any Day now, Rebekah… she’s being dramatic.”

Present Day

Mystic Falls

It had been months since Klaus had locked you away. You were a bit surprised when he came to free you, your bones creaked, skin practically gray… still, you weren’t nearly as desiccated as the last time you had been in that coffin.

He fed you blood and brushed your hair for you as if you were a doll then provided you with a white colored dress that went to your knees, it reminded you of the one Elijah had given you when you first arrived in their home.

When Klaus revealed he was hosting a dinner with Elijah for Stefan and Damon you realized what he was doing. You were a bargaining chip.

You sat in the living room, humming to yourself, waiting for them to arrive. You still felt weak from not having blood for so long and the fact you were shaking was proof of that, the little blood that Klaus had provided was not enough.

Soon enough, your brothers arrived and were let inside by Elijah, “Niklaus, our guests have arrived…”

“Damon… Stefan…” Klaus greets, standing by the head of the dining room table, “Elijah tells me you seek an audience… very bold. Let’s discuss the terms of our agreement like civilized men, shall we?” he gestures to the large table that was set for five.

“It’s better to indulge him,” Elijah states, moving past your brothers.

“I didn’t come here to eat Klaus,” Stefan narrows his eyes, taking a step down the stairs, “I didn’t want to come here at all… but… I was told I had to, because you’d hear us out.”

Klaus hums, “Well we can sit and eat… or I can reach down your throats and pull out your insides…” he takes his seat at the head of the table, “choice is yours…”

Your brothers decide it would be best to sit and eat. Once the four brothers had sat down, Klaus sat forward in his chair, dramatically placing his hands in front of him, “I almost forgot! Sweetheart!” he calls out, “You can come out now!”

That was your que to enter, walking through the doorway and making a beeline for the table, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Elijah stands when he sees you, pulling out your chair for you and when you sit he pushes you in.

“Y/N…” Damon says quietly, it isn’t until then that you realize he hasn’t seen you since the night of the ritual.

“Damon…” you mumble in a voice so quiet that anyone without supernatural hearing wouldn’t be able to hear you.

“How are you—“ he begins but is quickly cut off by Stefan.

“She’s practically part of their freaky family, Damon, and Klaus won’t kill his family… he’ll just torture them endlessly.”

“That’s not very nice Stefan,” Klaus clicks his tongue.

You grab the glass of wine, downing it as quickly as possible. Hoping that it will not only curb your blood cravings but also make this dinner party a little more bearable. When you finish your glass, you reach for Elijah’s.

He raises a brow, shooting you an unimpressed look, “By all means, help yourself.”

You take a sip of the wine, ignoring Elijah, “Can we please get on with this dinner… I’m starved.”

“Well at least one of you is hungry… Stefan seems to have lost his appetite,” Klaus notes, nodding his head in Stefan’s direction.

Damon glances at his brother, gesturing with his fork, “Eat. I thought we agreed we’d leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

Reluctantly, Stefan picks up his fork making Klaus smile, “That’s the spirit. Isn’t it nice? Five of us dining together? Such a treat. Is that what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger from my brother?”

Damon smiles sarcastically, “Well, I know how he felt about you, so I figured the more the merrier,” he winks playfully at Elijah.

“Well, Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries… but we always make it through,” Klaus takes a bite of his steak.

“Kind of like you and Rebekah, right? Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her,” Stefan quips, smirking over the rim of his bourbon glass.

Damon shoots a warning look at Stefan but you can’t be bothered by their conversation, you’re too focused on your bloody steak in front of you. Savoring the small amount of blood you’d get from its juices.

“If you’re referring to the fact Rebekah knows I killed our mother, I’ve already come clean to Elijah,” Klaus smiles at Elijah who has remained silent, resting his head on top of his fist.

“Hey Stef,” Damon cuts in, grabbing everyone’s attention, “remember when you killed dad? Might want to dial down on the judgement until dessert.”

You had been fighting the urge to lick the dish clean, hoping for just another drop of that delicious, bloody flavor. But Damon’s words distract you, making you look up from the plate.

“You killed dad?” you ask, looking directly at Stefan, he doesn’t verbally answer, only narrowing his eyes at you making you hum, “I always thought it was Katherine…” you fidget with your fork, pushing it across the plate.

“You want another plate, love?” Klaus asks, his tone was sickeningly sweet, he snaps his fingers and a compelled blonde girl comes running to get your plate.

She leans over you, hair falling past her neck and you could feel the veins beneath your eyes begin to ripple. The girl's eyes widened, Klaus may have compelled her to do his bidding but he never compelled away her fear.

“Y/N,” Klaus says your name in a sing-songy tone, a warning.

Your lips part at the sound of her heart pumping, the smell of the blood in her veins, and your fangs begin to descend.

“Y/N. No,” Klaus tries again, setting his fork down.

But it was too late, you were out of your chair in a split second. You wrapped your hand around the girl’s neck, slamming her into the nearby wall hard enough to crack it, your other hand holding one of her wrists. You nearly moan at the taste of fresh blood, like an animal you can’t get enough.

Removing your hand from her neck, you flatten your palm and push the tip of chin up until it’s out of your way— effectively breaking her neck. You continue to drink, not caring as the blood stains your mouth and neck, dripping to your dress.

Klaus sighs, “One nice dinner, that’s all I ask, is that too much to ask for?”

He rises from his chair and speeds to stand behind you, “That’s enough.”

You don’t listen and Klaus decides there is only one solution to the problem he caused, snapping your neck. Your head is practically on backwards and he allows your body to fall to the ground next to the blonde, dead girl.

Damon stands up, his chair screeching but Stefan grabs his arm, dragging him back down, and Klaus clears his throat, walking back to the table as if he hadn’t just broke your neck.

Elijah sighs, excusing himself from the table, he picks up your body with ease and brings you back to the table, setting you in your seat. He twists your head so your head is facing the proper way, hoping that it’ll allow you to heal and wake sooner. The dinner would proceed as normal, other than Damon looking at your body every few seconds, it was as if nothing had happened.

When you woke, you were alone at the table and you could hear voices coming from the living room.

“Elijah… why haven’t you left?” Klaus sounds confused.

You stand up, finding your bearings.

You can hear the smugness in Elijah’s tone when he speaks, “You’ve lectured Y/N on her manners all night… but where are yours, brother? We forgot dessert.”

You take slow steps towards the living room.

“What have you done?” Klaus’ voice is panicked, he sounds betrayed.

“What have you done?” Elijah retorts, “You see, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

You’ve nearly made it to the living room door way when you stop in your tracks after hearing Klaus utter a single word.

“Kol…”

“Long time brother.”

His voice, Kol’s voice. Your Kol, he was here, he was awake.

You rush to the doorway, freezing when you finally see him. Kol, he looked the same as he did on that fateful night in 1914, still wearing the same outfit. He still looked as beautiful as you remembered him to be, tears began to prick the corner of your eyes but not tears of sadness or fear, they were tears of joy.

You could see Stefan still by the fireplace where he had been burned, you could see Damon standing off to the side of Elijah, but it didn’t matter, you didn’t care about your brothers in that moment. It was as if everything around you faded away and it was just you and Kol.

“Kol…” you whisper, softly.

His gaze snaps up to find you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Y/N…”

Without giving it a second thought, Kol takes one of the hands restraining Klaus and uses it to snap the hybrids neck. He speeds towards you, something Damon takes note of but when he moves to get to you, to try and protect you from what he thinks is a threat; Elijah places his hand onto Damon’s chest, stopping him from moving.

You slowly bring your hands up to hold his face and he covers your hands with his, ”You’re real…” you breath out, you still couldn’t believe he was in front of you after all this time.

He smiles, chuckling a bit, “I’m real… and I’m not leaving you ever again.”

You smile, causing more tears to flow and you throw yourself into his arms, nuzzling your face into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut and welcoming the darkness that came with it because for the first time, in a century, you weren’t alone in the dark. You were with Kol, your Kol.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist, inhaling your scent that he remembers so fondly, “I missed you, my darling.”

It must have been those words that finally helped Damon connect the dots, that this was the boy, the one that changed your opinion on vampires, the one who turned you into a vampire. This was the boy you lost a century ago, the boy you’d do anything and everything to get back. Including betraying your own family.

“You’re free to go. This is family business.”

Elijah’s words made Damon realize something, you weren’t his family anymore, you hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe you never officially got married because you ran out of time but you were no longer Y/N Salvatore, you were Y/N Mikaelson. He can pinpoint the exact moment you stopped being his family and it was long before the Mikaelsons, it was when he and Stefan chose Katherine Pierce over you. That fateful night where he told you that you weren’t his family anymore.

The truth hurts and the truth was that there was no fixing your relationship with either of your brothers. The next few months would make that abundantly clear. Like when you snapped Damon’s neck after he snapped Kol’s. Or when you stood by while Kol beat Damon with an aluminum bat. And of course you stood by Rebekah when she had compelled and trapped everyone in the school. You even helped Kol slaughter all of the newly turned vampires meant for Jeremy… and you let Kol torture Damon.

So maybe you really weren’t their family anymore, maybe that’s why they wouldn’t feel as guilty about what was going to happen when Jeremy would kill Kol.

At least you wouldn’t be alone when the darkness came, you would die in the arms of your love in the middle of the Gilbert family kitchen. It didn’t matter to you that his body was still crackingly, still burning, you‘d endure the feeling of your flesh melting to his if it meant you got to hold him one last time. There would be no coming back for either of you, you knew this and accepted it. You closed your eyes and faded away into the darkness, welcoming it.

You only hoped that when you’d wake on the other side, you’d still be in Kol’s arms.

The Darkness.

The End.

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