#Pit Bonnie is starting to remember his other life

[chloesimaginationthings]

The secret ending in FNAF into the pit..

[hoetolegist]

TITLE: 1 year anniversary

Summary: Your one year anniversary with Stefan was right around the corner, you couldn't be happier

Warnings: Implied cheating (but he didn't), y/n is too damn emotional, insecurity, comfort, makeup sex, dirty talk kind of, unprotected sex

••••

Today was your 1 year anniversary with Stefan and you really wanted to make it special. You asked your friends and Stefan's friends to help you make it the best day of your boyfriend's life

"Okay guys, here's a list of the things I need you to get when you go out" you handed everyone a piece of paper with places to go and things to grab. You've been planning this for weeks, actually months and if everything isn't exactly as you want it then you just might fall over and collapse into a pit of nothingness. Okay maybe nothing that extreme but you'll be sad nonetheless

Caroline stood up as you gave her the last paper "why can't you just pull some chairs out to the terrace, throw around a couple of lights, buy him a cake and say happy anniversary?" She joked with an eyeroll

You shook your head at her. When she needed help wooing Tyler you didn't complain, you had to stand on a stool for hours holding up one end of a string of butterfly lights in a dark corner because she couldn't buy clips in time for their date

"Hey! I helped you get Tyler, remember that" you playfully glared at her, pointing at Tyler who was sitting on the couch laughing at the two of you

Caroline chuckled then grabbed her purse "I know I know". You gave her a hug, knowing she has to head to work "go shopping before six O'clock okay?" You pleaded with the blonde, she's never on time but you need her to be for this

Once she left you turned back to everyone else, clapping your hands for their attention. Matt looked at you and raised his eyebrows "we aren't kindergarteners y/n. Please stop snapping and clapping at us"

You ran a hand through your hair with a sigh "I'm sorry guys, I'm just so stressed. I want everything to be perfect for Stefan you know?"

Your best friend Bonnie got up and held you tight in her arms, "we know, that's why we're helping but go easy on us and yourself, okay?". You smiled at her, silently thanking her

All of you started setting up, you needed help mostly because the only party decorations you have are ones you brought from back home. Your boyfriend loves you and your culture but you're sure he doesn't want a ton of traditional Indian party decorations hanging around

Not much was needed to please your vampire boyfriend though. He has seen everything and been everywhere but you still wanted to go all out for him, make this the best anniversary of his 171 year old life

You were sprinkling the last few rose petals on the terrace when you heard your phone ring. "I'm coming" you said to no one in particular, you jogged to the kitchen counter and picked up your phone

"Hello" you said loudly, you had to scream over the deafening music your friends were playing. "Hel- hold on"

You gestured for the boys to turn it down, they shook their heads no but still did it anyway

You cleared your throat "Hello"

All you could hear was shuffling on the other side of the phone. "Hello?" You repeated, maybe the person was getting themselves situated. You sat down on a stool and waited for a reply

"She is at her house planning a stupid anniversary date like the spoiled brat she is. It's not fair Katherine" you heard a girls voice grumble, was this a fucking butt dial? You checked the caller ID and it read Elena Gilbert. You sucked in a breath and muted yourself

The girl who you assumed was Katherine spoke "just crash it. Pretend to be a little injured puppy and say you need Stefan here" your eyes widened. Did she say Stefan? Your Stefan? "you know he'd choose you over her anyday" she added

You could hear Elena sigh heavily "he just feels sorry for her, that's why he's dating her. He'll-"

You suddenly heard a faint knock come from the other side of the phone and then everything was muffled like she was moving

You picked your phone back up to hang up, feeling guilty for listening in on their conversation even though it was about you and a plot on the downfall of your love life

Before you could hang up you recognized a deep voice speaking. "Hey where's-" your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you listened to your boyfriends voice get cut off by a loud shriek

"Stefan!" you heard Elena practically shout, squealing like a love sick school girl

You quickly hung up, not wanting to hear anymore. If you gripped the counter any harder it would break in half. You placed your phone down on the counter and stood up

"Are you okay y/n" you turned your head to see Tyler walking out to the terrace with the balloons he must've blew up, concern etched his features

"I'm fine uh just tie those to the uhm" you were trying hard to blink back tears, could barely speak properly "tie those to the back of the chairs, two on each chair". Once he stepped out onto the terrace your vision blurred, tears forcing their way up

You felt sick to your stomach. Stefan is at his ex girlfriends house while you sat at your house stupidly planning an anniversary surprise for him. He was just telling you yesterday that he loved you and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. "I couldn't ever put anyone before you" he said. You scoffed at the irony of it all

You wiped your face as a tear slipped. You needed to get everyone out of here, the air around you is suffocating and you don't want your friends bothering you right now. Being alone was the best option for you

You walked over to the speaker and turned the music off completely. Everyone looked at you and you felt like you were being judged. "Thank you guys for helping but I need some time to myself right now, it would be great if you would leave" you tried to say it as nice as kicking your friends out of your home could sound

"Are you okay y/n? We-" Bonnie tried to speak but you interrupted her, not wanting to hear anything from anyone. You weren't thinking straight, your feelings are hurt, your heart is shattered and the last thing you want to do is to take it out on your friends

You didn't even try to force a smile "I'm fine Bonnie I promise, I'm just feeling a little sick right now. I think I caught something"

Your friends, although hesitant, left without arguing with you. Once the front door was closed you sat on the couch in the living room thinking harder than you should be about what she said

Is he really just taking pity on you? You wouldn't be surprised, who are you compared to Elena? He dated her for years, they have a better connection, she knows more about him then you ever could and he knows more about her than he knows about you

Your phone dinged and lit up, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Baby: I'm on the way to your house. Guess what?

You rolled your eyes as they filled with tears. The audacity to text you when he was just doing God knows what at his ex girlfriends house

You: I'm not feeling good today. Don't come over. Today isn't important or anything, we can hang another time

You: :)

You kind of felt bad for sounding so harsh but it's what he deserved after what he did to you. You know that it would be reasonable to hear him out but right now you feel like you never want to see him or hear from him again

••••

It's been three weeks and you've been huddled up in your room not speaking to anyone, shooting the occasional "I'm okay, trying to get better" text to your friends who thought you were recovering from Covid

Stefan texted you nonstop for the first few weeks

"baby are you okay?"

"Y/n, Bonnie told me you were sick. Should I come over?"

"Open the door y/n"

"Why are you ignoring me? What did I do wrong love?"

You didn't answer any of them, reading them then throwing your phone to the side. You don't care about how he's feeling, he didn't care about your feelings. Eventually he stopped texting and calling, finally giving up

You looked at your alarm clock and decided to drag yourself out of bed to make breakfast. As you walked past the terrace you noticed the decorations were still up, you stopped and just stood there staring out at the decorations that were now messed up by the rain from last weekend. Rose petals scattered around, just like the pieces of your heart

"Why me?" You questioned aloud to yourself. "What does she have that I don't? Why do I always get the short end of the stick?" You were starting to get mad. You picked up one of your favorite glass plates and threw it at the wall, tears rolling hot down your cheeks. Just as you were lifting up another plate to throw, your phone began to ring

You stood there and listened to the sound of the automatic "over the horizon" ringtone echo through the apartment. Your chest moved up and down rapidly from the heavy breathing. You weren't going to answer it but maybe it was Bonnie calling about something important. You sniffled and placed the plate down to wipe your tears

The name Damon was flashing in big bold letters on your phone. You picked it up and watched it ring, should you answer? No, there's nothing you need to hear from him, he probably knew what was going on behind your back

You placed your phone down once the call ended but it started ringing once again. Your finger hovered above the dark green answer button before you finally clicked it

"Hello" you answered, trying to stop your voice from shaking

"Y/N, WHY HAVEN'T YOU BEEN ANSWERING THE PHONE?" Damon shouted in your ear. You pulled the phone away from your ear a little bit

"Well I didn't know- I'm not- I-" you stumbled over every word that came out of your mouth. Breath y/n breath you closed your eyes and exhaled. "Why? What happened?" you finally got out

"Something happened to Stefan. He was fine one minute and then he was on the floor hyperventilating and- and I didn't know what to do" it sounded like he was starting to cry

Your eyes widened and you froze. Something happened to Stefan. Oh shit! Something happened to Stefan!

To say you were panicking was an understatement. You put the phone on speaker and ran to your closet to throw on some faded black sweatpants and a Mystic Falls sweatshirt

Damon rambled on although you were barely listening. You grabbed your phone and keys and headed out the door

You ran down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, your breathing was heavy by the time you got to the car. "Okay I'm getting on the road I'll see you when I get there" you said before hanging up the phone

As you drove there you couldn't help but think that it was your fault. What if something worse happened and Damon is trying to keep it light. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying

"Fuck fuck fuck" you whispered under your breath. You should've answered those calls, you should've texted him back, you should've let him in when he was knocking at your door. Tears burned your eyes but you tried your hardest to hold them back, this isn't about you it's about Stefan

When you reached the oversized mansion Damon was already standing outside waiting for you. You noticed a small smirk on his face but didn't think anything of it, he's always smirking. You ran up to him "What happened to Stefan? Where is he? Why didn't anyone come to my house sooner? Is he okay?" You paused to breathe, your throat felt dry and it was a bit chilly outside

Damon grabbed your arm and rushed you through the front door. As soon as you stepped a few feet down the dimly lit hallway you saw Stefan laying on the couch, curled up in a fluffy baby blue blanket with used tissues surrounding him

You turned around and looked at Damon then back at Stefan. "What- what happened?" You gulped loud enough for anyone within two blocks to hear. Stefan sat up at the sound of your voice. His eyes were red so he obviously had been crying, he had weeks worth of eye bags and his hair was unkempt

He stared at you and you stared at him. You felt a tear slip down your cheek but you didn't even have the energy to wipe it. Slowly, you walked over to him. "Are you okay?" You asked softly, you kept eye contact with him even as you sat down next to him

"Damon told me that you uh started hyperventilating, seized up or something" you inhaled a shaky breath waiting for a response but Stefan looked at you confused and in shock then he looked at Damon who looked like he was trying his hardest to bite back a smile, then he looked back at you apologetically

Now you were the one confused, if Syefan was okay then why the hell were you called down here? You gasped as it finally clicked. "YOU DICK" your voice bounced off of the walls. You hopped up from the couch and stomped towards Damon. Why would he do this? You could've been home right now laying in your own tears

"You lured me over here" you accused as you poked your finger into his chest. He stood there with his hand up in surrender

You then turned to face Stefan, finger still pointing "and you, you just let him" he shook his head no but you weren't having it. "You just let him convince me that you were hurt or worse DEAD" your voice got louder with each word that came out of you mouth

"I am hurt" Stefan said softly, so soft that you wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for the pindrop silence that quickly engulfed you. Your features visibility softened after hearing his voice, your shoulders slumped and you walked back to the couch. He sat on one side of the couch and you on the other, trying not to make eye contact, it was absolutely pathetic

Damon cleared his throat and spoke "you guys need to talk it out. I know I tease you and all but that's because you're like the little sister I never had" a small smile appeared on your face "you two are all I have, talk to each other" he nodded his head before disappearing up the stairs

Now it was just you, Stefan and the unbearable silence that blanketed you two

"I don't know what I-"

"I'm sorry for-"

You chuckled awkwardly at you two attempting to speak at the same time. "You can go first" you whispered to him. You weren't ready to hear about how he fell out of love with you and realized he still had feelings for his ex girlfriend

He whispered a soft "thanks" and took a deep breath as he faced you "I don't know what I did but I'm sorry for it. I don't want you to ignore me anymore, I've been miserable without you. Just tell me what I did and I'll fix it. I'll do anything to fix this"

The silence was deafening, it grabbed a hold of you and squeezed you, crushed you. Before you knew it a tear slipped and you angrily wiped it. You wanted to punch the couch, why do you keep crying? You had no reason to cry, you shouldn't even be here. Stefan slowly moved over to hold you in his arms

Once you felt this familiar warmth engulfing you, you started to sob, tears that you didn't even know you had left. Maybe it's because you missed him - his strong arms giving you the best hugs, his warm breath fanning across your face as he shushed you and consoled you, his need to still comfort you even though he's just as hurt as you are

He rubbed your hair, his chin on top of your head and your face in his neck. You fit like a missing puzzle piece. "Please talk to me" he whispered into your head

You pulled away from him and reached for the tissue box but Stefan was already handing you one. You sniffed as you dabbed at your tears. "I got a call when I was setting up the surprise I had for our anniversary" you looked at him "of course it was Elena Gilbert, when is she not bothering me, even butt dials end up being her" you rolled your eyes

"anyway, I overheard her and some Katherine girl talking about how I'm a spoiled brat and how you'd choose her over me anyway and that you're just dating me because you felt bad" you got up from the couch and started pacing back and forth "and why wouldn't I believe it? You've been coming over here a lot lately and she always happens to be over here. I heard you when I was on the phone with her" you looked at him again, he took a deep breath "I heard you and I heard her but I couldn't take it anymore so I hung up"

He moved as if to get up and comfort you but decided better of it. You stood in the middle of the floor holding your head, it was beginning to hurt and you just wanted to lay down. "Now the terrace is fucked up after I spent 2 days trying to make it look perfect for an anniversary surprise" you scoffed and started pacing again

Stefan got up from the couch and grabbed your shoulders, looking you in your eye. "Y/n I would never cheat on you" he grabbed your hand and walked you over to the couch to sit down

"I was over here because Damon called me saying mom got sick, that's all" his eyes never left yours as he spoke, allowing you to read him and see through him "as soon as I talked to mom she told me he was overreacting and it was just a cold that's when I texted you that I was on the way over but you said not to come"

You were speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Stefan sighed "I told you Elena is a fucking liar y/n" you could tell he was getting mad

He got up from the couch and walked over to the house phone, dialing a number and waiting

He wasted no time, speaking as soon as someone picked up the phone "Elena, stop lying to y/n and stop pretending to butt dial her just so you can talk shit" he was fuming "I'm not with you anymore and I don't want you, get that through your head" he hung up without letting her get a word in and stomped back over to you

"I'm sorry" you apologized quickly before he could get even madder at you. You really fucked up "I shouldn't have doubted you. I trust you I really do, I guess I just don't trust her"

Stefan exhaled and gently cupped your face with his hands, making you look him in the eye "Hey, you were mad for a good reason but we have to talk to each other about these types of things" you nodded your head "I expect you to be able to come to me and talk to me. I want you and only you, I mean it. I love you"

You believed him, you have no reason not to. "I love you too". Stefan"s eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second

"Maybe we could-" you didn't get to finish your sentence when he pressed his lips against yours, pulling you into a searing kiss

Stefan wrapped his arms around your waist holding you tight against him, feeling you cling onto his shirt and kiss him back just as eagerly. It’s when he feels you smile against his lips that he pulls back, wanting to see your beautiful smile

You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. "Stefan!" You shrieked with a laugh. He just chuckled and started walking towards the staircase

Loud banging on the front door pulled you two out of your lustful haze. "Damon! Open up I know Stefan is in there" the person banged on the door again. You rolled your eyes, recognizing the voice immediately

Stefan placed you down and grabbed your hand. "I got this" he whispered into your ear. You tried to hold back a laugh, nodding with your serious face on. He tightened his grip on your hand and walked over to the door, opening it a crack "How may I help you?" he put on the worst British accent you have ever heard

Elena squinted to see who it was that answered the door. She sucked her teeth as if she didn't have time for games "Stefan, baby open the damn door". You stiffened at her pet name for him, Stefan noticed your discomfort and dropped the act. He opened the door wide enough for the both of you to be visible

"What do you want Elena" she looked between you and Stefan then settled at death glaring just you

"What's she doing here? I thought you guys uh broke up" she sounded somewhat nervous, you being there was definitely something she wasn't expecting

You and Stefan rolled your eyes at the same time "I bet you did" you said, releasing Stefan's hand so you could cross your arms with attitude. "Now that you know that we are actually happier than ever, you could go now" you looked her up and down, disgust heavy on your face "we were just about to officially makeup before you came banging on the door like a beggar"

That seemed to hit a nerve because she was lunging at you in no time. Stefan stepped in front of you and put his arms out to stop her, pushing her back as gently as he possibly can be right now

"You have twenty seconds to get in your car and leave" he was seething, he was definitely more mad than when you first told him about what she did "don't you ever try to put a hand on her again got it?". Elena took a step back but tried to keep her composer, pretending to be nonchalant

"Come on Stefan you don't lo-" you were past Stefan and pulling Elena's hair before she could even finish her sentence. "Finish that sentence and I swear I will have Stefan break you in two" you whispered in her ear before letting her go. She stared you while rubbing the side of her head that you had yanked

She looked to Stefan hoping he would help her but he just stood there with a smile on his face. She stomped her foot and flicked you both off "fuck you" she said before turning around to leave

You stood there and watched her angrily drive away. "That bitch is crazy" you said to Stefan as he closed and locked the front door. He looked at you like a wild animal that found it's prey

"You are so hot, you know that" he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You giggled as he let his hands wander down to hold your ass "I want you so bad" he practically whined in a soft raspy voice

You gently pushed him away then turned toward the staircase "come get me baby" you laughed before taking off, around the small table and up the stairs. When you got to the top of the stairs Stefan caught you in his arms "too easy"

"No fair" you doubled over laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach "you used your vampire speed to get up here" he picked you up bridal style while you were settling down from laughing and whisked you away to his room

He placed you on the bed and climbed over you. The eye contact was intense and heat filled, you both knew what you wanted. His lips connected with yours in a passionate kiss. You melted into the kiss instantly

You missed this, the feeling of his warm lips on yours. You guys kiss for lost time, for all the time you wasted being away from each other

"You're so beautiful y/n" Stefan whispered as he pulled away to begin kissing around your jaw and down your neck. You slightly arched off of the bed as he tugged at your gray sweatshirt, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side. His eyes widened at the sight, you weren't wearing a bra, not really throwing one on when you were rushing over here

You blushed under his gaze, you know not to be embarrassed with him. He makes you feel more than beautiful

You put your hand on his chest and pushed him back "lay down" you told him. He looked slightly confused but still did. You stradled him, your shirt gone leaving you in just your sweatpants

Stefan shuddered as you lightly traced his abs with your fingers, his eyes fluttering closed with pleasure

You rotated your hips slightly against his clothed erection, seeking friction on your throbbing clit. Stefan started unbuckling his pants, just as you started pulling your sweatpants off, kicking them to the side with the rest of the clothes

He released a deep groan when you grabbed his cock. Your warm hands moving up and down along his sensitive cock. He watched you with narrow eyes as you scooted down, your mouth right by his cock and your back arched, ass in the air

You ran your tongue up the length of Stefan's cock "oh fuck y/n" he rasped out, immediately running his hands through your hair. His toes curled as you took his whole cock into your mouth and hallowed your cheeks, rhythmically bobbing your head up and down

The sounds he made went straight to your aching pussy, making you moan around his cock. He threw his head back and groaned at the vibrations of it "your mouth feels so good baby" his deep voice echoed through the room

You pulled off with a pop "look at me baby". Stefan sat up on his elbows, making direct eye contact with you, you held his gaze as you deepthroated his cock. "fuck I'm gonna cum" he whined, wanting to move his hips but you held them down. You pulled off of his cock before he could cum, a string of saliva following

"Please....Y/n please" he begged, you still stroked his cock. You licked his cock head one more time before climbing back up to face him "I want you to cum inside of me" you purred against his lips before tracing your tongue along his bottom lip

You lined his cock up with your wet pussy with one hand, using the other to grab Stefan's face "don't stop looking at me". You whimpered sweetly as you lowered yourself, savoring the feeling of being filled

Stefan was glad he didn't close his eyes, he watched the way your pussy sucked him in completely, your heat and wetness engulfing his cock. He placed his hands on your waist, gripping so hard you're sure it'll leave light bruises "Shit you're so tight" you allowed him to squeeze his eyes shut for a few minutes before making him look at you again

You closed your eyes, mouth dropping open and head hanging loosely back. Stefan released a deep guttural moan

“Such a big cock, baby, splitting me open so good” you gasped, grinding down hard on your boyfriend, trying to get it deeper and deeper. Stefan preened at the praise, his hips twitched up, hitting your g-spot "oh fuck!" Your thighs were practically vibrating by now "do that again." You breathed

Stefan propped his legs up to give himself more leverage, and began to fuck up into you at your command. The sound of skin slapping against skin drowned out all the beautiful moans falling from your lips

Stefan still hadn't taken his eyes off of you, watching every reaction you had to his cock pounding into you. He slowed down and thrusted deeper if that was even possible "you're so fucking sexy" he was breathing heavy, a thin coat of sweat glistened on his body

You clenching even tighter around him at the praise. You were a moaning and whimpering mess, dragging your fingernails down his chest as your climax neared, after a few more thrust your vision faded into black as you tensed up, Stefan's name leaving your mouth with a scream. He still pounded into you helping you ride out your orgasm and chasing his own

You could tell Stefan was close, his moans were getting louder and his muscles were tensing. You took over again and starting bouncing quickly on his cock, keeping as much rhythm as your over stimulated pussy allowed "Cum for me baby" you murmured breathily

All it took was you clenching around his cock for Stefan to still completely, burying his cock deep in your heat and letting the earth shattering orgasm overcome him. He groaned loudly with his hips pushed against your bottom

After a few minutes Stefan's arms went slack on the bed as he tried to catch his breath. You stayed on top of him, slowly sliding off of his cock and relaxing on his sweaty chest

"That was amazing" Stefan's voice was a bit raspy now. You could hear his heart beating loudly "it was" you agreed with a shy giggle

Stefan chuckled at your ability to do be so bold in the bedroom but shy afterward. "I love you so much" he whispered, leaning up to kiss the top of your head

"I love you so much more" you replied sleepily, you were making yourself comfortable on his chest cause you weren't moving until you woke back up later

"Happy anniversary" Stefan ran his hands through your hair and massaged your scalp just the way you liked, planting small kisses onto your head

••••

Authors note: For @magora111 thank you for requesting and enjoying my stories!!

[violets-page]

In her arms |R.M|

Rebekah Mikaelson x reader

Word count: 2181

Rebekah and you have been friends forever, but when Damon and Elena try and use you as leverage she confesses her feelings. 

warnings: torture, nothing too extreme or graphically depicted. 

MASTERLIST

God, you hated living in Mystic Falls.

Those were your first thoughts when you woke up alone and in the dark.

Where you were was a mystery but how you got there was plain and simple. You had been kidnapped. But by who was what you still had to wander.

You sat as still as you could trying to listen for voices, footsteps, or hell; even traffic. Not that you could even hear anything over the sound of your own heavy breathing. Your head pounded as you tried to figure out how you ended up here. 

Last you had remembered you had been walking to Bekah’s house. It was only about a mile from where you lived and the sun had shone brightly. Not to mention your mom’s car was in the shop so she had taken yours. 

The last thing you remembered was smiling at the thought of the Mikelson’s trying the spicy pasta you were going to make for them tonight. That and then your head colliding with something hard.

You gave up on listening and started to struggle. Your hands were bound in front of you by a thick rope and your feet bound underneath you. After trying to shift your hands out of the ropes for probably a good 10 minutes you realized that whoever tied them was making sure that you weren’t going anywhere. 

By now all the thoughts had started running through your head. They’re going to kill me. Or worse. I’ll never see my family again. Will they ever find my body. Oh my god oh my god. Rebeckah is waiting for me. If I die… I hope she never has to see my body or hear about what happened. 

By now your hands had brush burn where the rope laid, and your legs had fallen asleep. the old shirt of a gag that they had tied around your mouth was soaked in spit and you could no longer taste the bourbon on it that you could when you first woke up. Not to mention the pains in your stomach from skipping lunch, and now probably dinner. 

Rebekah- god knows why- had become rather insistent in training you on self-defense so you had gotten pretty good at that. She failed, however, to show you how to escape from rope bonds. 

You managed to scoot forward quite a bit. Reaching up towards the door handle you twist it only for it to be locked. Of course. But that didn’t mean it was useless. 

The door handle looked ancient. It was metal with one of those old keyholes. Part of the metal plate jutted out in what looked to be an attempt to yank it off. 

Reaching up you started to rub the ropes against the metal piece hoping to cut it off. Your actions halted before starting again faster at the sudden appearance of footsteps.

Shit shit shit.

When the door opened you fell threw. Not realizing how much you’d been leaning against the door. 

“Damon, we already have her. You don’t need to torture her too.”

You were pushed onto your back by a foot to the stomach.

Your eyes met pale blue ones song and a terrifying smirk.

Damon Salvatore

The only reason you knew who he was was because of the absurd amount of time he spent pestering Bonnie and Rebekah. Who happened to be the few people at Mystic fall high you talked to regularly. 

You recognized the voice scolding Damon as Caroline.

“Oh come on, she’s not gonna come if she thinks her girlfriend is A-okay. We gotta ruff her up a bit.”

Girlfriend?

They definitely had the wrong person

As you made eye contact with Caroline she dared to shoot you a little smile and wave. You just glared at her.

“Alright listen here hun, all you gotta do is scream, cry maybe spill some blond for us then call your dear friend Rebekah over to save you and we can all leave happy. Okay?΅

Your brows furrowed. What do they want with Bekah?

Bekah must have a girlfriend she never told me about. And they must think I’m her. 

Your heart hurt at this realization.  

When you made no move or any attempt to reply he continued on.

“look, we just need Stefan back’

Your reply came out muffled by the gag. Which he promptly (and aggressively) ripped off. You shifted so you were sitting up with your back against the cold wall.

“Bekah doesn't have stefan”

He rolled his eyes at you

“I know that. But Klaus does. Klause doesn’t love anyone but his family, and we couldn’t catch them. Trust me we tried. However, Rebekah loves you, which means she’d do anything to save you even if that meant betraying her brother.”

“Maybe.” Caroline piped up.

“Even if she did she would call the authorities to come and save me. Bekah wouldn’t risk her life to come and get me. Plus I’m not her girlfriend.” 

At this, they all rolled their eyes.

“Trust me she will” Damon scoffed

“Let’s just give this over with” came the voice of Elena. Who had somehow appeared at your side. 

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the needle in your leg before quickly dropping closed. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you awoke again you were in what appeared to be the Salvatore living room. A quick glance down showed that your hands and feet had been bound tightly to a chair.

“Finally she’s up.” Elena grumbled

“Well someone miscalculated the dosage” Damon side-eyed her. 

“Well no one told me she was a human”

Human. There was that word again. You never really understood what they meant. Bekah and her brothers always referred to you as their little human, which implied that they were different. While you didn’t fully understand it, you knew parts of how they were different.

You knew Rebekah and her brothers were all extremely strong and never seemed to get hurt. And you knew from eavesdropping that there were others in the town like them. 

You weren’t scared though. Well, at least not of the Mikelsons. They would never hurt you. Damon and Elena on the other hand….

The earlier stalked towards you with a devilish grin on his face. He reached for your hand and you immediately tried to pull back. Unable to because of the restraints you felt his cold hand engulf yours. 

Right before he broke your finger.

You screamed partially from the shock of seeing your finger bent flat against the back of your hand and the other part from the pain.

It wasn’t until you saw Damon glance back at Elena did you notice that she was recording.

Other hand. Same finger. 

Again you screamed. Louder this time. 

One by one he broke each one. Waiting for your screams to subside before moving on the next. *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

After there were none left to break and your vision was fading in and out from the pain, he leaned in close. 

“Now beg for her”

At first, you didn’t know who he was talking about. But as the tears started to run down your face and all you could think of was the safe embrace of a certain blonde, you knew. But never would you drag her into possible danger. You would rather let him break every bone in your body. 

And it seemed he might.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you mumbled so quietly that you weren't sure if he even heard you or not. Apparently, he did. And boy was that the wrong thing to say.

He motioned to Caroline who handed him a sleek and simple dagger before covering her mouth and turning away.

You hoped you were wrong about what you thought was coming. But when the dagger pierced the skin on your thigh there was no denying it. 

“Bek… “ it had slipped through your lips without you even noticing. Damon however easily caught it.

He removed the dagger and aimed a little lower before plummeting it back in. Your mind rattled as the sound of your screams filled the house.

“BEG FOR HER” but it was too late. You had already passed out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“It’s good enough,” Caroline tried to convince the pair. “Just send it to her”.

So they did.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   * 

Rebekah was starting to get worried. You were supposed to be at her house by now for family dinner night. Plus it was your turn to cook. 

She wanted to tell you all about how mad she was at Nik as you played with her hair. She wanted to see you smile as your warm arms wrapped around her with promises that everything would be okay. 

You would have texted her if you were going to be late. Right? 

She let out an audible sigh of relief at the sound of your ringtone coming from her pocket.

Her ease was short-lived when instead of a text she saw a video. Of you. Hurt.

A million thoughts raced through her head as black veins extended from beneath her eyes. 

Before her mind even caught up with her body she was out the door.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

By the time she arrived at the Salvatore house, she thought her dead heart would just about burst out of her ribcage. 

Flinging the door open she ran right to Damon. Steak already in her hand she raised it high above her head

“STOP” she looked over to see Elena holding a knife against y/n’s tear-stricken face.  Her demeanor quickly changed as she let the stake clatter to the floor. Her tight grip on Damon’s shirt, however, remained. 

“If you touch her Elena it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

At the familiar sound of her voice, you couldn't help but let every muscle in your body relax, despite the situation you were in. 

You couldn’t even hold back the words that left your mouth.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Beckah.” She heard you sigh in relief. Her heart swelled at the sound of your voice. 

“Here’s how it’s going to go.” Elena spoke with a sudden burst of confidence “Call your brother and get him to bring Stefan back and make him turn back on his emotions. No Stefan. We kill her. Hurt any of us. We kill her. Got it?” 

Rebekah looked back at you. There was no way she could get to you in time, the dagger was already drawing blood from your neck. Shoving Damon back she walked out with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The moment she was out the door she immediately dialed Nik.

“I need you to bring Stefan back.”

His reply was exactly what she had been fretting: “You know I can’t do that bekah.” 

Her hands shook as she tried to keep her voice steady. “Please Nik, they-” breath in breath out. “They took y/n.” 

The line went silent.

“Please please please” she begged as silent sobs wracked her body.

“Wait right there”

* * * * * 

Klaus had a soft spot when it came to anything involving his sister. And if that meant protecting a weak human girl that made her happy then so be it. 

Don’t get him wrong he adored you as well. You came over every Thursday to prepare a new dish from around the world with them. And while he wasn’t as infatuated with you as Kol and Bekah are, he had grown fond. 

He arrived at the Salvatore house hours later to find Bekah curled up on the sidewalk out front. When she looked up he saw that her makeup had been wiped off and her eyes rubbed red. 

As she took note of the lack of a Stefan she stood up. “Where's Stefan?” 

“Don’t worry I'll handle this” he made a move towards the door but Rebekah quickly moved in front of him.

“No Nik you can't, they’ll kill her. You need Stefan, please just go get Stefan.” 

He gripped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake to bring her back to her senses. “Bekah. Don’t forget who you are. Who WE are.” she gave him a nod and they turned towards the house. 

Within moments the pair had knocked out two of the vampires and the third was left cowering far away from y/n.

Becka leaned close so only Elena could hear. 

“If you ever even think about touching her again, I will kill everyone you ever love. For all of eternity,” she smiled and the quaking brunette. 

As soon as the vamps were taken care of Rebekah wasted no time running to your side. Your head felt light and you weren’t sure if you were hallucinating because of the blood loss or if Bekah just snapped Caroline’s neck. You also weren’t so whether she was talking or that was just the ringing in your ears. 

As she undid the ropes you faded in and out of consciousness. But now you were certain you had heard her mumbles clearly

I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let you go. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

as she pulled you into her warm embrace you knew you were safe.

And as tears and lips hit your forehead. You knew this would be the end of your friendship.

Pt.2

[nineteenninety-six]

Hi! I’m new to the Peaky Blinders fandom lol. If you’re still doing prompts from the Sentence Starters, I’d love one from 4 & 13 with Bonnie ✨🥺

I was going to post this in a few days but I really like this and it’s my first ever Bonnie fic!

4. "You make me so unbelievably happy."

13.  "Oh, that smile—please never stop smiling. "

PROMPT LIST

(Y/N)'s giggles travelled through the air as Bonnie spun her around and around. It was their wedding day and in typical traveller fashion, the party went on the whole night. The field was still packed with the travellers who made their way all the way to Birmingham to celebrate (Y/N) and Bonnie's marriage.

Bonnie wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close to him and with the other, he joined their hands and began swaying side to side.

(Y/N) pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes, wanting to remember the moment for the rest of her life.

Bonnie copied her and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He wanted to remember The sounds of his family and friends as they talked and laughed. He wanted to remember the heat from the fire pit and the light from the stars above them.

And most importantly, he wanted to remember how (Y/N)'s body fit into his arms as they danced. He wanted to remember the feeling of her ring against his as they danced as a married couple.

When Bonnie opened his eyes, he saw that (Y/N)'s were still closed, so he pressed a kiss to her forehead to get her attention.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes and flickered them up to his, Bonnie couldn't help but beam at her.

"You make me unbelievably happy..." Bonnie whispered to her, still swaying her side to side.

(Y/N) bashfully smiled, burying her head against his neck, tucking herself underneath his chin.

"Oh, that smile- "Bonnie gushed, "Please never stop smiling"

"Bon..." (Y/N) whispered, overwhelmed with emotion, "I love you."

"I love you too, my sweet. " Bonnie pulled her closer to him," I can't wait to start a family with you. You, me and our babies, travelling around the country."

"Sounds amazing Bonnie. I can't wait for our future." (Y/N) looked up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck before pulling him down for a kiss.

They danced for the rest of the night, hands tightly clasped together and their smiles never leaving their faces.

[thestarwrites]

The Seven-Year Itch? (City of God Season 4 one shot) Finan x OC Spoilers S4

Kelly looked up from where she sat in the pub. Finan, Shitric, Osferth and Stiorra had been drunk for the better part of three days. Uhtred was to be lord of Mercia and her husband was letting it go to his head.  And now, drunkenly, he was running a hand on the red haired woman- Eadith.

“And how long has my husband been this close with this woman?” She said with a cold tone.

Shitric guffawed, “She’s saved our arses and been through a lot, thas all. He’s jus bein nice— have some ale, Kelly.”

“I don’t care for any. I am going to see Uhtred, see how he fares. Tell my husband to enjoy being nice.” Standing up she stormed out.

Finan turned when he saw his wife leave. Eadith turned his face back to hers- Shed been a mistress before, “She seems a jealous woman....”

“She just doesn’t know how beautiful she is...” Finan slurred and sighed.

“I don’t think she’s that beautiful. She dresses rather plainly, and almost like a man.” She attempted to spill poison in his ear, “I thought maybe you’d like a more ornamental woman... a beautiful gem on your arm...” she ran a hand over his neck, “That is the kind of woman you deserve. Not a fat country whore, but a--”

“A city dwelling whore?” Yanking his arm back he looked at her, not with venom, but with certainty, “My wife is the most beautiful woman who ever walked this earth. Inside and out. If ye wish ta stay with us then by all means, but you shan’t talk about my woman as such. You had ta let a King hump ye once, she’s spent months with the Danes.”

Not knowing what to say, she took up one pot of ale and went to sit aside Osferth.

Taking a deep breath, Finan ran a hand in his hair, he knew better than to chase after his wife when she was angry. Eventually he went to sit beside Shitric and Stiorra, drinking until he couldn’t remember his own name...

-------

“He didn’t need a bigger head you know.” Kelly huffed as she stood before Uhtred, arms crossed, “Walking around calling himself the Lord’s advisor.”

The Saxon laughed and sighed, “Kelly... you should be proud of him. He’ll have a position, a station, wealth, political influence.”

“Finan doesn’t need any of that shite to make me proud of him,” She looked out the window, watching him and the men stumble to the next ale house with Eadith in tow, “I’ve heard men often start cheating on their wives when they’re about seven years into marriage...”

He sighed, “Shitric has never slept with another but his wife, and they have been wed longer than you and Finan have.” He adjusted his white shirt, “Besides, you should know better than any that he would not do such a thing, he is a good Christian.”

Sitting on a bench she rubbed her legs, “That woman, Eadith, she despises me. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Why wouldn’t she hate you? You are married to a good man. And there are not many good men in the world.”

“Do you know...? About Finan’s past.” Kelly looked up. Uhtred nodded. She nodded, “I worry that he’ll get sick of me. That he’ll see a prettier flower over the hill, and throw aside the woman rapidly getting too old to bear him a son.”

“Do you have no trust in the man you wed?” He chuckled softly, “He whispers your name in his sleep. He’ll pick up small rocks and flowers on the road to press and give to you when we return. You accepted a disgraced and broken man and made him the happiest in all the world. You know him at his worst and he knows you at yours. You are lucky, my friend.” Uhtred came to her and hugged her, pressing his forehead to hers.

Taking a deep breath she steeled herself against his warm embrace and nodded, “Thank you Lord.”

“Besides, if you think you are getting too old to have a son- find him now and hump him.” He laughed, “Go on now, I have to get baptized. For the third time.”

She shoved him gently, smiled and nodded, going out and passing Young Uhtred as she did, kissing his forehead affectionately.

---------

Finan lay on his bunk with a groan. Sighing softly he was beginning to sober up and he had a pit in his stomach wondering where his wife had gone of to.

“I wondered when you’d come back.” A soft voice came from a chair in the corner.

He lifted his head and smiled lopsidedly, “I’d have come sooner if I knew an Angel awaited me...” He moved over and patted the bed. She shook her head and smiled, getting up to go sit on the edge of the bed. She was only wearing her undershirt. Finan ran a hand on her thigh and sighed, “I thought ye’d be mad at me...”

Resting her hand over his she smiled gently, “I can’t stay mad at you... especially not when I’ve longed for your touch for months...” She moved his hand closer to her sex.

“Holy shite. Yer no’ mad at me and ye want ta hump.” He scrambled to get up and secure the door, before he started to take off his leather armor.

Kelly laughed warmly and lay back into the bed he’d been sleeping on, the pillow already smelled of him. She watched as he scrambled to undress, “You can relax Finan... I’m not going anywhere, we are not sneaking around... You’re nearly forty, be more dignified.” She laughed.

He smirked and slithered into bed, kissing up her chest and neck, stopping to groan into her ear, “Making love to you will never not be the most exciting thing in the world to me, angel.”

Moaning softly she buried her fingers in his thick black hair, her other sliding over his scarred back, “Finan... I’m--”

He nipped her neck, looking down at her, “What is it?”

“I should be fertile right now.” Her cheeks flushed. 

Nodding he smiled sympathetically, “Okay, we’ll do what we always do and I’ll pull out--”

“No--” She bit her lip, “I mean I... I want--”

Finan stroked her face softly, “Ye want me to come inside ye?”

She nodded, “I want us to have a family... I know... you-- you had--”

He kissed her again, “I want a family too.” He smiled at her, “I need someone to carry on my Irish charms.”

“You always know exactly what to say...” Leaning up she kissed him again, wrapping a leg around his waist, “I love you.”

“I love you too, my bonnie lass.” He smiled and filled her in one fluid stroke. Moaning she gripped his hair, which caused a guttural noise from his throat, leaning down he sucked and nipped a multitude of bruises along her throat. So not only God would know what they’d done tonight.

His hips worked in a perfect rhythm against her own, and his hand slid down between them to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves there, “Come with me...” he groaned in her ear, “I’m close, love-” With a gasp she nodded, holding onto his hair as she kissed him.

--It should be said, Uhtred and the others, when they talked of sex, thought Finan’s love life was rather boring. But the two enjoyed sex where they could look into the eyes of one another and connect in a way they loved. --

Resting his forehead on hers, his cock still twitching inside of her as he spilled the remainder of his seed, she smiled, “What are ye thinkin?”

“I hope we have a girl first, to spite you.” Kelly laughed breathlessly.

He couldn’t help but laugh and kissed her softly, if not a bit sloppily, “You are going to be the absolute death of me.”

“Oh but what a wonderful death.” She quipped.

He smirked, bouncing his eyebrows, “Can I fuck ye again, my lady?”

She laughed and nodded, “Anything you wish, my Lord.”

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy: scheming

whitmore guy masterlist

word count: 1986

music: lana del rey - salvatore, twenty one pilots - anathema

He was still giggling minutes after they left.

“Why the long face?” he asked, as they were walking up the stairs. “Still upset about that necklace?”

“FBI’s not good news, Mal”, she said and scratched her nose.

“Because of all the vampires in the town?”

“Exactly”.

“Well, then, it’s not good news for them”, Mal shrugged, “don’t you guys, like, hide the bodies very well?”

“Didn’t they seem a bit off to you?”

“There we go”, he chanted apologetically, “you’re paranoid. They gave me an impression of very unprofessional guys who need more sleep. What did you read in their faces?”

“You yourself acknowledged that their question about odd weather was ridiculous”.

“And that’s what it was”, Mal stood at her door, holding onto it, his other hand resting on his hip. Y/N just noticed that he was wearing a t-shirt with a Xenomorph and a Predator stylized as Beavis and Butthead. Mal could be many things at the end of the day, but there was no arguing that this t-shirt was one of the coolest Y/N’s ever seen in her life.

  ____________________________

Y/N rarely needed someone, but when she did, Mystic Falls folk was always there. That was one thing Mal didn’t understand about them, being here for not too long, and not getting into the depth of what living in the most cursed town in the country was like. Damon might be a jerk; he’s cold, brusque and condescending, but he also saved her life not less than thirteen times. Getting a bit angry was his way of caring. That is, it of course didn’t mean they didn’t try to change him.

The warmest of them was Elena Gilbert. Who didn’t know her? She didn’t even visit Whitmore because she was always busy at the hospital, but Mal managed to hear everything about her. That she’s stunningly beautiful, that she’s got the most tremendous hair and a face like a doll, that she’s a very promising young nurse and that she’s engaged to Stefan Salvatore, the marble boy, as Mal called him.

There were unbreakable ties. And they always found a way to ring when bothered. And they always vibrated when an emergency council was needed.

Everybody had a specific place in the Salvatore living room: Caroline always sat in the middle of the big couch. Elena usually was prepped to her thigh. Alaric preferred the little armchair turned against the window, so that he doesn’t have to touch knees with anybody. Stefan always stood at the fireplace, like being a little away helped him concentrate better. Damon sat on the armrest of the big couch, or shuffled around with bottles at his alcohol table. Bonnie walked to a fro, annoying him beyond belief. Y/N liked to take any free space and stretch out her legs, but it had the be the spot from which she could see Damon’s sanctuary and wink at him when she needed a drink. He was always happy to contribute to somebody’s alcoholism. He liked drinking buddies.

“Okay, we have two things to discuss”, Caroline said in her general of army voice, and Y/N almost expected her to pull a huge notebook and a pen out of her bra.

“First: the weird FBI guys who pissed Damon off”.

“I said, nosy FBI guys, not weird”.

“Whatever. And the dinner party that Y/N’s organizing this weekend. I suggest we start with the important stuff”, Caroline’s cat-like eyes pierced her with attention.

“How many people are we talking? What music will you have? What is the theme? Any team games in plans? What’s the menu?”

Y/N smiled as Bonnie rolled her eyes, and nodded to Damon. The vampire moved to his special table without any hurry.

“I also have a question about it”, Ric raised his hand, “can I skip?”

“No”.

Y/N’s been thinking about the ways she could grab Mal by the ass. Except literally wanting to do it, maybe, one day in the future; against all her instincts warning her, she meant to expose him and his lies. And she needed everybody to be there. To hang out with him in an enclosed space. She imagined this going all the unexpected ways: Elena sniffs something out on him, or Caroline notices that he takes the fork in the wrong hand; Bonnie brushes elbows with him and gets a vision which will tell them everything. Wise old Stefan asks him a cunning question and he pops. Something like this.

“Mal Osbourne’s just lost a woman he loved very much, and he feels alienated and sad”, Y/N accepted the glass from Damon and looked in his frowning face.

“Didn’t look alienated to me yesterday”, Alaric demurred, “he was jumping all round the teachers’ room, happy as ever. I actually found it very strange, given his reaction when Damon… killed her”.

“You think it’s a good idea to put Damon and him in the same room?” the younger Salvatore inquired.

She nodded. Damon shrugged. He didn’t really care for the disgruntled relatives or boyfriends of those he killed. If he did, life would be a nightmare.

She wasn’t sure about it at all but decided to go with her bullshit as far as she could. She needed to clash him with the real life. See what colors come out.

“How is he holding up?” Elena asked.

“Seems fine. Acts fine. I’m sure he holds it all inside”.

Nobody thought to contradict.

“Can we talk about how he knows that we’re vampires?” Caroline narrowed her eyes and crossed her legs.

“He figured it on his own. Said you guys were very obvious”.

She felt a pair of green eyes watching her closely. Bonnie rested her elbows against the sofa’s back and gave out a little satisfied smile.

“Are you into him?”

“Come on. Everybody knows I’m still desperately in love with Damon”.

Bonnie was left content still. Salvatore collapsed on the couch opposite her and rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to be a little party, only us and him. Mal cooks, so all the food will be on him”.

“Does he know Damon will be coming?” Stefan wouldn’t let go. Y/N sighed and put her hand in her pocket, feeling for her phone. She called him right away, put the call on the speakers, while everyone else was watching her curiously. Mal picked up after the fourth ring. There was music on the background that he didn’t bother to turn a bit down.

“Sup, monster fucker”.

She could see Elena’s eyebrows go all the way up.

“Mal, I’m having a dinner party at the weekend at my place”.

“AWESOME!”

“You’re cooking”.

“You bet! What do you want?”

“Something for four vampires, a witch, Ric and us two”.

He was silent for a second.

“Oh. Is the moron Dummy coming, too?”

Damon’s face was full of painful indignation.

“Yes”.

“For fuck’s sake”.

“Can you make it?”

“Yeah”.

“Will you try to kill him?”

“I don’t know…” Mal’s voice had suggestive uncertain undertones.

“Please don’t”.

“Ok-kay…”

“Cool. See you at work”.

“Wait. Does he have any allergies? Can vampires have allergies?”

“Bye, Mal”.

Bonnie was perplexed. She exchanged looks with Elena. Ric looked properly miserable. She imagined pairing them two while playing Alias. She would have so much fun.

“That’s done”.

“He doesn’t sound sad at all”, Caroline confirmed.

“And you start noticing there are things off about him only now. While I told you that like a month ago”.

Everybody shifted dismissively.

“Whatever it is, I will deal with it myself. You guys concentrate on the FBI douches”.

“Did they bother you much?” Stefan asked.

“No, but they seemed so… not FBI-like”.

“Have you met a lot of FBI agents?” Bonnie asked, visibly amused.

Y/N shrugged, getting up from the couch.

“I’ve seen enough movies. I’ll go get some air”.

She passed the long hall and went out to the yard of the huge mansion. Night was very gentle. Bright marbles of stars shone in the perfect black matter, distant and therefore harmless. She knew well pretty things could hurt. Every time she raised her eyes to the sky now, something poked her in the lung, like a rib that was crooked. The pain was phantom but strong nonetheless.

Sometimes she wished she smoked. She walked over to the nearest trees to listen to them and not the voices from the house. One caught up with her anyway.

“Don’t wander too far off, or you’ll stay in the forest forever”.

Y/N turned to the voice and let her eyes get used to the darkness. Wide branches of the apple tree hid the lights from the windows. Stars faded away from the sky.

Damon touched her elbow lightly and led her to the bleak golden puddles of light on the grass.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you”, he said, and paused, making her wonder if he finished the sentence in his mind but failed to utter.

“Yes?”

“This Mal guy, did he ever tell you where he came from?”

“He says he’s from Ohio”.

“Hmm”.

“Notoriously known as the state that produces weirdos… I guess?”

“You still think he’s pretending to be somebody else?”

“I don’t know. I take it easy”.

Damon nodded, his eyes flickering with silver stars in the pale light.

“I wanted to ask you something, too. For some time now, actually”.

He looked at her attentively.

“Last November, do you remember?”

Salvatore cocked his head and said slowly,

“Uh-huh, there was a November”.

“We were in Georgia after Matt died, looking for his killer. And I got really sick so I stayed behind in the motel”.

He nodded again. His face expressed nothing.

“What did you do there? What happened there? Why did everyone return so distressed?”

She inhaled, and her voice quivered a bit.

“And why do I feel so bad ever since?”

Damon frowned.

“You never said it, little one. Bad – how?”

“Don’t- not you. Don’t pretend I’m the one who’s going nuts. What happened, Damon? We went to that pit, that place which takes away memories, and ever since then I’ve been completely restless”.

She couldn’t grab the idea. Every time she tried to think about it, her mind came undone in a thousand pieces, and she felt like she was old, and forgetful, and drunk. There was that little thing that stung her brain, making it numb, there was something that made her want to cry – and yet, she couldn’t catch it like she was blindfolded.

“Y/N”, he took her shoulders with warm palms. Damon’s intense stare was intoxicating. Even though it didn’t really make her knees weak anymore; she couldn’t look away. “I would never – ever – do anything to hurt you. You know that. You see that tree over there?”

They both looked back to the house at the slender, tall, unusually golden and fruitless apple tree reaching up and up, for seven years now. Sure she remembered. The day when Katherine tried to bury her alive, and she cried. And shivered. And suffocated. She went through such terror she thought she would never emit a sound again. Until Damon came, breaking the earth and the casket, and reaching for her. And then, he planted that damn seed on that very place, to remind her about that fucking day. He admired that golden tree, so sophisticated, full of unexpected magic, seemingly out of nowhere, glistening even in the night.

She sighed.

Maybe it’s easy. Maybe it’s right under her nose, and she’ll be very angry when it uncovers itself. And she’ll say, I should’ve known.

She looked in Damon’s concerned eyes.

“You gotta promise you’ll be nice to Mal no matter what he does or how he acts”.

“That’s a lot to ask. The kid’s annoying as he-” Damon cut himself and raised a finger. “Wait a sec”.

He disappeared in the dark of the yard, without a sound.

Of course, it didn’t take a sec. Damon was gone for full ten minutes, and Y/N went back into the house, preparing herself for the FBI talk.

[bellemorte180]

Wanderlust Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Klaus would not say he was a morning person but given the fact that he was a light sleeper, waking up early had become a habit. It was a side effect of years traveling between towns all across the United States and never being able to sleep fully throughout the night. Klaus rose before Marcel and was showered and dressed by the time his partner stumbled from his bedsheets. To be fair, it wasn’t even dawn but they both knew that they had a long day ahead of them.

Klaus drank his morning coffee while scrolling through his emails. He received one from their supervisor, Vincent Griffith, that a forensic team would meet them at the location site at six-thirty in the morning. He was sending Maddox and Greta along with several other agents, which pleased Klaus. There were few people within the bureau that Klaus actually could stand and those two were of the chosen few; which was probably why Vincent chose to send them.

Marcel stumbled from the bathroom, blurry eyed and with a yawn that told Klaus that he would be the one driving. Klaus grabbed a pair of boots and slid them over his jeans. He grabbed a simple black coat to toss over his Henley. While it was in the middle of June, the mornings still always had a slight chill to them. Klaus quickly filled up two Styrofoam cups with bad coffee and handed one to Marcel. The other agent grunted his thanks while Klaus just chuckled.

“I want donuts.” Marcel muttered in a sleepy tone and Klaus nodded. He chuckled as he picked up the keys to one of the SUV’s and had to all but drag his partner out the door. They quietly drove through town and Klaus parked in one of the many empty spaces near the square. Marcel was scrolling through his emails on his phone; clearly not wanting to move from his seat just yet. Klaus rolled his eyes and crawled out of the SUV and walked up to the small bakery in the center of town.

The bakery front was painted a deep green and was located between what appeared to be a flower shop and a small boutique. The store front gave Klaus old Southern vibes that he typically found in the south. The sign that hung above the store read Bennet’s Bakery and he briefly remembered Liz telling him that Bonnie owned the bakery in town. The sign indicated that it was closed but he could see Bonnie moving in the shop, stalking up the days baked good. Klaus knocked lightly on the door, causing Bonnie to look up. Seeing that it was Klaus, Bonnie moved around the large iron cart that held what Klaus thought to be bagels and walked to the door. She turned the lock and stuck her head out to greet him.

“I apologize for barging in. I know you’re not open, but I was hoping for a small favor.” Klaus asked and Bonnie nodded at him. He did his best to give her an innocent expression, hoping that whatever Caroline had divulged the night before bought him some points in the good column. “My partner and I have a long hike ahead of us. I was hoping to purchase some donuts?”

“Sure, come in.” She stepped aside and allowed Klaus to walk through. Much like the outside, the bakery had a very rustic feel to it. It was small but was filled with the smells of baked goods, coffee and sugar. There was a glass case near the register filled with brownies, scones and donuts. The far wall was littered with an assortment of bagels while there was a cooler that had a bunch of different types of cakes. The flooring was made of hard wood and the walls a soft yellow that made Klaus feel welcomed. “How many?”

“Just a couple, please.” Klaus looked around the bakery again as Bonnie grabbed a small box and put it together. “Are you often here this early?” Klaus asked, trying for small talk, and Bonnie gave a scowl of annoyance. It wasn’t directed at Klaus, but he could tell that Bonnie was not pleased about having to be at work that early in the morning.

“Sometimes. Today I wasn’t supposed to be here but Anna, my baker, decided to call last night and tell me that she can’t come in and since the bread need to be proofed before baking and I’m the owner; here I am.” Bonnie replied. “Despite the fact that I told Anna I was going to need help this week because I wanted to be there with Caroline, but I can’t completely ignore my shop.”

“Of course not. You need to continue with your life, and I know Caroline would not want you to put everything on hold for her.” Bonnie turned and looked at Klaus curiously. She bit her lip as though she wanted to ask something but was debating on whether or not she should get involved. “How was she this morning?”

“Fine. She was still asleep.” Klaus nodded and Bonnie smirked. “Although given the fact that I crushed up a sleeping pill and put it in her food, that could explain why.” Klaus snorted at that and actually laughed out loud.

“Did you just admit to drugging your friend to a federal agent?”

“Liz told me to do it.” Bonnie replied quickly, appearing completely unashamed by her actions. In truth, Klaus probably would have done the same thing; especially since it was clear that Caroline was too stubborn to take the pills herself. However, he never would have admitted it out loud to someone who could, in theory, press criminal charges against her. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Should I?” Klaus replied cheekily at Bonnie’s grin. They both knew that he wouldn’t. He had far more important things to focus on than Bonnie’s small confession. Bonnie finished boxing up the donuts and handed them to Klaus. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.” Bonnie told him with a kind voice. “The only payment I ask is that you find this bastard who hurt Caroline and killed those women. I spent the last few days holding my best friend because of the trauma she suffered. I want this asshole found.”

“You have my word that I will do my best to find him.” Klaus took the pink box from Bonnie and gave her a soft smile. “Thank you for the donuts. My partner will be very appreciative. He is not exactly the most pleasant person in the mornings. Sleeps like a rock and would continue to do so if it was not for me waking him up.” Bonnie nodded and Klaus turned toward the doors and left the bakery. When he climbed back into the SUV, handing the box of donuts to Marcel, he could see that his partner was more awake.

“Confirmation of Stefan Salvatore’s alibi came back. He was in Chicago during Caroline’s abduction. So, looks like the Salvatore brothers are in the clear.” Marcel handed over his phone for Klaus to read the email that was sent from Slater, their technical support, at their field office and who was responsible for contacting Stefan’s alibi. “I also asked Slater to run background checks on all the citizens of Mystic Falls. He said it would take a bit, but he will get it done.”

“Good thinking.” Klaus replied as he turned the SUV on. The pair drove through the town while Marcel continued to drink his now cold coffee; Klaus cursing himself for not stopping and picking up more coffee on the way. Once he drove just outside the town’s boundaries, Klaus saw two similar vehicles to theirs’ parked on the side of the road. Knowing that it was the forensic team and additional agents, Klaus pulled up beside them.

Klaus and Marcel climbed out of the vehicle and walked over to the agents who were at the back of their SUV. Maddox was a bulky man of few words. Klaus had worked well with him over the years, mainly because Maddox did not speak to many people. He did his job, made his reports and never caused a fuss. Klaus respected that. Greta, on the other hand, was hardly silent. She was flirty and had a devious side that made Klaus’s toes curl. If she wasn’t the best forensic scientist the FBI had, he would have refused to work with her long ago. While Klaus made it clear that he did not like Greta, he dealt with her, nonetheless. Klaus nodded to the other agents but did not bother introducing himself, only recognizing a few, instead allowing Marcel to do it for him.

Once the agents were ready, they made their way into the woods. Klaus and Marcel mapped out the way Caroline had taken them through the woods the night before. It was not necessarily a difficult walk, a straight shot, but neither of the agents felt the desire to get lost in the woods. The placement of the Lockwood tunnels was convenient. It was not too difficult to find if one knew where they were going, but deep enough in the woods that it would be rare for someone to simply stumble across them unless they were trying to find something. Given that fact that the entrance was well hidden; Klaus could understand why the deputies did not find it when they conducted their search party; since they were looking for a body and not underground tunnels.

The woods had an eerie feel to them in the early morning. As a child, Klaus lived near rolling hills in a small English town that was also surrounded by woods. There was almost a mystical feel to it and the sun slowly began to peek through the trees. Morning dew was prevalent in the air and the smell of dirt and bark assaulted his senses. The way the shadows hung and moved with the progressing morning made Klaus unnerved. He supposed that his destination was what was causing the discomfort and not the woods themselves but the ball that was forming in the pit of his stomach did not help matters.

Slowly, they approached the Lockwood tunnels and Klaus could feel the dread come over him. He was thankful Marcel was there because no matter how hard he tried to remain objective, he knew that he was going to see Caroline being held down there. He knew the extent of her injuries. He knew what she looked like the day she walked into the police station after breaking her own wrist to get free. Klaus knew how the killer murdered his victims and he also knew what he did to the bodies once became nothing more than a corpse.

It was moments like this, when he started down at that dirt covered stone steps that made him really hate his job.

“Are you ready for this?” Marcel asked Klaus, stirring him from his musings. Klaus nodded to his partner and allowed him to go down the steps first. Maddox put down his thick black bag and pulled out a couple of flashlights. Klaus took one, thanking Maddox who only grunted in response. He pulled out a pair of purple elastic gloves, put them on and followed Marcel down the stairs; leaving at least three agents at the top, ensuring that no one attempted to lock either Klaus or Marcel inside.

The first thing Klaus noticed was an old, rotted wooden door that had been pushed open. Holding the flashlight up to the door, Klaus could see scratch marks on the side of the wood, and he remembered Caroline’s words from the day before about how she had to dig herself out. He could picture her clawing at the wood; the imagine caused bile to rise in Klaus’s throat. Beside him, a flash went off and Greta was holding a camera up, capturing the imagine of the scratch marks.

Klaus turned towards Marcel and he could see the same grim look on his face that Klaus had. They both were thinking the same thing, picturing Caroline clawing her way to freedom. Instead of dwelling on the marks, they continued making their way down the dark tunnel, hearing Greta’s camera clicking behind them. Klaus lifted the flashlight up high enough to cast a shadow down the tunnel. There was no light in the tunnels at all but instead a terrifying darkness that consumed him; Klaus could feel the evil rolling off the stone walls. An agent behind Klaus, pulled out his flashlight, adding light and made navigating the tunnel easier.

Nothing remarkable could be seen as they got further down the tunnel. The walls were made of stone and dirt; having been crafted by man two hundred or so years prior. It wasn’t too long of a walk; the sound of Greta’s camera keeping them company as they went. At the end of the tunnel there was a wooden door that appeared so old, Klaus wondered if touching it would cause it to fall off its hinges. Slowly, Klaus pushed the door aside in order to pass through.

Inside was what appeared to be a circle room; almost like a man-made cave. Unlike the tunnel, there were camping lanterns stationed around the cellar and once Klaus turned them on, a soft light lit up the cellar. Klaus remembered Caroline’s words from the previous night and how these tunnels were used to hold slaves during the civil war. On the far end of the room, there was a cell. Iron bars stood from floor to ceiling and a cell door that was wide open; the lock on the door broken.

Stepping inside the cell, Klaus felt rage begin to linger under his skin. The cell was small but had enough room to cram a small bed that was pressed against the stone wall. It had a couple grey blankets, a few pillows, and sheets that where in a desperate need of cleaning. There was a battery-operated heater located near the bed and Klaus bent down to look at it. He clicked it on for a second before turning it off again once he realized that it was operational. He stood to his full height and looked over to the bed again. A small lantern, similar to the one he had turned on outside the cell, was perched at the end of his bed.

Klaus’s imagination went wild. He could see Caroline curled up on that bed so clearly; her back pressed against the stone while her left hand was cuffed to the bars at where located to the head of the bed. He reached out lightly and touched the bars. Clipped to the bars was a set of metal handcuff; still locked together. Sitting down upon the bed, Klaus handled the cuffs and noticed that there was still dried blood on the metal; Caroline’s blood from when she broke her own wrist to be free of her prison. Klaus could almost hear the breaking of her bones as he sat there. He looked over his shoulder, placing the cuff back on the pillow, and saw etchings on the stone wall.

Names. Each of their names were carved into the stone wall. The writing was different, telling Klaus that it was not the killer who carved the names. Klaus moved the pillows around lightly and saw a series of rocks on the ground; anyone of them could have been used to carve the names. He looked back to the names and read each one of them. Vicki. April. Andi. Cami. But the last words were not Caroline’s name. Klaus’s lips twitched upward humorlessly. Caroline was not going to add her name to that list, instead tell her killer exactly how she felt.

Fuck you.

“Klaus. Come look at this.” Marcel’s voice chimed through the cell door; causing the man in question to snap out of his daze. Klaus stood from the bed and walked out of the cell; Greta stepping inside, snapping pictures of everything inside. Marcel was standing by what appeared to be a large, old wooden barrel, beside it on the ground was a carboard box; filled with unpackaged syringes. “There is at least a couple dozen syringes here. However, all the Dilaudid is missing. I think he used the barrel to prep the Dilaudid before going into the cell to injecting it.”

“All the Dilaudid is gone? Even empty bottles?”

“Yes.” Marcel looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

“He came back here.” Klaus replied, looking around the man-made cave. In the corner was a wooden chair and a bucket. On the chair was a tray and plates that Klaus assumed he used to feed his victims. “He knew Caroline got out and came back here to get the bottles of Dilaudid. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take everything, it would draw to much attention; especially since we were in town. He took what evidence as most important.”

“Why the Dilaudid though?” Marcel mused. “Perhaps it can be traced? We ruled out a medical professional because he was blowing the veins when he injected the medication. But if the Dilaudid can be traced back to a specific source, then that means he must have got it from someone in the field? Do you think he has a partner?”

“No.” Klaus shook his head. “Caroline only ever saw one man. Never two. But I think you’re right. Someone obtained the Dilaudid for him. Which means that someone in this town knows who the killer is. If we can find out who obtained the Dilaudid for him and get them to crack; we might have him.” Klaus’s fingers balled into a fist. “Greta!”

“Yes?”

“Make sure everything is bagged and collected. I want nothing left behind. Take everything back to D.C with you.” Greta nodded, and began taking photos of the boxes of syringes. He turned to one of the agents who followed them down into the cellar. “Help her and make sure nothing is uncounted for.” Klaus all but ran out of the cellar, Marcel trailing behind him. “I think it is time we spoke to Tyler Lockwood.”

The anger that was pulsing around him made the hike back to their SUV pass by quickly. Marcel said nothing, knowing that his partner needed to cool off. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen him close to losing his temper and was surprised that Klaus was not punching his fist into a tree or tossing rocks into the distance. There were always moments in each case they worked that Klaus just couldn’t control the rage that overtook him; only out matched but his desire to take monsters like these down and make them pay for the suffering they caused. When Klaus climbed into the SUV, slamming the door behind him. He drove for a few minutes before speaking again.

“What do we know about Tyler Lockwood?”

“His father was the Mayor until he died a few years ago from a sudden brain aneurism. His mother was elected shortly after that.” Marcel replied, raising an eyebrow at the clear nepotism by the towns people. “Tyler himself went to college at Whitmore for political science. Shocker there. Up until a year ago he was engaged to Caroline Forbes. She kicked him out and he has been living back with his mother since.”

“Job?”

“Assistant city manager.” Marcel snorted and Klaus couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. “Clearly he works for his mother with anticipation that one day he will run for Mayor. His social media shows that he is in a new relationship with a woman named Olivia Parker.” Marcel showed him his phone and a woman with curly blonde hair and soft grey eyes peered through the screen. “Seems that he has a thing for blondes.”

“Sounds like a boy who has never worked for a single thing in his life.” Klaus replied, as he pulled up to the Lockwood manor. While it was not as impressive as the Salvatore Boardinghouse, the manor still had old southern beauty to it. It was made of deep red brick with a large white front door and tall white pillars lining the front of the house. There were several cars in the front drive and Klaus parked the SUV in line with the other vehicles.

“Let me guess, still not as impressive as the Mikaelson Manor back in jolly old England?” Marcel teased and Klaus just rolled his eyes, not willing to reply; an action that Marcel only took as confirmation to his theory. His small laughter only had Klaus smiling, something they both knew eased the tension he was feeling.

The two agents climbed the brick stairway and knocked on the front door, noticing that at least this house did not have an obnoxious knocker on the front. Marcel muttered that it was such pity just in time for a tall, middle aged woman to answer the door. She had shoulder length brown hair with streaks of blonde running through it. She wore a tight pencil skirt and a dark blue blouse; lined with a set of pearls that probably cost more than Klaus’s monthly salary. She looked everything like a politician’s wife turned politician herself.

“Can I help you?”

“Mayor Carol Lockwood?” Marcel asked and she nodded. “I’m Agent Marcel Gerard and this is my partner Agent Klaus Mikaelson. Is Tyler home? We were hoping to have a word with him.”

“He is here but we have company. Would it be possible for you to speak with him later?” Carol asked and the two agents just looked at her with disbelieving eyes. While they had been met with hostility and flat out refusal at their request on almost every case, they had never been asked to leave and return at a later date because of company. It was the south, but hospitality only went so far.

“No.” Klaus replied simply and pulled out the warrant from his jacket pocket. He handed her the piece of paper and stepped over the threshold, not caring if he brushed her shoulder as he went. The foyer was large and had high ceilings, a large staircase and marble flooring.

“Excuse me? What are you doing?!”

“Mom? What is going on?” A voice chimed in from the large archway in the foyer. Tyler Lockwood looked exactly as he did the day at the hospital when he caused a scene outside Caroline’s hospital room. He was dressed in slacks and a white button down that made Klaus wonder if he dressed himself or if his mother picked out his clothes. In the back of Klaus’s mind, he knew he was being unfair but his bitterness at the knowledge that he hurt Caroline overshadowed that. Not only that, but it was clear to Klaus that Tyler was still be holding onto his mother’s coat strings. “Agents, what can we do for you?”

“We would like a word Mr. Lockwood, if you wouldn’t mind.” Klaus replied in a tone that he had no options but to speak with them. Tyler eyed him from head to toe, sizing him up as though he was realizing that he was not the alpha male in the room. He could see that he wanted to refuse; to tell Klaus no but couldn’t. Klaus could see the consequences flashing behind his brown eyes and the memory of Klaus having Tyler escorted from the hospital still fresh in his mind. Klaus could make his life very difficult and while his mother was the mayor of a small town in Virginia, Klaus had the FBI behind him.

“Of course. Follow me.”

“Tyler. The guests!” Carole hissed harshly to her son. Marcel strolled through the threshold and took the warrant that was still clutched in her hands from her and ignored her.

“It will be fine, Mom. You go and sit with them. I’ll talk with the agents.” Tyler responded and jerked his head at the agents to follow him. Klaus and Marcel easily followed Tyler towards the back of the house, passing a large dining area in the process. Inside, Klaus could see Pastor Young, Matt Donovan and Andi Star’s parents gathered around a table that was filled with pastries and coffee. “Mom invited the families of the victims, hoping to show that the towns support them and if they need anything, all they have to do is ask. She thought hosting a small brunch was the way to accomplish that.”

“How sweet.” Klaus replied in a sarcastic tone; in the back of his mind he was wondering if it was an election year. He looked towards the room that the mayor had congregated people inside of and realized that he did not see Liz or Caroline inside. “If this brunch was to show the mayor’s support, why are the Forbes’s absent?”

“Mom thought it would be insensitive to invite them…since, Caroline survived.” Tyler stated in an awkward tone as he opened a door and lead them inside what appeared to be an office. It was larger than the director of the FBI’s office and far more elaborate. Instead of chairs, facing the desk, there was a full seating area complete with sofas, a coffee table and throw pillows. It looked more like the Queen’s sitting room where she served tea than the office of a small-town mayor. “What can I do for you?”

Marcel handed Tyler the warrant and took a seat on one of the sofas. Much like he had done at the Salvatore house, Klaus paced the room. Part of him wanted to sit behind the desk to show Tyler exactly who was in charge. However, by his demeanor before they entered the mayor’s office, Tyler knew his place in this investigation and what the consequences would be if he refused to corporate. Klaus was unsure if that set warning bells off in his head or if he wanted to be suspicious of him. Klaus wondered at the change from the cocky man he had met at the hospital.

“Yesterday afternoon, Ms. Forbes lead us to one of the Lockwood cellars on your property.” Marcel told Tyler in an easy tone while Klaus took in the room. On the far right stood a tall bookshelf that held several leather-bound volumes that by the spines, Klaus could tell that they were unused. Not of speck of dust could be found and despite the fact that the volumes were unread, they were cleaned often. Pictures lingered around the room but lacked any sort of personal touch. The office, much like the other parts of the house Klaus had seen, felt showy and empty; making Klaus wonder if this was a theme that occurred often in the town’s most prominent families. “We obtained a warrant and this morning searched it and discovered that the victims had been held there prior to their murder.”

“Shit.” Tyler whispered, sinking down onto the couch. He put his hands into his hands and shook his head. Both agents stood there watching him for a second, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. Every movement was studied and calculated. When he pulled his head up, Klaus could see a million different thoughts running through his mind. Something was playing behind those brown eyes. “What was down there?”

“That’s classified.” Marcel stated smoothly and Tyler pursed his lips. “Are there any more cellars or tunnels on your property that we should be made aware of? If so, we are going to want to search them.”

“Yes. There are five in total. Two are caved in through and have been for years.” Tyler stood up and walked towards the desk. He opened a few drawers and pulled out a key. He walked over to an old painting that Klaus assumed was some Lockwood ancestor of sorts and took the painting off the wall. There was a safe behind the painting and Tyler opened the safe easily. He shuffled through a few things and pulled out a small leather binder that was tied with a small leather strap. Tyler untied the binder and rooted through several papers. “We keep the deed to the house and a few other things in here; including a detail on the surrounding property. Here.” Tyler handed Marcel a list of what appeared to be the cellars among other various landmarks on the Lockwood property. “All the cellars and tunnels should be listed on there as well as their locations. Search wherever you need.”

“Thank you.” Klaus took the list from Marcel’s hand and scanned over it. He pulled out his phone and took a screenshot of it, sending it to Maddox with instructions to have the agents stay behind and wait for them to search the remaining cellars. “Who all knows about these?”

“Honestly, I can’t answer that. We don’t advertise the cellars or tunnels. Mom feels that it would bring up bad options on our ancestors; because of what the cellars were used for.” Tyler informed the agents, avoiding looking at Marcel as though he would be offended about the subject he was dancing around.

“You mean the fact that were used to hide slaves?” Marcel asked in an unbothered tone. Klaus knew Marcel well and they both knew that he was descended from slaves during the Civil War. It was a fact that Marcel had come to terms with long ago but also did not like being reminded of it, especially by a man of privilege. Despite all of that, he was not about to let Tyler see that side of him.

“Yes.” Tyler nodded. “I can’t really give you a list of people who know about it because we don’t press charges against everyone who walks through the woods on our property. We would have to charge half the town and that would take too much time.”

“Fair point.” Klaus replied, eyeing Tyler. There was something he was withholding, and Klaus was not in the mood to play games with him. Images of the tunnels were far to fresh and Klaus wanted to hold Tyler responsible for their existence. “What are you not telling us?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Lockwood, if you know something. Tell us. Us finding out later will only be worse for you in the long run.” Tyler was silent for a moment, and the agents could see the decision going through his mind; back and forth.

“Okay. I may have shown the cellars to a few people.” Tyler paused. “Specifically, woman.” Both Marcel and Klaus looked at Tyler in incredulity. After a second, Marcel started to laugh lightly as though he was highly amused, but Klaus could tell that by the tone that his partner was anything but.

“Let me understand you. You would take woman hiking through the woods and show them cellars that your ancestors used to hold slaves?” Marcel asked as though he was trying to understand him better. “To what purpose? To get laid?” Tyler nodded and Marcel just shook his head in disbelief. “Who was the last one?”

“Caroline. She actually gave me hell when I took her there. She was far from impressed.” Tyler replied, honestly. “I haven’t been down there in years. Caroline and I started dating in college and then eventually got engaged. I had no need to go down there anymore.”

“What about Ms. Parker? Your current girlfriend?” Klaus asked.

“She has never been down there.” Tyler replied, taken aback slightly. His eyes shifted between Marcel and Klaus, looking suspicious for the first time. “How do you know about Liv?”

“Was she the woman who you cheated on Caroline?”

“What? No.”

“Who was she? Did you take her down there?”

“Hayley? No, no Hayley as far as I know has never been down there.”

“Hayley?”

“Marshall.” Tyler held up his hands as though he was defending himself. “What are you accusing me of? I didn’t do anything. I admit that leading woman down there in hopes of sex was a douche of a move, but I grew up a lot since then. I stopped doing that after Caroline and I got serious.”

“And yet you still cheated on her.” Klaus snapped back. It was a rash comment and he knew that he would have to watch his tone if he did not want this interview to end the same way the interview with Damon ended; with the fatal lawyer request.

“I regret that. Hayley and I, it was stupid, and I have tried to make it up to Caroline since, but she refuses to allow me a second chance.” Tyler genuinely seemed sincere and Klaus did not know if that made him dislike him more. “I ended things with Hayley after Caroline caught us. I thought that maybe we could work things out. Get back together but she wants nothing to do with me.”

“And what does any of this have to do with you leading woman down to those cellars? If you no longer exercise that practice?” Klaus asked, trying to steer the questioning back towards the investigation.

“Vicki and I used to mess around in high school. It was nothing serious. She had a crush on me despite dating Jeremy Gilbert. I used that. We would use the Lockwood cellars as a meeting place.” Tyler admitted. “We wanted to keep things quiet. It was just sex at the time and ended before we left high school. I don’t know if she kept going down there or not.”

“I see.” Klaus replied, looking Tyler over. “So, you and Vicki used to have sex in high school, what about after?”

“No. Once I went off to college, I started dating Caroline.”

“You’ve already proven that infidelity is not an issue for you. I just wanted to check. Excuse me if I find your sincerity questionable.” Klaus told him with a cynical smile. He was scrutinizing him and Klaus had him pegged. He had seen dozens of men just like him before. Rich, with a sense of entitlement and having the audacity to believe that forgiveness should just be handed to them without having to earn it first. He was everything Klaus could have become but didn’t, a fact that Klaus did not want to admit to himself. The fact that Tyler was trying to be on his best behavior now intrigued Klaus. Tyler saw the damage that was done to Elena when the news of her affair with Damon became public and he clearly wanted to prevent that from happening to him. “What about drugs? Did you use those cellars to get high?”

“What?”

“Drugs. Maybe heroin, Dilaudid or meth?”

“I smoked weed in high school a few times but nothing since and it was never down there.” Tyler replied in a confused tone. “I never touched anything harder than that.”

“Do you know anyone who does?”

“Half the town. There isn’t much to do around here. Take your pick, someone is bound to be one something.”

“Like Vicki?”

“Yeah. Her drug habits were well known in town. She started getting messed up in high school.” Tyler paused and Klaus could read between the lines. Vicki would be high whenever they had sex and there was a fine line between consent and sleeping with someone under a drug induced haze. “But I haven’t really spent much time with her since we graduated.”

“Do you know where she would get her supply?”

“No.” Klaus watched him but Tyler was doing everything he could to keep his face passive. Before him was a serial cheater who had two politicians for parents. Lying was second nature for him. Caroline was an intelligent woman that if she had not caught Tyler in the act, never would have suspected his infidelity. It pained Klaus to admit that Tyler was a good liar and he was questioning whether or not he was being truthful.

“You knew both Vicki and Caroline intimately. What about April Young?” Marcel asked in a bored tone but studied him carefully. Both men were watching for the slightest hint of acknowledgment; however, Tyler did nothing but shake his head.

“No. Honestly? I forgot about April’s existence after we graduated high school. She was not someone who particularly stood out.” Tyler admitted and both of the men believed him. April, while pretty, did not have the same beauty as the other woman that would have caused Tyler to take a notice. “Mom had to remind me who she was when her name was among the list of victims.”

“What of Andi Star? Ever have a relationship with her?”

“Andi? No. I mean I knew her, but everyone did. She was the town’s success story. Mom liked to roll the red carpet out for her whenever she came to town. She and I never had any sort of relationship. I never even slept with her. I think the most we ever did was maybe dance at some town function or something, but I can’t be sure.”

“What about the name Camille O’Connell?”

“Never heard of her before this mess started.” Tyler replied. “Look, I admit it. I’m not exactly the best at relationships. I slept around and it wasn’t until Caroline called me on it, tossing the ring I bought her in my face that I realized that I messed up. But this, I didn’t do this. I’m not a murder.”

Both Klaus and Marcel just looked at him; something apparent became obvious to both of them. Tyler was terrified. The question became; what was he scared of? His dark eyes were darting between the two of them as though they were going to pounce on him. There was something lurking beneath the surface that Tyler wanted to tell them, and they could see it. They waited but Tyler apparently decided that he was doing speaking to them.

“Where were you on the evening of June 5th?”

“My girlfriend and I were here.”

“Which one? Hayley Marshall or Olivia Parker.” Klaus asked, not being able to help himself. While he did not like Tyler, the man did not stir anger inside of Klaus like Damon had. Perhaps it was because, despite his fidelity issues, Tyler shown no history of violence. That did not make him innocent and Klaus would keep an open mind about him until there was proof clearing him completely. However, that did not stop Klaus from the enjoyment of toying with him.

“I was with Liv. I told you. Hayley and I are over.” Tyler snapped. He stood and walked over to his mother’s desk. He grabbed a notepad and a piece of paper, jotting something down. He handed it to Klaus and gave him a dead stare. “Here is her number. Call her if you’d like.”

“Oh, we will.” Klaus took the slip of paper from his hands, looking down at the digits he had written. He tossed Tyler a smirk that was meant to irritate him; for no other reason that it gave Klaus joy to see Tyler squirm. Klaus handed the note over his shoulder to Marcel, who took it easily; already typing the number into his phone and passing the information off to Slater.

“Contact us if you remember anything else Mr. Lockwood.” Marcel told him without look up from his phone. With one last calculating look, Klaus turned from Tyler and headed towards the office door; opening and allowing Marcel to step through first. On the other side, he could see Carol speaking with Matt and Pastor Young; all three tossing questioning eyes at the office door. Andi’s parents were nowhere to be found.

“One last thing.” Klaus turned from the curious gazes of the onlookers. “When we met at the hospital the other day, you introduced yourself as Caroline’s fiancé. Tell me, how do you think Ms. Parker would feel if she learned that you still viewed Caroline as the woman you intend to marry?”

Not allowing Tyler to answer, Klaus left the office and passed by the mayor and her guest, knowing full well that the three of them heard his final question. It was petty but the sheer look of disappointment on Carol’s face brought a hint of satisfaction to Klaus’s mood. Toying with Tyler rounded out his bad temper from back in the woods. It was petty but frankly, Klaus did not care.

“Well he is a douchebag.” Marcel stated as they made their way towards their SUV. Marcel took the keys from Klaus, deciding that it was his turn to drive back to the edges of the Lockwood property. Klaus happily handed them over, the feeling of exhaustion creeping up on him.

“He has been involved with two out of the five victims and probably tried to sleep with Andi at some point, but was shot down. I don’t know if it is a coincidence or motivation. It’s a small town and there is bound to be some overlap.” Klaus replied and Marcel nodded in agreement. There was a slight scowl forming on Marcel’s lips that Klaus could see. He was not surprised; Tyler was the exact type of man Marcel despised. “You hated him.”

“Absolutely.” Marcel replied and his slight southern twang that all but vanished when he moved to D.C came out. Marcel started the SUV and began to pull out of the “Southern white man of privilege who likes to sugarcoat his family history. Of course, I hated him but that is irrelevant. Do you think he is our guy? Nothing about him screamed serial killer but they rarely ever do.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Like I said, he was romantically involved with two of the victims and had easy access to the cellars that they were held in, but he does not strike me as someone who would use street drugs let alone a narcotic like Dilaudid. If he is the killer, or knows who it is, how would he have gotten them?” Klaus voiced his thoughts, rubbing his forehead; fighting the headache that was threatening to form. “I think he is hiding something, but I don’t know what.”

“You have no idea what?”

“Do you?”

“No. Theories but nothing concrete.” Marcel added and Klaus nodded. They drove through town again and headed towards the outskirts of town. They were meeting the agents back at the edge of the Lockwood property to search the additional cellars. They both knew that it would take a bit of time to find them, but the information Tyler passed to them provided enough direction to begin looking. “Let’s get this over with and head back to the station. I’m sure Liz is waiting with batted breath to find out if we found anything.”

“To be honest. I’m surprised she didn’t just show up herself.” Klaus muttered but in the back of his mind, he knew she wouldn’t; especially with Bonnie being called into the bakery so early. Liz was not about to leave her daughter alone, especially when Caroline was passed out on sleeping pills.

By the time Marcel and Klaus were done searching all of the cellars, the sun was beginning to set. Much like Tyler had said, two of the tunnels were caved in and the rest held nothing of interest. They were smaller and beyond similar cells in each, they did not hold the same interest as the one where Caroline and the others had been held. Klaus knew that the killer was unlikely to go back to the first one but might try and move to another if he took another victim. Part of Klaus wondered if they could convince Vincent to allow the additional agents to remain in Mystic Falls but he doubted it; lack of resources or some other bureaucratic excuse. Either way, it was worth the request; if it came from Marcel.

The station was quiet and in the process of shift change when they entered. Klaus and Marcel weaved through the officers and made their way towards the conference room with takeout from the Grill in hand. While it was not the worst food Klaus had ever had, several days of it in a row was tiring. Seeing that the two agents were both starving, only having ate the donuts from Bonnie’s bakery earlier in the day, he would make do.

With his mind on food, Klaus almost missed seeing Caroline sitting in her mother’s office. He had to do a double take when she caught his eye. At first Klaus felt his stomach leap at the sight of her, the memory of their almost kiss surfacing in his mind. However, when he was able to take in her appearance the elated feeling that bubbled inside him burst. He had hoped that with the sleeping pill, whether it was willfully taken or not, would have given Caroline some rest but she appeared to be startled and terrified. She was sitting in one of Liz’s chairs, her knees brought to her chest and she appeared to be biting at her nails; a habit he had yet to see from her so far. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail and she wore a loose T-Shirt and jeans that looked as though she just tossed them on.

“Here. Take these. Call Vincent and see if he will give us the extra men.” Marcel nodded, his eyes flickering between Klaus and Caroline. Klaus could tell that he wanted to say something but refrained; knowing that it would be ignored. He took the food and headed towards the conference room while Klaus made his way towards Liz’s office; knocking on the closed door. Liz bid him entry and he slowly stepped inside.

Seeing Caroline up-close only confirmed his fears. She looked worse for wear. Her eyes were red, and she clearly had been crying. Her position told Klaus that she was doing her best to hold herself together but found it harder than she was expecting. Klaus wanted to walk over to her and take her into his arms; offering the comfort she clearly needed but was unsure of his welcome. He had feelings for Caroline, that much was clear, but he was also in Mystic Falls to do a job. It was a fine line to walk in order to balance the two.

“Did you find anything of interest Klaus?” Liz asked and Klaus nodded, not taking his eyes from Caroline. He took a seat in the vacant chair and turned it to face Caroline; knowing full well that Liz’s eyes were on both of them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and reached out to take Caroline’s uninjured hand into his.

“Talk to me.” Klaus’s voice was low and gentle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Liz looking at their linked hands, but he did not care. All he could see was the grief written all over Caroline’s face and needed to know what was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“No.” It was a useless question and they both knew it; but Klaus needed her to open up to him. “I woke up around noon. Mom had already left for the station, but Bonnie was on the couch. Everything seemed fine. I dressed and let Enzo out. I went to get the mail and I found that inside.”

Caroline nodded towards an envelope resting on Liz’s desk. Klaus reached over and picked up the envelope. It was a typical white envelope that Klaus could find at any general store. It was marked with Caroline’s name and address but there was no return address on the upper left-hand corner. It was stamped and mailed; telling Klaus that this was not hand delivered. This could have been sent from anywhere. Klaus opened the envelope up and pulled out a sheet of paper. It was a note, typed on a computer and completely unremarkable outside of the words that were printed on it.

Caroline,

I miss you. Why did you leave? Did you not like the home I made for you? Where you not comfortable? I gave you everything and yet, you still left. This is your home. You belong here with me, not wandering to places where it is not safe. Only I can keep you safe.

You’re mine, Caroline. One way or another, I will have you home. You will never leave me again and will forever be by my side. They took the others from me, but I refuse to allow them to take you from me too. You belong here with me. Soon you will see to reason.

See you soon, Your only friend.

“What does he mean that he will see me soon?” Caroline whispered as Klaus read the letter. He gripped her hand tightly, his knuckles turning white. If he was crushing her hand, Caroline said nothing; not willing to let go. Klaus could see that she was doing everything in her power to keep calm and not have a complete breakdown. While the emotions cursing through him caused him difficulty in remaining objective, Klaus tried to focus on the words in the letter and not how good it felt to hold her hand. “He is going to come after me, isn’t he?”

“No one is going to hurt you.” Klaus said. He turned his eyes toward Liz and her fear was radiating from her body. He could tell that she was thinking of every possible way to keep her daughter safe but was coming up with nothing. Klaus could understand how lost Liz must feel, having been there himself. The desire to chase down this monster was pushing its way to the surface. “Wait here.”

Klaus stood and left the office. He made his way through the police station with a furious pace. He entered the conference room and the smell of his dinner assaulted him; but any hunger he had had been replaced by a ball forming in the pit of his stomach. Marcel was on the phone and Vincent’s voice sounded through the speaker. Klaus tossed the note down on the table and Marcel picked up it, reading it.

“Jesus. He is taunting her.” Marcel replied and then proceeded to read it to their supervisor over the phone. Klaus explained that it was post marked and mailed to her without a return address; but not hand delivered. It was be difficult to trace without the return address. It could have been dropped into any mailbox in town.

“Clearly.” Vincent replied in a stilted tone. He went silent on the other end and both Klaus and Marcel could hear him typing. “I’ll have agents Rosza and Vanchure drive down in the morning. The agents that I sent this morning can stay in town for the time being. I can ensure that her house is guarded at all times.” Klaus paused, taken aback. He expected more fight from Vincent, citing red tape and not enough funding; not easy cooperation. “I want this to stay quiet. The director is concerned that if the masses discover that Andi Star was murdered by a serial killer, Mystic Falls will be overrun by journalist and that will only make catching him that more difficult.”

“Journalist are protective of their own.” Marcel told them. “We will do what we can to keep this quiet. The local paper has printed some articles about the murders but nothing more widespread than that. I can contact them to see if they will not contact larger papers or news outlets. Maybe we can keep this contained if we promise an interview or something when this is done.” Klaus shot Marcel a look and nodded. That was all he needed to hear before turning and all but storming out of the conference room. He would let Marcel iron out the details; Klaus’s first concern would be Caroline.

“We are going to post agents on your home at all times.” Klaus told them the second he walked back into Liz’s office. Gone was the sympatric and compassionate man who wanted nothing more than to ease Caroline’s pain and was replaced with the agent who was so focused on the job that he would do anything to complete it. “It would be best if you do not go out alone or leave the house without someone with you.”

“You want me to be a prisoner.” Caroline asked and her choice of words ate at Klaus. Images of the case she had been trapped in shot through his memory like a bullet, striking him where it hurt most. Looking at Caroline, Klaus knew that this was a woman who should not be held back; someone who deserved the world laid at her feet and not stripped from her as it had been.

“No.” Klaus replied, his voice forceful and his eyes held such conviction that Caroline almost believed him. “You are never going to be a prisoner again. The agents are to keep you safe, not hinder your movements. When this is all over and we find him, I promise you that you will never be forced in a cage again.”

“You saw it. You went down there.” It wasn’t a question; Caroline knew the answer. Klaus understood something about her in that moment. She was brave and fearless but that tiny underground cell would always haunt her. It was meant to be the place she was going to die in, and no matter of bravery, vengeance or justice would erase that terror from her mind.

“Yes.” There was no point in hiding the truth from her. No matter the amount of pain Caroline was in, Klaus knew that she would be able to handle the truth. One thing that Klaus admired about Caroline, despite having only known her for a few days, was how strong she appeared to be. It was one of the many things that drew him to her; because even in an abandoned dark tunnel, Caroline seemed to be the light at the end of it.

“I need to get out of here.” Caroline stood from her chair abruptly, pulling her hand from Klaus’s grasp and ran from the office. Klaus shot Liz a look, telling her that he would follow her and went after Caroline. He saw her run out of the police station and caught up with her easily as she walked through the parking lot.

“Caroline!” Klaus called after her and his long legs made it easy for him to catch up to her. She stopped when she saw him and brought her arms around herself; trying to hold herself together. She had been so strong the day before, walking in the woods; showing them exactly where she had been held. Now, Klaus wondered if it was too soon. Maybe she was pushing herself too much.

“I can’t stay here Klaus. I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s like the walls are closing in on me. I need to get out of here.”

“Do you trust me?” Klaus asked her and Caroline shot him a questioning look. He could see that she was thinking of the previous day and not just her incident at seeing the entrance of her prison; or climbing out of it. She was thinking of that moment by the car and how they almost kissed. Klaus had replayed that moment over and over again in his thoughts and he knew that Caroline had done the same. “Do you trust me Caroline?”

“Yes.” Caroline told him in a soft tone, the realization startling in her eyes. “Yes. I do.”

“Then come with me.”

[nctwd127]

Can’t Make You Love Me.

I can’t make you love me - Bonnie Raitt 

Maybe this wasn’t the best way to give you the last night because he had someone else now.

But he wasn’t thinking about her when your lips met under the hot water for the first time that night. He was thinking about just you and what you were and had. He thought of the times you shared just like this that were filled with nothing but love and care.

It was tearing him apart to know that while you were drowning in the love you still felt, he wasn’t.

Your skin was hot when you stepped out of the shower and changed into a fresh pair of pajamas. You don’t remember the last time you even changed your shirt since this happened.

Sicheng changed into the clothes you had kept that belonged to him, reminding himself to change back into the clothes he had come in with when he leaves.

The both of you sat on your bed, with some distance between you. You didn’t know what to say and neither did he. Your gaze lingered on him for moments at a time, still not fully believing he was here.

“Why are you here?” You finally asked, dreading to ask because you were scared that you weren’t going to hear what you wanted.

Sicheng looked at you, your small figure much thinner than before. You skin pale, no light and barely any life in your eyes, he didn’t want to hurt you. He just wanted to put an end to your misery

“Our close friends called letting me know they haven’t heard from you since the news. I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained, not looking at you.

The tears burned your eyes but you tried to blink them away. You sat on your bed with your legs crossed and your hands playing on your lap, “Oh, I’m okay. Really, I am.” You miserably lied with a broken voice.

He reached over and lifted your chin so you’d look at him, “Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me like that. You know better (Y/N). I saw the way this place was when I got here. You broke all our pictures, drank who knows how much in whatever amount of time. And you even started smoking.” He scolded you.

You pushed his hand away and got off the bed, “You’re getting married and I find out over the news! Not our friends, not you but the internet. My heart was ripped out of my chest in cold blood and delivered at my fucking door in an envelope Sicheng! What else was I supposed to do?” You yelled and cried at him.

“What do you mean, delivered at your door?”

Teary eyed and shaking, you reached under your pillow and handed to him the crumpled up wedding invitation.

“How did you,” He paused and looked at you, “I made sure you weren’t on that list. I doubled checked. This isn’t even the right invitation.” His voice broke and you saw his eyes gloss over.

Sicheng understood now the pain you were going through, all the hurt he was caused you and still is. Now more than ever, he wished that he had done things right when he left here a year ago.

He wished every day since he left that he had given you time before he walked out.

“I never thought I’d see a day without you. But now here you are and you’re not mine anymore. It was supposed to be us that got married.” You broke down crying, “But it’s not, it’s someone else who will live with you and call you their husband Winnie.”

The nickname that left your lips is what made him do what he did. He got off the bed and cupped your face, without even thinking about it, he kissed you. Your teeth knocked together at the sheer force he kissed you with.

The saltiness of your tears mixed into the kiss when your tongues danced together, savoring the taste of each other like it was the first time. Somehow you still felt the spark there.

His shirt was pulled over his head by his own hands before he took yours off. You wore no bra so your breast were fully exposed to him.

“Get on the bed, now.” Sicheng ordered you, taking his pants and boxers off.

Once on the bed, he yanked off your bottoms and again you wore no undergarments, you were on full display for him to devour you.

He got in between your legs and rested his hands on either side of your head, staring you down. He came down and bite your lip before he trailed kisses down your cheek to your neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot before he bit down.

“Winnie.” You moaned clutching the bed sheets under you.

Satisfied with the mark he left, he kissed down your body to your breast. He cupped one and massaged it, paying extra attention to your sensitive nub, rubbing it in between his fingers, giving it small pulls.

While his mouth wrapped around the other one, sucking on it and giving it small bites. The kind he knew you loved more than anything. His tongue licked your nipple and he sucked harder.  

The warmth of his mouth on your body had you mewling his name, your eyes never leaving his. He detached from your breast and left kisses down your stomach. You pushed your body up on the bed more so he could lay between your legs.

Sicheng was face to face to where you needed him most. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and without warning buried his face in between your legs.

You felt his hot tongue come out and lick up your folds, collecting all the juices you leaked just for him. The grip on your thighs tightened when his tongue penetrated you, invading you in the best way possible.

“Fuck, fuck.” You groaned pulling at his hair, pushing him deeper into your heat.

He hummed in satisfaction, savoring the taste he could only find in you. No matter how hard he tried, he could never love her body the way he loved yours. The way your body reacted to his touch drove him wild.

But that only made him mad. Because he couldn’t love you back, but he could love your body just the same. He could fuck you with passion and fire because of your body and the way it responded to him, and only him.

He was filled with pride to know no one else has touched you.

You felt his tongue be replaced by his long slender fingers, pumping inside of you. Reaching places yours never could, curling right where his always did. He cupped your mound with his mouth and sucked like his life depended on.

Not sure how it was possible but you felt yourself getting wetter and leaking onto the bed under you. The coil that was building at the pit of your stomach snapped in two and you came with his name at the tip of your tongue.

He chuckled as he kept his attack on your soaking pussy because your legs were trying to close around his head but he forced them open again. When your body stopped shaking, he finally withdrew from your body.

Sicheng’s face glistened from your juices when he came back to meet your lips. The taste of you was heavy on his tongue but you didn’t care, you just wanted him. He lined himself with your entrance and pulled your thigh up to his waist and then he pushed in.

You finally felt like you could breathe again when he was buried deep inside your walls, making you his once again.

“Fuck, how are you still so tight for me baby girl? Did I not fuck you enough?”

He wrapped your legs around him and placed his hands down on the bed sheets, holding onto them tightly when he started to thrust into you harder. He kissed and left marks on every bit of skin he could reach.

Your hands scratched down his back, painting it red with raw passion. Your face was buried in his neck, leaving marks that you shouldn’t have but you were too lost in the moment to care.

The way your bodies moved in sync had the headboard knocking into the wall. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed off the walls. Sweat started to cover your bodies and his hair stuck to his forehead.

He came down to kiss you and slowed his thrust, hitting your sweet spot right on the head. Your legs wrapped around him tighter and your nails dug into shoulders, “I’m gonna-”

“I know baby, come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You came harder than the first time, your body shaking harder and your vision turning white behind your eyelids, “I love you so much.” You whispered against his cheek.

Sicheng came soon after you, the way you pulsated around him was too much for him to keep holding on. But unlike you, he whispered curse words and your name.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

After he helped you get cleaned up and he got dressed, he laid you back in bed naked and covered your body. He was getting ready to leave when you pulled his wrist, “Please don’t leave me yet. Stay the night with me, please Sicheng.”

He smiled down at you and gave you a kiss, “Of course.”

It was quiet in the room as the both of you laid in each other’s embrace.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to believe that he didn’t love you. How could he not when he held you so close and tight to him, scared that he’d crack a rib? He’d lift your face to give you a kiss, just a peck.

You wanted to desperately believe that he did. That tomorrow morning when you’d wake up, things would be the same.  

Sicheng would still love you and someday he’d married you.

But then the memoires of the last night you were together came back to you, it felt exactly like this. The same feelings and the same moment, nothing had changed.

He didn’t love you anymore back then and he doesn’t now. You couldn’t make him love you. And he couldn’t make his heart feel something it doesn’t.

So in these final hours, in the dark, you gave all your heart could to his. And in the morning you’d give up the fight and let him go. You will try desperately to let him go and live the life he was meant to live without you.

Come wake me up

[queencarolinemikaelson]

//klaroline au week// - day 6: canon-ish

This definitely requires the ‘ish’ after ‘canon-ish’. It takes place right after the sacrifice at the end of season 2. Caroline dies as the vampire sacrifice, Klaus is successfully killed, and Bonnie uses her power to resurrect Caroline. Similar to how she brings Jeremy back. What will the aftermath of this sacrifice be?

///

“Caroline…”

“Caroline?”

“Caroline!”

Caroline woke with a start, disorientated. She felt the phantom racing of her heart, even if only as a feeling of the past.

She took deep, calming breaths, attempting to centre herself after her abrupt rouse from slumber.

She was different, in the months since the sacrifice. It wasn’t good different, or even bad different, necessarily. It was just different.

Of course, as Bonnie had said, Caroline’s experience with the sacrifice was possibly unique.

“Caroline, you’ve died and come back in some form twice now,” Bonnie said to her, months ago, just before the witch left for a summer away from the supernatural life in Mystic Falls. “You died your human death, then the vampire magic brought you back. Then when Klaus killed you in the sacrifice, you died a vampire’s death, and my magic brought you back. There is no blueprint for what that kind of magic will do to a being.”

Bonnie’s words of course, rang true with Caroline. All actions had consequences, after all.  

And, little by little, Caroline started to notice things. Different experiences that were inexplicable, but tangible.

The first instance had been quite innocuous, really. She was alone in the middle of the woods, and suddenly she felt a presence, like there was someone there, but just beyond her field of vision at every point.

This happened for a week or so, and from there, she began feeling… energies. It was similar to the first occurrence in the woods, except each presence emanated different vibes. Like the subtle differences in wine flavours. A chardonnay and a moscato were both white wines, but they still were very different.  

She just began trying to distinguish different features of each energy, jotting down her experiences, but then then the dreams started.  

A few times a week she would wake suddenly, after a fitful night of amber coloured, feral eyes, and someone whispering ‘Caroline’ intermittently over hours.

When the dreams began, she stopped feeling the energies. It was a relief of sorts; she didn’t have to be on guard every waking hour. But after weeks of poor sleep, she thought she would readily trade her restless nights, with peculiar days.

It was all quite off putting, but she made the conscious decision to deal with it on her own for the time being. No one was getting hurt, and she was just a little uncomfortable from time to time. Also, she had no idea how to even broach the topic if she wanted to anyway.

Besides, there was so much else going on that rendered her discomfort quite the back burner issue in the goings on of Mystic Falls.  

There was her friendship with Tyler, that was growing stronger by the day. There was Matt, who was still pointedly ignoring her at every chance she got. There was her mother who was just getting her head around her daughter the vampire, Caroline wasn’t going to pile any more weird unknown supernatural things onto their relationship just yet.

Then there was the kicker.

Stefan was still missing.

In the crazy aftermath of the sacrifice, Caroline was still a little fuzzy on how it all played out. But she had been provided all important notes.

After Caroline was sacrificed, Klaus swiftly moved on to Elena. From there, his werewolf transformation began. This was where Bonnie came in, channeling the incredible power of the full moon, the sacrifices, and the ancestral witches, Bonnie brought Klaus to the brink of death. While Klaus fought against Bonnie’s onslaught and for his life, as defenseless as he had ever been, Elijah delivered the final blow, ripping Klaus’ heart from his chest.

Whenever Caroline thought about what transpired while she was dead, she couldn’t help but feel terribly sad for Klaus. What a betrayal, and what a gruesome way to die. She knew she was supposed to hate Klaus, but she wouldn’t have wished that death on anyone, not even Klaus.

Caroline was told it all happened very quickly after Klaus died. Bonnie, suddenly able to channel the power of the death of a Hybrid as well, turned her grief of losing her two best friends, to resurrecting them. Having already weaved a spell to protect Elena with John Gilbert, Bonnie let her magic flow completely into Caroline.

Caroline remembered that bit, or at least, she remembered taking a sudden gasping breath after an oppressive nothingness. Immediately following Caroline’s return, a new figure appeared on the seen, an irate and distraught blonde woman. They since discovered the woman was Rebekah Mikaelson, Klaus and Elijah’s only sister. She knocked Elijah away from Klaus’ desiccating body and the they began to fight him. It was a battle unlike Caroline had ever seen, two exceptionally powerful beings at total war with each other.

At some point or other, Rebekah noticed Stefan who was skirting around the furore, in a vain attempt to get to Elena’s corpse. For some reason this caught Rebekah’s attention, and before anyone could do anything else she snapped Elijah’s neck, then Stefan’s. And the she was off with the limp bodies of her two brothers, and with Stefan’s.

And none of them had seen any of them since.

They had managed glean a vague idea of what Rebekah and Stefan were up to, thanks to Caroline and her mom using resources at the Sheriff’s department to track their movements throughout the summer. Though, every lead that was passed onto Damon seemed to run cold.

Apparently, Rebekah was traipsing across the entire country, searching for something. They just hadn’t figured out what yet. And for whatever reason, Stefan was with her, and he was staying with her, and they hadn’t figured out why that was either.

As for Elijah, that was another thing they didn’t know. They assumed Rebekah had a dagger of her own she made use of, though no one could know for sure. And because of this, Caroline felt slightly uneasy knowing he could be back at any minute.

So here Caroline was, an entire summer later, with things just settling down, she didn’t want to put more supernatural drama onto anyone. She could deal with the spine tingles, fear, and few nights a week of restless sleep, if it meant her friends were better off.

Though as she lay in her bed that morning, Caroline resolved to talk to Bonnie if it got worse. That way there would actually be cause for concern.

Throwing off her bed covers, Caroline dressed with faux-excitement – fake it til you make it right? Because today was Elena’s 18th birthday.

And no matter how mopey Elena had been over Stefan’s disappearance, no matter how messed up everyone was feeling, tonight would be a party to remember if Caroline had anything to say about it.

//

“Hey!” Caroline beamed, as she sat beside Tyler at the Grill.

“Hey, Care,” he replied. “How’s it going?”

She was poised to answer, when that feeling of being watched tingled through her, and she heard a voice whisper her name.

She whipped around, attempting to find the owner of the voice. But there was no one. Plus, it sounded inexplicably like the same voice who whispered to her in her dreams.

Now this was a development. She had never heard that voice during the day before.

“You okay?” Tyler asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Caroline thought about confiding in Tyler. If anyone could handle it, surely it was him? But what would she say? Something happened to me when I died and came back for the second time, so now I feel enigmatic energies, have nightmares, oh and hear voices now too apparently.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I guess I didn’t sleep well last night.”

//

“You’ve outdone yourself, as usual Caroline!”

It was later that day, and the compliment came from Jenna, who was coming down the stairs with Ric, about an hour after the party began.

“Yeah, really Caroline, why anyone else tries to throw events, I have no idea,” Ric added.

Caroline smiled at the two lovers. After all the bad stuff that happened to them over the past few months, it was nice having Jenna in the loop, and nice to see a bit of normalcy from the young couple.  

“Don’t have too much fun!” Caroline said. “You are the chaperones, remember.”

As the two adults laughed and walked away, Caroline tried to pretend she was having a good time, tried beaming around at all her hard work paying off.

But she couldn’t.

On top of all Caroline’s other issues, Elena was still mopey, Matt was simultaneously drunk and high, and was still managing to ignore her as loudly as he could. And then there was Tyler.

Now, logically, Caroline knew she had little claim to Tyler. After their kiss months earlier, she turned him down, she said no.

But, boy, he was grinding all over slutty Sophie, and, god, it was grinding her gears.

How dare he. Seriously.

“Hey, great party, Caroline,” Sophie said, as she and Tyler left the mosh pit.

“Thanks!” Caroline said, the word dripping with insincerity. “Now leave it.”

Sophie obliged with a pleasant smile, and not a word. Of course she would, compulsion will do that to a person.

“What the hell?” Tyler said, indignantly.

Caroline just rolled her eyes, and brushed past him.

As she melted into the crowd, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Mixed in amongst the faces of her drunk class mates was a face that couldn’t be there.

It was lit with a smug smirk, and there was a calculating glint in his eye.

“Klaus?” Caroline said, weakly.

He flicked his eyebrows at her, but at that moment, one of her class mates bumped her, breaking her concentration, and when her head shot back to where Klaus was standing, he was gone.

Rattled, she decided she needed a real drink. Surely some O+ would settle her nerves.

//

“What’s your problem? You pissed that I brought someone?”

It was half an hour later, when Caroline made it down the stairs after her blood-bag pit stop, and Tyler was already in her face. 
Could she not catch a break today?

“Why would I be pissed?” she answered, petulantly. “You brought a date, you’re dating! That’s awesome.”

She stalked away from him, she had bigger fish to fry that evening, like getting so wasted she could forget she was seeing faces in crowds.

It was useless, however, as Tyler just followed her and said, “should I not be dating?”

“Hey, you’re horny all the time, right?” she shot back. “I mean a guy has needs!”

“He sure does, sweetheart.”

“What did you say?” she snapped, as for the second time that day she spun around, trying and failing to find the face of someone whispering in her ear.

Caroline’s skin was crawling. She knew it wasn’t Tyler who said it, and she knew the voice didn’t come from one of her class mates. But she shuddered to think that maybe the voice from her dreams, and the voice that had been following her all day, belonged to the same dead man who mysteriously appeared in a crowd of drunk teenagers only thirty minutes earlier.  

“I didn’t say anything,” Tyler pouted, sulking at Caroline’s harsh tone. “What’s the matter with you?”

Caroline scrambled to find the best way to dodge his question.

And, maybe it was because she was drunk, or maybe she just wanted to shut him up, or maybe she was just so on edge about her rapidly deteriorating grip on reality, but she grabbed Tyler by the lapels and kissed him.

They kissed ferociously for a few moments before Tyler pulled away.

“Let’s get out of here?” he asked, panting his way through the words.  

“Uh uh.”

//

Much much later, Caroline found herself tiptoeing as quietly as possible out of the Lockwood Mansion.

Sex may have been great, and an excellent distraction, and she may truly have some sort of feelings for Tyler – maybe. But that still didn’t make up for the fact that when she drifted off for some post-coital sleep she fell straight back into her nightmare.

A voice, endlessly calling to her, reeling her in. And the eyes, those amber eyes, suddenly had a face to go with them.

His face.

Klaus.

So, when Caroline woke with a start, as was inevitable, she silently donned her dress, and slipped from the room.

There was nothing else for it, she would have to talk to Bonnie. If Klaus was somehow haunting her, or whatever, having a well-informed witch on her side would be only an advantage.

Caroline was just about to reach the front door, when none other than Carol Lockwood appeared, looking ever so judgemental. Curse her bad luck!

“Mrs Lockwood! Hi,” Caroline said, as innocently as possible.

“Leaving so soon?” the older woman asked, pointedly.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to be so… I mean, we were just….” Caroline floundered, her ears still ringing with Klaus’ whispers. “I’m gonna get my purse.”

She reached for her little silver bag, and as she touched it her hand began to burn. Before she could turn around, pain exploded through her back, quickly permeating her body, as Carol shot her full of vervain.

Caroline quickly lost consciousness, and she saw Carol’s concerned but determined face loom over her – and in Caroline’s last moments before the darkness claimed her, she was sure she saw the grinning face of Klaus waving at her over Carol’s shoulder.

//

Hope you liked! Not a hell of a lot of KC for KC AU week, but the things we do for the sake of exposition. The aim is for this to be a multi-chapter story??? Let me know if you’re interested. If I can actually keep writing with the vim I have been this week, this will hopefully end up being a bit of a season 3/4 TVD and 1 TO rewrite. I have a semblance of an outline, and a few chapters in the bank, but who knows with me. I’m really great at starting stories and not finishing them. Once I can figure out a name, I will post it to the places. No beta though, as per, and I hate editing so soz for mistakes. 

See you tomorrow for the final day!! I’ve been loving reading all the things from the other days!!! And I’m sad I never got my stories finished for Tues/Thurs/Fri so I could participate more!! <3 <3

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, Chapter 10)

Rating: Mature

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Claire and Jamie settle in their separate locations and write to one another.

Chapter 10: Kisses With Dreams

September 1, 1938

Jamie,

I promised I would write the moment I moved into my dormitory, and I can assure you that my unpacked suitcase is at the foot of the bed. Thank you for the surprise photographs of us in my purse; I hadn’t realized your father took any at the gathering, though I’ve never been more grateful. I realized belatedly that while I had two wonderful photographs of you, I didn’t have any of us together. It caused a tearful moment on the train. Fortunately, there was a kind Reverend sitting beside me; he distracted me with his own recollection of Jacobite history. It was interesting, but only made me want to return to you more.

I’m no stranger to new beds in unfamiliar places, though this is the first time I can’t unloosen the knot that’s formed in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never missed someone before, with so much of myself. That last kiss at the station, in front of God and everyone no less, will have to get me through until December, won’t it? I think even Jenny blushed.

I hope you’re settling alright. Were you and Ian able to share an apartment as you’d wanted? Do you have a wonderful view? By the time you receive this, you’ll have started your classes; please tell me how you’re finding them, and I’ll let you know how school is here, as well, in my next letter. We begin on Monday, and I’m not sure if I’m worried or if it’s just nerves causing me to doubt myself. What if I’m not capable enough when it comes to real-life scenarios? What if I have the drive to help others, but am rubbish at nursing?

I already know you’re shaking your head in protest. It’s nerves, and by this time next month, I’ll be settled and things will be fine. That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it?

In half an hour, I’ll have to attend an informal dinner to meet my fellow classmates, so I suppose I should at least unpack a suitable outfit. I don’t want to stop writing; if I stop writing, then I’ll have to face the fact that you’re not really here, listening to everything I’m telling you.

Sorry for the smear of ink. I’m homesick, I suppose, only you are my home, and I already miss you desperately.

Please give my best to Ian. Write soon, and put me out of my misery.

Yours,

Claire

The weekend before I left for London, Brian hosted a two-day party of sorts for all the tenants he rented land to. It was grand and festive, with enough food to feed an army and no shortage of laughter. Old friends arrived, including a delightful man named Mr. Raymond whom I could remember cropping up throughout my childhood; someone who brought me rare toys and exotic candies when visiting. He hadn’t expected to see me, I knew, but still managed to gift me something unique: a dragonfly encased in amber. When I tried to find Jamie to show him, he was busy watching his father, gaining real-time experience as the future laird of Lallybroch. I was captivated by him, the way he drew people in. His eyes seemed to meet every single person’s in the room when he addressed the group at large, and he always seemed much wiser than his age suggested.

Privately between us, the things that could come out of Jamie Fraser’s mouth were like lines from old, romantic poems. Sonnets written in 19th-century fields of heather. The best part was that he always spoke true. He meant those fantastic things he said, and it made me love him all the more.

The first night of the festivities, we’d stolen away to a hayloft, drinking pilfered Drambuie straight from the bottle.

“Did you know this is the secret drink recipe of the Bonnie Prince Charlie?” I’d asked slowly, my speech a bit languid in my not-quite-drunkenness.

“Oh? I only ken my uncle Dougal enjoys the drink verra much, it’s why there’s so much of it for the weekend,” Jamie’d informed me before taking another swallow from the bottle.

“Well, when he escaped to the Isle of Skye, he was offered protection by – oh, which clan was it?” Pausing, I’d looked out at the sky, squinting before remembering. “Clan MacKinnon! Clan MacKinnon sheltered Prince Charles, and as thanks he gave them this very recipe.”

I had been given a kiss for my useless historical knowledge – and a bit more.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I sealed the envelope, fished a stamp out of my handbag, and neatly scrawled Jamie’s address, plus my own. It took a half-hour to settle on a suitable dress for supper, and I made my way downstairs, intending to keep to myself. Taking a seat at the far end of the dining room table, I listened as the rules of the dormitory were laid out (no non-familial men in our rooms unchaperoned, period. No alcohol except for one glass of wine with supper) and studied the other women. All of us seemed to be about the same age, and the one next to me leaned over to speak.

“What do ye think, could we sneak a flask in our brasseries and get away wi’ it?”

My eyes widened first at the accent, and then at the suggestion.

“You’re Scottish?” I asked somewhat dumbly.

“Aye. What gave it away, the accent or the flamin’ red hair?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I stifled it quickly to avoid the attention of Mistress Hildegarde.

“My name’s Gillian,” my new acquaintance introduced herself. “We’re roommates, you and I. I was down the hall when ye were comin’ out of the room earlier.”

She had hair not quite as red as Jamie’s, a fair complexion, and definite mischief in her eyes.

“Maybe down my knickers,” she mused, and I hid a laugh behind my napkin. While eating (an unfamiliar to me meat dish and potatoes), I decided if I was to live here for four years, perhaps befriending at least one person would be nice.

I was proven correct over the next few days; Gillian was smart and took good notes, but had a penchant for knowing when to throw down our study materials and go out for a drink. On a Friday evening after the third week of classes, we were planning to go to the cinema until the mail call happened.

“Ms. Beauchamp, one letter, one parcel.”

When Mistress Hildegarde said my name and I saw the handwriting on the envelope, I apologetically canceled my plans with Gillian and ate my supper in record time before racing upstairs. The package was a square box, and I put it aside in favor of reading Jamie’s letter first.

September 17, 1938

My own,

You are correct; I was shaking my head at what you said of yourself. And was I right? Was it nerves and are you settled? I know you can do anything, and I am eager to read all about your classwork. Your roommate as well, is she a nice lass?

Ian and I are faring well and do share a small apartment. He’s writing to Jenny now as I write to you. A few things are as I thought; the Latin exams will not be very easy to pass with top marks. I’m not sure speaking Latin will come up much in daily farm life, but I suppose for Mass it will be nice to know exactly what is being said. At least it may be something that could impress Father Bain.

Hopefully, the parcel I’ve sent along makes it as well. Inside is a wee bit more than chocolate, all things I thought you might enjoy. I had the idea, as well, to take a flight to London before Christmas, then together we could go to Scotland for the holidays, perhaps even spend a night in Edinburgh before going on to Lallybroch. We can work out the details a bit closer to the time, it is only that I’m eager to see you now. Being apart from you feels as though something is missing – even at Lallybroch I felt it, on the days we weren’t able to see one another save for breakfast and supper, only not as keenly. I miss you, Sassenach, down to the very marrow of me. I’m glad you have photographs; I have one of you in my back pocket always. Sometimes, I need to see you.

Do not weep, lass. Soon, it will only be the two of us.

The next few months will go by in record time, though perhaps I will be able to find a way to see you sooner. I love you, Claire, and you’ll do well to remember it. Write to me soon, a nighean.

Yours always,

Jamie

His name was a flourishing signature, and down in the very corner of the page, he’d drawn a small heart. Touching it with the tips of my fingers, I smiled softly and read the letter again. It was comforting to read something so normal, that everything was going perfectly well so far. Folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope, I tore the parchment paper off of the box next, removing the lid. Inside was something wrapped in pale pink tissue, and when I unwrapped it, found four white handkerchiefs with lace, scented to smell faintly of roses. They were beautiful, and only after closer inspection did I realize my initials were embroidered in the corner, though not CB.

CF.

After taking a moment to whisper my name with his aloud, I tucked one into my purse, another into my coat pocket, and slipped the other two into my dresser. Digging through the rest of the contents had me finding all sorts of different chocolates, beautifully hand-painted postcards of Parisian landscapes, and a book: The Postman Always Rings Twice. There was another note, written on the inside of the cover.

Sassenach,

I wasn’t sure if you’d read it, but you mentioned wanting a good mystery novel to puzzle out. This one is controversial, if you’ll remember. I read it, and I can see why Boston went up in arms. Don’t go getting bawdy ideas.

–JAMMF

I laughed aloud at his last sentence and laid the book to rest on the nightstand. Looking at my bounty, I quelled the urge to write back for a mere twenty minutes before sitting down at my desk once more. I went on about my schoolwork, about the things I was learning and told him about Gillian, then reassured him all was well and I had indeed settled. I promised to write more once I’d finished the novel, then changed into my nightgown early, tucking into the book. Hours later and over half-way through, Gillian returned home, letting herself in and flopping down on my bed across my legs.

“Have fun?” I asked, putting down the book for now and stretching.

“When isn’t watching Fred Astaire a delight? Though, it wasna the best of his films, ” she informed in response, filling me in on the plot of Carefree. I half-listened, my thoughts on the book, which she called me out for.

“Where’s yer mind, Claire? Surely a book cannae be that good that ye–” Her gaze drifted toward the box, eyes wide by the time she looked back to me again. “Is that from yer fella, then? Let’s see, what did he send?”

As I proudly showed off my bounty, she touched the embroidery on one of the handkerchiefs. “Yer wee fox cub truly wants ye, I’m jealous. Does he have a brother, by any chance?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Only a sister.”

“Is she available then?”

We laughed at the joke together before scrubbing our faces and turning in for the night, a picture of Jamie tucked under my pillow.

The weeks rolled by, my latest letter arriving on October twelfth. It was short, mostly about how hard he’d been studying and all of the places to eat he was eager to take me to. There was no parcel this time, but he promised something would arrive in time for my birthday.

On the twentieth, I could hardly sit still in my classes, eager to get home and see what had arrived for me. As soon as my day was over I raced to the dormitory, calling out even as I opened the front door.

“Mistress Hildegarde, have you got any parcels for me?”

Her voice rang out from the parlor. “Yes, I would say so, Ms. Beauchamp. Come, it is here, with me.”

Removing my hat and placing it on the hook near the front door, I was pulling off my gloves as I entered the room and paused in shock. “Wot?”

“Mind the rules, my dear,” Mistress Hildegarde reminded on her way out of the room, and I merely nodded, a slow smile spreading so wide it made my cheeks hurt.

“Happy birthday, Sassenach.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[pajama-nerd]

Reading my way through Fazbears Frights, thinking about how none of these protagonists have ever interacted with any kind of horror media.

Reader Beware: Spoilers Ahead

Into the Pit didn’t read like time travel to me. It read more like a particular kind of haunting where the negative energy of all of the bad shit that happened at that location was locked into the one remaining 'feature' of the location: the ball pit. And Pit-Bonnie isn't the ghost of Afton, but rather the entity that was created from the memories of all that bad energy.

And the interesting thing to me about Pit-Bonnie is that - aside from the inherent creepiness of the situation and the fact that he had literally one facial expression (he can’t even blink for cryin’ out loud) - he didn't attempt to harm Oswald until Oswald went back to rescue his dad. Once Pit-Bonnie was away from the negative energy that had spawned him, he did Dad Things™. He did them in the creepiest way possible, granted, but we don't actually know how he feels because of his inability to express.

Maybe he wanted to stay. Maybe he just wanted a break from that place. Maybe that place has a hold on him, and being away from it allowed him a measure of free will.

And the fandom that I’ve seen about the Dashboard has locked onto Pit-Dad-Bonnie because the general attitude of the fandom - as far as I've witnessed - has been 'Oh. A scary thing! Well, now it's friend-shaped.' (or, in this case, Dad shaped) so of course my immediate question is, 'how would the story have changed if Oswald had made a more serious attempt to communicate with Pit-Bonnie?'

The immediate, cynical response is 'well it would have slaughtered him' but that's infinitely less interesting than the possible alternatives.

Perhaps he takes in the fact that Pit-Bonnie can't talk, and proposes an alternate method of communication. I'm talkin construction paper and crayons. And he gets Pit-Bonnie to tell his story a la Nephrite from Steven Universe. About how one day he just was. And how sometime after that, that version of Fazbear's formed around him. And how there were happy, smiling kids laughing in the pizzeria and he was happy, but how every time he tried to be friends with the kids something would happen.

The world would flicker and they would just be in that back room, like that. How he was desperate for some kind of a connection and could never have one because those kids – those memories – were doomed to die by the memory of his hands. How he noticed Oswald because Oswald didn’t fit – he was real – and how he’d wanted Oswald to help him figure out how to change what had happened (or to make it stop), but Oswald had run away. About how he’d tried to fish Oswald out of the ballpit and gotten his dad instead. About deciding to take his dad’s place so that he could get away from that place and how being here with Oswald was nice. Driving him to school was nice. Making him dinner was nice. Cleaning the house with him was nice.

(Imagine Oswald getting less and less afraid as he interprets the story, checking in with PB occasionally to make sure he's getting it right. Getting slightly annoyed tho, because he's not getting rid of this rabbit, is he? But he still needs to rescue his dad, so now what?)

Oswald eventually tells PB that he can stay, which surprises but elates the rabbit. Then Oswald tells him they have to get his dad back.

There's a negotiation. Obviously, they have to get his dad back. Has Pit-Bonnie been going to his dad's job? What about taxes? Things his dad knows how to do? What about Oswald's mom? Is Pit-Bonnie just going to pretend to be his dad around her forever? What if she wants to do...like...parent stuff? With her husband? If you catch my drift (PB does not, in fact).

Eventually PB agrees, and even drives Oswald back to the same block as the pizza place. He doesn't get close to it - definitely doesn't park in the lot - but Oswald just tells him to wait in the car and goes and wakes his dad up from the ball pit. His dad is confused. Disoriented. Way out of it. Let's Oswald lead him back to the car and sits in the back, too out of it to comment on the yellow bunny mascot in the front seat. They return to the house without incident, and his dad passes out on the couch.

Oswald eventually figures out that PB is the one making his dad so loopy - that the connection PB formed so that he could know how to drive the car, how to work the vacuum cleaner, how to make Oswald's meals, is also keeping Oswald's dad borderline comatose. It takes some convincing to get PB to give that up. PB is afraid to give that up - afraid that if he doesn't have an anchor, he'll go back to being an aimless product of rage and murder.

Oswald's solution is to spread the bond out. He'll take part of it. If PB splits his focus, it'll be less of a strain on his dad, and PB will have more than one anchor. This has the added property of giving his dad the ability to see the seven-foot-tall grinning plush rabbit (he doesn't react well. Neither does mom. Oswald has never had to talk so much in his life)

So now Pit-Bonnie is a part of Oswald’s life, and it’s hella weird at first, but everyone gets over it, because eventually you just get numb to weirdness. Except Oswald becomes obsessed with Freddy Fazbears, in an Unsolved Mysteries kind of way. Starts researching the place wherever and however he can.

Pit-Bonnie helps, in his way, after they figure out a way to communicate efficiently (modified Sign Language, because being bonded to Oswald means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to do all the things that Oswald knows how to do. So Oswald learns sign language. Which means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to sign now. He still only has the one facial expression, which makes asking questions a little complicated, but they work it out).

I imagine that Pit-Bonnie is very tuned in to the weirdness/darkness vibe that Freddy’s and its remnants (ha) give off. He starts reading local and then state, and then national newspapers, and whenever he gets the Fazbear vibe, he sets the article aside for Oswald to look at. Also he doesn’t sleep, so in the first week of Oswald’s obsession, he generates a lot of leads for Oswald by going through back issues of...everything.

This is a rambly thing, but my point is that most horror has a solution and most of the time this solution is subverted by having it happen to people who have no experience with horror movies, books, comics, or other mediums, which is…I dunno. Kinda cheap.

‘What if they ever saw Frankenstein and sympathized with the monster enough to have empathy for this thing?’

‘They’re not horror fans. And the ones that are have never seen or read the stories where empathy solves the problem.’

To Be Beautiful (a terrible, one dimensional story with a terrible message about self-image told the way that high school stories in the 80's-90's were told, which wasn't even accurate to how highs schools were in the 80's-90's) could have been solved by literally anyone being more than passively curious about the drastic changes that Sarah was undergoing. (Puberty doesn't work that fast. Her whole freaking face changed). Or by her mom going into her room at some point and asking about the 5 foot robot doll.

Count the Ways has many solutions, although, really? She shoulda chosen starvation. More time to escape or be rescued is always, always, always going to be better than a 'maybe I won't be bifurcated’ any way you slice it (I’m not sorry), but I'm fond of the idea of Oswald coming across an article about ‘theft of proprietary animatronics from a Fazbear Entertainment property’ and it leading him to Milly’s grandfather’s house in time to save her. Along with his seven-foot-tall grinning plush friend who can alter people's perception.

Fetch could have been solved by treating Fetch like a dog. Seriously. He is dog shaped. He is therefore a dog, first and foremost. Dog first, killer animatronic second. Which Greg didn't fundamentally understand (he strikes me as a cat person anyway). But Fetch spent that entire story trying to do what he thought his master wanted, and never got so much as a 'good boy' out of it. He didn't even try to defend himself when Greg went to town on him with a baseball bat because he just wanted to be a good dog for his boy. And even after that, when Greg expressed a desire to see Kimberly, Fetch still wanted to do something to get his master to call him a good boy. Honestly, if - after being warned about Fetch - Kimberly had planted her feet and said 'Sit!' I would bet actual Faz-dollars that Fetch's haunches would have dropped to the pavement out of surprise alone, because it would have been the first time in the story someone treated him like a dog.

Alec was doomed to be a teddy-bear from the moment his parents picked up a ‘how to raise my kids’ book, but he’s still alive. There’s no reason he couldn’t be rescued (by Oswald, who’s on the trail of all the weirdness related to Freddy Fazbear. I’d read that story. I’d write that story. I will probably write that story)

The Plushtrap story...had no flaws. That was the only solution, and good on those boys for making all the right choices except for the initial choices that put them in that situation to begin with. A+. Those teeth, Jesus.

1:35 am could have been solved with an apology. Come on. For a character that was supposedly in the Foster Care system being bounced from home to home, you’d think she could empathize with an entity that didn’t appreciate being thrown away. A sincere apology, a promise to never do it again, and Ella would probably have forgiven her.

I don’t remember where I was going with this. I started writing it before I clocked on for work, but that was eleven hours ago. Who can remember where a train of thought that far back?

[despressolattes]

CONSEQUENCES | CHAPTER TEN | LEGACIES/THE ORIGINALS

BOOK THREE IN THE SIDE CHARACTER/LILAH SERIES

book one masterlist » book two masterlist

this book’s masterlist

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

S A L V A T O R E · S C H O O L

Landon was looking for answers, wondering why he felt like nothing in his life changed. It felt like the most important piece of his life was missing. Being immortal, it didn't take the Kirby boy long to realize that being immortal usually meant being alone, and being alone was somewhat hopeless.

Josie and Lizzie were spending the summer apart. Lizzie was with Caroline, both of the Gemini twins having questions about the merge and the Ascendant, something that they had made with their Aunt Bonnie when they were five. The twins talked very astral projection, but it wasn't the same. With MG and Kaleb gone with Kaleb's family, Penelope in Belgium, and Rafael stuck in wolf form, Josie almost felt alone in the house she called her home. She thought maybe she'd have Landon, but he had been keeping to himself.

She did have Alaric, though, who was no longer the headmaster of the Salvatore Boading School.

Landon tried to spend as much time as he could with Rafael though, try to make things normal for them. No one knew how Rafael got stuck in his wolf form even when it wasn't a full moon. Josie might've wanted to go to Europe to be with her sister and their mother, but she didn't want to leave Alaric alone.

"Any updates on who the hell Mystery Supergirl is?" Lizzie asked, sitting on Josie's bed through their astral projection.

Both twins looked the picture frame on one of their drawers, a girl with dark brown hair smiling in the middle of the two girls at a bonfire. Pictures of her were everywhere, it seemed. MG had one with her hanging on his wall in his dorm room, Landon had found polaroids of himself with her or her with Rafael in their room. There was even a bedroom left empty, everyone suspecting that it was her room. They all thought that perhaps she was the one who fell in the hole that closed it, which would make sense. Anyone and everyone who went through the Malivore pit got forgotten.

Lizzie has thus dubbed her "Mystery Supergirl," even though they knew her name. Her school files that Dorian found said that her name was Lilah Desmarais, that she was a vampire with no family. When Landon was found at the Malivore pit, he was considered a hero. When the girl's photos and belongings were found at the school, they all had decided that whoever this Lilah had been, she had jumped into the pit, which created everyone's forgotten memories of her.

"Other than her name and her bedroom, she's just gone, Lizzie. Whoever she was, she helped Landon destroy the Malivore pit, probably falling into it in the process," Josie shrugged.

"Lilah was really pretty," Lizzie said, frowning as she looked at the frame.

Josie nodded and picked it up, bringing it back to the bed as they stared at the photo of them.

"She looks happy in this picture," Josie stated. "She must've been a really good friend if she was willing to be forgotten just to protect us, Landon, and the school."

Outside of the school, Landon ran into Alaric as he held a tray of various raw meats, on his way to feed Rafael.

"Dr. Saltzman, long time no see," Landon smiled at the old headmaster.

"I see Raf is eating better than I am," Alaric joked.

"Yeah, well, you get stuck in permanent wolf form, and you, too, can hit the all-you-can-eat meat buffet," joked Landon right back.

"Yeah. Any luck finding a spell to turn him back?"

"I'm working on it. Any luck figuring out why I can't remember destroying the Malivore pit with Mystery Supergirl, or who she might've been? Maybe Roman's found anything out?"

"I'm working on it. And Caroline thought it was best Roman took a break for now, with it being summer and the change of headmasters. He's currently on vacation," he said, and Landon nodded. "Everything else good?"

"Totally," Landon lied, shaking his head as he spoke.  He held up the tray of meats and said, "Here's to success."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

B E L G I U M

Penelope Park frowned down at the photo she found in her box of things that reminded her of Josie. It was a polaroid, taking selfie style of her, Josie, that boy that recruited students for the Salvatore School, and a long haired brunette she didn't remember.

Her parents didn't like it when she had contact with people back at the school, thinking it would prevent her from moving on and starting a new life. She missed Josie.

She stared at the photo, confused why she didn't remember that day. The four of them were sitting at one of the outdoor seats at the Mystic Grill, looking like they were on a double date. It made absolutely no sense that she didn't remember her or even remember hanging out with Roman Sienna.

Penelope did remember the Malivore pit drama that she had been around to see. She frowned when she realized there was a person in her life she would probably never remember, likely having gone into the pit.

She shook her head, putting the Polaroid down to look at the rest of her Josie memorabilia, wondering if the brunette Saltzman girl would ever finally be happy.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

N E W · O R L E A N S

"You must think think I'm crazy."

Lilah sat on the countertop of Roman's kitchen counters, sipping on the blood bag he had given her. He was standing by the archway to his kitchen, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he stared at her.

"You? Crazy?" he asked sarcastically, but he shook his head, stepping in closer to her. "I don't really know what to think of you, Desmarais."

"So you don't think I'm crazy?" she asked as he came in front of her, standing in between her legs, so close to her.

"Oh no," he chuckled. "I definitely think you're crazy."

He sent her his killer smile and she shoved his shoulder away, the boy backing up a bit as they both laughed. He placed his hands on the counter behind him, leaning against it instead as he stared at the girl across from him, who was kicking her legs back and forth as she drank from the blood bag. He wasn't too sure how to read her.

One minute, she was this badass girl who was on the Mikaelson's good side, stories of her fighting alongside them to protect the city were still spoken amongst the supernatural in the quarter, she's this girl who can rescue him from being held captive.

The next minute, she seems like just a teenager, wandering the world confused and somewhat broken. Roman knew a mental breakdown when he saw one, and apart from the forgetting moments and trying to jog her memory, he wondered what it was that got suppressed so far down that she's trying so hard to remember.

"So, why do you think I'm the key to why you woke up near Mystic Falls?" Roman inquired, curious about her proclamation.

She put the blood bag down on the counter after she had sucked it dry, wiping her lips.

"I keep remembering things whenever you're around," she confessed. "Like... moments that I forgot or something."

"But why would I help you remember? We just met a few weeks ago."

"I don't know," Lilah shrugged. "I just know that when I'm around you, or if I touch things you have, I have the most eerie feeling of deja vu, which I also have when I—"

She cut herself short. She had deja vu whenever she touched something that belonged to Elijah, her father.

"When what?" Roman asked, stepping closer to her again, placing his hands on her waist to get her to stop fidgeting.

"Whenever I touch something that was my father's," she muttered.

"Your dad's alive?" he asked.

She shook her head no. As she sat there, she wondered if her secret was a piece to figuring out the puzzle. What if the big forgotten mystery had something to do with the Mikaelson family. Lorelle comes back right when Lilah starts to feel like she was in some morphed version of reality, right when everyone can't recall the girl in the photos with the Mikaelsons.

"How could I not realize it before?" she whispered.

"Realize what?"

She pushed Roman away, getting off of his counter. She put her shoes back on, looking at the confused blond who was following after her.

"I don't think you're the answer. I think I'm the answer," she said.

Of course she was. She was a Mikaelson, everything always linked back to them. The first vampire family, the ones that couldn't be killed. But she was truly the one who couldn't be killed. Not white oak, not Marcel's venom, not any magic in the world. The answer had to lie within the Mikaelson family.

She opened his door, planning on rushing out to her family, but he shut the door, grabbing her wrist.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, wanting her to stop and breath for a second.

She looked at him, swallowing and clearing her throat before she was able to say, "I'm a Mikaelson. I'm the answer."

He looked at her peculiarly, a flash of fear running through his face at her statement. "W-what do you mean you're a Mikaelson?"

"You're not the only one who can lie about their identity, Roman. I have to go," she said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAGS!

@akshi8278

DISCUSSION BOARD

· so we get a small glimpse into life at the salvatore school sans lilah! remember, when hope jumped into the pit, she asked alaric to burn any evidence that hope was ever alive. hope wouldn't have been able to guess that lilah's entire timeline/life gets uprooted back to new orleans in the absence of her, so she never asked alaric to get rid of them. much like the photos of hope everywhere in new orleans, there's going to be some of lilah at the school.

· we also see a lot of lilah's similarities to landon. in aftermath, they had been developing a friendship that was soon blotched at Miss Mystic falls for a short while, lilah and landon never actually talked about the things he had said about roman that upset her, then ofc he got kidnapped, and then ofc this all happened.

· i also made it so that Lilah's school files never got changed after she came clean about who she was two years prior, partly because, as a 1000+ old vampire, she never had real legal documents. She had fake ones made when Hayley enrolled her and Hope into the Salvatore School, in which she never went to fix.

· also the parallel between everyone in Mystic Falls dubbing Lilah "Mystery Supergirl" based on her phhotos Roman being "Mystery Blond" and Hope being the mysterious girl in the photos.

· i also loved Penelope, so showing her in Belgium was so fun! i might have her come back, who knows? i love changing julie plec's storyline BAHA

[nicolasnelson]

Sizzie fic - Perchance to Dream [oneshot]

Title: Perchance to Dream Relationship: Lizzie Saltzman/Sebastian Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Sebastian’s POV Words: 2,388

Summary: Sebastian has a dream about Cassandra which scares him. Thankfully Lizzie is there to comfort him, but he wonders how long she will stay by his side.

Requested by @fandommatchmaker19​ // Prompt: Would love a Sizzie one-shot in which Lizzie comforts Sebastian about something.

[AO3 LINK]

Sebastian could see her face in vivid detail, every inch of her as fine as an artist’s masterpiece. Her loving gaze and playful smile invited him in, and she whispered a promise to him.

“I will protect you always.” She kissed his palm and brushed her hair aside, allowing him access to her stunning neck.

“I cannot,” he said, though the temptation burned in his chest. Cassandra always did this to him, teased him with what he could not have.

She scooted closer to him on the bed, wrapping a leg around his torso and pushing her body against his. She slipped the sleeve of her silk gown off her shoulder so her breast pressed against his skin. Soft and warm and oh so tempting.

Sebastian nuzzled his cheek against her neck. His body was taut as he fought to maintain his control. If he broke for even a moment, desire might take over.

“Please, Sebastian,” she pleaded. “Blood will increase your lust. I want to feel all of you, to experience you the way only your victims have.”

“You may not survive it,” Sebastian said, his voice soft and strained. He sounded a little scared, even to his own ears, and maybe he was. It was hard to stop feeding once he started. The only times he managed it were when his victims were less than desirable.

She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head closer against her neck. “I trust you.”

Sebastian chuckled against her skin. That was a mistake. No one should trust him when he could not even trust himself. The warm, sweet scent of blood tickled his nostrils, and he looked down to see Cassandra had drawn a knife under her collarbone. Red pooled from the cut in rivulets, trickling down onto her exposed breast.

His mouth watered, and he licked his lips. He could feel that his self control was already gone.

Sebastian awoke. He sat up in bed and saw the woman beside him, the long blond hair. He sighed in relief. He hadn’t killed her after all.

“Cassandra, dear,” he whispered and turned her onto her back. Dead eyes stared up, not quite meeting his, and he scrambled backwards off the bed. He hit the floor with a thunk.

And then he opened his eyes and found himself in a different bedroom. He was in bed, a blond woman beside him. It was all so familiar, like he was reliving the same nightmare. He didn’t dare check to see if she was alive.

The room was suffocating him, the floor wobbling beneath his feet. He stumbled to the door and tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. Oh, God. He was locked inside.

He slid his back down the cool wood and crumpled up, arms wrapped around his legs. His whole body was shaking, and he felt the tears trickling down his cheeks. Like the blood trickling down Cassandra’s chest. Oh, God. He still remembered the taste on his lips, sweet like strawberries.

“Sebastian, are you okay?”

He jumped, looking up to the blond woman. As his eyes focused on her, a name popped into his head. “Elizabeth.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t killed her. He hadn’t killed Cassandra either. He knew that now. It was just a dream, a memory, but knowing that didn’t calm him down. He was still on edge, like balancing on a tightrope above a pit of blood.

Elizabeth Saltzman sat down next to him and put a hand on his knee. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. You should go back to sleep.” He gave her a small smile.

Elizabeth laughed. “That was the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. Come on, Sebastian. You can’t keep this inside. I know what that’s like. It’ll just burn you from the inside out.”

“Like your episodes?”

“Exactly. You’ve seen how bad those can be. I don’t want you to go through that too.” She grabbed his hand, which was still shaking, and squeezed his fingers.

There was something soothing about being with Elizabeth. She understood him better than most, and she had the patience to learn more. It hadn’t always been that way. He could remember a time when she hated him, but now they were at a comfortable place. Not lovers, but certainly more than friends. Partners in copulation and the occasional crime.

“It was a dream,” Sebastian said. It felt wrong to say it aloud, like he was lying, because it was so much more than that. “Not a dream. A memory. There was a time I nearly killed Cassandra. I managed to stop myself, but it has always haunted me.”

“The past tends to do that,” Elizabeth said, sighing. “And you have more of it than most.”

Sebastian laughed, but it was soft and self-pitying. “I wish memories were not so long lasting. You would think I would forget after all these years, but I can never forget. Even when I am not actively thinking of them, they influence my actions.”

Elizabeth pulled out her cellular device. “I’ve got a playlist I like to listen to when I think I’m about to have a meltdown. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it helps to get my mind off what’s bothering me.” She hit a button and music sprung forth from the device. She set it on the floor in front of them and leaned her head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian squeezed her hand, grateful to have her by his side. The music was indeed soothing. He focused on the words and seeing how he could relate to them. The refrain particularly resonated with him.

I don't know if I can stay strong. Hold on, for too long. I've been lost. I need you here to calm me down. I need you here to calm me.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that through several more songs until Sebastian really did feel calm again. He’d never been able to calm himself down with music before. These fits of anxiety had plagued him for many, many years. They always made him feel like he was dying as a memory replayed in a loop in his head.

But Elizabeth had helped get him out of that loop. He had to do more than thank her with words. He had to show this beautiful creature how much she meant to him. How grateful he was that she had treated him like a person and not a child or someone crazy. She hadn’t seen his anxiety as a weakness at all.

And he’d never seen her struggles with her mental health as a weakness. So why all the self pity? He was strong and capable too. He was allowed to break down sometimes. His life was complicated and difficult. It was a wonder he hadn’t had a big meltdown after waking up in another century.

Everything was still so new, and he was still adjusting. Some things were amazing improvements that made life more convenient, like these devices that played music and relayed messages to other people. Some things were more annoying, like the doors that would open suddenly when you walked near them. Others were downright mind boggling, like the game of matching candy that people played on those devices for hours on end, wasting their lives away, chasing the satisfaction of reaching each new level.

It was a whole new world, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Can we go for a ride in your vessel?” Sebastian asked.

“Right now?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Why, yes, my dear, it is my time of night after all.”

“We’d have to sneak out,” Elizabeth said, though there was a smile on her face and a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Add it to our list of crimes, Bonnie.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, laughing. “I should never have shown you that movie. You relate far too much to Clyde.”

“Only for his dedication to Bonnie,” Sebastian said, drinking her in. Elizabeth really was the most wonderful creature he’d ever met.

...

They snuck out through the kitchens in the dorms. Pedro was in there having a snack, but he promised Elizabeth he wouldn’t tell anyone. Sebastian wasn’t sure whether they could trust the small child, but he didn’t really care if they got into trouble. He was used to it by now.

Elizabeth put the top down on the car and drove them through the town and onto the interstate. Sebastian enjoyed the cool air against his face. It reminded him of horse riding, but it was so much smoother and faster, much more exhilarating. He looked over at Elizabeth to see her blond hair whipping all around her like a tumbleweed.

“Oh, hush. Your hair doesn’t look any better,” Elizabeth said when she caught his amused smile in the mirror.

He glanced at himself. The wind was slicking his hair back, much like the 1931 version of Dracula. “This is very old wine. I hope you will like it,” he said, smirking.

Elizabeth barked out a laugh at the reference. “Aren't you drinking?”

“I never drink”—Sebastian paused dramatically—“wine.”

Elizabeth jerked the car to the right and took the exit. She drove into a small patch of woods and parked the car. “Should we put the top back up?”

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,” Sebastian said.

“Oh, God. I love it when you quote Gone with the Wind.” Elizabeth grabbed his neck and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Her breath still smelled of peppermint toothpaste, and Sebastian found it downright intoxicating. He helped maneuver Elizabeth over the center console so she could straddle his lap. It felt nice to look up at her, like she was some goddess smiling down at him, bestowing kisses upon him like gifts no mortal man deserved.

Sebastian had to remind himself he was no mortal man. He’d made his share of mistakes, but this beauty believed he was worthy of her affection. He had confidence that he looked the part, but he never believed he had the personality to match. All his charm was heavily practiced, as he’d spent years studying (and flirting with) the masters. Kings and prostitutes and everything in between.

Elizabeth pushed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck to him. “Do that thing I like.”

Sebastian was hesitant for a moment as the old fear gripped him, but he obliged, pressing his lips against Elizabeth’s smooth skin. He ran his tongue along the back of her ear, playing in the corner just behind her earlobe. Elizabeth melted in his arms, goose pimples prickling all along her skin as she shivered in delight.

He was still surprised she trusted him to do this. Was she even a little afraid he might be tempted to bite her instead? Or was she like Cassandra, naively trusting he’d be able to stop once he started?

Witches couldn’t know the allure of blood, how it wasn’t like a delicious cake they could eat bit by bit over time. Blood was like wine to an alcoholic, drugs to an addict, that stupid candy game to mindless teenagers. You didn’t have to be a ripper to become consumed by that hunger.

Elizabeth nuzzled her nose against his, pulling him from his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but think instead about how adorable she was. And how unfairly lucky he was to have her in his arms. He wasn’t good enough for her, and she knew it, but she wanted him anyways.

Their lips met again, tongues dancing to the familiar choreography, and he ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at its softness. He imagined transporting her to his time. Not his drab life on the colony, where he was devoted to Cassandra, but the time before he became a vampire. His life in Europe, the elaborate parties he had attended. Elizabeth would look wonderful in one of those ball gowns, with her hair pinned up, that lovely neck on full display. Dainty gloves on her dangerous hands. Pink slippers on her beautiful feet.

Oh how she would have turned heads. He would never have gotten the chance to dance with her then, only to admire from afar.

“I am pleased with how my life has turned out,” Sebastian admitted, a little surprised that he’d uttered the thought aloud.

Elizabeth sat back a little to study his face. “Because of me?”

Sebastian let out a chuckle. “Well, yes, you’re a big part of it. But there’s more to it. If I hadn’t been desiccated in that box, the colonists would have killed me. I never would have gotten the chance to see the twenty-first century, to attend a school of witches, werewolves, vampires, and other things I had never heard of, like tribrids and phoenixes.”

“Well, they are one of a kind,” she said.

Sebastian smiled. “As are you, Elizabeth. I am at an odd place in my life right now. While I am grateful to have the chance to live in this world and interact with you, I fear that all of this will not last. No one in that school trusts me, even after everything I do to help all of you. It feels like I may never earn my place. I am merely being used for my muscles and my vampiric abilities.”

“That is not how I think of you,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Do you think the others will ever change their minds? Or will they continue despising me forever?”

Elizabeth pressed her forehead to his. “Forever is a long time. I think they can warm up to you eventually. I’m doing everything in my power to persuade them.”

Sebastian felt that bubbly happiness in his chest. The kind that made him nervous. Elizabeth was doing so much for him, and all he was doing was helping her when she asked, offering his body to her when she asked.

Maybe it was time he did a favor for her without asking. A gift perhaps, or a special day just for her. An idea was already forming in his mind.

“Elizabeth, how would you feel if I took you on a proper date?”

She blinked in surprise, then smiled sweetly. “I would like that very much.”

[melo-yello]

I Can't (Erik x POC Reader) One Shot

Pairing: Erik x POC Reader

Warning(s): angst, self worth issues, cursing, crying, the most fluff

Word Count: 2,7k+

Summary: Reader can't take much more of the uncertainty Erik provides.

A/N: I've been work in this for a while and think its finally done. It was gonna be all angst but I needed to feel good. This my first Erik fic so be gentle plz.

Erik traces the forming hickies along your neck as he gropes your inner thigh.

You breathe heavily as you try to regain some of the energy you'd lost in round three with Erik in the last couple hours. You could feel his chest vibrating beneath you as he hums. Your lips curl into a smile against his neck.

Erik isn't the kind to strike you as a singer.

Too brooding.

Too distance.  

Too militant.

But every once in a while when he’s feeling content or peaceful even he'd hum or sing a few lines or two.

Always the same song.

A vaguely familiar melody you couldn't quite place. If you mention it he'd stop and completely deny it.  

He used to be in some choir at his Gigi's church or something like but that's all that he'd tell before slipping into his drunken comma after a particularly rough round and a couple shots too many of Hene.

Not that you could complain. He laid that shit all the way down.

You glance at the scars that liter his upper body. He smiled when he saw your eyes fill with intrigue rather than fear the first time he told you how he got them. That night you knew you weren't special to Erik.

Neither was anyone else.  

Sure he'd never say that to you but he didn't have to. If these casual hook ups ever became too real and someone tried to use you as leverage you'd be dead in a heartbeat. And Erik would be the one to pull the trigger.

He couldn't afford to catch feeling with so much at stake. Neither could you in your line of work it just didn't make sense.  

Contract killers don't fall in love.

Everyone comes with a price tag and a body bag.

No unnecessary complications. Commitment means baggage and baggage means sacrifice. Sacrifice could mean your life.

But. . .

Here . . .

In these sheets. . .

These sheets are where you love each other.  The way his body fits perfectly in yours. Tangling into one another with keen precision.

The way his temper and passion matches yours. Your strength is an even opponent to his. . . Almost. The way that you only really satisfy each other.

Sure Erik had other girls but they weren't even in your league.

The throaty growls of your name pulled from his chest. The countless hickies he leaves in his wake as his fiery touch ignites your soft skin. His primal need to drag lusty cries from your lips. Moans are traded like currency between the two of you. The  jealousy banging after you “casually” mention you fucked another guy just to see him steam.

You sigh letting the long awaited tear  trail down your cheek and hit his chest.

You'd miss this.

Erik stopped humming. You try to wiggle out of his embrace, but his grip tightens.   

“Y/N, where you going stay a little longer.” He chuckles half sleep.

You pull yourself free from him.

“No Erik I've got a flight in the morning. ”  You sing-song nonchalantly pulling back on your lace thong.

“Come on we've got time. It's not till 10:00, right?” He groans pulling you by your waist against his chest.

“Wow you were actually listening.” You tease attempting to bruise his ego.

“Baby, don't play. Ya kno I love what mouth do.” He grins while running his tongue over his lips then your earlobe before nipping the lower half of your neck.

“Oh don't play coy, bitch. I thought an MIT grad could read between the lines. Erik, you kno what I mean.” You shrugged trying your best not to tear up.

He huffs letting you go and leaning against the baseboard.

“This shit again?” Erik says rolling his eyes and handing over the lacey hot pink push-up he eagerly undid within minutes of your arrival.

“Well E, give one real reason I should keep wastin my very valuable time on you?” You smirk and without missing a beat you take your bra and put it back on. Erik kisses his teeth as he rolls his eyes.

“We're having fun. Ain't that the point of all this.” Erik laughs shrugging his broad shoulders.

Why does every asshat have to be built like a demigod?

You sigh and stand up and spotting your jeggins lying in his doorway exactly where you'd thrown them to earlier.  

Easily gliding your curvy hips into the flexible fabric.

“Bye Erik.” You hiss while walking out of the bedroom to find your top.

“Come on, Y/n. Quit playin this hard to get shit.”  Erik sighs pulling on his Adidas sweatpants. He follows you out of the bedroom.  

You search the living room for the peach tank you came in but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Who says I'm playin? Maybe you're not fun anymore?” You hum brushing pass him to get to the couch. Erik rolls his dark eyes letting a cocky chuckle escape his chest.

“So who's your new dick?” Erik says folding his arms with the slightest hint of jealousy in his voice.

You smirk over shoulder to meet his burning gaze and roll your eyes.  

“No one, just know your limp dickass ain’t doing it for me. That stroke game has been pretty damn weak lately. ” You giggle pushing the cushions apart before climbing onto the sofa itself to hang over it. His deep brown eyes burn as you brush pass him.  Proving you have bruised his pride. Something he couldn't let pass.

Erik gropes your ass forcefully enough to nearly send you onto the floor, but pulls you firmly to his waist.

“ErIk!” You gasp as you brace yourself on the couch.

“Yea say ma name just like that, Baby girl. If you need me to jog your memory I'm more than willing to remind you.” He growls sliding his hands to your hips and grinding against your ass.

You lean back into him rolling your hips to match pace with him. His fingers slip into the side of jeggins prying at the lace fabric of your panties.

“Who says I forgot.” You whisper biting down on his earlobe. Erik groans in ecstasy just as you push him away.  

You dismount from the couch and swinging your hips as you sashay across the room having spotted your shirt.

“Oh my God you’re such a fucking tease.” Erik huffs watching your hips bounce before following.

“I've learned from the best.” You sneer reaching for your tank that had somehow made its way onto the top of the bookcase just out of reach.

A warm hand finds the small of your back as the other plucks the peach tank from the shelf.

“So you gonna tell me what's up, Y/n?” He breathes into your ear.

You swallow the lump sitting in your throat and turn to look him in the eye.

“Trying to be decent. How about you?” You try to laugh off the cracks in your voice.

Does he have to look like he could care.

You feel your chest clench.

“Y/n cut the bullshit. No strings. No lies. No feelings. Remember, Baby girl?” Erik hums moving his hand from your back to your cheek.

Like you could forget the pact you two made to avoid a real feelings and relationship.

Yea no feelings.

Your head dips unable to meet his deep brown gaze anymore.

The tears you've been holding finally stream down your cheeks.

“I'm cutting my losses, Erik. I can't play this game anymore. It's not fun anymore it just hurts. I kno you don't care about this shit for real.” You shrug.  

Erik drops the tank and gently lifts your chin.

“Hey Trap Queen, I care about our shit.” He smiles wiping a few tears away.

He presses his forehead against yours just before tangling your lips with his. Passionately kissing you. Like he has to remind you.  Like action is the only way he can prove it.

You bite his bottom lip and he groans allowing you in. Heavy breathes and quiet moans trade between you as one tries to overpower the other.   The pit in your stomach twists tighter and you pull away.

“Erik...You really don't...Not Really. And I can't keep doin this with you.”  You choke out pushing away and tugging on your tank. You drag an arm across your face as you pull on your sneakers. Searching for the jacket you came in only to realize it’s one of his.

“FUCK IT!” You huff snatching up your keys. You go for the door but Erik yanks you back by your wrist.

“WHAT THE HELL! Y/n, you don't get to decide that!” Erik fumes.  

“LET ME GO! I’m not doing this.” You rage back.

“No! Yo little ass started this shit and we damn sure gonna finish it! You ain't gonna tell Me who I care about! Until everyone you've ever given a real fuck about leaves you all alone don't come at me with ‘You have intimacy issues bullshit’! No shit I do! I WAS FUCKING 8, Y/n! Did it EVER occur to you this is the best I can give you? Y/n get yo uppity ass off yo damn high horse! You don't care. That's why you're walking away. YOU'RE SCARED! SCARED SHITLESS THAT YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT US AND YOU COULD LOSE IT!” He counters his voice spewing his repressed resentments like blood from a cut.  

“The Hell If I Am?! Like You’d Kno! You Don't Kno Shit About Caring! Or Being scared. You haven't felt anything real in a long ass time! YOU TOLD ME.  You kno if it came down to it and you had to choose me or yo own ambitions. It wouldn't even be a contest. Despite what you may believe Erik WE'RE ALL BROKEN! IN OUR LINE OF WORK WE ALL COME FROM SHIT SHOWS! And with yo big headass I'm sure you think this is the best you can give to me. Letting me just close enough to this best version of yourself that way I'll come back to you legs open and praying that what we have is special. We can't keep pretending this shit is real. Find some other dumbass bitch to play Bonnie and Clyde with you!!” You spit ripping your wrist from his grasp.

You stare him down before turning to the door.  

Erik steps in between you and doorway. His nostril flared as bit down on the the inside of his cheek.

“That's what you think this is to me, Shortie?! A damn game of pretend? That we playin some fucked up version of house!” He says taking a couple steps closer.

You roll your e/c eyes.

“What the hell else was I supposed to think.”

You stare back at him for some form of a contradiction. But it doesn't come.

“That I-” He just swallows the rest of his words.

He keeps opening his mouth to speak but no words come out. His chest tightens as he balls up his fists trying force a decision from his lips, but his pride won't let him.

You can almost hear the war raging in his head and you can't help but pity his dumbass.

Sucks to be you.

You shrug barrelling past him.

“See!!! You're A SHITHEAD, ERIK!” You shout throwing up your middle finger as you slam the door behind you.

Numbed by your own disappointment you barely notice the cool breeze whipping against your skin. You snatch open the  black hummer’s door. As the door shuts your forehead falls into the steering wheel.

Your heart rams into chest at full speed.  

All the childish vulnerability you refused to let Erik see came pouring out. You wrap your fingers around the steering wheel. You throw head back and scream at the ceiling.

Everything you hated and loved about him spilling out of you like fountain. Curses muffled by the reinforced glass.

“WHO THE HELL DOES THAT PUNKASS BITCH THINK HE IS TELLIN ME I'M SCARED! HE'S SCARED! HE'S JUST ANOTHER DUMBASS DICK,”  you yell staring yourself down in the rearview mirror, “JUST CAUSE I DON'T WANNA WASTE MY TIME ON HIM DOESN'T MAKE ME PUSSY. I LEFT THAT UNREQUITED SHIT IN HIGH SCHOOL.  I'M TOO GROWN FOR THIS! I AIN'T GOT THE TIME TO BE STRUNG ON HIS DUSTY HOTEP ASS! ...even ...if he does smell amazing all the damn time. even if he has an immaculate skincare routine and does the dumbest shit just to make me laugh and for the first time in long time doesn't make me feel like I'm a monster… FUCK!” You groan leaning your forehead into the horn.

This is the end and you give a fuck.

Too Many FUCKS.

It just isn't fair he came out unscathed.

You slam your fist into the horn over and over again.

A quiet knock from outside the window makes you freeze completely.You crack the window just enough to see his brown eyes.   

“Not to interrupt ya moment but you might wanna cut that shit out before somebody calls the cops.” Erik says attempting to sound like his usual smartass self, but cracks in his voice won't let him.

“Nigga, you need the number or somethin cuz I got em saved in my contacts.” You croak wiping your face on your arm. Trying not to sound half as bitter as you're feeling.

“Nah I need you to open the door, Ma.” Erik says gripping the handle.

“Why, you wanna pic for motivation as you type that vague Insta story about how ‘bitches ain't shit’?” You flare over the window.  

“No thothina, so I can curse yo smartass out for havin me so damn whipped I'm out here standing in the cold with no shoes in front of a locked car of a woman I've already smashed tonight.” Erik huffs looking you dead in the eyes.  There isn't an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

The lock snaps up as you just stared at him wide mouthed and confused. He pulls open the door, but he doesn't make a move to touch you. He just props himself on the door with the jacket you wore to his house that night in his fist.

“I wasn't gonna say shit. Too fucking tough for that vulnerable shit, right. I wasn't  gonna let you kno you got to me. But watch in u walk out that door...I couldn't do it. You had to kno that We're real. Babygirl, whatever this is it sure as hell ain't pretend...at least not for me. I kno I'm hard to read and sendin out all kinds of signals sometimes but it's not you. There's a lot of hurt shit in here. It's terrifying to care this much about someone again.” He pauses offering a hand to you and as hesitantly give him yours he steps closer placing both on his chest, “But for so reason I don't really mind if you see that shit. I'm not askin you to stay.  I just want you to kno it was real. We were real. It's fuckin insane how much I care about some wildass assassin I met in some dank ass hole in wall nightclub with a hit out on my mark. You got me sprung, Y/n. I think I... love you.” He smirks at you with uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes.

You swallow the lump in your throat and step out of the car. Closing the distance between you and him as you take his hand from his chest and place it on your neck and cheek.

"You really mean that shit, Stevens?" You hum looking down not quite ready to meet his eyes. Never before have you seen that kind of openness in his expression.

Like he was ready to risk all. He gently lifts your chin so you'd meet his gaze.

"Baby, you're everything I need and more."

You pull your arms around his thick waist. You cover your bubbling laughter in his chest.

"E, you do realize you just quoted Halo right?" You smile biting your bottom lip as to not all out laugh in his face.

Erik frowns slightly before scooping you into his arms and belting into the chorus in key as he carries you to the door and you erupt in laughter.

[javistg]

One Victor. CH 19. P1.

Chapter 19 is almost done! Seriously, I have to write one more scene and edit stuff a bit, but I’m mostly done. So, I decided to share this snippet with you. 

If you want to find the rest of this fic, go HERE.

As usual, all this is unbetaed and still subject to change. Hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think. 

One Victor. CH 19. P1. 

“So, what do you think? Is this OK?” Peeta slid the open book across the table so that Katniss could see his work. 

“It’s perfect,” Katniss said, running her fingers along the edge of the book so as not to smudge Peeta’s artwork. The bunch of yellow flowers was so lifelike she could almost smell them. “I’ll add the information tomorrow, once the ink is dry.”

Peeta looked at the clock on his kitchen wall. It was 6:45. “You better get going, the alarm’s about to ring.” 

Katniss sighed. Tired. Annoyed. It was the same thing every day: wake up, go to school, check up on Prim, go to Victors’ Village, rush before curfew, put dinner on the table, do homework, go to sleep, start again.

Life in District 12 had never been particularly exciting, but Katniss Everdeen had never lived within the confines of her district. She couldn’t even remember a time when the woods weren’t a part of her life. She had grown to rely on them for nourishment and needed them to bring peace and contentment to her soul.

Sadly, Peacekeeper Thread’s hold on the district was tighter than ever and —with everyone walking in a straight line— Katniss’s days of roaming through the woods and stalking prey had become a thing of the past. 

Luckily, thanks to her arrangement with Peeta, the lockdown didn’t mean empty cupboards and hunger. With the food she received, Katniss and her family could now enjoy the kind of peace that came from knowing where their next meal would come from; a sense of ease she hadn’t experienced since before her father’s death. 

Of course, she didn’t miss the constant worry of having to provide for her family —or the terror of going back empty-handed after a long day out in the woods— but she still missed the thrill of doing what most wouldn’t. The sound of the forest moving around her; the smell of the trees; the soft brush of the mountain air caressing her cheeks; the feel of her father’s bow between her fingers; the pride that came from landing that one perfect shot.

She still went by the fence every day —like a stubborn criminal returning to the scene of the crime— and every day, she was met with the buzz of electricity coursing through the wire. 

Sometimes she didn’t know what was worse, confirming the woods were still out of limits or knowing that —after her last adventure— she might not even have the guts to sneak out ever again. 

Even as her days blended together in a monotonous repetition, Katniss still enjoyed a few things. Helping Peeta out in the greenhouse remained one of her favorite activities —just the thought of the small glass building thriving in spite of its surroundings made her smile-- but, lately, there was something else she liked even more.  

The day after her little adventure in the woods, Katniss had shown up at Peeta’s back door with a shy smile on her lips and a sort of peace offering in her hunting bag. 

She couldn’t explain why she felt so rotten for having put him through the entire ordeal, but Katniss knew he had been worried, and she hoped her small token would help make up for his troubles. 

Peeta’s mouth dropped open as soon as she produced her family’s plant book, leaving it on his kitchen table with an almost theatrical flourish.

“Would you still like to work on it?” she asked, her voice tight with anxiety. She wanted Peeta to say yes so badly, her heart ached.  

They had both mentioned the project in passing a few times, but her misunderstanding with Gale had made her weary, and the idea of misreading Peeta’s intentions scared her so much that she hadn’t followed through yet, somehow convinced that he had only offered his help to be polite.  

With the gentlest of touches, Peeta ran his fingers over the cover. “I do, but only if it’s OK with you.”

“It is,” Katniss assured him.

Peeta pulled out a chair and sat down. 

Katniss pushed the book in his direction and took a seat; watching as he opened it and began peering through the entries. 

“Where should we start?” he asked, smiling like a boy who’s just received the best birthday present ever. 

They worked on the book practically every day. They always left it for last. After tending to Peeta’s vegetable and herb garden, and prepping and storing the food for later use, they went into his kitchen and sat down to work. 

Unlike the hours they spent in the greenhouse, --where Peeta chatted about the most random topics, usually making her laugh and pulling her into conversation— the time they spent with the book was one of silent reflection. Once they settled on the plant they were recording, no words were needed. Katniss didn’t understand why sitting like that, immersed in the comfortable calm they shared, thrilled her so but, as days went by, she found herself yearning for those stolen moments almost as much as she longed for her time in the woods. 

 In the soft light of impending dusk, she followed Peeta’s hands as he worked, making a blank page bloom with strokes of ink, adding touches of color to her previously black and yellowish book.  

Sometimes, while Peeta diligently made sketches on scraps of paper trying to get every detail right, Katniss’s mind wondered. 

Three weeks had gone by since she had found Bonnie and Twill by her father’s lake and, in that time, no one had mentioned them again. 

She wasn’t surprised by Peeta’s silence. As a victor, he was probably privy to information she couldn’t even begin to imagine —information he wasn’t at liberty to disclose. 

She had never given much thought to these things before, but learning that Peeta carried a signal scrambler in his pocket —and had another one installed on the kitchen wall; she was now convinced that the green blinking light over his stove couldn’t be anything else— had made her realize that the blue-eyed victor with the winning smile had some secrets to keep. 

But Peeta wasn’t the only person who knew about the escapees and, after years of hearing her hunting partner’s rants against the Capitol, Gale’s silence on the matter unnerved her. Why was it that, in the face of real change —actual rebellion— Gale had suddenly become tight-lipped? 

Had Thread’s measures tempered his spirits or was Gale still fighting —secretly scheming with those discontents he had mentioned in New Years’? If so, had he approached Peeta? 

The first option saddened her —she hated the idea of her friend’s spirit being crushed under Thread’s boots— but it was something she could understand. A lot of miners had been arrested recently. Ending up in the peacekeepers’ cells was no joke. Katniss wouldn’t have blamed Gale for walking away from his ideals when his family’s safety was on the line. 

But the second… the second scared her so much she pushed it out of her mind almost at once.

Days trickled by. Katniss went to school, checked up on Prim, worked in Peeta’s greenhouse, wrote in her family’s plant book, and kept her theories and questions to herself. 

Deep down, she didn’t mind, holding on to her routine soothed her and, really, it wasn’t as though she had much to say. When it came to politics, Katniss had learned from an early age to steer clear of trouble. Even as a small girl, she had understood the importance of watching what she said, always fearful —like her mother had been— that Prim might repeat her words and get in trouble. 

After all, Katniss had spent years ignoring Gale’s heated rants when they went out to the woods, not because she didn’t agree with him, but because she didn’t see the point of attracting unwanted attention when she had a family who depended on her. 

 But things were different now, something big was happening in Panem —something most people had only ever dreamed of— and, with her days blending together with tedious dullness, Katniss was growing curious. She was also growing anxious.

As thrilling as news of an uprising had been, hearing what the Peacekeepers had done in Eight sobered her. Thread and his men had already done plenty in Twelve —and that was without provocation— what would happen if things got out of hand? President Snow would show no mercy. He wouldn’t think twice before killing off another district --same as he had Thirteen. Even if it was only to make an example of it.

District 12 was small and weak, and it didn’t develop nuclear weapons. It would take every person in the district to stand up to the Capitol for anything to really happen, and that would never be. 

She hated admitting it, but Gale was right. The tesserae system, the lack of job opportunities for people from the Seam, the way merchant businesses were passed down from one generation to another. More than the Games, these were the things that kept the people in Twelve pitted against each other; the things that made it impossible for a rebellion to succeed. 

With all these thoughts pressing down on her, Katniss couldn’t stop being cautious —couldn’t forget that she had a lot to lose. Curiosity wouldn’t put food on her table —and it certainly wouldn’t keep Prim safe— so, Katniss bit her lip and did what she had always done: kept her thoughts and theories to herself. 

Still, when she was at home, all the silence and prudence in the world didn’t stop her from paying attention whenever she watched TV. Every night, she sat in her living room and waited for Bonnie and Twill’s elusive mockingjay to show up on the corner of her screen. It never did, but that was hardly surprising, District 13 wasn’t the kind of topic that came up in the daily news.

Her repeated failure to put the matter to rest frustrated her, but there was nothing she could do. She had a full, busy life. She didn’t have time to sit around and wait for a random story to pop up on her screen.

XXXXX

Peeta stood up and stretched his back. He hadn’t been painting for long, but the chairs in his kitchen weren’t that comfortable, and he was tired. The long, sleepless nights of late were finally catching up to him.

A few steps away, Katniss began gathering her things. Now that winter had begun to withdraw, she had cast her old coat aside and gone back to wearing her father’s old hunting jacket. The leather garment was a couple sizes too big for her slight frame, but Peeta suspected she liked wearing it because it reminded her of her dad. Whatever her reasons, he welcomed the change. It made her seem happier, she looked a lot more like her usual self.

Wanting to keep Katniss around just a few minutes longer, Peeta asked, “Would you mind giving me a hand before you leave?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

Peeta pointed to a couple of wooden crates on his counter. “Could you help me carry one over to Haymitch’s?”

Reaching the counter, Katniss slid her hands under one of the crates and pulled it into her arms. “Lead the way.”

XXXXX

Haymitch’s house was worse than a pigsty. Mouse droppings, piles of unwashed clothes, and discarded wrappings littered the hallway. 

Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the revolting stench of liquor, vomit, and burned meat that hung in the air, Katniss followed Peeta through the long entrance corridor and into the kitchen. 

Alerted by the sound of visitors, Haymitch quietly slipped into the room. 

At the sight of the victor, Katniss tightened her hold on her crate and shuffled back a couple of steps. She had seen Haymitch hundreds of times before, usually skulking around the Hob, but she’d never been close enough to smell him. 

Surprise quickly gave way to disgust. 

Maybe it was because she had grown used to Peeta, who was stylish and handsome, and every bit what a victor was supposed to be, but she couldn’t quite believe that the paunchy, middle-aged man with greasy black hair and gray Seam eyes who stood across from her had once won the Hunger Games. 

Unperturbed by Katniss’s presence, Haymitch pointed a half-empty liquor bottle in Peeta’s general direction. “Hey, Kid,” he slurred. “Whatcha got there?”  

Peeta looked down at the jars and containers he carried. “The usual.” 

Eager to get back out to the fresh air, Katniss looked around trying to find an empty space for her crate. Every surface seemed to be covered in empty bottles and dirty plates. “Where can I—,”

Haymitch waved his bottle in the air. “Just leave that on the table, Sweetheart.”

The jars in Peeta’s crate rattled as dropped it on the counter. “Don’t call her that,” he growled.

Startled by the anger in Peeta’s voice, Katniss stiffened. She had never heard him speak so forcefully before. 

Seemingly undisturbed by Peeta’s outburst, Haymitch shrugged. Pointing his chin at Katniss, he asked, “How old are you, girl?”

Annoyed to be under Haymitch’s scrutiny, Katniss pulled her shoulders back. “I’ll be seventeen in May.”

“Ah!” Haymitch raised his liquor bottle as if in triumph. Looking back at Peeta, he added, “Don’t worry, Boy, I’ll learn her name when she’s 18.” 

Peeta’s lips turned white as he pressed them together to bite back a retort. Looking away from his mentor, he went to the kitchen table and began to move the dirty dishes out of the way so that Katniss could deposit her box. 

“This place is a mess,” she grumbled, too nauseated by her surroundings to be polite. “Have you ever considered getting a housekeeper?”

Amused by Katniss’s discomfort, Haymitch tilted his head to one side. “What? You angling for a job, Sweetheart?”

“Ew, no!” Katniss shook her head in disgust. It wasn’t a bad offer, even with all the filth, but she still had two more years of school ahead of her. “I don’t have that kind of time. You need someone who can come here every day.”

A wide smile broke on Haymitch’s face, and he started laughing. “You hear this, Boy?”

Peeta nodded, his previous bad mood forgotten, replaced by a bright smile. “I think she’s right, you know? You could use someone.” He turned to Katniss. “Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

It only took her a second to find an answer. “I do,” she said, adding an enthusiastic nod for emphasis. “I think Hazelle would be perfect for the job.” 

“Hazelle?” Peeta shook his head, the name unfamiliar.

“Gale’s mother,” Katniss explained. “She washes clothes for a living, but she hasn’t had much work lately —what with the shortages, and all— I’m sure she wouldn’t mind leaving that for something more steady.”

“Could you tell her to come over tomorrow?” Peeta asked.

“Yeah. I’ll stop by in the morning before school.”

“Hey, I’m still standing here!” Haymitch complained. “Don’t I have a say?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your say,” Peeta said, already moving to show Katniss the exit. He didn’t want to keep her any longer. This had taken longer than he expected, and the curfew alarm was about to ring. “But it won’t hurt to have her come by and take a look.”

“It won’t hurt you, you mean,” Haymitch yelled back.

“Is he always like this?” Katniss whispered once they had reached the front door.

Peeta shrugged. Haymitch was more of an acquired taste, he couldn’t expect her to understand.

XXXXX

Katniss had just reached the wrought iron gates of Victors’ Village when Peeta stepped back into Haymitch’s home. 

The old victor was busy rummaging through the contents of the crate Katniss had left on his table. “So, you know any of these people?”

Peeta leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know Gale. He’s alright.”

Haymitch pulled a big round jar out of the box and smacked his lips in appreciation. He loved pickled cabbage. Cradling the jar against his chest, he fixed Peeta with the most solemn look he could muster. “Alright, alright?”

Peeta nodded. “This is a good idea, Haymitch.”

With a grunt, Haymitch twisted the jar open. After dropping the lid on the table, he turned to look for a fork. “OK. Set it up, then.”

[cassercole]

the one with the band

SHIP: PROCTOR-ROGERS FAMILY FEELS  RATING: TEEN WORD COUNT: 2,943 PROMPT: Just a fun little prompt with Steve and Tristan -- his younger son!  TAGGING: (permanent tag list): @whindsor​ @hrhatbat​ @fraysquake​ @sgtbuckyybarnes​ @elenacarinandherfandoms​ @chuck-hansens​ @luucypevensie​ @mystic-scripture​ @perfectlystiles​ @allaboutocs​ @anotherunreadblog​ @witchofinterest​ @hvproductions​ @heirsoflilith​ (WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?)

Steve was well aware of how his teenage son was sneaking out at night. And it wasn’t even late at night sneak outs that he had assumed he would have to deal with, no. Tristan would leave after dinner with no word as to where he was going or when he would back. And right through the front door -- not even through a window like the countless movies and tv shows had prepared Steve for. 

The first couple of times, he let it slide, thinking his son had at least told his mother where he was going. But when he mentioned it to Q, she told him she had no idea where Tristan was going. 

“Why does it matter? He’s back before curfew.” she shrugged while she finished loading the dishwasher with the plates from their earlier dinner. 

“Yeah and when did you get back from your teenage antics when you were his age?” he asked, leaning one hand on the counter. 

“Before curfew so my parents wouldn’t suspect anything, then I would sneak back out after --” she cut herself off, staring at the open dishwasher for a moment as her words caught up to her. He gave her a pointed look, waiting for the realization to hit, “Oh goddamnit.” she sighed heavily, closing the dishwasher rather dejectedly and then meeting Steve’s look, “We should’ve just stopped with Bonnie. We didn’t realize how lucky we were, not having a kid like me.” she sighed. Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics, knowing she was just fishing for a compliment but not focused enough to give her one. 

“I’m gonna see where he’s going.” he told her, pushing off the counter to go get his hoodie from the chair at the table. 

“I want to tell you to not to, but if he’s anything like me, he’s probably in a liquor store putting alcohol into his purse.” she sighed again, annoyed that those genes out of everything were the ones that were passed on. Steve gave a dry laugh as he zipped up his hoodie, 

“Or in the city, pit-pocketing some rich Wall Street guy.” he added, reminding her of another thing she used to do in her youth. 

“Or plotting a break in to a highly secure government facility, then being found with a dead body and a literal smoking gun.” she continued, making Steve pause and look over at her, “Too soon?” she grimaced, knowing it wasn’t. He shook his head, moving over to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than a study group.” he tried to calm both of them down with something rational that their son could be doing. She scoffed at his comment, knowing that wasn’t true. 

“If only.” she sighed again, giving him another kiss before he turned to leave.

As with most things in his life, modern technology had made finding Tristan much easier than it would’ve been years earlier. While he did feel a little bad about tracking his son, the fatherly instinct to make sure he was okay outweighed the guilt. Except it only returned when he figured out where exactly Tristan had been going. 

The coffee shop in the small town was dimly lit, but plenty crowded as Steve opened the door. Curious to see what was going on, he looked over the sea of people who were all looking in the same direction. Up toward the front of the shop a band was taking their places, all of varying heights and styles, armed with different instruments. It was easy enough to spot Tristan standing to the left of center stage; with his lanky, tall frame and the wild dark curls he had earned from his mother. Surprisingly, he had some sort of electric bass slung over his shoulders and was pretty expertly picking at chords while the rest of the band warmed up. 

“Hey, hi,” one of the other members of the band stepped forward to the mic and quieted the crowd, “Hey, we’re Blanket Statement and we’re gonna get started with a couple of covers first and then play you guys some new stuff that our bassist, Tristan, wrote.” the front woman explained the show. Surprise seemed to be the theme of that evening as Steve learned that Tristan was not only able to play the bass, but also in a band. One that had a seemingly large fanbase for the small town they lived in, and was talented enough that he even wrote some songs. He stayed where he was as the band started to play the first of the few covers they had prepared -- two songs he had heard before, a long time before when he lived in DC with Q, and was pleasantly surprised at how good they sounded. The Tame Impala cover the girl sang seemed to be the one people looked forward to the most, and the one Tristan seemed to be having the most fun playing. (Of course it was one of Q’s favorite songs so Steve wasn’t surprised by that).

Then came the songs Tristan had apparently written. Steve waited with bated breath, not knowing exactly how they would sound. It wasn’t like he or Q had any sort of creative writing bone in their bodies. Sure, sometimes Steve would try writing poetry now and then, but it wasn’t one he fostered like his art skills. But musical ones? Nothing. Nada. He remembered seeing a guitar in Q’s apartment in DC however long ago, but it had a thin layer of dust on it like she never ever picked it up. Though, as on theme with the night, he was pleasantly surprised and rather impressed at the songs his kid created. And couldn’t help but grin to himself as Tristan leaned close to his microphone to sing backup with the lead singer. 

Of course Steve would be proud of his kids no matter what, but watching his son share his talents and musical gifts and actually look like he was having fun for once in his life ignited a bright flame of pride behind Steve’s sternum. Seeing Tristan pluck at the bass and groove to the beat he was creating was something he never could’ve imagined happening in a hundred years, but he suddenly couldn’t imagine Tristan doing anything else. It was perfect for him. 

Not wanting to be caught, Steve ducked out before the show finished. He made his way home where Q was waiting up for him in their bed. He found her reading some sort of trashy romance novel that would do nothing but give her ideas (ones he would be happy to participate in), but when he walked into the room, she marked her page and pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head, 

“You find him?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Mhm.” Steve nodded, wanting to tease her a bit as he shrugged out of his hoodie and then pulled his shirt over his head, “Guess where.” her eyes widened a bit at his tone and she pushed the covers off of herself, 

“Noooo, don’t tell me he was dropping balloons filled with colored powder off the roof of a building at pedestrians.” she groaned a bit, making him laugh.

“Nope.” he crawled onto the bed on all fours, “He wasn’t doing anything illegal.” he assured her, flopping down onto his back so his head hit the pillow, “He was at that little coffee shop on Wyndmoor.” he gestured vaguely to the direction of the coffee shop, moving on once Q nodded, “Playing bass. In his band.” he stressed, raising his eyebrows up and watching his wife’s face for her reaction. Her eyes widened at the word, then her mouth opened a bit at the imagery, then she pulled the corners of her mouth down -- nodding a bit as she thought it over, 

“I can see it.” she commented and Steve laughed a bit, “Were they any good?” 

“Really good.” he admitted, shifting on his pillow so he was a bit more comfortable and still able to make eye contact with his wife, “They covered that Tame Impala song you like,” she gasped a little at the mention, “and he even wrote a few songs himself. Hopeless romantic stuff, you know.” she awh’ed at the theme of their son’s songs, nudging her husband a bit,

“He gets that from you, you know.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, but knowing she was right. She grinned at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. 

“Think he’ll ever let us come see him play?” she asked, almost hopefully. The pair looked at each other, letting a moment pass before both of them burst into laughter at Q’s ridiculous question. Their son would never let them come watch; they’d ruin his ‘cool factor.’

Still, that didn’t stop Steve from at least sneaking into Tristan’s shows. He enacted the undercover protocol that kept him safe for the year or two that he was an enemy of the government but still wanted to see his wife: dressed in dark clothes, hood or hat always on and pulled over so enough of his face was covered, and he didn’t talk to anyone. He was able to just stand in the back of whatever coffeehouse or underground bar they were in and listen to his son play his songs. 

Though his cover didn’t keep for long. One night, he had gotten there too early, which meant Tristan spotted him. He watched his son do a double take and then the easy smile slid off his face, replaced by the stoic -- almost annoyed, expression he usually received from his youngest. God, sometimes he reminded Steve so much of Dawson, it hurt his heart a bit. They would’ve gotten along so well.  

“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked once they were close enough to talk and not cause a scene. His eyes flicked around like he was afraid someone was going to see them, “Is Mom here too?” 

“No, no, it’s just me. We found out you were in a band and I just...I wanted to come see you play.” Tristan’s eyes returned to his, looking doubtful but still annoyed. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he scuffed the toe of his Converse against the ground and Steve chuckled,

“No, actually I don’t.” he admitted and Tristan scoffed, glancing away from him, “It’s a nice way to spend a little quality time with you.” he added. They didn’t do much together as it was; Tristan didn’t like baseball or running like Bonnie did. Steve had a hard time finding something they could do as a father-son duo. If this was as close as he was going to get, he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.    

“What if all our songs are about how much we hate our parents?” he eyed him skeptically, testing him. 

“Then you would’ve told us about this much sooner.” Steve volleyed back with a small gesture to the stage. Tristan rolled his eyes, but fell quiet for a moment, 

“No, Dad, this isn’t cool. This is my thing, okay? I-I don’t want you here,” he raised his shoulders up while Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt at his words, “I mean if someone recognizes you…” he trailed off, only semi-voicing his insecurities, but it was enough to let Steve understand. 

“I’m not trying to steal your spotlight.” he assured his son. He wasn’t even sure if anyone would really know who he was anymore. The world had moved on. There were bigger and better heroes around. He was just content to tend to his garden and go to his kid’s mini-concerts as a random middle-age (or older) dad. “I just wanted to see you play. Or hear you. Or whatever.” he got an eye roll from Tristan, who then shoved his hands into his pockets. He let his kid mull over what he said for a moment. The teen shook his head, letting his wild, dark curls flop around, then heaved a heavy sigh,

“Fine, whatever, but the moment someone asks to take a picture with you --” he pointed a finger at Steve, who raised his hands up in the air, “that’s it, Dad. Seriously. Just stand there. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Just watch.” 

“Deal.” Steve agreed to the terms, hoping this coffee shop was dim enough where that wouldn’t be a problem. Tristan eyed him for a moment longer before walking away to rejoin his band. 

As much as it killed Steve not to cheer along with the crowd, he tried as hard as he could to respect the rules Tristan put into place. If only because he didn’t want to miss one of the shows. Just like he hadn’t missed one of Bonnie’s track meets or the weird improv shows she did with her community group. 

Though he ended up breaking one of the rules by accident after one of the shows Tristan played. While waiting for Tristan to finish up his mingling with people who stayed after the show (Steve was now driving him to the sets), he saw his son talking with a rather pretty girl. His immediate reaction was to take a picture to show his wife later, but as much as technology had improved his life -- it also made it a lot worse. The constant updates had his settings all out of whack which meant when he tried to take a sneaky picture, the flash immediately went off. And he was caught. 

Having enough time spent in the field, Steve knew how to quickly exit a bad situation. He exited the coffee shop and headed toward his car, hoping that Tristan hadn’t realized what he had done. But a sharp, loud, “What the fuck, Dad?!” coming from behind him in his son’s angry tone proved him wrong. 

Steve froze, then winced, knowing he had messed up and now had to deal with an angry teenager. Really, he’d rather deal with Bruce’s other persona. Much easier to talk to than a hormonal, angry teenager who already disliked him as a base feeling. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just trying to commemorate a moment.” he held his hands up in defense, but Tristan ignored the look of innocence. 

“Fucking bullshit, Dad.” he snapped out, “You just did the creepiest thing ever. This is why I didn’t want you to come to these!” he gestured back to the coffee shop and again, Steve felt his heart sink a bit at not being wanted by his son. All he wanted to do was support him.

“Plenty of people were taking pictures, Twist.” he used the nickname he used to use when Tristan was a kid, “I was the only one who had the flash on.” he admitted his mistake, making Tristan groan. He fell back on one foot, twisting his torso away from Steve a bit as he looked up to the night sky,

“God! Dad! This is unreal! You can’t just be, like, a normal dad?!” he gestured frustratedly at his father. Steve made a face, tilting his head to the side a bit,

“I feel like this was a very normal dad thing to do.” he pointed out and Tristan groaned again, shoving his hands through his curls, 

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from him, heading back to the coffee shop.

“At least let me take you home.” Steve offered, but Tristan didn’t even pause,

“I’ll get a ride!” he called out from over his shoulder. Steve opened his mouth to try and convince Tristan to change his mind, but Tristan spun around on one foot, spreading his arms out wide as he continued, “I think we’ve had enough quality time tonight, Dad.” he shoved the knife a little deeper into Steve’s chest.   

After getting home and being made fun of by his wife for not knowing how technology worked, Steve waited up until Tristan got home just to apologize to him again.

“Dad, it’s fine, okay? Just let it go.” Tristan disregarded his apology, heading for the stairs as Steve followed, 

“So when’s your next show?” he asked, trying to be casual but Tristan shrugged, not giving him an answer, “Can I come?” he asked with a slight eyebrow raise.

“Fuck no.” Tristan scoffed out, “Not after tonight.” 

“Twist, come on.” Steve put his hand on the railing and the other went to rest on his hip, “I just want to see you play.” 

“Why?” he asked, turning on the stairs to look down at his dad, “Why is this so important to you?” he raised his shoulders up, looking rather angry and annoyed by his dad taking an interest in his activities. 

“Because I like...seeing you excel at stuff.” Steve answered, apparently giving a wrong answer by the way Tristan glared at him,

“Oh, so I’ve just failed at everything else then?” 

“No, Trist--no, Jesus. I mean, it’s great to see you doing something that you’re good at and that you love.” His son eyed him warily for a moment, fiddling with the edges of his flannel as he turned over what Steve said, then nodded slowly.

“Alright, yeah, okay.” he turned away from his dad, heading back up the stairs to his room.

“So can I come to another show?” he tried again, more hopeful this time. “Won’t even look in your direction, promise.” he added on to entice him. 

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Tristan agreed, sounding annoyed, but he agreed. And Steve was going to go to every show he could.