#he is an inspiration and he deserves better than some straight women drooling over him everytime he shows his face

[arbor-tristis]

He is such a beautiful soul and has an amazing work history like honestly wish nothing but the best for this man I hope he wins so many awards. And I wish a very fuck you to every single person (straight white women) who get him on TV only to openly objectify him with their whole chests. Leave him and his sex scenes alone.

Matt Bomer is just a neurodivergent theater gay from Texas who is accidentally extremely hot but would rather be known for literally anything else

It's kind of interesting to see a guy be sick of questions about his appearance instead of his accomplishments. Actresses get that shit constantly, and he handles it pretty much the same way. "Hahah yes I am very pretty, now can we talk about the intense multi-decade love story I was in, or perhaps the history of queer persecution?"

[uniqueharreh]

Poems For Her - Chapter Two

P R E V I O U S CHAPTER 

I started visiting the café often, maybe in hope to see your beautiful eyes again, maybe in the hope our eyes will meet. I even tried some sweet stuff from the menu, to try to understand you. To see what your tastes are. And they were quite delightful.

But it was around ten days since you haven’t shown up at all. Not even for a go to coffee. I swallowed my pride a few times and asked the waiter for you even.  After I entered the café a few more times,  he already shook his hand in a sign that you haven’t been there the entire day.

I was wondering what were you doing. Maybe you moved out of the country, or maybe you were here just getting inspiration for your art, that’s literally what I do. Or maybe you found better café, that was quieter and without weird strangers staring at you. I shouldn’t stare at you that much, right?

But I stare at the sun often, even though I know my eyes will get watery and hurt a bit afterward. I can’t seem to look away from beautiful things in life. They just kind of make you to stare, to get in all the beauty, to appreciate the little imperfections. I’m sorry I couldn’t look away.

I was in the middle of my second tea, humming a melody to the lyrics I have written when you sat right in front of me, across the whole café. Sometimes I even looked there in the hope you’d be sitting there, sipping on your black coffee. And maybe having the first taste of a cake sitting in front of you.

I couldn’t get the melody quite right, and it was already bumming me, my band loved the lyrics. They even asked if it’s about anyone in particular. I lied. I didn’t need to be mocked from being head over heels for you, and not talking to you even. Maybe you were a horrible person, the kind of person everyone keeps the distance from. But I might even never find out now because you stopped going there.

It was maybe an hour to closing when doors opened and the little bell announced a new customer, I didn’t even have to look up, to know it was you. During the rainy day, your presence seemed like it was mid-summer and everyone was trying to hide from the sunshine. I smiled, when I saw you taking your usual spot. But you didn’t seem alright.

Your nose was a bit red, and your eyes were bit watery. You seemed like you had a cold. You left your golden locks out of your bun, the second you sat down and looked around. Meeting my eyes, staring into them for a bit, before you formed a small and tired smile on your face. My left lip had risen a bit more than the other.

You weren’t even writing, Celine. You were just sitting there, enjoying your coffee and trying to choose something from the menu. The waiter stopped at you for longer than usual, you had a sincere conversation, you both laughed at something and after he took your final order, he left. But your eyes found mine again. And you stood up, walking right to my table.

I would lie if I said that my heart wasn’t beating fast. Faster than usual. Faster than before or after sex. Or any adrenaline sport I was forced to do by my friends.

“Hello, Jean over there told me you’ve been asking after me?” your English was perfect, a bit of a French accent, but I could tell you were fluent. “I’m Celine.”

I should probably close my mouth, maybe even wipe out the drool forming in the corner of my mouth. She was so beautiful, your voice was kind of high pitched, yet not squeaky. It was sort of calming, comforting even.

I.. uh... should answer. Please answer now so you don’t look like a staring weirdo.

“I, yes. I’m Harry.” I offered to shake your hand and you accepted. Thank God you did, because I got to feel the softness of your palms. You sat in front of me.

“So, what do you do for a living Harry? You’re not from here, are you?” you had a beautiful smile, the one that brightens your day in the morning, even though you had a pretty shitty week.

“I am a musician, singer. I try to be a songwriter, so, that’s basically why I am in Paris. To get inspiration.” I smiled at you, I noticed that you were focusing yourself a lot on what I was saying and it took you a second to process all that.

“A singer? Where from the UK are you?”

“I was born in Cheshire, but now I am living in Manchester and London, it’s kind of fifty situations.” I smiled politely at you. “How did you know I’m from England?” I started laughing a bit, already knowing what got me caught.

“Well, you have a very strong accent.” you were laughing with me, but not full from the heart, more like a giggle saying “you fool”.

“Your accent is very beautiful,” I said all of sudden and I noticed your cheeks to turn a bit reddish.

“You are a straight forward man, aren’t you, Harry?” you smiled at me brightly. “So, got any songs inspired by the beautiful Paris?” you sat on the chair in front of mine and watched my every move. I didn’t know how to tell you, that you inspired one. I never did that with anyone. Maybe my sister, Gemma. She inspired many soft rock ballads because she was one of the purest people walking on the Earth.

She was that kind of person, who cared. She cared if other’s were well informed, she tried to change the knowledge of the public, and it was going well. She was well praised for what she was doing, and how she was using her platform. She was all about social media, while I was quite opposite.

“One yes, but I think you’d have to hear it for yourself when it’s out.” I smiled mischievously and you started laughing.

“You think I’d like your music?”

“I think you might. Depends on your taste.”

“I don’t really listen to many new artists, to be honest. I’m staying faithful to music like Fleetwood Mac, Rolling Stones, Queen. A lot of those, maybe even Amy Winehouse, I really love her.” your eyes were playing multiple colors and you had a bit of a sparkle in them, you loved talking about your taste. About what you love and what makes you happy.

“I see we have similar music taste.” I smiled nicely, and you looked me in the eyes, staring for a bit and then let out a quiet chuckle. You were so lively, an open book. But it was confusing to read in you.

“What song you like from Fleetwood Mac? I think I love Dreams the most.”

“Personal favorite? I can’t really tell. There’s too many. But currently, it’s You Make Loving Fun. I would love to play with them once. Or at least to meet them, to be honest. Stevie Nicks is my hero. One of my inspiration in music. In why I do what I do.” I said honestly, even though many people thought it was weird to have a woman as a musical inspiration.

“It’s interesting. You saying a woman musician is your inspiration. Many ordinary men would be ashamed to admit that.” and you said, what everyone was thinking. “But it’s interesting in a good way. I think some female artists don’t get enough credit only because they are women. So, when a man is brave enough to admit, that woman inspired him. I find it beautiful. And so pure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it shows you clearly have a beautiful and brave soul.”

“Thank you, really, it means a lot, coming from you.”

* * *

We talked a lot. You let me get to know you, but as a perfect lady, you never let out too much. You know how to keep me around, and how to keep me interested. After Jean, the waiter interrupted us because of the café closing, we decided to take a walk. Maybe I could walk you home, is what I was thinking.

“Are your books in English as well?”

“What, are you interested to read my poetry?” she started laughing as if it was so weird to long after reading what her mind puts together.

“I love poetry. So yes. Nothing to laugh about out.”

“You’re so feminine.” I think that you were the first person in my entire life to ever address that. I was indeed in touch with my feminine side. I loved exploring who I am, and maybe two, three years ago, I just realize that liking some feminine clothes and activities wasn’t wrong.

“I know, I’m quite proud of that.” I laughed a bit nervously.

“Really? I think it’s interesting.” and you thought a lot of things about me were interesting, but your tone never specified whether it was a good interesting or bad interesting. “I think, the world needs more men that aren’t toxically masculine. That isn’t afraid to admit they like something, that is by society declared as a women’s thing.”

“Are you actually reading my mind?” I looked at you a bit shocked and stopped walking.

“Do you think so as well? Interesting.” you let out a wonderful smile, followed by a giggle. I think I fell in love. And I barely knew you.

“So, your books, are they in English? We kind of walked away from that topic with more important talk.”

“Yes, they’re translated, I think, they sound better in French though.”

“Everything sounds better in original, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, Harry. Everything is the best when it’s not edited when it just sort of comes out of your mouth, you know. It doesn’t take away the substance from the original art, the mood I was when I was writing the piece. Some poetry is just meant to be written in the original language. But of course, it’s a business to some.”

“You seem pretty upset, about the additional translate.” I noticed you were frowning your brows a bit, and after I mentioned you being upset, you took a deep breath, maybe even counted to ten.

“Oh not at all. Just a bit disappointed.”

I nodded, because you were already lost in your thoughts, and we just walked in silence. You, Celine, you were an incredible woman, worth thousands of songs written about you. You deserved any artist this world had to offer, to get inspired by you. Your mind was a magical place, and I was glad, I was the one privileged to take a walk with you. Even without talking, I felt our connection.

“Sing me something,” you said all of sudden, interrupting me from my thoughts about you.

“You want me to sing?” I laughed a little and cleared my throat.

“Of course, it’d be a pity if you couldn’t serenade me.”

“You want me to serenade you? But I don’t have my guitar with me.” I laughed nervously. I never serenaded anyone. I just didn’t have the chance. And oh Celine, I'd sing all your favorite songs just to make you happy. And I felt a bit like a fool, to fall for a woman like you. So easily. So deeply.

“We could go to your place, you could play your guitar and we could order some food. In exchange, I could read you some of my poetry?” you were certain about the activities, your cheeks a bit red. But you were sure you want to get to know me, your body language showed it clearly.

“Is that a date?”

“Rendez-vous,” you said with your beautiful French accent, and I nearly fell to my knees for you.

Rendez-vous it was.

[pinknerdpanda]

The Wedding Singer - Track 11

“Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?”

Characters: Reader, Ellen, Bobby, Lisa, Dean & Ketch (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,760

Series Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language, Mentions of Infidelity, Alcohol

A/N: This is the 11th chapter of an AU SPN Series co-written by myself and @hannahindie entitled The Wedding Singer and is inspired by the movie. We have been working on this for the last few months and are very excited to share it with you. The series tag list is open. If you would like to be added, please send one of us an ask. Hannah made our beautiful aesthetic and the series was Masterbeta’d by @wheresthekillswitch.

Track List

Track 11: “Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?”

The first beams of morning sun flickered through the window and across the floor, dancing happily as though the night before had never happened. Y/n watched them sway to and fro, their steps choreographed by the thin tree branches just outside the window as they rustled softly in the breeze. She frowned and rolled over. Stupid tree. Stupid sunlight. Stupid everything.

Even the sound the alarm made as it began it’s morning assault was too chipper for her liking. She grunted and slammed her hand down on the clock, silencing the sound and knocking it off her nightstand. She sat up and punched her pillow, wincing in pain and reminding her of the last thing she punched. Dean.

His face flashed through her mind and she groaned as her stomach somersaulted at the thought.  None of this made sense. It was like up was down and black was white. Dean shouldn’t be making her feel like she’d swallowed a thousand butterflies that were all trying to make their grand escape. She should be furious at him. In a way she was - he’d shown up out of nowhere and made her feel things she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing. And that was before he’d kissed her. That kiss, though!

She jerked the blanket over her head trying to hide from the memory. Instead, the large diamond on her finger caught in the fibers and she yanked her hand back. Instead of untangling herself from the blanket, however, she wound up pulling the thread, creating a large loop and marring the surface of the fabric.

“Motherfucker!” She cried out, ripping the blanket off of herself and turning over so violently, she ended up falling over the side and hitting the floor with a thud.

As she laid there, sprawled across her floor in front of bed, she sighed, unable to force herself to feel anything at all. Between spending the entirety of the night before tossing and turning and the unending barrage of various emotions over the past few days, she was drained; Physically, emotionally, spiritually. So she laid, her cheek pressed against the hardwood of the floor, her eyes fixed on a speck of dust clinging desperately to a long lost sock just under her bed. “I really should clean under here more often,” she thought out loud.

She heard a soft knock seconds before the squeak of her door cracking open. She didn’t bother turning to see who it was.

“Y/n?” Aunt Ellen’s voice was tentative. “Honey, is everything alright?”

“Yep, everything’s just dandy,” y/n mumbled, her words muffled by her mouth’s proximity to the floor. “Never better.”

Ellen slipped into the room and closed the door behind her before moving to sit on the floor next to her niece’s head. She crossed her ankles and wrapped her arms around her bent legs, clasping her fingers together and resting her chin on one knee.

She sighed, “You wanna talk about it?”

Y/n focused hard on the wayward sock and contemplated the symbiotic connection it shared with its dusty companion. Neither the sock nor the speck seemed to appreciate the bond they shared, hidden away from the public’s eye.

“I’m not completely sure,” she said finally, pausing in an attempt to reverse the drop of drool threatening to pool under her smushed lips. “But I think when someone starts to feel jealous of a sock, it’s what some might call ‘a new low’.”

“Sweetie, you know I love you,” Ellen frowned. “But I don’t have a damn clue what the hell you are saying.”

Y/n rolled onto her back, tipping her chin toward the ceiling to look at the upside down image of her aunt and sighed. “I don’t know Aunt Ellen. It just seems like lately my life has been spinning out of control.”

Ellen lifted one eyebrow, her eyes gentle. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with Dean Winchester, would it?”

Y/n pulled herself up and turned to face Ellen, her eyes now glued on her own hands as she picked mindlessly at her thumbnail. “I punched him, Aunt Ellen.”

Ellen barked a laugh, and clapped one hand over her mouth. “Sorry, it’s not funny, but that was not was I was expecting. What did that boy do to deserve that?”

“Ketch was meeting a client last night at a bar and apparently ran into Dean there. I guess something happened, because Ketch came home with a broken nose. And just with everything that’s happened over the last few days, I just, I dunno, I lost it.”

“So let me get this straight, your fiance got his nose broken in a bar fight and sent you in as his attack dog?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” y/n chewed on her lip. “I didn’t go over there planning to hit him. But then he brought up the times we kissed and-”

“Times, y/n?” Ellen narrowed her eyes. “It happened more than once?”

Y/n’s face flared with heat, embarrassment rising up in her throat. “Twice.” Her voice was soft.

“Ok.” Ellen pursed her lips and waited for her to continue.

“Anyway, Dean said that Ketch wasn’t there meeting a client or business partner, but that he was there with Lisa and that they were a little too comfortable.”

Ellen gasped, anger burning in her eyes. “Lisa and Ketch?! That son of a bitch, I…”

Y/n cut her off. “I thought he was just being a jealous asshole, so I hit him. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m afraid…” her voice broke and she clenched her eyes shut tight trying to keep the tears from falling. She took a deep breath and continued, this time her voice barely above a whisper. “What if Dean was right?”

Ellen shifted to throw an arm around y/n who melted against her. She stroked her hair gently as her body shook with silent sobs. “Honey, I have known that boy since he was a snot nosed, bratty little kid. And while there are many things someone might call Dean Winchester, ‘liar’ is not one of them. If he says he saw something, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe him.” The silent sobs blossomed into hoarse, broken cries as y/n clutched onto Ellen. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

After what seemed like hours, y/n sniffed for the last time and sat up. She dabbed at her eyes with the cuffs of her nightshirt.

“Listen, I have never been one to pry into your life or make snap judgements about people, but honey, I never liked that British pansy.”

Now it was y/n’s turn to chuckle in surprise. One side of Ellen’s mouth turned up in a half smile. She went on.

“Dean is a good man. He’s been through a lot lately and I can’t say I agree with all of his choices,” she paused, looking at y/n pointedly, “but it sounds to me, like you two need to have a talk and figure out just what the hell is going on.”

Y/n nodded.

“You just remember that you don’t have to let life drag you around by your pigtails. You just need to put on your big girl panties, decide what you want and make it happen. You are in control of your life. Not the other way around.”

Bobby’s voice carried up the stairs and through the closed doors. “Good god almighty woman, aren’t you ready to go yet?”

Ellen rolled her eyes and shouted loud enough for Bobby to hear her loud and clear. “Bobby Singer, you keep your damn mouth shut and be patient. I will be down when I am ready.” She turned to Y/n, her voice softer now “And I don’t care how much money he does or doesn’t make, you don’t let any man tell you what to do.” She winked at her niece.

Y/n smiled and hugged the older woman. “Thank you, Aunt Ellen.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

-----

Y/n flipped down the visor on her mirror and checked her reflection. She took a deep breath and leveled her shoulders. She glanced toward the house and tried to ignore the rock in her stomach doing the Cha Cha Slide. She’d tried to call Ketch half a dozen or more times on her way over, but after the fourth voicemail, she’d given up.

She had all but decided that whatever happened with Ketch the night before didn’t really matter to her as much as what she’d done to Dean. It was freeing in a way, to allow herself to admit the one thing that she had been trying to deny for the last three weeks: she cared about him. In the few short weeks of knowing Dean, she’d felt every emotion she thought herself capable of more intensely than anything she’d felt with Ketch for years.

“Stop stalling and just go talk to him,” she told her reflection. She sighed, flipped the visor back in place, opened the door and climbed out. Her legs felt wobbly as she made her way across the street and up the sidewalk. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt at the moment. As she reached the front door, she took another deep breath and lifted her fist to knock. Just as her knuckles made contact with the wood, the door sprung open, startling y/n and making her jump.

A petite, dark haired woman, with large, round eyes wearing an equally stunned expression appeared in the opening. Both women chuckled lightly, trying to recover. The dark haired woman smiled, though y/n thought it to be strained, closed the door and made her way past y/n.

Y/n returned her attention to the door but as she lifted her hand to knock, a soft metallic clink from behind her made her turn around. About halfway between her and the retreating woman, lay a set of keys, sparkling in the warm morning sun. Y/n didn’t hesitate to scoop them up off the ground and jog toward the woman.

“Miss! I think you dropped these,” she held out the keyring as she approached the woman, who turned around, relief brightening her pretty features. Y/n glanced at the keys as she handed them off to the woman, and, as if in slow motion, a beam of light reflected off of the shiny metal surface of the rectangular key chain, revealing the last four letters she’d expected to find etched there.

LISA.

Track 12 “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” Coming 12/19/017

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here and the lovely @hannahindie‘s can be found here. Thanks for reading! :)

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[misssophiachase]

“I don’t need a Prince Charming saving me.” + KC, pretty please

Thanks darling Madina @arrenemris, great prompt (and so sorry for the delay). It became something unexpected so the prompt kind of evolved hehe. I was watching one of my fave Shakespearian film adaptions recently, so this modern spin is where the inspiration came from. Also because Beatrice and Benedick ARE Klaroline ( you know, just saying)! Also it is a bit of a different take on Klaus for once but I hope you like this still : )

Much Ado About Nothing

“Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t even need to act,” Katherine observed from the wings. She and Caroline were watching him and his younger brother Kol, who was playing Katherine’s love interest Claudio, rehearse centre stage. “He is Benedick.”

“Yeah, you’ve got that right. An arrogant and smug know-it-all,” Caroline muttered. “I can’t believe I have to kiss him, I mean who knows where those lips have been before? I might even need to sanitise my mouth afterwards.”

Klaus had quite the reputation in theatre circles as a ladies man and from all reports it was fairly common for his on-stage romances to carry over off-stage. But only for the duration of the production because after that he apparently moved onto his next project and next unwitting co-star. Caroline knew for a fact that she had no interest in being his latest victim.

“Well, I had to kiss his brother in rehearsal yesterday.”

“And?”

“It was okay, I suppose,” she offered indifferently, her eyes flickering to the front row of the theatre where the show’s director sat keeping a watchful eye over proceedings. While extremely handsome, Caroline had noticed just how brooding he was given the deep set frown he wore most of the time during rehearsals.

“But not an Elijah Mikaelson kind of kiss,” Caroline teased. The chemistry between the reverred director and Katherine, who was playing Hero, had been palpable to say the least.

“He’s far too serious for me,” she murmured, although her gaze remained unflinching.

“Yes, because that seems to be such an issue,” Caroline joked. “I can practically see the drool, Pierce.”

“Funny roomie,” Katherine drawled.

They’d been best friends for as long as Caroline could remember and it was comforting to have someone in the same field who always had your back, especially when you moved to a foreign and big city like London. For the most part she liked it, not only because it was a vibrant and intriguing city with plenty to do but because she felt a lot more immersed in her role being there. 

It was unusual to cast Americans for such classic Shakespearian roles but Katherine and Caroline were highly skilled actresses and had impressed Elijah Mikaelson during the audition. Something she’d been told wasn’t such an easy feat.

What she hadn’t expected was just how frustrating her co-star would be. She’d heard the stories about Klaus Mikaelson, everyone had, but Caroline liked to give people the benefit of the doubt given just how misleading the media could be when it came to celebrity gossip. 

Klaus however had proven to be just as insufferable as she’d expected. She would have complained but it was kind of difficult when one brother was the director of the production and the other one playing a leading role.

When she’d met Klaus at the initial table read a few weeks earlier, he’d been equal parts frustrating and arrogant. He may of been an outstanding actor, that much she couldn’t dispute, but he didn’t have to act like he knew it in front of the entire cast. Caroline knew types just like him and the thought of having to co-star in such close proximity was going to be a struggle. 

After rehearsals a few days later, Klaus had propositioned her and then, after she rejected his blatant advances, he’d proceeded to ignore her. Not only was he conceited, he was also a man child in her view.

Caroline had subsequently made the decision to act professionally on stage and then hopefully never cross paths with Klaus Mikaelson ever again. Unfortunately she had to get through another two weeks of rehearsals and a three month season on the West End before she could put any miles between them. 

The only upside she’d decided was being able to look at his pretty face for extended periods. He may of been an ass but there was no doubting his extremely good looks.

“You can’t lie to me Pierce, I know you too well,” Caroline replied.

“Says the girl who supposedly doesn’t want to kiss Klaus Mikaleson,” she sing songed, nudging her in the ribs teasingly.

“Who wants to kiss me?” A very familiar and annoying voice enquired behind them. She gave Katherine a brief dirty look and then closed her eyes momentarily, trying to come up with a sassy response. There was no way she was going to inflate his oversized ego any further. “I know I’m irresistible but..”

“Nobody,” she shot back, thinking just how lame it sounded. She spun around on her heel to face him defiantly, there was no way Klaus Mikaelson was going to intimidate her. “Unfortunately I have to do it though. Luckily I’m getting some form of monetary compensation for that particularly unpleasant task.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to make it as least unpleasant as possible for you, princess,” he quipped moving dangerously closer, those annoying dimples appearing from nowhere and flashing in her direction. Caroline only hoped that her cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt at that particular moment.

“Listen up everyone,” Elijah called out from front of stage. Caroline was relieved for the interruption at that particular moment. Especially given he was standing entirely too close and his aftershave was messing with her concentration. “I want to practice the Benedick and Beatrice scene in Act 5 scene 2 after the break.” Caroline knew what that meant, the kiss she’d been dreading for weeks.

“I think he heard your desperate cries for that kissing scene,” Klaus smirked, his hot breath tickling her earlobe. She reached up attempting to swat him out of her personal space, making connection with his cheek. “How did you know I liked it rough?” Caroline didn’t respond, just pushed past him towards backstage. She needed a drink to steady her nerves, she just wished it was straight vodka and not water.

15 minutes later

Klaus was nervous, that much was obvious given the way he was pacing back and forth in his dressing room. He looked up at the wall clock wearily, knowing that he was due on stage already. Before he knew it Elijah would be bleating at him incessantly like when they were children.

Having his brother as director had definitely been an adjustment, so too Kol as his co-star. The media had joked in interviews in the lead-up that it was a family affair and Klaus had to hold his tongue before he shared his real thoughts on the matter. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his siblings but preferred their contact to be in much smaller doses. He was just happy that Rebekah hadn’t joined this project in her costume designing capacity given she was busy on another project in the States. Klaus could only take so much Mikaelson blood in his vicinity.

What he hadn’t expected was to meet Caroline Forbes. Sure, he’d heard about her impressive talents during the audition process but he hadn’t quite expected to almost lose his voice upon meeting her at the table read. She was even more stunning in person with those faultless, golden waves and creamy complexion. Then he’d heard her melodic laugh and Klaus wasn’t quite sure what to do. His pathetic response had been to put on an overly inflated and arrogant persona that Klaus liked to call his Mr Hyde impression.

Nobody knew it but Klaus had unpredictable, anxious tendencies (he liked to blame his parent’s dysfunctional marriage) which is why he’d taken up a career in acting. What better way to hide them than pretend to be someone completely different? 

It had worked for him thus far but Caroline’s sudden appearance had thrown him and his pretend playboy act into disarray and now seemed to have escalated out of control. First on the table read then his attempt to ask her out which had fallen flat. Klaus really shouldn’t have been surprised. He hated that character as much as it seemed Caroline did.

After his first college production the rumours had travelled thick and fast that he was some womaniser. The true story was that Hayley Marshall didn’t appreciate rejection and decided to make up her own story depicting him as some heartless romeo. Rather than address the rumours he’d chosen to embrace it. Klaus figured if women thought he was such a player then that meant he didn’t need to bother getting hurt. 

“Niklaus!” Elijah baulked, coming to the door and banging his hand against the frame. “We’re waiting, Your Majesty.” Klaus had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, let the incessant bleating begin.

“I need a minute,” he murmured softly.

“You’ve had multiple minutes,” he warned. “I’ve never known you to turn down a kissing scene, little brother.” He’d managed to even fool his own family it seemed. It was at that point Klaus decided he deserved a bloody Toni Award.

“I’m not feeling the best,” he uttered, feigning sickness. It was the one line he knew would work given Elijah’s deep aversion to germs. Klaus coughed, hoping that his act would convince his brother to call off rehearsal. Elijah considered him gravely before moving backwards and Klaus knew he had him.

“Well, in that case,” he muttered, retreating even further. “We’ll pick this up in the morning.” Klaus definitely deserved the ‘fooling your own sibling’ award, that was for sure. He was gone before Klaus could reply or add another fake cough for effect.

He momentarily wondered what Caroline would think about his sudden disappearance but for some reason he was just pleased he didn’t need to face her today. As pathetic as it sounded, Klaus was scared of what kissing those pink lips would mean. It had been so easy to fake with others until she turned up in his life unexpectedly. So beautiful, brash and intelligent and Klaus had no idea how to handle her.

45 minutes later

Caroline was annoyed. She’d psyched herself up for their possible kissing scene earlier and Klaus had been a no-show. She should have been relieved but for some reason she felt rejected, not surprising when it came to him. Apparently he was sick but there was no doubt Klaus was playing games with her. 

She’d headed down to the costume department shortly afterwards. One of her dresses had accidentally torn during the last scene and she needed trusty Ruth and her sewing machine to fix it before final dress rehearsal.

Caroline knocked on the door but there was no answer so she pushed it open slowly. The darkness enveloping Caroline telling her that everyone had gone home for the day after Klaus’ premature departure no doubt. She decided to remove the dress there and put one of the white robes nearby to return to her dressing room. After she’d come all this way she figured it was probably best given how soon they were due to open.

Caroline grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it upwards, she felt the light fabric inch over her warm skin from her thighs and over her abdomen softly. It wasn’t until she tried to ease it over her head that Caroline realised she was stuck. The dress wasn’t going any further and she was standing there unsure of what to do next to dislodge the material from her underwear clad body.

She inhaled slowly, feeling her claustrophobic tendencies returning with a vengeance. What the hell was she supposed to do now? It wasn’t like anyone could help her and she was growing increasingly worried about being found dead with her white dress strangling her body and cutting off all possible oxygen. If that wasn’t a visual to make you anxious she didn’t know what was.

Caroline heard a slight rustling from the corner of the room and froze. Were there mice in here and she didn’t know about it? Vermin and small spaces were definitely in her top five fears. She was just wondering which was going to be next. Spiders, snakes or birds. She continued in her pose, wondering if she could locate some scissors and cut this thing off her, even just to escape the mice.

“Hello? Who’s there?” She paused thinking that he was the worst person to find her in this precarious position.

“It’s just me.”

“I thought you were a mouse or, even worse, a bird,” she squeaked, silently relieved. If all else failed, Caroline figured you should try to distract said sexy but arrogant actor with a serious personality problem.

“Not so white and furry, plus I don’t like cheese,” he offered. She had to fight the urge to smile even in her current and awkward state.

“That’s blasphemous,” she chided. “Don’t ever say that if you try to cross the border into France.”

“They don’t like us English much anyway, so no great loss,” he quipped. Caroline was surprised to hear him being so easy going and friendly after their previous encounters. “As much as I’d like to ignore the elephant in the room, do you need some help, love?” Suddenly she felt their fragile relationship going back to where they started off. Bastard.

“I bet you’d love that,” she hissed, trying to remember to breathe through her growing anger. “I don’t need some ‘pretend’ prince charming trying to save me. What are you doing here anyway, Mikaelson? Spying on me?”

He didn’t speak for a while, Caroline would have guesses in her current predicament at least forty seconds, she could hear his increasing and ragged breathing from this vantage point though. She wasn’t quite sure how to take that silence, especially partially dressed. As much as she wanted to beg for help it wasn’t in Caroline’s make-up to show weakness. 

“I was resting actually. A room full of costumes and no one else kind of relaxes me.” Caroline wasn’t quite sure how to take it but his sincere tone was telling her she may of misjudged him initially.

“Do you like try them on or something?” She asked, against her better judgment.

“No,” he chuckled softly. “I just kind of sit here in silence.”

“Seriously? Are you playing with me again?”

“Surprisingly no,” he conceded. Caroline couldn’t miss his sincerity yet again.

“Am I on Punk’d or something?”

“Well, if you are,” he offered. “Might I suggest you get that dress off and stop flashing your underwear sooner rather than later.” Caroline had to admit, he did have a point. She’d kind of forgotten her bare predicament in all of their banter.

“You tell anyone about this and I kill you,” she threatened.

“Noted.”

Before she knew it, Caroline could feel his hands sliding over her abdomen and brushing the skin on her arms softly. 

Caroline shuddered involuntarily thinking this was obviously his ploy to get women into his bed. She made a mental note to reject him as soon as this dress wasn’t strangling her. It took all of five second for the material to loosen and her sight was restored. Unfortunately it was restored straight into his dark, blue eyes that were watching her intently. If she wasn’t pretty much naked Caroline knew she could have stayed there with him like that.

She eventually managed to avert her eyes, finding a stray robe hanging nearby. Caroline threw it on, knowing that as soon as she was clothed the weird tension would hopefully dissipate. Unfortunately it didn’t, their gaze still unwavering. Suddenly all the insults and quips weren’t enough to save Caroline and she had no idea why.

30 seconds later

She was beautiful. Klaus knew that without having to witness her partially dressed in the costume department. He’d been surprised to hear a slight knocking and then see Caroline enter, attempting to take off her dress for some reason. 

Klaus had tried to look away, his eyes immediately averted. The one thing he respected was privacy and the fact she didn’t know he was sitting there wouldn’t bode well. It wasn’t until she got stuck that Klaus knew he needed to intervene but how exactly?

He’d managed to find his voice, although it was difficult given her stunning form in such close proximity. He’d been surprisingly playful until she dressed herself and then things became awkward, their eyes unflinching.

“I should get going,” he barely managed.

“What? No smart and untoward sexually charged remark?” Klaus immediately felt bad. He’d been so busy playing a foreign role to repel her that he’d forgotten how to be the guy he actually was. Suddenly, Klaus knew he didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy after his behaviour.

“I’m so sorry,” he admitted. “I have a tendency to act like a jerk because it’s easier than being myself.” He noticed her face softening slightly.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with yourself exactly?”

“That’s an extremely long story,” he smiled, knowingly.

“So how about you tell me about it, over dinner. You know when I’m properly dressed,” she offered. “And just so you know, I have no intention of putting out, Mikaelson.“ 

“Are you at least going to tell me about the bird phobia?” He teased.

“Funnily enough, that’s an extremely long story too. It involves a mean pelican and my seventh birthday party cake”

The tabloids were feverish with the news that leading theatre couple Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes had cemented their onstage relationship off stage a few months later. 

Caroline and Klaus didn’t care what the rumoured reporting was because they knew what they shared was the real thing unlike everything else that had come before it.

You can read on FF HERE